PART THREE

> “I turned to find my shadow grown long, the ground scorched by my footsteps. Death pooled in my wake. I was the devil.”

- Thomas the Conqueror

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Kessa waited in a dark lobby that was paneled in a metallic quasicrystalline coating, polished to a reflective sheen. That warded off teleporters. Tall windows revealed the night sky, starless and eerie and striated by bands of dull colors. It enhanced the mysterious feeling of the Dragon Tower.

She clicked her pointy fingertips. She had not expected Thomas to be late.

Might he be feeding his sky croc? Or did he no longer value the ummin elder whom he had put in charge of all penitent Torth?

He seemed to want to forget about Kessa and her job. He never checked in with her. He never called. It seemed entirely Kessa’s prerogative to contact him, and her liaison clerk had only wrangled this meeting with difficulty, ten days in advance, after a series of cancellations and reschedules.

Her clerk had specifically said that Thomas would greet Kessa in his lobby. They would dine alone, without interference from waiters—

A door clanged.

A slightly built person entered the room, making whirring sounds. For a moment, Kessa assumed it must be a random albino. It couldn’t be Thomas. Thomas could not walk.

He approached her. Every step was stilted.

Kessa’s beak fell open. There was no mistaking his sand-colored hair, and his general Torth-like appearance.

“You’re walking?!” Kessa jumped to her feet, unsure if she could trust her eyes.

Thomas halted. Or rather, his legs halted in an unnaturally robotic way, and his upper body wobbled, overbalanced by a tiny bit. He had to maneuver to redistribute his weight.

“I got tired of how long it was taking.” Thomas patted his thigh, and something made a hollow sound. “So I built braces to speed my progress along.”

Now that Kessa’s attention was directed towards his legs, she saw that a subtle, lightweight exoskeleton supported his legs and lower body. The framework blended in with his dark clothes. It was a minimalist arrangement of braces, wired with sensors and tiny hydraulic pistons.

Thomas gave her a searching look. “What do you think?” He was far away enough to respect Kessa’s mental privacy.

“It is…” Kessa fished for the right word. “Incredible?” She wanted time to process the notion of Thomas walking around. It was good, but it was strange.

“It’s a temporary measure.” Thomas seemed anxious to explain. “I’m working on training my core muscles, but this exosuit helps my body to get familiarized with balance and other processes involved with walking.”

He squeezed a small device that snaked out of his sleeve. The exosuit performed the complicated motion of turning around.

“It looks like a big help,” Kessa observed.

“Yeah.” Thomas whir-stepped to the door. “I use a remote to operate it, since my brain doesn’t send the right impulses yet.”

The brass door looked enormously heavy. It must have hydraulic hinges, because Thomas held it open with ease. “Dinner is this way,” he said in awkward invitation.

Kessa followed him down a glossy, dark corridor. Thomas’s exosuit lifted and planted each of his feet in a precise, mechanical way, so he plodded rather than walked.

She stayed out of his telepathy range, because she could not help but wonder how many hours Thomas had devoted to his custom-built exosuit. She didn’t want him to catch any whiff of her consternation. But shouldn’t he prioritize other things? Such as inventing better space armor for warriors? Or inventing immunity to the inhibitor?

Or converting penitents into loyal allies?

The free cities were under a dire strain. The Alashani warriors were no longer used in garrisons abroad, so the Torth Empire had stepped up their raids. Thomas was zombifying more captive Torth than ever. He had even begun to twist the minds of lowly Red Ranks, not just Rosies and Servants. The extra zombies were useful for softening up Torth garrisons. They fought to the death, and inhibitor gas had no effect on them.

But they were useless for general defense.

Defense fleets could be dispatched to combat Torth raiders, but pilot training required a lot of practice, and there was a shortage of experienced pilots. Ariock and Garrett could kill Torth raiders from a safe distance, using storms and earthquakes. But it was difficult for them to target only enemies rather than cowering allies.

