[ The dream startles her awake. Her eyes snap open and with a harsh rush of a breath in, she sits up, claws her way out of the dirt and sap. It's in her close-cropped hair. It stains her face. She blinks to clear her vision, trying to make this make sense with what she knows has happened. With what she understands. This is not the station. This is not anywhere she knows (and she has been on many, many worlds). She tries to breathe.
She doesn't panic.
Ancillaries don't feel panic, after all. And she is an ancillary. She is Justice of Toren. Breathe.
Her voice is a croak. There are others here, people she doesn't know. ]
Where are we?
[ And how did they get here? ]
II. Springstar
[ She's had her dream; Breq has seen the images of these people in her mind, telling her that they know what she wants. That they can give her what she desires. She's not sure that's true. There's always someone, somewhere, who will promise you the world - especially after you've just lost everything familiar. Sadly, losing everything is not alien to her, although the last time had not been nearly this complete. So she watches and wanders instead, inspecting the city she passes through. She recognizes signs of shortages, sees it in the eyes of small children and in those who are forced back to the edges of society. For all the richness on display, Breq thinks there's a certain hollowness to it.
How, a part of her wonders, do they intend to restore an entire galaxy, worlds upon worlds, when they struggle to feed people here?
She's in a small shop, watching the street traffic go by. She turns to the proprietor with a little nod. ]
A bowl of tea, please.
[ Do they serve tea in bowls here? She'll find out. ]
III. Highstorm
[ They are very formal, aren't they?
At least Breq thinks so. There's something of the Radch ceremony about them. The idea of appearances. Of being exactly so. Of everyone having the right place. It's an interesting contrast to where she was in Springstar. Although they're more subdued here. And it isn't home. Neither of these places are. The reflecting pool gathers her attention and she pauses to look and then-
It shows her the austere halls of her. The Justice of Toren. Ancillaries and officers and-
Breq | Ancillary Justice
[ The dream startles her awake. Her eyes snap open and with a harsh rush of a breath in, she sits up, claws her way out of the dirt and sap. It's in her close-cropped hair. It stains her face. She blinks to clear her vision, trying to make this make sense with what she knows has happened. With what she understands. This is not the station. This is not anywhere she knows (and she has been on many, many worlds). She tries to breathe.
She doesn't panic.
Ancillaries don't feel panic, after all. And she is an ancillary. She is Justice of Toren. Breathe.
Her voice is a croak. There are others here, people she doesn't know. ]
Where are we?
[ And how did they get here? ]
II. Springstar
[ She's had her dream; Breq has seen the images of these people in her mind, telling her that they know what she wants. That they can give her what she desires. She's not sure that's true. There's always someone, somewhere, who will promise you the world - especially after you've just lost everything familiar. Sadly, losing everything is not alien to her, although the last time had not been nearly this complete. So she watches and wanders instead, inspecting the city she passes through. She recognizes signs of shortages, sees it in the eyes of small children and in those who are forced back to the edges of society. For all the richness on display, Breq thinks there's a certain hollowness to it.
How, a part of her wonders, do they intend to restore an entire galaxy, worlds upon worlds, when they struggle to feed people here?
She's in a small shop, watching the street traffic go by. She turns to the proprietor with a little nod. ]
A bowl of tea, please.
[ Do they serve tea in bowls here? She'll find out. ]
III. Highstorm
[ They are very formal, aren't they?
At least Breq thinks so. There's something of the Radch ceremony about them. The idea of appearances. Of being exactly so. Of everyone having the right place. It's an interesting contrast to where she was in Springstar. Although they're more subdued here. And it isn't home. Neither of these places are. The reflecting pool gathers her attention and she pauses to look and then-
It shows her the austere halls of her. The Justice of Toren. Ancillaries and officers and-
Awn.
She tears herself away.
She is not angry. Ancillaries do not get angry. ]
...how do they do that?
[ It's what she wonders. ]
Wildcard!
[ HMU. ]