2164 AD
૨૧૨૫ MA

The sun was setting over Atlantis, and the first day of meetings was wrapping up. Of course, the Titans were happy to continue on; unfortunately, the humans were running out of energy. This was not their fault; a day from now, when Titans were sleeping through the day, the humans would be up and running. The Titans and humans who believed in equality all admitted that one prejudice that was hard to shake was that the other one was always sleeping; those who transcended it usually said their epiphany came when they realized that both of them saw the other that way.

Pryvani Tarsuss was quite delighted with the way the day had gone. Oh, Forna Qorni had shut her mouth after her gaffe that morning. (Thyllia had sent Pryvani a note on the Imperial coverage of it; Pryvani hadn’t needed the note, though. Qorni had damn near pitched her pad across the holodeck earlier, and only stopped herself when she realized Pryvani was watching her. It was fairly obvious that taking the side of Keeran Leffen with regard to the Rutger Massacre was an even more foolish choice now than it was two decades ago.)

“You know, you didn’t fool me.”

Speaking of Forna Qorni….

“Pardon me, darling?”

“Oh, drop the formalities,” Qorni said, taking a seat across from Pryvani on the tram. “The little stunt with the Titan wandering by, scaring us. It was obviously a stunt.”

“Obviously,” Pryvani said, fishing out her pad. “It was meant to illustrate a bit of human life. And stunt or no, I believe you understood the message.”

“What, that they’re weak? Pathetic? Yes, I understand that, Lady Tarsuss.”

Pryvani slid her pad back into her purse, and looked up. “If that’s what you think, dear, you understand absolutely nothing. I heard the terror in your voice. Now imagine that this isn’t an illusion. Imagine that this is your life, and that despite that, you are stepping forward to demand that those giant monsters take you seriously. Weak? Pathetic? Representative Qorni, they are quite the opposite.”

“The ones here aren’t stupid, I’ll give you that,” Qorni said. “But they’ve got you to show them what to do….”

“Representative,” Pryvani said, in a voice she generally saved for her children. “I can promise you this: they did much better once I got out of their way. It has been other humans who have helped them more than anything. This tram we’re virtually riding on – we bored out the hole that ran from Tayas Mons to Atlantis. They bored out the rest, everything under Atlantis – they did that. Laid the track. Planned the route. Built the trains. Drove the trains. Laid down the electrical grid. Built the power plant that powers Atlantis. Built another, better one. Built another one that was better still. In twenty-three years of my not telling them what to do, they have advanced farther that I’d dared hope – and they are rushing forward faster than I can imagine. You can think what you want of them, and you will, but I have been here, and I have seen it with my own eyes.”

Pryvani leaned back. “I imagine you’re worried about the potential political fallout for the conservatives. If you would be willing to work with us, I would be willing to work with you.”

Qorni laughed. “Right. That’s the reason I’m fighting this.”

“It isn’t?”

“They aren’t strong enough. They aren’t smart enough. They aren’t…us,” Qorni said.

“Who are you trying to convince?”

Qorni glowered. “Sen. Tarsuss, do you know what will happen if we extend the vote to humans?”

“Yes,” Prvyani said. “Humans will vote. Some will vote intelligently, some will vote foolishly, just like everyone else.”

“We will forever change the character of the Empire. You know that if Earth were to want to join the Empire….”

“Yes, Titans will be a minority in our own Empire. I am well aware of that. And when that day comes, we will have to adjust. We could always go back to Archavia and live by ourselves, but if we intend to be citizens of the universe, then we will have to realize that we are not a majority of the universe.”

Qorni threw her hands up. “You give up on us very easily.”

“I have far more faith in the Titans than you, I fear,” Pryvani said. “Anyhow, I did not expect to convince you. I’m not sure if you really believe that humans are lesser creatures, but you do really believe that your political future is tied up in blocking emancipation. It’s too bad, really. I remember how skillfully you led the biennial budget negotiations four years ago. Smooth as the Bozedam Ocean. Now you’re flailing like a tupp caught by a shaar.”

“I don’t have to listen to this,” Qorni said, rising from her seat.

“It’s unfair, I suppose. You would have been a very successful Floor Leader if you’d been a politician in normal times. Of course, some say that’s true of Gleebo.”

“Frak you,” Qorni said, walking down the aisle and away from her hostess.

“Not a chance in Hadia,” said Pryvani with a sugary smile.

* * *

“I am curious, Madam President,” Maybel Zimm said. “You say we are going to dinner in the city. How?”

