I thought I’d share with you something I wrote a long long time ago. I’ll be posting chapters every now and then; I hope you like it!

The Algae Voices of Azule

Mark Cheverton

The Algae Voices of Azule, Copyright © 2012 by Mark Cheverton

 

CHAPTER 1

 

The smell of the fresh baked bread filled the air. The yeasty, doughy smell went from just a hint to an overpowering, succulent invitation that promised warm, soft, steamy wonderfulness on its first bite. That was probably Billy’s favorite smell in the whole world. He took a huge breath inward as his mother opened the oven door and removed a tray of loaves then placed it on the red-speckled stone counter to cool. His sister, Ali, came in and stood next to him and followed his lead, breathing in the rich goodness.

“Can we have a piece now?” Ali asked as her mother was putting a new tray of white lumpy mounds of dough into the oven.

“Of course not! They’re too hot,” she answered with a smile.

“Come on,” Billy added. “They won’t be too hot.”

“No, not until they cool,” their mother said firmly. By the tone of her voice, they knew the discussion was over. “You can each have a piece soon, but only if you work for it.”

“Dough?” Billy and Ali asked at the same time.

“Dough,” confirmed their mother.

The two children, twins, each ten years old, grabbed aprons and put them on quickly. Billy liked doing dough, Ali not so much. They grabbed rolling pins, a small bowl of flour and each claimed a piece of real estate on the stone counter. Their mother then pulled a small power crystal from a drawer and dropped it into a recession in the wall. The bluish gem started to glow as soon as it settled into the slot, the ancient mechanism within the wall drawing power from the crystal and routing it to the overhead lights. Lighting panels overhead came to life, casting warm yellow luminance over the kitchen counter. The small, red crystals that seemed to permeate everything on the planet, especially stone, sparkled in bright red under the overhead lights.

Billy looked down at the glowing points of ruby light and always through they looked like faraway stars, floating in a sea of stone. Looking up, he glanced at his sister and smiled. She too, loved the way they looked.

‘They remind me of stars,’ Billy thought.

Ali smiled back and nodded.

Their mother pulled off huge pieces of dough and plopped it down in front of them, as they dusted the counter with flour, the small reddish crystals became lost in a sea of white and disappeared. Instantly knowing what to do, Ali and Billy added a little bit of flour and started to knead with their hands, mixing flour into the dough; their mother has always said they were kneading in the love.

“You ever wonder what the best moment in your life will be?” Billy asked to Ali.

“What?”

“You know—the best moment in your life.” Billy repeated. “You ever think what it will be?”

“I think it was probably when I stole the last cookie from you at dinner two nights ago,” his sister answered mischievously.

“No, not recently,” Billy said, not taking the playful bait, but staying serious. “I mean, do you ever think what the absolute greatest moment in your entire life will be?”

“No, of course, I don’t think about that,” Ali answered, flicking a small puff of flour at her brother. “Sometimes you’re so weird.”

The twins continued to knead in silence, both now contemplating Billy’s question. Ali, the taller of the two, had her strawberry blond hair tied in a ponytail, but it kept falling over her shoulder and hanging down over the dough.

“Mom, can you get my hair?”

“Of course, dear.”

Her mother moved to her side and pulled her daughter’s hair onto her back, then slid it under the tie string on the apron, pinning it into place.

“Mom, can you get my hair?” Billy mimicked his sister with a ridiculous high-pitched screechy voice, making fun of her with a smile.

Ali shot a small piece of dough in Billy’s direction. He flicked a small puff of flour in return.

“You two stop messing around and finish your chores,” boomed a strict voice from the back stairway. It was their father. “Billy, Ali, I’ve always told you both, when you’re gonna do something, do it right the first time and get it done.” He paused to scowl at the two kids, something he seemed to do a lot, recently. “No games. Get it done and then get to school.”

“Sorry, Dad,” Billy said, trying to sound sincere.

“Yeah, sorry,” chimed Ali.

Another voice sounded from the stairs.

“Yeah, no games,” the new voice mocked. It was their older brother Francis.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Francis gave his younger brother and sister a smile and a wink. He was tall and lean. An eighteen-year-old boy just coming into his body as it was beginning to fill in with muscle and weight, the child-like skinniness fading to adult bulk. Walking over to his mother, he gave her a kiss on the cheek.

