PART TWO

> “Kessa used to be a slave. Now she is coming to free us all.”

- Legend among slaves

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Kessa leaned forward, hands clasped atop a wooden table, peering into the grey eyes of her lieutenant. She wanted to feel sure that this motherly ummin was telling the truth.

“Are you sure?” Kessa asked again.

“Well,” the matron said, flustered. “I haven’t heard any of them hold a conversation. But I swear, Jedwer would not lie. He’s my son!”

Kessa leaned back in the chair, which was comfortably sized for ummins. She clicked her fingers on the armrests. She had chosen thousands of lieutenants, and most of them, like this matron, were of slave farm origin. Farm slaves tended to be more nurturing and compassionate. That made them ideal for working with penitents who showed promising signs.

But farm slaves were also inexperienced with certain forms of suffering. Unlike Kessa, this lieutenant had never been ripped away from her family. She even had a child.

“Let me speak to your son,” Kessa said.

Minutes later, Kessa sat in a different room of the townhouse, across from a pudgy adolescent ummin who had trouble making eye contact. Jedwer seemed overwhelmed by the visit.

“Your mother tells me,” Kessa said, “that you spend a lot of time with one of the penitents on the machine shop crew?”

Jedwer stared at a poster on the adobe wall. Photography and printing were the latest fad to sweep through Freedomland, and just about everyone’s private room displayed a poster or two. The apartment was festooned with photos of Jedwer and other ummins, presumably his family and friends.

One poster dominated the wall; a fanciful image which Kessa had seen elsewhere throughout the city, in taverns and shops. It showed Kessa graciously extending a hand to Ariock as he stepped out of a storm cloud. There were rainbows and shining stars, and subjugated Torth in chains, bowing low.

“That artist made me look a lot younger than I am,” Kessa said with a chuckle.

She was careful not to mention the artist by name. He was a talented ummin, one of the star pupils in Cherise’s exclusive artists’ workshop, and Kessa did not want to accidentally make him a military target.

One should always be guarded around people who worked with penitents. A bunch of penitents would likely try to scan Jedwer’s private thoughts after this visit, hungry for any scrap of information about Kessa.

She gave Jedwer an encouraging smile.

The adolescent ummin twiddled his thumbs.

“It’s all right,” Kessa said. “You’re not in trouble. I set up the lieutenant system precisely because I wanted to see former slaves and former Torth interact with each other. I am genuinely curious.”

Jedwer flicked his gaze at Kessa. Then he stared out the round window, where hundreds of adobe townhouses and tenements populated the hillside.

Freedomland was growing at a rapid pace. Ariock no longer constructed every apartment, but there were multiple construction companies eager to win favors from councilors, war heroes, mercantile moguls, and anyone who had a big stake in the military economy. A system of digital war credits had replaced Alashani coins. Anyone who loved to gamble, or speculate, could win riches by investing in the right venture.

“Everyone makes fun of me,” Jedwer said. “I don’t have any friends.”

Kessa felt like giving the child a hug. “Those who treat you with mindless cruelty are wrong-headed idiots,” she said. “They are behaving like Torth.”

Jedwer smiled with shy reluctance. He seemed surprised that Kessa was on his side.

“Why do they treat you that way?” Kessa asked. It was a risk, to scrape at an obvious emotional wound, but she was curious. And she wanted to circle towards the topic that interested her.

Jedwer shrugged.

Kessa supplied a guess. “Is it because you and your mother work closely with penitents?”

“Maybe,” Jedwer admitted. “And maybe other things. I spend a lot of time messing with data tablets. The neighborhood kids think I’m weird.” He slumped, staring at his lap. “And yes. I do spend time with that one penitent. She knows a lot. She’s a good tutor.”

Kessa tried to mask her interest. After months of seeking penitents who might be friendly, she had gained nothing but hopes and suspicions.

