"It sounds as if they were amateurs, not contract killers.  And bungling amateurs at that.  Eh.  Depends on what turns up in the interrogations.  Raven can assist, but don't let them see him.  No point in letting them know any more than they do already."

"And if either or both of them are allergic?"

An induced, and fatal, allergy to fast-penta was not uncommon among galactic covert operatives; Miles wasn't sure about these civilians.  "Have Raven check first.  The test patches are in my kit along with the fast-penta.  If so, call me."

Roic nodded.  Miles was confident in Roic's interrogation skills on criminal matters; this was one task he might safely delegate.

"The larger issues . . ."  Miles's voice slowed.  "I don't have a handle on yet.  It's hard to see how this technology, widely adopted and combined with human nature, wouldn't run into the same traps everywhere, in due course.  In a broader sense, this is Barrayar's problem, too, or will be."  Good, he had an all-purpose defense for his expense reports for this case.  That had been a minor but growing concern.

Roic scratched his head.  "Thing is—everyone here's headed for the same end.  If the higher-ups allow the whole system to get too corrupt, how do they expect to assure their own future revivals?"

"Never underestimate the human capacity for wishful thinking and willful blindness," said Miles.  Such as a whole society of people who became so wrapped up in avoiding death, they forgot to be alive?

Roic tapped his fingers on his trouser seam.  "Yeah, belike."

A motion caught Miles's eye—the outer door of the recovery room opening.  Vorlynkin appeared, being anxiously towed by Jin and Mina.

Miles pointed.  "Madame Sato, I believe you have some visitors."

Her head turned.  She gasped, under her mask, and her eyes widened.  She scrambled from her chair, Raven springing to the alert in case the sudden motion made her dangerously dizzy, but she was already banging out of the booth.

"Jin!  Mina!"

"Mommy!"

The pair raced forward, but, since they did not let go of Vorlynkin, the man was pulled into a few long, unbalanced strides that brought him face to face with Madame Sato.  She fell to one knee to clutch her children to her, first one, then the other, then both together, as hard as she could hug.  Miles thought she might be crying.  He made his way to the booth door and leaned on the jamb, watching.  Even Jin, with all the austerity of his almost-twelve, didn't reject the huggy-kissy stuff now.

"Mina!"  Madame Sato held her daughter a little away from herself, and stared over her mask.  Her voice shook.  "You've grown!"

For the first time, Miles thought, those eighteen missing months and what they'd stolen from her was brought home.  Proof she could touch, not just words and more words.

She looked up at last, in some bewilderment, at Vorlynkin.  "And who's this?"