2164 AD
૨૧૨૫ MA

“Stand by to break orbit.”

“Standing by, sir.”

Ted paused. “Funny, isn’t it?”

“What’s that, sir?” van der Graaf asked, as her fingers hovered over the controls.

“A year or two ago, we’d be doing cartwheels over this planet. Microbial life, high saline seas, little cool, atmosphere’s thin, but still, it’s basically an early Mars. Air’s close to breathable. Easily colonizable. A gem of a world.”

“The gem is back at 40 Eridani, sir.”

“The real gem is at Tau Ceti, but yeah, 40 Eri e is a perfectly lovely planet.”

“Thought we’d settled on ‘Vulcan’ for a name.”

“We did. Just waiting for the IAU to confirm it. And yeah, Vulcan is outstanding. It’s too bad we couldn’t take one of the mammalic pseudowolves home – with a few generations of breeding, they’d make fine pets.”

“Not as fine as we do, sir.”

“Damn right,” Ted laughed. “All right, Cato, break orbit. Ms. Uɉa, notify Vorsha-Azatlia control that we are departing the system, estimate 16 days until transit of the Sol Vakor system.”

He leaned back as his ship slipped into warp. It had already been a staggeringly successful mission, and they were less than two months in. As nice as Vulcan had been, the proto-Earth at Epsilon Eridani was their proudest moment – they had landed there, something the Titans had never dared to do, and took samples near one of the primitive oceans. It hadn’t been easy – a surface temp of 500K was right at the limits of the suits, and they hadn’t stayed down more than an hour. Still, what they’d brought back was nothing less than a bunch of free-floating nucleotides. They weren’t RNA, not yet, but it wouldn’t take many centuries for them to start hooking together. It was almost life – which was almost more amazing than finding life itself.

There’d be plenty of time to study them. This was the start of a long stretch in the ship. Two weeks, then a transit of the populated Vakor system; then about three weeks to reach Sol Gate Six, only to transit that. They wouldn’t do any proper exploring until TYC 4746-496-1, and that was just for a day or two. The most exciting systems on the run out to Sol Tarsuss were already behind them. Now it was just a long, long slog until they got to grab a beer at Rixie’s.

* * *

“Madam Chair,” Forna Qorni said, smooth as silk, “I would like to reiterate my objection to this committee hearing testimony from non-citizens of the Empire and Class Two Sentient Creatures. We may have to renew our boycott of proceedings.”

“Madam Chair,” Loona Armac shot back, before Pryvani even had a chance to rule, “a point of privilege?”

“Hmm? Of course, Rep. Armac.”

“The ‘boycotts’ of human testimony before this committee have gone beyond tiresome; they are now undermining the very purpose of this committee, which is to determine if humans are Class One or not, a determination that simply cannot be made without hearing from humans themselves. If members resume their boycott, I will have no choice but to invoke Section 193.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Qorni said, in shock.

“Do you think so?” Loona said with a smile.

Section 193 of the Imperial Legislative Rules required members to attend all meetings of their committees unless excused by two-thirds vote of the legislature, at penalty of being removed from their committees. This rule could be invoked by the Floor Leader or Minority Leader, but it almost never was; it was understood by all sides that it would bring business in the legislature to an immediate, screeching halt, as committee schedules almost always ended up conflicting with something. Indeed, even suggesting one might invoke 193 was viewed as threatening to bring down the government. Floor Leaders had called elections after mere suggestions.

That said, Qorni was not stupid enough to challenge Armac’s will. She knew that Armac would happily crater the legislature to keep this committee on task, and she was under no illusion that Zeramblin would back her if she stuck to her position. She could easily imagine her leader shrugging, and saying, “Well, frak, Qorni, I can’t keep you on after that, Armac said she’d go 193, and she did, I can’t have a deputy who doesn’t listen….”

“I view the ability of this government to function as more important than this foolishness. If the honorable Minority Leader is willing to destroy Tuaut to keep us here, we’ll stay here.”

