barrayar | I am junking up this beautiful community with this junk

[ The clone's response is blunt - a little too blunt, probably. Tact is something still beyond him. ]

Lord Vorkosigan was accused of treason a few years ago.

Because I was young and stupid enough to believe them. It was unfounded.

[There's just enough self-directed sourness there to show that he really does castigate himself over that.]

[ A little shrug. And a hesitant: ]

Well...It makes the theory of implicit trust since childhood a little more difficult.

[ He doesn't know why he's doing this - why he's prying. But he's prying. ]

[The funny thing about truly stable trust is that Gregor doesn't feel at all threatened about having it questioned by an outside source. Plus, he's giving him an uncommonly free pass to ask questions, given the circumstances. It's a unique situation so he's getting unique dispensation on prying.

He swallows a bite of food before responding.] You don't know how stable something is until you've tested the foundation. We survived that, ergo, I feel sure of our future survival.

[ The clone shakes his head. It's a gesture that says, I don't get it, but okay. He finishes his omelet and grabs another handful of apple slices. ]

I decided what I want the payment to be, by the way.

[Gregor straightens up, putting his fork down and settling his hands, eyes alert.]

Go on.

[ He stops eating for this one, putting down all of the half-eaten apple slices and settling back. His face turns hard. ]

House Bharaputra. On Jackson's Whole. They run a clone brain-transplant service. I want it broken up.

Ah. A worthy payment.

[Slowly, a wide smile overtakes Gregor's face. It has the certain color of satisfied pleasure to it.]

I so rarely get to make orders like that, you know. Unequivocally good ones. I'll enjoy it.

[ Mark draws back a little bit, his hard expression giving way to surprise. Not the reaction he'd expected. ]

You'll...do it, then?

It's a little academic, seeing as I'm not sure I'll remember any of this when I next have the opportunity, but if you're all right with intent and hypotheticals-- yes.

[Gregor is young enough here to still find exerting his authority a bit dizzying, both in the scary and exhilarating sense, admittedly.]

You said yourself it's a trade, isn't it? Though you realize, after this is agreed, the table's wiped clean. We can only make new debts from here, ad infinitum.

[ His jaw clenches - a Milesian gesture of stubbornness. And his voice is ferocious and deeply, deeply angry. ]

It's what I want.

[ And then his glower fades into something a little more suspicious. ]

You're not going to argue me down at all. Into something easier.

[That anger would probably alarm him a bit if Gregor thought he had any chance of acting on it. No, more accurately, trying to act on it. Trust is springing up all on its own.]

No, no, that's not what I mean at all. I've no argument. What I mean is...

[His voice softens.] From here, we'll have to go forward.

But -

[ Sorry, Gregor. He can't get past this thing. ]

You didn't try to negotiate at all. [ He points at the Emperor. ] Negotiation in something like this isn't just Jacksonian. It's rational. Breaking up the brain-transplant business will mean a major commitment of troops and money both. Even taking into account the time-value advantage you get in this trade from my immediate service, as opposed to your commitment down the line, you're still giving more than you get.

[ Because, as it turns out, once the kid opens up and starts answering in more than just monosyllables, he's actually pretty smart. ]

Am I?

[Gregor lets that sit in silence for a few long seconds, humor wiped from his expression, softly inviting him to consider just what it is Gregor is getting, in scope.

But, so as not to press him too hard, he eventually adds,] As for investment of troops, I'd just put Miles on it. Well, I'd have Simon put Miles on it. He'd be thrilled. Over the moon, in fact, to do something for you. Win-win-win.

[ Mark is unconvinced. With hard pragmatism, he points out - ]

Bharaputra is a House Major of Jackson's Whole. The retribution against Barrayar... [ But - Simon. His understanding catches up. ] Unless it was a covert mission. Yes. Does my progenitor do covert?

You didn't think he made up Admiral Naismith for your benefit, did you? [Gregor asks dryly.] It's a real fleet. About five thousand personnel.

You should hash it out with him-- he'd love to plan the whole thing out with your input, I'm sure, as a mental exercise.

[Can you be a go-between for brothers? Gregor really does wonder if this is how Cordelia feels at all times.]

[ The suggestion, not surprisingly, makes the clone's expression turn more...shut-off. Unreadable. Not exactly suspicious, just...restrained. Internally, he's thinking about how easy it would be to plan out an attack that would end with Miles killed...But that's not even a useful thought, because a public death wouldn't have been good for the plotter-clone and any death at all won't be good for...this clone. It's just something he can't stop himself from thinking about, and it's...sickening.

