“Premier Boryuchal tells me that you refuse to train with telepathy gas.” Ariock walked along a row of proud warriors.

He didn’t want to be a disciplinarian. He wanted to inspire hope, not resentment. But although these warriors wore the lightweight space armor which Thomas’s lab had designed, they were being obstinate about certain things. Several premiers—even Garrett—had begged Ariock to show up before the Alashani fell into complete rebellion.

“If you intend to kill Torth,” Ariock said, pacing the other way, “you need to adapt to the weapons they use. That’s what I’ve been doing.”

He indicated his own armor. His galaxy plates were modified for space combat and gas combat, with air tanks that connected to a high-tech helmet. He’d retracted the faceplate.

One of the warriors grunted in a sullen way. He tugged at the air tank on his back, emphasizing his discomfort with the equipment.

Another warrior muttered. “Why are we even bothering? The Hero Fleet is better equipped to kill Torth than we are.”

That was actually true.

The threat of gasses—inhibitor, telepathy, and insanity gas—had rendered urban combat too dangerous. Now, when Ariock wanted to liberate a city, he damaged its supply chain. His mismatched collection of streamships and shuttles acted as a blockade. The best pilots in the Hero Fleet were gaining notoriety, able to defeat Torth in aerial combat. The Hero Fleet could ensure that Torth populations were unable to count on rescuers.

Kessa’s spies were the other half of that equation. They spread information and secret weapons, empowering local slaves to overthrow their own masters.

“Warriors can still make a difference in battle.” Ariock regarded them, frustrated. “Besides, you live in the free cities. We have to be prepared for anything.”

The last thing he wanted was to lose more warriors. Didn’t they understand how important combat training was—for their own survival, if nothing else? Otherwise they would simply become targets for the Torth.

“I am ready for combat,” a warrior said in a steely rasp.

Ariock looked towards that one. She was taller than the others, and she stood apart from the rest. She had black hair with a white streak.

Zai. The renegade Servant of All.

Ariock tried to hide his unease. Kessa’s lieutenants had evaluated Zai using telepathy gas, multiple times. They swore that she was legit. Zai wanted to kill her own kind. She was trustworthy.

And yet…

She was a Torth.

Zai stepped out of the line and boldly spoke for herself. “The shani warriors refuse to spar with me,” she said. “They won’t go near me. They fear me.”

She took another ominous step towards Ariock.

He stepped back and shielded himself.

It was embarrassing, how much he feared this one individual. But he didn’t want her to get within telepathy range. She was too intense. She could disable him with a pain seizure if she got close enough. What if she was angling for an opportunity to stab him?

“I chose this.” Zai indicated her custom-fitted space armor, which was black and purple, like any warrior’s armor. “If you want me to help fight the Torth Empire? That is your choice.”

Zai looked bravely defiant, as much as any soldier.

Ariock began to feel like a hypocritical fool. Why was Zai among the warriors, if not to serve as one of them? Why had Ariock bothered to ensure that she wore battle gear instead of rags?

He wished he had time to personally train Zai. These days, his schedule was a mess of mass-teleportation, space warfare, and miraculous feats which no one else could perform. He was always aiming at one target or another.

Or maybe he was making excuses to avoid Zai.

What would Thomas have advised? Ariock missed his friend’s wisdom. Thomas almost certainly would have welcomed Zai, unless he detected secret, nefarious motives buried inside her mind.

Thomas alone had been the voice of reason when Ariock fell for the Death Architect’s trap. And afterwards? Thomas had offered forgiveness to Ariock, even solace.

“If you want to talk,” Thomas had said, “about your dreams, or anything—”

“You have work to do,” Garrett had interrupted. “Leave Ariock alone.”

Thomas had obeyed, floating away. But he had given Ariock a look of concern, and said, “You know where to find me.”

Ariock had been too ashamed, too self-loathing, to seek more advice from Thomas. But looking back now, he knew that Thomas was a true friend.

