The Triad

by Sarah Ettritch

  Perhaps sensing the timelessness of the moment, the crowd settled down when the image taker raised his hand and encouraged happy faces. These images of the triad would end up in the history books.

  By the time the image taker stepped back and thanked them, Lesley’s cheeks ached. She relaxed her frozen smile and lifted her arms from her Chosens’ shoulders. Mo turned to Lesley, her eyes alight with excitement. “Time to go in!”

  Lesley nodded and turned around. Mama and Papa caught her eye and smiled, then they whirled to follow all the siblings through the doors that two Chosen Council members held open. Since images of Joining Ceremonies were prohibited, the image taker would remain outside. Adrenaline coursed through Lesley. We’re about to be Joined, really Joined. She reached for her Chosens’ hands and held them tightly. Michael disappeared through the doorway, and then it was their turn. She gave each of her Chosens an encouraging nod. The moment they stepped toward the doors, the crowd roared and the chanting resumed.

  The sudden silence when the doors closed behind them was almost disorienting; it reminded Lesley of a crypt’s hushed atmosphere. Sighs of relief rose around her. Now that they were safe from scrutiny, it was time to properly greet the families. As she hugged Michael, it struck her that she and Mo would finally unite the Thompson and Middleton families. The two families had such a long history together that they were practically one family already, but today would officially bind them together. When their descendants learned about their lineages, they would see that the two families had finally merged because Lesley Thompson and Mo Middleton were Chosens. Despite it being an event outside her control, Lesley couldn’t help but feel proud that she was the Thompson, Mo was the Middleton, and that their love, in addition to the Chosen Council, would Join the families together. Sentimental, yes, but it was the sort of day that encouraged emotional interpretation over rational thought. Just for today, Lesley wouldn’t fight it.

  After she’d embraced Nathan, she turned to the figure hovering in her peripheral vision. No introduction was necessary—not only did he resemble Jayne, but it could only be Robert, under the circumstances. Still, Lesley waited for Jayne to introduce them. “Welcome to the Thompson family,” she said as she shook his hand.

  He inclined his head. “Thank you.”

  “We’ll have more opportunity to speak at the supper,” she said politely, aware that the others were already being led into the Joining Chamber.

  “I’ll look forward to it.” He fell into step behind Nathan.

  Lesley turned to her Chosens, in time to see them roll their eyes at each other. He’d sounded perfectly polite to her, but since Mo apparently wasn’t impressed with him, something must have happened. She’d ask Mo later; Watkins had moved in front of them, readying himself to lead the triad. Mo and Jayne took their positions at Lesley’s side. Lesley hadn’t expected to be nervous; she wanted to Join with the two women flanking her, and she’d do so while surrounded by Rymellans who loved her—with the exception of Robert. But as she reached for her Chosens’ hands, her heart pounded, and it would be difficult to tell who was clinging to whom.

  Watkins glanced behind him, then stepped forward. The triad followed him. When they reached the stone steps that led down to the chamber, Lesley carefully descended them, not wanting to trip at this most solemn of moments. Watkins reached the bottom of the steps, walked through the chamber’s wide entrance that normally saw only two Chosens enter hand-in-hand, and moved aside. Lesley could sense the anticipation from those waiting within. With one last encouraging glance to her right, then to her left, she braced herself and strode with her Chosens into the Joining Chamber, her footsteps reverberating on the stone floor.

  The smiling families ringed the circular chamber. Lesley felt herself grin as the triad walked to the centre of the circle. She stopped on the worn, decorative P engraved into the floor. Over the centuries, thousands of Principals had stood on this spot and formed a smaller circle by facing their Chosens and taking their hands. Lesley let go of her Chosens’ hands, then took them again when Mo and Jayne stood beaming in front of her, despite their nerves. In their case, she could hold only one hand of each Chosen. Theirs was a slightly larger circle than usual.

  Footsteps rang out. Watkins closed the outer circle. “Let us begin.”

  Everyone drew breath and chanted, “Disobedience means death. Death to those who commit a Chosen Violation. Death to those who disobey. Death to those who violate the Way. Death to those who violate the Way. Death to those who violate the Way!” Applause echoed around the chamber.

