Thomas stepped back to admire his handiwork.

Taking steps was still awkward for him, the rocking motion somewhat unnatural. But outfitting Azhdarchidae with missile launchers was not something he could do from his hoverchair. He needed to stretch in order to cinch straps and tighten bolts.

The sky croc arrowed his long head around, eyeing the payloads with mistrust. Mockup missiles protruded from the harness, one on either side of his scaly body.

“You’re fine.” Thomas sensed Azhdarchidae yearn for reassurance, and he whir-stepped close enough to wrap his arms around the scaly neck.

Not that he could get his arms all the way around the immense beast’s neck. Not even close.

Azhdarchidae had gone through a rebellious teenage phase, figuring that Thomas was more like injured prey than a majestic predator. Thomas was more than equipped to handle such challenges. He had stung Azhdarchidae with flames until the sky croc acknowledged his dominance. He’d had to teach that lesson a few times.

But now that Azhdarchidae was on the other side of his juvenile stage, he had settled into a beta role. The animal emitted a long, rattling croak—the sky croc equivalent of satisfaction.

“You’re a good friend.” Thomas leaned his forehead against the warm, iridescent black scales.

If only there was some way he could teach certain other friends to quit challenging him.

Thomas tried to remind himself that Ariock and Jinishta were busy, and that must be why they weren’t answering their supercoms. If they ran into trouble, surely someone would call him?

He knew he was being overly paranoid.

There was an unending load of work to do in his labs, but he didn’t want to overhear what other people, even friendly lab assistants, thought of him. So here he was, with Azhdarchidae.

I’m no longer sure I’m on the right path.

Alone, inside the privacy of his own mind, Thomas could admit that.

He had an anemic mind for a super-genius. Technically, he was catching up with his sleek Torth peers in terms of sheer amount of knowledge … but it was all garbage. Unlike the Torth super-geniuses, Thomas was not picking and choosing what he absorbed. He had filled his mind with enough depravities and repressed psychoses to populate a planet. He had turned his own mind into a disgusting, monstrous landfill.

What if all that nonsense was interfering with his ability to reason?

Oh, his tactics were sound. His plans still won battles. But long-term? What was he doing?

Every time he zombified people, robbing them of free will and personhood, he felt like a demon. The undergrounders sermonized that he was evil. And didn’t they actually have a few valid points?

Deep down, he knew that path was unsustainable.

It was wrong.

Thomas whir-stepped towards his hoverchair. His thoughts were going nowhere good. The albino undergrounders might be right to hate him. They might as well get in line behind the Torth Empire. All that hatred…

It was an almost welcome counterpoint to the penitents who worshipped him.

A not-insignificant number of penitents wanted to become his personal concubines. One in particular kept popping up in his imagination.

Maybe he would risk another visit to the Pink Screwdriver?

A soft knock on the doorframe brought Thomas out of his reverie.

“Teacher?”

Varktezo stood there, small and clad in the embroidered garments that many freed ummins wore. His goggles hung around his neck.

“What are you doing here?” Thomas felt irked. The guards at the base entrance must be bored, if they were letting uninvited guests into the Dragon Tower. Maybe he should ask Varktezo to tell them to be more vigilant. He didn’t want to listen to the things they dared not say in his presence.

Azhdarchidae croaked a rattling threat in solidarity with his parental figure.

Varktezo shrank back. “I just … we haven’t seen you for three days. I thought you would want to know the results of your experiments? You haven’t answered your messages?” He held up a data tablet. “I am just worried about you. That is all.”

Varktezo began to leave.

“Wait.” Thomas said it on impulse.

He examined his own psyche for the reason why he cared about how Varktezo felt. Maybe it had something to do with friendship?

He didn’t quite understand why, but he didn’t want Varktezo to feel undervalued. Or disappointed.

“Will you help me unload these missiles?” Thomas asked. “Don’t worry. They’re fake.”

Uncertain, Varktezo stepped closer. Thomas reassured the sky croc so his chief lab assistant could get close enough to help.

“I’m sorry that I’ve been neglecting you.” Thomas heaved one fake missile out of its cradle, with Varktezo holding the other end. The mock payloads were hollow and lightweight, but for Thomas, balance was often a problem. He didn’t quite have the hang of it.

“No worries,” Varktezo said brightly.

“I miss working in the lab.” Thomas pulled down the other false missile. “And truthfully, I miss talking with you.”

Varktezo looked heartened.

“So, what’s been going on?” Thomas patted Azhdarchidae twice, letting the sky croc know that their work session was over.

