[ closed ]

[forwardmomentum]

Who: Miles, Gregor, and Bel
When: 12/1
Where: the Vor cabin
What: Miles panics over the arrival of one of his mercenary captains on the ship; Gregor decides to make everything simpler.
Warnings: miles being a dumbass idk

God. This is a nightmare situation. Worse than London had been, in some ways -- having Lieutenant Vorkosigan and Admiral Naismith trapped in the same city was bad enough, but on this ship? Damn it, and he wasn't even going to do Naismith here. He was pretty clear with himself on that one. Can't afford to mix and match, here, have to keep them straight, even if he's been increasingly tempted to reach for Naismith here. Worse still is that slipping back into Naismith, even if just for Bel, just for a moment, feels so damned good.

Miles tries to brush that thought away as he careens straight toward the cabin he shares with Ivan and Gregor, his mind still racing. He'd fed Bel some horseshit about a cover story that was a little too close to the truth for anyone's comfort, but it was a hasty fiction -- nearly as hasty as Admiral Naismith had been, to start with. Ha.

"Gregor," he starts as soon as he's inside, locating his foster brother and Emperor, and shutting the door as soon as he does. Just Gregor. Oh, thank god. Miles paces inside on nervous feet, his voice already wound into a manic chatter. "We need to talk. There's -- a problem."

Comments

^/////^ NO U~

[hellsbel]

"Only in mockery, of course." Head tilted, Bel grins wickedly. "I'm a rational democrat and couldn't possibly be impressed by you backward Barrayarans with your patriarchal pomp and ceremony and peculiarly feudal governing system." Regarding him with mock speculation, irony easing into a fond smile, Bel slides down to the cushions beside Miles and leans back too, legs stretching to their full length and finally relaxing. "No, the glamor all comes down to you. I look forward to repaying the favor, but if we keep meeting like this I might get to enjoy it.~"

That's enough teasing, probably. Miles's arm, lying comfortably across the back of the couch, doesn't quite reach to Bel's shoulder, and as nice as it would be to fix that, it's not why he put it there. "All right. We've got our story. Your identity's secure. And de-complicated." (I won't give you away." "I know....") "A full rundown aside, I don't suppose there's a chance of breaking out of here tonight?"

/)w(\

[forwardmomentum]

Miles' grin goes a little strained at Bel's extended riff on Barrayaran society, but he lets it go with a breath when Bel settles onto the couch next to him. It isn't worth getting into, and he knows Bel's tired -- they look it. He raises an eyebrow at Bel at that question, leaning forward on the couch.

"Break out? And just where do you think we're going to go?" he snorts, shaking his head. He sounds bitter, but it isn't directed at his erstwhile captain. "This ship is it, Bel. Hate to admit it, but we're at the mercy of the Moira and her captains if we ever want to get back to where we came from. Getting off at the next planet wouldn't do us any good."

[hellsbel]

Just staying in character, sir.~ You've probably heard worse from your mother.

Even half expecting it, if only by way of preparation for the worst, it takes Bel a moment to work through that. "So it's all true." A flat tone, not covering a dismay directed the same way as the bitterness in Miles's words. "Completely outside of any known part of the galaxy, with a fairly thin reed to lean on even if the captains are being honest with us. And you've been here for months?"

That, more than anything else, presses in how serious this is. Months, and Miles hasn't even taken over the ship yet. Bel leans forward too, hands laced together between their knees.

No easy waking from this dream. The Ariel suddenly feels an impossible distance away.

[forwardmomentum]

"A little over three months," Miles confirms with a sigh, although not nearly as dismayed as Bel. If he spent the last three months in stubborn denial he'd have lost his mind by now, and he's already crazy enough as it is. He runs a hand back through his hair. "We're way farther than a galaxy, Bel. We're not even in our own universe anymore. Have you talked to anyone on this ship yet? Aliens, gods, girls from twentieth century Earth? We are a long, long way from home."

