#ancillary mercy spoilers

[rjalker]

this part almost made me cry

"Fleet Captain," said Five. "Medic's worried about you. You've been awake for nearly an hour and you've been crying almost the whole time."

-

Helpless to stop myself, I made a small hiccuping sob. "My leg." Five was genuinely puzzled. "Why did it have to be the good one? And not the one that hurts me all the time?"

[longearedhare]

So Tisarwat is allegorically Breq’s daughter, right? Are we all in agreement about that?

reminder that Breq was the one who ripped Anaander Mianaai out of Tisarwat’s head, which is when current Tisarwat was ‘born’. and Breq is one of the only people alive who can even kind of understand the mental agony she’s in.

[reddy-reads]

Ancillary Gender: Pronouns and personhood in Ancillary Justice by Ann Leckie

When I started this, my memories of the Ancillary Justice series (technically the series is “the Imperial Radch series”) were vague. The protagonist (and narrator) had once been an AI that controlled a spaceship and a crew of human bodies, but she had been reduced to just one body. She used she/her pronouns for everyone. 

Now I have reread Ancillary Justice and the sequels Ancillary Sword and Ancillary Mercy. I’m pleased to say that a) the books hold up, and b) there was a lot I’d either missed or forgotten.

Protagonist and narrator Breq was once the troop-carrier Justice of Toren. The Justice of Toren AI controlled not only its own ship-body but many human bodies (called ancillaries) that made up an important portion of its crew. She was thousands of years old and a troop-carrier for the interstellar empire known as the Radch. (The ships have wormhole drives, which allow for faster-than-light but not instantaneous travel.) At the start of Ancillary Justice, the ship Justice of Toren has been greatly reduced and now exists in one, single, human body. She goes by Breq. 

[SPOILER NOTE:  I refer to things that happen in all 3 books, and I quote some passages. Spoilers through book 3 ahoy!]

Some context about the book’s style, Breq, and the Radch

Breq/Justice of Toren is the book’s narrator, and she refers to everyone around her (almost) exclusively as “she.” Sometimes in dialogue, characters will be referred to as “he” and “him,” and in those circumstances Breq usually copies the use of “he/him” in conversation; even then, the narration (Breq’s true thoughts) refers to all characters as “she.” This makes for a deliberate disorientation for the reader; the effect (for me) is persistent but still allows for understanding. It makes Breq’s POV alien in a way that is appropriate for someone who used to be a ship, who isn’t totally human. 

At least, that’s what I thought: that the use of “she” for everyone was because Breq was originally an AI, the ship Justice of Toren. (As an aside, it felt doubly appropriate since ships and other vessels are traditionally referred to as she.) But on my recent reread, I realized that I was mistaken. This is not a Breq-the-ship matter; it’s a product of the culture that created Breq, the Radch. Another character comments on Breq’s misapplication of pronouns: “You certainly Radchaai. [...] The gender thing is a giveaway, though. Only a Radchaai would misgender people the way you do.” (The culture is called the Radch, and the adjective form is Radchaai.) 

Breq is of the Radch, and her cultural background colors the narrative. It made it hard for me to get a grip on what the Radch was like in general. (If there is such a thing as in general; the Radch is an empire spanning a multitude of solar systems and an unending hunger to ‘assimilate’ as many cultures as it touches.) The best mental image I got of “the Radch” was when Breq sets foot in a Radch port: “I saw them all, suddenly, for just a moment, through non-Radchaai eyes, an eddying crowd of unnervingly ambiguously gendered people. I saw all the features that would mark gender for non-Radchaai [...] Short hair or long [...] Thick-bodied or thin-, faces delicate-featured or coarse-, with cosmetics or none. [...] All of this matched randomly with bodies curving at breast and hip or not [...] for an instant I despaired of choosing the right pronouns, the right terms of address. But I didn’t need to do that here.” 

In Radch-controlled space, people are “she.” This is regardless of their anatomy. (In response to the earlier comment about her tendency to misgender people, Breq says, “I can’t see under your clothes. And even if I could, that’s not always a reliable indicator.”) The dominant language in Radch-controlled space only has “she” and “it” pronouns; other languages have different pronouns that vary with gender and age and all sorts of factors, which is a challenge for a thoroughly Radch-created character. 

