Eκ ixzα pαntᴋεp. Three simple words that brought the murmuring in the gallery to a sudden stop.

Three words that nobody expected to hear from Forna Qorni. Not in public.

I was wrong.

Now, the eyes of everyone in the room, and everyone watching around the Empire, were on her.

She had waded into the water. She may as well swim.

“I was wrong to oppose human emancipation. I was wrong to oppose full citizenship. And as Floor Leader, I failed to give adequate resources to help ease the transition of humans as they took on a role that we had denied them.”

It was coming out in a torrent, now, things she’d barely admitted to herself. She needed to say them. Not because she wanted absolution, but because at long last, she owed it to the Empire she’d once led. She owed them the truth. She owed them an apology. She owed them to be better in her time out of office than she had been while she lived in One Imperial Square.

She looked up to the gallery. Armac was watching her carefully, her face not betraying a bit of emotion. But that was to be expected.

“I have not, and will not, discussed every point on which the cabinet and I disagreed, but one that I will admit to was that I did not move quickly enough to push Federation Province to accept human equality,” she said. “This allowed the traitors in that province to consolidate power and launch an attack on their own people and this Empire. Had I been more willing to accept human equality sooner, I would have been in a better position to demand that the Federation follow Imperial law. But because I was still talking about repealing the law, I gave them the chance to disobey. I gave them license to disobey. That was my failure, and mine alone, and that failure cost lives. Had the plan of the traitors and the Insectoids succeeded…it may have cost the Empire.

“My unwillingness to accept humans as my fellow citizens put this Empire in danger, and the cabinet – led by, I want to stress, my fellow conservatives – seeing this failure, they asked for my resignation. This was not our only disagreement, but it was the core of it. And while…and while….”

She paused. There was no “And while.” She had failed the Empire, and failed herself.

The room was silent, hanging on her words. She continued, despite the catch in her throat. “It is not easy, you know, to admit that on the most important issues, I was wrong. But I was. I suppose that history might judge me better if I didn’t say this, if I allowed the polite silence of my successor and my former colleagues to minimize my grave error. But Mr. President…Mr. President, a predecessor of mine, Rep. Gleebo, went to her grave insisting that she was right, insisting that non-Titans were not our equals. History today rightly judges her harshly for her bigotry. History will judge me, and it will not judge me well, I fear. But you know…there are things more important than how history judges me. This Empire is more important. The lives of our peoples are more important. The equality and freedom of our peoples is more important.”

She looked over to Carey. She was, she knew, worse in her own way than Gleebo, or Cesil. She’d realized it, as the vote had neared – realized they were people. She’d fought it because of politics. Because it would hurt her party, and her career.

Berisen had been right to ask for her resignation. Righter than he even knew.

“I hope that when history looks back on my life and legacy,” she said, and she realized only now that she was crying, “that it is written that I was wrong – but that I realized it….”

She understood, with clarity, that she would be remembered like Gleebo, and worse, she would deserve it. She couldn’t fix it.

But that didn’t mean she couldn’t try.

She took a deep breath. “And if it was too late, at least…at least in my remaining time in public service, I hope history can record that I did what I could to ensure that humans were able to integrate into our Empire as free and equal citizens. And I will work in my time in this body to do just that. I thank the Emperor for my opportunity to continue to serve him. And I thank you, Mr. President, and yield the floor.”

She sat down, to silence.

And then, the senate erupted into loud and cacophonous cheers, which lasted for a very long time.

Alex applauded politely, though not ebulliently. He was trying to believe he’d just heard what he’d heard. Like most humans, he had grown to quite despise Qorni. And with good reason. He wasn’t quite ready to bury the hatchet, not yet.

She’d have to prove it.

But hell, he was willing to give her the chance. Even if that was all she did…her saying she was wrong would pretty much end any attempt to roll back human emancipation for all time.

It was his turn next, and so he rose. He was addressing a very large room, he thought. But what the hell. He’d been doing that since 2013.

“Thank you, Mr. President,” Alex said. “I…don’t know how to follow that, really.”

As Alex said those words, a few senators – not many, perhaps a half-dozen – rose from their seats, and headed toward the door in the back. Alex did pay them any mind – he was focused on his speech, and a bit of bigotry…well, he was used to it by now.

It did not go unnoticed by everyone.