“Good morning, Mom.” He said and then gave her a hug as he stole three cookies off a baking sheet.

“Those are for selling, not stealing, Frank,” their father snapped.

“Oh Charles, we can afford a few cookies,” their mother said to her husband.

“Yeah, Francis, not for stealing,” Ali said playfully, a smile on her face.

“I told you, it’s Frank, not Francis,” their father barked. “Francis is a child’s name. Frank is a strong young man now, starting his career in the algae fields, today. He needs a strong name—one worthy of respect, not a kid’s name. You call him Frank from now on.”

He always sounded proud when he talked about his oldest son. But with the twins, there was always a hint of disappointment. Maybe it was because they were still young, or smaller than the rest of the kids on the block, or not as strong, or not as aggressive, or…There were always too many ors.

Billy and Ali looked at each other and sent thoughts into each other’s minds, ‘same old lecture’. They both had psychic powers, the ‘Gift’ as it was called on planet Azule. Many people seemed to be Gifted on this planet, not just fake psychics like on Old Earth, but with real powers. The Gifted made up about two percent of the population and were increasing in number. No one really understood why there were so many on Azule, but they were here, and they were real. Some Gifted could read minds, some could move things, some could create fire or cold, … There were many kinds of Gifted on this planet, most with only one specific power, but some—like Billy and Ali—could do a number of things.

But being Gifted was not looked upon as a benefit to society, something that could help others, solve problems, and do great deeds; on Azule, it was more like a curse than a gift. On this planet and in the Pateras solar system in the year 2331, the Gifted were singled out by the government and used as slave labor, to do tasks that were too dangerous for the normals as they were called. Some tasks, like the mining of all-important power crystals—the main source of energy that powered everything in their society…in their solar system—could only be done by the Gifted. They could somehow hear the power crystals with their Gifts and were able to find those without fatal cracks or flaws. Mining power crystals was an incredibly dangerous job. The shining bits of crystalline glass had a tendency of exploding if they had these fatal cracks. The Gifted that were not psychically strong enough did not last very long in the mines.

No, there was no advantage of being one of the Gifted. The government hated them; they were a threat to their power, and because of the administration’s propaganda, the people hated them as well. The populace blamed the Gifted for all their troubles and woes instead of looking at who was really responsible—their oppressive government. The way a Gifted survived on Azule was to hide their Gift, and hope they were never caught by one of the government’s own personal Gifted watchdogs—the Inquisitors. Billy and Ali both knew this well, having seen many people taken by Inquisitors, both on the holo-video news and out on the street. To be Gifted was to live in constant fear of discovery and capture. Their mother continually told them that their Gifts were special, and they were special, which always made Billy feel a little safer, but the threat of the Inquisitors had always been there in the back of their minds.

Billy and Ali could tell who was Gifted in their neighborhoods, could see their Gifts somehow, but of course, kept it to themselves. They would never turn someone over to those monstrous Inquisitors; that was a fate worse than death. That is why they never told anybody and hid their abilities in public. You never knew who might see something and turn you in, and there was a saying on Azule; ‘being accused by an Inquisitor was the same as being found guilty.’ Billy and Ali knew this and always worried, as did their mother, but their father and Francis were still unaware, and the twins wanted to keep it that way. They weren’t sure what their father would do if he found out, but the twins knew that their secret would be safe with Francis. He was their brother, their protector. He was always there for them, to chase away the bullies or pick them up after they’d fallen. Like the massive boulders that stood on the outskirts of Azule City, Francis was their rock, their guardian, and they loved him for that…and more.

Smiling at their brother, the twins winked, then stuck their tongues out at him. He grimaced, then smiled. Walking over to them, Francis slid them each a cookie, while their father was not watching, then walked back to the breakfast table where the father was already eating some jam on bread. The twins quickly gobbled up the cookies, then continued to knead, adding more flour which had now covered their hands completely.

“Come on, everyone,” their mother said, as she sat the softly humming coffee dispenser on the table, “it’s time for breakfast. Let’s all sit down. I made eggs and fried algae cakes.”

A small power crystal stuck out from the bottom of the coffee pot, glowing with bright white, while its power was keeping the contents hot. Charles touched the side of the dispenser with one finger and pulled it back quickly, satisfied that it was warm. He then poured himself a cup. After removing the glowing crystal, the dispenser was growing silent as the crystal faded from brilliant white to shadowy blue.

