“Oh, nothing’s impossible. It’s just a question of when it gets too hard to imagine doing.”

–Jeff Fecke, The Valkyrie’s Tale

“ETA, Colonel?”

“One hour, forty minutes. Twenty minutes since I told you we were two hours out, sir.”

Tatenda Marechera paced, which took some doing in the cramped cockpit of the Sally Ride.

“Can we….”

“Sir, you know the calculations better than I do. We push her any more and we won’t be able to slow down once we get to Titan.”

Tatenda put a hand on Ted’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I just….”

“We all are, Captain,” Ted said, not deviating his gaze from the hazy world that was slowly growing in their viewport. “We’re gonna get her back.”

“I know. But she was my responsibility. She still is.”

“I know, sir,” Martínez said. “That’s why we’re going to get her back. One way or another.”

* * *

“You can’t be serious, sir.”

Aerti Bass was dumbfounded. He had expected Navarchos Imperii Solis to be hesitant to agree to his recommendation – breaking radio silence was not a minor thing, after all. But it was clear that it had to be done. The humans needed to be reassured that their crewmate was being well cared for. And at this point, First Contact was all but inevitable. Surely, Solis had to see that, didn’t he?

No. Evidently he didn’t. Because he replied, “Of course I am. Aertimus, this is the humans’ fault. They shouldn’t have been poking around Saturn. That’s our territory.”

“And how were they supposed to know that, sir? It’s not like we’ve posted signs asking them to stay off of our land.”

Solis sighed. “True, but it wouldn’t have mattered. They’ve never cared much for who owns what.”

“They’ve been sending us messages every few minutes sir. We need to think of this from their perspective.”

Solis sighed, heavily. “We will send them one message – one – indicating that they are to leave the Saturnian system immediately, and – I suppose – updating them on the health of their crewmate. And that they are not getting her back. Otherwise, we’re not going to be talking to the humans, Aertimus. Not unless the Legislature directs us to.”

“Sir, they’re going to be furious.”

“Who cares what the humans think?”

“With all due respect…we should, sir.”

Solis tented his fingers, and studied Bass. “You know, Navarchos Bass, I like you. You’re a good officer, you’ve got a great record – Emperor’s balls, Navarchos Imperii Zyn all but demanded you get this post. But on this particular matter…are you sure you are not allowing familial obligations to sway your decisions?”

Aerti had to fight back the words he wanted to say. Familial obligations? Sir, last I checked, my brother-in-law isn’t even officially my niece’s father, and my dad and my sister had to fight just to let him have a job. Meanwhile, those “savage humans” managed to keep my wife alive long enough for me to meet her, raised her to be the wonderful woman she is. So fuck you very much, gorram right those “familial obligations” sway my decisions!

Aerti did not say this. He was not a fool, and he knew better than to lay in to the top-ranking officer in the fleet. Instead, he straightened, and said, “No, sir. I want to make sure we’re considering our options, that’s all. I will have Titan Station transmit the message, then radio silence.”

“Very good,” Solis said with a saccharine smile. “I wouldn’t want to have to ask you to take a leave. Not now.”

“Of course not, sir,” Aerti said. This was going to be a disaster. Worse than it already was. Clearly, the brass had decided to take a hard line, and the legislature likely didn’t even know about this. He couldn’t exactly tell them, either – not without violating the chain of command.

But he could give some folks a hint.

“Sir,” Aertimus said, “just thinking – with everything going on, the last thing we need right now is for, say, the insectoids to decide this would be a good time to breach the perimeter.”

“That’s always true, Navarchos Bass.”

“Well, sir, I’d recommend we issue a general code magenta traffic warning reminding all ships that breaching the perimeter – from either side of it – can and will lead to hostile action.”

“Hmm. Not a bad idea. I like the phrasing, too. In fact, I’ll add it to our message to the humans. If the little monkeys on Earth hear it, maybe they’ll realize we’re not joking. Take care of it.”

“Aye, sir. Anything else?”

“Nothing further. Keep me posted. Solis out.”

The Navarchos Imperii leaned back in his chair, and turned to his right, away from his viewscreen. He looked carefully at his Special Advisor on the Human Question. “So, Dr. Gernhatt, what do you recommend we do next?”

* * *

Not far away, in a modest apartment in the capital, a beeping woke Ammer Smit.