And they had to sleep.

People died every time Ariock took a break to catch up on sleep. The Torth Empire grew aggressive during those periods. The Torth were even daring to re-enslave liberated people.

“Did you show your new legs to Vy?” Kessa doubted that Thomas ever opened up to anyone, but if he did, it would probably be to his former caretaker and foster sister.

“No,” Thomas said. “So far it’s only you who’ve seen them, plus Varktezo and the team that helped with creation. In case you were wondering, I spent less than an hour on the design and development. It was just a quick brainstorm on my end, and I thought it out before the pink gas showed up. Then I handed it off to Varktezo. The engineering team is using it as a proof of concept for powered armor.”

“Oh.” Kessa felt relieved, and a little chagrined. “That’s great.”

It was difficult to gauge Thomas these days, unless one actually talked directly with him. There were so many unkind rumors. People claimed that Thomas had mind-controlled thirty or fifty Torth Servants of All during the raid on the Academy. People said that he was a demon. Some said that he held dominion over millions of penitents, and that he would soon begin to use them as his own personal militia. He supposedly controlled animals. People speculated that he used vermin and roaches to spy on innocent civilians, and that was how he knew so much. And so forth.

Nobody had even whispered that he could secretly stand up and walk.

Kessa supposed that news would eventually circulate, depending on how discreet Varktezo’s team was. She imagined goggle-eyed reactions. “What did Varktezo say about it?”

“He said the exosuit is brilliant,” Thomas said dryly. “A wonderful miracle, of course. He says similar things about everything we work on.”

Judging by Thomas’s ironic humor, Kessa figured there must be depths to Varktezo’s exuberance. She didn’t ask. The secrets of Thomas’s work colleagues were none of her business.

“Here we are.” Thomas led the way onto a cozy outdoor balcony.

Nearby cliffs kept the area private. Bronze bell-shaped lids kept their dinners fresh and waiting, lit by a crackling brazier.

The table was too cozy.

Thomas must be used to lab assistants who trusted him. But Kessa worked with penitent Torth, and they were a different matter. Out in the fields and the factories, everyone knew to avoid their telepathy ranges.

Not that Thomas was a penitent. Still…

“I do not wish to sit within your telepathy range.” Kessa picked up her dinner and carried it to the stone balustrade, which had a surface flat enough to serve as a countertop. She pulled the chair over as well.

“Sorry.” Thomas looked ashamed of his own presumptuousness.

“I am sorry for my rudeness,” Kessa said. “I may sit closer later.” She just wanted to make a point. Thomas should not presume that it was his natural right to read her mind and wield that advantage.

“No need to apologize.” Thomas braced himself, then used his remote to manipulate his legs into a sitting position at the table. “It was wrong of me to cross that boundary.”

Kessa sat. When she pulled the lid off her meal, the aroma of grilled herbs and vegetables made her lick her beak in anticipation. “Coastal silver?” she guessed. It was a type of local fish.

Thomas nodded. “It’s prepared in a way that is common among humans. Simple, but I figured an uncomplicated meal will allow us greater focus for discussion.”

Kessa gave him a warm look. “Good idea.” She used the provided utensils to cut a slice of grilled fish.

Soon they were eating.

It seemed Thomas did have something to say, even though he had declined to meet with her several times. “Kessa, I have a favor to ask.”

She raised her brow ridges, inviting him to go ahead.

“Will you please remind the spaceport commissioner to treat solo ships as friendly?” Thomas asked. “I told him, but I’m sure the order will seem more serious if it comes from you.”

Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

That was accurate. Too many people muttered that the rekveh was dangerous.

“I will do so.” Kessa enjoyed another bite of fish. “Why? Do you expect renegade Torth to show up here?”

She kept her tone polite, hiding her skepticism. Thomas telepathically asked Torth to join him daily. He had done so for many months. Closeted renegades, if they existed, had had plenty of time to honor his offer.