“Quite a lot!” Varktezo began to recap the latest experiments with exuberance. “We discovered organelles within the dust sample from Evenjos. To me, that implies…”

Varktezo covered everything Thomas wanted to know about and more. He interrupted his own stream of conversation several times, clambering onto a plush armchair, and then later jumping off it to pour himself an energy drink. There was a service table for beverages.

“…And I am fully fluent in reading English now.” Varktezo slurped his beverage with gusto. Ummins could turn their beaks into a straw shape. “Literacy is incredible magic! It feels as if a whole new galaxy has opened up for me!”

“Oh? What are you reading?” Thomas sat in his hoverchair, braced for the yo-yo ride of moods that Varktezo emanated. That was a factor of adolescent hormones.

Not that Thomas was any better. He and Varktezo were the same biological age.

“Everything I can! Your digital library from Earth is the best gift ever!” Varktezo went on to describe textbooks on physics, astronomy, neuroscience, and philosophy.

He read more than one book per day, a rate that impressed even Thomas. If Varktezo were born a telepath with the super-genius mutation, he likely would have competed with the Upward Governess for sheer amount of knowledge absorbed.

Torth data marbles contained dry lists of facts or equations. They never told stories or conveyed opinions, and they assumed a baseline of knowledge that could only be gleaned in the Megacosm. Therefore, human libraries were the easiest way for aliens to learn science, with the rare exception of ancient alien relics. Varktezo was the first non-humanoid alien to explore this knowledge frontier. Thomas hoped he would not be the last.

“… I told Hifin there’s an excellent primer for learning English,” Varktezo was saying. “And I told her where to find it. Twice! But she forgot!” He radiated disdain and sipped from his energy drink, which was neon orange. “I don’t know why someone so forgetful is working with the plasma cutters.”

Varktezo had a habit of disparaging his fellow lab technicians. He called them forgetful, or too slow, too distracted, too lazy, or too dull-witted. Thomas could relate. He used to do the same thing when he’d worked remotely for Rasa Biotech on Earth.

He wasn’t going to judge Varktezo for having trouble winning friends. Neither of them was a pro at it.

“I like what you’ve done with your animal.” Varktezo settled back in the armchair and nodded towards Azhdarchidae. “That is a marvelous harness design. May I look at the blueprint?”

Stolen novel; please report.

“Sure.” Thomas had already digitized his mockup and loaded it into a collaborative online archive. “You’ll find it in the mechanics library.”

Azhdarchidae was restless. He nipped at the harness around his body, and Thomas made a permissive hand signal, emphasizing to the sky croc that he was free to leave.

“Are you going to teach Azhdarchidae to carry passengers?” Varktezo was enthused, picturing himself astride the beast while soaring over the city. “Will you ride him?”

Azhdarchidae launched off the tower and opened his immense wings.

“No.” Thomas shuddered. “I value my life.”

His pterosaurian friend soared over Academy Plaza, angling towards the mountainous wilderness that was his usual hunting route. Thomas could imagine a harness failure. Sure, if Thomas fell off, he might slow his deadly plummet by using his thermodynamic power, but “might” was the operative word. Panic might overtake him and subsume his ability to control his power. Then he would end up roasting himself alive.

Varktezo crossed one scaly foot over the other. “So.” He seemed incapable of silence. “There was a sudden rainstorm. Now it is sunny. I assume Ariock went to Nuss, to save the people there?” He hesitated, cringed, then mentally gathered his courage to ask a weighted question. “How many are dead or wounded this time?”

Thomas leaned his head against the headrest cushion. Serious topics were dangerous. He might cause Varktezo to worry.

He might get emotional.

And yet he did want to get away from his own overcomplicated perspective for a bit, and filter his problems through the perceptions of a friend who was less cynical and more exuberant. That was so hard to do, these days. His mind felt more burdened than ever, with all the penitent garbage knocking around in there.

He missed Cherise.

He missed having an inner audience.

Thomas found himself talking, sharing private thoughts that he probably should not share. “Ariock doesn’t like all the zombies I keep making.”

“Oh.” Varktezo closed his beak. He knew that if Thomas was sharing secrets and complaining, it was serious.

“It’s not just Ariock,” Thomas admitted. “Just about everyone has doubts about the zombie hordes. You do.”

“Pshaw. No. Not really.” Varktezo blustered and squirmed in the armchair, trying to shove away the accusation. “I don’t doubt that—”

“You’re right to have doubts.” Thomas flushed, humiliated by the admission. “I fully believed that we would have integrated the penitent Torth into our armed forces by now. ‘Droves’, I said.” He stared down at his hands. “I guess I’m not a very reliable super-genius.”

