Lois Bujold - Captain Vorpatril's alliance

“Are you one of those men?” asked Ivan.

Simon shrugged. “I may have been. I did a great deal of such homework, when I was just taking over the place three-and-a-half decades ago and cleaning up after the Pretendership. And Negri, dear God. Almost worse than…anyway. All I can tell you now is that the information didn’t make enough of an impression upon me for much detail to be retained in my organic memory alongside my artificial one. Of course, there was a great deal of competition for my attention, back then.”

“That’s the old records,” said Ivan. “What about the bunker itself? Surely it has to still be on ImpSec’s own current site maps.”

“Oh, certainly it is.”

“And it’s just been left sitting there ever since Yuri’s day?” said By.

“More or less. My plan for that park was that it was to be the site of the new ImpSec building which, as you know, I never got. Whenever they excavated the foundations, the bunker would have been revisited, and after a quick check by us for safety issues, turned over to the University historians to get what they could, after which my contractors would continue. I had the archeological dig boss all picked out, in my mind.” Simon sighed.

Simon remembered quite a bit, apparently, along certain odd lines.

“Did Shiv promise to cut you in?” demanded Ivan. “For a percent of … um…nothing?”

“So who was doing who?” By muttered.

“And then—what?” Ivan continued, growing perturbed in a whole new way. “Just let them go on, falsely hoping? Watch them while they try to break into an empty vault? You’re a cruel bastard, Simon.”

“I always had to be. This time, however, the future of the Imperium and millions of lives don’t seem to be at stake, making it all much more relaxing. Not to mention the quite standard procedure of letting a suspect run to lead the observer to other contacts, which I should not have to explain to you , Byerly.”

That probably worked a lot better when the observer hadn’t been outed to the suspects, Ivan thought glumly.

Simon added after a reflective moment, “Also, I was extremely interested to see how far they would get. Something of a private test.”

“For Guy Allegre?” What did he ever do to you? “In that case, was it fair to cover for that damn mapping dance, yesterday morning? You know the Jewels would’ve been run off if you hadn’t been sitting there, nodding benignly.”

“Mm, not so much cover as catalyze, in my view. Speed things up.” Simon frowned, and added, “Although my presence should not have caused an alteration in security procedures. I mean to have words with Guy about that, later.” He added after another moment, “Mind you, my personal evaluation is that the civil engineering problems of tunneling in secret around ImpSec will defeat them, as they have the many who have tried before. And a smash-and-grab approach, say, driving down through the park dirt with a plasma beam some, what, some twenty or thirty meters and boiling a hole through the roof of the bunker, is simply not on. Nevertheless, if they manage some way through those challenges, and if they finally break in…then will be the right psychological moment to make my deal.”

Ivan’s eyes narrowed. “What are you playing for, Simon?”

“Wider strategic concerns.”

By made a kind of weak, inquiring, throat-clearing noise.

Simon cast a head-tilt his way. “Jackson’s Whole has always been a problem disguised as an opportunity, for ImpSec and the Imperium. Too far away for direct intervention, but sitting astride a major wormhole route out of the Cetagandan Empire, which gives the Cetas roughly similar strategic interests to our own. And the same problem with working through local contacts—they tend not to stay bought.

“House Fell has always been dangerous, but determinedly independent. Morozov believes that House Prestene has strong Cetagandan contacts—and it now controls two out of the five wormholes in a possible first move on a monopoly. The loss of House Cordonah was originally judged to make little difference in that count, as they were thought to be technically neutral but with personal ties to the Cetagandans through the Baronne. Having now met Moira ghem Estif I am…rethinking that.”

“I, uh…Shiv Arqua doesn’t strike me as material to be anybody’s puppet,” said Ivan. “Still less Shiv and Udine. Ours or the Cetas.”

“Puppet, no. Ally…perhaps. Even just having a reliable safe house for our agents in the Whole would be a tactical improvement over the present confusion.”

“So you’re thinking of offering him—them—what?” asked By.

“At present, nothing, till I’ve had a bit longer to evaluate the man.”

“Word in your ear, Simon,” Ivan put in uneasily. “The man and the woman. Evaluating Shiv without Udine would be like, like…trying to assess Uncle Aral and leaving out Aunt Cordelia. They seemed that tight, to me.”

Simon’s brows climbed. “Really.” His attention on Ivan was suddenly sharper. “How do you come by that impression?”

Ivan stirred uncomfortably. “Not any one thing. Just the way they add up.”

“Hm.” Simon’s lips pursed. “Not that I, in my capacity as a mere retired Imperial subject, am in a position to promise anything to anyone, of course. Shiv kept…not noticing that.”

Ivan refrained from blurting a raspberry through his lips at this disingenuity. It would have disturbed By.

“So,” said By slowly, “what is all this, then—an IQ test for a future ally?”

Simon’s smile flashed. “Nothing so simple, alas. Or unidirectional. The one other thing I would point out—but did either of you notice? I handed it to you, a few minutes ago.”

By shot Ivan an agonized look. Simon playing mentor sometimes reminded Ivan of his worst moments from his school days, or maybe one of those nightmares where you found yourself running to a test naked. And he’d been Miles’s boss for years; maybe that, too, explained something about his cousin. Simon sat back, clearly willing to wait till the coin dropped. For hours, if need be. And no end-of-period bell to save them.

Simon had always been very precise in his speech, a habit that had survived the chip-removal; his current pauses for memory-searches were hardly distinguishable from the old ones for—the same thing, only more reliable. He’d said, he’d just said…

“Marked cleared,” said Ivan. “Would that be the same thing as, um— was cleared?”

Simon’s smile at him grew briefly genuine. “It was not only before I took over ImpSec, it was before I was born. Who now knows?”

“Moira ghem Estif?” Ivan hazarded. “It’s plain she does think there’s something there. One of you has to be wrong.”

Simon nodded. “As for the marked cleared problem, I have someone looking into that. With suitable historical expertise. Privately, on the side, when he gets a spare moment.”

Ivan blinked. “You got Duv Galeni running inside searches for you? Won’t he get in trouble? And it’s not his department.”

“For all I know, it’s all declassified and stored in the Imperial University archives by now,” said Simon, “but in either case, Duv’s the man to most efficiently put his finger on it.”

“I should report this,” said By. “Er…should I report this…?”

“I don’t know, Byerly, should you?” Simon said.

“That’s…not fair, sir.”

“Not especially, no.” Simon took in By’s harassed look and measured out a small drop of mercy. “You have some time to meditate upon it. Shiv can only have started to tackle the tunneling problem. They need to line up local equipment, perhaps local contacts—if I were you I’d keep a close eye on Shiv and Star as the most likely to possess the technical expertise. The problem was always what to do with the tell-tale dirt, and the longer the shaft, the bigger the pile…well.”