“O God, that I had loved a smaller man!
I should have found in him a greater heart.”

–Alfred, Lord Tennyson, “Merlin and Vivien”

“No signal from Ted?”

“No, sir,” Viktor Frieden said.

“Hala?”

He shook his head.

“All right. You’ve got the text message ready to send if we get contact?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay,” Tatenda said, looking around the ventilation shaft. “Time to figure out where the hell we are.”

The two crewmates had landed near a ventilation grate; they watched in awe as people wandered by; clearly, they had found their way to a busy corridor.

It was maddening – they were situated about ankle height to the creatures, and the vent had not been designed with observation in mind. All they saw was the routine flash of movement, giants passing in front of them and disappearing without a trace moments later. At least their thudding footsteps rattled the vent just enough to give them fair warning. That kept them from doing something stupid, like running out into the hallway.

“Should we look for a safer spot?” Viktor asked, after a good long time.

“No,” Marechera said. “No, we’ll wait here. It’s busy here; if we ever get a break, we will be in a location that’s well-traveled. That gives us a place to start. If we are going to find Hala, we cannot simply hide.”

Viktor nodded. “All right, then,” he said. “We wait.”

* * *

“C’mon girl, get a move on! Yer as bad as your mother!” Niall said, standing beside the gangplank, watching as his daughter raced across the launch bay toward the Galatea. “We lift off in five minutes.”

“Sorry,” Sorcha called, unslinging her pack. “Lessy, you survive the run?”

“Sorcha, I survived that time when I was three, and we both got into Aunt Loona’s Gok’ma Soda. This was almost gentle.”

Sorcha smiled weakly. “Totally my fault,” she said, catching her breath. “My first attempt at packing went very wrong.”

Niall folded his arms; Sorcha may have had 136 feet on him, but that would not stop him from laying into her when called for. And he was about to do just that, until he caught Alesia out of the corner of his eye. The human was frantically waving him off from going after Sorcha.

Alesia couldn’t take any more drama at this point.

“Hmm. All right, get in there,” he said, finally. “And be glad that it was me that greeted you and not your mum; for the record, if she asks, I was very stern.”

Sorcha smiled, and crouched down near her father at the end of the gangplank. “Sorry, Dad. Won’t happen again.”

“Yes, it will, and I probably will let my baby girl get away with it then, too. Alesia, Sorcha can bring your pack in; I know Pryvani wanted to talk to you before departure.”

“Thanks, Dr. Freeman. I get the better bunk, Sorsh. You promised.”

“I know, Lessy. I’m on it.” Sorcha smiled down as she gently lifted her friend out of her pocket and deposited her on a small platform near the gangplank; it raised up automatically to Titan height as the Freemans entered the vessel, and Pryvani Tarsuss approached.

“Sen. Tarsuss, what can I do for you?” Alesia said. She noted that Pryvani had taken the time to dye her hair in the green-and-black of the Imperial Standard; she wondered if the general public would ever figure out just how thin was the ditzy-heiress façade that covered a person so unfathomably deep.

“Hello, Alesia. I just wanted to wish you luck, and thank you before you departed. It hurt to get called out like that. But I needed to hear it. We all did.”

Alesia smiled, and sighed, and said, “Senator, I have had a day. I don’t think I can take another big emotional scene. Just…I knew you needed to hear it, and more than that, I knew you would. You can’t know what it’s like to be human, and that’s not your fault. But…you try. You always try. That’s all any of us can ever ask.”

Pryvani wiped away just one tear, and said, “Thank you, Alesia. That means more to me than you’ll ever know.”

She paused a second; it wasn’t clear exactly what she was thinking, but Alesia thought she sensed just a hint of reticence. “You know Lessy, I remember, back when I was younger and stupider, telling Rixie that we had to preserve Avalon because we needed free humans – wild humans, I think I called them then – who could carry on if Earth was destroyed.”

