If you see a chance, Ekaterin, take it. Dont wait for me.
That would still leave Soudha with a hostage.
I dont think thats the most important issue, just now. Not if the Komarrans were telling the truth about what that great ugly thing out there does.
Ekaterin rubbed her toe over the smooth gray deck of the lav. In a quieter voice, she asked, Do you suppose our own side would sacrifice us, if it came to a standoff?
For this? Yes, said the Professora. Or at any rate they certainly ought to. Do the Professor and Lord Auditor Vorkosigan and ImpSec know what the Komarrans have built?
No, not as of yesterday. That is, they knew Soudha had built something-I gather they had almost managed to reconstruct the plans.
Then they will know, said the Professora firmly. And a little less firmly, Eventually
I hope they wont think we ought to sacrifice ourselves, like in the Tragedy of the Maiden of the Lake.
She was actually sacrificed by her brother, as the tradition would have it, said the Professora. I do wonder if it was quite so voluntary as he later claimed.
Ekaterin reflected dryly on the old Barrayaran legend. As the tale went, the town of Vorkosigan Surleau, on the Long Lake, had been besieged by the forces of Hazelbright. Loyal vassals of the absent Count, a Vor officer and his sister, had held out till the last. On the verge of the final assault, the Maiden of the Lake had offered up her pale throat to her brothers sword rather than fall to the ravages of the enemy troops. The very next morning, the siege was unexpectedly lifted by the subterfuge of her betrothed-one of their Auditor Vorkosigans distant ancestors, come to think of it, the latterly famous General Count Selig of that name-who sent the enemy hurriedly marching away to meet the false rumor of another attack. But it was, of course, too late for the Maiden of the Lake. Much Barrayaran historical sympathy, in the form of plays and poems and songs, had been expended upon the subsequent grief of the two men; Ekaterin had memorized one of the shorter poems for a school recitation, in her childhood. Ive always wondered, said Ekaterin, if the attack really had taken place the next day, and all the pillage and rape had proceeded on schedule, would they have said, Oh, thats all right, then?
Probably, said Aunt Vorthys, her lips twitching.
After a time, Ekaterin remarked, I want to go home. But I dont want to go back to Old Barrayar.
No more do I, dear. Its wonderful and dramatic to read about. So nice to be able to read, dont you know.
I know girls who pine for it. They like to play dress-up and pretend being Vor ladies of old, rescued from menace by romantic Vor youths. For some reason they never play dying in childbirth, or vomiting your guts out from the red dysentery, or weaving till you go blind and crippled from arthritis and dye poisoning, or infanticide. Well, they do die romantically of disease sometimes, but somehow its always an illness that makes you interestingly pale and everyone sorry and doesnt involve losing bowel control.
Ive taught history for thirty years. One cant reach them all, though we try. Send them to my class, next time.
Ekaterin smiled grimly. Id love to.
Silence fell for a time, while Ekaterin stared at the opposite wall and her aunt leaned back with her eyes closed. Ekaterin watched her in growing worry. She glanced at the door, and said at last, Do you suppose you could pretend to be much sicker than you really are?
Oh, said Aunt Vorthys, not opening her eyes, that would not be at all difficult.
By which Ekaterin deduced that she was already pretending to be much less sick than she really was. The jump-nausea seemed to have hit her awfully hard, this time. Was that gray-faced fatigue really all due to travel-sickness? Stunner fire could be unexpectedly lethal for a weak heart-was there a reason besides bewilderment that her aunt had not tried to struggle or cry out under Arozzis threats?
So how is your heart, these days? Ekaterin asked diffidently.
Aunt Vorthyss eyes popped open. After a moment, she shrugged. So-so, dear. Im on the waiting list for a new one.
I thought new organs were easy to grow, now.
Yes, but surgical transplant teams are rather less so. My case isnt that urgent. After the problems a friend of mine had, I decided Id rather wait for one of the more proven groups to have a slot available.
I understand. Ekaterin hesitated. Ive been thinking. We cant do anything locked in here. If I can get anyone to come to the door, I thought we might try to feign you were dangerously sick, and get them to let us out. After that-who knows? It cant be worse than this. All youd have to do is go limp and moan convincingly.
Im willing, said Aunt Vorthys.
All right.
Ekaterin fell to pounding on the door as loudly as she could, and calling the Komarrans urgently by name. After about ten minutes of this, the lock clicked, the door slid back, and Madame Radovas peeked in from a slight distance. Arozzi stood behind her with his stunner in his hand.
What? she demanded.
My aunt is ill, said Ekaterin. She cant stop shivering, and her skin is getting clammy. I think she may be going into shock from the jump-sickness and her bad heart and all this stress. She has to have a warm place to lie down, and a hot drink, at least. Maybe a doctor.
We cant get you a doctor right now. Madame Radovas peered worriedly past Ekaterin at the limp Professora. We could arrange the other, I guess.
Some of us wouldnt mind having the lav back, Arozzi muttered. Its not so good, all of us having to parade up and down the corridor to the nearest public one.
Theres no other safe place to lock them up, said Madame Radovas to him.
So, put them out in the middle of the room and keep an eye on them. Stick them back in here later. Ones sick, the other has to take care of her, what can they do? Its no good if the old lady dies on us.
Ill see what I can do, said Madame Radovas to Ekaterin, and closed the door again.
In a little while she came back, to escort the two Barrayaran women to a cot and a folding chair set up at the edge of the loading bay, as far as possible from any emergency alarm. Ekaterin and Madame Radovas supported the stumbling Professora to the cot, and helped her lie down, and covered her up. Leaving Arozzi to guard them, Madame Radovas went off and returned with a steaming mug of tea and set it down; Arozzi then turned the stunner over to her and returned to his work. Madame Radovas drew up another folding chair and sat down a few prudent meters away from her captives. Ekaterin supported her aunts shoulders while she drank the tea, blinked gratefully, and sank back with a moan. Ekaterin made play of feeling the Professoras forehead, and rubbing her chill hands, and looking very concerned. She stroked the tousled gray hair, and stared covertly around the loading bay shed merely glimpsed before.
The device still sat in its float cradle, but more power lines snaked across the floor to it now; Soudha was overseeing the attachment of one such cable to the awkward array of converters at the base of the horn. A man she did not recognize busied himself in the glass-walled control booth. At his gestures, Cappell drew careful chalk lines on the deck near the device. When he finished, he consulted with Soudha, and Soudha himself took the float cradles remote control, stepped back, and with exquisite care set the cradle to lift, move forward till it almost touched the outer wall, and gently land again in precise alignment with the chalk marks. The horn was now aimed not quite square-on with the inner door of the large freight lock. Were they getting ready to load it aboard a ship, and take it out to point at the wormhole? Or could they use it right from here?