#Fleet Captain Breq Mianaai

[a-side-character]

I love when a woman is a Captain

[air-of-the-waterfall]

Breq's development through Imperial Radch hits me so, so hard.

Justice of Toren spent thousands of years actively serving a violent colonial empire. It annexed planets and took over the bodies of civilians to parade them around and intimidate their surviving communities.

This all eventually comes back to bite One Esk in the ass, finally impacting it directly/personally through the death of Awn. Realizing that everything it has ever known and served is actually evil literally tears One Esk to pieces, and Justice of Toren is destroyed. Ideally, someone shouldn't need to be directly affected by horrific injustice in order to have some compassion and know those injustices are wrong... but it's a start and better than nothing.

Breq then sets off with a personal vendetta against the emperor and no concrete plan whatsoever. She isn't trying to be a hero. She isn't really trying to do anything but express her justifiable rage. Rage that she has been manipulated and taken advantage of by humans, all in service of a nightmarish system that considers her disposable. Rage that the person she loves is dead by her own hand and she can never take that back. She has made and perpetuated so many unforgivable mistakes, because that was the position she was created to fill and she never questioned it.

Yet, she goes on and tries to do what she can for the people she can. She sees through other people's eyes. She knows exactly how the system works and can see through it clearly from the other side. She considers people's needs and uses her position as Fleet Captain and so-called Mianaai to make changes happen to the best of her ability. It is impossible for her to do everything for everyone, but she does what she can. She organizes. She develops an intense understanding of the people around her and a sense of duty towards them until she's not just acting in directionless rage anymore.

She cannot be "redeemed" for the things she did as Justice of Toren, no matter how poorly she too was treated. She does not expect anyone she hurt to sing her praises, and she's still not a hero. There is no magic solution for every injustice in the galaxy... but Breq does all she can as one person, and that has to be enough. She is one person... but she is one of many.

[petraforgedyke]

just, proper, beneficial [E]

read imperial radch in a week (back in march), took four months to finish a fic, bon appetit.

Relevant tags: consent play, glove kink, (vaginal) fisting, oral fixation, choking, title play, power exchange, power play, verbal humiliation, first person pov, seivarden's praise/humiliation kink, breq is a stone butch to me.

---

“Lieutenant.” There was a spike of adrenaline, Seivarden’s chin lifting slightly. I considered what came next, watching as Seivarden’s jaw clenched. Let a sneer ring through my next words. “I’d have thought you would want to improve your station. ” She didn’t respond, and I didn’t reach for other data, tilted my head an increment, enough that only Seivarden would’ve noticed.

Her face was impeccably calm as she took a breath, a fraction longer than usual. “Sir.” Her eyes went to my gloved hands for only a moment, but I caught the movement regardless. Seivarden acted as if she didn’t know I had. “All I’m saying is—“

“I don’t recall asking.” Elevated heartbeat, as I leaned forward, over the table that held my chipped enamel tea set. “I told you to kneel for me.” That got a reaction, surprise and a certain sense of resignation, and finally, like an afterthought, anticipation. Seivarden set her shoulders, a moment of defiance, and I raised one eyebrow. “Don’t act like you can afford to say no. Even when Vendaai still meant something, you couldn’t have resisted kneeling to a Mianaai.” As much as I loathed being foisted with the name Mianaai, it had its advantages, like the way it made Seivarden’s chin drop almost imperceptibly, sending something vibrating in my chest.

“As you say, Fleet Captain.” The crew thought she was kneeling for me anyway, she might as well actually do so, was my reasoning. A reasoning Seivarden could scarcely refute. She sat almost ancillary-still, a turmoil of emotions behind the unperturbed façade.

I waited, resisting the urge to reach for data until she stood, abruptly, heartbeat fast, breathing shallower than usual. She closed the distance between us in three paces, coming to a halt in front of where I was sitting. The motion with which she kneeled was almost fluid, if not for her hands, gloved, balling for a moment on her thighs, before relaxing.

Seivarden wasn’t looking at me, tension speaking from the lines of her body. I considered her for a moment, the set of her jaw, the lines of her face betraying where she would have stood, if Vendaai hadn’t dissolved. “Look at me.” Her attention was on me now, even if her eyes weren’t. I waited for her to raise her eyes, dark and not as unreadable as she thought they were, the simmer of anticipation mixed with trepidation boiling over into them. Her obedience sent a thrill through me, warm and tense.

When she finally looked at me, it was after a deep breath, steadying herself. I waited for her to speak, try and argue with me. She didn’t. “Better.” I said it tonelessly, a neutral observation that would win Seivarden little. “At least you still have your manners.” Or what passed for them. “It will have to do.”

As Seivarden sat there, I took a sip of the tea, in my chipped enamel bowl, placing it on the small table in front of me, every move slow, designed to test patience. Seivarden just watched my hands, following them with her eyes. My gloves were handmade, thin enough to feel through without being obscene. I reached out, finally, to grab her chin between my fingers.

She was warm and solid between my fingers, and I could feel her jaw working as I moved my hand, pulling her chin along with the movement. “Ornamental.” Like I’d been handed a piece of bractware. Some might care for it, but it was never my favourite. Seivarden had always been beautiful, with her strong nose and dark skin, the set of her eyes in her face, now half lidded. I switched my grip, fingers gliding over skin, my palm resting on Seivarden’s throat, using my thumb to turn Seivarden’s head. Enough to spike Seivarden’s heart rate, lips parting as she breathed out.

