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Petya rubs his face in anticipated exhaustion as he enters Vorkosigan House. A full week of briefings awaits him back at the Ministry, his punishment for taking so much time for District business. And once those are finished, he'll have an equivalent amount of briefings about District matters. I need to be two people. Or, better yet, four. But, on the other hand, as Miles had assured him, with Miles no longer running off on galactic adventures at a moment's notice, there will actually be two Vorkosigans who can handle District matters on Barrayar at the same time.
Cheered by this thought, Petya heads to the yellow parlor where the voices are coming from. The last message from Miles had included a short summary of Illyan's current condition, including that he's well enough to be receiving visitors and has been informally entertaining at tea time. Petya decides to look in, say hello, grab something to eat, and then head to the Ministry to get a jump-start on the paperwork before going to the Residence. Gregor had requested and required his presence for a small family dinner. Petya would rather go into that having spent hours distracting himself with minor diplomatic crises than having spent hours contemplating the major impending domestic crisis of a Komarran Empress.
Petya sees himself into the parlor and is unendingly grateful for a career in diplomacy when the first face he sees when he enters the room is Guy Allegre's.
Look who else is on the same planet at the same time. When was the last time they had spoken face-to-face? Two years? No, longer. Guy had still been the ImpSec section head on Komarr at the time. Comconsole conversations and messages back and forth were not the same, dammit. Their last night together comes back in a rush of memory. Petya nearly blushes as he looks Guy over. He's looking well; being a department head clearly suits him. And you didn't have grand career plans. Ha.
Petya fights the blush. Miles is giving Petya a very unnerving look, but introduces Petya to everyone present.
"But of course you already know General Allegre," Illyan says.
"Of course," Petya says. "It's been a few years. Congratulations on your promotion, sir."
"Thank you, my lord," Guy says. "And, actually, the subject at hand is one you might have an opinion on. We were just discussing maple mead."
Noted, Guy, thank you. Avoid all talk of ImpSec. "I wouldn't like it for tea," Petya says. "Miles, what have you been serving your guests?"
"Nothing like that," Miles says. "Although that is a thought. I've had stranger things foisted on me at meals."
Which is a straight line to Petya to pepper the conversation with anecdotes of the weirdest things he's had to eat in the holy name of galactic diplomacy. He rises to it and manages to pull the conversation through Dendarii meaderies to Keroslav bakeries, of all things, almost without meaning to. He's only half paying attention to the conversation.
And then he realizes that Miles is talking to him. "Yes," Petya says. "I'm having dinner at the Residence tonight. I hadn't been informed of the guest list. Will you be attending?"
"And a few of the Vorinnises," Miles says. "I could bring some maple mead and you could get Commodore Vorinnis drunk so when you two inevitably continue that fight you keep having about the Cetagandan war, you might win it this time."
"That point of ongoing arguments," Petya says, "is to argue, not come to any kind of agreement." And the point of this dinner, he knows, is to introduce Gregor's betrothed to members of Gregor's family. Getting drunk on Vorkosigan wine might be acceptable; on Vorkosigan maple mead not at all. No, on second thought, drunkenness of any sort would be a terrible idea. Doctor Toscane is Komarran; it's going to be bad enough just being Vorkosigan. She's met Miles already of course, but Miles, Petya muses, is a very non-threatening Vorkosigan.
"Diplomats and historians," Guy grumbles at him. "Only you would consider arguing without need for resolution to be a sport."
"It can last decades if you do it right," Petya smiles. "We find it such a relaxing change from needing to find common ground and be polite and diplomatic. Every so often, you just feel the need to viciously destroy someone else's argument without worrying that it will lead to disastrous consequences."
"Have you tried hand-to-hand combat?" Guy asks him dryly.
"I stay in practice," Petya says. If you offer to be my sparring partner, Guy, I will burst out laughing right here, right now. "And I carry a stunner, of course."
