Sometime later…

 

There was a time, many years ago, when Dhanyle Armac would have shied away from confrontation. Especially with a woman 24 times his size.

 

But if he wasn’t completely over his fear of Titans, he was most certainly completely over being condescended to by them. And so, while the skycap who’d taken them to the counter slowly backed off, Dhan lit into the desk agent – well, at this point, he was laying into his supervisor, which was as high as he could go without leaving Vakor Station.

 

“What the frak do you mean, you can’t give us a stateroom? I booked a stateroom! I have the confirmation code right here!”

 

“Sir, it’s not a question of whether you booked it. I know, this must be frustrating, but Strong Star Lines views the liability issues of issuing a stateroom to unaccompanied humans as simply too great. As I was saying, if you are willing to accept passage in a carrier – we know, it’s not great, but we will refund your ticket….”

 

“I don’t want a frakking refund!” Dhan shouted. “And I’ll be frakked if my family rides in a carrier! Do you know what my daughter’s been through in the past few months? She’s not a gorram pet.”

 

“Dad….” Lessy sighed.

 

“No, I’m sorry,” Dhan said. “This is unacceptable.”

 

“Well, sir,” the agent said, “if you’re unwilling to accept this accommodation, I’m afraid we’ll have to cancel your ticket.”

 

“I’m sorry,” a familiar voice said. “Did I misunderstand, or are you cancelling these people’s tickets simply because they’re human?”

 

The agent looked up to the couple that had approached; the young woman with long, dark hair wore a slight scowl; her boyfriend (obviously a boyfriend) looked at her with just a slight hint of apprehension. Had the desk agent supervisor looked down, she would have noticed that his look was mirrored by the three people on her table.

 

Sorcha sauntered up to the counter, and said, “Now, I heard you arguing this was based on liability concerns,” Sorcha said. “I’m sure you know that the Zeramblin and Dunnermac Equality Acts indemnify companies making good-faith efforts to accommodate non-titan citizens of the Empire.”

 

“Ma’am, we did offer accommodations, and frankly, this doesn’t concern you.”

 

Sorcha smiled, and was silent for about as long as it takes to count to ten. She glanced at the woman’s nametag. “Yitha – may I call you Yitha? – Yitha, I’m a citizen of the Empire. The mistreatment of anyone is my business, and I’d think it would be yours. That’s not even considering who you’re mistreating. I mean, I wouldn’t try to convince a wealthy inventor to ride in a box for pets. Much less a Highly Honored Artist. Certainly, I wouldn’t try to have a member of the Order of the Emperor do it, even if she wasn’t a hero of the Battle of Tau Ceti. But what do I know? I’m just some random woman, right? Incidentally, you did check the name the reservation was under for these people, right?”

 

Yitha blinked. “Um…yes, it’s Armac.”

 

“And what’s the Floor Leader’s name?” Sorcha asked.

 

Yitha blinked again.

 

“You probably know that TransImperial has purchased a number of human habitats, and repurposed them for travel. They were for pets, once upon a time, I suppose – but these were the highest of high end, and they’ve fixed them up to include a kitchenette, three bedrooms – at this point they’re basically apartments. They plug in to standard outlets for power and have their own internal water service; granted, TransImperial also has been building infrastructure to allow them to add thirty of these per flight, because – well, why not? This is, by the way, a question your company should ask itself.” Sorcha grinned at her play on words; Yitha was not in a joking mood.

 

“I…ma’am, it’s not….”

 

“Now, Yitha, I know you don’t make the rules. But I do know that you’re the supervising gate agent here for Strong Star, and you’re denying humans the right to free travel – Article XXIII, Section Seventeen of the Charter – because your company won’t pick up your pads and ask TransImperial if you can rent one for a couple days.”

 

“It’s…that’s not my decision.”

