Chapter Text
ImpSec HQ Komarr had an excellent infirmary with a staff that was well trained in emergency protocol and would have known exactly what to do in the case of an outbreak of a small ground war or large-scale terrorist attack. Miles had the impression, however, that they were slightly overwhelmed by the prospect of treating an Emperor with a bump on his head. There were about four times as many people in the room as necessary when Miles finally forced his way in, throwing a ruthless elbow at an anxiously hovering orderly when he didn't move fast enough. Fortunately for everyone involved, Gregor's private physician took one look around and ordered everybody out.
"Thank you," Gregor said with relief once the room had cleared. He was sitting up in one of the hospital beds, looking rather as though he'd been run over by a groundcar. While his physician set about examining him with reassuring briskness, he reached out and grasped Miles's hand. "How's your father? Have you heard about Allegre and the Counselor?"
"They're all fine," Miles said, grasping it back, grateful for the reassuring warmth and weight of it. "Mother's with Da now. She said they were going to check him over, probably give him something for his heart, more for their sake than for his. I talked to Duv a couple minutes ago and he said Allegre and the Counselor and Inceri are doing well enough, if a little worse for wear. How are you?"
"My head hurts," Gregor said, wincing as the doctor prodded at the ugly black and blue lump at the base of his skull. "Other than that, I'm fine. Really." His hand tightened on Miles's. "I'd like to see your father later, if I may."
"Of course. But not right now," Miles added hastily when the physician glanced up long enough to glower disapprovingly.
"Right," Gregor said, closing his eyes. He needed a handful of painkillers and twelve hours of uninterrupted sleep, Miles thought, and rubbed Gregor's shoulder soothingly. He opened his shadowed eyes and gave Miles a wan smile before asking, "Do you know where they took her?"
"One of the cells down below, I imagine," Miles said with a shrug. "She wasn't really my first priority, though, with your permission," he added, trying for diffident but ending up, he suspected, rather more in the vicinity of eager, "I'd like to have a few minutes with her."
"I figured as much. I'm not sure how much there is to get out of her."
"Hmm, yeah. But she might be able to tell us something about the Baron and his plans."
"Yes, that whole thing is worrying, isn't it?" Gregor said, frowning.
The doctor straightened up then, looking satisfied. He pronounced Gregor in need of rest but otherwise just fine, and gave him painkillers to swallow. Gregor took them obediently and asked if he could keep everyone else out of the room for a few minutes. The doctor bowed himself out.
Once he had left, the two of them looked at each other silently for a few minutes. Finally Miles levered himself up onto the bed, and Gregor's arm went around him, pulling him close. They kissed once, twice, and then Gregor leaned his head back against the pillow with a sound of relief. Miles sat up, drew Gregor's head into his lap, and gently rubbed circles over his temples. Gregor opened his eyes. "You see what it's like, then?" he asked softly, looking up at Miles.
Miles nodded, frowning, rubbed a thumb over a stubborn line across Gregor's forehead that he didn't remember being there before all this had happened. "It was – that moment when we got to the shuttle and Galeni told me you and Da were missing was horrible. It was nothing like the moment a mission goes wrong or, or anything else I ever experienced with the Dendarii. It was worse. I don't ever want to feel that again, you hear me?"
Gregor nodded. "That – that terror – is what I feel every time you pull a stunt on a case and Allegre comes in to tell me that you've slipped your protection." Miles looked away, discomfited, and Gregor reached up to gently turn his face back to look at him. "Miles, I was wrong before, I realize that, but do you see – can you understand now?"
"Yes," Miles said quietly.
"I thought for sure you'd do it, you know," Gregor continued, conversationally, and now it was his turn to look away, talking toward the ceiling. "I kept expecting you to come bursting in."
"I wanted to. Gregor, you have no idea how much I wanted to. But . . ." Miles stopped. "I thought that might be it for us if I did."
"I don't know," Gregor said, turning his head to look at him steadily. "I don't know, but I'm glad you didn't."
"I can't –" Miles broke off, gesturing helplessly, and had to stop for a minute before continuing. "There are some things I can't change about myself, Gregor. And there are some things I won't."
"I know."
"But there are other ways of doing things." Miles sighed. "It wasn't – I didn't like it. But I think I can maybe learn how to do it."
