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Hyperspace routes
Permalink Mark Unread

A fleet of Imperial ships is on its way to secure the newest addition to the Sith Empire. It's not a large fleet, only seven ships total, but ships are spread a bit thin, and the planet's nowhere near Republic space anyway. It doesn't need a large armada to defend it. It needs archaeologists to explore the ancient tombs present on the planet, it needs colonization infrastructure with which to establish a base of operations, it needs... well, admittedly, it does need a little bit of military force. These are Imperials, after all. A new foray to an old planet wouldn't be complete without soldiers to blast the local wildlife, burn the local flora, and soak up the majority of a Sith's body count when they inevitably lose their temper and take it out on those conveniently located nearby.

Unfortunately for the soldiers present, there are two Sith in this fleet. Worse, one of them is in charge. He's already killed six, whose bodies have been quietly disposed of, because this is an Imperial vessel. They're used to this sort of thing. A Sith killing people? Just a thing that happens, sometimes. The other sith has yet to kill anyone, but she's kept mostly to herself and the small crew of her personal ship, so it's likely only a matter of time. They'll keep the incinerators on standby. They know what happens to people that spend time around Sith.

Besides, the fleet currently has bigger problems than the Sith in their midst. The organization of the jump to hyperspace goes normally, the hyperspace route is new, but it's stable, and none of the ships have any damaged hyperdrives. The nav computers are well built and calculating without errors. They should, by any rights, have a perfectly ordinary trip to the planet.

But the universe is not always fair. For example: while they are in hyperspace, something - goes wrong. The blue of hyperspace shifts purple, twists in a way it shouldn't. No one's quite sure what causes it - some techs argue that a nearby star went nova, others think the hyperspace route was faulty, some insist that nothing they know of could possibly explain this result, it must be a new phenomenon - but the end result?

Seven Imperial ships drop out of hyperspace, one by one, and they are not at the advertised destination.

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They are instead in a totally unknown system with a single inhabited planet, orbited by assorted stations and trafficked by assorted ships. There is a single, somewhat pathetic natural moon.

All the technology looks really unfamiliar and none of the communication is functioning according to any known standard; in particular, the hyperwave is dead silent. Also, about those functioning hyperdrives that, up until now, they had...

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... Are now no longer functional. There's not even anything discernibly wrong with them, but their hum slowly quiets and their monitor lights all flash red.

The engineers are in a frenzy, the staff are in a panic, the soldiers are muttering to each other about the failings of Imperial Intelligence dropping them into enemy territory.

The Sith convene, visibly the calmest people in the fleet. Well, one of them. The other's just angry. But that's sort of his default, so no one notices much difference.

"Do we know what went wrong?" asks Lord Callida, immediately after she's off the shuttle that ferried her from her ship.

"I have the engineers searching for an answer, but -" Lord Nekros begins.

"- but, yes. This is not our galaxy. If it's even that. And all of the ships at once, it wasn't a single sabotage. A large scale weapon, if not something else."

"No. I'll flay those responsible alive."

"Do we have communications up yet? Talk to the planet and their fleet?"

"I didn't deem it important, the hyperdrives -"

"Well," Lord Callida says reasonably, "how can we find and flay the person responsible for this if we can't talk to the inhabited planet and find out information?"

Lord Nekros can't argue with this logic, and as such, several men are sent to figure out a communication line with the planet.

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It's tough to manage, but that's what technicians are for. Within a few hours they have an open line of communication with... some people who definitely don't speak Basic, and whatever language they do speak isn't recognized by any available translation module in any computer or droid in the fleet.

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Well. They have the tech to figure it out, and luckily they did actually bring a few translators. ... Translators that specialize in dead languages the tombs would be filled with, admittedly, but it's really the same thing. You know one language, you know them all, right?

...

They try to set up a holo channel as well, so they can have the computer cross reference pictures to words and have them verified. Provided the people on the other side also want to figure out language.

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The comm officers on the other side (in their totally unrecognizable uniforms, surrounded by their totally unrecognizable technology) are happy to cooperate. They probably have translation software too, and it seems to be having about the same amount of trouble.

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... The Imperial technicians are surprised that there are humans on the other side. They're visibly shocked and confer among themselves before they get to setting up a language-learning system. But they do get to setting up a language-learning system.

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So there will be language-learning on both sides. Excellent.

Also, while all this is going on, ships from the planet occasionally travel to or from a specific part of the system, where they vanish or appear with no detectable hyperdrive signature whatsoever.

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Interesting.

Lord Nekros believes that they've found a planet with some kind of hyperdrive-suppressing shield, or something that travels long distances without hyperspace at all, and he wants it.

As soon as the translators are working, he goes to introduce himself.

"Hello. I am Lord Nekros," he says. "Of the Sith Empire."

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"Lieutenant Tzirakis of the Barrayaran Imperial Service speaking," says the uniformed human currently sitting at the other end of the line. "We request that you explain how you came to be in our system."

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... Nekros is a little insulted that they think he'll answer to a lowly lieutenant -

"Hyperdrive malfunction, I'll have a tech on another line explain the details. I request to speak to someone in charge." Pause. "So that we can discuss the situation."

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"Very well," says Lieutenant Tzirakis. "Just a moment."

The transmission cuts out. Lightspeed delay is pretty significant at this distance, so the time it takes to fetch a superior officer is actually shorter than the turnaround time between messages.

The next person on the line is wearing a slightly spiffier uniform and has slightly more impressive collar decorations. "General Vorlakial speaking," he says. "To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit, Lord Nekros?"

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Nekros will have to introduce these people to hyperwave comm units, this wait is really annoying.

"We were hoping you could tell us. Our hyperdrive malfunctioned. Or, to be more precise, every hyperdrive in my fleet," because he is in command, he can call them his, "malfunctioned at the same time while we were in hyperspace, and instead of our intended destination, we arrived here."

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"...'Hyperdrive' is not a recognized technology in this galaxy," says the general.

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"Then what," asks Lord Nekros, "do you use to make your ships disappear?"

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"Those are jumpships, entering and exiting a wormhole."

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"I see. And on the other side of the wormhole is...?"

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"An intermediary system on the route to the planet Komarr."

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"Are there other wormholes in this system?"

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"A number of dead-end routes."

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"... So it's a hyperspace route," he decides, incorrectly.

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"The techs don't seem to think so," says the general.

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Shrug. "It functions similarly enough."

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"And yet, you did not emerge from a wormhole when you unexpectedly appeared in Barrayaran space," the general reminds him. "I'm told that should have been impossible."

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"The comparable fellow to hyperspace routes," grumbles Nekros, temper flaring.

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"As for telling you how you got here, I'm afraid we have no idea," he continues. "Although I'm sure our techs would be happy to consult with your techs on the matter."

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Lord Nekros considers the benefits of continuing to talk to this infuriating person versus making his underlings do it, and decides he'd rather have the underlings do it.

"In that case, I'll have my techs on this line to discuss the details, since they're so important to you."

And away he goes, and in his place: much more polite and professional technicians!

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The general passes the technicians back to Lieutenant Tzirakis, who immediately starts explaining jump drive technology and why it makes no sense for ships to just spontaneously appear out of the void. They will have such a productive conversation.

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They will! They excitedly learn about jump technology, and then they fetch their lead technician to explain hyperspace.

Lieutenant Kyrell gets an okay from Nekros to explain the basics of hyperspace (because their hyperdrives are not working, anyway, and maybe they can find some way to get them to work again) and then she explains them! Ships spontaneously appearing out of the void is the standard operating procedure, but the ships have to navigate around celestial bodies and if their nav computer misses a calculation, everyone on board dies horribly. Thus, hyperspace routes are not actually specific routes one must travel, they are the specific routes that one does not die travelling.

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Jump routes, on the other hand, are specialized phenomena, like a literal path in space from point A to point B. There is complicated math governing where they usually hang out relative to the other contents of their star systems; it's usually possible to think of a wormhole as being approximately stationary relative to its local star, but they do wobble around in ways that pilots need to adjust for.

In order to transit a wormhole, one needs a functioning jump drive - items which require incredible precision manufacture - and a functioning jump pilot, a person with particular brain structures who has had the expensive neurosurgery necessary to install pilot implants, and these two things need to communicate with one another via compatible intermediary hardware and software, and then your pilot can take you through a wormhole and out the other side. If you are missing some piece of this puzzle, you won't successfully enter the wormhole; if some piece is present but subtly damaged, you won't successfully leave it.

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If something goes wrong with a hyperdrive while a ship's in hyperspace, the ship might make it out of hyperspace in the fashion of 'being smeared across several systems,' but their technology has a lot of safeguards, so that a hyperdrive will not activate unless it's going to be able to finish the trip safely if left to its own devices.

Travelling through hyperspace also takes time. It's faster than not travelling through hyperspace, of course, but sometimes ships can spend weeks travelling to their destination. Travel times vary greatly depending on how long the distance to travel is, and what's in the way. Traveling from one planet to another near the galactic core, for instance, is notoriously long. A greater number of celestial bodies all clustered together makes detours a necessity, and detours add quite a lot of travel time. Asteroid belts are more dangerous than one would think, because the asteroids in it are so numerous that they make it impossible for computers to predict without something constantly surveying the asteroid field and sending out astrogation charts.

Kyrell is a little caught up by nerd excitement. So many new things to learn! So many things to explain! She does not over-explain and keeps it professional, because she's heard of information security, but gosh she wants to nerd.

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The presence of celestial bodies along a wormhole's path barely even makes sense as an idea and certainly doesn't interfere with their use, but the presence of celestial bodies very close to either end of a wormhole tends to destabilize them; there is a galactic standard for how far out of a system's orbital plane a jump point has to be before it's considered reliable.

Hyperdrive sounds like a really interesting and useful technology! Does Lieutenant Kyrell think it could eventually be shared with the planets of the wormhole nexus?

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Lieutenant Kyrell is very diplomatic about it, but: she does not think Nekros would be willing to share this technology in the immediate future without a very good reason. Being the only ones that can pop out of nowhere in space is a very nice advantage that she suspects her boss will want to keep on lockdown for a while.

She is not allowed to mention that all of their hyperdrives are mysteriously not functioning, so she doesn't mention that.

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Lieutenant Tzirakis is diplomatic right back, in a what-a-shame, why-must-the-higher-ups-be-like-this sort of way.

He also, however, finds a very diplomatic way to summarize certain aspects of local history: wormholes collapse sometimes, that happened to Barrayar once, we spent six hundred years isolated from the galaxy and lost most of our technology, when the galaxy found us again we were promptly conquered by the eight-planet Cetagandan Empire which also happens to be the richest civilization in the wormhole nexus, and then we kicked their asses off our planet and established an interplanetary empire of our own, isn't that an interesting bit of trivia, now let's get back to comparing FTL technology.

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Lieutenant Kyrell is professionally amused with Tzirakis and his diplomacy, and agrees in a what-a-shame, why-must-the-higher-ups-be-like-this sort of way right back.

Gosh that is some interesting trivia! She talks more FTL technology before getting into interesting trivia of her own.

The Sith Empire hid in the unknown regions of space for a thousand years, gathering power, and then they showed up in the main galaxy to conquer it, and conquered half from the major galaxy-ruling power known creatively as the Galactic Republic. They had signed a peace treaty at the halfway mark, but recently it's been broken (by both sides) and they're back to full-fledged war. The ultimate goal of the Sith Empire is to rule the entire galaxy, though perhaps not this one. With subtle preference toward her recommending not this one.

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Lieutenant Tzirakis returns the conversation to the subject of FTL technology without openly responding to this interesting historical anecdote.

But copies of the recording of this conversation definitely make their way upstream.

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Lieutenant Kyrell surely doesn't know anything about copies of this conversation being sent anywhere in particular, and Lord Nekros won't argue with the Barrayarans learning about the glorious history of the Sith Empire.

FTL technology! Fascinating stuff!

Eventually they're interrupted by a Lieutenant Adara, who is here to attempt to negotiate a better way for the Sith and the Barrayarans to talk to one another than by long-delayed message broadcasts. Are the Barrayarans willing to attempt to figure out a way to do this thing? Lord Nekros would like to meet some Barrayarans in person.

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FTL communication is not possible in this galaxy except by physically carrying messages through wormholes. So unless Lieutenant Kyrell is permitted to share that interesting 'hyperwave' technology with the Barrayarans...? No? What a pity. Barrayar will have to send a delegation to meet with Lord Nekros's fleet. The more important the person they want to meet, the bigger the associated escort will be; it's a prestige thing.

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The Sith quite understand these sorts of things, and would like to cut straight to the chase and have a fairly important person to meet with so they can get to discussing relevant information without wasting too much time.

Are the Barrayarans willing to send someone important and in charge of stuff?

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Lieutenant Tzirakis dutifully forwards this request up the chain and waits for the response.

The response: Prime Minister Admiral Count Aral Vorkosigan is available to lead such a delegation.

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That sounds sufficiently important for Lord Nekros! He's so pleased!

Would Prime Minister Admiral Count Aral Vorkosigan like to discuss the specifics of this meeting via holomessage?

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He would prefer to postpone that conversation until his delegation is close enough to Lord Nekros's fleet that the lightspeed delay is no longer significant. It should be approximately half an hour.

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Lord Nekros's envoy says that will be agreeable. Nekros himself is highly impatient, he's not accustomed to waiting like this for no reason other than 'It takes a while to talk to someone.'

When they're in range for the solved lightspeed delay, though: there is Lord Nekros. They've cleared up image quality since he was here last. He's a tall, broad shouldered man in decorated armor that looks surprisingly practical, despite its cape. He looks - sickly is not the right term, he looks perfectly healthy, and sleep deprived does not quite do it justice. There are dark circles around his eyes, and the veins in his face show up near-black against too-grey skin. It looks sort of like something's been draining the life out from him, and in its place, putting something... else.

"Greetings, Vorkosigan. Is the lightspeed delay to your satisfaction?"

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Messages are delayed less than a second at this range, hardly even perceptible.

"Yes," he says calmly. "Greetings, Lord Nekros. Before we discuss arrangements for our meeting, I should ask: are you or your people in need of anything? Food, medical attention? I'm told your arrival in this system was unplanned, and I'm prepared to offer aid if you require it."

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"We are equipped to travel in hyperspace for months," says Lord Nekros with a hint of frost. "We will have no trouble."

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"I'm glad to hear it," he says with untroubled sincerity. "About the meeting, then. Would you prefer to visit me here on the Prince Serg, or receive me aboard one of your ships?"

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"We would be happy to receive you on my flagship, the Storm's Fury."

He's suddenly all smiles. This man: not great at subtlety.

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"Very well. My shuttle will depart the Prince Serg presently."

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"Excellent. I look forward to meeting you."

The line cuts out, in a suitably dramatic fashion.

... And then someone else takes over to relay exact instructions on docking procedures and how they're handling the different types of ships with their different airlock types and associated necessities.

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The techs handle that conversation. Aral trusts that the appropriate information will be relayed to his pilot.

He also leaves the Prince Serg and its escort of three lesser ships with orders about what to do in the event that Lord Nekros attempts to capture or kill him, which he thinks is fairly likely. Not a guarantee, or he wouldn't be risking it at all, but the possibility is definitely in his thoughts.

Into the shuttle he goes, and then over to the Storm's Fury, where the Sith and Barrayaran personnel cooperate wonderfully to arrange a pleasant docking.

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Docking takes a little while, their force shields are not equipped to handle letting in such a foreign ship without being completely shut down, and this means they have to drain the hangar of air, but it takes less time than one might expect. Soon the Barrayarans may leave their ship and be escorted to a meeting room.

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Except it's not Lord Nekros that sits in it.

"Hello," says not-Lord-Nekros, standing and bowing slightly. "Welcome to the Storm's Fury, Prime Minister Admiral Count Vorkosigan. I trust the docking wasn't any trouble?"

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"Just Count Vorkosigan is fine, thank you. It went very well."

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"Excellent, I'm glad to hear it. I'm Lord Callida, it's a pleasure to meet you. I apologize for the inconvenience, but Lord Nekros will not be joining us, as he has been removed from command."

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"Has he."

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She smiles, just a little. She's wearing armor similar to Lord Nekros, though sleeker and with something like robes over it. ... Part of the robes are slightly singed. That might, perhaps, be relevant.

"As such, I'm now in command. Please let me know if we cause any trouble to you or your government, I would rather not start a war with my seven ship fleet."

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"Starting a war with your seven-ship fleet would be inadvisable," he agrees. "Pleased to meet you, Lord Callida. I hope we will have a productive conversation."

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"As do I. I believe we have a lot to offer each other." She sits.

"Now, the forefront of things I'm willing to share is medical technology, but I don't know what baseline I'm comparing mine to."

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"I'd be happy to have my people prepare a report on the subject," he says, taking a seat in an appropriate sitting location. "It shouldn't take long. May I comm my ship for the purpose?"

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"Certainly. I have no problem with you communicating with your ship, or recording these talks and transmitting them for review, in good faith."

She doesn't sense hostility from him, so - she'll be happy to cooperate, why wouldn't she? She would like allies in this strange new galaxy they're stranded in.

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His intentions are extremely straightforward and cooperative, yes.

He sends a brief message to the Prince Serg directing that someone write up a report summarizing the state of galactic medical technology and communicate it to the Storm's Fury. His people answer back that it should take them about ten minutes.

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Excellent. Count Vorkosigan may have a datapad with a similar report of the state of the current technology they have available, and the technology they have schematics but not equipment for.

A main part of their medical tech relies on a substance called kolto, and it's not hard to see why. It rapidly speeds up healing, not only healing quickly but healing correctly. If a kolto patch is slapped onto a gaping wound it will do more than stop the bleeding; it'll heal significantly faster, and unless the damage is very severe, without scarring. Those with large injuries can be submerged in a tank filled with kolto solution and have been brought back from near death with little trouble at all. Unfortunately, they have a highly limited supply, as the only known source of kolto is in the galaxy they can't get back to.

They have a similar but less effective substance called bacta that's synthetically created, but they don't have the resources to do it readily available. It's a complicated chemical refinement process that requires a lot of resource investment, and is often not quite worth the investment to make. In their home galaxy, there is a species called the Vratix that excretes a substance that is much easier to refine into bacta than the original chemical ingredients. The species actually is responsible for inventing bacta, and are the main sellers for the medical substance. Unfortunately, the fleet has no genetic samples of Vratix, nor any on board in their fleet; they tend to keep to their home planet, since selling bacta is so lucrative, and they therefore have little reason to leave.

Both are absolutely phenomenal at dealing with most diseases, killing the disease itself and bolstering the immune system of the patient. Less fantastically, here are their antibiotics and vaccines and perfectly ordinary immune system boosters. They have diseases, but with only some exception they seem to be pretty in hand, if properly treated with available medical technology. The ones that aren't in hand are the ones that do very bizarre things, like turning people into mindless, murderous, zombie-like monsters known as rakghouls.

When the damage is too great, or medical assistance comes too slow to prevent damage caused by the body attempting to heal incorrectly, they have various cybernetic enhancements. The cybernetic enhancements are quite good; improved vision, hearing, various functions in combat, and most expensively, prosthetic organs and limbs. The report warns that they're not a universal benefit, however - having cybernetics can open one to various weaknesses, especially associated with electricity, and certain types of specialized weapons.

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While Count Vorkosigan is reading the datapad, his people's report arrives.

Medical technology in the wormhole nexus is... ahead of the medical technology Lord Callida is used to on a number of levels, but both sides could benefit from sharing their specialized knowledge and resources.

The wormhole nexus does not have kolto or bacta, but they do have the ability to clone and grow individual replacements for damaged organs. Also, cryo-freezing technology that, when properly applied, can allow someone who would otherwise die to be preserved and revived later. This technology is not without its flaws - symptoms of cryorevival commonly include memory loss - and not all cryo patients can currently have their underlying problem fixed well enough for revival to be viable, but it's very useful to have around.

Local cybernetics differ hugely from the ones described in the datapad on nearly every conceivable level. Drawbacks, benefits, expenses, which specific enhancements are available... everything. In most cases it's cheaper to have a new organ grown than to replace it with a cybernetic; limbs are a different story, being harder to grow in a vat. Bones are a big part of the problem there, and in fact under some conditions you end up just replacing the bone and leaving the rest of the limb where it is.

Local antibiotics and vaccines are specialized to local diseases, which seem to be generally way less terrifying than rakghouls unless you piss off the wrong Cetagandan. In the absence of biological warfare, though, diseases and their cures around here are on a level with the non-bizarre ordinary illnesses in the Sith fleet's home galaxy.

Count Vorkosigan reaches the end of the explanation of kolto and bacta. He gazes contemplatively at the datapad for a moment, then looks up. "It seems very plausible to me that the technology of this galaxy would be able to duplicate kolto, given enough samples to study. Not guaranteed, but plausible. And if that's true, your small and finite supply of kolto becomes a galaxy-wide medical revolution. This seems... useful, to put it mildly."

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"Agreed. I'd quite like to look into it."

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"The manufacturing process for bacta would also be useful, but I don't currently expect us to have any better luck with it than anyone else who's not a Vratix. I could be pleasantly surprised, of course, but that so rarely happens."

He pauses thoughtfully, then adds, "If you went to the Cetagandan Empire with this, they might be able to pull off some kind of bioengineering miracle and get bacta production going on a grand scale. But I wouldn't recommend it. They tend toward opportunistic conquests of anyone they think they can easily overpower. Barrayar tried that once, it didn't work out, and we haven't made the mistake of trying again; with Cetaganda it's a longstanding pattern."

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Well you see, going to the Cetagandan Empire is not an option because our hyperdrives no longer function, she doesn't say, because she is going to make sure her people are well taken care of before she lets on that their most valuable technology doesn't work at all.

She nods agreeably. "I think I don't like my odds of seven ships against an empire," says Callida, dry. "Nor do I like the Cetagandan's history of conquest."

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"There are other places you could go, but Barrayar does have the advantage of being most conveniently nearby. So."

He pauses again, ordering his thoughts.

"I think," he says slowly, "that in your place, I would be thinking very hard about just how likely it is that I can ever go home again. I don't know your exact situation, but you haven't left yet, which suggests to me that either you don't want to, or you can't. Now, if your fleet is completely self-sufficient for an indefinite period of time spent orbiting a lifeless rock in someone else's system, then it would be fair for me to offer you a deal for the kolto samples such as I might offer to a company based in a nearby station. If, on the other hand, your needs are greater... it follows that I should be offering greater solutions."

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... Interesting. And he means that, too.

"We haven't yet been able to replicate the phenomenon that brought us into this galaxy, and do not expect to be able to do so in the near future," she says carefully. "We are not completely self-sufficient, though it's not outside the realm of possibility that we could become such, with the right infrastructure and time. What greater solutions are you willing to offer?"

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"There are a number of options available to me. On my personal authority as Count Vorkosigan, I could offer you and your entire fleet citizenship in the Barrayaran Empire as immigrants to my own District, although I would not be able to personally employ any of you in a military capacity because private armies are forbidden by law. I could ask the Emperor to do the same on his authority, and I judge it likely that he would, in which case you could find yourself at the head of a new seven-ship Imperial fleet if that option struck your fancy."

He pauses to see what she thinks of these ideas before he goes on.

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She seems - not vehemently against, at least, but she's not leaping upon the opportunity immediately or looking particularly excited by the prospect. But she is not expecting this will be the only option available to her, so she's waiting for him to continue.

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"If the production of kolto works out well, the proceeds would easily cover the purchase of individual commercial jumpship tickets for any or all of your personnel who wished to immigrate to any planet or station in the wormhole nexus, plus assistance navigating relevant bureaucracy. Some places are of course more open to immigration than others, and I control none but my own. You could take your fleet to the planet of Jackson's Whole and claim a place in its hierarchy of criminal enterprises - I judge that you easily possess enough force to compete with the lesser houses - but there would be a reputational cost in your dealings with any other planet, and significantly more danger there than elsewhere of someone deciding to attack you in pursuit of your resources."

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Lord Callida considers these options.

"How does Jackson's Whole compare to outfitting my fleet to be self sufficient and then parking in some out of the way part of the nexus?"

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"The risks of each option are... different. On Jackson's Whole, by long-established custom, military and financial power is its own authority. If you successfully defended yourself against the other Houses, they would accept you as one of their own and even potentially defend you against outside attacks, if it seemed in their interest to do so. But you would have to defend yourself. On the other hand, if you set yourself up as an independent station in some unclaimed corner, it is possible that no one would bother you at all; but if someone did, they would almost certainly be operating on a far vaster scale than you, and you might find defense... prohibitively difficult."

Another pause, thinking through the situation some more.

"Location would be very important, if you chose the 'independent station' approach. And depending on your existing level of self-sufficiency and manufacturing capabilities, it could be anywhere from only a little expensive to very expensive indeed, to reach the point of true sustainability. I can have a map of the wormhole nexus sent over, but to summarize what I think would be your best options: If you asked to be an independent protectorate of the Barrayaran Empire, operating out of your own station in Barrayaran-controlled space, you would have to bend to our laws but the imposition would be much less than if you chose to fully integrate into our society. If you went to another government somewhere in the wormhole nexus and did the same... my first suggestion would be Beta Colony. They easily have the resources to defend you from outside attacks, and I can imagine they would be eager to get their hands on the technology you can offer. My best guess is that they would deal fairly with you. But I suspect you would retain less independence as a Betan protectorate than a Barrayaran one. You're free to interpret that as my own bias in favour of my homeland, of course."

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Callida tilts her head slightly and studies him.

"... I think I will not interpret it as bias," she decides, softly. "You're being quite honest with me, aren't you?"

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"That is my intent," he agrees.

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"Thank you," says Lord Callida, utterly sincere.

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She pauses to gather her thoughts, before she speaks again.

"The trouble with this, is that as free and clear as I and my fleet may seem - we are not. If I swear allegiance to anyone that is not Sith, I and those I'm responsible for will be branded traitors by our empire if travel between galaxies ever becomes more viable. The person I currently bear allegiance to would be branded a traitor if she didn't lead the hunt against me." And she would, Callida doesn't say. "I, my fleet, and those I swore allegiance to would be targeted before anything else in this galaxy."

She also doesn't say 'Unless I presented your heads to my emperor on a silver platter immediately after it happened,' because if she sincerely swore allegiance to Barrayar - she wouldn't. Lord Callida's proven to be near incorrigibly loyal. Which is half of the trouble, of course.

"So you see, I am in a rather awkward position."

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"I do see that," he agrees. "And in fact one of the primary clauses of the Barrayaran formal citizenship oath is a promise that you are not bound by any conflicting claims. Something could perhaps be done... I would need to consult with my Emperor about the details, but consider the difference between allegiance and alliance."

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"Alliance is more doable," she agrees. "Though I do feel obligated to explain the Sith Empire in more detail, so that if extra-galactic travel does become viable, you do not suddenly become surprised by the allies you've gained. And similarly I would like to have a better knowledge of Barrayar before anything formal is decided." Thoughtful pause. "But I do like you so far."

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"By all means, we should exchange information about our respective cultures."

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Lord Callida smiles, considering whether to let on that she has what amounts to magic.

... Yeah, okay. If they've gotten this far, she would rather they not have a nasty surprise later.

"I believe the most important thing you should immediately know about my culture is that there is a difference between Sith, and Sith imperial citizens. I am the former, and the only one in this fleet. Lord Nekros was another. Sith are formally socially above non-Sith and rule, and the main reason for that is because we have what amounts to magic powers." She pauses to gauge his reaction.

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Intrigued but not necessarily disbelieving.

"And how exactly do they amount to magic powers?"

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"I have telekinesis, empathy, a mild precognition that is highly attuned to when I'm in danger, super speed, super strength, and various other abilities that I don't use as frequently. I can demonstrate most of them without trouble, if you have a request?"

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"...What precisely do you mean by empathy?"

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"I can feel emotions of the people around me, and some direction of their intentions. I can almost always tell when someone's lying to me. A Sith may, if they choose, delve further into the subject and gain the ability to read minds, but I haven't, for a number of reasons, and try to keep some measure of respect for privacy."

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"Understood. I'm very curious where these magic powers come from, but I'm not even sure whether that's a coherent question."

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"Certain individuals are something called 'Force sensitive,' and on their own, without training, they have - something like a subtle enhanced sense of luck, or timing. From there they can get training to have proper magic powers. As to what makes certain people Force sensitive, I have no idea, but it seems to run in families."

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"That's... interesting. And possibly information you should keep to yourself. I can imagine several different groups of people who might want to kidnap and mass-clone you if they suspected you were genetically predisposed to developing useful magic."

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... Ah, yes, they do have better clone technology, don't they. She makes a face that accurately communicates the phrase They could fucking try, but then it's back to professionalism.

"I'm not entirely sure it's precisely genetic," says Callida. "But yes, it's not something I plan to advertise. Nor was the fact that I'm the only person that I know of trained in this magic in the galaxy, I just wanted to avoid giving you a later nasty surprise."

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"Well, thank you for that," he says, with a slight smile.

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"You're welcome. You've been very forthcoming and honest with me, it seemed correct to return the favor."

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"I have to say, I strongly prefer this to the conversation I was expecting to have with Lord Nekros," he says.

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"Being a better conversationalist than Lord Nekros is not a high bar to clear," says Callida wryly. "But thank you, that was my intention."

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"Should I refrain from asking about the exact circumstances under which he was removed from command, by the way?"

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Eyebrow raise. "He lost his temper about the situation near a power coupler, decided to take his anger out on his environment, and had an unfortunate and completely unpredictable accident, and we are all very broken up about his loss. Or at least that's our story until we think of something more plausible."

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"Yes, I was afraid it might be something like that. I can't say I'm disappointed, however."

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"No. He would have gotten everyone in this fleet killed, with possible exception of myself, the ship I was on before I moved to the flagship, Lieutenant Kyrell, and everyone we could convince onto a shuttle."

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"He might very well have gotten everyone in your fleet killed, I'm sorry to say. But that depends on just how unpleasant his plans for this meeting actually were, which you may not have asked him before he had his tragic power coupler accident."

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"Capture you, torture you for all information on the Barrayaran fleet and defenses that you had, use it to make a pass at conquering the system. I argued against it, he declined to be dissuaded, and here we are."

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"What an unimaginative plan," he sighs.

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"I know," she agrees. "But he wasn't chosen for his cunning or intellect, and if I must disagree so strongly with another Sith, I'd rather it be an unimaginative one."

