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Time goes by. Linya, who already quietly turned nineteen, turns twenty. She collects an accelerated master's degree in neuroscience and starts corresponding with various people on the subject.
Pens spread out; the next time Miles sees Elli he gets a white standard-model pen she bought him on Escobar. She has one too; it's silver. She loves it and thanks him for recommending it to her. (She has bought a whole boxful to unload at a markup on the next planet or station she comes to that doesn't have them yet, but doesn't explicitly mention this in case he objects to her cutting into Lady Vorkosigan's margins.)
Miles also has one actual courier mission in there, just escorting a diplomatic pouch from Pol back home, to pad his service record for the less-cleared eye.
There is a visit to a clinic to collect and mystically join gametes, and Linya collects the resulting assembly in data format for editing. She does the grey eyes first and estimates that if she doesn't particularly hurry she'll have a Little Aral What-the-Heck-Should-His-Middle-Name-Be all ready to put in a replicator in two or three years, though she can accelerate that considerably if something comes up urgently requiring the presence of Little Aral sooner rather than later.
And then Miles gets sent off again and is gone for a very long time.
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isthisart
spacetobreathe
"I wouldn't know. Get a catalog. Make your cousin ask her for you what her tastes are in - desk ornaments or wall art. How do you not know what your wife likes?"
thisvorlunatic
"I can't produce a list on demand," he says. "My intuitions are not so well encoded. I might know it if I saw it..."
The already negative charms of returning to the embassy are dwindling further in light of the new vision unfolding before his eyes.
"Let's go shopping," he says decisively. "For real. It's not like I have any way to contact Ivan to ask if he can sneak me back in, so what's another couple of hours? There's a slight chance it might even make me feel better."
The already negative charms of returning to the embassy are dwindling further in light of the new vision unfolding before his eyes.
"Let's go shopping," he says decisively. "For real. It's not like I have any way to contact Ivan to ask if he can sneak me back in, so what's another couple of hours? There's a slight chance it might even make me feel better."
spacetobreathe
"If you say so," says Elli.
And she gets them onto the surface of the Earth and they go strolling through a fashionable shopping arcade. Elli is in full bodyguard mode, paying little attention to the spectacle of well-dressed passersby in feathers and synthetic silk, but her eye is caught by a shop the label of which reads Cultured Furs: a division of Galactech Bioengineering.
And she gets them onto the surface of the Earth and they go strolling through a fashionable shopping arcade. Elli is in full bodyguard mode, paying little attention to the spectacle of well-dressed passersby in feathers and synthetic silk, but her eye is caught by a shop the label of which reads Cultured Furs: a division of Galactech Bioengineering.
spacetobreathe
The shop is roomy, not cluttered with displays abutting other displays - a sign of the price range for the white tiger rugs and red fox coats and Tau Cetan beaded lizard accessories. There's a looping vid explaining that the products are, cruelty-free, grown in vats just like the protein one eats every day. Some of the species in question are extinct in their ambulatory forms.
Elli goes for a pile of apricot fur, which looks rather like just the softest bits of an orange cat ironed to pancake flatness and folded; she buries her hands in it. "Ooh."
Elli goes for a pile of apricot fur, which looks rather like just the softest bits of an orange cat ironed to pancake flatness and folded; she buries her hands in it. "Ooh."
thisvorlunatic
Miles is more drawn to the silky black blanket next to it. He gives the fur a stroke and it ripples under his hand, charmingly or alarmingly, he can't quite decide.
"What's this?" he asks of a nearby hovering salesman.
"A very popular new item," says the salesman. "The absolute latest in biomechanical feedback systems - a real live fur, not just a tanned leather like you see in most of our other items."
"Live?" inquires Miles.
"With all the advantages of a live animal - warmth, responsiveness - and none of the defects. It does not shed, it does not eat, it does not require a litter box."
"Then in what way is it live...?"
"It passively gathers energy from the environment using an electromagnetic cellular net. If the ambient supply is insufficient, it can be maintained by a few minutes in the microwave at the lowest setting, once a month or so as necessary. Cultured Furs cannot be responsible for the results if the owner sets it on high."
Miles envisions a splatter of black fluff, and shudders. "Eugh. I'd hardly call that alive, though."
"I assure you," the salesman promises, "this blanket was blended from the very finest Felis domesticus genes. Apart from the black and ginger you see here, we also have a white Persian and a chocolate-point Siamese stripe in stock, and I have samples of more available colours to be ordered on request."
How very... kitten-tree. Miles begins to smile crookedly.
"Pet it," the salesman invites. Miles does so. The black blanket emits a low, charming purr. "It also has programmable thermotaxic orientation," the salesman says proudly. "That is to say, it snuggles up."
Miles envisions Linya, snuggled up. His smile broadens.
Then he reaches for his credit card... and comes up with Lieutenant Vorkosigan's. Damn.
"What's this?" he asks of a nearby hovering salesman.
"A very popular new item," says the salesman. "The absolute latest in biomechanical feedback systems - a real live fur, not just a tanned leather like you see in most of our other items."
"Live?" inquires Miles.
"With all the advantages of a live animal - warmth, responsiveness - and none of the defects. It does not shed, it does not eat, it does not require a litter box."
"Then in what way is it live...?"
"It passively gathers energy from the environment using an electromagnetic cellular net. If the ambient supply is insufficient, it can be maintained by a few minutes in the microwave at the lowest setting, once a month or so as necessary. Cultured Furs cannot be responsible for the results if the owner sets it on high."
