Radchaai often speak of the Radch as containing only one sort of people, who speak only one language—Radchaai. But the interior of a Dyson sphere is vast. Even if it had begun with a single population, speaking only one language (and it had not), it would not have ended that way. Many of the ships and captains that had opposed Anaander’s expansion had been Notai.

“No,” said Medic, “I don’t recognize it. It doesn’t look very Notai to me. It doesn’t really look like a supply locker, either. It does look old, though.”

“My house is Notai. Was.” Seivarden’s house had been absorbed by another one, during the thousand years she’d spent in suspension. “We were loyal, though. We had an old shuttle from the wars, docked at Inais. People used to come from all over to see it.” The memory of it must have been unexpectedly specific and sharp. She swallowed, so that her sudden sense of loss wouldn’t be audible when she spoke next. “How did a Notai ship break up in the Ghost Gate? None of those battles were anywhere near here.”

In Seivarden’s and Medic’s vision, Ship displayed images of the sort of shuttle Seivarden was talking about. “Yes, like that,” said Seivarden. “Show us the supply locker.” Ship obliged.

“There’s writing on it,” said Medic.

“Seeing?” Seivarden frowned, puzzling out the words. “Seeing… something?”

“Divine Essence of Perception,” said Ship. “One of the last defeated in the wars. It’s a museum now.”

“It doesn’t look particularly Notai,” said Medic. “Except for the writing.”

“And the writing on this one,” said Seivarden, gesturing into view the image of the one that had come out of the Ghost Gate, “is all burned away. Ship, did you really not recognize it?”

Ship said, to Medic and Seivarden both, “Not immediately. I’m a little less than a thousand years old and never have seen any Notai ships firsthand. But if Lieutenant Seivarden had not identified it herself, I would have within a few minutes.”

“Would you have, ever,” asked Medic, “if we trusted Sword of Atagaris?” And then, struck by a new thought, “Could Sword of Atagaris have failed to recognize it?”

“Probably it has,” said Seivarden. “Otherwise, surely, it would tell its lieutenant.”

“Unless they’re both lying,” said Ekalu, who had been listening in the whole time from the decade room. “They are taking the trouble to pick up a piece of debris that they might as well mark and let someone else take care of.”

“In which case,” remarked Seivarden, “they’re assuming Mercy of Kalr won’t recognize it. Which doesn’t strike me as a safe assumption.”

“I don’t presume to know Sword of Atagaris’s opinion of my intelligence,” said Ship.

Seivarden gave a small laugh. “Medic, ask Sword of Atagaris to tell us what they find when they examine that… debris.”