“A bit of holodeck magic,” Joca Haerst said, “and a lot of planning. The restaurant we’re going to has a dedicated holodeck up at the compound. Once we all get there, you’ll be slipping out of your holosuite and into the one for Rixie’s.”

“Rixie’s? There’s a Rixie’s here in Atlantis?” Lord Theracy said. “Goodness, that’s adorable. My daughter Aiopr is a franchisee, you know. She runs two on Seretana and a small one in the Tantalus Shipyards. Of course, it’s Magister-Imperator Tam’s restaurant, and she lives here, so I suppose it makes sense.”

“It does, though not exactly for that reason,” Haerst said, as they approached the sprawling Rixie’s complex in downtown Atlantis. “Hello, Madam President, how’d your day go?”

“Very well, Madam President,” Dia Velos said with a wave. “We even brought the Secretary of Health and Medicine along.”

“It didn’t take much convincing. Jaya is up to her eyeballs in Earth literature to file. I think she was happy I was going to stay out longer. Hello, ladies and gentlemen,” Thio added, bowing slightly to the new group. “I’m Thio Smit. Your group should see me tomorrow, if I have the rotation correct.”

“Their main research hospital is surprisingly advanced,” Rep. Proteu said. “Dr. Smit, you should be proud.”

“Dr. Archer is the one most responsible for that. I’m happy to be building on his foundation.”

“Pardon me for asking, but Smit…are you related to Ammer Smit?” asked Torak Bakadal.

“He’s my son,” Thio said, with a prideful smile.

“He’s a pain,” Bakadal said, though he said it with a wide smile, while offering his hand. “No offense, Dr. Smit. Or to you, Madam Minority Leader.”

“He has his job precisely because of that,” Loona said with a chuckle. “It’s his primary responsibility.”

“And he’s excelled at it since he was a child,” Thio added with a smile.

“It appears we’ve been keeping you late. My apologies,” Pryvani said, as her group approached. “Shall we?”

They were ushered through the main entrance of Rixie’s, then off to the side and into an elevator, which was large enough for all twenty-one of the people on the tour. Soon enough, they exited into a nicely-apportioned private area, with a bar area on one side staffed by a gregarious man with graying temples and a winning smile, and with four tables set for six each on the other.

“Now that we’re here, a few of us will need to step out for a moment,” Pryvani said.

“Why?” Alvi Sest asked.

“Well, we need to move to the holodeck that’s been set up for bar service, of course,” Pryvani said with a smile.

“Remarkable! I had almost forgotten we were in a holodeck!” Blrrr said. “A most convincing illusion indeed! Lead on, LerPryvani!”

Pryvani grinned, and seventeen people saw a door open in the wall, as their holodecks opened precisely on cue. “This way, please.”

The group met back in the junction by the main holodeck, and followed Pryvani down the hallway to Holodeck Rhombil, where a very tall woman was waiting for them.

“Hello, boss. I thought I might join you.”

Qorni fought the urge to laugh at this little performance piece; obviously, Rixie Tam was going to welcome them to her own restaurant. Still, she let Pryvani and the retired imperator banter a bit, and let her mind drift for a moment. Nothing important was going on – the Newsfeed 808 reporter was asking about rumors that Tam was actually the Iron Maiden, and she was responding with the boilerplate response that Darren Avery had given earlier.

“All right, welcome back to Rixie’s,” Rixie said, opening the holosuite and waiving them in.

“So when did you decide to put a Rixie’s in Avalon?” Lord Theracy asked. “It’s very well done. The humans do the construction?”

“They did,” Rixie said. “And I didn’t decide to put a Rixie’s in Avalon. There’s been a Rixie’s here before there was one anywhere else.”

“I see, well that…wait a moment. What?” Theracy said, doing a double-take.

“This was the first Rixie’s,” Rixie said. “Well, technically, the first Rixie’s was in old town, but this is that restaurant’s direct descendant – when that one closed, the staff moved here. Rixie’s number one.”

“I don’t understand. Why…why did you build a restaurant for humans first?”

Rixie smiled. She’d been the official founder of Rixie’s for a long time. And for the entire time, she’d wanted to say what she was about to say.

“I didn’t build anything. My fiancé did. This is the founder and CEO and veritable soul of Rixie’s Restaurants Limited, Alex Carey.”

The bartender sighed. “Founder and CEO, sure, but Rixie has always been its soul. That’s why it isn’t Alex’s. Anyhow, who wants a drink?”

