"Is this the world we created?
What did we do it for?
Is this the world we invaded
Against the law?"
--Queen, Is This the World We Created?

*

The tension in the hallway ratcheted up several notches as the leaders of the two groups left for a private discussion. One of the armsmen knelt by the body of a comrade killed in the defense of Count Vorkosigan, touching his chill white skin and searching for signs of life. The mercenaries were hyperalert as they nervously watched the looming Sergeant Taura. While they were fully armored and she was not, they seemed much more afraid of her then vice versa. Perhaps rightly, Laisa thought. Naismith's bodyguard was freakishly fast. She still guarded Captain Moretti's body, silently daring anyone to try to take it from her.

"There's no other way to do this," Lord Vorkosigan's voice echoed over the image of the silent standoff in the hall. He sounded suddenly very weary.

"Piotr, I don't mean any disrespect, but you're on some serious painkillers and you've got a head wound. You shouldn't be working out combat plans."

"Fine then, Miles." The elder brother's voice was ever so slightly sarcastic. "Show us how it's done."

The click of cavalry boots on the floor. Naismith was pacing. "You're right," he said. "There isn't."

"I'm glad you acknowledge that." Lord Vorkosigan said acerbically. Both men sounded more stressed than they'd betrayed to their subordinates.

Naismith's tone became very neutral. "Are you in, Framingham? This is the best shot you're going to get to get your people out of this situation alive."

"Mmm," he said. "On your word as Vorkosigan, kid?"

"If you want," the admiral said. "Or just my word."

"I can't speak for the other squads..." he said, and Laisa knew Naismith had him.

More pacing. "There's no way to get them both out. I think I can get Gregor out, but... not both."

"Not both," Vorkosigan agreed gravely. "There never was a choice which, in any case."

Another silence. Were they writing off their father, just like that? Admiral Naismith's actions had a peculiar and compelling internal logic to them, but the way he approached situations was just bizarre. The sensible thing to do would have been to use this opportunity to get out of the building, but the possibility didn't even seem to have crossed his mind.

"So," Lord Vorkosigan said. "About twelve Komarrans in the audience chamber. Around four or five with Gregor. We've taken out the four that were handling the other hostages. If we can remove the mercenary screens from the picture, this almost sounds doable." His voice became very serious. "Moment of truth, Miles. Can you get Gregor out without alerting Moretti?"

Naismith blew out a breath. "I need to borrow Trooper Phillipi. And Voahirana. Ideally I'd also want the autosniper on the roof to provide covering fire. The soundproofing's pretty good and they're on different floors, but I'm not going to count on it."

"I'm busy," the medic complained. "Unless you want this done carelessly. He got winged pretty hard." 　

"Definitely Voa." He thought for a moment. "And Tech Sergeant Azua. We have to hit them fast. If the Komarrans aren't dead or unconscious in the first three seconds we've lost. With that, I'd say maybe a three-fourths shot at a live extraction, and fifty/fifty on Moretti."

A gamble, Laisa thought. Was it all down to gambles now?

"If you want to lead any of my people into a live-fire situation I'm going to demand better terms," Framingham said.

"Full amnesty for the individuals involved if they pull it off." Lord Vorkosigan said. "Same terms as the others otherwise."

"Hah," the woman named Voa said. "How about cash? I'm unarmed medical personnel, you can't shoot me anyway."

"You still haven't paid off your student loans?" Naismith was amused.

"Oh, shut up," she muttered.

"I'd like better odds," Lord Vorkosigan said after a long moment. "We can't assume Moretti doesn't have a bomb."

"They're better than the alternative," Naismith stated baldly. "Unless you have any particular insights you'd like to share?"

"I'm not an oracle, Miles."

Laisa looked sideways at Galeni, a little confused. His lips pursed and he said nothing.

"How're your communications, Framingham?"

"We can barely talk to each other on the same floor. The roof is completely cut off because of those damn antennas. I wanted to blow them up but Mike said no."

"Are you in orbital contact?"

The mercenary sergeant didn't answer. Outside in the hall, a couple of his burly male subordinates were watching Fazliu thoughtfully. They were younger than the armsmen, who were all in their forties and fifties, but grizzled veterans no less. Some of the mercenaries were talking to each other subvocally on their helmet comms.

"Right," Naismith continued. "How long will it take you to get in contact with the other squad leaders?"