 

“Right,” Sorcha said, with a saccharine smile. “But Yitha, right now, Strong Star is in violation of at least six different Imperial laws, and you yourself are personally guilty of violating the Dunnermac Equality Act. I don’t know if you have ten thousand credits to spare, and while Great Ocean is lovely, I doubt you want to visit its scenic detention facilities. Those are the problems you’ll face, personally, for your violation of these people’s rights. Your company…my dear Yitha, I happen to know that all ships landing at Bass Station on Freeman Colony must be certified as Zeramblin Act compliant. If your company lied about your status to gain access to cargo contracts, one call could have your entire fleet grounded indefinitely. Given who these people are, and who they know…I mean, I mentioned the Floor Leader, but do you know how much money Dhan Armac’s inventons have made Sen. Tarsuss over the years? Which reminds me Mr. Armac – how is Pryvani?”

 

Dhan grinned. “Same as ever. If you’re on her good side, she’s great. Get on her bad side….”

 

“I don’t think anyone’s that foolish,” Sorcha laughed. “Oh, and Yitha, I’m on this flight too. Would you mind checking me in?”

 

Yitha looked at her blankly, but automatically, she asked, “Uh…what’s your name, ma’am?”

 

“Sorcha Freeman,” Sorcha said. “Stateroom for two.”

 

Yitha blinked, and said, “Ms. Freeman….”

 

“Dr. Freeman,” Sorcha corrected.

 

“Dr. Freeman…thank you for helping me to straighten this out. You know, I will give TransImperial a call. I’m sure we can work something out.”

 

“And why are you telling me this?” Sorcha asked.

 

Yitha looked down. “Um…as I was saying…we will get this straightened out. But we certainly will have you on this flight, in a stateroom. And…uh…for the inconvenience, I’ll be…uh…waiving the charge for the flight.”

 

Nonah nodded. “Thank you. That’s quite reasonable. And we’ll be happy to pay – we just want to make sure that if other humans are in our shoes, ones without backup, or friends in high places….”

 

“I’m going to tell my boss what Dr. Freeman here told me,” Yitha said, punching a series of codes into her terminal. “I may be wrong, but I have a feeling…well, I would think it’s in our best interests not to have another desk agent make the same mistake I was going to.”

 

“I think you’re right,” Dhan said.

 

“All right, you’re checked in,” Yitha said. “We have begun boarding, but it will take a while to make these arrangements. Here, enjoy some complementary beverages at the bar in the terminal, we’ll call you when we’re ready. Uh….”

 

Yitha had grabbed drink coupons automatically, and realized that they were about three times taller than the humans.

 

“I’ll hold them. In fact, I’ll hold the Armacs. I’ve done it before. Hi guys,” she said, offering her hand. “I can’t tell you how good it is to see you. Joseph, can you grab the carry-ons?”

 

*    *    *

 

Strong Star 73 zipped through space at about 70,000 times the speed of light. Well, technically it didn’t move; it rode a wave of dynamically distorted space while the universe moved around it at 70,000 times the speed of light, though the speed of light was zipping along at its usual 299,792,458 meters per….

 

You know what? Let’s go back to the start, because describing what Strong Star 73 was actually doing will just leave everyone with a badly sprained neocortex.

 

For all intents and purposes, Strong Star 73 was zipping through space at 70,000 times the speed of light, a shade over Warp 4.1. The Casiklalar-class ship could hit Warp 4.9, but it was rare for non-military ships to push their engines full-out – no need to waste fuel and risk engines, after all.

 

It would take them about 24 hours to get from Vakor to Freeman Colony – and they already had 14 behind them, most of it spent getting out of the Vakor system. Sorcha was laying on the cot in her stateroom, worrying about any of the thousand things she had to worry about, while Joseph dozed at her side.

 

Her pad buzzed. She picked it up, and smiled.

 

If you and Joseph aren’t in the middle of shagging, would you like to grab a drink?

 

That actually sounded like Lessy, and the most significant of Sorcha’s worries abated just a bit. Not shagging, Joseph’s still worn out from yesterday. Pick you up in a minute.

 

Sorcha got up and pulled on her shirt and pants, slipped on the flip-flops she’d brought for the trip, and opened the door. She prepared to walk out, but stopped dead; she’d been about to walk into a hovering object about three inches tall, floating at eye level. Lessy stood upright upon it, holding onto its handlebars.

