Next Post »
« Previous Post
+ Show First Post
Total: 550
Posts Per Page:
Permalink

"So... did he or didn't he run off with the Dendarii cash?"

Permalink
"Not sure yet. But I'm beginning to smell politics, and it is not a comforting odour."

And then... the next file is sealed, access denied to anyone under the rank of an Imperial Staff officer.

"Hell," says Miles. "Get the ambassador. We're prying under this seal."
Permalink
Ivan goes and collects the ambassador again.

"Yes," the ambassador says, when he sees what Miles wants, "I do have an emergency access code that will override this - but the intended emergency is something like the breakout of war."
Permalink

"Captain Galeni's been with you for two years now," says Miles. "What's your impression of him?"

Permalink

"Professionally or personally?" inquires the ambassador.

Permalink

"Both."

Permalink

"Very conscientious. The history background was a good fit for Earth. He's a good conversationalist, invaluable in the social side, especially compared with his - competent, but - dull predecessor. Galeni is as competent but smoother, more discreet, avoids disturbing my guests. It makes my job easier. That goes double for his information-gathering activities; I couldn't be more pleased with his work. On a personal level - well, he's cool. It's often restful. He does take in more information than he puts out... Do you think a clue to his disappearance is likely to be in that file, Lieutenant Vorkosigan?"

Permalink

"If it exists, there's nowhere else left for it to be."

Permalink

The ambassador considers, and opens it.

Permalink
And under the seal...

Oh, hell, that is political.

Duv Galeni was born David Galen, of those Galens - one of the richest and most powerful of the old Komarran families, their wealth skimmed from the trade passing through Komarr's numerous, busy wormholes. The planet itself consumes money, does not produce it - the terraforming efforts are still ongoing, a long, slow, expensive process to turn the air breathable and the soil fertile.

David Galen's aunt died in the Solstice Massacre. David Galen's father participated in the Komarr Revolt, although David himself was too young to take part at the time.

There is an exchange between Simon Illyan and Aral Vorkosigan in the sealed file, on the subject of whether or not letting 'Duv Galeni' join the imperial Service is strictly wise. Miles reads it.

I can't recommend the choice. I suspect you're being quixotic about this one out of guilt. And guilt is a luxury you cannot afford. If you're acquiring a secret desire to be shot in the back, please let me know at least twenty-four hours in advance, so I can activate my retirement. —Simon.

Guilt? Perhaps. I had a little tour of that damned gym, soon after, before the thickest blood had quite dried. Pudding-like. Some details burn themselves permanently in the memory. But I happen to remember Rebecca Galen particularly because of the way she'd been shot. She was one of the few who died facing her murderers. I doubt very much if it will ever be my back that's in danger from 'Duv Galeni.'

The involvement of his father in the later Resistance worries me rather less. It wasn't just for us that the boy altered his name to the Barrayaran form.

But if we can capture this one's true allegiance, it will be something like what I'd had in mind for Komarr in the first place. A generation late, true, and after a long and bloody detour, but—since you bring up these theological terms—a sort of redemption. Of course he has political ambitions, but I beg to suggest they are both more complex and more constructive than mere assassination.

Put him back on the list, Simon, and leave him there this time. This issue tires me, and I don't want to be dragged over it again. Let him run, and prove himself—if he can.

Miles has no trouble deciphering his father's hastily scribbled signature; he's seen it often enough.

"Well," he says at last, into the silence. "That... raises more questions than it answers. Damn."
Permalink

"Very ambiguous," says the ambassador. "They were, I think, right to seal it - close it back up, Vorkosigan."

Permalink
"Yeah."

He stares at the file for another long moment, as the ambassador and Ivan clear out of the room. Before he closes it, he traces that reference to Galeni's father. David Galen senior apparently spent the entire considerable family fortune on smuggled weapons and various other expenses incurred by the Revolt, then blew himself up - accidentally, one presumes - in a last, futile attack that also took out Galeni's older brother. And not many Barrayarans to show for it.

