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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
middlingalong
"Well, then, do your anxious waiting from a sitting position. Come on, give the man time to get a cup of coffee and read his reports. People would be sad if their reports were never read."
thisvorlunatic
"Ugh." He circles the room one more time, then thumps into a chair. "It's been an hour! He can read the reports after he gives me my money!"
The comconsole blinks. Whether Galeni doesn't understand how to contact Miles by pen or simply doesn't trust the device is unclear.
thisvorlunatic
"Yes, sir, thank you, sir," says Miles, in controlled tones. Then he cuts the com and leaps up with a glad cry of, "My eighteen million marks at last!"
middlingalong
"Or exciting career advancement in the field of inventory. You could count all the goldfish in the reception court fountain."
thisvorlunatic
"I'm going to have that story out of you. Later."
For now, he is going straight to Galeni's office.
For now, he is going straight to Galeni's office.
Where Galeni is, unsurprisingly. He is looking, not pleasedly, at his comconsole.
"Well," he says when Miles comes in. "Your orders have arrived from sector HQ, Lieutenant Vorkosigan. It confirms your temporary assignment to my staff - officially and publicly. As for the rest of your orders - they're Vorpatril's to nearly the letter, save the names. You are to assist me as required, and hold yourself at the disposal of the ambassador and his lady for escort duties, and as time permits take advantage of educational opportunities unique to Earth and appropriate to your status as an Imperial officer and lord of the Vor."
"Well," he says when Miles comes in. "Your orders have arrived from sector HQ, Lieutenant Vorkosigan. It confirms your temporary assignment to my staff - officially and publicly. As for the rest of your orders - they're Vorpatril's to nearly the letter, save the names. You are to assist me as required, and hold yourself at the disposal of the ambassador and his lady for escort duties, and as time permits take advantage of educational opportunities unique to Earth and appropriate to your status as an Imperial officer and lord of the Vor."
thisvorlunatic
"What the hell, sir?" says Miles. "That can't be right! What the devil are escort duties?"
"Mostly," says Galeni, smiling a ghost of a smile, "standing around in parade dress, at official Embassy functions, and being Vor for the natives. A surprising number of people find aristocrats, even off-planet ones, fascinating. You will," he goes on, "eat, drink, possibly dance, and be exquisitely polite to anyone the ambassador would care to impress. Sometimes you will be asked to remember and report on conversations. Vorpatril does it all quite well, rather to my surprise; he can fill you in on the details."
thisvorlunatic
Never mind the fine distinction between an aristocracy and a military caste - Miles isn't exactly surprised at the orders, he's just surprised at the absence of any hint about what he should do with the Dendarii. It won't be so bad to be temporarily assigned to Earth while Linya is here, anyway.
"And - the rest? My eighteen million marks?"
"And - the rest? My eighteen million marks?"
"Neither such a credit order, nor any mention of one, accompanied this courier, Lieutenant Vorkosigan."
thisvorlunatic
"What!" He restrains himself, with effort, from physically leaping across Galeni's desk to look at the vid himself. "Fuck's sake, sir, we bled for Barrayar!" His mind floods with the knowledge of all the debts he incurred on entering Earth local space for which he carefully allotted ten days' grace. A grace which is about to expire. "We need that money! They can't just - I - someone has fucked something up here, Captain."
thisvorlunatic
"Or even better, send me. Maybe I can shake loose some funds if I turn up on Sector HQ's doorstep personally carrying the message."
"I'm very tempted - but no, better not. Your orders, at least, are plain. Your Dendarii will simply have to wait for the next courier. I'm sure, if everything is as you've described, that it will straighten out presently."
thisvorlunatic
He waits a few seconds just to see if Galeni will have a sudden change of heart, then slumps fractionally. "Yes, sir," he says, offers an impeccable salute, and retreats to go bother Ivan for that goldfish story.