Six-and-a-Half Imperial Days Before the Battle of Tau Ceti….

“We need to kill Khora Perol,” Scylane said, pacing.

“I thought we needed to kill Palsa Temis,” his top lieutenant, Abrylyar Kurusu, said.

“We need to kill him too,” Rimosi said.

“And what about those outside agitators?” another officer said.

“We have a lot of people to kill, and I’m not happy that we haven’t managed to kill them, and you might want to get the frak on that, but right now, we need to frakking kill Khora Perol.”

Scylane paced some more. It was getting harder and harder to manage Cesil. Hell, harder and harder to manage the New Empire, as Cesil had slipped into a funk.

Things were not going well. They’d finally issued credits, but what stores had reopened had immediately set prices at quadruple what they had before. Which had lasted a few hours, before they’d started to rise, and rise, and rise. Inflation was running…well, it was running at ridiculous numbers, and only the fact that people had been limited to a thousand new credits initially had kept it from rising to insanity. He’d tried to use peacekeepers to force shopkeepers to hold the line on pricing, on penalty of treason, but there weren’t enough peacekeepers to do that and maintain control of the citizenry, which would have been in a full-scale riot if not for the Block.

Cesil had fixated on Perol, who’d been giving speeches on Senedj XXI, calling for civil disobedience. Cesil was convinced that she was gearing up for a coup in the fashion of Cich’s on Diona. Fortunately, they’d finally gotten Opsistor blocked, and they’d begun putting out disinformation that the coup on Diona had failed. In fact, it had succeeded wildly, better than even Cich knew. The population there had embraced order and stability, and the Block holdouts had been beaten down to the point that defeat was inevitable.

They’d lost Kembror and Diona. They couldn’t lose Senedj XXI, not a world in their own system.

“So who does it? What’s the plan?”

“We’ll…we’ll get it done, sir,” said Kurusu.

“Get it done today,” Rimosi said, “Or else…frak!” he said, looking at his pad. “Riots in Ysam. Frakking Hadia!” he swore, storming out of the room.

“So how are we going to manage this?” asked a junior officer.

“We sent some of the Walak peacekeepers to Gleebo. I’ll get in touch with one of them – she’s reliable, and she’s not a Blocker.”

“Sir…you’re a Blocker,” the junior officer said.

“Oh, I know, but I’m not one of those Blockers. Neither are you.”

The junior officer chuckled. “Yeah…know what you mean.”

“She won’t want to kill her – she’s a cop, and a good one. But she’ll arrest her. Once she’s in custody, well, Rimosi can do whatever he wants.”

The junior officer looked both ways. “Sir….”

“Better not to say it,” Kurusu said. “But yes, I agree completely.”

* * *

Agoch Uslev fumbled the combination to his apartment three times before the door locked. “I’ll be outside if you need me, sir,” said the peacekeeper who’d accompanied him.

“Thank…thank you, Todo. You don’t have to….”

“You’re an obvious target, councilor. Praetor Cich was clear, we’re not to allow anyone near you.”

Or me near anyone, Uslev thought. “I understand. Yes, yes. Okay. Thank you, Todo.”

He sealed the door, and walked to the kitchen, and with a slightly trembling hand, he poured a kapskrasi, and downed it quickly.

He was a traitor. Or was he a hero? He didn’t know which. Twenty-nine years he’d served on the council, over half his life, and he had never dreamed a day like this would come. And had he…he would have imagined he would have jumped up, shouted in protest, decried the violence, and died a martyr.

Instead, he’d quietly mumbled aye when the council had voted to recognize Cich as interim leader; he supposed that marked him as a traitor to the Titan Party. Then again, the three members who’d refused had been arrested, and he doubted they would survive the night. Was it better to be a live traitor than a martyr? If he’d been a martyr…he wouldn’t be able to contemplate it.

And maybe the Empire would win the war, and he’d be able to claim he’d done it for noble reasons, not to save his own skin. Well…maybe there were some. The Block had clearly lost its way. He was proud of Federation culture — and why shouldn’t he be? They were a tough people, after all. But some of the things they said about Ler and Avartle and Dunnermacs…he didn’t hate them. He didn’t really care about them much, but the ones he’d met seemed fine. He didn’t like the Empire looking down on the Federation, but he didn’t see the need to look down on others. Main reason he hadn’t broken with the Block was political — it would end his career. Not that his career wasn’t probably over now anyhow.

