Posts Tagged ‘Marilac’

Good evening, or morning, or afternoon, or stroke of noon, and welcome back to the Vorkosigan Saga Reread, wherein I recount and discuss the sundry events chronicled by Lois McMaster Bujold concerning the life and times of Miles Vorkosigan & his esteemed colleagues, family, friends, and foes.  This week we are concluding the tripartite (as subdivided by me, in any case) story of “The Borders of Infinity”, a short novel of Mr. Vorkosigan’s exploits (as his alter ego Admiral Miles Naismith, and with the occasional assistance of his loyal troops, the Dendarii Mercenaries).

The Borders of Infinity (Concl.)

After the chow calls were regulated, things quieted down for a while, but the amount of violence, including that from the Enforcers themselves, is on the rise. Miles takes to walking the perimeter of the dome after every call, as much to burn off energy as to inspect things.  Suegar joins him sometimes, and on one walk Miles asks him if his sermons are getting any better response.  Suegar says he doesn’t have as much time as he used to, but at least he doesn’t get beaten up anymore.  He tells Miles about a mining camp he was once at, which had gotten subdivided into hundreds of tiny claims.  Like the Dagoola camp, lots of people going hungry, suffering from accidents and disease, fighting a lot, but they also worked hard because there was hope for the future.  On Dagoola IV, though, he has to keep going or else the inertia of the place will suck him down.

They reach the point on the edge farthest from the women’s camp, and Miles suddenly notices a group of four men ahead of them, and more visible beside and behind.  Miles recognizes one of them as a former friend of Pitt’s, and thinks one of the others is actually one of his own Enforcers.  He berates himself for having fallen into a predictable routine.  Pitt’s lieutenant pulls out a rag rope braided into a strangling cord.

“You,” said Pitt’s lieutenant hoarsely. “I couldn’t figure you out at first. You’re not one of us. You could never have been one of us. Mutant . . . You gave me the clue yourself. Pitt wasn’t a Cetagandan spy. You are!” And lunged forward.

Miles dodged, overwhelmed by onslaught and insight. Damn, he’d known there must be a good reason scragging Pitt that way had felt so much like a mistake despite its efficiency. The false accusation was two-edged, as dangerous to its wielder as its victim—Pitt’s lieutenant might even believe his accusation true—Miles had started a witch-hunt.

Miles and Suegar try to fight, but to little avail.  One of the men removes the rope bracelet holding Suegar’s scripture to his wrist and taunts him with it; he starts to tear it up, then decides to eat it.  Enraged, Miles punches the nearest attacker, breaking his hand and wrist, as Suegar chases the paper-chewer.  The cord goes over Miles’s neck, and he manages to get one hand, the broken one, underneath it.  His vision is closing in when rescue arrives, in the form of Beatrice and some Enforcers and commandos.  When he recovers a bit, he sees Suegar lying on the ground, curling up around his stomach.

They carry Suegar back to the camp, and Beatrice finds a doctor, but all she can say is he has a “busted belly” and lament about how few medical skills she seems to have without the technology she was trained with.  She says all they can do is keep him warm and see if he lives or dies; personally, she doesn’t think much for his chances, and Miles agrees.  Beatrice asks Miles what they should do with their attackers, and Miles says they should let them go; they’re not the enemy.  He pleads with Beatrice until she agrees, with ill grace.

Miles sits next to Suegar, giving him water from time to time, and nursing his own injured hand.  A chow call passes and Beatrice brings their rat bars by.  Miles contemplates the pain of losing friends, and wonders if Suegar will be as bad as Bothari, or worse.

He lay back and stared at the dome, the white, unblinking eye of a dead god. And had more friends than he knew already been killed by this megalomanic escapade? It would be just like the Cetagandans, to leave him in here all unknowing, and let the growing doubt and fear gradually drive him crazy.

Swiftly drive him crazy—the god’s eye blinked.

Miles opens his eyes wide, wondering if he’d blinked, or hallucinated, but he sees the dome flicker again, then blinks out, leaving them in the unaccustomed darkness of real planetary night.

“CHOW CALL!” Miles screamed at the top of his lungs.

