2163 AD
૨૧૨૫ MA

“And so, mister chair, I say it is high time that we petition the provincial and Imperial governments to recognize the human governments on Avalon and Earth as full territorial councils, and for Azatlia to recognize humans as Class One Sentient Beings, no matter what the Empire may say.”

“Thank you, Minister Belfsec,” said the Dunnermac man sitting in the chair of the Azatlian Territorial Council’s Committee on Liberty. “Minister Rius?”

“I do not disagree with the distinguished minister from Bhuguplay mo Sperik,” said Selva Rius. “At least, not on the main point: humans are people. And we must make that case unequivocally. But I cannot support the language that would give them the vote. Not because they should not have it – they should! – but because it would cause Imperial and provincial elections to end in court challenges, jeopardizing our representation. I wish I could support it, but until the Empire recognizes the obvious truth, we can’t take that final step. I would ask the minister if she would be willing to accept a friendly amendment, which would allow humans to vote in territorial elections for Azatlia? I know, it’s not full citizenship, but I think it would survive a challenge, and if nothing else, it affects this government alone; we can deal with whatever comes of it.”

“I would have to see the language,” Simene Belfsec said, “though I can certainly understand your concerns. We have four days until the full council meets; will you be able to submit the language to me by tomorrow? If so, I would be amenable to adjourning until the day after that.”

“Of course, minister. And I will say…while I know you personally have a stake in this, know that this committee supports this initiative, and I feel sure the council will as well. Whether it survives the Provincial Council or the courts…well, we’ll take our chances. But no matter what, once again, Azatlia will do what is right, recognizing the dignity of sentient creatures, and giving them whatever rights we are able.”

“I thank the minister for his kind words,” Simene said, “and while my brother-in-law is important to me, know that I would support this had I never met a human. Earth’s advancement speaks for itself. The reports from Avalon speak for themselves. The many humans born in the Empire – their abilities speak for themselves. It would be nice if the Empire would do what is right, and do it now…but there is no reason we should wait for them. Eighty-two thousand humans live on Azatlia. It is time to grant them their freedom, now and forever. Mister Chair, I move we adjourn for 164 hours.”

The meeting broke up to general applause; Simene felt quite good about it. Rius was the last likely no vote on the committee; if he was willing to vote for it with an agreement on the Imperial votes, well, she was fine with that. Nobody expected that bit to survive a court challenge anyhow, and as long as their right to vote in territorial elections was secured, she would be okay with it.

This would pass, there was no question now. But it wasn’t enough to get this through on a close vote; she and her allies had been pushing for as close to unanimity as possible. They wanted to make it very clear that the people of Azatlia, at least, were done with this debate, and ready to move on together with their human equals.

Just a few days, and then the vote, and then the council would adjourn. Simene was a teacher by trade, and this was the last major action for the Azatlian Territorial Council this year. She might just be able to make it back to her middle school civics classes before mid-terms.

“Simene, nice job,” said someone to her right. She turned, and nodded.

“Thanks, Mr. President,” she said. “How close to 75 are we?”

“If you accept Rius’s amendment? 65, minimum,” Jocar Lin said, with a grin. “Nobody will be able to call that a fluke. Can you walk with me a second?”

Simene nodded, and followed the President of the Azatlian Territorial Council out a back door of the committee room.

“Minister Belfsec, as you know, Minister Tomalan is retiring. I was wondering if you would be interested in taking her place as chair of the education committee next term.”

“I…obviously, yes, Mr. President,” Simene said.

“Good. You should know, this isn’t just altruistic. You’re viewed by a number of us as a bit of a rising ship, and not just because there will be 82,000 voters lined up to shake your index finger.”

“Honestly, I’m not sure why that would be,” Simene said.

