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Cordelia perched on the painted boulder and wondered morbidly which side was
going to leap out of the night first, and by what test she might tell them
apart. Time passed, and she entertained an even more depressed vision of no
one picking them up at all.
But at last a darkened lightflyer floated down out of the night sky, its
engines pitched to eerie near-silence. Its landing feet crunched in the
gravel. Bothari crouched beside her, his useless knife gripped in his hand.
But the man awkwardly levering himself up out of the passenger seat was
Lieutenant Koudelka. "Milady?" he called uncertainly to the two human
scarecrows.
"Sergeant?" A breath of pure delight puffed from Cordelia as she recognized
the pilot's blonde head as Droushnakovi. My home is not a place, it is people,
sir... .
With Bothari's hand on her elbow, at Koudelka's anxious gesture Cordelia fell
gratefully into the padded backseat of the flyer.
Droushnakovi cast a dark look over her shoulder at Bothari, wrinkled her nose,
and asked, "Are you all right, Milady?"
"Better than I expected, really. Go, go."
The canopy sealed, and they rose into the air. Vent fans powered up, cycling
filtered air. Colored lights from the control interface highlighted Kou's and
Drou's faces. A technological cocoon. Cordelia glanced at systems readouts
over Droushnakovi's shoulder, and then up through the canopy; yes, dark shapes
paced them, guardian military flyers. Bothari saw them, too, his eyes
narrowing in approval. Some fraction of tension eased from his body.
"Good to see you two-" some subtle cue of their body language, some hidden
reserve, kept Cordelia from adding together again. "I gather you got that
accusation about the comconsole sabotage straightened out in good order?"
"As soon as we got the chance to stop and fast-penta that guard corporal,
Milady," Droushnakovi answered. "He didn't have the nerve to suicide before
questioning."
"He was the saboteur?"
"Yes," answered Koudelka. "He'd intended to escape to Vordarian's troops when
they arrived to capture us. Vordarian apparently suborned him months ago."
"That accounts for our security problems. Or does it?"
"He passed information about our route, the day of the sonic grenade attempt."
Koudelka rubbed at his sinuses in memory.
"So it was Vordarian behind that!"
"Confirmed. But the guard doesn't seem to have known anything about the
soltoxin. We turned him inside out. He wasn't a high-level conspirator, just a
tool."
Nasty flow of thought, but, "Has Illyan reported in yet?"
"Not yet. Admiral Vorkosigan hopes he may be hiding in the capital, if he
wasn't killed in the first fighting."
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"Hm. Well, you'll be glad to know Gregor's all right-"
Koudelka held up an interrupting hand. "Excuse me, Milady. The Admiral
ordered-you and the Sergeant are not to debrief anything about Gregor to
anyone except Count Piotr or himself."
"All right. Damn fast-penta. How is Aral?"
"He's well, Milady. He ordered me to bring you up to date on the strategic
situation-"
Screw the strategic situation, what about my baby? Alas, the two seemed
inextricably intertwined.
"-and answer any questions you had."
Very well. "What about our baby? Pi-Miles?"
"We've heard nothing bad, Milady."
"What does that mean?"
"It means we've heard nothing," Droushnakovi put in glumly.
Koudelka shot her an irate look, which she shrugged off with a twitch of one
shoulder.
"No news may be good news," Koudelka went on. "While it's true Vordarian holds
the capital-"
"And therefore ImpMil, yes," said Cordelia.
"And he's publicizing names of hostages related to anyone in our command
structure, there's been no mention of, of your child, in the lists. The
Admiral thinks Vordarian simply doesn't realize that what went into the
replicator was viable. Doesn't know what he's got."
"Yet," bit off Cordelia.
"Yet," Koudelka conceded reluctantly.
"All right. Go on."
"The overall situation isn't as bad as we feared at first.
Vordarian holds Vorbarr Sultana, his own District and its military bases, and
he's put troops in Vorkosigan's District, but he only has about five district
counts who are his committed allies. About thirty of the other counts were
caught in the capital, and we can't tell their real allegiance while Vordarian
holds guns to their heads. Most of the twenty-three remaining Districts have
reiterated their oaths to my Lord Regent. Though a couple are waffling, who
have relatives in the capital or who are in dicey strategic positions as
potential battlefields."
"And the space forces?"
"I was just coming to them, yes, Milady. Over half of their supplies come up
from the shuttleports in Vordarian's District. For the moment, they're still
holding out for a clear result rather than moving in to create one. But
they've refused to openly endorse
Vordarian. It's a balance, and whoever can tip it their way first will start a
landslide. Admiral Vorkosigan seems awfully confident." Cordelia was not sure
from the lieutenant's tone if he altogether shared that confidence. "But then,
he has to. For morale. He says Vordarian lost the war the hour Negri got away
with Gregor, and the rest is just maneuvering to limit the losses.
But Vordarian holds Princess Kareen."
"Doubtless one of the losses Aral is anxious to limit. Is she all right?
Vordarian's goons haven't abused her?"
"Not as far as we know. She seems to be under house arrest in her own rooms in
the Imperial Residence. Several of the more important hostages have been
secluded there."
"I see." She glanced sideways in the dim cabin at Bothari, who did not change
expression. She waited for him to ask after
Elena, but he said nothing. Droushnakovi stared bleakly into the night, at the
mention of Kareen.
Had Kou and Drou made up? They seemed cool, civil, all duty and on duty. But
whatever surface apologies had passed, Cordelia sensed no healing in them. The
secret adoration and will-to-trust was all gone from the blue eyes that now
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and then flicked from the control interface to the man in the passenger seat.
Drou's glances were merely wary.
Lights glowed ahead on the ground, the spatter of a middle-sized city, and
beyond it, the jumbled geometries of a sprawling military shuttleport. Drou
went through code-check after code-check, as they approached. They spiraled
down to a pad that lit for them, peopled with armed guards. Their guard-flyers
passed on overhead to their own landing zones.
The guards surrounded them as they exited the flyer, and escorted them as fast
as Koudelka's pace would permit to a lift tube.
They went down, took a slide-walk, and went down again through blast doors.
Tanery Base clearly featured a hardened underground command post. Welcome to
the bunker. And yet a throat-catching whiff of familiarity shook Cordelia for
a terrifying moment of confusion and loss. Beta Colony did a lot better on the
interior decorating than these barren corridors, but she might have descended
to the utility level of some buried Betan city, safe and cool... I want to go
home. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]