“Well, I’m certainly glad that’s resolved,” Pryvani said. “Especially since the next person to testify is a human. Oh! It’s a human from my home world. Avalon, I mean, not Grelau. Or Archavia. Although we’ve heard…anyhow,” Pryvani said, “the committee is honored to recognize the President Emeritus of the Council of Avalon, Dia Velos.”

“Madam Chair, I object to using its title,” Qorni said.

“Why can’t she use her title? ‘President Emeritus of the Council of Avalon’ is a nice title! I have much sillier ones. Did you know that the Tarsuss family primate is considered ‘Grand Lady of All Unknown Black Holes?’ That doesn’t even make any sense! Now, if I was trying to use that title, sure, I would understand you objecting. In fact, I need to talk to the Emperor about changing that. Goodness, that is a silly title. Anyhow, no, she has a title, and we will use it because we are polite, and it isn’t as silly as mine. President Emeritus Velos is recognized for her opening statement.”

“Thank you, Madam Chair,” Dia said, with a grin; Pryvani had warned her that she liked to behave a bit ditzy when navigating Titan society, the better to throw people off. Even so, Dia found the act startling coming from the extremely capable goddess emeritus. Her friend missed her true calling, Dia thought. She would have made a remarkable actress.

* * *

The drone of the hearings were on in the background, but Lyroo largely ignored them; she was too busy trying to figure out what happened next.

When she’d taken over the Human Owners Society, it was one of the most-respected organizations in the Empire. And under her tenure, they had done so much good – human breeding operations had been cleaned up, protections against abuse strengthened. The Societies in The Core and Archavia had adopted an absolute no-kill policy, and others were moving toward them. By any measure, she had been the most successful HOS Executive Director in the organization’s history.

And she was hated for it.

Oh, not by everyone. Not even by a majority of citizens – most were either supportive or at worst, uncertain about the HOS. But there was a rabid and growing core of opponents who saw her organization as harming humans. They protested, they picketed, they blogged and wrote emails. Fundraising was off 52 percent from two years ago; if she hadn’t built up a sizable endowment, they’d have had to start shuttering centers. Indeed, they would have to take that step within the year if things didn’t turn around, and it didn’t seem likely – because if the average citizen said they were giving to the HOS, they now had to defend why they wanted to support a group that hated humans.

Hated humans. Hated humans. Emperor’s balls, nothing could be further from the truth! She loved humans. She had dedicated her life to helping humans. She could have been an attorney, could have run the Prenn Ranches the way her dad had, could have done any number of things that might have earned her security and wealth. But even in the good times, when she had a video show and two best-selling human training books, she hadn’t gotten wealthy. She’d plowed her earnings back into the Society. Hells, she had lost three relationships because she couldn’t give enough of herself to her partners – because so much of her soul was tied up in the battle to protect them, and keep them safe from harm.

A human was testifying before the Tarsuss Committee, going on about the history of Avalon – the battles they’d fought, the troubles they’d endured. And this was what people supported? This is what they wanted to do to every human in the Empire? Force them to fend for themselves when they simply couldn’t?

And she was the one who hated humans? No. Not in the slightest. She knew that Loona Armac thought she was doing humans a favor, but she wasn’t. They weren’t. They were setting them up for disaster, and it seemed like Lyroo was the only one who….”

“Are you okay, Miss Lyroo?”

She stopped, and turned to the small voice; a young human girl, still a child, had found her way into the doorway of her office.

“Greppa, what are you doing here?” Lyroo asked, with an exasperated smirk. “Did Daba come with you?”

“No, Miss Lyroo, he’s sleeping. I was bored, I wanted to come see you.”

Lyroo carefully slid her chair back, and carefully rounded her desk, kneeling down before the girl; she was tempted to adopt her. She was tempted to adopt all of them. But she’d resolved not to, not after the end with Scroof. She was too busy, it wasn’t fair to him, and wouldn’t be fair to another. She still felt guilty; still felt like she’d neglected him until she realized that he was sick, that maybe she would have seen it if she’d spent more time with him….

