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Shouting, the
    two guards tried to disentangle themselves, but Jommy pulled the rattling cell door shut on
    them, and the lock dutifully clicked home.
    He sprinted partway down the corridor. From behind the bars, the guards had pulled out
    their large-caliber pistols and fired at him, but they could not aim well because of the extreme
    angle. Out of view, Jommy pressed himself against the bars of Kathleen’s cell, and the bullets
    simply struck the walls, whining and ricocheting. She rushed forward, and he put his hands
    through the bars to clasp hers.
    “I told you I’d get us out of here.” Using the outside controls, he worked the simple cell
    lock, and in moments, Kathleen was free beside him. “Come on. We’ve got to figure out a way
    through these levels.”
    The two began to run, still hugging the walls, out of range of the guards. The locked-up
    men continued to shout after them, firing their guns several more times, but the bullets hit
    nothing.
    At the end of the hall Jommy and Kathleen found a door that led to a steep set of concrete
    stairs. Before they could open it, loud alarm klaxons rang out inside the palace, sounding a
    Level One emergency.
    “How could they have discovered we’ve escaped?” Kathleen said, waiting for another surge
    of guards to come charging after them. “It’s only been a few minutes.”
    Jommy froze. “The emergency’s not because of us. Not us at all.” Next, the alarms were
    accompanied by the bone-grating sound of an air-raid siren. “It’s the tendrilless slans. Their
    attack has begun.”

CHAPTER 5
    « ^ »
    Jem Lorry had lived among humans for most of his life, pretending to be one of them. His
    mind shields were perfect. Strategically placed in the Earth government, working his way up
    by way of his own intelligence (and the occasional necessary assassination), he became the
    closest, most influential advisor to Kier Gray. In the sure progress of the tendrilless plans, he
    should soon have been the President himself.
    Now, from Mars, Jem was engineering the downfall of Earth.
    Here on the red planet, the tendrilless had created more than just a strategic base and a
    hideout. The third breed of humanity had forged an entire civilization with outposts,
    settlements, and industrial complexes ringing the central canyon city of Cimmerium. From
    where Jem stood inside the large vaulted chamber, the distant sun streamed through the glass
    ceiling that covered the whole, expansive canyon. A large armored city crowded the habitable
    flatlands on the edge of the deep gorge, but the highest-ranked and richest tendrilless had built
    a warren of structures into the stark cliff wall, beneath the transparent canopy.
    His people had superior mental capacity to humans, though greatly limited telepathic
    abilities compared with true slans. No one—not Jem Lorry, not the Tendrilless Authority,
    probably not even the slans themselves—knew where or how the tendrilless ones had
    originated. The true slans had turned against them, launching what amounted to a genocide to
    eradicate their genetic stepbrothers. Jem didn’t know why true slans hated them so much, but
    the feeling was certainly mutual. He didn’t need explanations.
    Pleased that the full-fledged attack on Earth was finally about to commence, Jem stood
    before the seven members of the Tendrilless Authority, expecting to receive well-deserved
    applause. This entire attack had been his brainchild. He had sacrificed much to reach this
    point, and he intended to get what he had earned. The council members peered down at him
    with stony faces.
    The Authority chamber was like an ancient Roman arena. When all the tendrilless citizens
    gathered for primary meetings, thousands would sit on ringed seats staring down at the main
    podium, listening to petitions and plans, watching the Authority issue its judgment.
    Today, though, Jem was by himself in the vast room, staring up at the seven men. He
    would have preferred a cheering