Bombs start to land on the buildings encircling the former dome, lighting up the night again.  Miles grabs Tris as she goes by, and yells to her to get the group leaders organized, to get their groups of 200 set up around the perimeter, and keep the chow call discipline so they won’t mob the shuttles.  Tris is flabbergasted, and Miles repeats that they just need to follow the drills they’ve practiced.  As more explosions and flares light up the camp, causing Miles to wonder why his people had decided to pick them up at night instead of in daylight, he grabs Beatrice and tells her the same as Tris, telling her to try to calm people down by explaining they get a shuttle seat instead of a rat bar.  Then he asks her to come back and guard Suegar once she’s spread the word.  Beatrice doesn’t know what he’s talking about until he indicates the fourteen shuttles (including one he’d only been hoping would be repaired in time) already dropping down from the sky around the perimeter of the camp.

Beatrice stood with her mouth open, staring upward. “My God. They’re beautiful.” He could almost see her mind start to ratchet forward. “But they’re not ours. Not Cetagandan either. Who the hell . . . ?”

Miles bowed. “This is a paid political rescue.”


“We’re not something wriggling with too many legs that you found in your sleeping bag. The proper tone of voice is Mercenaries!—with a glad cry.”

Miles continues accosting people and spreading the news himself, commandeering a tall commando at one point to help him see what’s going on.  The fourteen groups do seem to be assembling at about the right positions as the shuttles land.  He walks over to the nearest shuttle, hoping that his plan will keep the shuttles from being overrun with prisoners.  The shuttle disgorges armed troopers, a small group pointing their weapons at the prisoners and a larger one heading to the Cetagandan buildings outside the circle.

He spots Lieutenant Murka and calls him over; Murka immediately notifies Ky Tung of Miles’s presence through his headset.  Miles grabs Murka’s headset to talk to Tung directly, asking whether Elli and Elena have been retrieved yet.  Tung says they don’t have the two women yet, and informs Miles they have about two hours for the lift.

The first group of 200 is assembled ready for the shuttle, and the second group is being organized to sit down and wait calmly.  Miles notes an odd procedure as the prisoners are boarded onto the shuttle–cutting open the back of the uniform, using a medical stunner, then ripping out the serial numbers the Cetagandans had tagged them all with.  Bel Thorne appears, with a doctor and some clothes.  Before Miles can change, the doctor does the same operation to him, and he yelps in pain before the stun kicks in.  The doctor explains that Elli and Elena discovered that the barcodes were done in a special ink with embedded chemicals that would begin to dissolve an hour after being removed from the dome, leading to a very messy death.  Miles shudders at the news and tells Thorne to authorize a commendation for the two women, promising to take their (Barrayaran) employers to task for missing the vital bit of information.  He also asks for a quick stun for his broken hand.

Thorne expresses concern about the increased size of the operation, which was supposed to just be a pickup for Colonel Tremont, and turned into a full jailbreak, using the full resources of the entire Dendarii fleet.  He points out that there’s twice as many prisoners as Dendarii.  Miles promises that their employers will pay for the operation, but he’ll have to deliver the bill in person.

Ky Tung appears just as the first wave of shuttles is launching, each as it fills up rather than waiting for the others, so Miles judges timing is extremely tight.  He tells Miles that they’re loading the prisoners into some used freighters, which can hold 5000 prisoners each, though not particularly comfortably, but they’ll be okay if they lie down and don’t breathe too much.  The local Cetagandan military are on practice maneuvers on the other side of the solar system, so all they have to deal with is some local police shuttles for now.  They’d had to wait for the maneuvers, which had been the holdup, after the revised and expanded plan was put into effect.  Tung says that the defense forces on the planet have been reduced substantially since Miles went in, stripped off to other hot spots, but they only have two hours.  Getting the fourth and last load into the air will be cutting it rather fine, depending on how fast they can load them in the first place.

“Have you found Elli and Elena yet?”

“I have three patrols out searching.”

He hadn’t found them yet. Miles’s guts tightened. “I wouldn’t have even attempted to expand this operation in midstream if I hadn’t known they were monitoring me, and could translate all those oblique hints back into orders.”

“Did they get ’em all right?” asked Tung. “We argued over some of their interpretations of your double-talk on the vids.”

