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paused. "Treaties, eh?"
"If you would be so kind, sire."
"Oh, stop it," Gregor sighed. "I will play my assigned part. As always."
"Thank you." Miles thought of offering some apology, some solace, then thought
better of it. "The other wild card is Randall's
Rangers. Who are now, unless I miss my guess, in considerable disarray. Their
second-in-command has vanished, their commander has deserted at the start of
the action-how was it the Vervani let her make an exit, by the way?"
"She told them she was going out to confer with you-implied she'd somehow
added you to her forces. She was going to jump her fast courier to the hot
side immediately thereafter, supposedly."
"Hm. She may have inadvertently paved our way-is she denying involvement with
the Cetagandans?"
"I don't think the Vervani have caught on yet about the Rangers opening the
door to the Cetagandans. At the time we left
Vervain Station they were still putting the Rangers' failures to defend the
Cetagandan-side jump down to incompetence."
"Probably with considerable supporting evidence. I doubt the bulk of the
Rangers knew about the betrayal, or it couldn't have stayed secret this long.
And whatever inner cadre that was working with the Cetas, were left in the
dark when Cavilo took off on her Imperial tangent. You realize, Gregor, you
did this? Sabotaged the Cetagandan invasion single-handedly?"
"Oh," breathed Gregor, "it took both hands."
Miles decided not to touch that one. "Anyway-if we can-we need to lock the
Rangers down. Get them under control, or at least out from behind everyone's
backs."
"Very well."
"I suggest a round of good-guy-bad-guy. I'll be happy to take the part of bad
guy."
Cavilo was brought in between two men with hand tractors. She still wore her
space armor, now marred and scarred. Her helmet was gone. The armor's weapons
packs had been removed, control systems disconnected, and joints locked,
turning it into a hundred-kilo prison, tight as a sarcophagus. The two
Dendarii soldiers set her upright near the end of the conference table and
stepped back with a flourish. A statue with a live head, some Pygmalion-like
metamorphosis interrupted and horribly incomplete.
"Thank you, gentlemen, dismissed," said Miles. "Commander Bothari-Jesek,
please stay."
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Cavilo rolled her short-cropped blonde head in futile resistance, the limit of
physically possible motion. She glared furiously at
Gregor as the soldiers exited. "You snake," she snarled. "You bastard."
Gregor sat with his elbows on the conference table, chin resting in his hands.
He raised his head to say tiredly, "Commander
Cavilo, both my parents died violently in political intrigue before I was six
years old. A fact you might have researched. Did you think you were dealing
with an amateur?"
"You were out of your league from the beginning, Cavilo," said Miles, walking
slowly around her as if inspecting his prize.
Her head turned to follow him, then had to swivel to pick up his orbit on the
other side. "You should have stuck to your original contract. Or your second
plan. Or your third. You should, in fact, have stuck to something. Anything.
Your total self-interest didn't make you strong, it made you a rag in the
wind, anybody's to pick up. Now, Gregor-though not I-thinks you should be
given a chance to earn your worthless life."
"You haven't got the balls to shove me out the airlock." Her eyes were slitted
with her rage.
"I wasn't planning to." Since it clearly made her skin crawl, Miles circled
her again. "No. Looking ahead-when this is over-I
thought I might give you to the Cetagandans. A treaty tidbit that will cost us
nothing, and help turn them up sweet. I imagine they'll be looking for you,
don't you?" He fetched up before her and smiled.
Her face drained. The tendons stood out on her slender neck.
Gregor spoke. "But if you do as we ask, I will grant you safe passage out of
the Hegen Hub, via Barrayar, when this is over.
Together with any surviving remnant of your forces that will still follow you.
It will give you a two-month head start on the
Cetagandan vengeance for this debacle."
"In fact," put in Miles, "if you play your part, you could even come out of
this a heroine. What fun!"
Gregor's glower at him was not entirely feigned.
"I'll get you," Cavilo breathed to Miles.
"It's the best deal you'll get today. Life. Salvage. A new start, far from
here-very far from here. That, Simon Illyan will assure.
Far away, but not unwatched."
Calculation began to edge out the rage in her eyes. "What do you want me to
do?"
"Not much. Yield up what control you still have of your forces to an officer
of our choice. Probably a Vervani liaison, they're paying for you, after all.
You will introduce your replacement to your chain of command, and retire to
the safety of the Triumph's brig for the duration."
"There won't be any surviving remnant of the Rangers when this is done!"
"There is that chance," Miles conceded. "You were going to throw them all
away. Note, please, I'm not offering a choice between this and some better
deal. It's this or the Cetagandans. Whose approval of treason is strictly
limited to those who deal in their favor."
Cavilo looked like she wanted to spit, but said, "Very well. I yield. You have
your deal."
"Thank you."
"But you..." her eyes were chips of blue ice, her voice low and venomous, "you
will learn, little man. You're riding high today, but time will bring you
down. I'd say, just wait twenty years, but I doubt you're going to live that
long. Time will teach you how much nothing your loyalties will buy you. The
day they finally grind you up and spit you out, I'm just sorry I won't be
there to watch, 'cause you're gonna be hamburger."
Miles called the soldiers back in. "Take her away." It was almost a plea. As
the door closed behind the prisoner and her porters, he turned to find Elena's
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eyes upon him.
"God, that woman makes me cold," he shivered.
"Ah?" Gregor remarked, elbows still planted. "Yet in a weird way, you seem to
get along with each other. You think alike."
"Gregor!" Miles protested. "Elena?" he called for a counter-vote.
"You're both very twisty," said Elena doubtfully. "And, er, short." At Miles's
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