Triorion Omnibus

by L. J. Hachmeister

  (I killed them all I killed them all I killed them all I killed them—)

  Jetta’s consciousness reformed inside a place she hadn’t seen the first time she invaded Bossy’s mind. Behind a chainlink fence she viewed a gray seaside harbor, washed of color and frozen in time; waves poised to crash, gulls halted in mid-air turns. Bossy stood near the dark water, naked, her smooth, ivory skin offset by a menagerie of burns and bruises.

  This isn’t a real memory, she thought, sensing the discord rippling through the images. A long time ago she encountered something like this in Galm; a parallel truth, something a mind created in the wake of horrific trauma.

  Bossy’s voice sounded all around her, inside her, thrusting her against the chainlink. (I killed them all I killed them all I killed them all I killed them—)

  Time sped forward, gulls crying out in unison, and then came to an abrupt stop. She saw Bossy waist-deep in the water, towering waves curled above her head, ready to swallow her whole.

  Jetta remembered Triel’s words: “Your powers are limitless. But right now you draw your talent from your fear.”

  Which she had already done. She had seen Bossy’s darkest secret: In a fit of confusion and rage against their maker, she had accidentally murdered her like models, her sisters, but the programming written into her systems wouldn’t allow for her to be companionless. Without her maker or her sisters, she would be alone in a foreign, uninviting world, and that terrified her more than anything.

  Then it dawned on Jetta. That’s why Bossy latched on so hard to Agracia.

  With her adaptive design, she had adopted traits and personality quirks that made her Agracia’s perfect companion, evolving her into the foul-mouthed, crass dark horse that dominated the fighting rings, loved one-night stands and getting sloshed in the bars.

  Agracia. She’s the key.

  She felt Triel’s hands slide into hers as she reached back and fell into the memories she had grafted from Agracia. With the Healer beside her, she slalomed through countless drunken binges and raw battles in which Agracia and Bossy took on hoards of Necros in the wastelands. There were cold, painful nights spent together in safehouses, nursing wounds and staving off radiation sickness, and many more spent hungry and looking desperately for work on this dead, forgotten world. But always, through it all, Jetta felt the constant pull of their friendship, an unspoken bond between kindred spirits. Even though both of their personas had been artificially created, Jetta couldn’t deny the reality of the loyalty they shared, or their dedication to each other. As she focused on the essence of that memory, she wove her energies into the tapestry of Bossy’s mind.

  Sunlight glinted in the backdrop of overcast skies. The gulls fluttered in place.

  Something’s happening.

  Other memories competed for her attention. Jetta saw herself bruised and cuffed, lying in the corner atop a mattress of cardboard boxes. Her capture. Bossy’s delight. Rage swelled to a conflagration in her chest.

  Jetta clamped down on Triel’s hand and ground her teeth together. Opposing desires fought for supremacy in her mind. It’s just as easy to destroy Bossy as it is to save her. And every second she spent in the psionic plane, she taxed her already drained and beaten body, putting herself—and her mission—at risk. Is a crazy, Scabber puppet really worth it?

  From the depths of her fear, Victor’s voice whispered, “...there are some people that don’t deserve their skin...”

  Reality split in two. She saw behind Bossy’s eyes as she got between her best friend and a Johnnie with a knife. At the same time, she remembered Bossy laughing and goading her from the stands as she fought Rigger Mortis in the fighting ring.

  Why am I risking myself for her?

  And then she heard Jahx’s voice, clear and steady, as if he were right next to her.

  “Jetta,” he said. A hand pulled her away from the chainlink. Blue eyes drifted to her right hand. “It’s your turn.”

  Confused, Jetta opened her hand, and rock dice clattered onto the broken cement. She watched them roll away until they reached the edge of the chainlink where the sand from the beach had sifted through.

  (How did you—what do you mean?) she said, but when she looked up, he had disappeared.

  Crouching down, she inspected the dice. She had rolled a crescent-double, a tricky score. Equal chances of losing and winning...

  The skies shuddered, and the gulls shrieked. Waves came crashing down on Bossy, rolling her under in a thunderous collapse.

  (No!) Jetta screamed.

