Forward Momentum -- Chapter 13 (c)
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The next afternoon, while Ekaterin and Master Tsipis, flown up from Hassadar, were greatly enjoying a surprise visit to the Occupation Memorial by the Lord Guardian of the Speaker’s Circle and his old friend Count Vorhalas, both to all appearances genuinely interested in her plans and strongly supportive, Miles was on another errand.
Beside him Jack Chandler looked nervous as they were signed and scanned into ImpSec’s imposing HQ, but Miles steered him directly to Allegre’s office. As soon as they were inside Allegre activated a full cone of silence and a frame set into the wall opposite his desk. Dag Benin’s black-and-white Imperial Array appeared with the cluttered surface of his own desk.
“Guy, Miles. And Dr Chandler.”
“Hello Dag. Are you alone under a cone of silence?”
“As requested.” His brown eyes were bright. “What is today’s bombshell, Miles? I am almost looking forward to it.”
Miles smiled dryly. “Hold that thought, Dag. And let me scare you both properly by apologising for having kept this stuff back. But I think you’ll understand, and see why the record of what’s about to be said must be truly eyes only for our Imperial and Celestial Masters.”
Benin and Allegre both sobered at this. Allegre’s eyes glinted. “An apology in advance, Miles?”
“Yes. I owe you another, really, Guy, but I made sure no harm was done. You remember I said Jack had convinced me of his bona fides, but omitted to say how? Well, he had to do that before we got to frames. So he gave me a Terran ID that had a Barrayaran security code. From the PAG system in your inner lab.”
“What?” Allegre’s eyebrows were in orbit.
“Just so. And how do we suppose Jack managed that, eh? He is a great inventor, not a great spy.”
There was a brief silence. Then Allegre and Benin spoke in unison. “You only need one frame.”
Miles nodded. “Very good. It took me several days. Jack?”
Brown Cetagandan and blue Barrayaran eyes were boring into the Terran, who grimaced but nodded. “First, as this is going to my Imperial Master and His Celestial Majesty, let me again apologise to them and to all. I respected propriety as much as I possibly could.”
“Facts first, Jack.”
“Alright. With linked frames there are quantum structures and values that are matched, to identify one another across space. But if you have a frame with tuning controls and a known distance, you can try to match with atoms that are already there. Getting usable data is murderously difficult and time-consuming. Very slow work.”
“And what usable data did you get, Dr Chandler?” Benin was very still, his voice a courteous enquiry.
Chandler winced. “In your case, General, I had the great good fortune to overhear, with a lot of static and some very limited visuals, a conversation you had with General Coram about Lord Vorkosigan.”
“And what was its occasion?”
“You had received a report about an attempt on Lady Vorkosigan’s life using a designer neurotoxin linked to House Bharaputra. What caught my attention was your evident relief at her survival, and inventive cursing of the Bharaputrans.”
Miles tipped Benin a lazy salute, which he ignored.
“Yes. As I recall my reaction caught Ferrant’s attention, and we managed to waste half-a-morning while I showed him some of the more coherent bits of Lord Vorkosigan’s file and told him what I might about events of ten years ago.” His face suddenly cleared a little and he turned. “Miles, I’m sorry I unwittingly revealed so much of your file. You suspected when you first contacted me that Dr Chandler might be my agent, yes?”
“I did, Dag. He had to have got some of his data from the Celestial Garden. But then you’d know I’d know, which made no sense, and I didn’t know enough about frames to work it out. It’s all turned out well enough in the end.”
Benin nodded. “Yes. I am happy though to understand this. There was an element that had puzzled me.”
“So what did you get on Barrayar, Jack?” Allegre might be using Chandler’s forename but his look was still chilly.
“Only the PAG system.” The Terran’s voice went grumpy. “This building is a nightmare to chart. I only got to your lab because all descriptions agreed the secure labs were central-and by that point I thought that would mean literally central. So I did the trigonometry from outside. The PAG system was the first thing I heard about, and suited my need perfectly, so I got close enough to see how it worked and crib the essential codes you were using. No-one else knows anything, and neither notes nor any other record exists in any form.”
Allegre thawed a bit, whether at the surprise line-of-defence granted by the famously insane internal design of the ImpSec building-the architect was a Vorrutyer appointed by Mad Yuri-or at Chandler’s assurances of how limited his intrusion had been Miles was unsure. No matter.
Benin spoke, “If this kind of eavesdropping is so difficult, Miles, we are not talking about something that can become a regular technique.”
“No, we’re not. Which is a very good thing as there would seem to be no possible shielding against it. So let’s damn the temptation to try it at some tricky juncture, and put it firmly away in a tightly locked box.”
