The morning of the rally dawned grey and windy, though it was comfortably cool, and no drizzle was forecast. Aranta and Jako had been pleased with this; mediocre weather usually drew the best numbers for rallies. If the weather was too bad, people stayed away; if the weather was too good, they found other things to do.

And the rally’s attendance was actually quite heartening – eighty thousand Titans strong. Certainly, the Titan Party had topped that number in the past twenty years, but no protest group had managed it. And that was the Titans, who were easy to count. With the humans who they knew were there, there had to be over a hundred thousand.

They crowd had listened rapturously when Pesa and Enti spoke of their attempt to simply get their citizenship papers, of the assault on Enti, of the peacekeeper more interested in threatening Terta than seeking justice. Terta had followed, and her line – “I guess the peacekeeper had other loyalties” – brought a bitter laugh from the crowd, who understood exactly where those loyalties lay. As Temis launched into one of his classic stemwinders, Jako couldn’t help but smile. He could feel the crowd making the connection between the humans’ struggle and the other forms of bigotry, and the general fight against the Titan Party. He could feel them making the leap, understanding that their fights were intertwined. And though the Black Block was holding a counterprotest nearby, they had left this rally alone. For all Temis’s dire warnings, they looked like they’d make it through unscathed.

And suddenly, there was a pop.

Jako’s neck jerked up, as did Garae’s. They looked out at the crowd, and a second pop rang out.

It wasn’t gunfire, or an explosion. Those would have been terrifying, no doubt, but the attackers had no intention of granting them the mercy of a quick, instantaneous martyrdom.

Instead, Garae looked out, and shouted, “Smoke grenades!”

Jako had once had the opportunity to try an Earth snack called popcorn – a strange food, made from one of their grains; the individual corns were heated until they literally turned themselves inside out. It wasn’t bad, though as the Terran who showed it to him had told him, it was best with some salt and oil.

The square sounded very much like popping popcorn, but each pop was followed by a dense cloud of thick, black smoke, obscuring the vision of the crowd.

“Oh, gorram,” Aranta shouted. “People are gonna panic! There’ll be a stampede!”

“No,” Krol said. “It’s worse than that.”

And there was a sudden shout, an incoherent, hateful roar, and though they could not see it, they could hear the sickening sound of batons whacking flesh, as the Block used the cover they’d created to rush the square.

“You’ve gotta move!” Temis roared, as he departed the stage. “They’ll be coming –”

They would indeed; five masked figures leapt onto the stage and rushed toward the back; Temis’s security detail held them off with projectile tasers, but more were coming.

“Split up!” Xealo shouted, grabbing Aranta roughly. “We can’t give them a single target!”

“Smart idea,” Temis replied. “Terta, you, Pesa, and Enti go with Xealo; Jako, you and Aranta stay with Garae. Bidi! Masra!”

The two guards were falling back. “Yes, councillor?” Bidi, the male one, barked.

“Each of you, split and go with them. I’ll deal with these felgercarbers.”

“They’ll kill you, chief,” Masra shouted.

“Probably. Now get!”

The two guards split off precisely as ordered, and Temis rushed to fill the void. His artificial arms were strong and hard, and he knocked three of the Blockers out before their numbers became too great for one man to hold off. One of them finally swept him off his feet, and dropped him to the ground; four of them yanked his limbs from his sockets, and cudgeled him with them.

He supposed they thought it ironic, but it was frankly stupid of them. They had a clear shot, but they weren’t going to kill him. Just humiliate him. He actually laughed at them before he lost consciousness; that pushed them to hit harder, and he laughed all the louder. After all, there’s nothing a terrorist hates more than a victim who won’t be terrorized.

****

“Keep moving, keep inside the red lines. Don’t worry, everything will be ok, there is no reason to be afraid.” Sorcha said in a monotone voice. She’d been saying pretty much the same thing for the last twenty hours as the ship carrying fifty thousand lost and frightened Humans was unloaded. “When you reach the bus please take a seat and you will be taken to a processing centre to be registered. If the bus is full please wait for another to arrive.”