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"Mm. Yes. But we've gotten distracted," he says. "We were speaking of cultural overviews."

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"Yes, though this does actually lead into another relevant cultural fact about the Sith. For example, if I were to admit that I, say, ran him through with my lightsaber without so much as a 'how do you do' - I would not be doing anything illegal. Other Sith might be annoyed by my lack of subtlety or finesse, and I would not be free from reprisal if someone were upset with me about his death, but I wouldn't go on trial for murder. Make of that what you will."

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"...I'm curious about the underlying principle," he says.

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"The - I suppose ultimate goal of the Sith is to result in the most powerful sith possible. That the strong rise above the weak, so that only the most powerful Sith are left standing. Power is a very vague term, Sith are very open to alternate power options, 'cunning' is just as valid as literal strength if it means you win in the end. That's the general philosophy behind it. In practice, it's - really what you can get away with. If you can kill a fellow Sith without upsetting anyone strong enough to squish you, it's fair game. But of course, just blatantly killing every Sith you can will get a response, if not from the people the Sith were apprenticed to, then from the other sith at risk, out to protect themselves."

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"That's... a new one," he says, contemplating the images generated by this description.

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"I am not very broken up about being the only Sith in the galaxy."

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"By default I suppose that makes you the strongest."

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She chuckles softly. "I suppose it does."

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"Congratulations."

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"Thank you. As the most powerful Sith in the galaxy, I hereby declare that the route to being the most powerful is to stop being incredibly stupid."

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"A respectable tradition."

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"Thank you, I try."

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"So, Barrayar, then. Has a summary of the Time of Isolation made its way to you somehow or other?"

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"Yes. You were cut off from everyone for six hundred years, then immediately after the isolation ended you were conquered, and then you tossed them out and gained your own empire soon after."

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"That's about the size of it, yes. It's left us with... some quirks, relative to the rest of this galaxy. Having developed in isolation while everyone else was part of the same interstellar fabric of trade. One thing I can tell you about Barrayar is that much of the structure of our government is based around spoken oaths. Giving one's word is a serious matter, and breaking it likewise."

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"Interesting. ... Aren't I glad I took giving my word very seriously."

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"There are some allowances to be made for foreigners, legally speaking, but for the most part... yes."

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"I'll let my people know to take it seriously," she says, nodding gravely.

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Another of his thoughtful pauses; then, "Although it's not strictly a fact about Barrayar, it also seems relevant for you to know that humans are the only sapient species native to this galaxy."

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".... Ah. That means some things for the members of my fleet that aren't human."

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"Yes."

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"I'll have to take extra measures to make sure they're kept safe," she murmurs mostly to herself, and she picks up her datapad and types out a reminder. She glances back up at Count Vorkosigan. "How likely is it that others might want to - the term I want to use is study them? Asking them questions about their species and culture is fine if they consent, trapping them in a cage for scientific study and vivisection is not, and I need to know how likely the latter is. I think I'd like to keep them mostly secret if I can, anyway, but if I can't manage it, it's important to know the stakes."

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"On Barrayar in particular they're more likely to get people being very rude to them, maybe to the point of violence. That's one of the things I was going to get around to mentioning about Barrayaran culture - we tend to have... problems with anyone who doesn't look like a healthy ordinary human. It's been getting better since we rejoined the galaxy at large, but it's still unfortunately very widespread. Elsewhere... I can't say it wouldn't happen, but I don't think it's likely. Unless you ran into exactly the wrong people. I might recommend avoiding Jackson's Whole, actually."

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Callida nods. Jackson's Whole sounds too much like - well, like Sith philosophy, to her. She'd much rather avoid it entirely.

"How affected by this stigma are Barrayaran military officers? I imagine there's variance, but what I mean is, does discipline tend to win out?"

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"Tends to, yes."

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"So that's something, at least. Are there other Barrayaran stigmas I should be aware of?"

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"You might find some people surprised to see you in a position of power because you're a woman. That one... has also been getting better."

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"Surprised in what way, exactly?"

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"...I find myself at a loss to explain, but I think I know who to introduce you to for a better-articulated view into Barrayaran culture. How would you feel about visiting the planet? For that, and potentially to speak with Gregor about your options, if you decide to settle in Barrayaran space."

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"I think I'd like to visit the planet, as long as I can ensure my fleet's well taken care of while I'm gone. And... Gregor? Who is Gregor?"

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"Oh. The Emperor of Barrayar."

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... Her body language subtly changes a little. More wariness, now.

"Ah. I see. And what is he like?"

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"...Reserved. Responsible. Very good at his job. For a more detailed analysis, you might ask my wife, the proposed consultant on Barrayaran culture."

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"Very well," says Lord Callida.

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"Is there anything else you'd like to discuss before I return to my ship? The offer of immediate assistance I made to Lord Nekros still stands, if your assessment of your fleet's situation differs from his."

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"I still need time to properly assess my fleet to see if it has everything it requires. We're not in any immediate danger, and don't desperately need anything, but I don't yet know of any underlying necessities we might be missing. But thank you, I'll keep that in mind."

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He nods. "I'd like you to have as much time as you need to think over your options. Let me know when you'd like to visit Barrayar."

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"Thank you. It shouldn't take longer than a week or two to give you a better answer."

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Nod.

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"Well, that seems to be everything. Thank you for meeting with me, and I hope we can keep having better diplomatic overtures than Nekros ever intended."

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"I hope so too."

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She smiles just a little, stands, and bows politely.

And then he can be escorted back to his shuttle, to go tell his people that they don't need to blow up Callida's fleet. Or whatever else he'd like to do.

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Well, that is definitely one of the things he does. Another of the things he does is send Cordelia a message inquiring about her willingness to receive diplomatic visits.

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Her willingness to receive diplomatic visits is high. She'll need to know everything there is to know about the situation, of course.

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Of course.

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Callida is also willing to receive diplomatic visits, especially for technological collaboration. Despite this, she keeps a very firm hand on any and all secrets involving hyperspace; this includes hyperwave transmissions. The time delay from lightspeed is officially 'An unfortunate but necessary precaution.' Callida has Kyrell explain the reason why for this, which Kyrell does. Hyperwave communication is just the same principle, but only applied to transmissions, and if taught, would open the way to hyperdrives in the future. Perhaps in a few years after a lot of development, but Callida is thorough.

(And also hyperwave communication is as impossible as travelling by hyperdrive, as a quiet and subtle test proves. The progress on fixing hyper-anything goes the same as it has since they arrived, in that it does not.)

If Callida were an ordinary Sith, she could leave to do whatever she liked immediately and her fleet would handle itself well enough without her. But as it is, her standards of 'well enough' are significantly higher. As such, she will make sure that everything will actually be taken care of, and that everything actually has everything it needs to function properly. At first, her subordinates are, at best, nervous about having a Sith to personally make sure that everything is well taken care of. At worst, they're preparing to clean up the messes she'll inevitably make of their command structure.

Except she doesn't make a mess of their command structure. Or of - anything, actually. She locates competent people, gathers them nearby, and listens to them when they talk. With occasional gentle prompting when they are afraid to speak their minds. Bad news does not go hand in hand with punishment; finding problems is rewarded, as is solving them, and that's that. She enacts neat and logical policies, such as helping to create an even more streamlined and comprehensive system of recycling waste materials than the one already Imperial standard, or a census on every member of the fleet and their capabilities and anything they might require. Then, most shockingly, they start getting them. The sixteen zabraks in the fleet get special rations that are specially designed for a carnivorous species, the cyborgs are given personal screenings for the specifics of their upgrades and neat applications for specific chemicals, metals, equipment requisitions, or upgrades they might require in the future. Callida makes it clear that she takes care of her people, and that since they are all her people, they will be taken care of.

It would be an exaggeration to say that she is adored within two weeks. Sith Imperials don't really adore their superiors. However, after one week in charge, a vast and impressive majority of the Imperials present are very, very glad that Lord Callida is the Sith that they were stuck with. After two, a more modest majority is glad that they have Callida instead of no Sith at all; she makes power structures very simple, preventing infighting, while providing no loss of competence. This is, in many ways, how most of them think the Sith Empire should actually work, instead of the structure they're accustomed to.

After three, she's willing to venture away from her fleet. Barrayar has its kolto and bacta samples, would it also like a Sith lord and a modest escort?

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Barrayar would be pleased to receive a Sith lord and her modest escort. Their shuttle can dock at the orbital transfer station, and then the party will be met at the spaceport by an officer assigned to show them to their choice of guest accomodations - in the Imperial Residence, in any of a number of hotels, or in a picturesque manor a short distance outside the city.

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The Imperial Residence gets a gentle and very diplomatic no, something about not wanting to impose. Hotels are - possible, but Callida would like to avoid too much unwanted interaction with locals, and a hotel implies quite a lot of that. What's the manor like?

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Their guide has some holos of the manor! It's quiet and out of the way and pretty in a very Barrayaran style. Historically it's been the sort of place where a second son of the Emperor might live, but there hasn't been a second son of the Emperor in several decades so it's mostly been hosting dust bunnies and educational tours; this wouldn't be the first time it's been put to use as accomodations for a sufficiently important foreign dignitary.

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Callida feels like she is missing so much subtext here, but if it's not being used at the moment and it's being used occasionally as accommodations for foreign dignitaries... Yeah okay. That one.

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Then her guide will be pleased to conduct her party to the manor. He brought enough local vehicles, with drivers, to transport everyone; if she feels that the length of her stay will make it worthwhile, someone can teach some members of her escort how to drive a groundcar, so she won't have to rely on local help to get around.

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Well, that's very convenient. One member of Callida's escort would like to learn how to drive a groundcar! He looks at Callida in a subtle 'can I persuade her to let me' way, trying to figure out what the Sith wants.

Callida looks at him, impassively, then asks, "Do you want to learn how to drive a groundcar?"

"If it's not too much trouble, my lord," he says, reluctantly.

"It shouldn't be."

And then he may have lessons.

Now, is there anything the Barrayarans would like from her? Meetings, maybe? If not, she thinks she'll tour the city.

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Her guide says that there is not currently anything scheduled, and she may take all the time she likes to settle in, and here is how to operate the comconsoles in the manor so she can be contacted about meetings in the future.

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She will take some time to settle in, and make sure everyone can operate comconsoles (it's not very hard) and then leaves a few of her escort to hold down the proverbial fort. Callida and the rest would like to see the city, if it's not too much trouble for their guide.

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No trouble at all! He'd be happy to show her around.

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Excellent! Then what's the city like?

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A fascinating mix of architectural styles, mostly in one of two basic themes: 'glass and concrete' or 'wood and stone'. Some buildings are gorgeous; some are awful eyesores; most are in between. Everyone on the street is human, and while the discreet translator earbuds provided by the guide handle all local languages equally, it doesn't seem like there are a huge variety. Their guide can point out sites of cultural or historic interest, but not go into detail about most of them.

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Callida didn't bring any nonhumans with her, for just this reason, but it's a bit odd to see no other species at all.

But more importantly, how this city works can give her some context of how other cities work. And more context for the culture she's interacting with. She pays attention and asks questions and compliments the buildings that are gorgeous and the clever things she sees.

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Their guide happily answers questions and accepts compliments on behalf of his society.

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Excellent, this is going so well. She'll have her basic cultural background in no time.

Once the tour concludes, she returns to the manor. Any messages while she was away?

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A brief vid message from Count Vorkosigan, welcoming her to the planet and inviting her to visit him and his wife at home, with a summarized schedule of availability.

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Callida takes a minute to compose a response and find a time to visit tomorrow that fits the schedule. Then, Count Vorkosigan can have a message in reply; she feels very welcomed, the planet is quite unique and she enjoyed the tour of the city. She names several places that she visited and several more that she liked, and then asks if she could visit tomorrow at a time convenient for Count Vorkosigan and his wife?

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Ten minutes later she has a response from the Countess. "Yes, absolutely. I look forward to meeting you."

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The Countess gets a response soon after.

"Excellent, thank you. I look forward to meeting you, as well."

And then she'll spend the rest of the day looking through the comconsole to attempt to do the equivalent of browsing the holonet. Her people all have the rest of the day to themselves; she has bodyguards, but they are mostly for show. Can't let the majority of the locals know that she doesn't need bodyguards, of course.

 


The next morning, at the appropriate time: here is a Sith lord, on the Vorkosigan's doorstep, two bodyguards shadowing her.

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A uniformed Vorkosigan armsman opens the door and shows them inside, where the Countess is waiting in the foyer.

"Welcome, Lord Callida. My name is Cordelia Vorkosigan. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

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"Thank you, Countess." She had one of her people ask about proper protocol and has had the information disseminated throughout her fleet. She was the first person to get it. "It's a pleasure to meet you, as well. Your home is lovely so far, though I admittedly haven't seen much of it."

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"I'm glad you find it so," she says, smiling. "Aral says he recommended you seek my perspective on Barrayaran culture."

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"Yes." She smiles back. "He particularly recommended your perspective on the Emperor of Barrayar."

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"I hope you won't take it as self-flattery if I say I might be the best person on the planet to ask," she says. "Let's find somewhere to sit down; I don't think I can summarize Gregor adequately in a front-hall conversation."

If Lord Callida is amenable, the Countess will lead her to a nice cozy sitting room.

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Lord Callida is quite amenable! She doesn't really want to have this conversation in the front-hall, either.

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The sitting room is for sitting. Cordelia sits.

"Do you want the short, medium, or long version?"

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"Long," decides Callida. "Unless that would be so long as to keep me here past when my escort's expecting me, I wouldn't want to worry them."

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"I think I can get through the requisite amount of history in a maximum of two hours," Cordelia predicts.

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"Excellent, then I expect the long version will be splendid."

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"I'm not an expert on Barrayaran history, but I know enough to summarize recent Emperors," she says. "Shortly before the end of the Time of Isolation, Emperor Dorca Vorbarra united the warring Counts under his rule by conquering them all and then instituting a strictly enforced law that no Count was allowed to maintain a private army of more than twenty individuals. His historic nickname is Dorca the Just, and from what I've read, he earned it. Very fair-minded, in a... Barrayaran sort of way. I grew up on Beta Colony, in a cultural context where war is thought of as a distasteful foreign thing inflicted on the weak by the barbaric. Barrayaran history has complicated that impression for me to a significant degree."

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Callida tilts her head slightly, smiling faintly. "It's never quite so simple as that, no."

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"Then the Cetagandan Empire arrived and conquered the planet. Dorca fought, but it was swords against atomics; he lost. Barrayar never quite gave up during the Cetagandan occupation, though; Dorca's younger son, Prince Xav, made it out into the wider galaxy and started agitating for foreign aid. He must have been very good at it, given his results: it only took twenty years for Barrayar to repel the Cetagandan occupation. Soon afterward, Dorca died and his elder son Yuri inherited the Imperium. Yuri, unfortunately for everyone, was a classic paranoid. Early in his reign, he decided that all of Dorca's other descendants needed to die to secure his rule. But for some reason he didn't trouble himself to send his death squads after their spouses, even though one of Xav's daughters had married one of the greatest heroes of the Cetagandan war. General Piotr was, needless to say, very upset over the deaths of his wife and two of his three children. He found a more far-flung Vorbarra relative who'd survived the mass assassinations, and together they declared war on Yuri. It was over in less than a year, and that is how Emperor Ezar Vorbarra took power."

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Well, isn't this a bloody history. Not as bloody as the history she's used to, but still bloody. She nods, face hard.

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"Aral is General Piotr's surviving child," she adds. "But I was speaking of Ezar. He... I want to say he did the best he could with the material he had to work with. I'm not sure how true it is. I met him, once, near the end of his life. I found it an interesting experience. In his reign he oversaw several more wars, including the conquest of Komarr under Aral's command, and the failed effort to conquer Escobar - have you heard of those?"

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"I've heard of Komarr, but not of Escobar."

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"One of Ezar's greatest mistakes, I think, was his failure to keep Barrayar's more bloodthirsty factions in check. After the success at Komarr, a lot of Barrayarans were eager to go out and make some less necessary conquests. They attacked another planet, and were overwhelmingly defeated. Ezar's son, Prince Serg, was at the forefront of both the faction and the assault. He died in the single battle of that war, leaving behind a widowed princess and an orphaned five-year-old son, and that is the point in history at which I first met Gregor."

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"... The five year old son?" surmises Callida, softly.

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"Yes."

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"I see."

She reminds herself that tragic backstories do not make people good, only more sympathetic, and nods.

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"Ezar was dying of old age. He appointed Aral as Gregor's Regent, for lack, I think, of any other candidate whom he trusted to run the empire with adequate competence for fifteen years and then step down instead of attempting a coup. Not long after Ezar died, someone else attempted a coup instead. The pretender managed to spark a civil war and kill Princess Kareen, but failed to kill Aral or Gregor. Aral and I were therefore left with the task of raising the orphaned Emperor."

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Well that is certainly a revelation, isn't it.

They sent Aral to meet a Sith Lord? She - understands that they might not have understood what that meant, but the idea is just so insane to her anyway it defies the explanation anyway. How. Why! Augh.

"That is quite a lot of power to entrust. No one took issue with the Regent raising the Emperor?"

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"Issues were raised, but... the people who might have protested conceptualize power very differently from how I do, I think. For one thing, they didn't seem to realize that putting me in charge of his education might have any effects."

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Callida raises her eyebrows slightly. Well. That's an interesting set of realizations the Barrayarans failed to have.

"I see. Is this a product of the sexism Count Vorkosigan mentioned?"

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"Yes, I expect so."

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"Interesting."

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"I have always been one of very few people in Gregor's life who sees him as a person first, an Emperor second," says Cordelia. "I've never been enthusiastic about this style of government - Beta Colony is very egalitarian - but Gregor manages to make the system work admirably well."

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An empire working well, isn't that novel. ... But she supposes she can see it. It's not like she answers to anyone about her fleet, and it's very tidy that way, since she's actually competent. But systems working admirably well don't necessarily mean for everyone involved, she shouldn't assume.

"Oh?" she wonders.

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"If I had to distill Gregor down to a single personality characteristic, it would be his sense of responsibility. You could predict quite a lot about the structure and function of Barrayaran government just by knowing there is a man at the top who sees it as a personal failure every time one of his subjects is preventably hurt. I am... not thrilled about the costs to Gregor of this approach, but the benefits to Barrayar are immense."

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Callida nods, thoughtful and unreadable.

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"The system itself still looks a little insane to me," she admits. "The basic underlying principles are... very different from the democratic society where I grew up. The government of Beta Colony - I'd almost say that it reluctantly acknowledges that it's made of individual people, but tries its best to mitigate that. In the Vor framework, the individual people are the backbone of the entire project. It always seems very fragile to me, and there have certainly been failures - Emperor Yuri could never have happened on Beta Colony. But there are advantages, too, to a system where the ideal is for every job to be done by someone personally suited to that job. I sometimes wonder what Vor nepotism would look like if you separated it from the genetic transmission of power... sorry, I'm straying from the topic a little. Amateur sociology is endlessly fascinating."

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"It's quite all right. It's interesting to hear another outsider's opinion on the subject. Do they have no - checks and balances besides rebellion?"

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"I believe my son Miles once jokingly referred to the Dismemberment of Mad Yuri as 'Barrayaran democracy in action'. It's not quite as bad as that. The system is evolving toward a structure less vulnerable to Yuri-types. In theoretical terms, the Emperor's breath is law; in practical terms, the Emperor needs to spend a lot of time gently convincing people to see things his way if he wants to get anything done. A far cry from Dorca's day, but an improvement, in my opinion."

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Callida cracks a smile at 'Barrayaran democracy in action' and snorts a little. And then: back to business.

"But still no solution if the Emperor is of the likes of Mad Yuri?"

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"I think another Yuri would face a lot more trouble, a lot sooner, if he came to power today. But no, there isn't an explicit solution in place."

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Nod. She does not seem disturbed by any of this, but then, it's rather hard to tell what she's thinking right now.

(She's thinking that she thinks she likes Barrayar, actually.)

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"Did you have any other questions? I'm happy to offer my perspective."

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"I think my current question isn't really a question at all, more of a desire to see Barrayarans operating more often to understand how they work from day to day."

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"Reasonable. See them operating in what sort of context?"

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"I've met Count Vorkosigan and am accustomed to interacting with Barrayaran citizens on a professional level, but I lack a lot of perspective on how they act internally."

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"Hmm. Should I be arranging a formal social event? Private introductions to potential friends? I'd offer to introduce you to Miles, since you seem to enjoy his sense of humour, but he's offplanet at the moment."

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"Formal social events or private introductions are both fine." Head tilt. "I wouldn't mind being introduced to Miles, later."

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"I think you'd get along."

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"I don't think I've heard enough about him to accurately judge, but I do have a good record with your family so far."

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At this, Cordelia smiles.

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Callida smiles a little back.

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"I'm very glad to have made a good impression. I hope I can be useful to you in your attempts to understand Barrayar."

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"You have so far - thank you."

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"You're very welcome."

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Callida falls silent, wondering just how much of Sith culture she would actually like to talk about. Barrayar has an impression of Sith anyway, but she's the one with the most knowledge of how things actually work, and there's a number of intricacies besides 'murder sorcerers that kill each other and anyone convenient for power.' She mentioned to Aral the basics, but the specifics.... she would - still rather just not, really. Not without a reason.

So, clearly the thing to do is to change the subject before Cordelia could possibly ask about it.

"Has there been any progress in kolto creation since the last progress update?" Which was almost entirely, 'Yes we have your samples, and gosh they are fascinating.'

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"Yes! Not very much of it, but I recommended the project to a few people I know and they've expressed enthusiasm and started giving estimates for when they'll be able to give estimates for whether they can duplicate it and how long it will take if so. Apparently we should know in a week whether it's likely to take more or less than six months."

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"That's good to hear, and faster than I expected. I'd thought I'd be getting enthusiastic 'kolto is fascinating' reports for at least another two months before actual work could be done."

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"I get the impression that bioengineering is a more thoroughly explored subject in my galaxy than yours. Which is fascinating in itself; I wonder why our separate societies evolved so differently."

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"Hmm. Perhaps bioengineering is a more - unstable and daunting subject when you have as many species as my galaxy contains? It seems hard to sit down and study bioengineering when you turn a corner and there are six more species with different biochemistries."

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"Plausible," says Cordelia. "Though we do have plenty of alien biochemistries to study; what we lack is nonhuman sapients in particular. I'll admit it does make something of a difference to the mindset."

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Nod. "I also suspect the scale of the amount of alien biochemistries we are accustomed to is different - how many planets are in the jump network?"

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"On the order of two hundred inhabited systems."

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".... Yes, we have access to more planets. An accurate count of all of the known planets is difficult, because often someone will discover a planet and then not tell anyone, and go and build a civilization on it, but - it's in the thousands. Easily. All inhabited. Not counting space stations or uninhabitable planets."

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"That... follows logically from the differences in method of interstellar transportation," she says. "And is fascinating. I used to work for Betan Astronomical Survey, going out and discovering new planets... I'm a little swept away by the concept of being able to do it so easily."

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Callida smiles, a little. "If we figure out a way to transfer data between systems, I could send you dossiers about some of the discovered planets."

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"That would be amazing. Thank you."

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"I haven't done it yet," she demurs. "Thank me if I manage it."

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"Oh, I will," Cordelia assures her.

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Smile.

"On a completely different note - I'd like to learn a local language. Do you have a recommendation for which I should focus on?"

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"Of Barrayar's four languages, English is the one most widely used off of Barrayar, and the one my family speaks natively."

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Nod. "I can focus on that, then. I don't actually need help with lessons, I have a translator droid that's fluent already, it can teach me. It just seemed wise to figure out which was best to learn."

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"A - what?"

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Blink. "One of the technological advances we have are - uh, artificial intelligences. Droids. They vary greatly in intelligence and programming capacity."

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"That wrinkle hasn't yet made it into the reports. That's... interesting," says Cordelia. "We don't have anything like that here. I'm having a hard time processing the implications."

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"I can try to explain anything you've got questions about, but I'm not sure how to explain everything succinctly. Droids can be anywhere between 'basically a person' and - distinctly not a person. The line between the two can get blurred, especially if the droid has excellent programming and goes long periods of time without being memory wiped." Pause. Why yes, there isn't really a way to make that sound not horrible. Great. "... I'd like to clarify I haven't memory wiped my personal translator droid once since I, acquired her, and now that I'm in command of my fleet no others have been ordered."

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"I... appreciate that clarification very much," Cordelia says slowly.

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"Yes. I thought it might be appreciated."

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"I suppose if I asked you, 'how upset should I be about standard droid-handling practices in your galaxy', you wouldn't be well equipped to answer."

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"Likely not, no." She wants to bring up slavery but also not bring that up at any time ever. Her fleet contains exactly zero slaves, she can just. Not represent that aspect of the Sith Empire at all.

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"Thank you for explaining, regardless."

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Nod.

"I can also arrange for you to speak to her? She's on my - one of my ships, I thought it safer to bring only humans with me. Which actually annoyed her, she had wanted to come, she's intensely curious about your alphabets and why you have two."

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"That would be lovely. And I can explain the alphabets to you if you'd like to pass that on."

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"If it's not too much trouble, then please?"

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"The four languages spoken on Barrayar are English, French, Russian, and Greek. All four are close relatives of languages spoken elsewhere in the galaxy. English and French normally use the Latin alphabet, Russian normally uses the Cyrillic alphabet, and Greek normally uses the Greek alphabet. But on Barrayar, in six hundred years of isolation, the writing systems converged, so the Barrayaran alphabet is a mix of the other three. If you're going to learn English, I recommend starting with the Latin alphabet; there are fewer letters and it's used by more dialects. Any Barrayaran you meet will almost certainly be bi-literate, but few people read the Barrayaran alphabet outside the Barrayaran Empire."

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Nod. "I predict Envee will want to learn all of the other alphabets before learning the Barrayaran one, to - see the progression in logic."

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"Sensible of her."

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Smile. "She likes her job."

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"It's so nice when that happens."

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"Not exactly accidental when it comes to droids, it's considered good form to program them to like what they do, but - yes. It is."

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Thoughtful nod.

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Which is more than she could say about how slaves are treated, no one asks someone 'hey do you want to be a sex slave?' they just sort of get judged to be pretty and then someone chooses to act on that and whoops how did that happen, welcome to the change in profession, this is your life now.

She's still not going to bring up slavery, but augh. Why is her empire so horrible.

"... If you have any questions about my culture, please feel free to ask, but sometimes I'm not at all sure how to - impart it all."

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"I'm... not sure where to start, just yet. But thank you, I'll keep that in mind."

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Nod. Callida's run out of things to say. She's not exactly trained as a diplomat. More of an archaeologist, or librarian. ... With murder. She's a Sith, after all.

Despite this, she's perfectly polite and complimentary during the tour of the house, and not at all murdery. The rest of the visit passes without incident; Callida is terribly curious about the library, but reading it will have to wait until later, when she actually speaks the language. According to her this won't be her second language, though she wouldn't say she has fluency in others. She understands a type of droid language, apparently can translate certain ancient languages, and, quote, 'not be entirely lost most of the time if someone speaks to her in one of the more common non-basic languages,' but she insists that understanding when other people speak a language is really not speaking it. There are a lot of languages in her galaxy - you can get by if you only know Basic, but it's not recommended.

And then the visit ends and Callida goes back to her manor. There's more things to do, of course, but the major thing she's waiting on is if kolto can be grown in a vat or not.

Cordelia gets a comm to Callida's ship, and through that a communication method to speak to Envee.

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Cordelia is very happy to speak to Envee! She opens the conversation by sending along a few of her favourite books, with translations into Russian, French, and Greek.

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Envee is thrilled! She immediately starts asking questions about language roots and alphabets and consonants and number of vowels and if anything's pronounced differently and how the language has evolved and -

Yeah, she likes her job.

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Cordelia knows a few of these answers herself, and knows where to find books that answer the rest. (Also, she thinks Envee's enthusiasm is immensely endearing.)

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Excellent! Books! Envee loves books, almost as much as she loves just directly downloading transcripts of books. But they can't do that, yet, because their technology still can't talk, so she can't just download their entire library. Yet.

Envee was already fluent in English (and as such most of her correspondence with Cordelia was in English), but had not been exposed enough to the Barrayaran dialects of Russian, Greek, or French to attain fluency. Once she has, she's fluent in each in about three hours. Then she starts tracing her way back from the Barrayaran dialects to attain fluency in the original Earth dialect. And then from there, attempts to trace her way to other Nexus dialects that evolved over the centuries, to get a feel for why they evolved the way they did, where the subtle differences are.

Then, when she's done with that, she asks for any books they might have on the original languages these ones evolved from. Because she wants to learn those, too.

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The books exist, and she can have them, but there are enough of them that it's starting to get really impractical to send them page by page as holos, even though Cordelia managed to automate the process. They really need a sane way to handle the data format conversions, especially if Envee wants to learn every language in the Nexus - on the Barrayaran side, they've managed to put together a way to store and display text in Basic, but that's only one language with only one alphabet, and the entire communication infrastructure between Barrayar and the Sith fleet is still frankly a bit of a kludge.

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Yes. The Sith Imperials have similarly figured out how to store and display text in English, but that doesn't solve the underlying problem of two totally different systems on two totally different sets of hardware being unable to just directly beam each other information. Ugh. That's annoying. She wants books now. She'll just have to fix it all herself. As the most advanced translation droid in the fleet, backed by the authority of Lord Callida and with a direct line to Cordelia, she is the most equipped to handle this difficult task.

This takes longer than three hours.

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Cordelia helpfully tracks down all the right people and all the right technical specifications to help from the Barrayaran end.

After a few hours, she has to excuse herself from the proceedings because she's just received word that her son is in the hospital.

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Well, Envee wishes her and her son the best of luck. It'll be slower without Cordelia, but she'll keep at it.

And also informs Lord Callida of the situation.

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Who notes that it would do a lot for everyone's opinion of kolto (and, by extension, her fleet) if she could just show up and get the former Regent's son out of the hospital in record time.

What's he in the hospital for?

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Primarily the shattered arm, although there are plenty of other injuries to go around.

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Sounds rather nasty. Would the Vorkosigans like Sith assistance? They have kolto, and other options that Callida would prefer to talk about in person.

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Yes, Cordelia would be very grateful for her help.

