Loose Ends
A Fan Fiction Novel set in the Worlds of Miles Vorkosigan
By Scott Washburn
Author's Note: This story uses characters introduced in my fan fiction novels: "Tales from the Academy" and "Lieutenants". If you have not read those stories, I suggest you do so before reading "Loose Ends".
This story includes characters and settings created by Lois McMaster Bujold and are used without her permission or knowledge.
Prologue
Count Miles Vorkosigan brushed a tiny spec of dust off his brown-and-silver house uniform as he walked through the doors of the Imperial Residence. Servants bowed respectfully, but the ImpSec guards were all business as they scanned him. Despite his frequent visits to the Residence, he had to pass through security just like everyone else. He recognized the guard doing the scanning and there was no way the man didn't recognize Miles' unique appearance, but he made no indication of such.
A liveried servant led him down a long polished corridor leading to the Emperor's private office. Miles' hand brushed absently across the chest of his tunic, but encountered nothing except a tasteful selection of his many medals. The heavy Imperial Auditor's seal was not there anymore and he still missed it even though over a year had gone by since he was forced to give it up. The death of his father and his inheritance of the countship of Vorkosigan District had created a very clear conflict of interest with him being an auditor. His fellow counts, even his political allies among the Progressives, simply couldn't swallow the idea of him wearing one hat as a member of the politically dynamic Council of Counts, while having that other hat, the one that gave him the nearly unlimited power as an Emperor's Voice, in his back pocket. They'd tolerated it—barely—while he was just standing in for his father, but now that it was permanent they wouldn't stand it any longer. His protests that he could keep the two jobs separate had rung hollow even in his own ears and in the end he'd been forced to yield his auditorship. It still hurt a little. Here he was, only forty-one and on his third career. He hadn't given up the first two voluntarily, and he supposed he wouldn't give up this one voluntarily, either. Still, being count was a job he'd known he'd end up with from a very early age. He just wished it hadn't come this soon. Being an auditor, hell, being Admiral Naismith, had just been so much fun.
Not that his auditor days were completely behind him. The Emperor still made use of his talents and experience in handling difficult problems, but now he had to do it through channels and he hated that. Asking for help from the other auditors, dealing with ImpSec… Like being a bloody lieutenant for Simon Illyan again!
"Hi Uncle Miles!" A young voice suddenly shouted from close behind him and made him jump. He stopped and turned and there was the seven-year-old Crown Prince. Damn it, the boy had grown again in the few days since he last saw him. He was only half a head shorter than Miles now. "Will Aral and Helen be coming over today?" demanded the boy. "I've got a new toy to show them!"
"Uh, I think their mother has an outing planned for this morning, but they ought to be over this afternoon." The Prince frowned at the prospect of having to wait three whole hours until his favorite playmates arrived, but just then his puffing tutor caught up with the boy and hauled him back to his lessons. Miles smiled and continued on his way.
Emperor Gregor was in his usual spot: at his desk, nearly surrounded by comconsole screens, but he stood up as soon as Miles entered his office. "Morning Gregor," said Miles.
"Good morning, Miles. Thanks for coming so quickly."
"We live to serve, Sire. So what's up?"
"A rather… unusual situation has arisen, one that requires your unique talents. Tell me: could you go off-planet for a while?"
Miles' eyebrows shot up. Now this sounded interesting. He hadn't been off-planet in a long time, since his father died. "Uh, sure. For how long?"
"Well that's the thing. Depending on how it turns out, you could be gone for quite a while. Three months, six months, a year perhaps."
"A year? I'm not quite as… unattached as I used to be, Gregor. What's this all about?" In spite of the idea of being away from wife and family for a year, he was intrigued. Whatever this was, it had to be pretty important.
"I've agreed not to divulge any details until you agree to go." He held up a hand as Miles started to protest. "Yes, I know that's not fair, but this could have some extremely important consequences for the Empire—good ones—if it works out. I wouldn't even ask if it wasn't important. Could Ekaterin handle the District for you while you are away?"
"Yes," answered Miles without hesitation. "You know all the work she's doing there already. She's been my right hand ever since the Fire. She knows the job and she could handle it. But what…"
"So you'll go?"
Miles frowned. A year away from home? From his wife and his children? A dozen years earlier he'd have jumped at the chance for an intriguing and important mission, but now, now it wasn't nearly so easy. He swallowed. "If you think it's that important, Gregor, yes, I'll go. On one condition."
"What's that?"
"You have to explain to Ekaterin!"
Gregor snorted. "Maybe I should go and leave you here in my place, Miles. But you know I can't tell her any details."
"No, but you can make it clear that this isn't some mid-life crisis joyride that I cooked up!"
"That, at least, I can do. Okay, there's someone waiting to see you. Come on." He led him through the rear door and down a short passageway to a small sitting room. There was a man waiting in a chair who quickly got to his feet. Miles stared at him without immediate recognition. He was wearing expensive, but fairly ordinary civilian clothes. He did look familiar, but who was he?
"Good morning, your Highness," he said to Gregor. "I assume he's agreed?" He turned to Miles. "Count Vorkosigan, it is good to meet again."
Suddenly Miles recognized him. It was the lack of the blood red Imperial Guard uniform and the elaborate face paint that had thrown him off.
"Dag!" he exclaimed. "What brings you here?"
[Scene Break]
Two hours later Miles and Gregor were alone again in his office. "So what do you think?" demanded Gregor.
"Well, it's a hell of a surprise. I must admit that I'd thought about this a few times after it all happened. There were certainly a pile of loose ends, but I just assumed that the Cetas would take care of them themselves and I'd never hear about it."