Across the landing pad was Manka, rhyming off the same script as Sorcha. Between them was a sixty unit long freighter and a dozen lines of Humans slowly working their way down the ramp of the ship and into the awaiting buses, driven by Avalonians. The Avalonians also had people interspersed among the lines of refugees making sure individuals were ok and trying to reassure the most nervous.

It had finally stopped raining which was a plus.

“Keep moving, keep inside the red lines…” she repeated.

While her body was there and her mouth was moving, her mind really wasn’t. Her mind was back in Joseph’s room. The pair hadn’t slept apart for the last three nights. Despite Sorcha’s insistence each time that ‘this is definitely the last time’ she always found herself arriving back at Joseph’s door the next night. Each night he’d be waiting in bed for her with his smug grin plastered on his face and the bed pre-warmed for her.

It was maddening.

And exciting.

And made her feel all funny in the tummy region.

They hadn’t really done much. She’d unlock his door, jump in his bed and spend a bit of time making the beast with two backs and talk for a bit. After that they’d talk, maybe go for round two and then fall asleep with his arms around her. This wasn’t new territory. Sorcha had done this before a couple of times.

But it had never felt like this.

She was always so very good at being in control of her love life. Intelligent, beautiful, tall and exciting; men, Human and Titan alike, would throw themselves at her and she would have a bit of fun with them, inevitably get bored and move on to the next one. But this felt different. She wasn’t totally in control over what was going on. And she wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

“Sorcha! Watch out!” a voice called, snapping her out of her daze.

A large crowd of Humans had stormed down the ramp. They didn’t seem to know where they were going but they were moving quickly; pushing, shoving and knocking over those ahead of them. As the crowd surged forward panic spread like a wave and people started to scatter in all directions.

“Stop!” Sorcha shouted. “Stay calm!”

Manka was doing the same on the opposite side of the landing pad and moved to stop one group from running off into the open countryside.

“Keep calm! There’s no reason to run! It’s alright!” Sorcha did her best to sound calm but she was starting to panic now as well.

Now there was a reason to panic. The wave of scared Humans had now turned into a stampede of thousands, making their way towards the buses and scattering the people waiting there. She could see people tripping and falling. The crowd didn’t stop. They just kept running and running without regard for who they were stepping on. The Avalonian minders were gone, lost in the stampede.

Sorcha ran in front of the group and shouted as loud as she could for the crowd to stop. She stamped her feet, quaking the ground but still the crowd surged forward towards her.

She clutched at her ears as shrill whistle split the air, almost loud enough to burst her eardrums.

And the crowd stopped.

“Everyone! Stay where you are!” Manka ordered.

The crowd of people stood exactly where they were.

“If there is a person on the floor near you, help them up.” She continued.

Sorcha watched as small pockets of movement spread through the crowd and people were helped to their feet.

“If there is anyone injured with you or you are injured raise your hand.” Manka said firmly.

Once more Sorcha watched as a few hands went up and Avalonian medics moved it to take the injured away. Thankfully there didn’t look to be anyone unconscious.

“Ok, now slowly make your way back into the nearest red line and remain in single file. Do not run, do not push. You will all be looked after. There is no reason to panic. If you have a concern please let one of the minders know. They are dressed in green and happy to speak to you.” Manka said.

The crowd slowly assembled itself back into order Manka stepped back to the side. Sorcha finally let go of the breath she’d unconsciously been hanging on to. “That was quick thinking. We would have lost some people if you hadn’t stepped in.” She said.

“Thanks.” Manka said without changing her expression.

“How’d you think of the whistle?” Sorcha asked.

“It’s a common technique for crowd control on breeding farms. Most of the Humans here will have been raised with it. I understand you may find it objectionable but it’s less objectionable than dead people.” The red head said.

“No, no I totally agree.” Sorcha said. “Really well done.”

