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]

Ah. Miles smiles slightly, despite a shiver of apprehension. The Baron must have discovered the condition of his freezers, and presumably checked the sub-basement and found his prisoners vanished. But why does Ryoval expect them to escape? They haven't even undocked from Fell Station yet. A simple application of a large sum of money to the problem would surely tempt Fell to hold them for Ryoval's pleasure... Perhaps Miles can find out. He steps into range of the vid pickup.

"Good morning, Baron." Is it morning? It's past midnight, he's pretty sure. Close enough. "I hope it finds you well. And how do you plan to pay all these bounty hunters?"

[alicornucopia]

"Did my dear little brother put you up to this?" hisses Ryoval, wiping some of the excess spittle from the corner of his mouth.

[thisvorlunatic]

Miles blinks. "Who?"

[alicornucopia]

"Baron Fell!" exclaims Ryoval, livid.

[thisvorlunatic]

"I... was unaware of the relation," says Miles. "Little brother?" He could swear he's heard something about - right, Nicol mentioned Fell's half-brother as a prime suspect in the murder of his clone. Said half-brother presumably being Ryoval... and why did the mission briefing not cover this little wrinkle? All the detail he could desire on the subject of House Bharaputra, who have barely featured in this drama at all, and nothing about the Ryoval-Fell connection. He's going to have some sharp words for Illyan when he gets back. In the meantime, he itches to undock, but he is not yet ready to provoke Fell so openly.

[alicornucopia]

"You're a bad liar," sneers Ryoval. "I knew he had to be behind this. I'll have your head! Shipped frozen in a box! Encased in plastic - better yet, double for the man who brings you back alive - you will die slowly - Or was it House Bharaputra who hired you, trying to block me from cutting into their biologicals monopoly instead of merging as they promised?"

[thisvorlunatic]

What's this? Miles leans forward slightly, intrigued.

"Really? Would Bharaputra mount a plot against the head of another House? Do you have some personal reason to believe they do that sort of thing? Who killed your brother's clone, Ry? Shall I guess?"

[alicornucopia]

"You know bloody well! But which of them hired you - which?!"

[thisvorlunatic]

He smirks. "What, can you not believe I was acting on my own? A personal blow against the genetic slave trade, my gift to future generations?"

[alicornucopia]

"Fell, or Bharaputra?" snarls Ryoval. "Did you think to conceal a theft for Bharaputra with that - that wanton destruction?"

[thisvorlunatic]

Ah-ha. A beautiful lie springs to mind - if Ryoval expects the incineration of his samples to cover a specific theft, perhaps he was dealing with Bharaputra for a copy of something or other - can't be Asterion, surely Ryoval has noticed by now that Miles walked out with him, the freezer would do nothing to cover that -

"I was wondering when you'd begin to realize. You gave your brother the motive, in assassinating his life extension plan. And you asked too much of Bharaputra, so they provided the method, planting the super-soldier in your facility where I could rendezvous with him - although unlike the city of Troy, you paid good money for your wooden horse. I admit, I wasn't expecting your security fellows to lock us unsupervised in a basement together. That was a godsend. It would have taken me, oh, hours longer to pull off the mission if I'd had to search him out unaided." He smiles, studies his fingernails for a moment, then glances up at the vid pickup through demurely lowered lashes and adds, "I supplied the master plan myself, of course."

[whyexit]

Ryoval appears to be having trouble breathing. "You will die over months of infinite degradation -"

Thorne reaches for the comm's off-switch, eyebrow raised.

[thisvorlunatic]

Miles nods a go-ahead to Thorne.

"While I was poking around with Asterion looking for a way out of the facility, we encountered the main freezers where Ryoval stores his collection of gene samples," he explains once the connection is cut. "Stored, I should say. We turned the temperature dials up to heat-sterilization levels on our way past. And now I think I have something to really deal with Fell for." He shrugs out of the combination of Ryoval security uniform and lab coat, leaving himself in the black T-shirt and grey trousers that are all that's left of the uniform he wore when he began the mission to Ryoval's. Then he rubs his chin. "Do I have time for a shave...? Better not. Place a call to Baron Fell and then gimme that chair."

[whyexit]

"Yessir," says Thorne, dialing and getting out of his way.

[thisvorlunatic]

Miles settles into the station chair and waits.

Baron Fell's image appears, calm and stately. He raises an eyebrow at the sight of the slightly scruffy Miles.

"Rumours of your capture seem to have been exaggerated, Admiral."

"Not exaggerated," Miles says smoothly, "merely out of date. It has been brought to my attention that you may be willing to deal for the quaddie Nicol."

Baron Fell leans forward slightly. Miles raises a hand to forestall his eagerness.

"I'm afraid, Baron, that you might find the information you seek disappointing. But I have just come into possession of some information which may be more immediately relevant - the identity of the person who ordered the assassination of your clone, and the means by which they accomplished it."

"...Go on," says Fell, intrigued.

"Do you agree to give us your musician in exchange for the true secret of Betan rejuvenation, even though it may not offer you a practical benefit, and the knowledge of how and at whose command your clone was destroyed? If it helps sway you, we're about to depart rather precipitously and while you retain the full amount of our payment and may keep it with my blessing, if I recall our loading timeline correctly we have only received about a third of our cargo."

