“Don’t read my mind,” Vy said. “And hold still.”

She felt a twinge of fear, kneeling so close to someone who could torture her to death with a thought. At least, she thought Zai could do that. Zai used to be a silent slave-master not so long ago.

But Ariock trusted this renegade. That counted for a lot.

Vy washed the poorly stitched wound on Zai’s upper arm. An ionic blade had sliced through the renegade’s tungsten armor, all the way down to bone. Zai was lucky not to lose her whole arm. She might still have lost it if she hadn’t sought out Vy. Somebody else had closed the wound with a messy touch.

A penitent, no doubt.

Torth without the Megacosm were … well … primitive. In the Torth Empire, specialist Blue Ranks had mostly done plastic surgery, not battle triage, and they had relied on robotic precision tools plus a lot of collective knowledge. Only a few of them remembered any superficial medical procedures.

A former Blue or Green Rank must have remembered enough about medicine to sew this wound closed, but not enough to incorporate hygiene, or to use absorbable sutures. They hadn’t even used silk or nylon. It was some kind of industrial grade plastic monofilament.

“I’ll need to remove these amateur stitches.” Vy positioned the arm so that the wound would not gape or tear. “Sorry. It will hurt. I’ll use surgical glue and healing foam on you, afterwards.”

“Go ahead,” Zai said.

Vy carefully clipped and tugged the stitch-work out. She tried not to feel like a slave grooming her owner. It was all too easy to imagine Zai probing her mind, learning secrets about Earth, humans, or the Bringer of Hope.

“I am not interested in your secrets,” Zai said. “I would not harm you in any way. I promise.”

Vy just had to trust that this renegade was a true renegade.

“I am simply admiring this field hospital,” Zai said.

Medics tended military pilots and newly liberated slaves, bustling beneath floating chandeliers that reflected on enormous glass walls and sky domes. This used to be the Torth equivalent of a yacht club. Bioluminescent vines decorated the waterfront. Sleek-looking submersibles floated next to clean white docks.

People shot mistrustful looks towards Zai. Many had learned to recognize Vy as a medic from paradise.

“I probably shouldn’t have come here,” Zai said.

“You should have come here first,” Vy argued, spritzing the cleaned wound with healing foam. “This is where warriors come for triage.”

Zai made a noncommittal sound, and Vy realized that someone had probably pressured the renegade to seek her out. A fellow mind reader?

A lot of newly collared penitents might be injured just as badly as Zai, or worse. Vy would have to double check to make sure enough medical supplies went to the penitent quarters. Conquests tended to be violent. Former slaves rose up against their former masters, and there was intergenerational rage.

“Okay. All done.” Vy added a bandage around the sealed wound for extra shielding. “Don’t do anything strenuous for a couple of days. You can remove the bandage tomorrow. Ask that clerk over there for a topical gel that will minimize scarring. If she gives you trouble? Tell her the Lady of Paradise sent you. Or come back and tell me.”

“Thank you.” Zai looked demure. She stood and walked in the indicated direction.

“Angel.” Someone pointed at Vy.

Vy washed her hands and face in a busy public restroom. The industrial metal piping proved that this was actually a coopted slave zone, with toilet stalls divided by hastily erected privacy screens. It would be improved in future weeks. Freshly conquered cities always needed some rebuilding and improvements.

Everyone was glad to be winning again.

Vy made her rounds, checking on patients with shrapnel cuts or missing fingers from blasts. Medics greeted her with respect. Many had watched her training videos.

She blinked in surprise when a couple of albino shani warriors approached her, decked out in full black-and-purple armor with mantles. Neither looked injured.

“Paradise must have been quite a wondrous place,” one of the warriors said, “to produce someone as kind as you.” He offered Vy a clean hand towel. “I was just wondering if I can be of service? I have a modicum of healing skill.”

“Oh!” Vy reassessed the warrior. “That would be welcome.”

“I am actually helping, as well.” The other warrior jostled closer. “My aunt is a well-to-do merchant. I’ve paid ten ummins to fetch things for your field hospital here.”

“Oh.” Vy looked from one warrior to the other. Had her blood-stained uniform magically transformed into a ballgown? “Well, um, thank you.”

She tried to walk on. The two albinos flanked her. They were shorter than her, like most cave people.

“Hair that glows like candlelit copper.” The rich warrior gave Vy a worshipful look. “Skin as unblemished as a newborn mushroom. You are beautiful, Lady Vy.”

The healer warrior tsk’ed. “He is clearly seeking to buy favors from you. I am here only to help.”

“To bask in her radiance, you mean,” the other said.

Vy stopped short. Had someone dared these two Alashani to hit on her?

She was a known friend of rekvehs, plus she was ungainly and tall. Everyone knew that she was in a serious relationship with their messiah. Until now, no Alashani man had ever tried to befriend her.