"Of course," Guy returns. Then he checks the time and stands up, starting to excuse himself. Petya stands as well.
"I have to get back to my Ministry before my minions burn it down. Let me drop you off."
Guy is giving him a look that says, really? You're doing this here? And Petya just barely smiles at him. They give their goodbyes and talk about the food as Petya leads them down to his groundcar.
Petya's poor ImpSec driver salutes Guy and then looks like he doesn't know who he's supposed to address. "The Ministry, my lord?"
"ImpSec headquarters first," Petya says. "Then the Ministry."
Petya climbs into the car first and settles back against the seat. "How have you been, Guy?" he asks as the groundcar canopy closes. "I haven't heard from you, although I did try to get a few messages to you last year. Did they get there?"
Guy nods. "Colonel Vortala was kind enough to take me to the side last year when Domestic Affairs reported that you were courting Dowager-Countess Vorreedi. And then was kind enough to let me know when you broke it off with her. Surprisingly, that also happened to be the day before Lord Miles returned from Jackson's Whole. I found the whole thing rather... illuminating."
Petya smiles. "One more lesson in protocol, Guy?"
"Proles, too, have been known to arrange marriages," Guy retorts. "Your timing, on the other hand, my lord, was fascinatingly transparent."
"It wasn't really meant not to be." Petya shrugs. "I have been reliably informed that I am, quote, a notorious homosexual. There comes a time when we are simply and finally forced to acknowledge that there's barely a thin veneer of respectability in how we manage dynastic continuances."
"And did your Dowager-Countess share your opinions?" Guy asks.
"Yes, Grete's as cynical a realist as it gets, I suppose. We get on well, being of similar temperament. And I'm glad Alexei found you to pass the message on before the gossip reached you first; I didn't know where you were, other than that I was officiously informed that I didn't have need-to-know where you were; otherwise, I would have tried to send a message directly."
"There's no harm in mentioning now," Guy says. "As I was already on Komarr in the aftermath of yet another crisis and had previously been read into the Naismith cover, Illyan dropped the search for Miles on my lap when he had to return to run security for the Emperor's Birthday."
"Ah," Petya says, illuminated. "Don't let Mark know. He was distraught at how ImpSec was managing the search."
"Saving my career from vengeful Vorkosigans," Guy says dryly, "was, I suspect, the main reason my coordination of the operation was kept highly classified. General Haroche expressed concern that Vorish nepotism would destroy my career if I couldn't bring Miles back."
Petya almost chokes in surprise. "I'm sorry, what?"
Guy shrugs. "He seemed very concerned about repercussions."
"Miles is Vor," Petya objects. "I might make jokes about his cover identity, but Miles never forgets what he is, and we don't either. If he dies in the Emperor's service, then he's done nothing less than his duty. There's no shame to be had, or any blame to those who couldn't manage to bring his body home."
"I don't argue with my superiors that I have a better understanding of how the Vor system works," Guy says, but he is giving Petya an assessing look. "For which I should thank you, my lord."
Petya dismisses it with a wave. "You would have had to undergo a crash course when you were assigned to the capital. I've just been giving you advanced help. It's nothing. I'm glad if it's made things easier for you, but I haven't told you anything that you wouldn't have figured out in your first five minutes here."
"That may be," Guy says, "but that's not of concern right now. There is something... I am Chief of Komarran Affairs, my lord; I live to serve. Do you require a security briefing?"
About Komarr...? "I always need security briefings," Petya says. He just doesn't tend to get them directly from Komarran Affairs. But he's sure that whatever Guy was about to say has more to do with Miles and the Vor than with Komarr. "Come back to my office, if you like, General, and you can brief me there."
Guy nods. Petya signals to the driver to take them to the Ministry instead of ImpSec.
Guy continues look to vaguely troubled, which presents itself as a strange desire to know tiny details about traffic operations in Hassadar, and Petya leads him through the Ministry of Galactic Affairs headquarters with as much haste as is seemly. If Guy is eager enough to tell him something, but cautious enough to talk around it, then Petya wants to hear what it is as soon as can be managed, before Guy thinks better of mentioning it.
