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“This is it, Jimmy,” Elaine Ridgemont said, waving her arms for emphasis. “This is the fuck-up I’ve been waiting for.”

Her husband nodded, as he sipped his coffee and read through sports scores. He was aware of the fallout from Lennox McClure’s story; it had landed like a lightning bolt in the middle of the world’s consciousness, and it had been the dominant story for three days. But he was much more interested in the scores of the DC United match; he was the grandson of a Senator, but Elaine was much more like his grandpa than he ever had been.

“Not that I blame them entirely,” Elaine mused, as she scrolled through her own newsfeed. “Can understand why they wanted to sit on this, but the public, bless their hearts, are not going to see it that way. And that can’t help but help those of us who’ve been trying to slow this headlong rush to one world government. Especially if we play up the fact that they didn’t trust the people to keep their heads.”

“The people haven’t been keeping their heads,” James replied. “Not exactly. There were riots in Jerusalem, you know.”

“Oh, I know. And demonstrations in New York City, and Brasilia, and London, and Tokyo, and Beijing…the people are mad. But so far, they’ve stopped short of riots. Well, other than Jerusalem, of course. And Mumbai.”

“Floor session today should be entertaining.”

“Oh, yes it should,” Elaine said, with a grin; she’d been in contact with the minority leader. They were going to wait a few days before they introduced the vote of no confidence. Let the majority dangle. They already had enough votes to bring the House of Humanity down, for the first time in its history; only question was whether they’d push for Lî to resign as well.

That said, she was starting to think they were better off waiting on Lî. He was well-respected, and his interview with McClure and his address to humanity had been, if not well-received, at least not received with open hostility. He had apologized, and explained why Earth’s leaders had done what they did; he could repair some of the damage. He was skilled, no doubt. If they went after him directly, they’d risk blowback. Better to whittle away at him over time, and hurt him enough that he would lose in ’67.

“So are you going to run for Secretary-General again?” Jimmy asked.

“Probably. But first things first…I’ve been talking to your grandfather. I think it’s time the Republicans took back the White House.”

“President? Interesting.”

“I know you’ve always wanted to be First Gentleman. And Thornton is going to have a hard time winning with this weighing him down. Pretty much every incumbent will.”

“You know what surprises me?” Jimmy said. “People are a lot angrier at our governments than the Titans.”

“Oh, that’s not surprising,” Elaine said. “The Titans are there. We’re here. Long as they don’t bother Earth, most people don’t honestly care what happens to the humans in the Empire. Always been that way, always will be, I’m afraid; it’s why people traded with South Africa during Apartheid, or Saudi Arabia when they were oppressing women, or Mandé during the West African War. That’s someone else’s problem. I want my gold, or oil, or what have you.”

“Still, they’ve lied.”

“Not to our governments, which is why people are right to be angry with them. Our governments could have told us whenever they wanted to. They’ve known since the first. Not the fault of the Titans that they didn’t want to shout their worst traits to the world. Fault of our leaders that they heard them, and didn’t share them.”

“I suppose. So what do you advocate? End relations with them?”

“No, no,” Elaine said, with a smile. “They are providing defense. And the article about what the Insectoids did to that one colony…well, we do not want that happening here, and we’re not ready to prevent it, yet. But that doesn’t mean we’re going to be meek. Not anymore. After all,” she said, “we are not pets.”

* * *

“It’s easy to pretend that what’s happening in the Empire doesn’t matter. The Titans keep humans as pets, but so what? Depending on who exactly is keeping me as a pet, it might not be so bad, right?”

The audience laughed as Sam Baxter waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Right? But you wouldn’t be saying that if someone was keeping you in a cage, and dragging you out to do tricks for them, now would you?”

Baxter hosted perhaps the most influential political talk show in North America, one that blended satire, comedy, and commentary. The format was hardly new – shows like his had been in existence since “The Daily Show” back in the 20^th century. But like many a great artist before him, Baxter took the format and made it his own. He was immensely popular, and one of the few talk show hosts left that most everyone knew and followed.

