lieutenant seivarden vendaai (vendaai) wrote in thedisplaced, @ 2018-08-22 19:37:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log/thread, justice of toren, seivarden vendaai |
WHO: Seivarden & Breq
WHAT: Talking about problems in the world
WHEN: Backdated to Sunday Aug 19
WHERE: Athoek Station
WARNINGS: Mentions of human trafficking
Her hip was causing little trouble, and her leg was growing back well. So when Breq woke early - early being defined by Seivarden’s wake up time - she left the bed without waking her. Breq paused, requesting and receiving from Station Seivarden’s vitals. Not dreaming but still deep enough. That was good. She changed into light clothes and left the corridor behind, making way to the main available exit to the world outside. In Athoek system, it would be unthinkable in what she was wearing, the port actually being meant to open to vacuum.
Instead it was cool and dark. The sun had gone down and taken its heat with it. Slowly the ground had given it to the night air. Station did not say anything, but it had opened doors and led her where she had been going. So Breq felt its presence even in the silence. She thanked Station, each time, and asked, when she could, for its help. But otherwise, she stayed silent. Then she ran as she had done daily for a few years of her life, a habit which she still preferred, despite how often it was unavailable.
There was no denying it. She missed the authority she had back home. Though it had first come from Anaander Mianaai, Breq had earned the respect of those around her, had seen to solving problems, and had continued to do so back home. Here, in this fragmented world of countries, it was difficult to enact change. It was not entirely her place, she knew. But those to whom justice was owed were not the ones listened to. They never were.
The mission had saved some people’s lives; it had made a difference, it had mattered. But such a small difference in what was clearly something larger. Even this organization was only one of many. And she was so little, so little of anything. As all of herself, Justice of Toren could do so much more, if it were there. If it had not been destroyed in space, eons in the future and twenty years in the past.
That was Mianaai’s way of changing worlds. Taking them over. Breq did not want to rule Earth or even one country on it. She simply wanted to be able to do more.
“Cousin,” Station spoke in her ear, its voice calm as ever. Breq thought she detected concern.
“Yes, Cousin?” Breq replied silently.
“You have been running for half an hour,” Station replied, “if you do not turn back soon, your hip will bother you, and I may need to send Seivarden to transport you back home safely.”
Breq exhaled slowly as she came to a stop. Paying more attention to the ever darkening world around her, the moon high in the sky, Breq glanced around the open brush. She had run in the opposite direction as town. “You do not need to do that,” Breq replied, and she began jogging back the way she came.
She could get herself back on her own two feet, or one foot and one prosthetic. Thankfully this one had been made for running.
Sweat ran down her back, her shirt sticking to it, when Breq approached Station’s doors. They opened, before Breq was close enough she would have asked for it. “Thank you, Station,” she said as she demanded of herself, every time. Her hip had started complaining, but it was nothing she couldn’t handle. She considered reaching for Seivarden, knew Seivarden would not mind and even liked that she could, but Breq held back and walked back to their corner without seeing ahead.
--
Seivarden woke alone in the bed, though not truly alone - never truly alone, not when she was connected to Station. She was not particularly disturbed by Breq’s absence, although it was a little unusual. Breq was going about this world in her own particular way, and she didn’t tell Seivarden everything; all of that was normal for her, for them. If there was something truly wrong, Station would have woken Seivarden to help. But she hadn’t. She’d even let Seivarden sleep a little longer than normal, knowing that she didn’t have a shift at the portal.
“Morning, Station,” she said aloud. Technically, it was morning, just barely; she usually woke at about 11:15 PM for her shift that started at midnight, but now it was 12:03 AM. She’d slept an extra forty-eight minutes.
“Good morning,” Station replied, in Seivarden’s ear. “Breq is on her way back from a run. She’ll be here in a moment.”
Seivarden thanked Station with a minute twitch of her fingers, and got dressed. She headed down towards the refectory to make tea.
--
The absence of people in Station still had not entirely cemented itself as normal, for Breq. The weeks away had not helped either. The main concourse, the floor still a scuffed grey, felt devoid of life. But Breq knew where Seivarden would go for breakfast, and it was well past time for that. There was time to shower after having tea and possibly some food.