Pryvani sighed. “I’m ashamed to say that I thought there was some difference between humans raised wild and humans raised as pets. Not just in their demeanor or actions, but in their genes, their basic makeup.”

Alesia stiffened a bit. “But….”

“Oh, I was wrong,” Pryvani said, shaking her head. “Couldn’t have been more wrong. I started to figure that out when I met your mom and dad for the first time. Your parents proved to me what should’ve been obvious. Humans held as pets aren’t any different from any other humans. They’re just smart enough to know the odds are stacked against them. Your parents taught me that, and I appreciate so much that your family is still trying to teach me.”

Lessy nodded. “The humans who live as pets…they’re just doing their best to survive. I didn’t have to. And that’s why I push so hard, push you, push me – because…I know I’m lucky. And I have to speak up for them. They can’t.”

“There’s an Earth saying I heard when I was maybe 25, 30 years old. It stuck with me. ‘From those who have been given much, much more will be required.’”

“That’s from one of their religious books, I think,” Lessy said.

“It may be.”

Lessy smiled. “And so for me, who was given a mom and dad who were basically free, a mom and dad who earned more than their share…that means I have to work all the harder.”

Pryvani nodded. “And I, Alesia…my work will never be done.”

Lessy gave Pryvani a warm smile. “Sen. Tarsuss…despite my pushing you…you have done far more for us….” She trailed off. She didn’t really know how to express her gratitude; she didn’t think words quite did the job.

Pryvani smiled back at the young woman. She thought she understood Lessy, very well indeed. “Well. I shouldn’t delay you anymore. But…before you leave, one last thing: I insist you not call me Senator Tarsuss. Call me Pryvani.”

“You insist everyone call you Pryvani.”

“No, Alesia, I allow everyone to call me Pryvani. I insist that my friends not call me Senator Tarsuss.”

Alesia couldn’t quite bear it. This had been too big a day, and she had been through a bit more than she could take. And so she did the only thing she could do: she broke down in tears. Pryvani scooped her gently and held her to her breast until the huge person contained in the tiny body calmed down.

“Pryvani,” Alesia finally got out, “thank you. Good luck.”

Pryvani carried Alesia to the gangplank leading to the Galatea, and set her down. Alesia smiled up at her; Pryvani was indeed her friend. She knew her well enough to know that she would want to walk onto the ship under her own power.

“Godspeed, Pryvani,” Alesia said.

“Safe journey, Alesia,” Pryvani said, and as Alesia headed into the ship, Pryvani turned and headed for its sister ship, the Pygmalion.

She had been a Goddess, and that experience had rather convinced her that no supernatural being existed to hear her prayers. But she said one anyway, on the off chance she was wrong. She did not pray for her own success, or that of her friends, or this particular mission. She just asked that someday, somehow, the universe recognize that physical stature had absolutely nothing to do with the dimensions of a person’s heart.

* * *

“Any word from the Away Team?” Xú asked.

“Nothing since the last text. If they’re on base, they may not be able to communicate.”

“I know, we’re going to have to be patient. That doesn’t mean I like it.” The Shang Xiao paced on the bridge of the Lem. She desperately wanted to take the Lem down, even though it wasn’t really designed to land on Titan. She did not relish sitting in orbit, waiting to hear whether her three crew members were having success, or whether she now had four crewmates being held by the aliens.

But there was nothing to be done about it. She knew Ted and Tatenda, knew they were fine officers; Viktor was a civilian, but a civilian who’d earned his way into space. If they could possibly recover Hala, they would.

But that didn’t make the waiting easy. It made the waiting all the worse.

* * *

Ted stared down through the grating, trying and failing to get his brain to engage at some level above the cerebellum.

He was staring into a room in which two women were changing out of their uniforms. One was shorter, a bit curvy, with mousy brown hair and a gentle demeanor; the other was tall and strong, with cropped brown hair and a certain bearing that had caused him to subconsciously assume she was a pilot. Pilots recognize other pilots on sight; if she had been human, he would have had no doubt. The curvy was down to a tank-top and standing directly below Ted; he had a view straight down her shirt, had he been interested in it.

