They pretended not to see me, though they had certainly noticed me in the street and knew what motivated my entrance. Despite the cold they wore only trousers and quilted shirts-it was spring in this hemisphere of Nilt and they were enjoying the warm spell. Three patrons sprawled in seats at a dirty table.
She was a native-short and fat, pale and wide-eyed. The place was dark, the white of the ice walls long since covered over with grime or worse. But I had never particularly cared for her. Not toward me, of course-I wasn't a person, I was a piece of equipment, a part of the ship.
On the contrary, her manners were those of an educated, well-bred person of good family. I had obeyed her orders, of course, and she had never abused any ancillaries, never harmed any of my segments (as the occasional officer did). And she had never been one of my favorite officers. Seivarden Vendaai was no concern of mine anymore, wasn't my responsibility. I crouched down and felt for a pulse, for the faintest stir of breath. I had thought her a thousand years dead, but she was, undeniably, here. Her name was Seivarden Vendaai, and a long time ago she had been one of my officers, a young lieutenant, eventually promoted to her own command, another ship. So I can't explain to you why I stopped and with one foot lifted the naked shoulder so I could see the person's face.įrozen, bruised, and bloody as she was, I knew her. Even after all this time it's still a new thing for me not to know, not to have orders to follow from one moment to the next. Sometimes I don't know why I do the things I do. Bodies in the street were none of my concern. I was only here, on this planet, in this town, because I had urgent business of my own. This was the icy back end of a cold and isolated planet, as far from Radchaai ideas of civilization as it was possible to be. But it was hardly possible I knew this person. There was something itchingly familiar about that outthrown arm, the line from shoulder down to hip. Or what passed for a tavern in this town. The snow stretched smooth in the wan sunrise, only a few tracks leading into a nearby ice-block building. It was minus fifteen degrees Celsius and a storm had passed just hours before. The body lay naked and facedown, a deathly gray, spatters of blood staining the snow around it.
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