Miles in Love

  After she returned to the infirmary, Ekaterin sat up for a while with her aunt, waiting for the Professor. Uncle Vorthys arrived in the next hour. He was unusually breathless and subdued as he sat on the edge of his wife's bed and embraced her. She hugged him back, tears starting in her eyes for almost the first time in this whole night's ordeal.

  "You shouldn't frighten me like that, woman," he told her in mock severity. "Running around getting kidnapped, thwarting Komarran terrorists, putting ImpSec out of a job . . . Your premature demise would entirely disarrange my selfish plan to drop dead first and leave you to pick up after me. Kindly don't do that!"

  She laughed shakily. "I'll try not to, dear." The patient gown she wore was not a very flattering fashion, but her color did look rather better, Ekaterin thought. Synergine, hot liquids, warmth, quiet, and safety were working to banish her more alarming symptoms without further medical intervention, so that even her anxious husband was fairly quickly reassured. Ekaterin let her aunt tell him most of the story of their harrowing hours with the Komarrans, only putting in a few murmurs of correction when she waxed too flattering of her niece's part in it all.

  Ekaterin reflected with bleak envy on the nature of a marriage that its principals could regard as prematurely threatened after a mere forty-plus years. Not for me. I've lost that option. The Professor and the Professora were surely among the fortunate few. Whatever personal qualities it took to achieve this happy state, it was abundantly plain to Ekaterin that she did not possess them. So be it.

  The Professor's booming voice and precise academic diction returned to usual as he proceeded to harry the medtechs, unnecessarily, on his wife's behalf. Ekaterin intervened to suggest firmly that what Aunt Vorthys needed most now was rest; after one last disruptive pass through the private room, he took himself off to find Lord Vorkosigan and tour the late battlefield at the Southport locks. Ekaterin didn't think she could ever sleep again, but after she cleaned up and crawled into her own infirmary bed, a medtech brought her a potion and invited her to drink it. Ekaterin was still complaining muzzily that such things didn't work for her when the bed sheets seemed to suck her right down.

  Whether due to the potion, exhaustion, sheer nervous collapse, or the absence of a nine-year-old demanding services, she slept late. The restful residue of the morning, spent chatting desultorily with her aunt, had drifted toward noon when Lord Vorkosigan trooped into the infirmary room. He was clean as a cat and his fine gray suit was crisp and fresh, though his face was traced with fatigue. He carried an enormous and awkward flower arrangement under each arm. Ekaterin hurried to help relieve him of them, sliding them onto a table before he dropped them both.

  "Good day, Madame Dr. Vorthys, you're looking much better. Excellent. Madame Vorsoisson." He ducked his head at her, and his white grin winked.

  "Wherever did you find such gorgeous flowers on a space station?" Ekaterin asked, astonished.

  "In a shop. It's a Komarran space station. They'll sell you anything. Well, not anything—that would be Jackson's Whole. But it stands to reason, with all the people meeting and greeting and parting through here, that there would be a market niche for this sort of thing. They grow them right here on the station, you know, along with all their truck garden vegetables. Why do they call them truck gardens, I wonder? I don't think they ever grew trucks in them, even back on Old Earth." He dragged over a chair and sat down near her, at the foot of the Professora's bed. "I believe that dark red fuzzy thing is a Barrayaran plant, by the way. It made me break out in hives when I touched it."

  "Yes, bloody puffwad," she agreed.

  "Is that its name, or a value judgment?"

  She smiled. "I believe it refers to the color. It comes from South Continent, on the western slopes of the Black Escarpment."

  "I was at the Black Escarpment for winter training once. Happily, these things must have been buried under several meters of snow at the time."

  "How shall we ever get them home, Miles?" said the Professora, half laughing.

  "Don't burden yourself," he recommended. "You can always give them to the medtechs when you leave."

  "But they must be very expensive," said Ekaterin in worry. Ridiculously so, for something they could only enjoy for a few hours.

  "Expensive?" he said blankly. "Automated weapons-control systems are expensive. Combat drop missions which go wrong are very expensive. These are cheap. Really. Anyway, it supports a business, which is good for the Imperium. If you get a chance, you ought to ask for a tour of the station's hydroponics section before you leave. I'd think you'd find it pretty interesting."

  "We'll see if there's time," said Ekaterin. "It's been such a bizarre experience. It's strange to realize I'm not even late getting back to pick up Nikki yet. Just a few more days to complete his treatment, and I'm done with Komarr."

  "Do you have everything in hand for that? Everything you need? Your aunt," he nodded at the Professora, "is with you now."

  "I expect I'll be able to handle anything that comes up this time," Ekaterin assured him.

  "I expect you will." That scimitar smile flickered over his face again.

  "We only missed the ship we were originally scheduled to take this morning because Uncle Vorthys insisted we wait and travel back to Komarr with him in his fast courier. Do you know when that will be? I should send a message to Madame Vortorren."

  "He has a few chores here yet. ImpSec Komarr sent us out a special squad of boffins and techs to clean up and document that mess you made in the Southport loading bay—"

  "Oh, dear. I'm sorry—" she began automatically.