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So here is Callida, with her personal ship's doctor, who is probably more than brilliant enough to convince every Barrayaran doctor here that he should definitely be allowed to look at the Lord Vorkosigan. Though it might take him a while, because while they can translate English to Basic and vice versa, their translation has a bit more trouble with medical lingo.

While he's trying to explain why kolto will not interfere with the other drugs they've got him on with about half of his words not translating at all, Callida also privately takes Cordelia aside and says, "Along with the kolto, there is a less easily scaled healing solution I can personally perform."

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"Is this related to your, ah, magical powers?"

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"They're not precisely magic - but, well, yes. Related to those. I can put him into a healing trance, which amounts to putting him into a healing slumber until either he's fully healed or someone wakes him up."

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"That sounds very useful."

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Yes, Callida thought so too, which is why she went and learned it after that time she almost died dropping a building on a Sith Lord.

"It is. The way to wake him up would be through a set phrase that anyone could say. I wouldn't need to be there."

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"Are there any associated risks...?"

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"He would be very vulnerable in the interim. Unless someone with the phrase were to wake him up, he wouldn't stir at all during, say, a fire, or an attack on the hospital. If he's in it too long, he'll need some other vector to get him his nutrition, since he won't be eating or drinking anything while under. And if it's abnormally long, his muscles might eventually begin to atrophy. But risks for the healing trance itself, no, it works for a number of different species."

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"I think that sounds acceptable. Thank you. I appreciate your help very much."

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"You're welcome," she says, smiling slightly. It's nice, just being able to show up and fix things, without having to deal with other Sith wanting to break things.

Meanwhile, her doctor is excitedly talking about bizarre biochemistry with the Barrayaran doctors. Yes, of course he knows how to deal with incredibly bizarre human-based biochemistries, there are a truly impressive number of human subspecies where he comes from!

For some reason, the Barrayarans need to double check to see if he meant this. Yes? He did? They occur for a number of reasons, divergent evolution and interspecies breeding and really you can't be sure of a standard human baseline because they're just everywhere in the galaxy, getting into everything - why are they all staring at him like that. Are those expressions fascinated or horrified, he can't tell. Do they want him to explain -?

Yes. Yes they do. He is assaulted by a multitude of questions, and also now people are shouting at each other for some reason, and he is very confused, but really this is one of his favorite subjects, so he'll happily answer them all. The ones he can pick out, anyway.

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Cordelia glances over at them. "I sense cultural exchange in action," she murmurs.

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"Quite. Should I. Do something?" asks Callida, watching in mild fascination.

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"They seem to be getting along all right so far..."

Just then, someone comes up and quietly gets the head doctor's attention. He looks concerned, then angry, then he leaves the room. Cordelia keeps an eye on this exchange.

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"So long as I get my medical technician back intact, I suppose."

She also eyes the exchange. Hmm. Interesting. Not that she knows what that was about, something to do with something down the hall...?

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The doctor returns, trailing another man in uniform, his collar adorned with two silver stylized eyes. He is calm and watchful and slightly wary, particularly when he sees Lord Callida, but it's when he catches sight of Cordelia that he begins to be genuinely nervous.

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Cordelia raises her eyebrows at the newcomer.

"Have you been harassing my son, Simon?"

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"...That description is not without merit," he acknowledges.

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Callida is reminded somewhat of Occlus. Not precisely, but enough that she has to resist the urge to smile.

She stays silent, content to watch.

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"Desist," advises Cordelia.

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"So I have been instructed by Dr. Fuller." He glances at Callida, then at her rather swamped doctor. "Medical aid from the Sith fleet?"

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"Yes. Lord Callida, this is Captain Simon Illyan, Chief of Barrayaran Imperial Security and my son's employer."

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"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance," she says, inclining her head.

"Dr. Gelrath is quite certain that Lord Vorkosigan will have no trouble taking advantage of Sith medical technology, but I believe the doctors here are more skeptical of its effects." Which is of course a polite way to give him an opening to solving this problem, should he happen to want to. Perhaps to avoid Cordelia's wrath?

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"Although I'm afraid one of the available treatments will put him beyond the reach of your interrogations until he recovers," Cordelia puts in.

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"I'm not doing this for personal amusement," he says. "There are urgent questions only Miles can answer. Though I will grant you I could have phrased them more delicately."

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"Well. Perhaps if you had me along," she suggests.

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"That... would be acceptable."

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"Lord Callida, will you be all right waiting out here enjoying the show," with a gesture at the ongoing cultural exchange, "for—perhaps an hour or two, Simon?—" (He nods.) "—while we speak with Miles?"

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"Certainly."

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"Thank you. I appreciate your patience."

Off they go, presumably Milesward. Dr. Fuller shoots a suspicious glance at Captain Illyan as they leave, but seems mollified by Cordelia's presence.

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Callida finds herself a chair, and sits to watch the ongoing cultural exchange while reading reports of various matters involved with running her fleet.

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A little more than an hour later, they return.

Cordelia takes Dr. Fuller aside and murmurs a few words to him. He nods.

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The cultural exchange has calmed down a little, but has not ceased. Dr. Gelrath is still very excited to answer all of their questions about the various types of human, and seems to be having the time of his life.

Callida notices when they return, finishes the paragraph she was reading, and stands.

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Cordelia smiles at Callida.

Dr. Fuller gently steers the conversation back to the topic of Lieutenant Lord Miles Vorkosigan's medical care.

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Dr. Gelrath is definitely willing to talk about that topic, yes, right after he answers this latest question - wait, no, two questions, sorry, had to finish the train of thought. Give the topic the respect it deserved. Yes, back on topic, will they please let him go test Miles for a kolto allergy and then, when he's not allergic, which he won't be, dump him in a kolto tank?

Lord Callida smiles back.

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Dr. Fuller makes a quietly skeptical face at 'which he won't be', but he gives his permission. Cordelia nods approvingly.

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And so Dr. Gelrath gets appropriate samples of blood, bone marrow and tissue, and slots them into his medical datapad to study. Someone is confused about why he's not taking them back to a lab or something, and he proceeds to excitedly explain how this is the latest technology and they can test for bizarre reactions right under direct study from a datapad! It's so convenient, he is so pleased about having it, there's no way the Sith Empire could outfit every doctor with this but he has high hopes that they'll become common in their fleet under Callida's watch, she always gets him neat toys -

His datapad pings. He peers at it.

"Ooh, that's interesting," he says, tilting his head and sounding entirely too interested in the results.

"Don't tell me after all the reassurances that he's allergic," says Callida, dryly.

"No, no," says Dr. Gelrath, waving a hand. "Quite the opposite, actually, projections think his metabolism will take to it with the biochemical version of delight. Hmmmmmm!" And then he starts poking at the datapad with single minded fascination.

"Really," he says, after a little while of this and ignoring everyone around him, "the only problem might be with higher ratios of kolto to nutrient solution, wouldn't kill him, well, not unless you were trying really hard, but that's true of everything, he'd be abnormally exhausted after getting out of the tank and would probably need to stay in bed for a while. Oh, oh, and that's a solution to the bone density if I ever saw one, I'll need to specialize a calcium supplement to mix with the kolto so his healing speed isn't impeded -" and then he's furiously tapping at the datapad. Again.

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(Cordelia smiles again. Dr. Gelrath is so - himself. She has half a mind to introduce him to a few people and see how they all get along.)

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Tap tap taptaptaptap. "Okay! Callida, I need -" he starts reading off a dazzlingly complex chemical chain, but stops midway after she clears her throat and raises her eyebrows. "Right, I'll just send you a copy. And you!" He points at Dr. Fuller. "Can I have a more complete set of samples from him, do you have them, I want -" and then he starts listing things.

Callida conceals a smile and begins requesting that a - whatever this is - be synthesized at her shuttle's medical bay. Its supplies are modest, but 'modest' with how numerous species are in their galaxy means 'able to synthesize bizarre materials from chemical components on command.'

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"Well, this has been fascinating, but I should get back to work," says Simon. "A pleasure meeting you, Lord Callida."

He leaves.

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"Pleasure's all mine," says Lord Callida.

Dr. Gelrath gets all desired samples he wants, and has a brief moment of delighted giggling over the results.

"I take it he's still free to be put into a kolto tank?" prompts Callida, amused.

"Oh, that wasn't in question, sorry, I was trying to see if I could use his metabolism's unprecedented reaction to synthesize an improved supplement to kolto itself - he'll be fine, can we just take him to the shuttle now? Please?"

"Alternatively, we can get the kolto tank hauled here," she points out. "Along with necessary medical equipment."

"..... Well, yes," he admits. Sounding like he'd be a bit put out if he couldn't take Lord Vorkosigan back to the shuttle.

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"I'd be somewhat more comfortable if the tank were brought to Lieutenant Vorkosigan rather than Lieutenant Vorkosigan being brought to the tank," says Dr. Fuller.

"You can discuss further testing with Miles after he recovers," says Cordelia.

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"Yes, and also while I'm doing that we can schedule a kolto tank regimen for this bone density thing, I'm thinking -"

"Why don't you go see to getting all necessary equipment transported? If I just told someone to do it, they'd probably miss something that you wanted," points out Callida.

"That," he says seriously, "is very true. Can I use your authority, please, I don't want someone to start quoting Standard Imperial Medical Practices at me again -"

"Go ahead. But clear any shipments from the fleet itself with me, first."

"Yes!" he agrees, and then he bounces off to go handle that.

"May I," says Lord Callida, "go prepare the patient for the kolto tank? With more serious injuries it's highly recommended that the subject be sedated."

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"Sedated with what?" says Dr. Fuller.

Cordelia thinks she knows what, but she lets Callida answer.

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"I'll have to check what will work properly with his unique metabolism, so I'm afraid I can't just rattle off an answer for you, but we have several standard chemical solutions for sedation that won't slow down the kolto's effects once he's in the tank," says Callida, smoothly. All true. All also not what she's using. "There should be something suitable."

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"You can't check every possible reaction ahead of time, I don't care how fancy your toys are," Dr. Fuller argues. "We have testing equipment on Barrayar too, and it consistently tells us nothing about whether or not a new drug is going to make poor Vorkosigan hallucinate. The boy's a medical miracle in the worst way."

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"Do you have a list of the sedatives that won't cause - hallucinations, was it? I can separately test it for something that'll work with kolto, once we translate the chemical composition."

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"Yes, of course." He has someone fetch the list, and samples of most of the drugs on it.

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The samples will actually be faster than the list, what with different standards for chemical notation, but she'll take the list, too.

"Excellent, thank you." She's probably going to have to actually sedate him, instead of just using the trance. Oh well. A bit annoying, but he can be put in the trance just as well when he's drugged as when he's sober. He'll just burn the drug from his system with lightning speed while he's out.

Not all of the drugs play nice with kolto, but there's two that will.

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Dr. Fuller is satisfied with this.

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"Have you explained the situation to him already?" she asks of Cordelia. "Even people accustomed to the nature of kolto tanks can be startled at waking up in one. We should be able to avoid it, but I'd still like him appraised of the situation."

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"I mentioned it, but I'll explain again now that we know more about the exact approach you're taking."

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Nod. "Would you like me to come along to help explain the situation and projected approach?"

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"Yes, please."

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She leaves the sedation itself in the hands of Dr. Fuller (she suspects she will have opportunity to start the healing trance later) and goes with Cordelia to talk to Lord/Lieutenant Vorkosigan.

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"What is it now," Lieutenant Lord Vorkosigan mutters grumpily as they enter his hospital room.

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"I've brought Lord Callida to explain the kolto bath and healing trance in more detail," says Cordelia. "After which you will no longer have to be conscious until you're done recovering, a fact which I expect will bring you great joy."

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"Oh, I'm ecstatic," he says with false cheer.

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Callida looks unoffended by him. She's been there. Stuck in a hospital in pain after a shitty day.

"You'll also recover remarkably quickly, and won't be able to dream or hallucinate, in case you have strange reactions to anything. And we'll have you out of the tank before you wake up, so it won't be alarming."

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"Won't be able to hallucinate! Now you're talking," he says.

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She smiles, slightly.

"It is looking like I'll have to put you in the trance after your doctor sedates you, though, so, sorry about that."

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"Eh. I'll live."

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"Or I won't!" she chirps, bright. "So I'd better be pretty sure you will before doing anything."

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"Mother's been telling you war stories, I see. Shopping with the Vorkosigans: always an adventure."

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"No, actually," she snorts. "Your mother just occasionally reminds me vaguely of my teacher. Before I ask, though - you might be able to tell when I put you in the trance, even when you're sedated. Try not to freak out."

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"All right, will do."

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"And if you try to resist, you will do so successfully. It's not the sort of thing I could do while you were fighting me. Not safely. So if you do, I'll back off, and your healing will take twice as long."

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"Noted."

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"And I think that's everything, unless you have questions?"

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"I'm too cranky to be curious. I'll grill you when my arms work again, how's that."

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"Fair. Then we'll leave you in peace? Unless I suppose you're terribly bored."

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"Oh, I'm terrible company right now, just ask Simon. And soon I won't have to worry about boredom because I'll be unconscious, yes?"

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"I've had worse company, and you'll have to worry about boredom before unconsciousness. But after, no, I suppose not."

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"Go on, leave me be until it's time to entrance me. I'd make shooing motions, but," a slight head movement that stands in for the shrug he is also incapable of.

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She laughs.

"All right. Have a good nap."

And then out she goes.

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Followed, of course, by Cordelia.

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"So, war stories?"

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"He was referencing the war of Vordarian's Pretendership. It's something of a long story; how long do we have until the kolto tank arrives?"

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"Let me ask..."

She fetches her comlink. "Dr. Gelrath, time estimate for the tank?"

"... Half an hour, he thinks."

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"That should do. All right. I believe I've already mentioned the circumstances under which Aral and I received guardianship of Gregor," she says.

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Nod.

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"When the civil war started, Miles was in his uterine replicator - I should hope those made it into your summary of galactic medical technology? - being treated for bone damage in an ImpMil research lab. He was safe there for a while, but eventually Vordarian discovered him and abducted his replicator as part of a hostage roundup. We'd been holding to a policy of not sending rescue missions after anyone's hostages, but Miles's situation was unique. The uterine replicator technology was new enough to Barrayar that I could all but guarantee no one in the palace had the first clue how to attend to its needs, and he was coming up on the end of his two-week service cycle in a few days, not to mention the trouble that would be caused by him missing his calcium treatments. I presented these arguments to Aral. He was afraid of showing favouritism, and did not authorize an expedition. I took a few people and went after Miles myself."

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She nods again, looking solemn.

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"We were caught, but managed to escape, killing Vordarian in the process. I returned to Aral's headquarters with Vordarian's head in a bag."

Now she looks... perhaps slightly embarrassed.

"Someone asked me where I'd been, and - ah - I'd been under a lot of stress - I said 'Shopping', and showed him what I'd bought. It's, um, become something of a family legend. Something of a non-family legend too, in some circles. The war ground to a halt very rapidly after that."

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She snorts.

"That sounds like the sort of thing that might cause a war to grind to a halt, yes."

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She smiles slightly.

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"The civil wars are - mostly cleared up by now, I hope?"

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"Haven't had one since."

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"Good, glad to hear it." The Barrayaran Empire's record was better than the Sith Empire's, anyway. She can't judge.

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"But I'm sure you can see why that's where Miles's mind jumped when you implied you might be in danger if he came to harm."

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Snort. "Yes. I wasn't serious, merely indulging a black sense of humor."

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"Understandable."

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She smiles.

"... What phrase would you like me to use?" she wonders.

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"Does it need to be any more complicated than 'wake up, Miles'?"

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"No, that would be fine."

 

The tank arrives soon enough. There is a mild logistical commotion involved with getting it up to Miles's room, but they do manage it eventually. Luckily by the time they get it up there, Miles has been given wonderful, wonderful drugs to knock him out entirely, so he doesn't have to put up with this group of people making a fuss about what is essentially a giant tank of water with healing goop in it. Callida gets the chance to put Miles in his healing trance while he's being prepped for the tank itself. It doesn't take long, but it does require physically touching him, which might get a bit awkward in front of Barrayaran staff; but there isn't as much room in the room itself, and none of the native doctors have any idea how to prep someone for a kolto tank. And while Callida is not a trained medical professional, she has some experience here.

Putting someone in a healing trance is - well, it's tricky. It's like putting all of his non-essential systems on standby, one by one, in the correct order so as not to kill him, and then turning everything inward toward self-repair. She was being honest, when she said he wouldn't hallucinate or dream. Callida knows from experience that it's like being in the deepest, most restful sleep; there's nothing even really awake to dream. Which is useful, even somewhat pleasant, but also a bit terrifying for an unfamiliar subject. She just hopes he doesn't fight her. There are probably Force users that can put unwilling people under, but Callida's not that good at this. Or even sure she wants to be.

Trying to be as nonthreatening as possible, she touches his forehead, reaches out, and gently starts to put him under.

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It feels -

He doesn't know what he was expecting, but it wasn't this. If she hadn't warned him he'd definitely panic. It's like falling, or being dragged out of the sky.

But at the same time, there's a sense of—intent, of personality. A deep sympathy, in the presence that's pulling him under. She didn't warn him about that either. It fits, though, it's - exactly what he'd expect to see, if he could somehow gaze into her soul. It feels like her. Which is reassuring enough to clear the last of his doubts. He'll be all right.

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And then he's out until he's completely healed or woken up with the phrase, 'Wake up, Miles.'

He's put in the tank and left to float under Gelrath's enthusiastic supervision ("He's taking to it better than the projections estimated! He shouldn't be in there long at all!") with various monitoring equipment to make sure nothing's going to go horribly wrong.

Nothing goes horribly wrong.

Callida returns to handling various matters that are meant to be handled when one's in charge of a fleet and on a diplomatic mission on a foreign planet. She talks to people, she quietly looks for outlets to purchase various materials her fleet's projected to need, she starts attempting to learn English. Envee's attempts to figure out a system of data conversion march up the gentle slope of progress, until they can directly convert text formats. This isn't good enough for her, so she'll keep at it, but it does mean that Barrayar (and Cordelia) can have dossiers on some of the major planets in the Sith Empire's home galaxy. Everything that's sent is carefully edited by the fleet's (somewhat) pitiful Imperial Intelligence for anything that might be security relevant.

Dr. Gelrath finds not having appropriate medical terminology translated very annoying, and he has little to do while Miles floats unconscious in the tank. He wants, very badly, to exchange relevant medical information with all doctors ever. Callida - will allow this, though she will be monitoring him to make sure he doesn't say anything he's not supposed to. He happily shows relevant doctors how the kolto tank works (He asks for another one so he can demonstrably put other injured Barrayarans in; Callida says he can ask if he has any specific injured Barrayarans to put in a tank, but otherwise, he may not.) and how some of the less kolto-related equipment works, too. They're better at adapting to bizarre systems than native tech, and he starts requesting digital books for the doctors on the subject from Sith Imperial Intelligence. Sith Imperial Intelligence sighs heavily, checks everything over twice, has it approved by Callida, and grudgingly sends them where Dr. Gelrath wants them.

He persuades Envee to put her pet project down for a while to come translate for him, so he can be incredibly nerdy with more efficiency. Callida tentatively allows this, but mysteriously hovers nearby the protocol droid at all times while on the planet. Envee graciously puts up with the fascinated/horrified staring and awkward questions and the stammering with a grace usually reserved for trained diplomats. She answers appropriate questions with polite, phrased-for-Barrayaran-sensibility replies. She translates Dr. Gelrath's medical-themed technobabble with perfect acuity, and when she has free time she helps all Sith Imperials with English skills, including Callida.

Neither of them have much in the way of 'free time,' so these lessons tend to occur anytime and anywhere, when they're both free enough. In the groundcar, in hallways, in waiting rooms - nowhere is safe. Sith are notoriously difficult to ambush, but Envee tries her best. Callida finds this amusing, usually, and plays along with unexpected syntax lessons. She improves, slowly.

Dr. Gelrath's enthusiasm is - somewhat warranted. Through some combination of a healing trance and what the doctor describes as a 'beneficial cascading effect,' Miles is given a clean bill of health and taken out of the tank. Gelrath assures everyone that kolto's soporific effect is well documented and that Vorkosigan's continued sleep is totally normal, actually, here, have the documents, they can just transfer the data now! ... After Sith Imperial Intelligence checks it over. (They are growing to quietly despise him.) Everyone is assured that he'll wake up soon enough, and actually, while Gelrath's at it, who wants to learn about how to properly use kolto medicinally, he bets the Barrayarans do, can he teach a class on it, he's so excited, they can dump more Barrayarans into the tank as way of demonstration!

(No. No he may not. Kolto is still non-renewable. He may instead send her a request if he has a specific person to put in the tank, but he is not allowed to just dump anyone he wants into it.)

Callida quietly finds opportunity to check up on Miles's health now that he's out of the tank, since she can detect things both sets of technology can't. From what she can tell, he's absolutely fine, the healing trance should end soon enough.

This is where her latest English ambush takes place.

"I'm better at reading it than speaking it," sighs Lord Callida in Basic, after failing to conjugate a verb correctly. "Or listening to it spoken."

"You've got more practice with dead languages than living ones," says Envee, in English. "Your comprehension's good, but it's going to take time for you to be good at putting your own sentences together, that's just to be expected. Complain at me in English."

There's a long pause as Callida tries to draft something that makes sense with her incomplete vocabulary.

"Stop worrying about getting it perfect. It's just me. Say things, mess up, figure out what you did wrong so you can do it better. Otherwise you'll just hover noncommittally forever, trying to make the perfect sentence, and never get any actual practice speaking."

The Sith Lord sighs. But she switches to English, and haltingly says, "It is - easier to understand. Than to speak."

"See!"

"No, listen," corrects Callida, dryly. In English.

And that causes Envee to get distracted snickering.

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Somewhat ahead of schedule, Miles wakes up.

"Wow I feel fantastic," he announces, sitting up in his hospital bed. "Hi! Lord Callida! You're my favourite! Who's this?" He turns his beaming smile on Envee. "What's the joke?"

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"Hello," says Envee, quicker on the verbal uptake than the Sith Lord. In English, of course. No translation module for her. "I'm N-V09, personal protocol and translation droid for Lord Callida. Nicknamed Envee by just about everyone. And Callida made a pun with limited vocabulary while I was helping her practice English."

Callida raises an eyebrow, looking faintly amused. She quickly types a message to Cordelia and Dr. Gelrath, informing the both of them that Miles is awake.

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"Miles Naismith Vorkosigan. Delighted to meet you, Envee. Please, call me Miles." He turns the smile back in Callida's direction. It is a hell of a smile. "Of all the people who have ever claimed they were going to do something positive for my health, you stand out as by far the most impressive success. I think. It depends. Am I as cured as I feel, or is this one of my infamous side effects and in ten minutes I'm going to collapse?"

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"That really depends on how cured you feel, but your injuries are all fixed up. You may or may not collapse in ten minutes."

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"I feel extremely cured! Kind of frighteningly so in fact! I was mostly joking about collapsing in ten minutes, should I be concerned? I'm not sure I can be concerned at the moment but I can always give it a try."

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"I wouldn't expect you to collapse in ten minutes after waking up, but I wouldn't have expected you to be so, ah. Energetic, either."

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"You should see me on fast-penta. God no you shouldn't. Where's my mother?"

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"I've already informed her you're awake, she should be here shortly." This is amusing.

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"Oh good. Perhaps she can save me from myself."

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"Yes. And perhaps the doctor can predict whether or not you need to worry about collapsing in ten minutes or not."

Speak his profession, and he appears! Here is Dr. Gelrath, beaming. "Good morning! How do you feel, you look well, no nausea, itching, distorted vision, lethargy?"

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"I feel great! None of those things! Especially not lethargy, in fact very much the opposite of lethargy!"

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"Really!" he says, sounding fascinated. "Physical hyperactivity, mania, or something else?"

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"I'm not confident I can tell the difference!"

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"Well! Hold still long enough for me to check you with my monitoring equipment, also can we talk about setting up a kolto tank schedule for you so I can fix your bones, Callida will probably let me?" He glances at her, giving her an attempt at puppy eyes. "Please?"

Callida looks at him dispassionately. "Ask me again if we figure out if kolto's vat-growable or not."

"Bah. Fine. No kolto tank schedule, yet, even if I have the calcium supplement strand all ready to go, it is very clever."

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"I'll bet it is," says Miles. "Mother's got people working on vat-grown kolto, I'm sure you'll get your chance."

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"If not then I'll just have to help them vat-grow bacta, and we'll see if you're allergic to that or not, and even if you are Callida will probably let me use the kolto to fix your bones if she's got other options available."

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"I like the way you think!"

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"Thank you! I like the way your metabolism works, it's fascinating and unprecedented and probably actually unique!!"

"He has been very excited about your biochemistry," says Callida, dryly.

"It keeps not doing what I expect!"

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"Yes, it's a source of immense ongoing frustration for all my other doctors."

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"Well I mean it's a little frustrating but mostly I just want to know why!"

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"I wish you the best of luck in finding out!"

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"Thanks!" Tap tap tap at the datapad. "Okay so I think this high level of energy will wear off eventually, an hour or two maybe?"

"Is he likely to collapse in ten minutes?" asks Callida.

"Hmmm. Probably not? But I don't think I want to discount it."

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"If I collapse in ten minutes, you're still my favourite," he says to Callida.

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"Favorite of what, I wonder," says Callida, amused. "Of everything?"

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"Not sure. Haven't decided. Suggestions?"

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"Sith Lord?" offers the doctor.

"That's not very flattering. I'm the only one here," snorts Callida.

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"Well, are there any other Sith Lords at home I should like better?"

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"No," says Envee and Dr. Gelrath, at the same time, in the exact same tone of voice.

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"Darth Occlus isn't bad," says Callida, mildly. But she doesn't otherwise challenge the assertion.

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"I feel very vindicated in my favouritism!"

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Lord Callida snorts. "Well, thank you. Shall I find you a doctor, or find out what's keeping your mother?"

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"Yes, one of those, not sure which, maybe both, you decide."

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"Mother before doctor, I think," she decides. He does, after all, already have a doctor on hand.

And off she goes, to look for her.

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There she is, on her way into the hospital.

"How is he?"

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"A bit - let's go with energetic, but fully healed and declaring that I am, quote, 'his favorite.'"

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"I'll bet you are. He probably hasn't had this positive a medical experience in his life."

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"Ah. Well, I'm happy to have provided it." If kind of sorry that he hasn't had a positive one in his life.

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"And as you can see, he's very grateful. As am I."

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"Happy to have been of service," she says, and she is.

Her life's been a long string of trying to decide which evil is lesser, or what she needs to compromise. Or how she needs to twist a situation to have something be shaped in a way she doesn't find inherently offensive. And it's - nice to just do something unquestionably nice. For once.

Not that it isn't politically advantageous as well, but. She is Occlus's apprentice. And something can just be unquestionably nice and also politically advantageous, both. She's not against the principle. Incentivized niceness is a thousand times better than incentivized evil. She should know, she lived in an empire that did so.

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Cordelia smiles.

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Callida smiles, too.

"Now! Let's see if Miles is going to collapse in - I believe it's something like five minutes, now."

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"I look forward to finding out."

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"Mother! Favourite Sith Lord! Hello!"

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"Hello. Any assertions for or against the conceivably imminent collapse?"

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"Well, I don't know what the official opinion is, but I'm not feeling very collapsed yet, anyway."

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"No signs of imminent collapse that I can tell," assures Dr. Gelrath. "It looks likely the excessive vitality will taper off gradually. Congratulations on the incredibly unprecedented reaction to kolto!"

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"Thank you!"

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"We should probably actually fetch a Barrayaran doctor," says Callida, amused. "And motion demonstratively and perhaps hear their opinions on the matter."

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"I'll retrieve Dr. Fuller."

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"Certainly." She glances at Miles. "Would you prefer that your favorite Sith Lord vacate the room, or stay to be well regarded?"

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"At some point in the future I'll remember what dignity is and that I may once have had some and then I will probably prefer you to have left."

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This causes the favorite Sith Lord to laugh. An honest, sincere laugh, if short.

"Then I'll depart. Luck with the memory."

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Gelrath looks at Callida, attempting puppy eyes and sort of losing the effect for the hopeful smile.

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She looks at him. Then rolls her eyes, and relents.

"Be back at the manor in three hours. Don't leave the hospital, I don't have a security detail set up for it -" she judges his expression, "- not that that'll be a problem. And no migraines to Intelligence."

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"Yes, my lord!" he says, grinning so widely his head looks in danger of splitting.

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".... I'll have someone keep an eye on you," she sighs. "Have fun."

She smiles to Cordelia and Miles. "I'll be in touch."

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"See you later, favourite Sith Lord!"

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Callida snorts slightly. The phrase amuses her.

She gives a wry bow, and then away she goes, Envee trailing behind her.

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Dr. Gelrath stays, still grinning.

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Dr. Gelrath is sort of adorable.

Cordelia fetches Dr. Fuller. Dr. Fuller pronounces Miles healed. Cordelia has all relevant records copied to be sent to the kolto researchers, on the grounds that they can always use more data.

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Dr. Gelrath is also very enthusiastic about human-based biochemistry! He gets into another discussion during his three hours about human subspecies. It lasts approximately two and a half hours. His watcher (a patient Sith soldier with hair so exactingly combed some might call it 'annoyingly perfect') ahems at an appropriate time, wonders aloud what traffic's like at this time of day, and the doctor gets the message and does not break his curfew.

All relevant records can happily be sent to the kolto researchers. The kolto tank, however, is not staying in the hospital. Miles's miraculous recovery has been proven, now the security risk is going to become less of one. But if the kolto researchers need something in particular for their research they can always ask.

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The kolto researchers are happy with what they've got for now.

Miles is pretty happy with it himself. He can get up and walk around! His bones don't ache! He doesn't have to spend a month recuperating!

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He does not! And the Sith Fleet is not going to charge for his miraculous recovery. Callida thought it more valuable to garner the goodwill than the Imperial Marks; those can always be earned later. The sooner everyone thinks of the Sith Fleet as 'Our Nice Foreign Neighbors With The Cool Healing Goop,' the better.

It would be appreciated if he could please go wandering around being obviously healed in a miraculous fashion, though. He is free to do that.

Also, now that they have effectively garnered good will, Cordelia mentioned potential formal social events and private introductions to potential friends? Now might be the time to actually arrange those.

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(The first thing any Barrayaran thinks when they look at him is not going to be 'healed in a miraculous fashion'. But he's sure not going to be the one to explain that to the Sith fleet.)

