shipmaster | (no subject)

[ Simon focuses intently on Bel in turn. Let's see who gets more information out of this exchange. ]

A week ago. It seemed right up your usual alley. So why did he turn it down?

How could I say? I have no idea what the mission is. Who did you want killed?

[ Rude, Bel. Simon continues to blink at them nervelessly. ]

He didn't tell you?

[ Well, if Simon is going to drag them off and vanish them, Bel wants to earn it. ]

Not a word on it. Do you need him off planet that badly?

He - and you - are uniquely well suited for it. I didn't think he'd turn down an opportunity to revisit the planet you discovered.

[ Each statement is just as calm as the first, as if Simon were idly discussing the weather. ]

[ ......

Bel was caught on that one. Absolutely caught, and certainly off guard enough for it to show. ]

Ah.

[ Ha. Did Simon just smile slightly in return? A trick of the light. ]

So why would Miles turn down something like that? Without, apparently, conferring with you about it.

[ Good damn question. Bel certainly knows the answer...

Miles had a hard enough time doing what he thought was the right idea to start with, and didn't want to deal with the consequences just yet. ]

I don't know. That will be a fun conversation.

When we find him, then. I hope it's soon.

[ Speaking of which, the groundcar comes to a stop. And of course, Miles is nowhere to be found at the Vorrutyers... Simon dallies a bit to talk with whoever's still home. ]

[ Which would account for the rather impressive speed at which Byerly Vorrutyer is attempting to not be at home. Donna, however, in fairly practical skirts for supervising the packing gives both of them a rather sharp look. ]

Captain Illyan, Herm Thorne. What do I have to blame for this occasion?

[ Simon folds his arms behind his back. Noting the packing with a flick of his eyes but not commenting. ]

Miles Vorkosigan. Have you seen him this morning?

[ ... And meanwhile, quietly, Bel's comm pings with another text message. Good thing Simon's attention is focused elsewhere. ]

[ Donna glances at Thorne, expression turning particularly arch. There's certainly something to having this get the attention of ImpSec to cover some of Miles' own shenanigans... This alliance wasn't that firm. However, she does need the Centralists more than anything.

She merely smiles, expression lidded. ]

I'm afraid this House hasn't seen a Vorkosigan this early in the morning in some years. Perhaps you're looking for a Vorbarra.

[ While Donna relays that almost sweetly, Bel flicks their comm on, only moderately sure Simon Illyan can't see something directly behind him. ]

[ This is Simon Illyan we're talking about here. But he's entirely focused on Donna right this second. ]

A Vorbarra? Which one should I expect here, exactly?

[ Dammit Donna stop messing with him.

Like the previous text messages, this one is also brief and cryptic: ]

ddnoen

[ Bel Thorne would later, if plied with enough wine, admit that they spent an embarrassing amount of time trying to decipher that. Almost a full minutes in variations of "Don't do nothing..." the O. The o had them stumped before--

Miles has been under a lot of stress...

As Donna, demurely pretended to be obtuse, Bel simply turned and bolted back for the groundcar. ]

[ Simon turns, but too late - Bel can easily get in the car before Simon can follow. He does appear before Bel can leave, looking a bit irate. ]

Thorne!

[ And take Simon Illyan right to where Miles will be postictal. No. Simon will have an idea of where to go, but the scramble to get the resources will buy time.

This is a horrible idea. If he knows anything about the Vorkosigans, at least, their people are well trained for bad ideas.]

Sorry, Sir. New orders.

[Bel turns to the driver, thumbing the locks on. ]

Get going.

[ Oh yes. And given this is the same driver that took Miles there in the first place before lying to Simon Ilyan's face about it ... He takes one look at Bel and doesn't hesitate. Simon is left to go back inside to try to get help from the Vorrutyers. (And then go find alternate means of transportation when that surely fails.)

There are no further messages from Miles during the drive. And soon enough, the driver pulls up close to Imperial Medical. There's a small side lab here, where a certain doctor from Jackson's Whole had taken up residence after the adventure with Taura. ]

[ On the way in, Bel was looking more for ways back out - possibly off planet, if necessary. That trip to Beta Colony perhaps, if they could swing back to the Vorrutyer's was an idea... The way one does in a mission gone sour.

Brushing past the protesting secretary (armed guard only holding at the Vorkosigan colors on Bel and the driver), finding Canaba wasn't exactly the surprise they wanted. Their eyes narrow unhappily at the scientist. Having plenty of time to get to know Taura hadn't instilled any great favors in this man's name. ]

I'm looking for Miles.

[ Canaba looks up rather startled at Bel's entry. No love lost there, no ... He holds up his hands as if in surrender. The lab is littered with pieces of a very familiar piece of tech. He'd been working on dissecting the Atlas suit. ]

This was his idea, I swear. I'd never have done it otherwise.

[ Since, y'know, that makes everything better. No Miles visible here, but there's a doorway on the opposite side of the lab that's lit from within, and a familiar silhouette laid out in a hospital bed. ]

[ Bel turns to the driver and draws, then throws a stunner their way. ]

Make sure security doesn't get alerted.

[ And pushes into the adjacent room with all of the authority and intent of a gd captain, rank be damned. ]

[ Canaba squawks a bit in protest, but there's not much he can do here really. And here at last is the tiny maniac in the flesh. He's in a hospital gown, vaguely conscious, lying on his side with a strip of the Atlas suit attached to the back of his head. It's thin enough that Miles can - and will - be able to grow his hair out over it and hide most of the change.

He turns a bit a Bel enters. Blurry, but not nearly as gray as he normally would be after a seizure. ]

Bel?

[ THERE'S A HUNDRED MILLION THINGS HERE THAT ARE WRONG WHERE DO I EVEN START? ]

Miles. It's been two hours. [ HOW DID YOU GET INTO THIS MUCH SHIT? ]

[ Miles manages a weak grin at that. ]

I arrived two hours ago. Yes. Contacted the doctor immediately after we returned to the house.

[ In other words, Miles has been getting into shit all night. ]

Question two. Why do you now have alien technology grafted to your skull, dear?

[ He settles back at that with a slight wince. ]

Ah. Well ... An experiment. I knew Canaba had been assigned to the project. And we already know that the suits can heal injury.