“Can we?” Allegre was doubtful.
“Guy, everyone already knows you need two frames, just as you do two comconsoles or two wristcoms or whatever. And right now, the only people who know otherwise are present, while the only person who could even begin to do it or teach it is Jack, who won’t. So if both sides agree now genuinely to deep-six it, then yes, we can bury this.”
“I agree. And I will so tell my Celestial Master, as strongly as is proper.” Benin’s face was thoughtful. “I will also say formally, Miles, that I think you did rightly in this. You warned me some parts of the … hypothesis would be too distracting for both Vor and ghem until we had somewhere solid to stand together. Is there more?”
Miles smiled. “Oh yes, there’s more. That was the bad news. Now for the good. Jack?”
Chandler took a breath and spoke fast but clearly. “A wormhole is a spontaneous connection through space-time that occurs when certain quantum-signatures in distinct places randomly happen into a particular kind of identity. Natural wormhole termini occur in particular distance-bands from planetary and solar masses because the kinds of quantum-flutuations caused in those bands are more likely to generate such happenings into identity.” He paused to let them see it coming. “Frame technology requires quantum-values be … enforced. I have created stable wormholes on nano and micro scales in my lab. Hypothetically, I can see no reason why stable interplanetary wormholes should not be equally created and maintained.”
For a moment Miles contemplated the spectacle of Benin going white beneath his Imperial Array. How was he doing it? He must get to see the man without paint. Guy was a nasty puce. Forwards. Miles again made his voice brisk, and forced into it a confident drive he didn’t quite feel.
“Quite a thought, eh? And there’s no burying this for very long. But may I remind you both of two points? That we are about jointly to declare ownership of a whopping volume of very empty space, full of systems that need accurate mapping and are a long way away from any possible observers. And that a wormhole terminus is a highly detectable thing, gravitationally speaking, especially if it’s popping out of nowhere.” He paused briefly. “I suggest a small, joint team, monitored by frame from these offices only, should retire to somewhere suitably distant and get the practicalities sorted-to include, as a priority, the best possible detectors we can build together. Natural gravitational waves, by the way, are transmissable by frame, unlike artificial grav, so detection ranges can certainly be extended. Jack thinks sensitivity can also be significantly improved by adding a form of quantum response to gravitic anomaly he knows about.”
“Which is how I knew about the anomaly I mentioned to Lord Auditor Vorthys that weekend, General.” Allegre still looked strangled, but nodded at this. Benin frowned slightly and his eyes flicked to Miles, who waved a hand dismissively.
“Incidental and internal, Dag. Truly.”
“As you say, Miles. And once again I think I will buy your plan. Would I be right to think, Dr Chandler, that very large power-supplies would be needed for this process?”
“My best guess is smaller than most physicists would think possible, but for interplanetary distance, nevertheless, yes. Initially gigawatts at least, at both ends. Once they are established, much less, I think.”
“Good. Such power is also nicely detectable. And Miles, this actually is good news. Extraordinarily so. The Tau and Phi Cetans will party for weeks when they learn of it. ” Benin’s face was for once openly admiring beneath his black-and-white stripes. “Though how you sat on it for this long amazes me. And”-his look sharpened again-“it also puts a very different complexion on the Imperial and Celestial permissions to travel. There will have to be a direct link between Barrayar and Eta Ceta, and people will use it in much larger numbers than we had thought. Sergyar and Rho Ceta, too. You must have seen this.”
“Oh yes, Dag. And Aralyar to everywhere-the biggest hub of all. I don’t mind anyone hearing me say I’m doing my damnednest to take the possibility of conflict between Vor and ghem off everyone’s list of options. Permanently. This will help, and is entirely in the spirit of our agreement.”
“So it is. And as mad and sane as those bubbles will be.” Benin laughed to himself. “Very well. Is there anything else? No? Then Guy, might I beg a private word with Miles before I take this sealed record to my Imperial Master and disturb his day yet again?” Allegre was still not altogether happy, but Miles had warned him to some degree, the straight-to-Gregor order relieved him of any decision, and he knew in any case that a solid agreement between this Lord Auditor and General Benin would carry the day. So he nodded, and escorted Chandler out to his ante-room, closing the door behind him. Miles and Dag looked at one another in silence for a moment.
“So, my friend, we come to the bottom of Dr Chandler’s barrel at last. For now at least. You have done well. But you have been hard on Guy, I think.”
Miles shrugged. “Guy’s brilliant domestically, but doesn’t think very galactically, and knows it. And thank you, Dag. Your praise means something.”
“The rest does not?” Benin’s voice was wry and curious. “I heard your Imperial Master name you in His broadcast. Mine laughed.”
