Ariock’s supercom was blowing up with cries on the command channel.

“They’re taking prisoners!”

“I’m inhibited!”

“Me too!”

“Run!”

“Warrior down!”

“Torth are teleporting!”

The faraway panic was incongruous in a landscape of untouched sand and patient beach waves. The ocean around his private island was pink, reflecting sunrise-tinged clouds that had been serene moments ago.

Ariock held his arm away, as if his supercom was a venomous leech wrapped around his wrist.

Vy touched him. “You need to go.”

No excuses were necessary. Vy wore her own supercom, and she was also receiving a deluge of personal calls.

Jinishta’s icon popped up on Ariock’s display. He answered her call. Jinishta was garrisoned in a hub metropolis on Umdalkdul today, and she should be nominally in charge of all of his armies and fleets on that planet.

“Ariock?” Jinishta’s voice blared, tinny through the speaker. “I hope you can hear me. Garrett is injured and powerless. The Torth are netting him right now, and they also have more than two dozen Alashani warriors. We’re in TriSolstice City. I’m afraid we cannot hold this land.”

Ariock swore.

“I cannot rescue them.” Jinishta sounded anguished.

She kept speaking, but her voice was interrupted by an emergency buzz. Ariock recognized that unique buzz pattern. It superseded all other distress signals.

It meant Thomas needed to be rescued.

Ariock stared at his wristband.

Thomas never left Freedomland. If he was in a crisis, then everyone in their cradle city was under threat. Kessa was in danger, too.

Everyone was in danger.

Ariock went calm. His people needed him.

He entered a clairvoyant trance, sending himself across hundreds of miles of ocean to the distant shore of his favorite city. Freedomland looked secure as Ariock ghosted through its stone buildings. But the streets were devoid of people.

His citizens must be hiding, perhaps in the underground passageways and bomb shelters which Thomas had instructed Ariock to build. Neighborhood leaders knew where to guide people in an emergency.

Ariock decided to explore later. For now, he needed to exchange his beachwear for armor.

He ghosted into his suite. He had two sets of galaxy armor, inspired by nussian physiology, with diamond designs embedded in the chest plates, shoulders, and elsewhere. Cherise had created a subtle effect to imply the galactic spiral.

Ariock object-teleported his galaxy armor to his core self, standing on the beach. He was battle-ready within seconds.

The armor added even more bulk to his size, which he regretted when he was standing so close to Vy. He was more tank than person. But it was awesome for battles. Micro-darts, blasts, bullets, lasers, and even ionic blades could not cut through the hyper-dense layers of plates. Wildfire could not burn him. Ice could not freeze him. If the Torth dropped a nuclear bomb or otherwise ruined the air, he could raise the faceplate with a twist of his wrist or his neck, and the backup air supply would kick in. He could fight in space, if necessary.

He was pretty much invincible.

Now he just had to decide where Vy would be safest, and then he would—

“Go!” Vy shoved him.

Her shove was as ineffectual as the ocean breeze. Ariock didn’t budge.

“I’m safest here,” Vy assured him. “This island has no big predators, right?”

That was true. Ariock had explored it while disembodied, and it was mainly inhabited by kiwi-like animals that ate worms. That was one reason he’d chosen this place as a getaway. Vy thought the kiwis were cute.

Chances were good that nothing large would fly in.

“Go and save people!” Vy held up her wristband. “I can call for help, if anything happens.”

The Torth didn’t know about this island. They couldn’t use Vy as a hostage if they couldn’t find her.

“I love you.” Ariock knelt and kissed her.

Then he tuned into the command channel, interrupting the panicked reports to say, “I’ll head to the Academy first.” He didn’t need to explain who he was. Everyone would recognize his deep voice. “I need to make sure Thomas is safe.”

“Good.” Jinishta sounded immensely relieved. “The Torth have invaded a lot of cities, including—”

“I don’t need a rescue.” Thomas sounded strained.

Ariock hesitated. The boy was no match, physically or power-wise, for a single Servant of All. When he linked with someone stronger, gaining a raw power boost, he might be able to zombify a thousand Torth, but that required planning and a controlled conquest. There was no way Thomas could defend an entire city by himself.

“Help Garrett. Please.” Evenjos’s throaty voice came through his helmet speaker. “I am in Freedomland.”

Ah. Was that a hint that she was defending Thomas and the city? Was Evenjos actually in her glorious battle mode?

“I have things under control,” Thomas said. “Never mind my emergency signal. Go rescue Garrett, but be extra cautious. The Torth may have a gaseous version of the inhibitor.”

