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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 Sword's 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.