Wing's voice warmed with genuine enthusiasm.  "Cryonics contracts have not been historically uniform, having been collected over many years by many institutions, often under different local laws.  They yield on wildly varying bases, any of which might have grown or shrunk since the contract was activated.  Companies themselves have split, combined, gone bankrupt or been bought out.  Formerly, contracts and the responsibility for them have changed hands only along with the institutions holding them.  But it was recently realized that a secondary market in individual contracts could provide considerable opportunity, either for profit-taking or to raise operating capital."

Miles felt his brow corrugating.  "You're buying and selling the dead?"

"Swapping all those frozen bodies around?"  Roic's horrified expression was much less controlled.

"No, no!" said Wing.  Storrs seconded his boss with vigorous headshake, No, no, no!

"That would be absurdly wasteful," Wing went on.  "The patrons mostly stay right where they are, unless a facility is being upgraded or decommissioned, of course.  The patrons are held on a reciprocal accounting basis, company to company.  It's only their contracts that are traded."  He added piously, "It's hoped that, over time, this will result in a more uniform and fairer contract structure industry-wide."

Miles translated this as, When we've squeezed the sponge dry, we'll stop.  Judging by Raven's remarkably blank smile, quite as if he hadn't understood a single word, he was making the exact same construction.

"And, er, will you be applying that model to Komarr?" Miles asked.

"Unfortunately, no.  There is no one there to trade with."  Although he sighed, Wing did not seem to be especially distressed by this.  Miles read that as, We plan to be a monopoly.

"This is all quite stunning," Miles said honestly.  "And what do you think of it all, Vorlynkin?"  He cast the consul a jovial wink.  "Ready to sign up?  I suppose it's all old hat to you, though."

"Not . . . really," said Vorlynkin.  "Most of my work has dealt with the concerns of the living.  I had to expedite returning the remains of one poor Barrayaran tourist who was killed glacier-diving last year—very dangerous sport—and sign off on the delivery of a couple of Kibou business people who'd died of natural causes in the Empire and been shipped home.  One frozen, one as ashes.  There were complaints about the latter from the kin, which I forwarded to those responsible."  Vorlynkin added diplomatically—how else?—"I do appreciate this behind-the-scenes view, Wing-san.  It's proving an eye-opener for me."  The glance under his lashes was at Miles, though.