“Well, part of it is your family. Everyone likes a hero, and at least on Azatlia, we know you’re related to two of them. But that isn’t the main thing. I remember a few months ago, when we started talking about this, you took lead because you knew it could blow up, and you were comfortable with that. You were willing to take the risk, and if you lost, if it cost you your seat, you saw it as worth it. You did what leaders are supposed to do: lead. And you have managed this well. Support for the measure is over 80 percent on Azatlia, and you’ve managed to move the needle on Vorsha as well. While they’re not quite willing to take the leap with us, support for emancipation in general is 65 percent in the province. And that’s because of this debate. You know, the minority leader called me about this?”

“Councilor Jus?”

“No,” Lin said with a chuckle. “Rep. Armac.”

“Loona Armac?” Simene said with a slight gasp. “I…what did she say?”

“Officially, this kind of running ahead is frowned upon,” Lin said with a smile. “Unofficially, however…well, successful integration on Azatlia makes integration in the Empire as a whole much easier. Of course, I didn’t tell you that.”

“Of course,” Simene said. “I…wow. That’s what…that’s all I’ve wanted. If we can prove it can work here….”

“We’ve done it before,” Lin said. “My predecessor was Dunnermac. It’s only noteworthy because it isn’t noteworthy. She was the fifteenth Dunnermac to serve as president; there will be dozens more. What was important about Tegu wasn’t that she was Dunnermac, but that she was Azatlian. Before long, Emperor willing, we’ll be saying that about the fifteenth human to serve as president.”

“It won’t be easy,” Simene said. “We’ll have to work to educate them, you know. Businesses have been surprisingly accommodating so far, but still….”

“None of it is easy. Nothing worth doing, anyhow,” Lin said. “But we’ll get it done. Now,” Lin said, “asking you about the chair of education was just one thing. Got another thing I need to talk to you about, bit of a reward….”

* * *

Lennox looked out the window of the small autocab as it descended toward the mammoth Imperial Embassy.

It was early evening, local time, and he was still trying to process what was going on. To say it seemed surreal was more than an understatement.

“Auto-shuttle Four-Seven-Niner-Seven-Four-Kilo, this is Prometheus Control, you’re entering restricted space, can you confirm ident?”

“Roger, Prometheus, this is Capt. Ted Martínez, clearance red, should be checked through to land at pad Hotel-One.”

“Confirm, Capt. Martínez. Welcome back to the Embassy. We show you at Hotel-One in three minutes.”

“Thank you, Prometheus Control,” Ted said, hitting a few keys on the fore wall. “I’ve given control over to you, you should have handshake ping…now.”

“Confirm, Capt. Martínez. We’ll bring you in. Prometheus out.”

“I didn’t know they had human flight controllers at Prometheus Station,” Lennox said.

“They don’t,” Ted replied. He sighed; he really hated autoshuttles. Not because they didn’t fly fine, but more because he was generally convinced he’d fly them better.

“Our controllers are trained on all Earth flight protocols. The converse is true for JTSA controllers on Titan Station,” Tig said.

“The principles are the same, just terminology, mostly,” Ted added, staring forward. “Descent’s a bit steep.”

“Ted, stop criticizing the autopilot.”

“Like you weren’t about to.”

“I would never!” Tig said, with a smile. “At least not one of yours. Now, put me in an autocab on Grelau…well, my mom and sister stopped taking autocabs with my dad and me when I was 16. One of us was bad enough.”

The shuttlecraft continued its descent, and something occurred to Lennox.

“You’re not actually here, are you?”

“I’m close,” Tig said. “Holosuite Gama, second floor,” she said, gesturing toward the Embassy.

“Why did you…why didn’t you just turn your avatar off? Why travel with us from Portland?”

“That would be rude,” Tig said. “Besides, I like having time with Ted and me at the same scale. Oh, I don’t wish Ted was a Titan, or anything like that – it’s just nice to see him this way for a change. Sen. Tarsuss says that holos are a good reminder of the true reality – that deep down, our size is different, but our personhood isn’t.”

“Senator who?”

