Triorion Omnibus

by L. J. Hachmeister

  Billy cooed and squealed.

  “I know,” Jetta said as calmly as she could. “But we have no other choice. He’s our only way inside their collective. Without him we have no way to stop the Dissemblers.”

  The engineer’s eyes glistened with tears, but he blinked them back. “It just isn’t right.”

  A giant shadow blocked out the light from the hallway. Jetta moved aside as Reht strode through, followed by Mom.

  “Is there a problem?” Reht took one look at Tech and gave him a pat on the shoulder. “Ease up on her, mate. She’s only doing what she does best. This is our only way to beat them ‘walkers.”

  Tech’s shoulders slumped, and he rubbed one of his healing stab wounds. “I just don’t want to lose him.”

  Jetta didn’t expect any reassurances from Reht, but this wasn’t the same dog-soldier captain she remembered. “I know, Tech. I will do everything I can to protect him.”

  Still in shock, Jetta followed Reht and Mom part of the way back towards the bridge.

  “We’ve cleared the battle lines. We’ll be at the Dissembler horizon in less than fifteen minutes,” Reht said.

  “Reht,” Jetta started, hoping to find a way to express the depth of her gratitude. Strapped for starcraft, the Alliance once again needed Reht’s crew and unregistered ship. But it went beyond that. Triel had asked him to help. Despite everything, he didn’t refuse her request.

  Jetta looked away from the hurt in his eyes, the ache that radiated from his being. His love for Triel was real. Nothing she could say would take away his pain.

  “Thanks,” was all she could choke out.

  “Sure thing, kid,” he said, ducking through the portal to the bridge.

  Mom gave her a growl before following his captain.

  Jetta stood outside Reht’s den, reluctant to go inside. If she just stood there, maybe that moment would last forever.

  “Jetta?” a muffled voice called from beyond the door.

  “Telepaths,” Jetta muttered, letting herself in.

  In another show of decency, Reht had allowed Triel a few moments to herself in the privacy of his den. She sat on the cleanest part of his bed, staring down at the mess on the floor.

  Jetta had no idea what to say, and apparently neither did Triel. Brushing a beer can off the sheets, she sat next to the Healer.

  “So,” Jetta said, breaking the silence, “what happens next?”

  Triel’s eyes met hers, and Jetta forgot herself for a moment. Not long ago she would have severely rebuked herself for the feelings that stirred in her heart. Now she allowed herself to bask in their warmth and vitality.

  The Healer touched her face with slender fingers. “Right now you are going to kiss me.”

  Jetta took her time. She curled a stray piece of dark hair behind Triel’s ear, taking in every detail of her face and tracing the outline of her jaw. The Healer’s beauty was unparalleled, as was the taste of her kiss. Jetta leaned in. Triel’s full, soft lips parted for a wet tongue eager to massage her own. A current built between them with each breath they shared and with each moment they drew closer to each other.

  Clearing a space on Reht’s bed, she tried to push herself on top of Triel, but instead the Healer levered herself on top of Jetta. With little strength left, Jetta was in no position to fight.

  “Always vying for control, aren’t you?” Triel teased.

  Jetta let the Healer slip her hands underneath her uniform. “I just like making you happy.”

  Triel laid next to her, her hands still under Jetta’s top. After tracing the outline of Jetta’s abdominal muscles and the healing scar, her fingers moved to the prominence of her ribs. She lightly played with the smooth underside of her breasts before taking back one of her hands and resting her head on her palm.

  “Jetta, I want you to know something.”

  “What’s that?” Jetta said, rolling over and kissing her neck.

  “I think you’re a good person.”

  Jetta stopped kissing her and gave her the side eye. “What?”

  Triel cupped her cheek, surprising Jetta with the strength of her emotion. “I think you’re a good person. I always have. I want you to remember that.”

  Jetta couldn’t control the shakiness in her voice. “Why are you saying this?”

  Blue eyes melted into hers. “Because for a long time you believed you were a monster. You were never a monster. You were just born with the ability to see your own shadow. It frightened you—and me; I’d never seen a Sentient manifest their own dark side.”