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Cordelia sends Callida a comconsole message inquiring whether she'd like to be privately introduced to anyone. For example, perhaps she'd like to meet Miles when he's upright and sober. Or Gregor, Gregor is an option.

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She'll be honored to meet Miles when he's upright and sober, if Miles is willing.

.... And she'll tentatively be willing to meet Gregor. She's pretty sure he doesn't deserve the flinch reaction the word 'emperor' solicits. The state of his empire is pretty indicative of someone that does actually care about the empire as more than just a war machine and method for consolidating power. He's probably a decent person. Right? It'll be fine.

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Cordelia asks whether Callida prefers to meet Gregor at a formal audience or a private dinner. She recommends the private dinner for a more relaxed atmosphere, but leaves the final decision in Callida's hands.

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She'd prefer the private dinner.

It's not going to be 'immediately,' is it?

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No, it's not going to be immediately. Gregor has a busy schedule. How does a private dinner at Vorkosigan House in eight days sound to Callida?

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That sounds fine to her.

Callida sort of wishes it were further away, but she suspects she'll always sort of wish it were further away. Even if he isn't a sorcerer emperor and the most powerful Force-user in his empire, if he turned out to be bad at being an emperor... She might have to figure out how to solve that problem. And she really, really, really doesn't want to. At all. It sounds like it'd be a mess, and frankly, she's got enough to deal with right now. Please be sane and not terrible at your job, Barrayar's emperor, she doesn't want to have to make fixing your empire for you her problem.

In eight days: here is a Sith Lord, in extremely foreign (but very nice) robes fit for a dinner party. She decides against bringing the largely-for-show guards, on the basis that she is quite dangerous enough for the emperor's security detail to worry about, and she's going to have pity on them.

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It'll be just the three of them, Callida and Gregor and Cordelia. Apparently Aral has a scheduling conflict and Miles is buried in paperwork.

Cordelia meets her at the door and shows her inside. The guard outside the door is a Vorkosigan armsman in brown and silver; the guards inside are ImpSec men in unceremonious black. One of them steps forward to scan her with a handheld device as Cordelia says warmly, "It's good to see you again, Lord Callida."

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"And you, Cordelia," says Callida, smiling slightly.

She does not have her lightsaber, and this makes her slightly more uneasy than her already high baseline for meeting an emperor. There's no familiar bump of metal at her hip, no comforting attuned crystals to focus on with the Force. She doesn't feel naked, precisely, but she does feel - slightly more vulnerable than she would be under normal circumstances. But these are not normal circumstances, and she's meeting an emperor. It's hard to pick up its energy signature by conventional scan, but the scanning equipment is foreign, here. And if they picked it up, they might be offended, and at best they'd probably ask for her to hand it over for the dinner. Callida thinks she'd rather start figuring out how to chemically flay herself alive over having her lightsaber potentially get misplaced. It probably wouldn't. She's probably being paranoid. Even so, the mere chance of her lightsaber falling into the wrong hands for whatever dangerous adventures is - too large of a chance. So she left it at the manor with Envee, who knows its significance and will keep it safe.

It's the smart, diplomatic move. That doesn't do anything to ease her nerves, but it's something.

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The security man nods. Cordelia leads Callida to the dining room.

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The Emperor of Barrayar is not much to write home about at first glance. He's dressed in a local formal style, but even an untrained eye can detect that he went for 'sober and unassuming' over any other stylistic consideration. He wears no crown, no jewels, no symbols of power. And yet the power is there. Like grooves worn in a road by the ceaseless tread of heavy wheels, the fact that this man's breath is law shows in his eyes.

He looks up and nods to both of them as they enter the room. "Cordelia," he says, and, "Lord Callida. A pleasure to meet you. I've heard good things."

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A hint of her earlier smile tugs at her lips, and she bows politely.

"Emperor. A pleasure to meet you, too. And - likewise."

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"I spoke with Miles briefly and he says he's very sorry he couldn't make it," says Gregor. "He's delighted with you for saving him months of recovery time, although I gather he wishes he could have spent another week convalescing and thereby escaped writing all these reports."

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"I'll be sure to apologize to him for the alacrity," says Callida, deadpan.

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At that, he actually smiles.

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Cordelia looks pleased.

"He still maintains that you're his favourite Sith Lord," she contributes. "When Aral heard that one, he laughed and said 'Mine too, for that matter'."

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Callida snorts a little.

"If I weren't, I'd wonder where he found another."

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"He did not seem very impressed with your predecessor."

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"He wasn't particularly impressive," says Callida, disdainfully. "Impressed with himself, perhaps."

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"It's an immense relief to me that I don't have to deal with him," says Gregor.

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"Yes. Though, to be fair, I doubt you would have had to deal with him for particularly long. But I'm more than happy to spare you the trouble of the cleanup."

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"Yes, I much prefer things your way."

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"I despise mayhem. Comes with being the apprentice to the Head of the Sphere of Ancient Knowledge. The archives are a pain to navigate if they're not orderly."

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"The Sphere of Ancient Knowledge?"

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"Under the Sith Emperor, there are twelve Dark Councilors," she silently apologizes for the stupid name, "each in charge of a specific Sphere of Influence. Darth Occlus is in charge of the Sphere of Ancient Knowledge - history, recordkeeping, ancient artifacts, the like. Typically my duties are more in line with archaeology than fleet administration and diplomacy."

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"You seem to be adapting to the change with admirable grace. It's clear that your people respect you and value your leadership."

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"Thank you," she says, smiling a little. "It's not entirely new - I do have some administrative experience, merely of a kind typically suited for excavation. But I do apologize for any diplomatic blunders, I have no such background with being an emissary of the Sith Empire."

That last part was said incredibly dryly.

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"No complaints so far."

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"Excellent, I'm pleased to hear it."

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He smiles slightly, and starts in on his dinner at last. It's a pretty excellent dinner.

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Oh, yes, right, that dinner thing. Callida can also remember its existence now. She can verify that it's pretty excellent.

"I apologize for not just being able to hand you a dossier on the Sith Empire's structure and culture. It's not the sort of thing we keep around. And there are pieces that I would prefer to personally explain."

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"I understand."

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"But I'll be happy to answer any questions you have."

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"The first question that springs to mind," he says, "is: which are the pieces that you would prefer to personally explain, and why?"

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Oh, right to the heart of it, all right then. She grimaces slightly, but not at him.

"Sith social structure - that is, the social structure of the Sith, not of Sith Imperial citizens - is paradoxically highly complicated and very simple. It's brutal, murderous, utterly ruthless and needlessly cruel, and I will not pretend it is otherwise. It's easy to look at the," she motions in the air with her fork vaguely, "the body count of the whole system and write it and everyone part of it off as either psychotic or utterly insane. I think that would be overly hasty.

"From being picked to be a potential Sith, one is put under an immense deal of pressure and stress. They lose a number of options everyone should have afforded to them, including the ability to walk away. Typical Sith can't trust their peers, because their peers would kill them in a heartbeat, to protect themselves from the same or steal their power sources to prevent someone else trying to hurt them. They can't trust their teachers, because to them they're pawns to be used and discarded when appropriate. They can't trust their students, because everything they teach might be turned against them by someone who would gladly kill anyone who has such power over them. They can't trust soldiers or civilians, because a rival Sith can kidnap and torture them for an angle at their heart or pay them outrageous sums of money for an opening at their back or, if they're very unlucky, break into their minds with the Force until the only thing left is the ability to drool. They lose family and friends and lovers because being related to a Sith is dangerous, and when they've lost them they don't try to reach out again because they cannot let themselves be vulnerable.

"They're - we're - people that would ruthlessly kill anyone that gets in the way, because we have to. We're considered monsters, but we're victims, too. And that's important to understand."

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"Thank you," says Gregor, "for your perspective, and for your honesty. Both are appreciated."

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"You're welcome."

She spears a bit of food with her fork and eats it pensively. Then:

"Also we have slavery, and it's terrible," she says, almost nonchalant.

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"An accurate and eloquent summary," agrees Callida.

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At that, he smiles slightly.

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She smiles back.

"Do you want to get all important conversational pieces out of the way now, or spread them out a bit? Because I have more."

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"I'd rather you proceed at the pace you find comfortable, but if that's an offer, I'm all ears."

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"The hyperdrives are most likely permanently broken, because hyperspace doesn't seem to exist, here. The associated hyperwave communication with it."

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"Yes, we'd suspected something along those lines might be at work. Still disheartening news, all in all."

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"Yes. I suppose it was obvious that they were broken by how I didn't say, 'It's a pleasure to meet you all, but we'll see you in three months after we've found a deserted habitable planet to claim as our own.'"

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"Just a little, yes."

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"It's a pity, too, we have the colonization equipment and everything."

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"Unfortunately I don't have any habitable planets going spare."

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"I imagine not. I hear those are hard to come by here."

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"Yes. And the hyperdrive would have represented an unparalleled opportunity to change that. Ah well."

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"Yes. I do have people trying to figure out what exactly happened to get us here. We're still not sure. It might have been one way."

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"That... could be unfortunate."

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"Could be," she wryly agrees. "I have hopes for being able to contact my teacher, however. And maybe she can figure out what happened from her end."

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He nods thoughtfully.

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She doesn't add the part about how if it's replicable, she tells Occlus to pack up her artifacts, grab anyone loyal and sane, and come join this other, better empire. Then they'd both be free from its endless bullshit. No Jedi or Sith, no war, no Dark Council, no constant murder attempts.

And she likes Barrayar.

"I'll keep you updated, anyway. I can still - there are things called Force bonds, where two Force users become close enough to form an empathic bond. One member can usually tell when the other is in danger, for example. A Force bond between a teacher and student is not uncommon, and I have one with her. I can tell she's still alive, and vice versa, but sending thoughts gets harder the longer the distance, and - well. The distance is rather great."

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"Yes, I imagine it is," says Gregor. "Thank you."

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"Certainly. The preparation is somewhat time consuming, but straightforward enough."

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"Anything we can do to help?"

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She considers. "If you have any undamaged crystals lying around that you're not attached to, I might like to have a look at them, and perhaps borrow them for a little while."

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"Any particular variety?"

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"The crystals shouldn't be especially fragile, and they need to be without cracks or major impurities, but otherwise, no. I'd have to properly look at them to say whether or not they'd help."

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"I'll see what I can do."

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"Thank you. I'll be happy to return everything once I'm done with it."

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"How about a half-ton of assorted synthetic gemstones?" says a voice from the other end of the dining room. Miles steps through the door and closes it behind him. "Guess who finally finished filing his reports and is now here to bother you all!"

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"Congratulations," replies Callida, faintly amused. "They could certainly work, and if they're synthetic they would be without the major impurities that would disqualify them, but I'd have to look at the half-ton personally to really say."

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"Be my guest, it's about time the damned things did somebody some good."

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"That sounds like it has a story attached," muses the Sith Lord, sounding faintly curious, but she glances at Gregor and adds, "but perhaps now is not the time for it."

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Gregor smiles.

"I have no objection if Miles wants to join us for our after-dinner conversation."

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"As Gregor's foster-brother, I assure you there are much worse stories I could be telling," says Miles. "Actually that's a lie, he was a disgustingly responsible child."

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"And yet somehow I suspect the reverse is not so true."

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"It's like you've met me!"

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Gregor laughs softly.

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"Anyway, Demyan's diamonds," says Miles. "So, first of all, in an advanced society like the galaxy at large, synthetic gemstones are cheap. But in a society like Barrayar during the Time of Isolation where you have to dig all your rocks out of the ground, synthetic gemstones are nonexistent and gemstones as a whole are very expensive. So when contact was reestablished, my great-grandfather, who was Count Vorkosigan at the time, thought 'wow! Look at all those fantastically cheap gemstones!' and sank huge amounts of money into them to resell on Barrayar, with the result that he and a handful of like-minded idiots managed to completely crash the market and they all just about lost their shirts. And for the better part of a century, the remnants of his stock have been sitting in storage somewhere, doing nothing but remind us of our shame. Wasn't even worth the effort of selling them."

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Callida smiles, clearly entertained.

"How impressively short-sighted of him."

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"He had other virtues. Any knowledge of economics whatsoever was unfortunately not one of them."

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She snorts.

"Unfortunately I don't think I could even put the entire half-ton to use, so he will not be entirely vindicated by history."

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"Finding a use for any of them would be a vast improvement."

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"You didn't try to use them as pretty paperweights? Find various excuses to put them in tactful places throughout your house?"

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"Most of them aren't big enough to be paperweights! I actually think we did have some jewelry made once in a while, but I have no idea what happened to the jewelry."

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"Oh well. Convenient for me, I suppose. ... I'm curious how similar the synthetic crystals of this galaxy are to my original's. They'll likely be broadly similar, most types of synthetic crystal tend to be rather alike, but I'm still academically interested."

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"Well, you'll have the opportunity to find out."

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"Yes. Thank you."

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He grins.

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"Did you hear the part about what I was going to use them for, or did you just volunteer them entirely on the basis of your favorite Sith Lord asking?"

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"The latter. Why, what do you need miscellaneous crystals for?"

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"Attempting to contact my teacher through the Force."

(Hm. Just willing to volunteer crystals because she wanted them. Interesting.)

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"Well, that sounds like it might plausibly be a good idea. I am once more vindicated in my favouritism."

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Snort. "Thank you. Though if this doesn't work I'll have to try more esoteric methods, which would be annoying, and might need other, more bizarre materials." That last part was at Gregor. No, she had not forgotten about him.

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"Perhaps Miles will have a half-ton of those lying around too. You never know."

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"Does he commonly keep strange materials lying around in half-ton quantities?"

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"Not habitually, no."

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"Pity, I would have found the necessary warehouses amusing."

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"It would get a little excessive after a while, yes. You're not hiding dozens of warehouses full of interesting junk from me, are you, Miles?"

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"Who, me?"

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Callida snorts.

"Where would he hide them? If he were adding to the collection over time the logistics would become rather noticeable."

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"I bet I could manage it."

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"No bet."

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"Hm," is Callida's pronouncement, eyeing Miles critically.

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"Changing topics from your potentially hidden hoarding tendencies, how obvious was it when I put you in the healing trance while you were sedated? If it was sufficiently subtle I don't mind sneakily putting people into healing trances, but I'd like to keep some resemblance of a lid on my more uncommon abilities."

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"It was, uh, pretty blatant. I mean, maybe most people would write it off as a weird dream, but you'd probably still end up with vague rumours of witchcraft. The... mystical sense of intent... stood out particularly."

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"Mystical sense of intent," repeats Callida after a pause, looking at him a little sharply.

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"...yes?"

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"Describe it in more detail, please?"

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"Mysterious presence dragging me into unconsciousness, sort of... you-ish, seemed sympathetic? Was that not supposed to happen?"

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"The mysterious force dragging you into unconsciousness was supposed to happen. Being able to tell I was sympathetic is - different."

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"Different how?"

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"Different in that you may or may not be Force sensitive, and if you are, it would mean you would have access to my weird not-magic powers with the proper training. Would you be willing to participate in a simple test to be sure?"

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"Sure, okay."

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"Please close your eyes."

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He closes his eyes. "You're going to throw something at me, aren't you."

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"Yes. Hold still. This is perfectly safe."

She picks at a bit of the bread still uneaten on her plate, and begins carefully squishing it into a ball.

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He keeps his eyes closed. He hums under his breath.

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Callida finishes making her projectile, and then closes her eyes.

While she has a presence in the Force, she's not one for pointless advertisement. But if she wants someone without training to be able to react to something she throws, she has to make the throw obvious. And that involves just a bit of projection of herself and what she's going to do. Which isn't particularly hard.

When she opens her eyes, there's subtly more to her to a casual onlooker. Not something dark and foreboding, but a quiet kind of power. It becomes obvious to someone that's paying attention that there's something to this woman, something that goes beyond her relative youth. Something that goes beyond her relatively fragile form. Something she has or something she is. Something that was always there, but didn't make itself known until now, hidden away and silent. Until it isn't.

She takes a moment to study the bread-based projectile, with her eyes and with the Force. Then with a viper-like swiftness, she hurls it, far wide of Miles himself.

With a slight smile, she twitches her still-outstretched fingers, and the projectile changes course, twisting and arcing to hit Miles from behind.

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He catches it.

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"Congratulations," says Callida. "You're Force sensitive."

Her presence quiets, and she looks normal again. Or - not quite. If someone looks for it critically, it's not entirely gone. It's just muted, internalized.

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"Does this mean I get to be a wizard?"

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Callida snorts.

"Force-user, and, uh. Maybe. You'd need training for it, and I'm, sort of clearly the only one around to teach you."

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"Well, I wouldn't want to impose on your busy schedule," he says, "but on the other hand I definitely want to be a wizard."

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The phrasing earns a smile, but it fades in the wake of her somber reply. "It's more complicated than just the power. There's an element of, of heightened stakes. Emotions are magnified, it's easier to get stuck in your own head, go down roads it's hard to come back from. Your bonds with people are deeper, if they're gravely hurt you'll know, if they die you'll feel it. You know about the empathy element, right, if I'm present at - some sort of large scale disaster, where a lot of people die, I'll feel it. Their fear and despair and anger and pain, and then their deaths at the end of it."

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"...thank you for the warning," he says. "I appreciate it, and I intend to take it seriously, but I strongly suspect I'm still going to want to be a Force user after I've thought it over."

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"Okay. But I'd - I'd be enormously responsible for you, if I don't teach you properly and help you handle it all correctly, it's. It can get bad." And I have so much to be responsible for already.

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"I understand," he says. "I won't ask it of you if it's not something you feel like you can take on."

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She sighs.

"I don't know. Ask me again after I've tried to contact Occlus."

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"All right, I will."

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"Sorry." She glances away, and then looks at Cordelia.

".... Force sensitivity does tend to run in families, however."

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"There are hazards to training it; are there hazards to leaving it alone?"

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"No." Pause. "Well, a roaming Sith Lord finding out and deciding to toss you to the Sith Academy to see if you become Sith, but as the only Sith Lord present, fuck that wretched place."

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Cordelia nods acknowledgment.

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"Conceivably problems could lie along that route if Force sensitivity became known to people in the galaxy as a thing that existed. I believe your husband mentioned there might be several groups willing to try to kidnap and mass clone-me if they knew about my abilities. The same could be true for anyone that has the potential."

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"Yes... that's certainly something I'd rather avoid."

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"Quite."

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"Do clones - I suppose you wouldn't know. Do twins habitually have the same amount of Force sensitivity as one another?"

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"... If they're identical, I think so. Fraternal, not necessarily."

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Thoughtful nod.

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... She suspects there's something more to that, but doesn't ask.

"It stands to reason that clones would work, it seems to be at least somewhat genetic, but." She shrugs. "I'm a librarian, not a biologist."

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"I have a brother," Miles explains, "a belated twin, you might say, created as part of a clone substitution plot because my life is just that ridiculous. We got along all right when we met, but he decided not to come home and meet our parents."

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"A clone substitution plot," repeats Callida, a little appalled. She shakes her head. "All right. Well if he's ever here in the same system, I can check him too."

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"Honestly, I wouldn't put it past him to catch that bit of bread even without magic."

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Snort.

"There are different tests, this one was just the fastest."

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"All right then."

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"And more amusing if you'd proved to not be Force sensitive."

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"That's true."

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Dinner winds down, their major topics of conversation already brought to a close. The hour grows late and the sky grows dark, and Callida bids the Emperor and the Vorkosigans a fond farewell and returns to the manor. She gets her lightsaber back from Envee (feeling very much like getting back a limb) and then retires to her room, to stare up at the ceiling from her bed. She has some things to think about, and doesn't have the presence of mind to meditate, though she probably should.

Could she train Miles? Well. That's not the question, is it, of course she could train him, the real question is 'could she train him well.' Which is a much more difficult proposition. She has no personal complaints with Occlus's teaching style, somewhat detached thought it might be, but she thinks it wouldn't work for everyone. What else does she have to emulate in teaching someone how to use the Force? The Academy? Ha, ha, ha. No. She doesn't know how Jedi teach their prospective students, and what she knows of how other Sith teach theirs - she's not going to get any tips from them. Or, if she can't manage to contact Occlus, anyone, really. She'd just be on her own. Left to figure out what to do with her knowledge and responsibility and life.

It's all just been one situation she's been shoved into after another, hasn't it. She's been tremendously lucky, for a Sith. She has a relationship with her teacher that's healthy, she has friends, she's not slowly going mad from paranoia and lust for power. She only had to suffer three days of the Academy. Instead, she could have not been Force sensitive at all, and gotten to - what would her future have been? 'Bleak,' is about the summary. Lives aren't pleasant for pretty and stubborn slave girls. And instead of Occlus, she could have had literally any other Sith Lord for a teacher, and - well. That would have gone terribly. Who knows how she would have ended up, if not dead in a ditch somewhere.

But she doesn't feel tremendously lucky. She feels lost and small and buried under more responsibility than she really knows what to do with. Young and inexperienced and naive in a strange foreign galaxy. Alone. Which is stupid, she has almost everyone with her that she would want to bring. Almost everyone is a lot. It'd be insane to discount that. It'd also be insane to discount how lucky she is to have landed near a planet instead of in the middle of deep space somewhere, doomed to life the rest of her life trying (and probably failing) to get back home. How lucky she is to have landed near this planet, with its empire that's so - so itself. So precisely what she would have wanted her empire to be. So filled with reasonable, intelligent, understanding people, with an Emperor that takes care of his people instead of exploiting and abusing them for power.

She wants - well, she wants a number of confusing, contradictory things. She wants to have just always lived here. She wants to be back in her room at Occlus's archives, without a whole fleet relying on her for their care. She wants to be exactly where she is, by the exact means she got here, because even if she's a little bit broken, she wouldn't be anyone else and she won't apologize for who she is. She wants there to be no way for anyone in the Sith Empire to ever find them, but she wants Occlus to be able to replicate the phenomenon that got her here. She wants to teach Miles, to show everybody that it's possible to teach a Force-user without the insanity of the Sith or the Jedi, that it can be done right and they're all wrong. She wants to never, ever teach anyone about the Force because it could spiral out of her control in a heartbeat and set this beautiful galaxy ablaze.

But mostly, she wants to sleep, because she's tired, cranky, and frankly being a bit melodramatic, and she's going to ask Miles to let her have a look at his synthetic gemstones tomorrow. So she can maybe see about getting most of what she wants.

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The next morning, she spends an hour or two meditating to get her head back in order, and then sends a message to Miles asking after the gemstones.

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Miles is happy to show her the gemstones! How about that very afternoon?

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Sounds perfect, she'll be there then.

That very afternoon:

Sith Lord! Everybody's favorite one!

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Miles's favourite one, at least!

And here is the place where the half-ton of synthetic gemstones is stored, and here they all are. They appear to be packed away in crates, and when he opens the crates they're mostly laid out in neat dense rows on stacks of flat foam-padded trays, although many of the trays seem to be disarrayed.

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"Well," pronounces Callida shortly, "this is terrible. I'll have to tell TN-R13 that it did not have to grow and monitor those synthetic crystals I asked for a week ago. Because I can definitely just use a lot of these."

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"Poor TN-R13."

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"I will get it something nice and beg for forgiveness, and after I've sufficiently bribed it, all will be well."

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"Good, good. Well, feel free to borrow as many as you need, and you don't need to be particularly dedicated about returning them."

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"Thank you, I appreciate it. ... Though, if I return them, you might want to set them aside from the others. They'll likely have some lingering effects of being used. Nothing dangerous, just. A sort of remnant of attunement with the Force."

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"All right, I'll remember that."

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"And if attuning them to the Force a bit means you want them back instead of not caring, I'll happily return them."

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"Is attuning them to the Force useful to anyone other than you?"

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"No."

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"Seems like all the more reason for you to keep them, then."

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"Conceivably you could also get to the point where they could be useful to you, too, however."

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"I - wouldn't want to presume on that. What with the scarcity of teachers and you having so much on your plate already."

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"Fair enough. Thank you for being understanding."

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"I try."

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He is unfairly enticing, if he keeps being himself at her she is going to have a problem.

"Anyway, let me look through these to see which ones I'll want to take - I assume it's fine if I err on the side of taking more gemstones than I expect to need on the basis that coming back a second time is a chore?"

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"Yes, absolutely."

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"Excellent, thank you."

She begins searching through the miscellaneous synthetic gemstones.

"The difference between my galaxy's synthetic gemstones is rather minimal. Which is to be expected, I suppose," she says conversationally, as she peers critically at an emerald.

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"In theory, really good synthetic gemstones should be totally indistinguishable from each other and from natural gemstones that just happen to be completely flawless, but I think I've heard it's not that simple. And I'm sure the magical powers complicate the situation further."

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"A bit, yes. Synthetic crystals tend to be near identical and comparatively boring to natural gemstones, unless grown with a very exotic apparatus or under the personal care of a trained Force user. Their strength lies in naturally being flawless due to being grown in optimal conditions. Which is useful, it offers a sort of blank slate, but not always ideal."

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"Huh. Does being grown with an exotic apparatus change their physical structure, or are there - Force-related properties at work, or both?"

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"As I understand it, usually it's a mix of both, but more uncommonly it will be one or the other if it's particularly exotic."

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"What kinds of exotic apparatus are there?"

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"Off of the top of my head, there's a religious group in the Yissiru system that grows crystals over decades in large nutrient pools, tended to by one one of the native creatures of one of their moons. I don't have one of the crystals made there, but I did get to look at one, once."

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"Your galaxy sounds so fascinating."

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"I think so. It's sometimes hard to remember that it's as big and varied as it is, though."

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"I feel like, if I lived there, I'd have a hard time ever thinking about anything else..."

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"Life goes on, even with the backdrop of the astonishing variety. The weird becomes mundane. Not uninteresting, but normal."

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"Aww. That's no fun."

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"There are still moments of awe."

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"Well, all right then."

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She finishes inspecting the major varieties of crystal, and hums thoughtfully.

"I think I'll still grab other crystals, but I think the emeralds will be most helpful to my purposes."

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"For explainable reasons, or...?"

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"Of the crystals here they naturally lean the most towards what I'm going to need them to do. And if you want a more detailed explanation that'll take longer but I can try."

She starts carefully unpacking emeralds from foam to store in the foam and cloth lined containers in her bag that she brought for precisely this purpose.

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"I'm kind of curious."

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She continues sorting crystals as she talks. "The reason why, if I can contact anyone in my galaxy, it'll be Occlus, is because I have a Force bond with her. When we were in the same galaxy we could already send each other thoughts over long distances. The problem is that this is a much longer distance. I can still feel that she's alive, and presumably vice-versa, but I need something to help magnify my ability to speak with her and cut out all of the stuff that gets in the way. Honestly, it doesn't even need to be perfect, I just need to get through enough that she can sort of grab hold of the strengthened connection and throw her absurd power at the problem and see if that works."

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"I see. So it's - sort of an amplification array? And emeralds are particularly amplifying, or particularly amplifying of the things you need to amplify?"

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"Essentially, yes. More the latter than the former, and they're - more equipped to become the thing I need to be than already being such."

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"Aha."

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"But they might not work, I haven't done something like this before."

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"Good luck."

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"Thanks. If it doesn't work I have other ideas, but this one seems like the fastest and easiest. If I were Occlus I could just - throw a ton of power at the problem and be done with it, but. I'm not Occlus."

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"What - I apologize if this is a rude question - what causes differences in amount of available power?"

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"It's not a rude question. A lot of it's innate. Some Force sensitives just naturally have more to draw upon from the start, but that's not all of it. There are ways to gain power, with sufficient attention and the right sort of mindset, but it's to be approached with care. Doing it too quickly is dangerous, physically and mentally. You could burn out your own body and hasten your own death by old age, or accidentally drive yourself mad. Just the change in power itself can be dangerous - I mentioned the drawbacks earlier? The more powerful you are the more dangerous they can get."

She's gotten all the emeralds she wants; she starts going through the other crates for other gemstones.

"I tend to lean on finding more efficient ways to use my power than trying to expand the well I have available, which sort of makes me an anomaly for a Sith Lord. It means I'm not likely to go insane anytime soon, but it has its downsides."

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"Yeah, I think I can see the shape of that tradeoff."

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"It's not a pleasant one if not taken seriously. I'd say that at least a third of the Sith's problems are brought about by a desperate hunger for more power, without any care towards what getting it will do."

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He nods understanding.

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"And if you're curious, I have a respectable baseline power level, but often I'm comparatively weak to other Sith, because I'm very cautious about adding to it, and often they're... not."

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"A distinction which seems to speak well of you."

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"Thank you."

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"Well, you're my favourite Sith Lord, after all."

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Snort.

"Woe unto me if you ever find one you favor more, I won't know what to do."

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"I assume you'd compete to reclaim your title."

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"Competitions between Sith Lords can get quite messy indeed. It might be wiser to weather the confusion to avoid the collateral damage."

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"Collateral damage is a pretty immediate disqualifier in competitions for my favour."

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"Ah. So perhaps we could manage a competition free of collateral damage. If we try hard and believe in ourselves. Is there a particular kind of competition you'd prefer?"

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"I don't know, I haven't thought about it. And somehow I doubt it's ever going to come up."

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She has gotten all of the crystals she's likely to need. She should probably bid him farewell and go do - something.

.... But this banter is fun. She sits on a crate and props her head up with an arm to look at him wryly.

"How can you be so certain? You've only met the one. There might be a legion of hidden Sith Lords somewhere that you'd find more endearing than I."

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"From the way you describe Sith Lords..."

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"I could be grievously misrepresenting all of them, to cement my status as your favorite."

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"My favourite Sith Lord would never do a thing like that."

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"Ah, but do you think that because I'm your favorite, or am I your favorite because you think I wouldn't?"

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He laughs. "If you did a thing like that I would definitely have to reconsider your status as my favourite!"

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"So if I have, my time is up when you eventually figure it out, and until then, I am living a desperate lie on borrowed time."

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"But you haven't."

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"But I haven't."

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He giggles.

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He has such an endearing smile.

Oh, it's a terrible idea to keep feeding this. Yes it's fun, yes he's charming, yes she likes him, but she's a Sith Lord. What was her earlier speech to Cordelia and Gregor about Sith being dangerous for loved ones?