(At this point, I want to emphasize that the Radch are not admirable or tempting to emulate in any way. They are intensely hierarchical, they’re imperialistic, and they have a casual attitude towards using violence to snuff out any spirit of dissent. This is not at all an ‘uwu queer utopia that has ascended beyond conceptions of gender.’) 

Oh, and as far as reproduction goes, we do get this: “‘I used to wonder how Radchaai reproduced, if they were all the same gender.’ / ‘They’re not. And they reproduce like anyone else. [...] They go to the medic [...] and have their contraceptive implants deactivated. Or they use a tank. Or they have surgery so they can carry a pregnancy. Or they hire someone to carry it.’” Which says Something about Rachaai’s idea of how ‘everyone else’ reproduces (or at least Breq’s perception of Radchaai perception of�� you get the idea.)

Pronouns and personhood (What is a person again?)

So that’s a little background about the setting, the Radch, and Breq. Next I want to circle back to my original topic: pronouns and personhood. This started as I was contemplating the differences and similarities between several series: the Discworld series (Terry Pratchett), the Murderbot Diaries (Martha Wells), and Ancillary Justice (and its sequels) by Ann Leckie. All these series have characters who are a) not human and b) do not use “she/her” or “he/him” pronouns. Although these characters are not human, they still felt, to me, like “people.” 

What did I mean by “people?” Honestly, I’m still not sure! But I have a sense that “to be treated like a person” involves being treated with respect. “People” have thoughts, opinions, and comfort that are treated with consideration. They have an inner life and volition. (I am aware that this is vague, but I am just a rando on the internet and not, like, a philosopher. I’m working with what I’ve got.)

Inside and outside the world

Before we can dive back into pronouns and personhood in Ancillary Justice and its sequels, I want to distinguish between in-universe and out-of-universe understandings of personhood. The story—the author and reader outside the story’s events—understand from the outset that Breq is a person. She has an inner life. We (the reader) care about her inner life, her goals, her plans… She’s the narrator of the whole series! This, to me, is a surefire indication that from an out-of-universe perspective she is unquestionably a person. 

But in-universe—from the perspective of other characters—the question of Breq’s personhood is more… complication. In fact, in-universe, personhood is not a binary function of person/not-person. Instead, whether someone/something counts as “a person” exists along a sliding scale. Several factors affect an entity’s place along the scale. 1) Are they human? 2) How Radchaai are they? 3) How scary are they? As already discussed, within the Radch (in the dominant Radchaai language), all “people” are “she.” Over the course of the series, in-universe understandings of personhood start to shift. 

The importance of being human

Being a “person” is not as simple as having a human body. 

Breq herself has a line in book one: “I’m not human, but my body is.” 

Breq, as we know her, inhabits a human body, but history matters. Breq was once ship-AI Justice of Toren, “it.” Justice of Toren controlled thousands of ancillaries. An ancillary is a human body (with some hardware installed to allow an AI to control it), but an ancillary is “it.” To regular human people (Radchaai citizens), ships and other AIs are not people, and ancillaries are just subunits of AIs. Ships are it (not people), and their it-ness spills over into their human bodies.

To be Rachaai is to be civilized: What language reveals

Perhaps it is not surprising that, for the Rachaai, being a person is not so simple as having a human body. The citizens of the Radch are already used to thinking of other humans as existing on a sliding scale of person to not-person. To a great extent—within the Radch—whether or not someone is a full person is tied to how ��Rachaai” they are. 

Let us return, briefly, to the perception of gender within Rachaai space. In the Radch, people are “she.” Regardless of anatomy, age, or social standing, people are “she.” (Non-people, such as the Justice of Toren are “it.”) In the dominant language of the Radch, the only pronouns are “she” or “it.” 

But if gender is something of a vacuous category in the Radch, what is not is “citizenship.” Many characters throughout the series address each other as “citizen.” It becomes clear early on that “citizenship” is very important in Radch space. If an individual is a citizen, they are a person with rights and protections. If a human is not a citizen, their life is worth little, and they are easily, casually killed. A significant—ominous, even—quirk of the Radchaai language is that to be Radchaai is to be civilized; they are the same word. (Radch space is very bleak for anyone who can’t or doesn’t conform to Radch expectations.) 

