'Oh, yeah, the crazy Betan. He hangs around the Barrayaran Embassy—he has a warrant for your arrest, which he waves at whoever he can catch going in or out. The guards won't let him in anymore.'
'Did you actually talk to him?'
'Briefly. I told him there was a rumor you'd gone to Kshatryia.'
'Really?'
'Of course not. But it was the farthest place I could think of. The clan,' Ivan said smugly, 'should stick together.'
'Thanks …' Miles mulled this over, 'I think.' He sighed. 'I guess the best thing to do is wait for your Captain Dimir, then. He might at least be able to give us a ride home, which would solve one problem.' He looked up at his cousin. 'I'll explain it all later, but I have to know some things now—can you keep your mouth shut a while? Nobody here is supposed to know who I really am.' A horrid thought shook Miles. 'You haven't been going around asking for me by name, have you?'
'No, no, just Miles Naismith,' Ivan assured him. 'We knew you were traveling with your Betan passport. Anyway, I just got here last night, and practically the first person I met was Elena.'
Miles breathed relief, and turned to Elena. 'You say Baz is out there? I've got to see him.'
She nodded, and withdrew, walking a wide circle around Ivan.
'Sorry to hear about old Bothari,' Ivan offered when she'd left. 'Who'd have thought he could do himself in cleaning weapons after all these years? Still, there's a bright side—you've finally got a chance to make time with Elena, without him breathing down your neck. So it's not a dead loss.'
Miles exhaled carefully, faint with rage and reminded grief. He does not know, he told himself. He cannot know … 'Ivan, one of these days somebody is going to pull out a weapon and plug you, and you're going to die in bewilderment, crying, 'What did I say? What did I say?'
'What did I say?' asked Ivan indignantly.
Before Miles could go into detail, Baz entered, flanked by Tung and Auson, Elena trailing. The chamber was jammed. They all seemed to be grinning like loons. Baz waved some plastic flimsies triumphantly in the air. He was lit like a beacon with pride, scarcely recognizable as the man Miles had found five months ago cowering in a garbage heap.
'The surgeon says we can't stay long, my lord,' he said to Miles, 'but I thought these might do for a get- well wish.'
Ivan started slightly at the honorific, and stared covertly at the engineer.
Miles took the sheets of printing. 'Your mission—were you able to complete it?'
'Like clockwork—well, not exactly, there were some bad moments in a train station—you should see the rail system they have on Tau Verde IV. The engineering—magnificent. Barrayar missed something by going from horseback straight to air transport—'
'The mission, Baz!'
The engineer beamed. 'Take a look. Those are the transcripts of the latest dispatches between Admiral Oser and the Pelian high command.'
Miles began to read. After a time, he began to smile. 'Yes … I'd understood Admiral Oser had a remarkable command of invective when, er, roused …' Miles's gaze crossed Tung's, blandly. Tung's eyes glinted with satisfaction.
Ivan craned his neck. 'What are they? Elena told me about your payroll heists—I take it you managed to mess up their electronic transfer, too. But I don't understand—won't the Pelians just re-pay, when they find the Oseran fleet wasn't credited?'
Miles's grin became quite wolfish. 'Ah, but they were credited—eight times over. And now, as I believe a certain Earth general once said, God has delivered them into my hand. After failing four times in a row to deliver their cash payment, the Pelians have demanded the electronic overpayment be returned. And Oser,' Miles glanced at the flimsies, 'is refusing. Emphatically. That was the trickiest part, calculating just the right amount of overpayment. Too little, and the Pelians might have just let it go. Too much, and even Oser would have felt bound to return it. But just the right amount . ..' he sighed, and cuddled back happily into his pillow. He would have to commit some or Oser's choicest phrases to memory, he decided. They were unique.
'You'll like this, then, Admiral Naismith.' Auson, bursting with news, erupted at last. 'Four of Oser's independent Captain-owners took their ships and jumped out of Tau Verde local space in the last two days. From the transmissions we intercepted, I don't think they'll be coming back, either.'
'Glorious,' breathed Miles. 'Oh, well done .. .'
He looked to Elena. Pride there, too, strong enough even to nudge out some of the pain in her eyes. 'As I thought—intercepting that fourth payroll was vital to the success of the strategy. Well done, Commander Bothari.'
She glowed back at him, hesitantly. 'We missed you. We—took lot of casualties.'
'I anticipated we would. The Pelians had to be laying for us, by then.' He glanced at Tung, who was making a small shushing gesture at Elena. 'Was it much worse than we'd calculated?'
Tung shook his head. 'There were moments when I was ready to swear she didn't know she was beaten. There are certain situations into which you do not ask mercenaries to follow you—'
'I didn't ask anyone to follow me,' said Elena. 'They came on their own.' She added in a whispered aside to Miles, 'I just thought that was what boarding battles were like. I didn't know it wasn't supposed to be that bad.'
Tung spoke to Miles's alarmed look. 'We would have paid a higher price if she hadn't insisted you'd put her in charge and refused to withdraw when I ordered. Then we would have paid much for nothing—that ratio works out to infinity, I believe.' Tung gave Elena a nod of judicious approval, which she returned gravely. Ivan looked rather stunned.
A low-voiced argument penetrated from the corridor; Thorne, and the surgeon. Thorne was saying, 'You've got to. This is vital—'
Thorne towed the protesting surgeon into the cubicle. 'Admiral Naismith! Commodore Tung! Oser's here!'
'What!'
'With his whole fleet—what's left of it—they're just out of range. He's asking permission to dock his flagship.'
'That can't be!' said Tung. 'Who's guarding the wormhole?'
'Yes, exactly!' cried Thorne. 'Who?' They stared at each other in elated, wild surmise.
Miles sprang to his feet, fought off a wave of dizziness, clutched his gown behind him. 'Get my clothes,' he enunciated.
Hawk-like, Miles decided, was the word for Admiral Oser. Greying hair, a beak of a nose, a bright, penetrating stare, fixed now on Miles. He had mastered the look that makes junior officers search their consciences, Miles thought. He stood up under it, and gave the real mercenary Admiral a slow smile, there in the docking bay. The sharp, cold, recycled air was bitter in his nostrils, like a stimulant. You could get high on it, surely.
Oser was flanked by three of his Captain-employees and two of his Captain-owners, and their seconds. Miles trailed the whole Dendarii staff, Elena on his right hand, Baz on his left.
Oser looked him up and down. 'Damn,' he murmured. 'Damn …' He did not offer his hand, but stood and spoke; deliberate, rehearsed cadences.
'Since the day you entered Tau Verde local space, I've felt your presence. In the Felicians, in the tactical situation turning under me, in the faces of my own men—' his glance passed over Tung, who smiled sweetly, 'even in the Pelians. We have been grappling in the dark, we two, at a distance, long enough.'
Miles's eyes widened. My God, is Oser about to challenge me to single combat? Sergeant Bothari, help! He jerked his chin up, and said nothing.
'I don't believe in prolonging agonies,' said Oser. 'Rather than watch you enspell the rest of my fleet man by man—while I still possess a fleet to offer—I understand the Dendarii Mercenaries are looking for recruits.'
It took Miles a moment to realize he had just heard one of the most stiff-necked surrender speeches in history. Gracious. We are going to be gracious as hell, oh, yes … He held out his hand; Oser took it.
'Admiral Oser, your understanding is acute. There's a private chamber, where we can work out the details…'