So sure, if the Federation won the war, he might survive this, and even be able to explain his vote in a way that didn’t sound completely craven. But if the Block managed to recover, to oust Cich….

Xetar Vjodal had explained it very clearly, and since she was technically the senior member of the Titan Party – at least the senior one still alive – he had some cover. He’d tell them that he’d voted the way she’d said to because he thought she must have a plan, even though it was clear that she had decided to throw in with the military. He could claim….

No…no, he couldn’t. He had no cover. The Governor was dead, and he’d voted to accept it. And the only thing that would decide whether he lived or died was the end result of the blasts he could hear in the distance – not close, not here, not yet – but closer than he’d ever imagined they could be.

“You could have called.”

He looked into the living room. Djora was awake, and looking at him sternly.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I couldn’t. I…there was a coup.”

“I know. It’s all over the news. They said you were alive, that you voted to recognize Praetor Cich. Is that true?”

“It is,” Uslev said, setting his empty glass in the washer. “Not that I had much choice.”

“I was wondering,” Djora said, “if you’d finally…well…if you’d changed your mind on things.”

Uslev sighed, and walked over to her. “I don’t…Djora…it’s….”

She shook her head, and sat down, looking at him accusingly. “I should have known better than to hope.”

She was beautiful. Far more beautiful than he deserved. He had been single twenty years before he found her – not because he was hideous (he wasn’t), or a bit fat (he was), or unkind (he was a bit awkward, but genuinely well-meaning). No, Agoch Uslev was a decent man with a position on the planetary council, a solid job as an attorney, and looks and a personality that were at worst pretty average.

No, Uslev had been single mainly because he was a workaholic, and he’d put his life into work, and he had been fine with that. And then he’d seen her – he hadn’t thought it would develop into this, he was just lonely, and thought it might be nice to have something to care for, and her price had not been too steep.

Djora rested against a plant on the table, and shook her head. She’d been just barely three when he’d bought her; she was six now. Still lovely, still vivacious. He loved her, and he told himself that she loved him.

“I worry, is all,” Uslev said. “It’s not safe out there for anyone right now, much less someone your size, Djora. I know what the Empire says, but….”

“Do you think I’m a person?”

She’d asked it more than once. He’d always hesitated.

Well, not at first. At first he’d chuckled, and said of course not. And then, he’d chuckled. And then, he’d hedged. And then, he stopped answering for a while. And now….

“Djora, I….”

If she was a person….

If she was a person, she could love him. Love him the way he sometimes thought she really did.

If she was a person, though, she could also hate him. No – should hate him. Hate him for owning her. Hate him for keeping her, against her will, here as his pet.

Maybe it was the horror of the day, of not knowing what would come next. But though Agoch had a few good friends and many hangers-on…she probably knew him better than anyone.

He owed her the truth. And he couldn’t hesitate anymore.

“Djora…do you know why I haven’t wanted to support emancipation?”

“Because you’re a bigoted fool sometimes,” the tiny woman sighed.

“No…because I’d lose you.”

Djora blinked. “Huh?”

Agoch knelt down, so that he could see her at eye level. She was stunning; pale, white skin, brilliant red hair, green eyes that perfectly set off against it. He would keep her here, keep her safe, until it was over. No matter what – there was nowhere safe for her to go for now. And she’d stay. She was not suicidal.

But he knew that he had to tell the truth. He loved her. And that meant…it meant he couldn’t be selfish.

“Djora…if humans were emancipated…you’d go. That wasn’t the reason I opposed it, not when I got you, but for the last year…I know you probably hate me. And you should, I know, but….”

Djora held up a hand, and he stopped. “Do you think,” she said, coolly, “that I am a person?”

“Yes,” he said, miserably. “Yes, Djor, I do.”

That stopped her for a moment. She was surprised. He hoped…he hoped she was happy, but he wasn’t sure. She wasn’t letting on.

After that pause, she continued on in her interrogation.

“Other humans, you think they are too?”

“You…I care more about you than anyone, but you aren’t some sort of radically unique human. If you’re a person…all humans must be.”

He watched her carefully, hoping she’d give him some sort of sign of what she was thinking, but she didn’t. More even than her beauty, he loved how she thought. She would have made an excellent attorney, he thought. Maybe she still would, wherever she went.

“You own me,” she said, bringing the prosecution of her case to its point. “Do you think you should not?”

“If humans are people – and I believe you are – then no, I do not.”