It was the pilot, though, who drew his attention. She was pretty, but probably less conventionally beautiful than her flatmate. That hardly mattered. Ted thought it was almost as if a spotlight shone down upon her. He was transfixed. Had she been human, he would have asked people about her, what she liked, if she was seeing anyone. He would have gone in slow, made sure not to screw it up. If she shot him down, he’d mope for a while, but he’d accept it. Had she been human, even the chance to have asked her out would be something he’d cherish.

But she wasn’t human, no matter how closely her species resembled his, and neither was her bunkmate. They were both enormous. The pilot was almost 140 feet tall, and her compatriot a good 120 feet. They were talking in a language Ted did not understand, though it sounded less like an alien language than a foreign one. He turned his gool to record and analyze; he hoped if it heard the language enough it could start spitting out translations based on word-relation algorithms. It was a long shot, but not impossible. Humans had started to communicate with dolphins and orcas using the exact same analysis; dolphins, it turned out, were about as smart as your average four-year-old, and orcas slightly smarter.

Still, unless the language was related to a terrestrial one, it would likely take one implanted gool a week or two to start even making guesses. But then, Ted knew that he had no idea how long he’d be here.

He tore himself away from the grate. Pretty as the titanesses were, he was not here to gawk, and frankly, spying on them while they changed was wrong; he started to sneak away, when he heard a snippet of their conversation that forced him to stop.

“Yaπαn, мo δε jaπaκaγıxv zε Major Nejem?”

“I don’t know, Tig. I don’t know,” Ulala said, pulling on her pajamas. “I know we’re still taking a hard line, saying we won’t give her back.”

“This is gorram ridiculous,” Tigoni barked; she had gotten into the tank and shorts she favored for sleep. Well…honestly, she favored nothing for sleep, but Ulala had been kind enough to let her share her rack, she wasn’t going to push it. “We didn’t go back to save her so she could be brought to the Empire and turned into another gorram pet.”

“What if she ended up with someone decent? Who treated her well? Do you think….”

“I think the fact that we keep them a pet is a crime against sentient species,” Tig said, fuming. “Titans for the Ethical Treatment of Humans may be a bunch of gorram attention-seeking assholes, but they’re right, it’s unconscionable what we do.”

“We treat them okay,” Ulala said. “I mean, the people who are decent owners….”

“They still own people!” Tig said, getting up. She’d already dumped her boyfriend today, and her career was in the toilet; she had no desire to fight this fight again.

“I know,” Ulala said. “You’re probably right. I mean, Hala is smarter than I am. And what she did to save her friends….”

“It’s criminal that we’re holding her,” Tigoni said, pacing. “Criminal. We should return her to her ship.”

“But the Navarchos Imperii….”

“Is wrong!” Tigoni said. “Damn it, he’s wrong.”

Ulala looked at her friend carefully. They’d been through the academy together; they’d made the decision to go into the Planetary Defense Corps over the Imperial Fleet together, because they both thought it would be nice to find a rock and really get to know it.

Ulala knew Tigoni Belfsec very well, and she knew when her friend was about to get herself in big, big trouble.

“What are you thinking, Tig?”

“I don’t know,” Tigoni said, but she was lying. Her career was likely over. Officially, she hadn’t received a downcheck, but there was still a very real possibility that she would be court-martialed for her role in picking up Hala. Indeed, even if she wasn’t, this would hurt her career; she’d probably never reach the heights she could have otherwise. And granted, it wouldn’t be the end of the universe if she ended up a commercial pilot, like her dad, but she had wanted her career to be consequential.

But even if she didn’t face repercussions…so what? How could she stand by while an innocent person was being held captive because of her mistakes? If she lost her career, if she was sent to Rura Penthe – hells, if she was killed in the attempt, she had a moral duty to try to get Hala Nejem back to her people.

