Komarr b-11

by Lois McMaster Bujold

  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 interview 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 years 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."

  "So she was this. Who was that?"

  "There was Taura."

  "What was she, when you first met her?"

  "A Jacksonian body-slave. Of House Ryoval—very bad news, House Ryoval used to be."

  "I must ask more about those covert ops missions of yours sometime … So what is she now?"

  "Master Sergeant in a mercenary fleet."

  "The same fleet as, um, the this?"

  "Yes."

  Her brows rose, helplessly. Her Aunt Vorthys was leaning back with her finger over her lips again, her eyes alight with laughter; no, the Professora clearly wasn't going to interfere with this. "And . . . ?" she led him on, beginning to be immensely curious as to how long he'd keep going. Why in the world did he think all this romantic history was something she ought to know? Not that she would stop him . . . nor would Aunt Vorthys, apparently, not for a bribe of five kilos of chocolates. But her secret opinion of her gender began to rise.

  "Mm . . . there was Rowan. That was . . . that was brief."

  "And she was . . . ?"

  "A technical serf of House Fell. She's a cryo-revival surgeon in an independent clinic on Escobar, now, though, I'm happy to say. Very pleased with her new citizenship."

  Tien had protected her proudly, she reflected, in the little Vor-lady fortress of her household. Tien had spent a decade protecting her so hard, especially from anything that resembled growth, she'd felt scarcely larger at thirty than she'd been at twenty. Whatever it was Vorkosigan had offered to this extraordinary list of lovers, it hadn't been protection.

  "Do you begin to notice a trend in all this, Lord Vorkosigan?"

  "Yes," he replied glumly. "None of them would marry me and come live on Barrayar."

  "So . . . what about the unrequited mad crush?"

  "Ah. That was Rian. I was young, just a new lieutenant on a diplomatic mission."

  "And what does she do, now?"

  He cleared his throat. "Now? She's an empress." He added, under the pressure of Ekaterin's wide stare, "Of Cetaganda. They have several, you see."

  A silence fell, and stretched. He shifted uneasily in his chair, and his smile flicked on and off.

  She rested her chin in her hand, and regarded him; her brows quirked in quizzical delight. "Lord Vorkosigan. Can I take a number and get in line?"

  Whatever it was he'd been expecting her to say, it wasn't that; he was so taken aback he nearly fell off his chair. Wait, she hadn't meant it to come out sounding quite like– His smile stuck in the on position, but decidedly sideways.

  "The next number up," he breathed, "is 'one.'"

  It was her turn to be taken aback; her eyes fell, scorched by the blaze in his. He had lured her into levity. His fault, for being so … luring. She stared wildly around the room, groping for some suitably neutral remark with which to retrieve her reserve. It was a space station: there was no weather. My, the vacuum is hard out today. . . . Not that, either. She gazed beseechingly at Aunt Vorthys. Vorkosigan observed her involuntary recoil, and his smile acquired a sort of stuffed apologetic quality; he too looked cautiously to the Professora.

  The Professora rubbed one finger thoughtfully over her chin. "And are you traveling back to Barrayar on a commercial liner, Lord Vorkosigan?" she asked him affably. The mutually alarmed parties blinked at her in suffused gratitude.

  "No," said Vorkosigan. "Fast courier. In fact, it's waiting for me right now." He cleared his throat, jumped to his feet, and made a show of checking his chrono. "Yes, right now. Professora, Madame Vorsoisson, I trust I shall see you both back in Vorbarr Sultana?"

  "Yes, certainly," said Ekaterin, barely avoiding breathlessness.

  "I will look forward to it with great fascination," said the Professora piously.

  His smile went crooked in trenchant appreciation of her tone; he backed out with a flourishing, self-conscious bow, a courtly effect slightly spoiled by his caroming off the door-jamb. His quick steps faded down the corridor.

  "A nice young man," observed Aunt Vorthys, into a room seeming suddenly much emptier. "A pity he's so short."

  "He's not so short," said Ekaterin defensively. "He's just . . . concentrated."

  Her aunt's smile grew maddeningly bland. "I could see that, dear."

  Ekaterin lifted her chin in what remained of her dignity. "I see you are feeling very much better. Shall we go ask about that hydroponics tour?"

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