  Mo and Jayne took their respective positions next to Lesley and slipped their hands into hers again as Watkins entered the circle. He nodded to Lesley, then to Mo, then to Jayne. “Today we Join together three families, the Joining of a triad. Before we do, there is the matter of Article CT134. Lesley Thompson, do you and your Chosens waive the rights assigned to you under this article?”

  Since the triad had met with Watkins two days ago to review how the ceremony would differ for triads, the question didn’t surprise Lesley, and she knew it wouldn’t have shocked Mo or Jayne. She squeezed her Chosens’ hands. “We waive the rights assigned to us,” she said clearly and firmly.

  “Very good,” Watkins said with a smile. “Then let us remember how you came to be Rymellan.” Two Chosen Council members strode up, one carrying three scrolls on a silver tray. Watkins murmured, “Thank you,” and reached for the scroll that sat between the other two. He broke the seal, unfurled it, and gazed at Lesley. “Lesley Thompson, your family has a long and illustrious history. As is the custom, we shall limit ourselves to twenty generations. You are Lesley Thompson. You are the daughter of Adelaide Thompson, Joined to Alan Winters. Adelaide is the daughter of Julia Thompson, Joined to David Strong. Julia is the daughter of…”

  Lesley listened to Watkins recite what she’d learned during her Level Two at the Indoctrination Academy and could repeat from memory to this day. When it was Mo’s turn, Watkins repeated the same introduction to Ramona Middleton’s family. Since Lesley and Mo had studied their family histories together and tested each other when preparing for the recital exam, Lesley knew Mo’s lineage as well as her own and silently recited it along with Watkins. “Ramona Middleton, you are the daughter of Susan Middleton, Joined to Michael Anderson. Susan is the daughter of Colin Middleton, Joined to Donna Matthews. Colin is the son of…”

  Watkins finally rolled up the Middleton scroll and handed it to his colleague. He lifted the final scroll from the tray and turned to Jayne. “Jayne Adams, you are Rymellan, but you have no family history.” With one swift motion, Watkins unfurled the scroll and tore it in half. The rip’s echo lingered in the stone chamber. “You are Jayne Adams. Your family history begins today.”

  Jayne hadn’t reacted when Watkins had described this part of the ceremony to her during their meeting. She’d waited until afterward, when the triad was alone, and said, “A new beginning is fine with me.’ Then she’d added, “I wish leaving the past behind was as easy as ripping up a scroll.” Was she thinking that now? Lesley wanted to glance at her, but didn’t want to give anyone in the chamber the impression that Jayne’s family history diminished her in Lesley’s eyes.

  The two Chosen Council members who’d assisted Watkins returned to the outer circle. Watkins cleared his throat. “The Chosen Council is not without compassion. Though it considers both service to the Way and quality of life when selecting Chosens, and has successfully Joined Rymellans together for millennia, it recognizes that, despite its best efforts, a Rymellan may not wish to Join with his or her Chosen—or Chosens. If any of you feel this way, and would prefer to be executed than forever bound to your Chosens, this is your final opportunity to say so. Speak now, and your wish shall be carried out.”

  The ensuing silence stretched out forever, even though Watkins waited only five seconds before speaking again. “Let us proceed.” Despite only two Rymellans having ever opted for execution at this point in the ceremo
ny, and everyone present knowing that the triad intended to Join, the tension in the chamber palpably eased along with the release of pent breath.

  The same Chosen Council member who’d carried in the scrolls again approached Watkins, this time with the Chosen rings. Watkins lifted the ring sitting between the other two on the tray. Lesley held out her left hand. As Watkins slipped the Chosen ring onto her third finger, Lesley repeated after him: “I, Lesley Thompson, honour the Way by Joining with my two Chosens, Ramona Middleton and Jayne Adams. I will obey the articles of the Chosen Tradition. I will bring up my children to be strong in the Way. As the Principal, I welcome my two Chosens into the Thompson family.” If anyone can do it, we can.

  “So witnessed,” everyone intoned.

