Cherise jumped as rocks exploded near her head.

A spear haft clattered down along with debris and torn ivy. The head of the spear was gone, taken by the explosion. A grenade? Attached to a thrown spear?

Flen must have hurled the grenade in the way he was most familiar with.

To kill her?

No, not her. Cherise saw that Thomas had jumped or fallen backwards. He sat on the ground a distance away. Dust from the explosion covered his shirt and vest. Dust sifted off his hair.

While Cherise marveled at how stupid Flen was—attacking Thomas? In public? Oh, and shouting a warning first?—an egg-shaped canister clattered onto the flagstones between Thomas’s feet.

It was emitting pink gas from both ends.

The inhibitor trail led upwards, past Thomas’s face. He would have to hold his breath in order to keep his powers. Cherise expected him to use thermal currents to shield himself, but instead, he threw himself across the walkway. He landed against decorative shrubbery that formed a barrier atop the next ledge.

More grenades exploded in the place where Thomas had been a second before. They’d been hurled from the tier above.

Cherise did not waste time trying to figure out Flen’s strategy. In order to save Thomas, she’d shield him with her body. She threw herself over him.

Let the undergrounders try to blast their supposed enemy apart with grenades, now.

She remembered Flen lighting candles to honor the memory of his sister, his mother, his father. He had mourned his family’s chambermaids, as well. And also quite a number of his warrior friends. Koresh, Yavin, Shassatel, Tavish, Orla. All he had left of them were memories. He knew loss. If nothing else, Flen valued the sanctity of life—as long as it was shani, or shani adjacent. There were lines he would not cross.

“GET OUT OF THE WAY, CHERISE!” Flen’s amplified voice boomed off decorative stones and bushes.

She hugged Thomas tighter. He was an angular but not-so-fragile mass beneath her. She felt the leg braces hidden by his pants. They were forehead-to-forehead, with Cherise on top.

When they were kids living in New Hampshire, she had hardly let herself imagine that a position like this was possible.

“Help will come,” Thomas said in a quiet voice that only Cherise could hear.

What did that mean? Had Thomas sent an emergency alert?

These days, emergencies only happened to strangers on faraway planets. Anyone who could teleport would be busy. They would not expect a crisis in the heart of Freedomland.

“MOVE APART!” Flen hollered. “OR YOU BOTH DIE!”

Thomas pushed Cherise, trying to move her away. “I can’t protect us,” he whispered fiercely. “I breathed inhibitor poison.”

Well. Crap.

Cherise refused to let Thomas go. She trapped him between her arms. As long as she covered him with her body, he would be safe.

“Don’t shoot yet.” Flen sounded annoyed. He was closer, his voice no longer amplified.

Cherise turned. The walkway was a miasma of pink fog. Beyond that, above the fog, three armored shani balanced on the wall. They were veiled in the old style of their warrior culture, so their faces were hidden.

The one in the center unwrapped his veil.

Cherise would have recognized Flen even if his face had remained covered. She knew his custom-fitted armor, which was unique, embossed with artistic flourishes which she had designed.

He stared down at her and Thomas with contemptuous hatred.

“I don’t want to harm you, Cherise.” Flen’s tone was harsh with pain and blame. “Is this truly your choice?”

Her choice.

Deep down, Flen must understand that Cherise had purposely chosen Thomas over himself. Yet he yearned for her to give some cue that she was brainwashed.

He wanted her to be possessed. Brainless. Nothing but a helpless doll.

Like what her Ma had tried to turn her into.

Flen wanted that for her, too.

Cherise let out a sound of anguish. She used to stay up nights with Flen, combing her fingers through his hair. She had held him while he wept for his stolen family and dead world. She had been so grateful for the way he made her feel special, buying her gifts and calling her his angel. She had followed him as far as she could while staying to true to her own morality, and then further.

Flen had reminded her that she was more than an unloved orphan. She had loved him for that.

But her Ma had also had moments of kindness.