He stretched, and shifted, and promptly began rolling downhill at a rather excessive amount of speed, stopping shortly thereafter as he collided with the hard ground.

“Gah,” he said, rubbing his sprained dignity. “Inna! My pad’s going off!”

The ground replied by mumbling something incoherent.

“My own damn fault for falling asleep on her left tit,” Ammer said, standing up on her sternum. “Inna! INNANAE LEKTAS! Hello!”

The mop of red curls that crowned Innanae’s face bobbed, just a bit, and suddenly, the ground began to shift.

“Oh, no, don’t – Inna, don’t sit…yeargh!” Ammer shouted, as he suddenly began sliding down her stomach, tumbling down and landing hard in another mop of red curls, this one located somewhat south of her navel.

“Ammer! Oh, gosh, I’m sorry,” she said, plucking him from her bush carefully. “I though you weren’t going to fall asleep on my tits again.”

“Yeah, I blame you. They’re too comfortable. My pad’s going off.”

Inna brushed his head with her lips, and set him on her nightstand, next to his pad. “Don’t forget to keep the camera off, Ammer.”

“I’m not six years old, Inna.”

“No, you’re twelve,” she said, rising from the bed and stretching a long, long, way for such a short girl, as Ammer conducted a very quick conversation. “Anything to be worried about?”

“Nope. Havn wants to meet with the boss, talk about the higher ed budget, told Iorn that shouldn’t be a problem. Wduo scheduled a meeting of the Health and Titan Services Committee for this afternoon, but otherwise she’s clear.” Ammer flipped through the calendar idly. “Then tonight…meeting, meeting, request for meeting…yup. Same old same old.”

“What time is it?”

“We’ve got about an hour. You’d better take a shower, missy. You don’t want to be late.”

Inna stuck out her tongue. “Hey, as long as I make it into the office before the majordomo makes an appearance, I’m okay. And I have a feeling he won’t beat me there. Come to think of it, I am quite certain that he needs a shower too.”

She scooped up Ammer over his protestations. “Inna, If we shower together, we’re never gonna be on time. You know that.”

“We’ll be quick.”

“We’ve never been quick yet. Seriously, I love you, but we can’t let us interfere with our work.”

Innanae paused, studied the tiny human in her hand, and raised just one eyebrow. Ammer stared back up at her, and then, on a two second delay, realized what he’d just said.

Inna broke out in giggles as she saw Ammer’s look of shock. “So you do love me! You little twerp, you’ve been dodging saying that for weeks.”

“I know,” Ammer said.

Inna’s giggles stopped. Ammer was not the kind of man to simply say, “I know,” and stop talking. He was really not the kind of man to stop talking, period. “What’s wrong?”

“I love you,” he said, with a rueful smile.

“Yeah, that sucks. How dare you,” Inna replied.

“It’s just…this wasn’t part of the plan. I was coming here to help…humans, you know. I couldn’t turn the position down. But I always figured I’d come in, help the boss win, help her get established, and go back home. And now….”

He looked up into the deep green eyes of Inna, and grabbed her thumb, and held it. “I didn’t even like Titan girls. But you’re smart, you’re perspicacious, your white paper on environmental concerns related to dark matter harvesting is brilliant….”

Inna leaned down and kissed Ammer, carefully. “Sweet stuff, you may be the only man alive who’d rank my white paper on dark matter above my breasts.”

“It’s just a measure of how fucking amazing that paper was.”

Inna laughed. “Hell, Ammer, I don’t know! I intended to be a lifer – like you, only here in Tuaut. Work my way up, maybe make it to chief of staff for someone if I was lucky. And when I got deputy policy director, that looked assured. But, well…having a human boyfriend doesn’t exactly make that more likely. And I still have no idea how I’m going to explain this to my parents, especially my mother. And…oh, damn it, why the hells did you have to have such amazingly deep opinions on reforming the judicial system?”

Ammer stood up in her hand, and smiled at his girlfriend. “Inna, you are the perfect woman.”

“I know. Now, let’s shower – just shower. We don’t want to be late. Busy day, right?”

Ammer chucked. “They all are.”

* * *

In a host of different capital cities spread out across a pretty, baby blue planet hundreds of light years distant, a much less playful conversation was going on via videochat.

“So we don’t know very much, is what you’re saying, Admiral.”

“No, Mr. Secretary-General,” Harwell admitted, taking a sip of coffee. “We don’t.”

