Captain Vorpatril's alliance

Heavy military engineering equipment was parked seemingly at random all over the place; soldiers hurried about, or stood and gawked. Portable floodlights on stands, not yet turned off in the pale dawn, shone everywhere. A command post under a temporary tarp roof was set up just beyond the corner of the ex‑park, overlooking the excavation and blocking more street. Several medical ground‑vans waited beyond it, their emergency lights blinking in a thumb‑twiddling sort of way. Above, security vehicles circled; out beyond them, what Ivan guessed were news aircars also circled, telephotos no doubt trained on the bizarre scene.

Even as he watched, a biohazards team arrived, half suited‑up, along with a group of older and less‑fit fellows, a couple of whom Ivan recognized as senior functionaries from the Imperial Accounting Office, looking a bit out of place on this active, outdoor site. They all went to argue precedence with the engineers.

Beyond its walls and courtyard, the looming ImpSec building overlooked it all. In addition to an increased complement of patrollers at the gate on this side, quite a few officers with, Ivan suspected, no actual reason to be there sat on the upper steps or lingered outside the walls, watching the show. Ivan spotted one companionably sharing a breakfast rat bar with his fellow before the floater descended between the command post and the waiting med‑vans.

When the canopy opened, Ivan helped Tej out and waved off a medtech trying to descend on them. When he turned toward the command post, he realized that might have been a premature gesture; a little tactical malingering could have been a better ploy.

A mob of people were approaching. Mamere and Simon, who was looking very gray and strained, led the wave, but Ivan spotted General Allegre and Commodore Duv Galeni right behind them. Both were in full uniform, their military greatcoats flapping about their knees in the raw air, but neither was shaved, and Ivan could only wonder at what wee hour each had been booted out of bed to scramble for this. In any case, he had to extract himself from the frantic maternal hug before turning to not‑salute, since he was in civvies, but at least present a suitable acknowledging nod to his grim superiors. Tej was next in line for the hug, Ivan was glad to see. Simon just gripped his hands, a weird troubled expression on his face, and said nothing, though he also took the opportunity to embrace Tej, as what man would not? Ivan thought he heard him whisper in her ear, “Tej, I am so sorry,” but he wasn’t sure.

Allegre caught his eye. “Vorpatril,” he bit out, “are you responsible for this mess?”

“God, I hope not,” said Ivan fervently. An uneasy memory of all the documents he’d so blithely signed off on, back at the shuttleport about a subjective year ago, rose in his mind. The transition from brave rescue‑e to court‑martial accuse‑e might be just a slip of the tongue away; despite his fatigue and pounding headache, Ivan tried to come alert. He could only pray that the discovery of the immense treasure waiting below would pacify everyone, eventually, once they got it all sorted out.

Meanwhile, spread the blame…Ivan turned to Allegre, and asked, “Did you ever find out anything more about Sergeant Abelard and his bomb?”

“What?” said Allegre, startled. This gave Ivan the opportunity to tell that tale, and present the dog‑tags, happily still in his pocket. Star had only evidently got as far as conveying the skeleton and old bomb parts; Ivan could see Allegre was gratified to have at least one answer to his high‑piled heap of morning mysteries presented, as it were, on a platter, especially as it didn’t seem like anyone would be doing any DNA work on the poor dead bastard any time soon, if any body fragments could be found after the blast. Also, it punted the ball back into ImpSec’s lap, if at a thirty‑five year remove, which could only be to the good.

“Is there really a treasure worth millions of marks down there?” Simon demanded next. Galeni was right at his shoulder, for this one.

“Simon, there were millions in the first crate we opened. Hundred of millions down there, at the least guess.” Ivan turned to Galeni. “And crates of hundred‑year‑old documents packed to the ceiling, Barrayaran and Cetagandan. They’re going to take years to sort. I found a holograph letter from Prince Xav to Prince Yuri in one of them.” He pulled the folded letter out of his jacket and handed it across to Duv, who took it; one glance, and his mouth, which had opened to say something‑probably about correct document conservation starting with not folding up rare items and stuffing them in one’s pocket‑just stayed open. Ivan had never seen Duv’s eyes go so wide.

Across the road, a stressed‑out‑looking Captain Raudsepp finished loading Imola and his followers into a security van with the assistance of a couple of burly patrollers, then turned and plowed back through the crowd to Ivan.