“Those who cannot understand how to put their thoughts on ice should not enter into the heat of debate.”

—Friedrich Nietzsche

Two weeks before Election Day, and Tannhauser West was as close as it could get. The Kokinae Report had moved the race from “Leans Incumbent” to “Toss-Up,” and polls all put Armac and Zapat within a percentage point or two of each other.

This had not gone unnoticed in the Imperial Media. While the conservative majority of Rodrec Zeramblin was expected to hold on, it was likely to lose some seats. Zapat’s seat was one of those that would determine whether Zeramblin would have a comfortable majority or a need to scramble.

So Zeramblin himself had come through the district – he was no fool, he stopped in Stoboda, the most conservative part of Tannhauser – and though he didn’t move the polls significantly, he’d given Ammer exactly what he needed to plan Loona’s course.

“He thinks it’s a base election,” Ammer said, gratified that Loona knew enough about politics that he didn’t have to explain it. Zeramblin turned off more people in the district than he could ever get excited. But the Floor Leader seemed to think it would be a close, low-turnout election – and whoever could get their base more excited would win that kind of an election.

Ammer wasn’t convinced. He still thought there was room for either candidate to motivate the toss-up voters. But that meant a very different endgame than a base election. If he steered Loona at her base, threw them red meat, she could maybe ride a wave of enthusiasm to a narrow victory – but if it turned out that moderates turned out, they might switch to Zeramblin. If they worked for the moderates, though, then Loona’s core voters might get annoyed with her, and stay home. And if it really was a base election….

He rubbed his temples. “Mr. Smit, can I get you anything?”

He looked up at the voice, coming from the billboard-sized face staring down at him. “No, Malya, thanks, you’ve got better things to do. Dontabo can grab it.”

“It’s no bother,” Malya said.

“Nah, I’m fine,” Ammer said, leaning back. “Just trying not to screw this up.”

“You won’t,” Malya said.

“Heh.”

“Really,” Malya said, leaning forward. “This campaign is running as well as any I’ve worked on, and you’ve got the boss in position to win.”

Ammer blinked. “Um…well, it’s hardly me.”

“No, it is. Even the members of the staff who were leery about working for a human say it. We all have faith in you. Especially me.” She leaned further forward, to the point where Ammer was bathing in the scent of her gazia-flavored gum. “Honestly, I’ve never….”

She leaned just slightly further…and caught herself, just in time. With a squeak, she pulled back from the kiss she’d been about to plant on her boss. “Um…gods,” she said. “I’m…I’m sorry, I…I should….”

“Malya, were you about to….”

“Yeah, Mr. Smit,” she said, turning away. “I’ll have my resignation to you.”

Ammer smiled. “Like hell you will. It’s a campaign. Emotions are always a bit over-the-top. You held up. Know that I’m flattered, but I’m sorry. Really, I didn’t come here for…you know…that.”

“I’m an idiot.”

“Nah, you’re, what, twenty-six? I’m 22 in Earth years, or thereabouts. We’re about the age where if you’re lucky, you only almost do things you later regret. Really, I’m not upset.”

“I’m an idiot.”

“Not hardly. But Malya, if I may ask a personal question…I’m curious as to why you held up. I couldn’t have stopped you, you know.”

Malya turned back to him. “Yeah, well…that’s exactly why I held up. Because Ammer…Mr. Smit, I mean….”

She took a deep breath. Ammer could see she had tears in her eyes. “Chief, because you couldn’t stop me, I had to stop myself. If you’d said, ‘Come back here, give me a kiss,’ I would’ve,” she said, with a weak smile. “But it’s okay. I know you can do better….”

Ammer laughed out loud. “Malya, don’t read too much into it. You’re sharp, and you’re pretty, and you’re kind. Someone who’s less wedded to their job will meet you and fall head-over-heels. It isn’t me, but that’s my loss. Now, send me your resignation if you want, but I will reject it. You’re too good for us to lose, and the race is too close. And as long as you feel like you can work for me, I want you on staff.”