Tigoni had always believed her moral compass trumped everything. It had often gotten her in serious trouble, and it was about to again.

* * *

The Galatea had reached deep space, and Sorcha and Alesia were both reading in their cabin, when their buzzer sounded.

“You get it,” Alesia said. “You owe me.”

“I owe you what, fourteen now? Or does this count for more than four?”

“This counts for one, Sorsh, as always. Eleven. You owe me eleven.”

“Fourteen. Got it,” she said, getting up and opening the door. “Rixie, Darren, what can we do for you?”

“Hey, beanpole. Bright-eyes. We just wanted to remind people the Grand Tribute semis are tonight; we’re getting some people together to watch. Figure we can all use some relaxation before we get to Titan.”

“I missed the quarters, who made it through?” Alesia called. She was a casual Tol-Bot fan, she wasn’t ardent about it. But she’d grown up living with her Aunt Loona, and not following Tol-Bot was not an option.

“The Heirophant’s made his first semi, so that’s interesting, but he’s going up against Felltree. Question ain’t whether she’ll win, but how.”

“Yeah,” Alesia said. “He isn’t getting past Felltree. She’s going for her sixth, right?”

“Right,” Rixie said with a smile. “She gets that, she ties Iron Maiden’s record.”

“She ties Iron Maiden…well, I think Aunt Loona will be okay. Iron Maiden and Felltree are her two favorites. I don’t know what will happen if Felltree takes the record outright, though.”

“Well, I think she’s gonna,” Darren chuckled. “The Executioner’s got a chance, but the way she’s been playing these last few years…near as I can figure, the only two folks who can beat her without luck are retired.”

“We’ll see,” Rixie said. “She gets to six, Iron Maiden may have to come out of retirement.”

“I hope not. I don’t think Loona could take the stress of Iron Maiden against Felltree for the record. Those are the two most amazing sentient beings in the universe, according to her.”

“I’m sure you’re overstating it a bit,” Rixie said.

“That’s a direct quote,” Lessy chuckled. “Loona is just a bit into the sport.”

Darren laughed. “Well, you’re welcome to come, bright-eyes. You too, beanpole, but I know you don’t like to watch it as much.”

“No, it’s…it’s fine. We’ll see. You know us…girls. We need our beauty sleep.”

“Like fun. Anyhow, come or don’t, but try and unplug. Got enough time to get amped back up.”

Rixie carried Darren on, and Sorcha closed the door behind her.

“So, we going?”

“I am not.”

“Why not? I mean, it’s not LumLur, I know that. I still think you should enter as a Titan competitor next year, by the way. You won the Tannhauser championship, for heaven’s sake.”

Sorcha shook her head. “Not until they let humans in.”

“They do let us in, at least in theory, but we’d be terrible at LumLur. It’s about strength, and they aren’t going to add in holos. You know that better than I do.”

“Even so.”

“So why aren’t we going to watch the Tol-Bot semis?”

Sorcha sighed. “You’ve never watched a Tol-Bot match with those two. It’s nearly unbearable.”

“I’ve watched with Darren before. You think Loona wouldn’t invite him over? He’s a Grand Tribute champion! Granted, he only came over the one time…but still, he was fine. Maybe because nobody could hear anyone over Loona.”

Sorcha sighed. “If it was just Darren, or just Rixie…but the two together…no, thanks. Too much arguing.”

Lessy gave her friend a quizzical look. “Why…why would Rixie argue with Darren?”

Sorcha broke into a belly laugh. “What…oh…you don’t know?”

“Know what?”

“Oh…right. She never told Loona.”

“Who never told Aunt Loona what?” Alesia was indignant. She could bear not knowing something, but someone not telling her aunt something? Ridiculous.

“Well, you said it yourself. Loona’s a big fan of Iron Maiden, right?”

“She still has a poster up in her room. And in her office.”

“Well…you know Iron Maiden. Loona does too.”