Diane switched on the holo-vid on a nearby wall and a 3D image sprang to life, floating in midair in front of the holographic video projector. It was the morning news, and it was showing a report on more Gifted captured by Inquisitors. The newsman was giving statistics on how many had been captured this month and reminding citizens that it was their duty to turn in anyone suspected of being Gifted.

“The Inquisitors clean up our streets and keep us safe from these Gifted mutants,” the newscaster said. “Remember, the Gifted cannot be trusted, they’re responsible for all the…”

Their mother switched off the holo-vid, disgusted with the propaganda the newscaster was spewing. The populace eagerly lapped up the message of hate and intolerance and marched right in line, turning in their neighbors and friends for rewards. It made her sick.

“I hate that nonsense!” she snapped. “Come on, Francis …ahh… I mean Frank, let’s eat.”

Changing the setting on the holo-vid, she instead turned on some kind of electronic music the house computer was composing on the fly. Then the walls in the small living room adjacent to the kitchen started to glow with soft muted colors to accompany the music; a carefully choreographed display of color and sound.

“It’s not nonsense, Diane,” Charles said, speaking over the music, the house sensing the voice and lowering the volume in an instant. “Who knows what the Gifted are planning? They can’t be trusted. We have no idea what they can do with their psychic powers; they may be controlling our minds, trying to take over. We have to put them someplace where they can be watched and controlled.”

Diane looked over at her twins and sighed.

“Charles, that’s ridiculous, they’re just people. Now come on and eat.”

“No time for breakfast this morning,” Charles said. “We have to get down to the docks. They’re giving out new assignments for the algae harvesters. There are some new boats, and Frank and I want to get on one of those.”

“Are you sure this is what you want to do, dear?” Diane asked Francis, “to work on an algae harvester?”

Francis nodded and then slapped his father on the back.

“Sure,” he said, not sounding very confident. “Work in the outdoors, getting clean, fresh air, and working with my dad, what could be better? Beside, harvesting green algae is an important job. It’s our main food source in the solar system. What could be more important than helping to feed this part of the galaxy?”

Ali and Billy looked at each other and sighed. They could feel the emotions within their brother and hear his thoughts. ‘What else am I gonna do? I’m not smart like Billy and Ali and don’t have a skill like you, Mom. I’m not really good at anything. The only thing I have going for me is I’m big and strong. That only leaves the military or the algae fields, both just as dangerous. I might as well be with my dad and try to keep him safe in the fields.’  Billy was about to say something, but Ali stopped him with a small cloud of flour. Their father didn’t know that they were Gifted, and would likely hate them if he knew. He hated the Gifted and bought into all the government’s propaganda about them.

‘We can’t say anything,’ Ali thought. ‘Dad can’t ever find out. If he does, he’ll probably kick us out of the house.’

‘Or maybe turn us in; give us to an Inquisitor,’ Billy added. Inquisitors were the most dangerous people on the planet. They were Gifted, like Billy and Ali—extremely strong with the Gift—but with a taste for violence and talent for delivering pain. They were recruited to hunt down other Gifted and turn them in to the government sentencing those they caught to a lifetime of misery, though mercifully it was not a very long life. They were essentially slave hunters. Anyone they found was deemed guilty of being Gifted, regardless of whether it was true or not. They were the bringers of despair.

‘He wouldn’t do that!’ Ali’s mind snapped back.

‘Not if it was Frank,’ Billy added, emphasizing their brother’s name.

“No, no time for breakfast,” Charles continued. “We have to get going. Come on, Frank.”

Charles stood up from the table, drained the last swallow of coffee from his mug, grabbed one more piece of bread and a yellow spotted astral fruit from the bowl at the center of the table, then headed for the door, Francis doing the same.

“Goodbye, men,” Diane said confidently, trying to hide her fear. Algae harvesting was dangerous work, and they all knew it. “Be careful!” She turned and walked into the back storage room, probably to hide her fear, or perhaps her tears.

“We will,” they both replied as they walked out the door.

Billy looked at Ali and sighed. This felt wrong to him, somehow…something about Francis. He moved close to his twin and spoke in a quiet voice.

“This feels funny.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” Billy said. “It feels to me like Francis is going away on a long trip, going far away. I know he isn’t going far away, but that’s the way it feels, with my Gift.”

“You think too much,” Ali chided.

