"Yeah..."

And aaaaaall the way back to Barrayar.

Where Miles makes sure to give Cam directions to Vorkosigan Vashnoi before going off to deliver his in-person report to Illyan.

Cam goes to the edge of it in his lightflyer - he personally will retain no discernible radiation; the lightflyer might be another story - and strolls in and takes off and flies around until he is done, and then goes back to his lightflyer and back to Vorkosigan House.

"Did you have fun?"

"Yes. Flying is lovely. I would suggest you try it but if you felt the need to be less winged afterwards you'd have a much more complicated convalescence than I."

"I, uh, wow, yeah," snorts Miles. "No thank you."

"I made no offer for you to refuse," Cam points out. "If you asked me to put a set of wings on you I would decline for your own good, considering, unless you had an angel on hand to shoo them thoroughly before you needed to interact with any humans."

"I won't say I'm not at all tempted to try to convince you to go against your better judgment. But I'm not tempted enough to actually try."

"Wings take some getting used to, anyway, it'd be a while before you'd have much fun flying."

"And it would make appearing in public on my home planet even more fraught than it already is. So."

"An angel could fix that, in addition to ridding you of any excess wings you might inadvisably acquire, but I think I already told you that."

"You did. I don't currently have an angel around, though, I have a demon. Speaking of which! Would you like to do an extensive series of probably mostly boring tests on your capacity to generate sensitive information? And if you wouldn't, how can I convince you to do it anyway?"

"Eh, how complicated are these tests? If it's like 'make Orders of Merit' then I can do it while I read; if it's like 'try this variant on attempting to decrypt that thing while converting it into this format and appear it at a precise temperature and under four pounds of torque' I may roll my eyes before acquiescing."

"It's pretty much a long list of 'can you produce this thing from this specification?', and the specifications get pretty twisty but not quite that mind-numbing. I can lead with the most interesting edge case before I hand you the list, if you prefer."

"All right. You helped me terraform a planet, I will help you with this thing. Are we doing this here or someplace with an appropriately secure incinerator?"

"I have perfectly functional waste disintegrators at home, no need to trek out to the former world's ugliest building. Did you not know about waste disintegrators? How have I gone this long without mentioning waste disintegrators?"

Cam shrugs. "When I was wandering around eavesdropping I learned where public trash bins were but not what happened to objects put in them, and by and large I'm pretty well in the habit of not making things I expect to have trouble getting rid of later. Probably lots of gaps like that in my education. What d'you want me to make first?"

"What's really interesting is whether it counts as a mind, because demons are terrible at minds. What conversion do you want me to try? I have no idea what format first-person memories are suitably rendered in; if I guess it'll just be like trying to produce Starry Night on ticker tape as ASCII characters or something."

"The storage format is completely idiosycnratic to the chip. If that makes it hard for you to steal his memories, well, give it your best shot - he suggested you aim for the memory of meeting you - and forgive us for celebrating if you fail. As for display format, uh, beats me. The auditory shouldn't be too bad, sound is sound, but visual memories aren't going to look like a standard holo..."

"Yeah... I think I'll try VR. You want to wear the helmet or should I? It's useful for a disappointing run of video games besides this application."

Miles snickers. "I'm the one who has to write a report about this; I'll wear the helmet."

"Nope."