The Vor Game

bad it's only temporary.'

Tung threw back his head and barked a laugh, and whirled to shake Miles by the shoulders. 'You did it, you little—you came back! We're in business!'

Chodak's man twitched, as if uncertain which way, or whom, to jump. Chodak caught him by the arm, shook his head silently, and indicated the wall by the door. Chodak holstered his stunner and leaned against the doorframe with his arms folded; after a startled moment, his man followed suit, flanking the other side. 'Fly on the wall,' Chodak grinned out of the corner of his mouth to him. 'Consider it a gift.'

'It wasn't exactly voluntary,' said Miles through his teeth to Tung, only in part to keep from biting his tongue in the blast of the Eurasian's enthusiasm. 'And we're not in business yet.' Sorry, Ky. I can't be your front man this time. You've got to follow me. Miles kept his face stern, and removed Tung's hands from his shoulders with icy deliberation. 'That Vervani freighter captain you found delivered me straight to Commander Cavilo. And I've been wondering ever since if it was an accident.'

'Ah!' Tung fell back, looking as if Miles had just hit him in the stomach.

Miles felt like he had. No, Tung was no traitor. But Miles dared not give up the only edge he had. 'Betrayal, or botchery, Ky?' And have you stopped beating your wife?

'Botchery,' whispered Tung, gone sallow-pale. 'Dammit, I'm going to kill the triple-crossing—'

'That's already been done,' said Miles coldly. Tung's brows rose in surprised respect.

'I came to the Hegen Hub on a contract,' continued Miles, 'which is now in disarray almost beyond repair. I haven't come back here to put you in operational combat command of the Dendarii—' a beat, as Tung's worried features attempted to settle on an expression, 'unless you are prepared to serve my ends. Priorities and targets are to be my choice. Only the how is yours.' And just who was going to put whom in command of the Dendarii? As long as that question didn't occur to Tung.

'As my ally,' began Tung.

'Not ally. Your commander. Or nothing,' said Miles.

Tung stood stockily, his brows struggling to find their level. In a mild tone he finally said, 'Daddy Ky's little boy is growing up, it seems.'

'That's not the half of it. Are you in, or out?'

'The other half of this is something I've got to hear.' Tung sucked on his lower lip. 'In.'

Miles stuck out his hand. 'Done.'

Tung took it. 'Done.' His grip was determined.

Miles let out a long breath. 'All right. I gave you some half-truths, last time. Here's what's really going on.' He began to pace, his shaking not all from the nerve disruptor nimbus. 'I do have a contract with an interested outsider, but it wasn't for 'military evaluation,' which is the smoke screen I gave Oser. The part I told you about preventing a planetary civil war was not smoke. I was hired by the Barrayarans.'

'They don't normally hire mercenaries,' said Tung.

'I'm not a normal mercenary. I'm being paid by Barrayaran Imperial Security,' God, at least one whole- truth, 'to find and rescue a hostage. On the side I hope to stop a now-imminent Cetagandan invasion fleet from taking over the Hub. Our second strategic priority will be to hold both sides of the Vervain wormhole jump and as much else as we can till Barrayaran reinforcements arrive.'

Tung cleared his throat. 'Second priority? What if they don't arrive? There's Pol to cross. . . . And, ah, hostage-rescue does not normally take precedence over fleetwide strat-tac ops, eh?'

'Given the identity of this hostage, I guarantee their arrival. The Barrayaran emperor, Gregor Vorbarra, was kidnapped. I found him, lost him, and now I've got to get him back. As you can imagine, I expect the reward for his safe return to be substantial.'

Tung's face was a study in appalled enlightenment. 'That skinny neurasthenic git you had in tow before— that wasn't him, was it?'

'Yes, it was. And between us, you and I managed to deliver him straight to Commander Cavilo.'

'Oh. Shit.' Tung rubbed his burr-haired skull. 'She'll sell him straight to the Cetagandans.'

'No. She means to collect her reward from Barrayar.'

Tung opened his mouth, closed it, held up a finger. 'Wait a minute. . . .'

'It's complicated,' Miles conceded helplessly. 'That's why I'm going to delegate the simple part, holding the wormhole, to you. The hostage-rescue part will be my responsibility.'

'Simple. The Dendarii mercenaries. All five thousand of us. Single-handed. Against the Cetagandan Empire. Have you forgotten how to count in the last four years?'

'Think of the glory. Think of your reputation. Think how great it'll look on your next resume.'

'On my cenotaph, you mean. Nobody will be able to collect enough of my scattered atoms to bury. You going to cover my funeral expenses, son?'

'Splendidly. Banners, dancing girls, and enough beer to float your coffin to Valhalla.'

Tung sighed. 'Make it plum wine to float the boat, eh? Drink the beer. Well.' He stood silent a moment, rubbing his lips. 'The first step is to put the fleet on one-hour-alert status instead of twenty-four.'

'They're not already?' Miles frowned.

'We were defensive. We figured we had at least thirty-six hours to study anything coming at us across the Hub. Or, so Oser figured it. It'll take about six hours to bring us up to one-hour readiness.'

'Right . . . that's the second step, then. Your first step will be to kiss and make up with Captain Auson.'

'Kiss my ass!' cried Tung. 'That vacuumhead—'

'Is needed to command the Triumph while you run Fleet Tac. You can't do both. I can't reorganize the fleet this close to the action. If I had a week to weed out—well, I don't. Oser's people must be persuaded to stay on their jobs. If I have Auson,' Miles's upheld hand closed cage-like, 'I can run the rest. One way or another.'

Tung growled frustrated acquiescence. 'All right.' His glower faded to a slow grin. 'I'd pay money to watch you make him kiss Thorne, though.'

'One miracle at a time.'

Captain Auson, a big man four years ago, had put on a little more weight but seemed otherwise unchanged. He stepped into Oser's cabin, took in the stunners aimed his way, and stood, hands clenching. When he saw Miles, sitting on the edge of Oser's comconsole desk (a psychological ploy to put his head level with everyone else's; in the station chair Miles feared he looked like a child in need of a booster seat at the dinner table), Auson's expression melted from anger to horror. 'Oh, hell! Not you again!'

'But of course,' shrugged Miles. The stunner-armed flies on the wall, Chodak and his man, suppressed grins of happy anticipation. 'The action's about to start.'

'You can't take this—' Auson broke off to peer at Oser. 'What did you do to him?'

'Let's just say, we adjusted his attitude. As for the fleet, it's already mine.' Well, he was working on it, anyway. 'The question is, will you choose to be on the winning side? Pocket a combat bonus? Or shall I give command of the Triumph to—'

Auson bared his teeth to Tung in a silent snarl.

'—Bel Thorne?'

'What?' Auson yelped. Tung flinched, wincing. 'You can't—'

Miles cut over him. 'Do you happen to recall how you graduated from command of the Ariel to command of the Triumph? Yes?'

Auson pointed to Tung. 'What about him?'

'My contractor will contribute value equal to the Triumph, which will become Tung's vested share in the fleet corporation. In return Commodore Tung will relinquish all claim on the ship itself. I will confirm Tung's rank as Chief of Staff/Tactical, and yours as captain of the flagship Triumph. Your original contribution, equal to the value of the Ariel less liens, will be confirmed as your vested share in the fleet corporation. Both ships will be listed as owned by the fleet.'

'Do you go along with this?' Auson demanded of Tung.

Miles prodded Tung with a steely look. 'Yeah,' said Tung grudgingly.

Auson frowned over this. 'It isn't just the money . . .' He paused, brow wrinkling. 'What combat bonus?