Kessa used to wear a frayed rag over her head. Such were the garments of slaves.

Now she straightened with a bejeweled, filigreed headdress balanced over her brow ridges, cushioned on a velvet brocade. She caught glimpses of herself in mirrors and other reflective surfaces. Her galactic headdress was half as large as herself, making her look weighed down.

Maybe that was why the peace council had commissioned it to be so large? They didn’t want Kessa to escape from all the responsibilities they kept dumping on her.

Ah well. If she quit, who would take her place?

Not Thomas. He had left a message to the galaxy that he was “retired.” That seemed to mean that no one could reach him, and if they tried, all they found was a holographic recording of Thomas explaining that he was a hermit from now on, and he had no intention of returning to Freedomland.

A few weeks ago, that message would have been terrifying. Now? It was merely less than satisfactory.

Kessa detoured through one of the courtyards around the peace palace, formerly known as the war palace. She wished she could see Thomas, or speak to him, but since she could not, she had other matters to focus on. She wanted to see the progress on the memorial she had commissioned.

The colossal slab of pink and jade marble was beautiful even in its natural state. The faces engraved on it were only partially finished. For now, scaffolding covered the majestic sculpture.

Once the engraver and his apprentices were done, the faces would include Garrett and the Lady of Sorrow. Not Ariock. This memorial only showed heroes who had died fighting Torth, and Kessa wasn’t sure if the Bringer of Hope was alive or not.

Cherise claimed to have received a handwritten letter from Vy, stating that she was vacationing with Ariock. Many people wondered if that was a euphemism for their heroic deaths. After all, the temporal streams remained nonfunctional. If people wanted interstellar transportation, they had to queue up for one of the time windows where Cherise or Abhaga teamed up with Zai or some other trustworthy penitent who was capable of galactic teleportation.

If the Bringer of Hope was alive somewhere, wouldn’t he go back to mass-teleporting people on a regular basis? Didn’t he have a sense of duty?

Kessa just didn’t know.

She sat on a bench and admired the other faces taking shape on her commissioned memorial. Three children would be depicted on the stone. Mondoyo. Serette. And the Upward Governess.

Never mind their critics. As far as Kessa was concerned, certain renegade super-geniuses had proved themselves to be human.

So they would be depicted alongside Jinishta, Orla, Molyt Dazel, and a host of other exceptional people who were now dead. Kessa had even described Cozu, her long-dead mate. He had been a hero, too. He had taught her the importance of fighting for freedom.

“That’s him right there.” A well-dressed ummin pointed towards the unfinished memorial. His two adolescent companions craned their necks to get a look. “I’m so glad they included him.”

Was this ummin actually pointing to the carved face of Mondoyo? Was that possible?

“He never deserved to die alone,” the ummin said with sincere regret.

Kessa recognized the speaker then. She had only met him once, and he had been wearing slave rags at the time, awestruck by newfound freedom. Now he was almost an entirely different person.

“Enplyp?” Kessa said, recalling his name.

Enplyp turned, and his eyes widened upon seeing such a famous person. His adolescent companions gaped and then bowed with reverence. They all recognized Kessa. No one else would be crazy enough to wear a gigantic gem-encrusted headdress.

“Oh, Kessa!” Enplyp bowed. “I owe you gratitude as much as I owe Mondoyo.”

Kessa stood, waving away the flattery. “I am just pleased that you recognize Mondoyo as human.”

Enplyp lowered his head in shame. “I abandoned him.”

Kessa cocked her head, inviting more of an explanation.

“When I first arrived here,” Enplyp gestured around, “in Freedomland, I was overwhelmed by all the possibilities. I forgot about Mondoyo and became obsessed with learning how to pilot streamships.”

“And you married our mom,” one of the adolescents said with a fond giggle.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

“You adopted us,” the other said in a pedantic tone.

Enplyp hugged them. “I did,” he acknowledged. “But I never checked on how Mondoyo was adjusting to life here,” he told Kessa. “I told myself that he was a Torth super-genius, and he could adjust to anything without help from his former slaves.”

Kessa nodded with understanding. She had thought similar things about Thomas, once.

“I wanted to visit him,” Enplyp clarified. “I really did. He was the Torth who removed my slave collar and brought me here. He proved to me that mind readers can have emotions.”

All of Mondoyo’s former slaves had defended him and trusted him. That was why Kessa had welcomed the Twins, even though Thomas was absent at the time, unable to scan their minds.

“Why didn’t you visit him, dad?” one of the adolescents asked.

Enplyp looked guilty. “I figured I wouldn’t be welcome.” He gestured at the distant Dragon Tower. “He had important things to do. I didn’t think anyone up there would appreciate an interruption from a mundane hovercart driver.”

Kessa opened her beak to correct him. Then she reconsidered.

“I think I bear as much guilt as you, Enplyp,” Kessa admitted. “You would have been welcome, but I never made that clear. No one invited you. And they should have.”

Enplyp began to protest.