Varktezo looked startled.

Then he studied Thomas, his gray eyes as piercing as a Torth giving a mind probe. He had never heard his Teacher express self-doubt before. It seemed he’d thought it was impossible for a mind reader to lose self-confidence.

“Kessa still believes that is possible,” Varktezo pointed out.

Thomas shrugged. He wasn’t sure if Kessa was acting out of obligation, because it was her job, or if she held a true belief that Torth could be converted into reliable allies. Kessa had yet to give him permission to get within telepathy range of her mind.

“Perhaps we will integrate Torth into our society,” Varktezo said, full of reassurance. “Eventually.”

“Eventually.” Thomas echoed that word without hope. “Eventually isn’t good enough.”

He floundered every day, searching for a sustainable method to grow his army. Every day gave the enemy super-geniuses more time to perfect their nefarious secret plans.

“Even Ariock thinks I’m wrong about the penitents joining us,” Thomas said. “They should have showed some willingness to fight on our side by now.” He stared miserably at the beverage counter, wishing that he could ingest something to make his problems seem smaller. Alcoholic drinks might work.

“So what if it takes a long time?” Varktezo asked. “Didn’t you predict that it would?”

“Not this long.” Thomas had risked his entire military strategy on a surety that he would gain Torth allies.

And he was wrong.

Devastatingly, horribly wrong.

“Are you saying you have no backup plan?” Varktezo studied him again. Clearly, he flat-out did not believe that Thomas would enact a strategy without any backup contingency plan.

“Oh yeah, there’s a backup plan.” Thomas did not hide his misery. “The backup plan is to have me create hordes of zombies.”

“As you’ve been doing,” Varktezo realized.

Thomas nodded. “Yes. And I’m working on secret super-weapons.”

Varktezo reacted as if that was good news.

It wasn’t.

“That means,” Thomas explained, “we are fully engaging in a weapons race against Torth super-geniuses. They thrive on that sort of science. I’m not in the same league.” He rested his forehead on his fingertips. “I really thought.…” He hated to admit how much he had believed in his erroneous dream about Torth allies. “I never imagined I would be this wrong.”

Varktezo put aside his energy drink. His faith in his much-admired Teacher must be shaken.

Thomas knew that he ought to feel guilty about dumping his burden of worries onto his lab assistant. He should have told Varktezo to go away. He never should have opened his heart for someone else to examine.

Yet…

It was gratifying to see someone else begin to worry about the bigger picture. It was almost a relief.

Garrett was mindlessly smug about victory being preordained. As long as the painted prophecies kept coming true, then everything was peachy fine, as far as Garrett was concerned.

And Ariock? The big guy worried about his next battle, or the next crisis. He did not think years ahead. He trusted Thomas to handle overarching strategy.

It was the same with Evenjos. And the war council. And everyone else. Nobody wanted to consider how the Torth might win the war. It was too scary. Nobody seriously analyzed the possibility of defeat except for Thomas.

“I’m trying not to worry right now,” Thomas confessed. “I haven’t heard from Ariock or his forces in half an hour. They’re supposed to be healing the victims on Nuss. But I wish someone would call, just to check in.”

Varktezo’s brow ridge tented in worry. “Is Garrett with him?”

“And Evenjos,” Thomas said.

Varktezo’s brow ridge went even more vertical.

“I asked her to go with them,” Thomas clarified. “For healing purposes, but also because I’m concerned that the Torth might have set a trap for our army.” He hesitated.

But he had already said too much. Varktezo had a curious mind.

So Thomas summarized his misgivings. “What the Torth did this time was exceptionally cruel and large-scale. Yet they left a lot of victims alive. It was a situation crafted to trigger our emotions, to make Ariock go running over there to rescue our people.” Thomas faltered. “Um, that’s how it looked, to me, anyway.”

He knew he sounded paranoid. The Torth had largely evacuated Nuss. What could a few garrisons do against Ariock and his army of warriors?

No one else was worried about it. Not Garrett. Not Ariock. Not Jinishta.

Maybe Varktezo would feel obligated to reassure his Teacher. He would probably pat Thomas on the arm and awkwardly tell him that there was no reason for fear.

Instead, Varktezo looked alarmed. “Well, I assume you tried to check in with them?”

He was actually taking Thomas’s paranoia seriously.

“I did make a few calls.” Thomas eyed his tablet. There were still no notifications, no missed calls. “No one answered.”

