Second Interlude

Lord Auditor Miles Vorkosigan looked at the face of his emperor and inwardly grimaced. Gregor looked… tired. The burden of ruling the Barrayaran empire had never rested lightly on his shoulders. He took the responsibility he bore so very seriously. This was clearly a lesson he'd learned from Miles' father during his years as regent for the young Gregor and then later as his prime minister. Aral Vorkosigan had let the burden use him up. War, insurrection, politics and sorrow had drained him. He wasn't that old, but Miles could not help but think of the ancient white-haired man he saw in the vids he got these days from his parents on Sergyar. With galactic medicine available to him, his father ought to live another thirty years, but he looked so tired… just like Gregor. Was Gregor headed down that same road? Used up at seventy? What about you, kid? Are you going to be used up at fifty? It was something he tried not to think about. Especially since he felt duty-bound to try and ease Gregor's burden as much as he could.

"Miles?" He twitched when he realized that Gregor was looking at him. "What do you think?"

"Uh…" What had they been talking about?

"About Vordalla's request to pull those ships out of Novo Paveo," hinted Gregor gently.

"Oh. Well, it is true that the fleet doesn't have a lot to do way out there. There's no sign that the EnBees are planning a large counterattack through that wormhole. And it is just a cruiser squadron Vordalla's asking for. That still leaves Admiral Vorburke a powerful force in case of emergencies. And a lot of the other contingents have already sent ships home. We wouldn't be the first."

"I know," said the Emperor, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his right temple. They were in his private office with several of his ministers for a weekly conference that somehow Miles had become a member of. "But I'm worried about the effect on the morale of the troops we have on the planet. They've been there six months, fighting a series of nasty little skirmishes and with no end in sight. How are they going to feel if they see some of their comrades allowed to go home while they are stuck there?"

"We were talking about rotating the troops. Sending in fresh units and allowing the ones there to come home."

"That could prove to be extremely costly, Sire," said Lord Vorglas, the treasury minister. "Just sending the forces already there supplies and replacements is costing thirty percent more than the initial forecasts. Sending whole new regiments and withdrawing the others would cost far more."

"So we just leave our men there to bleed?" asked Gregor frostily. "For how long?"

Vorglas shrugged. "That is a matter of strategy at the highest level. As Your Highness may recall, I opposed this venture from the start."

Miles frowned and remembered Gregor's own doubts before this was all decided upon. The expedition was starting to look like a bit of a fiasco. The alliance had descended on Novo Paveo with overwhelming force and it should have been a cakewalk. But the EnBees were not cooperating. Instead of standing out in the open and getting crushed like they were supposed to, they had retreated to hidden bases and were fighting a guerrilla war. Death squads had so thoroughly terrorized the populace before the alliance arrived that the anticipated popular support for their liberators had not materialized. The independence movement, whose ambassadors had started this whole thing with calls for aid, was technically back in power, but their government was corrupt and ineffectual with no hope of surviving without the military backing of the alliance.

And the alliance was beginning to fray. Ships and troops were being withdrawn and promised supplies and aid to the locals were not being received. Barrayar and the Cetagandans were—so far—standing firm, neither one willing to give the other the leading role, but others were calling it quits.

"So, remind me: how was this thing supposed to end?" asked Gregor wearily. "It has been suggested by some of Vordalla's analysts that we send another task force, perhaps another reinforced division, to Novo Paveo. We make a great deal of this in the press, produce a lot of smoke and flames for a year or so, declare victory, and then bring everyone home—no matter what the actual situation on the ground looks like. Opinions?"

"Could be damned embarrassing if we do that, pull out, and the Cetagandans stay," growled the Foreign Minister. "We only got into this… situation to counter their move. If we leave them in control, then what was the point?"

"In control of what?" asked Miles. "A planet being reduced to rubble by civil war and our good intentions? After their experience here on Barrayar and again on Marilac, I can't see them wanting to be left holding another no-win situation."

"You really think it is a no-win situation, Miles?" asked Gregor.

"It's starting to look that way," he admitted. "We simply don't have enough troops to occupy the whole planet and let the friendly locals put their house in order. If we try to occupy the maximum territory then we're spread too thin to resist serious attacks by the EnBee loyalists and commandos. Tiny garrisons can get gobbled up like what happened to that Escobaran company a few months ago. If we stay concentrated then we concede the bulk of the planet to the EnBees. We've got more firepower and more mobility, but it doesn't do much good to sweep into some area and then leave again. The locals aren't going to trust us to protect them after our troops move on."

"So is there an answer?"