“I have a blaster glove.” Thomas wriggled beneath her, trying to pull the weapon from his vest’s inner pocket. “If we can lure them closer…”

He trailed off, probably realizing how futile that was. Flen wasn’t stupid enough to get that close. He remained high up on the wall, with grenade-tipped spears ready to throw. The warriors flanking him each drew spears as well.

“I’ll spook him,” Thomas whispered.

Cherise knew that Thomas could psychologically freak anyone out, if he put his mind to it. He might even play media that would mislead or trick Flen. But she thought she had a better idea.

She rolled to face Flen, putting Thomas behind her back. He didn’t advise her to try something else. So this was a good idea.

“Flen?” Cherise raised her arm, blocking any easy trajectory to Thomas. “Flen, I just found out I’m pregnant with your child.”

Flen’s luminous eyes burned with intensity.

Cherise held her hands over her flat stomach, as if to protect something growing inside there.

“Halt!” Flen commanded his warriors.

They lowered their spears. Between their veils, Cherise saw their pale lavender eyes, full of doubt plus envy. Everyone knew the rumors about human hybridization. It was common knowledge throughout the city, thanks to telepathy raves. There were Alashani who openly demanded that humans should join the free galaxy. Cherise had even caught penitent laborers assessing her from afar.

Every penitent or shani wanted a human girlfriend or boyfriend.

“Your baby is inside me.” Cherise caressed her stomach, protecting an imagined treasure. “Please, don’t shoot?”

“Get away from the rekveh!” Flen sounded more anguished than ever.

Thomas spoke in a very low whisper, hidden behind her. “Tell him you’ve had dreams that you carry the messiah.”

Ugh.

But Cherise instantly knew what that would do to Flen’s psychology. Flen yearned for a family. He yearned for a true messiah for his idealized underground Alashani nation.

There were people hurrying along Plaza ramps towards them. Rescuers, perhaps?

Stolen novel; please report.

“I’ve had dreams, Flen,” Cherise called. “I’ve wondered what they meant. But now I think I know.” She hesitated, stalling for time.

The undergrounder warriors noticed the interlopers. They readied their spears.

Cherise went for impact. She shouted as if a powerful admission had been torn out of her. “I think that our baby will have powers!”

One of the other warriors swore. “She’s under evil influence.” He prepared to throw his spears.

“Don’t harm her, Emstachor!” Flen snapped.

“You said we must act quickly!”

“Right?” the other warrior agreed. “We agreed to ignore whatever trickery the rekveh tries. You yourself predicted that it would use Cherise as a shield. Remember?”

Flen looked miserable. It was strange to see him armored and in battle mode, yet he was clearly hesitant. “What if she carries the true unborn messiah?”

Two nussians galloped on all fours towards the warriors.

Cherise cradled her stomach. “I’ve seen our son with a corona around his head, flying above the Alashani nation. He is destined to be a leader!”

“You gave the rekveh time.” The third warrior was disgusted. “Now is our only chance to kill it. Your girlfriend is in the way? I’m sorry.” He hurled three spears in quick succession.

Cherise rolled to shove Thomas out of the path of impact. But she knew she wasn’t fast enough.

A riderless scooter flew over the walkway, cartwheeling end over end. It intercepted the spears. All three weapons slammed into the scooter, and their grenade tips exploded.

The fiery conflagration fell towards Cherise. It was slightly off course, thanks to the thrown scooter. A nussian had hurled the small electric vehicle.

“Yanalthram?” Thomas said with disbelief, recognizing their nussian rescuer.

Flen’s undergrounders hurled their spears in a fury. But people were shooting at the shani all of a sudden, and the rattled shani failed to infuse their spears with superhuman speed.

Cherise decided not to wait for them to make another attempt. Nor did she want to get caught in crossfire. She hugged Thomas and carried him with her over the ledge wall.

They plummeted.

Another nussian caught them. Cherise had not expected this rescue, and she was so surprised, she exclaimed.

Then she was laughing in recognition. Wasn’t this nussian one of her nicest students? “Quiryeskul?”

Quiryeskul snorted a greeting. “Varktezo announced a campus-wide alert. He asked everyone to defend you two.”

