Lois McMaster Bujold Omnibus 4 Miles Mystery and Mayhem

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Barrayar. They kill mutants there!"
"Er . . ." said Miles, given pause. "They're attempting to reform those
prejudices. Or so I understand. But you're quite right. Barrayar is not the
place for her."
"I had hoped, when you came along, not to have to do it, to kill her myself.
Not an easy task. I've known her . . . too long. But to leave her down there
would have been the most vile condemnation . . ."
"That's no lie. Well, she's out of there now. Same as you." If we can keep so.
. . . Miles was frantic to get to Nav and Com and find out what was happening.
Had Ryoval launched pursuit yet? Had Fell? Would the space station guarding
the distant wormhole exit be ordered to block their escape?
"I didn't want to just abandon her," dithered Canaba, "but I couldn't take her
with me!"
"I should hope not. You're totally unfit to have charge of her. I'm going to
urge her to join the Dendarii Mercenaries. It would seem to be her genetic
destiny. Unless you know some reason why not?"
"But she's going to die!"
Miles stopped short. "And you and I are not?" he said softly after a moment,
then more loudly, "Why? How soon?"
"It's her metabolism. Another mistake, or concatenation of mistakes. I don't
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know when, exactly. She could go another year, or two, or five. Or ten."
"Or fifteen?"
"Or fifteen, yes, though not likely. But early, still."
"And yet you wanted to take from her what little she had? Why?"
"To spare her. The final debilitation is rapid, but very painful, to judge
from what some of the other . . . prototypes, went through. The females were
more complex than the males, I'm not certain . . . But it's a ghastly death.
Especially ghastly as Ryoval's slave."
"I don't recall encountering a lovely death yet. And I've seen a variety. As
for duration, I tell you we could all go in the next fifteen minutes, and
where is your tender mercy then?" He had to get to Nav and Com. "I declare
your interest in her forfeit, doctor. Meanwhile, let her grab what life she
can."
"But she was my project I must answer for her "
"No. She's a free woman now. She must answer for herself."
"How free can she ever be, in that body, driven by that metabolism, that
face a freak's life better to die painlessly, than to have all that suffering
inflicted on her "
Miles spoke through his teeth. With emphasis. "No. It's. Not."
Canaba stared at him, shaken out of the rutted circle of his unhappy reasoning
at last.
That's right, doctor, Miles's thought glittered. Get your head out of your ass
and look at me. Finally.
"Why should . . . you care?" asked Canaba.
"I like her. Rather better than I like you, I might add." Miles paused,
daunted by the thought of having to explain to Taura about the gene complexes
in her calf. And sooner or later they'd have to retrieve them. Unless he could
fake it, pretend the biopsy was some sort of medical standard operating
procedure for Dendarii induction no. She deserved more honesty than that.
Miles was highly annoyed at Canaba for putting this false note between himself
and Taura and yet without the gene complexes, would he have indeed gone in
after her as his boast implied? Extended and endangered his assigned mission
just out of the goodness of his heart, yeah? Devotion to duty, or pragmatic
ruthlessness, which was which? He would never know, now. His anger receded,
and exhaustion washed in, the familiar post-mission down too soon, the mission
was far from over, Miles reminded himself sternly. He inhaled. "You can't save
her from being alive, Dr. Canaba. Too late. Let her go. Let go."
Canaba's lips were unhappily tight, but, head bowing, he turned his hands
palm-out.
* * *
"Page the Admiral," Miles heard Thorne say as he entered Nav and Com, then
"Belay that," as heads swivelled toward the swish of the doors and they saw
Miles. "Good timing, sir."
"What's up?" Miles swung into the com station chair Thorne indicated. Ensign
Murka was monitoring ship's shielding and weapons systems, while their Jump
pilot sat at the ready beneath the strange crown of his headset with its
chemical cannulae and wires.
Pilot Padget's expression was inward, controlled and meditative; his
consciousness fully engaged, even merged, with the Ariel. Good man.
"Baron Ryoval is on the com for you," said Thorne. "Personally."
"I wonder if he's checked his freezers yet?" Miles settled in before the vid
link. "How long have I kept him waiting?"
"Less than a minute," said the com officer.
"Hm. Let him wait a little longer, then. What's been launched in pursuit of
us?"
"Nothing, so far," reported Murka.
Miles's brows rose at this unexpected news. He took a moment to compose
himself, wishing he'd had time to clean up, shave, and put on a fresh uniform
before this interview, just for the psychological edge. He scratched his
itching chin and ran his hands through his hair, and wriggled his damp sock
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toes against the deck matting, which they barely reached. He lowered his
station chair slightly, straightened his spine as much as he could, and
brought his breathing under control. "All right, bring him up."
The rather blurred background to the face that formed over the vid plate
seemed faintly familiar ah yes, the Security Ops room at Ryoval Biologicals.
Baron Ryoval had arrived personally on that scene as promised. It took only
one glance at the dusky, contorted expression on Ryoval's youthful face to
fill in the rest of the scenario. Miles folded his hands and smiled
innocently. "Good morning, Baron. What can I do for you?"
"Die, you little mutant!" Ryoval spat. "You! There isn't going to be a bunker
deep enough for you to burrow in. I'll put a price on your head that will have
every bounty hunter in the galaxy all over you like a second skin you'll not
eat or sleep I'll have you "
Yes, the baron had seen his freezers all right. Recently. Gone entirely was
the suave contemptuous dismissal of their first encounter. Yet Miles was [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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