overture

[isthisart]

Nine days into their fourteen-day trip, the courier ship arrives in the Komarr system. Five more jumps to go. Miles is not yet capable of peeling himself off a willing Linya before he passes out (and willingness is in no short supply), and the resulting peculiar sleep schedule causes Ivan no end of giggling. Linya draws him diagrams of more complicated braids as aspirational goals (getting five and a half feet of slidy-soft hair to be in even the simplest braid properly is a little tricky), which induces Miles to spend most of a day fascinatedly braiding and rebraiding her hair in various configurations. She, meanwhile, writes pen software that eats standard comconsole software and renders it for pen-ability in what she thinks is a user-friendly manner, and works on Russian.

When they reach the Komarr system, there's a message squirt, bounced at lightspeed from the little ships that do nothing but dance back and forth from side to side of the intervening wormholes collecting and broadcasting data. It says that Captain Illyan invites Miles to supplement his mission report by bringing his wife along.

Comments

[isthisart]

"There are plenty of ways to be other than normal besides being engineered," she says. "How about - heirloom? It's technically supposed to refer to produce, old strains of it that haven't been tweaked away from how they were variously lengthy periods of time ago. Expensive tomatoes and so on. It's complimentary, if you don't mind being grouped with tomatoes."

[thisvorlunatic]

"I think I can live with positive tomato-related connotations."

[isthisart]

"Anyway, there are several things people have proposed adding to the haut genome that would sacrifice our ability to even theoretically have random-assembly children with non-haut, although in practice no one does random-assembly, even haut-wives. And none of these changes have been made to the haut, though there have been ba made with the rearranged retinal anatomy to see if it works as a speculative project in case this constraint is ever deemed obsolete - I'm not sure if wings ever saw live testing."

[thisvorlunatic]

"Random assembly. One way to put it, I suppose."

[isthisart]

"Should I think of a tomato-related complimentary word for that too?"

[thisvorlunatic]

"I wouldn't object if you felt like it. 'Random assembly' seems fairly neutral, though."

He pauses briefly, then adds, "It occurs to me that producing the next generation of Vorkosigans will have to be the subject of an eventual conversation, but I'm in no hurry."

[isthisart]

"...Also not in a hurry. Although I might as well tell you now that I'm almost certainly incapable of body-birth, not that this has been tested in generations - ba obviously don't make good test subjects for that in particular. Keeping the capacity simply wasn't a priority."

[thisvorlunatic]

"There are some Barrayarans who might fuss about that, but I'm very much not one of them. I was a replicator birth myself, if you hadn't heard."

[isthisart]

"I had. So I didn't think it was likely to be a dealbreaker."

[thisvorlunatic]

"Well, your prediction is confirmed."

[isthisart]

"Good."

[thisvorlunatic]

[isthisart]

Linya smiles at him.

When they turn the corner onto the block containing Vorkosigan House, she recognizes it. "This is it, right?"

[thisvorlunatic]

"This is indeed it. Where did you find pictures of my house?"

[isthisart]

"A History of the Vor. In Russian."

[thisvorlunatic]

[isthisart]

"It had several Vorkosigan Houses, actually."

[thisvorlunatic]

"Really? Did they manage to dig up a picture of the one in Vorkosigan Vashnoi before—ah—it was destroyed?"

[isthisart]

"They found architectural blueprints, but there wasn't a photo of that one."

[thisvorlunatic]

"I own Vorkosigan Vashnoi," he mentions. "Directly, I mean. Grandfather left it to me specifically, God knows why. Some kind of obscure statement."

[isthisart]

"...I have no idea what kind of statement that might serve to make."

[thisvorlunatic]

"An obscure one, of course. Possibly relating to the fact that it'll be sometime late-ish in my life when the place starts to be potentially habitable again. If I feel like being kind and ruling out all interpretations along the lines of 'let the tainted land go to the tainted grandson'."

And with that, they arrive at the house. Miles nods to the armsman in brown-and-silver livery who lets them in. "Hello, Pym. Is Mother home?"

"Yes, milord," says, apparently, Pym. "In the library."

"Right then. To the library we go," says Miles. He notes in passing that their combined luggage has been lined up neatly in the front hall, out of the way of pedestrian traffic.

[isthisart]

Linya inclines her head in acknowledgment of Pym and memorizes his name. She is tempted to check on her keyboard to make sure that it has again been transported safely, but she follows Miles without giving in to this distraction; she can look at it later.

[thisvorlunatic]

Once again, Miles is called upon to navigate. Vorkosigan House is not quite as mazelike as ImpSec HQ, but it definitely has its quirks.

[isthisart]

Linya plucks her pen from its resting place and draws herself a little map as they walk. She doesn't break stride, but she does slow down a little; it is not externally obvious whether this is to make cartography easier or because she's nervous about meeting the Countess.