Komarr

surgical glue, which could hold it all together again and allow it to heal? Or was it too late? A brownish tinge to the pale interior lumps suggested rot already in progress.

He brushed the damp soil from his fingers, and realized suddenly that he was touching Barrayar. This bit of dirt had come from South Continent, dug up, perhaps, from a tart old Vor lady's backyard. He dragged over the station chair from the comconsole, climbed precariously up onto it, and retrieved what proved to be an empty pan from an upper shelf. Safely on his feet again, he carefully gathered up as much of the soil as he could, and dumped it in the pan.

He stood back, hands on his hips, and studied his work so far. It made a sad pile. 'Compost, my Barrayaran friend, you're destined to be compost, for all of me. A decent burial may be all I can do for you. Though in your case, that might actually be the answer to your prayers. …'

A faint rustle and an indrawn breath made him suddenly aware that he was not alone. He turned his head to find Ekaterin, on her feet again and pausing in the doorway. Her color looked better now than it had immediately after the interrogation, her skin not so puffy and lined, though she still looked very tired. Her brows were drawn down in puzzlement. 'What are you doing, Lord Vorkosigan?'

'Um . . . visiting a sick friend?' Reddening, he gestured to his efforts laid out on her work bench. 'Has the medtech released you?'

'Yes, she's just left. She was very conscientious.'

Miles cleared his throat. 'I was wondering if there was any way to put your skellytum back together. Seemed a shame not to try, seventy years old and all that.' He drew back respectfully as she came up to the bench and turned over a fragment. 'I know you can't sew it up like a person, but I can't help thinking there ought to be something. I'm afraid I'm not much of a gardener. My parents let me try, once, when I was a little kid, back behind Vorkosigan House. I was going to grow flowers for my Betan mother. Sergeant Bothari ended up doing the spade work, as I recall. I dug the seeds up twice a day to see if they'd sprouted yet. My plants did not thrive, for some reason. After that we gave up and turned it into a fort.'

She smiled, a real smile, not a fast-penta grin. We did not break her after all.

'No, you can't put it back together,' she said. 'The only way is to start over. What I could do is take the strongest root fragments—several of them, to make sure,' her long hands sorted through his pile, 'and set them to soak in a hormone solution. And then when it starts to put out new growth, repot it.'

'I saved the dirt,' Miles pointed out hopefully. Idiot. Do you know what an idiot you sound like?

But she merely said, 'Thank you.' Following up on her words, she rummaged in her shelves and found a shallow basin, and filled it with water from the work bench's little sink. Another cupboard yielded a box of white powder; she sprinkled a tiny amount into the water and stirred it with her fingers. Taking a knife from her tool drawer, she trimmed the most promising root fragments and pushed them into the solution. 'There. Maybe something will come of that.' She stretched to set the basin carefully out of the way on the shelf Miles had had to reach by standing on the chair, and shook the pan of dirt into a plastic bag, which she sealed and put next to the basin. She then rolled up the decaying remains in their tarp again, to take over and shake into another bin; the plastic went back into the trash. 'By the time I'd thought of this poor skellytum again, it would have gone out with the organic recycle, and been too late. I'd abandoned hope for it last night, when I thought I had to leave with just what I could carry.'

'I didn't mean to burden you. Will it be awkward, to carry home on the jumpship?'

'I'll put it in a sealed container. By the time I reach my destination, it should be just about ready to replant.' She washed and dried her hands; Miles followed suit.

Damn Tuomonen anyway, for forcing to Miles's consciousness a desire his back-brain had known very well was too unripe and out of season for any fruitful result. Time is out of joint, she'd said. Now he was going to have to deal with it. Now he was going to have to wait. How long? How about til after Tien is buried, for starters? His intentions were honorable enough, at least some of them were, but his timing was lousy. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets and rocked on his heels.

Ekaterin folded her arms, leaned against the counter, and stared at the floor. 'I wish to apologize, Lord Vorkosigan, for anything I might have said under fast-penta that was not appropriate.'

Miles shrugged. 'I invited myself along. But I thought you could use a spotter. You did as much for me, after all.'

'A spotter.' She looked up, her expression lightening. 'I had not thought of it like that.'

He opened his hand and smiled hopefully.

She smiled briefly in return, but then sighed. 'I'd been so frantic, all day, for ImpSec to be done so I could go get Nikki. Now I think they were doing me a favor. I dread this part. I don't know what to tell him. I don't know how much I should tell him about Tien's mess. As little as possible? The whole truth? Neither feels right.'

Miles said slowly, 'We're still in the middle of a classified case, here. You can't burden a nine-year-old boy with government secrets, or that kind of judgment call. I don't even know yet how much of this will eventually become public knowledge.'

'Things not done right away get harder.' She sighed. 'As I'm finding now.'

Miles drew up the comconsole chair for her, and motioned her into it, and pulled out the stool from under the work bench. He perched on it, and asked, 'Had you told him you were leaving Tien?'

'Not even that, yet.'

'I think . . . that for today, you should only tell him that his father suffered an accident with his breath mask. Leave the Komarrans out of it. If he asks for more details than you know how to deal with, send him to me, and I'll take the job of telling him he can't know, or can't know yet.'

Her level look asked, Can I trust you? 'Take care you don't stir up more curiosity than you quell.'

'I understand. The problem of the whole truth is as much a question of when as what. But after we both get back to Vorbarr Sultana, I would like, with your permission, to take you to talk with Gr—with a close friend of mine. He's Vor, too. He had the experience of being in something like Nikki's position. His father died under, ah, grievous circumstances, when he was much too young to be told the details. When he stumbled across some of the uglier facts, in his early twenties, it was pretty traumatic. I'll bet he'll have a better feel than either of us for what to tell Nikki and when. He has a fine judgment.'

She gave him a provisional nod. 'That sounds right. I would like that very much. Thank you.'

He returned her a half-bow, from his perch. 'Glad to be of service, Madame.' He'd wanted to introduce her to Gregor the man, his foster-brother, not Emperor Gregor the Imperial Icon, anyway. This might serve more than one purpose.

'I also have to tell Nikki about his Vorzohn's Dystrophy, and I can't put that off. I made an appointment for him at a clinic in Solstice for the day after tomorrow.'

'He does not know he carries it?'

She shook her head. 'Tien would never let me tell him.' She studied him gravely. 'I think you were in something like Nikki's position, too, when you were a child. Did you have to undergo a great many medical procedures then?'

'God, yes, years of 'em. What can I say that's useful? Don't lie about whether it's going to hurt. Don't leave him alone for long periods.' Or you, either . . . There was finally something he could do for her. 'Events permitting, may I ride along with you to Solstice and render what assistance I can? I can't spare your uncle to you—he's going to be buried in technical problems by day after tomorrow, if my parts list takes shape.'

'I can't take you away from your duties!'

'My experience suggests to me that if Soudha hasn't been arrested by then, what I will be doing by day after tomorrow is spinning my mental wheels. A day away from the problems may be just what I will need to give me a fresh approach. You would be doing me a service, I assure you.'

She pursed her lips doubtfully. 'I admit … I would be grateful for the company.'

Did she mean any company, generally, or his company particularly? Down, boy. Don't even