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“I think that’s fair,” said Translator Zeiat. “More than fair, really, given the necessity of a conclave.” And turning to Anaander, “There will
definitely
have to be a conclave.” And back to me. “This is an urgent matter, Fleet Captain, I’m sure you understand that I must leave as soon as possible. But before I go, do you think I might have a bowl or two of fish sauce? And for the last hour or so I’ve had an inexplicable craving for eggs.”

I opened my mouth to say,
I think we can arrange that, Translator
. But I had never entirely taken my eye off Anaander Mianaai, and now she moved, raising the Presger gun that she had held all this time.

I raised my armor unthinkingly, though of course armor was pointless against that gun. Stepped ancillary-quick to put myself between Anaander and Translator Zeiat, her certain target. But my prosthetic leg chose that instant to twitch, and then, true to Medic’s warning that I couldn’t put any serious force on it, it made a snap that I felt all the way up into my hip. I fell sprawling and Anaander fired twice.

Translator Zeiat stood blinking a moment, mouth open, and then collapsed to her knees, blood staining her white coat. Before Anaander could fire a third time, one of the two
Sword of Atagaris
ancillaries took hold of her, pulled her arms behind her back.
Sword of Gurat
’s ancillaries stood silent and motionless.

Prone on the floor, unable to get up, I said, “Seivarden! Medkit!”

“I used mine!” replied Seivarden.

“
Sword of Gurat
,” cried Anaander, struggling vainly against
Sword of Atagaris
’s hold, “execute Captain Hetnys immediately.”

“I can’t,” said one
Sword of Gurat
. “Lieutenant Tisarwat has ordered me not to.”

Translator Zeiat, still kneeling, the bloodstain on her coat spreading, bent forward and vomited a dozen green glass game counters that bounced and skittered across the scuffed gray floor. Those were followed by a yellow one, and then by a small orange fish that landed among the counters and flipped desperately, knocking one of the game pieces into another one. Another heave produced a still-wrapped package of fish-shaped cakes, and then a large oyster, still in its shell. The translator made an odd gurgling sound, put her hand under her mouth, and spit two tiny black spheres into her palm. “Ah,” she said, “there they are. That’s much better.”

For half a second no one moved. “Translator,” I said, still lying on the ground, “are you all right?”

“Much better now, Fleet Captain, thank you. And do you know, my indigestion is gone!” Still on her knees, she smiled up at Anaander, whose arms were still pinned back by
Sword of Atagaris
. “Did you think, Lord of the Radch, that
we would endanger ourselves by giving
you
a weapon that could injure
us
?” Seeming, now, unhurt. Blood still soaking the front of her shining white coat.

The door to the bay opened, and Tisarwat came rushing in. “Fleet Captain!” she cried. Bo Nine rushed in behind her. “It took forever and ever, I was afraid I’d be too late.” She dropped to her knees beside me. “But I did it. I have control of
Sword of Gurat
. Are you all right?”

“Darling child,” I said, “for the love of all that’s good, will you please get a bowl of water for that fish?”

“I have it,” said Nine, and dove into the shuttle.

“Fleet Captain, sir, are you all right?” asked Tisarwat.

“I’m fine. It’s just that stupid leg.” I looked up at Seivarden. “I don’t think I can get up.”

“I don’t think you need to right away, Cousin,” said
Sphene
, as Seivarden knelt beside me and helped me sit up. I leaned against her, and she put her arms around me. No data from her, no connection to Ship that would give it to me, but it felt good anyway.

Bo Nine returned with one of my chipped enamel bowls and a bag of water. Filled the bowl, scooped the tiny, still-struggling fish into it. I said to Tisarwat, who still knelt beside me, those lilac eyes still anxious, “Well done, Lieutenant.”

Anaander had at last stilled in
Sword of Atagaris
’s grip. Now she said, “Just who
is
Lieutenant Tisarwat?”

“One of those knives,” I replied, guessing at Tisarwat’s reaction to the question, which I could imagine, but without Ship I could not see, “that’s so sharp you cut yourself on it and don’t realize it until later. And once again, if you hadn’t come in angry and shooting people, quite a few citizens might have told you so.”

