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“Anything else we need to discuss right this moment, that won’t wait for the agenda?” I asked. “Those three AI cores, maybe?” No answer. The cores were still stacked in a corner of the system governor’s office. Or what had been the system governor’s office. Athoek Station still refused to recognize Governor Giarod’s authority, and the question of who ought to be in that office, or what form that position ought to take, was going to be a contentious one. “What to do with Anaander Mianaai?” The Lord of Mianaai was currently in a cell in Security. She’d had several invitations to stay with Station residents—though not, interestingly, from Eminence Ifian. Perhaps she had come to the same conclusion I had: that Ifian had begun as a partisan of the Anaander now in Security, but a third faction of the Lord of Mianaai had insinuated herself into that relationship for her own reasons. After all, how was Ifian to know the difference? Or perhaps Ifian hadn’t realized that was even possible, but had had enough of Tstur Anaander during her stay here so far.

In any event, Station would not permit Anaander to stay in any Station residence. Had suggested instead that Anaander be put in a suspension pod with a locator beacon and shoved through one of the system’s gates. It didn’t care which one, so long as it wasn’t the Ghost Gate. And
Sphene
still wanted to throttle her.

Either was acceptable to
Sword of Atagaris
. But not to
Sword of Gurat
. Which very possibly might have left the system by now, and taken this Anaander with it, but for repairs it still needed. But for the suspicion that, loyal as it wanted to be, through no fault of its own it had betrayed Tstur Anaander on the dock that day, and she would not be forgiving. But for, perhaps, its distaste for the thought of killing Captain Hetnys merely to punish
Sword of Atagaris
.

So we had no ships willing or able to take this Anaander back to Tstur Palace. The Hrad fleet—which wouldn’t have been an appropriate choice in any event—had gone back to Hrad at my very carefully polite suggestion, taking the damaged Sword from the Tstur fleet and
Mercy of Ilves
with it.
Mercy of Ilves
, it turned out, had had a genuine (if deliberate) communications malfunction, and had known almost nothing of what was happening until the Hrad fleet had appeared in the system. It (or its captain, or both) wanted nothing to do with the Republic of Two Systems.

“I suppose the Lord of Mianaai is all right where she is, for now,” said
Sword of Gurat
.

“We’re agreed?” I asked. “Yes? Excellent. The agenda, then.”

At my request Citizen Uran met me in the corridor when the meeting was adjourned. “Radchaai,” she said, speaking Delsig, “I would like to speak to you about the residents of the Undergarden.” Five Etrepas and five Amaats were working even now, helping the repair crew finish the work on Level One of the Undergarden.

“You’ve been asked to speak to me,” I guessed. Walked off down the corridor, knowing Uran would follow.

She did. “Yes, Radchaai. Everyone is happy about the repairs, and happy to hear that once repairs are done they’ll
have their own places back. But they’re concerned, Radchaai. It’s…” She hesitated.

We reached a lift, and its door slid open. “Docks please, Cousin,” I said, although Station knew where I was going. It never hurt to be polite. Said to Uran, “It’s the fact that the six AIs in the system are meeting in a closed room to plan how things will be from now on, and the human residents of the system—let alone the residents of the Undergarden—seem to have no say in it.”

“Yes, Radchaai.”

“Right. We discussed that very matter this afternoon. These are issues that affect everyone in the system, and so everyone ought to be able to be part of making these decisions. I’m responsible for the matter of criminal evaluations and re-education, and of course that necessarily also touches on Security. I’ll be talking to Citizen Lusulun, of course, and the magistrates both here and downwell. But I also want to hear from human citizens generally. I want to form a committee to consider the matter, and I want that committee to have a variety of members, so that everyone feels they have someone they can bring their concerns to, who will present those concerns for consideration. The residents of the Undergarden should have a representative there. Tell them so, and tell them to send whoever they think best to me.”

“Yes, Radchaai!” The lift doors slid open, and we walked out into the lobby of the docks. “What are we doing here?”

“Meeting the passenger shuttle. And we’re just in time.” Citizens streamed from a side corridor into the lobby, one of them a familiar figure in gray jacket and trousers and gloves, tightly curled hair clipped short. Looking tired and wary. “There she is. Look.”

“Queter!” cried Uran, and ran, weeping, to embrace her sister.

Ekalu had arrived on the station with me. Etrepa Seven, coming off the shuttle behind her, had been immediately deluged with queries about when or whether it might be convenient to approach Ekalu with an invitation—to dine, to drink tea, to hopefully become better acquainted. Some queries were made at Tisarwat’s helpfully intended suggestion, but many just because Ekalu was a
Mercy of Kalr
lieutenant, and only the smallest children on the station didn’t know, by now, who was likely to shape the barely born Two Systems.

Seivarden had, of course, received a similar round of invitations. So it was no surprise that eventually they found themselves sitting next to each other, drinking tea and trying to avoid getting pastry crumbs all over their jackets, or the floor. Seivarden doing her best to be nonchalant, not wanting to presume that Ekalu cared about her presence, or desired it in any way. There was, after all, an entire station full of people whom Ekalu might well be more interested in meeting. Nearly a dozen of them present right now, three or four of them obviously vying for Ekalu’s attention as they all sat talking and laughing.

