Awakening: The First Tale of the Trine (Trine Series Book 1) Read online

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Director Spencer took a moment to study the lines of Zion’s face on the screen. They stared at each other impassively, each sizing up the other. After a few long moments, the Director stated, “My name is Director Nathan Spencer, with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. We have been interviewing the pair who call themselves Oraki. We have been advised that your name is Zion, and that your kind, the Elvahn, have been in contact with our people at some points in our history. Why have you come here, now?”

  Zion spread his hands out on the table in front of him, and leaned back in his chair. “The short answer is that our observation team had gathered credible evidence that a colony of the Abbadon have become desperate for supplies, and were preparing a raid on your world. We had sent this information to our…governing agency, you would call them, and were awaiting an official decision on how to proceed. I have extensive first-hand experience in fighting the Abbadon, and realized that while we waited on protocol, your people were in incredible danger of being caught unaware. I made a difficult decision that will undoubtedly damn me in the eyes of my people. I took it upon myself to come personally with a warning, and to help prepare you for the inevitable confrontation you face.”

  “So you’re saying you were being proactive in order to help humanity face an incoming threat. Oraki mentioned that there were treaties in place preventing any such incursion onto Earth by these Abbadon, and they further stated that your presence here is what will actually give these Abbadon a reason to invade. What do you say to that?” Director Spencer inquired.

  Zion considered the question only a moment. “I would say that you Americans should understand the value of pre-emptive action better than anyone on this planet. When a true threat to your security is identified, a risk must be taken. Words on paper make flimsy shields, and the Abbadon are not known for being trustworthy. Did Orak explain what our observation team does precisely?”

  “Not in any great detail, no,” Director Spencer replied.

  “Oraki, myself, and several others were assigned to a wasteland planet where an observation Bore had been set up, allowing us to open tiny gateways where we could spy on your kind and the Abbadon colonies we had identified. We were there as an inspection team to make sure the treaties were upheld. When we learned that a rogue colony of the Abbadon planned an incursion to your Earth, we reported our findings. I know my people. The Elvahn would be happy to help your kind after the fact, and help you understand what horrors had befallen your people at the hands of these creatures. But I….I could not accept that.”

  Zion’s dark eyes had grown wide, and while alien, his features spoke more than words of the things he had seen in the past. “I have seen personally what they do to their victims. I have been their captive. I could not stand by while others suffered this fate, even if it meant breaking the treaty. My people must not stand on the sidelines while your kind are devoured by these monsters. I understand better than anyone what I have done, and what punishment will come to me…but the Abbadon left me no other choice.” Covering his face with his hands, Zion rubbed at his temples.

  Recovering himself after a few moments, Zion continued. “Even if my presence violates the treaty and allows others to contact you, I realized it would not give the Abbadon justification to resume their war of conquest on your species. If they were to resume, my presence will force the Elvahn to act to help protect you, and my guidance can help you prepare for what is to come. That is why I am here. I have come with this warning, and to help prepare your kind for what is inevitable. Let me be clear on this…they are coming. We know the Abbadon have mobilized around a new Bore they have created for this world, and it is only a matter of time before they return.”

  “So with the knowledge your team gained, you decided to take independent action to warn humanity about this impending threat,” Director Spencer said. “That in itself seems noble. Now, explain to me why your…what would you call them, ‘co-workers’? Explain why Oraki was so upset by your actions that he followed you and stabbed you to stop you.”

  “Oraki is a child,” Zion waved a hand dismissively. “Orak has barely passed the first century of life, and that kazir…Orak’s ‘second’, Aki is only a few decades old. Did Oraki tell you why they were assigned to the research team? It certainly wasn’t due to any technical knowledge or training. That one hasn’t even completed any formal education. No, Orak was sent there to work as a guard and assistant, as sentence for numerous crimes. You see, our people have a ritual that can bond the souls of loved ones, bringing them closer together and strengthening their connection to the aether. It is done for the purpose of marriage, or establishing familial bonds. Orak used the ritual for personal benefit, binding the soul of a Rydal…that dog, if you will, and another…creature, called ‘Kio’ together. Orak was made stronger by the binding, and gained the ability to channel aether through the souls of those bound. Amongst the Elvahn, binding another Elv to you against their will is a crime akin to murder. However, Orak did not bind another Elv. The two Orak bound were another species, so instead they were sent together to serve Orak’s father at the Bore, where he could watch over them and educate them.”

  “As to your question of why Orak would stab me, I presume it was to disable my armament. The blow landed directly on a set of sensors, here,” Zion said, pointing at the gash in his neck armor. “Which regulate many of the suits functions. If you’re asking me why the child took my actions so personally…I can only speculate. I admit, I had to force Orak’s father to help me open the Bore. I am stronger in the aether than they are, and when he would not listen to my appeals, I forced my will upon him. He was exhausted by the opening of the Bore, but will suffer no lasting harm. I fully intend to apologize to him and offer my service as reparation when I return to him, but I am confident that once this is over, I will be vindicated. I will do everything in my power to help your people in the struggle to come. The Elvahn are not without compassion, and they will also come to your aid when the Abbadon appear.”

