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"I mean - he hasn't tried to rip anyone's limbs off?"

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"Well, he's asked not to be put in a room with you," snorts Thorne, "and if I were you I'd abide very carefully by that request."

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Canaba gulps.

"Um," he says. "No unusual dietary requirements, except the accelerated metabolism you've already discovered - but - he's going to die. Of that metabolism. That's what killed the rest of them, in the end. Premature aging, faster and faster until a final rapid disintegration - it was ghastly. He hasn't shown any signs of onset that I've seen, but it could come upon him at any moment. Sometime in the next year, or two, or five, or ten - I wouldn't give him very much longer than ten at the outside. It's... that's one of the things I hoped to save him from."
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"Right, that's all I needed to know, but if you're expecting absolution for trying to get him murdered so he wouldn't have to die of old age or even of getting decently shot at for a paycheck, you're in for some disappointment."
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Canaba looks unhappy.

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"In any case, the samples are all yours."

Thorne goes to mention what it has learned to Miles.
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"...We'll have to tell Asterion," Miles sighs. "God knows how he'll take it. I could just about strangle that Canaba. If ever there was a semi-noble impulse more thoughtlessly executed - speaking of noble impulses, on a happier note, how is Nicol?"

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"Happier," says Thorne, smiling. "...But very definitely planning to jump ship at Escobar, collect gigs until she has enough to move on, and play her way back home to her folks."

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Miles pats Thorne's arm consolingly. "Well, you have three more days until then, right? Best of luck."

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"Thank you, sir."

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Miles grins. And goes off to catch up on his lost sleep.

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When appraised of his projected lifespan, Asterion takes the news with a philosophical shrug. He also takes to basic training with alert enthusiasm and superhuman aptitude. It's pretty clear even before they reach Escobar that he plans to take his trainee's oath and stay on with the Dendarii.

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Nicol, however, kisses Thorne goodbye and floats away.

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About which Thorne sighs.

But then it is time for Miles to be transferred elsewhere for his roundabout route home.

"Say hi to the wife for me," suggests Thorne, not particularly expecting Miles to follow up.
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"It'd only make her jealous," he jokes, grinning. "See you around, Bel."

And homeward he goes. Happily, he doesn't even have to delay on his way in, although he is required to make his report to Illyan in person before contacting anyone else.

Illyan listens with limited sympathy to Miles's tirade on the subject of complete mission briefings, reminds him that Bharaputra was the house they were supposed to be stealing from and it's not Illyan's fault if Miles insists on assigning himself quixotic side missions, allows that it would nevertheless have been a good idea to offer him a more thorough background on the target planet, agrees that he will keep this in mind for future briefings, sighs and shakes his head when he gets to the part of the written report about the abandoned cargo, and then turns Miles loose to do what he will.

What Miles wills is to see his wife. His wife, it turns out, is on Komarr. He sighs and sends her a message.
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Linya sends back a message (voice, no vid) detailing her estimated time of return in one week (she needs to assign someone to look after pen things on Komarr and then get on a ship).

And then a week later she is home!
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Miles bounds down the stairs to greet her in the front hall.



He skids to a halt just past the bottom step with one hand still on the banister, utterly arrested by the sight of her.
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Linya beams and giggles and scoops him up. "I missed you!"

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"I forgot how pretty you were," Miles says in a small, embarrassed voice. Then he beams and hugs her fiercely. "I love you. I missed you too."

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"Oh goodness, you forgot?" chuckles Linya, squeezing back as snugly as is wise. "I'll have to have a nice holo taken for you to remember me by. I love you too." She kisses him.

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Kisses!

"It's not that I forgot exactly. I certainly continued to be aware that I had the prettiest wife in all the galaxy," he explains as soon as there have been adequate kisses to be going on with. "It's just the, the impact of the prettiness was refreshed by lack of exposure."
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"Aha." Nuzzle. She goes - still holding him - to the nearest couch, on which she flumphs with him in her lap. "I wonder if that will keep happening or if in the long run you could hare off for an entire year and come back and just think 'oh, there is Linya'."

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"I'm not sure which outcome to hope for. Although I know I hope not to have to hare off for an entire year."

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"Yes, I hope you will do no such thing." Snuggle. "I'd say welcome home, but you got here first. Pens are up and running on Komarr," she adds. "And seeing quicker early adoption, too."

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"Well, welcome home to you, then. Do they come in any exciting new colours? Have you gotten any interesting design feedback? Did you see an enormous bump in sales when Gregor started using his?"

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