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I picked up a tiny brush, a capsule of adhesive. Brushed around the inside edge of the curl, slid the shard of glass into place. “You should probably stop there,” I suggested, “and let the adhesive cure, and build onto it later.” I rose, took a cloth from a cabinet under the counter, and rolled it up for a form, and
Sphene
and Five put their carefully assembled bit of teabowl over it, and we lowered the whole thing onto the table. “This would probably be easier if we had the right tools.”

“The story of my life for the past three thousand years,” said
Sphene
. “Speaking of which. When Lieutenant Seivarden fails to kill the Usurper, will you let me try?”

“I’ll consider it.”

“I suppose, Cousin, that I can’t reasonably ask for any more than that.”

14

In gate-space as we were, we couldn’t receive data from Seivarden or Tisarwat, or from Amaat Two and Four, or Bo Nine. And there was no guarantee they would be reachable when we returned. So each of them had been given a tiny external archive to hide on the outside of the station’s hull. Those archives would receive and store the data for us to retrieve when we returned. Assuming they worked right, which they didn’t always. Assuming nothing damaged them. Assuming no one had found them and disabled them or otherwise disposed of them.

This is what happened while
Mercy of Kalr
was out of the universe:

Seivarden and her two Amaats walked cautiously through a dusty access corridor. Armed and armored, their vacuum suits left behind at the airlock they’d come in through. Station had let them in, was even now displaying a map in their visions, though they’d studied what diagrams of the station’s layout we’d already had. The diagrams, the few terse words
they exchanged, said they were on their way to the governor’s residence. They had seen the news channels. Noticed people they knew, among the citizens sitting on the concourse, noticed the armored ancillaries, the drawn guns. Amaat Two said, quietly, as they walked, “Do you think Lieutenant Ti—”

“Quiet,” said Seivarden. Everyone on
Mercy of Kalr
knew about Tisarwat’s crush on Basnaaid.

Four said, very softly, “Fleet Captain and Lieutenant Tisarwat seem close lately.”

“Not surprised,” replied Seivarden. Angry. Anxious. Knowing now was not the time to show it. “I suspect Fleet Captain’s always had a thing for hapless baby lieutenants.”

“Can’t imagine you hapless, sir.” Four, still very softly.

“I never looked it,” said Seivarden. Surprising me by, it seemed, having found at least one source of her anxiety and not pretended it was something else, or that it didn’t exist. Maybe because she was still enjoying the familiarity of this situation, the knife-edge of adrenaline before the gunfire started. “And
Justice of Toren
never liked me much.”

“Huh,” said Four. Honestly surprised. Trying hard not to think too much about what was ahead.

“Our Bo lieutenant isn’t as hapless as she seemed at first,” remarked Two.

“She isn’t,” agreed Seivarden. “She’ll be fine.” Not at all certain of that, unhappy at not knowing what Tisarwat and Nine were up to. “Now cut the chatter.”

“Sir,” acknowledged Two and Four, together.

Tisarwat and Bo Nine pulled their way across the station’s hull. Not speaking. The news channels in their vision, those rows of seated citizens. The armed and armored soldiers. The citizens sat, quiet, and the soldiers stood, weapons ready.

“Turn it off, sir,” Nine said to Tisarwat, on the hull. “There’s no point watching, and you won’t pay attention to where you’re going if it’s on.”

“You’re right.” Tisarwat cut off the feed.

Twenty minutes later, moving handhold by handhold over the outside of Athoek Station, slowly and laboriously, she said, “I think I’m going to be sick.”

“You can’t be sick in your helmet, sir.” Nine almost managed to keep the terror that had struck her at Tisarwat’s words out of her voice. “That would be bad.”

“I know!” Tisarwat stopped herself, didn’t reach ahead for the next handhold. Took a few shallow breaths. “I know, but I can’t help it.”

“You did take the anti-nausea, sir, I saw you.” And then, “Don’t stop, sir. We just have to do this, that’s all. And that’s why. That’s why we have to do this.” Referring, I was sure, to what was happening on the concourse. “And if Fleet Captain were here, she’d be giving you such a look right now.”

Two more shallow breaths. Then, weakly, “Hah. At least we’d have music to listen to.” Tisarwat swallowed hard. Took another breath. Propelled herself forward to the next handhold.