"I think you can do just about anything you want, if you have the mind to do it," Gregor said, quietly but with a confidence that made Miles want to be worthy of it. "It won't be comfortable at first, but really, situations like this one are extremely rare. I doubt you'll be put in a similar position any time soon."
"Let's hope not," Miles said. He carded his fingers through Gregor's hair. It was strange, he reflected, for their positions to be so reversed. Usually he was the one in the infirmary after these sorts of things. "God, I was scared."
Gregor reached up to grasp Miles's free hand. "Me too. And," he added on a sigh, closing his eyes, "it's not over, is it? We've still got the Baron and his army to deal with."
"Um," Miles said. "About that."
Gregor opened his eyes. "What? Miles, what did you do?"
"My mother had a brainwave. She pointed out while he's chosen to target us for the moment, a Jacksonian Baron with an army is really a menace to the whole galaxy."
"True."
"So, I, er, I took the liberty of sending out a few carefully worded messages to the Betan and Escobaran presidents, and to General Benin. Don't worry," he added, when Gregor, frowning, started to speak, "I didn't give any specifics on our current situation. But think about it, Gregor. Any one of us would be vulnerable, but if we were to form an alliance . . ."
"With Beta and Escobar, perhaps," Gregor said, reflectively. "But Cetaganda?"
Miles shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe it's time. Maybe it's the only thing that'll save the next generation from having to do it all over again. And if anyone will see the sense in this, it's Benin."
"Hmm."
Miles found himself wanting to sell this for reasons quite apart from the fact that if Gregor weren't sold, then they would have something of a problem, since he'd already gone and done it – which, in retrospect, might have been a bit hasty. "Mother pointed out that this was going to change the galaxy no matter what. But if we manage to think past the ends of our noses, we might be able to control the changes. And she said it was past time for a galactic alliance of some sort."
"Well," Gregor said, "perhaps she's right. She usually is, after all."
Miles, rather relieved, simply carded his fingers through Gregor's hair again and nodded. Gregor closed his eyes, wincing a little despite the painkillers he'd taken. Post-battle fatigue, Miles recognized, though he wasn't sure Gregor himself knew what to call the strange combination of exhaustion and letdown he was feeling. Probably the handful of pills had included a sedative. Miles would try to take care of things for a while, though he knew people would be clamoring to get in here the moment the door opened.
Speaking of things that needed to be taken care of, they'd have transferred Cavilo to a cell by now. Miles hesitated, unwilling to disturb Gregor, but practicalities won out in the end.
"Mmm," Gregor said, when Miles slid carefully off the bed. "Where are you going?"
"To see Cavilo," Miles replied, stroking Gregor's shoulder apologetically.
"Ah." Gregor rubbed his eyes. "I should see Galeni."
"In a couple hours." Miles kissed him lightly on the lips. "You'll feel better and think better if you sleep. I can handle things for now."
Gregor nodded gratefully, and by the time Miles had reached the infirmary door and glanced back, he looked to be asleep again. Miles was relieved to find the hallway beyond mostly empty, save for two ImpSec guards and a few anxiously hovering medical personnel. He forestalled everyone by saying that the Emperor was sleeping and they would just have to stumble on without him for a few hours, but he was sure they would all manage somehow. Miles escaped before they found a reason to examine him as well and considered his options. He wanted to see Cavilo, but he rather thought his new, more cautious approach might necessitate taking someone with him. It was time to track down Galeni, who Miles hadn't seen since they'd landed at HQ.
Unfortunately, no one seemed to know quite where Galeni was. Miles decided to poke his head randomly into boardrooms, startling people into asking anxiously if m'lord Consort needed anything, until at last he found – well, not Galeni, but Alexis. His assistant was typing diligently away at a comconsole, but he looked up when the door sighed open.
"Alexis, what are you doing?" Miles asked, coming to peer over his shoulder.
"Er. My report, m'lord."
Miles blinked. "Won't there be time for that later? Shouldn't you be, I don't know, asleep? You were up all night."
"So were you," Alexis pointed out.
"True," Miles had to concede. "Nevertheless."
Alexis shrugged. "I couldn't sleep. I figured that if anything would help, it'd be this." He gestured toward the comconsole screen."
"I suppose so." Miles hesitated a moment – he really did want to find Galeni and go see Cavilo – but he'd not had the chance to do this since they'd arrived back at HQ. "Anyway, before things get hectic again, I wanted to thank you."