"My Ministerial office," Petya says, showing Guy in and over to the small group of four arm chairs tucked in a corner. "It's as secure as ImpSec allows it to be."
"Then it's secure," Guy says. "There's an Imperial order against lying to Ministers about their security."
Petya nods. "All right." He settles down across from Guy and leans in. "How have you been?"
"Personally, well enough," Guy says. "Professionally, as well as can be expected."
"I imagine Illyan's indisposition is making things complicated at ImpSec headquarters," Petya says. "Who's taken over from him?"
"General Haroche," Guy replies. "He's the section head of Domestic Affairs, but he's Illyan's second-in-command. His deputy is running Domestic Affairs for him right now."
"This isn't a good time for Domestic Affairs to be at a disadvantage," Petya says, then he frowns. "Well, it's never a good time, but with Gregor's betrothal looming, they must be busier than ever."
"His deputy is extremely capable," Guy says. "Colonel Sokolov. I trust him to run Domestic Affairs without it losing any of its effectiveness."
But something about ImpSec is clearly bothering Guy. And if it's not Haroche's deputy, and it's not Illyan himself, that leaves one name clear at the top of the list. "I don't think I've met General Haroche," Petya says. "I haven't spent that much time in the capital since my return to Barrayar, and I don't remember our paths crossing."
Which is frankly disturbing in and of itself, even without the warning signs of Guy Allegre, of all people, going over his chain of command's heads like this. Of course District and Ministry business have been keeping Petya busy, but he hadn't realized they'd kept him so busy that he's yet to actually meet the man who is now the acting head of Imperial Security.
"He does not patronize the social scene," Guy says carefully. "He is very devoted to his duty."
If his duty is Domestic Affairs, then Petya's pretty sure part of his duty is the social scene. But they draw nearer to the point. Letting his concern show, Petya begins softly, studying Guy's reactions closely, "I trust you, General. And we've been each other's pipelines, you and I, mine into ImpSec and yours into the Vor. I trust you more than I trust Illyan--"
"Not difficult right now," Guy says. "He's just had brain surgery. I don't know if he's aware enough of himself to keep himself from spewing state secrets."
Which is a terrifying threat to the safety of the Imperium that is not even close to relevant to the matter at hand, not from the way Guy just tossed it out as a distraction to avoid following through with this conversation he invited. And Guy's never one to shy away. There is something very wrong here. Deal with the distraction, move back to the main point.
"Which is one reason that Miles extended to him the hospitality of our House," Petya says. "ImpSec is well-practiced at securing our perimeter and keeping us free from unwanted distractions. But Illyan's not the point right now, except how his illness has opened the door for Haroche. I'm not denying his suitability for the position," both because he's never met the man and also because denying his suitability would probably make Guy clam up completely, "but I want your blunt opinion of him, Guy. As blunt as possible."
"All right." Guy frowns and then clearly picks his words one by one. "Lucas is well-known and well-respected for his accomplishments. Very well-respected in ImpSec." Then he rubs at his neck, above his silver eyes. Petya can read ImpSec signals, though he's not sure if Guy remembers that, or if the signaling of this does not leave this room was merely instinctive. Either way, it's useful both as advice and a warning. "If there is any major concern," and, oh, yes, that's the key, the major concern that made Guy decide to mention this to anyone, "it's of his suitability among, ah-- for the social duties. Several years ago, there was a rumor going around that he might be overlooked for the top position in Domestic Affairs because of difficulties dealing with the Vor."
"And then there was the Yarrow," Petya says, leading him to continue. At Guy's raised eyebrow, Petya smiles slightly. "I have a Ministry now. It's shocking how much I now need to know compared to being a lowly ambassador."
