by Ann Leckie
“But see, listen,” insisted Ingray. “The Omkem wanted to be able to hold the First Assembly hostage, so they could control the system gates. I’m sure that’s what they were after. But they couldn’t do that, and now what they’ve got is the empty Assembly Chambers, the lareum, and some hostages. But why are they in the System Lareum to begin with?”
“It’s right next to the Assembly Chambers,” Garal pointed out.
“Right,” agreed Ingray. “But what I’m saying is, they’ve had to change their plans.” Garal frowned. “Don’t you see?” continued Ingray into eir incomprehension. “What’s in the lareum? All the things that tell us we’re Hwaean. The Rejection of Further Obligations to Tyr, which tells us that Hwae exists, and what it is. And what’s in the First Assembly Chambers, even after the representatives are evacuated?”
“Oh.” Understanding, finally, in Garal’s expression. “The Assembly Bell.” The bell was, in fact, a large ceramic bowl from the days when the First Assembly had been the only Assembly, and had only just begun meeting, only just begun to contemplate ending their indebtedness to Tyr. Every Hwaean knew that it had been used to pickle cabbage, before the sound of the spoon against its side had become the signal of the official start of Assembly business. “But, Ingray, it’s just a vestige. The Omkem don’t care about vestiges.”
“They do,” insisted Ingray. “What else was Zat looking for, in the parkland? And I know you said people outside Hwae laugh at our vestiges, but it wouldn’t need to be something important to them. Just important to us. And the First Assembly can’t legally meet without the Assembly Bell. It’s not the same as having control of the Assembly itself, but it’s something. And now they’re in this and can’t go back, the Omkem probably at least want to have something.”
“The Rejection is certainly a forgery,” said Garal. “You know that by now. The Assembly Bell …” E hesitated. “The Assembly Bell is from the right time period, and yes, the first Assembly meetings were small and somewhat makeshift, and it wouldn’t surprise me if someone banged a spoon against a cabbage-pickling crock to bring those meetings to order. But, Ingray, besides the Assembly Bell, have you ever seen an actual crock for pickling cabbage?”
“No,” admitted Ingray. “But I don’t see what …”
“They’re not shaped like that,” said Garal. “They mostly have straight sides. Or mouths smaller than the container itself. The idea is to seal off the cabbage, right? It won’t ferment right in the air. So either the story about pickling cabbage isn’t true, or the Assembly Bell isn’t the actual original Assembly Bell.”
“But it’s the Assembly Bell now,” insisted Ingray. “And I guess if something happened to it the First Assembly would find some replacement. Just like if anything happened to the Rejection of Obligations that’s in the lareum, that wouldn’t mean Hwae would suddenly not exist. But the Omkem aren’t here to make us not exist, they’re not interested in invading. They just want to make the First Assembly do what they want. And if they’ve taken all the things that make the First Assembly the First Assembly …”
“To most Hwaeans, at least,” agreed Garal. “I see your point. But what difference will it make if you’re in there?”
Ingray took a breath. “So,” she said, and took another breath. “Maybe we could steal it back.”
“We.” Garal’s voice was even as ever, but Ingray heard a trace of bitterness. “You’ve forgotten that I’m Geck.”
“No, I haven’t. I just thought you could maybe give me some advice. Some suggestions.”
“You’ve also forgotten that I’m not actually a thief.” E pushed eir bowl of noodles aside.
“No, I know you’re not. But you know thieves, don’t you. When we met, you said you were a forger. You’re not, but the best kind of lie has some truth in it. You were talking about a real person. Someone you’d met in Compassionate Removal. You knew enough about em to know eir work when you saw it in Mama’s house. You’ve never been a forger but you learned things about forgery from the people you’ve known. You’ve never been a thief. But you know things. You can give me advice. It won’t break the treaty, we’re just talking over breakfast.” She picked up the cup Garal had set in front of her when she had first sat down. Took a sip. Tasted lukewarm salt water and made a face. “Ugh. Is this poick?”