He shoves two more apple slices into his mouth, both at the same time. ]

It explains why we couldn't find him. If he had another persona.

Quite.

[Gregor watches him for a moment, but breaks the possible tension of that by diverting himself to drink his tea, and go back to his food.]

Does that resolve the matter for you, then?

Yeah. Aside from my worry over your ability to negotiate.

[ That is a goad, and an insult. But it's experimental more than it's cruel. He's testing Gregor's temper, for one - that's clear from the intense watchfulness of his eyes, the extreme care with which he studies his liege-lord to see if he'll react negatively. But more than that, it's also a test for himself. He's trying things out - to see if he's a smart-mouthed, rude sort of person. Because if he's not Miles, he...needs to find out who he is. ]

[He judges what sort of response is due here, and thinks of the relief he'd felt when he'd presented his lies for perusal... He seems to feel better with some push-back, kindness being inherently untrustworthy.

Very well, Gregor has no issue treating him with the easy sarcasm he does all his other extended family contemporaries.]

Really? [he says mildly, with another sip of tea.] After last night?

[He'd talked him into swearing himself. Gregor is not much interested in hard negotiating with him after that, not if he can help it.]

[ That's - sort of a point. Mark allows this by lifting his palm in acknowledgment. Still. ]

You offered your own would-be assassin a blank check. You offered a Jacksonian a blank check. You don't know what I might have asked for. If I had been insincere in my oath...

Ah. Yes. I should explain to you about all that, since I'm attempting honesty with you now. I was doing a lot more maneuvering than you could see. [Which Gregor apparently has no problem explaining to him in retrospect.]

First of all, my other ability here, the oaths one, disallows oaths made insincerely. It'd never have worked if you hadn't meant it; I felt it take, so I knew you did, and furthermore if you developed some duplicitous motive later you'd be barred from hurting any of us anyway.

As for the matter of giving you a blank check, I'm not sure this will make sense to a Jacksonian, but the fact of the matter is that I owe all the Imperium the very same. My life is not my own. [He'd sounded cavalier until this point, but now his voice drops, quiet and heavy under the weight.] It has never been my own. I needs must balance what you're owed with what I owe everyone else, so there is some limit to what I'd give you-- quite a lot of limit. But if it's within my power, yes, you personally were owed something.

[A beat.]

And if you'd like all the calculations, I admit I am predisposed to think you must be more than just an assassin, if given the opportunity. By genetic code alone, whatever relation you want to claim or disclaim. I hardly thought I was getting nothing out of the deal.

[ The vague prickle of feeling used - sure, of course the way to counteract the promise of a blank check is to move your funds into a different account - is balanced with a grudging respect. He doesn't want to be manipulated. God, he doesn't want to be manipulated. He'd like it if his liege-lord were truly honest. But no one really is, and so if he isn't, at the very least he can be canny.

Maybe canny actually is better than completely honest, now that he thinks about it.

Better thinking about that than thinking about his genetic code. He pushes on, past that vague compliment that's not a compliment to him, exactly - ]

I could get around it, though. I promised to not to do you harm. I didn't make any promise of...calling in my favor as - asking you to be in a specific place at a specific time, and letting harm come to you. If - the Komarrans show up here. I could put you in their path.

[ The thought fills him with the ache of nausea. He looks down at his plate, and picks at the last crumbs of egg. Wonders if he could take the last omelet, or if that's for Gregor... ]

I'm not all that dumb, [he says dryly.] But if you're so worried about it, then decide not to. What it comes down to is that I've decided to give you a chance. Until you've given me a reason otherwise, I'm going to trust you.

[Plus, Gregor has to admit there is a strong sense of let's see what happens behind this. Give this poor clone a chance to be something other than a clone, and what will he do? Gregor has no more idea than he does, but he's very interested in finding out.

Internally, he scratches lightly at the shut door, barely enough to count as a polite knock. If he opens it just a bit, he'll be able to feel all that patience and curiosity and, yes, developing trust.]

You can feel it for yourself if you like.

[ Mark looks at Gregor, and then takes a moment to compose himself, pressing down all his fear and anxiety - the mental equivalent of shoving your clothes under your bed before you answer the door to let company in. But Mark, like all people who live in a perpetually messy room, doesn't really have a good eye for neatness: he opens the connection, and thinks it's fine, but for Gregor there'll be an instant spillover of anxiety and sickness and all the ugly feelings stirred up by the mention of the Komarrans coming here. And, hell, all the ugly feelings that are just a running baseline for poor Mark.

He eases the door shut again as soon as he tests out Gregor's feelings. ]

It just doesn't make sense that - everything isn't a reason otherwise.

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