"He can always pass Vor matters off to Vortala," Guy says, on the defensive; ImpSec protecting their own against foreign invaders, such as Ministers and civilians and degenerate Vor heirs. That was a mistake, Petya thinks, he needs Guy to open up, not shut down. "And he is."
Petya nods. Alexei Vortala is just another attempt at distraction right now.
"Still, my lord," Guy continues, "you asked for my blunt opinion and that's it. Lucas doesn't understand the Vor, and the Chief of ImpSec has to move in Vor circles much more than department heads must. If he's having problems doing it as a department head, I can't imagine how well he'll manage it once he's promoted. If he's promoted. Domestic Affairs is the most Vor-intense of all duty stations and he's been Domestic Affairs for most of his career. This lack of integration is," Guy frowns and hesitates for a long moment. Petya barely dares to breathe. "As a department head, you understand, Petya, I can't speak any suspicions or concerns without sounding like I'm trying to undermine his career and try for Simon's job. We are not close friends, but we are colleagues, and I respect him as an expert in his field. But I do have concerns about how well Lucas would suit and I don't think he would suit well. Inside ImpSec, Lucas is amazing. But the higher you get in ImpSec, the more you have to interact with the Vor, and Lucas is quite good at insulting them."
And that is disturbing.
But perhaps Haroche is only a temporary stop-gap. Maybe he was assigned to be the man to take over in an emergency, but never meant to be the man to keep the position permanently. A temporary man would be chosen for his ability to deal with ImpSec internal politics and keep the ship running smoothly; only a permanent man would need to interact with the outside, to make a public show of ImpSec's personal loyalty to Gregor, to embody ImpSec's threat against those who would try to overthrow the Emperor.
"I was under the impression that Simon was grooming someone as his successor," Petya says. "I apparently am not meant to know who, but I assume you do...?"
Guy opens his mouth and hesitates again. "Whoever he was," he says eventually, "he is out of the running. Perhaps that's for the best, I don't know, but he was the Emperor's choice for Simon's successor. Lucas is Simon's second-in-command and his named man to take over in case of sudden illness or death, but all department heads are required to have someone who can step into their jobs if they suddenly get shot. Mine is the head of ImpSec Komarr, of course, with one of my officers as a temporary chief until he can arrive. Lucas is Simon's, but I don't know if Simon ever truly intended him to take over ImpSec after he's gone. You understand, my lord," Guy says urgently, eyes betraying him long enough to dart around the room for any unseen listeners, "that my concern with Lucas is not over his competence or ability to do the job?"
"Yes, yes, of course," Petya assures him. "I don't suspect you of backstabbing, and if you were, I'm not the Vorkosigan you should be talking to. Miles is much better connected with ImpSec than I am."
"That," Guy says softly, "may be part of the problem. Lucas has always been suspicious of the typical Vor nepotism. And you must admit that your brother is a conspicuous example of it."
Petya grimaces. "Quite true," he says. "Although as a department head, Haroche must have access to Miles's complete file. He'll know that, once nepotism got him in, competence kept him in."
Guy lets it pass, clearly unwilling to touch that one. Probably too much going on there that can be talked about with someone without the highest ImpSec security clearance, Petya supposes.
And for all that Guy's concerns are worrying, maybe Illyan had known. Maybe it is in Haroche's favor that he can't deal well with the Vor. Illyan has played stranger games with ImpSec over the years. Maybe Haroche is the end result of his machinations. Maybe someone who doesn't play well with the Vor is the point.
"And maybe it is time for a change," Petya muses. "No one could accuse Negri of over-familiarity with the Vor. It was only Illyan's relationship with my father that brought ImpSec into its current position." He hesitates. "On the other hand, I do remember my father ordering Illyan to completely dismantle ImpSec from the inside. Something about how Negri ran it being incompatible with any sense of posthumous continuance. ImpSec nearly fell apart after Negri died, and it took Illyan longer than it should have to pick up the pieces and figure out where everything went. I know he's spent the last thirty years trying to blunt-force it into a modern, galactic organization. Perhaps putting someone in charge who doesn't have a particularly good opinion of the Vor is a logical step forward in Illyan's plan."