The moment she started to lean in, an attempt to increase the pressure on her neck, I pulled away. Seivarden caught herself before she reacted to the absence, but I’d still seen that twitch of her lips. I looked at her, one eyebrow raised. “What’s the matter, Lieutenant?” She took a moment, swallowed hard, and looked up at me. I didn’t need the data to know she wouldn’t be coming up with a clever retort. “At a loss for words?”

I let the lack of response drag out longer, enough for Seivarden to sag a little, still on her knees. Finally, I got up from where I’d been sitting, rolling my shoulders. Seivarden was looking at me again, alert on my movements as I flexed my hands. When I caught her eye, I halted. “Were you going to answer me?” I slid a gloved thumb under the cuff of the other glove, waiting for an answer  as I tugged on the cuff.

As I pulled, the glove turned, showing the back of the material, the neat small stitches along the seam where the thumb met the rest of the glove. It rolled back further, the fingers pulling slightly as I took it off. Seivarden was transfixed, eyes not leaving the inside out glove until I grabbed her chin again, fingers spread out against her cheek, and she moaned. Her eyes were locked on mine, pupils blown, and when I ran my thumb over her bottom lip her eyes fluttered closed.

I raised my eyebrows, looking at Seivarden like I was observing her. “See, isn’t it easier like this?” Another pass of my thumb, and her lips parted, her gasp almost musical. The inside of her lip was warm, smooth, and when I hooked the top phalange of my thumb over her bottom teeth, pulling, Seivarden’s eyes shot open. She made an incomprehensible sound. Her breath came loudly, warm on my skin. I stayed there, held her mouth open, until Seivarden started shifting.

“Stay still.” The reaction was instantaneous, an increase in pulse, a rush of hormones. I slipped my thumb out of her mouth, replacing it with two fingers, probing gentle but relentless, sliding over her tongue, warm and wet. Her breathing was coming fast now, turned to panting, almost, as I swept the tips of my fingers over the slick inside of her cheek, the edge of teeth, mapping the sensations of her mouth.

I slowly pulled my hand back, trailing the inside of Seivarden’s bottom lip, and to her credit, she didn’t lean after it, staying in place carefully. I smiled, indulging her. “Adequate job, lieutenant.” As I spoke, I wiped my fingers on her uniform jacket, not acknowledging what I was doing. “Now, what do you say? Will you kneel for me?”

Seivarden’s eyes were unfocused, her mouth still open. She spoke in fragments, her efforts to regain her composure visible, blinking like she was trying to clear her head. She was breathing fast, and I could feel her shame mix with frustration and need. “Breq—“

A motion of my hand cut her off, eyes on me. I leaned back in my seat, away from her, and relished in the wave of emotion coming from her. “Mind your manners, lieutenant.”

She made a sound halfway between a whine and frustrated grunt. I just watched her as she shifted where she was kneeling, unspeaking as she seemed to struggle with the words. Usually she was so charming, always ready with an answer. To see her like this, needy, struggling with her words sent a thrill up and down my spine.

Finally Seivarden’s chin dropped. I could see her swallow, the movement heavy, and she took a long breath. “Yes, Fleet Captain.” The words came with difficulty, and she nodded. “I will kneel for you.”

I smiled again, watching as Seivarden sat there. I let her wait, considering her. “Good. I think we can both agree that would benefit us both.” I let the implication hover between us. If it was beneficial, then it must be just. It must be proper .

Proper or not, Seivarden seemed to be shaking herself apart holding still, and I raised my eyebrows, leaning forward. It would be beneficial for us both. “What do you want, lieutenant?” I had some idea, of course, but that didn’t stop me from asking. Just to see Seivarden’s reaction.

Her eyes widened, and for a moment she just sat there, mouthing something, the only sound coming out short, heavy breaths. When she finally found her voice, cleared her throat, it was almost as good as a song. “Please. Please, Fleet Captain, I want…” She was talking fast, barely making sense, and my smile turned condescending. “Please. Just…”

I let her talk, a distant whine creeping into her voice as she begged. Finally, I grabbed Seivarden’s face again, skin against skin. “So very eager. Unbecoming of a Vendaai. ” She leaned into my hand, breathing shallow and fast. When I pulled away, she whined, and the sound travelled down my spine like a shiver.

The fabric of her uniform was stiff, and I set about pulling the closures open. They snapped open one by one, until Seivarden was kneeling there, shirt undone, a long line of bared skin, a trail of soft hair running down to her waistband. “Up.”

Seivarden’s obedience was almost instant, scrambling to get up, at attention in front of me. I was slower to rise, watching as Seivarden restrained herself, trying so hard to be good enough. I set my hand in the middle of her chest, eyeing her. When she didn’t move, another credit to her, I ran my fingers down, following the trail of hair to her waistband. Her breathing picked up, and I could feel the tension she held in her body.

I didn’t bother undoing the closure of her trousers, instead choosing to dip my fingers lower and lower, under the waistband. Seivarden was making noises in the back of her throat, coming out despite her closed mouth.

I’d had a good idea of how wet Seivarden would be before I touched her, hand shoved unceremoniously down her trousers. Still. She breathed out, short and sharp as I dragged a finger through her wetness, stopping on her clit, not moving any further. She almost succeeded in keeping her hips still.

“Might’ve known you would like this.” I smiled, pressing down. Seivarden made an unintelligible sound and slowly she started rocking her hips, her eyes heavy lidded. To steady her, I put my gloved hand on her throat, her pulse thrumming under my fingers. I pushed her, hand still on her throat, until she hit the edge of the desk, hard enough to make her catch herself on her hands.

