Thomas felt guilty for ignoring Cherise. But he was ignoring all people who wanted to check on his well-being, plus Azhdarchidae. He even felt guilty for taking naps.
He no longer allowed himself to get full sleep cycles. There was no time. Whenever he began making erroneous assumptions due to fatigue, he excused himself for the sake of his coworkers. They did likewise. Thomas, Serette, and Mondoyo had learned to work together as a ternary mind. If one of them malfunctioned, it became a drag on the other two.
As soon as his self-imposed nap-time was over, Thomas stretched, sipped caffeinated nectar and ate some macronutrients, then stood and walked across the lab to rejoin the other two super-geniuses.
They were visualizing ultra-complex mathematical modules. One of those representations might be the key to disrupting superluminal transmissions. If Kessa’s agents could not find the Death Architect, if Ariock and Garrett failed to find her hidden colliders and smart missile launchers—and so far, all efforts had failed—then their best hope of stopping doomsday was to disrupt the triggering transmission.
Thomas sat in the hoverchair reserved for him, facing his coworkers.
Serette and Mondoyo were fatigued. Instead of updating Thomas on mathematical modules, they sent a different sort of update.
We have tried to impact the Necrocosm.
They will not heed Us.
Maybe Your influence will be the deciding factor?
Thomas ascended, seeking faraway minds who might be willing to orbit his mind and vice versa. He sensed many disjointed harmonies. Most of the rogue nations never invited the Conqueror into their minds. They rejected him.
But the death cultists were different.
Like an orchestral score, they had achieved a greater presence than the sum of their parts. They formed their own malevolent glow, like a newborn star. They tugged his attention as surely as the tug of gravity.
The Death Architect is restoring civilization!
We are here!
We are harmonious!
WE ARE THE TORTH EMPIRE!
Thomas sighed. Their unified trust in their leader made them feel strong, powerful, and safe. But it was an illusion.
She wants to destroy the universe, he informed the death cultists.
Individual minds recoiled. His evidence against the Death Architect was too complex for most of the cultists to understand, let alone accept. They figured the Conqueror was just stirring up more trouble. They refused to let him steal what little dignity they had left.
They would not listen.
Ah well.
Thomas dropped out of the Necrocosm. He wasn’t sure if converting the death cultists to his side of the war would even make much of a difference. The Death Architect was working on automation.
He took charge, leading the way forward. Serette and Mondoyo were both more knowledgeable than Thomas, but they were afraid to lead. They wanted to avoid blame for any catastrophic lapses in judgment.
Not only that, Serette thought. You (Conqueror) are a better innovator than Myself or Mondoyo. Her partner was creative, but she thought that the Conqueror was even more so.
Thomas paused his latest mathematical visualization and studied Serette with biometric scrutiny. You’re distracted.
Simply breathing was a struggle for her. That compromised her processing speed. Ventilator tubes filled her nostrils, and a machine helped her lungs to fill and empty.
Serette did receive regular healings from shani, as well as regular doses of NAI-13 and medical care. She would have been dead weeks ago if not for those measures.
You (Serette) ought to be in hospice care. Thomas hated to bring it up so bluntly. Her ailments were exactly what would have killed him, if he had never received regeneration healing from his heroic friends. She was one month older than he was.
No. Serette’s thoughts were vehement. I’m not ready to retire.
She kept downplaying how much she was struggling.
Mondoyo reached for Serette’s hand and held it.
Thomas might have insisted that Mondoyo let his partner retire so the two of them could focus on stopping doomsday for the entire universe. That would be logical and rational and practical. Instead…
Well, Serette was not the only one whose mind was faltering.
Mondoyo was also heavily distracted, fearful every time Serette struggled to get enough oxygen, or every time her heart skipped a beat. Mondoyo served as their high-functioning calculator, but his heart wasn’t in the game. He was operating well below peak efficiency.
Thomas let his mathematical holograph dissipate and put his entire focus on this matter. After all, here was a problem that he might actually be able to solve.
He activated his wristwatch and selected Evenjos from his shortlist of contacts.
“Please visit me right away,” he said as soon as Evenjos answered. “In the mathematics lab.”