  Watkins picked the smallest ring up from the tray. Mo extended her right hand. “I, Ramona Middleton, honour the Way by Joining with my Principal, Lesley Thompson, and my Chosen, Jayne Adams. I will obey the articles of the Chosen Tradition. I will bring up my children to be strong in the Way.”

  “So witnessed,” thundered around the chamber.

  Now Jayne held out her right hand. At the meeting with Watkins, she’d asked if Mo could recite her vow second, even though Adams came before Middleton alphabetically. Watkins had hesitated, then agreed, since the choice to order the surnames alphabetically in their legal names was just that—a choice not dictated by the Chosen Tradition. Lesley and Mo had supported Jayne’s desire to go third. “I, Jayne Adams, honour the Way by Joining with my Principal, Lesley Thompson, and my Chosen, Ramona Middleton. I will obey the articles of the Chosen Tradition. I will bring up my children to be strong in the Way.”

  “So witnessed.”

  Watkins nodded. “If you would join hands.”

  Lesley held out her left hand; Mo and Jayne gripped it with their right hands.

  “You are now Lesley Adams Middleton Thompson, Ramona Adams Middleton Thompson, and Jayne Adams Middleton Thompson. You are Joined. Let us witness you say the Words Every Rymellan Knows as a Joined triad.”

  Watkins whirled and walked to the outer circle. Lesley couldn’t contain a grin when she met Jayne’s, and then Mo’s, eyes for the first time as her Joined Chosens. She took Jayne’s right hand with her left; her grin widened when she felt the Chosen ring on Jayne’s finger. “Disobedience means death. Death to those who commit a Chosen Violation. Death to those who disobey. Death to those who violate the Way. Death to those who violate the Way. Death to those who violate the Way!”

  Inside the stone chamber, the cheers and applause sounded as loud as the ruckus from the crowd when Lesley had stood on the steps. She wanted to hug her Chosens—the newest members of the Thompson family!—but that would have to wait until they were on her aviacraft. Watkins and the other Chosen Council members had already moved to the entrance. Lesley took Mo and Jayne’s hands. They followed Watkins, their families behind them.

  When the triad had almost reached the doors that would open onto the steps, Watkins turned and nodded, then moved aside. Two Chosen Council members swung open and held the doors. Lesley glanced behind her to ensure that their families were ready, then the newest Rymellan family stepped into the sunshine, giving a crowd that needed little encouragement to cheer its first look at a Joined triad, a sight not seen in many years. This time, Lesley didn’t mind her ringing ears and the chanting from the crowd while the requisite images were taken. As the triad walked the narrow pathway to the holding area, she couldn’t resist lifting Mo and Jayne’s hands, and shouting for Mo to lift her right hand, and then basking in the roar that rose from the crowd when the triad’s Chosen rings reflected the sun.

  *****

  Mo inwardly cursed when she almost cut a finger on her left hand. While cutting her food, paying attention to the knife rather than to the Chosen ring on her finger would probably be a good idea. But her eyes were continuously drawn to the silver band. Hopefully the novelty would wear off soon.

  “Lieutenant Commander Thompson,” someone—it sounded like Andrew—said.

  Mo forked the piece of quiche into her mouth, then looked up when Andrew repeated, “Lieutenant Commander Thompson!” He met Mo’s eyes from across the table, three chairs down. “Would Lieutenant Commander Thompson please pass the rolls?”

  Argamon! What was with the formality? Mo swallowed her quiche and nudged Les, then felt herself flush when gales of laughter rose to her right, where her family was seated.

  “I told you!” Nathan pointed at Neil and Matthew. “Pay up.”

  Neil whipped out his comm unit. “I’m transferring the credits to your account.”

  Mo dropped her fork to her plate. “How was I to know you wanted me, and not her?”

  Andrew’s jaw dropped. “I was looking right at you!”

  She wanted to strangle him, especially when she glanced at Les and caught her grinning. “You better become a commander soon, or this is going to be really confusing!” she snapped, then blew out an exasperated sigh. It wasn’t Les’s fault, it was her flaming brothers. And Papa! Now his comm unit was out, too. “Do you want the flaming rolls, or not?” she said to Andrew.