“Have they said anything? Told us what they intended to do?” The Indian Prime Minister, Kavi Gupta, adjusted his glasses, looking at his notes.

“No, Mr. Prime Minister. We don’t think they’re actively hostile. Near as we’ve been able to recreate from what limited data we have, their craft went into a sharp dive about half a second before the accident.”

“So they were trying to miss us?” That question came from the American president, Robyn Martin, whose imposing figure was usually leavened with a wry smile. Not today, though – today, she looked pretty much like everyone else on the conference call: frightened, ragged, and desperate to find a reason to hope.

“We think so, Madam President,” Harwell said. “Obviously, we don’t know for sure. They haven’t responded to our calls – the Lem has been sending requests every five minutes expressing that we are not hostile, and that we seek only peaceful cooperation and information on Maj. Nejem. But of course, we have no way of knowing if our communication can be deciphered by them.”

“This writing on the craft,” said Yu Soo-jin, the Korean premier, noting the “ΠΟPФΨPΟJΛ” legend that graced the ship.

“We don’t know.”

“What do you mean, ‘you don’t know?’” snapped the European president, Esmée Xylander. “I can pick out at least four Greek letters there – and I know Boris said it looked at least somewhat Cyrillic.”

“I understand we want to get answers, Madam President,” Harwell said, calmly. “I think it’s certainly possible that we’re dealing with some cross-cultural contamination here, but it’s far, far too early to say that with any degree of certainty.”

There was a brief silence, before Martin spoke up. “Cross-cultural…are you saying they’ve been here before?”

“Not that I know of, Madam President. But that ship was headed for Titan. We feel reasonably sure that they either have a base or a larger ship or some kind of installation there – or they would have headed somewhere else. If they’re established on Titan, they may have been observing us for some time.”

“And they may not have been ready to say ‘hello,’” said Lǐ Wáng, the Chinese Premier. “We have not been a peaceful world for very long.”

“With due respect, Premier,” Yu said, “it has been almost two decades since any major war was fought on Earth.”

“True,” said Martin. “But the minor wars have killed people. And we all maintain armies. We all are ready to fight if need be.”

“Exactly, Madam President,” Lǐ said, nodding. “And we do not know these creatures. They may view one of our centuries as we view a few minutes. To them, we may be like children that have finally stopped fighting – but only for the moment.”

“Or they could be waiting,” said Boris Yanaev. “They could have been planning for an attack, only to have this throw them off.”

“It’s far too early to know,” Harwell said. “We know that the Sally Ride was due to arrive at Titan within the hour. They will attempt to locate the aliens and make contact, and the Lem will as well, as soon as it arrives. We will know more soon.”

“Admiral Harwell,” Martin said, quietly. “If they don’t want to give Maj. Nejem up…what then?”

Harwell looked down. “Madam President,” he said, “I’ll be buggered if I know.”

* * *

Pain.

That was the first thing Hala Najem was aware of. Pain. A sharp, stabbing pain in her chest. A ragged, jagged pain in her left arm. A dull, throbbing pain in her head. And an aching, wearying pain that enveloped her entire body.

She was in pain.

That meant she must be alive.

This surprised her, though she wasn’t exactly sure why. She remembered praying – odd, that. She had never been particularly devout. But she had recited a prayer, the prayer one says when someone dies. She was dying. She remembered that. Enceladus….

Hala tried to sit bolt upright, but the pain forced her back down immediately. She opened her eyes.

There was a very high ceiling here. The gravity was well below one G. This was not the Sally Ride, nor was it the Lem.

There had been an accident. She had—she remembered, she had disengaged the dorsal impellers. She had to. The Sally Ride would have crashed otherwise. She thought…she hoped…she sighed. She didn’t remember if they made it out safely.

She looked down at her body. She was dressed in a simple gown. There were bandages on her wrist and arm — she thought, oddly, that the bandaging looked like it had been done almost slapdash, with strips too big for the wounds they covered. Her hair was gone; given what she remembered, they proably had to do surgery on her. Yes…she could feel the faint echoes of scars on her forehead, though it was too ginger to probe much. She wondered how long she’d been here, whether the scars had healed through time or through bioengineering. They were a bit larger than an Earth doctor would have left, but she was not going to criticize her benefactors, whoever they were. She had been ready to die. She was grateful that she had not.