“If you call that music.” Relieved—as relieved as she could be, under the circumstances—Nine followed. “I agree with you, sir, about being used to her voice, but some of those songs she sings. They’re just weird.”

“
My heart is a fish
.” Tisarwat’s voice thin and breathy. A shallow gasp. “
Hiding in the water-grass
.” Another. “
In the green
.”

“Well, that one’s all right,” Nine admitted. “Though it does get stuck in my head something fierce.”

Sword of Gurat
was at the very end of the docks, the two bays nearest it empty, no doubt not just because of
Sword of Gurat
’s size. No obvious damage from the collision with the passenger shuttle—but then, there wouldn’t be. Possibly
Sword of Gurat
hadn’t ended up with anything more than some scratches or dents.

“Right,” said Tisarwat, taking a gulping breath, nausea returning. Exhausted and sore from the hours-long trip around the station hull. “Let’s go.” And she and Nine began pulling themselves toward
Sword of Gurat
.

So far Tisarwat had relied on Station’s declining to report her and Nine’s presence. But now, in sight of
Sword of Gurat
, that wouldn’t protect them. It was only a matter of time—and not very much time, if
Sword of Gurat
was paying any attention at all—before they were noticed. Still, Tisarwat and Nine moved quite slowly. Very cautiously. Very carefully chose a spot on
Sword of Gurat
’s hull, tethered themselves, and opened the container they’d all this time been hauling with them. Nine pulled out an explosive charge. Handed it to Tisarwat, who carefully, slowly, fixed it to
Sword of Gurat
’s hull.

At about this point, Seivarden and her two Amaats had made it into a cramped and dim access corridor behind the governor’s residence. It had probably at one point been meant for servants to use to go unobtrusively back and forth, but hadn’t been used in years; the floor was dusty and trackless. This wasn’t, then, the back way Governor Giarod had used to bring Translator Dlique to the residence.

Station had not spoken a word to Seivarden, or either of
her Amaats. It had displayed information—maps and directions, mostly—and unlocked doors for them. Now it had brought them to a locked door in this dusty corridor, and shown them all what lay behind it: the governor’s office. The cream-and-green silk hangings were pulled nearly all the way around the walls, covering the window that looked down on the concourse, and also, helpfully, the door Seivarden and her Amaats stood behind. Empty, now, except for those few chairs, the desk. Beside the desk, a meter-and-a-half-high stack of what looked very much like suspension pods but probably were not. There were three of them in the stack, and Seivarden couldn’t help but notice them. Puzzled a moment over what they might be. The words
Returning, with two
Sword of Atagaris
ancillaries, approx eight minutes
flashed in Seivarden’s vision.
Two additional
Sword of Atagaris
ancillaries outside the main door now
.

Seivarden whispered, “Station, what are those things?”

I don’t know what you mean
, came the reply, in her vision.

“Those… at first I thought they were suspension pods. But they’re not. Are they?”

I really don’t know what you mean. Approximately six minutes.

Seivarden knew enough, by now, to understand Station’s answer. “Oh, fuck,” she said, softly.

Amaat Two, behind her, seeing the same image but not having reached the same conclusion, asked, “What are they?”

“They’re fucking AI cores,” Seivarden told her. “And Station can’t talk about them.”

Two and Four stared at her, confused.
Approximately five minutes
, Station said.

“Right,” Seivarden said. There was no time to worry about the AI cores. No time to be afraid of three humans facing
four ancillaries in five minutes’ time. Seivarden had the Presger gun and there was, in the end, only one condition that needed to be met, only one truly necessary thing. And they had planned for this, Seivarden and her Amaats, had hoped Anaander would have taken over the governor’s office, hoped they would have just such an opportunity. “Time to move.” She reached for the door’s manual release, and it obligingly slid open to reveal the back of a hanging, heavy enough that it barely trembled as the air currents shifted. Her two Amaats behind her, she stepped into the room.

There were two dozen explosive charges in the container Tisarwat and Bo Nine had brought. Tisarwat managed to attach three of them before half a dozen
Sword of Gurat
ancillaries came out an airlock after them.

Tisarwat and Nine surrendered immediately, went docile into the airlock. Stood silent while
Sword of Gurat
stripped them of their vacuum suits, stripped them to their underwear, and searched them. Neither of them, of course, had anything dangerous or suspicious. Not counting that container of charges, at any rate. The ancillaries bound Tisarwat’s and Nine’s hands behind them, and then pushed them to kneel on the corridor floor. Nine frightened but stoic, Tisarwat light-headed, hyperventilating just a bit. Terrified. And also, behind that, a tiny bit relieved. Anticipating.