Ariock needed to honor that.

He needed to respect Thomas’s wish for Torth allies.

“I do want you in combat against the Torth,” Ariock said to Zai, decisive. “If the warriors refuse to work with you? Then I will.”

The warriors looked shocked.

“Messiah?” Premier Boryuchal sounded unnerved. “That is unnecessary. I can, uh, mandate sparring sessions. I wasn’t strict enough. You really don’t have to…”

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He clearly wanted to say that the messiah should not put himself at risk. He just didn’t want to make it obvious.

“I’ll take over her training.” Ariock let his power-shield dissipate. “I never should have dumped this responsibility on you, or anyone else. I can see that the Alashani are not comfortable working with a renegade telepath. But I am.”

The premier looked embarrassed. He sputtered, searching for excuses.

“Follow me,” Ariock told Zai.

He infused his body with extra strength, and leaped to a rooftop three stories up.

No one wanted a stray sky croc to bother them, so rooftops were a good place for Yeresunsa sparring sessions, or for being alone. Only a few buildings were crowned by rooftop gardens or terraces. Most were bare.

Ariock turned and saw that Zai was having trouble. She had fallen short and now she clung to a balcony. From there, she somersaulted up, then determinedly climbed the stone face of the building.

Ariock leaned down and offered her an armored hand.

Zai grabbed his hand and let him haul her onto the flat roof.

They faced each other. Ariock backed out of her range quickly, unsure how fast she could soak up secrets. Surely not as fast as Thomas?

Low-hanging clouds sailed across the morning sky.

“So,” Ariock said, “you spent almost a week among Alashani, but you didn’t learn how to infuse your body with extra strength and speed?”

Zai took a moment to respond. Once she had caught her breath, she admitted, “No.”

The Alashani must have shunned Zai, preventing her from getting within telepathy range. Still. Thomas and Garrett would not have let that stop them from learning.

“You didn’t sneak around?” Ariock asked. “I’m sure you could have gotten within range of someone.”

“I wished to be seen as a friend,” Zai said. “Not as an intrusive enemy. I did not wish to cause offense, or make people uneasy.”

Ariock studied her, wondering if she had visited Earth. Had she ever play-acted as a human?

Most of the Dovanack family had been killed by someone like her.

“I visited Earth once.” Zai seemed to guess at his unspoken suspicion. She removed her helmet, shaking out her hair. “I was stationed in the nation of India, since my features align somewhat with that human ethnicity.” The white streak in her hair was vibrant against her black locks. “I never harmed any humans.” She held Ariock’s gaze. “Some Torth want to dominate the people they see as inferior species, because I think they secretly fear that they are an inferior species, themselves. They are driven to prove their superiority. I was never one of those.”

Ariock reassessed Zai. She wasn’t a creepy automaton. She might really be an ally.

Zai broke her gaze away, looking downcast. “When I was a Servant of All, I did not stray from what I was told to do. I wholly embraced the spirit of what it means to serve All. But that is exactly why I came here.” She looked up, desperate. “I no longer wish to serve All.”

She did seem genuine.

“This is a place of freedom.” Ariock gestured at the urban sprawl. “For me, also. I was a prisoner inside myself, even before the Torth ripped me away from safety and tried to torture me to death.”

Every Torth in the galaxy knew who the Giant was and where he came from. Even so, Zai nodded, looking grateful for what he had shared.

“Let me see what you can do,” Ariock said.

Zai looked worried.

“I promise, I won’t react with deadly force,” Ariock reassured her. “Unless you actually try to kill me.”

“I will not,” Zai assured him in her raspy voice. “It would be futile even I wanted to. Both you and the Imp—I mean, Garrett—appear and vanish unpredictably.”

Ariock shifted his weight, unnerved by her open admission that she had studied his self-defense skills.