(But she's in another galaxy, isn't she, and maybe no one could follow her here at all, and then the only danger is her, and she knows she's only dangerous when she means to be, which is hardly ever -)

And she's the only person in the galaxy that can teach him how to use the Force, and what a catch twenty two that is. If she does teach him, she'll be in a position of authority, and any moves she makes on him would be - well, comparable to making moves on someone in her fleet, or like any Sith Imperial citizen. And if she doesn't, she's forever holding something he can't have over his head, and what kind of basis for a relationship is that?

(There's probably a way to make it work anyway, surely it doesn't all just have to be off of the table forever, she can be responsible -)

Saying that she will be good and responsible when she doesn't know for sure is exactly how she stops being both of those things.

And this is not where she wants to have this debate with herself.

"Right," she says, hopping off of the crate with a cheer that's only gone slightly stale. "As charming as this banter is, I do unfortunately have responsibilities. And fortunately for everyone I take them seriously."

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"Of course."

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Mmmmm, no, do not drag the pretty-eyed Barrayaran to some place in the realm of 'more comfortable' by the collar of his shirt, that is a bad plan.

"Is there anything you need of me before I go?"

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"Nope. Good luck with your project."

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"Thank you. Good luck with - whatever sort of thing caused the shattered arm, try not to let it happen again."

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"Thank you, I will!"

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"Good."

And then away she goes, to return to the manor.

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First off: work. She has work that needs doing and before she meditates on subjects that can keep for a little while she's going to take care of everything that probably can't. Envee has come up with more upgrades to the communication systems, excellent, good. Here are the reports of what's being used of the fleet resources that she asked for, they're slightly above Sith Imperial Standard for a number of these because Callida has decided to treat her people nicer than Sith Imperial Standard and that's okay she knew this would happen this is all within reasonable bounds -

- and eventually she is free of that.

And she says, 'Excuse me I'm going to meditate,' and goes and does that.

Okay, so. All of her cards on the table, no shying away from the truth or mincing words or whatever else she might be tempted to do.

Miles Vorkosigan is unfairly hot and if she doesn't have a crush on him already she'll definitely acquire one if she's near him for long enough in the future. She could maybe manage to avoid him until her gooey feelings fade to something less insistent, but the thought doesn't appeal. Putting her own desire for some kind of romantic companionship on hold for eternity is - well, it's looking less viable. It was doable (if a bit frustrating) when she was in the Sith Empire and she had the weight of 'No is not in the vocabulary for non-Sith to a Sith Lord' to lean on, but now she's somewhere without that unfortunate bit of cultural conditioning. Now she's somewhere that it's not treated casually, but she can have a conversation with someone who can sincerely say 'My favorite Sith Lord would never do a thing like that.' Where people aren't immediately afraid of what she might do and aren't automatically her subordinates or beneath her in social status.

If she pisses these people off by being evil, they will blast her and her fleet out of the sky. This is an immense comfort to her. It means she can relax a little. Not completely, but a little. Enough that maybe she can let herself fall in love.

So just because she shouldn't have herself romantically in stasis doesn't mean she should go for Miles in particular. He is very charming, but also, he's Force sensitive and that means he comes with extra baggage. Extra baggage it might definitely be worth having (If she had him trained properly and a Sith Lord showed up to try to kill him he could fend for himself, for example) but not necessarily. It would heighten the stakes of the both of them, if they're both Force sensitive, and probably their children too, since they'd be highly likely to be the same. That's - well. Her stakes are already kind of high, maybe it's not what she needs. More importantly, she would still have to actually be the one to teach him, which could make whatever relationship they have slightly sketchy. She has been painfully (annoyingly, frustratingly) careful about not abusing her authority as a Sith, she is not going to let herself slide just because the direction of the sketch would change a bit. Teacher-student relationships can be pretty sketchy, too.

There are some ways around that, but she's over-analyzing something that takes two without the other member, and there's really only so far she can go without tying her own head into an annoying set of knots. She'd - need to just be a damn adult and have a conversation, if she thinks it's worth maybe pursuing. She can be a damn adult and have a conversation.

But if she has that conversation, that starts something she might not be able (or want) to stop. And she thinks she has enough things up in the air right now without adding relationship drama into the mix. Miles (if he's even single, which she doesn't know) will still be there after she talks to Occlus and gets a better picture of what the situation's like in her galaxy. And then if she wants to do anything about it then, she can, and it will be by talking to him like a damn adult instead of skulking around weaving webs of what is and is not okay for him without any outside input.

That seems to take care of most of that. She suspects it'll be easier to deal with her attraction now that it's part of a plan, instead of nebulously floating around in her head, getting in her way.

She finishes some more routine mental cleanup, and then she gets up and goes back to work.

 

Does Barrayar need her actually present on the planet for anything else? Or is she free to return to her fleet to begin preparations for contacting Occlus?

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She is absolutely free to return to her fleet!

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She can have a pleasant going away dinner with the Vorkosigans and maybe the Emperor before she does that, if they want to do that. But yes, she would like to return to her fleet, she's got work to do.

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The Emperor can't make it, and Aral's out of town again, but Cordelia would love to have a pleasant going away dinner with Callida and Miles.

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They can have that, then. Any guests they'd like her to bring? A lot of her people will be coming with her when she returns to her fleet. Not all of them, but most.

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Oh, if she'd like to bring one or two other guests, she's welcome to do so. Perhaps Envee?

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Envee would be delighted to come! .... Though she doesn't eat food. They can bring a battery pack to symbolically charge her so it's not weird? No, no, that just seems silly.

Anyway, here they both are.

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"Welcome! It's good to see you."

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"Thank you," says Callida, smiling. "It's good to see you too."

"Yes, you have a lovely home!" chimes in Envee.

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"Thank you!" says Cordelia. "You can't see my contribution from here; it's the lift tube at the back."

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"How very sensible!" declares Envee, delighted. "Actually, speaking of, do you mind if Callida turns off her translation module so she can practice speaking English?"

Callida has a very dry look on her face, but doesn't protest this.

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"Not at all, if Callida would like to do that," she says.

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"My accent's a bit thick and my vocabulary needs work, and there will probably be awkward pauses as I try to string words together, but no, I don't mind. I could use the practice."

"Excellent!" says Envee, pleased.

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"Come on in, then, both of you."

She leads them to the dining room, where Miles is waiting.

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"Hello, Envee! Hello, favourite Sith Lord!"

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Inside go the pair, and they take their seats.

"Hello!" says Envee, brightly.

"Hello, Miles," she says, after a pause to fiddle with the translator, in accented but understandable English.

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"Ooh, no translator."

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"Yes. Sorry if I'm not as -" she pauses to figure out the word. "- well-spoken."

"She's actually had the translator on standby for translating to Basic for a while. Where it'll give her a translation for a sentence if she asks for it, but otherwise leave her to figure it out on her own."

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"You're picking the language up pretty fast, then."

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"There are Force.... things... for memory."

"Techniques," provides Envee.

"Thank you. Force tech-niques." She has a bit of trouble pronouncing this word, and winces slightly.

"And she's had some practice at learning languages before. Most of them were dead, and the ones that weren't she didn't need to personally speak, so actually speaking a different language is a bit of a change for her!"

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"Well, I'm impressed with your progress," says Miles.

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"Thank you."

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"How many languages do you know? I speak English natively, Russian fluently, French conversationally, and Greek inadequately," says Miles.

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"I'm not - fluent in any of them, but I understand Huttese, Bocce, Binary, a bit of Durese and Cheunh. And the - native Sith language. Then a number of dead languages useful for..." What's the word for archaeology? "..... digging up dead things."

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"I'm going to assume you were reaching for 'archaeology' rather than 'graverobbing', although the line can be thin."

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"Archaeology," she agrees, amused. "... Some graverobbing. The robbed dead were terrible, so it's fine."

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"Whose graves have you robbed?"

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"Sith Lords. Terrible ones."

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"I suppose I could've guessed that. I'm tempted to ask what you found there, but I'm not sure it would make good dinner conversation." Pause. "Because 'whose graves have you robbed' is perfectly good dinner conversation, of course."

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Callida smiles. "Of course."

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He laughs.

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She was correct, it is easier to deal with how atrociously hot he is when she has a plan. She can just vaguely enjoy his laughter while still keeping the necessary emotional distance.

"Sometimes there were holocrons." And other things she can't talk about. "Buried with the Sith Lords because -" and then vocabulary fails her. She makes a face and waves a hand. "They didn't trust anyone. Took everything they had to death, or tried to."

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Meanwhile, does Cordelia want to hear about all of the interesting stuff about the galaxy Envee knows? She knows so much interesting stuff! A lot of it's language based, but she knows the history of the languages and some of the culture surrounding the languages, too.

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Cordelia is absolutely fascinated!

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"The more I hear about the Sith, the more surprised I am that the whole system has not yet collapsed under its own weight," Miles admits. "There's got to be something I'm missing here."

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"I think things were more -" she does not know how to say the word stable, she will just have to steal the word he used and use it differently, "... less easy to collapse, before the Sith returned to the galaxy to attack it. Everyone was all - stuck together and if they fought, the Sith Emperor would be upset. So if they fought they did it quietly, which kept the deaths - less?" Was that grammatically correct? She thinks so, but it seems weirdly worded. Usually her grammar's pretty good, but English is difficult. "Or they'd leave to quietly gather power alone, and then die. Their places of power became their graves."

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"Hmm. I see," he says. "That does make more sense. Still, though... none of these people can trust each other! Maybe I'm overestimating the importance of trust in maintaining social cohesion. Unsettling thought."

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"They worked okay when they were - pointed at something. They could get -" lack of vocabulary frustrated handwave, "they could kill non-Sith and still get to kill a lot. When it seemed like the Republic was going to lose, they started fighting over the pieces they'd get. Or - making statues instead of roads. Sure of victory instead of getting it. And then a lot of them died and their newer apprentices would just kill? ... I think you're not, it's very. It's very itself."

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"Statues instead of roads, I like that. Very evocative. Well. Then there's an empire out there hundreds of times larger than the entire wormhole nexus that's only managed to avoid falling apart because it hasn't had time yet."

He reflects on this analysis for a moment.

"I'm torn between hoping transit between your galaxy and mine is never reliably established so we're not caught inside the event horizon when the Sith Empire implodes into an astropolitical black hole, and trying to figure out where I'd need to stand and with how big a lever to fix it somehow..."

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She smiles a little at the compliment, but the smile soon fades.

Callida shakes her head, somber. "Don't. Hope transit is never reliable, and stay far, far away."

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"My ego isn't quite big enough for me to actually try to save an entire multiplanetary empire all by myself."

...he thinks over what he just said.

He starts laughing.

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Callida tilts her head, inquisitively.

"... I'm missing something."

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"...I can't give you the full story, I gave my word I wouldn't make gossip of it," he says, "but, ah... while it's not strictly false that I've never saved an entire multiplanetary empire all by myself, it's close enough that I should really have picked a more specific descriptor than 'multiplanetary'."

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"Ah," says Callida, and now oh dear she is looking at him like he's edible she should stop that, his mother is here.

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"Do you have stories you can gossip about?"

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"I'm an ImpSec courier. Most of the interesting things I've ever done are classified, I'm afraid."

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"I understand." She's disappointed, but she understands.

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"So it's pretty much outrageous childhood exploits, outrageous adolescent exploits, a couple of outrageous young adult exploits, and then a yawning void of information filled with about ninety percent boredom to ten percent excitement."

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Callida laughs.

"We can avoid the yawning void of information. What outrageous adventures have you had that you can talk about?"

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"Well, uh... there was the time I was fifteen years old and playing with an interactive display in a science museum on Beta Colony and I accidentally made a railgun," he says. "Coilgun, technically, there weren't any rails, but I was too busy sidling out of the room to look up the correct technical term. My compliments to the safety engineers, though, the projectiles cracked the display's enclosure but didn't shatter it. ...On the other hand, I probably could've done worse damage if I'd been trying."

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Snort.

"And to think, I didn't start causing destruction, accidental or otherwise, until I was seventeen."

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"Was it the amusing sort of destruction?"

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"Um." She thinks. ... She thinks harder. Does. Does she not have any amusing stories of destruction? At all?


"... No?"

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"Well, that's unfortunate."

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"I collapsed a building on a Sith Lord, once?" she offers.

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"That's moderately amusing but also sounds like the sort of story that would be less amusing with more detail."

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"Somewhat."

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"Well, then I'd better not ask."

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"I'll leave the stories to you," she agrees.

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"That means I have to come up with another one."

He considers.

"This is surprisingly difficult. Okay, how about the time in military school when I annoyed all my instructors by being too competent?"

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Doesn't that sound familiar. But that set of stories is really not fun either, and it sounds like his set is.

"Oh?"

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"So! There's this series of practical examinations at the Barrayaran Imperial Service Academy, where we're simultaneously tested on our mastery of the specific skills we've been taught and on our ability to adapt to unforeseen circumstances. The cadets would go around piloting shuttles and so on under the watchful eye of the examiners, and every so often they'd throw a fake emergency at us - could be anything, depressurization alarm, coolant leak, whatever - and we have to handle it, and when we did something that would've gotten us injured or killed if the emergency was real, they'd make a note of it and we'd have to wear ribbons to advertise our shame. I think it was red for death, yellow for injury, but it's been a few years and I could be wrong. Anyway, it's really unusual for a cadet to get through the whole examination period without any ribbons, and when somebody's gotten through a few tests unscathed they tend to start increasing the severity of their fake emergencies."

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"Did you avoid the ribbons of shame, Miles."

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"Yes. Yes I did. And on the last day of that examination period, they thought they were going to get me - they had me and another kid flying a shuttle, and they drained the charge on all the breathing masks in the emergency supplies compartment and then engineered a toxic gas leak. It was my partner who did the relevant part of the preflight check, and he just counted the masks, didn't check their charge. But after we launched, I noticed that the examiner had three breathing masks in his pocket, so I guessed approximately what they were going to do. When the leak started, I put the shuttle in a controlled spin to keep the stuff contained - it was heavier than air and it started near the back - and then I hacked together a makeshift breathing apparatus using a bottle of oxygen and some tubing, and I and my oxygen straw dove to the back of the shuttle to shut off the appropriate valve. The examiner's face was a sight to behold. When we docked again, someone came up to us holding out a pair of ribbons, and he just shook his head—" he imitates the movement and the rueful expression that accompanied it.

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She can't help it. The imitated movement and expression are too much.

Lord Callida, only apprentice to the Dark Councilor Darth Occlus and a Sith Lord in her own right, starts giggling.

"That," she laughs, "is amazing."

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Miles giggles too.

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"I have," (one last lingering giggle), "comparable stories, but they're all -" Handwave. "Sithy. My instructor at the Academy didn't like my competence, either."

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"I'm getting the impression that I shouldn't ask if I want to keep my good mood."

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"No. But he did get more angry every time I showed up successful, and I enjoyed seeing it."

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"Yeah, that can be very satisfying."

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"Anyway. Happier topics. ... How often does courier work send you off-planet?"

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"Pretty frequently. And on kind of an unpredictable schedule."

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"That sounds difficult," she says, sympathetically. Especially for, oh, she doesn't know. Dating. Which might mean he's maybe still single. Which is very important to know; but how can she acquire this information sneakily.

"But you do get to see the galaxy, and bring back -" Damn it limited vocabulary she is trying to figure out if he's single, get out of her way, "things for people you like."

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"There's not a lot of time for shopping out there, not most of the time anyway, but once in a while I pick up a present for my mother or something."

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Okay, so, good odds that he's single from that explanation. If he were dating someone he would have mentioned getting them something. Probably. Right? Right.

.... She thinks she needs further confirmation, but she's not sure how to get it.

"Well now I'm curious about what sorts of things are out there in this galaxy to acquire."

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"And of course my mind immediately goes blank..."

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"Oh well." Damn it, this line of questioning isn't working. How do normal people do this? She doesn't know. She's a Sith Lord, usually her peers handle this sort of thing by going, 'You. Bedroom. Now,' which is so incredibly not what she wants to do. Well, not unless he wants her to but anyway. Does he even like women? She doesn't know! He hasn't confirmed it! He could be totally fucking gay and then this would be for nothing! AUGH.

.... Also she's kind of running out of dinner to eat. And by 'kind of,' she means that it's all gone now. Hm. Maybe she should tactically retreat and re-evaluate possible attack vectors to figure out if he's single and into women.

"If there's a -" seriously she doesn't know the word for dessert, ugh, "nice after-dinner-food, I think I might be in trouble," she observes, eyeing her plate. "Because I have no room."

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"Dessert," supplies Cordelia. "And I'm afraid there is, but of course you're free to skip it."

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"That's appreciated, thanks. ... I could get a box for it?"

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"Of course."

Dessert arrives. Cordelia issues appropriate instructions. Lord Callida can have a little box for her slice of cake.

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Excellent, the dessert will not feel slighted. Callida feels kind of bad for basically ignoring Cordelia in favor of her son, but. She seemed entertained by Envee? So it's probably fine.

Well, she supposes that'll end the dinner party, and also her slightly clumsy attempts to figure out how to relationship, time for the foreign duo to depart.

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"Oh," says Cordelia as they're all standing up from the dinner table, "Miles, that poem you like, the one about the mountains - do you think you could recite it for Envee? She's interested in the technical aspects of Barrayaran Russian poetry and I think it's a good example."

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"Sure, all right. Let me see..." and he closes his eyes for a moment, consulting his memory, and then starts reciting. It's a lovely poem. Probably lovelier to people who actually speak Barrayaran Russian, though.

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Envee is delighted!

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.... Callida is distracted.

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No, no, stop that, you're going to figure it out after you contact Occlus. Shuffle towards the door, woman.

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"Can I speak with you privately for a moment?" murmurs Cordelia.

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"Certainly," replies Callida in the same soft tone.

Did Cordelia do that on purpose? ... It looks like, yeah. Okay. Uh. Let's hope this goes well, whatever this is.

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"I apologize if I'm mistaken or overstepping," she says, "but I couldn't help noticing that you seemed to be trying to find out my son's relationship status."

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....

Um.

Okay, she's caught off guard, but she's not ashamed or going to deny it or flee, here. She will handle it reasonably.

"I was, yes."

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Cordelia smiles.

"Last I heard - and I do hear about these things - he was open to new relationships, although not actively looking."

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... Callida likes Cordelia. She has liked her this entire time, it's just more obvious now.

"Thank you. He's -" Why did she ever agree to go without a translator augh, "- being a woman isn't a limit, is it?"

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"Not at all. He prefers women, in fact."

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"Lucky me," she murmurs in Basic, then -

"Thank you," she repeats.

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"You're welcome."

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And now they can make their exit. From the dinner party, and then from the planet.

 

Callida takes care of various administrative necessities, because that is her first priority, as much as she wants to talk to Occlus as soon as possible. These people are her responsibility, and she will take care of them. But she has been taking care of them already, so this is really just maintenance, and therefore won't take very much time at all. She also apologizes to TN-R13 for that whole 'not actually needing the crystals she asked it to grow' thing, and showers it with presents, and gets a grumpy 'Callida =/= need new astromech droid' that means she has been forgiven, but it needs to stew for a little while first.

Then she's free to work on her method of contacting Occlus with minimal interruption. This involves a lot of meditating with the crystals and coaxing amplification out of them. She has a decent picture of what kind of end result she needs, but figuring out how to get there is trickier than she'd expected. Luckily, she has extras, so when she realizes that it would take more time to fix a mistake than start over, she can just start over. Within two weeks, she gets one right, and from there prunes down the system until she can get one every few days.

After six bond connection amplification crystals have been made, she tests them out, and estimates that she needs at least double the number to get anywhere close to where she'd need to be. Even if she knows that this isn't an unimpressive speed for what's essentially artifact creation, albeit artifacts that aren't very powerful and definitely aren't good for anything else, it feels too slow. Then, she has an idea. She needs to amplify herself, right? Well, luckily for her, she has two crystals that are imprinted with essence of Callida from osmosis, it's just that they're in her lightsaber. So she disassembles her lightsaber, critically judges if she can use them for her purposes, and decides that yes, she can. And that she can try it with what she has and see how far that gets her.

She sits in her meditation chamber on her personal ship, clearing her mind and focusing on the eight crystals arrayed around her. She lifts them up with the Force, carefully adjusting to exerting her will through all of them, making sure to let her mind flow through them properly. This is the part she has to be careful with, if she doesn't do this right, the force of her power pressing in ways the crystals weren't meant to go might shatter them. Which would be annoying but acceptable with the amplifying emeralds, and completely unacceptable for her lightsaber crystals. Luckily for her sensibilities and sense of protective ownership, the focusing and color crystals from her lightsaber feel like slipping into comfortable and familiar shoes. If she screws up, they'll be least likely to be harmed of the bunch.

Once she's settled in, she looks over the fruits of her labors, and smiles. This just might work. Time to give it a shot.

A businesslike calm and a clear mind is perfectly fine for adjusting to the crystals, but if she wants this to have the best shot possible she needs to be anything but calm. Strong emotion means power in the Force, and right now, she needs power. Luckily she's been trained for this kind of thing.

She does some mental contortion, drawing upon her frustration at her circumstances, at how unfair life is, how she has never just been left alone to be content and this pisses her off. She wasn't born in this pleasant, downright peaceful galaxy with its reasonable emperor and lovely empire filled with lovely people. She was born in the other one. As a slave. Then she was tossed head first into a hellhole. She's been tortured and mistreated made a pariah and she carved out a life she liked anyway, by being clever and resilient and strong and skilled and extremely lucky. Lucky that Occlus was there, that she had someone who stuck up for her from the very beginning, someone that thought she was worth something just for being who she was. Not because she was related to her or resembled someone or pretty or Force-sensitive, but because she was herself. This isn't new now, she's clawed herself support since then, even though it was hard to make friends as a Sith, but it was then.

The universe does not get to take the first person that liked Callida for herself. It just doesn't. It's not fair, it's not right, so it doesn't get to.

It's not allowed.

Tears are streaming down her cheeks, but she doesn't notice. She pours her rage, her sharp bitterness and cynicism, her self-targeted frustration, her inescapable loneliness, and every other dark and unhealthy emotion she can draw up goes into powering this ritual. If she were another Sith, she might be tempted to wallow, dark emotions are certainly powerful, but she's not. She's herself, and this is a thing that is entirely about her, and she will not let this darkness have her. She channels her determination, her stubborness, her pride through the things that she made. Hers. Her brilliance and her dedication and her loyalty and her love, in physical form. Her rage is not the mindless madness other Sith embrace. Hers is sharp and white hot and directed with pinpoint precision. She is not a hurricane that rips and tears everything in reach, with innocent bystanders fleeing for cover. She is a disintegration beam that will annihilate anything stupid enough to block her path and she will only be hitting the thing that deserved her anger.

The universe, the multiverse, will not stand in her way.

 


Occlus

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Apprentice. A moment-

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Of course. I can hold it for now.

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A few minutes later, the contact between them is broadened to almost half of what it would have been at home, instead of the bare sliver Callida was able to establish.

You live yet, and apparently have established yourself in circumstances well enough to permit you to reach to me. Well done. What has happened?

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Thank you. The entire fleet experienced an unknown phenomenon while in hyperspace, and we were dropped out of it in another galaxy, possibly another dimension. Complicating matters, hyperspace does not seem to exist here. Simplifying matters, there are humans here, and I have made friends with them.

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I see. Our bond is weakened in a way not adequately explained by simple spatial distance. It is good you have made friends, because your return will be no simple task.

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I don't think it would be, no, but I think I'd like to propose something that will likely be easier. I like it here, a lot. The humans are extremely reasonable, there are no Sith, and there are untrained Force sensitives and interesting technology. Want to pack up the archives and join me?

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You make a compelling argument, apprentice. I will need as much of your exact navigational data as you can provide.

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Yes, I have it with me, along with the precise time the phenomenon occurred during the trip, and where we were projected to be when it happened. Are you ready to copy it now?

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Yes.

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She floats over her datapad to read off all of the relevant data on it.

I'll need to talk to the Emperor of the humans I've met so as to prevent diplomatic waves, but I predict he will be cautiously supportive of having a second - er, third, though Nekros is of course dead - trained Force user show up. I made a good impression. ... Khem Val might be more of a problem. Since there isn't very much, er, food over here for him.

And also that is the biggest potential diplomatic shitstorm just waiting to happen that she's ever seen; 'Hi Gregor I decided to bring my teacher and also her pet dashade who eats people.'

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I will begin my preparations. Khem Val can stay behind. He will mope and wail as always, but accept his fate. There is, after all, more food here.

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Thank you. How much are you planning to bring? And can she sneak as many family members of the people in her fleet as possible with you, she has a list.

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Not much. Discretion is of utmost importance. If my departure is noticed and followed, that would defeat the point of the exercise.

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Nnnnnnh that's definitely correct and if she knows Occlus it means 'everything extremely valuable is on a very tiny ship that is astonishingly easy to lose and everything I'm not taking that's mine is getting exploded' but still -

... There are a few people related or involved with people part of this fleet that already work for you and could be brought along without issue. I have a list of the ones likely to want to come. My fleet knows and likes me, but such a move might earn goodwill for you without sacrificing discretion.

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I will be taking a CE-212 bulk freighter. Assume I am using half its cargo capacity for my personal effects. Prioritize your list by maximizing individual satisfaction per additional passenger and value of their skillset.

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Yes. Thank you!

(Eeeeeeeee.)

I also recommend acquiring samples of useful biological substances, there is working cloning tech here and they can grow certain things in vats if they have samples to work from. She's not going to tell Occlus to pack the freighter with kolto, because really, her fleet's supply dwarfs whatever Occlus could fit onto the freighter. It's not worth it. But samples are something different.

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Noted. How long do you expect it to take to secure the approval of the local polity?

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Gregor is a busy Emperor, because he actually does his job instead of just gathering more power like a lunatic, so she might not necessarily get to speak to him immediately.

Two weeks to be entirely safe. I will have the list of people ready as soon as possible - would you like a list of useful biological substances too?

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That would be helpful. You know better than I what their galaxy is poised to exploit.

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Yes. And she is going to be exploiting it relentlessly bwuahahahahaha. Do you want a basic overview of the culture and technology?

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If it will not negatively affect the timetable of ensuring I will not be met with hostility when I arrive.

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... I will go schedule the meeting with the Emperor now, and contact you again later and explain then. My setup for contacting you is portable because I am very clever. Is there a time you'd like to schedule it for?

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In six hours I must attend a Council meeting. I expect it to last for four. The next shipment from Ziost is scheduled to arrive in twenty-seven hours, I need to be there to receive it but will be interruptible afterwards. My time is otherwise open.

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Excellent, thank you.

I'm very glad this worked. I hope the transportation's replicable, it really is much nicer over here.

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It does sound that way.

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I'll gush about it later. I'll get to work now.

She sends a muted sense of her reaction at Occlus being contactable at all; relief that it was possible, pride at her achievement, gratitude for being taught enough to figure out how to do this, a warm and bubbly hope that Occlus can join her over here, and a general sense of loyalty.

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An approving nod, and quiet confidence that her apprentice will solve this problem as she does all others-

And the contact ends.

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Callida lowers her clever crystal contact setup to the floor, and then indulges in about five seconds of delighted giggling. She did it she did it she did it!

Okay, there, that was enough. To work.

This is why she maintains her fleet well, because now it is in an excellent state to react to her commands. For example: scientist people? Get her a list of the most noteworthy biological substances in the galaxy, priority towards the most easy to acquire in a short period of time and the most potentially useful. Personnel people over there - what important professions are they missing in this fleet, with special note towards ones Barrayar cannot potentially provide for them. Technicians - figure out what datadumps they might require for these various things they're going to need - yes, also, someone figure that out, she knows someone was already working on it but work on it harder - and then where those could easily be acquired. Engineers, figure out what the fuck with the phenomenon that got them here, she knows that's already been started but maybe work on it a bit harder, they're under a time crunch. They will be paid overtime.

(... She needs to figure out how to convert money, doesn't she. Well, not right now, that's a problem for later.)

There. Everyone doing things and functioning well? Yes? Excellent. Then she needs to go schedule a meeting with the Emperor. She could go through the Barrayaran military hierarchy, which could take a while. Or: she could call Cordelia.

The second option sounds better. She does that.

(On the way to Barrayar, she can start chipping at that list of people for Occlus to retrieve; she can't finish it yet, not until she has the extra data from her fleet, but she can definitely rule out a lot of people.)

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"Hello."

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"Hello," says Callida, looking slightly more cheerful than usual. "Would it be possible to schedule another meeting with the Emperor?"

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"Certainly," she says. "On official business? How urgently?"

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"Official business. Earliest convenience, it's not an emergency and he shouldn't treat it as such, but is somewhat time sensitive."

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"I'll talk to him and call you back," she says. "I assume your attempt to contact your mentor went well? Congratulations."

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"It did, thank you," she says, with a little triumphant smile.

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She smiles back. "Take care, then. I'll call back in a few hours."

And she ends the call.

Two hours later: "Hello again. Will eight days from now do?"

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"It will, thank you."

And until then she can get her various lists in order, and administrate her fleet. It's mostly working out, but there are some kinks to be worked out. Imperial Intelligence needs to learn that sharing is caring, for example, and that while they should definitely keep an eye on what gets out from the fleet, they're really not helping by keeping intra-fleet secrets. Callida goes and is a Sith Lord at them, and stops that right quick. (And then she apologizes for her doctor.)

She updates Occlus on the situation and the galaxy that will (hopefully) be their home. She also gets her the list of people that need to be retrieved, what they do, and how to efficiently recruit them without any kidnapping, as explained by the people that actually know them from Callida's fleet. Included is someone who deals in cybernetics, a couple that programs and builds droids, respectively, and a number of others of similar skills-Callida-does-not-have-already. She also writes up how easily noticed their disappearances would be - none of them are particularly egregious, but she still keeps Occlus informed of where potential pitfalls might be.

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Elsewhere, someone has been told to maybe work on a problem a bit harder.

Lieutenant Kyrell would like to request the assistance of someone that is knowledgeable in jump technology and wormholes. She has some readings to analyze, and is certain there's more at play than just hyperspace, here.

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Lieutenant Tzirakis is more than happy to assist Lieutenant Kyrell with her analysis!

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Excellent! Okay so here are the readings - these ones here are perfectly normal for hyperspace, and then they hit the anomaly right here, and the readings get really strange. Very briefly, too, like a sort of flare. The rest after that is kind of weird, but not as incredibly bizarre as that one point where hyperspace turned purple. Can he figure out anything about why it turned purple?