“Before I begin, Your Imperial Highness…as I told you the first time we met, you owe me no apology, and if Ryan attempts to request any ‘requital’ on my part, you tell him that his father refuses it. He may be Lord Carey, but I’m still his dad. Your Imperial Highness, you haven’t done me any wrong. Your sister did, but let’s face it, I have many friends with terrible relatives. My daughter-in-law is as fine a person I’ve ever met, her sister is a wonderful and dear friend, and their mother is a traitor and murderer. I no more hold Vasha against you than I hold Syon against them, or Trell against my friend Brinn. Their evil is their own, and only they should have to suffer for it.”

He smiled at Daz, then turned to face Qorni. “And Sen. Qorni, I appreciate your apology, but more than that, I appreciate what you said about wanting to work to make up for your mistakes,” he said. “None of us can undo our mistakes, and all of us make them, especially me. If you don’t believe me, ask my wife, she will be happy to tell you all about them. But we can all admit when we blew it, and should, and we can all work to be better, and must.” He paused, and thought to himself, What the hell, be magnanimous in victory. “You’re not the first Titan to be wrong about humans being equal. And some of the best advocates and best friends humans have in this universe are Titans who made that mistake, figured it out, and then worked to be better. If you mean what you say, Senator, then what history will record is that you owned your mistake and did all you could to fix it, and if anyone wishes to focus on the mistake, that is their choice, but it won’t be me. I look forward to working with you, and I hope we can talk more after the session concludes.”

That statement drew significant applause, which did not surprise him. Alex had always avoided office, but he wouldn’t have earned the respect he held on Avalon if he didn’t understand politics.

Now, on to important business.

“You know, when I reached the Empire…even people who I now love thought of me as a pet. Including my wife, who briefly tried to train me with stern discipline and a steely resolve. She made it about twelve hours, partly because I’m quite charming. Mostly it was because Rixie is observant, and kind, and a woman who joined the military because she wanted to protect the weak, and while I like to think of myself as strong…you aren’t gonna be physically strong in a world where you’re smaller than the average thumb.”

The room chuckled, as he’d hoped they would. “Rixie listened to me. She paid attention when I said I wasn’t a pet, that I was a person. She came to believe it, sooner than I’d hoped, and by the time she had been hired by Sen. Tarsuss, she truly saw me as her equal. Not physically – of course, I wouldn’t be if I was Titan-sized, I’ve yet to meet anyone who’s tougher than her, and I’d bet on her against anyone in a fight. But spiritually, mentally, emotionally – the things that matter – she saw me as a person. She saw me as her equal before I did, I think, but that’s partly because I’m not her equal. I never can be. Aside from my son and my daughter, I’m not sure anyone can be. But don’t tell her. She might wise up, and while she can undoubtedly do better, there’s no way I will.

“Rixie is why I’m here today. I mean, really, it’s the Emperor, and my son, and my daughter-in-law. But Rixie….”

He choked up. Just for a second.

“When I was at my lowest point, after the attack that Daz – Sen. Zakrov ColVanos – mentioned earlier…I was struggling to even be around Titans. It’s not easy to be under normal circumstances, when you haven’t been hurt by one of you. You may not know this, but you’re really big. Like, very big. Bigger than a lot of things that are already quite large. Anyhow…Rixie would have let me stay in Atlantis, stay away from her. She would have given me up, not for her sake, but for mine, if it would make my life better. And when I told her that I did not want to lose her, that I was willing to fight to get better, to be with her…she helped me fight. She pushed me when I didn’t want to be pushed, because she knew that really, I did. She believed that I could and would get better. It was not easy for me, but I think it was harder on her, because she blamed herself for my being hurt in the first place. And because I was getting better…this time, she really did have to be stern, and hard on me. Not to train me up as a pet. To help me heal as a person.”

He looked up to the gallery. From here he couldn’t quite read Rixie’s expression, but he had a strong suspicion that it mostly displayed embarrassment. Tough, he thought. You’ve earned this.

“Rixie helped me get back to her, and in so doing helped me go forward, and become the handsome, gregarious, affable guy who stands before you here on the floor of the Senate, or more accurately, on a desk on the floor of the Senate, today. There are plenty of issues I’m interested in, but today as I take office, that’s what I want to remember. It may not be the most important issue to this body or Empire, but it is to me, and so I simply want to conclude my introduction to you by saying that I love you, Rixie Carey, and I would do it all over again, even the worst of it, except for Ryan getting burned – don’t do that again, kid, your mom can handle it but I can’t – but I’d do it again, not for the Senate, or the restaurant, or whatever people think I did on Avalon – really, folks, I let people use the bar for meetings, I’m not Ben Franklin – and yeah, I know you don’t know who Ben Franklin is – but that’s not why I’d do it. I’d do it for you, Rixie. For Ryan, Asteria, and you. Thank you, Mr. President, and I yield my time.”

