ornamental flower show
Sep. 10th, 2014 08:09 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Destang isn't too thrilled with Ivan, but since his lack of thrill takes the form of sending Ivan to a flower show to be out of the commodore's hair rather than, say, confining him to quarters like poor Galeni, Ivan isn't going to rock the boat. He leaves the half-commlink with Galeni in case Miles suddenly has an emergency and goes off as directed to meet the lady he's escorting.
He finds her at the University of London's Horticulture Hall, shepherds her around, makes comments of limited sophistication but genuine enthusiasm regarding the pretty flowers, and excuses himself a couple hours into the affair for a bathroom break.
He finds her at the University of London's Horticulture Hall, shepherds her around, makes comments of limited sophistication but genuine enthusiasm regarding the pretty flowers, and excuses himself a couple hours into the affair for a bathroom break.
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Date: 2014-09-10 07:42 pm (UTC)"It's a pity you didn't bring your pretty bodyguard; now we shall have to hunt her down," says Galen.
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Date: 2014-09-10 07:59 pm (UTC)"It's true," muses Galen, "you must pass for an experienced soldier. And you've never killed." He studies the largely unreadable Mark. His voice softens. "You must learn to kill if you expect to survive."
"Poetic but untrue," says Miles. "Again. Most people go through their whole lives without killing anybody. False argument."
"You talk too much," says Galen, swinging the aim of the nerve disruptor over to Miles, stealing a last glance at his son and then looking away as though flinching from a physical pain. "It's time to go. Let us complete your education. Here." He hands Mark the nerve disruptor. "Sh—"
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Date: 2014-09-10 08:04 pm (UTC)As soon as the weapon is out of his hand, he collapses to the deck, curling up into a tight, shaking ball. No more than the tiniest whimper escapes him, but his face is twisted in a rictus scream of anguished terror.
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Date: 2014-09-10 08:08 pm (UTC)Miles blinks.
"Mark...?" He takes a tentative step forward, and when this produces no result, crosses the deck to kneel at Mark's side. "Mark! Come on, where's Ivan!"
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Date: 2014-09-10 08:08 pm (UTC)Galeni collects the nerve disruptor and checks his father's pulse. Then closes Galen's eyes and looks away.
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Date: 2014-09-10 08:34 pm (UTC)"We don't have time for this—if you can't handle it, be me! Come on, Miles, where's your cousin?"
Mark, on the ground, shudders. And scrambles to his feet and opens the hatch in the wall. "This way," he says, Miles-voiced, bounding away into the corridor. Miles follows.
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Date: 2014-09-10 08:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-09-10 08:47 pm (UTC)"Shit," breathes Miles, his head filling with visions of horror. The pumping chambers are uniformly the size of a large closet, and filled with water when in use, air elsewise. Their watertight access hatches must be almost totally soundproof. No sound at all except, eventually, the rush of rising water...
"I know," says Mark, tight-voiced with some unidentified mixture of emotions, and he taps at the controls for the hatch and then hauls on the locking bar. The door yields to applied pressure and swings inward. Miles rushes forward with handlight and rappelling harness.
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Date: 2014-09-10 09:20 pm (UTC)"The question," says Miles, mostly to himself, "is how best to apply her to the situation... send her in anyway. Tell her to keep an eye out for suspicious characters and turn back without protest if somebody flashes a weapon. We still don't know where the hell that Barrayaran assassination team is, besides 'threateningly close'."
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Date: 2014-09-10 09:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-09-10 09:32 pm (UTC)His assets: Ivan, barely on his feet. Mark, looking about to slip into another panic attack or whatever that was at any moment. Galeni, looking - tense, let's go with tense. And Miles himself.
The problem: Cetagandan assassins blocking one escape route, Barrayaran assassins known to be nearby but not to be anywhere in particular, potentially blocking any other.
"Let's try getting out Tower Six, just in case it's that simple," he decides. "Mark, whatever you're doing in your weird little brain, stop it. My weird little brain is much better suited to the scenario at hand. Stick with that."
Mark straightens and nods. "I'll go first," he volunteers, his Barrayaran Miles-accent complementing the Betan one Miles has fallen into out of habit after Elli's call.
Miles glances at Galeni, then Ivan, hoping that the suggestion will be clear and he won't have to resort to actually giving orders to someone who is more or less a commanding officer. Then, marching order established, he waits to bring up the rear on their march to the lift tube. While he's at it, he lifts two stunners out of Mark's collection, hands one to Galeni, and holsters his own back into its concealed slot. Mark accepts this redistribution without comment and heads off down the corridor.
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