Mark slumped, looking very tired. He grimaced in bemusement at the teacup, switched it to his right hand, and swirled it thoughtfully before drinking.
Elli touched her half-armor helmet, listened, and vented a sudden bitter bark of laughter. "The ImpSec commander at Hargraves-Dyne Station is on the line. He says his reinforcements have arrived, and where should he send them?"
Miles and Mark looked at each other. Miles didn't know what Mark was thinking, but most of the responses that were leaping to his mind were violently obscene.
"Home," said Mark at last. "And they can give us a ride while they're at it."
"I have to get back to the Dendarii fleet," said Miles urgently. "Ah . . . where are they, Elli?"
"On their way from Illyrica to rendezvous off Escobar, but you, sir, are going nowhere near them till ImpSec Medical has cleared you for active duty," she said firmly. "The fleet is fine. You're not. Illyan would pin my ears back if I sent you anywhere but home right now. And then there's your father."
"What about my father?" Miles asked. Elena had started to say something—icy terror seized his chest. A kaleidoscopic vision of assassinations, mortal illnesses, and political plots all rolled together spun through his mind. Not to mention aircar accidents.
"He had a major coronary failure while I was there," said Mark. "They had him tied to a bed in ImpMil waiting for a heart transplant at the time I left. Actually, they should be doing the surgery right about now."
"You were there?" What did you do to him? Miles felt as if he'd just had his magnetic poles reversed. "I have to get home!"
"That's what I just said," said Mark wearily. "Why d'you think we trooped all the way back here, but to drag you home? It wasn't for the free holiday at Ry Ryoval's health spa, let me tell you. Mother thinks I'm the next Vorkosigan heir. I can deal with Barrayar, I think, but I sure as hell can't deal with that."
It was all too much, too fast. He sat down and tried to calm himself again, before he triggered another convulsion. That was just the sort of little physical weakness that could win one an immediate medical discharge from the Imperial Service, if one wasn't careful about who witnessed it. He had assumed the convulsions were a temporary snag in his recovery. What if they were a permanent effect? Oh, God. . . .
"I am going to lend Lilly my ship," said Mark, "since Baron Fell so-thoughtfully has stripped her of sufficient funds to buy thirty-six passages to Escobar."
"What ship?" asked Miles. Not one of mine . . . !
"The one Mother gave me. Lilly ought to be able to sell it at Escobar orbit for a tidy profit. I can pay back Mother and get Vorkosigan Surleau out of hock, and still have an impressive amount of pocket-change. I'd like to have my own yacht, someday, but I really couldn't use this one for a while."
What? What? What?
"I was just thinking," Mark went on, "that the Dendarii here could ride along with Lilly. Provide her with a little military protection in exchange for a free and fast ride back to the fleet. Save ImpSec the price of four commercial passages, too."
Four? Miles glanced at Bel, so very silent throughout, who met his eyes bleakly.
"And get everybody the hell out of here, as fast as possible," added Mark. "Before something else goes wrong."
"Amen!" muttered Quinn.
Rowan and Elli, on the same ship? Not to mention Taura. What if they all got together and compared notes? What if they fell into a feud? Worse, what if they struck up an alliance and colluded to partition him by treaty? North Miles and South Miles. . . . It wasn't, he swore, that he picked up so many women. Compared to Ivan, he was practically celibate. It was just that he never put any down. The accumulation could become downright embarrassing, over a long enough time-span. He needed . . . Lady Vorkosigan, to put an end to this nonsense. But even Elli the bold refused to volunteer for that duty.
"Yes," said Miles, "that works. Home. Captain Quinn, arrange Mark's and my transport with ImpSec. Sergeant Taura, would you please put yourself at Lilly Durona's disposal? The sooner we evacuate from here the better, I agree. And, um, Bel . . . would you stay and talk with me, please."
Quinn and Taura took the hint, and made themselves scarce. Mark . . . Mark was in on this, Miles decided. And anyway, he was a little afraid to ask Mark to get up. Afraid of what his movements would reveal. That flip phrase about Ry Ryoval's health spa was entirely too obvious an attempt to conceal . . . what?