"We have to take the stairs up, so..."

"I can get a lift tube unsealed and working for you," Lord Vorkosigan said.

"Excellent," Framingham said, in the tone of a man who had climbed more than enough stairs today. "Five minutes?"

"I can't believe he's going to try this," Galeni said. "They're both insane."

"Necessary order of events," Naismith said. "You go up there and talk the other squad leaders around. Alert the pickets, but don't pull them until after Gregor is out of the building. Start moving the hostages right away."

"There's a large freight lift I can get operational for you," Vorkosigan said. "That'll get you to the first subbasement, and you know where the bomb shelter exit is because you've been guarding it. Get the walking out first, and as many stunned as you can manage. I'll send one of my armsmen to help keep herd."

"Meanwhile, as soon as the pickets know I'm coming, my team will go in," Naismith said. "Your three plus me, Taura and the armsmen... I have to take Vandyke, though I'd rather not. There's got to be a secret exit from this floor and he'll know it..." he trailed off.

"Miles?" Lord Vorkosigan asked.

"I think I can add ten percent to our chances," the admiral said. "Let me think a minute."

"We have to assume Moretti is ready to drop the hammer on a moment's notice," the Auditor said. "We need to remove the other hostages from the situation first because we have no idea what he might have up his sleeve. What's your estimate on getting Count Vorkosigan out alive, Miles?"

"One in ten, one in twenty...?" He didn't sound optimistic. "There's just too many Komarrans in that room. Enough of them have light armor that blanket stun isn't an option."

"I could put a team on it," Framingham said.

"Mmm." Vorkosigan said. "No. My secondary motivation for removing you lot from the situation is that the regular forces will be shooting on sight, and a real firefight between you and what armor they can bring to bear will destroy the building and probably kill everyone in it. I'll be sending the ImpSec corporal we found in the basement to signal to whoever's watching you from the roof to let them know what's going on. Definitely don't withdraw from the roof until the first extraction's complete. At that stage I'd say run for it. Let the Barrayaran hostage teams try their luck with Moretti."

"I will be going in after I get Gregor out," Naismith said. "So will the armsmen, You know that."

"Yes, I know. Well." Vorkosigan sighed. "Beware of friendly fire, because it'll be a mess."

"Can you make sure Rathjens is watching this?" Laisa asked Galeni.

"I'm sure he is," the commodore said. "We're going to lose holo, though, if that idiot journalist leaves with the hostages. Once she's out of the building the signal won't go through to the antenna. Unfortunately, it's a lot harder to tell what's going on in a firefight by ear."

It had been pretty hard earlier, Laisa thought. Even on the full-sized display table, the vid quality really wasn't too great.

"I'll unlock the freight elevator and the far left bank up to seven for you, Framingham, and the central bank up to nine for you, Miles. Password for both will be twelve." There was a squeaking noise as Vorkosigan settled in a station chair. Some subvocal muttering from the medic was audible. "Let's get this started now, before they start shooting each other out there in the hall. One thing I need to make perfectly clear, sergeant, is that we will be keeping your Captain Moretti."

"I figured," Framingham said.

"Eventually... people run out of second chances," Naismith said. "Get going."

The door opened. "Azua, Phillipi, Naismith wants you for something," Framingham said. "The rest of you with me. We're getting out of here."

The mercenary woman in front smiled, her face lighting up with sudden interest. Her ghem companion seemed wary. The thin, humorless smile on Naismith's face did nothing to alleviate his suspicions.

"I'm detaching you to go with Framingham, Roic," Vorkosigan said from inside the room. "Find my mother. Get her out of the building. I do not care if you have to stun her, get her out."

The armsman's eyebrows rose. "M'lord," he said.

"Corporal, you too. I have written orders for you, follow them to the letter. Voahirana, thank you for your efforts but I'll be fine. Please give this to him." She apparently was confused, so he clarified. "Er, the ImpSec man. Green uniform, not my brother."

The medic dutifully ferried the datapad containing the orders Vorkosigan had just written out, though she looked like she felt the task was far beneath her pay grade. "Who does he think he is?" she asked Naismith sotto voce as she walked through the door. The admiral smirked a little.

"What are you up to this time, Lord Miles?" Pym asked. He looked dubiously at the lingering mercenaries, saving special disdain for the Cetagandan.

Naismith twitched a little at the honorific.

