bioestheties exhibition

[middlingalong]

The following day they visit the 149th Annual Bioestheties Exhibition, Class A, Dedicated to the Memory of the Celestial Lady. This dedication, though rather last-minute, makes it a key stop for offworlders on Eta Ceta for funerary proceedings. Lord Vorreedi is, unexpectedly, present too; he may be hard to slip.

The exhibits are gorgeous. Unnatural colors of various flowers are sufficiently routine to be used as borders for the real show - fish with clan marks on their scales (this exhibitor is about twelve), a pet unicorn (this one is possibly not even an exhibit), a tendril of vine that attempts to entrap Ivan's foot (its keeper dislodges it), and a kitten tree.

Ivan is displeased by the kitten tree, believing there to be glue involved in the attachment of kittens to their pods. He picks one in a determined rescue attempt. It is not ripe; the kitten expires when detached. Vorreedi offers to discreetly dispose of the poor beast, for which Ivan is intensely grateful.

Their erstwhile friend Yenaro is present. When Ivan notices, he points the man out to Miles.

Comments

[thisvorlunatic]

"Mm," says Miles, dropping Ivan's arm once General Chilian and his wife are out of sight. The Barrayarans proceed onward. Miles tries to analyze this new wrinkle. Perhaps the couple's very proximity to Kety suggests that they are not part of some scheme - the governor seems to favour disposable human pawns, used once and then untraceably discarded. But two instances of this pattern hardly make it unshakeable. He wishes he had something, anything, solid to go on in all this.

[alicornucopia]

A bubble floats up to the group of Barrayarans.

"Lord Vorkosigan," says Linyabel's voice. "May I speak with you privately?"

[thisvorlunatic]

"Of course," he says, preempting any differing answers that, say, Vorob'yev might have wanted to give. "Where? For how long?"

[alicornucopia]

"Not far - about an hour, all told."

[thisvorlunatic]

"Very well. Gentlemen, will you excuse me?"

"Lord Vorkosigan..." says Vorob'yev, with a promising degree of hesitation. "Do you wish a guard?"

"No," Miles says pleasantly.

"A com link?"

"No."

"You will be careful?"

"Oh, yes, sir."

[middlingalong]

"And if you take longer than an hour?" asks Ivan, drawling only slightly to indicate what he imagines what might take place over more than an hour. Not that he really expects it, but Miles dragged him along to this stupid party and ought to be teased.

[thisvorlunatic]

Miles shoots Ivan a repressive look. "Wait," he suggests, and turns to follow the haut Linyabel.

[isthisart]

Linyabel leads him to a secluded little nook between bushes, under lanterns. She debubbles.

"You're not afraid of heights, are you?" she asks.

[thisvorlunatic]

"Er... moderately," he says, with a somewhat wary look. "Why?"

[isthisart]

"The easiest way to smuggle you out of this party is in my bubble gliding off the edge of the roof - it's safe, but it does involve going off the edge of the roof. It'll be much easier for your people to figure out that you've gone and how far if we have to go by lift-tube, but of course it will be easier still if we go off the edge of the roof and you scream or something."

[thisvorlunatic]

"I see." He eyes the edge of the roof. "I promise not to scream, then."

[isthisart]

"All right then. Sitting on the armrest is probably the most physically comfortable, but if you're going to need to close your eyes - I could probably see over your head to navigate all right even if you were on my lap."

[thisvorlunatic]

"Er—and you don't mind—? All right," he says, feeling more glad of his small stature than he ever has in his life.

[isthisart]

"It's fine," she assures him. "But hurry up before someone walks by."

[thisvorlunatic]

He nods, and arranges himself in her lap as quickly as possible while still being careful not to introduce any stray knees or elbows into the equation or sit on anything she doesn't want sat.

[isthisart]

As soon as he's within the bubble's sphere and no longer standing on the floor, she puts it back up. The view out is clear, if slightly filmy. She bobs out of their little hiding-place. If she is perturbed by having a lap occupant she doesn't show it.

[thisvorlunatic]

Her lap occupant seeks desperately for some topic of conversation to distract himself from unauthorized sensory enjoyments. He comes up with, "I saw the haut Vio d'Chilian here, staring at the Celestial Garden in... what I would call an unnervingly hateful way. The more I think about it, the more I can't help feeling that might be relevant."

[isthisart]

"I hadn't even been born when she got married, so I don't know her personal story," says Linyabel as they go out through the force screen to a landing pad. "But in any case she has reason to be resentful. Hang on."

Over the edge they go.

[thisvorlunatic]

Miles shuts his eyes and hangs onto the armrests and vents a very, very quiet "eeeeeee".

[isthisart]

Aww.

"I'm going to miss gliding like this when I don't have my chair anymore, personally," Linyabel sighs.

[thisvorlunatic]

Oh, good. A distraction from the fact that he is riding a flying soap bubble.

"I have a lightflyer, at the family's country house - you could borrow it," he offers. "I'll take you for a spin, teach you to fly it if you don't know already. If you want. I'm fine with heights when I'm experiencing them in something my brain considers a vehicle."

[isthisart]

"I don't know how to pilot a lightflyer, as it happens," she says. "If we pull it off - I'd like to learn."

They are gliding in a steep but not freefall-ish arc towards the dome of the Celestial Garden; their starting altitude is sufficient to carry them over the parks and boulevards. They change to a horizontal trajectory and decelerate just outside the dome. And then she says, "Shhhh," and glides without a flicker of obstacle through the security between the outside world and the Garden, and they're in. Once past the security, she says, "Okay, they can't hear us anymore."

[thisvorlunatic]

"Oh good. I suppose their scanners either aren't sophisticated enough to pick up on your passenger, or are too polite to look?"

[isthisart]

"I don't think they scan me at all. They know I have to be a haut-lady, the chairs are locked to particular users. And I live here."

[thisvorlunatic]

"That falls under 'too polite to look' as far as I'm concerned. Why am I here, by the way? I assume the Handmaiden hasn't found a way to teleport me into orbit and back..."