Chapter 3

"Count Vorkosigan, I will not tolerate this sort of activity!"

Miles looked from Captain Rasmussen to Alby Vorsworth. "Is this true, Lieutenant?"

Alby reddened slightly and glanced at Anny Payne and Colonel Vorfannon for a moment before looking at Miles again. "Yes, sir. Sorry sir."

"What were you trying to do?"

"Uh, we weren't able to access the ship's tactical net on our armor, My Lord. We'd made requests and nothing had happened and I just thought…"

"This is really my fault, sir," said Anny. "I was concerned about our inability to hook into the net and asked Lieutenant Vorsworth if there was anything he could do."

"It's true that a number of requests have been made, Captain," said Miles, turning back to Rasmussen. "Seems like a simple and reasonable thing. Why can't it be done?"

"It's not that simple!" snapped the mercenary. "I can't just give you unlimited access! I've got security concerns!"

"Nobody's asking for unlimited access, Captain," said Miles soothingly. "Just a feed from your sensors and the ability to tie into the main tac net—at your discretion, of course. Can do?"

"I'll see what can be done," growled Rasmussen. "Now what are you going to do about his attempt to break into our system?" he pointed at Alby.

Miles swiveled his chair so he was looking directly at the young officer. "Lieutenant Vorsworth?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Don't do that again."

"No, sir!"

"Good. Now, on to the other business…"

"Vorkosigan!" Rasmussen's face was turning red.

"Yes… Captain?"

"I insist that Vorsworth be punished!"

"Indeed? What do you suggest? Throw him in the brig? Confine him to quarters? Keel-haul him? Sorry, he's an important member of my staff and necessary to this operation. I'll see that he's dealt with when we get home. If that's not acceptable to you, Captain, then I guess we'll just have to stop at Graf Station and send a message to Admiral Quinn and see what she has to say. Of course I cannot authorize any payment for you while we are waiting around since it will be at your insistence."

Rasmussen got a bit redder but then snorted and sat down. "Very well! But I hold you responsible for him!"

"Of course. Now, back to business. We'll be docking at Graf Station shortly and I've already contacted the portmaster. It's granted shore leave to all of us and I'll be meeting it and its wife for dinner to discuss things. I think we'll be able to proceed the day after tomorrow. Will that work for you, Captain?"

"Should be okay. We can complete fueling and loading stores by then."

"Excellent. Captain Payne, this will be the first test of your men's ability to not be Barrayaran. How do you think they will do?"

"They know their fake identities, sir. We've been drilling them on that right along and they do well here aboard ship. I'm not sure they will be quite so smooth once ashore with a few drinks under their belts, but I'm hoping for the best."

"Hoping for the best, Captain?" said Vorfannon sharply. "That doesn't sound very certain. Count Vorkosigan, I suggest that we simply forget about the shore leave. It would be a lot safer."

Miles frowned, and saw that Anny was as well. "Colonel, I think we will give it a try. There's no telling how long this trip may last and I can't approve of keeping the men penned up indefinitely. The amount of damage done if they slip up here will be minimal, I think. So if there are problems, let's find out about them now instead of later, okay?"

"If you say so, My Lord." He didn't look convinced.

"I do. All right, I think that covers everything. We'll meet again once we're on our way. Captain Payne? Lieutenant Vorsworth? I'd be obliged if you would accompany me aboard the station in about an hour."

"Yes, sir," they answered, looking eager. The meeting broke up and Miles headed back to his cabin to change clothes and collect Roic. His armsman had his clothes all laid out for him, a conservative civilian suit in his favorite gray. The style and cut were in a Polian fashion which matched his pseudo-identity, but which did nothing to flatter his looks. Roic looked considerably better in his clothes—but then he always did.

"So, do you remember this place?"

"Hard not to, My-sir," said Roic, nearly forgetting to drop the my lord. "Quite the adventure, that."

"I don't think there will be any adventure here this time."

"Saving that part for later, are we, sir?"