That sounded implausible. Evenjos would never fight if she was at risk of facing the inhibitor. And weren’t the Torth super-geniuses working on immunity to the inhibitor, like his own side of the war? Garrett would have mentioned any hint of another weapon. Besides, Servants of All and Rosy Ranks would not welcome a threat to their own powers.

The panicky reports continued, but enough had been said for Ariock to make a decision. “Set up a safety perimeter around TriSolstice City,” he commanded. “Where can I find Garrett?”

Jinishta described a gold-and-crystal indoor plaza.

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Ariock tuned out of the command channel and inhaled the salt air one last time. Did the Torth believe they could freely reconquer and take the territory which he had taken?

Let them try.

Ariock would rip their fragile little bodies in half with the power of his mind.

He ghosted to war-torn Umdalkdul. Once he located TriSolstice City, on the desert plateau above an inland sea, he yanked his body to that location. He appeared in the fiery sky with a clap of thunder and a spray of lightning.

Torth transports veered. Two flying vehicles crashed into each other. Debris rained down, along with flailing Red Ranks.

Ariock could normally find Garrett by his life spark. He sensed only ordinary combatants, and he remembered that the inhibitor was in effect. He would need to find Garrett visually.

That might be tough, since the old man was the approximate size and shape of a Torth.

Ariock sent his core self down into the thick of an intense battle.

The indoor plaza Jinishta had described was a confusing mass of speeding hoverbikes and blaster explosions. Soldiers of different species hunted or confronted Red Ranks. A strange pink miasma hung in the air, perhaps caused by smoke from wildfires and emissions from blasters.

Or it might be the new weapon Thomas had guessed at.

People on the command channel were shouting Ariock’s name, giving him nonsensical warnings, demanding his attention. Their chatter faded to meaningless noise as Ariock expanded.

His shoulders widened to become storm-heavy clouds, unfurling into arms of rainfall and electrical energy. He encased his core self in a bolt of lightning huge enough to cause blindness. As lightning, he slammed through the glass dome of the plaza, uncaring where shattered glass flew.

His landing caused an earthquake.

The impact ripped golden plates off the ground and shattered crystal casings. Skyscrapers rocked and groaned with a sound more ominous than thunder.

Ariock straightened to his full height, bristling with lightning and spiked armor.

Torth Red Ranks shot at him like mindless beasts, as if they had any chance of hurting him. Ariock strode past the idiots. The pink miasma floated well below his height, so he left his faceplate open, breathing in the scents of violence. He wanted to hear if anyone shouted for his help.

Civilians cowered and hid. Torth on hoverbikes sped into the ruined plaza, as if eager to meet Ariock in battle and die.

This was the opposite of a battle planned by Thomas. This was chaos.

What was the overarching plan of the Torth Empire? Even if they retook a few cities, they were likely to lose them again. They probably didn’t care about temporary and minor victories. So what was this really about? Was it all to capture Garrett and a few Alashani warriors?

Or was that merely a way to distract Ariock from their true goal?

The Torth would value Thomas as their top target, not the old man. Not some random city. Was Ariock being a blind fool? Was he allowing the Torth to sidetrack him—

“Aonswa!”

Ariock turned towards the desperate cry. A woman reached out to him, her albino face stark against her black armor. She was half-encased in a net. Two Torth Red Ranks dragged her towards a prison hovercart.

Dozens of netted prisoners lay on the floor of that hovercart.

More prison hovercarts sped away, laden with netted warriors. One of those prisoners wore Garrett’s unmistakable black and purple armor. The old man looked unconscious.

Ariock used his powers to clear everything else out of his way. He knocked Torth aside and brought the prison hovercarts towards himself. The prisoners aboard seemed badly injured. Some moaned from pain, but more alarmingly, their life sparks guttered, impotent and powerless.

Ariock couldn’t guess how so many warriors had allowed Torth to beat them.

Their armor should fend off micro-darts of the inhibitor. And didn’t they train daily to avoid Torth trickery? Weren’t they professionals?

He would ask later. For now, he had to act. Some of the warriors would die without immediate triage.

He used his powers to clear the air. He knelt beside Garrett.

His great-grandfather looked like an abused geriatric patient, suffering from all the weaknesses of being more than a century old. He only looked strong when he had access to his superhuman powers. His strength was gone.

Old Garrett didn’t belong in a war zone right now. He was going to die unless Ariock healed him and teleported him elsewhere.

“Watch out for the miasma!” One of the defeated warriors rocked in her net, trying to warn Ariock about something.

“Get out of here!” another warrior begged. “You’re in danger!”

Ariock needed all of his focus for healing. He couldn’t allow himself to get distracted.

He let go of his titanic stature, withdrawing his expanded awareness from the sky. Slaughtering Torth could wait. In his galaxy armor, he was more or less invincible. He needed to—

Something heavy barreled into him from an unexpected direction.

