Ancillary Justice (Imperial Radch #1) - Ann Leckie Page 0,123

to raise the gun. Wanted to smash all that beautiful glass in the mortuary chapel as we passed it.

Anaander Mianaai stopped, turned to look at me. “That wasn’t me. Help me now, I’m fighting that other me even now, I’m quite certain. I wasn’t ready to move openly, but now you’ve forced my hand, help me and I’ll destroy her and remove her utterly from myself.”

“You can’t,” I said. “I know what you are, better than anyone. She’s you and you’re her. You can’t remove her from yourself without destroying yourself. Because she’s you.”

“Once I reach the docks,” Anaander Mianaai said, as though it were an answer to what I had just said, “I can find a ship. Any civilian ship will take me where I want to go without question. Any military ship… will be a dicier proposition. But I can tell you one thing, Justice of Toren One Esk, one thing I’m certain of. I’ve got more ships than she does.”

“Meaning what, exactly?” asked Seivarden.

“Meaning,” I guessed, “the other Mianaai is likely to lose an open battle, so she has a slightly better reason to want to stop this spreading any further.” I could see Seivarden didn’t understand what that meant. “She’s held it back by concealing it from herself, but now all of her here…”

“Most of me, anyway,” corrected Anaander Mianaai.

“Now she’s heard it straight out she can’t ignore it. Not here. But she might be able to prevent the knowledge from reaching the parts of her that aren’t here. At least long enough to strengthen her position.”

Realization made Seivarden’s eyes widen. “She’ll need to destroy the gates as soon as possible. But it can’t work. The signal travels at the speed of light, surely. She can’t possibly overtake it.”

“The information hasn’t left the station yet,” said Anaander Mianaai. “There’s always a slight delay. It would be far more efficient to destroy the palace instead.” Which would mean turning a warship engine on the entire station, vaporizing it, along with everyone on it. “And I’d have to destroy the whole palace to stop the information going any further. There isn’t just one spot where my memories are stored. It’s made hard to destroy or tamper with on purpose.”

“Do you think,” I asked, into Seivarden’s shocked silence, “that even you could get a Sword or a Mercy to do that? Even with accesses?”

“How badly would you like the answer to that question?” asked Anaander Mianaai. “You know I’m capable of it.”

“I do,” I acknowledged. “Which option do you prefer?”

“None of the currently available choices is very good. The loss of either the palace or the gates—or both—will cause disruption on an unprecedented scale, all through Radch space. Disruption that will last for years, simply because of the size of that space. Not destroying the palace—and the gates, really they’re still part of the problem—will ultimately be even worse.”

“Does Skaaiat Awer know what’s going on?” I asked.

“Awer has been a thorn in my side for nearly three thousand years,” said Mianaai. Calmly. As though this were an ordinary, casual conversation. “So much moral indignation! I’d almost think they bred for it, but they’re not all genetically related. But if I stray from the path of propriety and justice, I’m sure to hear about it from Awer.”

“Then why not get rid of them?” asked Seivarden. “Why go and make one inspector supervisor here?”

“Pain is a warning,” said Anaander Mianaai. “What would happen if you removed all discomfort from your life? No,” Mianaai continued, ignoring Seivarden’s obvious distress at her words, “I value that moral indignation. I encourage it.”

“No you don’t,” I said. By now we were on the concourse. Security and military herded sections of the frightened crowd—many of them would have implants, would have been receiving information from Station when it suddenly cut out, with no explanation.

A ship’s captain I didn’t know spotted us, and hurried over. “My lord,” she said, bowing.

“Get these people off the concourse, Captain,” Anaander Mianaai said, “and clear the corridors, as quickly and safely as you can. Continue to cooperate with Station Security. I’m working to resolve this as quickly as possible.”

As Anaander Mianaai spoke, a flash of movement caught my eye. Gun. Instinctively I raised my armor, saw the person holding the gun was one of the people who had been following us on the concourse, just before Security had summoned us. The Lord of the Radch must have sent orders before she triggered her device and cut off all communications. Before she