“See, I come out here every night, and I act like a clown, and then I get to go home and have dinner, maybe go out with my wife, maybe go to bed early. If I ever get tired of the routine, I can quit and do something else, though of course, I’m not qualified for anything else, and my wife would not be happy, but what’s she gonna do? She doesn’t own me,” Sam said, as his director lowered the studio lights twenty percent, and turned the spotlight up. “But what if she did? What if she could force me to come out here and act like a goofball, and keep me from eating if she didn’t like it? What if she could manhandle me into a cage ‘for my own protection’ and not give two shits about whether I liked it? What if she didn’t see me as a person, but as a little cocker spaniel, a parrot, a cat? Even if she was nice, well, she’d still be telling me what to do, every step of the way. Now, imagine she’s the size of a skyscraper, and you tell me how I fight back.”

Baxter paused briefly – just briefly – for effect. “Now, we’ve joked a lot about how Titan women all have triple-Q bras, and Titan men…well, let’s just say I’m not going to compare things with them at a urinal. And that’s all well and good, some of them are attractive, hooray. But I don’t care how pretty you are, owning another person is sick and wrong and evil. And guess what? It’s just dumb luck that I get to tell you that. Because I guarantee you, somewhere in the Empire there’s a human who’s ten times as funny as I am, who is right now, as we speak, doing some sort of routine to entertain their master in hopes that they’ll get another fucking bit of human chow or a better litter box, and if you think that doesn’t affect you, that just affects them, well, stay the fuck away from me and my family, because you’re the type of person who thinks a disease isn’t a big deal unless you have it. Every human being in the Empire has a disease, ladies and gentlemen, and whether it spreads here or not, they’re suffering, and if you have a shred of decency, you’re suffering with them. We’ll be right back.”

The crowd roared in affirmation; Baxter leaned back and sighed. He really didn’t like getting serious. He was a comedian first. But in the few days since the news had broken, the discussion had been about how this affected Earth. Well, fuck Earth. Not literally, he liked it here, but Earth was fine right now. He didn’t have to see the people in the Empire to know how much this sucked for them. He had his imagination. And while he didn’t know how to start fighting this, he knew enough to know that people had to start worrying about the people who were actually suffering.

His producer waived her hand, and Baxter sat forward. “All right,” he said, “Welcome back to The Recap; my guest tonight is the journalist who broke the story, welcome back to the show, Lennox McClure.”

* * *

“We have faced colonizers before,” the African MP for Dakar said. “We know what they want. They will take our land, they will take our wealth, they will take our very dignity. I have said from the beginning that they represent a threat, that they cannot be trusted. The leaders of this government have demanded secrecy. But to what end? I told the distinguished First Minister that I did not trust them, and he said to be patient. He did not trust you, my friends. I do.”

Amadou Touré sat down, and folded his arms, staring daggers at the First Minister. Filfi Adjaye chuckled and shook his head as Touré’s partisans jeered; he knew better than to engage him directly. Instead, he nodded to a man sitting in his row, rather inexperienced to be serving in the cabinet – well, inexperienced in the parliament.

“The Minister of Space Affairs, the member from Harare South, Mr. Marechera,” the chairwoman said, as Tatenda rose to his feet.

He was still not sure what had possessed him to go into politics after retiring from the JTSA. It wasn’t a natural fit. He’d had offers to teach from basically every university on the planet, he could have worked with Mukta Chandrasekhar in R&D, he could have done almost anything. Instead, he’d accidentally listened to Adjaye, and found himself as an MPA candidate for office, and now, as a cabinet minister. It seemed ridiculous.

Then again, while Marechera was a man of science, he was also a man who had lived through a very near brush with death; a series of close calls had allowed him and his crew to survive the day. He didn’t know if fate guided humans through their lives, but he couldn’t rule it out, and…well, somebody had to respond to Touré. It might as well be him.

“We are very familiar with the colonizers. Indeed, for many of us, the memory is fresh.” That brought jeers from much of the hall; Touré was a better man than the first Amadou Touré, and a much better man than Daoud Touré, but he was still here because his grandfather had run roughshod over western Africa. Mandé was a far more recent colonial power than France or England, and few Africans had forgotten it.

Tatenda smiled, as the room quieted, and Amadou Touré glowered at him. “The member from Dakar is correct in what colonizers want, of course. They do want wealth. They do want land. They do want dignity. So let us look at what the Titan Empire has taken from Earth. Have they stolen our wealth? Far from it. Historically, they blocked our planet off when it appeared that our wealth might be taken, our culture might be impacted. Today, they share a station they built with us, and allow us free passage in their territories. Do they want our land? They could take Earth, tomorrow, but they have not. They have agreed that Mars and all the worlds orbiting Jupiter are ours. Yes, they dispute Saturn and the outer solar system, but to be fair to them, they reached those lands first. A people that enters an unclaimed land may claim it; that is a fact of international law. By our own history and laws, the outer part of our solar system is theirs; indeed, they could have pursued a claim to Mars or Europa or Ganymede had they wished – even Ceres. I was not, after all, the first person to set foot there; only the first human.”

