The first time Kessa watched a movie was in Cherise’s Humanities class.

Cherise and Vy had talked up the experience, but Kessa privately did not expect much. She figured it would be five or ten humans reenacting some drama from their provincial history, with exaggerated gestures and a lot of overdramatic effort. So Kessa had sat in the back of the classroom with her arms folded, expecting a recorded theatre troupe performance.

Instead…

Her beak fell open at the story. It was about power and family and grievance and justice and vengeance. Any sapient who had lived under Torth rule could identify with the thematic underpinnings.

And the value and effort put into the production! It was like peering through a window into another world, another time. The movie transported everyone who watched it. In some ways, it was even better than sharing a memory through telepathy gas. It was more coherent, easier to follow, and more emotionally gripping. It was art on a grander scale than Kessa had ever experienced.

It seemed to her that many artists, musicians, actors, and writers must have cooperated to create the masterpiece. She did not know if Rome was a real place, or if humans truly enslaved each other, or fought as gladiators before an audience, but she was ready to believe it.

“Will you duplicate your library of movies for me?” Kessa had asked Cherise later. “I wish to study Humanities on my own.”

“Sure.” Cherise seemed to reconsider. “Uh, some of the media might not make sense to you.” Her tone became light and joking. “Also, be careful to not get addicted. Some humans spend their whole lives watching TV and not doing much else.”

Kessa took the warning seriously. She understood the temptation to escape day-to-day mundanities by falling into other people’s stories. That had been a temptation in the slave Tunnels, too. Her mate, Cozu, had been so enamored of heroic tales, he had imagined himself as a heroic runaway.

Cozu was not the only slave who had died in an attempt to stand out and be his own hero.

Once Kessa obtained a curated bunch of Earth media from Cherise, she was careful to mete it out. She watched one movie every other day.

But she believed that these glimpses of human life helped her become more effective at her job. She found herself looking at penitents in strange new contexts. That sullen one over there—might he imagine himself to be an unjustly convicted prisoner? And that woman on that roofing crew; she looked like the sympathetic main character in the colorful animated adventure which Kessa had just watched.

It wasn’t that Kessa had lacked the imagination to equate penitents to humans. It was that until recently, they had seemed far too many steps away from becoming respectable and kindhearted people like Vy or Cherise. Or like Kessa herself, for that matter.

Penitents never laughed or joked. They did not sing. They did not repeat stories or even gossip out loud.

How could such emotionally damaged beings ever integrate into larger society? It seemed like an insurmountable challenge.

Kessa experimented. She played an episode of a TV show for a group of five advanced penitents; those who truly strove to act human.

The Borg character known as Seven of Nine really affected the penitents in a big way. They wept. They saw themselves in her.

That was when Kessa realized that a lot of human stories, particularly the sci-fi and fantasy ones, addressed emotional damage. Characters such as Spock and Data and Seven of Nine were a lot like penitents struggling to become human. They grappled with emotions which they regarded as tough or dangerous. Similar motifs were addressed with superhero characters, such as the Hulk, Wolverine, and Batman. There were even emotionally repressed romantic characters, such as the Phantom of the Opera, and in children’s stories, such as Pinocchio.

Maybe there really was no significant moral difference between humans and their genetic cousins, the Torth?

Maybe the moral baseline was the same for sapients of all species?

Kessa thought about that while she walked the halls of the research annex, on her way to check on the Twins. Followers of Gwat might explore the concept of moral absolutism—or a lack of moral relativism, anyway. One should not make moral judgments without total and complete knowledge. That tenet of Gwat implied the importance of a shared morality.

The surviving Torth were no longer smug with excess knowledge. In fact, their stunted social skills made them inferior to other people, in a way. Kessa did not share her secrets with penitents, but she allowed her lieutenants to do so, and their reports confirmed everything that Kessa suspected. Penitents harbored intensely personal shames, and hopes, and desires.

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They were just as human as any person.

Still deep in thought, Kessa entered the laboratory workroom of the Twins. She closed the door quietly and trotted down the metal ramp towards their workstations.

Thank goodness there was no telepathy gas here. Varktezo might think that absorbing the thoughts of super-geniuses was fun, but he also enjoyed visualizing abstract algebraic structures for the creation of automorphisms. His notion of fun was far from typical.

The Twins worked side by side, their backs to Kessa. They waited until she was close before they simultaneously quit manipulating menus and rotated their hoverchairs to face her. Their facial features were quite different from each other—round and dark versus distorted and pale—but they were identically bland.

They should have acknowledged Kessa’s presence as soon as they heard the door open. Penitents were expected to show deference towards her.

Well, perhaps someone had asked them to prioritize work?

Kessa knew that the general population still demonized the Twins. So far, their inventions only benefited the most powerful people in existence. Ariock, especially, used a temporary inhibitor patch whenever he wanted intimacy with Vy. He was likewise happy to slaughter death cultists without risking the inhibitor.

