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Time goes by. Linya, who already quietly turned nineteen, turns twenty. She collects an accelerated master's degree in neuroscience and starts corresponding with various people on the subject.
Pens spread out; the next time Miles sees Elli he gets a white standard-model pen she bought him on Escobar. She has one too; it's silver. She loves it and thanks him for recommending it to her. (She has bought a whole boxful to unload at a markup on the next planet or station she comes to that doesn't have them yet, but doesn't explicitly mention this in case he objects to her cutting into Lady Vorkosigan's margins.)
Miles also has one actual courier mission in there, just escorting a diplomatic pouch from Pol back home, to pad his service record for the less-cleared eye.
There is a visit to a clinic to collect and mystically join gametes, and Linya collects the resulting assembly in data format for editing. She does the grey eyes first and estimates that if she doesn't particularly hurry she'll have a Little Aral What-the-Heck-Should-His-Middle-Name-Be all ready to put in a replicator in two or three years, though she can accelerate that considerably if something comes up urgently requiring the presence of Little Aral sooner rather than later.
And then Miles gets sent off again and is gone for a very long time.
isthisart
spacetobreathe
"The face is new," she sings coldly. "You commented on the one I had before... you know, you were the only person to mention in my hearing how bad the plastiskin looked. I think you compared it to an onion?"
thisvorlunatic
Miles, now that Ivan appears to be done embarrassing himself, turns to Captain Galeni to await orders.
spacetobreathe
"Since you know each other, and since as long as you're on the Emperor's payroll he might as well get some sort of use from you, I've assigned Lieutenant Vorpatril here to orient you to the Embassy and your duties here," says Galeni. "I trust clarification on your situation, which I have now sent for, will arrive with all due speed. Your mercenary bodyguard may return to her outfit, with a secure commlink in case you are just as indispensable as you think you are; if you do have to leave the compound I will assign you one of my men." Galeni's aide comes in with the commlink, gives it to Elli, and shows her out.
"What do I tell the Dendarii?" Elli asks Miles over her shoulder.
"What do I tell the Dendarii?" Elli asks Miles over her shoulder.
thisvorlunatic
"Tell them their funds are in transit," Miles says helplessly. It's the best he can offer and it's not very good.
middlingalong
"Vorpatril," sighs Galeni, "please prioritize getting your cousin out of his mercenary costume and into a correct uniform, first thing."
Ivan nods.
Ivan nods.
thisvorlunatic
"The Dendarii uniform is as real as your own, sir," says Miles, once again called upon to haul back on his temper with both metaphorical hands. This is not going to be a fun ten days.
middlingalong
"I wouldn't know," says Galeni. "My father could only afford toy soldiers for me when I was a boy. You two are dismissed."
Ivan appears to wish to be very dismissed very fast before Miles does something Milesy.
Ivan appears to wish to be very dismissed very fast before Miles does something Milesy.
thisvorlunatic
Miles stalks out in his cousin's wake, growling under his breath.
"Toy fucking soldiers," he mutters.
"Toy fucking soldiers," he mutters.
middlingalong
"Look, Galeni's all right, if a bit regulation, and what does he know to tell apart your Dendarii from any of the questionably legal little mercenary companies that float around the galaxy?"
thisvorlunatic
Miles grudgingly subsides.
"Fine. Out of what dark hole will you pull a proper Barrayaran kit in my size...?"
"Fine. Out of what dark hole will you pull a proper Barrayaran kit in my size...?"
middlingalong
"Oh, Stores has the laser-map deal, same as your overpriced sartorial pirate back home. It'll even do civvies, if your tastes are conservative, which I'm assuming hasn't changed since last time I saw you in anything not a uniform?"
thisvorlunatic
"Ha," says Miles, semi-humorously. "It's not like I'm going to be developing a glitzy social life around here; I have every expectation of being stuck in a box and buried under a tree. Metaphorically speaking. I'll take the boringest civvies they'll give me, just to have something to lounge around in that isn't a uniform."
middlingalong
"Yes. Yes it is. Let's get you to Stores, coz, Stores will be so happy to see you."
And Ivan ushers him to Stores.
thisvorlunatic
Where the computer mutters to itself about Miles's peculiar measurements and then outputs him a full set of proper Barrayaran military uniforms, plus miscellaneous civilian wear in various registers of formality from 'casual' to 'fancy dinner party'. Miles, caring little for the selection, just gets the default in everything.
middlingalong
Ivan goes off while the computer is still handling textiles, leaving Miles with directions to the room they will be sharing.
thisvorlunatic
So as soon as he has his kit - and has changed into dress greens, the better to avoid being caught in the hall still in his Dendarii grey-and-whites - Miles bundles up everything he isn't wearing and trundles directly to said room to put it all away.
middlingalong
Where Ivan is sitting at the comconsole.
"So I called your wife. Does she have nightmares about Illyan or something? I told her you were here in the clear same as me, just temporarily, but she told me she was not supposed to know anything about where you are if it's not on Barrayar."
"So I called your wife. Does she have nightmares about Illyan or something? I told her you were here in the clear same as me, just temporarily, but she told me she was not supposed to know anything about where you are if it's not on Barrayar."
thisvorlunatic
"I - no - it - fuck," says Miles, throwing up his hands in an explosive gesture that scatters his neatly stacked armload of clothes halfway across the room.