Guy shakes his head. "From my vantage point, that would destroy ImpSec better than any bomb or any treason. If the Vor turn against us, if you lot stop working with us, then Domestic Affairs loses all ability to function in High Vor society, and we lose eyes and ears on the most dangerous plots against the Emperor: the ones that have a chance of actually succeeding. It only takes a weapon to assassinate an Emperor, but it takes the Vor to overthrow him from within, someone like Vordrozda or Vordarian. Or your grandfather," Guy adds. "Proles can think up plots to destroy the Residence, but a palace coup is always the province of the Vor. We need the Vor to cooperate with us willingly, rather than through fast-penta."
"That's true," Petya says. "And of course that's why the Chief must be a prole; it's far too dangerous a position to give to the Vor. That was Ezar's finest reform, in my opinion: putting a Dendarii hillman in charge of the Emperor's security. Even Serg knew that, which I suspect was why he worked well enough with Grishnov; Grishnov thought he could be Negri and be the man with all the power and much less of the risk, and Serg knew that Grishnov couldn't overthrow him and expect to remain in power long enough to take ten consecutive breaths. Yuri's worst mistake, someone once suggested to me, was putting a Vorpatril in charge of ImpSec." Guy is looking a little green, and Petya wishes he could go back and take that last back; by mutual unspoken agreement, Yuri isn't a topic they discuss. "Thanks to Ezar, it's now understood that ImpSec has to remain visibly separate from the Vor. There's too much implied threat, and I find it somewhat amusing that ImpSec, for all that it must work hand-in-hand with the Vor, is one place where Vorish nepotism works the other way. It is the one position on the General Staff where the Vor are most certainly not welcome."
"He is appointed directly by the Emperor," Guy says, "and serves at his whim. And he may be of any rank. It's not exactly the same as the others on the Staff. If anything, his appointment is more like an ambassador's than someone like your father becoming an Admiral of the Fleet."
Petya wonders why Guy thinks Petya doesn't know that. "Of course," he says. "I know it's highly political, and the Chief of ImpSec has to find his own way among the political scene. With sometimes harsh consequences; Illyan did spend a month in his own dungeons in preparation for Vordrozda's failed coup. But I remember Negri and I remember the way he would fade into the background, until you suddenly couldn't not notice him. Illyan's very good at doing the same. He walks among the Vor, but isn't a Vor. But he plays the Vor game very well. He knows where to stand. Everyone's scared of him. Because he walks lightly and he sees everything."
Petya gestures to his collar, and Guy's fingers brush over his Horus eyes in return. He gives Petya a very blank look.
"Whether Illyan's successor would be required to do the same is probably up to Illyan," Petya says. "For all that ImpSec must been assumed to have its Horus eyes everywhere and on everyone, you don't need the Chief of ImpSec to charm them, or, in the case of Illyan, charmingly terrify them, to do that. I don't know if I'd give that job to Alexei Vortala -- I don't think he could terrify a houseplant -- but there are others who could be deputized for Haroche. He doesn't need to do it himself. Perhaps this cult of personality around the Chief of ImpSec is as unhealthy to the Imperium as Cordelia often said it was. She's usually correct about these kinds of things, and I know she likes Illyan, so it wasn't meant as an insult to him."
"I'm just stuck," Guy says, amused, "on your characterization of Colonel Lord Vortala as harmless and not terrifying."
"Highest of High Vor," Petya says, pointing to himself. "I eat collateral lines for breakfast."
"And Vortala cousins," Guy mentions.
Petya groans. Speaking of ImpSec having eyes everywhere. "My relationship with Maxim Vortala was brief. Very brief. The rest of our friendship is, and always has been, political wrangling. Just because we're of similar temperament doesn't mean that we're conducting some strange, horrifying romance to titillate and entertain the masses."