It was not from lack of trying. Lieutenants, like this boy’s mother, each spent many hours, one-on-one, every day, with individual mind readers. Kessa hand-selected the penitents whom she believed might be redeemed. She used an internal checklist of criteria, in terms of random acts of kindness. Tranquility meshes were re-keyed in order to test for emotions. There were therapy sessions. She suggested suitable activities.

Yet the penitents remained sullen and silent. They refused to speak unless spoken to. They did nothing that could be construed as friendly.

Kessa kept at it. She listened to a daily avalanche of reports from various lieutenants. And she utilized a secret network of informants. If she heard any hint of violence, she immediately swapped out a reportedly cruel overseer or lieutenant for a kinder one, and then she conducted follow-up interviews, wary of false reports.

Perhaps her efforts were beginning to pay off?

“She says her name is Avery,” Jedwer said.

“Avery?” The word sounded alien to Kessa, who was fluent in three languages. In addition to the common slave tongue, she knew the human language of English, and she had also learned the Alashani native tongue.

“Avery says it’s a human name,” Jedwer explained. “She says she’s always wanted to be human.”

Kessa hid her excitement. She publicly encouraged penitents to adopt new names, to embrace a new personhood. As far as she knew, none had done so. Until now.

“I would love to meet Avery,” Kessa said. “Will you introduce me to her?”

Jedwer led the way.

One tricky aspect of dealing with mind readers was controlling their access to information. Kessa had purposely instructed her hand-picked lieutenants to keep their penitent work crews apart from other penitents. The specialized work crews were not allowed much contact with their fellow mind readers, or with any person who was knowledgeable in military matters. That included Kessa herself.

So she did not go near Avery.

Instead, she sat on a catwalk along the ceiling of the machine shop garage; a workspace where overseers and penitents worked together in order to customize transports. She swung her legs, looking down at the female penitent who was escorted by Jedwer.

Avery was a tall mind reader with iridescent green eyes. She must have been a Green Rank technician; someone who worked with machinery or spacecraft. Green Ranks were entrusted with jobs that Yellow Ranks were too lazy or undereducated to deal with, but they were too lowly to be permitted to govern, oversee, or architect systems. In the Torth Empire, slaves did drudge work. Green Ranks filled in for complex cognitive tasks.

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“Peace, Avery.” Kessa offered the typical friendly greeting of slaves. Her perch was far away from most of the workshop activity, so she should be able to hear any reply.

Avery offered a shy nod.

That was more than most penitents offered, when greeted. Kessa studied the woman’s condition.

As a Torth, Avery would have worn shimmery robes, perhaps a trim bodysuit. Slaves would have carried any tools she needed.

Now?

Avery wore rags. Tools were strapped to her waist, her upper arms, and a rack which she carried on her back. Dirt and grease smudged her face and short-cropped hair.

Most penitents went barefoot. The lieutenant had given this one sturdy work boots.

“Tell me, please,” Kessa said, “what is a typical day like, for you?”

Avery swallowed audibly. What would unnerve a former Torth? Was she afraid of Kessa? Or was she simply afraid of speaking out loud?

“I wake up.” Avery pointed to a row of cubbies. “There.”

Her voice was quiet but smooth. It seemed her vocal cords were strengthened from practice. She probably spoke out loud every day.

Avery went on. “I fetch supplies, as the overseers of this garage command. I lift heavy objects. I clean grease stains. I answer any questions they have. I help my work crew. We dine. We sleep.”

No surprises there.

“What about when you work with the lieutenant?” Kessa asked. Every tenth day, Avery should be subjected to one-on-one counseling.

“The lieutenant invites me to dine with her and Jedwer,” Avery admitted. “I wash myself first. Then I prepare a meal and serve them. The lieutenant teaches me about her culture and society. Sometimes she asks me questions about Torth society. I answer.”

Avery’s style of speech was the usual succinct style of former Torth.

“Sometimes…” Avery interrupted herself, glancing down at the adolescent ummin.

Jedwer gave her a nod of permission.