“I can teleport,” Zai said. “Although I only have enough strength to do it once. If I use it up now, I will be useless for a few days.”

“And you can read minds.” As Ariock considered the possibilities, he realized that Zai was almost like a second version of Garrett.

Or better.

Zai was intimately familiar with the enemy leadership. She could select targets for assassination, teleport behind a dangerous Rosy or Servant, and choke them with razor wire. Or, if their armor was too thick for razor wire? She might slice off their head with an ionic blade.

Blaster gloves were too unreliable when facing off against high ranked Torth. A disruption field could jam a weapon and prevent it from firing.

There was no point in filling up the Mirror Prison when Thomas wasn’t around to zombify prisoners. These days, the most important tactic in any battle was to slaughter the most dangerous Torth in the battle zone. That tended to be a guessing game. The Torth had grown savvy about their optics. Sometimes Garrett was able to fish information out of the Megacosm, and if he managed to select and kill the local leader, the whole battle ended faster. Fewer soldiers died.

Zai could do that.

“Can you object-teleport?” Ariock asked.

“Yes,” Zai said. “But I cannot teleport across interstellar distances, as you can.” Her tone held a hint of yearning. “I would like to learn.”

Thomas would have surmised her potential long before now. Ariock wished he could have consulted with Thomas, instead of proving himself to be an inattentive and rather inferior tactician.

“If I dart in and out of your range of telepathy,” Ariock said, “do you soak up all of my secrets? How much do you gain of what I know?”

He was trusting her word.

“Not much,” Zai said. “I am not a super-genius. Most Torth gain an impression of emotions and surface thoughts, with a few seconds. If I was to delve into your secrets? That would be a mind probe, which would require much of my focus. I could not fight and probe at the same time.”

That matched Ariock’s memories of being a gladiator, and what Vy had told him of being a slave.

“Is the Conqueror…” Zai hesitated, as if unsure. “Is Thomas going to come back?”

Everyone had noticed Ariock’s missteps in battle planning. More and more people were begging for Thomas’s return. Ariock had assured the war council that Thomas would never abandon the war, and he believed that, most of the time.

Yet the days kept passing.

“Of course.” Ariock forced himself to sound certain.

Zai waited, probably hoping for an actual explanation for the Conqueror’s absence.

Ariock cleared his throat. “Uh, let’s try a bit of light sparring. I really do want to gain a sense of your fighting style.”

Zai took a battle-ready stance. She looked as flattered as an Alashani who was given the chance to spar one-on-one with the messiah.

“While Thomas is away,” Zai said with delicacy, “you may find the Twins capable of filling in for him.”

Ariock wanted to avoid going anywhere near the Twins.

Then again, his avoidance of Zai had been a mistake, hadn’t it? He could use more wisdom. Garrett’s advice wasn’t enough. Perhaps he would risk a meeting with the odd pair of renegade super-geniuses.

“Right,” Ariock said brusquely, making his tone all about military duty. “How about this? I don’t want you in my range a whole lot, so let’s mock up a situation where you have to protect that urn over there.” He pointed to a decorative urn. “I’ll attack the urn. You defend it.”

Zai offered a terse smile. She had the plastic-like skin of a Torth, unused to smiles or frowns. Even so, the expression did something nice. She looked human.

And pretty.

Agh. Ariock tried to axe that from his mind. Why did Zai have to have such athletic poise, like Vy? Why were their names so similar, phonetically?

Would Vy ever accept naked intimacy with her gigantic ogre of a boyfriend?

Did Vy want to just be friends? Was she too timid to say so? How many more nights could Ariock sleep with her cuddled next to him, or on top of him, without going mad from yearning?

Ariock forked a bit of lightning at the urn. Zai slammed it away with a searing thermal current.

The urn did not last through a second round. Next, Ariock had them practice on a crenellated railing. And then on a flower bed. Soon they were laughing and taking turns defending inanimate objects from each other’s friendly, silly attacks.