“At least I think,” Billy said and threw a handful of flour into her hair, then laughed.

“Is that funny to you?” she asked, her voice sounding a little angry, yet still playful.

“No, actually, I think it’s an improvement.” He smiled, knowing what was coming next.

Ali turned around and grabbed a huge handful of flour, then spun around and threw it toward Billy’s face. Knowing what was going to happen, Billy used his Gift and compressed the air around him, hardening it into a firm layer of oxygen and nitrogen. The compressed layer of air now formed a spherical shell around his body. The flour landed on top of the shell and just sat there, seemingly floating in midair.

“It seems you missed?” Billy mocked.

“You think?”

Ali added more flour to the top of his shell until there was a small white mountain of flour floating directly over Billy’s head.

“You can’t get me,” Billy said proudly. “I can form a shell of air faster than you can even think. I’ve been practicing, and besides…”

“What are you two doing?” snapped their mother, her eyes red and swollen.

“Ali was trying to put flour on me.”

“That’s just because he already put some on me, see.” She shook her hair and a cloud of white billowed out of her sandy-blonde locks, coating the floor with the fine, slippery powder.

“You two stop this right now!” Diane snapped, then moved closer to the twins, lowering her voice. “There could be Inquisitors outside on the street. If they sense you using your Gift, they’d take you away and …” She couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence, but the twins could see the feeling of terror and fear wash over their mother. “Your Gifts are not toys. You have them for something important, I don’t know what, but I believe you have them for a reason, and it’s not this. Now release your Gift and get ready for school.”

Ali looked at Billy and smiled. He stuck his tongue out at his sister.

“Now!” Diane demanded.

“Ok,” he paused and leaned closer to his sister. “But you still didn’t get me.”

“We’ll see,” she replied, smiling.

Billy looked at her quizzically; not understanding then released his Gift. As soon as the shell of air dissolved, the pile of flour that was sitting above his head fell, coating him in white from head to shoulders. Ali laughed so hard she almost slipped on the flour-covered floor. Billy shook his head, creating a larger cloud of flour that then coated the rest of him. He looked like a ghost, white from head to foot. Now their mother was laughing too. She came up to Ali and put an arm around her as they laughed, Billy not seeing the humor, then finally smiled when he saw his reflection in the polished steel oven door. They all laughed until tears formed rivulets of cleanliness on Billy’s white cheeks.

“You two go get cleaned up. You have to leave for school soon, and I don’t want you being late,” Diane said. “Besides, what excuse would I give the school? Sorry my kids are late; they were covered with flour because they were playing with their Gifts again? I don’t think that would go over very well. Now go, I’ll clean up this mess down here.”

Billy and Ali ran upstairs to their apartment above the bakery. They quickly changed clothes and brushed out as much flour from their hair as they could. As they dressed, the smell of fresh-baked bread wafted up into the apartment and found each of their noses.

‘Mom’s cutting the bread,’ Billy thought to his sister.

‘Come on, let’s hurry,’ Ali thought back.

That was always their favorite smell from the bakery, the smell of the fresh bread as it was being sliced, the steam rising out from inside the loaf, billowing upwards and filling the bakery with the smell of home. Their mom’s bread was the best in the city, and everyone knew it. People came in from all around to get a loaf or two. Their father was fond of telling the story when President Macab himself came in one time for a loaf. It was before they were born. He doesn’t tell it so much anymore; President Macab is not the most popular person these days, but dictators never are, no matter what title they give themselves.

They charged downstairs to find their mother holding out two thick slices of bread, each wrapped in a paper towel.

“This is for your walk to school,” she said. “Don’t spill any of the butter on your clothes.”

“We won’t,” they said in unison as they grabbed the treats and headed for the door.

“Don’t forget your school stuff,” Diane added.

The twins stopped at the door and each grabbed their supplies; holographic data cube readers, vid-scrolls, power crystals, and of course the all-important paper and pencil. Their mother had already packed them each a lunch, and by the smell of it, it was something wonderful. Their lunches were always the envy of the lunchroom.

“Now don’t be late coming home. I want the whole family here when your father and Francis get back from the fields. This is a big day for both of them, so don’t be late.”

“We won’t,” Billy mumbled as he ran out the door, half the slice of bread already stuffed in his mouth.

His mother rolled her eyes.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get him home on time,” Ali said to her mother reassuringly.