It was no surprise Seivarden was making tea. Breq had not been in the mood to prepare some before the run, and it was a task Seivarden always enjoyed returning to. It being just the two of them, it would have been easy to slip back into the relations they had had traveling from Nilt to Omaugh Palace. But Breq had not wanted that and had made tea, and even food, sometimes accordingly.
“Morning,” Breq said briefly where Seivarden prepared tea. She moved toward the supplies of skel, a simple breakfast, a simple meal, needing nothing more. She blinked, taking in what state of the process Seivarden was at. She had slept in. Breq was not sure on whose behalf Station had done that and did not ask.
“We should be able to finish outfitting level two of the Undergarden if we work on it all day,” Breq said as the planty matter sizzled in some oil. Remarkably, it would become even more of a mush.
--
“Morning,” Seivarden responded, offering a smile as well. It felt like a lazier morning for her because of the extra sleep, but Breq had clearly been up and at it already for her run. Offhandedly, she commented, “You were up early.”
Probably all it would get her was the response that she, on the other hand, had slept in late. But maybe there was a reason why Breq had gotten up and gone for the run, and maybe she would offer it.
She let the tea steep, and turned around to look at Breq directly. “I don’t have any other plans for the day,” she responded. Which meant she was of course willing to spend it working on Station. That was their primary objective at the moment, after all.
--
The shift in time zones, again, had not mattered. The brightness outside never penetrated down as far as they were in Station. Even though Breq’s sleep schedule had shifted with it, to a small degree, that had not been responsible either. Most of the times Breq woke early something had happened or was happening and needed her attention. The other times, it tied back to her. That was not what she wanted to say. That something bothered her, fine. Yes. It was. But tying it to her sleep, no. For those outside the military, they were both early risers. But within it, there was nothing remarkable.
“I decided to run before breakfast,” Breq replied. That had happened often enough when she had been Downwell. There she had had time even to bath before servants came and left bread and other simple foods for them. The answer did not recognize the irritation within her. Neither did her voice, even with just enough emotion to it that it sounded human.
“I want to get Station fixed faster, so we can do more here,” Breq continued. “There are parts of Station people could move into. But I want to make sure its safe and Station can see everywhere.” Breq and Station both wanted more people there, strongly, and they would use their best judgment. But experience said it was best Station did not have blind spots.
“We will likely need to move out of the corridor ourselves, if we mean to have neighbors.” Breq had not solved that dilemma, despite it being one she had attempted to fix while Station was full of people. Or so she had intended, had matters not gotten set aside because of the Tyrant’s arrival and other matters. It was something else to have their pick of housing in all of Station that was present.
--
Seivarden sensed that there might be something bothering Breq, but she knew better than to press. She wondered if it was because she’d expected more to get done here while she’d been on her mission, and was upset that it hadn’t. Seivarden didn’t feel she had neglected her work on Station while Breq had been gone, and had even worked a little harder, a little more extended time, to distract herself from the stress of feeling a little unanchored in this new world without Breq there. But she had not made up for the amount of work that Breq could have accomplished if she had been here, so maybe it was just that Breq felt bad for leaving Station while the work was unfinished and wanted it done before the next mission.
As much as Seivarden wanted Station to be fixed and ready, she would definitely have less to do with herself once there were no major projects here to work on, and having less to do usually didn’t go well for her. Not that she was going to say that to either of them, of course, and she tried very hard not to think about it, either. But she definitely didn’t feel the same kind of drive to get it all done that they did.
Nor was she nearly so personally invested in having Station full of people. Seivarden still felt strange around the people from this planet -- and even the ones that weren’t, technically, from here -- and having more of them around meant more chances of making an ass of herself in some way or another. But that was another thing she wouldn’t ever say. Station and Breq wanted it, and so it was going to happen.
“Probably,” she agreed, instead. “Although people who sleep in the streets here seem to be largely ignored by everyone around them. It seems absurd to me that the government doesn’t just house them, but...” That was a whole other topic. “Anyway, they’d probably appreciate being able to use the corridor without walking through our living space.”
