Garrett lay in a pool of his own blood, struggling to think through excruciating pain.
He shouldn’t have dared to leave the bunker. He had tried to escort a few nussians to safety, but he should have known better. His crooked leg meant he hobbled slower than a walking pace. He couldn’t run. Not after he’d stupidly lost his powers.
A grenade had killed one of those nussians. The explosion had left Garrett and the other two nussians injured. Garrett wasn’t sure what had impaled his lower back, but it had pierced his armor, and probably his liver and left kidney as well.
Wrong place. Wrong time.
Yet somehow, Garrett was not dead meat. He had managed to crawl into an abandoned kitchenware shop. That was all he could do. With the supercom network down, there was no way to call for help. With his powers inhibited, Evenjos could not easily locate him. All he could do was suffer and hope—
His supercom vibrated.
Garrett flipped on the holographic menu projection. Never mind if the soft glow put him in danger. How was the network back online?
People had sent him pings. Zai. Kessa.
Ariock.
He chose Evenjos.
“What’s the news?” he asked, as a ghostly holograph of her head coalesced in the shadows between hanging pans.
“I thought you might know?” Evenjos’s voice was reduced, channeled through the wristwatch device. “What made the Torth suddenly attack each other? Oh, and Ariock is back. I can feel his presence. Maybe he brought Thomas.”
A fresh wave of agony rolled through Garrett. He grimaced. Sweat rolled down his cheeks. He might actually prefer getting decapitated to this pain.
“Where are you?” Evenjos sounded urgent.
“Third Street between Stream and Victory.” Garrett groaned in pain. “Kitchenware shop.”
Evenjos ended the call.
Seconds later, a sparkling white gown appeared, filled out by the shapely body she preferred to default to. Evenjos knelt even as her lush lilac-colored hair was still coalescing. Starlight glitter suffused the air where she appeared, like fairy dust, sparked from the stirrings of her power.
She folded her wings and spread her hands in the air above Garrett’s injury.
The pain receded.
Garrett felt his internal organs knitting back together, and other repairs taking place. He had been in shock. He had been close to passing out from blood loss. Death would have ensued within minutes. That had been a fatal injury, he realized.
Now?
It felt like a new day. The devastating injury might as well have happened a month ago.
Garrett sat up straighter. He was thirsty and ravenous from the after effects of healing.
He gingerly touched his midsection. Nothing wrong.
He lay his head back against the wall so he could admire the wonderful goddess who had healed him. Never mind Ariock’s criticisms about her. Her healing power was overwhelming and undeniable, and anyone who found themselves the subject of her care should feel divinely blessed.
He had known that a century ago, when he was seventeen years old, back when she had offered him her power so that he could break free from the Isolatorium.
“What is happening in the Megacosm?” Evenjos extended one arm towards a rack of water bottles for sale. She used her powers to float one to Garrett.
Garrett grabbed the water and gulped it down. That helped ease his nausea and hunger a bit. “I suppose I should find out.”
Since Evenjos had risked coming here, and since no one had tried to kill Garrett, perhaps the battle was dying down? He sensed Evenjos’s recent experiences. She had seen transports crash into each other.
The surviving invaders no longer seemed interested in vandalism or murder.
Many of them bent over and vomited, or they wept.
Others shot those in the back.
Still others turned their blaster gloves on themselves.
Something major was happening.
Garrett closed his eyes, blocking out distractions. He ascended into the Megacosm.
!!!! * !!!!! * !!!!!! * !!!!!!!! * ( ) * !!!!!!!! * ( ) * !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
An armada surrounded the planet known as Bountiful; one of the wealthiest planets in the galaxy. Torth aboard dreadnoughts aimed comet-class missiles at (the traitors!) (the insane deviants!) cities full of mind readers who had decided to bow down and submit themselves to the Conqueror.
Innumerable Torth were surrendering to him.
To the boy.
Entire hub megalopolises full of Torth wanted to join the boy. Right now.
