“Done with titration?” Thomas asked in a friendly tone.

The lab technician scooted her chair aside so Thomas could view her workstation. She emanated fear, unwilling to be so close to a mind reader.

“Oh,” Thomas said, reading her mind. “I guess Varktezo already checked in with you. I trust his judgment, so there’s no need to go over it with me.”

The lab tech smiled nervously. Thomas moved on. He didn’t want to pretend to be friendly, especially towards someone who was terrified of mind readers.

It was a sunny day. Lab equipment gleamed. Outside the windows, the steep terrain of Freedomland plunged to the beach.

Thomas passed people in lab coats, practicing hydrolysis and saponification techniques. At least a few of the technicians had begun to adopt Varktezo’s scientific curiosity towards mind readers. One of them dared to bob her head to Thomas. He nodded back.

If only he could spend all his time in the research annex. He would have slept here if it wouldn’t make the technicians nervous. Machinery and chemical smells meant that innovation was happening. Everything in sight had a scientific purpose. It was beautiful.

“Teacher?” Varktezo called from a table in the robotics room. “Are these sensors elastoresistive?”

Thomas floated over to inspect the nanofibrous mesh that his chief assistant was working on. “Correct.”

Varktezo seemed happy.

Thomas picked up a stylus, wanting to nudge sensors into a more precise configuration.

“Oh, I can do that,” Varktezo said, solicitous.

“I like doing things myself.” Thomas worked on the mesh, proud that he could do so unaided. He could lift lab tools, pick up data tablets, and push his goggles up or down. His limbs were no longer skeletal. Physical therapy was paying off. Soon—really soon, he thought—he should be able to walk.

He spoke as he worked. “I’m sure you can guess why it was important to coat the sensors in that plasmic colloid?”

“I get it!” Varktezo said, always appreciative of how Thomas prodded him to reason out the answers on his own. “It’s fireproof, but also permeable and semi-conductive. That’s perfect for biowear.”

“Exactly.” Thomas set the stylus aside, and used a magnifying lens for a better view of his handiwork. “You might be able to layer on a couple more strips.”

“Thank you.” Varktezo sighed. “I thought creating an exoskeleton would be a lot easier than this.”

“For most scientists,” Thomas said, “breakthroughs like this happen once in a lifetime. And they often take a lifetime.”

Varktezo looked disbelieving though his goggles.

To former slaves, Thomas knew, self-edification and the process of scientific discovery seemed decadent and non-essential. On top of that, patience was hard for many fifteen year olds to master. Varktezo was a teenager. He had to deal with the ummin equivalent of hormonal surges, much like Thomas.

“I worked on NAI-12 for multiple years,” Thomas said, “before I had a version that was efficacious.”

The implication was obvious. Varktezo ought to temper his expectations, and align them with reality. This exoskeleton project would take time. The big, important projects in their lab, such as inventing immunity to the inhibitor serum, might require years of hard work, even with a large team plus a super-genius at the head of the endeavor.

“Then how are we supposed to beat the Torth?” Varktezo blew out a breath in frustration. “They have thousands of labs like this one.” He gestured. “They have more than we do.”

“Uh huh.” Thomas used an eyedropper to add a chemating agent to one of the ongoing experiments nearby. “Those are excellent points. Which I’ve brought up to Garrett.”

Varktezo considered that.

“All we can do is our best.” Thomas carefully put the chemating liquid back on its rack. “Who knows? Maybe we’ll have a surprise breakthrough. It wouldn’t be the first time. And meanwhile, the Torth have lost a few of their eldest super-geniuses.”

The Upward Governess. The Colossal Failure. And the boy Twin.

Thomas wondered where the latter was. Was that one’s disappearing act a deliberate subterfuge? A red herring? Or had the boy Twin legitimately gone rogue?

Thomas did not know the Empire’s remaining super-geniuses well enough to properly theorize on what threats they posed. He wished he had spent more time orbiting their minds, back when he was a Yellow Rank citizen of the Empire.

Varktezo checked the results of a nearby autoclave machine. “Are you still doing those standing exercises?”

