lmb.shardsofhonor-第48部分

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uess。　I　don't　know　what　land。〃
　〃Too　bad；〃　said　Vorkosigan；　keeping　his　face　straight。　〃I　hate　to　make　you　alter　your　plans；　Lieutenant　Koudelka；　but　you've　been　reassigned。〃　And　laid　on　his　bedside　tray；　in　order；　like　a　fine　hand　of　cards；　Koudelka's　newly　cut　orders；　his　promotion；　and　a　pair　of　red　collar　tabs。
　Cordelia　had　never　enjoyed　Koudelka's　expressive　face　more。　It　was　a　study　in　bewilderment　and　rising　hope。　He　picked　up　the　orders　carefully　and　read　them　through。
　〃Oh；　sir！　I　know　this　isn't　a　joke；　but　it's　got　to　be　a　mistake！　Personal　secretary　to　the　Regent…elect…I　don't　know　anything　about　the　work。　It's　an　impossible　job。〃
　〃Do　you　know；　that's　almost　exactly　what　the　Regent…elect　said　about　his　job；　when　he　was　first　offered　it；〃　said　Cordelia。　〃I　guess　you'll　both　have　to　learn　them　together。〃
　〃How　did　he　e　to　pick　me？　Did　you　remend　me；　sir？　e　to　think　of　it。。。〃　He　turned　the　orders　over；　reading　them　through　again；　〃who　is　the　Regent　going　to　be；　anyway？〃　He　raised　his　eyes　to　Vorkosigan；　and　made　the　connection　at　last。　〃My　God；〃　he　whispered。　He　did　not；　as　Cordelia　thought　he　might；　grin　and　congratulate；　but　instead　looked　quite　serious。　〃It's…a　hell　of　a　job；　sir。　But　I　think　the　government's　finally　done　something　right。　I'd　be　proud　to　serve　you　again。　Thank　you。〃
　Vorkosigan　nodded；　in　agreement　and　acceptance。
　Koudelka　did　grin；　when　he　picked　up　the　promotion　order。　〃Thanks　for　this；　too；　sir。〃
　〃Don't　thank　me　too　soon。　I　intend　to　sweat　blood　out　of　you　in　return。〃
　Koudelka's　grin　widened。　〃Nothing　new　about　that。〃　He　fumbled　clumsily　with　the　collar　tabs。
　〃May　I　do　that；　Lieutenant？〃　asked　Cordelia。　He　looked　up　defensively。　〃For　my　pleasure；〃　she　added。
　〃It　would　be　an　honor；　Milady。〃
　Cordelia　fastened　them　to　his　collar　straightly；　with　the　greatest　care；　and　stepped　back　to　admire　her　work。　〃Congratulations；　Lieutenant。〃
　〃You　can　get　shiny　new　ones　tomorrow；〃　Vorkosigan　said。　〃But　I　thought　these　would　do　for　tonight。　I'm　springing　you　out　of　here　now。　We'll　put　you　up　at　the　Count　my　father's　Residence　tonight；　because　work　starts　tomorrow　at　dawn。〃
　Koudelka　fingered　the　red　rectangles。　〃Were　they　yours；　sir？〃
　〃Once。　I　hope　they　don't　bring　you　my　luck；　which　was　always　vile；　but…wear　them　in　good　health。〃
　Koudelka　gave　him　a　nod；　and　a　smile。　He　clearly　found　Vorkosigan's　gesture　profoundly　meaningful；　exceeding　his　capacity　for　words。　But　the　two　men　understood　each　other　perfectly　well　without　them。　〃Don't　think　I　want　new　ones；　sir。　People　would　just　think　I'd　been　an　ensign　yesterday。〃
　Later；　lying　warm　in　the　darkness　in　Vorkosigan's　room　in　the　Count's　town　house；　Cordelia　remembered　a　curiosity。　〃What　did　you　say　to　the　Emperor；　about　me？〃
　He　stirred　beside　her；　and　pulled　the　sheet　tenderly　up　over　her　bare　shoulder；　tenting　them　together。　〃Hm？　Oh；　that。〃　He　hesitated。　〃Ezar　had　been　questioning　me　about　you；　in　our　argument　about　Escobar。　Implied　that　you　had　affected　my　nerve；　for　the　worse。　I　didn't　know　then　if　I'd　ever　see　you　again。　He　wanted　to　know　what　I　saw　in　you。　I　told　him。。。〃　he　paused　again；　and　then　continued　almost　shyly；　〃that　you　poured　out　honor　like　a　fountain；　all　around　you。〃