“Pryvani Tarsuss,” Ted said. “Imperial senator. Richest woman in the known universe. Owns Avalon.”

“She owns…so she owns all the people there?”

“No,” Ted said. “She owns Avalon. The moon itself. But the Avalonians…she’s very emphatically not their owner. But that’s a story for another time,” he said, as the ship landed. “Could’ve backed it off four kph, would have been a bit softer,” Ted groused, before adding, “we’ll see you inside, honey.”

“Can’t wait,” Tig said with a grin. She gave her husband a quick kiss, and then pulled a small device off her arm, vanishing as she handed it to him.

Ted sighed, and turned to the reporter. “All right,” he said. “This way, Mr. McClure.”

* * *

“They are willing to give away our right to vote, and you just sit there! How can you do that?”

“Jako, how dare you talk to him that way! He’s been working for our freedom since before you were….”

“No, it’s fine, Ms. Dhugtortraliars,” the tired-looking man at the head of the table said. “Jako is not wrong. I am not happy about the decision. But I understand their logic. And I am not going to fight against a measure that will free eighty thousand humans because it frees them imperfectly.”

“They have more than enough votes! If this costs them a few, so be it!” Jako A shouted, pounding a hand on the table. “You’ve been doing this too long, you’re starting to sound like one of them. ‘Just a few more years, just a bit more waiting,’ while our brothers and sisters sit in bondage. But then, you are almost one of them, aren’t you? Married one of them, had children with one of them – you’re more Titan than human now.”

The room, which had been filled with loud conversation moments before, suddenly became so quiet you could hear a pin drop. The man at the head of the table leaned back, and straightened his tie, and took a moment to compose himself before he turned his attention to the young Azatlian activist.

“Jako,” he said, quietly, “I am sure you do not wish to insult my family, nor to insinuate that my wife, who has devoted her entire life to freeing our people, is somehow our enemy. I am sure you do not wish to insult our Titan allies, including the Azatlian Territorial President, and Councilor Belfsec, and the many others who have worked to make sure this measure passes. I am quite sure you do not wish to argue that Titans are uniformly evil, that all Titans are our enemies. Many are, no doubt, and many more are not our friends, through ignorance or callowness. But many are our friends, and many are truly good, and even the neutral are not neutral out of malice. It would do you well to remember that; they do not have to fight by our side, and without them at our side, do you honestly think we would win? Do you honestly think we could?”

The young man looked down for a moment. “I am sorry, Dr. Neutha,” he said, finally. “I let my emotions get the better of me. I am….”

“You are human, Jako,” Yamanu said calmly. “Only human. We are no worse than they are – but we are no better than them, either. And I assure you, I am well aware that it is we — and if ever I find myself identifying with Titans, one attempt at climbing stairs will disabuse me of that notion.”

That brought laughter from the room, though it was a bit strained.

“I am sorry,” Jako A finally said. “Truly.”

“It is forgotten,” Yamanu said. “We have all worked very hard. Especially those of you who are native to this world. And we are very close. But we have been working hard, and it is best if we get some sleep. We have three Imperial days to get ready for the rally. We can spare eight hours for sleep.”

Yamanu looked at his pad as the meeting broke up. One advisor stayed behind.

“You shouldn’t let him talk to you like that.”

“Thurfrit, I appreciate that,” Yamanu said, “I do. But you have to let them vent once in a while. If they yell at me, they don’t say something stupid when the media puts a camera in front of them.”

“Maybe,” Thurfrit Maris said, evenly. “But Great Spirit, are we really going down this road? Where we start deciding who the good humans are, and who the traitors to the species are?”

“Of course we are,” Yamanu said, wearily. “Because it is much easier to fight ourselves over purity than fight our common enemy. And…well, he has a point, doesn’t he?”

Thurfrit leaned back. “No, Yamma, he doesn’t.”