Malya smiled sheepishly. “I…you’re a good boss. I mean, by politics standards. And despite my stupidity…well, I hope….”

“I’m not here to be anyone’s friend, Malya. But when the campaign ends, I hope you’ll keep in touch.”

Malya smiled a bit more. “All right, chief. I hope…you can forget….”

“Forget what?”

Malya nodded. “Well, I should get back to work. If you need anything, let me know.”

“I will. Oh, and Malya?”

“Yes, Mr. Smit?”

Ammer smiled. “I appreciate you stopping yourself,” he said. “And…I appreciate you asking,” he said with what was, for once, something of a shy smile.

“Yes, Mr. Smit,” Malya said, with a smile and a nod.

Ammer watched her go, and let go of a long, long breath. To say he was tempted was an understatement; Malya was his type, though a bit taller than usual. He hadn’t dated a Titan woman before and wasn’t planning on it, but a sharp, politically-driven woman of any size….

But he had to stay focused. He had a job to do.

He grinned, and shook his head, and double-checked to make sure his amplifier was off. “Smart girls,” he said. “Every gorram time.”

* * *

Loona triple-checked her outfit. Her charcoal suit was pressed, and the shirt she wore under it was exactly Imperial green. The zitsek yaros pin she wore on her lapel was straight (not that it could really be crooked) and polished to stand out on vidscreens. She was about to check her hair again, when Ammer sighed.

“Boss, you look the same as you did two seconds ago. You’re fine. Malya will make sure you don’t have any spakkal stuck in your teeth before you go on.”

“I know,” Loona said. “Really, I do. Fire some more practice questions at me.”

“Nope,” Ammer said. “Not gonna do it. You’re ready. I told you before, Zapat’s lousy at debates, and he’s an incumbent, which makes him lousier. Remember last year, when you and Dr. Bass teamed up to obliterate that guy from TETH and Tobin Whatshisface?”

“Tobin Gernhatt,” Loona said.

“Right, Gernhatt. You crushed them. You’re good at this, trust me.”

Loona looked back at her campaign manager, and closed to the desk where he sat, and stared down at him.

There were times when she remembered how fragile humans were, how tiny they were in this vast world. She had played with Niall’s holoprograms enough to know how enormous she must be, how she must loom over him. Her shadow, she noted, completely covered him; she literally was blotting out the light.

It had to be daunting, talking back to her. Keeping her grounded. Pushing her when she needed pushing. It must be so very hard to tell your Titan boss no, even if she needed him to.

“Thanks, Ammer,” she said, finally.

“You’re welcome, boss.”

There was a knock on the door, which opened almost immediately. “Okay, they’re ready.”

“Kick his butt, boss,” Ammer said, turning to the vidscreen, which was displaying the news feed. “I’ll see you afterward.”

“Will do, Mr. Smit.”

Malya led Loona through the backstage area, to the side of the stage. Loona could see Zapat on the other side, talking with his Chief of Staff, Artusus Jonen.

Lykae Dalca was halfway through his patter, and Loona’s nerves were jangling. But she swallowed, and stood a bit taller, as Dalca said, “Fellow citizens, let me introduce Ms. Loona Armac, and Rep. Hyteregon Zapat.”

Loona strode across the stage, reaching the center and waiting a moment for Zapat to get there. He looked old, Loona thought. His always-thin hair had receded to the top of his head, his trademark mustache had faded to gray. Some men and women look more distinguished when they age; the lines on their faces showing evidence of their wisdom and experience and solemn judgment.

Hy Zapat didn’t look distinguished. He just looked tired.

Loona smiled, and shook his wrist. “Good luck, Representative,” Loona said.

“And to you, Ms. Armac,” Zapat said. Though he looked tired, Loona recognized that his orange eyes were focused as ever.

She walked back to her lectern, and took a drink of water. And the debate began.