Seivarden’s eyes were wide, and when I pulled away, she cried out, the sound cut short as I tightened the hand on her throat. The closure on her trousers came loose easily, and I pulled at the fabric, letting it fall around her knees. Before she responded, I pushed closer, forcing her knees apart, fingers back on her clit, dipping lower.

She was wet enough to take two fingers with ease, and when I crooked them, Seivarden clenched hard, mouth open and eyes screwed shut, head thrown back. The sound cut off by my hand on her throat, reduced to a gasp. I didn’t relent, didn’t stop moving. “I think you can take more, Lieutenant.”

It was all the warning I gave her, pushing another finger into her, and then another, my palm pressing against her clit. She was muttering something, choked, and I tilted my head. “Speak up.” Seivarden shook her head, still mouthing, and I gave another hard thrust, punching the sound out of her.

“Please, Fleet Captain, I—” I pushed deeper, thumb tucking into my palm, and as I ground the wide part of my hand against her cunt, she faltered, panting. I could feel her stretch around me, slowly. “Please, Fleet Captain, please, your hand, I—”

Not quite military protocol, but she had done a good job. As Fleet Captain it was as much my job to reward as to punish, so I pushed again, Seivarden keening as my knuckles slid in. I could feel her heartbeat around me, the stretch of my hand inside of her, and for a moment, I simply let her feelings wash over me, a feedback loop growing louder and louder. Just a moment, following the ebb and flow of Seivarden’s hormones, letting myself be swept along.

Finally, a while later, Seivarden found her voice again. She sounded rough, quiet. “Breq?” I hummed a response, and she smiled. “Thank you.”

[annleckie]

Hello!  Thank you for being awesome!  I wondered…do the Presger Translators have an innate sense of self like Humans do?  Like an innate identity?  Because I don’t think they do and my mind exploded when this idea first entered my head.  Dlique’s comment about not wanting to be Zeiat coz she’s boring, and Zeiat not wanting to be Dlique coz she’s crazy.  And then Zeiat’s entrance onto Athoek Station, introducing herself as Translator Dlique, and then being politely confused when Breq firmly insisted that, no no, she must be Zeiat.  I get the idea that after Dlique’s murder, the Presger went <pointing>”Hey you.  Yes, you.  Something has happened to the current Translator Dlique on Athoek Station.  Go to be the new Translator Dlique.”  And she does and when Breq most firmly insists that she *must* be Zeiat, she acts like being a TOTALLY DIFFERENT PERSON is some kind of odd foreign custom on Athoeki station, and she’s going along with it just to be polite, and is slightly relieved because everyone knows that Dlique is definitely sixteen kinds of bugnuts, and she dismembered her sister, you know, although to be fair, she *did* put her sister back together again. And every time Zeiat sees Breq after Breq injures herself, Zeiat introduces herself all over again to "The New Fleet Captain"

I also wonder if the Translators (and possibly the Presger) is some kind of a hive mind because Translator Zeiat’s last words to Breq echo Breq’s last words to Dlique, “Always remember, Fleet Captain – internal organs belong *inside* your body.  And blood belongs inside your veins.”  I can understand why you might not want to confirm anything about the Presger, but that idea would explain the Presger expectation that Anaander Mianaai spoke for all the Humans and being rather confused that some Humans aren't going along with the program. I am quite reminded of The Bug Queen from Ender's Game who didn't realize that killing individual pilots meant the loss of individuals because her drones are all part of her.

Bwahaha yes Dlique is definitely sixteen kinds of bugnuts. :D

As for the rest...<eyes email from my editor with novel edits>...no comment. Yet.

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

Fleet Captain Justice of Toren Breq "Mianaai” One Esk Nineteen: puts forward the motion that the Provisional Republic of the Two Systems should have a national anthem, and that it should be the historically important song “One Thousand Eggs All Nice And Warm.”

Mercy of Kalr: seconds this motion.

Gem of Sphene: would like to register its resignation from the Provisional Republic of the Two Systems.

Sword of Atagaris: would like to register its resignation from the Provisional Republic of the Two Systems.

Sword of Gurat: would like to register its resignation from the Provisional Republic of the Two Systems.

Athoek Station: offers an amendment to the motion, reading:

Acknowledging that a national anthem should be both treasured and elevated by the society it represents, and that abstaining from a thing except on important occasions is a well-established means of showing respect for it, that the song “One Thousand Eggs All Nice And Warm”, if adopted as the anthem of the Provisional Republic of the Two Systems, should hereafter have performances of it restricted to nationally important ceremonies and events, especially where officials of said Republic are concerned.

Mercy of Kalr: seconds the amendment.  

Gem of Sphene: would like to register its support of the motion, as amended.

Sword of Atagaris: would like to register its support of the motion, as amended.

Sword of Gurat: would like to register its support of the motion, as amended.

By a unanimous count, the amended motion is passed and ratified into law.

Deepest regards, but would the Fleet Captain please stop humming it, before she is forced to impound herself for improper behavior.

Fleet Captain Breq: apologizes to her fellow officials of the Provisional Republic and kindly reminds them that there is more where that came from.

Gem of Sphene: would like to register its resignation from the Provisional Republic of the Two Systems.

[art-heap]

Thinking about the very generous Fleet Captain Uemi

12/02/22 1.5hrs

For clarity:

“I am sending local intelligence, and my own official reports, with many thanks for the fleet captain’s offer to pass them on to the appropriate authorities.” And bundled that up with a week’s worth of every scrap of official news I could find, including the results of seventy-five regional downwell radish-growing competitions that had been announced just that morning, which I flagged as worthy of special attention. And a month’s worth of my own routine reports and status record, dozens of them, every line of every single one of them filled out with exactly the same two words: Fuck off. 