“Thank you.” Manka gave a slight smile this time.

“Do you have any more?” Sorcha asked.

“No, but they’re easily printed.”

“Ok. Can you please print one for each Titan member of staff and distribute. Would they be useful for the Avalonians?”

Manka glanced down at the Avalonians in the crowd. “I would doubt they would have the power necessary to generate the desired impact.”

“Hmmm…you may be right. It felt as if my head was going to explode for a second.” Sorcha replied.

“That is the idea. The force of the whistle stuns the Humans who hear it. It would be cruel to overuse it. But I’d be concerned that Humans using it on other Humans would undermine the desired effect.” Manka said.

“Hmmm good point.” Said Sorcha. “We’ll stick to Titans only. Thanks again.”

“It’s what you hired me for.”

Sorcha returned to her post, feeling rather relieved and determined to stay focused on the crowd this time.

Which was easier said than done given the butterflies in her stomach.

****

If Jako hadn’t been in mortal terror and a generally-faithful husband, he might have actually found the situation titillating.

Aranta was pretty, and for a Titan, Garae was quite stunning. She’d slipped the two humans into a tight pocket in her pants; it was not overly comfortable, but nobody was worrying about comfort, and a broken bone or two could be set.

And so Jako was literally sandwiched between the pretty organizer for the Aenur Foundation and a slight bit of cloth, which abutted the thigh of another pretty organizer for the Aenur foundation. That cloth was currently soaked through with Garae’s perspiration.

Garae was freely perspiring because she’d been using every ounce of energy she had to find some sort of refuge. The peacekeepers had finally descended on the square after allowing the Block a full half-hour to rampage; Garae didn’t even want to think about what was happening to Xealo, and she feared Temis must be dead after all that. Masra had broken off at one point to give Garae time to get away from three blockers with metal poles; she was now on her own, in a cramped alleyway behind a restaurant, cowering behind a trash bin.

She looked around, and seeing no immediate threat, reached into her pocket, pulling her fellow activists out. “Jako,” she whispered, though it was loud enough that he had no problem understanding, “do you have a gool?”

Jako nodded; he and Yamanu had both gotten them during their trips to Earth. They didn’t have many people to call with them, true, but then, they used a non-Imperial communications protocol, which made them very effective beacons in an emergency, ones that non-friendlies didn’t even know to look for.

“There’s room under here,” Garae said, motioning to the garbage can. “You’re small enough that they won’t find you. If they find me…you hide in here. Signal Xealo on standard frequency four when the coast is clear.”

She didn’t add that she didn’t know if Xealo was alive or dead; she couldn’t bear to think those words. Her husband had to be alive. He simply had to be.

“Garae, we’ll stand with you,” Aranta said.

“My job was to keep you safe,” Garae said. “You both are more important to this cause than I am.”

Jako had always bristled at Titans being involved with the movement; it wasn’t their movement, it was a human movement. He had always resented their insertion of themselves into the fight, and the casual insistence of far too many of them that they knew better what needed to be done, when they couldn’t possibly.

But not all of them were that way, and it was important to remember that. Some of them…some of them really understood, and some of them were there, not to feel better about themselves, but to actually do what needed to be done to get his people to equality.

And so, though he would rarely say it to a Titan, when he told Garae, “You are as important to this movement as any of us,” he meant it, fully and completely.

There was a banging, and all three of them flinched. “Any of you gorram traitors back here? Come out, come out! Come out and play, traitors!”

Garae didn’t hesitate. She dropped her hand down by the trash bin, and unceremoniously dumped the two humans onto the ground. Then she stood up, straightened her coat, threw her shoulders back, and walked out to face them.

* * *

“You gonna be okay?”

“It’s not bad,” Bidi said, calmly pressing the autogauze into the gaping wound on his side. He was staying calm, because it was his job to stay calm, but the shaking of his hands betrayed him, and Xealo gently pulled them aside, and took to the job himself.