  "No, no, it was a beautiful mess. Couldn't have made a better one myself, and I've made a few. Anyway, he will be overseeing them, and then returning to Komarr to set up a secret scientific commission to study the device, explore its limits and all that. And HQ sent me some high-powered interrogators whom I wanted to personally brief before they took charge of my prisoners. Captain Vorgier wasn't too happy that I wouldn't let any of his local people question our conspirators, but I've already declared all details of this case need-to-know under my Auditor's seal, so he's out of luck." He cleared his throat. "Your uncle and I have decided I get the job of going straight back to Vorbarr Sultana from here and making the preliminary report to Emperor Gregor in person. He's only been getting ImpSec digests."

  "Oh," she said, startled. "Leaving so soon . . . ? What about all your things—you shouldn't go off without your seizure stimulator, should you?"

  Half self-consciously, he rubbed his temple; the white bandages were gone from his wrists, she noticed, leaving only pale red rings of new scars. To add to his collection, presumably. "I had Tuomonen pack up all my kit and send it out here with the crew from HQ. It arrived a couple of hours ago, so I'm all set. Good old ImpSec, they do piss me off sometimes. Tuomonen is going to get a major black mark, because the conspiracy in Serifosa Terraforming took place on his watch, and he never caught it, even though it was really the Imperial Accounting Office which should have been the first line of defense. And that idiot Vorgier is getting a commendation. There is no justice."

  "Poor Tuomonen. I liked him. Isn't there anything you can do about that?"

  "Mm, I turned down a chance to be in charge of ImpSec's internal affairs, so no, I think I'd better not."

  "Will he keep his post?"

  "It's uncertain at this time. I told him if he finds his military career at a stand, to look me up. I think I'm going to be able to use a good trained assistant in this Auditor job. The work will be irregular, though. The trend of my life."

  He sucked thoughtfully on his lower lip, and glanced across at her. "The reclassification of this case from a peculation scam to something far more serious also affects what you can tell Nikki, I'm afraid. It's all headed into a security black hole as fast as we can stuff it in there, and it's going to stay there for quite some time. There will, therefore, be no public prosecutions and no need for you to testify, though ImpSec may be around for another inter
view or two—not under fast-penta. In retrospect, I'm very relieved I played it as close to my chest as I did. But for Nikki, and all Tien's relatives, and anyone else, the story is going to have to remain that he died in a simple breath mask accident from being caught outside with a low reservoir, and you don't know any more details than that. Madame Dr. Vorthys, this is for you, too."

  "I understand," said the Professora.

  "I am both relieved, and disturbed," said Ekaterin slowly.

  "In time, the security considerations will soften. You will have to rejudge the problem then, when, well, when many things may have changed."

  "I did wonder if, for Nikki's name's honor, I ought to try to pay back the Imperium all the bribe money Tien received."

  He looked startled. "Good God, no. If anyone owes anything, it's Foscol. She stole it in the first place. And we certainly won't be getting anything back from her."

  "Something is owed," she said gravely.

  "Tien settled his debt with his life. He's quits with the Imperium, I assure you. In the Emperor's Voice, if necessary."

  She took this in. Death did wipe out debt. It just didn't erase the memory of pain; time was still required for that healing. Your time is your own, now. That felt strange. She could take all the time she wanted, or needed. Riches beyond dreams. She nodded. "All right."

  "The past is paid. Please notify me about Tien's funeral, though. I wish to attend, if I can." He frowned. "I too owe something there."

  She shook her head mutely.

  "In any case, do call me when you and your aunt get back to Vorbarr Sultana." He glanced again at the Professora. "She and Nikki will be staying with you for a time, yes?" Ekaterin was not quite sure if that was phrased as a question or a demand.

  "Yes, indeed." Aunt Vorthys smiled.

  "So here are all my addresses." He spoke again to Ekaterin, and handed her a plastic flimsy. "The numbers for the Vorkosigan residences in Vorbarr Sultana, Hassadar, and Vorkosigan Surleau, for Master Tsipis in Hassadar—my man of business, I believe I mentioned him to you—he usually knows where to get hold of me in a pinch, when I'm out in the District—and a drop-number through the Imperial Residence, which will always know how to reach me. Any time, day or night."

  Aunt Vorthys leaned back, with her finger on her lips, and regarded him with growing bemusement. "Do you think those will be enough, Miles? Perhaps you can think of three or four more, just to be sure?"

  To Ekaterin's surprise, he flushed a little. "I trust these will suffice," he said. "And of course, I should be able to reach you through your aunt, right?"

  "Of course," murmured Aunt Vorthys.

  "I'd like to show you over my District sometime," he added to Ekaterin, avoiding the Professora's eye. "There's a great deal to see there you might find of interest. There's a major forestry project going on in the Dendarii Mountains, and some radiation reclamation experiments. My family owns several maple syrup and winery operations. There's botany all over the damn place, in fact; you can hardly move without tripping over a plant."

  "Perhaps later on," said Ekaterin uncertainly. "What will happen to the Terraforming Project, as a result of all this mess with the Komarrans?"

