“So,” said Ingray after a few moments of thought, “you must be grateful that I kept Commander Hatqueban from threatening or destroying such valuable vestiges.”
“Don’t push your luck, Miss Aughskold. Right now the only reason you are going to be able to walk out of here—and not straight into a holding cell—is that Captain Uisine is a friend of yours, and my superiors are hoping there’s some way to get access to his mechs without violating the treaty. And having said that, I will now warn you that the events inside the lareum and the Assembly Chambers, and our conversation here, are to be kept absolutely secret. There’s an official version that has already appeared on the news services. Don’t worry—it’s not really all that different from what actually happened, and you come off very heroically”—with no change of expression that Ingray could see, or change of her voice, Over Captain Utury managed to convey her distaste at saying that—“as do Prolocutor Dicat and Miss Tai. Once you’ve become acquainted with the official account you’ll have access to communications again. If anyone asks you, just confirm that official version. But for the moment you’re better off just claiming exhaustion and not speaking to any of the news services.”
“I … I suppose I can do that.” The whole conversation had seemed surreal. This part of it wasn’t much stranger than the rest.
“It’s not a question of whether you can,” replied Over Captain Utury. “You don’t have any choice in the matter. You do understand that?”
“I do,” Ingray acknowledged.
“Good. And lest I seem ungrateful, I acknowledge that you risked your life, and in so doing you allowed us to resolve this with a good deal less bloodshed and damage to the station than might otherwise have been the case. And I’m sure the Tyr Executory and the Peoples of Byeit will consider themselves indebted.”
“I …” Ingray didn’t know what to say, whether to cry or laugh. “I want to go home now.”
The station’s various transport services were all running again, which meant Ingray only had to walk a short distance supported by her blue-and-gold-uniformed guard, and then board a tram that stopped just across from the hostelry where Netano was staying. One of Nuncle Lak’s aides met her, supported her to the rooms her mother had taken, sent Ingray to a bath while her clothes were laundered, and then installed her in a bed with a thick, fluffy blanket and cushions tucked all around, one under her injured arm. “Representative Aughskold is still in meetings,” the aide said. “She’ll be with you as soon as she can. I’ll bring you some water. Would you like some serbat?”
Ingray remembered lying on the bench in the Assembly Chambers, wishing for just this—maybe not this exactly, because she’d wanted her own bedroom at home, but still—her bed, a cup of serbat, and maybe some food, and she realized she was quite hungry. “Is it possible to get some fruit and cheese?”
“Of course it is,” said the aide. “I’ll take care of that right now.”
Ingray lay back against the cushions and closed her eyes. The correctives would probably be off in a few hours. She wasn’t entirely sure what she would do once they came off anyway, and in the meantime this was wonderful, lying here comfortably, knowing she was safe and could go wherever she wanted once she could walk on her own again.
Time to check her messages. Top priority, a note from Nuncle Lak saying e’d assigned an aide to deal with messages that might be an annoyance or didn’t need Ingray’s personal attention. The aide e named was someone Ingray had known for years, and a quick look at the unfiltered mass of waiting messages told her Nuncle Lak had done her a favor.
The aide had already marked a few messages for Ingray’s attention. The first was from one of the children from the lareum, and it read, Dear Miss Ingray, thank you for saving my life. When I grow up I will work for you. I am good at math and I know how to cook noodles. There were more, similar messages where that one came from, the aide indicated.
Next, a message from Taucris. Ingray spent some time over that one, and then some time over a reply. That done, she took a look at the station news services.
The version of events Over Captain Utury had given the news services was nearly unrecognizable, but as the over captain had suggested, from a certain angle it bore at least a superficial resemblance to what Ingray had actually gone through. The three of them did indeed come off as heroic, facing down the menacing Commander Hatqueban and her huge and terrifying military mechs. Daringly rescuing the Rejection of Obligations and the Assembly Bell. The portrayal of Prolocutor Dicat seemed the most like emself in all the versions Ingray found, though still not quite right. Nicale might as well have been someone else entirely, and Ingray herself—well. Ingray didn’t know who it was the “official sources” who’d supplied the information were talking about, but it couldn’t have been her.
Ingray sighed. Blinked away the news, looked at her personal messages again, but Taucris hadn’t replied yet. Thought of sending a message to Tic, but she didn’t know how to address it. And Garal—would she need to send that to the Geck ship? How would she do that? Nuncle Lak would know. She sent the question to em. Heard the aide come in with food and serbat but discovered that she didn’t want to open her eyes. And then she must have slept, because the next thing she knew the pieces of the spent corrective on her knee were a scratchy annoyance under her skirts and the aide was standing in the doorway saying, quietly, “Miss Aughskold? The infirmary sent along a pair of shoes they say is yours, and Officer Taucris Ithesta is here to see you.”
20
Ingray had been hoping that Taucris would come, but once they were settled on the bed, leaning shoulder to shoulder—on Ingray’s uninjured side, of course—on a bank of cushions, the pieces of corrective handed off to Nuncle Lak’s aide, Ingray wasn’t sure what to say. She couldn’t talk about what she’d been through for the past few days, not in any truthful way, and talking about it in terms of what she’d seen in the news services felt not only useless but dishonest.
But as soon as the aide had left, with the promise of a fresh decanter of serbat, Taucris said, “I know you can’t talk about what happened, and we’re all just supposed to believe what’s on the news, so I won’t ask you about it. Unless you want me to.” She looked sidelong at Ingray. “Maybe you’d rather watch an entertainment.”