Cherise lay in a suspended hammock, swaying gently as she twisted her paintbrush this way and that. It was nice to take a break from teaching and immerse herself in the act of creation. Painting had a flow that relaxed her.

This ceiling mural was not her original concept. It was a visual homage to the Twins amid a powerful sky, commissioned by Kessa and visually staged by Muzmudt. Her ummin alumnus lay in his own hammock nearby, suspended high above the galleria floor.

“…would love to see what the Bringers of Hope and Light are creating.” Muzmudt tended to get talkative every time he mixed a new color. “I’ve heard so many people exclaim that their buildings are more impressive than the best architecture of the Torth.”

Cherise supposed that people had begun to call Thomas the Bringer of Light because of his particular powers. Not only could he ignite wildfires, but he could also project holographs.

The liberated galaxy was seeing a renaissance. New forms of art and music were springing up everywhere. Cherise was proud to be part of that, and to know that her friends were also part of it. Thomas could have turned himself into a heavy-handed military dictator. He could have sequestered himself away in order to focus on morally grey science projects, as Varktezo was doing. There were all kinds of rumors about an inhibitor that could destroy a mind reader’s ability to overhear thoughts. Many lab technicians spoke openly about pioneering a way for their own species to gain bioengineered powers.

But Thomas wasn’t doing any of that.

Instead, he wanted to unify the newly liberated planets with knowledge and with art.

Cherise loved that. Thomas might come across as sinister to a lot of people, but his priorities were decent.

“I’ll ask Thomas if we can visit his architectural projects sometime.” Cherise dipped her paintbrush into her palette, mixing a subtle glow for a hint of sunrise on clouds. She would wait a few days to talk to Thomas. He must want time to mourn Serette.

An emergency klaxon startled her so much, she dropped her paintbrush.

Muzmudt sat up. “What is that?”

Cherise dialed her supercom wristwatch to a news channel.

All she heard was static.

Panicked, she tried other channels. A voice spoke on a local channel. “…can’t reach any of the heroes.”

Muzmudt began to ask a question. Cherise hushed him. She sat curled over her wristwatch, listening intently.

“Kessa’s lieutenants assure us that this isn’t an attack,” the news reporter was saying. “No one has died. If you’re just tuning in, the superluminal network is down. We can’t contact anyone on a different world. The Bringer of Hope is unreachable. So is…”

The reporter went on, listing heroes who Cherise cared deeply about. Her foster sister. Her foster brother.

“…we advise waiting,” the reporter told listeners. “A team under Chief Scientist Varktezo is working on the problem.”

Waiting.

That sounded like good advice. Smart advice. Everyone should just sit tight and wait until the heroes returned, or until the network was fixed. There were no enemy Torth. The Torth Empire was dead, and this attack, if it was an attack, wouldn’t last.

Cherise tossed aside her paint-splattered cloth and began to lower her hammock. “Sorry, Muzmudt. I have to go.”

He stared down at her with owlish eyes. “But where are you going? What should I do?”

“Finish the mural without me,” Cherise called over her shoulder. “I think I might be able to help my friends. I need to go talk to Varktezo.”

And Mondoyo, she added in her head, but did not quite dare to say out loud.

Their mural was an homage to the Twins, but even now, few people trusted the renegade super-geniuses. They were too reclusive. Memories of the gaseous attacks, invented by Serette and Mondoyo, were too recent.

“How?” Muzmudt sounded perplexed.

“I’ll tell you later.” Cherise jogged toward the nearest hovercart.

Her crucial knowledge was already loose in the city. Alashani warriors wanted to marry humans. Atoning Torth champions wanted to try befriending or dating humans. Several warriors and penitents had invited Abhaga to link with them. Some people would always be hungry for more power.

But no one knew how, exactly, humans could unlock their vast potential to augment powers. If Thomas knew, he had not shared the secret with anyone.

Not publicly, anyway.

Cherise suspected that if anyone in the city knew right now, it would be Mondoyo. The secret must be akin to holding the keys to nuclear missiles.

She wove through traffic, searching for Serette’s funerary procession. The city population was not quite in panic mode, but people rushed about and shouted, seeking loved ones and asking about bomb shelters.