“Yes, he does. Jako A hasn’t had his life extended. He’s five years old, and I’m 27. I should be dead, and he or someone like him should have moved into my job long ago. I take the long view because of the Titan genes spread throughout me, the knowledge that I will probably live to my forties, the knowledge that I already have lived longer than most humans could ever have dreamed of when I was born. A year or two is not a loss when it is a year or two out of fifty. But when it is a year or two out of ten or twelve….”

“The Tribe is not better off without Luke and Quendra,” Thurfrit said. “They chose not to get life-extended because there was no way for the entire tribe to do it. They chose to give up decades in order to lead. And yet, knowing that they would not live to see freedom, they still built for the future. They still were patient and careful, not reckless and stupid – because they cared that their descendants, and the descendants of their friends, could have that chance. Tell me, if you knew you were to die tomorrow, would it change your approach?”

“No,” Yamanu said. “There’s every chance I won’t live to see equality. After all, even a vote…well, that’s just the start.”

“Exactly,” Thurfrit said.

“But still, I have advantages,” Yamanu countered. “Gae can pluck me from danger, any time I need her to. So can Malala or Martin. Jako isn’t married to Titans, and he isn’t the father of hybrids, he has to face this by himself.”

“Not at all!” Thurfrit said. “First, Jako is supported by the Azatlian Aenur Foundation, which has hundreds of Titan and Dunnermac volunteers. He didn’t get to the meeting by magic, Sola Farajo brought him. And if these laws pass…well, then he’ll be able to stand on his own. He’ll be able to hire a courier to take him to meetings. That’s the whole point of this! Yes, you and I are lucky, I’ll never say anything else. Great Spirit, I am married to Zhay – when I was three, I would have found the idea of marrying Tall as Tree so impossible that I couldn’t have even begun to imagine it. But we’re here because we are lucky. We haven’t just stayed home and enjoyed ourselves, we work for all those who cannot stand for themselves.”

“I like to think so,” Yamanu said, wearily. “And maybe…..”

His pad chirped, and he looked over at it. “Well,” he said reading the message, “that is interesting.”

* * *

“I’m sorry, we’re closing – oh, sorry, Capt. Martínez,” said the Titan officer at the front desk of the JMA. “Didn’t realize it was you. We are closing up for the day.”

“Exactly why we’re here, Mr. Ansol,” Ted said, as he affixed an identification card to his breast. “There should be a whitecard ident for Lennox McClure here?”

“Let’s see,” Joram said, flipping through a box on the desk. “Yes, here you go – good for 84 hours.”

“Great, thanks. How’s Suza?”

“I’ll let you know if I ever get leave,” Joram said with a sigh. “I told you she got transferred to Nivgrelau, didn’t I?”

“No! That’s terrible,” Ted said. “And you’ve earned leave, and you can tell Pelen that.”

“I will. Of course, if you want to have Decurion Belfsec mention that to him as well….”

“Oh, I might be able to swing that. And next time you’re on Titan, drop by and see us, okay? Love to get a chance to play cards again.”

“That’s one of us,” Joram Ansol said, shaking his head. “I don’t get paid as much as you.”

“You might. The exchange calculations still make me dizzy.”

“You and me both, Captain. I don’t get paid as much as Decurion Belfsec, I feel sure of that. All right, the next train should be leaving in about ten minutes, so you have a good meeting. Nice to meet you, Mr. McClure.”

“Um…yes, thanks,” McClure said. He affixed the white visitor badge to his jacket, somewhat disconcerted to see that it had his Canadian passport image already stamped on it.

“So have you been to the embassy before?” Ted asked, leading them through a series of human-sized offices toward the tram station.

“No, never,” McClure said. “I should…before we go further…I should ask, is there anything that you didn’t say before that…that you wanted to? I know you showed up with your wife, if she’s…pressuring you….”

Ted guffawed. “Tig? Pressuring me? No, don’t think so.”

“She’s not pressuring you?”