No, Serette thought as Thomas ended the call. We (those of Us who oppose the Death Architect) cannot afford to lose so many days just for me. I understand that. I agree with it. This work is too important to interrupt for a week.
Mondoyo gently squeezed his partner’s hand. We need you, Serette. The universe needs you (I need you).
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
I can survive for another week (probably), Serette thought.
She was being wildly optimistic. Her condition was terrible, heading towards critical. Even with state-of-the-art medical intervention, she was unlikely to live out the week.
Evenjos poured into the lab as a dust ribbon. She took on her default goddess shape, then arched one purple eyebrow at Thomas in a questioning look.
Mondoyo and Serette looked impressed. They were never sure how much authority Thomas wielded, and it seemed they had not expected the Lady of Sorrow to respond so willingly.
Thomas pointed to Serette. “If my friend dies, she can’t work. We’re trying to stop an accelerated Big Bang that will end all of creation. I realize that you have very important duties, but how about if we get on the same page with priorities? Serette needs regeneration healing. This should be your utmost priority.”
Evenjos’s wings drooped.
Thomas scanned her mind and fished out the obstacle. Garrett.
Ugh.
He tapped his wristwatch and selected the old man’s icon from the menu. “I need you in my mathematics lab,” he said. “Right now.”
Please stop, Serette begged without words. There is no need to interrupt the work of heroes just for me. This disruption is both futile and unnecessary.
Mondoyo silently disagreed with his partner.
Garrett entered the room, grumbling and leaning on his staff. He pressed one hand to the small of his back. He probably had one of his common backaches. “What’s wrong?”
Thomas pointed to Serette. “If my coworkers die, then my efficacy will be reduced by sixty-seven percent. That’s unacceptable. Regeneration healing for Serette needs to be your top priority, above everything else.”
Garrett huffed in a way that Thomas really disliked. What he said was even more despicable. “Only one of them is dying. The other one is in relatively good health.”
Thomas began to argue that Serette’s death would negatively impact Mondoyo.
“You interrupted me for this?” Garrett glared at Thomas. “Millions of sapients could die because I left in the middle of defusing a bomb. I realize that you are a Very Important Person. I get your complaint. But Evenjos, Ariock, Kessa, and I have already discussed this. If we drop everything in order to heal one of your team members—a penitent, I might add—that means certain death for literally billions of people. And it might be worse. You know why. The Death Architect has to be our top priority right now.” He stamped down his staff for emphasis. “We. Have. No. Choice.”
Thomas briefly imagined setting Garrett on fire.
But while that would be cathartic, Thomas believed in the prophecies of Ah Jun. There was too much evidence to dismiss the ancient collection of reproduced paintings. And Garrett was the Will. He was the driving force, the instigator, the catalyst, and perhaps he was also the ender; the hero who would keep the other heroes on track to the final victory.
Maybe.
If only the old man would allow someone else—someone smart—to look at that ancient book.
“We are truly sorry.” Evenjos emanated sincerity. “Serette, I owe you and Mondoyo an enormous debt. I want to heal you. If I could heal you with my own strength, I would.”
But she could only do it with aid from Garrett and Ariock.
Unless…
“What about all the atoning warriors?” Thomas asked. “The penitent warriors, I mean. Collectively, they have strength that’s equal to Garrett’s. Gather enough of them together, and they might even be able to approximate Ariock’s raw power.”
Evenjos exchanged surprised looks with Garrett.
“That’s actually a good idea,” Garrett admitted.
Mondoyo radiated hope. He gazed at Thomas as if he was the answer to all problems.
“Can I speak with you in private for a moment?” Garrett beckoned to Thomas.
Privacy was a farce among telepaths. It seemed Garrett wanted to avoid a reaction from Serette or Mondoyo about something.
Thomas pushed himself to his feet.
He followed Garrett to a far corner of the room. Once they were beyond the telepathy range of everyone else, Garrett sent a thought, encoded in the radiance of honesty.
The Twins are not in the final prophecies, he let Thomas know. I think they have already served their role (it must have been their help with inventing immunity to the inhibitor). We no longer need them.
How mercenary.