Rixie covered her face, until she felt an elbow in her side. She turned, and looked at Thyllia, who was beaming. “So that’s where Ryan gets it,” she said, quietly.

“Ugh, I don’t believe that he spent his whole time talking about me,” Rixie said.

“You thought he’d talk about anything else?” Ryan laughed.

Rixie felt a hand on her shoulder, and looked back, to where the Empress sat.

“You married well,” was all Rajenlif said.

Rixie smiled. “I know. I really did.”

* * *

Goch Priztsa wasn’t one to make waves. But when a few other members had suggested that they shouldn’t pretend it was okay for a human to join the Senate, he had agreed. It was silly. I mean, his daughter Mofe had accidentally killed a pet once, according to her mother. He wondered how Mofe was doing; it had been a long time since he’d seen her, he realized.

Anyhow, humans were far too weak to be citizens, any smart person could see it, and he wasn’t going to pretend otherwise. So he and the five other senators got out of their seats, and pointedly walked out the back door. Oh, to be sure, it was a violation of the Senate rules – you shouldn’t leave while someone’s speaking, that was…well, one of the rules, he remembered being told it. But they were all fairly powerful people, they’d be fine.

The guard did not open the door, so Goch took the initiative. He pushed it open, and walked through, and stopped abruptly.

His colleagues had not expected this, and they collided into him, sending him and the senator behind him, Lady Egdismbi, sprawling onto the floor, and causing the four others to ricochet to the side like billiard balls.

“Frak, Goch,” said Sen. Soth. “What the…oh, Frak.”

“Hello,” said Tiernan ColVanos, Fourth of that Name, Emperor of Archavia and All Its Possessions. “Leaving early, are we?”

“Your…your Imperial Majesty!” Goch said, getting up. “Yes, uh…we were just….”

“You were just leaving the Senate floor in the middle of another member’s speech. And no minor speech, at that,” Tiernan said, pointing to the monitors in the anteroom, which were even now broadcasting the historic first speech of a human on the floor of the Senate.

“Your Majesty,” Ceusi Egdismbi said, “we were just….”

“You were just showing great disrespect to a recipient of the Order of the Emperor, whose son is a member of the Imperial Clade. A man who is your fellow senator. And a man I respect much more than the six of you combined.”

“Your Majesty,” Goch said, “we…we would not have done this had we known….”

“What, you needed my presence to know that it was wrong to display rank bigotry?” Tiernan said. “How sad for you. Get out of my sight. No, not in there,” Tiernan said, as a couple members moved toward the Senate’s door. “I will leave it to the Senate to decide whether your offense requires punishment. But you will not be present for my speech. Not today. I do not wish to share a room with you on this day for one moment longer than I must.”

Goch was the first to regain his voice; Alex’s speech had concluded and another member had taken the floor before he found it. “As…as you wish, Your Imperial Majesty,” he said. “Come on,” he added, waving to the other memebers.

“Good idea, Ceusi,” said Soth. “Really brilliant.”

“Should have listened to Idisoko,” Goch muttered, as he reached the elevator. He noted that two members of the Emperor’s guards had walked them to it, and stood patiently as they entered the lift. They stood guard right up until the doors slammed shut.

* * *

As one member of the Royal family was dressing down senators, another had risen on the floor, a woman nearly as angry as her father-in-law.

“Mr. President,” Daz said, rising as Alex concluded, “may I table a motion of urgency?”

Lord Dosa Esuste, the Senate President, had been a prelate of the Epolian faith before fate had thrust him into his family’s primacy. There are certainly many faith leaders – from all faiths – who are less faithful than enamored of the power that faith can bring them. But Blessed Dosa was not among them; he had a deep and abiding faith, one that had led him to spend two years on Rura Penthe ministering to a penal colony.

The Senate President had seen the same thing Daz had, and had she not wished to table the motion, he would have asked her to.

Of course, he didn’t need to tell her that; he was quite certain she knew. He simply smiled apologetically, and said, “Senator Zakrov ColVanos.”

Daz took a deep breath, trying to keep her tone level; she didn’t need to say what she was thinking, which was basically that these frakkers should be shot by cannon off the roof of the Legislature. “Mr. President,” she said, “a certain number of members left the chamber during the last speech, in violation of Senate rules. I move that the Clerk direct his office to identify them, and note their names in the record, and that the committee on rules be directed to consider whether sanctions against them are appropriate, and that they be placed in suspended status until the committee on rules has completed its deliberations.”