“Are you three all right?” Xealo asked, as he deftly worked to spread the gauze over the guard’s injury.

“We’re…we’re alive, thanks to you two,” Pesabro said. “Is there anything….”

“We’re going to have to get Bidi to a hospital,” Xealo said. “Is…are they….”

“Depends on the doctor, but Walak Central is the nearest, and they’ve always been fair,” Bidi said. “They’re the ones who treated Councillor Temis, and his daughter, after…after the attack.”

“How far?” Xealo asked.

“Not far. Less than a kilounit. But…I don’t think I can make it by myself, and you’re safe here.”

Safe was a relative term; they were holed up in the back room of a looted storefront, but Bidi was right, they were in no immediate danger of attack.

Xealo looked at Terta and the two humans. “I must help him,” he said, quietly. “But you can stay here, if you….”

“We may not be able to carry him, but we’ll go with,” Enti replied. “Terta….”

“Gorram, you think I’m staying here?” she said.

“Folks, I’m supposed to guard you,” Bidi said. “I can’t….”

“The Prophet Arest said, ‘As your guard guards you, so you must guard your guard.’ We are taught that it is metaphorical, but in this case, I choose to take it literally,” Xealo said, with a gentle smile. “If you lean on me, can you walk?”

“Yes,” Bidi said, “but if you must drop me to flee….”

“Then I will die carrying you,” Xealo said. “While those three run.”

“Not a chance,” Terta said, helping support Bidi. “I’m not abandoning you, and Pesa and Enti are frakking stubborn.”

“And hells, worse ways to go,” Pesabro said.

“Enough chatter,” Enti said. “All for one, yadda yadda, let’s get him to the doctor.”

* * *

The five men and two women surrounded Garae in a semicircle. Well…she thought it five men and two women; in truth, they were masked and armoured, and wearing matching black shirts. It was hard to be sure. And it didn’t really matter.

“What’s yah name, makka?” the man in the middle asked.

“Garae Ripja,” she replied, holding her head high.

“T’ain’t a Federation accent,” a woman said.

“Naw, I kenner. She’s one of the interlopers. Ain’t ya?”

“I’m from Grelau,” Garae said. “And I don’t want any trouble.”

“Shoulda thoughta that afore yah came here, yah agitator,” one of the women said, as they slid to encircle her. “Where your humans?”

“My humans?” Garae asked, innocently. “I have no humans.”

“Yah were with ‘em afore.”

“Oh, I know humans. But they aren’t ‘mine.’ Humans can’t be owned, not anymore. Not even here in the Federation, no matter what you may claim.”

“Makka, yah gonna pay fer disrespectin’ the Federation.”

“I have great respect for the Federation,” Garae said. “Just not for the thugs who claim to represent it.”

“Yah gon’ pay for that, fer sure,” one of the men said, shouldering a weapon. “Yah best take that back, we might just beat yah.”

Garae turned to the man, who held a laser rifle on her. She closed her eyes.

“Epolia, hear me; the end of my part of the Dream draws near,” she said. “Bear me through….”

She didn’t complete the thought; she was only aware of a sharp and searing pain in her right shoulder, and the whine of the gun. She dropped, unconscious and bleeding, but still, for the moment, alive.

He had missed her head, though he had dead aim, and though he was an excellent shot. He had missed her head because at the moment he chose to fire, he suddenly was aware of screaming pain in the back of both of his calves, as if someone was carving into both with a jagged piece of glass. This was because someone was – well, multiple someones were.

Aranta dropped out of one cuff as Jako dropped out the other; they dropped the glass and took off in a dead sprint away from the group, hoping that the brief confusion would cloak them. It did, for about half a second.

“Frakking humans!” a giantess shouted. “Kill the frakkers!”

They ran at them in a mob, which paradoxically saved the two humans for a moment; the six able-bodied blockers got in each others’ way in the frenzy to stomp the two human interlopers to death. Boots landed around them, but not on top of them; finally, one of the women managed to get a clear shot at Jako; not enough to stomp on him, but enough to get her toe on him, and send him flying through the air.