“You watched it together?”
“Yes. I was surprised, but He invited me to be there with him and the haut Rian.” He studied Miles’s face. “Perhaps I should say that I know about your very interesting conversation yesterday with Vanos Kariam, and I too have seen. Not often, but as I have grown into this job you propelled me towards, my Imperial Master has seen me whole and given me His deeper trust. As you guessed.”
“Yes. Hoped, anyway. I know Gregor would have done, and I guessed haut genetics and strategy hadn’t yet overcome all the pragmatics of imperial rule.”
“Miles, Miles.” Benin laughed softly. “Whatever shall our Masters do with you?”
Miles stayed very straight-faced. “If your Master so desires, and as proper penance, send me to Marilac with a … strictly limited license for some private resurrection as necessary.”
“Ah. I wondered if you might make that offer if we waited. The answer will be yes.”
“Do I have anything concrete to offer them?”
“Once everything has quieted down, a treaty with the Alliance confirming their political boundaries in January 2789.”
Miles kept his face carefully neutral. That was just before the Cetagandan attack, so they were conceding in full the status quo ante, which was more than they needed to do. “Thank you, Dag. Early next year, then. Ekaterin graduates again just before Winterfair, and I’ll use our galactic honeymoon as a cover for the Marilacan visit.”
“Yes, that will work for us well. And now I shall tell you something I probably shouldn’t, Miles, but I believe I have the leeway and it may do you some good. You can regard it as thanks for obliging Halir Lhosh to become second-in-command of several million brightly coloured bubbles.”
Miles let himself grin this time. “Uh-oh. Do I want to know, Dag?”
“Perhaps not. But you will not be bored.” Dag’s face-paint shifted with his complex smile. “When I finally got the raw footage from Dagoola IV and saw you being thrown into that, ah, Lhosh-minded installation, I felt my heart lift with anticipation of how you were going to do it. Even after I worked out who your agents in our control must have been-and please give Admiral Quinn and Madame Bothari-Jesek my compliments-it took many hours to realise that you had come only for Colonel Tremont and, ah, upgraded horses in mid-stream; many more to isolate from a month of recordings the key phrases whereby you gave orders to Commander Tung.” He shook his head. “It still amazes me, Miles. Did you know there is much argument among military ghem about what happened at Dagoola, and how? That surprisingly accurate Marilacan ’vid was universally dismissed, much to my amusement. It did overplay the religious ploy.”
Miles laughed. “They tried to hire Naismith as creative consultant. I declined with regret, and Elli sent a couple of troopers who needed a break and had been on the ground. But they also hired Suegar.”
Benin was laughing too. “I realised that. But what I was going to tell you, Miles, was that I made an edited version-still several hours, but compacted around some realtime chunks-and added an analytical report of exactly how, in my opinion, Barrayar’s ImpSec had removed 10,336 of our prisoners-of-war, and why that action would successfully deny us Marilac as a functioning satrapy within a decade. And this I gave to my Imperial Master, who is a far greater strategist than I.”
A silence stretched until Miles could bear it no longer. “And?”
“Do you know what the haut would call the highest virtues, Miles?”
“Tell me.”
“Indomitability and beauty, understood in wholly pragmatic terms. I believe that report may have been my best contribution to this treaty, and I think it will help you with Ferrant and his fellow-pilgrims to know why my Imperial Master is willing to trust you in … matters of style. And that he trusts you know what is decent between the Vor and … friends.”
Miles understood to the core. Giaja to Rian to Pel to Kariam to Dag, and back to Giaja. Can’t beat the man but he’s offering a draw. He bowed in his seat, and straightened to meet Dag’s amused eyes. “I live to serve. Like you.”
“Yes. And Miles, on that other matter …”
“Yes?”
“While Ferrant is away I am of course bound here. But my Celestial Master has agreed the Commander of his Imperial Guard should in this unexpected new condition of the Nexus properly make closer, personal contacts with such senior Barrayarans as yourself. During your Winterfair, maybe.” He gave a sly grin. “Perhaps I could leave off my paint, then, for some of the time.”
“Oh.” Shy pleasure was not in either man’s repertoire, though a neutral observer might have been surprised to learn it. “Ekaterin will be very pleased. See if you can come to her graduation.”
“I shall make a point of it.”
Miles sketched another salute, and Dag broke the connection. Phew. It had been a long haul, but the vital trust had held-forged a decade before when he and Dag and Rian, whom he thought Giaja did actually love, had depended on one another for their lives. And even if his Gran’da had not been able to approve the outcome, he would have honoured the means. Miles left Allegre’s office whistling.