  “Tell us what intelligence you obtained precisely that motivated your intervention. What is the nature of this impending assault from the Abbadon?” Director Spencer asked.

  “The Abbadon have numerous colonies throughout the universe that survived the destruction of their home world. These colonies were viable planets teeming with life that the Abbadon used as farms to feed their home. After their home world was destroyed, these colonies agreed to the non-aggression treaty we forced upon them, and contented themselves with the worlds they had colonized. One of those colonies was established on a particularly violent world, filled with apex predators. The Abbadon had sent their greatest warriors and engineers to populate and tame the planet. Those survivors have been beset for ages by the rigors of that place, and we discovered that they were now planning to reopen their Bore, to launch an incursion to your Earth. They have decided that they have no other choice, and our intelligence suggests they feel that if they establish a foothold here, the Elvahn will not launch an all-out war, as we would risk injuring you humans. They intend to establish themselves here, then negotiate with your kind to stop their aggression and legitimize a claim to part of your planet.”

  “Do you have any information on how they intend to accomplish this? Where they might strike, what tactics they may use, or what weaponry they may bring?”

  “No. I can tell you that they follow certain patterns. They prefer targeted strikes to neutralize what they consider particularly dangerous targets before launching the main thrust of their assault.”

  “You think they are likely to attack our leadership structure then? Possibly go after the President or the chain of command?” Director Spencer asked.

  “Not at all,” Zion replied. “In fact, they will likely leave what you call the ‘chain of command’ completely intact. They don’t want to threaten your leaders, your decision makers, as that will make you less willing to negotiate with them. They have a much different idea of what cons
titutes a ‘dangerous target.’ One of the reasons we have kept your species under such close observation is that certain individuals have begun to demonstrate a sensitivity to the aether. It is common as a species evolves, and if those individuals were to awaken to their true abilities, they would be a much greater threat to the Abbadon than your military might. The Abbadon have sufficient technology to combat you on that front, but cannot stand against the power an aether wielder can command. That is why the Elvahn have had such success in subduing them.”

  Director Spencer paused, staring at Zion intently while trying to absorb everything he had been told. He was already exhausted from the rescue efforts today, and to be sitting here discussing an alien invasion with this…Elv…it was overwhelming. Finally, he continued.

  “So your assertion is that you took it upon yourself to come warn us, forcing your team to open this ‘Bore’ for you. Why open it in that hospital room? Why arrive in an area filled with civilians, and cause such destruction? Those aren’t the actions of a savior. You came to us with death and terror, where we have heard nothing at all from these Abbadon. Explain that to me.”

  Zion nodded as though he fully expected this skepticism, and said, “You have every right to doubt my intentions. Arriving in that hospital room was not ideal, in hindsight. I chose that area to arrive near one of your kind that I felt the Abbadon would target, a man named Delmont Jeffries. We believe he is not only sensitive to the aether, but has subconsciously been using it throughout his life. He would be a prime target for the Abbadon, and it seemed appropriate to warn him. He happened to be at that hospital at the moment I was able to force open the Bore. I didn’t take into account how unstable the portal would be, or that my colleague would attempt to hold it open behind me to allow Oraki to follow. If he had closed it immediately, before he was exhausted….but he didn’t. He held it open until his strength failed, and could not regulate the collapse. That explosion and the resulting loss of life was a horrible mistake.”

  “Your mistake,” Director Spencer said sternly. “That led to the deaths of dozens of innocent civilians, with God only knows how many injured. We will have more questions later, but at this time you will remain in custody. Any attempt to leave that cell, or any action we deem aggressive, will be met with force.” Clicking off the monitor and microphone, Director Spencer sank back into his chair.

  After a moment, he turned towards Agent Soto, who had remained out of frame during the discussion. “Get these interviews uploaded to the Pentagon immediately. Also, double the agents accompanying Mr. Jeffries. If this ‘Zion’ character had wanted to warn Mr. Jeffries, he would have come to the proper authorities. I believe he had other motivations for appearing in that hospital room. Until we figure this out, I want him under our protection. See to it, Agent.”

  As the glow of the screen faded, Zion moved to sit cross-legged on the cot in the corner of his cell. Smiling softly he closed his eyes, and let his consciousness flow through the aether. He had a long night of preparations ahead, but was confident he had made the right decision.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Thursday, August 2nd 21:14 EST.

  Fire Chief Samuel Dufresne, Greensboro, N.C.

  Chief Dufresne hung up his coat as he entered his office. He needed to update some files before he headed home for the evening, but his hand was aching fiercely. It had continued throbbing all the way back to the station, and as he sat down at his desk, he debated hitting the showers to see if that might ease the pain. He was certainly filthy from the rescue operations today, but after leaning back in his chair, he wasn’t sure if he could find the energy to go wash and change.

  He typed in his password, then flinched violently as the screen went dark briefly. His desktop image loaded quickly, but for an instant he had thought the reflection in the screen had been someone else. He rubbed at his hair and chuckled. Nope, hair is still there and I haven’t grown pointy ears, he thought.

