dissonance

[isthisart]

Dr. Cheung's at a funeral all day, so Linya decides to go up to London and see if Miles is out of his Mood.

Security has decided to be deeply unhelpful today. She is currently showing them various forms of ID and repeating in a slow, patient voice that she has been here before, there is not more than one of her, and she promises she is not there to assassinate her husband or whatever fool thing has them skittish today. Perhaps she shouldn't drop in while the captain's missing; it seems to make them worse. But she got in before while he was missing...

Comments

[isthisart]

"That would at minimum result in extremely interesting correspondence with Lisbet. It's possible it could be kept to that minimum, but."

[thisvorlunatic]

"Not likely. Whatever positive effect Lisbet has been having, it wasn't enough to prevent what was going on at Dagoola before Naismith showed up."

[isthisart]

"Well, I haven't exactly asked her what the plan with Marilac is supposed to be. It seems unlike her, but of course she'd have to get Emperor Fletchir on board in order to effect any policy changes. Cynically I'd say she's using Marilac to prune the selection of warlike ghem she has to deal with before making some move or other."

[thisvorlunatic]

"I can think of more appealing ways to prune one's selection of warlike ghem."

[isthisart]

"I didn't say it was a course of action I endorsed. I'm not privy to this sort of information; I probably wouldn't be even if I'd stayed. I'm speculating wildly about ways to reconcile what I know of the imperial personalities and the goings-on that required a POW camp break."

[thisvorlunatic]

"Mass psychological torture," he says. "That's what was going on."

[isthisart]

"It seems unlikely that Fletchir didn't know about it. It might have escaped Lisbet. She's got an heir to design and thousands of genetic projects to oversee and eight planets and associated borders full of things that compete for her attention. And I know more about her than him." She sighs. "Anyway. Good for you, and if it will help I will stand in front of you looking extremely haut."

[thisvorlunatic]

"Thank you. If I find myself being menaced by Cetagandan assassins while out and about as Lord Vorkosigan, I will definitely take you up on that."

[isthisart]

She sighs. One of her fingers twitches a little before she stills it. Even if she were sure of who he was, she couldn't pick him up.

They're being watched.

She tilts her head back and begins to sing again.

[thisvorlunatic]

Time passes. Meals are intermittently delivered by groups of stunner-armed guards.

And then the door opens and no food is passed in. One of the guards gestures to Miles with his stunner.

Miles is rather nervous about this, to say the least. But he doesn't see any viable alternatives. Out he goes.

[unmarred]

A perfect rendering of Admiral Naismith is waiting in the hall.

"Take him to the study," he says briskly, London-accented. The guards obey. Miles is secured to a chair in the middle of the room, and the guards dismissed.

The clone paces slowly back and forth, studying Miles.

[thisvorlunatic]

Miles... feels deeply uncomfortable.

But he can't help seeking an angle. His brain is just built that way. It's automatic.

He takes a steadying breath and says, unsteadily, "Hello, Mark."

[unmarred]

This stops him in his tracks. Frozen, utterly immobile, neither tense nor loose, merely still.

[thisvorlunatic]

And what the hell does that mean? But it's too late to go back, so Miles goes forward.

"Betan law gives you the status; Barrayaran custom gives you the name. Mark Pierre Vorkosigan. My long-delayed twin brother."

[unmarred]

"That... is technically true," he muses, still in the local accent. "Or at least the argument could be made. I hadn't—mm. Of course. Your mother wouldn't have it any other way," he cocks his head inquiringly, "isn't that right?"

[thisvorlunatic]

Miles swallows. "Yeah." God, this is weird.

[unmarred]

"I tried hating you," he says conversationally, now that Miles has drawn him out. "It didn't take... you did not create me. The blame for my existence cannot be laid at your door."

[thisvorlunatic]

"I'm glad to hear that. I think," says Miles. "Is your existence such a fault?"

[unmarred]

"Oh," he breathes, with a flash of deep anger, "yes." But then he shakes his head and resumes pacing. "Now that I'm here, though... I lack a direction, you see. In, out, up, down, forward, back. My degrees of freedom are severely curtailed. I was hoping... Ser Galen promised me I'd get to talk to you, one on one, face to face. He's been more hesitant about that recently. I suspect he has finally noticed you're not a fucking idiot. He promised me I'd be the next Emperor of Barrayar, but I bet you'd tell me differently, wouldn't you?"

[thisvorlunatic]

Trying to follow Mark's train of thought is like trying to paint the stripes onto a candy cane one-handed. Miles blinks in topological bewilderment.

"Um, yes," he says, after half a beat when he thinks he's caught up. "That is, if your ambition is to be Emperor, you have the means to accomplish it. If your ambition is to survive being Emperor, you might want to pursue early retirement plans. Athos should be just about far enough, if nobody knows you went there."

[unmarred]

"I'm not sure I'd fit in," he says with an odd little smile. "Anyway. That's my point. Somehow he's managed to train me to be you my entire life without noticing who you are. If he had, he wouldn't have tried such a stupid ruse. I'm not a future Emperor, I'm a political high explosive."

[thisvorlunatic]

"Ah... yes, just about," says Miles. "May I ask what you plan to do about this? And... why you're telling me?"

[unmarred]

"I've no idea. I told you. No direction." He spreads his hands. "All I know is that you are the one thing in the universe I understand perfectly."

[thisvorlunatic]

"...That's very unsettling," says Miles.

[unmarred]

He grins sharply. "Is it."