“Right. If Loona knew Iron Maiden she would not be able to shut up about it, at least around the family. She was bad enough when Darren told her he was the Marionette.”

“Well, that’s just it. You see, Rixie’s Iron Maiden.”

“WHAT!?!” Alesia jumped up out of her seat. “You’re pulling my leg! Seriously? Next you’re gonna tell me that Pryvani is Spirit.”

“Nah, but it wouldn’t surprise me at this point. You ever see Darren and Rixie’s final?”

“Aunt Loona only runs it three or four times a year. So…wait. We have a chance to watch the Tol-bot semis with not one, but two former Grand Tournament Champions, including arguably the greatest of all time, and we’re skipping it why?”

“Because, they’re insufferable! They start debating strategy before the match even begins, and don’t stop criticizing until it ends. Even when someone makes an amazing move they end up arguing over which one of them would have done it better, more efficiently, and with more flair.”

“I still may go. Aunt Loona would never forgive me if I passed.”

Sorcha sighed. “I’ll go if you go, but we move the tote board to me owing you thirteen.”

“Okay. One thing I don’t get, though. I mean, Rixie – she’s good friends with Loona. She knows how Loona is with Tol-Bot. Why wouldn’t she tell her? It would make her…well, probably her life.”

“That’s just it,” Sorcha said. “Way I heard the story, Rixie was going to, and she brought up Iron Maiden, and Loona…well…Loona’s a pretty intense fan.”
“It’s true.”

“I mean really intense.”

“Yeah. She is. So what?”

“Really, really intense.”

“What, did she think she’d become like a stalker or something? Go cut one of Rixie’s braids off while she slept? That’s….”

She thought back to her aunt’s reaction when Felltree won her fifth title.

“…terrifyingly possible. Okay, maybe I can feel her out? Hint I might know? See how badly she freaks out?”

“Your call,” Sorcha said. “Just make sure she’s on a different planet than Rixie when it happens, she may need time to prepare.”

* * *

“All right, everyone, we’ll meet back early tomorrow. I’m not making you work through the semis.”

“Representative, you’re not making you work through the semis.”

Loona grinned. “Possibly true, Aya. Anything else?”

“No,” Aya Marek said. She was probably the least powerful Chief of Staff in the legislature, which was just how she liked it. Her skill set was media relations – and she excelled at it. She was happy to let Ammer run the office. Still, Loona always deferred to her first among her staff, as did Ammer; she appreciated that they pretended, but was quite aware what the real pecking order was. And so she turned to Ammer, and said, “Unless Ammer has something?”

“No, chief. Just study the white paper close; I want everyone thinking how we get to 501 votes – and what we have to ditch to get there. All right, Representative?”

“Go home! And Go Felltree!” she said, drawing a laugh. Loona was rooting for Felltree to win one more, and then hoping like crazy that she’d retire. She didn’t want to have to root against her next year.

“All right,” she said to Ammer and Inna, as the assembled staff began to file out. “You two – amazing job today. Thank you.”

“This is all Inna,” Ammer said. “Her paper is a gorram Tigarden Set.”

“Is that the one where you keep zooming in and finding detail? I lose track.”

“Yup. I ever tell you the humans found it on Earth, too? The data dump we picked up twenty years ago had a few references to it. Forget what they call it…Mendalbaum Set or something. Same thing. Smaller you get, the more detail you see.”

“That’s a lovely metaphor for you being awesome, Ammer,” Inna said. “I’m stunned you thought of it.”

Ammer grinned up at Inna. “Actually, I was referring to your paper. Further in you get, the more the fine structure emerges. Makes the dark matter paper look like garbage.”

“And my tits…eghehgur….” She choked off, realizing where she’d been going with this. “Sorry, Representative, forgot you were there for a half second.”

“Nice save. Almost didn’t know you were comparing your breasts to your white paper.”

Innanae blushed to match her hair, freckles receding into the wash; to keep up, Ammer blushed a shade deeper.

