barrayar | the better space adventure

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the better space adventure

[ Gregor has long since progressed from afraid to bored and straight on through sullen. Just how long were they going to keep him here? Gregor is not accustomed to being kept anywhere he doesn't want to be, and maybe he's led a constrained life but it hasn't been a literal prison. And okay, so it's a little high-handed of him to be entitled about this, but he thinks he's entitled to know his future.

Yet no one answers his polite or his frustrated attempts to ask for answers. No one does anything apart from bring him food while looking harried and eye him dourly before leaving. He's started to get gross. He needs a shower, badly. He's washed his face and hair in the sink in his cell multiple times but it's just not the same and he's not used to these conditions.

Also, the boredom really is driving him insane. He's taken to composing sonnets in his head. He hates sonnets. He hates all that rigid structure in poetry, it's asinine and archaic. That's how bored he is, how craving stimulation and challenge.

When the door open, he startles upright, eyes wide. This is off schedule; he's already been fed today. ]

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[ Not a good rabbit hole to go down, probably. Speaking of which ... Miles bites his lip, trying to figure out how to phrase this. ]

No, the same age. But your mother had been dead for a couple decades. And Father never married her.

Mother was dead?

[ That's... nearly impossible to imagine. Indeed, he looks rattled, and instantly recovers some his resistance to this whole story. ]

If you got to know him well enough to fall 'a little bit in love with him', [ he says with a tinge of sardonicism, masking his discomfort, ] then you must know something about him that isn't public knowledge.

[ Miles blinks at that, uncertain. Is this poor version of himself hiding something? Gregor hadn't much seemed like it ... ]

What would that be, Gregor?

[ Gregor folds his arms and looks firmly unruffled. ]

Was he receptive to you? What was he like?

[ This seems like a non sequitor, but what he's trying to get at is what hardly anyone knows: that he doubts he's interested in that sort of thing at all. And not with men. That would be ridiculously inappropriate, and just set himself for all sorts of problems as the crown prince. Especially... now that he knows about his father. ]

[ Miles is still baffled but - as always, direct in a way that only a Betan could be. ]

Friendly. Concerned. He was already madly in love with the other version of myself, the one that grew up on Barrayar, so really I was dealing with his affections rather than the other way around. Most importantly though - he wanted to make sure any version of the man he loved was safe.

[ Oh. That... wasn't what he was expecting. He doesn't know how to take that. There's something substantiating Miles's story more than any concrete proof: the natural, unhesitating way in which he says all these plausible things, and acts confused when Gregor points out inconsistencies. Like he doesn't know the answer either. People who tell the truth are always fine with having holes pointed out, because they don't expect themselves to know. And Gregor is good at knowing when people are being truthful, just fundamentally good at it, and he's starting to be unable to ignore what this is saying here.

But it's impossible. From the dimension-jumping to the powers to him being madly in love with anyone. It's all impossible.

He looks away. ] He had no problems at all with you being a man? If he's Emperor, he must marry.

[ There's something else going on here, Miles can sense it. Some deep hurt, some desperate hesitation... It goes deeply, shot all through this version of Gregor. But he can't quite place what it is yet. Perhaps if he continues to talk, Gregor will tell him outright. ]

Yes, I'm pretty sure he will. Glad my alternate's getting into that and not me. I'd rather elope if I have to marry.

[ Gregor had always thought he'd elope himself, and screw duty. But lately his thoughts on that have taken on a different cast: no marriage at all, and screw duty. ]

I still don't know if I believe you, [ he says finally. ] But you are very... thorough in your craziness.

[ Miles grins widely at that. And gestures for Gregor to come closer. ]

That's the fun part about telling the truth. Even if no one believes you. I don't really expect you to, I guess.

[ Why? Why does he want him to come closer? Gregor just looks at him and doesn't move. ]

But you still want to run off to Earth with me? Because the Emperor version of me made such a big impression on you. [ Is that the motive he's going with? ]

Yes. That's exactly it. [ A pause. ] And there's nothing for me on Beta Colony. Worse than nothing. It's a prison for the son of the Butcher.

[ Bitterness infuses his tone quite sharply. ]

[ He somehow finds he can empathize with this, and not abstractly but sharply, like a piercing pang through his chest. Son of the Butcher... is surely a term better applied to Gregor, and Serg, than ever applied to Aral. He might be vicious at times, but even Gregor knows he never metes out justice to the undeserving. He's ruthlessly fair.

But being trapped-- yes. Yes, that he knows. ]

... There's nothing for me on Barrayar, either. I'm just a cut-out figure they prop up at events. They don't need me for anything; me being gone hasn't affected anyone. [ He's sure his mother cares, his friends care-- but his mother has been keeping things from him. And Gregor is never sure how much he's her son and how much he's the heir she had to produce. ]

[ Miles' expression softens instantly in sympathy. Being a cut-out figure doesn't seem much better than rotting from the inside out of boredom. Hesitantly, he reaches out to put his hand over Gregor's, if he'll allow it. ]

Mother is probably wildly trying to find me even now. But otherwise ... no one for me either. I can't find anything to do with my life that seems worthwhile. You too?

[ Strange how the simple contact of his hand seems to laser-focus his attention. His fingers twitch once, but then still, and if he doesn't flip his hand over to grasp his, he at least doesn't pull away.

Gregor has some curiosity about Aral Vorkosiagn's second wife, who is almost a mythical figure by this point, but not more curious than he is affected by this line of conversation. He swallows and looks down. ] There's no spare heir, so I've never been allowed to do anything. [ Although there could be-- he'd always wondered why not, until he'd learned about his father. But with uterine replicators now it's not like his mother would have to go through that again. So they really don't need him. ]

I just-- want to do something useful. You know?

[ Good enough for now, even if it's downright shy for a Betan. Miles keeps his hand there, steady and quiet. God, wanting to be useful ... he sympathizes so badly it hurts him to think about. And to consider that this future Emperor could feel the same way ... He'd have thought it wasn't possible. He suddenly very badly wants to have adventures with this Gregor rather than simply continuing to love the echoes of Emperor Gregor he'd seen before.]

I know. I know the feeling very well.

[ He takes a breath to recover. ]

Though I don't know how we could be useful as random runaways on Earth.

We'll find something. Maybe gather up more mercenaries, even.

And do what with them, exactly?

I'd be happy just installing lights.

Oh no you wouldn't. You'd be bored eventually, trust me. Speaking of someone who tried that for a while.

... But you could install lights for my mercenary fleet.

Your fleet? So sure of that, are you? I thought you just had this one ship.

One ship is just the start. I'll find a way to get the rest, just you watch.

And then what? You'll be satisfied with that, running a mercenary fleet?

I ...

[ He gets a bit flustered at that, having not thought quite that far himself. ]

Maybe I will be. It'll be a lot more than we have going on now. And if I change my mind, I can always drop you off somewhere and go be Count Vorkosigan instead.

[ That's Gregor, always here to point out when someone is being short-sighted.

This casual plan jolts him a bit. ] Is your father aware you're intending that?

... The alternate I met does. He seems certain this version would appreciate me swooping in.

[ But his voice wavers even more. Uncertain. ]

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