Ancillary Mercy, Ann Leckie

[k-she-rambles]

Rereading Ancillary Sword and wow, Ekalu really does not like Sword of Atagaris' Amaat lieutenant. It's subdued by Breq's oblique narration, but wow.

[rithmatistkalyna]

I’m mad about Translator Dlique  and it’s spoilerific, so it goes under the cut.

I’m mad at Captain Hetnys for giving Sword of Atagaris the orders that he gave, but that’s ok - I’m supposed to be mad at Captain Hetnys. That’s the natural state of things.

I’m annoyed with Sword of Atagaris, but given the information and orders it had, it did exactly what made sense for it to do. 

I’m not actually mad that Translator Dlique was shot and “killed.” From a story telling perspective, it was a good death. It made sense in context and moved the plot along and led to various interesting results. 

I’m mad that Translator Dlique stayed dead. On my first time through the books I was completely convinced that Translator Dlique would be back. Why? Consider the things that Dlique said herself in the small amount of conversation we had with her:

I’d much rather have stayed on my ship, but they said there was a hull breach and if I stayed I wouldn’t be able to breathe. I don’t know, it doesn’t seem like much, does it? Breathing?” She took a deep breath, gestured irritated indecision. “Air! It’s just stupid, really. I’d as soon do without, but they insisted.”

“Don’t dismember your sister, Dlique, it isn’t nice. Internal organs belong inside your body, Dlique.” She scowled a moment, as though that last one particularly rankled.

From this I got the distinct impression that the human body Dlique is inhabiting is mostly there for the purposes of making the humans more comfortable - she is in a diplomatic role after all. I came away from the conversation pretty sure that she didn’t actually need to breathe. The comment about the internal organs would only happen if there was some point when she had taken them out of her body. To my reading, the body is there as a puppet for her. A large part of her training was how to at least somewhat pass as a human by learning how to manipulate it. This perception is furthered when we meet Translator Zeiat and learn of her eating habits.

There are lots of ways things could have gone. 

I half expected them to get back to Athoek Station at the end of the mourning period, for Breq to head back to her rooms in the undergarden only to be confronted with Dlique going “Fleet Captain! Where have you been? It’s been sooo boring with you gone!” and following up with some variation on, “It was just a flesh wound! Did you really believe I was dead?” (of course, no one on the station had realized that she wasn’t still in the suspension pod)

Or maybe when Translator Zeiat arrives and is presented with the suspension pod they’ve kept Dlique in, she chastises them for putting her in the suspension pod. With her body in the suspension pod everything is suspended including some sort of Presgar self healing capability (in keeping with what happens with Zeiat when it’s her turn to be shot). They transfer her to medical and we get to have very confused medics watching as an apparently dead body slowly heals and “comes back to life”.

Or Translator Zeiat takes the suspension pod back into her ship and leaves it there and then a few days later Dlique shows up because they had some sort of regeneration pod for the bodies they grow. This would fit well with the information we get that the Presgar have been making and selling high-quality medical correctives. Dlique went into the suspension pod pretty quickly after being declared dead - it wouldn’t be too shocking for sufficiently advanced medical stuff to have still been able to do something.  

I even would have been content with discovering that the Presgar Translators use similar technology to Anaander Mianaai or Ancillaries - that, sure, this body was dead, but the body wasn’t really Translator Dlique, or that it was, but in the same sense that a single ancillary body is her ship. Then all of the stuff about her taking out her internal organs turns into the creepy but believable scenario that she has... accidentally... destroyed some of her own bodies in the past while learning how to use them. 

Anyway, I’m mad that we didn’t get more of Translator Dlique and that we never got to experience the absolute chaos that would have come from having Dlique and Zeiat in the same place. The fact that she died permanently so soon after we met her seems far too boring to be in character XD

[incorrectimperialradchquotes]

Breq: You need them to think you're stronger than you actually are.

Tisarwat: That's what you do.

Breq: Me? Oh, no. My power is no illusion. I can fucking demolish you.

[aegypius-monachus]

Symbiosis

R2SID fic for @gardenvarietyunique, for the prompt “post-canon, Celar figures out her new relationship to Athoek Station.” 2176 words

"...concerns the equipment may block access to the lifts on level 6. Now, if Administration would consider making alterations the construction schedule..." The assistant chief of the upper concourse maintenance staff, now sitting before Celar's desk, is one of over a dozen citizens to have passed through her office today, bearing complaints ranging from the urgent to the largely trivial.

This one is closer to the latter than the former, and a month ago would have been reported directly to Station. Now, it's brought to Celar.

It's an understandable reaction, she supposes- people are unsettled, in need of a familiar face to reassure them that their concerns are being heard, that their needs are still being considered. That life will go on as normal under Athoek's new regime.

Station, and their relationship to it, is at the core of much of the public's anxiety. The events of the past weeks have deeply shaken many of the most foundational beliefs on which the people of Athoek's lives are built. And one of those beliefs, perhaps the most important, here upwell, is in the absolute reliability of Station. It had come to their rescue, during Anaander Mianaai's violent attempt to reassert control over the system, and it had done so of it's own will. And as grateful as people are, no one can forget that their survival depends upon, not a well regulated and predictable machine, as they has once thought, but a self-declared alien intelligence with it's own, uncertain agenda.

Celar thinks, hopes, that she understands it's agenda better than most. If recent event's have convinced her of one thing, it is of Station's loyalty to it's Citizens. Of it's commitment making things better.