For the first three-and-a-half hours of the debate, not much transpired that would interest non-Imperials. That doesn’t mean Loona and Zapat didn’t trade barbs, or push each other, or play to the crowd. Nor that there were a few times – on how to deal with the Insectoids, for instance – where both complemented the other for recognizing that the Hive represented a serious threat to peace in the Orion Spur. They were in the home stretch now; the last hour of the debate was free-form, with each candidate proposing a topic and the two discussing it for a half-hour. Loona’s topic – funding for education – had just concluded, and while Zapat had done a very good job of deflecting, Loona thought she’d drawn blood a few times, especially in a district where education was a major industry.

Loona felt good; she felt like she’d stayed ahead of Zapat throughout the evening. Back in the Armac campaign suite, Ammer was reasonably happy, as tracking responses showed Loona slightly ahead, but he wasn’t deliriously so. If the last half hour of the debate finished the way the first three-and-a-half did, it would be a minor victory, probably good for a point or two.

There were but six days until Election Day. A point or two could prove decisive.

Perhaps Hy Zapat sensed it too. He’d been running for many years, he knew how this worked. Maybe, like a boxer down on points going into the last round, he felt like he had to throw a haymaker, and go for the knockout. Or maybe it was part of his plan all along. Regardless, the phrasing of his topic caused Loona to react in surprise, even though she had to expect it.

“In the three-and-a-half hours we have talked, Ms. Armac, we have not discussed the Emperor sitting in the corner,” he said. “Your campaign manager and pet, Ammer Smit.”

“I’m not sure how my choice of campaign manager impacts people in this district, but go on, Representative,” Loona replied, taking a sip of water.

“Your campaign manager is a human,” Zapat said.

Loona considered responding in mock-surprise (“What? I thought he was just short!”), but instead, simply nodded and said, “Well, yes, he is.”

“And you don’t think this is odd?”

Loona shook her head. “Considering how well my campaign has been run by Mr. Smit, no.”

Zapat shook his head. She thought she could see just a hint of respect there; he’d been hoping she’d give him an opening to launch his attack. No matter.

“So if I were to hire a shaar to run my campaign, you’d find that to be completely normal?” Zapat said. There were a few gasps from the crowd; Zapat had opened himself up and swung hard.

“I might find it unusual,” Loona said, evenly, “but if it turned out the shaar was intelligent, could talk, and direct your staff, and was competent and capable…well, I’d applaud you for recognizing that shaars are actually intelligent before others had. For taking a chance, and risking the ridicule of others.”

“Yes, if it ran my campaign well. But it wouldn’t run my campaign well. It’s a shaar. Shaars chase tupps, they like to be petted behind the ears. They don’t run campaigns. Oh, I might be able to trot it out, pretend it was running things, but it would be a joke. Really, there’d be someone intelligent running the show. Like, for instance, how Malya Stanzal is really running your campaign.”

Loona shook her head. This line of attack had not occurred to her.

“Look, Ms. Armac, I understand – your campaign has received funding from the head of the Aenur Foundation, from Naskia Freeman – you’ve been supported by people who have been arguing that humans are our equals. And picking out a pet human as a figurehead is a delightful way of making it appear that they are. But you and I both know they aren’t.”

Loona looked across the stage at Zapat. He was baiting her, and in a remarkable way. Essentially, he’d proposed a conspiracy theory – and it’s almost impossible to disprove a conspiracy. If she shot it down, it would be meaningless. Trot Ammer out to talk, and he’d have been fed lines. Have Malya deny it, and it would just be proof she was in on it.

She couldn’t take the bait. She had to be more circumspect.

“Representative, this is a fascinating theory,” she said, sarcasm dripping from her voice. “May I assume you’re also planning to claim that the work of my friend, Nonah, is a similar lie?”

Zapat nodded. “Honestly, Ms. Armac, that’s the one that confused me. Why would you deny authorship of these marvelous books? Of course, given how many books you’ve sold, I can’t criticize you. Remarkable marketing, truly impressive.”