The captain of
Sword of Gurat
arrived. Stared at Tisarwat and Nine. Examined the explosive charge
Sword of Gurat
’s ancillary showed her. Looked, then, at Tisarwat. “What in the name of all that’s beneficial were you trying to do?” Tisarwat said nothing, but her gasping intensified. “These weren’t even armed,” the captain of
Sword of Gurat
said.

Tisarwat closed her eyes. “Oh, for the love of Amaat
just shoot me! Please, I beg you. I’m not even supposed to be here.” Gasping every few words now, as her breathing escaped her control entirely. “I was supposed to be in Administration, I wasn’t supposed to be on any ship at all. But I have to do what she tells me, she’s the captain. I have to do what she tells me or she’ll kill me.” Tears started. She opened those ridiculous lilac-colored eyes, looked pitifully up at the captain of
Sword of Gurat
. “But I can’t do it anymore, I couldn’t do what she told me,
just shoot me
!”

“Well,” said the captain. “A desk pilot. That explains a lot.”

Nine’s expression had been impassive through all this, but now anxiety showed on her face. “Please, sir, begging the captain’s indulgence, these past few weeks have been so awful, and she’s just a baby.”

“Not a very bright one,” said the captain. “Nor steady. Ship, get these two to Medical.”

Sword of Gurat
grabbed Tisarwat’s arm to haul her up. Tisarwat cried out and, “Aatr’s tits,” swore the captain of
Sword of Gurat
, grimacing in disgust. “She’s pissed herself!” And if Tisarwat didn’t let up on the breathing, she’d faint in about half a minute. “At least
try
to act like a civilized human being, Lieutenant! Gods greater and lesser! Not even a desk pilot should act like this.”

“S… s… sir,” gasped Tisarwat. “P… please don’t make me go back there. I can’t go back to
Mercy of Kalr
, I’d rather die.”

“You’re not going back to
Mercy of Kalr
, Lieutenant. Ship.” This to the waiting ancillaries. “Take Lieutenant…”

“T… Tisarwat,” supplied Tisarwat.

“Take Lieutenant Tisarwat to the bath and get her cleaned up. Get some clean clothes on her before you take her to
Medical. Take this other one to Medical now. Get them both disconnected from
Mercy of Kalr
.” And then, at another thought, “And
Mercy of Kalr
, if you’re watching, I hope you’re proud of this.”

Two
Sword of Gurat
ancillaries hauled Tisarwat to her feet, and half dragged, half walked her down the corridor. “Nine!” Tisarwat wailed.

“It’s all right, Lieutenant,” said
Sword of Gurat
’s ancillary. “She’s just going to Medical.”

Tisarwat, tearful, opened her mouth to reply, but sobbed instead. Collapsed into
Sword of Gurat
Gurat Eleven’s arms, clutched its uniform jacket and wept harder.

They were real tears.
Sword of Gurat
could hardly have mistaken false ones. And Nine’s cry of concern and struggle to reach Tisarwat were genuine as well. “You’ll see her again soon,” Gurat Eleven said, just maybe the slightest bit more gently, and guided her off to the bath, where it would be just Tisarwat and
Sword of Gurat
, alone. Which had been the whole point of the exercise, of course.

And Nine found herself escorted toward Medical. The next dangerous moment—the whole plan had been predicated on the assumption that
Sword of Gurat
didn’t have a competent interrogator aboard. A Justice almost certainly would have, but interrogators were much rarer on Swords. If
Sword of Gurat
had one, the next step would be drugging Nine, and the game would be up.

Almost as soon as Nine walked into
Sword of Gurat
’s Medical section, her archive data ended, and not long after so did Lieutenant Tisarwat’s.

And meanwhile, on Athoek Station, Anaander Mianaai came into the system governor’s office. Two
Sword of Atagaris
ancillaries behind her, and behind those, System Governor Giarod and Eminence Ifian. “My lord,” Ifian was saying, “of your mercy, I beg to inform… remind my lord that Station Administrator Celar is very popular. Her… her removal would be taken very badly, and not just by the troublesome elements on the station.”