But Guy seems eager to change the subject away from his concerns over Haroche and the succession of the Chiefship, so Petya lets it go. They can come back around to it eventually in its own time if Guy wants Petya to do anything about it other than listen to his concerns. But Guy, for understandable reasons, has always been somewhat allergic to any implication that he's benefiting from Vorish nepotism, so maybe Guy doesn't want Petya to do anything other than listen to him and maybe try to talk him out of it. If Guy wants Petya to talk to Gregor about this, Petya would be happy to oblige him, but he thinks it would say a lot about Guy's concerns if Guy chose now to use their friendship to circumvent his chain of command.
"I don't think anyone called it strange," Guy muses. "More like politically convenient, but with a worry it would damage the progressives if you and Lord Vortala had an emotional and acrimonious breakup."
"I hate Vorbarr Sultana," Petya sighs. "A lot. And it's quite unfair. You know all about me, you can find it all out quite easily, I imagine, but if I want to know about you, I have to ask you directly. You can cheat."
"Yes," Guy says dryly, "for definitions of cheating that mean being in a courier jumpship with Colonel Vortala and hearing all the choice gossip."
"So what about you?" Petya asks, not casually. "Has there been anyone?"
"I completely understand your difficulty," Guy says. "How's that for a diplomatic answer?"
"Ha." Petya grins. "Although you have the advantage of me; you don't have to wonder what would happen if your lover slipped you fast-penta in your sleep."
"I would wake up inconveniently dead," Guy agrees. "But, no, there's no one right now. It's a shame. I never expected to still be in ImpSec this far along, but now that I am, and assigned to the capital for good measure, I've discovered that somewhere along the way, I sacrificed any hope of having a private life in exchange for a career. It's suddenly a lot more dangerous than it used to be."
"Welcome to Vorbarr Sultana," Petya mutters. "Come for the history, stay for the assassination attempts."
"Yes, yes, us proles and our prole ideas of danger," Guy dismisses. "Being targets because of what we do rather than who we are. I've heard that Vor complaint enough. But it doesn't necessarily vanish upon retirement. Illyan's going to have security for the rest of his life."
"Yes, but not the beginning of it," Petya says. "There's a reason, I suspect, why you lot put Alexei Vortala in charge of handling Vor security. When we complain to him, we know that he understands."
"He does understand the capital scene," Guy says. "Thoroughly."
"And I'm sure Counter-Intelligence misses him desperately now that he's been stolen to run security for Gregor's betrothal and wedding," Petya says. "So there hasn't been anyone recently, for you?"
Guy shakes his head. "Not since my promotion, and I can't see anything happening for the next year. As it stands right now, ImpSec only grudgingly acknowledges that we do sometimes go off duty. Komarran Affairs is volatile at the best of times, and now the Emperor is about to marry a Komarran. On the one hand, it's far too dangerous. On the other, anyone I was involved with would have to understand that I'm not going off duty, not really, until after the Emperor's wedding. I will always be on standby, ready to be called back to headquarters at any time, no matter what my prior plans had been."
"I understand," Petya says. "I'm in the same situation. It's difficult to try to court someone when you can't guarantee you'll actually have time to court him."
Guy looks at him steadily. "You're getting more transparent with age."
"I wasn't trying not to be," Petya shrugs. "I've been thinking of throwing a dinner party," he says. "Miles tells me I need to start playing host outside of inviting Ministers over. Nothing too sociable, of course, that's for Miles to do, and he's welcome to it. But... something small, something discreet." He licks his lips. "I want to court you carefully, General Allegre," he says softly. "Without scandal and with discretion, but... I don't object to doing it publicly, if necessary. Although I suspect you might."
"ImpSec doesn't need scandal," Guy says after a moment. "Who were you planning on inviting to this small, private dinner party?"