  “I’m sorry,” Jetta said, not knowing what else to say.

  “Don’t be.” Triel played with Jetta’s hair. “We all have one. And now you’ve embraced yours. You feel different to me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Triel hugged her. “You feel at peace.”

  Jetta cringed, thinking of what was about to happen. “I’m not quite sure about that.”

  Shaking her head, Triel kissed Jetta’s hand. “Just promise me one thing?”

  “Okay.”

  For a moment the Healer’s eyes sparkled. “Don’t give up on me and you, okay?”

  Jetta didn’t even have to think about her response. “Of course not—I would never. My heart is yours for all time.”

  Sadness tinged Triel’s smile. She lunged at Jetta, hugging her with all her might. Jetta hugged her back, sensing the anticipation of loss on the edge of Triel’s thoughts.

  The overhead com crackled.

  “Hey, Starfox, it’s your time to shine. Bring that kid with you, too.”

  Jetta kissed the Healer’s cheek. She tried to hold onto the memory of her radiance, her smile.

  “Come, Jetta,” Triel said, her voice low and hushed. “It’s time.”

  SOMETHING’S WRONG. Tarsha saw the massive blip on the edge of the holographic display and magnified it on the secondary viewer.

  “What is that?” Unipoesa said, directing his question to no one in particular.

  The Motti ship.

  “Man, Li got his dogs out here fast,” Tarsha overheard one of the crewman saying.

  “We can’t stay here,” Jaeia said, holding herself up on the edge of the action console.

  The warship quaked as two more torpedoes struck their hull.

  “Damage report?” Tarsha shouted above the warning sirens.

  “Shields down to thirty percent, and we’ve lost main deflector dish. Massive casualty reports from decks nine through thirty.”

  “Haussa maneuver,” Tarsha called out, typing in commands for the rest of the fleet to move with her. The ship dipped to starboard and then sped to the defense of their fighter squadron getting pummeled by an enemy battleship.

  Li was doing exactly what she had hoped: Unleashing an all-out assault. She saw the angles unfold faster and faster. Her opportunity would be there. She would see it.

  But Unipoesa’s caustic words wouldn’t leave her, inserting themselves every time she accessed her battle skills.

  (Know when you’re defeated.)

  Gritting her teeth, she zeroed in on the holographics.

  I have to maintain this retreat. Not too much longer. I must be patient. I must trust my instincts. My opportunity will be there.

  Two more of their fighters were gunned down. The loss hit her like a punch to the stomach.

  (Know when you’re defeated.)

  “We have a problem,” Unipoesa said, calculating the approach pattern of the Motti ship. “The outer reaches of their weapon will be here in three minutes. We can’t maintain this position.”

  The Motti are coming up on their flank, she realized, checking the stats and rechecking the holographics. If we maintain our current course, we’ll be obliterated.

  Jaeia locked eyes with her. “Tarsha...”

  Maybe I should let Jaeia take over. Tarsha looked at the war globe. Alliance markers were disappearing at an accelerated rate. They wouldn’t be able to hold out any longer. Maybe it’s time to stand down
, let a real commander take my place.

  (Know when you’re defeated.)

  Tarsha bit her tongue. One of Bossy’s fights came to mind, when she took on the twin steroid giants Big Jawn and Meathook McGraw in the Ultimate Fighting Ring Showdown! back when they first met. Then it dawned on her.

  Tarsha ran over to the science station console.

  “Lieutenant, can you make me a class four particle cloud?”

  The science station officer looked at her with confusion but didn’t question her. “Yes, Sir. I have one sitting in one of our planetary probes right now.”

  “Launch it, heading 7.2.02,” she said, rushing back over to the war station.

  Out of the corner of her eye she could see Jaeia smiling as she gave the rest of her fleet orders to jump.

  “THEY GOT HERE QUICK,” Jetta remarked, studying the flight pattern of the Motti ship over Bacthar’s wing. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw Triel slowly walk towards the center of the bridge, hand stretching out as if to reach the enemy ship headed toward the Holy Cities.

