0316246689 (S) by Ann Leckie Read Free Book Online

were still in the corridor end, squatting on the scuffed floor behind the crate perimeter. She took a breath. Said, a trace less fervently but still in a whisper, “You realize, sir, that in all likelihood we’re going to have to find a way to govern here. We need influence to do that. We’ve made a good start, we’ve put ourselves at a crucial part of…” And then remembered that unlike in our quarters in the Undergarden, Station could hear what we said, was almost certainly listening, and might or might not report what it heard to Governor Giarod. “There is no higher authority for the governor to appeal to, no other source of support in a crisis. It’s just us.”
    Eight and Ten were away, picking up our suppers at the nearest common refectory—no cooking here. Five stood guard at our improvised boundaries, pretending she couldn’t hear any of this conversation. “Lieutenant,” I said, “I would hope that you would realize that I have no desire to govern here. I am perfectly happy to let the Athoeki govern themselves.”
    She blinked, bewildered. “Sir, you aren’t serious. If theAthoeki could have governed themselves, we wouldn’t be here. And the community-meeting thing is perfectly fine so long as you’re not doing anything that needs decisive action that instant. Or even in the next few centuries .”
    In all my two thousand years, I had never noticed that any particular kind of government made any difference, once Anaander Mianaai had given the order for annexation. “Lieutenant, you are about to throw away what goodwill you’ve built up here. Considering these are our neighbors, and we may be here for some time, I would prefer you not do that.”
    She took a breath. Calming herself. She was hurt, and angry. Felt betrayed. “Station Administration won’t be disposed to listen directly to the Ychana in the Undergarden. They never have been.”
    “Then urge them to begin, Lieutenant. You’ve already made a start on that. Continue.”
    Another breath. Somewhat mollified. “What about Citizen Uran?”
    “They’ve asked that she continue working. They didn’t explain why.”
    “Because she’s Valskaayan ! Because she’s not Xhai or outsystem Radchaai!”
    “They didn’t say, but if that is part of the reason, can you blame them, considering? And I recall you yourself mentioned exactly that, when you were trying to convince me Citizen Uran should work for you.”
    Lieutenant Tisarwat took a deep, gulping breath. Opened her mouth to speak, but stopped. Took another breath. Said, almost pleading, “You still don’t trust me!”
    I had been so intent on the conversation that I had not paid much attention to anything else. Now Kalr Five spoke, forestalling my reply to Tisarwat. “How can I assist you, citizen?”
    I reached. The Notai ancillary, from Security, stood just outside our low wall. Still wearing the Ychana tunic and trousers and those gray gloves, holding, now, a bundle of gray fabric under one arm. “They let me go, and gave me clothes,” it said now, in matter-of-fact reply to Five, “and said that they regretted they had no suitable employment for me, but as that wasn’t my fault I could still eat, and have a bunk for a specific six hours out of the day. I’m told all this is at the request of Fleet Captain Breq Mianaai, who I’m certain will have arranged more comfortable circumstances for herself and her household, so she might as well take responsibility for me.”
    Kalr Five’s anger and resentment didn’t show on her face, of course. Neither did a strange sense of unease that was, I suspected, due to her knowledge that the person talking to her was, in fact, an ancillary.
    I rose before Five could respond. “Citizen,” I said, though I knew the address was technically incorrect. An ancillary wasn’t due any sort of courtesy title. “You’re welcome to stay with us, though I fear that until the Undergarden is open again, our situation won’t be much more