Miles snorted, partly at the joke and partly at how much more at ease Roic was with him. The last time they'd been here Roic was a brand new armsman, very nervous with his position and responsibilities. Now he was a veteran, able to deal with anything—including his lord. Miles peeled off the clothes he was wearing, including the shoulder holster with his stunner, and put on the new outfit. He didn't like going unarmed, but he couldn't really see the need on Graf Station. The Quaddies had good security—at least under normal conditions, which he surely hoped these were—and it just wouldn't be worth the red tape to get a stunner permit for a two-day stay that was really nothing but a social visit. Besides Roic was trained in close combat and Anny, hell Anny was sudden death with hands or feet. He would be well-protected.

They looked each other over and were satisfied. Then, making sure that their phony IDs were in order, they headed for the air lock. While he'd been dressing, the ship had docked at Graf Station. Anny and Alby were waiting for them. "Ready to go?' he asked.

"Yes sir."

"You've looked over the briefing information on the Quaddies? They are a bit… different, and not just physically. But they are friendly enough if treated with respect." The two young officers nodded, and they moved into the air lock. As it cycled, Miles looked at Alby. "I trust you've learned your lesson, Lieutenant? You won't do that again, will you?"

Alby shook his head and said "No sir." Miles kept the smile off his face when he heard him mutter: "At least I sure won't get caught again."

When the other end of the air lock opened, he was delighted to see that Bel Thorne was waiting for him. But his face lit up even more when he saw Bel's wife, Nicol, sitting in a floater with a little girl in her lap. "Well, hello!" he exclaimed. "Quite the welcoming committee!"

Bel extended its hand and said: "Good to see you again, Mr. …Bothari. Welcome to Graf Station." The docking bay had artificial gravity, so they all came out standing on their feet. Miles shook hands with Bel and then gave a quick hug to Nicol. "And this is little… Quicksilver?" The Quaddie girl looked up at him with wide, curious eyes. She mostly resembled Nichol, but he could see some of Bel in her, too. "She's grown a bit since the last picture you sent me."

"Quite a bit!" said Bel, proudly. "And quite a handful—six handfuls, actually." Miles smiled. Yes, they did have six hands between the two parents. And baby makes ten. The Quaddies had been created by genetic engineering centuries earlier, while Barrayar had been locked in its Time of Isolation. They had been designed for living and working in free-fall so in addition to modifications to prevent the bone loss and other ailments caused by prolonged time in zero-gravity, the Quaddies also had an extra set of arms where their legs should have been. Just as they were about to be 'marketed' by the creating corporation, artificial gravity had been developed and the Quaddie line might have come to a sudden end. But they'd escaped and fled here to start lives of their own. The Union of Free Habitats, they called themselves and they had flourished in the centuries that followed.

"If you think one is a handful, try four!" countered Miles, resisting the urge to whip out his holocube on the spot. "But some introductions are in order. Roic, you know, of course, but please meet two of my… associates. This is Anny Payne and this is Alby Worth. Folks, this is my old friend Portmaster Bel Thorne, its wife Nicol, and daughter Quicksilver." Handshakes were exchanged all around and Anny lingered over the child for a moment, smiling.

"Well, let's take care of the necessities," said Bel, gesturing toward the security checkpoint, "and then we can have a tour before dinner." Their bogus IDs passed the check with no problem, although several of the Quaddie guards scowled at Miles.

"Huh," said Miles once they were out of earshot. "Hope none of them recognized me. Hadn't really thought about that possibility."

"Not to worry," said Bel. "They're all after your time, Miles. Either from another habitat or too young to remember much about your last time here. I checked the duty roster and that's why I had your ship dock at this bay."

"Good thinking. Uh, what about Lieutenant Corbeau? We're not likely to bump into him, are we?" The Barrayaran counsel to Quaddiespace would definitely recognize him!

"He's over on Union this week," answered Bel. "He likes to travel around when he can. Don't worry, nothing's going to blow your cover. And I'm not sure anyone would recognize you in any case. Look at you! You look fantastic! What have you been doing with yourself?"

"Oh, I guess marriage and fatherhood agree with me. You two aren't looking bad, either." They exchanged stories as they walked along one of the main thoroughfares in the part of the station meant for visiting downsiders. It had artificial gravity and was lined with establishments designed to painlessly separate a visitor from his money. Miles suspected that the troops from Anny's company would spend quite a lot of their liberty right here. Anny and Alby looked at some of the places with interest, but Miles reminded himself that they were hardly neophytes to the nexus anymore. Most of the people in the area were downsiders, but Quaddies zipped by in their float chairs frequently, too.