Fell ponders this question for a lengthy half-minute or so, while Miles itches in his seat and forces himself to stillness. Then the baron nods slowly. "Yes. We have a deal, Admiral."

"Good. I trust this line is secure?"

The baron nods again.

"I'm given to understand that you suspected your half-brother Ryoval," Miles begins, "but were unable to verify that suspicion."

"My agents and Bharaputra's tried to dig up a connection, but none succeeded," Fell confirms.

"I'm not surprised. Because it was Bharaputra's agents who did the deed." Miles at least assigns this prospect a high probability.

"Killed their own product? For what profit? Bharaputra refunded me the entire development cost in apology - they took a significant loss on that incident."

"From what I've gathered, Ryoval struck a deal with House Bharaputra to betray you in exchange for some unique biological samples from Ryoval's collection." The theory certainly fits the available data, and Miles can't imagine that Ryoval faked those paranoid ravings. "Mere cash wouldn't have borne out the risk. I don't know how the Barons planned to divvy up your House after your eventual death by old age, but it seems clear to me that the deal was struck between them directly - no subordinate of either House could have had the authority to offer either half of the trade. It seems their ultimate plan involved a corporate merger, uniting their operations into an ultimate co-monopoly on Jacksonian biologicals."

"Your theory is compelling," Fell allows. "Is that all?"

"All I have on the subject of your clone, yes." Miles runs his fingers through his damp hair. "On the subject of the Betan rejuvenation treatment... I'm afraid, Baron, that you have been taken in by a false rumour, a bit of galactic wishful thinking that we first failed to correct and then allowed to persist for the humour value." Fell's brows draw down. Miles spreads his hands. "I did warn you that you'd be disappointed. The true and honest secret of Betan longevity, Baron Fell, is clean living, good medical technology, and avoidance of risk. There is no rejuvenation treatment. I look the age I do because it is the age I am."

At this last, Fell smiles slightly, in grudging appreciation.

"Very well," he says. "I agreed to the deal, and I will abide by it. Your exit will not be impeded, and you may carry off my musician - whom I am sure is on your ship at this time by complete coincidence - with, if not my blessing, at least my permission."

"Thank you, Baron," Miles says sincerely. "That's all I ask." Impulsively, he adds, "If I hear tell of a decent life extension treatment that actually proves to exist, I'll send you a message."

The baron inclines his head courteously, and cuts the comm. Miles slumps in his seat the second the vid winks off. "God, Bel, get us out of here. All haste to the nearest jump point. I'm going to go shower."

[whyexit]

"Right away, sir," beams Thorne.

[thisvorlunatic]

Miles hops out of the chair and stumbles off down the corridor. He showers. He shaves. He changes into a fresh uniform. He grabs a coffee from somewhere, to propel him through this last little drama before he can finally sleep.

He goes looking for Asterion.

[ofthestars]

Through some feat of wizardry, the stores computer has been made to cough up a genuine grey-and-white Dendarii uniform in Asterion's exaggerated size. Shirt, jacket, boots, and trousers, all crisp and neat and proper. He has also found time to shower, and his long greenish-black hair has been brushed to a surprising softness and tied back into a ponytail, his fingernails trimmed neatly and evenly to a less alarming length, his teeth brushed. He is at present sitting in the mess hall, finishing a bowl of anonymous rice-and-something of which too little remains to be clearly identified.

[thisvorlunatic]

"Ah, good, they fed you," says Miles, brightening slightly. "Everything all right so far?"

[ofthestars]

He grins briefly, flashing fang. "Yeah. I like the food." The last morsel disappears out of the bowl.

[thisvorlunatic]

"Good, good..." Miles perches in a chair across the otherwise-deserted table from his trainee. "I, um... have something to tell you, before you make your trainee's oath. If you make your trainee's oath. We could just as easily drop you off on Escobar to make your own way, if you prefer."

[ofthestars]

Asterion cocks his head inquiringly. "Mm?"

[thisvorlunatic]

He takes a deep breath.

"I... was not entirely honest with you about the exact reason why I came looking for you in Ryoval's hell-pit," he says. "In fact, I was sent by one Dr. Canaba, to retrieve - perhaps you remember him injecting you with something, before Bharaputra sold you? Using a needle, not a hypospray?"

[ofthestars]

He nods, frowning slightly.

[thisvorlunatic]

"The injection contained a package of dormant gene complexes - he was using you as storage for copies of his life's work. He wanted me to retrieve them, and," Miles inhales again, "kill you. Seemed to have some idea of saving you from - from - I don't know, existing? He sold me the idea well enough that I bought it and agreed to the mission, but - well - once I met you it became obvious pretty quickly that you were not the helpless suffering beast he described to me. So. The purpose of my visit to Jackson's Whole was to pick up Dr. Canaba; he resides now aboard this ship, and has been told only that I returned from my mission alive and accompanied by the tissue samples he requested. I have not yet allowed him to learn that they are still attached to the living organism from which he asked me to extract them."