“True. But at some point she will need to feed. What then, Letho? Will we sacrifice one of our own so that she might live?”

Letho crossed his arms across his chest and stared with blank eyes into the middling distance. “Maybe we can do it like in the movies. Feed her bad guys, you know?”

Bayorn scoffed. Letho considered the distinct possibility that Bayorn had never seen a Eursan movie and was wholly unfamiliar with this film trope.

“Mendraga cannot be trusted. If she turns on us, it will be on your shoulders. And if I see even the smallest hint of such a thing coming, I will kill her myself. Do we understand one another?”

“Yeah, I understand. You aren’t exactly dropping subtle hints here,” Letho said.

“Oh, and I would not leave her alone with Maka. He wants to kill her even more than I do. As you know, Maka’s anger is deep; it burns brighter than Tarsus’s stars. He will not be able to hold it in much longer. I am afraid that if she angers him, it will end badly for her,” Bayorn said.

“Well let’s hope that none of these horrible scenarios happen. I think she might be our only hope of getting to Alastor. And Abraxas.”

Bayorn’s face was stern. “Remember my words, Letho. Mendraga have no honor.”

The door swished open, and Thresha joined them outside the office. Bayorn made no effort to conceal his contempt as he shouldered past her. Thresha leaned against the office’s window-wall, her arms crossed, head cocked in a gesture that somehow communicated both interest and disinterest simultaneously.

“Hey. How’s it going?” Letho asked.

“Let’s cut the idle conversation. Why did you save me?”

“Well, you saved me. I was just returning the favor.”

“I wasn’t saving you, you idiot. I was killing the bastard that murdered a friend of mine.”

The way she said friend drew Letho’s attention. He studied her face, an alabaster mask that betrayed no emotion. But Thresha’s eyes told him what he needed to know. Even though her face evoked images of Vigner’s legendary warrior maidens, Letho saw a glimmer of vulnerability there.

Then it was gone, lost in the depths of her emerald eyes.

“I lost someone very special to me as well,” he offered.

“I did not come out here to get all warm and fuzzy with you. This is not a get to know each other conversation. This is a make sure we both understand exactly what is going on kind of conversation,” Thresha said.

“Uh, okay. I was just trying to—”

She cut him off with a scoff. “God, are all the people from your Fulcrum station this dense?”

“You should know. You and your Mendraga buddies ate them all,” Letho replied.

He took a step toward her and tried to make himself larger and more menacing, like the male of a proud species.

“Please,” she said through a laugh. “If you think for a moment I am scared of you…”

“Wonderful, a laughing psychopathic murderer. Maybe Bayorn was right. Maybe I should just kill you right now and be done with it.”

His hand went to Saladin, who hung between his shoulder blades, cool and heavy. Reassuring. Letho felt the anger surging up like a jet of molten rock from the sea floor. She really didn’t seem scared at all. It made him crazy. He became acutely aware of the fact that her chest did not rise or fall, unlike his, which pumped like a bellows.

Thresha placed a hand on his shoulder and smiled. Letho felt the anger reside, replaced by confusion.

“Boys. Hands always going straight to their swords. Go ahead. Kill me. Or try, anyway,” she said.

“Sir? Probability of success in eliminating target is high, but serious injury to your person is a statistical certitude. Would you like to proceed?”

“Thanks, Saladin. Great timing, by the way,” Letho said.

Thresha dropped her hand from Letho’s shoulder and turned to show him her slender back.

“Your previous assumption was correct: I lost the one who was most important to me on Alastor’s ship. I have betrayed my master, and thanks to you, my lot has been cast with a group of Tarsi who want to tear me limb from limb. Maybe it would be better if you ended it right now.”

“I just need to know if I can trust you,” Letho began. He was attempting to take a genial approach, and was unprepared for the verbal fusillade that followed.

“You have no idea what you are doing, do you?” Thresha turned and shouted. “You’re just some Fulcrum kid who got a gun and a sword and now you’re going to save the world, huh? Well, I have news for you: you have no idea what you are up against! You are going to get all of your friends killed.”

“Well, that isn’t exactly what I was expecting… I was hoping you would say something like: ‘Why yes, Letho, thank you for saving me, and I would love to join forces with you to help rid the universe of the evil Abraxas!’”

Thresha sneered. “You don’t see it, do you? You and your friends have already lost. Alastor has won. He has his army, and now he controls one of Eursus’s greatest cities.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Think about it. That message on the computer is over ten years old. Whatever happened on this Fulcrum station happened a long time ago. What do you think Alastor and Abraxas have been up to for a decade? Building convenience stores and fine art museums? Why don’t you just get back in your ship with your friends and find a nice place to settle down? Eursus is a big planet—surely there’s a place you could go where Abraxas would never find you.”

“I can’t do that, Thresha.”

“Why not? There would be no shame in it. You and your friends have no hope against Abraxas and Alastor. Even if you could somehow raise an army that matched Alastor’s man for man, there would be no hope. An army of Mendraga would cut you to pieces.”

“You don’t understand. I’ve spent my whole life doing nothing, and then—everything changed. I have…”

Letho searched for the right words. How could he possibly describe his metamorphosis?

I died and came back from the dead.

I am the only Eursan who can communicate with the Tarsi in their own language.

I have super strength and speed.

Wounds that would kill a normal man heal up in seconds.

I am a superman.

“I have been given a gift. I don’t know what made me this way. But I think it happened for a reason. And if I am going to die, I want it to be with Saladin in my hand and my gun blazing. I want to see Alastor’s face again. I want to put my boot on his neck and push.”

“Excellent monologue, sir. Vivid imagery,” Saladin said.

“Quiet, talking sword.”

Saladin’s LEDs faded to a sullen maroon hue.

“Well, I won’t be party to this. As soon as we get planetside, I’m gone. You think you can keep your friends from killing me until then?”

“I’ll do my best,” Letho said.

****

Letho stood outside the office for some time after Thresha had gone. She had not gone back into the office, which was probably a wise move on her part. Letho took some solace in the fact that she seemed reluctant to re-enter without him.

He thought of Maka, Bayorn, and the other Tarsi, and wondered if he had pulled her out of the proverbial frying pan only to throw her into the fire. He could still see the expression on Maka’s face when Letho had flown through the entry hatch of Deacon’s ship with one of Alastor’s own in tow. A movie for one played inside Letho’s mind, and he saw it all again with startling clarity: Maka’s eyes darting between his and Thresha’s. What had he seen in Maka’s glowing eyes? Disappointment—shot through with traces of contempt. Peals of sarcastic laughter echoed from the dark recesses of his mind. His copilot had returned.

Letho felt a twinge of fear when it occurred to him that he had no idea where Thresha had gone. He wondered if he could trust her; he knew so little about her. He did know that she had saved him by killing one of her own, in a spectacular display of both inhuman strength and brutal resolve.