Miles shrugged. "I had a dinner discussion with Auditor Vorthys and his wife, the Professora, the other night. I invited Duv Galeni and we did a little brainstorming about this." Gregor raised an eyebrow and made a 'do-go-on' gesture. "The Professora's historical anecdotes were not terribly encouraging. This sort of situation was all too common in Old Earth history and they rarely ended well. The EnBees stand to lose a great deal if the independence movement succeeds, considering all the resources they poured into their colony, but at the moment they are expending almost nothing, while the alliance is spending hand over fist. If they have the patience to try and wait us out, it's even money they'll win in the end—not that it will be much of a prize by then, of course. Short of a direct war with Nuevo Brasilia at this end, there's not really any decisive move we can make."

"As you say: not very encouraging," sighed Gregor. "Did you come up with any useful ideas?"

"Vorthys was intrigued by the planet's enormous tides and he and Duv got into a discussion about how the oceans divided the planet into a number of small, distinct battlefields rather than one big one. They theorized that if we were to fully occupy an island, root out all the opposition forces, prevent them from coming back, and give the locals the means to defend themselves, then we might be able to pacify the place one tiny nibble at a time."

"Do you think that could work?"

"I don't know. But right now we're just chasing our tails and not accomplishing much of anything. This might be worth a try."

"All right," said the Emperor. "I'll pass this along to Vordalla and see what he thinks of it."

[Scene Break]

"How much longer do you think we'll be staying here, Ivan Xav?" asked Tej. She ran her finger along his bare arm until he twitched and grabbed her hand.

"Stop that. You know it tickles!"

"Yes, I do," she purred. "And I'll keep doing it until you answer my question."

Her husband rolled over in the bed to face her. "Getting bored with this place?"

"A little maybe. It's been what? Nine months?"

"About that." Ivan Xav gave a long sigh and rolled back to stare at the ceiling of their quarters aboard the Barrayaran flagship. "I don't know, Love, I really don't know. We had another full staff meeting this morning. Vorpinski and Admiral Vorburke and General Vordanov and all their people were there."

He didn't go on and after a moment she poked him. "So what did you all talk about?"

"Oh, mostly all the same stuff we always talk about. First the military reports. All the recent ground operations have been generally successful—if your definition of success is that they took the objectives assigned to them, hurt the enemy a bit, and didn't get hurt too badly in return. The navy is doing its job 'successfully', too. They have complete control of the space around Novo Paveo and can come and go as they please."

"Well, that sounds good…"

"Yeah, but if your definition of success is to make measurable progress toward winning the damn war, then well…" Ivan Xav shorted in disgust. "And then—just as it always does—the meeting degenerated into bitching about President Rodrigues and his gang."

"He's really that bad?"

Her husband shrugged. "There's no doubt he's corrupt. At least half of all the money we're giving him to build an army and rebuild the economy here is going into his pocket, or the pockets of his cronies."

Tej blinked. It was still difficult to understand the way governments functioned in the galaxy beyond Jackson's Whole. Her initial reaction to Ivan Xav's statement about the money going into Rodrigues' pocket was: 'where else would it go?' The barons who ran the Whole were absolute rulers of their respective domains. Any and all funds coming in belonged to them and them alone. How they used those funds was entirely up to them. Of course if they didn't spend the money wisely, where it was needed, then, well, they probably wouldn't remain baron—or even alive—for very long.

"Can't the alliance just get rid of him? Put someone else in his place?"

"Like who?" Her husband's voice was sharp and he instantly realized it. "Sorry. Just my frustration showing through. Believe me, we've talked about getting rid of him, but there just isn't anyone else who wouldn't be twice as bad."

"How did he end up president if he's so corrupt?"

"By outliving everyone else, Love. The original leader of the 'independence movement' had been the planetary governor, Vizconde Antoni Mendoza."

"I'm aware of that, Ivan Xav. I've read the briefing books, too, you know."

"Well, now that we've been here a while, ImpSec has managed to piece together the background story. It seems that Mendoza had long planned to seize control of Novo Paveo away from his masters back on Nuevo Brasilia and set up his own little empire here in the back of beyond. He'd been hoping to delay his move until the secret base facilities and factories were completed, giving him the means to build his own army and navy. But when Mendoza received word that his masters were growing suspicious and planned to replace him, he was forced to act early. He did it during the change of command ceremony itself. Mendoza assassinated the new governor and wiped out his entire party. That bit of showmanship tells you more about the man than all the rest of the ImpSec dossier combined. A lighting campaign to follow up also eliminated most of the feared secret police, the JDS."

"Oh, I did hear something about them," said Tej. "The Justiceiros da Stateus, to give them their local name. A very nasty group, apparently. But he obviously didn't get them all. I've heard about how they've terrorized the local population."