"Sit, Bel." Miles nodded to Baron Fell's vacated chair. It put them in an equilateral triangle, he and Mark and Bel. Bel nodded and settled, its helmet in its lap and its hood pushed back. Miles thought of how he'd perceived Bel as a female in this room five days ago, prior to his memory cascade. His eye had always conveniently interpreted Bel as male, before, for some reason. Strange. There was a brief, uneasy silence.
Miles swallowed, and broke it. "I can't let you go back to command of the Ariel," he said.
"I know," said Bel.
"It would be bad for fleet discipline."
"I know," said Bel.
"It's . . . not just. If you had been a dishonest herm, and kept your mouth shut, and kept on pretending to have been fooled by Mark, no one would ever have known."
"I know," said Bel. It added after a moment, "I had to get my command back, in the emergency. I didn't think I could let Mark go on giving orders. Too dangerous."
"To those who'd followed you."
"Yes. And . . . I would have known," added Bel.
"Captain Thorne," Admiral Naismith sighed, "I must request your resignation."
"You have it, sir."
"Thank you." And that was done. So fast. He thought back over the scattered pictures in his head of Mark's raid. There were still pieces missing, he was pretty sure. But there had been deaths; too many deaths had made it irredeemable. "Do you know . . . what happened to Phillipi? She'd had a chance, I thought."
Mark and Bel exchanged a look. Bel answered. "She didn't make it."
"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that."
"Cryo-revival is a chancy business," sighed Bel. "We all undertake the risks, when we sign on."
Mark frowned. "It doesn't seem fair. Bel loses its career, and I get off free."
Bel stared a moment at Mark's beaten, bloated body, huddled down in Lilly's big chair; its brows rose slightly.
"What do you plan to do, Bel?" asked Miles carefully. "Go home to Beta Colony? You've talked about it."
"I don't know," said Bel. "It's not for lack of thinking. I've been thinking for weeks. I'm not sure I'd fit in at home anymore."
"I've been thinking myself," said Miles. "A prudent thought. It strikes me that certain parties on my side would be less paranoid about the idea of you running around the wormhole nexus with a head full of Barrayaran classified secrets if you were still on Illyan's payroll. An informant—perhaps an agent?"
"I don't have Elli Quinn's talents for scam," Bel said. "I was a shipmaster."
"Shipmasters get to some interesting places. They are in position to pick up all kinds of information."
Bel tilted its head. "I will . . . seriously consider it."
"I assume you don't want to cash out here on Jackson's Whole?"
Bel laughed outright. "No shit."
"Think about it, then, on the way back to Escobar. Talk to Quinn. Decide by the time you get there, and let her know."
Bel nodded, rose, and looked around Lilly Durona's quiet living room. "I'm not altogether sorry, you know," it said to Mark. "One way or another, we've pulled almost ninety people out of this stinking gravity well. Out of certain death or Jacksonian slavery. Not a bad score, for an aging Betan. You can bet I'll remember them, too, when I remember this."
"Thank you," whispered Mark.
Bel eyed Miles. "Do you remember the first time we ever saw each other?" it asked.
"Yes. I stunned you."
"You surely did." It walked over to his chair, and bent, and took his chin in its hand. "Hold still. I've been wanting to do this for years." It kissed him, long and qu
ite thoroughly. Miles thought about appearances, thought about the ambiguity of it, thought about sudden death, thought the hell with it all, and kissed Bel back. Straightening again, Bel smiled.
Voices floated from the lift tube, some Durona directing, "Right upstairs, ma'am."
Elena Bothari-Jesek rose behind the chromium railing, and swept the room with her gaze. "Hello, Miles, I have to talk with Mark," she said, all in a breath. Her eyes were dark and worried. "Can we go somewhere?" she asked Mark.
" 'D rather not get up," Mark said. His voice was so tired it slurred.
"Quite. Miles, Bel, please go away," she said straightly.
Puzzled, Miles rose to his feet. He gave her a look of inquiry; her return look said, Not now. Later. He shrugged. "Come on, Bel. Let's go see if we can lend anyone a hand." He wanted to find Rowan. He watched them as he descended the lift tube with Bel. Elena pulled a chair around and sat across it backwards, her hands already opening in urgent remonstration. Mark was looking extremely saturnine.
