The fact that the universe still existed was a sure sign of victory, Kessa thought.
Yet the supercom network remained broken. Hospitalized veterans languished, praying for the Lady of Sorrow to heal them. Military fleets awaited teleportation. Galaverse Hall was useless, bereft of its open newsfeeds to various planets. Vy’s friends reported that she had vanished into thin air along with a hapless ummin. She had not returned.
Only Thomas had returned.
Cherise and Zai had teamed up and used Yeresunsa powers to bring him back. Alone.
Kessa felt disquieted as she entered the lobby of the Dragon Tower. Thomas awaited her there, his hair mussed and his helmet off, although he still wore his dragon armor.
“Are you okay?” Kessa hurried across the vast space toward him.
“I’m unharmed.” Thomas looked burdened. “Thanks for coming.”
“Of course.” Kessa embraced him, although it was awkward because he was taller, and his scaled armor was sharp and inflexible. She stepped back to scan his face. “Where are Ariock and Vy and Evenjos and Garrett?”
“I don’t know.”
That was the most dissatisfying answer Kessa had ever heard in her life. She clicked her beak in approbation. No one was eavesdropping. They were alone in the gloomy lobby of his tower.
“Tell me what happened,” she commanded. Thomas had promised to answer any question she asked—for all of eternity.
“Let me check on Mondoyo,” Thomas said. “And I’ll tell you.”
Kessa gestured for him to proceed. She kept pace, climbing the spiral ramp, and Thomas told her about his final confrontation against the Death Architect in short, terse sentences.
“Garrett is dead?” That brusque statement caught Kessa off-guard.
“And Evenjos, too,” Thomas said. “I’m pretty sure.” He went on, climbing the spiral ramp and pausing to listen briefly at each door. “They sacrificed themselves for the good of the universe.”
Kessa had many questions about that, but anyone could see that Thomas was in mourning. He had gone to the brink of eternity and returned. He had witnessed the deaths of friends and heroes. Kessa understood that much without needing him to make it explicit, so she closed her beak.
“This is Mondoyo’s room.” Thomas knocked on the door. “Mondoyo?”
No response.
A breeze came down through the tower top aerie, stirring the tapestries that Nuzzy and Nror had hung on the meteorite paneled wall. Otherwise, the place was as still as a burial cave.
“Has anyone checked on him?” Thomas asked. “Other than Cherise and Varktezo?”
Kessa had not even known that much. The funerary procession and the destruction of the supercom network had overwhelmed her so much, it was a wonder that Thomas’s call had sliced through the chaos to reach her.
Thomas pressed the accessibility button, and the door slid open. “Sorry to disturb you.”
Orb lamps lent a soft glow to the high-ceilinged room. The last daylight was fading from the sky. Instead of stars or moons, the banded gas giant of Paradise II filled the night sky. People called those bands “the color ranks,” as if defeated Torth ranks were lurking overhead, waiting for a chance to reconquer all that they had lost.
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But the mob of Torth would never descend. Their era was over.
A stout figure slumped in a hoverchair, resting on the windowsill. His head was buried in his arms.
“Mondoyo?” Kessa went to see if he was awake.
An ominous feeling made her hesitate.
“Oh, no.” Thomas said softly.
Kessa followed his gaze down to an empty pill bottle on the floor.
Mondoyo was too still.
Kessa gently lifted his upper body, pushing him upright. Mondoyo’s closed eyes were too sunken and dark. His skin was cold, almost clay-like.
He wasn’t breathing.
“We’re too late.” Thomas sat against the wall as if he had run out of strength to stand. “I should have… someone should have…”
He ran out of words.
But Kessa knew exactly what he meant to say. Someone should have been Mondoyo’s friend.
Where were the slaves Mondoyo had rescued? They must be in Freedomland somewhere, dating and making careers and adjusting to life in a free society. How often did they think of the person who had risked his life to escape and rescue them?
What about lab assistants? Only Varktezo seemed willing to talk with Mondoyo as if he was a normal person.
But Varktezo was in charge of multiple laboratories and obsessed with his own projects. In some ways, Varktezo was as self-absorbed as an average Torth. It might never have occurred to him that Mondoyo was hurting and in need of friendship.
Most former slaves dismissed penitents as heartless Torth. Cretins such as Mondoyo were not supposed to need emotional support.
Kessa realized that she was shaking with a knot of emotions. She was angry at herself as much as anyone else. Mondoyo should not have felt so alone. This was injustice. Mondoyo could have advanced galactic technology by an exponential factor. He might have helped to solve all sorts of problems, from the supercom network to breakaway cults. Now he was gone.
And this was a loss that could have been prevented.
The early Torth used to be downtrodden peasants. They had gained power and then abused that power. As soon as Kessa’s people, the liberated slaves, gained power…
It was far too easy to become neglectful or abusive.
It was far too easy to forget what power imbalance did.
What would Thomas learn from the way Mondoyo had died alone? Or little Nea, the young super-genius who had survived a massacre of her brethren? She was the only super-genius left alive now, other than Thomas.
How about the trillions of penitents?
And the countless quadrillions of freed slaves? Would they ignore this injustice?
Kessa seized her tablet and placed it on the windowsill. She triggered a live stream broadcast, overriding safeguards in order to switch it from private to public. She faced the camera. Her head and shoulders would appear on news feeds throughout Freedomland.
She made sure it was recording, so that she could send the broadcast to other planets whenever the supercom network was restored.
“This is Kessatovtalun,” she said, using her full name in order to let everyone know that this was an official communication of importance. “I am announcing the official redemption of two deceased penitents. Serette and Mondoyo, formerly known as the Twins, came to us as willing renegades. They have since proven their worth many times over. Their inventions, including immunity to the inhibitor, saved countless billions of lives. Henceforth, they should no longer be considered penitents or Torth. They are fully redeemed. They are...” She had to correct herself. “They were humans.”
She tried to tamp down the anger in her tone.
“Unfortunately,” she went on, “Mondoyo and Serette died too young. I want you to know that they died honorably. They were my dear friends.”
Kessa stopped herself before she could go on a tirade about how her friends had been neglected. No one wanted to be harangued. Besides, if she wanted to accuse the whole galaxy of being neglectful, she ought to start with herself.
“Serette died from an illness forced upon her by the Torth Empire,” Kessa said. “And Mondoyo died from grief over her passing.”
That should quell any arguments that the Twins were evil. They were obviously victims of the Torth Empire. And evil Torth could not die from grief.
Kessa nearly ended the broadcast. But she saw Thomas in her peripheral vision, despondent.
“I want one more friend officially recognized as human,” Kessa said. “Thomas Hill should have been honored as a human long before today.”
Thomas stared at her. He seemed speechless.
“He has proven his goodwill over and over,” Kessa told her vast audience, “whether or not you acknowledge the incredible freedoms and knowledge he led us to grasp for ourselves. He is the reason for my own freedom.” She touched her collar scar, knowing it was visible to all the viewers who tuned in. “He rid us of Torth tyranny. He has brought light and freedom. He saved the universe, and it is a miracle that he is still with us today.”
She bowed to Thomas.
“Thomas Hill of Earth,” Kessa said. “I represent the freed galaxy. And we acknowledge you as human.”