“Like I said, I’m pretty sure it’s an acquired taste. And you’re right, I learned things in Compassionate Removal, but not anything that will help you. The people who pull off the kind of theft I was accused of—the kind of theft you’re proposing now—by and large they do it with overwhelming physical force. Which our own forces would have used by now if they thought it would work, and you don’t need me for advice about that sort of thing. Where a theft isn’t carried out by force, it’s an inside job, or else the people responsible for guarding the vestiges were manipulated in some way. It’s not like entertainments, where there are ancient alien artifacts with alarm-canceling powers, or elaborate plans.” E took a sip of eir own poick and grimaced. “Well, sometimes there are elaborate plans, but those almost always go wrong somewhere and everyone involved ends up under arrest.”
“I don’t want an elaborate plan then,” countered Ingray, in what she hoped was a calm and reasonable voice. She had wanted an elaborate plan. She had wanted assistance from Tyr. Or anyone who might give it. “Just one that works. And if I can’t do that, at least Mama and those children will be out of danger.”
“What does your nuncle Lak think about this potential plan of yours?”
“Are you kidding?” Ingray used her fingers to fish some noodles out of the bowl in front of her. “I haven’t said anything to em about it. E’d probably tell me not to do it.”
“The more I know your nuncle, the better I like em,” observed Garal.
“If I always consulted with Nuncle Lak, you’d still be in Compassionate Removal,” Ingray pointed out. Put the noodles in her mouth and immediately wished she hadn’t. She wasn’t sure she could eat at all, and the cold, soggy noodles weren’t remotely appetizing, but she made herself chew and swallow. “I’m glad you’re not.”
Garal sighed and closed eir eyes. “You’re going to do this anyway, aren’t you.”
“Yes,” Ingray said, managing to sound halfway certain of herself. “I am.”
16
Ingray’s name was enough to get her the attention of Over Captain Utury, of Hwae System Defense. The over captain met her in a small room somewhere on the station. Utury was short and broad, imposing despite her lack of height, her blue-and-gold System Defense uniform vivid against the plain beige of the walls and the stiff plastic bench and table.
“Absolutely not,” she said, when Ingray had explained what she proposed to do. “We’re trying to get civilians away from danger, not send more in. And to be entirely frank, I only agreed to meet with you now because my superiors would prefer not to have your mother upset with them. Just personally, I understand how you feel right now, but the best way to get any hostages to safety is to stop wasting my time and let me do my job.” And then added, belatedly, “Respectfully. Miss.”
“But, Over Captain …” Ingray began.
“No.” Over Captain Utury didn’t raise her voice, but her tone cut right through Ingray’s words. “I have met with you, I have heard your request, and I have denied it. You will go immediately to the nearest civilian shelter and stay there. If I see you again I will have you arrested, I don’t care who your mother is. Do I make myself clear?”
Ingray felt tears well. But she would not cry. She wouldn’t. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Good,” said Over Captain Utury, and turned and left the room.
A few seconds later a soldier came in. “I’m here to escort you to a shelter, miss.”
“Oh,” said Ingray, and she couldn’t stop the tears anymore. She’d failed. All she could do now was sit in some shelter somewhere, with people she didn’t even know, and wait. “Is there …” She sniffled, and wiped her eyes with the back of
her hand. “Is there a restroom I could use first?”
“I have to take you straight to a shelter, miss,” said the soldier. “Over Captain’s orders.”
“I know,” Ingray said. “I just need to wash my face. And … you know.”
“There’s a restroom right behind you, miss,” said the soldier. “I’ll be waiting right here for you.”
The restroom was tiny and cramped. Ingray shut the door. Blew her nose, washed her hands. Splashed some water on her face. She could do this, she could go to the shelter and wait. She had no other choice. She’d done her best.
A hairpin clattered into the wash basin. She grabbed it before it could slide down the drain.
Movement caught the corner of her vision. She looked around. Looked up. A black spider mech clung to the ceiling, its many stalked eyes staring directly at her. “So,” it whistled, quietly, “I hear you want to break into the System Lareum.”
Ingray could only stare.