But what about ordinary people?

What could the Twins do to atone for the weapons which they had invented?

“What are you working on?” Kessa sat on a desk, putting herself at eye level with the Twins.

“Oh, we’re reverse-engineering temporal streams.” Mondoyo indicated his workstation.

Kessa gazed at incomprehensible layers of holographic data. She nodded at the idea of it. She supposed that a more controlled temporal stream network might benefit the free galaxy, in some ways. Maybe it would allow for easier commerce? It would facilitate the spread of knowledge. People across the galaxy would be connected, as once only Torth had been connected…

Hm.

It might lead to a repeat of calamitous mistakes.

“Uh,” Mondoyo seemed nervous. He was too far away to read Kessa’s mind, but he had probably read her facial expression. “If we can improve galactic transportation, it should help you to administer the new galactic empire without help from Ariock and other teleporters. You’d be able to visit faraway planets with ease.”

Kessa supposed that was true. She kept hearing disturbing reports from faraway planets, like Othko and Quintessence. There were places were penitent Torth got outright massacred. And there were places where liberated slaves actually wanted to revert to the safety of Torth rule.

She eyed Mondoyo and Serette. They were probably privy to all kinds of news that they shouldn’t know. They hung out with Thomas on a regular basis.

Serette wheezed. Clear tubes ran up her nose, connected to a ventilation system on the back of her hoverchair.

Mondoyo cleared his throat. “Uh, we have a favor to ask.”

That put Kessa on edge. The Twins were valuable, but they had not earned the sort of redemption that Thomas had earned. What would help the general public accept them as fully redeemed?

“Serette is dying,” Mondoyo said.

Serette lowered her gaze, as if suffering a fatal illness was a social faux pas.

“We have a supply of NAI-13,” Mondoyo assured Kessa. “We’re extremely grateful to Ariock and Thomas for giving us that. Neither of us would have lasted this long without it. But…” He shrugged uncomfortably. “Serette is very old for a super-genius who hasn’t gone through regeneration healing. Her lungs and heart aren’t working properly. We’ve tried everything that’s medically feasible, but she needs, uh…”

Kessa remained quiet, allowing Mondoyo the dignity and discomfort of making the request.

“Regeneration healing would save her life.” Mondoyo’s voice cracked. “Like what Thomas had.”

Kessa recalled the major healing which Thomas had undergone. Three days of intense suffering. Three days of preparation for the heroes. More than a day of recovery afterwards. That lengthy process had nearly depleted the Strength, the Transformation, and the Will. It had left them vulnerable and open to attack. It had derailed all of their other important efforts and work.

There were fewer risks now, but the cost would be just as high. The remainder of the Torth Empire would take advantage of the heroes’ absence. Millions of people would suffer. The death cultists would wreak havoc. They might even try to attack Earth and other planets.

“We understand that this is an enormous ask.” Mondoyo looked guilty. “We, uh, hoped that Thomas would make the request, but he can’t persuade Garrett or Evenjos. We all know this. Serette needs an advocate who has everyone’s respect.” He gave Kessa a look that was fraught with hope. “It should come from the person who wields the ultimate authority over penitents.”

So they had just been waiting for Kessa to visit.

“Please?” Mondoyo gave Serette a loving glance. “I will do anything to save her.”

Kessa shifted uncomfortably with her own authority. It felt like too much. She was not a hero of prophecy.

“I will consider it.” Kessa slid off the desk and walked away, no longer willing to endure the pleading gazes of ultra-smart children.

The Twins might not be mated in a sexual or traditional way, but their love was undeniable. It humanized them. So Kessa would certainly bring up the matter during her next council with the heroes.

But would she plead on Serette’s behalf?

A lot of innocent people in the galaxy deserved life saving measures. Most of them were former slaves. If Ariock and Evenjos were to expend all of their energy on the act of saving people who needed and deserved a miracle, they would be lesser for it, and the whole galaxy might still be enslaved. The top healers in existence could not save every deserving person. It was necessary to choose.

Serette had never shown human empathy. Her aloofness had nothing to do with her lack of a tongue. Mondoyo, so warm and empathetic, provided an obvious contrast.

When it came to matters of interacting with former slaves, Mondoyo led the way. Serette was all about pure science, and purity in general. Even Varktezo admitted that their minds were identical in every respect except for kindness.

Would the public tolerate a week of deadly mayhem for the sake of giving Serette a precious gift? Was Serette redeemed enough to be on the same level as Thomas? Was she a hero?

Kessa knew the answer.

The vast majority of people would take one look at Serette and see an entitled Blue Rank. A mass murderer. They would remember the insanity gas massacre.

Kessa supposed that Thomas and Ariock hated themselves for the choices they had to make, too.