shipmaster | (no subject)

[She laughs, bright and delighted.]

Toughen up your guard, Vorkosigan. I'm a friend.

[The addenda "what will you do with an enemy?" is left unspoken.]

I'll like to receive you again soon, for planning's sake.

[ Oh, whatever. He's already decided to help her, so he's not too concerned with the opposite. A casual little flick of his hand. ]

Of course. Send me a message when you get back.

Expect it shortly. [And at that, she turns to one of her armsman to engage him in conversation again. Another steps out to refresh her tea.]

[As they retreat from the garden, Bel rubs the tension out of their own shoulders... sparing a glance down at Miles.]

Have you considered just adapting galactic laws wholesale? It could save you this... everything.

[ Miles doesn't relax until Vorrutyer is gone. And then he's still rather stiff, a new cavalcade of thoughts stomping through his head. ]

Alas. If we tried that, we'd have a civil war on our hands. Baby steps.

[There's still quite the... exposed feeling out here. Bel takes a look around, finds a nearby door and... rather militarily scans it, at complete odds with the resplendent dress.

Finding neither drunken lovers or spies, they motion Miles in with them.]

There's an upmountain battle.

[ Miles gladly follows. It's too cold out here anyway, even without the threat of eavesdroppers. ]

Just so. It's why I ultimately need to come home. I have a long fight ahead of me - one that will last the rest of my life.

Or take it.

[Bel commented dryly. Like most rooms in the sprawling castle, there were all of the comforts of home prepared for the evening and kept by the small fleet of servant staff: a roaring fire, wine and glasses, and of course, ImpSec listening devices scattered here and there.]

Care to fill me in on what all of that wheedling was actually about?

Or take it.

[ He agrees wearily. If nothing else his heart may give out one day, give him trouble like his father's had. He settles down in a comfortable chair, idly rooting out a bug and switching it off. He trusts you, Simon, but. ]

Internal politics. The current Count Vorrutyer is unlikely to last much longer, and she is his eldest child. She wants to take over after him instead of Richars Vorrutyer, who is the male cousin who would normally inherit. He is, by all account, terrible.

Edited 2016-12-18 14:15 (UTC)

Is she much better?

Oh, yes. Significantly so. [ A pause. ] Still dangerous, but we all are at this level.

You are. I want nothing to do with that side of things. [They fold their arms, considering.]

So, correct me if I'm wrong, but this vote is one of those significant social structure changes.

[ "Nothing to do with that side of things." Hurt flickers in Miles' face for an instant before he chases it away. (What the hell was he expecting? To propose? What an idiot he is.)

Better to focus on more productive things. ]

Just so. We'll set precedents. Open the floodgates, most likely - she won't be the last Countess in truth if we confirm her as heir.

[The flashing change of expressions gets a quizzical tilt of Bel's head, but without a clue where to start (what was that even?), they let it go for what they can grasp.]

So. We should get some hardware down here. Those things always get exciting.

[ A faint snort at that. ]

What hardware? From where, the mercenary group I no longer head up?

[Bel stiffens, looking at Miles widely. Their eyes are almost black from how far their pupils have widened, every detail of Miles suddenly in sharp focus.]

So, it's official?

[ Ah. He hadn't told Bel, had he. Not quite how he'd planned on breaking the news. ]

As of a week ago, plus travel time to Quinn. Simon came to me with a mission; I had to refuse it.

[So... no need for the covert trips to Beta Colony. In fact, as these things stand, there's not going to be a lot of leaving the planet at all.

They need time to think. Desperately need time to think.]

Did you tell him why?

[ Miles shakes his head at that. ]

No. He's - confused at the moment. I expect him to start hounding me the moment Winterfair is over, though.

[ A moment's hesitation. ]

And when he does find out, that really will be the end. I thought it would be best to have Quinn prepared for the worst.

[So. They haven't left orbit around Komarr. No, Miles wouldn't have done that to Bel, they were sure of that at least.

Winterfair was over tonight. There would be days at most to make a decision. If Miles doesn't return, there's no place for Bel. Quinn will take them, all right. Cordially and without malice, and get them to the next station, but there wouldn't be a job on the Dendarii without that special designation.

So.. it's start over here. Or start over out there.

Bel, lost in thought, doesn't answer immediately, stretching into "at all."]

[ Miles wouldn't go that far. Sure, he also wasn't going to tell his former captain until after Winterfair - perhaps until after Simon come after him - but he will not trap Bel, dammit. No matter what.

The silence stretches on. He can guess at what's going through Bel's head, the two impossible options. God, he wants a way out of this too. But Simon can and will find out now that he has the trail ...

Miles swallows thickly, still watching Bel for any hint of a response. When it doesn't come, Miles speaks up again. ]

The alternative is to go to Beta Colony now and hope for a miracle.

[The herm has a particularly blank look of extreme abstraction. It's no harder to read now, as the piece out an answer than the moments before.]

Risky, especially if we're not still in operation. You know how quickly expenses mount there.

[ Goddammit. Miles is getting a bit frantic from the lack of response. ]

I know. But money I can manage.

[That, at least, draws a familiar, dry look.]

With an accounting department, yes.

[ Rude, Bel. But Miles can't deny it. ]

I mean I could probably get enough for treatment. One way or another. Bill it as a mission cost. If it works.

If it works.

[What an if. ... basically asking Miles to potentially burn his career the same way Bel had. Steal and lie from HIS boss, pretend everything is fine, gambling on a very risky payoff...]

I see your logic. [They wish they didn't. They really wish they didn't.]