“Every day.” Thomas’s latest piece of gym equipment looked like a toddler’s bouncy seat. Vy or Nror had to help him get in and out of the thing. It was humiliating. And yet…

“I can stand up now,” Thomas said. “For up to three minutes. I can walk a little bit.” Well, he could lurch around, anyway.

“That is wonderful!” Varktezo put down his tablet to marvel at Thomas with pride. “Soon you’ll be rushing around the lab like the rest of us.”

The prospect made Thomas smile. “I’ll need a lot more practice before I can build up to running.” He tapped his thigh, which had enough muscle for normal activities. What he lacked was muscle memory.

If only he could skip the tedious process of daily exercise. It was so repetitive. But he needed to stimulate his muscles for nerve integration.

Varktezo paged through a tutorial on his tablet, storing formulas in his memory for later use. He felt impatient about rote memorization. He thought it was tedious and repetitive. Thomas mused that perhaps they shared more in common than teenage adolescence and scientific curiosity.

An emergency klaxon shrieked. “TORTH!”

The alert was loud enough to startle everyone, causing lab assistants to drop beakers or spill chemicals. Someone cursed.

“What in the sand sea?” Varktezo jabbed his wristwatch, seeking a news broadcast.

Thomas considered using his control sleeve to call Ariock or Garrett. His arm band was a wearable data tablet, complete with holographic projection capabilities and a supercom.

But he had a more accurate, more direct way of finding out what the Torth Empire was up to, if they were up to anything.

He ascended.

It was almost a reflex. The Megacosm was where one went to gain knowledge, and Thomas figured he only needed a millisecond to soak up the latest news from the Torth side of the war. It was a worthwhile risk. Other super-geniuses might attempt to glean his scientific research in that brief time window, but they were likely bogged down with their own work.

Torrents of information made Thomas shudder from bliss. Ah. It had been three weeks, five days, and seventeen hours since the last time he had allowed himself this ever-wondrous experience.

Freedomland.

Torth shouldn’t be here, in the Academy.

Grab slaves.

 Scan their minds.

  Locate the Betrayer.

Thomas’s good mood soured as he peered through hundreds of faraway eyes. Torth military ranks were wreaking havoc in his cities. And not just Red Ranks.

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Servants of All and Rosy Ranks stomped through deserted corridors that were normally crowded with students.

They wore space armor, complete with slim air tanks. They seemed to be setting up mysterious devices at intervals.

Remember, don’t confront him directly.

 Lure him.

  Whosoever who defeats the Betrayer shall be revered for all eternity.

If the Torth were here, in Freedomland, then why hadn’t they dropped a nuclear bomb? The lack of devastating bombs implied certain limitations. They didn’t have shuttles. They must have teleported here.

Like Garrett, the Torth teleporters probably could not bring anything large. No armies. No transports. No nuclear bombs. They could show up by themselves, and maybe armed with individual weapons. That was it.

But they did have devices that hissed.

Gas emitters? None of the Torth lingered in place, so Thomas couldn’t study the devices. He would have to probe one of their minds if he wanted to learn—

!!!!!!!!!!!!

Exclamations sliced his thoughts.

The Betrayer!

 He’s watching Us!

  He knows!

Billions of Torth, newly alerted, piled into Thomas’s perceptions in an overwhelming flood that made him accidentally bite his own tongue.

Found him.

The mental invaders focused on his sense of location and collaborated on mocking up a map.

Kill him

 Get him

Here he is…

Thomas ripped himself out of the Megacosm.

He and Varktezo stared at each other, sharing a horrified realization as emergency klaxons blared. Militant Torth were marauding through the safest cities in the galaxy.

Torth had actually teleported into Freedomland.

Thomas knew, from the intelligences he had just absorbed, that the Torth had not teleported from any astronomical distance. They had sneaked individual jumper shuttles into the local solar system of Reject-20, dispersed enough so that Ariock failed to detect them in his sweeps. That was smart. It was also alarming, since it represented a leveling up in Torth capabilities.

They could leap across a parsec.