At least local calls were going through. The supercom network was down, but citywide communications seemed unaffected.

Cherise swiped her wristwatch until she found the icon for Varktezo. Since she was his friend, she expected to get through.

Sure enough, Varktezo’s voice piped into her earpiece. “What’s up?”

“Humans can boost Yeresunsa powers,” Cherise said, steering through a busy intersection. “I don’t know how it’s done, but it’s possible Mondoyo knows.”

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“Ooh!” Varktezo sounded excited by the idea.

“Maybe if I augment Zai or someone else,” Cherise suggested, “they can ghost around the galaxy and find out what happened?”

“That’s an excellent idea,” Varktezo said. “I’ll talk to Mondoyo. Can you head to the Dragon Tower?”

“Sure—”

Varktezo ended the call before Cherise could ask why he wanted to meet in Thomas’s residence. Ah well.

She switched direction and entered the Academy campus, parking her hovercart at the research annex. One of the docents in the vast lobby gave her a hoverbike and directions, and soon she was speeding through clean white corridors with beautiful views, past scientific laboratories, and receiving curious glances from passersby. She felt grubby in her paint-splattered jumpsuit.

The Dragon Tower was devoid of people. A nussian security guard let her in, then sealed the huge door behind her.

Cherise parked her borrowed hoverbike and crossed the vast lobby of polished meteorite and mirrors. The space was full of impenetrable shadows. If anyone was hidden behind plush divans and spare machine parts, Cherise could not see them.

Why couldn’t Thomas employ people, like anyone else with political power?

Cherise thumbed her wristwatch. Moments later, she heard footsteps echoing on the ramp.

“Cherise?” Varktezo called. He stood several stories up the spiral ramp. “Come on up!”

She hurried to join him, wondering if Thomas would ever get an elevator installed. Varktezo led the way upward.

“I can only guess which room Mondoyo is in,” Varktezo admitted, stopping at a door. He pushed an accessibility button, and the door slid open, revealing an empty room.

“Um, wouldn’t Mondoyo be at the funeral procession?” Cherise asked, trying to be circumspect. Perhaps the overcrowded streets were too much for him to handle? Penitents tended to dislike busy places.

“He did not go,” Varktezo, moving on to another door, opening it, and moving on again. “Thomas gave him a room here so he could mourn in private.”

“Oh.” Cherise looked at the ummin, wondering if he had also skipped Serette’s funeral procession.

She supposed the entire lab must be frantic to fix the supercom network. Even if Varktezo had been one of the mourners, the emergency must have pulled him away.

“Thanks for taking the time to be here,” she said.

“Oh, the tech workers don’t need me looking over their shoulders,” Varktezo assured her. “I needed an excuse to check on Mondoyo. I should be thanking you.”

Cherise had never properly been introduced to the Twins. She had only seen Mondoyo from a distance. As they continued upward, checking every room, Cherise began to feel ashamed. Should she barge in on Mondoyo’s grief?

On the other hand…

Cherise felt even more concern for Thomas and Vy and Ariock. They might be in trouble. It seemed absurd that such heroes would require a rescue, but, well, Cherise had saved Thomas before. She would not rule out the possibility that he was in grave danger and in need of help.

One of the doors near the top of the tower was semi-opaque sea glass. The room within must have a light on, because the glass glowed dimly.

Varktezo gently knocked with his pointed fingertips.

No response.

Varktezo tried again. “Mondoyo?”

Nothing.

Varktezo waited for a polite length of time. When no response came, he warned in a loud voice, “I am coming in.” He pressed the accessibility button, and the door whispered open.

At first, Cherise assumed the room was empty like all the others.

Then she saw a slumped figure in a hoverchair silhouetted by the window. The portly shape of Mondoyo was recognizable. His back was to them. He seemed to be gazing outside.

“Mondoyo?” Varktezo spoke with hesitation.

Mondoyo did not move or speak.

Varktezo trotted into the room. Cherise followed.

“I’m sorry.” Varktezo spoke gently. “I should have come to visit you sooner.”

