funerary proceedings

[middlingalong]

In the wake of the death of Empress Rian Degtiar of the Cetagandan Empire, cordiality from Barrayar consists of sending a couple of lieutenants to attend the funeral. It promises to be a series of social scaffolding appointments, a funeral, some more socialization - all of it principally with ghem-lords and -ladies; Barrayaran lieutenants, Ivan is sure, do not rate shoulder-rubbing with haut, but that's all well and good anyway - and then going home. Well enough. They have a diplomatic purpose, but they are not, actually, diplomats - if actual diplomats were supposed to be necessary Ivan assumes someone with Ambassador in front of his name would have been sent in... lieu of... lieutenants.

"Now," Ivan says, for want of better ways to pass the time, "is it, 'Diplomacy is the art of war pursued by other men', or is it the other way around...?"

Comments

[middlingalong]

Ivan sighs and gives up for the moment.

[thisvorlunatic]

Not a moment too soon, because there's Vorob'yev, here to affirm the integrity of their luggage and get them strapped into their shuttle seats for departure.

"And that's that, my lords. Nothing taken from your possessions, nothing added. Welcome to Eta Ceta Four. There are no official ceremonies requiring your presence today, but if you're not too tired from your journey, the Marilacan Embassy is hosting an informal reception tonight for the legation committee and all its august visitors. I recommend it to your attention."

"Recommend?" says Miles alertly. Anyone who has done as good a job as Vorob'yev at something as delicate as ambassador to Cetaganda has, in Miles's view, a recommendation of exceptional weight.

"You'll be seeing a lot of these people over the next two weeks. It should provide a useful orientation," Vorob'yev elaborates.

[middlingalong]

"What should we wear?" inquires Ivan brightly.

[thisvorlunatic]

"Undress greens, please," says Vorob'yev. "Clothing is a cultural language everywhere, to be sure, but here it's practically a secret code. It is difficult enough to move among the ghem-lords without committing some defined error, and among the haut-lords it's nearly impossible. Uniforms are always correct, or, if not exactly correct, clearly not the wearer's fault, since he has no choice. I'll have my protocol office give you a list of which uniforms you are to wear at each event."

Miles is very pleased with this development. No fussing around with outfits, just a nice tidy list, consisting wholly of things he's absolutely certain to have brought. Given the proportions of their respective luggage, though, he suspects Ivan may have a different outlook.

[middlingalong]

Ivan does. Uniforms. Meh.

[thisvorlunatic]

The shuttle makes undocking noises, much fainter than those of the smaller personnel pod, and proceeds away from the station without a peep from Cetagandan security.

So. Since he strongly doubts that the Cetagandan authorities would extend their subtle head games into allowing the Barrayarans to depart their customs station carrying stolen lethal weaponry, Miles can rule out all scenarios in which the fugitive has been caught and the tale of their adventure extracted from him. This leaves not caught at all, or caught and badly mishandled, his movements left untraced, his vandalism of the freight bay's vid pickups undetected. Of those two, the first is likelier. Therefore, the only people who know about their encounter are Miles, Ivan, their pod pilot - who has very ostentatiously washed his hands of the whole business and won't be setting foot dirtside anyway - and the fugitive himself.

Therefore, if the mystery man wants his widget back, he'll have to find Miles. Which should not be at all difficult. And then... well, whatever happens, it's bound to be interesting. A practical exercise suitable for a fresh young intelligence officer looking to deemphasize the 'fresh'. He wonders if there might not be some way to coax Vorreedi into giving him a crack at the puzzle.

[middlingalong]

Ivan would like to ostentatiously wash his hands of the whole mess, but alas, this is not his privilege today.