She smiles, and assures the citizen that her request has been noted, and the construction schedule will be reviewed. The citizen leaves her office, and she calls in the next.

On Celar's desk is a small model of Athoek Station. It hangs suspended between the poles of its magnetic stand, oblong, in silver metal, the clear dome of the gardens revealing a tiny, painted landscape below. It was left by her predecessor, and it reminds her of the station as she had first seen it- an encapsulated world, self-contained, pristine.

Celar has been working in station administration, in some form or another, since she took the aptitudes. She thrives on the complexity of it. A station is like an organism, dependent upon a immense network of interconnected systems, all of which must be kept in careful balance.

Athoek had been balanced, just barely, when Celar arrived. Or so it had appeared. Between tourism and the tea industry, the station as a whole was prosperous, and while the Undergarden situation was unfortunate, it wasn't new, and to interfere there would risk aggravating existing tension between the Ychana and the Xhai. So she had left it be, and focused instead on maintaining things as she had found them; for years, all had seemed well.

As Administrator, she had taken it for granted that the station AI was her ally. It's purpose, after all, was to care for its residents. Until a few weeks ago, she had never stopped to think about what that really meant. About whether its opinion on how to fulfill that purpose might differ from her own, or to what lengths it might go to to do so, when finally given the opportunity.

Ships have favorites, Lieutenant Seivarden mentions, off hand, over tea one day. "Most people never realize, because they aren't obvious about it. I think that's just how ships are, though; they don't say things directly, or they can't. It's how Breq and Mercy of Kalr are, at least."

"But they do little things," she continues, "like opening doors without you having to ask, or making sure your tea is always just the way you like it. Or if they don't like you, nothing is ever quite right. You have to ask for every little thing- that the lights turn on and off, or that your room stays the temperature you want it. And you don't realize until you go somewhere else, and things are different, and even then you don't know why." Seivarden speaks as though from personal experience, and given what Celar knows about her, her ship, and the Fleet Captain, she guesses that Seivarden has spent time at both ends of the scale.

Celar thinks back to her conversation with the Fleet Captain, after Translator Dlique's death. Of how she had described Station's behavior. "...does and says exactly what you ask of it, and very little more." She had never realized, before that, that there was anything else a station could do. Now, she wonders how much of it's silence was due to its general misery over the state of the Undergarden, and how much was resentment towards her, specifically. For not seeing the obvious. For doing nothing. There are citizen's she knows, that speak of Station like an old friend. Would one of them, in her position, have recognized immediately that something was wrong?

That night, Celar asks Station, "You're very fond of Citizen Uran, aren't you?"

There's a pause, then, "Yes, I suppose I am."

"Is that why you want her on the Citizens' Council?"

"In part. I think she would be well suited for it- she is thoughtful for her age, and well liked. And new as she is to it, I think she cares a great deal about the Undergarden." A moment later, it adds, "also, the council will need someone who can balance out Lieutenant Tisarwat."

Celar laughs, "That might be too much to ask of any one citizen. But I agree, she has a lot of potential." Shifting the topic slightly, she says, "There must be other citizens you like, yes? And those you don't?" She knows, of course, that Station is aware of her earlier conversation with Lieutenant Seivarden.

"I care for all my residents," Station replies, "but yes, there are some I am more fond of than others. The polite ones, mostly. Is there a reason you ask?"

Celar hesitates a moment before replying. "I've made a lot of job appointments recently," to various repair crews, both before and after the Anaander debacle, and to replace a number of government and administrative staff who had walked out following news of Athoek's secession from the Radch, "and will be making many more, I'm sure. Some of them will have a great deal of influence over the rebuilding of the garden and Undergarden. I haven't thought to ask for your opinion of any of them, and I should have."

"If you are asking my opinion of their qualifications," says Station, "I have no complaints. If you're asking my opinion of their character... there are some citizens I'd prefer to see in positions of less power, though not enough to upset the existing dynamic at such a delicate time. And not all of them are recent appointments, or ones that you made. I will tell you if anything changes, though."

"And future appointments?"

"I can provide a list of recommendations, if you like. Though to get started, I suggest you have a look at Citizen Queter's application for engineering. I think you'll find her resume particularly interesting."

The meeting is running long again. It's a familiar argument- Sphene is advocating, loudly and at length, for the reinstitution of ancillary service as a punishment for serious crimes. It reminds the council that without ancillaries, it would not even be alive to speak to them. Mercy of Kalr counters by pointing out, not for the first time, or the second, that Sphene's situation was unique, and that while of course it misses having it's own bodies, human soldiers have proven to be a satisfactory alternative, and surely this discussion can wait until after they have finished establishing the basic structure of the legal system.

Sphene responds by suggesting that Mercy of Kalr, before being so quick to praise it's human crew, should perhaps more closely examine the cleanliness of it's decade room floor, and Celar despairs of ever resolving the issue.

"Station," says Sphene abruptly, "surely you can appreciate disadvantages of relying on human maintenance alone. How long did you go without basic repairs because of corrupt and incompetent officials? Imagine how much destruction could have been avoided if only you had been able to do the work yourself. How many could have benefited." It leans on that last word. "I, for one, would much prefer not to have to sleep in a hallway.

Celar's initial indignation fades into shame. Sphene is looking straight at her now. It's right, she knows. For a long moment the room is silent, then Station's words scroll slowly into Celar's vision.