“Well, Greppa, I always like seeing you, but you know that crossing the path for Titans isn’t safe. That’s why we have the wall there. How did you get over it, anyhow?”

“If I tell you, you’ll just make sure I can’t. And I don’t want you to. How can I visit you if I’m stuck in the habitat all the time?”

Lyroo sighed. “Greppa, it won’t be long before you can be adopted by a nice Titan family, and then you won’t be bored anymore.”

“But I don’t want to leave here. I don’t know if the Titans will be nice.”

“They will be,” Lyroo said, gently. “We make sure.”

“I just…I miss Lala and Jos.”

Lyroo nodded. “I know, andiko. They did a good job of looking out for you.”

“Yup, and they taught me how to read, but they got adopted, and taken away. And if I get taken away, who’s gonna look out for Daba? He won’t be ready to be adopted until after I leave.”

“I’ll look out for him, Greppa,” Lyroo said. “I promise.”

“I know you will,” Greppa said. “You’re nice. But I wish I could stay here, that all the humans could stay here together.”

“I know, but you’re better off this way,” Lyroo said. “When you get older, you’ll understand. Now, I shouldn’t do this, but I’m doing work; do you want to stay with me for a bit before I take you back?”

Greppa smiled shyly. “Well….”

“I’ll get you a treat. Mosaberry ice.”

“Okay!” Greppa said, and practically leapt into Lyroo’s hand. Lyroo carried her gently to the desk, and set the girl down; she knew Greppa would talk her ear off and she wouldn’t get much done, but that was okay. Every so often, it was nice to remember exactly what she was fighting for.

* * *

“And so, despite the difficulties we faced, we have reached a point where our society is safe and secure, where we are working toward a brighter future for all of us,” Velos said. “Avalon is a stable, prosperous colony, and while we still receive some assistance from the Tarsuss Foundation, it is now technical assistance, and the rare item that cannot be manufactured on Avalon, such as the Zeno’s Paradox. We produce a surplus of food, a surplus of goods. If our friends in the Foundation left tomorrow, Avalon would endure. We have reached a point of self-sufficiency. It is no longer a question of whether Avalon can survive. It is a question of just how far we can go – and I believe that there is no limit to our potential. Thank you.”

There was a surprising amount of applause at the end of her statement, and those who weren’t applauding were mostly sitting in stunned silence. It was really the first time anyone had laid out the history of Avalon to a mass Titan audience; when it was considered at all, it was thought of as “The Tarsuss Petting Zoo” or something of that nature. The fact that it was a functioning society was news in and of itself. The fact that it was a functioning society with a rich history and culture, with people who had acted heroically to preserve it, with people who had come together to build a future ….

The fact that it was impossible to hear their story and not think of them as people.

“Well, thank you very much, Madam President. Does anyone on the committee have any questions? Rep. Blrrr.”

“Mighty President, you said that you fought to protect your town, but stopped fighting when you did not have to! This is wise! Have you heard of a Ler named LerKargh?!”

Dia smiled at the enormous, bellowing reptile, and said, “I have read of his legend, representative! He was a great and noble warrior!”

“Indeed! Like you, he knew when not to fight! This allowed him to unify my people! It sounds as if you have learned his lesson, mighty pathetic tiny human! May you have continued success!”

“I am honored, mighty LerBlrrr! Thank you!”

“Madam Chair,” Forna Qorni said, having taken the time of the brief colloquy to regain her senses. “It…I…it appears your family plays a significant role in the history of Avalon.”

“And not a good one, I’m afraid.”

“But…don’t you have a conflict of interest here? I mean, you’re intimately tied to this human preserve.”

Pryvani narrowed her eyes, just slightly. “Well, it’s true,” she said. “I mean, I know that there’s a good chance I’ll lose Avalon if we vote to emancipate humans. But I will not let that sway my vote one way or another, I can assure you!”

“Lose…why would you lose Avalon?”