“Wait…wait. Wait a moment,” Lord Theracy said. “You didn’t follow us out into the other holodeck, so I’m guessing…you’re a human?”

“I am,” Alex said. “From Earth, originally. Insectoids grabbed me and would have eaten me, but my lovely fiancée saved me. She thought I was a silly and annoying human, but in her defense, I am.”

Theracy smiled warily. “So you founded this restaurant in Atlantis…and then Magister-Imperator Tam took the idea Empire-wide?”

“Really, he did,” Rixie said. “Well, he and Renna Tolemtra did. For obvious and unfortunate reasons, Alex hasn’t been able to be the face of the organization.”

“Renna’s a better one. So’s Rixie,” Alex said. “Incidentally, Lord Theracy, when you get back to Seretana, tell Aiopr that she was absolutely right about the express location at Tantalus. I was skeptical, I must admit, but it’s beating even her projections. Let her know to expect a call from Renna about a couple opportunities based on her success there.”

“I…I will, Mr. Carey. Incidentally, do you have any hustain?”

“Do I have hustain? Do you want Aiat 5 year, Vilvi 6? No, I think I know,” Alex said with a grin. “Krysisiai 9-year. Been saving this for a special occasion. This seems like a good one.”

“You have the 9-year? Have you had a chance to try it?”

“As good as advertised,” Alex said, opening the bottle. “And there are my other servers, right on schedule. Folks, if you want a drink, queue up. They’re on the house.”

“On…I didn’t get that idiom,” Xeum Agace said.

“Sorry, slipped into English. They’re πεpεмv αδ м|xαnnwv.”

“No price better! Glorious pathetic human, do you know the Ler song ‘The Glorious Battle of Glory’?”

Alex grinned. Yes, priced at a song was metaphorical, but he never turned down anyone who wanted to take it literally. “Honorable Representative, I am excited about the possibility of hearing its majestic sound!”

* * *

It was quite an excellent dinner, though that was to be expected. Alex had served Chicken Avalonae – true, it was printed meat, but Alex was very particular about Titan versions of Earth meats, and he had long ago gotten the printed chicken to nigh-perfect. The dish itself was his version of an Avalonian standard that was something of a cross between a curry and a tajine. It was one of the first non-Terran dishes he’d mastered, not long after the original Rixie’s opened, and it had opened up a whole new world for him, literally.

Of course, he didn’t serve the basic version of Chicken Avalonae. He’d actually worked on the recipe for this reception for a solid month until he got it to the point where he could scale it up and make it work.

A few of the visitors eschewed it, of course, but Blrrr was loudly complementary about the T-bone steak he’d printed for her, which she’d manage to down, bones and all. The seaweed-sea bass salad had earned kudos from Rep. Zimm, and the Avarlte representative was quite pleased with the fruit and crab plate, which included real, full-scale crabs, which were, after all, about the right size for insects as far as the Avartle were concerned.

Alex was glad he had his best people on point, because he found himself waylaid by Lord Theracy, who was only slightly inebriated, and who was increasingly and expansively complementary about Rixie’s, about Avalon, and about humans in general, much to the annoyance of Forna Qorni, who tended to glare anytime Theracy started talking about his baby daughter’s business.

“I mean, I knew that some of the food was influenced by Earth food, but who knew a human was behind that! I mean, obviously, you were, at some point, but head chef! And CEO! Goodness…I mean….Did Aiopr know? About you?”

“We talk to franchisees about it,” Alex said.

“She always was a liberal,” Theracy said with a chortle. “Not a surprise. It’s good she’s smart. Her sister will succeed me, but Aiopr will probably be worth more when it’s all said and done. I mean, she’s always been a liberal, I said that, didn’t I? But she’s smart with money. You keep working with her, you’ll both…all…you’ll all do well.”

“I have no doubt,” Alex had said with a chuckle.

A table away, Forna Qorni picked at her food and, not even looking up, said, “You three are very quiet.”

“Not really a place we can talk freely,” Dicero Falut said. “Is it?”

“I suppose not,” Qorni said, glancing over her shoulder. Two of the reporters were eating a table over; they were trying hard not to look like they were eavesdropping on the conservative table. But Qorni felt sure that at least one picture of the dinner would tell the tale – the four conservative representatives generally looking defeated, the rest of the group happy and boisterous.

“If you’d like, I can get you a private room,” Tevik said, walking by. “Or if you wish, you can leave the holodeck and go back to your suite.”

“Thank you, Tevik,” Qorni said. “I do appreciate it, but don’t worry about it. Do sit down, please.”