He looked down, and looked up. “Now, our dignity – yes, the member is right – they have taken it from us, for generations upon generations. Not from Earth – they have left us alone, for the most part, albeit with some troubling and horrible exceptions – but our fellow humans, those who live on Avalon, and especially those who live in the wider Empire – their dignity has been stolen from them. They have been denied the right to self-determination, the right to liberty, even the right to call themselves what they are – people.”

Tatenda looked over the room. “And yet, while the Empire has failed humanity, there are many, many Imperial citizens who have not. I was almost killed by a Titan. I was saved by many Titans, working together across several worlds and on ships in the depth of space. Titans who recognize what, yes, they always should have – that we are people. Not pets. People. These people are winning the day. They are working – too slowly! – to grant our siblings the dignity they deserve. And when they do that, and I believe they will, then what will they have taken from us? Time, perhaps – but none can alter time. We can only repair our mistakes and go on together.

“If the Titans were the colonialists that my friend from Dakar suggests, this would not be the case. Ask any general, any admiral, they will tell you the same – the Titans could easily take Earth. Every one of us could be made into a pet. Our natural resources could be carved up. Our planet and solar system could be theirs. It would take them days. Perhaps hours. We are not ready to fight them, and even if we were…they command an Empire. We command a planet – sometimes.” Marechera looked around. “They are not colonialists. Were they, they would have taken our freedom already. I do not ask my fellow members to forgive the unforgivable. But I do ask you not to fear that which is not in evidence.”

“And what, Mr. Minister, do you propose we do if they do not free our fellow humans?” Touré said, rising to his feet. “What should we do in that event? Simply accept it?”

“Of course not,” Tatenda said. “But let us get to that point first.”

“Your government still conspired to hide the truth.”

Tatenda smiled. “And yet you were in that meeting, were you not, Mr. Touré? The one where you were told about humans being held as pets? You did not rush forward to share the information with the world. Why not?”

Marechera continued to smile; Adjaye had told him exactly why not, but it was hardly something Touré could admit. All he could do is say, “I deferred to the First Minister’s judgment.”

“So you did. You would not have done so if you did not see at least some wisdom in it. Do not mistake me – I am glad this has come out. We should know the truth about the Titans, the good and the bad. And I do think, in retrospect, the information should have been shared. It was wrong not to. But do not pretend that the First Minister was foolish and wrong, when you agreed with him at the time. If he was foolish and wrong…I do apologize, but to say more would put me in violation of the rules against slandering a member of the body, and I would not do that.”

The chamber laughed at that, as Tatenda sat back down. Adjaye looked over at him, eyes twinkling. Marechera had shut down the loudest voice in the opposition, and done it ably. Hopefully, this would start to calm people’s fears. Adjaye made a mental note to talk to Tatenda; he knew the MPA would need a new leader going into the next elections. He wondered if maybe, just maybe, that leader was a relative newcomer to the parliament.

* * *

“Sam, you know I’d tell you if this was corruption or evil, but I don’t see it. As far as I can tell, the governments are telling the truth – they were worried about panicking people. Now, they were way, way, way offsides, but it was incompetence, not evil. They should have trusted us. They didn’t.”

“You’ve gotta admit, I don’t always trust us, we’re pretty stupid,” Sam Baxter said, drawing a laugh from the crowd.

“Well, it would help if people would stop rioting. That’s just proving their point,” Lennox said, wearily. He knew he wasn’t bringing his top game here, but he was exhausted. It had been a long 80 hours, and the fact that the riots had killed six people…well, he felt guilt over those six, even knowing that he’d done the right thing. They might have been alive if he had been willing to spike the story.

He didn’t regret it. But he lamented it.

“It is, Lennox, that’s stupid and wrong and damn it, if we’re not dumb animals, we should act like it. Now, you’ve said you know you’ve just got a snippet. You know there’s much more to the story. What’s next?”

“I’m working with the Aenur Foundation to get interviews with humans held as pets. For now, they’re going to be by video chat, but not forever; long-term, I intend to go to the Empire and see their lives for myself.”