This was more expansive a motion than the President would have sought, and it would probably be shot down. The Senate rules required a majority of members to be present to do business, and they were nowhere close; of course, Senate rules also indicated that there was assumed to be a majority present unless someone objected. It would just take one objection to keep this motion from proceeding.

But Daz wanted to see if anyone would object. She wanted to know if these frakkers had allies. As the President restated the motion, she stared around the room, watching for the fool who would be the one to stand up for their fellow members. She was almost disappointed when the President said, “All in favor, please signify by saying yea…those opposed, nay…the yeas have it, it is so ordered.”

Well. If they had friends, they weren’t particularly good friends. Daz made a mental note to be present for the Rules committee meeting. She looked very much forward to watching them squirm.

“The Chair recognizes Sen. Bass.”

Hussel rose, and smiled, first to Lady Tarsuss, then to the Princess. “Thank you, Mr. President. Senator Carey said he could not possibly top Sen. Qorni’s speech, and he then, at the very least, equaled it,” he said. “Alas, when I say I cannot equal them I am not being modest. My physics lecture groups from my teaching days will agree with me.”

Hussel had no intention of giving a long speech. He simply wanted to make one point very clear.

“Sen. Tarsuss kindly says that my actions in defense of Niall were somehow notable, but I don’t see them that way. I was raised, and Lilitu and I raised our children, to stand up when it was easier to sit down. To defend people when nobody else was willing to.

“Each of my children have done that in their own way, and I am proud of each of them, because that is what is demanded of all of us. And while Senator Tarsuss gives me credit for their excellence, I want to make sure that credit goes to the person who truly deserves it, my wife. I asked a great deal of my children, but Lilitu demanded it, and though at times I think all of my children felt their mother was the tough one…all of them would tell you that they are the people they are because their mother demanded from them the excellence they were capable of.

“As for any recognition I may deserve for standing up for Niall…if I have needed any reward for doing the right thing, I have my granddaughter, Sorcha. And I had a brilliant son-in-law who was a wonderful partner to my daughter, who made her life better…and who was at my son’s side when they both died. It hurts to have lost Aerti, and always will, but I am grateful that he had his brother with him. Neither Niall nor Aerti died alone, they died with family. That is a small blessing in a terrible thing. So do I need recognition for my small act? Not at all. I have been rewarded for my small contribution a thousand times over, as has my family.”

Applause interrupted him; he looked to the gallery, where his daughter and daughter-in-law sat, side-by-side. He was just as grateful that they had each other to stand with now, just as their husbands had stood together. Naskia had chosen her husband well, and Aerti had done just as well with his wife. All his children had done well, really, and that was as much as he could have hoped.

“During my time in office, I hope to do what I can to help improve our Empire’s science literacy; to work with my colleagues, including Sen. Carey, and I’m glad to hear, Sen. Qorni, to help make sure that new human citizens receive an adequate education and training so that they can live free,” he said.

“And of course, I hope to do my small part to support this Empire in the war we fight, a war that none of us chose, a war that took two members of my family…and that could have taken more had things fallen out worse. It is a war we must win, and I will help the Floor Leader and the Emperor in whatever small way I can.”

As he concluded, there was once more a raucous ovation. Hussel knew it was not for his oratory – he was a decent lecturer in his subject, and a good teacher one-on-one, but he had never wanted to be a great speaker. No, he knew that the applause was for his son-in-law, and his son, and the idea that the Empire would fight the bugs in their memory. And that, Hussel thought, was truly something worthy of an ovation.

* * *

Dases Brid had retired to his condominium, and poured a kapskrasi with a bit of mosaberry juice, and Ol’ Janx Spirit for his guest. They’d watched the feed of the Senate through to the end, without talking much. Brid’s guest had taught him the value of not arguing with the vidscreen, but waiting until it was over.

After the session gaveled to a close – with the Senate giving Sen. Carey the honor of moving to adjourn – the visitor leaned back, and pushed a button on his pad.

“Hey Sula. What are the pitches? Mmhmm,” he said, listening to his earpiece. “Okay, right, tell Amasa we’ll pay double if he can turn that take on the disciplinary motion around fast. Protesters weren’t wrong, was silly to protest right then, but the sanction is overkill. Usual targets – favoritism, human-loving Senator made the motion, and then ‘conservatives’ like Qorni and Zeramblin just let it slide. Tell him to dial back the anti-Epolianism, we have Epolian allies on Navyenev. Daughter was lost on Hive Prime when the war broke out. I know he likes to tweak people…right, exactly. And yeah, Emperor took a bit of the dark matter out of the reactor with that announcement, but Olorti should be able to keep it going, not like Vallero has kids, and the Emperor didn’t rule out her giving the crown to one of the half-breeds. Right. Good. Yeah, you can handle the rest. Oh, and tell Icolvi to back it the frak down, his thing where he outs human-Titan couples, it’s getting him attention, but not necessarily the good kind. We aren’t there yet. Right. Thanks, I’m in a meeting for the next couple hours, so keep the line clear. You too.”