“Happy to,” Tevik said, grabbing a chair and setting his glass on the table.

“Something I’ve been wondering,” Qorni asked. “Your accent – I can’t place it, exactly.”

“Oh, I’m sure of that,” Tevik said with a grin. “I was born in Vorsha and Azatlia. My mom grew up in a small Vorshan-Azatlian world, and my dad was born here, but he spent a good chunk of his early life in Rutger, and they were both in the military, so…well, it’s a bit of a mess. I’m glad you can understand it.”

“It’s unusual, but it’s not tough to understand,” Bakadal said. “You ever talk to anyone from The Depths? Now there’s an accent. Almost have to turn my translator on to get it.”

“How did you come to be on Avalon, then?” Qorni asked, eyes narrowing.

“Long and boring story,” Tevik said, taking a drink.

“Is it. I noticed that your glass has a blue band on it, Mr. Ridvan.”

“Does it?” he asked, setting it down.

“I wish I’d gotten a glass with a blue band,” Sest chuckled. “Red’s considered an unlucky color in Sector Six. Silly, I know, but….”

“All of us have plates and silverware with red bands,” Qorni said. “All of the Titans, anyhow. But the Avalonians, and Alex Carey, and the ‘doctor’….”

She looked back at Ridvan, with cold fury in her eyes. “You’re a human.”

“You know,” Tevik said, taking a swallow of his drink, “It’s funny. You’re not certain of that, are you? Maybe I am. Maybe I’m using a blue-band glass to mess with you. You didn’t even question that I was a Titan until now. And again, you don’t know that I’m not.”

“Lady Tarsuss!” Qorni barked, causing the room to go silent, and three reporters to turn on their cameras.

“Yes, darling?” Pryvani asked, with a Cheshire grin.

“How dare you lie to me! This man is a human!”

“Yes, dear, he is. He never said he wasn’t. Neither did I.”

Qorni opened and closed her mouth. She thought back on the conversations they’d had. They’d certainly implied Tevik was Titan, and he was Titan-sized, but….

“You used a hologram. He was using a hologram in the hangar.”

“Obviously,” Tevik said. “You probably wouldn’t have thought I was a Titan if I was four centiunits high.”

“But I…I told you…I demanded a Titan escort us, and you….”

“A Titan did escort you, Rep. Qorni. You’re looking at her,” Pryvani said. “Not that Teddy would have ever guided you wrong. But you asked for a Titan, and I obliged you. And I’m glad, it’s always nice to see Avalon from a human perspective. It reminds you just how little we differ, really.”

The room was silent for a good ten seconds, before Torak Bakadal finally asked, “Who’s Teddy?”

“Sorry. That’s my actual name. Teddy Xanthopolous. Name would have been a bit of a giveaway,” Teddy said with a grin that Pryvani found exceedingly familiar.

“Councilor Xanthopolous agreed to guide you as long as we didn’t overtly lie about it. And we didn’t.”

“It was a lie of omission,” Qorni said, rising angrily from the table. “It was designed to trick us.”

“Indeed, it was,” Pryvani said. “And it worked. Teddy was right. You couldn’t tell. Not for sixteen hours. If he’d grabbed a red-banded glass, you might never have known. And he would have, if we hadn’t wanted you to know.”

“You faked his size!”

“With all due respect,” Teddy said, finishing off his drink, “I’m actually here in this room right now. It’s you who’s ‘faking’ your size right now, Rep. Qorni.”

The room was quiet again, except for a loud chortle from Ciseusi Theracy.

“Cute,” Qorni said. “So your father is Darren Avery?”

“Darren Xanthopolous, Representative. He took my mother’s name. You haven’t heard of my mother, I know. She’s just a human to you. But she’s saved thousands of lives through her service to Avalon. Now, they are just human lives, I suppose – you can count it as hundreds of lives, if you’d prefer.”

“We will be leaving Avalon as soon as possible,” Qorni said.

“I won’t.”

Torak Bakadal looked at Qorni evenly; she stared back at him in shock. “What do you mean, Rep. Bakadal?”

“I mean I won’t be leaving. After sunrise there’s another round of tours to go through. My constituents elected me to go to Tuaut to study issues for them. I admit, this whole thing is rather strange, but…well, Mr. Xanthopolous has been a steady guide for our group, and I’m curious to see their hospital.”

Qorni went through the political calculus quickly. She looked beyond Tarsuss to Loona Armac, who shot her a wink back.