Miles turned Bel over to Dr. Poppy, for liaison duty, and sought Rowan's suite. As he'd hoped, she was there, packing. Another young Durona sat and watched, looking a little bewildered. Miles recognized her at once.
"Lilly Junior! You made it. Rowan!"
Rowan's face lit with delight, and she hurried to embrace him. "Miles! Your name is Miles Naismith. I thought so! You've cascaded. When?"
"Well," he cleared his throat, "actually, it was back at Bharaputra's."
Her smile went a little flat. "Before I left. And you didn't tell me."
"Security," he offered warily.
"You didn't trust me."
This is Jackson's Whole. You said it yourself. "I was more worried about Vasa Luigi."
"I can see that, I suppose," Rowan sighed.
"When did you each get in?"
"I made it yesterday morning. Lilly came in last night. Smooth! I never dreamed you could get her out too!"
"The one escape was lock-and-key to the other. You got yourself out, which enabled Lilly to get herself out." He flashed a smile at Lilly Junior, who was watching them curiously. "I did nothing. That seems to be the story of my life, lately. But I do believe you'll all make it off-planet before Vasa Luigi and Lotus figure it out."
"We'll all have lifted before dusk. Listen!" She led him to her window. The Dendarii personnel shuttle, with Sergeant Taura piloting and about eight Duronas aboard, was lifting heavily from the courtyard of the walled compound. Point-women, going up to prepare the ship for the others to come.
"Escobar, Miles!" Rowan said enthusiastically. "We're all going to Escobar. Oh, Lilly, you're going to love it there!"
"Will you stay in a group when you get there?" Miles asked.
"At first, I think. Till it gets less strange for the others. Lilly will release us at her death. Baron Fell anticipates that, I think. Less competition for him, in the long run. I expect he'll have the top people stripped from House Ryoval and installed here by tomorrow morning."
Miles walked around the room, and noticed a familiar little remote box on the sofa-arm. "Ah! It was you who had the other control to the thermal grenade! I might have known. So you were listening in. I wasn't sure if Mark was bluffing."
"Mark wasn't bluffing about anything," she stated with certainty.
"Were you here, when he came in?"
"Yes. It was a little before dawn this morning. He came staggering in from a lightflyer wearing the most peculiar costume, and demanding to speak with Lilly."
Miles raised his brows at the image. "What did the gate guards say?"
"They said Yes, sir. He had an aura . . . I don't know how to describe it. Except . . . I could picture large thugs in dark alleyways scrambling to get out of his way. Your clone-twin is a formidible young man."
Miles blinked.
"Lilly and Chrys took him off to the clinic on a float-pallet, and I didn't see him after that. Then the orders started flying." She paused. "So. Will you be going back to your Dendarii Mercenaries, then?"
"Yes. After some R&R I guess."
"Not . . . settling down. After that close call."
"I confess, the sight of projectile-weapons gives me a new and unpleasant twitch, but—I hope I won't be cashing out of the Dendarii for a long time yet. Um . . . these convulsions I've been having. Will they go away?"
"They should. Cryo-revival is always chancy. So, you . . . don't picture yourself retiring. To Escobar, say."
"We visit Escobar now and then, for fleet repairs. And personnel repairs. It's a major nexus intersection. We may cross paths again."
"Not the same way we first met, I trust." Rowan smiled.
"Let me tell you, if I ever do need cyro-revival again, I'll leave orders to look you up." He hesitated. I need my Lady Vorkosigan, to put an end to this wandering. . . . Could Rowan be it? The thirty-five sisters-in-law would be a distant drawback, safely far away on Escobar. "What would you think of the planet Barrayar, as a place to live and work?" he inquired cautiously.
Her nose wrinkled. "That backward pit? Why?"
"I . . . have some interests there. In fact, it's where I'm planning to retire. It's a very beautiful place, really. And underpopulated. They encourage, um . . . children." He was skirting dangerously close to breaking his cover, the strained identity he'd risked so much lately to retain. "And there'd be lots of work for a galactic-trained physician."