 

“That can’t be safe,” Sorcha said. Lessy rolled her eyes.

 

“Sorcha Freeman, worrying about safety. Weird,” Lessy said. “It’s a hoverscooter. Selana Gravitics is about two months from regulatory approval.”

 

“Your dad’s invention?”

 

“Yeah, it’s got gravitics on the pad,” she said. Hitting a button, it turned to a sixty-degree angle, but Lessy’s angle didn’t change. “Took a while to get everything synced, but it’s passed all the major tests. Once it does – this is about an eighth the cost of a hovercar.”

 

“That’ll be huge,” Sorcha said. “How fast?”

 

“A bit slower than Titan running speed. So very quick indeed.”

 

Sorcha nodded. “So you really don’t want me to carry you, then.”

 

Lessy smiled at that. Sorcha had a reputation for narcissism – hells, she’d broken up with Ryan Carey because it was at least partly-deserved. But she had always known what Lessy was thinking.

 

“How’d you know?”

 

“When I carried you guys to the bar, and then the ship…you tensed up both times.”

 

“It’s not you, Sorch,” Lessy said. “But…do we have to have this conversation standing in the doorway?”

 

“No,” Sorcha said. “Lead on.”

 

Lessy navigated the hallways of the small cruiser, stopping outside the doorway to the small ship’s bar. It was late night by Archavian standards, and the ship itself was quiet; the door stayed shut until Sorcha walked in front of it, causing it to automatically slide open.

 

“Another thing they’ll want to fix,” she said.

 

“Yup,” Lessy said. The bar was empty save for a Dunnermac woman looking out the window, nursing a glass of brackish liquid. Sorcha walked up to the wall – there was no need for a bartender on a ship this small – and said, “I suppose you need something non-alcoholic.”

 

“Yeah, even if I wasn’t pregnant,” Lessy said. “Too much to hope they have apple juice, I suppose.”

 

“When did you start drinking apple juice? And yeah, they do,” Sorcha said. “At least they have synthetic apple juice. Can’t buy suites for humans to use, but can buy a top of the line Nutimaxit drink dispenser.”

 

She coded in the two drinks; Lessy headed for a table, and once Sorcha had both beverages, she joined her. She took Lessy’s glass (of course Lessy had a human-sized glass), and dipped it in the swimming-pool-sized glass of juice, handing it carefully to her friend.

 

Lessy sat down cross-legged on the table, and raised her glass in thanks. The two were quiet for a long minute, before Lessy finally said, “It isn’t you, Sorcha. It isn’t rational. I hope you know that.”

 

“Of course I know that,” Sorcha said. A year or two ago, she might have grumbled it, but there was nothing but sympathy in her voice now. “Lessy, I’m just glad you’re able to tolerate being near me. The last time we talked….”

 

“It’s taken time to get here. And it’s stupid. I mean, you got stabbed. You lost your dad, your uncle, friends on the ground, you had to go kill Insects with your bare hands…I just got caught. I know, you called me a hero back on Vakor, but….”

 

“Lessy,” Sorcha said, “what Myrell did…I saw the aftermath. Just the aftermath. And it haunts me. You saw her do it. I mean…frak. I don’t know what that was like…I don’t want to know.” She paused, and added, “If my knowing helps you, though…if you need to talk about it, you can.”

 

Lessy sighed. “You don’t have to, Sorcha, and you don’t want to. I can’t…there aren’t words to describe it. I’m getting better about it, but….”

 

“It’s why you were letting your dad yell at the gate agent.”

 

“Not quite ready to start arguing with Titans yet,” Lessy said. “You know, it’s funny – through all the low-level abuse I faced, I never was assaulted by anyone your size. Probably because you made clear you’d assault anyone who did. I didn’t know…I didn’t know how weak we were.”

 

“Weak? Are you kidding?” Sorcha said. “Lessy, over 1,000 people survived in that cafeteria. Do you know why? Because once Myrell grabbed you, you kept her occupied. You took her abuse, and that gave everyone left alive in that room a chance to find shelter.”