“Well, where is President Emeritus Velos supposed to live? On a spaceship somewhere? That doesn’t seem very fair, after everything she’s gone through. I know, it will cost a fair amount, but there’s no way around it, I suppose. Anyhow, I don’t know why we’re talking about me, we should be asking President Velos questions. Like, I’ve got one – what do you see Avalon’s future being if humans are emancipated?”

“The law of the Empire since the passage of the Dunnermac Equality Act would suggest we would become a free colony of the Empire. By law, I believe we would be part of the Vorsha and Azatlia province, but I would hope that we would be able to maintain autonomy, much as the Ler, Avartle, Dunnermac, and Jotunn have. Each of us has a unique culture; I believe it would be in our best interests to seek to enter as an autonomous province….”

“That’s absurd,” Qorni griped.

“I’m sorry, you’re out of order,” Pryvani said. “Please, continue.”

“As I was saying, this assumes we are brought in as citizens of the Empire. If we are to be members of another province, however, we can accept that; the most important thing is that we are seen as the equal society that we are. No better than Vorsha or Archavia or Great Ocean, and no worse.”

“Madam Chair, if I may?”

“Rep. Bakadal, proceed.”

“President Velos, you’ve painted a very thorough picture of Avalon. And I must say, it sounds fascinating. However…and I apologize, but this must be said…how do we know this is where Avalon really is? I’m not accusing the Chair of hiding the nature of Avalon, or you of lying, or anything silly like that. Just…I mean, I guess what I’m saying is you have a perspective on your world, but I’d like to see that independently confirmed.”

“Of course,” Dia said, fixing a smile on her face. “I understand. Having been in government myself, I know what it’s like to have someone come in with a story that sounds wonderful, only for it to turn out to be dramatically overstated. As we humans say, ‘Seeing is believing.’”

“Exactly,” Torak Bakadal said. “So my question is, how can we see this for ourselves? Is it even possible?”

“It most certainly is,” Dia said. “The major cities of Avalon are all wired with holoprojectors. Any or all of you could tour the city at human scale – parts of the city are designed for Titans to visit, but not most of them – but frankly, you’d get a better understanding of the city from our size. I’m not sure when you’d be able to get there….”

“Actually, if the President will yield – Madam Chair, I think this is an excellent idea,” Loona said, with a smile. Given that it had been her idea a week ago, she was not being nearly as magnanimous as she appeared to be, which might have been why Pryvani gave her a slight smirk. “Rep. Bakadal, you think we should see Avalon. I do too. I think all of us would benefit from seeing a human society within the Empire. So I would move that this committee schedule a time for its members to travel to Avalon and visit, as long as this is acceptable to the chair.”

“Oh, I think that’s a wonderful idea, and don’t worry, everyone, like I said, I have a home there, and there is space for all of you to stay while you’re visiting. We’ll have to work out the scheduling, of course…but I’m ahead of myself. All in favor? All opposed? There. Everyone can submit their schedules to me, we’ll come up with a time that works for all of us.”

After a few more hours of testimony, the meeting broke up; Inna took President Velos home with her, as she wanted to talk with Ammer about the upcoming Avalonian campaign. Pryvani had one quick stop to make before heading to her Tuaut condominium. Zhan was waiting there, and they’d managed to convince Odin to come to the capital from Tannhauser.

She was looking forward to seeing her son. She’d realized that morning, quite out of nowhere, that Odin was now older than she’d been when her father was killed – even if one went by his calendar age, and not his slightly faster maturation. It jarred her a bit. Not that she wasn’t glad of it – she most certainly was, and not just because of the alternative. But he was so very young. Had she really been that young, when all this began?

It seemed impossible. She couldn’t imagine Odin being thrust into her position, couldn’t imagine him having to hold the Tarsuss empire together, having to deal with Avalon, having to deal with all the politics and backbiting and sniping – even if he wouldn’t have to deal with Zhan trying to kill him.

She hoped that he wouldn’t have to deal with it anytime soon. She knew how awful it had been for her. She hoped to live a long time, and allow her son to enjoy his freedom as long as he could.

