Triumvirate

A Sci-Fi Life

We are sitting around the worn oak table, Mica, Tors, and I, looking over the papers that are laid across it for us. The peat fire in the corner is a bit smoky but it keeps the chill from the room, and frankly, a little bit of smoke is the least of our worries. We need to decide if we are going to sign this contract or not. If we do, we all have to agree and we all have to sign. There is no going forward alone or with just two. All three are in or none are. We are the Triumvirate.

“There’s going to be bears there,” Mica says with a furrowed brow. “We’ll have to be mindful of them.”

“There’s always bears,” I say. “Of one kind or another. It’s nothing we haven’t handled before.” I’m the Sagittate this time around and I’m trying to be a calming influence as well as inspire a little trust. We know damnwell that we’re going to sign in the end, and take this mission, but it’s still deserves to be considered fully and the dangers honestly weighed and I want them both to know that I’m up to being on point.

“Skoari is an old hand at taming bears,” Tors says, motioning jokingly at Mica, whose got a big burly chest and an abundance of dark black hair. I chuckle a little and give Mica a bit of a pat on the hand to remind him that I do indeed have experience in the bear-taming department, but then I’m back to business. The Council is expecting our decision and we shouldn’t keep them waiting too much longer.

The problem with these missions is that they are gods-awful vague. We are never quite sure exactly what we are getting ourselves in for, but we always seem to sign on in the end. Maybe the chance to work together again just outweighs the hardships that will be sure to come. Besides, it’s always an adventure. We’re too young still to sit by the fire with our ice-wine and put our feet up. Someday maybe, but not anytime soon. We all have silvery scars across our forearms and torsos. I’ve got one across my cheek from that time one of the bears actually got a piece of me, but it’s near enough to my ear that mostly it’s covered by my hair. Not that I care all that much. I’ve earned all of these scars. They speak to my commitment and to my dedication. I wear them like a badge of honor, just as fully as Mica and Tors.

“See you on the other side” Mica says, giving us each a perfunctory kiss on the forehead before we head out. We won’t remember each other right away, but eventually it will start to come back to us -once we find each other; once the mission starts for real. He’s not one for big displays of emotion, but he’s loyal as fuck and we take it as a kind of good luck totem as we transport to the mission site.

Tors and I are the first to find each other this time. We don’t know right away that it’s anything more than the normal course of things, but he moves in with me after three weeks. By the time he leaves for grad school, just a few months later, we know that we are pair-bonded. We go about our business in a regular kind of way until it’s time for the sleeper component to be activated. Once the homing beacon is on, there is nothing that can keep us from finding each other. It’s time for the mission to begin in earnest.

We find each other; we connect. We still have no idea of what’s going on. The amnesia is still in full affect. We feel the pull and we muddle along, but in the interim there is choas and longing and hurt. The sex is off the charts, but it isn’t until much later that we learn that is the only way to translate this level of energetic synergy into this dimension. We don’t understand what is happening to us but it’s my job as the Sagittate to clarify things and to set us all more fully on course and I do start to remember that part. I have a job to do!

I devote a part of every day to meditating and contemplation. What is being asked of me? What is being asked of us? It’s not a clear stream, but some of the pieces start to trickle in. We get some guidance from The Council, but it’s not straightforward, and they seem to have an agenda that we can’t verify is the one that we agreed to. The more we are in each other’s company, the more we start to get a sense of it, although our programming from these environs throws up obstacles. I start to get the feeling that The Council is adding things in; playing on our amnesia and our willingness to serve. They seem to have their own agenda. I think we are going to have to go rogue, which means that we will have even less guidance than before. To hell with the bears…. we are going to have to go up against the status quo as well. We’ve done this a thousand times before; we know each other like the back of our battle scarred hands but we are going to find our own way, with or without their guidance. They really shouldn’t have tried to mess with the Triumvirate!

A hundred years, or maybe only a few Earth years later, Tors and I have been called to a new locale. The ley lines are robust here and the pull was strong and so we listened and we went. Mica is still at the initial transport site, fulfilling his part of his individual mission, while Tors and I pursue ours. As the Sagittate I still hold the bulk of the vision of the group mission, and it’s my role to bring them along; to remind them and keep the cohesion. I do what I can and I also trust them to find their way. They are seasoned veterans, just as I am. Their scars speak for themselves.

I check in with Mica daily. We commiserate on how hard this all is.

“I’m right here,” he says, just as he always does. “I never go anywhere. I’m right there with you. It’s tough but we always get through.”

“I hate this,” I say. “Why did we agree to this?”

“It’s never easy,” he reminds me. “We always question whether or not we can make it through, but we always say yes and we always do.” I can’t remember a time when we weren’t all together.

We don’t know what’s next for us, but we offer support and a warm, safe shoulder to each other. It seems that the mission requires us to go forth in this same way — apart but inexorably connected. Tors and I play out our part on our end. We alternately worship each other and slap each other on the head. Ours is the marathon of the nitty gritty. Mica and I are not constrained by the everyday. We hold each other in the stream and I tame the Bear in him, while he tames the Fox in me. The Triumvirate remains the stongest place of all. Once we ruled Rome, but now we turn our attentions to bigger things. If only we could see what that was!