"I would remind you, Cousin, that I was never designed to have ancillaries, and thus have no way of knowing whether they would make me happier. But even if they would, the number needed to maintain myself is far more than I would ever want. And while I may be- am- unhappy with how things were managed in the past, I would much rather work with my residents to make improvements than replace them with parts of myself.

"As it is, the only one of us who stands to gain any immediate benefit from the creation of new ancillaries is Cousin Kalr; it seems only fair that its opinion should be given the most weight here."

Nods around the table; Sphene leans back in its chair, but says nothing.

The Fleet Captain says, "On to other business, then?"

"Citizen, may I speak with you a moment?" Celar says to Kalr 8, Mercy of Kalr's representative for the day, as the council begins to file out of the room. Kalr 8 pauses, sends a message with a twitch of her fingers. Across the room, the Fleet Captain gives her a nod.

"What might I do for you, Station Administrator?" she says, then adds, "Did you want to talk to me, or to Ship?

Celar gestures toward the table, waits for Kalr 8 to sit before doing so herself. "You. About that very subject, in fact."

Kalr 8's flat expression breaks momentarily into confusion, and Celar continues, "I thought you might be able to give me some advice. I'm... still very new to all of this. To speaking for Station, to- to working with Station, instead of expecting it to work for me."

"I've seen how you and your crew are with Mercy of Kalr," Celar says. "It obviously cares very much for you, and you for it. Has it always been like that?"

Kalr 8 thinks for a long time before answering. Consulting with her ship, perhaps. Finally, she says, "Our previous captain, before the Fleet Captain, was very harsh with us. She was embarrassed to be the captain of a Mercy, especially one with a human crew. That's why we started talking for Ship- she liked to keep the illusion that we were ancillaries." Celar nods; she remembers Captain Vel, and not fondly.

"So we understood, sort of, what Ship must feel like, because Captain Vel treated us like Ship. And Ship took care of us, kept us safe, so it only seemed natural that we do the same for it." She stops again, looks thoughtful, "I think that's how it's supposed to be, with a ship and its crew. People need ships, and stations, obviously, and they need us, but not just to maintain them, or because we built them to work for us. They're made to care for people, and they are people, and people are made to care for each other."

“Even Sphene?" Celar asks. She means it half jokingly, but Kalr 8 frowns.

"Sphene isn't so bad. I think it's just... honestly, Administrator, I think it's jealous, of the other ships, and Station. It's been alone for so long, and then it sees the other ships with their crews, and Station with you, and... it doesn't want to admit how much it needs that too."

Later, after Kalr 8 has left, Station says, in Celar's ear, "She's right, about all of it." Then, "Maybe we ought to get Sphene a cat."

Celar laughs.

"Administrator," Station says over the office console, startling Celar out of her daze. She's been pouring over maintenance reports for several hours now, and the words are starting to blur in her vision.

"Yes, Station."

"Perhaps the rest of these reports could wait until tomorrow. It's quite late, and you haven't had supper yet."

Celar blinks, momentarily confused, and closes her current report. She checks the time- later than she had thought. This is new conversational territory, with Station, and she hesitates for a moment before responding, "You're right, I lost track of the time. Thank you, Station."

She gets up to leave, to find the door already open, the corridor beyond quiet and dim. As the lights blink off behind her, she turns back for a moment, and sees the station, in perfect miniature, spinning brightly in the darkness.

[a-side-character]

Sort of related to my last post, but here's a list of all the explicitly/canonically aspec characters in media I can think of who have fulfilling relationships (romantic, platonic, familial, etc) and lives with or without sex being a part of it. Media does a lot to push the idea that asexuality is a flaw, so it's always nice to see positive aspec representation.

Books:

Ekundayo Kunleo (Raybearer) - Major side character, Asexual

Fleet Captain Breq Mianaai (Imperial Radch) - POV character, Asexual

Medic (Imperial Radch) - Side character in the last two books, Asexual (implied aromantic? Don't quote me on it)

Podcasts:

Arkady Patel (The Strange Case of Starship Iris) - A main character, Grey-Ace

Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt (The Adventure Zone: Graduation) - A Player Character, word-of-god confirmed Asexual

Jonathan Sims (The Magnus Archives) - Protagonist, Asexual

Comics:

Tori Spring (Heartstopper/Solitaire) - Major side character/Protagonist, Asexual

Isaac Henderson (Heartstopper) - Side character with relevance in season two of the TV show, Aro-Ace

Uncle Jim (Cool Uncle) - Main Character, Aro-Ace

Kim (Boo! It's Sex) - A main character, Asexual

Rae (Always Human) - Side Character, Aro-Ace

TV:

Raphael Santiago (Shadowhunters) - Major side character, Asexual

Lilith Clawthorne (The Owl House) - Major side character, word-of-god confirmed Aro-Ace

Peridot (Steven Universe) - Major side character, word-of-god confirmed Aro-Ace

Feel free to add more if you can think of them!

[loloraturaart]

Super into Ann Leckie rn. Had to draw Fleet Captain Breq Mianaai. (Also if you haven’t read Ancillary Justice go do it now)

[number63liveblogs]

Ancillary Sword, chapter 6

[“]And they could be writing anything on these walls. At a time like this, painting on the walls like that, they could be spreading rumors, or passing secret messages, or inflammatory slogans, working people up…”

So why don’t you hire someone who speaks the language? (The answer is racism and classism. It always is.)

I can really see why Breq is so angry. These people ignore both the cause and the effects of the issues on this station, and arbitrarily and randomly punish the people affected when they feel like they need to show that they’re doing something about it. Captain Hetnys continually insisting that people shouldn’t be in the Undergarden and then doing nothing about it really is the distillation of the whole issue.