The man leaned back and rubbed a meaty paw over his face. He’d been an attractive man in his twenties, but he’d lived a hard life that not even regular lattice-gel treatments could cover up completely. “So what did you think?” he asked, much as a teacher would to a student.

“You’re right, the Emperor was smart to name Vallero. Do you think we moved too soon?” Brid asked.

“No. He always was going to, once Antero died. Tiernan is sharp as they come. He knew exactly what the blowback would be, and what quarters it would come from. Still, we’ve made good stories out of it, it’s given us something to hang our shingle on.”

“I was surprised,” Dases said, “that nobody objected to the motion.”

“This is why I work with Idisoko and Sididu, not Egdismbi or Soth. Neither one of them’s a fool, but they don’t understand timing. You don’t walk out during the human’s speech, that’s just playing into their hands. Now’s not the time for a frontal attack on human and hybrid citizenship. We have to build to that.”

“What do you think about Qorni’s speech?”

“She did us a favor, I think. I mean, it hurts now, sure, but it clears the court. Bet Berisen will issue a statement talking about how she’s really amazing for backing down. I know Segdi will. That lets us say, ‘We won’t apologize for our values,’ and let people wonder if we’re talking about Qorni or if it’s just me being me.”

The man smiled. “You know, you’re a good deal smarter than you let on, Representative.”

“Thanks, Eras. But I’m not you. I can see the next move or two, not the next ten.”

“Maybe,” Eras Kameo said, “but most people can’t even see the next one. The ones who can are the ones who’ve brought us to this juncture.”

“Armac,” Brid said. “And Tiernan. Segdi and Berisen…even Smit, he’s smart for a human.”

“Yes. And Tarsuss. Definitely Tarsuss,” said Kameo. “Everyone in the human rights movement is just a degree or two of separation from her, if that. Carey’s one of her best friends, and the father of her sister’s husband. Bass is Niall Freeman’s father-in-law, and you know that Tarsuss is Sorcha Freeman’s faith-aunt? Hells, Tarsuss paid for the research into human life extension, which got us hybridization. I might see ten moves into the future, she sees fifty.”

Brid grinned. “You said it before, Eras. Tarsuss thinks she’s won. She thinks it’s over.”

“Which is why stunts like today don’t help. We need to rebuild quietly. If we lay low and rebuild, build the structure on platitudes, for now, we can do this. But if we get up on Tarsuss’s scanners…well, that’s what things like today do. That’s the opposite of laying low.”

“You’d think Ganas was quiet about its positions, rather than the site people love to hate,” Brid said, with a slight grin.

“I didn’t say we should shut up,” Kameo said. “We have to keep talking about these things. But I’d rather they think that I’m just a gadfly, stirring the pot, trying to get views for advertisements. I’d rather they thought we were confined to the sidelines.”

“You probably shouldn’t meet with me after the announcement. Not directly,” Brid said.

“You would think so. But surprisingly, while I’ve been happy to attack, Ganas is still considered barely acceptable discourse, and we’ve been very careful to stay that way. No, if you had a chance to take over Empire, you wouldn’t want to meet with me. But this new caucus…you’re going to be seen as a firebrand. A conservative too far out there for Tradition. There will be people who call you a member of the Titan Party.”

“Right, but like you said, they were fools. They wanted to break the Empire. We want to save it from evildoers, make it the great Empire we used to be.”

“Correct. You know, I had reservations about you. Your reputation, Representative, is not good.”

“I’m not like my sister, I didn’t like to study,” Dases said. “I was more interested in girls, and my dad was Ephor of Aement, I had plenty. But I’m not stupid, like they think. I just…there’s stuff I care about, and the stuff I don’t, I don’t.”

“And the things you care about, Representative, are the important things. For our Empire and our future.” Eras downed his drink, and rose. “Good luck with the announcement. You have how many with you?”

“Ten besides me,” Brid said. “And I’ve settled on a name.”

“Which did you choose?”

“’Heritage,’” Brid said. “After all, that’s what we’re fighting for, right? Our heritage?”

“It is,” Eras Kameo said. “And with fighters like you, we will ultimately triumph.”