　〃That's　weird。　I　don't　feel　full　of　honor；　or　anything　else；　except　maybe　confusion。〃
　〃Naturally　not。　Fountains　keep　nothing　for　themselves。〃
　
　AFTERMATHS
　The　shattered　ship　hung　in　space；　a　black　bulk　in　the　darkness。　It　still　turned；　imperceptibly　slowly；　one　edge　eclipsed　and　swallowed　the　bright　point　of　a　star。　The　lights　of　the　salvage　crew　arced　over　the　skeleton。　Ants；　ripping　up　a　dead　moth；　Ferrell　thought。　Scavengers。。。
　He　sighed　dismay　into　his　forward　observation　screen；　and　pictured　the　ship　as　it　had　been；　scant　weeks　before。　The　wreckage　untwisted　in　his　mind…a　cruiser；　alive　with　patterns　of　gaudy　lights　that　always　made　him　think　of　a　party　seen　across　night　waters。　Responsive　as　a　mirror　to　the　mind　under　its　Pilot's　headset；　where　man　and　machine　penetrated　the　interface　and　became　one。　Swift；　gleaming；　functional。。。　no　more。　He　glanced　to　his　right；　and　cleared　his　throat　self…consciously。
　〃Well；　Medtech；〃　he　spoke　to　the　woman　who　stood　beside　his　station；　staring　into　the　screen　as　silently　and　long　as　he　had。　〃There's　our　starting　point。　Might　as　well　go　ahead　and　begin　the　pattern　sweep　now；　I　suppose。
　〃Yes；　please　do；　Pilot　Officer。〃　She　had　a　gravelly　alto　voice；　suitable　for　her　age；　which　Ferrell　judged　to　be　about　forty…five。　The　collection　of　thin　silver　five…year　service　chevrons　on　her　left　sleeve　made　an　impressive　glitter　against　the　dark　red　uniform　of　the　Escobaran　military　medical　service。　Dark　hair　shot　with　grey；　cut　short　for　ease　of　maintenance；　not　style；　a　matronly　heaviness　to　her　hips。　A　veteran；　it　appeared。　Ferrell's　sleeve　had　yet　to　sprout　even　his　first…year　stripe；　and　his　hips；　and　the　rest　of　his　body；　still　maintained　an　unfilled　adolescent　stringiness。
　But　she　was　only　a　tech；　he　reminded　himself；　not　even　a　physician。　He　was　a　full…fledged　Pilot　Officer。　His　neurological　implants　and　biofeedback　training　were　all　plete。　He　was　certified；　licensed；　and　graduated…just　three　frustrating　days　too　late　to　participate　in　what　was　now　being　dubbed　the　120　Day　War。　Although　in　fact　it　had　only　been　118　days　and　part　of　an　hour　between　the　time　the　spearhead　of　the　Barrayaran　invasion　fleet　penetrated　Escobaran　local　space；　and　the　time　the　last　survivors　fled　the　counterattack；　piling　through　the　wormhole　exit　for　home　as　though　scuttling　for　a　burrow。
　〃Do　you　wish　to　stand　by？〃　he　asked　her。
　She　shook　her　head。　〃Not　yet。　This　inner　area　has　been　pretty　well　worked　over　in　the　last　three　weeks。　I　wouldn't　expect　to　find　anything　on　the　first　four　turns；　although　it's　good　to　be　thorough。　I've　a　few　things　to　arrange　yet　in　my　work　area；　and　then　I　think　I'll　get　a　catnap。　My　department　has　been　awfully　busy　the　last　few　months；〃　she　added　apologetically。　〃Understaffed；　you　know。　Please　call　me　if　you　do　spot　anything；　though…I　prefer　to　handle　the　tractor　myself；　whenever　possible。〃