“I don’t think we are the only former slaves who have made such mistakes,” Kessa said.

Enplyp looked thoughtful. Perhaps he or his children would consider talking to some penitent Torth, or trying to befriend them? Kessa hoped so. The penitent rehabilitation program was supposed to outlive her.

She began to make a suggestion, but her control sleeve buzzed. That was an alert.

“I will be in touch with you.” Kessa offered a nod of friendship to Enplyp. “But I have somewhere to be.”

He and his adopted children looked honored. “Fare well, Kessa the Wise!”

Kessa walked past decorative trees and fountains. When she saw dignitaries head in her direction, she turned another way. She wasn’t going to let anyone make her miss her next appointment.

The pendulum grotto was hidden underground, out of sight from the gardens. Kessa descended a ramp into the cool depths of an artificial cave. Here, an enormous pendulum swung past stalagmites, its motions as regular as any clock.

Kessa stared at the stalagmite that she had been told marked the target time.

Soon.

Even now, Kessa had trouble believing the clandestine party invitation she had received. She had made a few discreet inquiries to make sure the signature avatars—Ariock and Vy—were legitimate and not some sick hoax. Apparently, Cherise had received a similar invitation. So had Varktezo, Pung, and Weptolyso. They were each expected to dress up and go to a specific location, at a simultaneous specific time, and…

Well, that time was now.

The pendulum knocked against the target stalagmite.

Kessa’s stomach dropped with the familiar sensation of teleportation. Ozone crackled around her.

Even though she’d half-expected it, she gasped. Did this power come from Cherise linked up with a penitent champion? Or … dare she hope? Was it really Ariock?

She landed unsteadily on her feet. Subtle differences in the air pressure and gravity told her she was on another planet. Sunlight danced over decorative bridges dripping with flowers in full bloom. Fountains overflowed with pure water, honeyed nectar, or champagne. Banquet tables offered multiple tiers of tempting morsels.

Other people began to appear out of thin air, looking shocked and amazed. Kessa recognized many of them. There was Cherise in a lacework sunset-colored dress. Nethroko and his family. Utavlug Hano! Kessa smiled upon recognizing the herbalist from Duin, her face painted in a ceremonial way.

And Yanyashta! Kessa grinned at her secretary.

A strange-looking albino appeared, with flamboyant flowers all over his costume and hat. Kessa thought she had heard of this guy. Wasn’t he known as the Great Mwagru or something like that?

Pung appeared with his friend Gralet. It was fun to see them dressed in such fancy tunics, with hats nearly as elaborate as Kessa’s headdress. Nror and Dyoot were well-groomed. Zai was almost unrecognizable in a frilly dress instead of battle armor. Oh, there was Gosmaga. And Choonhulm. Kessa rarely saw them anymore. And…

Were those humans?

Kessa blinked at the people who resembled penitents, but who clearly weren’t. They gaped at every alien as if they couldn’t believe their own eyes. And their eye colors were not purple or yellow or red or pink. They were the hues which Kessa had learned were common among humans: Brown, hazel, blue.

Vy swept out of the crowd. She wore a shimmering white satin gown with a matching cape. A tiara held her hair back. She was stunning.

“Mom!” Vy held out her arms towards the stout human with red hair.

“Oh, sweetie!” The mom fell into Vy’s embrace with a joyful laugh. “This is a beautiful setting for your wedding.”

Wedding? Kessa grinned. She was pretty sure that word entailed a mating ritual binding ceremony for human couples.

A shadow briefly blocked the sun.

The humans exclaimed in awe and pointed. Kessa glanced up to see not Ariock, but a sky croc soaring overhead. It wore a passenger harness.

If Azhdarchidae was here, then his trainer must be around!

Kessa scanned the multi-species wedding guests. Most of the humans were gathered around Vy. They had even drawn Cherise, Zai, and Abhaga into their group.

Kessa looked elsewhere. She walked around the natural pavilion, searching for the person who had removed her slave collar.

Thomas was not near the banquet tables, or the flowered trellises, or the rose quartz staging area with its arched bridge surroundings.

Councilor Deschubah ambled over with a plate of food. “Peace, Kessa,” he greeted her, as if he had been born a slave. “It is like a dream here, is it not? Have you sampled the fine foods?”

“Not yet. Have you seen Thomas?”

The high councilor looked ashamed, perhaps because of the pit incident. “Ah, I believe he’s over there.” He pointed to a far corner.

Kessa thanked Deschubah and excused herself. She wound past other guests. And finally she saw him, standing apart from everyone else, slouched with his hands in his pockets. He wore a tailored waistcoat and nice boots, but otherwise, his clothes were nondescript. He didn’t look like a war hero or a renegade super-genius or a galactic conqueror. He looked unassuming.

Kessa wasn’t fooled.

She approached Thomas, cautious. A galaxy was too much for one ummin to rule. She was bound to make mistakes if she had to make every decision in isolation, and although she didn’t want to be reliant on him, there was more at stake than her own ego. So many people needed his strategies and ideas.