“Dangerous.”

“It is, I suppose, but I’ve told you what they’re facing there; the least I can do is go cover the story. Go share their troubles. Not saying it doesn’t terrify me….”

“I bet. That’s why I sit here and complain for a living.”

“You’re smart,” Lennox chuckled. “Until then, I’m happy to say that Buzzfeed has been able to begin following the Empire’s main news channels; while they’re hardly unbiased, we’re now able to share much more information coming in unfiltered than ever before. And we’re going to be sharing that information as we move forward, starting with next month’s vote on Azatlia; it’s entirely possible that within a month, there will be a part of the Empire where humans are recognized as people. That is a hopeful sign.”

“Let’s hope it’s just the beginning,” Baxter said, shaking Lennox’s hand.

* * *

“I don’t see a way around it,” Forna Qorni said, shaking her head. “We’re going to have to raise the room-and-board credit ten percent in High Density-Alpha worlds, and eight percent in High Density-Beth, and if we don’t want the rural voters to scream, we’re gonna have to raise the baseline by five percent. That’s gonna blow a hole in the budget, and then some, but if we don’t do it, we’re at serious risk of losing supply.”

Zeramblin nodded. “All right. Threaten Tradition – tell them that we’re going forward, and that honestly, if they bolt, the alternatives are to call snap elections or work with Aspire, who would be more than happy to support us if we raised the baseline by seven. It’ll mean a tax increase, but I think we can manage to keep it sane if we keep the education funding increase down to two percent, which will be tight for them, but let’s be honest, we’ve been pushing education hard the last ten years, and room-and-board has suffered for it; time to flip the script.”

“I agree,” Qorni said. “And I’ll remind Tradition that Loona Armac would be happy to raise taxes to cover the whole thing.”

“Do that, because it’s true,” Zeramblin said. His pad buzzed.

“Mr. Floor Leader, Ambassador Martin is here for your meeting.”

“Thanks, Roda. We’re just wrapping up. Actually,” he said, considering for a moment, “Forna, you stay for a second. No reason you shouldn’t be here for this. Roda, send the Ambassador in…give us five minutes.”

“Yes, Mr. Floor Leader,” the receptionist replied.

“Really, Mr. Floor Leader, I…would rather not,” Qorni said.

“Get over it,” Zeramblin said. “You admitted just the other day that Earth was going to have to be recognized. Well, that means their Ambassador is no different than Ambassador Keyor.”

“Still…I would rather wait until we’ve managed to kill the human emancipation issue.”

“And I’d like to have the build of a veeball defender, but we can’t all have everything we want. Forna, if you’re gonna have my job someday, that means you have to understand what you can and can’t control. If an Ambassador representing ten billion people asks for a meeting, you meet with them.”

“’People.’”

“People, Forna. You and I both know that nothing’s stopping that ship. What happens to the humans in the Empire is still up for debate, but the humans on Earth are going to be seen as people, no way to block that.”

“That will make it very hard….” Qorni began, but the door buzzed, and opened.

“Ambassador Martin,” Zeramblin said, standing up. “Good to see you again.”

“Likewise. You remember my assistant, Sev Tralo?”

“Of course,” Zeramblin said, to the Titan who was carrying the diminutive Terran Ambassador. “Good to see you again, Mr. Tralo.”

“And you, Mr. Floor Leader,” the man said, setting Robyn on the desk of the Floor Leader; he quickly placed a chair for her, and then said, “I will be outside if you need me, Ambassador.”

“Thank you, Sev. Mr. Floor Leader, will you be so kind as to alert Sev when we’re done?”

“Of course, Ambassador,” Zeramblin said, reaching out a finger to shake Martin’s hand. “And tell Roda that I said you should get the blue-key treatment. She’ll know what that means.”

“Thank you, Mr. Floor Leader,” Sev said, quickly taking his leave.

“Now, I don’t believe we’ve met, but you’re the Deputy Floor Leader, Rep. Qorni, correct? Robyn Martin, it’s nice to meet you.”

Qorni was nonplussed; she had made a habit of not treating humans as people, even when it would do no harm. She knew that even giving the slightest indication that she recognized their sentience would undermine the argument that they weren’t sentient. Still, the Floor Leader was right – Earth was legally recognized as an independent entity. And this was their duly recognized ambassador. Protocol dictated she show respect. And there wasn’t a camera crew in the room.