The force of a nussian tackle would crush anybody less substantial. Ariock rolled with it. He didn’t need his powers to throw off the one-ton beast, but he infused his body with extra strength. The bronze nussian went flying.

Ariock sat up and glared at his attacker. Nussians were supposed to be on his side.

“Son of Storms!” The bronze nussian cringed upon seeing Ariock stand up, the storm overhead crackling with his fury. Even so, the nussian kept talking. “If you breathe the inhibitor gas, you will lose your magnificent powers.”

Inhibitor gas.

Ariock half-hoped this nussian was playing a prank. The inhibitor was one of the worst dangers in battle, but Ariock had gotten so good at shielding himself, it no longer seemed like much of a threat. Micro-darts could not pierce his armor.

“It’s all around here!” The nussian gestured.

Ariock became aware that the unnatural pink tendrils of fog were spreading towards him. He was tall enough so that the miasma was normally below his face, but that wasn’t the case when he knelt. He had only avoided it by pure luck.

No. It wasn’t luck. The nussian had purposely shoved him out of harm’s way.

“It’s true.” That was Jinishta’s voice on the command channel. “The Torth have a gaseous inhibitor. That’s what I was trying to tell you.”

“They’re setting traps,” Weptolyso’s gravelly voice added.

Traps?

To capture unwary Yeresunsa. Such as Garrett.

Ariock swore and sealed his faceplate. He used his powers to send a cleansing wind through the plaza, but still, he dared not breathe the outside air.

Implications barreled through his mind.

The Torth had bided their time.

They must have prepared for this multi-pronged attack, training their military units, positioning troops to deploy at the right time, perhaps burying caches of weapons. They were swarming Ariock’s territories en masse.

Now that they’d rendered his warriors useless.

Unlike Ariock, the Alashani had modest spheres of influence. They were the size of a room, or a city block at the most. They could hurl spears with superhuman speed, but they needed to be close enough to see their targets. With inhibitor gas lurking in every city, his Alashani Yeresunsa could no longer afford to run fearlessly through urban areas, where anything might lurk around a corner. They might run into a tendril of inhibitor gas.

This changes everything, Ariock realized.

Even major Yeresunsa, such as Ariock, would have to tread carefully when they were in enemy territory. As for Evenjos…? She would never set foot near a Torth-ruled city again. Not when a whiff of inhibitor gas could unmake her.

“Get the warriors off the field,” Ariock said hopelessly. “All warriors, retreat.”

And things would get worse. No doubt the Torth Majority wanted the inhibitor gas to be totally invisible and undetectable. It was only a matter of time before the Torth super-geniuses ironed out the pink kink.

All of Ariock’s future battles would require space armor. He dared not breathe in battlefields.

He swept a sharp wall of lighting at the Torth combatants, frying them where they stood. The survivors began to flee.

Ariock let them go. He had bigger concerns.

When he was certain that he’d cleansed the air, at least for now, he retracted his faceplate and looked at the bronze nussian who had saved him. Judging by the soldier’s many scars, he was a former gladiator.

“What’s your name, soldier?” Ariock asked.

The nussian seemed honored. “I am Hathmalarskel.”

“Hathmalarskel.” Ariock repeated the name, which implied respect in nussian culture. “I’m going to leave, and take all the Yeresunsa warriors with me.”

The nussian soldier snorted in acceptance. He seemed to think that was a sensible decision.

“Can you tell me who’s in charge of the garrison here?” Ariock asked. “Beneath Jinishta and her warriors?”

Hathmalarskel named a name. Judging by the brevity and cadence, it was probably an ummin.

“Great.” Ariock made a mental note to visit the ummin leader. “Hathmalarskel, you proved brave and capable in saving me today. Are you a battle captain?”

“No, I am not.” The nussian’s small eyes were round with wonder.

“I would like to appoint you in charge of a garrison.” Ariock wished he could offer more than a few words of gratitude. He would likely never be able to repay the debt he owed to this nussian. “For now, will you help to defend this city against Torth?”

“It would be my honor, Son of Storms.” Hathmalarskel looked like he might burst with pride. “May I offer rewards to anyone who helps me?”

That was a battle captain’s prerogative. Captains could hand out war credits or neighborhood turf as rewards, keeping the fiercest soldiers motivated to show up for battle after battle.

“Of course. Use your best judgment.” Ariock clapped the newly raised captain on his pebbly back. “And thank you.”

As Hathmalarskel loped away, Ariock thought of all the people who would be relying on such captains from now on.

He hoped Thomas was making progress on an antidote to the inhibitor.