façade

[isthisart]

Linya gradually feels her way around being proper friends with Ekaterin, not wishing to wreck things with a premature "will you be my Second at my duplicate wedding" request. There is companionable gardening. There is, when Linya and Jocelyn make an unexpected sudden breakthrough in causing the nibs to behave, which holds when they fabricate a prototype and test it out, a fountain pen for Ekaterin. (In addition to Miles's and Count Vorkosigan's. And one for Emperor Gregor, which has got to be worth all the R&D in advertising alone.) When Miles's legs are more or less completely healed, they skip off to Vorkosigan Surleau for a few days and he teaches her to fly a lightflyer, which she enjoys very much and picks up very quickly. Linya writes Miles a song. (It has no words, she doesn't feel up to lyrics, but it is very pretty and slightly different every time she plays/sings it.) With the nibs handled and all the Barrayaran languages learned Linya spends more time reading textbooks and signs up for a university placement exam to see how far ahead into advanced classes on various things she can skip, and awaits her results.

And snuggles her tiny Barrayaran.

Comments

[thisvorlunatic]

"I'm afraid not," says Miles. "Baron Fell already has our credit chit."

[whyexit]

"Ah, a pity. Perhaps on your next trip," says Ryoval. He turns away.

"You can't sell a galactic citizen," says Thorne, not so easily calmed.

Ryoval, in feigned surprise, turns back. "Why, I just realized. You aren't just Betan, you must be a genuine hermaphrodite. Such a rarity. I could double your pay, you know - and you wouldn't have to get shot at - there could be group rates -"

Thorne does not, actually, explode or make an attempt on Ryoval's life, but it's a near thing.

"No? Ah well. But I would pay handsomely for a tissue sample of yours, too. For my files."

"My clone-siblings to be - be your sex-slaves for the next century - over my dead body - b-better yet yours -"

"So Betan," sighs Ryoval, almost affectionate.

"Stop it, Ry," growls Fell.

"Oh, very well. But it's so easy."

[thisvorlunatic]

"Cool it, Bel. Can't win, time to withdraw," Miles murmurs.

Fell nods in appreciation of Miles's good sense.

"Thank you for your hospitality, Baron Fell," says Miles, covering his distaste with formality when he adds, "Good day, Baron Ryoval."

"Good day, Admiral," says Ryoval, with what seems to be regret at giving up on the entertainment provided by Miles's poorly controlled subordinate. "You have a surprisingly cosmopolitan view, for a Betan. It might benefit you to visit us sometime without your," he flicks his eyes at Bel with eloquent contempt, "narrow-minded friend."

"I don't think so," Miles says as politely as possible. He feels around in the dark of his brain for some cutting follow-up.

"What a shame," Ryoval replies. "I'm sure you'd be enthralled by our dog-and-dwarf act."

Miles blanks out for a moment, experiencing levels of rage too high to sustain cognitive function.

[whyexit]

"Fry 'em," recommends Thorne. "From orbit."

[thisvorlunatic]

With effort, Miles suppresses a positive response to this suggestion. He bows jerkily to both barons, takes Bel's sleeve in a firm grip in case it's having as much trouble controlling itself as he is, and makes their retreat, under fire from Ryoval's continued laughter.

The House majordomo swoops on them near-immediately with a smiling murmur of, "This way to the exit, please, officers." Miles has been thrown out of previous venues with nearly this much exquisite politeness, but he thinks Fell's majordomo may actually have outdone the Celestial Garden's beleaguered guards. He is duly impressed.

[whyexit]

Back on the Ariel, Thorne apologizes.

"Sorry I lost my temper with that squirt Ryoval back there," it mutters.

[thisvorlunatic]

"Squirt? Hell, he's older than you are," says Miles. "Got to be on his second body at least. And he played you like a piano. We were entirely outmatched. Next time, please shut up at the first hint."

[whyexit]

"And that poor girl, stuck in that bubble with people discussing selling her -" sighs Thorne. "One chance to talk to her and I - babbled."

[thisvorlunatic]

"Yes, I've seen you present a multitude of faces to the world, but 'sexual panic' has got to be a new one," says Miles. "If it's any consolation, I was much worse off the first time I met my wife."

[whyexit]

"Oh really? That sounds like a story," says Thorne with a weak smile.

[thisvorlunatic]

"I literally fell to my knees the first time I saw her face," he reminisces. "Amazingly, she found this endearing instead of hopelessly pathetic. Or maybe endearing and hopelessly pathetic. I have admittedly not asked for clarification."

[whyexit]

"Good lord," says Thorne. "All right. So who knows. To your knees? On the floor? Can't scarcely credit it. I don't suppose I can see your wedding holos."

[thisvorlunatic]

"Private ceremony, alas. No pictures."

[whyexit]

"Ah, terrible pity. She must be really something."

[thisvorlunatic]

"She is."

[whyexit]

"Your face. I never had a chance. All the happiness to you, Admiral."

[thisvorlunatic]

"Thank you, Bel."

[whyexit]

Thorne winks and then goes to answer the intercom.

Apparently a "Nicol" is there to see it.

Thorne is pleased to receive this visit and has Nicol directed to the wardroom. The docking hatch guy mutters about how on this job you eventually see one of everything, and then disconnects.

[sweet_song]

And here is Nicol, in a custom float-chair designed to be piloted with her lower hands and support her null-gee-designed body while her upper arms remain free. She zips in, positions herself agreeably relative to furniture and people, and looks at Thorne.

[whyexit]

"Nicol! It's so nice to see you again."

[sweet_song]

Nicol smiles just a little bit - then she's all business. "Captain Thorne. Admiral Naismith. You're - mercenaries, are you not?"

[whyexit]

"We are...?"

[sweet_song]

"And - if I read you correctly - you have some understanding for my situation? Empathy for the position I find myself in."

[whyexit]

"You're dangling over a pit," murmurs Thorne.

[sweet_song]

"And I mean to find a way to safety."