Well, there WERE rumors. It's good to explore all of them. [ THERE we go. Bel laughs, tapping the spoon against the side of the dish in some light, cheerful tempo.
They sober after a moment.]
To pick Beta of all places to hide... That's a hell of a grid, I didn't even know there were places off it.
[ Dammit, Bel. Despite the fancy atmosphere, Miles flicks a bit of raspberry at them. ]
I have standards, dammit.
[ But - well, that's a real question, isn't it. Miles has to think for a long moment. ]
It ... can be. The choice between doing something terrible and doing what your CO wants to do is all the more pressuring on Barrayar. A choice between death and dishonor, with desertion meaning both. Remember my story about Kyril Island?
[ They didn't need, nor care for, the rest of that sentence. More than anything else, sealed the nature of this dalliance more than anything. The Dendarii were a young man's pasttime, but home was a man's passion. For a while, they align.
In a way, it was refreshing. It set definitions and limits where they'd been fuzzy since they'd set down across from each other. It wasn't diminished, merely defined.
They tug Miles' hand and give a winsome smile, bright and anticipatory. ]
[ There is a division there. And while Miles has been conflicted - will be more conflicted - Gregor has swung him back firmly to Barrayar. As has his duties as Ambassador ...
But tonight is a confluence, oh yes. Miles eyes brighten again as he stands, squeezing Bel's hand. ]
[ Miles is happy to do so. In actual game canon, they go to a few bars, bang up some supervillains, probably make out. It makes Bel's departure a few weeks later all the more painful, and his promise to give Kitty all the details a strained, hollow one, but ... It's a good night. Miles will treasure the memory for as long as he's still in game.
But in this not-in-the-slightest-bit-canonical version of events ... Miles bypasses the fun, hip parts of town. No bars, no drinking, no superpowered fights. Instead, he takes them right back to the government building that houses the Porter. Pulls out his ID, confirms his identity as Ambassador Vorkosigan, and gains them entry.
So it's not typical date night material. But, as always, Miles is determined to go over the top with this. And he thinks Bel will appreciate it. ]
[ Things slid into place a little slower than usual for the normally quick herm. Perhaps the months here had dulled their sense of the wild and impossible on the usual scale when dragons, elves and faster than light travel were just the norms.
But recognition of the military facility (seen just once, briefly, in that chaotic arrival all imPorts go through) opened the door for old friends like predatory anticipation and the thrumming thrill of curiosity about to be sated.
Beside Miles, Bel seemed little more than a fancy tourist on his arm, eyes wide but composed. The shift in body language (to the balls of their feet, the tension in their shoulders, the way their eyes danced across the panels and guards, checking the exits and vents) was more than obvious for one who knew them well. ]
Oh good. I'd hate for us to be late. It seems important.
[ Miles keeps glancing up at Bel for their reaction. He knows that look of keen interest ... And he's deeply gratified to see it. Yes, he's made the right choice tonight. This is probably a gross abuse of his authority, but - eh.
Once they're inside the facility, their escorts permit them a carefully monitored tour. That's all Miles' influence is able to get them, and even that was a hell of a stretch. They wind up in a room with a glass panel that looks out into the actual chamber with the forbidden Porter in it. Here they have a few moments of relative privacy; the guards are posted by the exit, and there's no way to get to the Porter from here.
Well ... almost. The line of sight is clear enough, and there's no power dampening in this specific room. And there's a small crack in the wall, unnoticed, that feeds out into the adjacent chamber ...
Miles isn't quite thinking about that part yet, though. ]
[ If Miles is thinking what Bel thinks he's thinking... the audacity of this was absolutely astounding. And exactly what they had come to expect. What could even come of this? ... Who knows, actually. That blank unknown was certainly the point.
Still... it's as good as tendering his resignation. ]
This close is fine, certainly. I can see damn near every inch of the room.
It's incredible, though. There are those who would give up a lot to be here.
[ The message is easy enough to decode. I can do it. Are you sure? ]
[ There's no way they'll let him continue as Ambassador after this. He's blowing it on a date with Bel, and not something more practical. But ... hell. There will be other opportunities. Probably he can convince Baelish later - the man is twisty enough to appreciate Miles' wiles.
(And if this were canon, he wouldn't - sorry Bel. But since it's not, all bets are off.)
His grin spreads slowly as Bel confirmed what he figured was true already. He reaches for their hand, taking it firmly as he looks up at them. ]
I wouldn't have brought you here otherwise. Something only we get to do.
[ Bel gives a ferocious grin and their hand closes over Miles. The stomach wrenching sensation of a jump envelops Miles, little shreds of dreams and unprocessed consciousness float before, around, and through him, before they're dropped perfectly in the middle of the Porter room, a scant step in either direction from the panels or the platform.
A stunner forms in Bel's hand no sooner than the shimmering glow the jump leaves them. Heaving exhaustion runs through the herm, but adrenaline battles it back as they take aim, firing two smart shots at the guards IN the room. ]
[ And just like that they're here. Up close to the thing ... Miles hadn't actually planned any further than this. He could try to convince it to bring Gregor back, but - doing that on a date with Bel is just the slightest bit rude. So this is reconnaissance. Evaluation.