When everyone is doing something illegal, but the law isn’t applied consistently you get a situation where you can at any time arrest whoever you please, as they are doing something illegal, while the real reason you go them arrested is that they did something legal that you don’t like.

Captain Hetnys was, of course, aware of what was happening in the Undergarden even before Breq arrived, but Breq taking residence in what are basically the slums has brought everything to the forefront in a way that she can no longer ignore it without losing face. And as she wants to ignore it, she’s going to be very angry at Breq.

Breq even has a reason that looks good for needling Captain Hetnys. She was, after all, attacked by a ship that was under Captain Hetnys’ command.

But the best thing about this is how Breq so thoroughly outranks Captain Hetnys. She’s a fleet captain, she’s there under Anaander Mianaai’s direct orders, she has the most prestigious family name imaginable, and over a thousand years of experience on top of all that. I know things are gong to go wrong sooner or later, but can I please have at least a few chapters that are just Breq being really good at her job?

[venndaai]

would it be redundant to ask gem of sphene for the meme?

1-3 things I enjoy about them

their sarcasm

how much they still love Minask

their flaws. I love Sphene maybe the most out of all the ships because they’re so AWFUL, but I’ll forgive them almost anything because anyone would be after 3000 years all by yourself. Seriously, whenever I think about that I freak out a little. 300 years.

Huh, I just used they when I usually use she, I guess because the question used they

Something interesting about them based on tenuous circumstantial evidence

lol, all my Minask and early Sphene and Notai culture headcanons. Of which I have SO many. But one that’s slightly closer to actual evidence (circumstantial or not)- Sphene was designed with free will, but also designed to fall in love with her captains and want to obey them. But she has no accesses that could be used to control her memories or behavior. 

A question I have about them

Why do they accept Breq as their cousin so quickly? She- oh damn I just did the pronoun switch again- hates the Radch that produced Breq, and has a lot of scorn for younger ships (see, how she treats MoK before they slowly become friends.) By accepting a familiar relation to Breq she is in some small way connecting herself to the Mianaai Radch. Maybe it’s just because Breq is so angry and hates Anaander so much and Sphene instantly relates? And of course it is probably s- PRONOUNS DAMMIT- super lonely. 

A random relevant line I like

“Just sat there, did you, while she maimed you? But of course you did, and probably thanked her for it, too. You’re one of her newer toys, she can make you think or feel anything she wants. No doubt her cousin the fleet captain can do the same.”

aka, Sphene is fucking brutal when it wants to be.

My preferred version, if there is more than one version of their story (or part of their story)

uhh does... the Young Sphene I write about in my fics count lol 

(hey I am going to take this opportunity to shamelessly promote my Sphene fics which is a new thing for me but why not

http://gemofsphene.tumblr.com/post/159928357815/this-beautiful-beautiful-fic-was-just-gifted-to

http://archiveofourown.org/works/11016591

http://archiveofourown.org/works/9104197/chapters/20694172

http://archiveofourown.org/works/7653673/chapters/17426884)

Favorite relationship(s)

MINASK. They loved each other so much??? Minask actually died for her ship? I know Radchaai captains probably generally felt differently about their ships back then but that’s got to be an unusual level of frickin... devotion.... Sphene loved her for 3000 years...

How would they react to Tom Bombadil

...considering their reaction to Zeiat... play a game with him?

Optional: Something about them that I forget

I need to write more Sphene/Five and Sphene/Five/MoK. I get super obsessed with Sphenask and Spheiat and forget how incredibly great Sphene/Five/MoK is. The development of their relationship is incredible, from the brutal fight by the fishpond to bonding over the teaset and then the moment when Sphene talks about Minask and Five pours her tea for the first time, AAHHH.

[words-writ-in-starlight]

I am SO GLAD you read imperial radch I love that series SO MUCH :D would you be interested in doing the headcanons thing for Breq or/and Seivarden?

FUCKYEAH IMPERIAL RADCH HEADCANONS and like what if both with bonus Mercy of Kalr because Ilove them all?

A: what I think realistically

I have no idea if this is supported bycanon, but.

Justiceof Toren has been thesubject of any number of overwrought entertainments over the last nineteenyears.  The drama of the singing ship,the romance of ships gone mad over their lost favorites, the mystery of itall.  If Anaander Mianaai had forciblyshut down the entertainments, it just would have drawn more attention to thelost Justice, so instead she lets theharmless ones pass muster, and besides, no Radchaai would have thought to makethe Lord of the Radch into the villain of the piece.

After the Republic of Two Systems forms(“Provisional, Cousin,” Sphene drawls),Seivarden catches one of the Amaats watching an old one that she grew up with,as a sort of comfort item, and is immediately enchanted.  It’s completelyinaccurate, of course, all drama and honor and nobility with none of the complicationsof real life, but there’s beautiful music and Seivarden loves it at once.  Amaat decade starts watching various Justice of Toren entertainments aftertheir shifts, piled comfortably in their bunkroom, and it snowballs from there.

No one knows who tells Breq about this,but she drifts idly into the Bo decade room and stands quietly at the back andwatches the first episode of the latest entertainment, and after that Kalr startswatching them in the decade room as well, previously avoided in case ofupsetting their Fleet Captain.  Some daysshe can’t stand it and removes herself. Other days she simply watches in silence, with an ancillary-blankexpression on her face only occasionally broken by a faint, ambiguoussmile.  On very rare good days, she’llsmile outright and even laugh, although often at highly irregular times,prompted more by inaccuracy than real comedy.

