Thomas figured he might regret going to Earth. Someone might guess he was here.

And it wasn’t his world. Not really. Being born and raised in New England did not make him human. He wasn’t entitled to any of the rights or freedoms humans had.

But he was fortunate to be one of the Torth who could go unnoticed in a human crowd. He had inherited a bland appearance, courtesy of having two Servants of All for parents. Evenjos’s regenerative healing had brought that out.

He walked down a street in Oulu, Finland, hands in his pockets.

One hand manipulated the remote that controlled his leg braces. No one heard the quiet whirring sounds. People gave him casual glances and friendly nods. They saw a fourteen-year-old who walked with a stiff gait.

An everyday, normal, typical fourteen-year-old boy.

No one thought he was exceptional or bizarre.

That in itself was an exhilarating and amazing experience—a state of existence Thomas had thought he would never attain.

When passersby greeted him, he greeted them back in the local native language. No one looked at him twice. People did not suspect that he was reading their minds. The locals did not automatically assume that he was evil, or too powerful, or a threat to the galaxy. Or even handicapped.

They looked at his clothes, and thought that maybe he was a bit scruffy.

They thought he was a poor kid playing hooky from school.

They saw the way he walked, and assumed that he might be recovering from an accident. Or maybe he had a touch of cerebral palsy.

A few of the people he passed thought he could use a good meal. They wanted to feed him.

Their blithe charity made him want to weep.

It was a shock every time, even once he learned to expect it. Earth wasn’t his ancestral homeworld, but it just might be the one populated planet in the universe where he could settle into pleasant anonymity.

As Thomas passed picturesque buildings and iron fences and decent human beings, he wondered where he truly belonged. At the forefront of a galactic war? He supposed that he did have a moral obligation to liberate all the slaves in the galaxy… except…

Did he?

The savior complex was Ariock’s thing. Not his.

He was a Torth, and Torth did collectively need to atone for their millenniums of tyranny. He knew that he ought to atone. But should he do that by zombifying prisoners and using his victims to massacre millions of combatants? Was galactic conquest a good path to personal redemption?

Or might he choose a gentler way?

His crimes as a Yellow Rank were relatively minor in comparison to most of his brethren. Perhaps he did not have to atone endlessly. And atonement could take many forms, couldn’t it?

He might live a life of meager kindnesses instead of grand gestures.

He might transform himself into an unremarkable, humble, and kindhearted teenage human. It would be the existence he would have had, if he had been born with human genetics instead of a monstrous Torth legacy. He could work on erasing his abhorrent Torth traits rather than striving to be a hero and always falling short.

Why not try it?

Thomas located a school by reading people’s minds. The kids were having an indoor and outdoor lunch and recess period, since the weather was warm enough. Some of them were his age.

He let himself in though a chain-link gate.

“I’m new,” he said in Finnish, taking a seat next to a couple of boys who looked geeky enough to be welcoming of a stranger.

“Oh.” The boys made room for Thomas. “Hey.”

Thomas could not help but overhear their thoughts, and he gleaned that these boys had been talking about geek stuff.

“What do you think of my Millennium Falcon?” one of them asked Thomas. He held up a miniature spaceship, hand-painted in shades of gray.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

The plastic toy looked sleek and fanciful, like a cross between a flying saucer and a rocket. It did not remotely resemble an actual streamship or starship. A real interstellar vessel would not have windows. Those were unconscionable points of weakness.

But it was just a toy. It was based on fiction. Why should Thomas care if its design was implausible?

“Isn’t it cool?” the toy owner’s friend said.

The boys exuded eagerness. They wanted to meet someone who shared their passion.

“Awesome!” Thomas said, and they beamed.

He felt like a liar.

He hadn’t said anything untrue, but he was being untrue to his emotions. A cool toy would be a scientifically accurate one.

The boys kept talking. Their conversation hinted that Thomas was welcome to join in, since he had signaled that he shared their fandom. They gave him friendly looks.

But Thomas could not look at spaceships, even plastic approximations, without thinking of the life he had shed. How many freed slaves and Alashani warriors had died during his absence so far? Had the Torth attacked in some new way?

When he considered what Ariock and Vy and Cherise might be dealing with right now…

Well.

He didn’t want to think about all that.

He stood abruptly. He might try living as a normal human, but a schoolyard playground wasn’t quite right for him. There was no common ground. He had never been as innocent as these teenagers. It felt like too much of a stretch to pretend to be like them.