“I keep hoping,” Thomas admitted.

“Why are you so hopeful?” Kessa knew she was prying, but that was her prerogative. She was curious. The Torth Empire had collectively outlawed interstellar travel unless it was for military purposes. With that blockade, she guessed that the chances of Torth allies showing up was slimmer than ever.

“There were a few high ranks that went rogue.” Thomas sounded noncommittal. “No one knows where they are.”

“Really?” Kessa put aside her next bite of alien fish.

Thomas nodded. “They’re probably not on Earth, due to the risks of me or Ariock finding out. I suspect they’re camped out in wildernesses, hoping to wait out the war.”

Kessa shrugged. That was welcome news, but it didn’t make much difference.

“I take it as a sign that the Majority is dangerously out of touch with the sentiment of their military champions.” Thomas forked a bite of fish. “Because those were who deserted. A few starship navigators also went rogue. They fled in their personal streamships and cut themselves off from the Megacosm.” He swallowed his food. “And the boy Twin went rogue a few weeks before the rest.”

Kessa almost leaped out of her seat. This was major news! Such an ally might be like gaining the Upward Governess.

“The boy Twin delivered some new kind of neurotoxin to his guardian ship,” Thomas went on. “He must have killed his minder, who was a very capable Servant of All. Either that, or he somehow persuaded her to collude with him. I assume he reprogrammed his scientific vessel, and now he’s gone. No one knows where.”

Kessa closed her beak. She imagined how helpful a second version of Thomas would be.

“I’m not sure why he hasn’t showed up here yet,” Thomas said. “It could be because he has to sneak around Torth military surveillance.”

That made sense to Kessa.

“Or,” Thomas said, “for all I know, he’s setting up a degenerate cult on some reject planet, with his slaves as worshippers.”

Kessa tried not to react to that.

“Or he might be heading into deep space in order to die,” Thomas said. “Or he’s aiming to start his own spin-off Empire. All I can do is guess. Except…” Thomas lowered his voice. “I caught a hint from Garrett’s mind that the Twins are in the prophecies.”

Kessa leaped up, too excited to sit still. “Both of them?”

“Don’t get too excited,” Thomas warned. “The Torth Empire has a metaphorical gun to the head of the girl Twin, retitled by the Majority as the Lone Twin. We need to keep any news about the Twins a secret, whether or not the boy Twin shows up here. Okay? We can’t let rumors leak out. If we do, penitents will pick up on the news, and it will get to the Torth Majority, and they’ll take murderous action against his partner.”

“I understand.” Kessa knew that penitents had a lot of trouble abstaining from the Megacosm. She suspected that most of them flickered into the Megacosm every few hours, despite their pleading assurances that they would “be good.”

Everyone at the spaceport needed to comprehend the vital importance of welcoming a refugee super-genius or two. Kessa made a mental note to hold an in-person meeting with Commissioner Gojal. This was too important for a supercom call.

“I will see that it is a top priority,” she said.

“Thank you.” Thomas ate another bite, as if he had delivered minor news of little significance. He looked strange to Kessa, seated in a normal chair instead of floating in his customary hoverchair. “I’m concerned about the neurotoxin the boy Twin released,” he said. “It appears to induce rage. That could be a side effect, but who knows?”

Kessa considered the implications. What would rage do to a Torth?

Or to a Yeresunsa?

“I would assume that whatever scientific knowledge the boy Twin has,” Thomas said, “the girl Twin also has it. And she would have been pressured to share it all with the Death Architect.”

Kessa acknowledged the danger with a click of her beak. “Do you have any particular guesses about Torth plans?”

“No,” Thomas said. “But I can imagine a few terrifying possibilities.”

Guesswork must be so much easier for Thomas, with his baseline knowledge. Kessa had never forgotten her long-standing wish to know everything. To be a mind reader. That silly, impossible dream still burned within her.