"Oh, m'lord, no –" Alexis began, looking mildly horrified.
"No, Alexis, I mean it," Miles said. "There'll be a ceremony later, I'm sure, and you'll get a medal at the very least, but I wanted to tell you that I am very much personally indebted to you for this." He grinned suddenly. "In fact, you might want to be careful from now on – you've saved my life and now you've saved Gregor's. Ivan could tell you what'll happen if you keep on doing that."
Alexis gulped visibly. "I – er – hadn't thought of it that way."
Miles waved a hand airily. "Don't worry, Ivan is familially obligated. We would never be that mean to you."
"Oh. Well," Alexis took a deep breath, "thank you, m'lord."
"Thank you, Captain Avalos." Miles shook his hand solemnly. "And now, did you happen to see where Commodore Galeni might have gone?"
Alexis hadn't, but Miles finally found him two doors down, meeting with two of the assistant departmental heads of Komarran Affairs. He broke the meeting off when he saw Miles at the door. The two assistants filed past with respectful nods and Galeni stood, shuffling papers. "M'lord, what can I do for you? I hope the Emperor is well."
"Gregor's fine. Would you be mind accompanying me on a short errand?"
"Of course not, m'lord."
Galeni fell into step beside him and they started down the hallway. "Er, Miles, if you don't mind my asking," he said, after a few moments of silence, "but where are we going?"
"Cavilo," Miles said, rather grimly. Galeni nodded, apparently unsurprised, and led the way down into the subterranean levels of the building. Miles followed, marshaling his thoughts and defenses for the interview. The few humanoids that hadn't been destroyed by the explosion or the fire at the palace were in ImpSec's hands now, undergoing various tests. No help would be forthcoming for Cavilo from that quarter, nor, Miles was certain, from the Baron himself. Cavilo was well and truly defeated and she had to know it. And yet – Miles knew that the only thing more dangerous and unpredictable than a rabid mongoose was a trapped rabid mongoose. He cracked his knuckles.
ImpSec Komarr was uncomfortably well equipped for dealing with prisoners, Miles reflected. And they weren't nice, cushy prisoner apartments like at HQ in Vorbarr Sultana either. At the moment many of the cells were filled with Komarran terrorists responsible for the bombings in the days following the closure of the wormhole, but Miles was interested only in the one at the very end of the narrow, dimly lit gray hallway.
Galeni spoke to the guard, who nodded and disappeared inside the room. He turned and gave Miles a nervous glance. "Are you sure about this?"
"Yes. No one else will get anything out of her."
"And you think you will?"
"Well, I can try, at least," Miles said, just as the door sighed open to admit them.
Cavilo sat in a chair in the middle of the room, arms and legs shackled. Her skintight red jumpsuit had been swapped for typical orange prisoner overalls, her hair was hanging in her face, and she'd obviously been sweating. Miles had to bite his lip to keep from grinning.
"I knew it'd be you," she snarled, eyes narrowing.
"Be happy it's not anybody else," Miles retorted, stepping inside. Galeni followed him in and keyed the door shut. The guard took up his post and glowered helpfully "That orange is truly a wretched color on you."
She sneered. "I'd have thought you'd be at the bedside of your dear husband, holding his hand and telling him how much you love him."
"I've seen Gregor already. Lucky for you, he's fine. But he's resting at the moment, so I thought I'd come down and chat with you."
"There's nothing to chat about."
"Well," Miles said slowly, pulling a chair over to face her. He spun it around backwards and sat, draping his arms casually over the back. "I have to admit, you did a good job gloating as you went. Your plan is pretty clear to us. What I want to know, though, is what the Baron thought he was doing. The fireship in the wormhole – did anything else go through?"
"I'm not going to answer that," she sniffed. "And if nothing did, it's only because you're lucky."
"Hmm," Miles said. He hadn't really expected anything else, not that he could have trusted anything she did say, but he'd thought it worth a try. He was just getting warmed up anyway. "Very well. Something else I've been wondering about: how did the two of you find each other? Was there a convention for homicidal maniacs or was it a blind date?"
She gave him a disparaging glare. "I fail to see how knowing that would do you any good."
"I'm curious?"
"And you can stay that way, you slimy little runt."
Miles sighed. "Cavilo, Cavilo, Cavilo," he said, shaking his head. "I was really hoping you'd be more cooperative than this."