"Dr. Fazliu, you should...," Vorkosigan's voice echoed from inside the Count's quarters. He was clearly not inclined to move from his chair, and Laisa didn't really blame him.

"No, wait." Naismith interrupted. He'd been mostly ignoring the holojournalist since meeting his brother in the Consulate depths, but his full attention was back on her now. "How would you like to be useful?" he asked.

"Useful for what?" She sounded wary.

"We're going after Gregor," Naismith said, "but a frontal assault is doomed. I need an excuse for these folk," he nodded at the remaining mercenaries, "to be talking to the people holding the Emperor hostage. That means a high-profile hostage they've found lurking about that they want an opinion on. While I'd normally volunteer myself... because of who I am, that's not an option in this particular case. Being Komarran, you're much less likely to create suspicion in their minds."

"That's because she's a civilian," Galeni snarled. "Naismith, you maniac."

"You'd probably have been better off in the basement." Lord Vorkosigan sounded more amused than appalled. "Your choice, madame. He doesn't have the authority to draft you."

"Er, Emperor Gregor?" she asked, seeming a little startled. Naismith gave her a 'who else?' look. "How likely am I to get shot?"

"If you hide behind Voa, it's not too likely," Naismith said. "There's no question we can kill those guys. The question is if we can kill them fast enough."

"Oh, fine," she said. Laisa blinked.

"...really?" Naismith asked. "Excellent. Azua, start thinking about how you're going to approach this. You'll have Phillipi and Voa as well. Dr. Fazliu here is a prominent journalist, I was thinking you could say Mike sent her up..."

Framingham and the main body of mercenaries departed with the armsman and the corporal, while Naismith abandoned the bloodspattered hall for Count Vorkosigan's slightly less bloodspattered quarters. His retinue followed. As Fazliu stepped across the threshold, the Auditor could be seen again, sitting in a station chair and using a comconsole one-handed. His father's interrogation was visible on his vid-plate. He didn't look up as his brother entered, but he muted the display.

"You seemed to know that man out there, the leader," Gregor's armsman Vandyke said to Lord Vorkosigan. His voice was very chill. He ignored Naismith and the mercenaries contemptuously.

"That's a long story," Naismith said. "But we've got a few minutes to kill if you really want to know."

Vandyke's eyes narrowed.

"It was at a party," Lord Vorkosigan sighed. "After the Reach War."

"There was this karaoke machine, you see, on one of my larger ships," Naismith explained further. "Betan make, a universe's worth of songs, pitch correction – it was great. Except you really can't get away with using that sort of thing as fleet commanding officer. There's a certain professional distance...anyway, it always immensely frustrated me. My last order when we retired was that I damn well was going to have a party, and everyone retiring would have to sing. "

"Bel Thorne showed up in an evening dress," Lord Vorkosigan reminisced, a little wistful. "I must add that I was there under mild protest. And so off duty it wasn't funny."

"Baz, Elena, Taura... Taura's got a nice voice, you know."

"Not as nice as Bel's," she said.

"The joke in the fleet used to be that half the command staff was on the run from ImpSec and half was on the run from the Betan Mental Health Board," Naismith said to Fazliu and the armsmen, now ignoring Vandyke back. "I'd just gotten the ImpSec half settled that morning. There were maybe two dozen people in the fleet that needed to, um, regularize their relationship with the Imperium, myself included. Some posthumously. No issues with most of them, but when we got to Mike Simon Illyan threw a fit."

"I only caught the edges of that. And the finale," Lord Vorkosigan said.

"It was pretty impressive. We had a row over it, which I won," Naismith said. Laisa winced. Naismith would argue. "I was smart enough to write it into the contract beforehand, after all. Got Gregor to sign off, Piotr handed the pardon over during the party, and Lieutenant Moretti basically threw it in his face."

"That was how it started," Lord Vorkosigan muttered.

"The next bit was your fault for conspiring with Bel against me," Naismith said with a faint smirk. "Once you got up on stage you deserved everything you had coming."

Laisa was beginning to realize how weirdly alike the Vorkosigan brothers were. She'd previously focused on the differences, but she was beginning to understand they were more cosmetic than one might think.

The Auditor removed the small interrogation kit he'd used to question the Komarran from his pocket, and tossed it one handed at Taura. It went wild, but she still caught it. "You'll need that, ideally," he said.