“Sometimes I sit with Jedwer until it is time for him to attend his learning center.” Avery’s voice trembled. “I teach him anything he wishes to learn. Mostly, it is dynamic scripting, so he can customize control applications.”

Kessa figured that must have something to do with data tablets. No wonder Avery was nervous. Penitents were supposed to be restricted to manual labor.

“She does not touch the tablet,” Jedwer said with hasty assurance. “That is all me. She answers any question I ask!”

Kessa shifted her gaze to him, surprised that he had volunteered to defend the penitent.

“I can create applications on tablets that no one else can make, thanks to her,” Jedwer said. “I can show you, if you’d like?”

“That is not necessary.” Kessa imagined their tutoring relationship. It seemed unlikely that Avery had taught Jedwer such a niche skill without once touching a tablet. She might have bent or broken that minor rule.

Jedwer seemed to realize the implications. “I swear, I never let her touch a data tablet. She teaches me with words only. I promise!”

Kessa saw guilty defiance on his adolescent face.

It might be dangerous to allow the tutoring to continue. Tablets were ubiquitous in control centers and in scientific research labs. Avery might use her tablet skills to cause hovercarts to crash, or to spy on people, or something along those lines.

Yet she had not done so.

“I will not make you stop,” Kessa said.

Jedwer and Avery both looked as if they might collapse from relief. This was exactly the sort of bond that Kessa wanted to study.

Unless, of course, it was false.

Some penitents pretended to be outstanding models of subservience … until a child got too close, or someone let their guard down. Then those penitents were eager to wreak havoc. They got showered with glory in the Megacosm, even as overseers shot them to death.

“How long has Avery lived in your family’s garage, Jedwer?” Kessa asked.

“Two lunar cycles.”

That was quite a while. The fakers tended to be short-term. They did not keep up the act for multiple months.

There were other types of fakers, though. Some penitents flouted the law against ascending into the Megacosm. Garrett usually rooted out the spies, but every once in a while, he was too late. They leaked information to the Torth Empire.

Kessa tapped her fingers on the catwalk, musing. How would Avery react to a disruption between herself and Jedwer?

“With such good tutoring skills,” Kessa said, “perhaps I will consider taking Avery away from manual labor. She might teach classes instead.”

Jedwer looked shaken.

Avery squeaked and fell to her knees, as if struck by a great invisible weight. “No! I am not suited to teach like that!”

Kessa studied the penitent, astonished. Was her fear genuine? Perhaps she lacked confidence in her voice?

“Many students are happy to learn from Thomas,” Kessa pointed out. “We would keep you away from the Academy, of course.” That was common sense. Penitents were not permitted near the uptown campus, where cutting edge military concepts might be discussed. “You could teach at a satellite office, close to your home here.”

Avery remained bowed on her knees, trembling. “Please, Wise One,” she said in a small voice. “I get overwhelmed in crowds.”

Kessa supposed that crowds might be hard for telepaths to cope with, when they were not busily repressing their emotions.

“And I would be in danger,” Avery added. “Please, I beg you. I want to stay here!”

“All right.” Kessa smiled, pleased that she had uncovered something that seemed exciting and promising. This might be a genuine bond of friendship!

Avery’s trembling subsided.

“Jedwer says that you wish to be a human.” Kessa studied every detail of the penitent’s reaction. “Is that so?”

Avery bowed in a groveling way, exactly like a slave to a Torth master. Very convincing. “Yes, great Wise One.”

“How did you pass your Adulthood Exam?” Kessa asked.

Avery blushed with alarm. She had clearly not anticipated such an incisive question from an ummin. “I thought I would fail,” she answered in her quiet voice. “Those that tested me must have been lenient.”

Kessa examined that answer.

Avery seemed to realize how unsatisfactory it was. “I got lucky.” Her gaze up towards Kessa was defiant. “Not all Torth are monsters.”

Every word might be calculated to appeal to Kessa; to trick her.