"I'll bet. But I've been a slave all my life. Why would I choose to be a subject, when I could choose to be a citizen?" She smiled wryly, and came to him, and twined her arms around his shoulders. "Those five days we were locked up together at Vasa Luigi's—that wasn't an effect of the imprisonment, was it. That's the way you really are, when you're well."
"Pretty much," he admitted.
"I'd always wondered what adult hyperactives did for a living. Running several thousand troops would just about absorb your energies, wouldn't it?"
"Yes," he sighed.
"I think I'll always love you, some. But living with you full-time would drive me crazy. You are the most incredibly domineering person I think I've ever met."
"You're supposed to fight back," he explained. "I rely on—" he couldn't say Elli, or worse, all my women, "my partner fighting back. Otherwise, I couldn't relax and be myself."
Right. Too much togetherness had destroyed their love, or at least her illusions. The Barrayaran system of using go-betweens to make marital arrangements was beginning to look better all the time. Maybe it would be best to get safely married first, and then get to know each other. By the time his bride figured him out, it would be too late for her to back out. He sighed, and smiled, and gave Rowan an exaggerated, courtly bow. "I shall be pleased to visit you on Escobar, milady."
"That would be joust perfect, sir," she returned, deadpan.
"Ow!" Dammit, she could be the one, she underestimated herself—
Lilly Junior, sitting on the sofa watching all this with fascination, coughed. Miles glanced at her, and thought about her account of her time with the Dendarii.
"Does Mark know you're here, Lilly?" he asked.
"I don't know. I've been with Rowan."
"The last time Mark saw you, you were going back with Vasa Luigi. I . . . think he'd like to know you changed your mind."
"He tried to talk me into staying on the ship. He didn't talk so well as you," she admitted.
"He made this all happen. He bought your passage out of here." And Miles wasn't sure he wanted to think about the coin. "I just trailed along. Come on. At least say hello, goodbye, and thank you. It will cost you nothing, and I suspect it would mean something to him."
Reluctantly, she rose, and allowed him to tow her out. Rowan gave them a nod of approval, and returned to her hasty packing.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
"Did you find them?" Lord Mark asked.
"Yes," said Bothari-Jesek tightly.
"Did you destroy them?"
"Yes."
Mark flushed, and leaned h
is head back against Lilly's chair, feeling the weight of gravity. He sighed. "You looked at them. I told you not to."
"I had to, to be sure I was getting the right ones."
"No, you didn't. You could simply have destroyed them all."
"That's what I finally did. I started to look. Then I turned off the sound. Then I put them on fast-forward. Then I started just spot-checking."
"I wish you hadn't."
"I wish I hadn't. Mark, there were hundreds of hours of those holovids. I couldn't believe there was so much."
"Actually, there were only about fifty hours. Or maybe it was fifty years. But there were multiple simultaneous recordings. I could always see a holovid pick-up hovering, out of the corner of my eye, no matter what was going on. I don't know if Ryoval made them to study and analyze, or just to enjoy. A bit of both, I guess. His powers of analysis were appalling."
"I . . . don't understand some of what I saw."
"Would you like me to explain it to you?"
"No."
"Good."
"I can understand why you'd want them destroyed. Out of context . . . they would have been a horrible lever for blackmail. If you want to swear me to secrecy, I'll vow anything."
"That's not why. I have no intention of keeping any of this a secret. Nobody is ever going to get a handle on me again. Pull my secret strings ever again. In general outline, you can tell the whole wormhole nexus, for all I care. But—if ImpSec got hold of those holovid recordings, they would end up in Illyan's hands. And he would not be able to keep them from the Count, or the Countess either, though I'm sure he'd try. Or, eventually, Miles. Can you imagine the Count or the Countess or Miles watching that shit?"
She drew in her breath between her teeth. "I begin to see."
"Think about it. I have."
"Lieutenant Iverson was furious, when he broke in and found the melted casings. He's going to send complaints up through channels."
"Let him. If ImpSec cares to air any complaints about me or mine, I will air my complaints about them. Like, where the hell were they for the last five days. I will have no compunction nor mercy about calling in that debt on anyone from Illyan down. Cross me, will they . . ." He trailed off in a hostile mutter.