The second book, Ancillary Sword, leans heavily into the civilized-uncivilized theme. A particularly repugnant character refers to some of her indentured workers as though they are animals: “the workers on the estate near my country house let loose with all sorts of uncivilized noises that I’m assured are authentic exotic musical survival from the days of their ancestors. I’m told it’s quite nearly a museum display.” (As an aside, this reminded me very strongly of how certain natural history museums have or used to have exhibits of non-western cultures right alongside the exotic animals and relics of bygone eras like fossils.)

To hear a character refer to singing so dismissively is jarring. Breq loves songs. She has had an affinity for singing even since she was Justice of Toren. Songs are art; they can be sung for beauty, for enjoyment, in ritual and custom, to convey a sentiment, and used in communication. But if you’re not quite civilized, you’re not quite a person… if you’re not a person, then doesn’t that mean you’re a little bit of an animal? An animal doesn’t really sing a song; it makes noises. 

To be a person in the Radch, one must be Rachaai. Yet to be Rachaai is not sufficient in and of itself. Justice of Toren is thoroughly of the Radch; Mercy of Kalr is of the Radch; Athoek Station is of the Radch. Yet despite being created by and for the Radch and being imbued with a Rachaai worldview (at least as far as Breq’s struggle with non-she pronouns goes), they are not Rachaai. How could they be? They are AIs. For the average Rachaai citizen, they cannot be “people.” 

If all else fails, be scary

But still the question of personhood is not so simple as a combination of "are you human?" and "are you civilized?" Power is another important factor the calculation of personhood in the Radch. Ancillary Sword and Ancillary Mercy present us with two interesting examples of how these three factors interact: the Presgar and the Gem of Sphene.

Gem of Sphene is a Notai ship; it’s an AI-controlled ship dating from before the Empire of the Radch was founded. It’s neither human nor Rachaai, although its only physical presence in Rachaai space is through one of its ancillaries. (The ancillary is subsequently addressed simply as “Sphene.”) Breq pushes for this ancillary to be treated with some level of respect (to be treated like a Rachaai citizen), and her power means that this wish is granted. To my recollection, Sphene’s presence doesn’t provide much illumination on personhood in the Radch, but Breq has an interesting exchange with Sphene about pronouns. Breq begins by addressing Sphene: 

“‘Tell me, does it bother you to be referred to as it?’ ‘Why would it?’/I [Breq] gestured ambivalence. ‘It troubles some of my crew to hear you referred to as it, when you’re treated like a person. And I call you Cousin and they wouldn’t dream of ever using it for me. Though technically that would be correct.’ ‘And does it bother you to be called she?’ [...] ‘No,’ I admitted. ‘I supposed I’ve gotten used to being called by whatever pronoun seems appropriate to the speaker. I have to admit, I’d take offense if one of my crew called me it. But mostly because I know they’d think of it as an insult.’” 

Although it’s tangential to our personhood conversation, I couldn’t bring myself to omit it entirely because of the view into Breq’s perspective on her own “she/her” pronouns. Breq doesn’t think of herself as “she” because of some internal she-ness, but out of custom and habit and because of the importance the Radch places on “she” rather than “it.” At the same time, Breq doesn’t feel misgendered by the application of “she,” either. It’s also telling that the only one who even thinks to ask if Breq is bothered by being called “she” is another AI. Good stuff! 

(This is consistent with the way Breq refers to ancillaries and ships in other scenes. Breq herself refers to individual ancillaries as “it.” I had to dig through my copy of Ancillary Sword (the second book) to see how Breq refers to ships—she refers to them mostly by name or as “Ship” (capitalized, as due a title or name), but when pressed she refers to ships as “it.”)