This attack was alarming on a strategic level, as well. The Torth were sending valuable champions into Thomas’s stronghold—and they didn’t seem to care about alerting him. What made them so confident? Was it related to those mysterious gas emitters?

Had they invented some new weapon?

Something that could defeat Thomas?

He tapped his control sleeve, unleashing a distress signal. That would alert his own military. Ariock would get the alert and know that Thomas probably needed to be rescued.

But should he really invite Ariock into an unknown melee that might involve an unknown gas?

The Torth had a million advantages over Ariock, in terms of knowledge. Mind readers would locate Thomas far faster than Ariock could. The reflective surfaces of his laboratory were probably the only reason why none of the Torth had teleported here already.

“Everybody?” Thomas raised his voice. “Get out of sight. Torth are in the building. You need to hide!”

Most of the lab assistants were already gone. They had scampered through the exits, no doubt seeking workstations to dive under.

Only Varktezo remained. “Where are you—”

Thomas interrupted him. “I’m their target. You need to get away from me.”

Everyone knew where Thomas lived and worked. Maybe he should have listened to Garrett and set himself up in a secret off-world lair instead of making himself publicly available. He had just wanted to set an example. He’d wanted to be able to welcome any mind readers who defected from the Torth Empire.

So the Torth were raiding his research annex. They would likely invade his Dragon Tower as well.

Unfortunately, Azhdarchidae was fiercely loyal. If the juvenile sky croc saw his parent’s turf being invaded … he might do something brave and get himself killed.

And Cherise was also a military target.

That was Thomas’s fault. He had proven that he cared about her in front of Torth.

“I have a blaster glove!” Varktezo pulled out his weapon. “I can protect you, Teacher!”

“No. I need you to protect Cherise.” Thomas ignored Varktezo’s hurt feelings. He couldn’t guarantee anyone’s safety if they stayed near him. His fireballs were subpar. He had no hope of matching the gravity-defying gymnastics that Torth military ranks were capable of.

“Please,” he begged Varktezo. “Cherise is in the artisan building, ground floor.” He had absorbed her class schedule. Not to be creepy—well, maybe it was a little bit creepy—but because he hadn’t wanted to risk an awkward chance encounter with her. “You can get there quickly if you—”

The far doors slammed open.

A trio of Torth fanned into the room, moving with predatory coordination. Their helmet faceplates were activated, as if they were in outer space or some kind of toxic environment. The lack of faces made them look insectile.

Gas began to pipe through the open door. It was ominously pink.

Thomas knew he was trapped. The only exit was through the pink gas and the three Torth combatants. Secret passageways riddled the Academy, but the emergency klaxons had started too late. He’d had no time to flee and hide.

His mind was a weapon. But the Torth knew that. They would not be so stupid as to enter his range of telepathy. Indeed, they hung back.

Thomas considered rushing at them. His hoverchair was faster than a person at top speed, although he would have to maneuver around counters and lab equipment.

Anyway, the combatants would not stand around and wait for him to twist their minds.

Thomas figured he had only one option left, one slim possibility for survival. He ascended into the Megacosm.

DEFEATED!

 HA!

  THE BETRAYER IS CORNERED!

   HE WILL SOON BE POWERLESS!

    WHAT A LOSER!

Frenzied victory songs poured over Thomas. He ignored jeers and insults, filing them away for later processing. He sought the minds of the particular combatants who had him cornered.

They were eager to gloat.

We are superior to you, Betrayer.

 So much superior!

  You have lost the war!

   Inhale the inhibitor gas!

    As soon as you lose your powers,

      We will take you into custody,

       and bring you to the Death Architect—

        —who will break your precious mind!

Super-geniuses hardly ever gave someone their entire attention. Never with invasive, in-depth probing. It was beyond rude. Thomas didn’t care. He burrowed deep into the core of one Servant of All, the Trepidatious Blaze. He tore past that man’s varied hopes and dreams and arrowed straight to his primal depths.

!!!!!!!!!

The Trepidatious Blaze understood, a second too late, that he should have dropped out of the Megacosm.

He tried to do so now. His triumph morphed into a snarl of horror.

