Lois Bujold - The Flowers of Vashnoi

“It’d become a hobby of mine, picking up things thrown away in the zone. That was the first thrown-away baby I found. Not the last, though they got fewer and fewer, till Ingi, thirteen years ago. None after that, o’ course.”

“What happened thirteen years ago?”

A shrug. “Countess Vorkosigan’s lift-van clinics reached the last outlying hamlets west of t’ ridge.”

Ah. Yes. Ekaterin reflected on her normally cheery mother-in-law’s rants about modernizing education and medicine in the district. Piotr had at first given his son’s galactic bride access only to the lower-level schools, children for the woman. But when the district fell fully into her hands at the old man’s death seventeen years back, Countess Vorkosigan had pressed forward with her wave of eager young people all ready for the new technical schools. The larger towns had been served first, hoping to reach the most people the fastest; from that base, pushing outward with mobile clinics as the solution to the last and hardest part of the distribution problem.

“So this is already ended, lady,” said Ma Roga. “Years gone. We’re all ended, here.”

“No. It’s a new beginning.”

“Not for me.” Ma Roga shook her head. “I know your kind. You think you can do anything, but you can’t.”

Ekaterin set this aside for now, though she thought, You should meet Miles . “So what’s the story with Vadim and Jadwiga?”

Another shrug. “Vadim was fifteen when she was born. His parents sent him to me with her. A few folks around here knew about me by then, see. He wasn’t any too happy with the job, for all his da argued it was for his protection, too. Worse’n being set to drown kittens, y’know.”

“Ah.”

“He’d come by to check up on her, time to time, even before he got old enough to join the rangers. Then his da died, road accident, and then his ma took the one-way free passage to Sergyar that was on offer back then, when the new count was took away to be viceroy. Happy to leave all her sorrows behind, I suppose, b’cause last I heard she was still alive there.”

“You all”—Ekaterin glanced at her bare hand—” we all are going to have to go first to Hassadar General, for evaluation and treatment. After that we can make decisions with real information.”

“ You can get to make t’em, don’t you mean,” said Ma Roga with a flash of sarcasm. “It’s too late for Jaddie. It was always meant to be that way, for her.”

“Maybe,” Ekaterin conceded. “Maybe not. That’s not for you or me to say, it’s for the doctors. But Ingi seems pretty healthy so far. Boris, too.”

“You can’t just fling these children on the outside world after all these years, and expect them to swim for it. Jaddie just can’t, Boris, well, he ran away once but dragged back smartin’, and poor Ingi—the boys his age would tear him to pieces. His heart if not his body, though maybe his body too. You can’t imagine it, how cruel they can be in a gang.”

Ekaterin’s lips thinned. “I’m married to the mutie lord. I don’t have to imagine it. I can just have Miles tell me.”

Ma Roga’s chin jerked. Not daunted, this was not a woman who did daunted, but maybe taken aback a trifle. Any little crack in her hopeless certainties was to the good.

“You’re not wrong to be concerned,” Ekaterin went on, “but it’s better out there than it was thirty years ago, I promise you. Once the children aren’t getting any more exposed and sicker, there will be time to take thought. Nobody’s flinging anyone anywhere without looking out to see where they’d land.”

And Ekaterin could guess whose job that was likely to be. Adding another task to her overflowing plate. I will cope. It’s what I do. She raised her chin. “I can’t know, and turn away.”

“I wish you would,” growled Ma Roga. “We were just fine out here, till you came. People left us alone.”

Ekaterin shook her head.

Ma Roga turned her face up, listening. Ekaterin heard it too, the distinctive whine and throb of a lift van.

“Yah, here’s more trouble, right in train,” Ma Roga sighed, and shoved to her feet with a grunt.

Ekaterin followed her back to the clearing in front of the hut in time to see the familiar lift van the rangers flew, the Vorkosigan mountains-and-maple-leaf markings distinctive on its sides, jounce on its landing feet and settle. She was by this time entirely unsurprised when Vadim hopped out.

Wearing civilian clothes, not his regulation rad suit, and carrying a couple of grocery bags. He turned and dropped them in shock when he took in Ekaterin, trailing Ma Roga. His breath hissed, he scrabbled for his stunner, pulled it, and froze.

They stared at each other for a long, teetering moment.

Ekaterin crossed her arms and said dryly, “If you pretend you never drew that, I’ll pretend I never saw it.”

Vadim’s blocky face seemed drained to clay. His hand twitched once, then, slowly, reholstered his sidearm. Ekaterin tried to let her pent breath out unobtrusively.

She straightened her spine and walked forward. “Am I right in guessing you have some of Enrique’s bug-transport canisters in the back of the van?”

“How did you…?”

“Fetch them along. We found the missing radbugs. They’re in the goat shed, along with Enrique.” She eyed his missing rad suit. “I trust you have some spare gloves back there as well. You’ll need a pair, and I need a clean right.” She held up her bare hand and wriggled it.

“Er, er… yes, Lady Vorkosigan.” Some simple orders to follow seemed to steady him, providing a replica of routine to cling to.

While Ma Roga gathered up her groceries, Vadim opened the back of the van and retrieved the canisters and gloves. Ekaterin hitched hers on, wondering if it was really going to do any good—well, at least it would allow her to help handle the loaded bugs. Vadim passed her two canisters to carry, then took the other pair himself.

Ma Roga watched this in sullen silence, then hoisted her bags and headed for the hut. “Send the kids back to me,” she told Vadim. “We got things to settle.”

He nodded warily and led off, needing no directions to the goat shed. Right .

“Ah, Vadim!” Enrique straightened up with a smile as they rounded the shed. “Glad you’re here. Oh, excellent, the canisters. I was just wondering what to use. Er… where’s your suit?” He glanced down. “And, er, your dosimeter?”

“I don’t wear t’em when I’m just visiting here,” Vadim replied in a mumble.

So as to prolong his employment as a ranger? Which was looking plenty dodgy at the moment anyway. Add that to the set of worries that must be coursing through his mind just now.

Sunnily, Jadwiga skipped up and hugged him; with a discomforted glance at Enrique and Ekaterin, he ruffled her hair in what looked a habitual gesture. “Hey, brat.”

“You met the lady! Isn’t she pretty?”

“Yeah, I uh… work with her.”

“You do? And you didn’t tell us?” Indignation was as open on her round face as any other of Jadwiga’s emotions.

“It’s a recent job,” Vadim excused himself. “Anyway, Ma wants you all back at the house. Chores.” He jerked a gloved thumb over his shoulder.

“And after that,” Ekaterin put in, “we’re all going, well, first we’re all going for a ride in the ranger’s lift van to the decontamination station, and then some people will pick us all up and take us to Hassadar General Hospital.” And, oh dear, wasn’t that going to supply some culture shock. She must take thought how to cushion it as best they could. “We’ll all be spending the night there, and getting some simple treatments, and some doctors will be looking at Jadwiga’s growth”—she touched her throat—“to see if there’s anything they can do to fix it.”