Black Hearts, Part Three
Feb. 5th, 2007 04:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jeriendhalTags: Vorkosigan, Terinu, Miles, Cordelia, Rufus.
“We have the fighter impounded in a sealed off section of the small craft hanger, Milord Auditor,” the station commander said, as he, Miles, and Lady Cordelia paced down the station corridor, heading towards the detention area. Jump Point Station Four was combined military and civilian outpost, handling both the defense of Sergyar's most important wormhole and serving to support the growing commerce between the growing colony and Komaar. Combined, but separate, with the military section strictly quarantined from the civilian side. Which might have slowed down the lightning fast pace of the rumors as to what happened out beyond the station by a few hundredths of a millisecond, Miles figured.
“Have you had a chance to examine it yet?” he asked, adjusting his auditor's chain. “You're certain it doesn't have any Necklin rods?”
“Absolutely, milord, there's nothing of the sort there. We've identified the forward sensor suite, weapons, and reactionless drive. However there are several items, including what we think is the FTL drive system, which we haven't positively identified yet.”
Miles nodded. “Hold off on further analysis for now, if you're sure the thing isn't going to self-destruct on us. No one is to touch anything until both ImpSec and ImpMil headquarters have dispatched analysis teams. I'm sure I don't have to emphasize the strategic importance keeping that new drive system intact so we can retro-engineer the technology.”
“Understood, Lord Auditor,” the station commander confirmed.
“How many people know about the situation, currently?”
The commander sighed. “You, me, the Viceroy and Vicerine. Plus the bridge crew of the destroyer the rescued the fighter's crew. And the marines that pulled them out, and the guards in the detention block. Not to mention anyone who happened to be looking out a porthole when the fighter was pulled in and God only knows who else they told despite the silence order. Preventing outgoing traffic from transiting the wormholes is only going to work for so long, milord. Eventually the word is going to get out, if no other reason than Sergyar can not maintain a self-imposed blockade forever.”
“All the more reason to make pleasant conversation with our furry new guest before that becomes necessary,” Lady Cordelia noted. “This is history, Miles. First Contact between humanity and another race, an event we've been waiting centuries for. The next few hours are going to determine the direction the whole human race is going to take.” The former Beta Survey Service captain's eyes were practically glowing, even if she was managing to maintain her normal cool expression otherwise. It was a measure of the deep trust Miles' father had in both her and his son that he had let them both go to the station without accompanying them himself, despite the temptation to get directly involved. Not that there wasn't plenty to do down on Sergyar to keep the Count occupied, as he bafflegabbed the official line about unknown vessel, and previously undetected wormhole, to the worried friends and family of the liner's passengers who were waiting and hoping for the safe return of their loved ones.
“Thanks, no pressure,” Miles said evenly, his old nervous tic crossing his face briefly. Thank God his last controlled seizure had just been two days ago. Now was not the time to be reduced to a gibbering mass on the floor due to stress. He paused as they stopped before the entrance to the detention block and waited to be scanned for weapons. “So, what kind of training did the Betan Survey Service have for First Contact?” he asked his mother.
“Lots of theoretical exercises and roleplay sims. All useless of course,” she replied. “The prevailing theory in the Survey Service when I resigned was that either any alien race would be so strange that we had no hope at all of communicating with them, or that they'd be so similar that we'd be able to treat them no differently than any other extreme cultural interface, like between Barrayar and Cetaganda for example.”
“Not quite like Barrayar and Cetaganda, I hope,” Miles said.
Cordelia smiled. “I was thinking of more recent history, love, not the end of the Time of Isolation.”
“Quite,” he agreed. The scan completed, they stepped through together into the dention bloc, and a guard led them up to the two cells where the... visitors... were housed. “Right then. Do you want to sit in with me, or split off?”
“Split off,” she said. “The girl looks badly in need of a mother figure at the moment and I'm sure you can handle questioning the pilot with your usual discretion.” She smiled down at him.