Loona grinned, and gave a stage chuckle. “Well, you’ve proposed a very interesting hypothesis. If you are correct, Representative, I’m one of the finest liars ever to live in Tannhauser, a con artist of the first degree. So clearly, if I say that this is completely ludicrous, a theory in search of a conspiracy, you’ll say that’s exactly what you expected me to say. I’m impressed.”

“Oh, I am, too,” Zapat said, echoing Loona’s sardonic tone. “But come on, Ms. Armac. You’ve got a chance to admit it here. Surely it has to bother you, these lies? Come clean, admit the truth. You’ll feel better.”

A few Zapat supporters chuckled.

Loona looked across the stage, and side-stepped the jab. “Representative, why do you think I must be lying? Are you so sure that humans are inferior that you would rather believe I was running a long con, denying my own talent, with the largest publisher outside of Aementos backing me up on it?”

“Their checks go to you, don’t they?”

“Yes, Representative, but –”

“So what do they care? They’re selling books too. I’m sure they’re thrilled.”

Loona shook her head. She needed to be more careful. Less sarcasm, more facts. “Representative, there are two possibilities here. One is that there’s a massive conspiracy. The other is that humans are as smart as we are. Given that a human is a tenured physics professor at Tannhauser Gate University….”

“Niall Freeman is no professor. He’s a parlor trick,” Zapat said. “He’s amusing, but he’s a way for Hussel Bass to keep teaching after he’s retired, a way for him to get his daughter some extra money.”

Loona leaned in, just a bit. She could feel the opening. She couldn’t see it yet. But she could feel it.

“You really are quite certain that all the humans around are being propped up by Titans,” she said, shaking her head sorrowfully. “You’re sure that it’s all a big façade. But I asked you before – why? Why build this elaborate fantasy? I mean, is it really so absurd to think that humans could be our equals?”

“Yes, of course it’s absurd,” Zapat said, annoyed. “I find it ridiculous that I even have to say that.”

The opening was becoming clearer. The weakness in his defenses.

“Well, that makes two of us,” Loona replied, to a light chuckle from the audience. “So we’ll go with the conspiracy, one everyone’s in on, to make it look like humans are competent. And I’m in the middle of it. I’m sorry, Representative, I had hoped you’d be better than this.”

“Look, maybe you’re so deluded you really think they’re people, but they’re not, Ms. Armac, they’re not,” Zapat said.

Loona threw a jab, at his weak spot. “What are they, then? Even by Imperial standards, they’re Class Two Sentient Beings. They are sentient. They demonstrate intelligence. Why can’t you believe they’re people? Why the insistence on my secret machinations?”

Zapat threw his arms wide, as if unsure how to deal with this confused woman. “Maybe I am wrong. Maybe you’re just delusional,” he snipped.

“Oh? Do tell,” Loona said, taking a sip of water.

Zapat shook his head. “They’re pets!”

“Pets who can run a campaign. Teach at a college.”

“Look, I know you can train them, they talk, they’re friendly enough. But they aren’t Class One Sentients! It’s obvious! They simply lack the mental capacity to succeed in this Empire.”

Loona leaned back, just a bit. She gave it just a second, to replay what he’d said, to make sure she was right.

“They lack the mental capacity to live as loyal followers of the Emperor,” Loona said, quietly, just loud enough for the crowd to hear her.

“That’s what I said.”

“I wasn’t talking about your statement,” Loona said. “With all due respect, Representative, I was remembering something another member of the legislature once said. ‘They have not the mental capacity to live as loyal followers of the Emperor, no matter what some may claim.’ Is that what you’re saying?”

There was precisely one gasp from the crowd, but Zapat ignored it. “Yes. Exactly what I’m saying.”

Loona looked across to Zapat, and wound up. “Aren’t you curious who said that?”

“Not really,” Zapat said. “Someone with common sense, clearly.”

Loona threw the punch. “It was Floor Leader Garba Gleebo,” she said. “She was talking about the Dunnermac.”

The color drained from Zapat’s face. This was rather like someone connecting the dots between your language and that used by George Wallace or P.W. Botha. The crowd murmured in shock.