  "Mm, not too much, I now suspect. The security classification is going to limit the immediate public political repercussions."

  "In the long run, too?"

  "Though the amount of money that was stolen from Serifosa Sector's budget was huge from the viewpoint of a private individual, from the standpoint of the bureaucracy it wasn't that big a bite. There are nineteen other Sectors, after all. The damage to the soletta array is actually going to be the biggest bill."

  "Will the Imperium repair it properly? I've so hoped they would."

  He brightened. "I had this great idea about that. I'm going to pitch it to Gregor that we should declare the soletta repair—and enlargement—as a wedding present, from Gregor to Laisa and from Barrayar to Komarr. I'm going to recommend its size be nearly doubled, adding the six new panels the Komarrans have been begging for since forever. I think this mischance can be turned into an absolute propaganda coup, with the right timing. We'll shove the appropriation through the Council of Counts and Ministers quickly, before Midsummer, while everyone in Vorbarr Sultana is still sentimentally wound up for the Imperial Wedding."

  She clapped her hands in enthusiasm, then paused in doubt. "Will that work? I didn't think the crusty old Council of Counts was susceptible to what Tien used to call romantic drivel."

  "Oh," he said airily, "I'm sure they are. I'm a cadet member of the Counts myself—we're only human, after all. Besides, we can point out that every time a Komarran looks up—well, half the time— they'll see this Barrayaran gift hanging overhead, and know what it's doing to create their future. The power of suggestion and all that. It could save us the expense of putting down the next Komarran conspiracy."

  "I hope so," she said. "I think it's a lovely idea."

  He grinned, clearly gratified. He looked over at the Professora, and away, shifted around, and drew a small packet from his trouser pocket. "I don't know, Madame Vorsoisson, whether Gregor will give you a medal or not, for your quick thinking and cool response in the Southport bay—"

  She shook her head. "I don't need—"

  "But I thought you should have something to remember it all by. This." He stuck out his hand.

  She took the packet and laughed. "Do I recognize this?"

  "Probably."

  She unfolded the familiar wrapping and opened the box to reveal the little model Barrayar from the jeweler's shop in Serifosa, now on a slender chain of braided gold. She held it up; it spun in the light. "Look, Aunt Vorthys," she said shyly, and handed it across for inspection and approval.

  The Professora examined it with interest, squinting a trifle. "Very fine, dear. Very fine indeed."

  "Call it the Lord Auditor Vorkosigan Award for Making His Job Easier," said Vorkosigan. "You really did, you know. If the Komarrans hadn't already lost their infernal device, they would never have surrendered, even if I'd talked myself blue. In fact, Soudha said something to that effect during our preliminary interrogations last night, so you may consider it confirmed. If not for you, this station would be in a million hurtling pieces by now."

  She hesitated. Should she accept—? She glanced at her aunt, who was smiling at her benignly and without apparent misgivings about the propriety of it. Not that Aunt Vorthys was particularly passionate about propriety—that indifference was, in fact, one of the qualities which made her Ekaterin's favorite female relative. Think on that. "Thank you," she said sincerely to Lord Vorkosigan. "I will remember. And I do remember," she added.

  "Um, you're supposed to forget the unfortunate part about the pond."

  "Never." Her lips curved up. "It was the highlight of the day. Was it some sort of psychic precognition that you laid this by?"

  "I don't think so. Chance favors the prepared and all that. Fortunately for my credit, from the outside most people can't tell the rapid exploitation of a belatedly recognized opportunity from deep-laid planning." He positively smirked as she slid the chain over her head. "You know, you're the first girlfr—female friend I've had I've ever succeeded in giving Barrayar to. Not for lack of trying."

  Her eyes crinkled. "Have you had a great many girlfriends?" If he hadn't, she'd have to dismiss her whole gender as congenital idiots. The man could charm snakes from their holes, nine-year-olds from locked bathrooms, and Komarran terrorists from their bunkers. Why weren't females following him around in herds? Could no Barrayaran woman see past his surface, or their own cocked-up noses?

  "Mmm . . ." A rather long hesitation. "The usual progression, I suppose. Hopeless first love, this and that over the years, unrequited mad crushes."

  "Who was the hopeless first love?" she asked, fascinated.

  "Elena. The daughter of one of my father's Armsmen, who was my bodyguard when I was young."

  "Is she still on Barrayar?"

  "No, she emigrated yea
rs ago. Had a galactic military career and retired with the rank of captain. She's a commercial shipmaster now."

  "Jumpships?"

  "Yes."

  "Nikki would be so envious. Um . . . what exactly is this and that? If I may ask." Would he answer?

  "Er. Well. Yes, I think you should, all things considered. Better sooner than later, belike."

  He was growing terribly Barrayaran, she thought; that use of belike was pure Dendarii mountain dialect. This outburst of confidences was at least as entertaining as putting him on fast-penta might be. Better, given what he'd said about his weird reaction to the drug.

  "There was Elli. She was a free mercenary trainee when I first met her."

  "What is she now?"

  "Fleet Admiral. Actually."