That explained why the Plaza of Welcome was growing crowded with students and soldiers, and even a few shani warriors. Almost everyone was armed. The undergrounders would not be able to escape. Not easily.

“How did he know?” Cherise imagined Varktezo standing in front of surveillance cameras. That was a bit creepy. Did the chief lab assistant have a habit of spying on Thomas?

“He received an alert from the Alashani Quarter,” Quiryeskul explained.

Thomas smiled. “Daindlor.”

Before Cherise could ask for clarification, her perceptions ran off and multiplied. She was seeing double. Triple. She felt phantom sensations.

And she became aware of infinite godlike knowledge.

Quiryeskul fell into a nussian crouch, overwhelmed. She released Cherise and Thomas and backed away, trembling. No wonder. The mental glory that was Thomas could not be denied. It would be like denying gravity or air or sunshine. Impossible. Thomas looked disappointed, and he looked young, and also a bit frail, but those were merely superficial facts that floated atop the majestically complex masterpiece of his ever-churning thoughts.

He was not human.

Anyone who glimpsed his mind knew that immediately.

It was undeniable.

His guilt was also undeniable, acrid and overpowering. What was he so guilty about this time?

Cherise had partied with enough telepathy-crazed students to know how to follow a strong emotion down to a personal event memory. She looked.

Apparently, Thomas had a hidden conjecture about how Varktezo had learned that his Teacher was in trouble. Thomas had briefly, guiltily, touched minds with Serette and Mondoyo.

They did that every so often, no matter where they were in the universe.

Mind readers mentally harmonized with likeminded individuals whenever they mentally stretched in the right direction. Few Torth were likeminded anymore—but Thomas, Mondoyo, and Serette were. The Twins were a binary mind, and whenever Thomas joined them, they bonded into a ternary mind.

All three of them liked that.

They did it as often as they dared. Their triad was not nearly as solid or as wondrous as the Megacosm, but it was the best substitute anyone could create. So when Thomas was attacked, his first instinct was to mentally reach out for his friends, Serette and Mondoyo.

He was ashamed of that.

He had used privilege. He and the Twins had broken Kessa’s law. Penitents were not supposed to ascend.

“Oh stop.” Cherise pulled Thomas into a hug. “You were under attack. Exceptions can be made.”

The Twins had possibly alerted Varktezo even before Daindlor called. Therefore, they might ultimately be responsible for saving Thomas. They might be monsters, but they were also heroes.

Like Thomas.

Don’t forget your part in saving me, Thomas thought, clinging to Cherise.

“DIE, REKVEH!” A spear slammed into the ground nearby.

Seconds later, Flen fell off the towering, ivy-covered wall. He had been tackled by a nussian. They both fell, the nussian landing heavily, Flen twisting like a cat at the last moment to land on his feet. Flen bounced up and drew his two last spears with a murderous look in his eyes.

Cherise shoved Thomas behind her. Never mind the galactic enormity that was Thomas’s mind. That mind was incongruously encapsulated inside the mortal body of a cute adolescent boy; the one she had always had a crush on. And he was still lightweight enough for her to push.

! !

Flen rushed at Thomas with his spears. He must have lost his powers as well as his reason. He was all (die) (die) and (hate) and (how dare he) (that freak alien mind!) (what a monster) and (protect her) (mother of my soon-to-be-born miracle).

Cherise was grateful that she wasn’t actually pregnant. She wanted no family with this lout. She never wanted to bind herself to someone so unhinged.

Flen skidded to a halt.

He gaped at her.

Oops.

Cherise backed up, arms spread to protect her favorite freak mind reader. Her cheeks heated. Being caught in a blatant lie felt shameful, even though she had done it solely to protect Thomas.

Lying made her feel like a bad person. Like, maybe Flen was right about her flaws.

Was she stupid and weak-willed?

Silent understanding emanated from Thomas. He knew all about unwarranted shame. But…

He respected her. He thought she was a good person anyway.

In fact, gratuitous shame and guilt and remorse gave them common ground.

Perhaps those feelings were what separated heroes from villains?