  “Readings are weird,” Sebbs remarked, trying to make sense of the scanner readout. “It’s more than the usual noise those Deadwalkers put out.”

  Jetta’s stomach knotted. This isn’t right.

  She zoomed in on the picture of the Motti ship on the remote scanners. Nothing seemed different; it looked like the same lumbering behemoth that had wiped out half of their galaxy.

  “They’re awake,” Triel whispered, eyes wide as saucers.

  “Huh? Who’s awake?” Reht said, picking at the bandages on his hands.

  Triel’s entire body shook. “They know I’m here. Oh, Father...”

  Jetta stumbled over to Triel, unsure of her own footing, and helped the Healer stay upright. Carefully wading into the Healer’s thoughts, she picked up her awareness, confirming their worst fears: Somehow, the Dissemblers had transcended their chemical restraints and gained autonomy from the rest of the hive mind, no longer taking commands from their Motti handlers.

  Li is no longer in control. The fate of the universe lies in the poisoned heart of the Dissemblers.

  “So cold... so lost... in such pain,” Triel mumbled, her eyes glazing over.

  “Are we close enough for Billy to make contact?” Jetta asked, holding up the Healer with the last of her strength.

  Sebbs shook his head. “A few more klicks. We’re going to have to be really close.”

  “Reht,” Jetta said, making eye contact.

  The dog-soldier captain chewed on his nail until blood beaded up, exchanging glances with the Talian before making the decision. “Take us in, Sebbs, ol’ boy. Let’s see if we can’t keep from melting our faces off.”

  TARSHA LEONE WATCHED the remainder of the Alliance ships jump away, their markers disappearing off the war globe. It took only seconds for Li to respond as he crippled the last of the flagship’s shields.

  “You’re a joke, Tarsha. Your own fleet left you!” he crowed. His face looked like a harlequin mask of blood and shredded tissue. One of the medics tried to patch him up but only managed to apply Heme-arrest before Li shoved him away.

  Li dropped his voice to mimic Unipoesa’s: “Know when you’re defeated.”

  Tarsha remembered his dark eyes, once cold and clinical, staring her down in the women’s locker room, ready to deal her death. Now, seeing him mangled, blanched skin with lips drawn tight, eyes ablaze, something changed.

  She no longer feared him.

  “Full charge ahead on their flagship, ten percent differential,” Tarsha ordered. The entire bridge went silent as the helmsman lay in the course.

  “You’re charging me?” Li exclaimed. “Are you suicidal?” He matched her assault, charging the lone warship, his entire Fleet following his lead.

  Tarsha waited until the probe carrying the class four particle cloud reached its destination. She timed her last communication just before the explosion. “Goodbye, Urusous.”

  THE LIGHTS ON THE Wraith flickered, dimmed, then overcharged. Several bulbs blew out while others sputtered to their death.

  “Switch to secondary power,” Reht commanded.

  “Not responding,” Sebbs said, pounding the helm with his fist.

  Bacthar chimed in. “We’ve got about two minutes of reserves before we lose instrumentation and life support.”

  Ro and Cray crawled up from the weapons pits. “What gives?”

  “Dunno,” Reht said. “Hang tight.”

  Jetta looked out of the viewport to the stars. They provided a cold, distant comfort from the harshness of space. She imagined they regarded her with the same indifference as a superior being who had no stake in the struggles of the Sentients.

  Having brushed against the Dissemblers’ weapon before, Jetta guarded herself. Just a breath away was the place of concentrated pain. Scorching flames, the halo of light. The place that Triel had to go.

  Jetta heard her pulse like the hollow drumming of wings. This is it.

  (Forever is slipping away.)

  Eyes dilating, Triel’s mouth opened in a gasp. On the edge of her awareness, Jetta felt the Healer sliding away into the consuming shadow.

  Overtired and strung out, Jetta succumbed to panic. “Triel,” she said, shaking her shoulders, “I need to get you out of here.”

  Triel grabbed her hand. The chaos of the bridge crew faded from her awareness, leaving her and the Healer standing alone in a vast expanse of dancing colors and shimmering sounds.