“Rep. Bakadal, you’re right, we won’t,” Qorni said, switching to a magnanimous tone. “I apologize, I was upset by what was, unquestionably, deceit. But you are correct, we are here to study Avalon. And whatever personal slights might come our way, we must rise above them, and do our jobs. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Lady Tarsuss, I would like to go back to my suite for a while.”

“But of course, Rep. Qorni,” Pryvani said. “Right this way.”

She swept Qorni out of the holodeck and into the corridors. “Mr. Saha, there at the end of the hall – he can get you back to your room. Remember, we resume the tour in six hours.”

Qorni looked over her shoulder to make sure that no reporters were in earshot, and said, “You just made a very powerful enemy, Sen. Tarsuss.”

“Oh, my dear Rep. Qorni,” Pryvani said, with a wide smile. “Do you honestly think I have more to fear from you than you do from me?”

* * *

Another Avalonian day passed, this one without incident. Forna Qorni made a point of saying nothing throughout the day. She felt somewhat better after she got a chance to talk to Sest – who had basically said that he saw clearly that humans were people, that they were the clear equal of Titans, and there was no way he could vote to emancipate them and not lose his next election, so he’d stick with the majority. He had told her that he’d vote for emancipation if the majority allowed him to, and hinted strongly that he was hoping the majority would…but he would vote the way she told him to when the time came.

Dicero Falut had also committed to stand against emancipation, for almost precisely the same reason. She said she remained unsure about whether humans were Class One; she opined that maybe the humans in the Empire could go back to Earth or come to Avalon if they desired freedom.

Torak Bakadal was…well, he had committed not to commit to anything. That was the best she could get for now. She would figure out a way to put pressure on him. There was always something.

For what little it mattered.

Qorni sat in her suite, looking out over the lights of the tiny city of Atlantis. A tiny city with millions of humans who would soon be Class One Sentient Beings, whether she liked it or not.

It was over. She could see that now. Even as she knew she could hold 450 votes firm, even as she knew she could probably oust Zeramblin and gain the Floor Leader’s perch once he made his move, even as there were dozens of moving parts that still could be moved, she could see the endgame very clearly. If this was a Tol-Bot round, her troops would be cornered.

Perhaps she could have taken Lady Tarsuss up on her offer, but what was the point? Even if she wouldn’t have to forgive the blatant disrespect Tarsuss had showed her, demographics were demographics. They couldn’t give humans the vote without upsetting the balance in the legislature, and once those first few rocks let go, the avalanche would bury the conservatives. It would be a generation before they could claw their way back, if it would be that soon.

As she saw it, she had two options. She knew that there was some wisdom in surrendering now, coming out in favor of emancipation. It would cost a lot of representatives their jobs, and it would almost certainly guarantee a loss in the next election, but it would set the party up for the future. It was the route the conservatives had taken after Tez Magilna became Floor Leader, and it had saved them.

But as much as she understood the strategic sense of that, she also knew that doing so would mean giving up any hope of being a consequential Floor Leader. Oh, she might hold the position as a caretaker for a month or two, while new elections were called, but she would be just that – a caretaker, waiting to hand the job to Loona Armac. She would be at best a footnote in Imperial history. Nothing more.

Perhaps a better person than Forna Qorni would have sacrificed her life’s ambition for the future of her party and the betterment of the Empire. Perhaps. But she was who she was, and the drive that had taken her to the legislature was strong. It would not let her consider giving up, not when there were still moves to make.

And so she focused on the only other option. She would play for time. They hadn’t gotten very far planning for a loss, but then, her staff had been looking at it as a fallback plan. But it wasn’t a fallback anymore. It was the plan. Her staff was good. They would find something. Would it be enough to give them a chance after the dust settled? She didn’t know, but it was all she had.

She had a year. The biennial budget process would take precedence; under the Charter, it had to. She could stretch it out a year before the Emperor would have to consider dissolving the legislature. She couldn’t risk that – if the legislature fell before emancipation, Armac could campaign on it and win. But if the legislature fell after emancipation, and if things didn’t get out of the gate smoothly….

She had to play for time. She had to see if there were any outs left. If there was anything she could do to mitigate the damage. And she had to do as much as she could to keep Armac from locking this in. There was always a chance that this would be a disaster, and if so…there was always a chance for a different legislature to fix it.

And that legislature would need a leader who had fought this battle all the way to the end, even in defeat. Who had warned that it would all end in tears.

She lay down in her bed, wearily. She didn’t sleep easily. But she slept.