"Those were new ones who showed up later," said Ivan Xav. "Mendoza had been counting on the support of the young people, the ones born on Novo Paveo, and while he got that, there were still millions who had emigrated from Nuevo Brasilia and who had been thoroughly indoctrinated to be loyal to the mother world. These rallied to the few loyalist leaders who escaped Mendoza's purge, and he was unable to seize the entire planet at a blow. The fighting surged back and forth, but while the loyalists could expect reinforcements, Mendoza's forces could not. Without outside help, Mendoza was doomed. Someone in his inner circle recognized that fact and assassinated him, thinking to save himself."

"Understandable," said Tej. That sort of thing happened on Jackson's Whole from time to time when a baron overreached himself.

"But the rebellion did not collapse as it ought to have. It had gained a momentum of its own and even the death of its charismatic leader could not stop it. Mendoza's martyrdom only enraged his supporters and drove many fence-sitters into the rebel camp. The scheme to bring in the Great powers to help was hatched. And so here we all are…"

"How did Rodrigues end up in charge? I mean I remember him from some of the parties we had on the way here, but he was just a minor official, wasn't he?"

"By the time the envoys returned with us to help, the rebellion had been nearly wiped out. The EnBees poured in reinforcements in hopes of securing things before anyone else could intervene. Mendoza's successor had been killed and the successor's successor as well. Rodrigues was the chief envoy and the only prominent leader left and he stepped into the power vacuum."

"Ah, so he really did outlive everyone else."

"Yeah. He wasn't the best choice—but all the better choices were dead. So the alliance secured Araxa for him and set him up as the nominal leader of Novo Paveo. Things have gone downhill from that point on. Some of the rebels have rallied around him, but the mere fact that he wasn't dead disqualified Rodrigues in the eyes of many. Where had he been while everyone else was getting killed?"

"Huh. On the Whole that would have been seen as cleverness and skillfully playing the game. But here it's a badge of shame?"

"To some people, yeah. The EnBee ruling class, the grandees, are all bound up in codes of honors and such. Doesn't always make sense."

"You mean sort of like those Vor things on Barrayar?" asked Tej, grinning.

"Uh, well, we're trying to avoid comparisons like that," answered Ivan Xav, tapping her on the nose. "But yeah. And it's causing a real problem here. Outside of Araxa, Rodrigues doesn't have much credibility. But until he can actually drum up enough support to secure his rule against the remaining loyalists, he'll need our support. The only recent change is some new orders that came in from home the other day. The high command has a new strategy they want to try out. It might help, but it won't be quick."

"So we're stuck here? For how long?"

"For as long as Vorpinski stays here. The diplomatic situation hasn't really changed, and until it does, this is a diplomatic hot-spot, and he's Gregor's fireman."

Tej sighed and snuggled against him. This wasn't really what they'd been hoping for when they signed on to the diplomatic corps.

"But…" said Ivan.

"But what?"

"I can tell you're sick of being cooped up on this ship…"

"I grew up mostly on a space station," interjected Tej, "But yes, it would be nice to get off, at least for a while. Where?"

"They've built a diplomatic compound in Araxa for all the new embassies. It's been very well secured with force fields and all the rest. Vorpinski is seriously thinking of relocating his offices down there. We could get a nice apartment inside the compound. Would you like that?"

Tej nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, I think I would."

[Scene Break]

Two men, one young and one a bit older, regarded each other across the table in the tavern's private room. The young one, despite his youth, was without doubt the senior of the pair. Scion of a distinguished family and definitely going places in politics. He wasn't entirely happy about being in the same room with the other one, but the meeting place was safe enough—at least from snoopers. He wasn't so sure just how safe his companion was.

Yosef Vorritter, one-time naval officer but now court martialed, dismissed, disgraced, started back at him.

"I want her dead," he said in a low voice.

"Understandable."

"More than that. I want her to suffer before she dies."

"Also understandable, considering what she cost you."

Vorritter began a long, obscene rant against Lieutenant Andreanne Payne, a woman whose only crime, as far as he could tell, was to refuse to allow Vorritter to rape her. The man wanted revenge, a revenge of the most violent sort.

And for reasons the man couldn't quite fathom, Vorritter seemed to think he could help him get that revenge. It was probably because of his old mentor, a man publicly known to have opposed Payne's entry into the military. While he had never shared the Old Man's obsession on that point, apparently their well-known association was enough for Vorritter.

And so Vorritter had been seeking him out, hanging around, and generally making a bit of a nuisance of himself for months. He was half tempted to just tell him to go away, leave him alone, and get his revenge on his own.

But he had learned a great deal from the Old Man, and he had always said to never discard a tool that might prove useful. Every man has some lever by which he can be moved, he had said. And there wasn't the slightest doubt which lever could move Vorritter! Just hinting that he might be willing to help him achieve his revenge would probably move him to do almost anything in return. Such men could be useful if handled properly.

"Well, she's a bit out of reach right now," he said once Vorritter ran out of breath. "You'll just have to be patient."