  He frowned slightly as he realized that the office seemed to be getting darker, and looked up to the overhead light. There was an odd halo effect around the light, and his field of vision rapidly narrowed. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath as a wave of nausea rolled over him, then pushed his chair back and bent forward with his head between his knees. He barely managed to yell for help before the pain in his hand flared, and his consciousness slipped away.

  Feet pounded on the stairs, and one of the firemen poked his head into the office door.

  “You okay, Chief? Thought I heard you yell.”

  “I’m fine,” Chief Dufresne said as his head reappeared from under his desk. “Just dropped my pen, and banged my head on the desk. I’m wiped out after everything today, I think I’ll head home in a minute.”

  “All right, Chief, be safe out there,” the fireman said, leaving the office.

  Chief Dufresne’s face went slack as he pulled up his Facebook page on his computer. “Katie, Katie, Katie…” he mumbled, searching through his friends. “Tch, not friends with your own daughter? Chief, I am disappointed…” he mumbled to himself.

  Going to the search field, he typed in “Katie Dufresne,” quickly locating her profile. It was public, as was the link to her band’s page, “Katie and the Friendzoned Five.” Checking the band’s schedule, a smile spread across the Chief’s face. They were playing tonight at the Nowhere Else Tavern in Greensboro, and her post showed that she had checked in there just an hour ago. She had invited any and all to come out and see her band perform.

  “I think I will take you up on that, dear girl,” Chief Dufresne mumbled. Putting his filthy jacket back on, he climbed into his county vehicle. Still mumbling to himself, he punched in the address Katie had listed for the show on his G.P.S., and set out to add another aether sensitive human to his roster.

  Half an hour later, he pulled into the parking lot of a strip mall. Turning off the ignition, he sat in the darkness at the end of the line of shops, staring intently at his hands. A pale blue flame sprang to life in his palms, causing shadows to dance over the grin that stretched across his weathered features.

  Of course it’s fire, Zion thought, in his cell miles away. Talent will always find an outlet. Now…let’s see if it runs in the family.

  Chief Dufresne stepped out of his vehicle and surveyed the mall. Most of the businesses were closed, but the lot was filled with vehicles. The Nowhere Else Tavern was positioned near the end of the line of shops, and a fairly large crowd milled around outside. The various groups of young people gathered outside gawked at the Chief as he made his way towards the door, some of the younger ones even trying to hide their cigarettes.

  “Whose dad is that?” he heard them whisper, or his favorite. “Ah, somebody’s getting grounded, we got a daddy incoming.”

  A large man stood leaning against the entryway, his words to Chief Dufresne lost in a deafening blast of guitar feedback. “What?” the Chief yelled.

  “You hear officially, or you off the clock?” the bouncer repeated, staring at the badges on Chief Dufresne’s filthy coat.

  “Off the clock,” the Chief replied. “I came to see my daughter play.”

  “Five bucks cover,” the bouncer said, as he inked up a stamper. “I don’t need to see any ID, you’re good,” he said, collecting the Chief’s money and stamping his hand. “Have fun, and let me know if any of the kids give you any trouble.”

  “Oh, I have no doubt this crowd is nothing but respectful to its elders,” the Chief grinned, moving into the dimly lit bar. Years of smoking and sweaty bodies had left the place with a peculiar stale odor that was not entirely unpleasant. There were a surprising amount of people inside, and it took him several minutes to push his way near the stage in the back. He was stopped about ten feet away from his target by a solid wall of bodies, predominantly young men who had crowded together near the feet of the object of their shared desire.

  The woman at the front of the stage had just finished tuning her guitar. She stood about five and a half feet, but lo
oked taller with her combat boots, tight black jeans and tank top that clung to her frame. She was wearing woven leather sleeves that wrapped around the back of her hands, and covered each forearm. Her dark hair hung loose to her shoulders, and she brushed it out of her eyes as she stepped up to her microphone.

  “I want to thank all of you for coming out tonight!” she yelled to applause and cat-calls from her audience. “I’m Katie, and these boys are my Friendzone!” she proclaimed, motioning to the band gathered around her before bringing her pick down on a thunderous chord.

  The crowd gathered around Chief Dufresne exploded into motion as the song began, jostling him along with them. He casually swatted away anyone who bumped into him, soon clearing a small space around himself amongst the audience.

  The Chief closed his eyes, reveling in the sensation of her voice. He could feel her power coursing through the room. “She has no idea what she’s doing,” he mumbled as he swayed with her voice. “But I do love her enthusiasm.”

  Her voice spanned octaves, rising to high clear notes that were almost physically painful before diving into a deep, guttural roar:

  My country is a lie;

  You get a glimpse,

  then it fades.

  We’re all told that we can fly!

  Our dreams are wasted,

  we all are faceless.

  We’re promised we can buy;

  A cure for a soul that dies.

  It withers behind a desk,

  or in factories possessed,

  knowing its meaningless.

  Cherish the rage,

  that brings meaning to your day.