 

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” Lessy said.

 

“You did it in all the time leading up to that moment, Lessy,” Sorcha said. “You were Myrell’s target because she respected you. Just like she wanted to fight me because she respected me. It was sick, and twisted, and wrong, but it’s the truth. You earned her respect because you have been, always, the toughest, smartest person I know.”

 

“I think you’re tougher. And your dad was smarter.”

 

“My dad was brilliant at physics, but he wasn’t a generalist. And I’m just bigger. I’m not tougher.”

 

“You are, though,” Lessy said. “She stabbed you. You could have…you could have given me to her. You should have. You could have died.”

 

“You would have died,” Sorcha said.

 

“You saved me,” Lessy said.

 

“I had to. You know how much I still owe you?”

 

“You canceled them all out in one go, which I told you not to do. But Sorcha….”

 

“I’m not talking about that. Well…I kind of am, but…Lessy, do you think I’m a good person?”

 

Lessy blinked. “Of course I do. You’re my best friend.”

 

“Didn’t ask if I was your friend. I asked if I was good. And if you’re honest – and you always have been – you know the answer to that question hasn’t always been straightforward. You’ve talked me out of getting into trouble, you’ve talked me out of trouble I got in after I didn’t listen to you, you’ve talked me down when I was swearing in languages that don’t exist in this universe. When I was really about to get myself in trouble, like when I was marching down to Atlantis to give people a piece of my mind, you told someone quickly, so they could intervene and keep me from doing something ridiculous. And when I was so mad about you telling me – honestly and truly – that I didn’t and couldn’t see the world like you did, and I took a swing at you….”

 

Sorcha blinked back tears. “I think, Lessy, that I’m a good person now. I think, finally, I’m able to look myself in the mirror and believe that. But I didn’t have to be. Without you, I would have taken a wrong turn somewhere. I would have attacked a teacher, or told Pryvani off about something trivial, or hit a peacekeeper….”

 

“You did that last one,” Lessy said, “on Titan Station.”

 

“See? And how did I avoid jail? You cutting in to tell Rixie to ignore me and let me take the deal. Lessy, no matter how much of an idiot I was being, no matter how stupidly sure of myself I was, you were there to keep me from crashing. You’ve had my back, Lessy, you’ve supported me. For as long as I can remember…you’ve supported me. So do I owe you one, or six, or forty? Lessy, I owe you everything. Myrell could have killed me, but I wouldn’t have given you up short of death.”

 

“She could have, Sorcha. And you didn’t have to save me. I would have given myself up for you, you know that.”

 

“That’s why I had to keep you safe,” Sorcha said. “And I didn’t save you, you know. Joseph did. He saved both of us. Lucky for me that he’s taking his payment in sex.”

 

“I’ll let you pay off that debt for me, how about that?” Lessy said.

 

“Fine, it’s hard work, but I’ll manage,” Sorcha said. “Look….”

 

“Sorcha,” Lessy said, holding up a hand. “I’m glad I’m the wind beneath your wings. But if you think this is the first time you saved me…I said it before, nobody messed with me because you made clear you would mess them up. You hit people for even hinting they would. Sometimes because you thought they were hinting they would, but still….”

 

It was Lessy’s turn to wipe her eyes. “I knew you’d come back. And I knew you’d protect me. You always have.”

 

“I always will,” Sorcha said. “Just like you’ll always protect me. I never had a brother or sister, but Lessy….”

 

“I had two brothers,” Lessy said. “And they’re great. But you’re as much my sister as Loona is my mom’s.”

 

Sorcha smiled at her friend, and raised her glass in a silent toast. She felt like grabbing Lessy and hugging her, but she knew that wouldn’t make Lessy feel safe or loved right now. Instead, she said something that made Lessy feel safe and loved and above all else, normal.

 

“So Moze sent me the plans for rebuilding, I assume he sent them to you, too?”

 

“Yeah, they’re trying to rebuild the education system. I’m probably going to jump back into the old job, or something like it; Moze asked me to specifically focus on the kids – they need school to get some sort of normality.”

