[ You're damn right that's what I wish, he answers ferociously. Because Gregor's not entirely correct that you can't lie over a telepathic link. You can. The thing is that lying is a product of language, a uniquely verbal thing, and over the telepathic link there's so much more. An upwelling of confusion. Fear of all of them - all three of them, the totality of the Vorkosigan line, each of them fanged and vicious in his dreams and imaginings. Fear of their hatred, too, because he was coming to kill them...Two of the three, at least. Pressuring him to become one of them? The pressure they'd prefer to exert is that of a pillow over his face. Or the pressure of a scalpel against his forehead, carving out his clone-brain to make way for his brother's. Because, sure, this wasn't a good body either, but at least his bones are strong. That's an improvement over what Miles has, right? An upgrade. Two shitty models, but one a little better in just about every way except for mental. Take out the engine, tinker a bit, and the groundcar runs just a little better.
And also, deeper: I'm programmed to kill them. And you. And he finds, somehow, for some reason, suddenly, that it's a thought that nauseates him. And also: Who would I be? There's nothing to me. And also: I'd be an embarrassment. And that last one seems so petty and stupid, but next to the faces of vicious killers are the faces of people who look a little flummoxed by their nameless, graceless son, who waddles after his brother and tries to imitate everything about him but just does it...worse. It's an anxiety that's somehow equal to murdering them, and being murdered by them - looking pathetic. It might even scare him more. ]
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And also, deeper: I'm programmed to kill them. And you. And he finds, somehow, for some reason, suddenly, that it's a thought that nauseates him. And also: Who would I be? There's nothing to me. And also: I'd be an embarrassment. And that last one seems so petty and stupid, but next to the faces of vicious killers are the faces of people who look a little flummoxed by their nameless, graceless son, who waddles after his brother and tries to imitate everything about him but just does it...worse. It's an anxiety that's somehow equal to murdering them, and being murdered by them - looking pathetic. It might even scare him more. ]