“And since you view owning me as immoral, you agree that I must be given my freedom. I know, I can’t just walk down to the spaceport and buy a ticket to Avalon, but morally, I should be able to, right?”

Agoch looked down. He couldn’t look at her; he had to say this, and he couldn’t look at her, because if he did, his will would waver. He would hesitate to do this. And he could not let himself.

“Djora, if that’s what you want…when the war is over, and I can find a flight for you…I will buy you a ticket, and put you on the ship myself. If you’re willing to let me, I’ll travel with you to make sure you get there safe. But if you want to go…I will help you go.”

“So to clarify – you agree I am human, and that I am free to go. And furthermore, you will assist me in reaching free territory as soon as it is practicable. Is that right?”

Agoch took a very deep breath, and looked up at her.

“Djora, I may be dead by the time that happens. I’m not sure how the vote I took today will play out. But if I am alive…I promise, I will free you, and I will do what I can to free every human alive.”

“And yet you don’t want to,” Djora said.

Agoch smiled, sadly, “No, Djor. I want you to be free, and I want you to be happy. I wish…I wish you could be happy here, with me. I love you, you know. But I don’t know…I don’t know how you could possibly love me.”

“Well,” Djora said, “it’s not easy. It’s a hell of a lot of work, and not just because the damn thing is longer than me.”

“You…it…Djor?” Agoch stammered, not sure he’d heard her right.

“Agoch, you know how I can love you? Because you’ve just given me my freedom. I liked you, and I knew that deep down you didn’t think I was a possession, not anymore, but I couldn’t love you. Until this minute, I couldn’t. I couldn’t. I was your pet, your toy. But now? Now I can choose. Of my own free will. And gorram it, I always liked you. I have for years. Even back when you didn’t think I was a person, you let me read, you let me learn, you let me…you let me be me. And now…now I can say that I love you. And I don’t want to go to Avalon. Unless you come with me.”

“I may have to,” Agoch said, softly. “We may be fleeing for our lives.”

“Then we’ll flee together. You’re all I need.” Djora wiped her eyes, and sniffled. “Well, okay, I’d like clothes at some point.”

Agoch couldn’t believe his ears. He reached down, his hand shaking, and Djora stepped into his palm. He picked her up, and brought her close. “I’m sorry,” he said. “And Djor…if you ever…I will never force you to stay. I want you to stay with me, for as long as you live. But I will never make you.”

“Good,” she said, resting against his fingers. “So what now?”

“Well,” Agoch said, with a chuckle, “I probably need to figure out what to do at the next council meeting. If there is one. I’m not sure the Titan Party is going to like this.”

“I’m not sure the Titan Party really exists anymore. Not here, anyhow,” Djora said. “And that’s good, really, isn’t it? If you love me, and if you think I’m a person….”

“My dear, you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he said. “I could never follow the Titan Party after this. And that will cost me the election, if this vote didn’t cost me my life, but I don’t care. If I sacrifice my career, or my wealth, or my life, and it allows you to be happy and free….I will. I promise.”

“I believe you,” Djora said. “And that’s why I love you. And will, as long as we’re together. Now kiss me, you big idiot, and let’s go to bed. You must be tired, and so am I…but I’m still game to wrestle the damn thing.”

“You don’t have to, Djor. Not if you don’t want to.”

“Right, but I do. It’s not like I don’t enjoy it. And quite honestly…I’ve never wanted to more than I do right now. Because I finally, really get to choose.”

Agoch bent down, and placed a tender kiss on her. “I’m sorry I’ve been stupid for so long.”

“I am too, but I’m very, very happy that you decided to finally be smart,” she said.

* * *

Khora Perol was very tired, and really just wanted to rest. Instead, she was sneaking through a back alley, toward a safe house that was supposed to be nearby.

She was doing what she had to do – she had no choice but to speak out against Cesil. He was destroying their province with this foolish secession. He was destroying his people. He was no guide. He was a traitor.

She’d been a member of the Titan Party for most of her career, right up until the passage of the Zeramblin Act. Cesil and Rimosi had a duty to uphold the law, no matter how ridiculous. She wasn’t pro-emancipation or anything, but they were an Imperial Province, for frak’s sake. Would she have preferred they left more decisions to the provinces? Of course. But she wasn’t willing to become a traitor to ensure it.

Plus…well…she’d ended up with an Avartle doctor a few years back, by random chance. She’d been in a shuttle accident, nothing bad, but ended up with a broken leg. He was the attending physician, and though she doubted he could treat her, she thought the time to argue that was not when he was setting up a bone knitter.

