A Civil Campaign

met him. It wasn't a brain transplant—ick! what a horrid misrepresentation—it was just a perfectly ordinary Betan body mod.'

Both men boggled at her. 'You encountered this creature?' said Hugo. 'Where?'

'Um . . . Vorkosigan House. Actually. Dono seemed a very bright fellow. I think he'll do very well for Vorrutyer's District, if the Council grants him his late brother's Countship.' She added after a moment of bitter consideration, 'All things considered, I quite hope he gets it. That would give Richars and his slandering cronies one in the eye!'

Hugo, who had absorbed this exchange with growing dismay, put in, 'I have to agree with Vassily, I'm a little uneasy myself about having you down here in the capital. The family so wishes to see you safe , Kat. I grant you're no girl anymore. You should have your own household, watched over by a steady husband who can be trusted to guard your welfare and Nikki's.'

You could get your wish. Yet . . . she had stood up to armed terrorists, and survived. And won . Her definition of safe was . . . not so very narrow as that, anymore.

'A man of your own class,' Hugo went on persuasively. 'Someone who's right for you.'

I think I've found him. He comes with a house where I don't hit the walls each time I stretch, either. Not even if I stretched out forever. She cocked her head. 'Just what do you think my class is, Hugo?'

He looked nonplused. 'Our class. Solid, honest, loyal Vor. On the women's side, modest, proper, upright. . . .'

She was suddenly on fire with a desire to be immodest, improper, and above all . . . not upright. Quite gloriously horizontal, in fact. It occurred to her that a certain disparity of height would be immaterial, when one—or two—were lying down . . . 'You think I should have a house?'

'Yes, certainly.'

'Not a planet?'

Hugo looked taken aback. 'What? Of course not!'

'You know, Hugo, I never realized it before, but your vision lacks . . . scope.' Miles thought she should have a planet. She paused, and a slow smile stole over her lips. After all, his mother had one. It was all in what you were used to, she supposed. No point in saying this aloud; they wouldn't get the joke.

And how had her big brother, admired and generous if more than a little distant due to their disparity of age, grown so small-minded of late? No . . . Hugo hadn't changed. The logical conclusion shook her.

Hugo said, 'Damn, Kat. I thought that part of the letter was twaddle at first, but this mutie lord has turned your head around in some strange way.'

'And if it's true . . . he has frightening allies,' said Vassily. 'The letter claimed that Vorkosigan had Simon Illyan himself riding point for him, herding you into his trap.' His lips twisted dubiously. 'That was the part that most made me wonder if I was being made a game of, to tell you the truth.'

'I've met Simon,' Ekaterin conceded. 'I found him rather . . . sweet.'

A dazed silence greeted this declaration.

She added a little awkwardly, 'Of course, I understand he's relaxed quite a lot since his medical retirement from ImpSec. One can see that would be a great burden off his mind.' Belatedly, the internal evidence slotted into place. 'Wait a minute—who did you say sent you this hash of hearsay and lies?'

'It was in the strictest confidence,' said Vassily warily.

'It was that blithering idiot Alexi Vormoncrief, wasn't it? Ah!' The light dawned, furiously, like the glare from an atomic fireball. But screaming, swearing, and throwing things would be counterproductive. She gripped the chair arms, so that the men could not see her hands shake. 'Vassily, Hugo should have told you—I turned down a proposal of marriage from Alexi. It seems he's found a way to revenge his outraged vanity.' Vile twit!

'Kat,' said Hugo slowly, 'I did consider that interpretation. I grant you the fellow's a trifle, um, idealistic, and if you've taken against him I won't try to argue his suit—though he seemed perfectly unobjectionable to me—but I saw his letter. I judged it quite sincerely concerned for you. A little over the top, yes, but what do you expect from a man in love?'

'Alexi Vormoncrief is not in love with me. He can't see far enough past the end of his own Vor nose to even know who or what I am. If you stuffed my clothes with straw and put a wig on top, he'd scarcely notice the change. He's just going through the motions supplied by his cultural programming.' Well, all right, and his more fundamental biological programming, and he wasn't the only one suffering from that, now was he? She would concede Alexi a ration of sincere sex drive, but she was certain its object was arbitrary. Her hand strayed to her bolero, over her heart, and Miles's memorized words echoed, cutting through the uproar between her ears: I wanted to possess the power of your eyes . . .

Vassily waved an impatient hand. 'All this is beside the point, for me if not for your brother. You're not a dowered maiden anymore, for your father to hoard up with his other treasures. I, however, have a clear family duty to see to Nikki's safety, if I have reason to believe it is threatened.'

Ekaterin froze.

Vassily had granted her custody of Nikki with his word. He could take it back again as easily. It was she who'd have to take suit to court—his District court— not only to prove herself worthy, but also to prove him unworthy and unfit to have charge of the child. Vassily was no convicted criminal, nor habitual drunkard, nor spendthrift nor berserker; he was just a bachelor officer, a conscientious, duty-minded orbital traffic controller, an ordinary honest man. She hadn't a prayer of winning against him. If only Nikki had been her daughter, those rights would be reversed. . . .

'You would find a nine-year-old boy an awkward burden on a military base, I should think,' she said neutrally at last.

Vassily looked startled. 'Well, I hope it won't come to that . In the worst scenario, I'd planned to leave him with his Grandmother Vorsoisson, until things were straightened out.'

Ekaterin held her teeth together for a moment, then said, 'Nikki is of course welcome to visit Tien's mother any time she invites him. At the funeral she gave me to understand she was too unwell to receive visitors this summer.' She moistened her lips. 'Please define the term worst scenario for me. And just what exactly do you mean by straightened out ?'

'Well,' Vassily shrugged apologetically, 'coming down here and finding you actually betrothed to the man who murdered Nikki's father would have been pretty bad, don't you agree?'

Had he been prepared to take Nikki away this very day, in that case? 'I told you. Tien's death was accidental, and that accusation is pure slander.' His disregard of her words reminded her horribly of Tien, for a moment; was obliviousness a Vorsoisson family trait? Despite the danger of offending him, she glowered. 'Do you think I'm lying, or do you think I'm just stupid?' She fought for control of her breathing. She had faced far more frightening men than the earnest, misguided, Vassily Vorsoisson. But never one who could cost me Nikki with a word . She stood on the edge of a deep, dark pit. If she fell now, the struggle to get out again would be as filthy and painful as anything she could imagine. Vassily must