When they reach the Komarr system, there's a message squirt, bounced at lightspeed from the little ships that do nothing but dance back and forth from side to side of the intervening wormholes collecting and broadcasting data. It says that Captain Illyan invites Miles to supplement his mission report by bringing his wife along.
"You were a good decision on my part, and I'm certainly willing to give this," she gestures generally at Barrayar around them, "a sincere try, because it seems it likely will suit the goals I had in mind to begin with and because I like you very much, but I feel quite sure that if a couple of months ago you'd written out a list of characteristics for your ideal Lady Vorkosigan you would not have described me, and some of the items on that list might turn out to be relevant."
"I... tend not to put much stock in ideals," says Miles. "That kind, anyway. It's not possible to define perfection into existence. What would I look for in the ideal Lady Vorkosigan? Well, I admit I wouldn't have predicted the haut part, but - as you can perhaps tell from the fact that I married you - I'm rather enamoured of the whole package. I would stand in a circle of inexplicably dyed foodstuffs and swear to be your spouse and helpmeet, forsaking all others, united in love, giving aid where needed and accepting it where given, et cetera et cetera I always forget the bit at the end, for as long as we both shall live. And any external complainers can take a wormhole jump to hell." He pauses, then adds, "I promise to leave that last amendment out of the actual ceremony, if and when. Unless you think it'll add flair."
"It does have some charm to it, but is perhaps tonally inappropriate," she says. "For a happy occasion."
"All right. I'm not going to hold you to any of this if there are, I don't know, traditional pitchforks and torches outside your house this time tomorrow carried by people who demand my summary export. But it's nice to know where your thoughts are on the matter."
"—Oh," he says, blinking, after they have walked a few more steps. "One thing does occur to me, about Father - it helps to be honest and direct. As it did with Illyan and will with Gregor. There's some sort of category to be drawn here, I'm sure, but the exact definition eludes me. Perhaps it's just... the observation that powerful men who react poorly when you're straight with them aren't worth being straight with in the first place."
"By far my most natural state is to be honest and direct, so it is convenient that it will help with all these people. Do warn me if we come across anyone with whom I ought to be untrustworthy and sneaky."
"Everything is going to be different here. I knew that, I sought it out on purpose, and it's taken a while to sink in on a properly visceral level. But I think I will manage. In the early days of the haut project someone said that well before the end goal was achieved you ought to be able to put a half-dozen haut five-year-olds on a half-terraformed planet and leave for thirty years, only to find that after twenty-five, they had become tired of waiting for you and were sitting on your doorstep. And I am not five and this planet is more than half-terraformed."
"Yes. I appreciate it very much. I imagine that if I were wandering Beta Colony alone, instead, I could get some form of official help, but my only previous brush with Betan bureaucracy did not leave me too favorably impressed. You are much friendlier."
"Friendlier than Betan bureaucracy, that's me." He sketches a little bow in her direction, impressively managing not to break stride in the process.
"To be dubiously fair to the fellow I interacted with the one time I bubbled up to the embassy to inquire if they could carry me off if I needed to be carried off, I did make the mistake of telling him that I was eight."
"Oh dear," says Miles. "Yeah. A little too honest and direct, maybe. Could've used, uh - twelve-year-old me, God, that would've been a scene." He giggles. "I bet I could've got you offplanet through some sleight of hand or other, but I won't swear I could've done it without starting any wars."
"I definitely don't care to start any wars," she says, shaking her head. "I can be useful, I think, but probably not enough to offset an entire war, at least not with high confidence and on a short time frame. Anyway, when I was eight I didn't want to leave right then. The constellation was a fine place to grow up, I just didn't want to stay forever or take the traditional way out. And I wasn't sure I'd be able to find a third option at all, since everyone invested in making sure it was one of the two is about as smart as I am and they're considerably better connected and more numerous. I hedged my bets a little at least in terms of what sort of education I collected and in the end I had Lisbet's help."
"Are you going to need to change rooms, or is the one you already live in suitable for two people?" she wonders.
"Ah..." He considers this question. "Well. It's bigger than our cabin on the courier ship - speaking of low bars. I suppose we can take the General's—my grandfather's—old suite, assuming Father materializes no objections."