"Then you're even more of an idiot than I thought."
"No, that would be you," he replied, losing the light tone at last. He leaned forward. "You kidnapped the Emperor, Cavilo. That is a very serious offense on Barrayar. You are in a heap of trouble, and I highly doubt the Baron will go to great lengths to get you out of it." If he wasn't mistaken, she blanched just a little at that. Excellent. "In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if he expected you to fail all along. I mean, did he really think we'd give up Sergyar?"
"If you were smart, you would have," she said, lifting her chin in defiance. "You haven't seen what I've seen."
"Which is?"
"His army."
"Yeah," Miles said slowly, "so you've said, but I don't think that's going to work out the way he thinks it is. And that's part of your problem. You see," he went on, ignoring her scoffing, "a Jacksonian Baron with an army is going to be a thorn in everyone's side, so we're looking into forming an alliance of sorts. Barrayar, Escobar, Beta . . . Cetaganda. Now, please, Cavie darling, will you explain to me exactly why we shouldn't hand you over to the Cetagandans to sweeten the deal?"
He definitely hadn't imagined it that time – she blanched completely white and if he wasn't mistaken, tugged subtly at her restraints. They didn't give, of course, and her expression took on a veneer of desperation. "You wouldn't."
"Oh, but we would. Saves us having to deal with you ourselves."
"What would you do, anyway?" she asked, with clearly feigned indifference. "Kill me?"
Miles grimaced. "No, more's the pity. Barrayar is actually trying a new, more civilized approach these days. I suppose we'd extradite you to wherever you're from – assuming that you were born somewhere and not just spawned out of hell – and see to it that they punish you adequately. But," he shrugged, "I just don't know. We very much want Cetaganda in this new alliance, and handing you over would be a clear sign of good faith."
She continued to glare, but finally said, through clenched teeth, "What do you want to know?"
"The humanoids, Cavilo," he replied evenly. "How intelligent are they? How were you controlling them? How many does the Baron really have?"
"They're adequately intelligent," she said, with great reluctance. "They can recognize a threat and eliminate it. They have speech, obviously, but that's just programming. They're connected to each other – networked – so that they know where the others are and what they're doing at all times."
"And you had them networked into the palace's computer system, didn't you?" Miles prompted. "Anywhere there was a comconsole or even sensors. Gave you the appearance of omniscience."
"Yes," she admitted.
"And controlling them?"
"A combination of programming and verbal commands, they respond to both. He has thousands more humanoids than the ones he sent with me," she added, before Miles could ask. "Possibly hundreds of thousands by now. And he can always make more. Don't think you can destroy the technology, either. He's learned his lesson well."
"I figured as much," Miles said. He nodded, slapped his knees, and stood. "Well, Cavilo, I don't imagine that we'll see each other again. I can only hope not. I'd tell you to have a nice life, but, well . . ." He shrugged.
"But you promised," she said. She was sweating again, Miles was pleased to note. "I told you about the humanoids and you promised."
"Don't worry," Miles said with disgust. "Not that you don't deserve it, but I assume you have citizenship somewhere and it would be a hassle. You'll be extradited – provided, of course," he added, almost as an afterthought, "that you continue to cooperate. If I find out from Commodore Galeni here that you've been difficult, well, we'll have to revisit the matter."
"You're just loving this, aren't you?" she growled.
"Cavilo," Miles sighed, "you have no one to blame but yourself in this. Well," he added, "perhaps the Baron. But you should have known better. There was no other way for this to end."
"I could have shot your precious little Emperor," she snapped, drawing herself up in her shackles. "I should have, the moment I laid hands on him."
"Perhaps," Miles said darkly. "But I promise you that if you had, there would have been no extradition. No Cetagandans either. Just me. And you would not have enjoyed that, Cavilo. Not in the least." He turned on his heel and strode past both the guard and Galeni, who followed belatedly with a rather stunned expression.
"Well," Galeni said once the door had sighed shut, "that was more informative than I thought it would be."
"You should have someone have a go at her again, eventually," Miles replied, turning down the hallway. "Someone who knows the right questions to ask about the humanoids. The more information we have about them, the better."
"Yes, m'lord," Galeni said, hurrying to keep up.