“I’m heading out,” she said, winking to the two. “Don’t stay up too late. You’ve got to get to work early tomorrow.”

“Yes, boss,” Ammer said.

“Yes, Representative,” Inna stammered.

Loona got to the door of the conference room, turned, and said, “Kids, if you decide to just be awkward and silent and embarrassed now, you’re both fired. I need to get home so I can order dinner in time to see Felltree obliterate The Hierophant. You both need to get home too.”

“My office isn’t far, and as for Inna….”

“I’m sure you’ll be in your office, and she at her apartment. Just as I’m sure The Hierophant could beat Iron Maiden. Goodnight, you two.”

Loona left, and Inna and Ammer did the only thing they could – they burst out laughing, for about a solid five minutes.

When they finally broke, Ammer said, “Well, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to look the boss in the eye ever again.”

“Just remind me tomorrow morning not to wear anything remotely low-cut, sweet stuff.”

“Deal. Oh, and Inna….one last time, now that office time is over – I really am sorry. And not just because I was wrong.”

Inna smiled, and folded her arms.

“Your idealism is the best thing about you. It’s why I love you. Don’t ever lose it, no matter what I tell you.”

“Idealism is fine,” Inna said, scooping Ammer up, “but you had a point. You have to pick your battles carefully. After all, pick the wrong one, and you just might get in trouble,” she said, bringing him to her face and affecting a wicked grin.

“Gorram…all right,” said Ammer, “I guess I’ve earned some punishment.” The look on his face did not suggest he viewed this with anything other than sheer anticipatory glee.

“Okay. We’re stopping by the ladies’ room quick,” Inna said. And she dropped him into her shirt.

Ammer hit Inna’s cleavage and bounced back up; he grinned as he tried not to drop too far into it. Inna was perhaps forty tons or so overweight, which Ammer had told her many times were the forty tons that transformed her from stunning to unbearably beautiful; she carried at least 40 tons of her weight in her breasts, giving Ammer far too nice a bed. As she walked, he chuckled, bouncing off of them as if he was on a trampoline. He thought at Earth gravity this might get a bit dangerous, but here on Archavia it was simply tremendous fun.

Inna reached the ladies’ room, found a stall, and retrieved her boyfriend, setting him atop a toilet paper dispenser. “All right,” she said. “Clothes off. I’m not washing that suit given what I have planned.”

That got Ammer’s attention. He really wasn’t sure why Inna had taken them into the restroom, and he realized this could go in some directions that he didn’t really want it to go.

Inna chuckled as she saw a momentary look of panic cross his face. Exactly the reaction she’d been going for. “Don’t worry,” she said. “Not that.”

Ammer sighed with relief, and disrobed; Inna laughed again as his underwear came off; he was clearly looking forward to seeing what punishment she had in mind.

“All right,” she said, grinning. “We’ve tried this before, but never for quite as long as I’m planning.”

“Oh…oh no,” Ammer said. “You don’t mean….”

Inna scooped him up with her left hand, and pulled her skirt and panties out with her right. “Yup. I do. Shuttle ride’s boring. This should make it more bearable. For me. Little warmer for you, I suppose. Now, remember….”

“…yeah, not so far that you’re screaming,” Ammer said, half-nervous at the prospect of spending a full human hour in transit back to Inna’s place tucked between her thighs and vulva, and fully joyous. “I know. I remember the coffee shop.”

“Hmm. So…think about what you’ve done, mister,” she dropped him into the hammock of the front of her panties, and snapped them shut.

* * *

Ted stared down at the two. They had been arguing a bit, though about what, he wasn’t sure. He heard Hala’s name more than once; clearly, these two goddesses knew about her, if not where she was exactly.

He looked through the grate. The cris-cross pattern would allow him to slip through, though he wasn’t sure he could survive the drop to the floor, even on Titan. Still, he had to follow them around. If they knew about Hala, and he tailed them, maybe they’d lead him to her. He just had to figure out how to get down.

