And thus it was that, three days later, as Teresa was just completing her third tic-tac-toe game (a draw, of course), a shadow fell across the floor of her cage, and she glanced upward into a familiar-looking Hork-Bajir face.

"Gef?" she said, somewhat startled.

"No," said the figure. "My name is Toloth Two-Nine-Four. I am vag nitskaha temit…" He frowned, and clamped down on Gef's Hork-Bajir instincts. "I am a lieutenant in the Sub-Visser's personal guard."

"Oh."

There was a moment's expectant silence.

"Well, I'm not going to curtsy, if that's what you're waiting for," said Teresa at length.

Toloth grinned. "From what I know of you, I scarcely expected it," he said. "It is not obeisance I require of you, but information."

"Information?" Teresa said with surprise, trying to recall any compromising data she might have inadvertently discovered about the Andalite guerrillas. "Like what?"

"Could you tell me, precisely," said Toloth, "what the name 'Jesus' means to you?"

Teresa stared. This was the last thing she had expected, and, truth to tell, one of the last things she had desired. A few pacifying words to a fellow slave was one thing; a detailed description of her faith for the benefit of one of her captors was something else entirely.

"Why, what has Gef been telling you?" she said, with an attempt at a laugh.

"Very little," said Toloth, without one. "That is why I desired a fuller explanation. Begin at the beginning, and omit as little as possible."

Teresa took a deep breath and sent up a prayer: Okay, God, I'm not crazy about this, but if You'll stay with me, I think I can make it. Just don't let me mess up too badly.

So – begin at the beginning. The beginning. "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and…" No, that was getting into too deep waters for a first discussion. Better to start one Gospel earlier.

"Okay," she said. "About two thousand years ago, an angel appeared to a girl named Mary…"

"Stop," said Toloth.

Teresa blinked. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing," said Toloth. "I merely require a clarification. What is an angel?"

"Oh," said Teresa. "It's a bodiless spirit that's directly in contact with God and, um, serves Him in various ways."

Toloth nodded. "I see. Please continue."

"This angel appeared to Mary," said Teresa, "and told her she was going to have a baby, and this baby was going to be the Son of God."

"Jesus had a son?" said Toloth.

"No," said Teresa. "The son was Jesus."

"Ah," said Toloth. "My mistake. I was under the impression that Jesus was your God."

"He is," said Teresa.

Toloth frowned. "You have two gods, then?"

"No."

Toloth's frown deepened. "Then… then Jesus is his own son?"

"Well… maybe, kind of," said Teresa, considering. "But not really… no. No, not at all."

Toloth stared at her for several seconds without speaking. When he did speak, it was with the cajoling tone of one who is trying to humor an irritatingly whimsical child.

"Human," he said, "I am sure that, in your mind, there is a perfectly straightforward answer for this little riddle of yours. I would appreciate it, however, if you would simply tell me what it is and not be coy about it."

"Okay," said Teresa, slightly nettled. "In the first place, my name isn't 'human'."

"Pardon?"

"You called me 'human' just now. My name is Teresa."

Toloth chuckled. "Willful little creature, aren't you?" he said. "Very well, then, Teresa. How are Jesus and his father both your God?"

Teresa closed her eyes, thinking of all the explanations of the Trinity she had ever heard or read, searching for one that was both complete enough to satisfy an advanced alien and simple enough that she could remember it all.

"Okay," she said. "You know the basic difference between person and nature?"

"I can't say I've ever thought about it," said Toloth.

"Okay," said Teresa. "Basically, person is who someone is, and nature is what something is. So, if I were to ask you who you are, you would say… um, what's your name again?"

"Toloth Two-Nine-Four of the Sulp Niar pool," said Toloth Two-Nine-Four of the Sulp Niar pool.

"Right. So you would say, 'I'm Toloth Two-Nine-Four of the Sulp Niar pool,' because that's what describes you as a person. On the other hand, if I asked you what you are, you would say, 'I am a Yeerk,' because that's your nature."

"I see."

"Now, once you realize that, of course, you realize that person and nature don't always have a one-to-one correspondence. For instance, if I asked, 'What is this?'–" Teresa slapped one of the bars of her cage with the palm of her hand "– you would say, 'It's a cage,' but if I asked, 'Who is this?' you'd just look at me funny."

"True enough," said Toloth.

"And the reason for that is that a cage nature is lesser than a human nature or a Yeerk nature," said Teresa, "so that cages have zero persons where a human or a Yeerk has one. But God's nature, if you stop to think about it, is incomparably greater than a human's or a Yeerk's…"

A light dawned in Toloth's eyes. "And so he has two persons? The one, Jesus, and the other, his father?"

"Three, actually," said Teresa. "There's also a Holy Spirit that I hadn't gotten to yet."

Toloth leaned back onto his tail and spent a few moments digesting this concept.

"That is subtle," he said at length.

"Thank you," said Teresa.

"Extremely subtle," said Toloth. "Simple, yes – remarkably simple, and yet…" He stopped, and attempted to put his confused thoughts in some kind of order.

"No Hork-Bajir would ever have thought of that," he said at last.

Teresa smiled. "Well, no human probably ever would have, either," she said. "We just happened to get it as a revelation."

"Hmm?" said Toloth. "Oh, yes, yes, of course." It was clear from his expression, however, that Teresa's disclaimer had not really sunk in.

"Well, thank you, Teresa," he said. "It has been very… very enlightening." Slowly, he lowered himself back onto his feet and walked off in the direction of the voluntary-host area.

Teresa leaned back in her cage and ran her fingers through her hair. Her mind, while not as busied as Toloth's, was nonetheless a jumble of thoughts, concerns, and prayers: Did I get that right? Did it make any impact on him? How did I get into this situation, anyway, Lord?

Eventually, however, one thought overwhelmed all the others by virtue of its sheer novelty. I did it, she thought. I just defended the Trinity to a Yeerk.

And hot on the heels of that thought came a second: Holy cow, I'm an apologist. I'm doing what Scott Hahn does.

And then came a third thought, which, unlike the first two, Teresa wasn't quite convinced was her own: Well done, good and faithful servant.

Taken together, the three thoughts constituted such a gratifying and nourishing reflection that Teresa's mind had no room for anything else, and she barely noticed when the guards came to take her to the pier. A soul that has fulfilled its calling has little time to be concerned with such trivialities as its own liberty.