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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.
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isthisart
spacetobreathe
"Almost there," says Elli. "Last check..." She activates her wrist com. "Are you still up there, Bel?"
spacetobreathe
"Keep us that way. You watch the back from above, we'll watch the front from here. This'll be the last contact till we invite you to drop in."
thisvorlunatic
Miles sits back and thinks about all the ways this could go wrong. It's oddly calming.
spacetobreathe
"I'd like to register my misgivings about springing the trap by letting them take you."
thisvorlunatic
"I'm not going to let them take me. The moment whoever it is pokes their nose out of their hole, we call in Bel, who grabs the nose and all attached persons. But assuming the situation doesn't look immediately fatal, it could be very instructive to let them talk a little first."
middlingalong
They trundle along to the rendezvous. Ivan runs the scanners.
"Nobody home. Are we early?"
"Nobody home. Are we early?"
spacetobreathe
"Can't be. They didn't give us the address until the last minute so we couldn't scope the place out; I don't buy that they aren't set up and waiting."
thisvorlunatic
"And yet, if they are, they are evidently hiding in one hell of a deep hole... well, let's see what's up. I'll pretend to be sedated just short of unconsciousness; Elli, herd me inside. Keep alert."
spacetobreathe
Elli adopts the habits of someone dragging a drugged zombie into a building.
Once past the open door, she swaps stunner reluctantly for flashlight.
"Anybody here?" she calls.
No answer is forthcoming.
"We're right on time, the address is right, where are they?"
Since Miles is playing "too drugged to respond", she doesn't wait for an answer. She leaves him swaying on his feet and heads up the stairs, light with her.
Once past the open door, she swaps stunner reluctantly for flashlight.
"Anybody here?" she calls.
No answer is forthcoming.
"We're right on time, the address is right, where are they?"
Since Miles is playing "too drugged to respond", she doesn't wait for an answer. She leaves him swaying on his feet and heads up the stairs, light with her.
thisvorlunatic
Miles, naturally, stays put.
This proves to have been a tactical error.
An unseen hand closes over his mouth - a stunner touches the back of his neck, discharges a light blast that discomforts and disorients more than disables - he thrashes, bites, elicits a soft curse from his attacker but gains no leverage with which to escape. More hands pull his arms behind his back, tie them there, stuff a gag in his mouth. His spotty, swimming vision detects no recognizable forms in the darkness. Then he blinks, dazzled by a faint but sudden illumination that reveals his attackers. Two large men, blurred by scanner shields - God knows where they got scanner shields good enough to foil Dendarii equipment; Miles is going to raise hell with his engineers when he gets back - if he gets back.
This proves to have been a tactical error.
An unseen hand closes over his mouth - a stunner touches the back of his neck, discharges a light blast that discomforts and disorients more than disables - he thrashes, bites, elicits a soft curse from his attacker but gains no leverage with which to escape. More hands pull his arms behind his back, tie them there, stuff a gag in his mouth. His spotty, swimming vision detects no recognizable forms in the darkness. Then he blinks, dazzled by a faint but sudden illumination that reveals his attackers. Two large men, blurred by scanner shields - God knows where they got scanner shields good enough to foil Dendarii equipment; Miles is going to raise hell with his engineers when he gets back - if he gets back.
unmarred
The third man steps out of the shadows.
It's Miles, down to the uniform, Barrayaran dress greens with a lieutenant's red collar tabs. Miles but not Miles - the face, the body are the same, but he uses them wrong.
He hisses some quiet word, sight and sound too smeared by the scanner shield for Miles to make it out, though his grin comes through quite clearly. Then he starts rifling through Miles's pockets, transferring every item carefully to his own. He finishes by unstrapping the Vorkosigan seal-dagger sheathed at Miles's waist and transferring it to under his own jacket, then unfastening his scanner-shield belt and attaching it to Miles in turn. His hand strokes the dagger-sheath possessively, and a malevolent smirk curls his lips.
"I said it would work," he murmurs with evident satisfaction, in a strongly local accent. Then he turns away—
It's Miles, down to the uniform, Barrayaran dress greens with a lieutenant's red collar tabs. Miles but not Miles - the face, the body are the same, but he uses them wrong.
He hisses some quiet word, sight and sound too smeared by the scanner shield for Miles to make it out, though his grin comes through quite clearly. Then he starts rifling through Miles's pockets, transferring every item carefully to his own. He finishes by unstrapping the Vorkosigan seal-dagger sheathed at Miles's waist and transferring it to under his own jacket, then unfastening his scanner-shield belt and attaching it to Miles in turn. His hand strokes the dagger-sheath possessively, and a malevolent smirk curls his lips.
"I said it would work," he murmurs with evident satisfaction, in a strongly local accent. Then he turns away—
thisvorlunatic
—and undergoes a remarkable transformation of posture and expression. The man who walks out of the little alcove is quite indistinguishable from Miles himself.
The real Miles, meanwhile, manages through heroic effort to bang his leg on a doorframe as the duplicate's comrades haul him silently away.
The real Miles, meanwhile, manages through heroic effort to bang his leg on a doorframe as the duplicate's comrades haul him silently away.
thisvorlunatic
"Me," calls the new Miles, flawlessly Naismith-accented. "There's shit-all down here, Elli. Whoever they were, they were clearly jerking us around."
middlingalong
"Elli? I got a scanner blip just now," says Ivan's voice from her com.
thisvorlunatic
(Receding into the dark depths of the house, the real Miles feels his heart leap. Ivan! Come on, Ivan!)
"Check again," suggests alter-Miles.
"Check again," suggests alter-Miles.
thisvorlunatic
"If they were ever here, they aren't now," says the replacement. "Screw it. This is a bust, and waiting is my least favourite activity. Pull in the perimeter and take me back to the embassy, Quinn."
spacetobreathe
"Already, you're sure? Damn, I had my heart set on those hundred thousand Betan dollars."
thisvorlunatic
"Yeah. If they contact us again, we can always tack on a late fee."
Here Ends This Thread