Miles envisions a splatter of black fluff, and shudders. "Eugh. I'd hardly call that alive, though."
"I assure you," the salesman promises, "this blanket was blended from the very finest Felis domesticus genes. Apart from the black and ginger you see here, we also have a white Persian and a chocolate-point Siamese stripe in stock, and I have samples of more available colours to be ordered on request."
How very... kitten-tree. Miles begins to smile crookedly.
"Pet it," the salesman invites. Miles does so. The black blanket emits a low, charming purr. "It also has programmable thermotaxic orientation," the salesman says proudly. "That is to say, it snuggles up."
Miles envisions Linya, snuggled up. His smile broadens.
Then he reaches for his credit card... and comes up with Lieutenant Vorkosigan's. Damn.
spacetobreathe
Elli picks up the apricot one and swirls it around herself like a cape. "Someone's a genius. You just want to rub it all over your skin..." She glances at Miles's credit card. And sighs and shrugs off the orange fur and pats the black one and gets out her own wallet.
thisvorlunatic
"You're a lifesaver," sighs Miles.
And off they trot, fur in tow. It makes an ungainly bundle, rolled up and wrapped in silvery plastic; Miles has some difficulty juggling it as they proceed out of the arcade towards the nearest tubeway. Into the lift tube, to float their stately way down to the level of the bubble-car platforms...
In the air on the way down, a chance breeze from an open door ruffles Elli's hair and blows across Miles's hands. All of a sudden he sees, not Elli, but a red-haired woman, her face blurred by speed and distance, snatched away by the howling wind—he releases the package of fur to clutch blindly at her arm, desperate to hold on against - against - what? His confused mind insists first that she's falling out of a shuttle hatch, then that the anti-grav system is malfunctioning, throwing them both to their doom far below.
And off they trot, fur in tow. It makes an ungainly bundle, rolled up and wrapped in silvery plastic; Miles has some difficulty juggling it as they proceed out of the arcade towards the nearest tubeway. Into the lift tube, to float their stately way down to the level of the bubble-car platforms...
In the air on the way down, a chance breeze from an open door ruffles Elli's hair and blows across Miles's hands. All of a sudden he sees, not Elli, but a red-haired woman, her face blurred by speed and distance, snatched away by the howling wind—he releases the package of fur to clutch blindly at her arm, desperate to hold on against - against - what? His confused mind insists first that she's falling out of a shuttle hatch, then that the anti-grav system is malfunctioning, throwing them both to their doom far below.
thisvorlunatic
"Falling," he says on the exhale of a quick and shaking breath.
spacetobreathe
"This is the down-tube, of course we're - are you all right? - let me see your eyes -" She grabs a handhold and pulls them both aside out of the lift-tube traffic, and as an afterthought seizes their floating fur package before it drifts away and peers at his pupils.
thisvorlunatic
Miles can't do much more than cling to her arm and stare. False but compelling interpretations of sensory data stream through his mind. The people descending the lift tube are a river of souls being sucked into a modernized, efficient hell - Elli's eyes are the vast black reaches of space, expanding to pull him in - he shudders and tries to collect himself.
spacetobreathe
"Do your pupils dilate or contract when you get a weird drug reaction?" Elli asks. "They're - pulsing."
thisvorlunatic
"Um." He shakes his head briefly. "The - I'm - the surgeon double-checks anything she puts me on, these days. She did warn me it could make me a little dizzy. I'm fine." With effort, he lets go of her arm, quietly grateful that the strength of his grip did not break any of his fingers. "Sorry. Let's - let's just get me back to the embassy."
spacetobreathe
"Right," says Quinn.
They go back into the flow of people, and find the exit they want, and then her comm beeps.
"...the hell? Can't be you, you're right here. Quinn here?" she says into the comm.
They go back into the flow of people, and find the exit they want, and then her comm beeps.
"...the hell? Can't be you, you're right here. Quinn here?" she says into the comm.
thisvorlunatic
"Ivan!" says Miles. He grabs the comlink. "What's the deal?"
middlingalong
"I'm holding a hole in the Security net for you, and I can't keep it up much longer. Get your ass back here before I fall asleep." There is a yawn.
thisvorlunatic
"My God. I could kiss you," says Miles. "We're on our way. Be there in ten minutes, if we're lucky. Where do I sneak in?"
middlingalong
"Don't kiss me, just book it, I can only do the trick with the vid if you're back before Corporal Veli. I'm holding down the third sublevel post where the municipal sewer and power connections come through."
thisvorlunatic
"Got it. See you soon." He cuts the com and peers at the nearest subway route map, on which his eyes refuse to quite focus. "Elli? I think you're going to have to navigate; I'm still a little dazed."
spacetobreathe
Elli nods and checks the map and ushers Miles in a direction. Then she goes to submit their tokens, leaving him on his own for a few seconds.
thisvorlunatic
He rubs his eyes and blinks at his dark reflection in the polished wall of the station. Haggard expression, green Barrayaran uniform - wait. He looks down at his grey-and-white sleeves, blinks again, looks up. His eyes, re-blurred, fail to make out a reflection at all this time. He groans and staggers off to follow Elli. More hallucinations, just what he needs. At least this one didn't come with the howling of the damned. Small mercies.
spacetobreathe
Elli's back presently to trundle him into a bubble and drop him and the bag of fur at the embassy neighborhood's platform.
The bag purrs.
The bag purrs.
thisvorlunatic
Miles hauls his purring bundle directly to his rendezvous with Ivan. He's in with minutes to spare.