"Mother's been telling you war stories, I see. Shopping with the Vorkosigans: always an adventure."

"No, actually," she snorts. "Your mother just occasionally reminds me vaguely of my teacher. Before I ask, though - you might be able to tell when I put you in the trance, even when you're sedated. Try not to freak out."

"All right, will do."

"And if you try to resist, you will do so successfully. It's not the sort of thing I could do while you were fighting me. Not safely. So if you do, I'll back off, and your healing will take twice as long."

"Noted."

"And I think that's everything, unless you have questions?"

"I'm too cranky to be curious. I'll grill you when my arms work again, how's that."

"Fair. Then we'll leave you in peace? Unless I suppose you're terribly bored."

"Oh, I'm terrible company right now, just ask Simon. And soon I won't have to worry about boredom because I'll be unconscious, yes?"

"I've had worse company, and you'll have to worry about boredom before unconsciousness. But after, no, I suppose not."

"Go on, leave me be until it's time to entrance me. I'd make shooing motions, but," a slight head movement that stands in for the shrug he is also incapable of.

She laughs.

"All right. Have a good nap."

And then out she goes.

Followed, of course, by Cordelia.

"So, war stories?"

"He was referencing the war of Vordarian's Pretendership. It's something of a long story; how long do we have until the kolto tank arrives?"

"Let me ask..."

She fetches her comlink. "Dr. Gelrath, time estimate for the tank?"

"... Half an hour, he thinks."

"That should do. All right. I believe I've already mentioned the circumstances under which Aral and I received guardianship of Gregor," she says.

Nod.

"When the civil war started, Miles was in his uterine replicator - I should hope those made it into your summary of galactic medical technology? - being treated for bone damage in an ImpMil research lab. He was safe there for a while, but eventually Vordarian discovered him and abducted his replicator as part of a hostage roundup. We'd been holding to a policy of not sending rescue missions after anyone's hostages, but Miles's situation was unique. The uterine replicator technology was new enough to Barrayar that I could all but guarantee no one in the palace had the first clue how to attend to its needs, and he was coming up on the end of his two-week service cycle in a few days, not to mention the trouble that would be caused by him missing his calcium treatments. I presented these arguments to Aral. He was afraid of showing favouritism, and did not authorize an expedition. I took a few people and went after Miles myself."

She nods again, looking solemn.

"We were caught, but managed to escape, killing Vordarian in the process. I returned to Aral's headquarters with Vordarian's head in a bag."

Now she looks... perhaps slightly embarrassed.

"Someone asked me where I'd been, and - ah - I'd been under a lot of stress - I said 'Shopping', and showed him what I'd bought. It's, um, become something of a family legend. Something of a non-family legend too, in some circles. The war ground to a halt very rapidly after that."

She snorts.

"That sounds like the sort of thing that might cause a war to grind to a halt, yes."

She smiles slightly.

"The civil wars are - mostly cleared up by now, I hope?"

"Haven't had one since."