He wondered if Bel ought to be using a float chair. The herm was limping noticeably. "How are you doing, Bel?" he asked quietly.

"Oh, good days and bad days, I guess. I spend most of my time in free-fall so it doesn't bother me that much." Miles nodded grimly. During the earlier incident, the ba had infected Bel with the same bio-weapon that he'd later gotten Miles with, but the hell-plague had had hours longer to work on Bel and the damage had been a lot worse. He wondered if Lily Durona's treatments would do any good for Bel.

"The muscle pain and weakness is the worst. I've thought about having my arms and legs lopped off and have them grow me new ones. It might actually be worth it."

Miles grunted noncommittally, but Anny, overhearing said: "They can do it very well, now, sir. My left arm is regrown and I can't even tell."

"Really?" said Bel, looking interested. "Did you… uh, have an accident?"

"From my point of view it was, sir."

"Interesting. Actually, I have looked into it." He paused for a moment and then went on. "If I went back to Beta Colony, they could… they say they could replace my legs with another pair of arms."

Miles did a double-take. "Really? They could make you a quaddie?"

"Well, almost. The physical part wouldn't be all that difficult. Learning to use them properly would probably take a lot longer."

"Huh. That would sort of commit you to staying here…?"

"I made that decision a long time ago, Miles." It reached out and took Nicol's hand.

"Indeed." Miles tried to visualize Bel as a quaddie. The image was disconcerting, but not outrageous. It might even make sense for it.

They crossed over into the free-fall side of the station and Miles said: "Well, this is a change!" The large open space was built for zero-G with shops and kiosks at all levels—and all angles—but there were now a number of conventional walkways connecting them that appeared to have gravity.

"Yes," said Bel, "They were just installed two years ago. The maintenance gangs pointed out that the cost of the walkways would be offset by the long-term costs of cleaning downsider puke out of the air recyclers. We only have them in a few areas so far and some areas will never have them, but most everyone seems to think they are working." As he spoke, Nicol put her floater into one of the racks that dotted the station and she and her daughter floated alongside the group, just outside of the narrow gravity field generated by the walkway.

"Only about half a gee, isn't it?" commented Miles.

"One third standard. Enough to keep downsiders' lunches down, but not enough to hurt a Quaddie if he should happen to stray into the field."

"Urg, I might still lose my lunch," muttered Alby. Up ahead the walkway went into a sort of corkscrew shape before going off at right angles to their current direction. It was a bit unsettling.

"Just keep your eyes on the walkway at your feet," suggested Bel. That did seem to help and they made the turn with no embarrassments. The tour went on and Miles enjoyed the fact that he could take in the sights without having a crisis to deal with like he did the last time he was here. In fact, this entire expedition was lacking the sort of urgency his missions usually did. For once it didn't actually matter that much if he failed. Barrayar wasn't in danger and the only thing that would really suffer was his reputation as a problem solver. And somehow he didn't worry as much about his reputation anymore. They eventually ended up at an upscale restaurant that had both gravity and free-fall sections. Nicol and Quicksilver were back in floaters. Once they were seated, Bel touched a control on the table top. "We have privacy, so speak freely."

"Do you know why we're here?" asked Miles.

"Well, your message was a bit cryptic, but by 'old business', I'm guessing that it has something to do with where our old friend the ba was taking the babies, correct?"

"Correct. The Cetas couldn't find out and they think we might succeed where they failed."

"High praise," said Bel, clearly impressed.

"Or just wishful thinking. Speaking of which, other than the pleasure of seeing you three, I was hoping you might have some thoughts or information that could help."

"I've certainly given it some thought over the years," said Bel, nodding. "And frankly, I was a bit surprised that we didn't have an influx of Cetagandan warships coming through here to search. The fact that we didn't led me to believe that the Cetas got the location from the ba and they just took care of things quietly. But you are saying that's not the case?"

"No. I understand the Star Crèche did get a lot out of the ba, but not that. It took that to its grave with it."

"If it ever knew. Could it have just been a middle person?"