She stepped out of the elevator, and walked past the receptionist. “Go on in, Lady Tarsuss, he’s expecting you,” she said. Pryvani strode through the door, and said, “Hi, Roddy, got your message, what’s up?”

“Not much, Senator. Just wanted to check in. Can I get you some kapskrasi?”

“No, no, Roddy, sorry, I can’t stay long. My son’s in town.”

Zeramblin grinned. “Senator, you are one of a handful of people who are capable of blowing off a meeting with me. By my lights, it’s you, the Emperor, and…well…I think that’s it. Anyhow, I wanted to say, I’ve been quite impressed with the job you’ve done running the committee.”

“Oh! Well, it’s been a lot of fun. I know that I don’t always do everything the way I’m supposed to, but I think that’s okay – I mean, everyone seems fine with it. You do. So that’s what’s important.”

“Right,” Zeramblin said. “Exactly. And what’s most impressive,” he said, taking a sip of his own drink, “is how you pull it off without breaking character for a second.”

“I’m sorry?” Pryvani asked.

“Took me a long time. And I’m not easily fooled, you know – you don’t get where I am if you can’t read people. But the way you act – all goofy and frazzled, never sure what you’re doing next – it’s a great bit. Covers up a lot. Like how you shut down Forna Qorni twice today, including once on a conflict of interest argument that, let’s face it, she had a point about. You blew her off like you didn’t even know what she was talking about, and she dropped it without considering that you did. Masterful.”

Pryvani leaned back, just a bit, and said, “Well, I appreciate that you think so, Mr. Floor Leader.”

“Not ‘Roddy?’ Well, that’s mildly disappointing. So is this the real Lady Tarsuss I’m talking to, or is there another layer?”

Pryvani smiled, and said, “You know, I will be honest, Mr. Floor Leader, there are very few people who get to know me.”

“Armac’s one of ‘em.”

“Loona knows me…fairly well,” Pryvani said. “But not all of me. My family. A few very close friends. Including, I will admit, the human who testified today. Dia and I come from very different backgrounds, but we both had to grow up much faster than we would have chosen.”

“Yeah, I can imagine. You know, in retrospect, it’s obvious. A goofball ditz couldn’t run a pitus-pimez stand, much less the Tarsuss Corporation. I’m curious, though…why the act?”

“Well, you said it yourself,” Pryvani shrugged. “I learned at a very young age that it was better to have people underestimate you. It keeps them off-balance.”

“Lady Tarsuss, don’t you know you have people off-balance when you walk into a room? Gorram, you’re beautiful, rich, and smart – underestimate you, overestimate you, doesn’t matter. You’re gonna destroy anyone you want to.”

“I only wish I shared your faith, Mr. Floor Leader,” Pryvani said.

Zeramblin chuckled. “Well, gorram. I had assumed Loona Armac was using you, but you’ve been using her, am I right?”

“Not at all,” Pryvani said. “Loona is an ally, and a friend. She and I agree on many issues, including the one that is closest to our hearts. We disagree strongly on tax and environmental policy, and she is showing no sign of coming around there.”

“Don’t I know it. So emancipation is important to you?”

“That depends,” Pryvani said. “Is it important to you?”

“It has become far more important to me than I ever thought possible,” Zeramblin said.

“Well then. I can say the same,” Pryvani said. “To be blunt, Mr. Floor Leader – there is nothing that is more important to me than seeing this through.”

“Good,” Zeramblin said, “because I’m going to need some help coming up. Not the help that a flighty party girl can provide.”

“I understand,” Pryvani said. “Do you have a timeline?”

“Working on it,” Zeramblin said. “I’ve talked with Armac a bit. We’re hoping to get it on the table just over a year from now.”

“Work through the biennial budget first?”

“There are reasons.”

“I’m sure,” Pryvani said. “All right, we will talk after the Avalon trip; in the meantime, let Loona know that you and I had this conversation. It will allow us to save some time.”

“I will. And senator?”

“Yes, Mr. Floor Leader?”

Zeramblin smiled. “For what it’s worth, I like this version of you better. But for the record…you can still call me Roddy.”