Lois Bujold - Captain Vorpatril's alliance

A little silence fell, as they both began reading.

“So what did you get?” Tej inquired, when his first Huh! invited interruption.

“Birthday greeting from Admiral Desplains.” Ivan’s thirty-sixth birthday had passed very pleasantly, two weeks ago. They’d stayed home. “He tells me that my replacement is a very efficient young man, but lacks my political nous . And is less entertaining, thank-you-I-think, Admiral.” Ivan read on. “I gather that he misses me. But that he doesn’t encourage me to think of coming back to Ops, because by that time I should be moving up and on, if I’m interpreting this correctly.”

“You probably are,” said Tej, with touching faith in his ability to decipher elliptical hints from senior officers. Likely justified, in this case.

“You had something from the Whole…?”

“Letter from Rish.” She tapped her reader. “So frustrating. She hates writing, so she never puts in enough detail, but she’s too cheap to send a recording.” Written messages were, indeed, the least expensive tightbeam communication to send by the long and winding wormhole routes, which was why almost everything that made it as far as Ylla was in this form. “Repairs on Cordonah Station are almost complete, she says. The reunited Jewels have danced their first public performance again, now that Topaz’s replacement legs have taken. I hope the Baronne tracked down whatever nasty Prestene head-meat came up with that idea.” She scowled. “ In person.”

Ivan had never met Topaz, but he hoped so, too. Far more cruel than shaved hair, that amputation had sounded; it had allegedly been ordered in revenge for Topaz helping the Baron and Baronne to escape their Prestene captivity, all those months ago. A loyalty now redeemed; good. The revenge cycle…he declined to touch.

“And your brother Eric? Did they finally decide if he was cryo-revivable?”

“Mm, yes, but…huh.” Her brows rose. “They’re still keeping him on ice for a while. You know that Prestene capturing the station was in-part an inside job? Appears Eric was the in-part part. Tired of waiting for his inheritance? And so he received the reward from Prestene that anyone with a clue might have guessed was coming…unless he saw which way things were going and turned to fight them at the end. Give him credit, Rish says, he does seem to have been thinking of forcible retirement for Dada, not patricide, but apparently someone figured out how to cut those costs. Dada and the Baronne must have known this, but back on Barrayar they didn’t give me the least hint…Oh, my, that boy is so grounded! I expect my parents’ll keep him as a threat in reserve for a while, in case Star and Pidge aren’t able to work out their little differences as to who should be heiress. That’s one way to keep them yoked together…”

Ivan tried not to picture Eric Arqua’s cryochamber being used as a coffee table, but who knew? “So…will they ever revive him?”

“In a few years, I expect. When Star and Pidge are firmly in place. And then he’ll get to be their little brother.” Ivan wasn’t sure he wanted to know what family memories fueled her evil chuckle. “In other words, House Cordonah’s internal politics are nearly back to normal. So glad I’m here and not there…” Her ankle-coins chimed, as her foot rubbed Ivan’s calf.

“I am, too,” he declared, without reservation. “Does she write anything about Byerly?”

She scrolled on a short way. “No, not really. But if anything dire had happened to him she would have said—I think—so I suppose all is well.”

“I have one from him. What’s the date on yours…?” A quick cross-check assured Ivan that By’s letter had followed almost a week after Rish’s, so that was all right. So far. “At least I can’t accuse Byerly of writing, or talking, too little. Though finding the message in the missive is a bit like looking for the meat in those meatballs they sell off the carts in the Great Square…Holy crap.” Ivan’s lurch nearly tipped the hammock.

Tej’s bright eyes widened in inquiry.

“You know that brooch-thing that your Grandmama picked up off the floor in the bunker…?’

“Yes?”

“By finally found out what the hell it was.”

“I was thinking haut-lady bio-weapons, myself, but I didn’t like to say anything at the time. I didn’t think we needed more complications to getting everyone on their way home without being jailed, and if she wanted to use them on Prestene, that was between her and the Baron and Baronne. Nothing to do with Barrayar, right?”

“Weirder than that. Even.” Ivan blinked. “And a whole lot to do with Barrayar. Seems the beads on the brooch contained something like a hundred thousand sporulated genetic samples from Barrayarans born in the Vorbarra District before the end of the Time of Isolation. It was the bloody gene-survey library!”

“Oh. My.” Tej hesitated. “Will the Barrayarans be mad?”

“I’m…not sure. I mean, we never knew .”

“I suppose you do now. Byerly will have reported, right?”

“Yeah.” Ivan read on. “You could—well, not you, but someone crazy could— clone all our ancestors from those samples, you realize? I wonder if there was anyone famous in there?”

Tej tilted her head, considering this. “That might actually be made lucrative.”

“Buy your own clone of Prince Xav? Or worse, Mad Emperor Yuri…? Ye gods. No…!” His speeding eyes widened. “Lady ghem Estif offered to sell them back to the Star Crèche!”

“That’s terrible!” said Tej, but went on in earnest critique, “She should have set up a bidding war between the Star Crèche and Barrayar, at the very least! The Baronne could have advised her. What’s the point of having an auction with only one bidder?”

Ivan swallowed this practical Jacksonian view without gulping, much. Or at least without comment.

Tej added, with keen interest, “What did they offer her? I can’t believe By didn’t find out that .”

“He did. Ten million Betan dollars. Here’s where it all goes sideways. She set up a hand-off in a neutral location—House Dyne?”

Tej nodded. “That makes sense.”

“While Byerly was knocking himself out trying to steal the thing—ah, there you go, evidently he did offer to buy it, first—but he couldn’t get past her. Rish…apparently refused to take sides. So anyway, they dragged this Star Crèche envoy, an actual haut lady, in her bubble and everything, though I’m not sure how you could tell—I wonder if it was Pel?—all the way out from Eta Ceta to the Whole, together with a suitcase full of bearer-credit—well not a suitcase, probably, doubtless an elegant little card, but anyway—and a platoon of really scary bodyguards. And the Dyne guy had the bond in hand, all cleared and ready to hand over. And Lady ghem Estif set the brooch down in a little force-bubble with, evidently, a hidden plasma charge, stood back, and set it off—blinding light, but no concussion—and turned it all to elemental gases. Right in front of them. By says he thought he was having a heart attack. And then he wished he’d had.”

“Wow!” said Tej.

“But why? Why would anyone, in effect, set fire to ten million Betan dollars?”

“Well, Grandmama…” Tej pursed her lips, then took a sip of fruity drink as she apparently thought this through. “Grandmama was really incensed at being culled from the haut, back when.”

“That was a hundred years ago! She’s held this grudge for over a century?”

Tej gave a nod. “It’s…it’s a girl thing,” she offered. “Ghem Estif-Arqua style.”

“Ye gods.” Should I keep this in mind?