At the top of the stairs, Miles stopped for a moment, just to breathe. He'd hardly let himself do that in the last three days, or so it felt like. But now he could. Cavilo was locked up. His father was safe. Gregor was safe. Everything else would come as it would and they would deal with it. Nothing was insurmountable.
Their worlds would continue turning on their axes for the next generation.
"Miles?" Galeni prompted after a few seconds, casting him a strange look. "Are you all right?"
Miles managed to turn his grin into an acceptably reassuring smile, so as not to unnerve Galeni. "Yes, thank you. What's next?"
By the time Gregor finally convinced his physician to let him up, a full twenty-four hours had passed. He couldn't really complain, he supposed – which didn't mean he didn't – as he'd spent most of it sleeping. Still, getting up and putting on real trousers and a shirt was welcome, even if it meant that he couldn't put off the spate of meetings that Miles hadn't been able to manage in his stead. He would have to see to that this morning. But first . . .
Aral had apparently had rather less success convincing his physicians that he should be allowed out of bed. He was alone and glaring at a handviewer when Gregor knocked. He looked up and, seeing Gregor, frowned and gestured him in all at once.
"How come they let you up?" he demanded rather indignantly.
"I pulled rank."
"Hmph! So did I. Fat lot of good it did me. And I never even got stunned."
"True," Gregor said, settling himself in the bedside chair. "Doesn't seem quite fair from my perspective either. Would you like to take my meetings so I can go back to sleep?"
"Ah, no," Aral said, smiling slightly. "On second thought," he reached over and patted Gregor's shoulder, "I'm feeling just a bit fatigued after all." He set the handviewer aside. "So, what brings you here?"
"Well," Gregor said, a bit disconcerted. He didn't think it was all that surprising, really, given the circumstances. "Concern, I suppose. Miles said you were all right, but I guess I wanted to – that is, I wanted to –"
"I hope," Aral interrupted him with a sharp look, "that you are not about to do me the dishonor of thanking me for anything I did back there."
It was Gregor's turn to frown. "Aral –"
"It was my duty as a Vorkosigan," Aral said, his expression and his tone gentling. "And as your loyal subject, Sire. No thanks necessary."
"No thanks necessary, perhaps," Gregor said, recovering himself somewhat, "but I hope you don't see it as a dishonor if I say that I was – well, rather glad to have you there."
Aral gave a gruff laugh. "I suppose I shouldn't say I feel the same, but the thought of having that woman's full and undivided attention –"
Gregor shuddered. "Exactly."
They fell silent then, and Gregor wondered if he should say something else, something – he didn't know what. He and Aral had so struggled with each other these last five years; it had all come to a head when Miles was ill, of course, and since then things had been peaceful enough between them. But it was only in the last few days that Gregor had started to think that perhaps Aral really had forgiven him after all, that perhaps, somehow, things had come right between them while neither of them was looking. And now he wondered if he should say something.
But then again, that was just it, wasn't it? Things had come right. There wasn't anything left to say. Gregor relaxed, settling a bit further back in the chair.
"I heard about what you did," Aral said suddenly, leaning back and crossing his arms over his stocky chest.
Gregor frowned briefly. "What I – oh. Yes. It didn't seem like there was any other choice at the time."
"I imagine not," Aral said, but still cast Gregor a somewhat stern glance. "That set a dangerous precedent, boy."
Gregor winced. "I'm aware."
"You can't just go letting anyone stun you."
"Well, it's not as though I wasn't specific," Gregor pointed out. "I asked Galeni to stun me." Aral narrowed his eyes at him and Gregor sighed. "I was aware of the risks, Aral, I assure you. I knew no one would do it otherwise. Quite honestly I don't think this is going to be taken as permission to shoot at will," he added dryly. "And it was better than getting in that aircar with her or letting her shoot me in the head with her nerve disruptor. I'll take my chances with the future; right now I'm just happy to have one."
"Hmph," Aral said, seeming more or less mollified. "I certainly can't argue with you there."
There was a brisk knock at the door then and Cordelia swept in, wishing them a good morning. She paused briefly, looking quite satisfied and just a bit smug to see the two of them sitting together, before kissing Aral, then Gregor and settling herself in the other bedside chair.
"I should –" Gregor said, beginning to rise, but she stopped him with a hand on his wrist.
"Actually, you shouldn't. Miles told me to keep you here – he has some news, apparently."
"Oh," Gregor said, sinking back down. He frowned. "Did he say what kind?"
