"No problem, then.  I gather Raven is one of those techie types—business goes right over his head."  How provincial was this fellow Wing?  Raven was from bloody Jackson's Whole, where the Deal was art, science, war, and survival-till-dawn.  "Have you ever been off-world, Mr. Wing?"

"Yes, I had a trip to your Komarr last year, when we were setting up.  All business, I'm afraid—I had very little time to tour.  I never got outside of the Solstice Dome."

"Ah, that's a shame."

Back in the headquarters building, they were all trundled off to a top-floor conference room, elegantly appointed with more gnarly potted treelets and fine art glass. Aida at last persuaded them to consume assorted beverages—Miles and Vorlynkin stuck to green tea, Roic to coffee—after which they were subjected to a glossy holovid presentation all about the large WhiteChrys cryonics facility presently under construction in the Solstice Dome, Komarr's planetary capital.  Try as he might, Miles could spot nothing about it that was not perfectly aboveboard.  Neither, with access to far more detailed data, had ImpSec Komarr.  And they'd looked it over closely, incidentally picking up, with WhiteChrys's full cooperation and applause, two overcharging contractors, an embezzling customs clerk, and a ring of warehouse thieves, although none of that was mentioned in Wing's snazzy vid.

Raven and Storrs joined them about halfway through.  The vid wound up in a burst of optimistic-yet-tasteful music.

Miles leaned back in his incredibly comfortable conference chair, steepling his fingers. "So, why Komarr?  If you wanted to expand off-world, wouldn't Escobar have been closer?"

Wing sat up, looking happy to answer.  "We did look into it.  But Escobar's own cryonics services are far more mature, and are further shielded from competition by what I can only call highly protectionist regulation.  Our analysts concluded that Komarr, despite the extra distance, offered far more scope for growth, which is, after all, where most profits lie.  Profits in which we hope Barrayarans like yourself will share, of course.  Indeed, Solstice Dome is sharing already—all the work after the design stage was contracted locally."

"I expect," said Miles judiciously, "once everyone on a planet has been sold a cryo-contract, there's no place left to go but outward."  He didn't add, Though there's one born every minute, but it was a struggle.

"It's the hazard of a mature market, yes, I'm afraid.  Although some interesting work has been done in the past year with commodifying contracts."

"Beg pardon?"