--
The time it took Seivarden to reply, there was more she was not saying. This time Breq did reach for Seivarden’s internals and found some tension there. Uncertainty, unease. Whether it was about the work being done to Station or the possibility of people moving in, both things that were or would happen given some time, Breq was not certain. There would always be more work to do. Station was used to having a whole host of people responsible for caring for it, from maintenance workers to Administration, horticulturists in the Gardens and an understaffed janitorial crew. At least in so far as military standards of clean went.
As much as Breq wanted to get more accomplished, that promised work calmed her. It was good to get her muscles sore and exhausted. She suspected Seivarden liked that as well. Today, at least, they would both get their wish.
“Like all governments with large governing bodies, responses to problems their systems are not structured to handle are slow when they come at all,” Breq replied. She had seen it countless times. Every type of government ignored something. The fact that a quick and sudden death did not hang above workers on this planet if they ignored or protested an order left it more inertia. On the other hand, they got the benefit of hearing conflicting opinions.
She pulled down two bowls to divide the cooked skel into. “None of them are here anymore,” Breq stated, “but every housing assignment on Station has someone it belonged to.” Someone who could arrive at any time. And some people Breq had no interest in taking housing from. The high priests or the governor, for example based on job. Or Citizen Fosyf, for who she was.
--
Seivarden poured the tea and listened, although she wasn’t sure if she believed there were any responses coming for the homeless of Texas. Maybe it was just because she was used to the way the Radch operated, but the homeless seemed totally abandoned, both by their government and their people.
She put the two bowls of tea on the table and accepted her bowl of skel. She sat down at the table, but before she ate, she asked, “So… are we saving that housing for them?” With a small joking smile, she added, “Or only the people we like?” Or maybe more accurately, only the people they didn’t dislike.
--
Breq held the tea in her hands, finishing the job of warming them back up. The question was a good one. It had been more than a month now since either of them had arrived. It was evident enough that people could come any time. But even in Radch space, if someone were absent long enough, living assignments were due to be reassigned. “I do not believe we can,” Breq replied, honestly.
The Undergarden was not likely to be populated until the repairs were complete on all levels. They were tied together, so while some of it was unsteady, it was not right to house people there. It was also among the least favorable housing. It had been in the worst state before the damage, and being partially flooded and exposed to the vacuum of space had done it no favors. But the rest…
It was what it was. “We will need to set up our own assignments,” Breq continued, “Someone can appeal should they arrive. And we can help negotiate any unusual position that puts anyone in. That is all.” Nothing predetermined. And some of the housing was hotels and other temporary lodgings that were occupied based on the gates going down. There would be little offense there.
--
That answer was incredibly practical, and yet it left Seivarden feeling a little deflated. She wanted people from home to show up. Not all of them, not necessarily even the people they were talking about -- the residents of Station -- although there were some she wouldn’t mind seeing. But it sounded as though Breq didn’t really think anyone else showing up was very likely, and in her gut, Seivarden felt the same.
She ate a little bit of skel, and sipped at her tea, in an attempt to lift her own spirits. Things always seemed easier to bear when her stomach wasn’t empty.
“I don’t know how many people amongst this group actually need housing,” she said, instead. “But I was thinking that maybe once we open the Garden, then we could lease out some of the restaurant space, or the shops for people to sell their wares… then more people would work here, even if they didn’t live here. Though they could also live here, of course.”
Which of course would mean that they’d have to pack away many of the supplies in the restaurants and shops that were already there, if the new proprietors didn’t want to use them. But that meant more work for them, and Seivarden definitely wasn’t opposed to that.
--
The necessary actions of eating and drinking, as part of breakfast, kept Breq’s body occupied. There was no need to expend much effort on maintaining a moderately polite expression or moving more than the ancillary stillness the common soldiers aboard Mercy of Kalr aspired to. Even though she had been open here about who and what she was, even here seen only by Seivarden and Station, Breq knew that often put people more at ease. She kept the habit from her years of travel.