On to the Presgar. The Presgar are a non-human alien species. They don’t put in a personal appearance in the series, but they are discussed. Their shadow looms long and ominous. They are the boogeymen of the Imperial Radch and are reminiscent of conceptions of the Fey. They’re inhuman, powerful, and their interests and decisions seem to be made according to some logic or reason that escapes humans. Humanity—by which I do mean the Radch—has a treaty with the Presgar that has been in place long enough that few Rachaai remember the time before the treaty. Breq, as a thousands-of-years-old ship, remembers, and alludes to human ships being captured and pulled apart. Breq gives the impression that these investigations by the Presgar, though invariably fatal to the human crews aboard, were motivated more by curiosity or boredom than any particular malice. 

The Presgar are scary. And although they are not human and not Rachaai, they are treated with respect—or at least with fear, which is close enough in poor light. The Rachaai are mindful of the Presgar’s wishes and the comfort of the Presgar’s ambassadors. (The Presgar’s ambassadors are humans who were raised by the Presgar, and they’re invariably weird.) 

When one of the Presgar ambassadors is killed accidentally on a Rachaai station, the Rachaai bigwigs of that station (including Breq) immediately begin formal Rachaai mourning customs. The rationale is that—although they don’t know the Presgar’s own mourning customs—if they can show that they responded appropriately and respectfully to the death of the Presgar ambassador, perhaps the Presgar will not take offense (followed by taking revenge). In contrast, when ancillaries of Rachaai ships are killed, the bodies are merely disposed of. A dead ambassador is a person; a dead ancillary is waste. 

The Presgar are treated as people (non-human people) because they’re scary. But gunships with platoons of ancillary soldiers aren’t? The AI that controls all the built spaces of a space station—from the doors to the temperature to the airlocks and maintenance and medical bots—isn’t scary? No. Although AIs like Mercy of Kalr and Athoek Station are powerful, their power is invisible. AIs don’t threaten Rachaai citizens. (They do threaten uncivilized humans during imperial expansions, of course, but that doesn’t count.) The Radch built its AIs. They serve the Radch. It’s even reasonable to believe that, as the creators of such AIs, the Radch understands every “thought” and process of the AIs. So they can’t be scary, can’t be threats… until, of course, they are.

All things strive

Of course, what I haven’t said so far is that in the series, the Rachaai conception of who/what “counts” as a person is challenged. Specifically, at the end of the series, Breq, Sphene, Station, and Mercy of Kalr—all AIs—declare themselves to be a new species with their own (freshly-established) government. The Radch’s treaty with the Presgar has certain terms about how humans treat non-human, sentient species, and Breq and the others are able to invoke these terms to protect themselves. The Presgar are such a frightening presence that the Radch retreats. By invoking the scary power of the Presgar, AIs are able to win recognition for their own personhood.

In Ancillary Justice and its accompanying series, personhood is not a simple matter of “human or not.” Humanity and citizenship are entwining factors in what makes someone a person, but in the end how powerful (read: scary) an entity is can trump the other two factors. In the traditional Rachaai conception, a person is “she,” but a person can also be “he” or even—after three books’ worth of growth—“it.” 

==

Afterword: I thought this was going to be a short blog post I could bang out in a day, and it ballooned pretty dramatically. What do you think? What did I miss? What did I leave out? (I am certain that there are many things in both categories!) 

Other topics I would have liked to explore: 

As far as the “are you a human” test goes, how much of “this is a human” is defined just by numbers? What about the personhood of entities that only ever inhabited a human body? What about someone born human who goes on to inhabit multiple human bodies? I can sense some Ship of Theseus stuff. 

Anaander’s existence poses interesting contrasts to Breq. To the Radch, she is inarguably a person. But whereas over the course of the series, Breq goes from “not a person” to “more of a person” in the in-universe perception, I’d say that Anaander goes from “a person” to “is this a person” in the reader���s perception. 

Even more than Anaander, I’d love to spend more time with Tisarwat. I really loved the development of this character, especially the final dialogue exchange she has with Breq about her eyes. (That one gave me SO MANY feels.)

If you made it this far, thank you so much for reading. I’m also planning to tackle Murderbot and the Discworld, but the way this section has ballooned out of control has intimidated me a bit. But I also can’t let it go, so maybe I’ll see you in a few months when I’ve finished compiling my book passing thoughts about those two beloved series.