“She kind of wants a kid. Not sure if I’m quite ready for it…I mean, I am, but human-Titan hybrids with Titan moms have all been Titan-sized so far, so I am at a size disadvantage, plus with Avalon coming up…well, I kind of want to hold off until after. So yeah, I mean, she’s pressuring me a bit there, mostly by being adorable, but that’s her way. I’m guessing that’s not what you mean, though.”

“Not…no, not really. I just…you seem awfully fine with all of this. Your wife…she’s the size of a skyscraper.”

“Yes,” Ted said, with a brief, faraway look in his eye, “yes she is.”

“You’re saying she’s never threatened you?”

Ted shook his head. “Not once. Not even in jest. Okay, maybe in jest, but very, very clearly in jest. She knows exactly how much power she has compared to me, at least physically. She has only ever used it to help me. Even when she barely knew me.”

“Not all Titans are like that, though.”

“Of course not! Some are awful. I’ve met some awful ones, and yeah, that can be scary as hell. But Tig is the complete opposite.”

“She didn’t seem passive,” McClure said, as the tram arrived.

“Passive? No, not remotely,” Ted grinned. “She just uses her powers for good.”

They were silent as the automated train departed for the Embassy proper. Ted ignored it for the most part, and scrolled through his email for a moment, before he realized the reporter had finally gone quiet. He turned to the man, and saw that McClure was staring out the window as they pulled alongside the corridor, gazing slack-jawed at an approaching pair of Titans moving through the link.

“Never seen them in real life?”

“N…no,” McClure said. “My God.”

“Oh, my,” Ted said, with a grin that was half-malevolent, half-sympathetic. “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

Lennox blinked as the train approached the position of the Titans. One was a man wearing a military uniform, the other a woman in civilian clothes; they were paying no mind to the train zipping along the corridor. They were engrossed in conversation, though had Lennox’s shock not distracted him, he would have noted that they were looking forward, and slightly down as they walked.

Instead, he focused on how they seemed not to move, though they were racing toward them. They were so unbelievably big, it was like driving into Toronto, and watching the CN tower. They were already so mammoth that the approach didn’t matter – they were enormous to begin with.

And then the train got closer, and they really began to loom – and then suddenly, they were crossing paths, and Lennox gasped, as the train blew by them at ankle height, and left them behind.

“Impressive, aren’t they?” Ted said. “You haven’t even noticed, have you?”

“What?”

“You’re riding a train in 1/3 G, and you haven’t even felt it. They distracted you that much.”

Lennox realized suddenly that Ted was right – he felt remarkably light, as if he was swimming. He decided to chalk his nausea up to that. It was less embarrassing.

A chime struck. “Main Embassy Station. Iyκшv Oπzαпpαшιэмi Эмαxxα) Station de l’ambassade principale. Zhǔ zhàn dàshǐ guǎn.”

“English, French, Chinese…what was the fourth language?” Lennox said, trying to regain his senses.

“Standard Galactic Archavian. Be careful, you’ll…yeah,” Ted said, as Lennox got out of his seat and found himself soaring toward the ceiling of the tram, before falling back to the ground. “Takes a bit of getting used to. Be second nature in a minute, though. We’re stupidly adaptable creatures.”

“Hope so,” Lennox said, testing the ground slightly as he alighted. “Suppose this is what you live with most of the time.”

“Titan’s half this,” Ted said, with a grin. “This is heavy for me. This way.”

“Why Archavian? The Titans can’t ride that.”

“Avalonians can, they speak it. And Humans from the Empire. Not to mention that most Titans on the station tour it at human-size, so they can get a feel for it. Same holographic technology Tig used earlier.”

“You don’t say,” Lennox said, as they walked through the empty platform; for about a minute, one might have thought that they alighted at any of a thousand tram stations.

For about a minute. And then they exited through a small door, and he felt his stomach lurch, and not just because of the gravity.