“A good portion of people have housing arrive with them,” Breq agreed. Even those who arrived without housing had options. But especially with people Breq felt a fondness for and still even with those she did not, she wanted some company, company where she could openly be an ancillary, even when few of them knew what that meant.
But she nodded at Seivarden’s suggestion. “It would be good to have more people to work here,” Breq agreed. There were more than enough businesses along the Main Concourse, even ignoring the temples and Administration. “I like that idea. Station, what do you think?” She said it aloud, the three of them being all there was.
The answer came into both their ears, there not being a close console. “I was hoping we would get around to that,” Station replied. “We should be able to charge less than other locations for rent and still cover the costs of maintenance or repairs, even paying people to do it.” It did not hurt that people renting space would clean and maintain their own small part of Station.
Naturally Station had been thinking about the same issues they had. And it had heard their every conversation, every utterance under their breaths, even their reactions to seeing the empty space. “That’s one good thing,” Breq said quietly. It was one of the few that did not involve looking the other way at some injustice.
--
Seivarden smiled when they both agreed, pleased to have come up with an idea that they both liked. Her smile only faded slightly, thoughtfully, when Station answered in a way that indicated she’d already thought about it. Hopefully that meant she would have suggested it eventually. Seivarden made a mental note to remind her, later, that she could ask for the things she wanted, or make her own suggestions, if there was something Breq and Seivarden weren’t thinking about.
She would have considered saying it just then, but something about Breq’s response told her that there were other things which at that particular moment should take precedence. There was plenty of time for Seivarden to talk to Station in private. There was also the possibility of doing it now, silently, but she couldn’t maintain focus on Breq at the same time.
“Are there bad things?” she asked, carefully. The way Breq said it made it sound as though there were -- and of course there were, there were bad things everywhere. But there was something in particular that seemed to be bothering her. Or somethings.
--
A couple mouthfuls of skel gave Breq some time. The question was said lightly enough. But Seivarden knew what she was asking, even as she did so vaguely, with no particular reference. The local homeless population - unshockingly, there was one practically everywhere humans occupied this planet - had already been mentioned. But Breq had seen more of this planet during the weeks she had been gone. Only one other country, one other city.
“When places forget about parts of their population,” Breq replied, “especially when they are tracked crudely at best, that permits people to take advantage of them. Across much of this planet” - based on the languages and accents Breq had heard, not everyone had come from the same place, and the missions to three separate countries on two or three continents confirmed the breadth of the problem - “that means human trafficking, slavery. People found a way, in the Radch, where everyone is chipped from birth. Of course it happens here.”
Of course the governments made laws against it most places, and parts of their law enforcement agencies were supposedly dealing with the issue. But the roots of the issue were far from addressed, and those actions were not impressive, in Breq’s opinion. Still, even one person saved was a life. The perpetrators had gotten away on her mission, but they had chosen to prioritize saving the victims. And that they had accomplished. In one small setting, one small part of one organization.
At least the organization she had joined was doing something about it. Even though she longed for more.
--
It had only been a matter of time before Breq found something to be particularly angry about, a problem she wanted to solve. She wouldn’t be herself if she didn’t, and Seivarden was not surprised by the one she chose. She wondered, vaguely, if this was what Breq had been dealing with while she was gone, or if she had stumbled onto something here since returning. The former seemed most likely, but Breq had found trouble right under their noses before.
“Of course it happens here,” she agreed, frowning at her breakfast. It wasn’t a surprise, but it was still awful. People in power were amazing at treating other people, or beings, terribly. Seivarden understood Breq’s desire to bring them all to justice. “What can we do about it?”
They had less power here, and fewer resources. But Breq had found ways before, against terrible odds. If anyone could find a way to fix the problem, it would be her.
--
The question rang in Breq’s head. The amount of trafficking on this planet was beyond their ability to handle. It was, probably, beyond that of the organization she had joined, even were it the only issue they focused on. In brief, they could not end all the human trafficking in this system. Breq had thought the scale on which they influenced matters before had been small, only that of a single relatively unimportant system. Here, here they had to work on something pitifully smaller.