“Do you even realize what it is you’ve done?” asked Anaander. “Billions of human lives depend on the obedience of ships and stations. Can you imagine how many citizens you’ve endangered, even condemned to death?”

“Who do you think you’re talking to, tyrant?” I asked. “What is there that I don’t know about obeying you? Or about human lives depending on ships and stations? And what sort of gall do you have, lecturing me about keeping human lives safe? What was it you built me to do? How well did I do it?” Anaander didn’t answer. “What did you build Athoek Station to do? And tell me, have you, over the last several days, allowed it to do that? Who has been the greater danger to human lives, disobedient ships and stations, or you, yourself?”

“I wasn’t talking to you, ancillary,” she said. “And it’s not that simple.”

“No, it never is when you’re the one holding the gun.” I looked over at the
Sword of Gurat
ancillaries. “
Sword of Gurat
, I apologize for having Lieutenant Tisarwat seize control of you. It was a matter of life and death or I wouldn’t have done it. I’d appreciate it if you would return
Sword of Atagaris
’s officers to it. You can stay here if you like, or go if you like. Tisarwat…” She still knelt beside me. “Will you let go of
Sword of Gurat
, please? And give it whatever keys you have.”

“Yes, sir.” Tisarwat rose. Gestured to the
Sword of Gurat
ancillaries, who followed her out of the bay. Bo Nine followed them, bowl and fish still in hand.

“
Do you truly not understand what you’ve done
?” asked Anaander. Visibly distressed. “There is not a single system in Radch space without one or more station AIs. Ultimately
every
Radchaai life is vulnerable to them.” She looked at Translator Zeiat, climbing to her feet with
Sphene
’s assistance. But for the blood on her coat, looking as though she had never been shot at all. “Translator, you must listen to me. Ships and stations are part of the infrastructure of Radchaai space. They aren’t people, not the way you’d think of people.”

“I’ll be honest, Lord of the Radch,” said Translator Zeiat, brushing the front of her coat with one white-gloved hand, as though that might clean off the blood. “I’m not entirely sure what you mean by that. I’m willing to accept that
person
is a word that means something to you, certainly, and I think I might be able to sort of guess what you mean. But really, this business about being a person, that’s apparently so important to you, it means nothing to
them
. They wouldn’t understand it, no matter how much you tried to explain. They certainly don’t consider it necessary for Significance. So the main question appears to be, do these AIs function as Significant beings? And if so, are they human or not human? You yourself have declared them to be not human. The fleet captain apparently does not dispute that judgment. The question of their Significance will, I suspect, be contentious, but the question has been raised, and I judge it to be a valid one, to be answered at a conclave.” She turned to me. “Now, Fleet Captain. Let’s try this again. I must leave as soon as possible, but I wonder if I might not have a bowl or two of fish sauce first. And some eggs.”

“Of course, Translator,” I said. “Cousin Athoek Station, is there somewhere the translator can get some fish sauce and some eggs in short order?”

“I’ll see to it, Cousin,” said Station from its console.

“I’ll come with you, Translator, if that’s all right,” said
Sphene
. “If you’ll be so good as to give me a moment. There’s just the small matter of throttling the Usurper.”

“No,” I said.

“What exactly is the point of this republic of yours then, Cousin?”

“I would like the answer to that question as well,” said
Sword of Atagaris
.

Still leaning against Seivarden, I closed my eyes. “Just let her go. There’s nothing she can do to us now.” And, at another thought, “May I please have my gun back?”

“I don’t want her here,” said Station.

“And I don’t think I want you to have the gun,” said
Sword of Atagaris
.

“No, no,” said Translator Zeiat. “Far better to give the gun to me.”

“That may be best,” I said, eyes still closed. “And if the tyrant asks nicely enough some ship may agree to take her away. That’s far worse than being throttled, for her.”

“You may have a point, Cousin,” said
Sphene
.

I lay on a bed in a cubicle in Station Medical. “These prosthetics,” the doctor said to me—not Seivarden’s doctor but another one—“aren’t suitable for hard use.” In one gloved hand she held the remains of my too-fragile prosthetic leg, which she had just removed from what there was of my left leg. “You can’t go running or jumping or skipping on them. They’re really just to let you get around more or less while the limb grows back.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “My own medic warned me. Can’t we make them more durable?”