"Unlikely, from what the haut women told me of its position within the Crèche. Not impossible, but not likely. But even if it was, we still have a maximum search radius based upon when the babies would have had to be decanted. Even if we postulate the replicators being transferred to a much faster ship after leaving here, there's a limit to how far they could have gone."

"Unless they were transferred to a ship controlled by the ba which had the people and facilities to care for the babies after they were born, sir," said Alby Vorsworth.

Miles sighed. "Yes, I've considered that possibility. But if that's the case then they could have been going almost anywhere and this search becomes nearly hopeless. For now we have to assume that the ba was on its way to the final destination and that it is within the range radius we've established."

"Well then," said Bel, "the only possible help I could give would be under the assumption that any confederates of the ba also passed through Graf Station on the way to their hypothetical base."

"Yes," said Miles, "I was hoping…" Bel smiled and held up its hand. It had a data chip in it.

"This contains a record of every ship to pass through here bound for Xerxes stretching back twenty years. I've tagged every one which did nothing but refuel without loading or off-loading cargo. Also any which purchased items which might be of use in setting up a colony somewhere."

"Bel has been up every night since he got your message compiling this," said Nicol with a tone of reproach in her voice.

Her husband shrugged. "We owe Miles any help we can give him, love."

"True," she conceded. "For several reasons. I wish you every fortune in your search… Admiral."

"Thank you, Nicol," said Miles sincerely, taking the proffered chip. "And thank you, Bel." He turned and handed the chip to Alby. "Grist for your mill."

Their meals arrived and the conversation became general again for a while and Miles did bring out his holo-cube to show off pictures of his children. But as they were finishing up their deserts, Bel became very serious. "Miles?"

"Hmmm?"

"Be careful."

"I'm always careful."

"Sure you are," said Bel with a strained smirk. "But be extra careful. We both saw first-hand what the ba was capable of. It killed without the slightest hesitation or mercy and it was ready and able to commit mass murder or start a major war to get what it wanted. You have to assume that its associates will be of the same mind. Don't give them any chances, you hear me?"

Miles glanced at Quicksilver, but Nicol was deliberately distracting the child with a sweet.

He nodded. "I hear you."

[Scene Break]

Alby kept fingering the data chip in his pocket all the way back. He was still burning with embarrassment over having gotten caught trying to break into the Dendarii tactical network. Damn! He hadn't made a screw-up like that in years! But he saw how he'd been caught. He just wasn't sure what he could do differently… It was probably good that he'd been dragged away from his comconsole by this expedition on the station. Otherwise he would not have been able to resist trying it again—and getting caught again. No, cool off for a bit, think about it for a while. Look at it again later. In any case he had a new task waiting for him in this data chip.

They came back to the entertainment area that had artificial gravity and noticed that the place was now crowded with people wearing light gray uniforms. Ah, the crew and troops had been given station leave. Anny paused and said: "Excuse me, sir, would it be all right if I dropped out here? I'd like to… observe my men for a bit."

"Sure," said Vorkosigan. "Take your time. Have some fun. You, too, Alby. It might be your last chance for a while."

"But I wanted to get started on analyzing that data we got from the portmaster…"

"Tomorrow, Lieutenant, tomorrow is soon enough." He smiled and waved and walked on with his armsman following.

"Come on, Alby, let's look around," said Anny. He hesitated for a moment and then shrugged and followed.

Aside from the Quaddie workers, the establishments really weren't that much different from places he'd seen on other worlds or other space stations. They offered drinks, food, trinkets, entertainments, more drinks, and, of course, sex. The Dendariis, fake and real, seemed to be sampling all of the above.

Everyone was behaving themselves, although it was still early. There was a noticeable presence of Quaddie police patrollers in their float chairs with holstered stunners, but they were keeping their distance. There were some other visitors—downsiders the Quaddies called them—but not a lot. There were no large convoys docked at the moment and only a few other ships besides the Raptor. Quaddiespace wasn't heavily travelled from what Alby had read. The Quaddies had originally fled here to be as far from the rest of human space as possible. If they had really wanted to be isolated, they should have picked a dead-end system like Barrayar, but they had not and eventually the nexus had caught up with them and then moved on past. The other wormhole exits from the system now led places people wanted to go and traffic increased year by year.