"General Allegre informs me that their security organizations have been devoting huge resources to this issue for years. The fact that they've come to us—to you—for help shows just how desperate they must be to wrap this up."
"Yeah, well they would be. As long as they don't, there is still the threat that it could happen again. But tell me: what do we get out of this by helping them?"
"What? A third Order of Merit isn't enough for you?" Gregor smiled.
"I never actually got the second one," countered Miles. "But seriously?"
"Seriously? Well, calm inside the Cetagandan Empire for one thing. That's worth quite a lot in and of itself."
"True."
"Plus, their good will and gratitude."
Miles snorted. "That and two marks will buy you a cup of coffee."
"Don't discount it," replied Gregor. "We built up some credit with them with your prior good deeds and some more after that mess on Novo Paveo, and we've actually gotten some tangible rewards out of it. This could be more of the same. Maybe even bigger, if things go well. I can't say any more than that right now. But as to the mission, what are you going to need?"
Miles sighed. "Well, as much as I hate to admit it, I'm not as young as I used to be. I'm going to need some help and some backup." He paused and looked at his emperor closely. "Can I have the Dendarii?"
"Yes."
"Really? Just like that?"
"Yes. I was assuming you'd want them. Allegre has already apprised Admiral Quinn that he has a job for them."
"Huh," said Miles, a bit surprised—and a trifle annoyed. The fact that ImpSec had already done this indicated just how sure Gregor had been that Miles would go. But he hadn't had any real contact with his old command in years. Nor with Elli Quinn, except for brief messages. Seeing her again was going to be… strange.
"However," continued Gregor. "Allegre wants Barrayaran forces at your disposal as well. He's concerned that Quinn's… attachment to Barrayar is growing pretty thin."
Miles opened his mouth to protest, but shut it again. Yeah, Elli Quinn's attachment to Barrayar had been pretty much her attachment to Miles himself. With him and the Jesseks long gone from the Dendarii, he supposed it was inevitable that Quinn would start thinking of Barrayar as just another client. "Okay," he said after a moment. "I know ImpSec will want some of its own people along, but I don't want one of their Trouble Squads. As good as those guys are, they're just too damn hard to work with. They think they've got the answer to every problem and it almost always involves really large guns."
"Allegre wants you to have some real muscle handy," said Gregor dubiously. "No warships, naturally, but at least some troops. You might end up a hell of a long way from home, Miles."
"Well then find me some regular troops and get them security clearances. I want people who will take orders from me."
"Well, who did you…?" Gregor suddenly stopped and a gleam came to his eye. "I think I know exactly who."
In a bit of impromptu telepathy suddenly Miles did, too. "Yeah… yeah… perfect!"
[Scene Break]
Captain Andreanne Payne strode down the ranks of C Company, 1st Battalion, 61st Regiment Imperial Infantry with a frown on her face. There were still so many people she didn't know very well. Rebuilding the company—rebuilding the whole regiment—after the nightmare on Novo Paveo was taking far longer than she ever expected. She supposed she should be grateful that they hadn't just dumped a mass of raw recruits on them, but finding replacements with assault training had taken far longer. With the Regiment reduced to the size of a weak battalion, there just weren't 2,000 qualified men to be found.
And now, almost a year after returning home, they still weren't at full strength. Another few months she'd been told. Of course the silver lining was that the time allowed those men who had survived but with serious wounds to return to the Regiment as they healed. So only a bit more than half her company were new men.
They were shaping up pretty well, she supposed. Most were happy to be part of a famous regiment and the veterans were tolerating the newbies as well as could be expected. But she found herself missing those who weren't here. Smart-ass Kerbeck, solid Dahlberg, even fumble-fingered Griesmeyer, all gone to the White Battalion…
She refused to let herself become maudlin and concentrated on inspecting her company. But she was less than halfway through when her wristcom pinged. "Payne here," she said into the device.
"Captain, this is headquarters. Report to the Colonel at once."
Anny's eyebrows rose in surprise. "On my way. First Sergeant Nikolaidis, take over."
"Yes sir," said her top NCO. She left him to complete the inspection and walked briskly to the regimental HQ building, wondering what the Colonel could want.
The Colonel. Colonel Lurray.
That was perhaps the biggest change. The change hardest to get used to. When they'd returned to Barrayar, the highest ranking officer left was just a captain. The high command had not felt that they could promote a captain all the way to colonel in one jump, so there was no way to promote someone from within the Regiment to take command. So a stranger had taken command of the 61st. Lurray was a good officer, and Anny had worked with him during her senior year at the Academy, but he wasn't one of them. Not yet, anyway.
Anny was ushered right into Lurray's office. She came to attention in front of his desk and saluted. "Reporting as ordered, sir." Lurray was frowning. Not a good sign.
"As ease. How's your company, Payne?"
"In good shape, sir."
"Glad to hear it. Have them start packing."
"Sir?"
"You're shipping out. In five days."
"Just my company?"
"Yes."
"Uh, where are we going, sir?"
"I haven't got a clue. I'm only the commander of this regiment and apparently I don't need to know where one of my companies is going." The annoyance in his voice was as plain as the annoyance on his face.
"Do you know how long we'll be gone?"
"No, they didn't see fit to tell me that, either. So get yourselves ready. That's all."
"Yes sir." She saluted and left the office, confused, apprehensive, and a little excited. She called Nikolaidis on her wristcom. "You still have all the men together, Sergeant?"
"I was just about to dismiss them, sir."
"Well, keep them together until I get there. I've got some news for them."