But he’d been calm, and patient, and very thorough…and had done an excellent job. And then, two weeks later, his hospital was picketed because a Avartle worked there.

She couldn’t understand it. For the first time, she couldn’t understand it.

The Federation was better because Dr. Avartle-Healer was practicing here. And how much better would it be if instead of protesting the Ler, and Avartle, and Dunnermac, they just welcomed them as neighbors, and let them work in peace? Would they do as well? She didn’t know, but hells, if not, at least give them a chance to try and fail.

And the humans…well, why not let them try, too? If they proved they weren’t up to the challenge, then they could always change things back, but honestly, what were they afraid of? They were supposed to be superior!

Superior species don’t need to hobble inferior ones. Superior species should welcome the competition, and may the best person win.

“Freeze!” a voice called.

Perol paused, and turned. It was a peacekeeper, clad entirely in body armor. Her expression was hidden behind her mask. Khora assumed it was triumphant.

“All right,” she said. “Go ahead and fire.”

“You think I’m gonna kill you? No. You’re under arrest, and coming with me.”

“What’s the charge? Treason?”

“Yes,” the peacekeeper said. “This way.”

They walked in silence for some time, before they reached a shuttlecraft. “Get in,” the peacekeeper barked.

“I don’t suppose I could convince you to look the other way? You know these are traitors ruling us,” Perol said. “They will be our ruin.”

“Get in, Councillor Perol,” the peacekeeper said.

Perol sat in the back seat; the peacekeeper secured the locks, and got into the front. She hit a few buttons, and the ship began to rise.

“Viaf to control,” she said. “Target in custody. I’m bringing her back to Walak.”

“Affirm, Viaf,” Kurusu said. “You’re cleared all the way in.”

“Affirm, control,” Viaf said, angling toward an identical shuttlecraft.

“All right,” the peacekeeper said. “Let’s hope this is timed right.”

She hit a button on console, and there was a quick bleep and suddenly, her scope showed the shuttlecraft they were approaching on the scope, bearing an identical call sign. Viaf hit two more buttons, and the world shimmered, as a cloak was engaged on her ship.

The other ship turned, and spun up its warp drive as they passed it. It engaged, but less than a second later, it exploded, its warp drive breached.

“I guess that cover is useless now,” the woman said, turning the ship, and engaging its own warp drive. “Sorry, Councillor, I didn’t really have much choice. They wanted you dead. And frankly, I’d gotten as much as I was going to.”

Perol blinked. “I…who are….”

“Imperator Yrusa Tam, ma’am. I’ve been under cover for the last three years.”

“I can tell, you have a Walak accent.”

“No, come by that honestly, ma’am. I was given over to the Hoplites when I was three.”

“You weren’t supposed to be,” Perol said. “Legally….”

“Yeah, we’re supposed to go to loving Federation families, ‘cept there aren’t enough willing to take us, and Cesil’s known that for oh, a generation or so. Now, I love the Hoplites, and I’m proud to be one. I just wish they didn’t lie and say none of us could trace ourselves back here.”

“So do I. I’m sorry,” Perol said. “So I assume you’re getting me to safety…where, in the Empire?”

“No ma’am,” Yrusa said. “We’re on our way to Diona.”

“I heard the coup failed in Diona.”

“You also heard that no Federationers ended up Hoplites.”

“I do reckon that’s true. So now what?”

“Now,” Yrusa said, “we go to Diona, and you can do what you’ve been doing – standing up to Cesil, and defending the Empire.”

“And hopefully with fewer safe houses?” the councilor asked.

“Absolutely,” Yrusa said.

* * *

“We have good news,” Scylane said. “Khora Perol is dead.”

“Is she?” Jota Cesil asked. “How?”

“She was picked up by a peacekeeper. Unfortunately, the peacekeeper’s shuttle exploded, the warp drive was unstable. But we know Perol was aboard, we have imaging right up until the end. She won’t be troubling us anymore.”

“Good, good,” Cesil said. “This peacekeeper, give her the memorial ribbon, posthumous.”

“It’s already been done, sir. Is there anything else?”

Cesil shook his head, and poured a kapskrasi. “This is the turning point we needed,” he said. “How long until our friends attack?”

“Six days,” Rimosi said.

“Six days, and the Empire will pull its troops back, and then…then we crush the traitors on Diona, you hear?”

“Your word is law, Poron,” Scylane said, with a syrupy smile.