She sat up again, slower this time. She tried to make sense of what she was seeing, but the hangover from her concussion and hematoma weren’t helping, and besides, it looked like a hangar filled with oversized medical equipment, which didn’t make much sense.

There was a very loud noise from behind her. It sounded like the creak of a door, magnified a hundredfold.

It sounded like that because that was exactly what it was.

She turned and looked over her shoulder, and screamed.

* * *

Innanae Lektas walked into the office, just slightly later than she was supposed to have arrived there. She smiled at the receptionist, and asked, “Is the chief up yet?”

“You lucked out,” the older woman said, sorting through morning mail. “He hasn’t been out of his office yet.”

“Great. Thanks, Lenna.”

“You’re gonna get caught one of these days.”

“Oh, you know Ammer. He doesn’t care if you get in late….”

“…he cares if you stay late,” said Lenna, smiling. “As if he ever leaves. I’d never be late if I had an apartment in the office.”

“I know, right?” Inna turned the corner and rolled her eyes, slightly, a Cheshire grin on her lips. She walked up to the majordomo’s office, and was briefly intercepted by his secretary.

“He isn’t up yet,” he said.

“No, he just messaged me, said to come in.”

This was true – Inna pointed to the message on her pad. Ammer had sent it just two minutes ago.

“Well, if he said to go in, go in.”

Inna opened the door, said, “You wanted to see me, chief?” and then closed it.

She walked to the desk, opened her purse, and fished out her boss, friend, and lover.

“You know, we’re gonna get caught at this one of these days,” Ammer said, smiling.

“Almost certainly, but the boss knows about us, so what?”

Ammer adjusted his suit coat, and walked over to his desk. “Yeah, she’d be okay. Still, we need to stop cutting it close. Your purse becomes a damn death trap when you’re running to catch the shuttle.”

“Does it now.”

“Yes, it does. And given our morning…death would’ve been totally worth it. Anyhow, we’re in the office.”

“Right,” Innanae said, sitting down at the chair opposite the mesa upon which Ammer’s desk, apartment, and personal hovercraft sat. The two of them had an agreement, one that they both took very seriously: Office time was office time, and things said in the office stayed in the office. At least for the most part. Ammer had to be able to supervise the boss’s deputy policy director, and that meant he had to be critical from time to time. If Inna had a problem with it…well, they found ways to work it out.

“I really did want to meet with you this morning,” Ammer said, settling into his chair. “So, Ms. Lektas, what the fuck was that white paper supposed to be?”

“Which one? I write about three a week.”

“You know which one.”

Inna smiled, barely. “I know, it wasn’t assigned, but it’s a potentially important issue.”

“Human emancipation?” Ammer exploded, getting up out of the seat he’d just taken. “Inna, nobody likes humans more than I do, but there is no reason in the known universe for you to be coming up with policy recommendations about ‘em. We’re status quo for the foreseeable future.”

“True, but that doesn’t mean we can’t start to consider options.”

“Holy frakking…you’re gonna be the death of me, you know that? You’re brilliant at policy, but I swear sometimes you have no damn political sense. Innanae, what happens if that paper gets out? You know the boss has been finessing the human issue since her first election. We’ve done a good job keeping that from becoming a liability – indeed, we’ve made it a strength. But if this paper gets out, if it looks like we’re preparing to push for human emancipation, right now, it could destroy everything we’re working for here.”

“I thought we were working toward that!” Inna said, angrily, rising from her seat. “What’s the good of being part of a Representative’s staff if you can’t move things forward?”

“What’s the good of it if your boss gets voted out next year?”

“You know, I wrote this in no small part because of a certain human I know. I’m kinda sick of him having to be a pet. He deserves better.”

Ammer looked at Inna, nonplussed. Second time in one morning. This was an unusual day.

“Of course, maybe he doesn’t,” Inna sniffed, and started to turn.

“You’ve gotta put those personal feelings aside,” Ammer said, doing just that. “Take a look at the boss; you think she isn’t highly motivated to get human emancipation through? You think I’m not? Believe me, I appreciate the sentiment, but we’ve gotta be sane about it, too. Or else we end up wrecking our chances because we moved too soon.”

“And meanwhile, people keep living as pets,” Inna said, softly. “And it isn’t fair.”