"Of course not," Cordelia said with half of a smile. "That would have diminished the melodrama."
"Ah, right," Gregor said, and folded his hands in his lap. He was aware of Aral and Cordelia talking quietly, but he had no notion of what they were saying. He was watching the door, hands clasped together firmly to keep them from twisting out of nervousness, and was just about to get up and go find Miles himself when the door swung open and he stepped in.
"Miles," Gregor began a bit sharply, starting to rise, "really, there's a time and place for dramatics and –" He broke off as General Allegre ducked through the door and gave Gregor an apologetic frown. "Oh, Guy, I didn't realize – do you have medical clearance to be up and about?"
"That's actually to blame for the hold-up, I'm afraid, Sire," Allegre replied, reaching out to grasp Gregor's hand. "I wanted to be here and my physician had other ideas."
"Ah, right. Er," Gregor said, glancing down at Miles, who raised his eyebrows in expectation. "My apologies."
"Eh, quite all right," Miles said, waving this away. "Can't really blame you for thinking I'd do it on purpose."
"So just what is this news?" Gregor asked, relinquishing his seat to Allegre, who looked about to protest until Gregor gave him an Imperial Frown. He wasn't at all sure he agreed that Allegre was ready to be back out of bed, much less on active duty; Gregor had only been stunned once – well, twice, he supposed – and he felt barely ready to be up and about. Allegre had been kept continually stunned for two days. Still, he looked well enough, and quite determined to be there. Gregor decided it was better not to argue, not least because he wanted to know what the hell Miles was on about.
Miles pulled a disk out of his pocket. "We got a tightbeam message this morning. Well, two, actually, but this is the one you need to see." He strode over to the holovid machine in the corner of the room and slid the disk in. He stepped back, controller in hand, and fiddled a bit. Gregor leaned back, still slightly annoyed and wondering who it would be; he could think of several candidates, among them General Benin, the Baron, Elli Quinn –
For some reason, he wasn't expecting Ivan.
Gregor bolted upright immediately, reaching out to grasp Cordelia's arm. "Miles," he managed.
"Shh," Miles admonished and stood back, grinning.
"I'm not sure when this will reach the two of you," Ivan was saying, "since the plan is basically for someone to sit up there by the wormhole and just continually tightbeam it until it goes through, but I just wanted to take this opportunity to express how completely and utterly pissed off I am at you both." Gregor felt his face crack in a grin. "You need to get home and start your brat, because I'm not doing this again, are we clear? I have never been less of an innocent bystander than in the last four days. I have to give a daily holovid address!"
"Poor, poor Ivan," Gregor murmured.
"Oh, it gets better," Miles said, fairly cackling.
"Also," Ivan continued, the gleam in his eye going from annoyed to outraged, "ImpSec yanked me out of my house in the middle of night, installed me in the Residence, and haven't let me leave. They won't let me out and they won't let Ekaterin in, and I'm sure you're laughing your ass off right now, Miles, but this really, really isn't funny. All right, all right," Ivan snapped to someone off to the side. "Get your Imperial Asses home, you two. Or I swear, I will whip your brat up in a petri dish myself." The holovid winked out.
"Well," Aral said, "that was reassuringly indignant."
"I'll make sure a copy of the report that came through with it is ready for you, Sire," Allegre replied, looking at Gregor, "but it seems that everything has gone as well as could be expected."
"Ah," Gregor said, a bit faintly. He'd been unaware until that moment how much that had still weighed on him; it was only when the weight lifted that he realized what a burden it had been. "Excellent."
"Quite." Allegre stood, and if he was a little unsteady, he seemed bound to make up for it with determination. "With your permission, Sire, I'd like to start preparations for the trip home."
"Yes, General, thank you," Gregor said, nodding gravely. "As soon as possible."
"Very good, Sire." Allegre bowed himself out.
"What was the other message?" Cordelia asked.
Miles dropped into the chair Allegre had vacated. "Elli."
"Oh?" Gregor said, lifting an eyebrow.
Miles nodded. "Apparently she arrived back at the fleet to find things a bit of a mess. The Baron's going to have to work out some of the kinks in his soldier boys, it seems, if he's serious about this whole empire-building scheme."
"I see," Gregor said. "How unsurprising."
"What sort of mess?" Cordelia asked, lips quirking.