Yeah. Cherise smiled.

Thomas smiled.

Flen transformed from perplexity to outrage. In this telepathy gas zone, he felt the naked rapport Cherise and Thomas had with each other. His lips drew back in a snarl that could have matched that of a wild zoved cannibal. He went so red, he was nearly purple.

He charged with both spears held in readiness to impale both the rekveh and the (wrong) (contemptuous) (stupid) (traitorous) human.

Cherise sensed Thomas doing mental calculations. He guided Cherise with the slightest pressure of two fingers, preparing her to sidestep at a crucial instant. He readied his blaster glove.

In the end, though, Thomas and Cherise didn’t have to do anything.

A force swept Flen off his feet. His spears magically ripped out of his grip. Screaming in rage, he flipped end over end, then got pinned against the ivy-covered wall.

He screamed incoherently. With his powers, he would have broken out of the power hold, but he was impotent.

Cherise looked around for Ariock. The colossal messiah was nowhere to be seen.

But she did recognize three shani at a distance. Instead of helmets and armor, they wore street woolens. They must have been interrupted in normal day activities. Only their purple mantles showed their status.

Haz. Nulshta. And an old man; Daindlor.

The first two were Flen’s long-time friends. Haz and Nulshta had been drifting apart from him, especially since the deaths of Orla and Jinishta. Flen had grumbled that they were jealous of his promotion to premier. Cherise suspected they refused to join the undergrounder movement.

“Why are you wearing your armor, Flen?” Haz said, stalking closer towards his childhood friend. “You didn’t sign up to continue your military service.”

Nulshta approached Cherise and Thomas. “Are you all right?” She stopped as she entered the telepathy zone. Her eyes widened.

It’s all right, Cherise told Nulshta without words or voice. Thank you for saving us.

Thomas wordlessly echoed Cherise. His mental gratitude might as well have been a chorus of thousands. His mind towered in a way that would make an army look insignificant.

Nulshta trembled, gaze fixed on Thomas. She took an intimidated step back. Then another.

Daindlor hurried to join Haz. He stopped short as he entered the telepathy zone, and rotated his shocked gaze towards Thomas.

“Let’s get out of the zone.” Thomas guided Cherise away, waving as if to dissipate smoke.

Meanwhile, Haz stripped Flen of his weapons. Haz must be ignoring all the telepathic input in order to snap glowing circlets around Flen’s wrists. Cuffs. Those were used to track and identify criminals.

Flen’s burning gaze fixed on Cherise.

She hung in the telepathy zone for a moment longer, even after Thomas vacated the area. She might as well be alone with Flen, mind to mind with him.

Haz stepped back uncertainly. He kept a power grip on Flen, to prevent him from attacking like a wild zoved. Haz’s mind was all apologies and shame. He thought that he should have done more to mitigate Flen’s toxic tendencies.

Cherise laid a hand on Haz’s shoulder, letting him know that he had done nothing wrong. If Haz had earned shame for being so forgiving of Flen, then so had she.

Coward. Flen wanted to hurt Cherise. Traitor. Weak-willed woman. Perpetual victim. Stooge.

Cherise gazed at her ex-fiancé. But she did not see him. Instead, she remembered his friendly sister. She had met his sweet mother, with her understated sense of humor. She had only met Flen’s father once, briefly, but she tried to summon a mental image of that illustrious councilman, as well.

They deserved to be well remembered.

Instead, Flen was desecrating them. They were survived by a deluded, self-absorbed, criminal brat. That was their legacy.

Who cares about them?! They’re dead! I’m the one who’s alive! Flen snarled, wordless, but his impulsive response to Cherise’s thoughts was plain to anybody within the telepathy zone.

Haz gaped. Nulshta groaned.

They saw, now, that Flen had quit mourning his family. He used their terrible deaths as a justification for his own Torth hatred.

At least some of his grief was a sham.

Your family was light-years better than my biological mother, Cherise silently let him know. They loved you. As did I. She turned her back on Flen. They deserved better. As did I.

“I will honor their memory,” she said out loud.

And she walked away, towards Thomas.