They were on a small promenade that ran the length of the station, a length that was, Lennox suddenly realized, vanishingly short compared to the room that contained it, one vastly larger than he could have imagined.

What really threw him, though, was that the room was not particularly unusual, save for its size. It was clearly a small waiting room, with a half-dozen chairs arrayed in the center, a place for Titans to meet humans coming in to the Embassy proper.

It was a small room. At least for them.

One Titan was sitting in the chair, checking a pad the size of a scoreboard; she looked up, and smiled, and stood, and walked over to them at a pace. “Took you guys long enough,” she said.

“Hey, you had to take an elevator up two whole floors! It’s a bit further for us,” Ted said, indignantly.

“Not my fault you’re short. Mr. McClure, good to see you again.”

Lennox was trying very hard not to collapse into a puddle. This was…this was Tigoni Belfsec, the woman he’d interviewed earlier this afternoon. She’d been reasonably friendly – oh, heck, she’d been quite charming. But she was about his height.

This…this was a skyscraper that took the form of a woman.

“I…have…um….”

Tig’s eyes narrowed, slightly, but not, as Lennox briefly feared, in anger. Nor did she betray any sign of amusement at his distress.

“Oh, Hadia,” she said, softly. “You…have you ever met one of us at this size?”

“N…no. I’m sorry…I just….”

“It’s a lot to take in,” Tig said, gently. “The first time I used the holos to look at the world from your perspective…well, it was scary, and that was with me knowing that safeties were on and Ted was looking out for me. I promise, Mr. McClure…nothing bad will happen to you. And if you need a minute, go ahead and take it, I can leave if you need me to.”

Lennox kept breathing in and out, in and out. He wondered how many times she’d had this exact conversation. How many times she’d introduced herself to a panicking human, convinced she was going to….

To what? She hadn’t seemed violent or irrational at human size. Why should it be different at this size? Why would she treat him differently than she had before? Why would he expect her to?

“I’m…sorry,” he said, finally. “I think I’m okay. It’s just…well….”

“It’s more than a bit daunting,” Ted said, quietly.

“And yet you were flirting with me within minutes of meeting me,” Tig said, with a smirk.

“Yes, well, your beauty overrode my self-preservation instinct,” Ted replied; Lennox had a feeling that exact conversation had happened many times, too, and would for years to come.

“It is a bit daunting,” Lennox said. “I take it…that you’re to escort me to meet the Ambassador?”

“Yes, Mr. McClure,” Tig said, calmly. “I can grab a viewbox if you want, but honestly, it’s a very quick walk for me. If you are able to let me carry you, it will be much quicker.”

Tig said this while setting her palm flat on the ground in front of Lennox and Ted. He swallowed hard; he’d been in houses with less floor space. Still, he followed Ted, who practically bounded into it; he waited, and gave Lennox a hand up.

“Probably best to sit,” Ted said. “Takes a little getting used to, try standing, you’re liable to fall flat on your face.”

“I’ll trust you,” Lennox said, grimacing, and settling in on the floor. No, not floor. It was skin – distractingly soft skin, really, that smelled faintly of some sort of lotion. Tig reflexively put her fingers up, surrounding the pair of humans, then brought her hand carefully to her stomach, and began to walk.

There was nothing that Lennox could compare it to; it was unlike anything he could imagine. A thrill ride, perhaps, though that was short-changing it. In some ways, it was terrifying, in others, it was almost cozy. He could tell, despite the roughness of the ride, that Tig was trying to keep her hand level, steady, trying to keep the two humans as comfortable as possible.

He looked up, and was disconcerted all over again to see that he could not even see the woman’s face; she was holding them against her stomach, and that meant that Lennox’s view was straight up into the underside of Tigoni’s breasts. He wasn’t sure if this gave him a newfound respect for Ted or if it proved the pilot’s insanity; it was most certainly a striking vista.