 

“I agree. They asked me to help with planning, and specifically allocation of materiel resources. What are you going to need, and how can I help you get it?”

 

Lessy stood up, and grabbed her pad from a pocket on her hoverscooter. “I’m glad you asked. I have some thoughts.”

 

“You always do,” Sorcha said.

 

*   *   *

 

Moze Kaewon, chair of the Mentorship Council of Freeman Colony, studied the skies.

 

“Mr. Chair, you look like a man who hasn’t seen his fiancée in months.”

 

Moze chuckled a little, though he was still half-sick with anticipation. “There is reason for that, Governor-General. That is not the only reason, of course. But the most important one.”

 

Filfi Adjaye smiled, and clapped a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “What better reason could there be?” he asked, though he suspected he knew already.

 

“It will be good to have Lessy back for me. But it will be very good for the colony,” Moze said. “They have you, and you, Secretary Tela, but it will be good that they have someone like Lessy as an advocate, too.”

 

“Secretary Nonahsdottir is quite capable, this is true,” Tela said. “She was Education Secretary during my first term on the council. But Mr. Chair, I think the colony has been in good hands.”

 

Moze shook his head. “Lessy’s a leader. She’s smart, she’s wise, she’s educated. I’m an artist, and…well….”

 

“Moze,” Adjaye said, “if you are about to note that you are or were once a pet, I will be sorely disappointed.”

 

Moze sighed. “Governor-General…I am not anymore. I have not been for a long time. But…when you have been taught that your role is to entertain, to serve, from your birth until the day you suddenly find yourself freed…it is a difficult training to undo.”

 

“I’m certain it is,” Filfi said. “Which is why your ability to transcend it has been so impressive.”

 

“I’ve had help,” Moze said.

 

“Of course you have,” Adjaye said. “Nobody ever succeeds without help; those who think they have are not good people. I certainly did. Have I told you how my career began, Mr. Chair?”

 

“I’ve read a bit about it,” Moze said. “You led a revolution in Cote d’Ivoire et la Ghana, right?”

 

“’Led’ is a very strong term,” Adjaye chuckled in his basso profundo. “I had managed to graduate from college, which at the time was not easy, given the state of my country. I took a position as a local business assessor for the government – checking safety, compliance, tax payments, that sort of thing. And I found out almost immediately that the department that I worked for was rife with corruption. I knew it had been, of course, but it was shocking the levels it reached. I was expected to shake down business owners, and pass ninety percent of what I took to my bosses, who themselves were passing it to their bosses, all the way up to the puppet government in Abidjan. They passed money on to Dakar. For three years, I tried to work within the system. Tried to help businesses who just wanted to work honestly, employ people, help the community in Accra. But when they gave the construction contract for a local school to a company that had paid a hefty kickback – a company that used concrete mixed with sand mixed with so much water you could drink it safely – I knew there was no hope. There was a local militia, but they were disorganized. I knew a few members through friends of friends. I was in the government, I knew where they could target for maximum effectiveness, and I knew that the people of Accra were ready for honest government. When we took Accra, I was pushed forward as a face for the rebellion. I could speak well enough, I could articulate our grievances. But we kept pushing forward, and I found myself in charge of a city, and then half a country, and suddenly an entire country. We lost most of the civil servants, we lost most of the military, half the police – we were in chaos – and I was a foolish kid with three years’ experience as an assessor, and a college degree from the seventy-ninth rated college in West Africa.”

 

Moze shook his head. “It sounds worse than the situation here.”

 

“It wasn’t much better. We won the revolution, and I resigned as provisional leader – I didn’t want to be a dictator, Moze, I hate dictators, I’ve lived under them, they are destructive and corrosive to civic life. But part of me thought that once we had won, a more intelligent leader would come to take the reins. A person who had better education, and more experience, who wasn’t just a kid faking it. And you know what happened?”

 

“I know you became prime minister,” Moze said with a smile. “I’m guessing it didn’t happen.”