Thomas leaned closer, trying to catch glimpses of secret prophetic paintings. He caught shadowy hints. Was there a painting that resembled Vy, kneeling by a tunnel that led to outer space? And a suggestion of a painted version of Thomas floating in outer space?
GET OUT OF MY MIND. Garrett leaped back, holding his staff out as a barrier.
Thomas glared.
“The bottom line,” Garrett said out loud, still scurrying backwards, “is that no one is getting special favors right now. Evenjos could heal my arthritis without any power boosts from me or Ariock. She could fix this leg.” He indicated his crooked leg. “And my back. Don’t you think I would like that? But I asked her not to. You know why?”
Thomas did.
“Because her power is best spent on more important tasks right now!” Garrett pounded his staff down, emphasizing his point. “Thanks to immunity, she is able to wade into enemy territory and destroy rigs and other equipment. That is more important than fixing bodies or even saving lives. We need to stop the end of the universe!”
Thomas took a step closer to Garrett. He had to look up at the old man, but he knew that his posture was threatening. “If you want to make excuses for being a jerk?” he said. “Fine. But since doomsday is right around the corner, it’s past time for you to share your clues. Show me the book!”
Garrett held up a hand. A force field hardened in the air, shielding him.
Wow. Was he that afraid?
“I have good reasons for holding back,” Garrett said in the holy tone of a sage.
“Like what?”
“If I tell you, it all goes to hell.”
A deflection. How predictable. Garrett might even be lying.
Heat waves began to bend the air.
“Get control of yourself.” Garrett sounded disgusted. “I have to get back to saving lives. Maybe you can think about doing the same?” He walked towards the door. “Oh, and please resist the urge to bother Ariock about this. He has enough on his plate.” Garrett waited for the door to slide open, and threw one last glare towards Thomas. “In fact? Leave Ariock alone. That’s an order.”
With that, Garrett was gone.
Thomas knew it was useless to chase someone who had the power to teleport. He nearly tried anyway.
He was so sick of taking orders from Garrett. He didn’t want to mindlessly obey. He wasn’t a cultist, like those idiotic followers of the Death Architect. Nor was he a child.
Maybe Serette was actually necessary, contrary to what Garrett believed?
The old man might have overlooked something vital. He likely had no clue how to interpret the final prophecies. He was probably keeping secrets for no other reason than that he was terrified of losing his vaunted authority. His damned pride might doom the entire universe.
Surely Wisdom was superior to Will?
Thomas didn’t mind being subordinate to a naturally competent leader, like Ariock. But a bully like Garrett? It was intolerable.
“Um?” Evenjos backed towards the door. “I am so sorry, Thomas. I would help, but…” She spread her wings and began to disintegrate. “Sorry.”
Thomas realized that he had actually scared Evenjos away. Fiery sparks lit the air around him. He was that furious.
He forced himself to retract his awareness. It was disturbingly easy to lose control of Yeresunsa powers. What a stupid magic system. It shouldn’t be tied to emotions. Who had designed it?
Still fuming, Thomas walked back towards his coworkers.
Serette’s chest rose and fell in wheezing rasps. That was her normal breathing nowadays. She was already visualizing formulas, businesslike.
Mondoyo was simply sad.
I doubt I am the key to saving the universe, Serette assured her partner. A week-long disruption of our work would be insane. It could be all the Death Architect needs in order to win.
Anguish spiked off Mondoyo. His emotions were as huge and frightening as tectonic plates.
Thomas glared sternly at Serette. He hated how factual she was. But deep down …
Well.
Deep down, he knew that Serette and Garrett were right. Regeneration healing would put Serette and Evenjos out of commission for a week. Their absence would impact Mondoyo, Garrett, Ariock, and Thomas himself.
It was too much.
Serette might be vital to saving the universe, but more likely, saving her life would cascade into end of all things.
It wasn’t fair.
“Let’s get back to work.” Thomas took his seat.
The three of them struggled heroically to focus on ultra-fast mathematical processing in pursuit of superluminal jamming. But even while Thomas fretted about his dying friend, and about how to stop doomsday, another part of his mind worked on yet another problem.
The book of prophecies lingered in the back of his thoughts.
His argument with Garrett was not over. If he was going to thwart the Death Architect, then he absolutely needed to see that book.