  He nodded. Mo would love to throw one at him, but why give them the satisfaction? She passed the bread basket to Nathan to give to Andrew. To think that only a few minutes ago, she’d been sitting here feeling all sentimental about Middleton no longer being her surname, which had naturally led to thoughts of Mama. If only she could have been in the Joining Chamber. She would have been so thrilled to see the long-standing bond between the Middleton and Thompson families become official. See, Mama, you didn’t have to worry about me and Les. But Mama had worried; she’d expressed her concern during one of their last conversations together. If only she’d lived. If only she were here, telling Nathan and Andrew not to tease their sister. Nah, Mama would have been in on it, too, her laughter drowning out everyone else’s.

  “They’re only teasing,” Les said.

  Mo turned to her. “I know. Though it does illustrate that it’s a good thing we’re not serving together right now.” She paused. “Do you think we’ll ever serve together again?”

  Les’s brow furrowed. “Only if I’m transferred to Defence, for some reason.”

  And with Les in the commander training… unless she committed a major misstep on her way to becoming an Interior admiral, the chances of her being transferred to Defence were about…oh, what Mo would have thought their chances were of ending up in a triad. She lifted her brows and said, “You never know,” then stuck more quiche into her mouth.

  *****

  Jayne stood with the Thompsons and Middletons and watched Lesley and Mo dance the first third of the long piece Adelaide had selected. The triad had practised the dance twice; their comm units would vibrate at the two transition points. Soon it would be Jayne’s turn to dance with Lesley. She swallowed and clasped her clammy hands behind her. This would be worse than the Dance Hall. Other couples wouldn’t obscure her from those watching; everyone’s eyes would be on her as she danced with Lesley and then Mo—including Robert’s, and her aunt’s and uncle’s. So far she’d avoided talking to him, but she’d exchanged a few polite words with them, as acquaintances would. It was hard to believe that she’d lived with her aunt and uncle for five years, though she’d spent part of that time at the Indoctrination Academy.

  In addition to Carol, Jayne’s other cousins were here. Adelaide had wanted her to invite more relatives, so Jayne had grudgingly agreed to Carol’s siblings, and only Carol’s siblings. No other aunts and uncles, no other cousins, no grandparents, nobody who’d ignored her existence from the moment she’d lost her parents. Had the sight of her upset her relatives? Repulsed them? Made them feel guilty? Had it been a matter of cutting off what they viewed as a rotting piece of flesh from the familial body?

  Jayne Adams, you are Rymellan, but you have no family history. Rather than offending, Watkins’ words had liberated. Today was a fresh start, an opportunity to build a new family history with two women sh
e loved. Adams was still part of her name; it was one of those engraved on the ring on her right hand. But today she’d leave everything that name represented behind and reclaim the identity others had wrenched from her—a true Rymellan, a strong Rymellan, and now a Joined Rymellan who would honour her Chosens until her last breath.

  Her comm unit vibrated.

  And a terrified Rymellan who’d better not step on Lesley’s feet too often! She took a deep breath as she watched Lesley and Mo part and smile at each other, then willed herself to walk, not wanting Adelaide to have to push her and set everyone thinking that she didn’t want to dance with Lesley. Mo nodded to her as she approached. Jayne knew her answering smile looked frozen. Every step across the dance floor to where Lesley waited made her feel more exposed; she had to fight the urge to run to Lesley and cling to her. This was as excruciating as the walk to the steps. Mo’s voice rang in her ears: We’re walking to Les. Keep your eyes on Les. And Jayne did. She transferred the spotlight that must be dogging her every step to Lesley, who appeared perfectly at ease in her crisp white dress uniform, her back straight, her chin up, and her eyes encouraging.

  When Lesley smiled and extended her right hand, Jayne slipped her hand into Lesley’s and her other arm around Lesley’s shoulders in one fluid motion. They whirled; they danced; despite stepping on Lesley’s feet, Jayne felt graceful and alive and self-assured within the arms of a Chosen she loved and trusted, and bolstered by the supportive voice of her other Chosen playing in her mind.