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Time goes by. Linya, who already quietly turned nineteen, turns twenty. She collects an accelerated master's degree in neuroscience and starts corresponding with various people on the subject.
Pens spread out; the next time Miles sees Elli he gets a white standard-model pen she bought him on Escobar. She has one too; it's silver. She loves it and thanks him for recommending it to her. (She has bought a whole boxful to unload at a markup on the next planet or station she comes to that doesn't have them yet, but doesn't explicitly mention this in case he objects to her cutting into Lady Vorkosigan's margins.)
Miles also has one actual courier mission in there, just escorting a diplomatic pouch from Pol back home, to pad his service record for the less-cleared eye.
There is a visit to a clinic to collect and mystically join gametes, and Linya collects the resulting assembly in data format for editing. She does the grey eyes first and estimates that if she doesn't particularly hurry she'll have a Little Aral What-the-Heck-Should-His-Middle-Name-Be all ready to put in a replicator in two or three years, though she can accelerate that considerably if something comes up urgently requiring the presence of Little Aral sooner rather than later.
And then Miles gets sent off again and is gone for a very long time.
Pens spread out; the next time Miles sees Elli he gets a white standard-model pen she bought him on Escobar. She has one too; it's silver. She loves it and thanks him for recommending it to her. (She has bought a whole boxful to unload at a markup on the next planet or station she comes to that doesn't have them yet, but doesn't explicitly mention this in case he objects to her cutting into Lady Vorkosigan's margins.)
Miles also has one actual courier mission in there, just escorting a diplomatic pouch from Pol back home, to pad his service record for the less-cleared eye.
There is a visit to a clinic to collect and mystically join gametes, and Linya collects the resulting assembly in data format for editing. She does the grey eyes first and estimates that if she doesn't particularly hurry she'll have a Little Aral What-the-Heck-Should-His-Middle-Name-Be all ready to put in a replicator in two or three years, though she can accelerate that considerably if something comes up urgently requiring the presence of Little Aral sooner rather than later.
And then Miles gets sent off again and is gone for a very long time.
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Okay, that's nerve-wracking.
Linya fills her time. She corresponds with neuroscientists and finishes her semesterful of physics and medicine and history. She goes to Escobar to set up pens there - she acquires an Escobaran-native employee who she likes enough to train to deploy pens on her behalf - they go to Tau Ceti and set things up there while the employee shadows her; Linya's getting fast and this is over in short order - she gets a note from one of her favorite neuroscientists.
Well, she's already pretty close to Earth and she'd probably have heard if Miles had come home while she was away -
She goes to visit her favorite neuroscientist on Earth. The employee tags along, to do pen-setup with Linya's loose supervision while Linya does other things on her trip, to be thereafter sent off to other parts of the galaxy without Linya along at all.
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It's been absolute hell almost from the moment his feet touched dirt on Dagoola IV*, God knows how long ago - four months? Six? Fuck. Earth, the first planet they've come to with a Barrayaran embassy large enough for Miles to nip in and beg for money, is also the first planet they've come to where he will allow himself to believe they might have outrun their Cetagandan pursuers.
On the other hand, Commodore Tung (who should know) tells him that the Dagoola operation was the third largest prisoner-of-war escape in history. Miles went in thinking to extract one captured soldier and came away with the entire camp, more than ten thousand in all, promptly delivered to their homeworld of Marilac where they spread out and started raising a guerrilla army of rebels to resist the Cetagandan military occupation. Surely this astonishing coup is worth the extravagant costs they incurred to bring it about - Miles is willing to believe as much when it comes to the equipment, but the two lost and one substantially damaged combat drop shuttles took with them two hundred and seven lives, and those sit with him much less comfortably, like an indigestible lump in the stomach of his soul.
His first stop on Earth is an appointment with a local shipyard to personally describe to their engineer how a design defect in the shuttles' airlock doors got someone killed. The engineer listens with at least an adequate pretense at sympathy while Miles explains that the ramp extending from inside the hatch logically precludes closing the hatch with the ramp extended, and if some malfunction or damage should cause the ramp to get stuck in an extended or partly extended position, able neither to retract nor jettison, somebody might just have to manually batter the ramp free of the shuttle. With no safety line or decent handholds, under fire. He manages to bite back the more gruesome details, and suppress the remembered images. The sales engineer nevertheless requests payment up front. That has been a theme in Dendarii transactions on Earth. Apparently nice peaceful civilized planets tend to contain nice peaceful civilized businessmen wary of mercenary customers getting blown away before they can pay up.
Miles's second stop, therefore, is at the Barrayaran Imperial Embassy in London, there to redeem his word to his mercenaries by finally turning up their payment for the last six months' standard operating expenses and various critical extras like replacing the lost shuttles and treating the wounded. The amount this comes to is... large. He devoutly hopes that the embassy will be good for it. If they aren't, Admiral Naismith will be buried in a pile of angry creditors, never to be seen again. Maybe that'll fox the covert Cetagandan assassination teams.
With thoughts of this nature weighing on his mind, he takes Elli as his bodyguard and heads planetside to meet with a plainclothed contact from embassy security and be guided into the embassy along secret routes. Once inside, he directs Elli to leave all-yes-he-means-all of her personal armament with the guard at the covert entrance, deposits his pocket stunner in the pile - the guard allows him to keep his steel knife with the hidden seal in the hilt, privilege of rank - and proceeds up into the embassy proper to meet with the senior military attaché, whoever that turns out to be.
"Lieutenant Lord Miles Vorkosigan, sir," their guide announces as they file into the small office. "And - bodyguard." The delicate pause speaks volumes about his opinion of Elli's bodyguarding abilities. Good old traditional Barrayaran sexism, how Miles hasn't missed you.
*For details, consult the short story 'The Borders of Infinity' by Lois McMaster Bujold.
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"So," sighs the captain, "you're the Great Man's son, eh?"
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Miles has to take a deep breath to calm a sudden flood of rage.
"Yes, sir," he says, hearing himself as though at a distance - admirably level tones, he must congratulate whoever is currently operating his voice; through the red haze it hardly feels like his own will shaping the words. "And who are you?"
Who, indeed - whose son are you, Captain? Whose vast triumphant shadow stretches out over your life, magnificent and incalculable, blotting out your every accomplishment even before you achieve it - at whose door are laid the whispered accusations of carrying you this far with indulgent nepotism at the expense of more qualified and less deformed candidates - whose reputation precedes you everywhere you go, so that you are judged always on another's merits before your own, found wanting in the comparison before you can prove yourself?
No. Calm. Calm.
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His accent is polished, urbane, unplaceable, perhaps deliberately so.
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"I'm not surprised, sir," he says. "I did not myself expect to be reporting in at Earth, nor so late. I was originally supposed to report back to Imperial Security Command at Sector Two HQ on Tau Ceti, over a month ago. But the Dendarii Free Mercenary Fleet was driven out of Mahata Solaris local space by a surprise Cetagandan attack. Since we were not being paid to make war directly on the Cetagandans, we ran, and ended up unable to get back by any shorter route. This is literally my first opportunity to report in anywhere since we delivered the liberated prisoners back to their new base."
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"So," says Galeni, "who is she?"
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"She's one of the Dendarii handful - three people who were there in the beginning, and unavoidably learned my identity in the process. Since Illyan wants me to maintain a bodyguard at all times, Commander Quinn fills that role whenever I have to switch identities. A duty which she performs with admirable skill and integrity."
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Oh. The accent clicks at last.
"Are you - Komarran, sir?"
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"Huh...?" says Elli, confused.
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