“I know you will, dear,” Diane replied, smiling. “You have a good day.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Ali said as she ran out the door, chasing her brother.

She found him down by the alley, just standing there staring at the opposite side of the street, the half-eaten bread on the ground, of course, butter-side down.

“What are you doing?” Ali asked as she moved next to him.

“Shhh,” Billy warned softly, then pushed her against the wall of a nearby shop, far into the shadows of first sunrise. Their largest sun, Pateras, had fully risen, but their second sun, Gios still lay hidden behind the curve of Azule’s horizon, allowing them to find these deep, dark shadows; something that was at times a rare commodity when your planet orbited two suns. “Look! Across the street!”

Ali shifted her gaze to the street and gasped. An Inquisitor was coming down the street, dressed in black from head to foot; polished black boots clicking on the concrete pavement. He wore angry black gloves and was holding a red staff about two feet long. The end of the staff was wrapped with leather straps that hung loose, each flaying strap tipped with a crystal shard that glowed with an angry red light; his whipping rod as they were called. Around his neck was a thick metal collar, black as night and without any seam. It was almost as if the collar was part of him; a badge of honor, or horror, that signified him as an Inquisitor. All Gifted slaves wore collars, with their color signifying their strength. Only a few Gifted individuals hardly ever reached the level of brown, and even fewer reached black. Those who did were typically recruited by the Inquisitors or killed; a black-collared Gifted was definitely too much of a threat.

This Gifted was clearly well suited to his position. He had an angry, spiteful look on his face; a look that suggested he just wanted to hurt someone, anyone, he didn’t care whom. He was looking for a Gifted to capture and put into slavery—a fate worse than death they say. Behind him trailed a squad of soldiers, their lase-guns and plasma rifles held at the ready. The troops walked on both sides of the street, watching the civilians warily, but the Inquisitor chose the center of the street, walking as if he owned it, and that everyone else was as insignificant as the dust underneath his nails. Behind them hover trucks and ground speeders sat waiting, none dared enough to honk their horns and pass through the bristling pincushion of weapons and hate, the vehicle’s anti-gravity generators were casting an eerie blue glow underneath each as they floated a foot off the ground.

“Pull in your Gift,” Billy said quickly. “Don’t let him sense you!”

Ali made an angry sound and pulled in her Gift so that she seemed like a shadow of her true self. Inquisitors can sense others, using their Gift by stretching out with their psychic feelings, however, they’d found that it was difficult to sense another Gifted when they pulled in on their Gift, and that was what they were doing now, pulling in their psychic energy and hiding it in the deepest, darkest part of their minds.

The Inquisitor looked at their side of the street and saw the two children standing against the shadowy wall. He took two steps toward them. Billy could feel Ali’s fear and hear her starting to cry. They were both terrified. If the Inquisitor came close enough, he’d sense their Gifts, and they’d never see their home or family again. Just as he took another step closer, he froze in his tracks and turned his head to the right, looking over his shoulder. Spinning around, the Inquisitor pointed into the storefront of a crystal merchant on the opposite side of the street.

“Oh no…Mr. Dirac,” Ali whispered to her brother.

They’d known for years that he was Gifted. He always kept it to himself, but Ali could tell he was a nice man; this made her sad, and mad at the same time. Always with a kind word and a smile to everyone, Mr. Dirac was a threat to no one, just another neighbor…now just another victim.

The squad of soldiers quickly secured the shop and then stormed inside. In no time, they returned, dragging a pleading Mr. Dirac out of the shop. The soldiers threw the scared shopkeeper to the ground at the feet of the Inquisitor. He had blood running from his nose and an ugly bruise on the side of his head.

“What do we have here?” the Inquisitor asked with a scratchy, raspy voice. “Are you Gifted?”

“Gifted?” Mr. Dirac asked in a scared voice. “Me? I’m not one of them; I’m just a crystal merchant, and not a very good one at that, either. I’m nobody, sir.”

“I’m sure the latter is true, but let’s see about the former,” the Inquisitor croaked.

Closing his eyes, he gathered his Gift and extended it into Mr. Dirac’s mind. With little compassion or finesse, the Inquisitor probed Dirac’s psyche, hurting as he searched. The man’s moaning made Billy reel on his feet, the sound of torment and excruciating pain filled the air. The Inquisitor glared down at the doomed man, a look of disgust on his face. Probing deeper, the Inquisitor leaned closer, causing Dirac to scream and curl into a fetal position, begging for the pain to stop. It was a terrible thing for Billy to watch. He was, after all, someone they didn’t really even know, yet Mr. Dirac’s pain felt personal; it could have been them.