Ekalu leaned close to Seivarden. “We should find somewhere more private. If, that is, you can behave yourself.”

“Yes,” agreed Seivarden, quietly, trying not to sound too fervent but not entirely succeeding. “I’ll be good. I’ll
try
to be good.”

“
Will
you, now?” asked Ekalu, with a tiny smile that was the end of Seivarden’s ability to seem cool and collected.

I had arranged to meet
Sphene
for supper at a tea shop off the concourse. Found it waiting for me. “Cousin, you know Citizen Uran, of course? And this is her sister, Citizen Queter.
Raughd Denche tried to compel her to blow me up, but she decided to try to blow Raughd up instead.”

“I recall hearing,” said
Sphene
. “Well done, citizen. An honor to meet you.”

“Citizen,” replied Queter, quietly. Still wary. Tired, I suspected, from the shuttle trip.
We find Citizen Queter not at fault
, the message from the magistrate of Beset District had said,
but she is warned to behave more properly in the future, and is released on the understanding that she will be under your supervision, Fleet Captain
. I could imagine Queter’s reaction to the exhortation to behave more properly.

I tilted my head, as though I had heard someone speak. “Something’s come up. It won’t be more than a few minutes. Please, Queter, sit. Uran, come with me, please.”

Out in the corridor, Uran asked, alarmed, “What is it, Radchaai?”

“Nothing,” I admitted. “I just wanted to leave
Sphene
and Queter alone for a bit.” Uran looked at me, puzzled. A bit distressed. “
Sphene
wants a captain very badly,” I explained. “And Queter is a remarkable person. I think they would be good for each other. But if we all four sit down to supper, Queter will likely say very little. This way they can get just a little bit better acquainted.”

“But she’s only just arrived! You can’t send her away!”

“Hush, child, I’m not sending anyone anywhere. It may come to nothing. And if Queter were to eventually join
Sphene
as crew—or go anywhere else to do whatever it is she’ll do—you could visit anytime.” Saw Basnaaid coming down the corridor. “Horticulturist!” She smiled, tiredly. Came over to where Uran and I were standing. “Have supper with us. With me and
Sphene
, I mean, and Uran, and Uran’s sister Queter who has just arrived from downwell.”

“Please excuse me, Fleet Captain,” Basnaaid said. “I’ve had a very long day, and more invitations to tea and supper and whatever else than I really know what to do with. I really wish they would stop. I just want to go to my quarters and eat a bowl of skel and go to sleep.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, “I suspect that’s my fault.”

“The long day isn’t your fault,” she said, with that half-smile that reminded me so much of Lieutenant Awn. “But the invitations certainly are.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” I promised. “Though it may not be much. You’re sure about supper? Yes? Get some rest then. And don’t hesitate to call on me if you need me.” I would have to talk to Station about getting someone to intercept such annoyances for her.

No real endings, no final perfect happiness, no irredeemable despair. Meetings, yes, breakfasts and suppers. Five anticipating having the best porcelain out again tomorrow, fretting over whether we had enough tea for the next few days. Tisarwat standing watch aboard
Mercy of Kalr
, Bo One beside her, humming to herself,
Oh, tree, eat the fish
. Etrepa Seven standing guard with ancillary-like impassivity outside a storage compartment Ekalu and Seivarden had commandeered. Utterly unembarrassed by the occasional noise from that compartment. Amused, actually, and relieved that at least this one thing was the way she thought it should be. Amaat Two and Four, both helping with the Undergarden repair crew, singing, together but not realizing it, slightly out of phase with each other,
My mother said it all goes around, the ship goes around the station, it all goes around
.

I said to Uran, “That should do. Let’s go in and have supper.”

In the end it’s only ever been one step, and then the next.

Acknowledgments

As ever, I owe a tremendous debt to my editors, Will Hinton at Orbit US and Jenni Hill at Orbit UK, for all of their help and advice. Tremendous thanks are also due to my super fabulous agent, Seth Fishman.

This book also benefitted from the comments and suggestions of many friends, including Margo-Lea Hurwicz, Anna and Kurt Schwind, and Rachel and Mike Swirsky. I would also like to thank Corinne Kloster for being awesome. Mistakes and missteps are, of course, my own.

Access to good libraries has made a huge difference to me as a writer, not only in having access to a wide range of fiction, but also research materials. The St. Louis County Library, the Municipal Library Consortium of St. Louis County, the St. Louis Public Library, the Webster University Library, and University of Missouri St. Louis’ Thomas Jefferson Library have all been invaluable to me. Thanks to the staff at all of these libraries—you make the world a better place.

Of course, I would not have the time or energy to write much at all without the support of my family—my children Aidan and Gawain and my husband Dave. They have borne the vagaries of my writing career so far with cheerful patience, and offered help whenever I seemed to need it. I am beyond fortunate to have them in my life.

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meet the author

Photo credit: MissionPhoto.org

A
NN
L
ECKIE
has worked as a waitress, a receptionist, a rodman on a land-surveying crew, a lunch lady, and a recording engineer. The author of many published short stories, and former secretary of Science Fiction Writers of America, she lives in Saint Louis, Missouri, with her husband, children, and cats.

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