Anyhow, he disliked a modern mythos about spacefarers whose crews included slaves, even if those slaves were robots, apparently programmed to be affable and servile.

“Where are you going?” one of the boys called, emanating hurt bewilderment.

Thomas realized that he had unintentionally insulted the pair of welcoming kids. He was used to interfacing with people who accommodated his quirks.

“Oh. Sorry.” Thomas walked stiffly back to their table with an apologetic look. “I have to leave. But I wanted to tell you, I’m from outer space, and the best interstellar ships are bulky, not aerodynamic. They get slammed with pebbles and particles moving at many thousands of miles per hour.” He pounded a fist into his palm to demonstrate. “They can take it. Because they’re protected by overlapping hoods of ultradense ionized tungsten. Materials science is the future.” He gave a nod towards one of the boys. That one had an aptitude, he sensed. “You might want to look into the field of polymer engineering.”

The boys gaped.

With one last apologetic, friendly smile, Thomas turned and picked his way across the schoolyard.

He was just about to slip through the chain-link gate when he sensed a teenage girl sizing him up. She wore all black. Black lipstick, Wiccan pendant, heavy mascara. Her dyed black hair showed blonde roots.

Thomas sensed that the girl liked his somber expression, and the fact that his eyes hinted that he had seen things. Adult things.

“Sneak in, sneak out?” The goth girl walked her fingers.

Against his better judgment, Thomas paused. “I’m just here for a day.”

The girl sauntered up to him. “Only one day?” She stood very close, violating local conventions of personal space. Her scent was fruity and waxy. “Well, then,” she said. “I’ll shortcut the introductions. I am Jana. I’ll just test you out.”

She kissed him.

It was a full mouth kiss, sudden and impossible to predict.

Thomas shoved aside his various reasons to jerk back. All of those reasons were tied up with zombies and Torth and zombified Torth and other stuff that was irrelevant to his new beginning.

He pretended to be the person whom Jana believed him to be.

Cynical thanks to bad luck. Not cynical because of a superhuman brain stuffed with millions of lifetimes of absorbed knowledge.

Newly powerful in the way of a teenage boy growing into manly strength. Not a severely disabled boy who had gone through ultra unique and powerful regeneration healing.

Life experiences on par with hers.

Fourteen years rather than one hundred and forty million years.

Thomas effortlessly zeroed in on her home life: a dysfunctional family. Flirtations with boys who might give her a place to escape to. Jana yearned to get out of her stagnant neighborhood and to do something remarkable.

Thomas could like Jana, and even respect her. He wanted to rescue her.

He pulled away.

If he befriended Jana, or asked her out on a date—even if they both agreed to live in the present, and to ask no questions—he would sense her wondering. And if he took her on another date? And another? Intrigue would wither and die eventually. Once that happened, she would need answers.

“I’m not who you think I am,” he confessed.

??? Questions bloomed inside her mind.

Thomas sensed all the things she wanted to know. Who did he think she thought he was? Why did he walk stiffly? Why was he in this schoolyard for one day only? Who were his parents?

Parents. He didn’t want to think about that topic.

He was here to escape the truth. But deceit wasn’t his thing.

Since he refused to lie, he supposed that put human relationships out of his league. He would be unable to even accomplish a platonic friendship. Never mind coworkers or passing acquaintances. It was all impossible. He could not befriend people unless he could be totally honest with them. So he ought to give up on being human.

Unless…

“I have to go,” he told Jana.

He felt her self-esteem crumple. She began second-guessing the way she had kissed him, and her whole approach.

Thomas gently took her by the shoulders. “I’m a traveler from outer space.” He gazed into her hazel eyes. “I can see into people’s souls, and I see that you’re capable of having a future that everyone here will envy. Take singing lessons. Your voice can lead you to fame.”

She looked dazzled.

Thomas gave her a kiss that satisfied them both.

Then he left, resisting an urge to help her, or to rescue her. He had known Jana for three minutes. Ordinary people would never consider that enough time for any kind of meaningful relationship.

It shouldn’t count.

As soon as he rounded the corner at the end of the block, he used his modified tablet to order a ride-share service. He would hack into the bank account of a crime ring. That would give him plenty of stolen funds; enough to buy a plane ticket to somewhere more suitable for him to embark on a journey of personal atonement.