　〃Fine　by　me。〃　He　swung　about　in　his　chair　to　his　console。　〃What　minimum　mass　do　you　want　a　bleep　for？　About　forty　kilos；　say？〃
　〃One　kilo　is　the　standard　I　prefer。〃
　〃One　kilo！〃　He　stared。　〃Are　you　joking？〃
　〃Joking？〃　She　stared　back；　then　seemed　to　arrive　at　enlightenment。　〃Oh；　I　see。　You　were　thinking　in　terms　of　whole…I　can　make　positive　identification　with　quite　small　pieces；　you　see。　I　wouldn't　even　mind　picking　up　smaller　bits　than　that；　but　if　you　go　much　under　a　kilo　you　spend　too　much　time　on　false　alarms　from　micrometeors　and　other　rubbish。　One　kilo　seems　to　be　the　best　practical　promise。〃
　〃Bleh。〃　But　he　obediently　set　his　probes　for　a　mass　of　one　kilo；　minimum；　and　finished　programming　the　search　sweep。
　She　gave　him　a　brief　nod　and　withdrew　from　the　closet…sized　Navigation　and　Control　Room。　The　obsolete　courier　ship　had　been　pulled　from　junkyard　orbit　and　hastily　overhauled　with　some　notion　first　of　converting　it　into　a　personnel　carrier　for　middle　brass…top　brass　in　a　hurry　having　a　monopoly　on　the　new　ships…but　like　Ferrell　himself；　it　had　graduated　too　late　to　participate。　So　they　both　had　been　re…routed　together；　he　and　his　first　mand；　to　the　dull　duties　he　privately　thought　on　a　par　with　sanitation　engineering；　or　worse。
　He　gazed　one　last　moment　at　the　relic　of　battle　in　the　forward　screen；　its　structural　girdering　poking　up　like　bones　through　sloughing　skin；　and　shook　his　head　at　the　waste　of　it　all。　Then；　with　a　little　sigh　of　pleasure；　he　pulled　his　headset　down　into　contact　with　the　silvery　circles　on　his　temples　and　midforehead；　closed　his　eyes；　and　slid　into　control　of　his　own　ship。
　Space　seemed　to　spread　itself　all　around　him；　buoyant　as　a　sea。　He　was　the　ship；　he　was　a　fish；　he　was　a　merman；　unbreathing；　limitless；　and　without　pain。　He　fired　his　engines　as　though　flame　leapt　from　his　fingertips；　and　began　the　slow　rolling　spiral　of　the　search　pattern。
　〃Medtech　Boni？〃　he　keyed　the　inter　to　her　cabin。　〃I　believe　I　have　something　for　you　here。〃
　She　rubbed　sleep　from　her　face；　framed　in　the　inter　screen。　〃Already？　What　time…oh。　I　must　have　been　tireder　than　I　realized。　I'll　be　right　up；　Pilot　Officer。〃
　Ferrell　stretched；　and　began　an　automatic　series　of　isometrics　in　his　chair。　It　had　been　a　long　and　uneventful　watch。　He　would　have　been　hungry；　but　what　he　contemplated　now　through　the　viewscreens　subdued　his　appetite。
　Boni　appeared　promptly；　and　slid　into　the　seat　beside　him。　〃Oh；　quite　right；　Pilot　Officer。〃　She　unshipped　the　controls　to　the　exterior　tractor　beam；　and　flexed　her　fingers　before　taking　a　delicate　hold。
　〃Yeah；　there　wasn't　much　doubt　about　that　one；〃　he　agreed；　leaning　back　and　watching　her　work。　〃Why　so　tender　with　the　tractors？〃　he　asked　curiously；　noting　the　low　power　level　she　was　using。
　〃Well；　they're　frozen　right　through；　you　know；〃　she　replied；　not　taking　her　eyes　from　her　readouts。　〃Brittle。　If　you　play　hotshot　and　bang　them　around；　they　can　shatter。　Let's　stop　that　nasty　spin；　first；〃　she　added；　half　to　herself。　〃A　slow　spin　is　all　right。　Seemly。　But　that　fast　spinning　you　get　sometimes…it　must　be　very　unrest