Komarr

battering ram, it felt like.

Miles opened the channel on his comconsole and ordered a medical squad to accompany the arresting officers from ImpSec and Station Security, who were to be armed with stunners and stunners only. He repeated that last command a couple of times, to be sure. He felt as if he'd spent a century in his station chair. When he tried to stand up, he nearly fell over. Then he ran.

Miles's only compromise with Vorgier's anxiety for the Imperial Auditor's personal safety was to march down the ramp into the Southport loading bay behind instead of in front of the security team. The ten or so Komarrans, sitting cross-legged on the floor, twisted around to watch as the Barrayarans entered. After Miles came the tech squad, which spread out looking for booby-traps, and behind them the medical team with a float pallet.

The first thing which caught Miles's eye after the live target inventory was the upside-down float cradle in the middle of the bay, atop a pile of tangled wreckage. He was able, barely, to recognize it from the diagrams he'd seen back on Komarr of the fifth novel device. His heart lifted at this inexplicable, welcome sight.

He walked around it, staring, and came up to where Soudha was being frisked down and restrained. 'My goodness. Your wormhole-collapser appears to have met with an accident. But it won't do you any good. We have the plans.' Cappell and a man Miles recognized as the engineer who'd fled from Bollan Design stood nearby, glowering at him; Foscol struggled into earshot, barely controlled by her female arresting officer.

'It wasn't us,' sighed Soudha. 'It was her.' A jerk of his thumb drew Miles's attention to the inner door of the bay's personnel airlock. A metal bar was placed crookedly across the airseal door's jamb; the ends were melted onto floor and wall respectively.

Miles's eyes widened, and his lips parted in breathless anticipation. 'Her?'

'The bitch from hell. Or Barrayar, which is almost the same thing to hear her tell it. Madame Vorsoisson.'

'Remarkable.' The source of several oddly tilted responses on the Komarrans' part to his recent negotiations began at last to come clear to Miles. 'Um . . . how? '

All three Komarrans tried to answer him at once, with a medley of blame-casting which included a lot of phrases like, if Madame Radovas hadn't let her out, If you hadn't let Radovas let her out, How was I supposed to know? The old lady looked sick to me. Still does. If you hadn't put the remote down right front of her, If you hadn't left the damned control booth, If you had just moved faster, If you had run for the float cradle and cut the power, So why didn't you think of that, huh? by which Miles slowly pieced together the most glorious mental picture he'd had all day. All year. For quite a long time, actually.

I'm in love. I'm in love. I just thought I was in love, before, now I really am. I must, I must, I must have this woman! Mine, mine, mine. Lady Ekaterin Nile Vorvayne Vorsoisson Vorkosigan, yes! She'd left nothing here for ImpSec and all the Emperor's Auditors to do but sweep up the bits. He wanted to roll on the floor and howl with joy, which would be most undiplomatic of him, under the circumstances. He kept his face neutral, and very straight. Somehow, he didn't think the Komarrans appreciated the exquisite delight of it all.

'When we stuffed her in the airlock I welded it shut,' said Soudha morosely. 'I wasn't going to let her do us a third time.' 'Third time?' Miles said. 'If that was the second, what was the first?'

'When that idiot Arozzi first brought her down here, she damn near blew the whole thing right then by hitting the emergency alarm.'

Miles glanced aside at the alarm on the nearby wall. 'And then what happened?'

'We had a sudden influx of station accident control. I thought I'd never get rid of them.'

'Ah. I see.' How curious. Vorgier never mentioned that part. Later. 'You mean we've spent the last five hours scrambling to evacuate this station for nothing?'

Soudha smiled sourly. 'You coming to me for sympathy, Barrayaran?'

'Heh. Never mind.'

Most of the prisoners were formed up and marched out; with a gesture, Miles ordered Soudha to be held behind.

'Moment of truth, Soudha. Have you booby-trapped this thing?'

'There is a motion-sensitive charge attached to the outer door. Opening it from this side should not set it off.'

With iron self-control, Miles watched as an ImpSec tech torched off the metal bar. It fell to the deck with a clang. He paused in one last moment of sick fear.

'What are you waiting for?' asked Soudha curiously.

'Just pondering the depth of your political ingenuity. Suppose this is set to go off and snatch our prize from us at the last.'

'Now? Why? It's over,' said Soudha.

'Revenge. Manipulation. Maybe you figure to drive me berserk and trigger a repeat of the Solstice Massacre all over again, writ somewhat smaller. That could be a propaganda coup. Whether it would be worth spending your lives for is all in your point of view, of course. Properly massaged, the incident could help start a new Komarr Revolt, I suppose.'

'You have a really twisted mind, Lord Vorkosigan,' said Soudha, shaking his head. 'Was it your upbringing, or your genetics?'

'Yes.' Miles sighed. After a brief moment of reflection, Miles waved the guards on, and Soudha was marched out after his colleagues.

After a go-ahead nod from the Imperial Auditor, the tech tapped the control pad. The inner door whined, sticking halfway. Miles pressed it gently sideways with his boot, and it shuddered open.

Ekaterin was on her feet, between the inner door and the Professora, who sat on the deck wearing her niece's vest over her own bolero. Ekaterin's face bore a red bruise, her hair was hanging every which way, her fists were clenched, and she looked perfectly demented and altogether gorgeous, in Miles's personal opinion. Smiling broadly, he held out both his hands and leaned inside.

She glared back at him. 'About time.' She stalked past, muttering in a voice of loathing, 'Men!'

After the briefest lurch, Miles managed to convert his open arms into a smooth bow toward the Professora. 'Madame Dr. Vorthys. Are you all right?'

'Why, hello, Miles.' She blinked at him, gray faced and very chilled-looking. 'I've been better, but I believe I'll survive. '

'I have a float pallet for you. These sturdy young men will help you to it.'

'Oh, thank you, dear.'

Miles stood back and waved the medtechs forward. The Professora looked perfectly content to be whisked aboard the medical pallet and covered with warm wraps. A cursory examination and a few words of debate resulted in a half-dose of synergine for her, but no IV; then the pallet rose into the air.

'The Professor will be here shortly,' Miles assured her. 'In fact, he'll likely be along before you both are done at the station infirmary. I'll see he gets sent straight on to you.'

'I'm so pleased.' The Professora motioned him nearer; when he bent over her, she grabbed him by the ear and planted a kiss on his cheek. 'Ekaterin was wonderful,' she whispered.

'I know,' he breathed. His eyes crinkled, and she smiled back.

He stepped back from the pallet to Ekaterin's side, hoping her aunt's example might inspire her—he wouldn't mind salvaging some little show of appreciation—'You didn't seem surprised to see me,' he murmured. The pallet started off, under the guidance of a medtech, and he and Ekaterin followed in procession; the ImpSec technicians politely waited till they'd cleared the chamber to plunge in to the airlock to disarm the charge.

Ekaterin shoved a strand of hair back over one ear with a hand that trembled only slightly. Red bruises glared on her arms, too, as her sleeve slid back. Miles frowned at them. 'I knew it had to be our side,' she said simply. 'Or else it would have been the other door.'

'Eh. Quite.' Three hours, she'd had, to contemplate that possibility. 'My fast courier was slow.'

They turned up the next corridor in reflective silence. Gratifying as it might have been to have her fling