For the sake of his own peace of mind, Miles checks the list of Komarran expatriates for any more Galen relations. There are none. Well, that's one thing he doesn't have to worry about, he supposes. Ugh.

He seals Galeni's record back up, but not before making a full copy of all relevant data, which he promptly pipes to the Dendarii intelligence department via secure comlink. He adds a note that this is a contract, part of the general fundraising effort, and they will be paid if they produce the man. Under some circumstances, that last part could even be true.

And then... what the hell next?

He stomps back to his and Ivan's room.
Permalink
Ivan's not there; he's helping the ambassador report Galeni's vanishing act to the police.

There is a message for Miles from Linya, if he wants to deal with that.
Permalink
He doesn't. He would quite possibly rather be assassinated.

He accesses the message anyway.
Permalink
And Linya's voice says:

"Miles, I am doing my very best to handle the characteristics of your career, but suspect I need more to go on than I currently have about one or two things. I expect to be at the embassy around lunchtime; Ivan said you ought to be better by then."

It is in fact almost lunchtime.
Permalink
Well, at least he feels properly miserable.

He changes into some of his crappy Stores-produced civvies, washes his face a few times, and flops facedown in bed.
Permalink

Linya knocks about half an hour later.

Permalink
Miles hauls himself out of bed to answer the door.

"Hello, Linya. I'm in a Mood. Capital Moo."
Permalink

She sits. "I can see that. If I could wait, I'd wait. Unfortunately, a reporter has got my contact information and wants to talk to me about Admiral Naismith, who I met yesterday, and I know neither what's going on nor what I am supposed to act as though I believe is going on."

Permalink

"Ah, fuck," sighs Miles. "For my sanity, please tell her in the strongest possible terms to go away. Admiral Naismith is... such a deep embarrassment to me that I do my best to forget he exists. Which has historically worked very well for me. I had not initially anticipated this particular failure mode of the practice."

Permalink

"He's embarrassing? And for this reason I didn't know that you had a clone who goes by your first name and mother's maiden, named his fleet after a mountain range in your District, and, incidentally, has been sufficiently brutalized as to actually identically resemble you, to the point where I thought he was you and actually picked him up?"

Permalink

"I was seventeen when I heard about Naismith and immediately decided to stop thinking about him," Miles protests. "That's a lot of time in which to develop a habit. It was - it was just like having a broken bone. If the source of the pain is sufficiently peripheral, you can learn to work around it. The process becomes totally subconscious. Eventually you can move around without noticing it's there at all - over a long enough interval, even absorb small bumps and jars without disturbing your equilibrium more than fleetingly. Pain only hurts if you let it get your attention. I was considerably pained by Admiral Naismith, when I was a seventeen-year-old who'd just washed out of the entrance exams to the Imperial Military Academy on the first day and he was the output of an apparent substitution plot who turned out sufficiently more advanced than the original that he was already a bloody mercenary admiral by the time anyone on Barrayar heard of him."

Permalink


"I am in a sufficient state of doubt about whether this is cover or genuine oversight that I don't know whether musing about asking your mother would be a threat or a reasonable way to spare you the explanation."
Permalink

"Asking my mother would be a perfectly reasonable thing to do," he says. "Also, advance warning in case you wonder why I'm distracted as hell in the near future, my commanding officer went missing yesterday while I was indisposed and I woke up this morning and had to bestir Ivan to search for him. It looks tricky as hell, from what we've gathered so far - a strong odour of politics emanating from some nasty classified business. Hence, in large part, the Moo."

Permalink

"Well, that sounds like a mess, and sufficiently classified that I can't even do anything useful about it... One other thing before I ask if you'd rather I went away or stayed here - a Dendarii ship bid on my job ad for maybe babysitting Dr. Cheung to Komarr if I can talk him into it. Theirs is the low bid, so I'm retaining the ship, but if there's any reason I should prefer an independent vessel or one from a different outfit...?"

Total: 550
Posts Per Page: