More Post-CyroBurn Drabbles

A/N: SPOILERS GALORE! I just feel like LMB left out a few characters. I don't own them, alas.

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ELENA:

Elena Bothari-Jesek was going over the latest reports from Accounting when her comconsole chimed. Eagerly, she swiveled her chair to answer it. She should really get the reports done, and not waste this brief quiet time when the kids were in school, but... anything was better than docking fees.

Elena clicked open the link to find a simple written message. She recognized Miles' crabbed handwriting, and her curiosity increased. Why so short a letter? Normally Miles sent endless reports of his perfect Vor life. This time, the missive was a single sentence:

Elena:

Please come.

—Count Vorkosigan

Elena opened another window and looked for the next ship headed to Komarr.

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ALYS:

Alys didn't think she could stand it anymore. Everybody kept thanking her, saying she was their last hope for sanity. Couldn't they see that this was the only thing she knew to do? Didn't they understand that if all the ceremony was correct, then everything would be normal and nothing would have changed? That if she let herself think about something other than perfect seating arrangements and guest lists, she would burst into tears? Then Gregor insisted that he not be a Chief Mourner, as was custom, but a bier-carrier. And all that perfection was ruined. So Alys finally took a moment to cry.

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SIMON:

Simon wasn't sure whether to be glad or not that it hadn't been some sort of security breach. It was good to know that the system worked, even if he was retired now. God knew Allegre was thanking heaven it hadn't been lax security. But it would have been so nice to have someone to blame—some subordinate's career to ruin, an assassin to hunt down and rip to shreds...

The solution was simple: just add anti-aneurysm courses to the ImpSec training regiment.

Dimly, Simon knew he was being illogical. Clearly, the rest of his brain didn't care.