Captain Vorpatril's alliance

A hearty Winterfair‑style soup appeared, appropriate to the season‑Ivan recognized the recipe on the first heavenly sniff. His mother had apparently kidnapped Ma Kosti for the evening, and he trusted Miles wouldn’t find out. Rish, down the table, was assuring her fellow‑Jewel Emerald that everything was going to be just fine, and the genetically sense‑enhanced portion of the table, which was most of it, raised their spoons in bliss.

Lady Alys diplomatically began the conversation with the most neutral topic available, inquiring of Lady ghem Estif how she had enjoyed Earth, and drawing Ivan in with a few leading remarks about his career‑polishing stint there as an assistant military attache, a decade‑no, more – ago. A glance under her lashes warned Ivan to leave out the Interesting Bits, hardly necessary; it would take more drinks than this before Ivan would want to expand on his lingering feelings for those. Anyway, Lady ghem Estif relieved him of the necessity by being willingly led, describing her past eight years of residence on humanity’s homeworld in unexceptionable terms. To Ivan’s surprise, it seemed she had not spent her time there in a cloistered retirement, either rich or straitened, but in some sort of genetics‑related consulting business, “To keep my hand in,” as she explained. “My original training is sadly out‑of‑date, by Cetagandan standards; not so much by Earth’s. Though I have kept up.” She smiled complacently at her assorted grandchildren, ranged along the table.

Star, who in Ivan’s estimation had been drinking pretty heavily, unless she had some sort of gengineered Cetagandan liver, looked up and said, “How did you and the old general come to have the Baronne, anyway? Did your old Constellation order it? Must have‑it’s said the haut keep their outcrosses tightly controlled.”

“That is incorrect, dear. Although by then my Constellation and I had long parted ways. It’s the haut‑haut crosses that are meticulously planned. It is precisely the outcrosses which are loosened, so as to permit the possibility of genetic serendipity.”

Udine smiled rather grimly across the table at her mother. “Did you find me so serendipitous?”

“In the longer view‑ultimately. I admit, at the time, my motivations were more short‑term and emotional.”

Star’s brow furrowed. “Were you in love with Grandfather ghem Estif, back then?”

Moira ghem Estif waved away this romantic notion. “Rae ghem Estif was not a lovable man, as such. I did feel, strongly, that he‑that all of us who chose to stop on Komarr rather than return to the Empire‑had suffered our efforts to be betrayed by our respective superiors. It was Rae’s one loss to the Ninth Satrapy that I could make up.”

Jet, next to her, looked confused. “What loss was that?”

Udine sipped her wine, smiled affectionately across at her son‑and/or‑construct, and said, “What, you never heard that tale?” Jet, Ivan was reminded, was the last Arqua, even younger than Tej.

Conversation had died, all along the table, as those at the far end strained to hear. Tej leaned forward and peered around the line of her seatmates, alert for some new tidbit. Their materfamilias must not often bore them with accounts of her youth, Ivan decided.

“It’s a very Barrayaran story, all waste and aggravation and futility, which I must suppose makes it appropriate to tell here,” said Lady ghem Estif, with a glance down the table at her presumed host. Simon smiled distantly back, but his eyes had gone quite attentive. “The general’s son by one of his prior wives was lost in the Ninth Satrapy.”

“Blown up by Ivan Xav’s ancestors?” Rish inquired brightly from her end.

“We initially thought so, but our best later guess was that he was killed by what is so oxymoronically called friendly fire. Captain ghem Estif vanished while on a three‑day leave. Normally this would have been put down to his being murdered by the guerillas or having deserted‑desertions were a growing problem by then‑but Rae insisted it could not be the second and there was no sign of the first. It was only much later‑we had already reached Komarr, as I recall‑that one of his son’s friends spoke privately with us, and we found out that the captain had taken a Barrayaran lover.”

She paused to sip soup; fourteen people refrained from interrupting, in unison.

She swallowed delicately and went on: “The captain had apparently penetrated enemy lines to the most dire and notorious nest of guerrillas on the planet in search of his young man. It is entirely unclear if he had found out the city was secretly slated to be destroyed by the ruling ghem‑junta‑of which General ghem Estif was not a part, so he could not have had the news that way‑and was trying to get him out, or if it was just bad luck and bad timing. For all the ironic horror of his son’s immolation, Rae did seem to take some consolation in the assurance that it was not desertion.”