“This…I’m sure she didn’t say that. I mean…that is…can the moderator please check that? I doubt Gleebo ever said anything like that.”

“Ms. Armac?” Dalca asked. It was a standard rule of legislative debates – moderators were allowed to fact-check if both sides agreed.

“Please do, Lykae,” Loona said, surprising nobody. Both sides always agreed; refusing to agree was basically admitting you were lying.

Dalca calmly looked at his pad, and nodded. “Almost verbatim, from the debate on the Dunnermac Equality Act. A minor difference, Gleebo said ‘followers of the Emperor,’ not ‘loyal followers of the Emperor.’”

There was silence in the hall.

“I’d like to amend my remarks,” Zapat said to the moderator, finally, but Loona could see it clearly. She’d staggered him. Time to press her advantage. She interrupted.

“This isn’t the legislature, Representative. You don’t get to revise and extend.”

Zapat stared at her, and blinked. “I…well, I mean, Gleebo was wrong, obviously. But we’re not talking about Dunnermac….”

“We’re talking about humans, Representative, yes, I know. Just as Gleebo made sure to say that she wasn’t talking about Tannhauserans or Savarnans or Colonials, but Dunnermacs. She wanted to be just as clear.

“And as your predecessor in this seat, Tez Magilna, responded to Gleebo in that very debate, ‘And a hundred years hence, will it be the Avartle we talk about, not the Dunnermac? Will it be the Ler, not the Avartle?’ Well, it turns out it was the humans, but only because Floor Leader Magilna fought to make sure our fellow citizens on Homeworld-of-the-People and Fribbulus Xax were made citizens at the same time those on Great Ocean were. Had she not, would you be explaining today that the Ler lacked the mental capacity to be citizens?”

“This is ridiculous,” Zapat said. “Humans are pets!”

“Yes they are. For now,” Loona said. “And some people will never dare to consider that they could be anything else. Just as Gleebo went to her grave insisting the Dunnermac were inferior. But others – the people of this district – they’ll keep their eyes open. They’ll study their evidence. They’ll see that some humans can have success, and they’ll ask if others could, too.”

“What, the bigoted citizens of this district?” Zapat retorted.

Loona looked at Zapat sadly. This attack, she’d expected. “Representative, I count myself among the bigoted. Before my friend Nonah wrote her first story, she was basically living on my charity. She couldn’t work. She didn’t earn any money. I bought her food, clothes, kept her sheltered.”

“Like a pet,” Zapat said.

“Yes,” Loona replied. “But Nonah found a way to earn a living. Her husband, Dhan, found a way to earn a living. They were lucky – they had Titans around who supported them in their endeavors, and I’m proud to say I was one of them. Today, what they earn is far in excess of what I do. And yet I’ve been insisting on paying well over half the bills in our household. You know why? Because I’m a Titan, and humans aren’t supposed to provide for me.”

She shook her head. “Nonah called me on that. I’d supported her. I could at least let her pay her fair share. What had stopped me? Bigotry,” Loona said. “Well-meaning bigotry, but bigotry. When I say we Titans are bigoted, I don’t mean that we are irredeemable. Not every bigot is evil. Sometimes we just haven’t had a chance to unlearn what we’ve been taught all our lives. The ones who are willing to see what’s in front of their eyes…those people may be bigots. But they won’t remain so for very long.”

She looked back at Zapat. “Ammer Smit is my campaign manager, and he’s as good as they come. If someone wants to think me weird for hiring the best person for the job, that’s their problem. Not mine. And definitely not his.”

A goodly portion of the crowd erupted in applause at that point, which in turn caused the moderator to remind the crowd not to applaud until the end of the debate.

Zapat stared across the stage at her, and shook his head slightly in resignation. He could continue to push on; there was time. But he knew it was better for him to cut his losses.

“Well,” he said, “if that is your final word on the matter…we’ll leave it to the voters to decide if it’s a problem or not.”

Loona nodded, and beamed victoriously. “Indeed, Representative. We will.”