“Hm.” Kessa chose her approach with deliberate care. She wanted to tease out any reaction that seemed inauthentic or cruelly callous.

She also wanted to prove a point: that the Torth system was toxic.

“It is unfortunate about the baby farm massacres,” Kessa said. “I would have liked to meet Torth children who never underwent the Adulthood Exam.”

Avery looked distraught. She glanced at Jedwer. He was troubled and thoughtful, possibly wondering why there were no underage Torth penitents around.

“Do you think some of them would have acted like human children?” Kessa asked.

Avery stammered. “I … I do not know.” She looked ashamed, perhaps of her species. She clasped her hands and bowed her head. “What they did was wrong. It was terrible.”

Kessa swallowed. Perhaps she was too suspicious. Perhaps she was seeking more emotional vulnerability than any penitent was ready to display.

But their timidity and reservedness was a problem.

She wanted to build friendship across the species. There could be no friendship without mutual trust and some understanding. How could anyone trust the penitents, or understand them, if they remained secretive?

There was only one workaround to that problem: A trustworthy mind reader, such as Thomas, could tell whether Avery was a faker or a genuinely remorseful and kindhearted penitent.

Not everyone would trust Thomas’s word, but it was better than Kessa’s assessment. It was foolproof.

“Avery, I would like for you to meet Thomas,” Kessa said. “How would you feel about that?”

She expected enthusiasm. Thomas was the original person who had pleaded mercy for captured Torth. He was the reason why penitents were relatively safe, instead of getting executed or worked to death.

Avery reacted as if Kessa had stomped on a raw nerve. She threw herself to the ground. “Please no! Please no!”

Kessa had to interrupt the begging. “Why not?”

Avery gazed up at her with haunted green eyes. “Please, do not make me meet him, please!”

Kessa clicked her beak in annoyance, not quite ready to drop the matter. This job would be so much easier if she had the powers of a mind reader.

Which was exactly why she wanted Thomas to assess Avery.

“Why not?” Kessa insisted.

Avery seemed at a loss for words. She moved her hands, clearly frustrated by an inability to translate her mentality into the slave tongue.

Finally, she choked out an answer. “When the first Torth invaders set foot on Umdalkdul, twenty-four thousand years ago … would you have agreed to meet that era’s Commander of All Living Things?”

Kessa shook her head at the non sequitur. “What do you fear will happen?”

“He is the Conqueror!” Avery said.

It seemed Avery had absorbed too much Torth propaganda. “He is not the monster that the Torth Empire imagines him to be,” Kessa said. “He is actually quite kind.”

“He contains worlds,” Avery said. “Hundreds of thousands of lives exist simultaneously inside his mind! There is no universal truth in a multifaceted cosmos such as that. He presents one face to you. He will present something different to one such as me.”

Kessa found that hard to believe.

And yet she wondered. Why did Thomas avoid penitents so assiduously?

Thomas was friendly with his lab assistants. He was affectionate towards his sky croc. He was polite to councilors. He dined with Kessa every week or two. Was it possible that he would treat Torth allies like filth, even though he claimed to need them?

Kessa needed to find out.

After all, if Torth penitents were going to fully join this side of the war, they would have to stop fearing Thomas. They would have to work with him.

Thomas, too, should take on some of that responsibility.

He insisted that the only way they could win the war was with friendly Torth allies. Well, if that was true, then assuaging the fears of promising penitents ought to be near the top of his priority list. He needed to stop avoiding them.

“Thank you for meeting with me.” Kessa stood, holding onto the catwalk railing. “Please do not brag about your tablet lessons.”

“Thank you!” Jedwer seemed ecstatic. “Can I show you a game I designed on the tablet? It’s really cool. It’s like a maze, except it’s—”

“Some other time.” Kessa gave a gentle smile to soften her refusal.

Her wristwatch was alight with messages which she needed to review. She probably had thirty more households to visit before dinnertime.