 

“No,” Ajdaye chuckled. “It did not. And so I had to keep faking it. But you know what I discovered? I was good at faking it. I might not know what I was doing, but I could convince people I did. I didn’t think I knew best, so I listened to advice, I didn’t dismiss it out of hand, didn’t substitute my judgement for others’ – but when decisions had to be made, I was willing to be the one to make them, and accept the consequences. And a few years after I became prime minister, I was at home, with my wife and my sons, going through the budget for the next year, and I realized that I hadn’t been faking it. Or at least, I hadn’t been faking it more than any other leader does. Moze…you feel like you’re faking it, because the responsibility is very big, and no person is strong enough to take it on alone. But you are working hard, and doing your best, and listening to others, and keeping your people stable and proud when they have every right to fall apart and despair. If Alesia is in fact a better leader than you, then she must be remarkable indeed – because, Mr. Chair, you are a grand one.”

 

Moze looked at the Governor-General, the former First Minister of Africa, and smiled, weakly. “I will always doubt that.”

 

“Of course you will. Because you’re a good leader. Great leaders don’t set out to be great leaders, Moze; the ones who think they’re great are invariably all talk and no action. But I do believe,” he said, turning to the sky, “that I hear your wife’s ship approaching. Shall we?”

 

Moze smiled, and walked with the Governor-General and the Secretary of Freeman Colony to the small vehicle waiting for them. They were here, at long last.

 

*    *    *

 

“I do hope,” Sorcha said, “that this isn’t something to do with the Armacs being humans.”

 

“Not at all, Dr. Freeman,” the captain of the ship said, waiting with them. “The colonial government asked that we wait to let you disembark until the end; they had some sort of welcome planned, I think.”

 

“Oh, frak,” Sorcha said, unconsciously checking her gravitics. “I’m not dressed for anything formal.”

 

“You look beautiful as always,” Joseph said, “and you had the sense to wear slacks, which is good if there’s going to be a group.”

 

Sorcha elbowed her boyfriend. “Oi! You looking to take over for my parents, complaining about my skirt lengths?”

 

“Someone has to,” Lessy said.

 

“And it won’t be me,” Joseph added with a grin. “I’m in favor of them.”

 

“Sorcha, dear,” Nonah said, “you wear what you want to wear. But do remember…when you’re meeting with humans…well, we are at your feet to start.”

 

“Yes, yes, I know,” Sorcha sighed. “I did wear slacks for a reason, you know,” she grumbled.

 

The captain looked at her pad, and nodded. “All right, we are clear. They’ve asked for Dr. Nonahsdottir, Dr. Freeman, and Mr. Archer-Mavoy to come out together; Mr. and Mrs. Armac, may I assist you?”

 

“Thank you,” Nonah said, allowing the captain to pick them up and carry them ahead.

 

Lessy raised her hoverscooter to Sorcha’s eye-level. “So, any clue what they’re up to?”

 

“None,” said Sorcha.

 

“Going blindly forward,” Joseph said. “We should be good at it by now.”

 

“Damn right,” Sorcha said. “Lead on, Lessy.”

 

“You’re the director.”

 

“Not anymore. And your husband is waiting for you.”

 

“Good point,” Lessy said with a grin, and turning the scooter, she kicked it into full speed.

 

Sorcha hesitated just for a moment, just long enough for Joseph to grab her hand.

 

“I wonder how bad it is,” she said.

 

“No matter how bad it is…it’s better than it was,” he replied. “And it’s still here.”

 

“Because of you,” Sorcha said.

 

“No,” Joseph said. “Because of you.”

 

Holding tightly to Joseph’s hand, Sorcha walked down the gangplank, just after Alesia, who’d slowed up to let them reach her.

 

She was surprised to see two uniformed Imperial officers at the end of the gangplank. They saluted them crisply; Sorcha nodded as they passed by, hoping the protocol was correct. Another officer stopped and saluted. “Crewmate Nom Zinter, ma’am, ma’am, sir,” he said. “Welcome back to Freeman Colony.”

 

“Thanks,” Sorcha said. “Uh….”