"I hadn't considered yet," Petya says. "Friends. You. Commodore Vorinnis is a particularly good chaperone; he runs the history department at the Academy and can be depended upon to give an appropriately bookish answer to any probing question. It's an excellent deflection technique."
"You need a fourth." Guy pauses, then says. "Invite one of my analysts, Duv Galeni. He's Komarran."
"Certainly," Petya says. A Komarran ranked highly in Komarran Affairs? That little detail had been left out of Miles's very brief explanation of the man who'd been Illyan's choice for checking up on Miles. "I suppose all of Komarr comes under topics to avoid. What are safe topics?"
"He has a doctorate in history," Guy says. "Barrayaran history and political theory. I suspect that could keep you two busy for years. You don't remember him?"
Petya frowns. "Should I? He sent me a message when I was in the District about entering the House to find Miles, but other than that, the name isn't familiar."
"He remembers you. Vividly. I get the impression you scared him out of his mind," Guy says. "At the Academy."
At the Academy? Oh. "Oh. Of course. The Komarran history professor. Commodore Vorinnis will be pleased. He was salivating over him; he wanted him desperately for his own department. You could see him itching to get his hands on him and not let go, he wanted him so much. And then ImpSec grabbed him. It was a great disappointment."
"So you had him in one of your classes?" Guy presses.
"It was years ago," Petya says, "so it's possible I'm misremembering, but I don't think so, I don't think I had any of the Komarrans. I'm a Vorkosigan, after all; the Academy is not completely heartless. But he probably did witness... yes, I think the dates are right. I did the rough interrogation scenario a few times and we had to debrief the Komarrans afterwards. And, yes, that's right. He saw me undergo a rough interrogation."
Guy just stares at him.
"Not a real one!" Petya says. "They're all scripted, of course, and we're always very careful, but it's very convincing. It's supposed to be. That scenario was the Komarran terrorist one, so the Academy drafted me for it. We pulled the Komarran cadets to the side when it was over and let them know it was all fake. We're not supposed to let cadets know it's not really fast-penta, although we trust them to be smart enough to figure out on their own that it was all under control at all times, but it was a choice between breaking security or frightening the Komarrans we'd carefully recruited into running back to the domes, and it was agreed that breaking security was the better choice."
"So the Academy doesn't interrogate every single one of its students," Guy muses. "It just shows you what a horrible interrogation looks like."
"Those who are going into ImpSec go through fast-penta," Petya says. "And the Diplomatic Corps, of course, because we're high-profile kidnapping targets."
Petya counts himself lucky that he'd had the required dose in ImpSec training before the political officers had descended, so it hadn't been as horrible as it could have been. He'd at least had first-hand knowledge of what the dose felt like. And although that comfort had been small, it had still been better than no comfort at all. He'd already experienced that loss of all control, that unstoppable spew of information, even though that training scenario couldn't in all honesty have been called an interrogation. His training-required dose had lasted less than five minutes. The instructors had asked him his name and his father's name and Petya had given them a little ramble about how he was supposed to have been named Piotr Xav and how he wasn't sure anymore if he still wished he were, and then he'd been given the antagonist. He hadn't known what an interrogation could be, how it could feel, until the political officers descended.
"And a scattering of others," Petya continues, "like service security. And you can request it if it's not required, although few ever do, and some of those who do are not allowed it." Gregor, for instance. "We're not going to waste doses. Ship duty of course doesn't get it automatically, or operations, or administration, or infantry, and so on; if you're probably never going to be interrogated, we don't need to waste fast-penta on you, just show you what proper interrogations and what those that have gone horribly wrong look like. Although if you make ship's captain without having had the dose, they make you go through it for the experience. I remember when I was a cadet, our nightmare scenario was a greekie secessionist plot and they'd recruited a Lord Auditor to play the victim. Now that was terrifying. That was one of those things Illyan put a stop to when he became Chief, as I recall. No one playing a treacherous greekie hick was going to be the worst case scenario with a greekie controlling the Academy's supply of fast-penta."