“It’s me, Tic,” the spider mech said. “I can get you close to the lareum, where if System Defense doesn’t stop you in time, you can propose a trade. If you really want to do that. I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“I do want to do that!” said Ingray. Very quietly, mindful of the soldier outside.
“As far as getting hold of the Rejection of Obligations and the Assembly Bell, I can’t make any promises. I can’t even suggest any plans until I know where everything is, how it’s laid out, and what’s happening. It’ll take a while to figure all that out. And in the meantime you’ll be in danger.”
“Tic!” whispered Ingray urgently, “I don’t have time to talk about this! I just need to do it!”
“All right,” said Tic. “Then let’s do this.”
The façade of the System Lareum was two levels high, though the wide doors were only half as tall. They were mottled gray, scorched and scored, panels of what was allegedly part of the hull of the original Hwae Station. At the moment they were shut, the open space in front of them—black-and-green-tiled, high-ceilinged and echoing, and nearly always thronged with visitors and passersby—was empty. Or it looked empty—Tic had told her that Hwaean System Defense was all around, and there were certainly Omkem military mechs behind the half dozen broad closed doors of the lareum.
Well, here she was, and the longer she delayed the more danger she was in. Of course, she was already in a good deal of danger just standing here.
She took a deep breath. “My name is Ingray Aughskold,” she called. In Yiir because she didn’t know if any of the Omkem would understand Bantia. “I’m Representative Netano Aughskold’s daughter. I was there when Excellency Zat was murdered, I can tell you what really happened. Send the children out unharmed, and my mother, too, and you can have me instead.”
Silence. Well, even if the Federacy ultimately accepted the trade, they’d want to think about it first.
“Miss Aughskold!” That hadn’t come from the lareum entrance—the voice was behind her. She turned her head. A small boxy cleaning mech trundled a meter or so closer to her, and stopped. “Miss Aughskold, what are you doing?” Ingray stared. “The over captain didn’t think it was a good idea to send an obviously armed mech here at this particular time. We’re pretty sure there are Omkem mechs right inside that entrance. This isn’t a safe place to be, miss.”
“I didn’t think it was,” Ingray said. Despite her best intentions, her voice shook a little.
“Then what are you doing here, miss?”
“I thought it was obvious. I’m exchanging myself for those children the Omkem are holding, and my mother. Or trying to.”
“How did you get out of the civilian shelter?” asked the cleaning mech. “For that matter, how did you get here?”
“I walked.” Which was mostly true.
“We can’t let you do this, miss. I’m going to ask you to walk with me back behind our line. If we’re very lucky there won’t be any trouble.”
“Sorry.” She managed to make her tone careless, but her voice still shook. “I’m staying here.” But she was becoming less and less convinced that this was a good idea.
“Then I’m afraid we’ll have to pick you up and carry you out of here, miss.”
“Oh, won’t that look good on the news services,” Ingray remarked. “System Defense manhandling me out of the way, when all I want is to rescue children. And my mama!” Her voice broke at that last, and she swallowed hard. If she lost her balance now, if she wept or shouted, she would collapse entirely, she was sure of it.
They’ll try to remove you, Tic had said. Be stubborn. If you haven’t changed your mind, that is. I’ll do what I can to stop them. But Tic had left her when she’d walked out into the middle of the empty tiled floor. And she didn’t know what there was that he could do against System Defense.
“You’re assuming you’ll be allowed to tell the news services any of this,” the cleaning mech pointed out.
“You just try and stop me,” said Ingray.
The cleaning mech was silent. Ingray made herself turn again and look at the doors to the lareum, still closed. Still silent. Wanted to close her eyes, but she was feeling dizzy and she was afraid she’d fall over if she did that. Instead she counted her breaths—it had worked in the vacuum suit, so maybe it would keep her from panicking here.
After what had to be five minutes—Ingray had cut her connection with Hwae’s system communications, and refused to summon up the time in her vision—the cleaning mech said, “The over captain wants you to know that she’s not responsible for anything that happens to you, miss.”
“Of course not,” replied Ingray, still staring at the lareum doors.
“And if you survive this, miss, she’ll see you up for trial.”
