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Destang isn't too thrilled with Ivan, but since his lack of thrill takes the form of sending Ivan to a flower show to be out of the commodore's hair rather than, say, confining him to quarters like poor Galeni, Ivan isn't going to rock the boat. He leaves the half-commlink with Galeni in case Miles suddenly has an emergency and goes off as directed to meet the lady he's escorting.
He finds her at the University of London's Horticulture Hall, shepherds her around, makes comments of limited sophistication but genuine enthusiasm regarding the pretty flowers, and excuses himself a couple hours into the affair for a bathroom break.
middlingalong
thisvorlunatic
When he emerges from the bathroom, someone is just coming toward it, looking distracted and worried. He brightens slightly when he sees Ivan.
"Oh, there you are. Figures it'd be the last place I'd look," he says.
"Oh, there you are. Figures it'd be the last place I'd look," he says.
unmarred
But alas, he is unable to outrun a stunner blast.
"What gave me away?" sighs Mark, re-concealing the stunner and heading for Ivan's unconscious body to get him dragged out of the way before someone notices.
"What gave me away?" sighs Mark, re-concealing the stunner and heading for Ivan's unconscious body to get him dragged out of the way before someone notices.
thisvorlunatic
Miles wakes in unparalleled luxury in his cabin aboard the Triumph. That is, he wakes after a full ten-plus hours' sleep, with no one immediately demanding his attention. He indulges in five minutes of decadent sloth, just lying there, before his comconsole chimes and he rolls out of bed to answer it.
The comm officer tells him he has a call from the Barrayaran embassy, asking for him personally.
That wakes him right the fuck up.
He tells the comm officer to pipe it through and not listen or record, then sits at his desk. Commodore Destang's face appears above the vid plate.
"'Admiral Naismith'," he says, with the quotation marks cover-bendingly audible. "Are we alone?"
"Entirely, sir," says Miles, deferentially and in his Barrayaran accent. No need to ruffle feathers.
"Very well," says Destang. "I have an order for you, Lieutenant Vorkosigan. You are to remain aboard your ship in orbit until I, personally, call again and notify you otherwise."
Damnation. "Why, sir?" he asks, not that he can't hazard a guess.
"For my peace of mind. When a simple precaution will prevent the slightest possibility of an accident, it's foolish not to take it. Do you understand?"
"Fully, sir."
"Very well. That's all. Destang out."
The commodore's face winks out. Miles swears foully, yanks on his trousers, and grabs Elli's secured comlink from the pocket where he left it.
"Ivan? You there?"
"Your cousin handed it to me before departing to escort a lady to the annual World Botanical Exhibition and Ornamental Flower Show."
thisvorlunatic
"A flower show?" hisses Miles. "In the middle of a security crisis, you sent Ivan to a flower show?"
"I didn't. Commodore Destang felt Ivan could be spared. He's not thrilled with him. Or me, for that matter, but I'm confined to quarters instead."
thisvorlunatic
"Funny thing, so am I," says Miles. "Which I suspect means there's been a breakthrough in the current operation."
"Sorry to hear that," sighs Galeni. "Damn, it's so useless, no one's ends are being served anymore, not ours or his or Komarr's...!"
"Even now. He can't quit, he has to prove himself right at any cost, he can't face the possibility that he's done as much as he has only to be wrong."
thisvorlunatic
Miles sighs. "Hell. Well - I'll contact you again if I... have anything useful to say. Since at present I am prevented from getting down there to unite the halves of the comlink, there's hardly much point in turning it in."
thisvorlunatic
Miles cuts the com, slips the link back in his pocket, and calls Thorne from his cabin comconsole.
"Any progress?"
"Any progress?"
whyexit
"Damn," agrees Thorne. "And we can't just follow them either while they're meaning to shoot to kill... well, we're working on it, sir. Your brother sure is popular."
thisvorlunatic
"He has a winning personality," Miles says dryly. "Thanks, Bel. Let me know if you find anything."
He terminates that call too, then gets dressed and arms himself with such items as he will be allowed to carry past London shuttleport security. Which amounts to a boot knife and a couple of stunners, plus miscellaneous gadgetry with plausible non-criminal applications - scanners and the like. Over a quick breakfast, he orders a personnel shuttle made ready to depart at a moment's notice, then sits and jitters for lack of anything better to do.
A scant few minutes into his helpless stewing, his comconsole chimes again. The comm officer says he has a call coming in through the downside commercial net, from a man who refuses to identify himself but asserts that Miles wants to talk to him.
Shit.
"Trace it, cut a copy to Captain Thorne in Intelligence, and put it through."
"Yes, sir."
The comm officer's face is replaced by Ser Galen's.
"Vorkosigan."
Miles nods cautiously, studying him.
"I will not repeat myself. I don't give a damn if you're recording or tracing. It's irrelevant. You will meet me in exactly seventy minutes, at the Thames Tidal Barrier, halfway between Towers Six and Seven. You will walk out on the seaward side to the lower lookout. Alone. Then we'll talk. If any condition is not met, we will simply not be there when you arrive. And Ivan Vorpatril will die at 0207."
"You are two. I must be two," says Miles, mind racing. Ivan - what the hell's this bastard done with Ivan -
"Your bodyguard? Very well. Two."
The vid blanks before Miles can get another word out. He hisses inarticulately, then calls Bel.
"Did you get all that?"
He terminates that call too, then gets dressed and arms himself with such items as he will be allowed to carry past London shuttleport security. Which amounts to a boot knife and a couple of stunners, plus miscellaneous gadgetry with plausible non-criminal applications - scanners and the like. Over a quick breakfast, he orders a personnel shuttle made ready to depart at a moment's notice, then sits and jitters for lack of anything better to do.
A scant few minutes into his helpless stewing, his comconsole chimes again. The comm officer says he has a call coming in through the downside commercial net, from a man who refuses to identify himself but asserts that Miles wants to talk to him.
Shit.
"Trace it, cut a copy to Captain Thorne in Intelligence, and put it through."
"Yes, sir."
The comm officer's face is replaced by Ser Galen's.
"Vorkosigan."
Miles nods cautiously, studying him.
"I will not repeat myself. I don't give a damn if you're recording or tracing. It's irrelevant. You will meet me in exactly seventy minutes, at the Thames Tidal Barrier, halfway between Towers Six and Seven. You will walk out on the seaward side to the lower lookout. Alone. Then we'll talk. If any condition is not met, we will simply not be there when you arrive. And Ivan Vorpatril will die at 0207."
"You are two. I must be two," says Miles, mind racing. Ivan - what the hell's this bastard done with Ivan -
"Your bodyguard? Very well. Two."
The vid blanks before Miles can get another word out. He hisses inarticulately, then calls Bel.
"Did you get all that?"