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After some peering at the data, he gets a 5-space physicist in to consult. The physicist confirms: there is definitely something wormhole-like going on here. They are all incredibly lucky they arrived in this galaxy as a collection of contiguous objects instead of as a smear of exotic radiation across the cosmos. Also, was the purple a perceptual distortion or actually recorded on the sensors?

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Actually recorded, things definitely went purple, here's the footage. There were some people that had perceptual distortions if that's relevant, which Kyrell expects it will be.

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Yes, minor perceptual distortions when transiting wormholes are fairly normal and strong ones indicate jump pilot potential. The physicist has no explanation for why things went purple but she is intensely interested in figuring it out. Lieutenant Tzirakis goes over the data with them both and asks Lieutenant Kyrell a lot of questions about what hyperspace is exactly.

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She is sort of lacking a hyperspace physicist of her own to really consult here, but she's passably knowledgeable in it, and where she isn't there are entries on it in the databanks.

It's another dimension that's coextensive with realspace; each point in realspace is associated with a unique point in hyperspace. In hyperspace it's possible to go many times the speed of light, but similar to how realspace doesn't allow things to go faster than the speed of light, hyperspace doesn't allow things to go slower than it. As such, corrections are really not a thing one can do while in hyperspace if one wants to live. It's really less like its own dimension and more like a higher level of the one they have. Large objects, like planets and stars, leave impressions in hyperspace from their gravitational pull, colloquially called 'mass shadows,' and can pull ships out of hyperspace and right into whatever caused the mass shadow.

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...that's fascinating and they are both fascinated. (It transpires that they are cousins and this is how Lieutenant Tzirakis got his hands on a 5-space physicist on such short notice.)

Lieutenant Tzirakis proposes a slightly insane theory to go with this slightly insane event: wormholes and 5-space and gravity are all intimately connected phenomena, right? Well, what if a wormhole somehow got 'close' enough to cast - not a mass shadow exactly, because wormholes don't have mass in the conventional sense, but some near equivalent - and pulled the fleet into itself? There remains the problem of explaining how the fleet survived this experience intact. It is really very inexplicable how the fleet survived this experience intact.

His physicist cousin thinks his slightly insane theory is the most plausible explanation she can think of, although she wants to run several more checks on this data and read everything there is to read about hyperspace before she comes to any firm conclusions.

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This is all so fascinating!

Lieutenant Kyrell thinks this slightly insane theory also is the most plausible explanation, but thinks there must have been something going on to cause the fleet to survive this experience intact. Because, see, they didn't go into hyperspace as a unit, each separate ship went into hyperspace on its own. They were nearly synchronized with their timing, but even half a second of delay means the ships were light years apart.

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Yes, that does strongly imply that there's some kind of stable phenomenon going on here, although it's possible that it was only 'open' for a short time window and has since 'closed'... is there any chance of getting someone on the other side to try to throw a bunch of unmanned drones through on the exact course they took, to see where and whether they turn up?

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There is a chance, yes! Kyrell can go arrange those things to happen, but it'll take some time to be arranged.

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That's all right. They can poke the data and think about their theories in the meantime.

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Yes, they can.

... Also Kyrell and Tzirakis can have drinks together, when they're both off work. If he'd like to.

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...

After a few seconds of stunned silence, yes he would!

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She looks forward to it.

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While Callida is in the middle of a 'we are likely only going to get one shipment from the other galaxy so it had better be a good one' blitz, that doesn't mean things that are less time sensitive should be entirely ignored. What says the latest report on kolto?

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The latest report on kolto says: it will definitely be longer than six months before they have working kolto production, but it doesn't yet look actually impossible, just very very difficult. Also, they keep isolating these genetic samples from impurities in the kolto, does anyone know what species they belong to?

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....

Do the samples match this extremely carefully preserved sample Dr. Gelrath just so happens to have for completely innocuous reasons, that he absolutely did not do questionably moral things for?

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...Yes. Yes they do. Thank you, Dr. Gelrath, this will be immensely helpful to the project.

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Good, good. He wishes them luck.

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Callida is just not going to ask about any of that.

Her eight days are almost up. She should probably be on Barrayar now - is that manor still open or is there another place to put her?

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The manor is still open! She is welcome to use it again.

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She'll stay there, then.

Unless anyone comes to visit, she'll just keep trying to sort through biological samples they might want and how retrievable they might be.

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Cordelia sends her a message letting her know that she's welcome to have dinner with the Vorkosigans again while she's on the planet, but she shouldn't feel obliged if she's busy.

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... Yeah, okay. It's been a little over a month, and she has been doing nothing but work. It's important and not unenjoyable work, but she sort of hasn't had a break in a while. Dinner sounds good.

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The night before her appointment with the Emperor, does that sound good?

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It does, yes.

Here she is, the night before her appointment with the Emperor! Just her, no guests.

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"It's so good to see you again. Come on in."

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"It's good to see you too," says Callida sincerely, with a matching smile. In she goes.

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"Aral is back in town, so it's all three of us today," she mentions on the way to the dining room.

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"Lord Callida. How is your fleet?"

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"It's doing well, thank you. We've nearly finished setting up one of the ships to specialize in horticulture, and I have a spot picked out for vat growing everything else we might want."

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"Good to hear."

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"Yeah. We would have been fine without them, but the food would have gotten very bland."

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Aral chuckles.

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So does Miles.

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"We have a standard Imperial - sorry, Sith Imperial - regimen, complete with ration bars and precisely measured nutrition packages that will keep centuries and in vacuum and possibly certain volcanoes. It is very well designed and easily synthesized with the appropriate materials. So of course the end result is barely edible."

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"The local equivalent is nicknamed 'rat bars', which people with no sense of fun will tell you is short for 'ration'."

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Callida takes a minute to parse together foreign vocabulary, and snorts slightly when it clicks. "But the pun is so charming! It's a pity Basic can't match it with a similar one. We just use the formal name."

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"Oh well. I'm sure you've got charming puns we can't match. One of the joys of languages."

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"Yes. I'd offer to teach you a bit of Basic, including the puns, if I - well, had the time, really. I've been rather busy lately."

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"Understandably!"

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"Though if you particularly want to learn Basic - or other languages, really - I can arrange lessons for you. Or anyone else that wants them." That last part was directed at his parents. She is not going to just ignore them in favor of Miles, however tempting he is.

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"Oh, I'm tempted. But I'm not sure I could spare the time."

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"Troublesome, that there isn't more time available for everyone to take advantage of. But then, perhaps we'd all just overload our schedules with that too."

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"It does seem likely."

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"If we could but stop the universe to have the chance to do whatever we like without consequence." Her eyes flick briefly to Miles, and then away. "But regardless, I'm sure I could have a lesson plan sent for self-teaching in spare moments, if you'd like it."

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"Now that I can and will happily accept."

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"I'll have something sent when it is available, then," she says, smiling.

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Cordelia smiles back.

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"I think I'd like lessons on how to speak Basic to be readily available to anyone that wants them. Some amount of cultural loss is likely inevitable, but I think it'd be a pity for the entire language to fall completely into obscurity and disuse."

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"I agree."

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She smiles.

"There are a number of things I feel similarly towards, but I think Doctor Gelrath is quite enough of a headache for my security force to persuade me to moderation. I shouldn't tempt their wrath, their objections are well-founded."

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"Well now I'm curious," laughs Miles.

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"Of which part? Or is it simply a voracious and directionless curiosity?"

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"Didn't you just imply that there are things you feel strongly about which you prefer to keep secret so as not to annoy your security force?"

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Her smile turns sly.

"Did I? I surely don't know what you mean. The implication must be the result of a translation error, I'm afraid I'm not yet fluent in English. While my translator is very good, it is not without flaw."

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"Regardless, I want to strike a balance between 'jealously guarding all my resources for personal gain' and 'fling all that I can to the proverbial wind.'"

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"Very sensible."

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"Thank you, I try."

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"You're doing very well at it so far," says Aral.

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"Thank you. I've had some practice. My disposition was a major factor in why Darth Occlus accepted me as an apprentice."

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"That sounds like a story. Is it a story suitable for dinner conversation?"

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She reviews her own history. If she removes the part about how she had to kill the insane wretch in the tomb...

"Yes," she decides. "I met her while I was in the middle of the Sith Academy Trials. I correctly expected the Trials to be dangerous, and conducted myself accordingly. I was - careful, methodical, logical. The first trial was set in a Sith's tomb, and it was built to unsettle the acolytes." For a brief moment she considers describing it. The terror of the unknown, the plague of self-doubt as real and imagined dangers intermingled in her mind. The race against her light's power supply and the silent search for a sword, only to find that it was in a large room with an obscene number of potential containers. Then, of course, the - well. She wouldn't call it murder, precisely. The attack of the maddened failed acolyte and her self defense.

No. She - doesn't want to talk about it. Not right now. Perhaps not ever.

"While I was not unaffected by the trial itself," she continues, with barely a pause, "I didn't let it affect my methodology. I focused on safety and secrecy over speed, and so I emerged completely unharmed," if slightly covered in blood, "but also late. So late, in fact, that when I had finished, all of the other acolytes had departed for the next trial. Occlus was speaking with our," she declines to use the word 'overseer' for the slavery implications she doesn't particularly want to talk about and instead goes with a painfully dry, "instructor."

Absently, she drums her fingers on the table, composing the event in her memory. "I had decided by then that I would not slink in last as if I'd failed, because by my standards, I hadn't. I'd prioritized my own safety over my instructor's approval, and I'd exited the tomb unharmed, despite the dangers. So I walked up to a Sith Lord and my instructor with my head held high."

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(Of course she did.)

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"The instructor was dismissive, but Darth Occlus was intrigued by - well, I think my audacity. So she asked what had taken me so long. I explained my reasoning. She approved of it. Then she removed me from the second trial entirely, because she was a Sith Lord and we were competing to be accepted as her apprentice. Instead I helped her in the library." Smile.

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"Lucky you."

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"Yes. Well, sort of. I did get the chance to research Force techniques while there, and avoid the second trial entirely, but the blatant display of favoritism had singled me out as Occlus's favorite. Which, in that circumstance, was a dangerous thing to be. My instructor and a number of my peers hated me from then on."

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"This is the same one you annoyed with your competence, isn't it."

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"Yes."

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"Nicely done."

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"Thank you. He was quite upset when I finished the third trial so early he'd originally thought I'd given up entirely. It was wonderful."

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He laughs.

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She smiles again. It seems strange, to sincerely smile this much. .... Which is a bit depressing, now that she thinks of it. The smile wanes to the more impassive expression that is typical of her.

"I like to think that I beat him not just by completing the trials, but by refusing to become the thing he was trying to make me. With Occlus's help, I managed to remove two of my peers from the trials without killing them. They live on - I think the name was Bialok, a world in the Outer Rim. Near Ossus, actually, if you've gotten to that point in the archives."

That last part was directed to Cordelia.

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"Not yet, I don't think."

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"Ah, well. Ossus is worth reading up on, though perhaps not suitable if one would like to hear a happy story."

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"What is the unhappy story? Or would it make poor dinner conversation?"

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"It makes passable, if depressing, dinner conversation, I think. The other major group of trained Force-users in that galaxy is the Jedi. Ossus was once the knowledge center of the Jedi Order - it had a great library with tens of thousands of texts in their original forms and in stored datacrons. Primarily it was of Jedi history, technique, philosophy, but not entirely. They valued all knowledge of the Force, even - perhaps especially - from outside their own order. By all accounts, it was a center of education and insight." She pauses, a bit pensive.

"One of the Jedi's own decided that he wanted the darker secrets of the Sith that Ossus kept locked away, and the ensuing conflict left Ossus bereft of libraries, citizens, Jedi, local wildlife, and even its oceans. The place is an arid and irradiated wasteland, now."

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"Damn," Miles says softly.

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"Yes. I've been to the planet to try and recover some of the archives, it was a sobering experience."

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"I can imagine."

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"Occasionally I wonder what mysteries we've lost to the ages because Force-users became involved and raised the stakes, or decided that the casualties were worth the price to gain what they wanted."

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"Maybe you can... start over, in this galaxy. Do better."

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Or maybe she'd just be exposing an innocent galaxy to a force (or a Force) that will raise every available stake and drive everyone using it to ruin. Just like before.

But what future is that? Giving up on something entirely because, despite all of the ways it could go right, it could go horribly, horribly wrong? Deem that all of her efforts will be for naught, that there can only ever be death and ruin if she follows this path? No. She refuses to hide in a cave because the outside world is a bit scary. Perhaps it's arrogant to think she could change the trajectory of Force-users themselves, but she is a Sith Lord. Arrogance just kind of comes with the program.

"Perhaps," she agrees softly, smiling a little.

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He smiles back.

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He has such a lovely smile.

"If I do end up training Force-users here," she says, "it would not be as a Sith, or a Jedi. I don't know what they'd be."

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"Well, I hope one day we get to find out."

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Softly: "I hope so, too."

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Dinner meanders through more ordinary topics and then winds down from there, and Lord Callida eventually bids them goodnight and returns to her manor. She has an Emperor to request refuge from in the morning.

Morning arrives, and with it, Callida's meeting with the Emperor.

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Official meetings with the Emperor are a touch more formal than dinner at Vorkosigan House. When Callida arrives at the Imperial Residence, she is scanned for weapons and directed through charming wood-panelled halls to a small private sitting room, where Gregor is waiting. The chairs look very comfortable. A couple of ImpSec men station themselves just outside the door.

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The absence of her lightsaber itches in the back of her mind, but it hasn't suddenly become okay for her to carry a weapon around the Emperor. It stays at home, and she suffers the discomfort. As she's being searched, she absently thinks that she could have dismantled it and taken the crystals with her, but that seemed insufficient. Inefficient. She couldn't exactly put her lightsaber back together quickly in an emergency, after all. Dismantling it for her own peace of mind wasn't worth it. So it's whole and ready for use, but back at her room in the manor. (No one to watch over it this time, which made something in her mind itch more.)

She doesn't let it get to her, and when she meets the Emperor, she bows politely. "Emperor Vorbarra."

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"Lord Callida," he says, with a courteous nod. "What did you want to discuss?"

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Lord Callida sits in one of the comfy chairs, unease settling into her stomach to be ignored with the discomfort born from separation from her lightsaber. Talking to Gregor in an official context is different than the dinner party. She's not precisely sure she likes doing it.

Not that that'll stop her.

"I would like," she says, "to formally request asylum from the Sith Empire for myself, those under my command, and, with your permission so that she can enter Barrayaran space, my teacher and those she would bring with her."

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He nods.

"I am inclined to grant your request, but before I do so, can you tell me more about what exactly granting you asylum from the Sith Empire entails? Do you judge it likely that you or your teacher will be pursued; do you judge it likely that pursuit, if undertaken, will succeed?"

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"Darth Occlus will want a safe place in which to store and study the Force artifacts she's acquired, some of which are dangerous if touched by someone without appropriate protections in place. She'll be bringing the things with which to keep the artifacts safe, but more applied resources would likely prevent any unfortunate accidents. I can ask for a list of everything she brings and the appropriate safety measures and potential risks involved with them."

She pauses thoughtfully to get her thoughts in order, then continues, "Any pursuit for me or my fleet has likely ended by now, probably with assistance from Occlus quelling the attempts. Pursuit for Occlus is expected, she is a Dark Councilor and head of the Sphere - or Pyramid - of Ancient Knowledge. Sith Lords, powerful ones, will want to find where she went and how she disappeared. That being said, if she succeeded in coming through the wormhole after me, being able to follow her would rely on taking an astronomically precise route to a very minor world from a very exacting starting point. The exact details of which only my fleet knows. While I hesitate to say that reconstructing our route is outright impossible, it would be very very difficult. And it is possible that my disappearance and Occlus's will not be connected by many; I expect Occlus to leave a false trail if she leaves any at all."

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"I would appreciate that list, yes," he says. "Do you expect to need accomodations on Barrayar for you, your teacher, her artifacts, or any of your people; or will you all be remaining with your fleet for the forseeable future?"

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"I expect Occlus will want to have authority over a set of historical archives and artifact containment and study; whether it is on Barrayar itself, from a re-outfitted fleet ship, or a constructed space station is dependent on where you'd like to put the atrociously powerful but - if left alone - ultimately peaceful Sith Lord. She will resent being told that she must set up shop somewhere in particular, but she will not resent being greeted politely and then told that there is a space prepared for her arrival with all resources she'd like available to her.

"Some of my people might prefer to live planetside instead of staying in orbit, and if it's viable I think I'd like to let them. Otherwise, it depends on the circumstances and what we decide to focus on, and how much Barrayar is willing to invest."

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He thinks about this.

"I would want a citizenship oath from anyone who planned to administer an archive of dangerous artifacts on Barrayar itself, and I would want to know that that oath was being taken seriously, but I would not interfere needlessly after that. If you judge that Darth Occlus would prefer to keep her archive elsewhere under those conditions, then I am prepared to offer assistance in constructing a station. I can also grant you that manor you've been staying in and its grounds for use as an embassy, if any of your people want to live planetside without formally immigrating."

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She smiles, slightly.

"Thank you. The embassy sounds like a fine idea, and a station sounds like it would be best for Occlus."

She just cannot see 'Occlus takes an oath of citizenship' going well in any way, shape, or form. Her teacher would get along with the Barrayarans just fine, but she would not be able to fit into their oath and honor system. Occlus much prefers answering to no one.

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"As for the question of asylum..."

He falls silent for a moment, and leans back slightly in his seat before he speaks again.

"You have been very forthright with me, so I will return the favour. Granting you asylum from the Sith Empire is obviously the right thing to do and I fully intend to do it. But in so doing, I am incurring a risk on behalf of Barrayar, and I need to know that the benefit to Barrayar will be worth the risk. I don't want a formal payment and I'm not going to bully you. I just want to hear, in good faith, that you will be good neighbours."

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Callida nods, solemn.

"Darth Occlus is many things, but stupid is not one of them. We have every reason to be good neighbors. Whatever could be gained from mistreating Barrayar or her citizens wouldn't be worth the loss in trust, collaboration, and infrastructure. Any attempt to conquer or control you would be far more trouble than it would at all be worth," in more than one way, Callida would likely not stand for it, "and it is far easier and more agreeable for Occlus to just remain and see to her archives. She doesn't want dominion over an empire, she wants dominion over herself and to be free to study history and the mysteries of the Force in peace. Bothering an empire needlessly would be tiresome, not fulfilling.

"Any refugee of the Sith Empire would fall under my or Occlus's jurisdiction. If someone decides that they'd like to not neighborly, we will deal with it accordingly."

Pause. "And while I would hope that my opinion of the Barrayaran Empire and its subjects should be clear by now, I give my word that I mean you and those under your charge no ill will, and want only peaceful collaboration."

That last part was said with precisely the weight and sincerity one would expect from a Barrayaran giving their word. What can she say, the place is rubbing off on her.

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"Then We welcome you," he says. "The manor is yours, and you and your fleet may make yourselves at home in Barrayaran space and look to Barrayar for protection in the unlikely event that the Sith Empire comes calling."

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She has the composure to not cackle gleefully at this pronouncement, but she does smile.

"Thank you," she says, eyes alight. The thanks are sincere, but just saying 'thank you' seems insufficient somehow. It's a pity she can't call him 'my lord' or 'sire,' that might help make it slightly less insufficient, but whatever. She'll make due. "I hope our presence will be beneficial to us both."

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"I hope so too. I look forward to working with you," he says. "Was that all for now?"

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"Yes. I'll inform my teacher of the news and get a list of what artifacts will be entering your territory. And also what she'd like to have in her space station and what resources will be required for it."

(Eeeheehee she's making this work it is so great.)

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He nods. "Good day, Lord Callida."

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She stands, and bows again.

"Good day, Emperor." She can't call him 'sire' and for some reason that kind of annoys her. How odd.

Lord Callida departs, subtle smile intractable on her face. She and Occlus have worked out a schedule for when to make contact, and they knew when Callida would be meeting the Emperor. They scheduled a contact time for a comfortable time after Callida expected it to be done. So Callida dismantles her lightsaber for its crystals, happily flits around the manor (her manor, now) and doing logistical work to properly settle in.

She sends a message to Cordelia, because waiting to contact Occlus is annoying and she's excited and therefore she's gleefully juggling as many things as possible. Have you been informed of my fleet's new status?

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I have! Congratulations.

Do you know what you're going to call yourselves now that you are no longer a Sith Imperial fleet?

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Thank you!

I have absolutely no idea. I'll ask for name ideas and perhaps run a poll for which people would prefer to fall under. I do think I'd rather it wasn't something incredibly uncreative, such as the 'New Sith' fleet.

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In your position I'd be tempted toward literary allusions but of course I know next to nothing about the available selection of literature in your galaxy.

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We have available literature, but also so much of it that many of us wouldn't be able to agree on precisely which literary allusion we'd like to make. I could name the fleet from on high, I certainly have the authority, but I believe I want something my people will appreciate, too.

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Of course. I'll let you know if I think of anything clever, shall I?

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Yes, thank you.

And then the time to contact Occlus arrives, and she gets her crystal set together and sits in a quiet room in her manor and reaches out.


Occlus.

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Tendril reaching, searching, grasping-

Apprentice.

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The Emperor of Barrayar has agreed to let us set up in Barrayaran space as a foreign and sovereign entity. He would like to request a list of the artifacts you're bringing and their safety requirements so he can be aware of what dangerous things exist in his territory, but he has no desire to claim any of them as his own and would like to assist in building a space station for your archives.

Is that faint smugness? It sounds like it.

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It is good that you have secured permission. Well done. I have not yet finalized the list of which I will be bringing, but I do not think I will be choosing anything that requires more in the way of precautions than 'do not touch'. As to the station, it is a good idea. But accept only aid in the form of raw materials, I do not wish to have to sweep for foreign surveillance. And all systems will need to be compatible with the Archivist.

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Thank you. Any specifications you'd like the space station to follow?

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Something along the lines of the PyraTek STE-233. Use your judgement. And see if the natives have any useful innovations to incorporate.

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Yes, she agrees, and then pauses, considering. It will go faster if I can get use of their manufacturing facilities. Not for everything, and carefully looked over for surveillance equipment, but I think there's a better balance to be found that will have the results you want than accepting only raw materials and constructing it ourselves.

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Likely true. If you think it wise.

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I do. They are... she trails off, and some of her affection for Barrayaran culture and its citizens bleeds through. I like them, they are incredibly sensible. If I were to ask their Emperor to please not put surveillance devices on your space station, he would likely nod and agree, and then actually keep his word, even if it would give his security fits. They want to get along with us, we have a lot to offer to each other.

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A far cry indeed from what we are leaving. It will be refreshing to deal with reasonable people.

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Yes. I expect them to grant any reasonable requests you make and otherwise leave you alone. ... And maybe ask for access to some of the less dangerous parts of the archives, with your permission.

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We'd best have two sections to it, then.

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I'll have schematics drawn up for it. Different sections for different levels of security, maybe, to organize and allow visitors into as you like?

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Yes. Do not forget the extra meter between decks for the droid conduits.

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I won't, she agrees, amused.

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You remember all that trouble we had with the first contractor. Not something that need be repeated.

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She laughs, a little, thinking of all of the problems associated with the construction of Occlus's last archives. No, she won't be having that.

Certainly not. I'll see to it being something that meets all of your requirements.

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Excellent. Any further business?

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None for now, but I'll keep you informed.

They set up a new scheduled contact time to prevent awkwardly timed interruption, and then the connection fades.

Well. She has a space station to see to the construction of. She hasn't done this before, but it sounds like a fun challenge.

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First: she'd like to know of the technical specifications for Sith Imperial space stations, and for ones built in this galaxy. For the former, she has her fleet's archives. For the latter -

...

She's going to message Cordelia again. That seems the thing to do.

Do you know where I could get an idea of the particulars of the mechanics of space stations in this galaxy?

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Certainly. I'll have someone send you some books.

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Excellent, thank you.

The prospect of designing and building a space station is not a small one. There are a thousand things to keep in mind in an ordinary space station, but Callida needs to do something more difficult; integrate two separate and foreign sets of technology. To compound the logistical problem, she has minimal manufacturing resources that aren't Barrayaran, and needs to make the systems compatible with what Occlus will be bringing over. Furthermore, she doesn't actually have anyone that specializes in building space stations in her fleet; a few for ship manufacture, a number for orbital relay manufacture, but none for space stations. She'll be treading new ground with all of the people allowed to actually know the specifics of the space station's architecture inexperienced in everything involved with it.

It's a fun problem.

How willing is Barrayar to give some of her people a crash course in space station design as laid out by a foreign entity?

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Oh, very.

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Callida appreciates Barrayar so very much.

She'll be quite busy with this problem of hers for a while. Maybe someone else would slap whatever Barrayaran tech they could acquire onto some Sith Imperial space station schematic and call it a day, or vice versa, but Callida thinks that's untidy and shortsighted. She will integrate these systems and leave room for future upgrades or changes, because she is going to build something that lasts and lasts well, and be flexible enough to allow for adaptation to whatever future circumstances will arise. Less importantly, it's also going to be pretty. For once in her life, Callida's free to build, instead of looking over her shoulder for Sith that want to use her, or uncovering the artifacts of those that came before and failed, or running damage control for all of the little tragedies the Sith casually cause daily. She can just make something that does its job, does it well, and evokes the mood she'd like it to evoke.

The only unfortunate thing about it (besides all of those other things, like most of her fleet being permanently separated from their family and friends) is that now she has to name the damn thing. She decides that she can't be damned to figure out a name for it personally, finds a person that isn't currently doing anything of importance, and promptly makes it their problem. With instructions to set up an opinion poll for various options, and that Callida will get ultimate veto ability if anything offends her aesthetics as much as the first proposed name for the fleet. (It was 'Calladian.' She thought it made her sound like the leader of a cult.)

As fantastic as all of this work is, she doesn't want her entire social circle to be people who work for her and people who work with her. That seems - she doesn't know what it seems like, but she doesn't like it. And she doesn't have to put up with it if she doesn't want to, because Barrayar is amazing and she appreciates it very much. For example: it contains Miles, and she has only really gotten to speak to him once in the past month. This is a thing she finds she wants to fix. So she does.

Does Miles want to visit her manor for a social visit?

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It takes him two days to respond to her message.

"Just got in from a courier run," he explains in a brief vid response, sent about ten minutes after midnight local time. He's in uniform, but the top button of his shirt is unbuttoned - did he literally just get in, and then interrupt himself in the middle of changing clothes to record and send this? "I'd love to drop by and catch up, when would be a good time?"

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Callida reminds herself that he is likely not doing this on purpose, and that she should not read too much into his shirt being slightly unbuttoned or how he very obviously replied to her the absolute first chance he got. That would be crazy. She is not going to be one of the crazy Sith, though this is very educational into the reasoning behind the crazy Sith and their unfortunate objects of affection. Desire's one of the emotions that can easily spiral out of control for a Force-user. She knew that intellectually, but the visceral knowledge that she's not immune to it drives it home. It's a frightening thought, but Callida is used to those. People have very good reason to be afraid of her, because if she lets herself be controlled by her emotions, people will get hurt.

She takes an extra hour during her morning meditation to get that properly under control. Then she calls him back.

"Welcome back to Barrayar, then," she says in her own brief vid message, clearly amused. "I tend to be more free in the evenings - tomorrow I expect to be busy with meetings and the like, but I should be able to take time off later today, or the day after tomorrow. If either of those work for you."

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He calls her that evening, about half an hour before local sunset.

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After a slight delay, she answers.

"Hello," she says, slightly amused.

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"There's my favourite Sith Lord! I only just checked my messages, is now a good time?"

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"I can make it one," Callida snorts. "Did you sleep in?"

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"Slept in, went to deliver my report, that ran unexpectedly late so I stopped for lunch on the way home, met my mother at the door and talked to her for a few hours, and I can no longer remember why but after that conversation I found myself insatiably curious about the history of terraforming and that ate the remaining time between midafternoon and now. Fascinating stuff. Anyway, I'll see you in half an hour?"

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"Certainly."

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"See you then!" he says, and flashes a brilliant smile, and ends the call.

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"See you then," she echoes.

She puts what little work she still has left to do on hold (or in one case, handles it in five minutes) and informs the other residents of her manor that she's having a visitor. Days ago, she'd mentioned that it would be a possibility before, but now the time is confirmed. Followed by reassuring them that, no, it's okay, they don't need to drop everything to do everything to prepare for her guest. Really. It's fine. Calm down. It's fine.

It is really hard to get (former) Sith Imperials to not attempt to do everything in their power to keep the Sith happy. Understandably so, but, still.

The remainder of the half an hour is spent in brief meditation, because - well. She's going to be alone in a room with Miles. She should maybe have her head as in order as possible before that occurs. Just a thought.

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Half an hour later, almost exactly, Miles arrives at the door of the manor.

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How punctual of him!

Callida realizes that maybe it would be more thematic if she were to send someone to answer the door and send him in, but also, she kind of doesn't want to feed into the culture of Do whatever the Sith says immediately. So she answers the door herself.

"Hi," she says, smiling.

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"Hi! Nice place. I hear Gregor gave it to you?"

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"Thank you, I'm very fond of it. He did! Though it's less 'mine' and more 'embassy of the foreign fleet that has yet to be named.'"

She moves aside so he can come inside.

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He steps inside, smiling.

"Yeah. Heard about that too. I've been trying to think of names - oh, right, now I remember why I got onto the subject of terraforming! I was thinking that the way your fleet showed up here reminded me of the colonization of Barrayar, and then it occurred to me that my knowledge of my own planet's terraforming history is mostly folklore and I went looking for harder data."

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She snorts, amused. Her people have all mysteriously made themselves absent (... They are very literal when it comes to these sorts of things, her people) and so the path to the pleasant sitting room she prefers is entirely empty. She leads him there, and takes a seat.

"And what'd you find? Terraforming is less common in the other galaxy - we should probably name it, too - what with hyperspace technology, but occasionally it happens."

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The nearest seat to her armchair is one end of a couch. Miles sits. It's very comfy.

"Your galaxy doesn't have a name? This one's called the Milky Way in English, so named because early humans looking toward the galactic plane at night saw it as a dim white path across the sky. At least, so I've heard."