[hellsbel]

"Met a few." Bel's head shakes in disbelief. "And that's it? We're trapped, until we get to wherever we're going and whoever's at the end maybe deigns to send us back where we came from? You know I love a challenge, but this is...."

...not a challenge. It's a pointless, thankless slog. No orders, no endpoint, no consensus, no clear goal, no way out.

No leadership.

The pained brown eyes glance up at Miles. It would have been better if none of them were here... but they are, and it means a lot not to be facing this alone.

"As far as I'm concerned, my Dendarii oath and contract supersede the ones made here under duress. Since there are officially no other Dendarii on board--" Lord Miles -- not yet. Bel hesitates, then dodges the title. "I'm the ranking fleet officer here, and will have to proceed on my own judgment, as far as the rest of the ship is concerned." Bel smiles bleakly. "But between the two of us, this is a terrible undercover mission and I'd like to register a complaint."

[forwardmomentum]

Miles laughs softly. "Complaint registered, Captain Thorne. You can even put it in the suggestions box, if you like -- I've got one, you know. Right on the door of my office. And for what it's worth, I do believe the captains are being honest about their intent insofar as getting us back to the planet of origin and getting us all home -- they're in the same boat as us. All of them want to get back to their worlds." It's their methods Miles might be concerned about. What Zhou had said back at Caducus Primary still rings in his head. Ulterior motives are in the hearts of many. They seek a place that once loved them but no longer can, and in that space, it has grown exponentially. Heed the future, Miles Vorkosigan, but never trust it. He still doesn't know what to make of it, nor the reflection of his future self he saw that night on the planet.

"It's a shit mission, I know, but we don't really have a choice. And if I can do it, so can you. Eh, Captain?" Miles grins, and nudges his elbow at Bel's arm.

[hellsbel]

The restless eyes soften, and a small smile touches Bel's face. Just to be heard... it's a good feeling. Years of fierce loyalty and faith underlie their relationship, and the trust Miles put in them from the beginning, even if he felt he couldn't reveal his own secrets, always counted for a lot.

It's still frankly startling that Gregor -- perhaps the main reason for all the secrecy -- seems to share that opinion. If not for his intervention.....

...better not to think about it. A snort of rueful laughter at the elbow, and Bel leans over to grip Miles's shoulder for a moment. "Oh, yes." Always. "You look like it's been hard on you, though, in spite of having only one name to juggle. Is the food that bad here?"

[forwardmomentum]

Only the one name? Oh, I wish that were true. He's been juggling them since he got here, even before Bel's arrival -- on a purely internal basis. Just as well, he thinks, that no one else is privy to that particular struggle.

Miles smiles bleakly. Somehow it seems inadvisable to drop the news of his recent death on Bel on top of everything else -- his poor captain's been through enough shocks today, he thinks, and they look tired to boot. "The head chef around here is Loki. You decide." He sinks back into the couch a little more, but the look he gives Bel with his brows slightly raised is direct. "You're not looking so hot there yourself, Bel. When was the last time you slept, anyway?"

[hellsbel]

The chef's name is familiar, but at the moment Bel can't call it to mind. "Don't tell me, he's a goblin. Isn't there an Old Earth rhyme about staying away from goblin fruit?" But there's something else behind Miles's expression. A day ago, Bel might not have said anything, even after noticing that Miles was still using the Admiral's accent. Now... should I? Guess or intrusion or allowable liberty?

Stall. Then reassess. "Might ask you the same question. The Ingress pulled me through at midnight, ship's time. I was about to sleep. Didn't happen."

[forwardmomentum]

"A god, apparently." Miles' mouth quirks ironically. "At first I thought he was just a lunatic, but you've met the people around here -- a bit eclectic, isn't it? Turns out he's a lunatic and a god, or as good as one, anyway.

Ah, and Bel's trying to turn this one around on him, are they? "Last night," he says, eyebrows creeping a little higher. "And I got up at 0600 to get ready for my shift this morning. You've been awake at least twenty-four hours now, Bel. Go get some sleep."