Hell, Miles argues with commodores all the damn time. Of course, he's usually an admiral when he does it.
"The fate of my clone... concerns me closely," he goes on tentatively.
"I can imagine," says Destang. "I hope we can eliminate the danger of further confusion between you soon."
That doesn't sound good. That sounds... assassinatory.
"There's no serious danger of confusion, sir," he says. "A simple medical scan will show his bones healthy and unbroken, mine fragile and riddled with old damage. What, then, is our interest? On what charge do we seek him?"
"Well, treason, of course. Conspiracy against the Imperium."
All right, fine, Mark did technically conspire against the Imperium a little bit. Miles zeroes in on the more arguable thing. "Treason? Only Imperial subjects can commit treason. And my clone was manufactured on Jackson's Whole, which rules out conquest and place of birth - to stick him with a charge of treason, you'd have to allow that he's an Imperial subject by blood. Making him thereby also Vor, and deserving of the right to a trial by the Council of Counts in full session."
Destang looks mildly startled. "Would he think to attempt such a defense?"
"It seems obvious enough to me." And therefore he's fairly sure Mark would think of it. Call the boy what you like, 'thorough' had better make the list.
"Thank you, Lieutenant," says Destang. He is making a very assassinatory face. Crap, crap, crap. Now Miles has to ask.
"Do... you see assassination as an option, sir?"
"An increasingly compelling one."
Crap. Miles takes a breath. "There could be a legal problem here, sir. Either he's not an Imperial subject, and we have no claim on him in the first place, or he is, and we owe him the full protection of Imperial law. In either case, his murder would be a criminal order. Sir."
"I had not planned to give you the order," says Destang.
That is not the direction Miles was going with this, not at all. But he doesn't see it ending well if he keeps pushing in the direction he intended. Maybe he could get Destang to back down; maybe he could get himself in deep trouble to no good result for Mark. Maybe he could push it all the way to a court-martial, likely to be messy at minimum and downright explosive at worst. And Destang would have every reason to confine Miles to quarters if he pushed any harder, which would deprive Miles of the opportunity to do... anything else.
Fuck.
"Thank you, sir," he says as mildly as possible.
"See my aide for your credit chit on your way out," says Destang, as clear a dismissal as Miles has ever heard. But what of the Dendarii? How can he possibly have failed to order Miles to take the Dendarii off the case, given that he brought his own team all the way from Tau Ceti to take care of things - unless he never learned they were on it?
no subject
"The fate of my clone... concerns me closely," he goes on tentatively.
"I can imagine," says Destang. "I hope we can eliminate the danger of further confusion between you soon."
That doesn't sound good. That sounds... assassinatory.
"There's no serious danger of confusion, sir," he says. "A simple medical scan will show his bones healthy and unbroken, mine fragile and riddled with old damage. What, then, is our interest? On what charge do we seek him?"
"Well, treason, of course. Conspiracy against the Imperium."
All right, fine, Mark did technically conspire against the Imperium a little bit. Miles zeroes in on the more arguable thing. "Treason? Only Imperial subjects can commit treason. And my clone was manufactured on Jackson's Whole, which rules out conquest and place of birth - to stick him with a charge of treason, you'd have to allow that he's an Imperial subject by blood. Making him thereby also Vor, and deserving of the right to a trial by the Council of Counts in full session."
Destang looks mildly startled. "Would he think to attempt such a defense?"
"It seems obvious enough to me." And therefore he's fairly sure Mark would think of it. Call the boy what you like, 'thorough' had better make the list.
"Thank you, Lieutenant," says Destang. He is making a very assassinatory face. Crap, crap, crap. Now Miles has to ask.
"Do... you see assassination as an option, sir?"
"An increasingly compelling one."
Crap. Miles takes a breath. "There could be a legal problem here, sir. Either he's not an Imperial subject, and we have no claim on him in the first place, or he is, and we owe him the full protection of Imperial law. In either case, his murder would be a criminal order. Sir."
"I had not planned to give you the order," says Destang.
That is not the direction Miles was going with this, not at all. But he doesn't see it ending well if he keeps pushing in the direction he intended. Maybe he could get Destang to back down; maybe he could get himself in deep trouble to no good result for Mark. Maybe he could push it all the way to a court-martial, likely to be messy at minimum and downright explosive at worst. And Destang would have every reason to confine Miles to quarters if he pushed any harder, which would deprive Miles of the opportunity to do... anything else.
Fuck.
"Thank you, sir," he says as mildly as possible.
"See my aide for your credit chit on your way out," says Destang, as clear a dismissal as Miles has ever heard. But what of the Dendarii? How can he possibly have failed to order Miles to take the Dendarii off the case, given that he brought his own team all the way from Tau Ceti to take care of things - unless he never learned they were on it?
Miles's heart leaps.