Fate would conspire to help him.

The ventilation system cranked up, pushing warm air through the junior officers’ wing. Had Ted been set better, it wouldn’t have mattered, but he was caught as he started trying to carefully back his way off the vent. He lost his footing as the air pushed him off-balance.

He fell through the gap, twice his size, desperately flailing for purchase, fingers just grasping the edge. He dangled 180 feet above the ground, staring down with some concern.

He tried to pull himself up; he weighed but 25 pounds here, and if he had a better grip, he might have been able to do it, but he was hanging on by two carbon-fiber-clad fingertips; he was slipping.

“Vyaya, ҍaκ!”

He heard one of the women shout at the other, and realized that he had managed to blow his cover.

Well, at least Hala wouldn’t be alone.

“Mιt? Aшмoκpaм!”

He looked down. The two women were staring up at him.

Suddenly, the pilot jumped from her seat.

“Z’nanιэι jxxiм! Θa jaκayaxxaκ!”

She took a position right under him, and stood up as tall as she could, stretching her arms and holding a palm below him.

“Mazaz. Jπozi. Θaza δεn θo шyiπэε. Эixшapjo.”

He couldn’t understand her words, but he could place her tone; she was speaking softly, kindly. Her eyes were wide with concern, and dark and deep as infinity. He didn’t know if she intended to turn him over to her superiors, and frankly, he didn’t care. Something inside him told him to take the leap of faith. If this didn’t work out, well, just to have had the chance to meet her would be something he would always cherish.

He dropped.

He didn’t fall overly fast, but it was fast enough that he expected the landing to hurt. It didn’t, though; the woman caught him clean, adjusting her body as much as her arms to cushion his fall, and he landed in the soft, yielding flesh of her palms. The sensation of being carried downward and the gentle, concerned look in her eyes overloaded his senses. He simply gawked as she brought him down carefully.

Tig fought against the urge to squeal at the pilot’s adorableness (why’d she think he was a pilot? He looked like a pilot, she thought). Doing that would hardly demonstrate respect for him. Instead, she cradled him carefully, and carried him down to the floor, slowing his momentum to a stop. Whatever her duty was, she had no intention of trapping him on a table.

“There you go,” she said. “You’re all right. I’ve got you.”

Ted stared up at the Titaness. The adjectives his unconscious mind tried to call up to describe her – monstrous, behemoth, terror – were swatted down by his conscious. Finally, he settled on astounding. Astoundingly large. Astoundingly beautiful. Simply astounding.

Even on her knees, she rose up higher than a warehouse. As he tried to gather her visage in, a part of him began to make idle observations that he throttled; there was no time for that. Not only was finding Hala his first priority, but a man could get crushed to death trying that.

Not that it wouldn’t be worth it.

“I know, you can’t understand me,” he said to his savior and possible captor. “But thanks.”

The words coming through the speaker on his helmet made no sense to Tigoni, but she smiled down, as the tiny astronaut laying on the ground smiled up at her weakly.

“Tig, turn on your translator, he’s speaking English,” Ulala said. “It should be on file.”

“Translator activate,” Tig said. “Ulala, obviously….”

“Oh, right,” the xenolinguist said, kneeling next to her bunkmate. “Who are you?” she said, switching to English.

Ted’s eyes went wide. It was clear that the shorter one – such as she was – spoke English. Obviously, they’d been studying his species for a while.

“Lieutenant Colonel Teodoro Martínez, United States Army Air Force, chief pilot, Terran Space Ship Stanisław Lem. Sorry for the intrusion, ladies.”

Tig giggled, and pointed to herself. “Decanus Tigoni Belfsec,” she said.

“Princeps Ulala Ix,” Ulala said. “You are one of Major Nejem’s crewmates?”

“I…honestly, I’m not sure whether I should answer that, or stick to name, rank, and serial number. Are you going to detain me as well?”