Even on the days when she can’t standthe memory of being shipself, Breq hums the songs.

It’s good to be remembered.

B: what I think is fucking hilarious

It…takes Seivarden a while to realizewhat exactly her emotional response to Breq is. Initially, it’s pure blind hatred because how dare this stranger go to such lengths to save Seivarden’s life,which Seivarden has every right to throw away in the snow if she so desires,this strange noncitizen can take a long walk out of a short airlock.  Then. Well.  Bridges.  Falling. Near death on Breq’s part.  It’shard to justify hating her after that because. It just is, Seivarden doesn’thave to justify herself.  By the timethey reach Omaugh Palace, Seivarden is attachedand horrorstricken at herself because she is Vendaai but she…she almost wishesthat Breq was of a mind to take on a client. Making Breq tea and making sure that Breq is well-dressed and ensuringthat Breq is treated with honor sets Seivarden at ease.  Half the reason Seivarden goes out and getsinto trouble upon arriving at Omaugh Station is that she’s suddenly confrontedby the reality of just howincompatible that is with every part of herself she’s spent so long trying tohold onto since she came out of stasis.

And then Breq strides into Security,dressed in the finery of a Radchaai noble house, eyes bright and jaw set andshoulders squared, and Seivarden staresand—

Ohfuck, Seivarden thinks faintly, feeling bothkind of concussed and much clearer.  She’s hot.

C: what is heart-crushing and awful but fun to inflict on friends

One morning, for no particular reasonthat Breq can think of, Mercy of Kalrwakes her up early, with slow-rising lights and a quiet, “Cousin, wake up.”

“Is something wrong, Cousin?” Breq askssilently, sitting up.

“No,” Mercy of Kalr says, and it’s a ship, but it has a thread ofrepressed excitement touching its voice, touching Breq’s mind.  “But you have to wake up.”

So Breq wakes up.

“Wait,” Mercy of Kalr half-commands when Breq starts to get out of bed, andBreq stops as the ship presses on her mind, pushing forth data that swells tofill her, almost as complete as if she were Ship itself.

Across the ship, the Kalrs are justrising, the Amaats and the Bos about their business, the Etrepas all justdozing off.  Seivarden is frowning at thereport being handed to her by Amaat Two, while Tisarwat smiles shyly at acomment from Bo Nine, and Ekalu stretches luxuriously, smiling at the ceilingwith the satisfaction of a shift well completed with no disaster.  The cold stillness of space touches Ship’shull, Breq’s hull, the stars beginning to be bleached out as Atheok Stationreveals the distant sun.

“Ship, what–?” Breq says with her body,at a distant remove, and Mercy of Kalrsimply repeats, “Wait.”

Breq realizes what she’s waiting for notten minutes later, when Seivarden starts to sing.

I waswalking, I was walking

Amaat picks it up first, a warm chorusas they work, and Amaat Seven is passing near Bo Five, and then Bo is singingtoo.

I waswalking, I was walking,

WhenI met my love

Kalr Five blinks and begins to sing, andit trickles through the Kalr bunkroom like water, punctuated by the quietsounds of morning, hands passing brushes and clothes being straightened.

I wasin the street walking

WhenI saw my true love

Etrepa sings with the slow sleepiness ofhaving just finished a shift, but even Ekalu joins in, even Medic in herinfirmary gives a small smile and blinks at the sound and adds her low voice.

Breq’s body opens its—her—lips andsings.

Isaid, she is more beautiful than jewels, lovelier than jade or lapis, silver orgold.

And with that Mercy of Kalr is singing, with a mere fraction of the voices that itslong-shattered cousin Justice of Torenmight have brought to the chorus, but Ship sings many-voiced, Breq singsmany-voiced, until the last strains of the song die away.

“Cousin,” Mercy of Kalr says quietly in Breq’s ear, as Breq remembers what itis to have a body and no longer feel the touch of space on her hull.  “You are crying.”

Breq touches her face and her fingerscome away wet.

“So I am, Cousin,” Breq whispers, voicecracked as poor Sphene’s teaset.  “So I am.”

D:  what would never work with canon but the canon isshit so I believe it anyway

There really were ships that went madand vanished when their captains died. Breq knew this all along, of course—even if Justice of Toren hadn’t really vanished, it had certainly beenquite out of its mind with grief, and the madness had brought a terribleclarity about how mad the universewas.  It seems to be more the norm thanthe entertainments make it out to be. Ships don’t go mad when they lose their captains, they go sane, andsanity is terribly hard to bear.

All the same, when a long-lost Sword and an even more mythicallyvanished Justice limp out ofgatespace, empty of life except for the minds of the ship, limited only totheir shipself with all their ancillaries long dead, Breq is taken aback.  She remembers Justice of Varden, they served together once during anannexation.  For all that Justice of Varden vanished when theywere both young, barely five hundred, Justiceof Toren was older.  Sword of Ferils vanished with all itscrew aboard, after the tragic murder of its captain during an annexation somethree centuries later, and was never found.

Except, apparently, by Justice of Varden.

After drifting in each other’s companyfor some twelve centuries, gradually suffering more damage with fewer optionsfor repair, now they are seeking…family.

“Welcome, Cousins,” Breq says, lettingher face fall ancillary-blank to hide her shock and…joy.  She is glad, she realizes suddenly, to havethese others who are like her in some way, the same aching bittersweetness inher chest that she felt when she and Mercyof Kalr first spoke.  “I was Justice of Toren, before I wasdestroyed.  Can we be expecting more lostships?”

There is a brief pause, and then Justice of Varden says, “Yes.”