“If you wish to be helpful,” Vy said pointedly, “there is a severely injured pilot over there.” She gestured. “I am busy, good warriors. Have a pleasant evening.”

She stepped around them.

Behind her, she overheard the healer growl at the rich one. “Agh, why couldn’t you have waited to take your own turn?”

The rich one made a haughty sound. “How many warriors has your family produced? None, except for you. You’re a lucky charm. Face the truth! You would father powerless babies, even with her.”

Vy gaped at the insinuation.

“Well, she’d rather have someone powerful in her bed,” the healer snapped back. “Instead of a weakling like you.”

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Vy whirled around and glared at them.

“I’m hardly weak!” the rich one was saying. “And I’d be much better at showing her a good time.”

“Why would she care about superficial tassels and fine dining? She’s—”

“More than a breeder!” the rich one puffed up. “Have you forgotten that she comes from paradise? You’re not even fit to wash her feet.”

“And you’re a moron with a tiny—”

Vy hurled the towel down. “I’m not interested in your shriveled mushrooms.”

That got their attention. The men gaped at her use of the euphemism for a certain male body part.

“Whatever you’ve heard about humans and powers? It’s wrong.” Vy told the lie with as much sincerity as she could muster. She needed to give these cretins a piece of her mind, and never mind who overheard. Human beings were not a breeding program. This was a lesson these Alashani had better learn fast.

Although the evidence was, unfortunately, hard to deny.

The Dovanack family proved it. Four generations of Dovanacks had grown more powerful with every successive generation as they interbred with humans. Thomas had seemed to be an exception to the hybrid rule—until everybody learned that his biological parents were both Torth. He wasn’t a hybrid.

The albino men blushed. Then their eyes widened, and they fled.

Vy huffed. Cowards. She wasn’t going to do anything as undignified as chase them, although her bionic leg might enable her to catch up easily. She wondered if Cherise had to deal with similar…

Everybody in the vicinity was bowing and kneeling.

“Messiah,” some murmured.

“Bringer of Hope,” others said.

Vy turned, grinning. No wonder the cretins had fled. Ariock towered over the crowd, as big as a nussian even though he wore simple woolens. He strode towards her.

“Vy,” he said, his deep voice resonant. “Mind if I… oh.” He saw the bloodstains on her loose pants and tunic. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

He healed her even as she said, “It’s not my blood.”

Vy shivered from the refreshed sensation. Her various aches and sore spots vanished. She felt energized, like she was just starting her day, although she was hungry.

“I’m not the one who needs healing around here.” Vy playfully smacked his chest, knowing it didn’t hurt him.

She expected Ariock to look guilty. Instead, he said, “Can I steal you away?”

He had something important to tell her. Vy knew without having to ask. Ariock would not interrupt her work otherwise, or ignore hundreds of injured soldiers who could use healing.

And it was secret news. Ariock was acting jovial, masking something.

“Of course.” Vy matched his casualness.

Ariock gently placed his huge hands on Vy’s shoulders. “Is everything good here?”

“It is.” Vy was glad that he was finally learning that he could not take care of everyone. The Hero Fleet was important, and so were field hospitals. Ariock was right to let the medics do their jobs without patronizing interference.

Plus, he could not be everywhere at once. He could only heal one person at a time, and his time and power was better spent on mass-teleportation and other major endeavors.

Warping elsewhere was almost familiar to her, by now. The busy atmosphere of the triage center vanished. In its place? Profound silence.

And sunlight.

Vy stood on a mountaintop with Ariock. Clouds drifted below them. A greenish tint to the sky, plus the luminous daytime moons, let her know that they were still on the planet Umdalkdul. A distant forest was shades of blue, as lumpy as brambles.

Vy felt Ariock’s protective bubble of atmosphere dissipate. The air became fresher, and coldness seeped in.

A crisp breeze stirred her loose wisps of hair. It was refreshing after the hospital, with its odors of blood and medicine and hygienic salves.

Ariock magically made a thermal blanket appear. He draped it over Vy’s shoulders.

“Thanks.” Vy gave a little laugh as she wrapped the blanket around herself. Ariock was a hero in all the best ways. “You showed up just in time.”

“Oh?” The wind sharpened, and Ariock gazed down at her with concern. “Wait. Were those warriors bothering you?”

Ariock’s shadow engulfed her, although he was oblivious to that, as usual. Vy had glimpsed him in storm mode earlier. Mountainous clouds had tracked the approximation of his head and shoulders and upper body. The immensity had flashed with super-bolts of lightning, an explosion of clouds aglow from a sun which had already set beyond the watery horizon.

It had been easy for that storm to reach dripping arms across miles and swat Torth fleets into the stinking marsh.