“It’s…a pleasure to meet you, Ambassador,” Qorni finally said, though she did not reach out a finger.

Martin gave her a slight smirk, and turned back to Zeramblin. She did not return to her seat.

“Mr. Floor Leader, thank you for meeting with me. I’m afraid I’m not here on a friendly visit.”

“I expect not,” Zeramblin said. “How are your people taking it?”

“Well enough, as far as it goes. Riots in two cities, massive protests in most other major ones, but so far, only muted calls to kick Ambassador Bass off the planet. Still, my governments have asked me to formally reiterate our objection to the status of humans in the Empire; we continue to condemn their treatment in the most stringent terms, and demand an immediate end to their being held as property.”

“I imagine this is a bit more pointed now,” Zeramblin said.

“As I told Ambassador Bass over one of your years ago, God help us all if this comes out. Well, it’s come out. I have no idea how this will shape up, but I expect the House of Humanity to call new elections, and the government that replaces them will be less receptive than the current one.”

“So what?”

Zeramblin and Martin both turned to Qorni, who was sitting with her arms folded.

“I beg your pardon, representative?”

“So what? What are you going to do if we don’t change? You can’t defend yourselves, you need us to keep the Insectoids off your world. You want us to pull the Gyfjon and Minatar out of the system, leave Titan Station? It will save us lots of money. We could use it to help fill our budget deficit.”

Martin shook her head. “Rep. Qorni, you should probably talk to the Floor Leader about diplomatic customs; while our phrasing is a bit different, both Earth and the Empire have traditionally used formal language in our discussions.”

“You little…how dare you come into this office and lecture me about….”

“Forna, this is my office, and you are speaking to the Ambassador from Earth,” Zeramblin said, coolly. “To use the proper phrasing, your conduct is deeply abhorrent, and continuing such conduct would make you a detriment.”

Qorni blinked; Zeramblin had used the formal language of Imperial politics. Translated, he had said bluntly that if she didn’t shut her fucking mouth, he would fire her for conduct.

It would trigger a rift in the caucus, might bring down the government. But the truth is that if he fired her for insulting an ambassador, even a human one….

“I apologize,” Qorni said. “However, I might remind the ambassador that the Empire has taken a pro-active stance in defending Earth, and we would regret if that were to change.”

“See? Now that’s a diplomatic threat properly delivered,” Martin said, with a sardonic smile. “I would simply remind the Representative that Titan Station does not just protect Earth, but Azatlia and Vorsha as well, and by extension the bordering Seretana province; I don’t think you would want to be angering distant-coreward constituencies given the razor-thin majority your government has, but that is of course your government’s prerogative. At any rate, the governments of Earth recognize that we are both in your peoples’ debt and rightly aggrieved by your peoples’ treatment of the children of Earth who live under your government’s rule. It is because we understand both to be true that we are here.”

“So you aren’t going to kick us out of Sol Earth,” Qorni said.

“Representative, I am a human. We have faced down extinction more than once; we are not going to kick you out of Sol Earth because we believe your government may yet listen to reason, and may yet decide to do the right thing, and free our fellow humans. But if the day should come when we cannot believe that, if the day should come that your government should decide, once and for all, that humans cannot ever be your equals…well, at that point, regrettably, we would have no choice but to view your government as a hostile entity, and take what steps are necessary to defend ourselves and others.”

“You would fight us? We’d destroy you in twenty seconds,” Qorni retorted.

“Perhaps,” Martin said. “But as I said, we believe it need not come to that. We would much rather be your ally then enemy, and I believe the converse is true. But you know how we live; time for us is not as long as time for you. We cannot wait forever, and we will not wait forever. We ask simply that you understand this.”

“We do, Ambassador,” Zeramblin said. “Please reiterate to your governments that we are continuing to study the matter, and hope to bring our discussion to a close within the next two Titan years. I recognize that is thirteen of yours, but….”

“Mr. Floor Leader!”

“Representative,” Zeramblin said, “I will speak with you after the Ambassador leaves. As I was saying, it will be thirteen of your years, maybe less, but no more, at least, such is our hope.”

“I will communicate that to my governments. And as I have said before, Mr. Floor Leader, I recognize that this is a significant change in a short time; we do appreciate your continued discussion, and your continued support of Earth. And while we must assert our independence and willingness to defend our fellow humans…..”