And mostly the thrill of going into a place he's not supposed to be and getting out again. ]
Buy us as much time as you can, Admiral. I want to get a good look at this thing before we leave.
[ Delayed by human reaction time and simple disbelief, it takes to now for the alarms to go off, bright red and white lights strobe from the corners. There's no peel of a siren, in a place like this, it isn't needed. But from the prone guards, there's a static of orders before someone is wise enough to swap channels.
The sealed door is a problem though. With a flick of their wrist, they swap from the stunner to a plasma arc. One short burst takes the control panel, a controlled, tighter stream is aimed crosswise at the door, not close enough to cut, but enough to melt.
Above and around them, the thrum of some giant machine starting shudders under the floors and the walls. ]
[ And there's their other time limit. When the porter comes up fully, it will cut off their powers. And then they'll be stuck ...
Miles opens his link to Cordelia as wide as it will go, with a silent apology to her for it. But he needs her to be his canary. As soon as he begins to lose contact with her, they need to be gone. He glances back at the door, eying the seal with approval. ]
Good work. That ought to hold them.
[ Meanwhile, he's got his comm out and is busily taking as many pictures and videos as he possibly can in this short time. He paces around it, getting all the angles he can ...
The guards pound on the door to no avail. There's cursing and thumping, then silence. Meanwhile ... There are other things in the room besides the porter. Some that look vaguely weaponlike. Some that don't look like anything recognizable at all. There's a strange device about the size (and general shape) of a snowglobe in a glass case, indicator lights blinking from somewhere beneath its curved surface. ]
[ They frown at the door and back away, wasting several long, hard moments staring at the fused surface. Silence is never a good thing, they always prefered panic and disarray when dealing with an enemy. They kept the plasma arc to hand as they scoured the rest of the room.
They had little leisure to explore the potential-weapons, though they dearly wished. Bel's hands practically itched for having something new and deadly to experiment with, but the chances they were remote control were high and not particularly comforting.
The device though... The case? Locked. Bel strips their suit jacket a moment, wraps it around a fist and breaks the face of the case with a smart blow to the front. Not bulletproof, at least. ]
Admiral! You might want a shot of this... [ As much as the indecipherable and dizzying amount of controls were certainly a boon for science.... This they could sell to StarkTech. ]
[ Now there's something interesting. Miles brightens instantly, coming over to peer at the strange object. And, of course, snap pictures of it too. ]
Theft is probably too dangerous, alas. [ He murmurs, but his eyes are still wicked bright. ] Take it out anyway. I want to get a better angle.
[ Sell to Starktech and get a duplicate made, surely. Behind them, the Porter's hum is increasing in pitch - a stark contrast to the quiet outside their door. ]
Makes the army sandwiches for all I could know. [ They murmur back, an ironic uptwist to their lips.
Like all good Dendari, there was no hesitation reaching immediately after the order was given in full. It reacts immediately to Bel's touch, the lights within beginning to swirl - at the same tempo of the revving Porter defences.
Visible to Miles, a bit of that color seems to seep out of the orb and travel down Bel's arm in a strangely viscous manner. ]
[ Bel is certainly struck with more fascination than horror. (Curiosity was and will forever be their downfall.) ]
No, it's more cold th- Miles! [ Now there's horror, mostly at Miles putting himself in danger. There's a pause, the lights quickly engulf both of them, set in those odd patterns and sense distortion they both find familiar as a jump...
[ When the Blank that used to be Miles awakens, he's in a small, near barren room. A small table sits next to the simple bed, a telescope like device is perched upon it.
Dressed in a green tunic and green pants, an extra uniform cut to his particular size and measurements sits folded on the bed. On his arm is a bracer with a lizard curling upon it. No other clues of where he is, how he got there, or who he is can be found in this barren, cold place. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Bed him? Like hell. It took me forever to adjust to being bisexual even with the range here. Never Baz.
[ He shake his head sharply. ]
Hiding, mostly.
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They sober after a moment.]
To pick Beta of all places to hide... That's a hell of a grid, I didn't even know there were places off it.
Is the service that bad, there?
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I have standards, dammit.
[ But - well, that's a real question, isn't it. Miles has to think for a long moment. ]
It ... can be. The choice between doing something terrible and doing what your CO wants to do is all the more pressuring on Barrayar. A choice between death and dishonor, with desertion meaning both. Remember my story about Kyril Island?
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Why did you want that more than us?
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Barrayar is my home. I love the Dendarii with all my heart, but ...
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In a way, it was refreshing. It set definitions and limits where they'd been fuzzy since they'd set down across from each other. It wasn't diminished, merely defined.
They tug Miles' hand and give a winsome smile, bright and anticipatory. ]
Come, lets enjoy tonight. You said Heropa?
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But tonight is a confluence, oh yes. Miles eyes brighten again as he stands, squeezing Bel's hand. ]
That's right. Something really special.
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AND NOW we leave game canon for PSL-land
But in this not-in-the-slightest-bit-canonical version of events ... Miles bypasses the fun, hip parts of town. No bars, no drinking, no superpowered fights. Instead, he takes them right back to the government building that houses the Porter. Pulls out his ID, confirms his identity as Ambassador Vorkosigan, and gains them entry.