Aranta didn’t have time to be horrified, she was in mortal danger herself; she was trying to get back to the cover of the dumpster, for all the good that would do. She knew that she was as good as dead, but she still pushed on, hoping for a miracle.

The miracle arrived a few moments later when a sonic roar swept down the alleyway, knocking every living thing to the ground. “Hold your position,” a voice called, distorted by the speaker on its armour and the ringing in the brains of the people.

Aranta tried to sit up, but found herself sick to her stomach. She saw two peacekeepers walking down the alleyway, one man, one woman. They looked on the group; she saw the man point her out to his partner.

She knew she couldn’t trust the peacekeepers, but she also knew that they had saved her, if only for the moment. Maybe they’d kill her now, or take her to a shelter. It was no worse a chance than she’d had before.

“So what the frak do we have here?” the male peacekeeper said, walking into the middle of the group. “Buncha blockers, girl down on the ground, you stomping on humans…come on now, can’t have that. Get up, get on home,” he said, turning away from Aranta. “We’ll take the humans to animal control. And the woman…bad accident, huh?”

“Right,” one of the Blockers laughed. “Dead right. Bad accident.”

“Now, she lives, it ain’t murder, you don’t go to jail, but she dies, well, can’t ignore that, y’know,” the man said. “So we’re callin’ in the medics.”

“Frak!” the female peacekeeper called. “Those humans are resilient. They freaking ran into a hole in the wall!”

“Eh, saves us a trip,” the man said. “All right, you seven, get up.”

“The frakking humans cut my legs!” one man grumbled.

“Yeah, you want that to be your rep, Tabok? Guy who got taken out by humans? Go home.”

Tabok got up, and stumbled out of the alleyway; the male peacekeeper knelt down over Garae. “Pretty girl,” he said, putting an emergency medical stabilizer on her shoulder. “Shame she’s an agitator. You killed the humans then?”

“Crushed them, threw them in the dumpster,” the female peacekeeper said. “Like you said, we’re busy enough.

“Good, good. Call in the medivac. I’m gonna respond to the call up on fifty-fourteen. And I appreciate you not saying anything. Summa you Walak girls get stuffy, wanna do it all by the book when we really just need ta get folks home.”

“We aren’t all like that, Terk,” the female peacekeeper said. “And you’re right, no need to ruin those kids’ futures, but can’t have them killing agitators.”

“Well, we can, but not without permission from above. Well….” the man chuckled. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I think I do,” the woman said. “All right, go on with you, Terk. I’ll hold this position. Trampar 77, this is Viaf, medical emergency, code orange-2. Hone on my position. Okay,” she said, quietly, pressing a button that was not standard-issue Federation peacekeeper equipment, “that should clear any listening devices. I’m signalling the hospital that we need a medic to treat your friend, there’s a Dunnermac doctor there who will be more than willing to help. He’s alive, for now, and I think we just might keep him that way.”

Aranta blinked, laying as she was in the pouch of the giant woman, holding Jako’s hand as he softly breathed in and out, in and out. “I…you aren’t….”

“I’m a Tam, but I’m not going to share which one. Doesn’t matter anyhow. Lucky I stumbled upon you guys. I think there’s a 90 percent chance Garae would have received care, but you two….”

“We were hiding,” Aranta said. “But they were going to kill her, and…and we couldn’t just let that happen.”

“Had the chance to meet Magister-Imperator Rixie once, she was meeting with a bunch of us considering the Imperators’ Corps. She told us that humans were braver than we could even imagine. Frak, she was underselling it. Now,” the woman said, “I would appreciate it….”

“Jako won’t remember, and come on, am I gonna give up the woman who saved my life? Not a chance.”

“Figured as much. All right, I see the medivac. I’m going quiet for now, but I haven’t forgotten you.”

“I know,” Aranta said. “I know.”