Ammer sighed. “Fair has nothing to do with it. Inna, killfile this. Get it out of our system. I know you gave a copy to the boss – get it back from her. This cannot get out. Got it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. And one more thing. Save it on your personal drive,” Ammer said, quietly. “And hold on to it. Because you had some brilliant insights, especially into how different factions might react. And…and because I really do appreciate it, Inna. I do. And I appreciate you – and not just because of things we do outside this office. That has nothing to do with how I feel about your talent and potential. You could be one hell of a chief of staff for someone. You just gotta know when to tamp down the idealism a bit.”

Inna turned, and gave just a half-smile back. “You know, sucking up to me isn’t gonna help get you out of trouble for this.”

“I know. That’s why I’m not sucking up.”

Inna’s smile returned fully. “Sorry, chief. I shouldn’t have freelanced.”

“And that’s the lesson you needed to learn. See you later, Inna.”

“We’ll see,” Inna said, with a wink.

As Inna left, Ammer sighed. He hadn’t been kidding about the paper. It had the seeds of a good bill within it. But politics is all about timing, and it was not time yet.

There was a buzz, and Ammer picked up his headset.

“Smit,” he said, then smiled. “Yes, Rep. Armac. Right away.”

* * *

Calm yourself down.

Hala tried to get control over herself. She was hyperventilating and crying, trying to reconcile the three figures who had entered the room. They were humans, or at least, they looked human. But they were vast. This wasn’t possible.

She fought back the superstitious voices in her head that conjured up words like djinn; these were mortal creatures. She was not dead. She would not be in such pain if she was.

The older male approached her, and said something in a language she didn’t understand – though she thought it sounded perhaps Turkish, or Slavic. He was talking to her, and though the words meant nothing, his voice was soothing, quiet.

Like me, talking to my pet cat, she thought.

He pulled out an instrument and waved it over her, occasionally saying something. He must have been the one to treat her wounds.

She looked beyond him. There was a middle-aged man, standing stiff. Military, clearly, though his uniform was unfamiliar. Beside him was a younger woman, sandy-haired, wearing a similar uniform, with one silver square instead of the man’s star. A junior officer.

Hala finally got control. She took three deep breaths, released them, and then, though she knew they were unlikely to understand her, she addressed them.

“Hello,” she said. “My name is Hala Najem. I am from Earth. I do not know if you can understand me, but….”

“Al-ʻarabīyah!” the younger woman said.

“Yes,” Hala replied. “I speak Arabic. Do you speak Arabic?”

“Just little,” said the sandy-haired woman, kneeling down. “I talk…English?”

“I speak English too,” Hala said, switching over seamlessly. “Also French, Hindi, and a bit of Mandarin, if you know those.”

“I’m best with English,” the woman said, smiling. Hala fought with her instinct to run as the woman’s face neared hers. “You said your name is Hala, yes?”

“Yes,” Hala said, grateful that she was being understood. “Hala Nejem. I’m the deputy chief engineer on the Terran Space Ship Stanisław Lem.”

“My name is Ulala Ix. I am a xenolinguistics officer. That is Dr. Nhaven, and Centurium Oden. Do you know where you are?”

“No,” Hala said. “Last thing I remember there had been an accident near Enceladus.”

“En-sel-uh-dus? Ah! Of course, Enkelados. Yes, you were in an accident. Do you remember anything else?”

“I remember thinking I was going to die, and then there was a light…that’s it.”

“Good. Good. Well, you have not traveled very far. We have brought you here, to Titan Station.”

“Okay,” Hala said. “Who are you, though?”

Ulala laughed. “We’re Titans.”

Hala looked perplexed. “Are you native to Titan? That seems…unlikely.”

“No, no, it’s a..uh…coincidence? Yes, coincidence of the names. We are part of an empire that covers most of this arm of the galaxy.”

Hala’s eyes widened. “You’re extraterrestrials.”

“Yes, we are.”

“I…I apologize,” Hala said. “I should be greeting you more formally.”

Oden said something, and Ulala nodded. “Well…that is part of our problem,” she said soberly.

Hala sighed. She didn’t like the sound of this. “What problem is that?”

“We are not authorized to greet your people. Indeed, contact with Earth is forbidden.”

“But surely that isn’t the case here – my crewmates are going to come looking for me.”

“I hope not. For we cannot allow you to return home,” Ulala said, sadly. “And if they come down here, we will have to detain them, as well.”