So it's not typical date night material. But, as always, Miles is determined to go over the top with this. And he thinks Bel will appreciate it. ]
Ah, we're right on time.
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But recognition of the military facility (seen just once, briefly, in that chaotic arrival all imPorts go through) opened the door for old friends like predatory anticipation and the thrumming thrill of curiosity about to be sated.
Beside Miles, Bel seemed little more than a fancy tourist on his arm, eyes wide but composed. The shift in body language (to the balls of their feet, the tension in their shoulders, the way their eyes danced across the panels and guards, checking the exits and vents) was more than obvious for one who knew them well. ]
Oh good. I'd hate for us to be late. It seems important.
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Once they're inside the facility, their escorts permit them a carefully monitored tour. That's all Miles' influence is able to get them, and even that was a hell of a stretch. They wind up in a room with a glass panel that looks out into the actual chamber with the forbidden Porter in it. Here they have a few moments of relative privacy; the guards are posted by the exit, and there's no way to get to the Porter from here.
Well ... almost. The line of sight is clear enough, and there's no power dampening in this specific room. And there's a small crack in the wall, unnoticed, that feeds out into the adjacent chamber ...
Miles isn't quite thinking about that part yet, though. ]
This is as close as I can get us, alas.
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Still... it's as good as tendering his resignation. ]
This close is fine, certainly. I can see damn near every inch of the room.
It's incredible, though. There are those who would give up a lot to be here.
[ The message is easy enough to decode. I can do it. Are you sure? ]
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(And if this were canon, he wouldn't - sorry Bel. But since it's not, all bets are off.)
His grin spreads slowly as Bel confirmed what he figured was true already. He reaches for their hand, taking it firmly as he looks up at them. ]
I wouldn't have brought you here otherwise. Something only we get to do.
[ Do it, Bel. He's ready. ]
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A stunner forms in Bel's hand no sooner than the shimmering glow the jump leaves them. Heaving exhaustion runs through the herm, but adrenaline battles it back as they take aim, firing two smart shots at the guards IN the room. ]
Orders!
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And mostly the thrill of going into a place he's not supposed to be and getting out again. ]
Buy us as much time as you can, Admiral. I want to get a good look at this thing before we leave.
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The sealed door is a problem though. With a flick of their wrist, they swap from the stunner to a plasma arc. One short burst takes the control panel, a controlled, tighter stream is aimed crosswise at the door, not close enough to cut, but enough to melt.
Above and around them, the thrum of some giant machine starting shudders under the floors and the walls. ]
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Miles opens his link to Cordelia as wide as it will go, with a silent apology to her for it. But he needs her to be his canary. As soon as he begins to lose contact with her, they need to be gone. He glances back at the door, eying the seal with approval. ]
Good work. That ought to hold them.
[ Meanwhile, he's got his comm out and is busily taking as many pictures and videos as he possibly can in this short time. He paces around it, getting all the angles he can ...
The guards pound on the door to no avail. There's cursing and thumping, then silence. Meanwhile ... There are other things in the room besides the porter. Some that look vaguely weaponlike. Some that don't look like anything recognizable at all. There's a strange device about the size (and general shape) of a snowglobe in a glass case, indicator lights blinking from somewhere beneath its curved surface. ]
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They had little leisure to explore the potential-weapons, though they dearly wished. Bel's hands practically itched for having something new and deadly to experiment with, but the chances they were remote control were high and not particularly comforting.
The device though... The case? Locked. Bel strips their suit jacket a moment, wraps it around a fist and breaks the face of the case with a smart blow to the front. Not bulletproof, at least. ]
Admiral! You might want a shot of this... [ As much as the indecipherable and dizzying amount of controls were certainly a boon for science.... This they could sell to StarkTech. ]
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Theft is probably too dangerous, alas. [ He murmurs, but his eyes are still wicked bright. ] Take it out anyway. I want to get a better angle.
[ Sell to Starktech and get a duplicate made, surely. Behind them, the Porter's hum is increasing in pitch - a stark contrast to the quiet outside their door. ]
What do you suppose it does?
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Like all good Dendari, there was no hesitation reaching immediately after the order was given in full. It reacts immediately to Bel's touch, the lights within beginning to swirl - at the same tempo of the revving Porter defences.
Visible to Miles, a bit of that color seems to seep out of the orb and travel down Bel's arm in a strangely viscous manner. ]
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That doesn't look like sandwiches. Does it hurt?
[ He puts his own hand on the orb too just to find out. ]
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No, it's more cold th- Miles! [ Now there's horror, mostly at Miles putting himself in danger. There's a pause, the lights quickly engulf both of them, set in those odd patterns and sense distortion they both find familiar as a jump...
And the world goes dark. ]
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Dressed in a green tunic and green pants, an extra uniform cut to his particular size and measurements sits folded on the bed. On his arm is a bracer with a lizard curling upon it. No other clues of where he is, how he got there, or who he is can be found in this barren, cold place. ]
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