“All I have are clues,” Thomas said. “I know that the Upward Governess was an accomplished chemical materials engineer, and these weapons originated from her research notes. The Death Architect specializes in psychological and physical torture. The girl Twin is an expert neurobiologist. And the boy Twin has—or had—a creative flair. He’s innovative.”

“And you?” Kessa asked.

“I’m a neuroscientist,” Thomas said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I do other things—we’re all generalists—but that’s where my greatest interest lies. Anyway. My point is, I take their special interests into account as I hypothesize what their next moves will be.”

“And what are your ideas?” Kessa asked with interest.

“There are a lot of gaps in my knowledge.” Thomas sounded miserable. “But I’m sure the Death Architect is preparing something nasty. Perhaps this rage-inducing neurotoxin? It could be something meant to target Ariock. I’m worried about him.”

“He fights from afar,” Kessa pointed out. “And he wears a lot of armor. How could they get him to breathe toxic air?”

“I don’t know,” Thomas confessed. “I just want him to be extra careful.”

They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes. Kessa expected Thomas to continue guiding the meeting, but it seemed he had said everything that was on his mind.

She was the one who had asked to meet. She supposed the next risk was hers.

“Thomas,” she said. “Do you have a good reason for avoiding the penitents?”

He grimaced.

Kessa put down her utensils. She wanted to signify the importance of what she had to say, so she turned her full focus on him.

“I have identified more than one hundred individual penitents whom I am reasonably sure have emotions,” she said. “They are able to hold a conversation. A friendly conversation,” she clarified. “Like humans. When asked, they claim that they felt like frauds when they were Torth. They are everything we could want.”

Thomas put aside his utensils. “Kessa, that’s wonderful. That’s real progress!”

“It is!” Kessa agreed. “But I find myself at an impasse.” She held up her hands, as if pressed against an unwelcome barrier. “Nobody trusts mind readers. I wish to integrate these exceptional penitents into our society. But I cannot fully guarantee that they are friendly. I cannot search their souls or read their minds, or judge if we should put weapons into their hands.” She locked her gaze on him. “I believe that a guarantee from you is of the utmost importance.”

Thomas looked down at his plate. He shook his head.

“I have done all I can.” Kessa gave him a severe look, trying to convey the power he had. “I beg you to meet twenty of the most solid candidates I can find. Just twenty.”

Thomas flinched, as if attacked.

“If you care about rebuilding the broken bridge between former slaves and former Torth,” Kessa said, “then a brief visit from you will mean a galaxy of significance.”

“You want me to face people I’ve conquered?” His eyes gleamed in the firelight. “The ones whose civilization I’m wrecking? They despise me.”

Kessa doubted that. She heard fear in the voices of penitents whenever they spoke of the Conqueror. Fear, not hatred.

“I already endure hatred from zombification victims,” Thomas went on. “Not to mention every albino I pass in the street. Oh, and half the population of Freedomland.” He threw up his hands.

Kessa supposed this explained why he avoided the general population.

“Do you know how many Torth I zombify every day?” Thomas demanded. “I keep the Mirror Prison empty. I am destroying hundreds of lives on a daily basis. I am a monster.” He emphasized that. “People are right to hate and fear me. The penitents see more truly than most. They know what I am!”

The fire flickered.

Kessa felt a thread of fear, herself. Her query had scratched a wound; something which Thomas kept bottled up and hidden.

He called himself a monster.

And he believed it.

He was one of the smartest people in the galaxy, if not the smartest. And he believed that he was rotten on the inside, or wrong in some intrinsic way, or simply a terrible person. That seemed rather … well, it might become problematic.

No wonder he avoided penitents. His low opinion of himself wasn’t the sort of thing that should allowed to leak into the Megacosm.

“Why do you refuse to go near the penitents?” Kessa made it a direct question which he could not dodge.

Thomas clearly had not anticipated the question. But he had promised to give her the truth, always, whenever she asked for it.

