Read Online Captain Vorpatril's Alliance by Lois McMaster Bujold - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Lois McMaster Bujold
Tags: Fiction, General, Science-Fiction, adventure, Fantasy, Space Opera, bought-and-paid-for, on-the-nook
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bespoke.” Ivan picked his way over cartons to the cubicle door. “I’ll see what I can fit in.”
“Stop by any time,” Morozov invited. “Oh, and please convey my personal best wishes to your, er, stepfather, which I trust will find him much recovered.”
“Virtual stepfather, at most,” Ivan corrected hastily. “M’mother and Illyan haven’t bothered to get married yet, y’know.” He managed a somewhat wooden smile.
As he fled in disorder down the dingy corridor, it occurred to him that there could be another reason he was getting such an unusual degree of cooperation from the ImpSec old guard these days, and it had nothing to do with his association with Admiral Desplains. He shuddered and ran on.
* * *
Ivan headed for the door at day’s end with his brain jammed with everything from personnel promotion debates to surprise inspection schemes to the lurid history of House Cordonah, but mostly with urgent mulling of just where to stop for a take-away dinner that would most please Tej. If she’s still there . He was anxious to get home and find out. It was, therefore, no joy to see, out of the corner of his eye, a lieutenant from the front security desk waving frantically and hurrying to catch him. “Sirs! Wait!”
Too late to speed up and pretend not to have seen the fellow. Ivan and Admiral Desplains both paused to allow him to come up, slightly out of breath.
“What is it, lieutenant?” inquired Desplains. He did a better job than Ivan of concealing his dismay at their impeded escape, only a faint ironic edge leaking into his resigned tone.
“Sir. Two Solstice Security people just turned up at the front desk, saying they want to interview Captain Vorpatril.”
Interview , not arrest , Ivan’s suddenly-focused mind noted. Although he imagined any attempt by civilian dome authorities to arrest a Barrayaran officer from the midst Barrayaran HQ could be a tricky proposition, jurisdiction-wise.
Desplains’s brows rose. “What’s this all about, Vorpatril? It can’t be the Imperial Service’s largest collection of parking violations, again—you don’t have a vehicle here. And we’ve only been downside four days.”
“I don’t know, sir,” said Ivan, truthfully. Suspect was not the same thing as know , right?
“I suppose the fastest way to find out is to just talk to them. Well, go along, try to make them happy.” Unfeelingly, his boss waved Ivan away. “Tell me all about it in the morning.” Desplains made a swift strategic retreat, leaving Ivan as the sacrificial rear guard.
It could have been worse. Desplains could have wanted to sit in…Ivan sighed and trudged unwillingly after the too-efficient lieutenant, who told him: “I put them in Conference Room Three, sir.”
There were a handful of such reception rooms off the HQ building lobby, holding pens for people HQ didn’t care to admit to its inner sanctums. Ivan expected that every one of them was monitored. Conference Room Three, the smallest, had approximately the ambiance and intimacy of a tax office waiting area, Ivan discovered as the lieutenant ushered him inside. He wondered if it was made that dismal on purpose, to encourage visitors not to linger.
“Captain Vorpatril, this is Detective Fano and Detective-patroller Sulmona, Solstice Dome Security. I’ll just leave you to it, then, shall I? Detectives, please return to the front desk and sign out again when you’re finished.” The lieutenant, too, beat a retreat.
Fano was a stocky man, Sulmona a slim but fit-looking woman. He was in civvies, she in uniform complete with such street gear as would be expected on a patroller’s belt, including a stunner holster and shock-stick. Both were youngish but not young. Not grizzled veterans, but not rookies; born post-Conquest, then, though perhaps with older relatives possessing unhappy memories. Sulmona’s left hand bore a wedding ring, Ivan noted automatically.
“Thank you for agreeing to see us, Captain,”
“Stop by any time,” Morozov invited. “Oh, and please convey my personal best wishes to your, er, stepfather, which I trust will find him much recovered.”
“Virtual stepfather, at most,” Ivan corrected hastily. “M’mother and Illyan haven’t bothered to get married yet, y’know.” He managed a somewhat wooden smile.
As he fled in disorder down the dingy corridor, it occurred to him that there could be another reason he was getting such an unusual degree of cooperation from the ImpSec old guard these days, and it had nothing to do with his association with Admiral Desplains. He shuddered and ran on.
* * *
Ivan headed for the door at day’s end with his brain jammed with everything from personnel promotion debates to surprise inspection schemes to the lurid history of House Cordonah, but mostly with urgent mulling of just where to stop for a take-away dinner that would most please Tej. If she’s still there . He was anxious to get home and find out. It was, therefore, no joy to see, out of the corner of his eye, a lieutenant from the front security desk waving frantically and hurrying to catch him. “Sirs! Wait!”
Too late to speed up and pretend not to have seen the fellow. Ivan and Admiral Desplains both paused to allow him to come up, slightly out of breath.
“What is it, lieutenant?” inquired Desplains. He did a better job than Ivan of concealing his dismay at their impeded escape, only a faint ironic edge leaking into his resigned tone.
“Sir. Two Solstice Security people just turned up at the front desk, saying they want to interview Captain Vorpatril.”
Interview , not arrest , Ivan’s suddenly-focused mind noted. Although he imagined any attempt by civilian dome authorities to arrest a Barrayaran officer from the midst Barrayaran HQ could be a tricky proposition, jurisdiction-wise.
Desplains’s brows rose. “What’s this all about, Vorpatril? It can’t be the Imperial Service’s largest collection of parking violations, again—you don’t have a vehicle here. And we’ve only been downside four days.”
“I don’t know, sir,” said Ivan, truthfully. Suspect was not the same thing as know , right?
“I suppose the fastest way to find out is to just talk to them. Well, go along, try to make them happy.” Unfeelingly, his boss waved Ivan away. “Tell me all about it in the morning.” Desplains made a swift strategic retreat, leaving Ivan as the sacrificial rear guard.
It could have been worse. Desplains could have wanted to sit in…Ivan sighed and trudged unwillingly after the too-efficient lieutenant, who told him: “I put them in Conference Room Three, sir.”
There were a handful of such reception rooms off the HQ building lobby, holding pens for people HQ didn’t care to admit to its inner sanctums. Ivan expected that every one of them was monitored. Conference Room Three, the smallest, had approximately the ambiance and intimacy of a tax office waiting area, Ivan discovered as the lieutenant ushered him inside. He wondered if it was made that dismal on purpose, to encourage visitors not to linger.
“Captain Vorpatril, this is Detective Fano and Detective-patroller Sulmona, Solstice Dome Security. I’ll just leave you to it, then, shall I? Detectives, please return to the front desk and sign out again when you’re finished.” The lieutenant, too, beat a retreat.
Fano was a stocky man, Sulmona a slim but fit-looking woman. He was in civvies, she in uniform complete with such street gear as would be expected on a patroller’s belt, including a stunner holster and shock-stick. Both were youngish but not young. Not grizzled veterans, but not rookies; born post-Conquest, then, though perhaps with older relatives possessing unhappy memories. Sulmona’s left hand bore a wedding ring, Ivan noted automatically.
“Thank you for agreeing to see us, Captain,”
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