The super-genius was quiet and still. He looked like a statue carved from ebony. He could be communicating telepathically with someone far away, but when Cherise walked close enough to catch sight of his face, a chill ran down her spine.

She definitely felt like an unwanted intruder. Mondoyo did not look at her, did not seem to care that she existed. He looked angry.

“She will be missed,” Varktezo said.

“Go away.” Mondoyo’s voice was deadness. It held no emotion whatsoever.

Cherise stepped backwards, aware that she was in the presence of a super-genius who was not Thomas. Mondoyo might be grief-stricken—or he might be extraordinarily dangerous and preparing to take over the galaxy.

He might even be the reason why all the supercoms were down and the heroes were gone.

Cherise hoped Varktezo would hurry away. Instead, the ummin walked bravely to Mondoyo and wrapped him in a tight embrace.

Cherise expected Mondoyo to do a Torth thing, like torment Varktezo with a pain seizure. He surely wasn’t going to—

Cry.

Mondoyo leaned against Varktezo and sobbed. The keening sounds coming from him were rough, almost bestial, but that was what made him sound human. That was how Cherise knew that he was not just sad, but devastated.

Mondoyo could not speak for many minutes. He trembled and sobbed, and Varktezo held him. Tears leaked from the ummin’s eyes as well.

Cherise stood in the doorway. She still felt like an intruder, but for a different reason. She hadn’t known Serette. This was a grief she could not share.

“I am so sorry.” Varktezo sounded like he meant it. He gently let go of Mondoyo, patting the super-genius into place in his hoverchair. “We came here because we’re worried about Thomas. I know this is a bad time to ask for any sort of favor. I would not ask, but I am worried that Thomas—”

Mondoyo broke in. “Try telepathy gas.” He sniffed, his reddened eyes fixed on Cherise. “We’ve surmised that telepathy facilitates the link for humans.”

The answer was so simple, Cherise felt foolish. She shouldn’t need a super-genius to tell her to try something that was all about consensual bonding.

“Thank you,” she said wholeheartedly.

Mondoyo turned away. He went back to gazing out the window.

“Thank you, my friend.” Varktezo put his hand on Mondoyo’s arm. “Are you going to be all right?”

Mondoyo gave a barely perceptible nod.

“I will visit you later,” Varktezo said. “Please call me if you need anything. Even if you just want companionship. That is not shameful. I see your pain, and I want to be there for you.”

Mondoyo seemed to radiate pain. He said nothing. He did not move. But his lack of response was an answer in itself.

He was not all right.

“I’m sorry, Mondoyo,” Cherise said, knowing that her words were a pittance. He might not even hear her.

She had a feeling that Mondoyo was more important than anyone realized, including him. He shouldn’t be left to struggle with emotions that no Torth was equipped to deal with.

Nevertheless, now that she had a plan to find her foster brother and sister and rescue them, she was in a hurry. She followed Varktezo into the ramped corridor and the door slid closed behind them.

The only question was: who could Cherise dare entrust with a secret power boost?

She needed someone capable of teleportation. That meant a penitent Torth with powers. Should it be Zai?

As Cherise hurried down the ramp behind Varktezo, she wondered if she was making a terrible blunder. Not every problem could be solved with brute force.

Then she thought about Mondoyo, alone in that empty room. Mondoyo was devastated by a loss that could have been prevented, if only he’d had unfettered access to the powers of Evenjos, Ariock, and Garrett.

Or just access to the powers of Evenjos plus a human augmenter.

Serette had died, but she could have had a future. The authorities that existed in Freedomland—namely Thomas and the other heroes—must have discouraged the arduous process of regeneration healing. They had deemed Serette too unimportant, or too dangerous, to be granted that privilege.

No wonder Mondoyo had looked so hurt and angry. He might actually despise the heroes for their refusal to prioritize Serette.

Yet he had given Cherise the advice she needed anyway. He had given her the chance to save the heroes and avoid devastating grief.

He had done a great kindness.

And he clearly wasn’t expecting anything in return. He must have given up on expecting justice.

“Mondoyo is human,” Cherise told Varktezo as they hurried through the tower’s lobby.

“I know,” Varktezo said.