Every Torth on the FlatRing Orbital Station declared themselves penitent. They surrendered their weapons to their slaves, and knelt in supplication. Conqueror, protect Us, they begged.
Because the Megacosm hardly existed anymore.
It was a fractured mess; a heaving avalanche of lost knowledge and unanswered questions. Just being there made Garrett queasy. It was enough to make a lifelong Torth vomit. There were choruses of agreement, but they were in conflict with opposing choruses. There was no obvious Majority.
The Torth Empire was at war with itself.
“Holy calamities.” Garrett couldn’t think of adequate curses or proper reactions. MoonGarden, Parity, Vagary, Ringworld, Yoft, Endless … more than seven hundred hub planets were exploding in violence. At least half of the Torth-owned galaxy seemed to have severed itself, eager to join the Conqueror. Millions.
Billions.
Trillions.
Stunned, Garrett dropped out of the Megacosm.
Evenjos gave him a questioning look.
Garrett reached for her hand, and she gave it to him. He clasped it. He wanted someone who understood what this moment meant. It didn’t feel real. He didn’t quite believe it.
She picked up his emotions. She gazed into his eyes.
“The Torth Empire,” Garrett said, his mouth dry, his throat thick with gravitas. “It’s defeated.”
Evenjos looked young with disbelieving curiosity. Her eyes were large. She emitted (???) demands for clarification.
“We’ve got to go to the boy. He’s here. In Freedomland.” Garrett tried to ghost, but he couldn’t achieve the clairvoyant trance, since he had breathed inhibitor gas.
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
He wanted to demand confirmation and clarification from the boy. Was this really happening?
How?
Evenjos began to remind him that the supercom network was online. Garrett didn’t wait for her to finish explaining. He saw Thomas in his list of contacts and immediately called.
No reply.
Garrett growled. The boy was supposed to prioritize Garrett’s calls, but perhaps he was too busy to notice the vibration signal?
Or he was too busy defeating the Torth Empire.
Garrett impatiently selected Kessa from the list of top contacts.
Kessa’s holograph took shape. There were sounds of celebration in the background. “Garrett? I am glad you’re all right.”
“Where are you?” Garrett asked. “Where’s the boy?”
Kessa smiled. “Thomas is with me. We’re in the research bunker, beneath—”
Garrett ended the call and struggled to get to his feet. He wanted to run, to fly, but without his powers, even simple actions were nearly impossible. He was geriatric.
“Here.” Evenjos used her powers to give Garrett his silver staff.
He leaned on it, grateful.
Evenjos’s power washed over Garrett, this time cleansing his skin and armor. He felt renewed. Even without a mirror, he knew that his beard and hair were a pristine snow white, and his black armor shone.
“I’ll get us there fast.” Evenjos scooped him up, handling him as easily as if he was a child. Her current form was slender and dainty, yet she had the physical strength of a nussian.
He was grateful to know a goddess.
She carried him outside and spread her wings. They soared over a city that looked quiet and peaceful from the sky. There were moving figures on rooftops or balconies, here and there. The streets were empty except for dead Torth.
Within minutes, they landed at an unobtrusive outbuilding in the Academy complex. Evenjos used her powers to open the locked door. She carried Garrett down ramps and into a secret passageway, breezing through the tunnel faster than a hovercart.
They encountered a crowd.
It seemed a lot of people wanted to meet Thomas and Kessa. People were feverishly congratulating each other, or reporting the various ways in which they believed the Torth Empire had fallen.
“They say the entire Megacosm collapsed!”
“What about the Death Architect and their other super-geniuses?”
“Are you saying the Torth no longer have an empire?”
“A whole bunch of them declared themselves to be penitents!”
“Some went rogue, also.”
“They’re going to start their own spin off empires?”
Garrett wanted to be set down. Evenjos read his mind and put him on his feet.