  (Jetta,) Triel said, still holding her hand in the temporal plane. (Everything is as it should be.)

  (No, impossible!) Jetta gripped her arms. (I can’t believe that I can finally love you, and now you have to go away.)

  Triel brought Jetta’s hand to her lips and kissed her fingertips. (Jahx helped me realize something. Everything that has happened to me has led to me being right here, right now. I was the one who fought the Prodgy’s beliefs, who defied all the rules, but because I chose that path, I found you.)

  (I don’t understand,) Jetta whispered.

  (And now I am prepared to save my people. Thank you for opening my eyes, Jetta. Thank you for letting me love you, and for giving me your strength.)

  (Triel, wait,) Jetta said, sensing Triel’s terrible knowing. Her heart froze in place. The Healer had not properly performed the ritual of Ne’topat’h. (You can’t go—there’s no way for me to bring you back!)

  (I have to go, Jetta. The Dissemblers will not stop until every last Sentient is dead.)

  (I won’t let you die!)

  Jetta tried to fight her, to sacrifice herself into the Dissembler weapon, but Triel pushed her back, flinging herself into the beyond.

  TARSHA GRABBED JAEIA before she hit the deck and gently guided her to the floor.

  “Tarsha Leone,” Jaeia said as her eyes drifted shut, “I might have to steal this one from you...”

  “I want a medic up here,” Unipoesa shouted.

  Tarsha resumed her post. There was no way to communicate their need to the medical teams. The entire warship had lost power. Unable to engage their engines and change course, they flew through space on their previous heading.

  Exactly as she had planned.

  One of her CDP teachers had incidentally warned her about the class four particle cloud in advanced battle tactics while studying surveillance and stealth assault. Commonly used by astronomy teams to identify and study black holes, class four particle clouds were the easiest way to blow out the power grid on any starcraft, even at a distance of a hundred light years.

  “You have to practice the utmost caution,” her teacher had warned her years ago. “If you’re trying to gather intelligence on a star-class vessel with science teams, make sure you scan for this phenomena. Encountering a class four particle cloud will knock out your entire ship, leaving you a sitting duck.”

  Tarsha stood close to the viewport windows, seeing the Alliance warship shoot across the nose of Li’s flagship, just barely clearing their hull. She though
t she could see him standing on the bridge looking back at her.

  “Two minutes of life support,” one of the deck crew announced.

  Tarsha watched as they passed behind the last of the Republic Fleet. Traversing the bridge, she noticed the lightness and buoyancy of her steps as the gravitational boosters began to fail. Through the small retro viewport, she witnessed the last of the battle unfold.

  She wasn’t sure what she’d see. The Dissemblers worked on living flesh, not machinery. She found it hard to imagine that the entire Republic Fleet, power out but crew unhurt, was on an unchangeable course toward the Dissembler weapon, about to be wiped clean.

  Unipoesa joined her side. He didn’t bother to say anything this time. Tarsha wondered how he felt, watching his only son speeding toward his gruesome death, but cut herself off from the thought. As much as she didn’t know Li and hated her encounters with him, Urusous was still her brother.

  They watched together in silence as the Republic ships crossed over what Tarsha guessed was the horizon. Nothing discernible happened, but she had seen enough Dominion propaganda videos on Old Earth for her mind to play out the grisly scene.

  Li would be confused at first, not understanding the ghost that had slipped beneath his skin. There would be a brief, awful moment of clarity before the itching began. Scratching provided no relief. The itching got worse. A vice would take hold of his fragile intestines, slowly clamping down and twisting. Something like acid would bleed from within, liquefying his organs and spreading the terrible fire. He would choke for breath as his lungs drowned in their own fluids. His eyes, no longer seeing, would turn inward, privy to a bleak world that was eating away his soul. Death, with arms spread wide, was a welcome release.

  Tarsha opened her eyes again. The Republic ships were still on the same course from before their power had been knocked out, seemingly unfazed, but well within the Dissemblers’ field of destruction. Shells of protective metal housing the dead.