"Well, the fleet pretty much reasserted itself the moment Cavilo left – Elli's second in command led a revolt and pulled the rug out from under the man Cavilo left in charge. She really doesn't pick subordinates that well," Miles added thoughtfully.
"She likes people she can bully," Aral pointed out.
"Or seduce," Gregor added, somewhat darkly. "Both, for preference."
"Right," Miles said, casting him a brief, somewhat concerned glance. He shook his head, trying to indicate not now. After a moment Miles put his feet up on his father's hospital bed and continued, with a good deal of satisfaction, "By the time Elli showed up again, Cavilo's man was in the brig and the soldier boys had been put to work chopping vegetables in the mess and doing menial sorts of repairs, which, according to Elli, is what they're best at."
"No fear, no brains, no loyalty," Aral said, leaning back, looking, if it were possible, even more smug than Miles.
"Exactly. Still," Miles added after a moment, "I think we have to assume the Baron isn't going to abandon his plans quite so quickly. "
"Right," Gregor said, leaning back. "Any word yet?"
"Not yet." Miles bit his lip. "They're consulting, I'm sure. Trying to figure out what's in their best interests."
"Yes, speaking of which," Gregor said, giving Miles a sharp look, "we really do need to talk about your habit of blowing things up."
Miles frowned, seeming faintly puzzled. "You mean the palace?"
Gregor crossed his arms over his chest. "Not so much the palace, no. I'm talking more about bigger situations, shall we say. When did we decide to ally ourselves with Cetaganda?"
"That was Mother's idea," Miles replied, gesturing indignantly to the mother in question, whose lips quirked in amusement.
"Yes, but she didn't haul off and do it without consulting anybody," Gregor returned, with an exasperation that had, till almost that very moment, been masked by simple relief.
"Um," Miles said, looking rather quelled for once. "Huh. I did do that, didn't I?"
"So it seems," Gregor replied dryly. "Only you could end up creating a galactic alliance by accident. Just like you ended up admiral of a small but significant mercenary fleet by accident. I think Allegre would rest easier if we locked you up to prevent further accidents."
"Funny, Galeni said pretty much the same thing," Miles muttered. "But I –"
"And I'm not saying you were wrong," Gregor went on, plowing right past Miles's objections, "but these things are generally – well, it's sensitive. My diplomatic advisors usually spend a few days just perfecting the wording."
Miles fidgeted. "I know, I just – it was something I could do, right then, and I didn't even think about it. Sorry."
Gregor eyed him briefly and considered several replies before remembering just what an extraordinary effort Miles had made in the last few days. "Well, what's done is done," he said at last, more gently, "and I think it might actually work out rather well. Besides," he added, feeling suddenly inspired, "it'll give you something to do once we're back in Vorbarr Sultana."
"Er," Miles said warily. "What does that mean?"
Gregor smiled at him as sweetly as he knew how. "You did this, Miles. You get to deal with it. I'm sure there'll be a committee you can sit on. Probably several, actually."
Miles's mouth fell open and his boots came down off the bed with an emphatic thump. "Are you – Gregor! You're not actually going to punish me for this, are you?"
Gregor just went on smiling. "Punish? Not at all. It's actually quite the perfect project for you, as both Lord Consort and Lord Auditor, and with your connections and galactic experience – I can't think of anyone better."
Miles stared at him in mute horror; out the corner of his eye Gregor could see Aral and Cordelia both trying desperately and unsuccessfully not to laugh. "I think you're taking unfair advantage of my new . . ." Miles gestured helplessly. "New philosophy. Outlook. Whatever."
"Not so much unfair as ruthless," Gregor agreed. He checked his chrono and stood. "And now, I have a meeting. Are you coming?" he added to Miles.
Miles glared at him in barely suppressed mutiny for a moment and then sighed. "Yes, I suppose I am."
Gregor smiled. "Thank you," he said quietly. Together they took their leave of Aral and Cordelia, who continued to look highly amused, and headed down the hall, Miles grumbling under his breath all the while. Gregor ignored it, for the most part, until just outside the boardroom where his meeting would be held. Then he let his hand brush Miles's shoulder lightly.
Miles looked up at him, the corners of his mouth lifting in wry amusement. "A committee, eh?"
"More than one, I suspect."
Miles sighed deeply. "And you say you love me."
Gregor smiled briefly. "Always."
Fin.