"Right," Naismith said.

Sergeant Taura smiled and handed the kit to Naismith. "One last thing," she said. "Piotr?" Approaching the Auditor, she crouched to his level and whispered into his ear. His eyes glinted, and he reached out with one hand to gently tug her closer. He kissed her then, half-formal, half-intimate, and released her.

Naismith stared up at the sergeant as she wandered back to the door, mouth slightly agape. He had the look on his face of a man who had only just realized his bodyguard was carrying on an affair with his twin brother. She smirked at him. "For luck," she said. "Let's go."

Laisa felt the mood shift in the control room. Most of the ImpSec men were just pretending to work now, watching the vid with the same fearful fixation as she. The Admiral's strike group was moving now, leaving Lord Vorkosigan alone in the Count's quarters. Naismith gave him one last narrow-eyed look before ducking out the door.

"Piotr's luck has always been shit," the Admiral observed to his bodyguard with false nonchalance as they walked purposefully towards the lifts.

Taura smiled and ignored him.

"How long has this been...?"

"Sh."

A longer pause.

"Are you going to fight that haut-woman for him? Because I, personally, would pay to—"

"Admiral," she said.

The three Vorkosigan armsmen seemed unruffled by the discussion, but Gregor's man Vandyke looked coldly disapproving. Whether at Naismith, the slim pair of armored mercenaries trailing him, or both, it wasn't clear.

"Right," Naismith said, getting the lift tube working. "Azua, Phillipi, Voa, and Fazliu are the main strike team. Taura, Pym, Armsman Vandyke and I will remain in the tube as backup until the shooting starts. He looked at the other armsmen. "You two stay down here to guard our retreat."

"He's Cetagandan," Vandyke snarled, jerking his head at Azua.

"He's a better shot than you are. And unlike you, he has a chance of getting in that room without tipping them off."

"I have marksman qualifications," the armsman said coldly.

"Yes," Azua explained, "but you're Barrayaran. It really is a handicap."

The trip up the lift tube was conducted in silence. Taura went first, grabbing the ladder above the ninth floor lift tube exit and hovering there waiting for the rest. The exit was sealed with a security door, but Naismith quickly opened it with the passcode his brother had given him and dropped out of sight. The mercenaries exited. Phillipi and Azua looked relaxed, while Voahirana seemed typically cranky.

The hallway curved here as well, following the exterior contours of the building. Laisa tensed as she saw a Komarran in the hall. He looked at the approaching group with paranoid suspicion.

"Captain Moretti sent us up," Phillipi said. "The team you sent after the guy mucking with the computers ran into trouble. There were some heavily armed holdouts in the lower levels. Mike's tracking down the last of them and terminating with extreme prejudice, but they killed or stunned the guys we were supposed to be liasoning with. But we found this woman..."

"Stick her in with the other hostages," the Komarran said.

"She's some kind of local celebrity," Azua said. "Mike thought you might want her." A vicious little smile crossed his features. "If you don't, I'll take her." Worlds of implication in that statement.

Fazliu edged back, making a small noise.

"Hey, you keep your filthy ghem hands off the Komarran girls!" the terrorist said, suddenly possessive. "Fucking mercs. Clear off." He reached to grab Fazliu's arm, and glowered at them. Azua smirked and turned away on one heel.

With a continuing glower, the Komarran hit the door intercom. "Steve, there's this girl out here the mercs were messing with. What do you want me to do with her?"

The door started to slide open. A man glanced out, raising his eyebrows as he recognized Fazliu.

Three shots was all it took. Azua was fast. The door finished sliding open, revealing two now-headless Komarran corpses within. Phillipi lowered her nerve disruptor as the guard at the door collapsed bonelessly to the floor.

There was a third body on the floor, in black and silver. He was curled into a fetal position and a breath mask connected him to a medical device. Azua stepped in, warily looking around.

"Huh," Phillipi said.

Racing footsteps from around the bend of the corridor. "Weapons down," Naismith snarled at them as he neared. "Drop them. Good." He relaxed. The Cetagandan and the other mercenary looked uneasily at each other – they had obeyed instinctively. "Fantastic. You two can go. Voa, can we take him off whatever this is safely?"

The medic crouched over the Emperor. "Huh, it's just a sedative. Sure." She eased the breath mask over his head. Gregor didn't stir.

"How long until he wakes up?" Naismith asked.