  Focus.

  Loyalty. Friendship. Dedication. Jetta conjured these memories from both Agracia and Bossy, inadvertently pouring her own sentiments into the mix as she bombarded the dark horse’s mind.

  The waves broke against the beach with ferocity, rattling the entire world. Jetta fell to her knees, looking up at the muggy sky where the gulls morphed into midnight creatures with membranous, webbed wings. She covered her ears as their cries escalated.

  Something emerged from the sea.

  (Bossy?)

  A glaucous mass, not remotely human-looking, pulled itself through the sand on elongated legs. The thing wore a saurian crown on a featureless head. Blood trickled from tiny slits in its slick skin.

  (Demei Uo!) Jetta whispered in her native tongue.

  She would have to go deeper. It wouldn’t be enough to give Bossy good memories, it had to be more. It has to be real.

  Jetta opened her eyes in both worlds, grabbing for Agracia’s hand. In the echo of the two realities she heard Agracia swear and resist, but Triel calmed her as Jetta held fast and pulled her inside the celestial limbo of worlds.

  (This is real...)

  In the vast expanse of the in-between, Jetta saw the radiant light of their beings, pulsating and shimmering in an infinite universe of living stars. She reached out into the prism, gathering their soul material, and brought them together into a state of dual existence, where one pattern could not be distinguished from the other. Jetta didn’t know how or why she did it, or how it was possible. Everything she had ever learned or grafted spoke to the universal understanding that two objects could not occupy the same space, but in this place, the rules of physics had no application.

  In the back of her mind she could hear Triel’s anguished thoughts, and saw a terrible vision of a stone garden and an old woman’s weather-worn face.

  Oh Gods, she sensed the Healer think, does she know what she’s done?

  AGRACIA COULDN’T BELIEVE what she felt. Somehow, Jetta Kyron made her part of Bossy, knitting her into the very fabric of her being.

  I’ve never experienced—

  —couldn’t imagine anything like this—

  The war within her paused as the two sides pulled together to witness the truth she felt in the very marrow of her bones: Bossy loved her. Unequivocally. Unconditionally. Her friendship was a real, tangible thing in a fluctuating, torrential universe. That’s why the imposter, Tarsha Leone, was an unwelcome and threatening discovery.

  I can never embrace my past, or I will lose my best friend, Agracia concluded. With renewed spirit, she whispered across the stars: (You are my friend, forever and always, you stupid kid. I love you.)

  Hands let go, and she fell onto the hard, unyielding earth. Agracia opened her eyes to the dirty sky. The air, still and frigid, tasted like rotten eggs.

  “What just happened?” she said, her words hushed.

  “Jetta did the impossible,” Triel answered.

  Rolling over, Agracia found the Healer cradling Jetta’s head in her lap.

  “I told you, you could do it,” Triel whispered, stroking the commander’s hair.

  She doesn’t look good, Agracia thought, looking over the unconscious Jetta Kyron. Although she had seen her in bad shape before, her chalky face and her limp body worried her more than her injuries after crash-landing on Earth.

  Agracia crawled up beside her. “Is she okay?”

  “No,” Triel said, feeling her neck for
something. “I need to get her to a medical facility. I’m not strong enough to heal her on my own.”

  As she debated what to do, Bossy came around, her body wobbling and eyes dancing in their sockets. “Whoa, that was some trip.”

  Too excited for words, Agracia leapt over to her friend and hugged her with all her strength. For the first time since she could remember, Bossy hugged her back with the same intensity. It only lasted a brief moment, and within seconds Bossy shoved her away and pretended to dry-heave. “Get off, sicko!”

  “Forever and ever, kid,” Agracia mumbled under her breath.

  “God,” Bossy said, gathering herself. She did a double-take at Jetta, her face contorting in odd expressions before settling on uncertainty. “You chakking leeches and your magic tricks.”

  Agracia got up cautiously. “Hey now...”

  Bossy’s confusion only worsened, and she took one step forward and two steps back, fists flexing and relaxing. As she readjusted the belt holding her 20-20s several times, her lips formed words that never came.