Miles to decided to ignore the gibe. “Just don't forget, if she's as human as she looks, that means that somebody has been talking to the pilot's race for at least a little while, if only to teach them Galactic Standard. We need to find out whether she's his friend, ally, co-conspirator, or a hostage of some sort.”
“First, we have to let her know she's in friendly hands, eh?”
Miles jerked his head. “Right.” He turned to the guards standing outside the cells. “Open the alien's cell, please.”
“Will you be needing a bodyguard, Milord Auditor?” the lead guard asked.
He considered that a moment. From what he'd seen on the vid, the alien pilot had more than his fair share of claws and sharp teeth, though nothing like dear Taura's sabertoothed fangs. On the other hand, the fellow had put himself at considerable risk to help a ship full of strangers. That implied, Miles hoped, that the pilot's first inclination wouldn't be to go for an Auditorial throat in frustration for his imprisonment. “No,” he finally answered. “We're all good friends here, right corporal?”
“Yes, Milord,” the guard answered dubiously, and keyed the door open.
Miles stepped inside. The pilot had laid down on the cell's bunk, fingers laced behind his head, staring up in the ceiling in apparent boredom. When Miles appeared, he sat up quickly, coming to his feet and looking on down on him with a less than friendly expression.
“Good day,” Miles began, beating the pilot to the first shot, “I am Lord Miles Vorkosigan, Imperial Auditor to his Majesty Gregor Vorbarra of the Barrayaran Empire. May I know your name?”
“First things first,” the alien answered, “Is young Miss Freeman well?” His voice was deep, growling with what Miles thought almost sounded like aristocratic annoyance.
“She's right next door, having a chat with the Vicerine, my mother the Countess Cordelia,” Miles answered, then repeated, “May I know your name, sir?”
“I am the Viscount Ru-ofanious Brushtail and you can damned well release me or by the Holy Den Mother I'll rip your throat out and anyone else's who gets in the way of my hunting down that bloody pirate Chan and the rest of her crew!”
TBC
And for all of you who are wondering who this Rufus guy is, look over here and enjoy diving through the archives. :)
“We have the fighter impounded in a sealed off section of the small craft hanger, Milord Auditor,” the station commander said, as he, Miles, and Lady Cordelia paced down the station corridor, heading towards the detention area. Jump Point Station Four was combined military and civilian outpost, handling both the defense of Sergyar's most important wormhole and serving to support the growing commerce between the growing colony and Komaar. Combined, but separate, with the military section strictly quarantined from the civilian side. Which might have slowed down the lightning fast pace of the rumors as to what happened out beyond the station by a few hundredths of a millisecond, Miles figured.
“Have you had a chance to examine it yet?” he asked, adjusting his auditor's chain. “You're certain it doesn't have any Necklin rods?”
“Absolutely, milord, there's nothing of the sort there. We've identified the forward sensor suite, weapons, and reactionless drive. However there are several items, including what we think is the FTL drive system, which we haven't positively identified yet.”
Miles nodded. “Hold off on further analysis for now, if you're sure the thing isn't going to self-destruct on us. No one is to touch anything until both ImpSec and ImpMil headquarters have dispatched analysis teams. I'm sure I don't have to emphasize the strategic importance keeping that new drive system intact so we can retro-engineer the technology.”
“Understood, Lord Auditor,” the station commander confirmed.
“How many people know about the situation, currently?”
The commander sighed. “You, me, the Viceroy and Vicerine. Plus the bridge crew of the destroyer the rescued the fighter's crew. And the marines that pulled them out, and the guards in the detention block. Not to mention anyone who happened to be looking out a porthole when the fighter was pulled in and God only knows who else they told despite the silence order. Preventing outgoing traffic from transiting the wormholes is only going to work for so long, milord. Eventually the word is going to get out, if no other reason than Sergyar can not maintain a self-imposed blockade forever.”
