Captain Vorpatril's alliance

Grandmama’s fine lips thinned. “You understand, when I was…detached, from the haut, I was already a fully‑trained geneticist. I simply missed the cut, and not by very much‑but it was always harder for us girls from the outer planets to compete with the haut women from Eta Ceta itself. They always had access to the very latest developments, you know. I was matched with General ghem Estif precisely because he was being assigned to the Ninth Satrapy, and the ongoing Star Creche program here wanted a reliable laboratory assistant. The prior woman having been killed in some horrible bombing by those dreadful guerillas. She wasn’t even targeted; she just chanced to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Grandmama sniffed disapproval; Tej wasn’t sure if it was of the guerillas, their tactics, or their failure to recognize the significance of their inadvertent victim.

“The Star Creche had a presence on Barrayar? Did the Barrayarans know?” Ivan Xav had never mentioned such a thing, nor had she run across it in her recent reading. “Whatever were they doing here?”

Grandmama waved a dismissive hand. “Just the obvious‑assembling a complete gene survey and library of the human occupants of the planet. Barrayar’s so‑called Time of Isolation was a unique natural genetic experiment, not to be wasted. The hoped‑for prize of course would be some novel mutation or set of mutations that might be extracted and incorporated into higher gene bases, but alas in twenty years of survey‑sadly underfunded and undersupported for the scope of the task, I must say‑we only found some novel genetic diseases. Six hundred years was perhaps too short a time for new strengths to develop and be filtered into the population. It’s really too bad the place was rediscovered so soon.”

Some Komarrans thought so, too, Tej was reminded, if for rather different reasons. “And you had a‑a what? A laboratory in the old mansion?”

“Under it, to be precise. The building had been some count’s residence in a prior generation, had fallen to lesser family members, and was appropriated by the satrap government. The haut Zaia, our team leader, was not best pleased with it, but it made a suitably discreet entrance to our actual workplace. The laboratory itself was good enough, for its day. Proper biohazard barriers and all.”

Tej hesitated. “If it was just a gene library, why did you need fancy biohazard controls?”

“One never knew,” said Grandmama, vaguely.

Tej tried to process this. It stuck, rather. “Huh?”

“That slack‑jawed expression does not become you, Tej,” the Baronne pointed out. “Do keep up; this is important to our future.”

Actually, it all seemed to be about the past, so far. The creakily ancient past, at that. Tej suppressed a sigh and tried to look attentive. She really had to get on to telling them more about Lady Alys before…

“Well, we were dealing with the ghem, dear. The haut Zaia kept her own supplies there as a matter of routine precaution.” Grandmama pursed her lips, and went on, “What we had here in Vorbarr Sultana was only a regional outpost, mind you. Our main facility was that orbital laboratory, the one that was sent to burn up in the atmosphere during the scramble of the withdrawal. I only visited it once, being too junior to be assigned there myself. Much better equipment than we had downside. Such a waste! Although at least we salvaged all the data out of that one.”

“Which brings us,” Dada rumbled, “back to your young man, Tej.”

“What?” Tej managed to close her mouth, this time.

“You’ve had some time to study him. What are his handles?” said Dada.

“Handles?”

“ Tej,” said the Baronne impatiently, but Dada waved her down.

“For example,” said Dada, “does he hanker for power? Prestige? Wealth?”

“I don’t know.”

“How can you not know something so basic as that?” said the Baronne.

Tej shrugged. “I gather that his mother is wealthy‑she owns the building his flat is in, and hers, and others besides, and I don’t know what‑all‑else outside of the capital‑and he’s an only child. And he has some kind of trust fund from his paternal relatives. And his officer’s pay, which is what he mainly lives on.”

“That’s not quite what I meant,” said Dada. “Many who are rich want more, perhaps for some purpose or obsession.”

And what would Arquas know about that, ha. “I think Ivan Xav cares about comfort more than display. I mean, he keeps up with the expectations of his Vor class, but I don’t think it’s because he’s interested in them so much as…it’s just easier.”

“What about business training? Does he have any? Import, export, trade? Could he, for example, put together a large or complex project?”

“Well, I know he works on military budgets with Admiral Desplains. Those are large and complex projects.”

“Hm.” Dada drummed his fingers on the sofa arm. “You see, despite the unavoidable need for local partners, I’d like to keep this venture in the family if we can. My old contacts here are…less reliable than I’d prefer. And, in some cases, perhaps a bit too old.”