  “We need to get going,” Agracia said, surveying their surroundings. Quiet streets, no wind. A feeling of dread burgeoning in her stomach. We’ve made a lot of noise and stayed in one place far too long.

  Besides the Necros, their exposure to the poisons on the surface would reach critical levels in less than an hour. If we don’t take meds soon, the other Scabbers won’t allow us to re-enter the Pits.

  Triel shook her head. “We’re in no condition to travel.”

  “The Rover can’t be far from here,” Agracia said. “I can take Jetta, and Bossy can help you.”

  Bossy made a hissing noise between her teeth, but Agracia ignored her.

  “We can’t afford to wander around and—”

  “Oh sycha,” Agracia said, backing up. Two Necros hunkered in the shadows between an old firehouse and bus depot, too large to be ordinary walkers.

  “Gracie...” Bossy tapped the last of her 20-20s, “I only got one left.”

  Frantically, Agracia searched for anything that would pass as a weapon as one of the creatures emerged from the shadows.

  “No, don’t!” the Healer cried as Bossy cocked back with the last of her grenades.

  “What the hell is that?!” Agracia said as scarlet eyes locked onto her position.

  “Wolves.”

  Not like any Scab wolf I’ve seen. The two gigantic animals stood taller than her, with fur blacker than a starless night. One had a distinguishing gray paw, the other a half-moon of white fur encircling its neck.

  “Kiyiyo... Cano...” Triel extended an arm. The wolves’ ears perked up and they trotted over.

  “You know these two?” Agracia said, taking a few more steps back.

  The Healer smiled hesitantly as the white neck buried his nose in her chest. “They traveled with us from Algar.”

  The one with the gray paw went directly to Jetta, while the white-necked wolf inspected Bossy and Agracia.

  “It’s okay, Kiyiyo,” Triel said, scratching his ears. The gray-pawed wolf whined and licked Jetta’s face. “You’ll help us get back to the Pits, okay?”

  “Wait, wait, wait,” Agracia said, waving her hands. “You can chakking ride these things?”

  Gently, Triel laid Jetta down and got up with the help of the wolf. “It wasn’t my first choice back on Algar, but it got us here. And hopefully they’re going to get us back to safety.”

  Agracia balked until she saw something else moving in the shadows. “Well, okay. Just as long as they don’t bite.”

  “Help me with Jetta, quickly,” Triel said, spotting the figures emerging from the bus depot.

  “Chak, we got lots of dead-heads!” Bossy shouted, tossing the last of her 20-20s. The explosion sent fragments of asphalt, dirt, and body parts into the air, but more of them poured out from the firehouse and over the top of their liquefied brethren.

  “Agracia!” Triel snapped.

  Scrambling to the Healer’s side, Agracia helped lift Jetta on top of the crouching wolf before sliding in behind her.

  “Come on, Doc,” she whispered as Jetta slowly came around. Mumbling incoherently, the commander still couldn’t hold herself up. Agracia braced Jetta between her arms and clung to the fur around the wolf’s neck. “How the hell do you ride this thing?”

  With a pained expression, the Healer crawled onto the back of the white-necked wolf. “Just hold on.”

  “Bossy!” Agracia shouted as the tiny dark horse screamed obscenities at the swarming Necros. Her wolf, with hackles raised and ears flattened against his dark fur, edged away from the approaching undead. If Bossy didn’t get on now, the wolves weren’t going to stick around. “Get on!”

  The tiny fighter swore up and down, but in the end gave in as the Necros closed in, springing onto Triel’s wolf.

  Unprepared for the jolt, or the speed at which the animal ran, Agracia yelped, and hung on to the wolf’s fur with all her might. As massive as it was, it glided effortlessly over the twisted terrain, making hairpin turns with ease. Within minutes they lost sight of the Necros and the inner city.

  She was just getting used to the bounce and sway of the animal’s body, the way its muscles flexed and rippled with each stride, when the Rover came into view. Or at least what was left of it.

  “Sycha,” Agracia said as they approached the dismantled vehicle. Her rivals had trashed and raided it, rendering it inoperable. Unsurprised, Agracia half-grinned. I woulda done the same.