Ariock looked human now. He was being gentle. But Vy was not going to erase the immense Ariock-shaped thunderhead from her memory. He had no clue that Vy had seen him how his enemies saw him.

“No, they were no problem,” Vy said breezily. “I was just surprised. They want to breed with humans.” She tried to laugh.

Ariock did not look amused. The air pressure dropped.

“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” Vy assured him. She hugged him, wanting kind-hearted Ariock instead of angry Ariock. “Just hold me?”

He softened. Soon he was seated on the ground, and Vy got comfortable on his lap. She preferred it when he wore soft clothes like this.

“So, what’s up?” she asked.

Ariock leaned back on his hands. “Garrett located Thomas.”

Vy’s mouth fell open. When Ariock had given up the search on Earth, she’d assumed that her guess had been wrong.

“You were right,” Ariock said. “He’s on Earth.”

“Yay!” Vy hugged Ariock. She wanted to dance with joy.

Thomas had been gone forever, it seemed. It had actually been a little more than one month, but so much had changed in that time. Their side of the war had floundered and then found some tentative footing. They had gained the Twins. They had organized a decent fleet.

But anyone at the top knew that the Torth Empire still owned far too many resources.

The Torth had countless dreadnoughts and swarmships. They had millions of Rosy Ranks. They had quadrillions of kamikaze slaves. If Ariock spread himself any thinner, Torth armadas would overwhelm his territories and re-conquer a planet or two.

“That’s great news!” Vy said with enthusiasm.

Ariock sounded pained. “I don’t think he wants to be found.”

“Oh.” Vy supposed that if Thomas wanted to return, he would have done so. “You’re trying to decide how to approach him?”

Ariock nodded. “What do you suggest?”

“Hm.” Vy was almost tempted to tell Ariock to item-teleport Thomas without his permission. But that wasn’t the right way to handle anybody on their side, let alone Thomas.

She just wanted to speak to her foster brother. She wanted to apologize to him, and check to make sure he was all right. She wanted to know why he had left.

Should they send an emissary? Someone friendly and non-intimidating? Someone whom Thomas was definitely fond of?

Vy imagined Varktezo wandering the streets of Afton. The chief lab technician would exclaim about clever human habitations and everything else about paradise.

Or what about Kessa? Thomas respected her, and her reaction to human societies might be amusing.

Then Vy imagined humans reacting to ummins. Nope. That was a bad idea, especially if Thomas was someplace like New York City.

Anyhow, Thomas might correctly assume that their choice of a friendly emissary was pandering or manipulative. He might just be offended.

His friendships were difficult to gauge. Azhdarchidae might be the only being he’d be unequivocally happy to see, and a huge sky croc would not blend in on Earth at all.

The Twins? They might be a good choice, but Vy didn’t want to remove them from their laboratory bunker. Earth might be dangerous ground, with the whole Torth Empire bent on hunting them.

Besides, there was no guarantee of mutual respect. Might their meeting with Thomas turn into the equivalent of a volatile chemical reaction? That could be bad. The Twins outnumbered Thomas.

Ariock broke into her thoughts. “I want to talk to him face to face.”

Vy gazed up at Ariock’s concerned expression.

“I think I owe him that,” Ariock said. “If he ran away, it’s at least partly due to me.”

Vy realized that she shared just as much guilt. She had not stopped any Alashani from screaming, “Down with rekvehs!” She had failed to shield her foster brother.

They all had.

“Just don’t bring Garrett,” she said.

Ariock chuckled in a bitter way. “Don’t worry. I’m not that stupid.”

He was so self-aware, so conscionable, Vy impulsively reached up and kissed him. She loved this man. Ariock was a good person, despite a zillion odds, despite all the power-related reasons why he shouldn’t be.

Ariock blushed.

“When I go to Earth,” he said, “…would you come with me, to protect me?”

Vy studied him. She wasn’t exactly strong enough to protect the strongest person in existence.

“The Torth will be alert for my sphere of influence,” Ariock explained. “And there are a lot of Torth hiding on Earth right now. So I’ll have to temporarily lose my powers.”

He opened his palm and showed her a round sticker.

“Oh!” Vy recognized the skin patch, which he must have obtained after his most recent visit to the Twins. “Does it actually work?”

“It seems to,” Ariock said.

So. He meant to be powerless when he talked to Thomas. He would be purposely making himself vulnerable, possibly for the first time ever.

He respected Thomas enough to do that.

While the rest of the war council bickered about how Thomas was a traitor, Ariock was going to set aside his own stress and talk to Thomas like a human being. He would risk his own safety in order to communicate with Thomas on equal footing, on neutral ground.

Vy nestled closer. Ariock’s stature suited him. It took rare strength to risk a galactic-sized reputation along with personal security and self-worth.

“Of course I’ll come with you,” she said. “And protect you.”