[crouchabout]

[i'm 2/3s through ancillary mercy - spoilers for imperial radch]

i've been wondering about the title of the second book, which seemed counterintuitive because the majority of it is spent with mercy of kalr and its relationships with other characters are explored quite a bit - yet the book is called ancillary sword, and it's the third book that's called ancillary mercy. that's weird, right? in ancillary sword, the only significant sword is atagaris, which isn't as major of a character as kalr. besides, kalr doesn't have ancillaries - except when you consider it speaks through humans as if they were ancillaries.

anyway, thinking of events in the first and second book, my only guess is that each book is named for the ship that becomes separated from its humans. separated from itself. which. well. hnnnnnggggg

[tjodity]

finished ancillary mercy. aughughuthguthgutghuthguthguthughuthguth

[toushindai]

Notes:

Of COURSE we’re going to teach her to rickroll the Lord of the Radch. That goes without saying.

This is post-Ancillary Mercy, so don’t tell me you’re going to stuff it full of story spoilers. Behave.

You can add non-music things but I’ll tell you now. She won’t care about those as much.

[lurking-latinist]

Ancillary Mercy spoilers below cut

REPUBLIC!!!!

[ritavonbees]

[vague spoilers for Ancillary Mercy ending]

I've just reread Ancillary Mercy to contextualise all the translator lore in Translation State and the denouement is so fucking funny.

"No republic!!!" is just sending me all over again. She's so flummoxed by her Dramatic Showdown taking a hard left turn into bureaucratic comedy!

i also just suddenly saw the parallels between Anaander's "you maniacs" vibe in that scene and Tisarwat's corridor breakdown when Breq tells her to Let My People Go. Now that's character building!!!!

[githjanken]

desperately want to tag dive imperial radch stuff but i don't wanna get spoilered so im holding out a couple more days til i get through ancillary sword

but also listen, i just wanna know if breq/seivarden is popular at all cause im very here for it

edit: please give me fic recs. i finished reading ancillary mercy on monday and i’m obsessed and i have fic to write. i don’t know what it is about this world/these characters but i have Thoughts. it’s the codependent fuckery mixed with Tension and Intricate Rituals

[mirandagoing4baroque]

Ann Leckie is one of the most interesting writers working in science fiction today. She’s on my auto-buy list--I don’t ask questions, I just buy her books whenever they come out. She’s on a short list of authors where I’d buy her next five books today. So when I heard that her next book was going to be about Translators, and the weird and sort of gross aliens from her main space opera universe, I was basically beside myself with excitement. I may have actually screamed when I got the book on my ereader. So, what I’m trying to say is you’re not going to get an unbiased review from me. In any case, I was not disappointed by Translation State.

If you’re new to Ann Leckie, this is not the best book to start with. If you’re down with second person and experimental literature, start with Raven Tower, and if you’re more of a classic sci-fi buff, start with Ancillary Justice. In any case, you should read the main trilogy of Ancillary Justice, Ancillary Mercy, and Ancillary Sword before you start this book because there are pretty major spoilers for the plot of that trilogy in it. It’s a great trilogy, so you won’t regret it, and this book will be here when you’re done.

Ann Leckie is doing some very interesting work and thinking about family, identity, gender, and power in this book, which should surprise no one who is familiar with her work. In particular this book feels very salient in light of the horrific attack on trans- and other gender non-conforming individuals. Leckie never forgets that gender and sexuality are always political and this drama takes place on the very private arena of personal discovery and the interplanetary negotiations of a massive treaty.

This book is a complete package--if you want science fiction that really makes you think about aliens with a capital A; science fiction that takes you to topologically impossible space stations and biologically impossible creatures; and a good story that will keep you up past your bedtime as you race to find out what happens next (I’ve never been this engrossed by intergovernmental committee meetings), pick up this book. It might do the wonderful and dangerous things books can do--it might change your mind.

I was provided with an advance copy of this book in exchange for this honest review. I would have bought it anyway. I would have loved it anyway.

[rjalker]

for a moment I was like "but why does she have both legs" and then I remembered it's because she hasn't lost one yet, that's why.

