0316246689 (S) by Ann Leckie Read Free Book Online Page A

comfortable than anyone else’s.” No response, the ancillary just stood there, solemn-faced. “It might be helpful if we knew what to call you.”
    “Call me whatever you like, Fleet Captain.”
    “I would like,” I replied, “to call you by your name.”
    “Then we are at an impasse.” Still matter-of-fact.
    “You aren’t going anywhere,” I said. “You’d have left six hundred years ago when this system was annexed if you could have. You can’t make your own gates anymore. Possibly even your engines don’t work. Which means finding you is just a matter of time and determination on our part.” In fact, it shouldn’t take more than some history and some mathto discover what ship it was most likely to be. “So you might as well just tell us.”
    “You make a very persuasive point, Fleet Captain,” it said, and nothing more.
    Mercy of Kalr said, in my ear, “I’ve been thinking about this since we first realized there was a ship on the other side of the Ghost Gate, Fleet Captain. It could be any of several ships. I might say Cultivation of Tranquility , but I’m fairly certain the supply locker we found is off one of the Gems. That narrows it down to Heliodor , Idocrase , or Sphene . Pieces of Heliodor were found three provinces away during an annexation two centuries ago, and based on Idocrase ’s last known heading it’s unlikely to have ended up here. I’d say this is most likely Sphene .”
    Aloud I said, “ Sphene .”
    The ancillary didn’t react that I saw, but Station said in my ear, “I think that’s right, Fleet Captain. Certainly you surprised it just now.”
    Silently I said, “Thank you, Station, I appreciate your help.” Aloud, “You’ll have to get your own supper from the refectory tonight, Ship. Kalr Eight and Ten are already on the way back with the rest of ours.”
    Sphene said, a trace of ice in its voice, “I’m not your ship.”
    “Citizen, then,” I said, though I knew that was no better. I gestured toward our little territory. “You may as well come in. If you are coming in.”
    It walked past Five as if she weren’t there, ignored Lieutenant Tisarwat, who had stood up halfway through the exchange. It walked all the way to a rear corner, and sat down with its back to the wall and its arms around its knees, staring forward.
    Five affected to ignore it. Tisarwat stared at it for five seconds, and then said, “It can have my supper, I’m not hungry. I’mgoing out.” She looked at me. “With the fleet captain’s permission, of course.” Voice on the very edge of acid. She was still angry with me.
    “Of course, Lieutenant,” I said equably.
    Four hours later I met with Head of Security Lusulun, to all appearances a social call, given the hour and the place (the head of Security’s favorite tea shop, on Station’s advice, well off the main concourse, just slightly dingy, with soft, comfortable chairs and walls muffled with gold and dark-blue hangings). Except among friends, most Radchaai considered last-minute invitations to be quite rude. But my rank, and the current situation, mitigated some of that. And the fact that I’d ordered a bottle of a local, sorghum-based spirit Station had told me Head of Security Lusulun favored, and had it ready to pour her a cup of it when she arrived.
    She bowed as I rose to meet her. “Fleet Captain. I apologize for the late hour.” She had clearly come straight from her office, she was still in uniform. “Things have been a bit hectic lately!”
    “That they have.” We sat, and I handed her a cup of liquor. Picked up my own.
    “I confess I’ve been wishing to meet with you for the last few days, but there’s never been the time.” And for the last few days I’d been absent, on my own ship. “Forgive me, Fleet Captain, I fear my mind is still on business.”
    “Your business is important.” I took a sip of the liquor. It burned going down, with an aftertaste like rusting iron. “I’ve run civilian security a