dye

[isthisart]

The next time Linya and Ekaterin meet up (for impromptu bonsai skellytum pruning lessons, lunch, and an attempt to teach Ekaterin the simplest version of a complicated haut card game) Linya says, while shuffling for a second example round:

"Miles and I are planning to get married again, Barrayaran ceremony groats and all, and I wondered if you'd be my Second."

Comments

[thisvorlunatic]

"Good! Because that's what we're - " His hand moves abortively towards his trouser pocket. He looks at the hand, looks at the pocket, sighs, and continues on a different tack. "Actually, before I get into that, there's a little errand I'd like you to run - not necessarily now or soon, but ideally before the next time I personally run a mission. I don't suppose you've heard of the new holo-pens coming out of Barrayar? They haven't come very far out of Barrayar just yet."

[spacetobreathe]

"Uh - maybe? But I might be thinking of something else. Do they have them on Escobar? Pol maybe?"

[thisvorlunatic]

"I'm not sure if they've reached that far yet. They only got to Komarr relatively recently. It's basically a full comconsole - a little cut down, but not much - in the shape of a pen about yea big." He measures the distance between his fingers. "They can't output sound without a peripheral, but they can record it, and record and display visual holos. The storage capacity is a little cramped, but they have extra data space in their charging stations. They're magnificently convenient, I have one at home, I want one out here, and they were developed by Lady Linyabel Vorkosigan, who doesn't yet have clearance to know about Admiral Naismith. I can't carry my usual model around with me in my Naismith hat because it's a custom job in the Vorkosigan colours. I can't buy an extra pen myself, directly, because I don't want her investigating and finding one or the other of me at the end of the paper trail. Therefore, I charge you with the task of subtly acquiring me a pen. Standard model, no customizations, let's go with white for the colour."

[spacetobreathe]

"Sure. They sound nifty, maybe I want one too."

[thisvorlunatic]

"Feel free. They're nifty as hell."

[spacetobreathe]

"I knew you got married but I don't think I ever congratulated you. Congratulations. I assume Admiral Naismith continues to be single?"

[thisvorlunatic]

"Admiral Naismith may admit to those who know him pretty well that he has a spouse waiting for him in an undisclosed location that may or may not be Beta Colony. But to all others he prefers to keep his private life private."

[spacetobreathe]

"Right then. Let's go smuggle some rebels, and I'll have a pen for you next time we see each other."

[thisvorlunatic]

They go. They smuggle. The operation goes off without a hitch. Miles returns triumphant to Barrayar about six weeks later.

[isthisart]

And his wife, waiting for him in her undisclosed location, is very happy to have him back again.

"This was a long one," she says, not quite edging into "plaintive". "Welcome home."

[thisvorlunatic]

"God, I know," sighs Miles. "Pick me up and carry me upstairs, I don't even care right now."

[isthisart]

Linya is more than happy to oblige. Up they go, him snuggled in her arms. There is nuzzling.

[thisvorlunatic]

He snuggles up and flomps his head on her shoulder until they are back in their suite.

[isthisart]

Here is their suite. Is that a reason to put him down? Of course not. It is a reason to acquire a lap on which to snuggle him further.

[thisvorlunatic]

He hugs her and sighs deeply.

"I missed you," he mumbles.

[isthisart]

"I missed you too." Squeeze. "I don't suppose at some point they move you into something with day-job hours?"

[thisvorlunatic]

"Ha," he says without humour. "Afraid not, no. Not anytime soon, that's for damn sure..."

[isthisart]

"Alas." Nuzzle.

[thisvorlunatic]

Miles flomps his head on her shoulder again and stays that way.

[isthisart]

Linya is not going to kick him out of her lap anytime soon. Snuggle.

[thisvorlunatic]

Snuggle, snuggle, listless snuggle—

He lifts his head.

"It's been, God, how long since we got married? More than a year, isn't it?"

[isthisart]

"One standard and a bit, yes. You were away on the anniversary of the first wedding as counted in both standard and Barrayaran years but we could do something for the date rolling around again on Eta Ceta if you like and you're still here in two weeks."

[thisvorlunatic]

He kisses her cheek. "Sorry, I can't really promise anything."

Which leads him to flomp his head on her shoulder again, and sigh, and then slide out of her lap and start pacing back and forth.

"Illyan still hasn't issued you a clearance level that would let me talk to you about - about anything I do when I'm offplanet. It's absurd. Well, no it's not, I know perfectly well why he feels the way he does and it's perfectly logical from someone whose job description is 'most paranoid person on three planets'. It's just I feel like it should be obvious to anyone who's known you longer than a day that you're not a bloody Cetagandan plant, and it's a, a personally offensive decision to keep barring you from the kind of clearance they give out to people like, oh, Mother."

[isthisart]

"Well, I don't disagree - I don't think I knew she had much clearance to speak of; if she knows more about your comings and goings than I she's very good at not letting on."

[thisvorlunatic]

"I strongly suspect that Mother knows some things even I don't," says Miles. "But moving on - I - "

He sighs and turns and paces some more.

"Ugh. I can't just tell you anyway, is the thing. Sometimes I wish I could. But... see, perhaps you've noticed this, or perhaps not because nobody tells you a damn thing about my Service career - I have a little bit of an enormous insubordination problem. I ignore orders, I argue, I am a vast pain in the ass to command for anything more complicated than sitting on a box of ciphered data disks like a mother hen on her eggs as they travel from point A to point B. And sometimes even then. I'm like that because I am very smart and very good at my job and often temporarily put in situations where I am under the command of someone less smart and less good at my job than I am, and having to dodge their misaimed instructions is tedious and counterproductive. But the point, the aim of it all, is to get the job done. And there's no justification I can honestly concoct in which the job actually requires you to know Barrayaran military secrets, unless you have been concealing an ambition to join ImpSec from me all this time—no?—didn't think so."

Pace pace pace.

"So I can't just unilaterally decide that you get to hear the shop talk because you deserve to. Even though I truly believe you do. If I am told to conceal sensitive information from you, and I can think of no way it is strongly in Barrayar's interests not to, I must."