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

[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."

[ofthestars]

Asterion regards Miles in a thoughtful silence.

[thisvorlunatic]

For long enough that Miles begins to get a little nervous. Well. A little nervous-er. Well. More than a little.

[ofthestars]

At last, a wry smile flickers across his face. He shakes his head.

"Okay. Is the doctor going to want his samples still?"

[thisvorlunatic]

"I can't imagine he wouldn't, but I'm not going to put you through any medical procedure you don't agree to," says Miles. "The well of my generosity for Dr. Canaba has been thoroughly exhausted."

[ofthestars]

"I don't mind if you grab what he needs as long as my leg still works afterward," says Asterion, touching the knot in his calf. "But that's you, not him. I think it'd be a good idea if I didn't see Dr. Canaba at all."

[thisvorlunatic]

"That can be arranged," Miles assures him. "All right. And you have until Escobar to decide if you're getting off or staying on - I won't rush you."

[whyexit]

So Thorne goes with the samples to Canaba instead. "Here's what you were so keen on getting," it says, handing the vial over. "And the Dendarii have recruited its container, since he not only walks and has fangs but also thinks and talks and can be issued plasma arcs - what all do we need to know about his biology, beyond that he eats like three or four people? That's not hiding a mineral deficiency or something, is it?"

[pythbox]

Canaba gapes.

"You what? You - how - but - "

[whyexit]

"What do you mean, how? We put him in a uniform and started him on training and he's taken right to it. Is he going to be all right on rat bars and incidentals or do we need to scare up weird supplements?"

[pythbox]

"I mean - he hasn't tried to rip anyone's limbs off?"

[whyexit]

"Well, he's asked not to be put in a room with you," snorts Thorne, "and if I were you I'd abide very carefully by that request."

[pythbox]

Canaba gulps.

"Um," he says. "No unusual dietary requirements, except the accelerated metabolism you've already discovered - but - he's going to die. Of that metabolism. That's what killed the rest of them, in the end. Premature aging, faster and faster until a final rapid disintegration - it was ghastly. He hasn't shown any signs of onset that I've seen, but it could come upon him at any moment. Sometime in the next year, or two, or five, or ten - I wouldn't give him very much longer than ten at the outside. It's... that's one of the things I hoped to save him from."

[whyexit]

"Right, that's all I needed to know, but if you're expecting absolution for trying to get him murdered so he wouldn't have to die of old age or even of getting decently shot at for a paycheck, you're in for some disappointment."

[pythbox]

Canaba looks unhappy.

[whyexit]

"In any case, the samples are all yours."

Thorne goes to mention what it has learned to Miles.

[thisvorlunatic]

"...We'll have to tell Asterion," Miles sighs. "God knows how he'll take it. I could just about strangle that Canaba. If ever there was a semi-noble impulse more thoughtlessly executed - speaking of noble impulses, on a happier note, how is Nicol?"

[whyexit]

"Happier," says Thorne, smiling. "...But very definitely planning to jump ship at Escobar, collect gigs until she has enough to move on, and play her way back home to her folks."

[thisvorlunatic]

Miles pats Thorne's arm consolingly. "Well, you have three more days until then, right? Best of luck."

[whyexit]

"Thank you, sir."