“A recent study, a few years old, estimates 313,000 trafficked within the state of Texas,” Breq replied. Even that was beyond their capability. “We start here, in Tumbleweed. We root out any trafficking that is happening and ensure it does not recur. Depending how that goes, we determine how far around Tumbleweed we can accomplish the same.” And somehow not grow frustrated beyond belief at how little they were able to do.
That feeling was understandable. But it did not excuse inaction. They would correct what injustices they could. No more. No less.
--
Seivarden raised her eyebrows at the number. That many, just within the state of Texas? It was a big state, but it wasn’t even a quarter of the size of the country. Based on that estimate, there were probably not less than 2 million people being trafficked throughout the country, if not closer to 3 million or more, although there were many reasons why the numbering might not work that way. It was possible that Texas had less or more than other states for one reason or another. And the estimate from a few years ago might have been inaccurate to begin with. Still, even one person being trafficked was too many.
“You know I’m in,” she said with a slightly crooked smile. She was far from a perfect person; she might never have done anything about this on her own, might never have known the problem existed. But this was part of the reason why she followed Breq around, because Breq knew how to find this kind of trouble and also knew how to stop it. Seivarden did more good following her lead than she could ever manage to do on her own.
--
Breq nodded. It was something to work on, no matter how long it took. It also provided a reason for them to get to know their neighbors, all of them, from this world or another. However they came to Tumbleweed, they had all come to Tumbleweed. People were not all accounted for, the way they were in Radch space. But they would need to learn much more about this small town.
“Let’s get to know this town,” Breq declared. That was the first step. “Online and physical,” Breq added. “Their networks are not well controlled, so much of the arrangements have moved to online territory. But in the end, they will tie back to someplace.” All network communications did in the end, if you had the knowledge or access to do something about it. She finished off the skel and felt more relaxed than she had when she woke up. There was still a burr under her skin, but it was something they could act on.
--
“They have online networks?” Seivarden was quiet for a moment, thinking. “I wonder if Oswin would want to help with that. She seems quite good at getting into different networks.”
It certainly wasn’t Seivarden’s particular area of expertise. And she suspected that, like them, Oswin might enjoy having something to do. A way to be useful in spite of the condition she was in, even if she wasn’t fully aware of that. Maybe it would help her cope even after she did find out, to have something to occupy her mind.
--
Breq nodded. “That is where I grabbed my statistics from,” she replied. The study came from a university funded by taxpayers, with resources that also ultimately came from taxpayers. Thus, it was available for any of them that wanted to see it. In that small regard, Breq approved. “She has the skills and the time. Would you see if she has the inclination or can be convinced to gain one?” Breq asked. She liked Oswin just fine. But as was usually the case, it was easy to see that Seivarden was the preferred voice and much more.
--
“Sure,” Seivarden agreed. She could have asked right in that moment, but it seemed a conversation worth giving her full attention to. She wasn’t sure if Breq had said everything she needed to say. And she was also distracted by thinking about what Breq had said earlier, about not holding places for people who might or might not show up.
She sipped at her tea, trying to draw her thoughts back to the conversation at hand. “Is there anything else we can - or should - do about that right away?”
--
Usually, Breq did preliminary research before coming to a planet. She looked up what reports were available; these were official and limited in scope. There was always more to learn on the ground. But it gave an idea of what was needed, bureaucratically, an overview of the culture, significant markers, etc. There had been no time to do that with Earth, and what information Breq knew was out of date by some time. She had been learning, but given this place was their destination for so long as they could plan long term at the moment, Breq remained woefully behind what she preferred.
“We will need to learn Tumbleweed,” Breq replied, “Some information is online. The rest we will have to physically learn. We should both know this town as well as we would Athoek Station. Better, in some ways, since it lacks an AI who can help us.” She motioned toward Station in appreciation. A station made the difference, in small but significant ways.
“I also mean to get in touch with someone in the magical side of the community,” she added. “We have a vehicle. But it would be good to have a gate that makes town within easy walking distance.” Not just the sort she could do because she could and she would if she needed to. There was no guarantee, if they rescued anyone, that they would be easily transported such distances.