"And you replaced it with Komarrans instead?" Guy asks.
"We replaced that one, the Domestic Affairs one, with rather generic isolationist fanatics instead. I don't know how much of it you see in Komarran Affairs, but the biggest fear for fast-penta interrogation is, and is always going to be, home-grown. At least for the Vor. A greekie hick has a much better idea of what to ask than a Komarran revolutionary would. Fast-penta requires questions to get answers, after all. The worst-case scenario for any Vor is the Domestic Affairs one. But the Academy was not going to waste the opportunity of having the Prime Minister's son as an available instructor. And they're on a cycle anyway."
"I'm sure it was a joy and a pleasure," Guy says. "Or have you come around on fast-penta?"
"So long as they're not actually giving me the dose, I don't mind it at all." Petya smiles slightly. "And I don't mind this interrogation, sir, but if you want to continue it, I suggest we do it later, since I suspect you actually did need to get back to your headquarters, and I need to review my briefing materials before I meet our future Empress tonight. Will you be calling on Illyan tomorrow for tea?"
Guy shakes his head. "No, but maybe later in the week. I'll let you know," he promises.
Petya stands as Guy does. "And I'll get in touch with you about that dinner," he promises in return. And let me know if you want me to talk to Gregor about Haroche. No. If Guy wants him to talk to Gregor, then Guy will ask him to do it. If Petya presses him on this on the heels of propositioning him, Guy would definitely get the wrong impression. "Please tell your Captain Galeni that I'll be getting in touch with an invitation."
"Warn him, more likely," Guy mutters.
"I promise not to bite him," Petya says. "Or be too Vorkosigan." And maybe one day being a Vorkosigan around Komarrans won't be so complicated. Petya hopes he'll live to see it. They're going to be getting a Komarran Empress, after all, so perhaps there's hope.
"Just be a historian at him," Guy advises. "He responds well to it." He looks comically troubled. "Three argumentative historians around one table. What monster have I created?"
Hopefully one that can distract anyone looking for an ImpSec scandal to look elsewhere. "Hopefully, a pleasant evening," Petya says. "Dinner, conversation... perhaps I could convince you afterwards to stay around for a drink. Vorkosigan House is large enough that Miles and I can conduct our lives with some element of privacy. Even adding Illyan into the equation does not disrupt anything. I would hope... I hope that we can find time for each other amidst the madness and the circus. I suspect it will not be a lot of time, or anywhere near enough, but I hope that it will serve to whet the palate for more, for when we can find the time."
"This is a mutual courtship," Guy reminds him, and presses his hand to the back of Petya's neck. He closes the space between them and kisses him quickly. Petya stops Guy before he can move away and kisses him deeper. Guy murmurs against his lips, "just remember, if it all blows up in disaster, we're both to blame."
Petya grins. "You spies and your explosions."
"If it weren't for ImpSec making problems," Guy says, stepping back and making a show of making sure his uniform is all in order, "you Diplomatic Corps boys wouldn't have anything to do. We have to create disasters so you can clean them up, after all."
"You've met Miles," Petya says. "I'm still hearing diplomats grumble at me that they wish they were allowed to talk about some of the disasters he's dropped in their laps. If the Corps and the Service could take a vote, they would never allow him off of Barrayar."
"Even now that you're a Minister?" Guy asks.
"You've met Miles," Petya repeats. "Are you surprised?"
Guy considers that. "No."
"I could ask Gregor to have me read in," Petya says, "if I thought it was that important. And of course if any of it blows up again, I'll be informed. But for now, the less I know about Miles's career, the better I sleep at night." And Petya thinks that it says something about Miles's career that the fact that he's a temporary Imperial Auditor means that he's probably less likely to be assassinated than when he was a lowly ImpSec Lieutenant.
"I look forward to seeing how you sleep at night," Guy says. "And on that note..."
"You make excellent promises," Petya tells him. "I'll be in touch."