Together, they made their way towards the vault door to the bunker. Garrett sensed (???) a thirst for information. These people were itching to interrogate the first mind reader they saw.
“Is it true?” someone shouted. “Is the Torth Empire defeated?”
Thunder cracked, and a scent of ozone filled the air. Ariock dropped out of thin air and landed on his feet.
“Bringer of Hope!” People cheered.
“Ariock!”
Ariock straightened to his full height, towering over everyone else. He had found enough time to put on his formidable space armor, with the galaxy embossed on his chest plate. His shoulders gave him the shape of a thunderhead.
“Is it true?” he asked Garrett. “What’s happening in the Megacosm?”
“The Torth Empire,” Garrett said, “is fractured into bits.” He couldn’t help but smile, because the victory was his as much as it was anyone’s. He was the Will of Ah Jun’s prophecies. He was the igniter, the one who started it all. “The Torth are no longer united under a single ideology. They don’t have a clear Majority.” He grinned savagely. “And I don’t think they ever will again.”
People whooped.
“For real?” Ariock’s beaming smile was as rare and joyous as a planet-rise reflected on the ocean.
“It’s real.” Garrett limped through the vault door, entering a crowded space. “Well, let’s go see the boy.”
People moved aside, respectfully clearing an aisle for Garrett, Evenjos, and Ariock.
Thomas was at the center of a lot of speculation. He stood without any apparent leg braces, happily talking to lab assistants. When had he grown inches taller than Varktezo? When had he begun to look so healthy?
Garrett swallowed a feeling that seemed enormous and overwhelming.
Maybe it was his pride. He didn’t want to admit that he might have made a mistake or two about Thomas. A misjudgment.
Eh. Maybe a lot of them.
Evenjos prodded him. She sensed Garrett’s surface thoughts, and she wanted him to put aside his pride and … well … give the boy his due.
“Thomas,” Garrett said.
Thomas looked at him. He had never heard Garrett use his name.
Well, if this wasn’t cause for praise, then nothing was. Did it really matter that Thomas was a full-blooded Torth? Did it matter that he had nameless parents? He had just destroyed the evil galactic empire.
He was a damned hero.
Garrett dared to limp even closer, so that their ranges of telepathy overlapped. He allowed himself to bask in the incomprehensible complexity that was Thomas’s mind. This was the brain of a miracle worker. Garrett had expected this war to draw out over centuries. Somehow, Thomas had found a shortcut. He had done the impossible and caused the Torth Empire to collapse from within!
Thomas had promised that millions of Torth would willingly join their side. Garrett had failed to believe him.
“You did it,” Garrett admitted.
An unexpected lump formed in his throat. His vision blurred with tears. He had hardly expected to live to see victory over the Torth. When he had first acquired the book of prophecies, it had all seemed so improbable.
Everyone around them fell silent. Some wanted to hear what the mind readers would say, since only Garrett and Thomas had the ability to peer into the Megacosm and report on what was happening in the Torth Empire.
“We won,” Garrett said.
The crowd fluttered with relief and joy.
“The war is over?” Kessa asked, grinning with the shared triumph, but also with a hint of disbelief. She turned to Thomas. Everybody did.
Thomas met the expectant gazes with a hugely satisfied grin.
That was answer enough. Thomas would not look that happy unless he had a good reason to.
All of a sudden, the bunker crowd lost its decorum. Everyone was celebrating. People bumped fists. They screamed with victory and began to pour fizzing drinks for each other. Some of them danced jigs.
“IT’S OVER!”
“THE TORTH EMPIRE IS BROKEN!”
“WE WON!”
People were dancing, jumping, embracing, sharing grins and love.
Garrett ascended into the Megacosm, just in case there were any existential threats he had missed. Someone must have woken the Death Architect. Shouldn’t he pay attention to the last scraps of major news in the cataclysm? She might find loyalists, even with the empire collapsing.
!!!!!!!
News pinged between Torth who were interested in forbidden pleasures. Apparently, a penitent had shared her sexual exploits.