Trial. Well, of course. She was interfering with a System Defense operation. And it didn’t matter. What mattered was getting into the lareum. Getting Netano and the children out. And the vestiges, if she was that lucky. “I look forward to it,” she managed to say, though not very convincingly. She waited for the cleaning mech to do something more—try to persuade her to change her mind, approach and attempt to physically remove her—but it did nothing. After a few minutes, she heard it trundle away. Then silence.
She was alone. I can’t come in with you, Tic had told her. If there’s even the smallest chance they’ll detect my presence, your life will be in danger. I’ll have to find my own way in. Presumably that was what he was doing now.
After a while her still-trembling legs grew tired, and she sat carefully down on the floor. What if the Omkem didn’t take her offer? What if she’d done all this for nothing?
It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter that she felt stupid and scared sitting out here all alone. And at least her hairpins were staying in—that was something, anyway. Of course, it was probably because the spider mech had put them in, while they’d discussed what passed as a plan.
She gave in to her impulse to blink on the time—nearly two hours had passed since she’d come here. Blinked it off again. There was no point staring at the seconds as they flashed by.
With a click, one of the wide lareum doors opened, just a crack, and a voice said, in heavily accented Yiir, “We will make the exchange. You will bring nothing. You will be searched. Stand up.”
Slowly, carefully, Ingray got to her feet.
The door opened wider, and a line of children slowly filed out, two dozen of them, in rumpled beige tunics and trousers. A public crèche then, and probably a station crèche, since some of the children were quite small (and sniffling and tearstained), and a visit to the System Lareum didn’t involve travel if you were already on the station.
One small child turned their head to look at Ingray. Sniffled. Opened their mouth. An older child behind them hissed, “Shhhh! Keep walking!” Quiet and urgent. Tears welling.
At the end of the line of beige-uniformed children came Netano. Despite having been a prisoner in the lareum for the past few days, she seemed only slightly disheveled
—her skirts and jacket just a bit creased and rumpled, no hair at all escaping her braids. Ingray bit down on the cry of Mama that wanted to come out of her mouth. As if she had heard anyway, Netano looked directly at her but did not change her bland, neutral expression. If Ingray had been younger, with a guiltier conscience, she’d have shivered to see that. Now, older, she knew that expression concealed any strong emotion Netano needed to hide, not just anger and disappointment.
“Exchange now,” the voice from behind the door said, in Yiir, loud and toneless. “Walk forward. If there is any difficulty you will be shot.” Without looking back, Netano kept walking.
For a moment Ingray wondered why they’d let so many children go before they were sure she was in their hands. But there was no time to wonder. She walked toward her mother.
Behind Netano was another, shorter line of children. They all looked to be about eight or nine years old, and Ingray recognized their blue-and-yellow uniforms. And of course. Netano had been in the lareum meeting a crèche from Arsamol District. The same crèche Ingray herself had come from.
They walked toward each other, slow and measured. A few steps from meeting Netano in the middle, Ingray, unable to help herself, said, “Mama.” She wasn’t going to cry. She wasn’t.
“Ingray, dear,” said Netano, drawing closer. “I won’t forget this.”
I won’t forget this. A chill went down Ingray’s back. Whether from the ambiguity of Netano’s words, or from the realization of what it was Ingray was doing, she didn’t know.
And then Netano was past, and Ingray was walking past the children, each one of whom turned their eyes in Ingray’s direction but did not turn their head or hesitate in their steady walk forward.
Inside the lareum doors stood a hulking, dark gray mech with a wide, boxy body, four jointed legs, and a large gun in one of its three upper appendages. But Ingray could keep her face bland and neutral, just like Netano. Well, almost like Netano; Ingray had never managed to seem quite as confidently in control as her mother could. But it didn’t matter, she didn’t have to be her mother, never would, never could be Netano. She was only Ingray Aughskold, but she had something these Omkem wanted, and she had gotten the children clear of this. And Netano, so that she could appoint her heir and be sure her name would go on. Ingray hadn’t done that for Danach, but she hoped he would be conscious, every moment of his life from here on forward, just how much he owed Ingray after this.