Chapters (2)
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threatened to turn Metzov in.
"Metzov murdered him in one of his panic-rages, then made Ahn
help him cook up and vouch for the cover story about the escape. So Ahn was twice tainted with the thing. Metzov kept Ahn in terror, yet was equally in Ahn's power if the facts ever came out, a kind of
strange lock on each other . . . which Ahn at last escaped. Ahn seemed almost relieved, and volunteered to be fast-penta'd, when Illyan's
agents came for him."
Miles thought of the weatherman with regret. "Will anything bad happen to Ahn now?"
"We'd planned to make him testify, at Metzov's trial . . . Illyan thought we might even turn it to our favor, with respect to the
Komarrans. Present that poor idiot guard corporal to them as an
unsung hero. Hang Metzov as proof of the Emperor's good faith and
commitment to justice for Barrayarans and Komarrans alike . . . nice scenario." Count Vorkosigan frowned bitterly. "I think we will quietly drop it now. Again."
Miles puffed out his breath. "Metzov. A goat to the end. Must be some bad karma, clinging to him . . . not that he didn't earn it."
"Beware of wishing for justice. You might get it."
"I've already learned that, sir."
"Already?" Count Vorkosigan cocked an eyebrow at him. "Hm."
"Speaking of justice," Miles seized the opening. "I'm concerned over the matter of Dendarii pay. They took a lot of damage, more than a mercenary fleet will usually tolerate. Their only contract was my breath and voice. If . . . if the Imperium does not back me, I will be forsworn."
Count Vorkosigan smiled slightly. "We have already considered the matter."
"Will Illyan's covert ops budget stretch, to cover this?"
"Illyan's budget would burst trying to cover this. But you, ah, seem to have a friend in a high place. We will draw you an emergency credit chit from ImpSec, this fleet's fund, and the Emperor's privy purse, and hope to recoup it all later from a special appropriation rammed through the Council of Ministers and the Council of Counts. Submit a bill."
Miles fished a data disk from his pocket. "Here, sir. From the Dendarii fleet accountant. She was up all night. Some damage
estimates are still preliminary." He set it on the comconsole desk.
One corner of Count Vorkosigan's mouth twisted up. "You're
learning, boy. . . ." He inserted the disk in his desk for a fast scan. "I'll have a credit chit prepared over lunch. You can take it with you when you depart."
"Thank you, sir."
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