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Dr. Cheung's at a funeral all day, so Linya decides to go up to London and see if Miles is out of his Mood.

Security has decided to be deeply unhelpful today. She is currently showing them various forms of ID and repeating in a slow, patient voice that she has been here before, there is not more than one of her, and she promises she is not there to assassinate her husband or whatever fool thing has them skittish today. Perhaps she shouldn't drop in while the captain's missing; it seems to make them worse. But she got in before while he was missing...
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Miles strides out into the lobby from a rear corridor.

"That's enough, boys," he calls. "Sorry, Linya - how long have you been there? not too long, I hope - Ivan is currently the ranking military officer at this embassy, I've un-confined myself and I've been riding herd on the search for Galeni all day. Can't say a word about it, but I could use a break. Come on in." He ushers her deftly past the thwarted guards.
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Linya follows him. "Not too long, but longer than any time before that. I probably should have called, but Dr. Cheung's tied up all day anyway and I can do pen work in transit as well as I can in a hotel room. You're looking better."

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"Yeah. Feeling better, too. I have - oh - call it an hour, want to tell me all about the latest developments?"

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"Sure, but if you only have an hour it'll have to be the highlights. Let's see, I did a little dental work on Adri - I can send you the updated list of tweaks if you want it?"

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"Absolutely." They're almost at his room. "And how is Dr. Cheung, besides occupied?"

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"Well, grieving, he's at a funeral."

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"My condolences to Dr. Cheung."

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"Yeah. But he's pretty resilient versus pretty much everything other than jump-sickness." She pulls her pen and sends the file off to Miles. "There, that'll go to your temporary. Has it been learning your gestures quick enough or is it agonizing the second time around? I'm probably going to roll out a version two in some number of years and I need to know how important backwards-compatibility of entrainment data is."

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"Slightly more agonizing than usual today - I think I fractured a metacarpal this morning; it's been mostly ignorable until I pick something up or put any pressure on it, and then ow."

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"Was this while you were out? Did you get it looked at yet?"

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"It, um, didn't hurt enough for me to bother," he says sheepishly. "I probably should."

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"Yes. You should." She picks him up and kisses his forehead and puts him down again. "Which way's the infirmary in here? I only theoretically know how to electrostim a bone."

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Linya tilts her head.

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"Fuck it," he says, in a distinctly local accent. "Sorry I even bothered."

And he draws his stunner and fires.
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She is surprised enough that she's barely started trying to dodge when the nimbus catches her.

She is not immune to stunners. She collapses to the floor.
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And now - Miles, if you must - has a problem on his hands, but a merely logistical one, and therefore infinitely less distressing than the problem he was facing a few moments before.

He applies himself to the task of getting Lady Vorkosigan safely stowed for eventual delivery back to his superiors. Maybe they can get some use out of her.
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The literal actual Miles, on the other hand, has already been delivered.

He is just coming off the initial stun when his kidnappers finally bundle him into a small windowless room, after a dizzying trek through mazelike streets that he could not hope to track in his condition. The door clicks shut behind him. He squints at the brightness of the single ceiling light, and looks around.
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A man curled up on one of the benches with his back to the rest of the room sits up stiffly. He holds his hands over his eyes, squinting against the harsh light. He is stubbly, unkempt, disgruntled, and Captain Galeni.

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"Ah, fuck. There you are," Miles says hoarsely. "I was wondering."

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"Were you?" wonders Galeni dubiously.
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"I admit, in large part because I expected to find you in the same place as my eighteen million marks. That fond hope has now been laid to rest."

Miles staggers to the unoccupied bench and parks himself on it.
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"I suppose it might be pointless to ask if you're - you."

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"I don't know," says Miles, almost cheerfully. "Which me were you expecting?"

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Galeni doesn't dignify that with a response, just sits and regards Miles with minute attention to detail, apparently coming to no firm conclusion.

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