"Couple minutes, maybe?"

"We'll have to move him. Taura?"

Galeni was shaking his head, looking very relieved. Laisa felt exulted. It was going to work!

Naismith's bodyguard stepped into the room, as wired and primed for action as Naismith seemed to be. She easily scooped Gregor off the floor, her movements fast but sure. He was shockingly limp as he dangled in her arms, his face completely relaxed. Gregor was not a small man, but he was utterly dwarfed by the sergeant. She carried him comfortably in front of her.

The armsmen herded Fazliu down the hall, keeping the group moving at a swift pace. Taura soon caught up with them, Naismith jogging beside her to keep up.

"Azua went that way. They're not heading for the rest of the hostages," Taura said to Naismith with a frown.

"Yeah, I don't care," Naismith growled. "Let's get the hell out of here."

"I think they're going back for Mike," she said, re-adjusting her Imperial load so that they both could fit into the lift tube down. It was going to be a tight squeeze.

"As long as they've stopped making my life more difficult playing hostage games with the government I don't care," Naismith snarled. "He is now officially no longer my problem. If they want to play personnel retrieval and think they can smuggle him out past ImpSec later they're welcome to try. I, personally, would bet on ImpSec."

Vandyke went down the lift tube first, with one last cold-eyed look back at Taura and the mercenary medic. They followed him, dropping out of sight.

"Shit," Naismith said under his breath. Fazliu was next, but as soon as she stepped in Naismith shoved her forcibly down the tube. He raised his nerve disruptor to fire down the hall at a pair of Komarran newcomers. Someone in the room with Laisa swore.

Stray needler shards impacted the tube wall above Fazliu's head and drifted slowly downward. The holovid wobbled until she got one hand on the tube ladder to steady herself. Her hands were shaking as she looked up.

Abandoning the firefight, Naismith dove down the tube headfirst. Grabbing the safety ladder, he propelled himself into a faster freefall, scrambling past Fazliu. Last in was Armsman Pym, who descended at an only slightly more sedate pace. Naismith used the ladder beside the third floor exit to twist himself out of the tube and rightside-up with practiced speed.

Laisa heard Fazliu swallow as more weapons fire was heard far above. She accelerated her descent and hurriedly stepped out after Naismith onto the third floor landing.

The admiral had the lift tube controls open by the time she arrived and was poking at them. "Don't just stand there, keep moving!" he yelled down the hall, apparently at Taura. As Pym ducked out, blue disruptor flashes crackled down the tube.

Naismith grinned slowly, looking at the power readouts. He seemed to be counting to himself silently.

"Uh, m'lord…" Pym said, eying the lift tube nervously.

The admiral ignored him and stabbed at the touchscreen. The lighting in the tube immediately turned emergency red, and a grating slid across to bar entry. There was a yelp from above, and then a prolonged scream. Naismith was still counting to himself, stunner out, when two falling blurs banging into the walls and each other slid past. Naismith made two shots in quick succession and the screaming stopped.

"Oh my god," Fazliu said in quiet hysteria. The image shifted as she moved closer to the grating to look down the lift tube.

"Er," Naismith threw an arm in front of her. "Don't do that. I think I only winged them. God, I hope Moretti didn't hear that. We should go now."

"Are they still alive down there?"

Naismith chuckled with a disturbing grin. "Between Komarran gravity and the failsafes, probably. A few broken limbs. I expect they're pretty cranky if they're still conscious. However, they're five floors down..." Exuding blazing feral glee, he whirled and raced down the hall after his compatriots. "Sons of bitches can take the stairs!" he called back at her.

Taura was far ahead, out of sight at first around a corner. As Naismith and the rear guard ran to catch up she slowed to join with them. Despite his short legs Naismith was a respectable if awkward runner, easily outdistancing Fazliu.

"He's waking up," Taura said, covering the distance with one lazy stride for every three of Naismith's.

"One of these offices, maybe…" Naismith said. His eyes darted from side to side. Making a seeming snap judgment, he yanked a door open and strode into a large room that was partitioned into work spaces with dark frosted glass. Still cradling Gregor, Taura ducked carefully inside after him. She couldn't quite stand in the roomy, well-lit office bay, so she dropped awkwardly to one knee.

"M'lord," Pym said from the hallway, "our duty lies elsewhere."

"Yes," Naismith growled. "Go."