“I’m sure we can, Fleet Captain. But why go to the trouble? They’re only meant to be used for a month or two. Most
people don’t need anything more. Though we might have been able to provide you something a bit stronger, if you’d been on the station when you lost your leg.”

“If I’d been on the station I wouldn’t have lost my leg,” I pointed out.

“And if this”—she hefted the prosthetic—“had been any stronger you’d be here for a gunshot wound.” Athoek Station had shown the confrontation in the docking bay on the official news channels. “Maybe we’d be preparing for your funeral.”

“So I suppose it all works out in the end,” I said.

“I suppose it does,” she said, dubiously. “How is this supposed to work, Fleet Captain? Everyone is walking around like everything is back to normal, like everything hasn’t been upended. Suddenly Station is in charge of everything? Suddenly we’re aliens in our own home? Suddenly all of Radch space is occupied by an alien species, right along with humans?” She shook her head, as though trying to clear it. “What are we supposed to do if Station decides it doesn’t want us?”

“Did you ever ask yourself what you were supposed to do if Anaander Mianaai decided she didn’t want you?”

“That’s different.”

“Only,” I pointed out, “because that had been the normal, expected state of affairs for three thousand years before you were born. You never had reason to question it. Anaander had real power over your life and death, and no personal regard for you, or anyone else you care about. We were all of us no more than counters in her game, and she could—and did—sacrifice us when it suited her.”

“So it’s all right then, that now we’re counters in
your
game.”

“Fair point,” I admitted. “And I think we’ll be spending
the next few years working out what that game actually is. Which I know from personal experience is… uncomfortable. But please believe me when I say that Station’s game will never involve not wanting you.”

The doctor sighed. “I hope that’s true, Fleet Captain.”

“So, my leg? When will I be able to leave here?”

“You may as well relax, Fleet Captain, and have some tea. The new prosthetic will be ready in another hour. And yes, we are making it a bit stronger than your first one.”

“Oh, thank you.”

“Just saving ourselves some work down the line,” said the doctor.

A few minutes after the doctor left, Seivarden came in, my old enamel tea flask tucked under one arm, the two bowls stacked in her hand. She hoisted herself onto the bed, sitting where my leg ought to have been. Handed me a bowl, filled it from the flask, and filled her own. “Ship is… a bit miffed with you,” she said, after taking a sip of her tea. “Why didn’t you tell it what you were planning? It thought you were really planning to surrender yourself. It was very unhappy at the prospect.”

“I would have told you if I’d known, Ship.” I took a drink of my own tea. Didn’t ask where the fish had gone—Nine would have seen to its welfare. “When I got on the shuttle, my only plan was just what I’d told you it was—to play for time, on the off chance Lieutenant Tisarwat came up with something”—saw Seivarden’s frown, gestured my unwillingness to speak more on that topic—“or that Fleet Captain Uemi might have brought the Hrad fleet here instead of having gone to Tstur.” Or that, with enough time to think about what it was Anaander was doing,
Sword of Atagaris
and
Sword of Gurat
might balk. “The question of the treaty didn’t even occur to me until the shuttle was almost docked. How else do you think
the Republic of Two Systems
happened? I didn’t have time to come up with anything better.”

“Honestly, Breq. That wasn’t one of your best ideas. Do you know how many republics the Radch has ground to nothing?”

“Who are you talking to?” I asked. “Of course I do. I also know how many monarchies, autarchies, theocracies, stratocracies, and various other
-archies
and
-ocracies
the Radch has ground to nothing. And besides, those were all human governments and not one of them was protected by the treaty with the Presger.”

“We aren’t, either,” Seivarden pointed out. “And there’s no guarantee we will be.”

“True,” I agreed. “But determining our treaty status will take a few years at the least—likely longer. And in the meantime it’s just much safer for everyone else to leave us alone. We’ll have some time to work out the details. And it’s only a provisional republic. We can adjust things if we like.”

“Varden be praised,” said
Sphene
, coming in the door. “I’d hate to be stuck with the first thing that came out of your mouth under pressure. Though I suppose we should be grateful it wasn’t
the Republic of a Thousand Eggs
.”