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"Ah, well," she says, looking embarrassed on the behalf of her home galaxy. "It doesn't have one, no. There are a number of nearby dwarf galaxies that have names, if incredibly uncreative ones, but as far as I know no one's been able to agree on a galactic name. And I would know. There are a few terms for it, but they all tend to translate as the, ah. 'Main' galaxy. Because clearly none of the others are the main one."

Pause. "Milky Way is... cute. Strange, but cute."

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He laughs. "Well, I'm glad you think my galaxy is cute."

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"It is! Perhaps Barrayar has biased me, but your galaxy is very cute. And filled with such wonderful people. Not perhaps all of them, but."

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"I'm glad you seem to feel so at home on Barrayar," he says sincerely. "By galactic - well, by Milky Way standards, we're thought of as - backwater barbarians, mostly. I'm not used to people liking it here."

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"No? That's disappointing. There's a lot to like about it. Admittedly I haven't seen the rest of the Milky Way, so perhaps I am missing some vital piece of the puzzle. I could see how that could come about from how you were isolated for so long and needed to catch up, technologically, but. Technology level wasn't really the criteria I was focusing on. Is the rest of the galaxy more, more - practical, straightforward, honorable?"

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"They... value different things, I think. And you've mostly been exposed to the best Barrayar has to offer. I love my planet and its culture, don't get me wrong, but if I want to be reminded of our imperfections all I have to do is walk into the wrong part of town looking like this. There's people who'd tell my mother to her face that she should've killed me at birth."

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"Ah," she says, looking down. "Yes, your father warned me about - that. There are several people in my fleet that I am rather concerned for on account of it. But it is rather more visceral to hear you give specifics, instead of it being a vague nebulous concept in my head."

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"Sorry," he says wryly. "I'm working on it."

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She smiles at him, a little wistfully.

"Is it ironic or thematic that some of the worst examples of Barrayaran citizens would want to kill one of the best?"

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"Oh, am I your favourite Barrayaran?" he asks, grinning; but then he shakes his head, the grin fading to a mere trace of a smile.

"I honestly wouldn't even call them the worst. Unthinking adherence to culturally ingrained prejudice is... far from the worst failing a person can have. And like I said, I'm working on it. People can learn, and they are. My own grandfather, General Piotr - you've probably encountered him if you've read more than a page about the Cetagandan Wars - he actually tried to kill me, when I was still in the replicator, and I changed his mind pretty thoroughly."

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"Fair enough," she decides, wondering if this is what it feels like to be on the other end of her 'not all Sith are 100% terrible' speeches. Probably not. More people would probably stare at her lovingly, Sith Lord or no. "I apologize for the assertion."

... Did she just not even flinch at 'my grandfather tried to kill me'? She did, didn't she. Well. Okay then.

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"Apology accepted. Don't worry about it. Like I said, I've heard much worse."

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He really needs to just smile at her all the time it's great.

"Thank you for your amnesty."

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"Think nothing of it."

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"No? But if I think nothing of it, how will you climb your way to the place in my heart reserved for my favorite Barrayaran?"

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"If I'm going to be your favourite Barrayaran, let it be for something more impressive than forgiving you for trivial slights on the character of my competitors."

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"Perhaps it is not a single impressive action that earns your way into my heart, but a series of them. Would you remove the minor handholds while climbing to the top of a cliff?"

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"If I thought I could make it without them. Which reminds me of a story, actually..."

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"Well now I'm curious."

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"So, when I was younger and more reckless than I am now, my cousin Ivan and I had this game we'd play where we'd take a lightflyer out to this long twisty gorge near my family's house in the mountains, and we'd take turns flying down it as terrifyingly fast as we could manage. Pilot wins if copilot throws up or announces his surrender; copilot wins if he makes it through the whole flight without doing either. Being the kind of person I am, I took the flyer out to the gorge without him and flew that run over and over until I could do the whole thing at top speed with my eyes closed, by sound and muscle memory and the pressure of the wind. The next time we played was also the last. Needless to say, I won."

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She stares at him. She calculates the top speed of light flyers; faster than speeders, certainly. She contemplates how twisty gorges can get and how wind conditions change so much. That. Is not a stunt she would do, Sith Lord that can fight while utterly blind that she is.

"You -" she begins, and then stops, and shakes her head. "Yes. Yes I think that would cement a victory."

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"'Win right' is more important than 'win hard' but when I can, I like to do both."

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"Ah," she murmurs, softly.

Very abruptly, she makes a decision.

"An admirable policy that I believe, in this case, I will mirror. However, I admit I am hindered by being unfamiliar with certain aspects of Barrayaran culture," says Callida, straightening up slightly. "You see, I have little to no idea of how courtship works on Barrayar, which rather makes it hard to win right and win hard when one would like to court a Barrayaran."

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...he blinks.

He smiles.

"Depends which Barrayaran you'd like to court."

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"You may have three guesses as to his identity, and if that isn't enough, I can be persuaded to take pity on you and just give you the answer."

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"You know, I can't believe I didn't notice we've been flirting this whole time."

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... Callida snorts with laughter.

"What," she laughs, "did that business about 'place in my heart' not tip you off?"

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"I was caught up in the moment! I noticed but I didn't notice, if that makes any sense, which I suspect it does not?"

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Now he has subjected his favorite Sith Lord to the indignity of giggling. She hopes he's proud of himself.

"Well, I hope you are now enlightened."

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"Consider me informed!"

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She shakes her head, amused. ... And then a thought occurs to her, and her smile fades, slightly.

"You realize that most people would react with dawning horror at the idea of having unknowingly flirted with a Sith Lord. If you would prefer me to - back off..."

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"Not at all," he assures her. "I'm not horrified, I'm delighted."

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"All right. So long as you know that I will always offer an exit should you want it, I am elated by your delight."

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"My favourite Sith Lord would do no less."

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"... Nariveth."

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"Hmm?"

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"Ah, my - my name. 'Lord Callida' is a Sith title. I don't hate it or anything, but. It did sort of always bother me a little that ultimately one of the things the Sith took from me was my name. ... Don't say it in front of anyone in my fleet, please, or Occlus, it. Is sort of equivalent to implying I am not a Sith Lord, which is an insult."

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"Ah," he says. "Yeah. I'd picked up on a sense that the Sith titles were - well, titles more than names - you may have noticed I say 'my favourite Sith Lord' a lot, it's partly because because 'Lord Callida' felt distancing but asking you if you had another name would've felt incredibly presumptuous..."

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"Quite." Pause, smile. "And here I was, thinking that it was because the phrase amused me."

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"That was definitely also a factor."

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She snorts.

"Of course it was."

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"Anyway. We were discussing Barrayaran courtship customs."

He considers for a moment.

"...So, to oversimplify a bit: there's the casual-liaisons kind of courtship, which I sense this is not, and the eventual-marriage kind of courtship, which—do I have to explain marriage as a concept, because if so I'm going to need a minute to think and/or call my mother, she's much better than I am at deconstructing fundamental cultural assumptions—"

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"Marriage as my culture understands it is a legal and social bond between two people, promising a compatibility in lifestyles and goals, and at least a nominal mutual infatuation. Does that approximately match up?"

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"Close enough!" he agrees. "Traditionally, among the Vor, courtship looks something like: two people spend a lot of time together socially, often encouraged by their parents, if they're especially traditional then they make sure to never technically be alone together during this phase, and when they've gotten to know each other well enough that they expect to enjoy or at least tolerate being married to one another, they hire an old woman - not just any old woman, it's a specialized social role - to mediate and observe formalities and so on while they and their parents come to an agreement about whether they will be getting married and what the ceremony will look like and so forth."

He pauses.

"Or, if you're my parents, it looks more like: two people meet while fighting on opposite sides of a war, he somehow manages to fall in love and propose marriage under these conditions, she doesn't answer immediately but then goes home and gets in some kind of legal trouble and has to flee her planet and shows up unannounced on his doorstep months later to say yes. So, ah, there's some room for flexibility in this scheme."

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"Have I mentioned that I like your family? Because I like your family." She's smiling again. (It happens so often!) "Well, most of that sounds agreeable, though I am trying to imagine an old woman attempting to mediate with Occlus and while I suspect the results of that might be hilarious, I also suspect that we might like to avoid that sort of thing. If we, ah, do decide to get married, that is."

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"...honestly, the way you and I get along gives me a vivid understanding of how my parents could've been so sure so fast that they were right for each other. I mean - I don't want to - I'm not saying let's skip the courtship and get married tomorrow in front of my cousin and your linguist, but - if I needed a doorstep to land on in a hurry, and yours was available..."

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... Well. She decides that this conversation will be much improved if she moves from her current seat in this comfy armchair to a new seat next to him on his comfy couch. This way she can mysteriously find his hand and entwine fingers. How did that happen? It's a mystery.

"Isn't that sort of what I'm doing now? Though extend doorstep more to 'planet' than literally throwing myself upon your mercy. Your Emperor's doorstep, maybe." She shakes her head, smile irrepressible. "But, anyway. Thank you, I think."

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...he looks at their hands and smiles.

"I did mean it as a compliment, although immediately after I said it I realized that telling someone I'd marry them if my life was destroyed and I desperately needed a home might not come across as unambiguously positive."

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"I understood the intent, I think. Though honestly, if you'd shown up in the Sith Empire asking to marry me instead of going literally anywhere else, I would have been a mixture of flattered and appalled."

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"Yeah, that's probably the right reaction. God, now I'm imagining what would've happened if I'd come through a fucked-up wormhole and landed in your empire... I get the impression they would not have been nearly so welcoming."

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"No. No, they wouldn't have." She has visions of some asshole Sith Lord deciding that they wanted to know the contents of Miles's head personally, or that he would make a serviceable apprentice, or that he looks like he'd have an interesting reaction to torture, or -

This is not a productive line of thought, she thinks, and therefore she terminates it. Instead, she squeezes Miles's hand. (If Miles is paying attention, there is a faint, nearly unnoticeable tingling in the hand, electrical in nature, but not strong enough to even really recognize or find to be painful.)

"This way around is much preferable."

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He spends a moment gazing into the distance with a look on his face like someone who would make that hypothetical Sith Lord's life very difficult.

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Then he looks at her and smiles. "Yeah, agreed."

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She smiles back.

"Now," she says, "there are a number of things that you should be aware of. For one, relationships between Force sensitives aren't doomed or anything, but they can be - intense. In one way or another. A Force bond is incredibly likely, and if you get training in the Force, I'd say it's practically guaranteed. Which might not perhaps be the best option for a courier of your standing." That last part was a little bit wry. "I could - and would - teach you how to shield yourself from me, and obviously not invade your privacy, but - emergencies happen. Sometimes in certain situations all you can do is reach out for whoever you possibly can, however you possibly can. And then the shields all fall away and suddenly I have more information than anyone in Imperial Security ever wanted me to have."

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"...Is the part where I admit that I was already more or less planning to call Simon tomorrow and say 'I'm going to marry Lord Callida and I would like to be able to talk to her about my job when I do'?"

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"Aren't you confident," she teases, though she's - not unhappy with this statement. Mine, some part of her purrs. (Shush, she tells it.)

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He grins, and he means to continue the joke somehow, but he opens his mouth and what comes out is—

"You've brought nothing but joy into my life since the moment I met you. You clearly love Barrayar and for some reason you also seem to be very fond of me. Talking to you is like flying the Dendarii Gorge with my eyes closed. Of course I'm going to marry you."

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... She has literally never had anyone say anything of the sort to her in her life. It is not unpleasant. (She thinks she might be in trouble if he keeps talking, but she never wants him to stop.)

"I," she begins, and then her voice catches for some reason and she has to abort in favor of starting over. "I'm - talking to me is like flying the Dendarii Gorge with your eyes closed?"

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"I—when I got really good at it—there's this feeling like... like everything I'm doing is the right thing, I don't need to think about it, I can just fly—I was reaching for a metaphor that expressed how easy it is to talk to you, how our conversations always seem to just flow effortlessly and we keep tossing jokes back and forth like we've already been married for twenty years, and that was what came to mind."

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Her vision's blurring and she absently observes that it's been years since she's cried, and that by now the prospect is kind of strange and alien. Also infuriating. This? After everything else she's been through? This is what drives her to - to near tears? Because she hasn't actually started crying yet, it's just the beginning parts of it.

"Um." And suddenly she's embarrassed, and scrunches her eyes shut. "I, believe I might need a minute if you don't want to deal with me crying on you for reasons that really don't make much sense."

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...he squeezes her hand. "I am perfectly willing to deal with your nonsensical crying, with or without explanations," he says. "Do you want a hug?"

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His reaction is not a bad one, but it is also not one that's conducive to 'the Sith Lord does not cry.' She tilts her head back and blinks open her eyes, contemplating the ceiling. Oh look, tears, what a surprise.

"You know what," she murmurs, "yes, yes I believe I do."

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So Miles hugs her.

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She reminds herself that Miles is fragile and breakable, so she does not just fling herself at him to sob pathetically into his hair. Instead, she moves to cuddle him slowly, systematically. Like an expertly demolished building, collapsing majestically into the ground. Or, in this case, to an appropriate snuggling position with Miles. To cry on him. Because that's definitely what she's doing now.

"I don't even know where to, to begin to, attempt to explain why I am now crying out of nowhere," she mumbles.

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"No rush," he says, wrapping his arms around her.

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"Why are you so great," she thinks, but - wait, no, she said that out loud, didn't she? Oh, she is in trouble.

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"It seemed obviously preferable to the alternative."

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Giggle-sob.

"Funny, that probably would have been my answer, too."

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"We are very much alike in a lot of ways. Being really great, for example."

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Well, that has earned an extra, and slightly louder sob.

"Did you know," she begins, feeling inane, and then there's another sob and she has to pause and pick it up again, "that slavery's a thing in t-the Sith Empire?"

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"...It's not the most surprising thing I've ever heard."

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"Right, the society seems to have built itself on the premise of 'how absolutely terrible can we get, let's find out empirically,' it's insane. What probably is a bit more surprising is, the." She snuggles closer; her voice comes out kind of muffled. "Sith's not exactly a profession for the long-lived. And they decided they wanted more Sith, and didn't want to fix the turnover rate problem on account of the aforementioned premise upon which the society is built, and. So they checked various people for Force sensitivity and threw those that were into their academy to become Sith. No matter what they'd been before."

Does she need to say it? She kind of doesn't want to say it.

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...he cuddles her.

She probably does not have to say it.

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Excellent, she prefers that. It's easier if she doesn't have to say it out loud.

"S-so, there's that, which is - itself, but I think my problem right now is, is." Sniffle. "Some equivalency to travelling through an endless desert, and somehow surviving on account of a mix of luck and cleverness and eventually reaching the point where it's not - easy, perhaps, but surviving in it is manageable. And escape isn't really expected but the desert itself isn't so bad once you have the basics of not dying down and I think I've fleshed out the metaphor enough to continue on let's not linger longer here." Another sob, followed by a sniffle. "Then when you least expect it suddenly there's an, an oasis of some kind, and. And now I am crying, which is great, some Sith Lord I am."

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"My favourite Sith Lord," he reminds her.

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Did he want another extra sob, because he has earned one. Here it is, just for him.

"Also the only one you've met," she mumbles.

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"True. But if I'd met any others I bet you would still be my favourite. Your teacher, when she arrives, will have to be content with second place."

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She makes a noise that sounds like an unholy mixture of a sob and a laugh.

"I can't imagine she'd be jealous, she doesn't much care for others' opinions."

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"Works out nicely, then."

Snuggle.

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Snuggle. Sob.

And then, because she will not just leave well enough alone, she has to be very sure that the proverbial oasis is not a mirage and isn't going to disappear into desert sands: "I - I might end up having a, a jealousy problem, I've noticed that I've had some, obsessive, or perhaps a better term would be possessive tendencies. Which, is fun, it's great to know that I definitely have the capacity to become a crazy Sith."

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"I'm confident we can figure it out," he says, hugging her.

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"What, make a twelve step program for what to do if your girlfriend goes crazy and starts demonstrating why Imperial standard for what to do if a Sith becomes infatuated with you is 'quietly despair inside and say yes to everything they ask'?"

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"One, I have more faith in my favourite Sith Lord than that. Two, even if you don't have that much faith in my favourite Sith Lord, perhaps you should have more faith in your favourite Barrayaran."

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She whines a little, and shrinks into him.

"While I do not at all want to dismiss you or your abilities, because I think that'd be a grave mistake, I also can and have turned a man into paste with my mind, so, um. I'm, I'm afraid of myself, I have some measure of faith in my own abilities but I haven't - done anything of this nature before and if I fuck it up, then. Then I don't know, I'm afraid of hurting you. In fact the thought of being in some kind of active conflict with you sort of makes me want to crawl into a hole and die, which admittedly makes it hard to follow the train of thought of how you'd handle me going off the deep end."

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He hugs her some more.

"I think we're going to be okay," he says. "That's - not to dismiss your concerns, but - if there's one thing in this world I really truly understand, it's people. When I say things like 'my favourite Sith Lord would never do that', I'm not just flippantly reminding you of how much I like you, I'm saying - the reason I like you and the reason I expect you to be reasonable and ethical and in control of yourself are the same reason, it's because that is who you are as a person, that's - everything I've ever seen you say or do - you're smart and resourceful and organized and you have good priorities and you care about people and you think things through. I really truly do not expect all that to fall apart if you start dating someone."

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".... Yeah, okay, when you put it in those terms it does seem a bit far fetched for me to snap and go crazy. Thank you." Snuggle.

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Snuggle. "Anytime."

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"Well," she says, scrubbing at tears and shoving her issues back into their box. "I think that's my set of possible relationship constraints, complete with a healthy dose of some insight into the darker places in my head and in my history, do you have any you'd like to share?"

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...He thinks about it.

"...I do actually need to marry the person I end up spending my life with, and marrying me comes with a - a place in the social and legal landscape of Barrayar - that's why it's so important that you love it here, it's not just that I personally appreciate you for it and it's not just that I love it here and want to live here for the rest of my life, it's... I'm Lord Vorkosigan, heir to the Vorkosigan Countship, and the woman I marry becomes Lady Vorkosigan and eventually Countess Vorkosigan when I inherit the Countship from my father. I would expect to have children eventually, although not anytime soon because I in no way feel ready for fatherhood yet."

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"I'm not really adverse to being responsible for things or having a place in social and legal landscapes of places I actually like. Though I expect that I'm not going to stop being so involved in - everything. Is being Lady and then Countess Vorkosigan something that requires more time than I'm likely to be able to give, what with all of the other things I'm likely to be doing?"

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"Not necessarily. It's - I don't know. You could ask my mother, she has experience making sense of it from an outside perspective."

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"All right."

She smiles at him, then looks thoughtful. ".... I'm not against having children, but. To be honest it's not a thing I ever really expected to, ah, have? What with being a Sith Lord in the Sith Empire." Pause. "Any children we would have would be very likely to be Force sensitive."

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"Yeah. Well, we have plenty of time to think about it."

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"We do." She kisses the crown of his head, and repositions herself so the cuddles are less clingy and more comfortable.

"Though, we haven't even been on a date yet, and we're talking about marriage and children. I think many would consider that kind of fast."

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"How about we retroactively classify those dinners with my family and that time I crashed your meeting with Gregor as dates, then our timeline will look much more reasonable."

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Nariveth laughs.

"You didn't even realize we'd been flirting until today!"

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"But it's so obvious in retrospect!"

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"Mhm. But 'obvious in retrospect' is not 'we decided to go on a date.' While I might be tempted to let the various dinners slide, that time you crashed my meeting with the Emperor does not count. You just sort of showed up."

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"I think showing up out of nowhere while you're doing something important and getting in the middle of it sounds like an excellent date!"

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"Oh, does it? I will have to keep an eye out whenever I do anything important from now on, won't I?"

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"I promise to keep my meddling constructive!"

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"Ah, well. Then I suppose I have no reason to protest your involvement, do I?"

She trails a hand up to caress his cheek, wondering vaguely how quickly someone can pick up experience in the mechanics of kissing.

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He smiles at her.

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That is encouragement enough for her, so she kisses him accordingly.

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What a great idea!

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Yes, she is very pleased with having had it. In fact, they can just keep enacting it for a little while. For educational purposes.

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They will learn so much.

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For example: techniques for minimizing the need for oxygen can be used while kissing if one is disciplined enough, and she is.

Maybe later she'll want to take this further, but honestly, right now she kind of just wants to stick to this. No concern about scars or vulnerability or volume, just a warm comforting presence of someone who cares for her, wants her to be happy, and also wants to make out with her a little.

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Yes, that sounds fantastic.

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As time goes on, she relaxes. She wasn't precisely tense before, but usually there's an undercurrent of alertness, awareness, in every moment of her life. The undercurrent bleeds away with her continued synergy with Miles, leaving a pleasantly warm and tingly affection in its place. Dangerous to slip into, maybe, but she's sick of being starved for all physical affection. Tired of always looking over her shoulder, always being prepared. Exhausted with the idea of always, always, holding something back.

The kisses don't lessen in affection, but they do lessen in frequency and strength, in favor of nuzzling or gentle carresses. She hums contently, scootching slightly so as not to squish the object of her affections, and murmurs into his neck, "At this rate, I'm going to end up falling asleep on you."

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He giggles softly.

"I'm not opposed in principle, but it seems like there might be more comfortable places to do that."

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"Mmm, yes, most likely." Nuzzle. "What do you want to do?"

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"I am experiencing a strong temptation to fall asleep on this couch. But I think I think if we're going to give in to the temptation to fall asleep while cuddling we should do it on an actual bed, where we will be more comfortable and less likely to fall off."

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"Miles," she murmurs wryly, "are you asking to stay the night?"

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"I guess I am!"

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She laughs, softly. "Well, all right. But don't be surprised if several members of my still-to-be-named fleet are concerned for your safety."

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"Well, that's nice of them, in a way."

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"They certainly mean well, yes." She kisses him, then pulls away to sit up.

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He sits up, and then leans over and hugs her, exhaling a contented sigh.

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She hugs him back, of course, smiling fondly.

"Careful, Miles, else we'll be mistaken for one person and not two."

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He giggles.

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She kisses his forehead, then finds his hand so she can hold it.

"Think we can make it to my room without being spotted?" she wonders, and then she shakes her head ruefully. "Oh, who am I kidding, of course we can. Shall we?"

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"Let's!"

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To absolutely no one's surprise, the Sith Lord that can sense the location of everyone in the manor and the Barrayaran covert ops specialist can absolutely make it to a bedroom without anyone being the wiser. While holding hands.

"Unfortunate downside to sleeping here; I have no extra clothes for you," she observes, perching on the edge of the bed to begin the slow process of unbraiding her hair. "I suppose I could send for extra clothes, if you particularly want them."

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"Hmm," says Miles. "The most practical and discreet thing to do would probably be to call my mother, but - well, she'll be Betan about it..."

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"Betan about it?"

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"She is likely to congratulate us in a tone of voice which I will find mildly embarrassing."

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Nariveth laughs.

"Would it be preferable if she dealt with me instead and you didn't have to hear her congratulations?"

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"Yes."

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"Well then, do you think it worth the trouble?"

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"If you don't mind being congratulated by my mother, then yes."

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"No, I expect to be smug," she says, amused.

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"Excellent, that works out nicely then."

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"Yes." Her hair's now entirely down, so her hands are free again to hold his. So she does.

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"Your hair is very pretty," he says, gazing at it.

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"Thank you," she says, a little delighted. "I like it, and it's kind of relaxing to braid. I wouldn't have it loose in - most circumstances, but if I'm going to be sleeping I'd prefer it down."

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"Well, it's lovely."

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She preens.

"You have gorgeous eyes," she informs him, matter of factly.

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"So I've been told, but I admit it's very nice to hear it again."

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"Excellent." She traces gentle circles on his hand with a thumb, smiling adoringly. "... We should call your mother about the clothes."

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"Yes we should. Even though sitting here complimenting each other is so much more rewarding."

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"I don't know, we can call her and then return to complimenting each other, and maximize our available rewards."

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"Good plan!"

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"Thank you!" Kiss.

"I'll go and call her then. Do you want to be away so you can't hear the congratulations at all?"

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"I think I'll survive overhearing them."

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"All right." ... Extra kiss.

Then she goes to the nearby comconsole, sits down, and calls Cordelia.

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"Hello."

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She suspects she looks slightly smug. Because she feels more than slightly smug. "Hello! Miles has decided that he'd like to stay at the manor for tonight, would you mind bringing a change of clothes and perhaps something for him to sleep in?"

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"Not at all," she says. "Congratulations."

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"Excellent, thank you," she chirps, and wow, yes, she was very correct about the smugness. It is vaguely tempting to gloat, which is strange, because she has never wanted to gloat before in her life. She settles for looking slightly more smug.

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"I can be there in ten minutes, does that sound acceptable?"

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"Yes, thank you."

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"No trouble at all."

And she ends the call.

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"That went well," says Nariveth lightly, to Miles.

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"It went pretty much exactly as I expected."

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She snorts.

"I was tempted to gloat. I don't usually feel tempted to gloat - the closest I believe I came is when I made a comment to the academy instructor after officially being accepted as Occlus's apprentice."

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"Goodness. Gloat-worthy, am I?"

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"Did you think you weren't?"

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"Far be it from me to tell you when to gloat!"

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She laughs, and then she kisses him.

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These are good things.

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Yes! Though they cannot last forever. They have ten minutes.

"Your mother will be here shortly, I should be down to meet her. ... I perhaps regret taking down my hair but I don't believe I'll be able to get it up again in ten minutes."

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"I could try to help but I don't in fact know anything about braiding hair..."

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"I can teach you later," she says, amused. "And I'll stomach it for now."

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"Okay."

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Kiss!

And then she departs, because she expects Cordelia to arrive shortly.

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Her prediction was accurate! Here is Cordelia with a bag containing some of Miles's clothes.

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Excellent! "Thank you very much, I expect us to pre-plan better in the future so you should not have to do this again."

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"Yes, I think you're right. Have fun."

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Yeah she is just not even a little embarrassed about this.

"Thank you!" she repeats again, the smug leaking back in. "I expect we will."

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She grins.

She leaves.

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Yes, she's going to like being officially part of Miles's family.

She takes the bag of clothes back to her room, and then she can kiss Miles again. Like so. Kiss!

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Kisses! Kisses are so good!

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They are!

"This must be," she murmurs, "one of the more straightforward love affairs in the universe, I was expecting at least a little bit of complication somewhere."

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"There's nonzero complication involved! Just none of it urgent and all of it manageable!"

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"This is true." Onto the bed? Onto the bed. Something occurs to her, and she snickers slightly.

"I must be such a headache for the head of ImpSec. Not an unwelcome one, but - 'the telekinetic empath with a foreign fleet of ships from another galaxy that floats above Barrayar has taken up with Miles Vorkosigan, and he is now requesting she eventually have security clearance so he can talk about his work with her.' Poor man."

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"If anything I think he'd rather you take up with me than continue being foreign."

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"The trick of handling massive security risks is to make them the other side's problem, clearly."

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"One of my favourite tricks!"

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"I won't ask where you've used it," she says, wryly.

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"Thank you."

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"Of course." Kiss. Snuggly kiss.

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So snuggly!!

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She has been touch starved for years so she is getting all of the snuggles now. All of them. Every last one. And also some kisses, because they're pretty great.

"Do you have thoughts," she asks during a lull in kisses, "on how fast we take things?"

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"I don't have strong preferences. Playing it by ear seems to have worked out for us so far."

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"It has! We can certainly keep it up." Kiss. "I might, ah, tackle you later, but right now I'm all. Warm cuddly feelings."

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Kiss. "I, too, feel very warm and cuddly."

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"My, how did that happen." Snuggle.

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"It's a mystery!" Snuggle. Kiss.

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She hums appreciatively and returns the kiss, sinking back into blissful and comfortable tranquility. Maybe Miles has something on meditation. She'll have to keep it in mind for later. Much later.

Miles now has a nuzzly Sith Lord half asleep on him.

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"All right," yawns Miles, "I should use the lavatory and change into sleepwear like a responsible adult capable of planning more than thirty seconds in advance—" and he kisses her and gets up and goes to do those things.

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Sleepy giggle. "Good plan."

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And a few minutes later he is back, wearing cozier clothes, for more snuggles!

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Brief snuggles!

Because she needs to go change, too. Kiss, and then she's off.

... There's some slight trepidation about exiting the refresher in cozier but less covering clothes. Most of her scars aren't particularly impressive, but she has electricity burns from a dead Sith Lord that are rather striking. She's not ashamed of them precisely, but neither does she particularly want to watch Miles flinch upon seeing - her.

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This is stupid. She's a Sith Lord. If he cannot love her for her and look past whatever flaws cover her, then she'll simply remove him from her life, no matter how much it will break her heart. Then she will pick up her broken heart and stitch it back together and carry on with her life. Because she deserves to be treated well, and if he won't do it she won't have him.

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And so out she goes, to return to snuggling Miles.

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Miles hardly seems to notice her scars. (He's got some of his own, revealed by his current attire of T-shirt and shorts, though his are subtler - neat straight lines along his limbs, mostly, legacy of bone replacement surgeries.)

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Yep, see, there was no reason to worry.

(They make a pair, don't they, with their interesting sets of scars.)

She hums thoughtfully, and nuzzles him. "It's - easier to feel you now, I think. Through the Force, I mean."

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"Hmm?"

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"Ah, I sense living things around me. Sort of - I'd compare it to seeing people as glowing lights through fog, except it's not sight at all, but the metaphor is decent enough for my purposes. Some people burn brighter than others, and if I - do the equivalent of squinting - I can pick them out from further away. Finding it easier to sense someone in particular is sort of a - prelude to the Force bond?"

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"Aha. ...Does it usually happen that fast?"

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"It depends. Usually it's based around - perhaps not precisely emotional intimacy, but familiarity. This is faster than normal, but not astonishingly so, likely on account of how, um. I haven't actually gotten around to teaching you anything yet. Sorry about that."

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"Last I heard, you hadn't even decided whether or not you're going to," says Miles.

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"What can I say, you're persuasive," she says, deadpan, and then she smiles and shakes her head ruefully. "More seriously, I - trust you to take it seriously and handle it well. To not just do things because you want to or because it's easy or because you're angry. I couldn't say precisely when I decided that I was willing to, but, well. I did."

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"Well. Thank you."

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"You're welcome." Kiss.

"Actually!" she says, smiling a little, "this isn't a bad location for some very impromptu pointers. If you'd like them."

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"Sure!"