At any rate, the novelty of his position distracted Lennox long enough that he did not notice the extreme speed at which they traveled; soon enough, he found himself in an office, being set down on a small – well, relatively small – table.

“Ambassador Bass will be here in a moment,” Tig said, calmly, as Lennox stepped off. “We’ll see you after our meeting.”

“You’re not staying?” Lennox said, trying to shake off his vertigo.

“The Ambassador wants to meet with you alone,” Ted said. Then, noticing the look on Lennox’s face, he added, “Look, if anyone wanted to hurt you, there are a million better places to do it than in the office of the Empire’s Ambassador to Earth. And I can tell you that of all the Titans I have ever met, the least likely to hurt a human is Dr. Bass, and that includes my wife.”

“We’ll see you after the meeting,” Tig said, evenly, settling Ted on her shoulder.

“I’ll see you then,” murmured Lennox; the titaness and her husband departed, and he was left alone.

He noted that the table upon which he had been stranded was largely empty, save for a couple of items. One was a tattered, ancient, titan-sized mask, the other a slightly rusty, but otherwise remarkably preserved Model T Ford. The latter drew his attention; there were few of these in existence outside of museums, and Lennox was shocked to see one here. There were some dents in it, but it looked well-cared for.

He knew Ambassador Bass’s basic story; he wondered if this had been her parents’ car, at some point.

“Pretty, isn’t it?”

Lennox started, and turned around; the Ambassador was standing in the doorway to her office, looking at him carefully. She was not as big as Tigoni, but that hardly made a difference; at their scale, it was comparing one mountain to another. They were all huge.

Eyrn crossed the space to the small reporter, not trying to keep him at ease. She wanted him to be intimidated. There was a purpose to it.

“It was my toy when I was little. My Uncle Archie got it for me. It’s in surprisingly good condition, all things considered. I wasn’t…well, I wasn’t overly careful with it. You know,” Eyrn said, lifting the car easily and considering it. “Kids and toys.”

She set it down – not overly carefully – and looked down at him, looming over Lennox like the beginning of an avalanche. He swallowed hard, and stared back – this was not the calm, steady Ambassador that he’d seen coverage of. She wanted him off-guard.

She had gotten her wish.

“I…Ambassador…thank you…for meeting with me,” Lennox said, quietly, forcing the words out. “I do…I do appreciate your taking the time….”

“You know,” Eyrn said, “that if I wanted to hurt you, there is nothing that could stop me. Nothing at all.”

Lennox swallowed, and nodded.

“I have an immense amount of power,” Eyrn said. “Compared to an individual human, it’s almost unlimited. Believe me, there were times that I was tempted to use it. I was imprisoned here, you know. This very spot. Do you think it never occurred to me that I could pretty easily overpower the guards, and get free? It would have been simple. One step. One kick. Gone.”

Lennox stared at her, dumbfounded. He didn’t even know what to say. He was just trying to keep control of his bladder, as she leaned toward him.

“I didn’t, though, and do you know why not?”

“N…no. I don’t.”

“Because,” Eyrn said, “they were people. And I did not want to hurt them. I wanted to work with them, to be friends with those who would be friends with me. And because of that, I met friends who I still treasure today.”

Eyrn took a step back, and knelt beside the table. Her countenance changed, and Lennox let out a deep breath, because the look on her face was now kind and compassionate.

“I understand why you fear us,” Eyrn said. “Especially given what you have learned about the status of humans held in the Empire. I want you to understand that if the Empire wanted to threaten Earth…well, we could rather easily do so. Our technology is beyond yours; a battle with Earth would not be a danger to us, any more than a fight between you and I would be a danger to me. But I also want you to understand that this exactly why you don’t have to fear us. We could threaten Earth. But we don’t. We don’t, because whatever the status of humans in the Empire, we understand, already, that you are people. And we would no more threaten you than we would the Tusola.”

“The Tusola?”