Anny exchanged greeting with some of her men, exchanged a few words with her first sergeant, and then started checking out some of the establishments. Alby tagged along. Neither one of them was hungry after their dinner, but they tried out a few drinks that claimed to be Quaddie specialties. While they were pretty good, none were especially memorable. Some of the entertainment places were a bit more interesting. They had the usual array of holo-games that would allow you to waste a few minutes for a ridiculous sum of money, but they also had a few which had been designed for Quaddies with four sets of hands, but which had been modified to allow two sets of human hands to play instead. Most of them were of the move-and-shoot-at-things variety, but in this case, one player handled the movement while the other shot. This called for a lot of cooperation and coordination and it seemed to appeal to Anny's troopers. Clumps of them were congregated around the machines with the players shouting and cursing at each other and their comrades hooting with laughter as they tried to get things right. Anny and Alby watched for a while, laughing with the rest, and then eventually they were talked into playing themselves. This drew even bigger audiences. They actually did pretty well, with Alby handling the movement while Anny was the gunner. But each round got progressively harder and they were soon shouting at each other: Left! Left! No, your other left! Much to the amusement of her men. It was actually a hell of a lot of fun and they were both gasping with laughter by the time they called it quits.

After that it was time to cool off and have another drink. They found a quiet tavern and were soon sitting in a booth with tall mugs of the local beer. "Well!" said Alby after a while. "I must say this isn't anything I ever expected when I first went to the Academy. An honest-to-God cloak and dagger mission, traveling to exotic worlds, a dangerous enemy, and a beautiful girl sidekick. It's something right out of the holovids!"

Anny laughed. "Since when am I your sidekick?"

"True. Okay, then, from your perspective you've got a handsome guy sidekick. Better?"

"Oh, much."

"Although I guess you wish it was Jer instead of me."

"Well, to be honest, if you'd asked me a few hours ago I would have said yes. But after that last thing the portmaster said, I'm sort of glad he isn't along. Bio-weapons. Damn, I'll face plasma fire, but bio-weapons! Brrr." She shivered.

"Yeah, I know what you mean. Well, Jer's back at Fort Vorolson rattling around in that big house all alone. Poor guy." Once they had gotten back from Novo Paveo, Alby had finally convinced Anny and Jer to go in on renting a nice house in the nearby town. With all the losses, there was a bit of a housing glut and they'd gotten a good price. Alby had more money than he knew what to do with, but Anny and Jer weren't nearly so well off and had to pinch marks. Or at least they used to. Anny's salary as a captain was almost twice what she'd made as a lieutenant, and to her shock, the Emperor's Thanks that she'd been awarded had come with a substantial cash endowment, too. For once Alby didn't feel obliged to try and help out his friends at every turn.

"I do miss him," said Anny wistfully.

"I'm sure he misses you, too."

"Oh, he's probably been holding parties in the house every night since we've been gone," joked Anny.

"Yeah, right," grinned Alby. That wasn't Jer's style at all and they both knew it. "Well," he said raising his glass. "To absent friends, living and dead." Anny clinked her glass against his and they both drank.

The next morning Alby only had a mild hangover, which some pain pills took care of. He got dressed, had breakfast, and plugged the portmaster's data chip into his comconsole and got to work. But he'd only been at a few minutes when Anny came by. "Count Vorkosigan wants to see us," she said.

He followed after her. "Any of your guys get into trouble last night?' he asked.

"Not a one. Got to be a record of some sort. Wish I had some way to reward them for that."

They reached Vorkosigan's cabin and Roic let them in. The Count was seated at a desk and he waved them to chairs. He didn't look very cheerful.

"Well, we leave here in a few hours and the hunt begins in earnest," he said. "You ready for it?"

"Yes sir."

"Good, good." He paused and scowled. "I've been thinking about what Portmaster Thorne said last night. This could be a dangerous mission and I think you need to know everything."

"Sir?" said Anny.

"Yes. You probably noticed that the information from the Cetagandans in the report I gave you was pretty sparse. That was deliberate. What you haven't been told is that the Cetas sent four teams of highly trained, highly experienced operatives to conduct their own hunt." He paused and his scowl grew deeper.

"Three of them disappeared without a trace."