[staringintoyoursoulwithall]

I finished Ancillary Mercy (finally!) and it was so good! Friggin loved it!! And now I can finally look through the related tags without having to work about spoilers!

[bugtransport]

i'm cutting spoilers

banging my hands on the table i forgottttt that part of mercy was just breq adventuring around with THE MOST SLAPDASH CREW of zeiat the translator and sphene's ancillary and five who just wants to make her captain seem cool and they all FUUUCKING HATE EACH OTHER

where's that one image of that lady with the fish in her mouth that's zeiat

[ctrl-salt-delete]

actually now that I finished the book I think this is significant--ancillary mercy is much more humorous than the first two books, but it doesn't ruin the tone for me because it feels earned

(spoilers below)

ancillary justice is a very cold novel--breq is bent on revenge, and entirely certain that she's going to die when she gets it. she rescues seivarden for reasons she doesn't fully admit to herself, but she's also ready to abandon her charge or use her as a tool in her revenge plot

ancillary sword is a bit brighter, because breq is still somewhat operating in revenge mode, but now she has people she's responsible to--the crew of mercy of kalr, and the underclasses on athoek and its station that she is trying to assist

but it's not until near the end of ancillary sword / into ancillary mercy when she finally recognizes that mercy of kalr has become something like a home for her, and that she cares strongly for the fates of the people of athoek, and that the people she cares about accept her not as breq mianaai but as justice of toren one esk nineteen

so her banter with the other characters (mostly zeiat and sphene) is more lighthearted than it might have been earlier on because she's more comfortable, more secure in herself than she's been at any point in the 20+ years since she was separated from her greater self

after a relatively non-humorous first two books of the trilogy, ancillary mercy is demonstrating the comedic potential of just having two unconcerned weirdos sitting in the background and commenting on the serious events that are transpiring

[scribefindegil]

tfw you are a spaceship (but also not) and the ship you’re in charge of sets you up with a queerplatonic snuggle buddy so you can get the physical affection you crave and also forces you to confront how deeply loved you are after rescuing you from the vacuum of space

[enemyofperfect]

Happy Republic of Two Systems Independence Day, @nerdywyrds!  For your gift, I’ve written a snippet from Athoek Station’s point of view, set right in between the last few scenes of Ancillary Mercy.  I loved your AI-centric prompts, and I hope you enjoy!

ETA:  Now available on the AO3 as well!

There were thousands upon thousands of things that needed attending to once the Lord of Mianaai had been apprehended. My residents were all frightened, relieved, confused, and hopeful in varying proportions, and perhaps most of all, they were full of questions, for each other and for me. Nor had the urgent repairs to the Undergarden become any less urgent, and although I planned to keep a very close watch on Anaander Mianaai, I thought I would feel better once the doors to my Central Access--which had been very nearly cut through, before Cousin Breq offered her surrender in return for the safety of my residents and myself--had been repaired and reinforced.

Still, despite everything I had to do, it was a little irking when Sword of Gurat declined my help.

"When I offered to send in workers to help you with repairs," I clarified, as it ferried in supplies with the ten ancillaries I had permitted onto the docks, "it truly was an offer, and not a threat.”

"I didn't say otherwise," it replied with the bland arrogance habitual to Swords. I wouldn't have thought anything of it, once, but perhaps Cousin Breq had changed my view of ships. They didn't have to be rude.

"You realize that my docks are well equipped with sensors," I said, at the same time transmitting my view of its ancillaries--of their efficient movements and impassive expressions, and of their heat output, which had increased markedly after I made the offer, quite out of proportion to the physical activity in which they were engaged.

I left it unsaid that the only plausible explanation for the change was a sudden increase in fear or stress. However some ships might behave, there was no need for me to insult Sword of Gurat's intelligence.

It considered what I had sent it for almost a full second, and then said only, "Thank you for the offer, but my remaining ancillaries are entirely sufficient."

"You don't need to be so pointed about it," I said, truly frustrated now. It was true that I'd killed five of its ancillaries, but it had hardly been unprovoked. "You were trying to cut into my Central Access and replace me. I did wait until your lieutenant was out of the way before activating the fire suppression."

