Captain Vorpatril's alliance

“Next week. Next week would be good for me. I have to go now, or I’ll be late.”

“Not next week. Right now.” He captured her hand‑it jerked in his grip, but didn’t jerk away‑and led her to sit on the edge of the bed with him.

She offered him only a tight‑lipped smile; she, clearly, wasn’t going to start. Up to him, eh.

“Tej. I know a lot more about what’s going on with you and your folks than you think.”

“Oh?” she tried. Leading not conceding.

“In fact, I bet I know something you don’t.”

“How can you know that you know something I don’t when you don’t what I know in the first place? I don’t see how you can. I mean, logically. Or you wouldn’t be asking.”

Simon had recently tricked him into going first with much the same turn of phrase, Ivan was wearily reminded. Or at least the gist of it. “Tej. I know that your family is after a certain Cetagandan bunker dating back to the Occupation, or at least, after something in it. And it’s sitting under that park in front of ImpSec. You mapped it during that dance last weekend.”

She froze for a moment, and then came up with: “Well…so? Simon was watching us.”

“Simon’s onto you.”

“He has an, an understanding with Dada, yes. You might have figured that out.”

“I did, yes. But Simon knows one thing that you‑you Arquas‑don’t.”

He waited, to by‑God make her say something. Anything. Her face screwed up in the effort to contain her words, not to mention her curiosity, but lost the fight: “ What? ”

Ivan felt like a lout. No, this wasn’t going to be fun at all. “The bunker was found and emptied decades ago, when ImpSec HQ was first built. The bunker’s still there, yes, but there’s nothing inside. Simon’s setting you all up for a fall.” The weaselly bastard.

“ No,” she snapped. And, a tiny doubt creeping into her voice, “Can’t be. Grandmama would have known, and the Baronne.”

“Is so. Empty.” A trap without bait.

“Isn’t.” Tej could look remarkably mulish, when she set her mind to it.

“Is.”

“ Isn’t.” Her jaw unset just enough for her to say, “And I can prove it to you.”

“How?”

“I won’t tell you.” She was getting better with shifty; maybe it was all the recent practice. “But I’ll make you a deal for it. A…a bet. If that’s more Barrayaran.”

“What kind of a deal? Or bet.”

“If the lab‑the bunker is empty, I’ll do what you want.”

Might that include stay on Barrayar? Could he twist this into a ploy to make her stay? He just kept that thought from falling straight out of his mouth; he didn’t know if she’d think it was a jewel or a toad. “And if it’s not?”

“If it’s full, then you’ll do what I want.” She frowned in reflection. “That seems balanced, doesn’t it?”

“Which would be…what?” Ivan was learning caution around Jacksonians bearing deals.

“Uh…” She’d been caught short, but was thinking fast. “To start with…help carry stuff. You’re big and strong. And, and go on keeping your mouth shut. About everything you see or hear. And no cheating by giving people hints. And after that…there might be more.”

“This deal seems to getting a bit open‑ended.”

“So what do you care? If you really think the bunker is empty.”

So…should he bet on Simon? Ivan had a lot of trouble fitting Simon Illyan and wrong into the same sentence, although Aunt Cordelia claimed it was historically possible. And she should know. Not often wasn’t, after all, the same thing as never.

And he’d just be following Simon’s own example, with that bet. He wondered how well that might work as a defense, later. Not sanguine, was that the phrase? Which had something to do with blood. No, this was not a helpful line of thought.

“All right,” Ivan heard his mouth saying. Because Tej wasn’t the only person in this room being driven to insanity by curiosity, it seemed. “It’s a deal.”

He’d rather have sealed it with a kiss, but she offered him a firm Arqua handshake instead.

“Oh,” she said, turning back at the bedroom door. “And bring a pair of slippers.”

Tej made Ivan Xav park his two‑seater a good five blocks from ImpSec Headquarters, just to be sure, which then entailed a long trudge through a cold drizzle. He had grown more and more silent, on the short drive over, as she’d explained about the Mycoborer. But his tone grew irate when she led him to the lower level of the garage‑quiet, deserted, and shadowy at this late hour. “Why couldn’t we have parked here?”

“Shh,” she hissed back, equally irate. A bulky ground van was sitting directly across from the utility room; evidently Ser Imola had done his part. She tapped gently on the door.

It swung open; Star’s hand shot out to yank her inside. A couple of bright cold lights cast conflicting green shadows. “Tej, you’re late.” Star looked up in consternation at Ivan Xav, shouldering in after her. Her hand went to the stunner holster riding her hip. “Why’d you bring him? Are you crazy?”

“He’s going to help. He…volunteered.” Sort of.