“Were I in your shoes, Ambassador Martin, I could do no different; understand that we recognize precisely why Earth is aggrieved, and exactly what a failure to change the status of humans in the Empire could lead to.”

“Thank you, Mr. Floor Leader. I shall. You may call in my assistant.”

Five minutes later, Qorni stared daggers at Zeramblin in the otherwise-empty office.

“Tell me,” Zeramblin finally said, after studiously ignoring her, “do you think she was bluffing about fighting us?”

“That’s what you ask me?” Qorni fairly shouted.

“Yes,” Zeramblin replied. “That’s what I ask you. Do you think she was bluffing?”

“Obviously.”

“Well, you’re wrong,” Zeramblin said. “She isn’t. We have pretty good intelligence on Earth now. Defense spending on the planet had been dropping like a rock for twenty years. It’s soaring now, and based around weapons that would work in space. Nothing for us to fear, not yet, but then, twenty years ago they hadn’t gone past their moon. You think twenty years from now they won’t be willing to fight us, on their home turf? And even if they lose – you think they won’t draw blood?”

“They wouldn’t dare. The Insectoids….”

“…would rout them. I know. But then they’d rout us.”

“So we should prepare for war, then,” Qorni said. Zeramblin laughed.

“Is that what you get out of this? No, Forna. Fighting a completely avoidable war is a stupid idea, always. What happens if we win? We get to occupy Earth? Think they’ll just take it in stride, greet us as their new overlords with no worries? Think the public will enjoy watching the military slaughter humans, or worse, the blowback when the humans kill one of our soldiers? Don’t misunderstand – they don’t want war. But they can’t let this stand. Think how we’d feel if the Drazari owned Titans, how we’d feel if the Ler kept us as slaves. They’re going to push us diplomatically, but if we don’t do something, they’re going to eventually push us militarily.”

“We can’t just free humans. We’ve been over this….”

“That’s fine, and all. But tell me – if you were her, what would you have said different than she did?”

“I would have been more sensible than to threaten. Stupid human….”

“You were the bellicose one, Forna. You were the one who invited the threats. You were the one who threatened to pull the CAP on Sol Earth, just because they were upset with us. The only reason I haven’t demanded your resignation is that I know it would bring down the government, and what’s more, there’s a fifty-fifty chance Loona Armac would be forming the next one. She said, flatly, that Earth despises how we treat humans, and while they’re willing to be patient, they aren’t gonna be so forever. Well, frak, that’s just logic. Not a sentient species in the universe would see it different.”

“So you’re going to appease them, then?”

“No, but I gorram know what the cost of opposing emancipation will be. Not just in the Empire, but in the Orion Arm.”

“You’re leaning toward it, aren’t you?”

“I am undecided, Forna, and if you want to ensure that Loona Armac is the one to call the question, you take that and run with it. There are a lot of moving parts here, and it’s grown beyond just our parochial concerns. That doesn’t mean I support emancipation, but it does mean I’m open to the idea, and frankly, given the polls, I don’t think it will matter much if we beat it back now. The government that follows will be more pro-human, and the government that follows that will be more pro-human…it will pass eventually. The question is whether we want to keep fighting a rear-guard effort or rip the bandage off. It’s a matter of time.”

“I refuse to accept that. We can still stop it. And I will demand that you not call the question without submitting it to a vote by the cabinet.”

Zeramblin laughed. “Frak you. The statute is clear. When you’re in this seat, you let someone tell you to give up your statutory authority, and you’ll say the same thing. Now, I know calling the question without giving fair warning will lead to me being sacked, and I’m not stupid. So you can rest assured that the cabinet will know if and when I call the committee to a vote. And again, Forna, you want to put Armac in charge, you go for it, and make a play. But then, she’ll call the question the second she’s in my chair; I’m willing to wait a bit, and see how I ultimately feel when the committee’s done. You’ll bury it, but again, odds are good you won’t get the chance.”

Qorni shook her head; the bastard was right. “Mr. Floor Leader, I will continue to work with you because in the end I believe that you will do the right thing. But if you will not, then regrettably, I will view you as hostile to the conservative caucus, and I will act accordingly.”

“Told you – you wouldn’t have said anything different than Martin,” Zeramblin said. “Now, get out of here, before I decide that maybe today is a day to bring down the government after all.”

Qorni stormed out of the office, and headed for her own. No question, it was time. It would take a year or so to get everything in order, but she had to act now; Zeramblin had to be taken out, before the committee reported.