 

“This way, please,” he said, gesturing for them to follow him.

 

He led them around the side of the ship, not toward the small command post, but to the open field beside the tarmac.

 

And Sorcha stumbled, just a little.

 

The battalion of Terran soldiers was waiting there, in full dress uniform; they came to full attention as Sorcha and Joseph walked into view. Moze and the rest of the provisional government waited in front of them. A small squad of Imperial officers flanked the field, and they, too, came to attention. But they were not the reason that Sorcha bobbled, though they would have been enough.

 

It was the people who stood behind them. Thousands upon thousands upon thousands of humans, who had broken into a raucous cheer at the sight of the three of them. Sorcha couldn’t count them all; it appeared that the entire colony had turned out – and while it wasn’t literally true, it was far closer to true than Sorcha would have dared to imagine.

 

Sorcha swallowed hard. She bowed, slightly, to the crowd, then walked to where the leaders of the colony were waiting. Carefully, she dropped to her knees, and reached out a finger.

 

“Governor-General, Secretary Tela, and Chair Kaewon,” Sorcha said, “thank you for inviting us back to help.”

 

Moze was about to respond, but a human had parked her hoverscooter, and practically leapt off it; he gave Sorcha a grin, and turned and ran to the woman running to him.

 

“I’m sure Chair Kaewon will have something to say in a moment,” Adjaye said.

 

“His mouth is occupied,” Sorcha observed. “And if he was trying to talk to me instead of kissing Lessy, I’d be disappointed. And Governor-General…you didn’t have to do all this.”

 

“He didn’t,” Beala Tela said. “Neither did Chair Kaewon. When the word spread that you were returning…well, the colonists hold you all in very high regard.”

 

“We were fighting for our lives as much as theirs,” Joseph said. “And they saved us more than once.”

 

“To be sure,” Adjaye said. “But that is not the reason – or not the only reason.”

 

“We are free because of you,” a young man said.

 

“Councilor Josa, are you giving my speech?” Moze chuckled, leading Lessy back to the group, arm around her waist.

 

“You were busy,” Josa said. “And besides…I just wanted to say…we became a city, a people, because of you. And you, and your father – you saved us. As did Mr. Archer-Mavoy. We…we can never….”

 

Sorcha held up a hand, and smiled. “I don’t deserve credit for the work you all did,” she said. “This colony, all of you…you made it what it is. I was just here to help. And that’s why we came back,” she said. “Just to help, however you need us to.”

 

“Still,” Moze said, “the people of Freeman Colony know what you have sacrificed. They want to repay you, all of you, for your hard work and sacrifice. We are considering a payment….”

 

Sorcha shook her head. She looked at Joseph, and down to Lessy. She smiled, and stood up, and took just one step back.

 

“People of Freeman Colony,” she said, projecting so her voice would carry to every colonist. “I am grateful for your welcome back. Chair Kaewon tells me that you want to thank us, ‘repay’ us, for our work. You can, very easily.”

 

She looked around. She could see the city in the distance; much of it was gone, but parts of it had been rebuilt, more quickly than she’d hoped. The land around was scarred from the battle, but it was already springing back to life. She smiled.

 

“The way to repay me is to do what you have been doing,” she said. “To build this colony, to seize your freedom, to build this world up bit by bit, block by block. To make this a home, not just for this generation, but for centuries to come. And to allow us to help you should you want our help; to assist you should you request our assistance. That is the only repayment I ever want – to be able to bring my children and grandchildren here, to meet your children and grandchildren, and have them see the civilization that was built on your sacrifice and work. That is all I want.”

 

She smiled, and wiped away a tear. “So with that said…let’s get to work.”

 

 

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Author’s note: Thanks to DX for this chapter. I had intended on doing the return but DX beat me to it and it was too good not to use. Turns out having a baby is really terrible for writing. You have no time. And when you do have time you’re too exhausted to do any writing.

 

The next epilogue should be from me. I think there’s two more after this. Everything is WAY longer than originally intended but it’s a complicated tale we’re wrapping up here.

 

Cheers,

 

OHH