“Hm.” Varktezo looked ready for action.

“But they could just be busy,” Thomas admitted. “There are a lot of people to heal. Thousands.”

“Have you checked the Megacosm?” Varktezo asked.

“No.” Thomas hunched, embarrassed. “If I go into the Megacosm to gather news, I’d be alerting the Torth Empire to the fact that I’m alone here.”

“You’re alone?” Varktezo seemed to be weighing the various implications.

“I’m unprotected,” Thomas said.

“You mean that we are,” Varktezo said. “You mean all of Freedomland.”

Thomas nodded, accepting that technicality.

“Well.” Varktezo sounded brusque. “Don’t you think it is responsible to warn people?”

“No!” Thomas stared at him in surprise. “Let’s not spread news that the city is relatively unprotected. There are plenty of penitents whom I haven’t vetted. We can’t trust them unilaterally.”

Varktezo’s gaze towards Thomas was judgmental, for the first time that Thomas had ever known him.

“I’m sure Ariock and the rest of them will be back within the hour,” Thomas said, trying to bolster his tone with reassurance which he did not feel.

“Warn your bodyguards, at least,” Varktezo said. “Warn everybody in the city with military training.”

Thomas began to protest.

“If you’re wrong,” Varktezo said, “so what? Everybody will feel relief. You might feel embarrassed, and I am sure a few morons will scream that the rekveh made a mistake. But everyone with a brain and a heart will thank you for sharing your misgivings.”

Thomas closed his mouth. He wondered if Varktezo was right.

“That is most of us,” Varktezo added.

Thomas found it hard to imagine. The entire city expected him to be right all the time. They knew his role in the war council, planning every battle. Orators and radio newscasters would shred his reputation if he showed the slightest sign of making errors in judgment.

“Freedom is the ability to make informed decisions,” Varktezo said. “It is knowledge. Anyone who values freedom understands that. Your worries sound valid to me. I understand why you cannot be certain. That is fine. But if you keep your concerns a complete secret, you are…”

He cut himself off, clearly struggling against whatever insult he wanted to blurt out. Varktezo regularly insulted underlings and coworkers. His Teacher, however, was a different matter.

“Rumors always spread,” Thomas pointed out. “Someone in the know might walk past an unfriendly penitent. Do you really think this is worth that risk?”

Varktezo studied Thomas as if he had never seen him before. “Our military people know the importance of keeping secrets from unfriendly penitents.”

That was a fair point. Perhaps Thomas was just making excuses, trying to avoid the shame of being publicly wrong.

Varktezo seemed to gather his resolve. Then he squared his shoulders. “Won’t you give our military people the respect they have earned?”

Thomas sensed how much courage that criticism had required. Varktezo was used to being subordinate to his Teacher. This was a new dynamic. This conversation was the first time Thomas had opened up to Varktezo about non-scientific issues, and Varktezo had risen to the challenge.

He was being honest with a friend.

“I’m probably overblowing things.” Thomas shrank in his hoverchair. He hated to make himself vulnerable. What if he riled up the city garrison for no good reason? What if everyone found out that he was wrong?

“Probably.” Varktezo stated that as if it didn’t matter.

And to him, it did not. He was asking Thomas to allow other people to make their own informed decision. If they trusted Thomas’s judgment as readily as Varktezo did, then they would arm themselves and be alert for a Torth attack, just in case.

And if the worst did happen? They would be grateful to be forewarned.

Thomas gave in. “Okay.”

Varktezo looked gratified. He emanated relief, and Thomas sensed why. Varktezo was relieved that his Teacher was willing to risk his own hubris. That made him worthy of respect.

“Would you convey the message for me?” Thomas was ashamed to ask the favor, but he did not want to face normal people. It was overwhelming, to soak up so many opinions about oneself.

He expected disgust. An ummin wouldn’t understand. No one could understand, except other mind readers.

To his surprise, Varktezo looked sympathetic. “Of course, Teacher.”

Perhaps he recognized signs that Thomas felt overwhelmed?

Varktezo had lab technicians demanding his attention every day. He tended to get hyper-focused, and when he was busy, he hated interruptions. Perhaps he did understand how Thomas felt.

“Teacher, you have good instincts.” Varktezo headed towards the door. “You draw from a well of knowledge that is deeper than anyone else’s. The very fact that you feel alarmed should be enough to worry anyone with sense.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Thank you for doing me the honor of sharing your worries.”

With that, Varktezo was gone. Thomas sat alone in the aerie, and wondered if he had unleashed a flood of paranoia upon the city.