Billy started to become angry, but kept well-composed and stayed in control. There was nothing they could do other than stay out of it. But then, Billy started to feel the anger welling up inside his sister. Mr. Dirac hadn’t done anything wrong, hadn’t hurt anyone; he’d just been born the way he was, Gifted. It wasn’t a crime, but that’s not the way President Macab sees it. The Gifted were to be used and then discarded when no longer useful. Billy thought to himself.

Turning he looked at his sister. She was visibly scowling at the Inquisitor; her rage was clearly painted on her face. He could feel Ali’s anger growing fiercely by the second, leaking outward, her Gift becoming uncontrolled.

“Ali, no,” Billy whispered, pleaded. He pulled her back away, deeper into the shadows toward a nearby alleyway. “We can’t do anything. It’s not our problem.”

“You sound like Dad!” she snapped, the comment intended to hurt her brother; it did.

“We can’t save him,” he returned, exasperated. “You know the saying: to be accused by an Inquisitor is to be found guilty. They’re gonna take him, no matter what, now let’s get out of here.”

Billy turned and started to head down the alley, holding his sister’s sweaty hand, squeezing it firmly. Fear and panic took over his body and ruled his mind, his legs started to shake ever so slightly. He just wanted them to get out of there and not see what was going to happen on that street—the destruction of a life. As he fled, Ali followed, reluctantly. He had to pull her away from the street, from the destruction of Mr. Dirac, but she resisted. Pulling on his sister’s hand harder, he almost tried to drag her away, but their sweaty hands made it difficult. In his panic, his sister’s hand pulled free, causing Billy to trip and fall face-first on the ground, landing in a pile of algae dust and dirt.

At first, he was stunned; the breath was knocked out of him. Breathe, breathe, Billy said to himself, trying to force down the panic. Words only seemed to elevate his fear, but after a second, he was able to take another breath, and then another. His nose was filled with dust from the alley as he breathed in, his mind trying to understand what had just happened. As he got up, he looked back at his sister. She was standing at the entrance of the alley, feet spread, fists on hips as if expecting a hurricane to take her off her feet. Billy knew this stance; this was defiance, a refusal to be cowed or intimidated. He’d seen it many times at school when the bigger kids would pick on them because they were smaller and weaker. Ali would never back down or give in to the bullies, never give an inch, even if it meant being hit or kicked or beat up, she never gave up; he admired her for it, but not now. He could feel the Gift rising up in her, getting ready to lash out at the Inquisitor, lash out at the injustice.

“No, Ali,” Billy begged, but he knew it was too late.

Ali glared at the Inquisitor and focused on the pain he was inflicting on Mr. Dirac. She didn’t really know the crystal merchant, said hi from time to time, but he wasn’t a friend, just another person, another neighbor, another Gifted.

Gathering her Gift, Ali formed a ball of air as large as her Gift could muster and began to compress it until it was rock hard; the air got squeezed tighter and tighter. Billy could feel her pull on her Gift harder than she ever did before, and as she reached what he thought was her limits of power, she seemed to feel new areas in her mind open up, with more psychic power there for the asking. Ali drew on more power than Billy realized she even had, forming the largest, hardest ball of air she could create, the gas now like granite in her hand. Launching it with all her might, she sent it sailing at the Inquisitor. She then threw more balls of air at the security forces, knocking rifles from hands and tripping up feet. Billy watched the whole scene in slow motion through his Gift, his sister’s defiant actions and the construction of the gaseous sphere, the balls of air flying through the air; it was like watching a dreadful crash, unable to look away but already knowing the terrible outcome.

The ball of air struck the Inquisitor in the shoulder with the force of a battering ram. It knocked him from his feet and stopped the assault of Mr. Dirac’s mind. As he fell, his head turned toward Ali, and he made eye contact with his attacker.

“A little girl!” the Inquisitor shouted from the street pavement. “I was attacked by a little girl! GET HER!”

And the lives the twins had known for the last ten years—the happy, carefree existence of young adolescents—vaporized in a laser blast of hatred and revenge . . . and terror filled their souls.