Brothers in Arms

you alone?'

'At present.' Galeni's voice was dry, conveying through no more than the tone his opinion of both the misplaced comm link story and those who invented it. 'Why?'

'How'd you come by the comm link?'

'Your cousin handed it to me just before he departed on his duties.'

'Left for where? What duties?' Was Ivan swept up for Destang's man-hunt? If so, Miles could happily throttle him for divesting Miles's ear on the proceedings just when it might have done the most good—skittish idiot!—if only—

'He's escorting the ambassador's lady to the World Botanical Exhibition and Ornamental Flower Show at the University of London's Horticulture Hall. She goes every year, to glad-hand the local social set. Admittedly, she is also interested in the topic.'

Miles's voice rose slightly. 'In the middle of a security crisis, you sent Ivan to a flower show?'

'Not I,' denied Galeni. 'Commodore Destang. I, ah—believe he felt Ivan could be most easily spared. He's not thrilled with Ivan.'

'What about you?'

'He's not thrilled with me either.'

'No, I mean, what are you doing? Are you directly involved with the . . . current operation?'

'Hardly.'

'Ah. I'm relieved. I was a little afraid—somebody—might have gotten a short circuit in his head about requiring it of you as proof of loyalty or some damn thing.'

'Commodore Destang is neither a sadist nor a fool.' Galeni paused. 'He's careful, however. I'm confined to quarters.'

'You have no direct access to the operation, then. Like where they are, and how close, and when they plan to … make a move.'

Galeni's voice was carefully neutral, neither offering nor denying help. 'Not readily.'

'Hm. He just ordered me confined to quarters too. I think he's had some sort of break, and things are coming to a head.'

There was a brief silence. Galeni's words drifted out on a sigh. 'Sorry to hear that …' His voice cracked. 'It's so damned useless! The dead hand of the past goes on jerking the strings by galvanic reflex, and we poor puppets dance—nothing is served, not us, not him, not Komarr …'

'If I could make contact with your father,' began Miles.

'It would be useless. He'll fight, and keep on fighting.'

'But he has nothing, now. He blew his last chance. He's an old man, he's tired—he could be ready to change, to quit at last,' Miles argued.

'I wish . . . no. He can't quit. Above life itself, he has to prove himself right. To be right redeems his every crime. To have done all that he's done, and be wrong—unbearable!'

'I … see. Well, I'll contact you again if I … have anything useful to say. There's, ah, no point in turning in the comm link till you have both halves, eh?'

'As you wish.' Galeni's tone was not exactly fired with hope.

Miles shut down the comm link.

He called Thorne, who reported no visible progress.

'In the meantime,' said Miles, 'here's another lead for you. An unfortunate one. The team from the Barrayarans has evidently spotted our target within the last hour or so.'

'Ha! Maybe we can follow them, and let them lead us to Galen.'

'Afraid not. We have to get ahead of them, without treading on their toes. Their hunt is a lethal one.'

'Armed and dangerous, eh? I'll pass the word.' Thorne whistled thoughtfully. 'Your creche-mate sure is popular.'

Miles washed, dressed, ate, made ready: boot knife, scanners, stunners both hip-holstered and concealed, comm links, a wide assortment of tools and toys one might carry through London's shuttleport security checks. It was a far cry from combat gear, alas, though his jacket nearly clanked when he walked. He called the duty officer, made sure a personnel shuttle was fueled, pilot at the ready. He waited without patience.

What was Galen up to? If he wasn't just running—and the fact that the Barrayaran security team had nearly caught up with him suggested he was still hanging around for some reason—why? Mere revenge? Something more arcane? Was Miles's analysis of him too simple, too subtle—what was he missing? What was left in life for the man who had to be right?

His cabin comconsole chimed. Miles sent up a short inarticulate prayer—let it be some break, some chink, some handle—

The comm officer's face appeared. 'Sir, I have a call originating from the downside commercial comconsole net. A man who refuses to identify himself says you want to talk to him.'

Miles jerked electrically upright. 'Trace the call and cut a copy to Captain Thorne in Intelligence. Put it through here.'

'Do you want your visual to go out, or just audio?'

'Both.'

The comm officer's face faded as another man's appeared, giving an unsettling illusion of transmutation.

'Vorkosigan?' said Galen.

'So?' said Miles.

'I will not repeat myself.' Galen spoke low and fast. 'I don't give a damn if you're recording or tracing. It's irrelevant. You will meet me in seventy minutes exactly. You will come to 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,' Miles began. Ivan?

'Your pretty bodyguard? Very well. Two.' The vid blinked blank.

'No—'

Silence.

Miles keyed to Thorne. 'Did you get that, Bel?'

'Sure did. Sounded threatening. Who's Ivan?'

'A very important person. Where'd this originate?'

'A tubeway nexus, public comconsole. I have a man on the way who can make it in six minutes. Unfortunately—'

'I know. Six minutes gives a search radius of several million people. I think we'll play it his way. Up to a point. Put a patrol in the air over the Tidal Barrier, file a flight plan for my shuttle downside, have an aircar and Dendarii driver and guard meet it. Tell Bone I want that credit chit now. Tell Quinn to meet me in the shuttle hatch corridor, and bring a couple of med scanners. And stand by. I want to check something.'

He took a deep breath, and keyed open the comm link. 'Galeni?' A pause. 'Yes?'

'You still confined to quarters?'

'Yes.'

'I have an urgent request for information. Where's Ivan, really?'

'As far as I know, he's still at—'

'Check it. Check it fast.'

There was a long, long pause, which Miles utilized to recheck his gear, find Lieutenant Bone, and walk to the shuttle hatch corridor. Quinn was waiting, intensely curious.

'What's up now?'

'We have our break. Of sorts. Galen wants a meeting, but—'

'Miles?' Galeni's voice came back at last. It sounded rather strained.

'Yo.'

'The private we'd sent to be driver/guard called in about ten minutes ago. He'd spelled Ivan, attending on Milady, while Ivan went to piss. When Ivan didn't come back in twenty minutes, the driver went to look for him.