“All the more reason to make pleasant conversation with our furry new guest before that becomes necessary,” Lady Cordelia noted. “This is history, Miles. First Contact between humanity and another race, an event we've been waiting centuries for. The next few hours are going to determine the direction the whole human race is going to take.” The former Beta Survey Service captain's eyes were practically glowing, even if she was managing to maintain her normal cool expression otherwise. It was a measure of the deep trust Miles' father had in both her and his son that he had let them both go to the station without accompanying them himself, despite the temptation to get directly involved. Not that there wasn't plenty to do down on Sergyar to keep the Count occupied, as he bafflegabbed the official line about unknown vessel, and previously undetected wormhole, to the worried friends and family of the liner's passengers who were waiting and hoping for the safe return of their loved ones.
“Thanks, no pressure,” Miles said evenly, his old nervous tic crossing his face briefly. Thank God his last controlled seizure had just been two days ago. Now was not the time to be reduced to a gibbering mass on the floor due to stress. He paused as they stopped before the entrance to the detention block and waited to be scanned for weapons. “So, what kind of training did the Betan Survey Service have for First Contact?” he asked his mother.
“Lots of theoretical exercises and roleplay sims. All useless of course,” she replied. “The prevailing theory in the Survey Service when I resigned was that either any alien race would be so strange that we had no hope at all of communicating with them, or that they'd be so similar that we'd be able to treat them no differently than any other extreme cultural interface, like between Barrayar and Cetaganda for example.”
“Not quite like Barrayar and Cetaganda, I hope,” Miles said.
Cordelia smiled. “I was thinking of more recent history, love, not the end of the Time of Isolation.”
“Quite,” he agreed. The scan completed, they stepped through together into the dention bloc, and a guard led them up to the two cells where the... visitors... were housed. “Right then. Do you want to sit in with me, or split off?”
“Split off,” she said. “The girl looks badly in need of a mother figure at the moment and I'm sure you can handle questioning the pilot with your usual discretion.” She smiled down at him.
Miles to decided to ignore the gibe. “Just don't forget, if she's as human as she looks, that means that somebody has been talking to the pilot's race for at least a little while, if only to teach them Galactic Standard. We need to find out whether she's his friend, ally, co-conspirator, or a hostage of some sort.”
“First, we have to let her know she's in friendly hands, eh?”
Miles jerked his head. “Right.” He turned to the guards standing outside the cells. “Open the alien's cell, please.”
“Will you be needing a bodyguard, Milord Auditor?” the lead guard asked.
He considered that a moment. From what he'd seen on the vid, the alien pilot had more than his fair share of claws and sharp teeth, though nothing like dear Taura's sabertoothed fangs. On the other hand, the fellow had put himself at considerable risk to help a ship full of strangers. That implied, Miles hoped, that the pilot's first inclination wouldn't be to go for an Auditorial throat in frustration for his imprisonment. “No,” he finally answered. “We're all good friends here, right corporal?”
“Yes, Milord,” the guard answered dubiously, and keyed the door open.
Miles stepped inside. The pilot had laid down on the cell's bunk, fingers laced behind his head, staring up in the ceiling in apparent boredom. When Miles appeared, he sat up quickly, coming to his feet and looking on down on him with a less than friendly expression.
“Good day,” Miles began, beating the pilot to the first shot, “I am Lord Miles Vorkosigan, Imperial Auditor to his Majesty Gregor Vorbarra of the Barrayaran Empire. May I know your name?”
“First things first,” the alien answered, “Is young Miss Freeman well?” His voice was deep, growling with what Miles thought almost sounded like aristocratic annoyance.
“She's right next door, having a chat with the Vicerine, my mother the Countess Cordelia,” Miles answered, then repeated, “May I know your name, sir?”
“I am the Viscount Ru-ofanious Brushtail and you can damned well release me or by the Holy Den Mother I'll rip your throat out and anyone else's who gets in the way of my hunting down that bloody pirate Chan and the rest of her crew!”
TBC
And for all of you who are wondering who this Rufus guy is, look over here and enjoy diving through the archives. :)
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Date: 2007-02-06 08:02 am (UTC)BTW, I didn't *see* that "emphasize" sentence yesterday. I knew I had good reasons not to open up the Tez and Maria stories ;)