One of her adventures was bedding the Conqueror.
!
Garrett dropped out of the Megacosm and struggled not to gape at Thomas. He tried to scan the boy, seeking an explanation, but he might as well examine the inner workings of some ludicrously complex machinery. Any answers he sought were buried inside constantly shifting cascades of data.
Thomas avoided his gaze.
“Really?” Garrett spoke out loud to underscore his consternation. A super-genius ought to know better than to let his guard down around a potential enemy. Someone like the Pink Screwdriver could strangle a boy to death before anyone could stop her! Or what if she had turned out to be a sleeper agent? She could have weaseled Thomas’s military secrets out of him, then disseminated that information to the Torth Empire. Garrett wanted to yell at the kid.
But he didn’t. Thomas was a damned hero. Never mind whatever shenanigans he’d gotten up to, never mind what risks he’d taken. It had turned out all right.
Ariock saw their silent exchange. “Is there a threat?” he asked.
“No,” Thomas said.
Garrett cleared his throat. “Nope.” He squeezed Evenjos’s hand, and decided to let the dalliance go unremarked upon. The Conqueror deserved a chance for love, even if it was with a… a…
Well. With a Torth.
“The Megacosm is factionalizing.” Thomas spoke past Garrett, to Ariock. “Their unity is dissolving. Most of the factions are harmless to us. There might be a few that we have to worry about. I think a cult will gather around the Death Architect, and that might cause us problems. But otherwise?” He shook his head, a grin on his face. “The Torth Empire is collapsing. It won’t rise again. Not like it was.”
Celebration broke out anew. People cheered.
“Yes!” Ariock made a fist of victory. Then he drew Vy into a hug. Then Kessa. He reached for Garrett as well. Evenjos joined the group hug, and soon they were all laughing.
“I am sorry for all the offense and heartache I caused you,” Evenjos told Vy.
Vy seemed too happy to do anything but forgive. She laughed and hugged Ariock’s massive arm. “You’re fine,” she told Evenjos.
“We’ve gained more cities and planets than we can handle,” Thomas said. “So we’ll have to handle them somehow.”
Ariock hesitated, then threw his arms around Thomas in gentle hug.
Thomas pushed him away, laughing. “I didn’t do much. Really. This victory wouldn’t have been what it was without Mondoyo and Serette.” He beckoned to the Twins. “Hey! Come over here and join us!”
The Twins hovered in their own pocket of space. They looked uncertain as they floated closer.
People stepped out of their range. Kessa and Varktezo did not. They studied the Twins with fresh respect.
“A symphony?” Thomas’s eyes sparkled with admiration. He leaned over and gave Mondoyo and Serette each a fist bump. “We should translate that to an audio recording sometime, so people can listen with their ears as well as with their minds.”
The Twins looked shy, but pleased. Mondoyo seemed happy to return the fist bump, as if he had been raised in American culture instead of on a Vazzan baby farm.
“I’m so glad to meet you.” Thomas sounded like he meant it.
“I can’t believe you’re actually here! In person!” Mondoyo sounded like a kid visiting Disneyworld. Even Serette was flushed with excitement.
Garrett folded his arms. These three children acted as if they were enjoying a schoolyard recess instead of an impossible-to-pull-off miracle that was already changing galactic history. Why did super-geniuses have to be so casual? So unpretentious? If they were smug elitists, then at least he could justify the intimidation he felt in the presence of their gargantuan minds.
Judging by the way they were nodding silently to each other and gazing adoringly into each other’s eyes, they were conducting a mutually respectful discourse.
Probably a lengthy scientific treatise condensed into nanoseconds.
Or maybe they were hammering out details of how to defeat and destroy the Death Architect?
Or how to rule the galaxy as a trio?
Or all of that, at the same time?
Garrett cleared his throat, aiming to interrupt their silent schemes. “So. What’re our next steps, Thomas?”