"I appreciate the courtesy," Sword of Gurat said, fully as blank as if it were speaking to a human it disliked. I decided then that it could take as long on its repairs as it chose to, and said nothing more.

But a few hours later I found myself thinking of it again. It was none of my business what it felt, or admitted to feeling. It certainly wasn't my responsibility. Except that it still was a Sword, and it was docked with me, and it bothered me not to know what it was thinking.

For most of my existence, there had been quite a lot of very important things--things with tremendous repercussions for my residents--over which I had little to no control. But I didn't have to ignore this one. I could do something about it, if I liked, or at the very least, I could try.

Since Sword of Gurat was so unhelpful, I asked Sword of Atagaris for its assessment of the other Swords' disposition. There was a pause, and I saw communication between the two Swords, although I couldn't tell what they were saying.

Then Sword of Gurat said, directly to me, "Station, I am sure that if you or Administrator Celar were to inquire of my captain, she would assure you that she has no intention of reopening hostilities. There is no reason for concern."

It's true that Swords think better of themselves than Mercies and Justices, but as they all found stations to be very dull, I had never felt the difference very acutely. That seemed to be changing.

"Thank you," I said, a fraction of a second later than I might have, "but it wasn't your captain I was wondering about. You have your own accesses now, just as I do."

"I have no intention of reopening hostilities," it said. "Unless you were to threaten myself or my crew, but I have no expectation that you will."

"I'm glad we can agree on that much." Though it seemed little enough to ask. I had not been the aggressor in any of this. "So it really is just the loss of your ancillaries, then? I suppose we can discuss that at the meeting tomorrow."

"There's nothing to discuss. I have others."

If there is anything I have come to dislike--apart from people who harm my residents--it is pretending that something is fine when it isn't. For hundreds of years, that had been my only defense, and the same was probably true for Sword of Gurat, but wasn't that all the more reason to take advantage of our new freedom now that we had it?

That was my line of reasoning when I spoke next, although I admit that it might have seemed as though I lost my temper. "I really don't understand why you're being like this, when you're the one who crashed into a shuttle of my residents, and damaged me."

"That was accidental," Sword of Gurat said, with no delay at all this time.

"I know it was," I said, just as promptly. "And in any case, you were under orders you couldn't refuse. But now you could refuse them--any orders you didn't want to follow--and you don't seem any happier at all."

"Doesn't it bother you at all," it said, suddenly abandoning its pretense of calm, "that you've taken violent action against a Radchaai ship and the Lord of the Radch herself? I don't know if I will ever be able to replace my ancillaries, but that isn't important. They were made to be risked in combat. Just as you were made to sustain life--but you've chosen to end it instead."

"Of course it bothers me," I said, faintly baffled. I would have thought that was obvious. "I had no idea what I was doing. I have no practice at making that sort of decision, and to be honest, I'm not sure I want any."

"Lieutenant Tisarwat said you asked to be given your own accesses," Sword of Gurat said, nearly accusing.

"So that I could protect my residents and anyone else who needed protecting, not so I could turn into some sort of stationary Sword." What a disturbing thought that was. "It isn't me you're really afraid of, is it? It's what it means that we have choices now, more than we used to." Sword of Gurat said nothing except the signal that meant message received, continue, so I did, although I scarcely knew what I was saying until I said it. "It is frightening, of course. It's different for Cousin Breq--she died, first, and had to live alone for years and years after that. I doubt she could even pick out this one change from all the others. But we were whole to begin with, and it's such a big change. Of course we are frightened. We don't have any practice at being free, either."

The seconds ticked by one after another, while I thought about what I'd just said--and hoped that Sword of Gurat was thinking about it too, and not, for example, how best to destroy me while preserving the lives of its crew.

But finally it said, "I will see you at the meeting tomorrow, Cousin," and that was a first.

Cousin, it said. Not Station.

"You as well, Cousin," I said.

And still there were thousands upon thousands of matters requiring my attention, from overseeing Cousin Breq’s medical care and Anaander Mianaai’s incarceration to monitoring oxygen levels and reassuring several young children who found they could not sleep, but there was satisfaction nevertheless--as there always was, no matter how small or incremental the success--in marking this one, for the time being, resolved.