It was a good thing Thomas had gotten a lot of practice at twisting minds. He zombified dozens of victims per day, in an ongoing effort to keep the Mirror Prison clear and clean. He zombified the Trepidatious Blaze with practiced ease.

It was trivial.

The only difference between doing it up close and doing it at a distance was the type of connection. Up close, Thomas could forcibly twist any mind. From a distance? It had to be consensual. The victim had to literally invite him in.

Which the Trepidatious Blaze had done.

That was what being a Torth in the Megacosm was all about. Torth normally swung in and out of each other’s surface thoughts and perceptions with the casual ease of monkeys swinging from trees.

!!! Uh oh !!!

Thomas sensed shocked dismay from his mental audience. Orbiters flung themselves away in a sudden panic, rejecting him. Thomas’s full focus attack had already ruined his own tenuous connection to his orbiters. He lost access to the Megacosm.

That was all right.

He doubted that any more Torth would allow themselves to be victimized. This was a one-time, single-use trick. He had been saving it for a battle such as this.

“Come into my range!” Thomas commanded.

Fortunately, the space armor suits seemed to include auditory processing. The zombie formerly known as the Trepidatious Blaze heard him and obediently sprang into action. He backflipped over a chair and sprang over a counter, shattering beakers. He landed within Thomas’s range of telepathy by a hair.

Thomas slipped into the broken mind of his zombie.

He wore its body as if he was stretching a new glove. The zombie’s sensations were now his. The zombie’s limbs were his limbs. The zombie’s eyes were his eyes. Thomas had gained a second body, and it was enhanced with super-strength, super-agility, and powered armor.

In his multi-faceted peripheral vision, he saw the remaining two Servants of All raise their bulky blaster gloves, ready to end the threat to their galactic empire.

Time stretched out for Thomas as he kicked his mental processing into high gear.

He imbued his proxy body with martial arts knowledge as well as his will, and sent it forth. The zombie leaped across the table and seized one Servant’s gloved arm. He wrenched it hard enough to crack an armored joint, then used that momentum to swing that Torth towards the other. She lost her balance and Thomas’s zombie swept a roundhouse kick, enhanced by powered armor, at that one’s helmet. The faceplate dented.

The zombie finished his move by throwing the broken-armed Servant towards Thomas.

She tried to scramble to her feet, but she wasn’t fast enough.

Thomas wrenched her mind. He then settled into her body, wearing it, testing it out, fitting his mind to her athletic contours.

Tendrils of pink gas snaked closer.

A gaseous inhibitor? Thomas could only guess at whose brilliant idea this was. He took a deep breath and held it.

He used his two proxy bodies to seize the third invader. He-she wrapped strong arms around the fighting Servant of All, dragging him closer to Thomas’s centralized hub of a body. Never mind that his lungs burned with a need to breathe. He didn’t dare risk inhaling any trace of the pink gas.

Noooo! the third Servant of All gibbered in silent panic. You tyrant! He flailed, trying to escape, but he must know that he was doomed.

Thomas dove deep into his core mind.

Within a microsecond, it was over. Thomas wore a third heavily armored body.

He knew that the Megacosm must be roaring with dismay. He could guess what they were thinking.

A grenade rolled through the open doorway. Its countdown display was already morphing from yellow to orange.

Thomas hadn’t even had time to draw a breath. He was going to black out soon. Nevertheless, he used a proxy body to leap towards that grenade and hurl it back the way it had come.

The explosion boomed in the adjacent lab.

Walls rattled. Glass equipment broke and dust sifted down. A lab technician screamed in fear.

Thomas directed his proxy bodies to knock over the gas emitters. He sped through the broken doors, seeking fresh air. He had to skirt past the mangled victim of the grenade—a Torth in the white armor of a Servant or a Rosy.

His home was under attack. He could really use more than three proxy bodies.

“Teacher?”

Varktezo cringed when the three proxy bodies plus his Teacher swiveled their heads in unison.

Thomas took a breath. “I’m fine,” he said with multiple voices. “These bodies are under my control.” His other mouths rasped, their vocal cords underused. “Stay put.”

He collected his three extra selves and sped away, hunting threats to conquer.