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"My first lesson in the Force," she says lightly, "was a dark room, a lot of containers, and one sword that was kind of a bitch to find. It worked okay, but was fueled very much by adrenaline, and I think I'd rather not put you through that."

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"Reminds me of my introduction to military command. But that's a story for another time. Go on."

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She snorts, looking at him with consideration.

"Hmm. Starting with finding inanimate objects is all well and good, but if I'm not mistaken, you're a people person. And the Force is highly focused on living things, anyway. All right, I think I know what approach to take with this. Close your eyes."

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He smiles agreeably and closes his eyes.

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"You mentioned that you felt a mystical sense of intent, when I put you in the healing trance. Recall how it felt, how it wasn't seeing or feeling, precisely, but something more. Recall, in short, how you felt me. The me that is housed in but beyond the humble flesh and blood of this fragile body of mine."

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"Okay."

He brings up the sensation in his memory.

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"Now hold that feeling in your mind, and let conscious thought fall away. Like you were sailing on the surface of a deep, deep ocean, and you're leaving your vessel and letting yourself sink into its depths. Focus on the air moving in and out from your lungs, the feeling of the bed beneath you, on the sound of my voice, on the hint of wind that carries it."

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Okay. Sensory experience and the feeling of presence -

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"You know what I look like," she murmurs, easy to pick out from the silence of the room. "Not the structure of my face or the color of my hair; me. You've seen me before. You know me. You saw me even while you were unconscious. I'm right next to you. You don't need to think about it to find me. Just follow my voice, follow the intent behind it, and you'll find the source."

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Yes, of course. Easiest thing in the world, or it should be.

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"It's not difficult," she continues, talking to me is already effortless, you said it yourself and you meant it - ah, there you go, hello Miles.

There she is. Alive and aware and herself.

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It's beautiful. She's beautiful.

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There's a soft hint of delighted feminine laughter, coming from - the obvious source, really.

She's amused with him. Elated, really. Does he know he's amazing? Because he's amazing. She's proud of him - he caught on so quickly, but of course he did, she knew this would work. Knew that capitalizing on his previous experience with her in particular was the way to go. Knew that capitalizing on their chemistry was the way to go. Or, one of the ways to go. She suspects she could have tried something else and he'd have been able to figure it out just fine, but she's taking partial credit for this because ha she's smart.

So's he. Is he just going to bask in her presence? Not that she's not flattered, but really Miles (when she thinks his name it comes with a contented purr, a flash of adoration) you know you can do so much more than just look at her. Does he want to see what the rest of the world looks like? This is his home, he should know what it is.

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One thing at a time, come on, she was the first thing he saw, of course he's going to take the time to appreciate—

—and then he reaches out to look at his planet and completely loses his train of thought.

It's... it's Barrayar. He can see geography, all the Counts' Districts, their capitals, major cities - he can see history, the Cetagandan Wars, Vordarian's Pretendership, the paths they traced out on the soul of the planet - his grandfather's cavalry in the Dendarii Mountains, the huge ugly scar of Vorkosigan Vashnoi - he feels like if he looked closer he could pick out individual threads, follow his parents or Gregor through the tapestry of time, but he's too stunned by the spectacle to try it.

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She doesn't interrupt, just smiles and holds him.

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...yeah, he might be at this a while.

He always feels this way on Barrayar, at least a little, this sensation of being home, of being in the right place, being connected to his life and his people and his ancestors - but now he feels it with unprecedented, breathtaking intensity. This is his planet. His home, his history - his District, his mountains - God, his mountains...

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Something about his first real interaction with the Force being something beautiful makes her feel like she did something very right. Like this is how it's supposed to work, not scrambling in a tomb with crazy people. She doesn't feel jealous - she's seen more with the Force than he has, whatever her first experiences were - but she does feel like she's on the correct path here. Which is nice.

She leaves him his privacy, but does keep a resemblance of an eye on him. Just to make sure he's okay. In this, he's her responsibility. She'll make sure he doesn't get lost somewhere.

She'll be here when he returns. ... Possibly with a datapad out, getting more work done, but, well. She can multitask.

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He stays caught up in it for hours, tracing out all the parts of his planet he recognizes and some that he doesn't. It is unquestionably the most incredible thing he's ever experienced.

When he finally emerges, a few minutes after midnight, he's exhausted and teary-eyed, overcome with emotion.

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Oh, good, she was just starting to wonder if she should maybe prod him or not. This solves the problem nicely.

She looks up from her datapad and sees his expression. The datapad goes back on her bedside table, and then she can hug him.

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He clings. "I - thank you so much," he says shakily, "that was beautiful..."

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She smile into his hair, snuggling him.

"You're welcome. I'm glad, and you did wonderfully." Hair-kiss.

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Yep okay he's just going to snuggle up and cry on her a little bit. Hopefully she won't mind.

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Nope! She can return the favor he gave her earlier. Snuggle.

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Okay. Good.

Eventually - after a few minutes - he smiles a sniffly smile and wipes his eyes and hugs her. "And now," he yawns, "I am definitely going to sleep."

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Giggle.

"Sounds good." Kiss. "Good night, Miles."

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"Good night, Nariveth."

Snuggle. Zzzzz.

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Yep, she was pretty much only still up to keep an eye on him, now that he's safely paying attention to his own body again she can sleep.

(She has a warm pleasant thrill from someone using her name. From Miles calling her by her name. It's been so long - not long enough for her to have forgotten it, but maybe long enough that she sort of forgot what it sounded like when spoken aloud by other people.)

Snuggle. Zzzzz.

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He wakes up in the morning and just kind of grins delightedly at the ceiling.

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His favorite Sith Lord's still asleep, but if she were awake she's be happy with his delight.

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She would! She's so good. She is the best Sith Lord.

... yeah, he is definitely in love with her.

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Soon enough, she stirs, yawning a little.

"Good morning," she mumbles, opening an eye. ".... Especially with that smile, hi Miles."

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He laughs. "Good morning!"

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"You seem cheerful. Just thrilled with my presence, or have you been gazing lovingly at your homeworld some more?"

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"No, the thing I have been gazing lovingly at is definitely you."

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"Excellent, I don't have to control my no doubt horrible jealousy."

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"If you were habitually jealous of Barrayar that would be a problem. But I think we can probably work something out between the three of us."

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"Probably. We're all very sensible. Barrayar, I get him holidays and weekends, and will consent to lend him out in emergencies."

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He giggles and kisses her.

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She could get used to morning kisses with Miles. She kisses him back, of course.

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Mm. Cozy kisses.

And then—

"Chrysalis!" he exclaims.

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She looks at him, confused and amused.

"... This sort of thing paints a telling picture of our future intimacy, doesn't it."

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"Yes, it does - sorry, it just occurred to me - as a name for your fleet," he explains. "Um, do you have butterflies in your galaxy?"

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"Ah... my translator's translating the word as 'insect with a thin elongated body and proportionally large wings,' and offering a few potential available options - I can get holos of the species that look similar?"

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"Butterflies are pretty little things, symbolically associated with life, hope, change, the soul - and they're pupating insects, and the pupa is called a chrysalis - etymologically related to χρυσός, gold, because they're often bright golden in colour. And... part of the trouble, I think, with naming your fleet, is that it's hard to say what it's going to be once things settle down. You were one thing and you're going to be another, but right now you're in transition, and even afterward... the transition is still going to be an important part of your history. It reminds me of the colonization of Barrayar in a way. Except you don't have to spend six hundred years reinventing the social and mechanical technologies of your ancestors from scratch."

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"Huh," she says. "Maybe not the direct word itself, but I might look up some etymology or an equivalent in one of our languages, and toss it to the people that are in charge of the poll. I mostly just want to keep it from being named as if I were a more traditional Sith Lord and they were my cultists."

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"Traditional Sith Lords have cultists?"

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"Often, when traditional Sith Lords grow tired of Sith politics and aren't powerful enough to murder their problems away, they take a group of loyal people - or, well, people that aren't in any position to decline - and run off to some isolated moon in some bizarre corner of the galaxy with them. There, they have them build a magnificent and impressive temple, showing to all that would find the place how powerful they were. Then in five to thirty years they die alone in it after having squandered everyone that followed them in some way or another, and it becomes their magnificent and impressive tomb. If they were any good, they have one or two followers that are still loyal to their memory, and will dress the place up a bit and put them in a nice coffin before running far away and moving on with their lives."

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"God, the Sith are depressing."

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"Yes. It's terrible. But on the bright side, Occlus and I would eventually find and explore the tomb and ransack it for everything useful that the Sith ever made. So. Not entirely useless, sometimes they made breakthroughs in one thing or another."

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He laughs and hugs her. "My favourite graverobber."

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She laughs, a little.

"Do you know other graverobbers? Should I meet up with them, exchange tips?"

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"You know, I bet if I thought about it I could come up with at least one or two. Not off the top of my head, though, no."

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"Alas. So the categories I'm your favorite in are, respectively - one where I am the only one you've met, and one where I am probably one out of perhaps three, but you can't remember the others right now." Pause. "I'm moving up in the world! Soon I'll be the favorite of a category that encompasses perhaps half a dozen people!"

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...he cracks up.

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"Tell me Miles, do you know many librarians?"

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"I've met a few!"

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"I believe I have my next profession to gain favor in, then!"

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He smiles at her.

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Well when he smiles at her like that she just has to kiss him.

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Good! It's so nice when that happens!

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It is! So very nice.

....

"One moment," she murmurs, and she gently unkisses and floats over her datapad to figure out the answer to a very important question. What time is it?

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"Mm?"

It is six hours and four minutes after local midnight!

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And the earliest thing she absolutely has to be at (a meeting with someone that's going to talk to her about local air filtration systems) is at ten hours after local midnight. So that would give her - if she skips her typical morning meditation - three and a half hours. She considers, briefly, and then glances at Miles.

"Do you have anywhere to be in the next couple of hours?"

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"Nnno?"

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"Well!" she says, lightly. "I have three and a half hours free, if you'd like to lend me your morning."

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"Happily."

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She smiles, and goes back to kissing him, because that's wonderful. At long fucking last she can finally get what she wants -

... So why is she kind of nervous, now?

(Maybe skipping the morning meditation isn't a good idea.)

"Oh damn it," she mutters, "if I lose out on getting to have sex with you this morning on account of my stupid hangups. I will be annoyed. I will be so annoyed."

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"...Anything I can help with?"

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"I - have precisely no experience with any of this, on account of awful power dynamics," she admits. "Because how could I expect anyone to be able to say no to a Sith Lord? So now I don't know what to do, which is abnormal for me, and this makes me anxious. Which is manageable, but that takes time to manage, and then my anxiety is being magnified by how we have a time limit. Meanwhile I'm objectively thinking, 'This is stupid, I definitely want to fuck him.' Because it is and I do. So. Ugh."

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"We could schedule a longer block of time later," he says. "I'm happy to give you my morning, but I'm also... not in a huge hurry." Pause. "My approach to anxiety is usually to charge it head-on like an angry bull, but I'm aware that most people find more success with different methods."

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Giggle.

"I certainly could just carry on regardless and ignore it, I have the discipline, but. This is perhaps not the sort of subject with which to ignore myself."

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"Yeah. I've, uh - ignored myself on this subject a time or two, when I was younger and... more generally uncertain, and it tended not to end well," he admits.

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She snuggles him, petting his hair.

"No, I imagine it wouldn't. I don't particularly want to ignore myself, that seems a recipe for disaster, but I'm a little frustrated. I know there's a balance between 'Sith it up and ignore my inconvenient feelings' and 'grumble and leave early to deal with my frustration via copious application of meditation.' I'm just not sure how to get to it."

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"Well," says Miles. "I think... that depends what you want? The approach that seems most appealing to me at first glance, without a deep understanding of what's going on, is to just - not push it, not impose expectations on ourselves, and wait until a later date when we have plenty of time - because, hmm, how do I put this... I think it's a lot more important to be happy in the long term than satisfied in the moment. If we turn out to be as compatible as it looks, I plan on spending the rest of my life with you. We have plenty of time to get to know each other at a comfortable and convenient pace. I don't know, am I making any sense here?"

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"Perfect sense, and I even agree," she says, attempting a small smile. "Yes, certainly, I prefer happy in the long term to satisfied in the moment, too. Just." She gives up on the smile, and goes with a sigh and a snuggle. "I sort of gave up on, ah, this front, a while ago. Since I have retrieved the part of myself starved for companionship I am quickly realizing that she was very starved indeed. And then there's the issue of - I did not, exactly, make a habit of thinking in the long term. Personally, I mean. I had no trouble arranging everyone else's lives to their future satisfaction where I could, but. I don't know. Some combination of expected future unhappiness and unexpected longevity. The best I had to hope for was that Occlus lived forever, and that the Sith Empire would peacefully collapse without taking too many casualties with it. Neither of which were - particularly stable foundations to base one's hopes around. I'm sort of used to waiting for everything I care about to unravel when I least expect it."

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...Miles hugs her.

"I promise not to vanish unexpectedly," he says.

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"Well, unexpectedly, maybe not, but. I don't know. I'm - complicated, volatile. Frankly kind of an emotional mess, on account of everything. Where I lived, what I went through - what I did. I wouldn't blame you for deciding you'd like someone with less baggage. Or if - it turned out that we had some subtle incompatibility, like an uncharted black hole, wandering through some unsuspecting hyperspace lane. Invisible until suddenly you're sucked in and vaporized."

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"...I really genuinely don't think that's going to happen," he says. "Although I can see how it makes a compelling image. As for the other thing... I recognize that it's an option I have, and that it isn't even necessarily unfair although it sure feels that way, but it's just... not who I am as a person."

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Little smile.

"Fair enough. You've given me no reason to think you'll vanish in a puff of smoke. I don't think it's so much my concern for how flighty you might be, or how likely it is that I might lose you, just. Built up psychological baggage that's being dragged along by a too-helpful assistant that does not take no for an answer and insists that 'of course we have to take this we might need it later!' Once I have time to, to get used to you, I believe I'll calm down." Sigh, snuggle. "Which I cannot neatly slot into my morning like some kind of administrative wizard. Pity."

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Snuggle. "Now that would be a hell of a magic trick."

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"It would be! But alas, it's beyond me. Unless you have some way to stop time for a while?"

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"No, unfortunately."

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"Well, do let me know if you find one."

She's tempted to kiss him again, but that might remind the part of her starved for companionship how, ahem, starved she is again, and she is quite sure that tackling Miles right now is not the sort of thing she'd like to do. As proven by how she sort of freaked out and then needed to talk about her feelings just now.

Sigh. Snuggle. "I'm sorry for - frontloading the emotional drama a bit. I realize it might be kind of stressful to deal with."

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"Not a problem," he says, snuggling her some more.

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"Okay. Do let me know if you'd like me to - taper it a bit? Give you space to just enjoy my company instead of making it so... painfully honest."

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"I will let you know if any such preference occurs to me."

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"All right. Until then, I'll just - keep doing this, then." Nuzzle. "Letting you in, I suppose."

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Smile. Snuggle.

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Snuggle.

"Anyway. I would still like to borrow your morning, if not perhaps in the - way I had originally implied."

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"And I am still happy to lend it to you."

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Awwwwww. Okay, fine. She can kiss him for that.

"You're sweet," she murmurs. "... Metaphorically, I mean."

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He giggles.

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"Though I imagine literal sweetness wouldn't be difficult if you wanted the achievement."

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Snort. "Can't say I've ever entertained that particular ambition."

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She gives him a briefly contemplative look, then shakes her head ruefully, dismissing that line of thought as not really useful right now.

"Hm," she says, which is all she is allowed to say on the matter.

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"Well, regardless, thank you for being metaphorically sweet. It's - nice."

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"That's sort of the point of being sweet!" he says. "Or, in other words, you're welcome."

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Snort.

She leans over, and kisses the tip of his nose. Because it amuses her.

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He giggles again.

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She smiles adoringly at him, and then decides that she can kiss him after all. Admittedly mostly because she really, really wants to, but, hey. Sith are supposed to be in tune with their passions, right?

So she kisses him.

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What a delightful turn of events!

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Yes, yes it is.

She keeps the kisses sweet and loving over - hungry. Not that there won't be a place for that, eventually, but right now is not a good time. Right now can be practice for the meditation technique of making out with Miles Vorkosigan. How does it compare to her usual methodology? She already finds it more fun, so it has that going for it.

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Miles also seems to think it's pretty great. But he admittedly probably isn't using it as a meditation technique.

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Probably not, no. Doing that is admittedly a bit weird. But she's pretty sure he's right, this is pretty great. Even if maybe her usual meditation would be better at getting to the root of the problem, this makes her all. Relaxed and happy. Which is not a thing that usually happens with her. Maybe that should change. She could get used to occasionally becoming so at ease she feels she could melt into a puddle for a little while. Is there a bucket handy? ... She doesn't care enough to ask, there is a Miles handy, and there are so many kisses to bestow upon him.

 

"Miles, I think I'm falling in love with you," she murmurs into his lips. Oh, that's the danger of being relaxed, isn't it. Saying things she might regret. She can't quite bring herself to care.

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"Huh."

He smiles.

"Yeah, likewise."

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She smiles back, kissing the corner of his mouth because damn it she should bestow affection upon that smile somehow.

"Aren't we nice and symmetrical." Nuzzle.

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"Very tidy." Snuggle. Kiss.

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Mmm yes she doesn't need her brain right now, they can go back to kissing. She'll require her brain later. In a few hours. Which is such a long way away. ... Maybe. What time even is it anymore?

"... I'm probably going to lose track of time if we keep doing this," she observes, a little breathlessly. "Hold on, darling, let me just set an alarm so I can stop worrying about it and go back to kissing you."

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"You're so organized," he says, somewhere between fondness and admiration.

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"You should see my personnel database," she giggles, delighted. "In comparison, setting an alarm so I can be at my meeting on time is trivial."

Inertia is a persuasive mistress. Or maybe Miles is a persuasive lover. Either way, getting up to retrieve her datapad seems like such a chore, and Miles is so comfortable. Instead, she floats it over. Then she sets an alarm on a gentle chime at the appropriate time, and sends it back out of her way so she can focus her attention on Miles again.

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"I mean, I've been known to keep a pretty sharp personnel database in my time, but I wouldn't even think to set an alarm for a meeting, I'd just hope I remembered - in fairness, I usually do - and if I didn't I'd run in late and apologize as charmingly as possible."

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"Hm," she says, amused. He probably shouldn't have mentioned that he has needed to keep a personnel database in his time. It strikes her as not the sort of work couriers tend to do. "I think I wouldn't be able to pull off the charming apology. Or even if I did, I would worry that I'd bet setting a bad example, or making my staff feel like I didn't, hm. Consider them worthy of my punctuality? And that's - not the sort of thing I ever want anyone that works for me to think."

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"Yeah, that makes sense."

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Smile. ... Less smile. "I already fight kind of an uphill battle to get them to realize I care about them. I'd hate to lose that, even without involving my own personal feelings. Everything's more efficient when they have a measure of trust with me. Before we arrived here they - near universally avoided me. Nekros was not a kind commander. Or particularly good at aiming his tantrums."

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"Yeah, I've heard. The people I'm late to meetings with don't tend to be my subordinates, for obvious reasons. The worst I'm risking with my bad time management is Simon getting sarcastic, which, while fearsome, is... not the same thing at all."

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"No," she agrees. "Though I don't think I want to be late for a meeting with Occlus, either. She'd give me a look."

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"I have a well-known problem with insufficient respect for authority. Probably comes of playing tag with my Emperor as a child."

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Snort. "That follows, logically. It took me a while to process how fundamentally different your Emperor and my former one were. ... But I think I'm having trouble envisioning tag with an Emperor. For now, anyway."

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"My Emperor is a source of many fond childhood memories."

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"Oh? Well, now I'm curious. Would it be subverting the dignity of his station if I were to learn of them?"

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"I think the dignity of his station could use a little subverting in your case! You're obviously not going to lose respect for him if I talk about the time I learned he had maple candies and separately sent every charmable relative I could find to go get me one - I was a very small child at the time and had not yet grasped the finer points of subterfuge - and he was once a child and did patiently allow five or six different people to petition him for maple candies on my behalf and I feel like this is an important thing to know if one wishes to truly understand Gregor."

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Giggle.

"That's adorable."

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"Yes, it is."

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"Your Empire is so nice. And filled with reasonable people. It's great."

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"I certainly like to think so!"

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Nuzzle.

"I love it and want to stay here forever. ... Well, maybe go see what the rest of the Nexus is like, too, but. I am in no hurry and would like to return once my curiosity is sated."

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"I recommend Earth," he says. "Birthplace of humanity. Also where my little brother grew up - I can't remember if I've told you this story—?"

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"You mentioned a clone substitution plot, but I don't believe I asked for details at the time."

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"There's not all that much more to tell. His name is Mark. I like him. He's got a twisty sense of humour and he's out there roaming the galaxy somewhere, declining to keep in touch."

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She nods. "May the Force be with him," she says, softly.

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"...huh," he says, "I'm not sure if I knew that you invoke the Force where my mother would invoke God..."

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"Oh, um. I get the impression some Jedi actually worship it, but I don't, particularly. I invoke it more in the sense that - okay, context. Force users tend to be abnormally good at timing. Being in the right place at the right time with the right tools for the job, even when it seems like it'd be impossible. So when I invoke it, it's less like I'm invoking an actual deity-alike to be with him, and more like I am wishing the steps on his path to fall into place. So he can go wherever he'd like to go. The proper Sith version is actually 'May the Force serve you well,' but that only applies to trained Force-users. But I don't like using that one, because I want things to work out for everyone, regardless of Force sensitivity or not."

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"As it happens, that's remarkably similar to how my mother invokes God."

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"Oh. Well. Then, yes, apparently I invoke the Force like your mother invokes God."

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He smiles.

"Yeah. Although, thinking about it, I'm not at all sure he'll need it. Resourcefulness seems to run in the family."

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"I don't doubt it. But he can have my slightly-religious blessing for his well-being and happiness if he wants it, anyway."

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"He'd probably be confused about why it was on offer."

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"Ah, well. Which part would confuse him?"

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"He, uh... doesn't seem to have a lot of practice interpreting people's motives and goals? Except me, he's got me down cold. I can just hear his voice in my head, asking 'why?' with this quizzical look on his face that I cannot at all mimic..."

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"Oh. I suppose it'd be pointless to try to explain my motivations to you in his place, wouldn't it. What with him being who knows where."

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"You could if you liked, and then I'd have the explanation on hand if I ever met him and happened to mention it."

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"Fair. And I sort of want to mention it to you anyway because I'm becoming enamored with the ability to just tell you what I'm thinking." Nuzzle. "I want him to find safety, fulfillment, and happiness, because I can empathize with not having any. I don't think I'd hesitate to try to offer some kind of way out to anyone that needed it if I could, regardless of their relation to you. It just - it's incorrect. There are improvements that can be made. It would be better if everyone could have their lives neatly fit around them and they could live lives that they think are sufficient. If the galaxy were constructed more efficiently."

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He smiles at her. "Yeah. Wouldn't that be nice."

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"Very." Kiss.

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Yes, that.

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"You are tempting to kiss all the time, how did you walk around without someone trailing after you, badgering you to lock lips...?" she murmurs, nuzzling again.

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"I can't say I've ever had that problem before!"

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"No?" She decides that brief experimentation with other locations to bestow kisses is okay, and that nibbling is not, and acts accordingly. "Well, just as well, I suppose. Even if it started out as endearing, it might eventually become annoying."

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...Miles is slightly distracted and does not reply immediately.

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Nariveth decides that she's distracted him enough for now, and with a bit of effort stops what she's doing to peer at him with a slightly sly smile.

"Or maybe not," she observes.

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He giggles.

"Depends on whether I had other demands on my time, maybe."

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"Ah, of course. And who your company was, I can't imagine you'd like to be badgered for kisses in front of everyone."

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"It could get awkward! In so many different ways!"

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"Yes. Especially if you had to explain why enamored admirers were begging to follow you on your courier missions."

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"I only have proof of the existence of one enamoured admirer so far."

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"Hmmmm, true. Perhaps the others are shy."

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"Or perhaps there aren't any."

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"I acknowledge the possibility," she grants. "Reluctantly. But I still think it unlikely."

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"I find it very flattering that you insist it's just not plausible you're the only person who has had this impulse."

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"You're just so charmingly yourself!"

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"The majority of people I have met in my life don't seem to find that a very kissable quality!"

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"Well, I suppose they're free to be tasteless. If they really want to."

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He laughs.

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She smiles, and nuzzles him.

"I have no problem with taking advantage of their inaction." Like kissing him some more, she can do that.

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She has such good ideas!

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Yes, she does, doesn't she?

They can just keep doing this, then. Since it's such a great idea.

 

The morning is lovely. Not even just the kissing (though that's pretty great) but having him here. Waking up next to him. Holding him, talking to him, feeling his presence through the Force. It's nice. She thinks she wants this every morning.

But the prospect of there being a time limit to this particular morning starts to weigh on her mind. Not very overtly, but - she does not want to get rudely interrupted by an alarm, much as she'd rather be interrupted than shirk her responsibilities. She'd rather not need to be interrupted to prevent herself from shirking her responsibilities.

And they can always have other mornings, can't they.

"We should probably actually get out of bed," she murmurs gently, kissing his forehead.

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"That sounds like a terrible idea," he jokes.

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Nariveth giggles.

"It definitely is," she agrees. "But we'll have other mornings, and I think I'd find being rudely interrupted by an alarm annoying. At least this way I can feel a sense of pride for escaping inertia on my own."

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"Well, all right, I can respect that logic."

Out of bed they go!

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Yep! It's terrible. So terrible.

But she can kiss him again before going to get ready for the day. Which is nicer than it has any right to be, really.

And then, yes, actually getting ready for the day.

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While rebraiding her hair, she wonders, "Do you want to be quietly spirited out of the manor, or would you rather just - walk out and not worry about it?"

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"I think I can just walk out and not worry about it, unless you think there's something to worry about."

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Snort.

"Not with my people - I mentioned they'll be concerned for your safety, and that's true, but we won't have to worry about vicious gossip or some kind of scandal. They're very good about not talking about certain subjects. But, you know. We didn't have a chaperone with us at all times, who knows what we might have done in here. I'd understand if Barrayarans were scandalized a little and that you might want to avoid it."

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"It'll be fine," he says cheerfully.

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"I'll trust your judgement." She finishes tying off this section of braid and starts on another. "But if people start saying you've been charmed by a sorceress, I'm saying it's your fault."

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"No, everyone will think that spending one night at your house and then declaring my intention to marry you sounds perfectly in character for me and nothing about it requires an extraordinary explanation."

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.... She's going to have to restart this braid section because now she's too busy laughing to have much coordination. Apparently there are hazards to spending the night with Miles Vorkosigan.

"Well," she laughs, "all right."

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He grins at her and commences buttoning his shirt.

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Soon enough they are both suitably ready for the day.

"I don't think I'm going to be able to have time tonight for a date night," she informs him, sadly, "but I'm free tomorrow night if you'd like one."

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"Tomorrow night sounds good!"

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"Excellent. I'll look forward to it, then." Kiss.

One benefit of not keeping this a secret: she can walk him to the door. So she does that.

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And he bids her a cheerful goodbye and off he goes.

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She smiles at him fondly, and then, to work.

Her workday is largely undisturbed by Imperials being concerned about Miles's safety, though everyone seems very mysteriously knowledgeable and do not ask any questions about Miles himself or what she did with her morning. Which of course means that the information has disseminated through the Imperial gossip network. Fine by her. As long as they don't panic, she can just - prove their assumptions wrong one day at a time. Miles will keep being one half of a consensual relationship, and they will be obviously very happy together, or -

Or she will let him go, if it comes to that. Which, she really hopes not, breaking up would be terrible. He said 'Of course I'm going to marry you' and now she's gone and believed him, and the thought of eventually being married to Miles fills her with a - a strange warm glow. It's weird, but not unpleasantly so. If she had more time, maybe she'd be tempted to sigh wistfully and maybe doodle 'Nariveth Vorkosigan' with little hearts instead of dots for the i's, but she's much too busy to actually have time to manage anything that embarrassing. Fortunately.

 

Callida has a check in with Occlus scheduled just before she typically goes to bed, this being partially why a date night with Miles wouldn't be very viable. She takes a minute to compose her thoughts so her mentor won't have to put up with the discomfort of having a lovestruck apprentice in her head, and then retrieves her crystals and reaches out.


Occlus.

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Apprentice.

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She gives a report of current events and how the planning for the station is coming along (well), and gives Occlus the finalized list of people to bribe to join Occlus in coming over. Here is a pilot with her own ship that was dating one of her biochemists, unconnected to the Imperial Military personally. She might be willing to be a disposable test subject for whether coming over will even work, if Occlus would like to arrange that it be tested before packing up her archives and blowing up what she doesn't take with her. Because Occlus might want to do that.

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A good idea; she will arrange it. Look for the arrival shortly. She has some minor quibbles with the station design.

And with business concluded, I sense a certain... satisfaction in you, apprentice.

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Well, that was predictable. She'd been kind of hoping she had a better lid on it than that, so that Occlus wouldn't notice until she actually went about telling her, but Occlus knows her very well and is pretty perceptive, so. This was really, really predictable.

There is a Barrayaran here named Miles Vorkosigan - son of the Cordelia that's been so helpful with the station planning, actually. I am - fond of him. (There is a mild and quickly suppressed flutter of adoration and delight.) To my amusement, he's declared that he's going to marry me, which I do not expect to take any issue with.

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I see. Are you certain you wish to so closely entwine yourself so quickly?

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It would not be any time soon. For now, we're just dating.

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He must be exceptional.

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There's the flutter of adoring delight again, just as quickly stifled as the first.

He is! I - could attempt to describe him, but I don't believe I yet have the control with this strange new set of emotions to manage it while avoiding annoying you with silly feelings. I do think you'll like him.

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I look forward to meeting him.

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Smile.

I'll be happy to introduce you once you're through the wormhole. (Stifled fondness.)

Anything else, or shall we conclude this check in?

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Nothing further on my end.

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Nor mine. Farewell, my lord.

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Apprentice.

Break.

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And now she is free to giggle to herself about Miles Vorkosigan. She doesn't indulge in doodling, but she does let herself sigh wistfully. Once.

She meditates an hour to get her head in order, then goes to bed, vaguely wondering if this is what it's like to be in love.