  Carefully, she eased off the wolf, leaving Jetta on top, slumped over on its shoulders, and inspected the site.

  The second wolf came trotting up beside her. “Guess we’re riding the rest of the way to the Pits,” Triel commented.

  “You shouldn’t,” Agracia said, barely keeping the greed out of her voice, “at least not real close. Wolves like those would be prime for the fighting rings.”

  “But I have to make contact with the Alliance and help Jetta.”

  “Ain’t nothin’ in the Pits like that. Well, nothin’ reliable or accessible. Don’t you have a communicator or somethin’?”

  Triel slid down off her wolf and teetered over to Jetta. The commander seemed more conscious, but not by much. “Yes and no. We have the ship we came in on. It’s badly damaged, but I’m sure Jetta can rig something up with what is left over. Or even contact her sister through their bond.”

  By the way Jetta looked, Agracia didn’t think would happen anytime soon. She would need to get somewhere safe for medical supplies and recuperation.

  Too bad for them, Agracia thought, sniggering. These wolves will make a sweet trade.

  But as the thought passed through her, so did echoes from the past.

  “You don’t have to help me,” Syra said. Reddish-orange eyes seemed to find the weak points in her carefully laid armor. “You’re not like the other cadets.”

  (But you are my friend.)

  “No matter what they do to us,” Syra’s voice called to her, “hold onto that.”

  “Agracia?” the Healer asked.

  The Scabber Jock found herself hunched over, her face wet with tears, and heart pressed heavily against her sternum. What is that name?

  “It’s nothing,” Agracia said, collecting herself.

  Bossy jumped down and punched her in the shoulder. “You okay?”

  She wasn’t sure. “Yeah.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  Whoa—

  Jetta, still pale and sickly, sat straight up on the back of her wolf, shocking all three of them. “We need to get you back to the Alliance Central Starbase.”

  “Chak that!” Bossy exclaimed.

  “Why do you even care about me?” Agracia spat. “What’s one ex-military project—or a godich Scabber—to you, anyway?”

  Green eyes, as vibrant and intense as she had ever seen, struck down her anger. “We’re going to need all the commanders we can get when the time comes. And all the fighters,” she said, shifting her gaze to Bossy.


  Bossy snorted. “Fat chance, ratchak.”

  “Yeah—get the hell out of here,” Agracia said, waving her off.

  Tilting her head, Jetta looked at Agracia in a way that made her uncomfortable in her own skin. “You and I aren’t as different as I first thought. I know that your soul won’t rest until you’ve faced Li, just as mine won’t until I’ve confronted Victor. I can’t make you come with me, but sooner or later you’re going to have to decide which life to master.”

  Before Agracia could formulate a retort, Jetta’s gaze drifted down to her wolf. Swaying from side to side, Agracia intuited that she communicated something that only the wolves and Triel could understand.

  “Cano will take you two as close to the Pits as he can,” Jetta said as the Healer slid off her own wolf and joined her. “Don’t try anything stupid—he’s onto your games.”

  “Psshhh,” Agracia huffed, mumbling expletives under her breath.

  The Alliance commander looked at her through hard-set eyes. “You know how to get a hold of me. That mind of yours won’t let you forget.” She didn’t wait for her response, spurring her wolf and taking off.

  “Chakkers!” Agracia yelled, throwing a handful of dirt in their direction as they sped off.

  The white-necked wolf growled at her, and she took a step back.

  “Well, it’s getting late,” Agracia said, trying to decide their next move.

  Bossy backed into her, pointing at the fallen archway of a bridge where shadowy figures slithered out of hidden crevices.

  Can’t stay here; have to get out, fast, before the next wave of Necros.

  “Sycha,” Agracia muttered, taking a hard look at the wolf. His red eyes saw right through her, and any scheme to take advantage of his hide. “Alright, wolfy—I’ll be nice to you if you be nice to me, okay?”

  The wolf showed her his teeth but crouched down low enough for her to hoist herself up.

  As she offered Bossy a hand up, Jetta’s words recirculated in her head: “That mind of yours won’t let you forget.”

  Totally weird, she thought, brushing the statement off.