[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

things-haven't they noticed a sudden increase in Barrayaran
Intelligence activity here in the Hub the last few days?"
"Now that you mention it, yes. Their coded traffic has quadrupled."
Thank God. Maybe relief was closer than he'd dared hope. "Have you broken any
of their codes?" Miles asked brightly, while he was at it.
Page 115
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
"Only the least sensitive one, so far."
"Ah. Good. That is, too bad."
Oser stood with his arms folded, gnawing at his lip, intensely inward for a
full minute. It reminded Miles uncomfortably of the meditative expression the
admiral'd had just before ordering him shoved out the nearest airlock, barely
more than a week back.
"No," Oser said at last. "Thanks for the information. In return, I suppose I
will spare your life. But we're pulling out. It's not a fight we can possibly
win. Only some propaganda-blinded planetary force, with a planet's resources
behind it, can afford that sort of insane self-sacrifice. I designed my fleet
to be a fine tactical tool, not a, a damn doorstop made of dead bodies. I'm
not a-as you say-goat."
"Not a goat, a spearhead."
"Your 'spearhead' has no spear behind it. No."
"Is that your last word, sir?" asked Miles in a thin voice.
"Yes." Oser reached to key his wristcom, to call in the waiting guards.
"Corporal, this party's going to the brig. Call down and notify them."
The guard saluted through the glass as Oser keyed off.
"But sir," Elena approached him, her arms raised in pleading. With a
snake-strike sideways flick of her wrist, she jabbed the hypo-spray against
the side of Oser's neck. His eyes widened, his pulse beat once, twice, three
times, as his lips drew back in rage.
He tensed to strike her. His blow sagged in mid-arc.
The guards beyond the glass snapped alert at Oser's sudden movement, drawing
their stunners. Elena caught Oser's hand and kissed it, smiling gratefully.
The guards relaxed; one nudged the other and said something pretty nasty,
judging from their grins, but Miles's wits were too momentarily scattered to
try and read lips.
Oser swayed and panted, fighting the drug. Elena sidled up the captured arm
and slipped a hand cozily around his waist, half-
turning him so they stood with their backs to the door. The sterotypical
stupid fast-penta smile slipped across and receded from
Oser's face, then fixed itself at last.
"He acted like I was unarmed." Elena shook her head in exasperation, and
slipped the hypospray into her jacket pocket.
"Now what?" Miles hissed frantically as the guard-corporal bent over the
door's code-lock.
"We all go to the brig, I guess. Tung's there," said Elena.
"Ah..." Oh-hell-we'll-never-bring-this-off. Had to try. Miles smiled cheerily
at the entering guards, and helped them release
Metzov, largely getting in their way and keeping their attention off the
peculiarly happy-looking Oser. At a moment when their eyes were elsewhere, he
tripped Metzov, who staggered.
"You'd better each take one of his arms, he's not too steady," Miles told the
guards. He was none too steady himself, but he managed to block the doorway so
the guards and Metzov led the way, himself second, and Elena, arm-in-arm with
Oser, followed last. "Come, love, come," he heard Elena intone behind him,
like a woman coaxing a cat to her lap.
It was the longest short walk he'd ever taken. He dropped back to growl out of
the corner of his mouth to Elena. "All right, we get to the brig, it will be
stocked with Oser's finest. What then?"
She bit her lip. "Don't know."
"That's what I was afraid of. Turn right here." They swung around the next
corner.
A guard looked back over his shoulder. "Sir?"
"Carry on, boys," Miles called. "When you've got that spy locked up, report
back to us at the Admiral's cabin."
"Very good, sir."
"Keep walking," breathed Miles. "Keep smiling..."
The guards' footsteps faded. "Where now?" asked Elena. Oser stumbled. "This is
Page 116
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
untenable."
"Admiral's cabin, why not?" Miles decided. His grin was fixed and fey. Elena's
inspired mutinous gesture had given him the best break of the day. He had the
momentum now. He wouldn't stop till he was brought down bodily. His head spun
with the
unutterable relief of at last getting the shifting, writhing, chittering
might-be-might-be-might-be nailed to a fixed is. This time is now. The word is
go.
Maybe. If.
They passed a few Oseran techs. Oser was sort of nodding, Miles hoped it would
pass as casual acknowledgment of their salutes. Nobody turned and cried Hey!,
anyway. Two levels and another turn brought them to the well-remembered
corridors of officer's country. They passed the Captain's cabin (God, he'd
have to deal with Auson, and soon); Oser's palm, pressed by Elena against the
lock, admitted them to the quarters Oser had made his flag office. When the
door slipped shut behind them Miles realized he'd been holding his breath.
"We're in it now," said Elena, sagging for a moment with her back to the door.
"You going to run out on us again?"
"Not this time," Miles replied grimly. "You may have noticed one item I didn't
bring up for discussion, down in sickbay."
"Gregor."
"Just so. Cavilo holds him hostage aboard her flagship right now." Elena's
neck bent in dismay. "She means to sell him to the
Cetagandans for a bonus, then?"
"No. Weirder than that. She means to marry him." Elena's lip curled in
astonishment. "What? Miles, there's no way she could have got such an
impossible notion in her head, unless-"
"Unless Gregor planted it. Which, I believe, he did. Watered and fertilized
it, too. What I don't know is whether he was serious, or playing for time. She
was very careful to keep us separated. You knew Gregor almost as well as I do.
What do you think?"
"It's hard to imagine Gregor love-struck to idiocy. He was always... rather
quiet. Almost, well, undersexed. Compared to, say, Ivan."
"I'm not sure that's a fair comparison."
"No, you're right. Well, compared to you, then."
Miles wondered just how to take that. "Gregor never had much in the way of
opportunities, when we were younger. I mean, no privacy. Security always in
his back pocket. That... that can inhibit a man, unless he's a bit of an
exhibitionist." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]