“Because…” He slumped. “Isn’t it obvious?” He gestured helplessly at himself. “Because I’m one of them.”

Kessa gawked. Did he actually believe that?

It was ridiculous. Thomas was many things, but defeated? Enslaved? Not even close.

“You are not,” she said fiercely. “You are a courageous renegade, not a penitent. There is a difference.”

“It’s not a difference that matters.” Thomas nudged a saltshaker closer to his water glass, as if trying to instill order. “I’m the same as they are. I’m even enslaved, like them.”

He was serious.

Kessa rolled her eyes. Garrett’s supposed ownership of Thomas was a sham, as far as she was concerned. It was a mockery of true slavery. “You and Garrett play-act,” she said, trying to be gentle instead of scornful. “It is silly.”

He looked troubled.

She could not believe that Thomas, the all-knowing super-genius, mistook a game of pretend for actual slavery. That was the sort of naive outlook a child would have.

Or, perhaps, someone with underdeveloped emotions?

“You have powers and privileges that no slave or penitent has ever had,” Kessa pointed out. “Slaves are powerless. And slaves are uncertain. They lack knowledge.” She took a small bite of grilled vegetable before going on. “The penitents understand that.”

Thomas looked off-balance, as if trying, and failing, to figure something out.

“It’s all right,” Kessa said. “You do not need to be a slave in order for us to be friends.” She gave him a fond look. “And even if you were subjugated, I would not consider you to be the equivalent of the penitents.”

He looked suspicious. Did he think she was exaggerating?

“You are not like them,” Kessa emphasized. “You have human characteristics that shine through.”

Thomas looked amazed, as if that was the highest compliment he could possibly receive. “I do?”

She nodded. In truth, she was not sure what those characteristics were. But she was sure that Thomas had them.

“Of course,” she said. “You are half human.” His heritage alone should be enough to quell doubts.

Thomas studied her, no doubt thwarted by the distance. “I just think that nothing good can come of me mixing with penitents. We’re too much alike. Up close, side by side, the similarities are inescapable.”

He did look like a penitent, seated in that ordinary chair, dressed in drab clothes.

“They are superficial,” Kessa countered.

Thomas looked unconvinced. “Who would trust my word that a bunch of penitents are redeemed? People know that I’m more or less one of them, even if you won’t admit it.”

“I will trust your word,” Kessa said firmly. “So will Ariock. Trust has to start somewhere. We lead by example.” She gestured towards the research annex. “People see ummins working alongside a renegade mind reader, and they reconsider everything they thought they knew. And us?” She indicated herself and Thomas. “We are showing them that a friendship between former slaves and former Torth is possible.”

Thomas looked thoughtful.

“Twenty is a small number,” Kessa said. “But it is enough for a start.”

“Once I vouch for your twenty,” Thomas said, “you won’t need me anymore?”

“I may need you again,” Kessa admitted.

He looked dismayed.

“I could not trust an evaluation by a mind reader with ordinary mental capacity,” Kessa explained. “Nor could Ariock. The ordinary ones cannot soak up lifetimes. I am sorry, but if we are ever going to trust reborn penitents to pick up weapons and fight alongside our soldiers? Then we do need absolute guarantees.”

Thomas looked like he might argue.

“It has to be you.” Kessa folded her hands and waited.

If Thomas truly wanted the penitents to have a path towards redemption and freedom, then he must see the value in evaluating the first few himself. Besides, his help with redeeming penitents might be a moral counterbalance to all of the Torth lives he was destroying.

If his goal was as important as he claimed it to be, then he would prioritize it above his personal comfort. He would make time for it.

“All right.” Thomas dropped his napkin, as if to signify defeat. “Fine. Every point you’ve made makes sense. I’ll evaluate your promising penitents. We’ll see how it goes.”

Kessa had not been playing any sort of game. Even so, she knew that she had won.