“An independent species, they’re somewhere between Earth and the Empire, technologically. No military threat to us, but that doesn’t matter. We wouldn’t attack the Tusola, as they have done nothing to warrant it. They are good trading partners, they’re respectful of our space, they are our friends.”

“And yet humans are pets in the Empire. How can you say we are people here, and pets there?”

Eyrn sighed. “This entire interview is on the record – except for the words I am about to say. Those words I say on behalf of myself. Understood?”

“Of course,” Lennox said.

“I have never understood how it is the Empire views humans as anything other than people,” Eyrn said. “I understand it historically. I did a dissertation on comparative Imperial views of Dunnermac, Humans, and the H’Klatu. I can cite you the studies. But I cannot understand it, not in my gut. To me, the basic equality of humans is so obvious that the assertion that they are not…it doesn’t make any sense. It’s like you’re telling me that one star is white and the other is made of bananas – it literally makes no sense.”

“Bigotry, maybe?” Lennox mused.

“Yeah, sure, and bigotry never makes sense; still, the evidence on humans couldn’t have been more clear before First Contact, and since First Contact…well, put it this way – even as there is resistance to emancipating humans within the Empire, those who are working to fight against emancipation have all but conceded that Earth and Avalon are Class One societies. They’re trying to argue that humans living within the Empire are somehow different, except for those on Avalon, and the argument is incoherent and self-defeating. But that’s the best they can do.”

“And our leaders know this?”

“Back on the record,” Eyrn said, calmly. “Yes, your leaders do. We have been keeping them appraised of the status of debate on human emancipation legislation.”

“Why aren’t they sharing the information?” Lennox said.

“Fear of panicking you. An understandable fear. A decade ago, you had no idea whether there was intelligent life in the universe, and you’d just barely confirmed that complex life existed. Then we show up, and you have to deal with the fact that your world exists within the claimed borders of a technologically advanced multistellar Empire whose smallest member species dwarfs you. We did not want you to become dispirited by fears that we had designs on your world or your people.”

“I understand that,” Lennox said, “but now, now you’ve lied to us.”

“We haven’t lied,” Eyrn said, evenly. “You knew that humans were not full members of the Empire, and you knew that humans outside of Avalon did not have full civil rights, yes?”

This was true; they hadn’t been very clear about what that meant, and questions about it had been effectively glossed – after all, the Titans were big. Most people hadn’t thought about it too deeply; those who had assumed that humans probably moved to Avalon because there was less chance of being stepped on.

“Let me rephrase that,” Lennox said. “You have not been fully forthcoming.”

“True,” Eyrn said. “And I believe that we were right not to be fully forthcoming, though I recognize that you might disagree. It has not just helped Earth adjust to us, but it has helped us adjust to Earth. We have eight years now of humans and Titans working together on Titan Station. Humans can hack anything that’s been thrown at them. That experience has been brought back to the Imperial Military, which is looking into ways we can expand our partnership. There are many worlds like Earth that humans are better-designed to explore than Titans; Tau Cet e is a perfect example, the Alcubierre managed more detailed work in its two weeks on the world than we have in hundreds of years. Because you and we have been able to work as partners, we have been able to convince many of those unsure of your capabilities.”

“This sounds lovely,” Lennox said. “Really, it does, but there’s a big something missing in all this discussion.”

“What’s that?”

“The humans living in the Empire. Okay, this makes Earth and the Empire happy. But what about the people – and they are people – who still live as pets?”

Eyrn smiled. “That, Mr. McClure, is a very, very good question. Would you like to have it answered?”

“Well, yes,” McClure said. “Obviously. That’s why I asked you.”

“Well, certainly. But I think you will agree, I’m not the right person to answer it. I’m the Empire’s ambassador, my role is to act in the interests of the Empire. Not in the interests of those humans who live in the Empire without civil rights.”

“True,” McClure said. “But I’d have to travel to the Empire to talk to them.”

Eyrn smiled wider. “Exactly,” she said.