But from this distance it could take days, even weeks to reach Athoek itself. We could, of course, gate in much closer. Even, in theory, right up to the station itself, though that would be extremely dangerous. To do that safely, we would need to know where every ship, every shuttle, every sailpod would be the moment we came out of gate space. The gate opening could itself damage or destroy anything already on the spot, and Mercy of Kalr would collide with anything that might be in its way as it came out into the wider universe.

I’d done that sort of thing before, when I’d been a ship. During annexations, when a little extra death and destruction could hardly matter. Not in a Radchaai system, full of civilian citizen traffic.

“Sir, will you have tea?” asked Lieutenant Ekalu.

I had already returned my attention outside, to the star, its light and heat, its distant planet. The gates and their beacons. The taste of dust on Mercy of Kalr’s hull. I opened my mouth to say, thank you, no. And then realized she really wanted tea herself—she’d done without as the time to exit our self-made gate approached, and now that we’d arrived without event she’d been hoping I’d call for some. She wouldn’t have any if I didn’t. Her asking this way was quite daring, for her. “Yes, thank you, Lieutenant.”

Shortly thereafter, almost exactly one minute before I could expect any reply to my first message, an Etrepa handed me a bowl of tea, and the ship that we all presumed was Sword of Atagaris disappeared.

I had been watching it. Enjoying the view, which for once came close to overwhelming the not-quiteness that was my usual experience of receiving so much data from Ship. Not quite able to process everything, not quite enough to overwhelm the sensation of seeing what I wanted—so close, but not close enough to really touch.

But for those few moments, I could almost forget that I wasn’t a ship anymore. So when Sword of Atagaris disappeared, I reacted immediately, without thinking.

And found myself paralyzed. The numbers I wanted didn’t come, not immediately, and the ship—Ship, which was, of course, Mercy of Kalr and not me—would not move at my mere desire, the way my own body would have. I came sharply back to myself, to my one, single body sitting in Command.

But Ship knew what I wanted, and why. Lieutenant Ekalu said, “Sir, are you all right?” And then Mercy of Kalr moved, just the smallest bit faster than it could adjust the gravity. The bowl tumbled out of my hand and shattered, splashing tea over my boots and trousers. Lieutenant Ekalu and the Etrepas stumbled, grabbed at handholds. And we were suddenly back in gate space.