“Onh,” the pilot said firmly. She looked at Ulala with eyes ablaze. Ulala sighed. Great. Now she was going to get in trouble too.

“No,” she said, finally. “Our duty probably requires it, but…my friend would never speak to me again.”

“Didn’t quite get that. Hope you’re saying no.”

“And saying you’d kill me if I said otherwise.”

“Good. Can you translate for me?”

Ulala rolled her eyes. “Sure, why not? Lt. Col. Martínez, I’m going to translate for my friend here.”

“I’m sorry,” Tig said, as Ulala began to translate. “First, we both have computer-aided translators, so I can understand you, but I do not speak your language; Ulala does. Until we can find a computer translator for you, she’ll have to speak for both of us, so I’m sorry for that as well.”

Ted got onto his feet, and unsealed his helmet, pulling it clear. “I’m surprised either of you can understand me, let alone both. I’m not complaining. Why aren’t you detaining me?”

Tig looked at Ulala, and said firmly to Ted, “There are many reasons, but the first…I was one of the observers on the craft that ran into your crewmate’s vessel.”

“Then you hit me, too. Were you piloting?”

“Not on this particular mission, I’m rated as a pilot, but I was sitting at the sensor controls.”

Ted grinned. “Had you pegged as a pilot. I was actually at the helm of the Sally Ride.”

“Saliride? Is that your vessel’s name?”

“Yup. Named for the first woman from my country to fly in space. Good little ship.”

Okay, he felt the ground firmly beneath his feet.

“So Major Nejem…is she okay?”

“Yes,” Ulala said. “Though not happy we will not allow her to go home.”

“I have to admit, none of us are particularly happy about that. You might say we’re pissed off. That translate?”

Tig smiled sadly. “Lt. Col. Martínez, I got the gist of it, and…well, I’m ‘pizedof’ too. The decision’s been made at a higher rank than mine, but I do not agree with it at all. It is wrong. Your Major Nejem deserves to go home. I saw what she did. She is a hero.”

“That she is, Decanus Belfsec. I am here to try to recover her,” he said, realizing to his amazement that he was addressing the giantess as if she were on his own level, as if this perspective made some sort of sense. He decided not to question it; nothing could be gained if his brain started registering the reality of his situation.

He smiled at Tig. “It sounds like your outfit functions a lot like mine. I can’t ask you to ignore your duty and disobey your superior; I know you’re already probably in trouble if they find out you saw me. But as a fellow pilot, I’m asking if you’ll at least look the other way and let me try to find Hala.” He looked at his feet. “It’s my fault too. I know you hit us, but I should’ve seen it coming. I need to get her back…whatever the cost.”

Tigoni’s heart leapt into her throat. She studied his face – kind, with every sign that he laughed easily when he was not as worried as he was now. He was handsome; she did not doubt that he had his pick of human women back home, and frankly, she envied them just a bit. He seemed to shine with an internal light, an aura that she could feel resonating with her own.

She understood this brave little pilot; she thought she would have understood him without the translator. If their situations had been reversed, she would be doing what he was doing – searching for her comrade. And deep down, she thought if she had stumbled into his giant base, he would help her. She thought he understood her, too.

Tig said something to Ulala in the alien language, and the two argued for a second, before Ulala sighed heavily. “I can’t do that, Lt. Col. Martínez,” she said. “But Tigoni insists she can, and better. She says she will actively help you. I…well, I have learned better than to argue, so I will not interfere. May I ask you, please, should you be caught, to say that you only ever saw Decanus Belfsec here? Not me?”

Martínez smiled at the giant pilot. He was right. She understood. “All right, Princeps Ix,” he said, acknowledging the translator. “I never saw you. Given your size, guess my eyesight must be going.” He breathed deep. “Thank you, Decanus Belfsec. You’ve no idea how grateful I am.”

“I probably won’t have that rank for much longer,” Tigoni said, smiling. “Call me Tig.”