Miles confirms they were right, but is surprised they have actual vids.  Tung says that they got a burst transmission daily, and some people found Miles’s efforts entertaining.  He says Elli and Elena were in contact as of yesterday, and assures Miles that his three patrols wouldn’t do any better with Miles himself helping.  Miles can’t help but worry about them, though, especially knowing that Cetagandans killed spies, after interrogating them thoroughly first.  He tries to reassure himself that there would be more resistance here if the Cetagandans had captured them…unless they were killed by friendly fire, of course.

He tells the soldier with his clothes to go and fetch Beatrice and Suegar; he enjoys the experience of being able once more to give orders without having to give a sermon for each one.  He feels exhausted, and has trouble dressing himself one-handed until Thorne comes to help him out.  Miles asks where his headset is, and Thorne says he was scheduled for immediate evacuation.  Miles swallows his annoyance and admits he’s not yet enough in the loop on the details of the operation to be giving orders, but he’s available to bring up the rear.

The soldier returns with Beatrice and Suegar.  Miles’s personal surgeon takes a look at Suegar, gives him synergine for the shock, and pronounces him in bad shape.  Miles tells him he’ll see Suegar personally brought for surgery on the command ship.  Tung receives a message on his comm set; Elli and Elena have been found and are being brought to the drop site, and haven’t asked for a medtech so are probably okay.

Miles asks Beatrice to get Tris and Oliver so he can talk to them before they go up.  When they arrive, he congratulates them on having “achieved an army”.  Tris is pessimistic, wondering what will happen if anything goes wrong, or if anyone starts to panic.  Miles says they can ride with him if that makes them feel better, though he will be going up in the last load; Tung receives this announcement with consternation.  He also tells Tris and Oliver that his original mission had been only to rescue Colonel Tremont, so he could raise an army to fight off the Cetagandans, but when that didn’t work out, he decided to just raise an army himself.  Tris and Oliver are now the new Marilac resistance, Miles tells them, overriding their protests of inexperience.  Oliver says his time in the military actually ended while he was at Fallow Core, and wonders when he’ll be able to retire now.

“The odds were worse for Barrayar, in its day, and they ran the Cetagandans right off. It took twenty years, and more blood than either of you have seen in your lives combined, but they did it,” asserted Miles.

Oliver seemed more struck by this historical precedent than Tris, who said skeptically, “Barrayar had those crazy Vor warriors. Nuts who rushed into battle, who liked to die. Marilac just doesn’t have that sort of cultural tradition. We’re civilized—or we were, once. . . .”

“Let me tell you about the Barrayaran Vor,” cut in Miles. “The loonies who sought a glorious death in battle found it very early on. This rapidly cleared the chain of command of the accumulated fools. The survivors were those who learned to fight dirty, and live, and fight another day, and win, and win, and win, and for whom nothing, not comfort, or security, not family or friends or their immortal souls, was more important than winning. Dead men are losers by definition. Survival and victory. They weren’t supermen, or immune to pain. They sweated in confusion and darkness. And with not one-half the physical resources Marilac possesses even now, they won. When you’re Vor,” Miles ran down a little, “there is no mustering out.”

Tris says they will still need supplies, and Miles says there will be covert support of the Resistance as long as there’s a Resistance to deliver it to.  Tris asks Oliver if he’ll be joining her, and he says he will.  Miles asks Tung how they’re doing, and he says they’re a few minutes behind, unloading.  Miles tells Tris and Oliver to go up in the next wave, on separate shuttles, and help speed up the unloading.

Beatrice lingered. “I’m inclined to panic,” she informed Miles in a distant tone. Her bare toe smudged whorls in the dampening dirt.

“I don’t need a bodyguard anymore,” Miles said. He grinned. “A keeper, maybe . . .”

A smile lighted her eyes that did not yet reach her mouth. Later, Miles promised himself. Later, he would make that mouth laugh.

The second wave begins to lift, even as more first wave shuttles are still landing; the fog has turned to rain.  Tung swears suddenly and then tells Miles that two shuttles have been destroyed by a Cetagandan fighter–one full, one empty.  Miles is relieved that Tris and Oliver weren’t on them, but is saddened by the loss of the 200 prisoners, and the six Dendarii crewmembers.  Beatrice asks for a task, to keep her mind busy, and Miles sends her to tell the leaders of the two groups now without a shuttle to divide up among the others; the last wave will have to go up overloaded.  Tung says they were already overloaded, this will make it worse.  Miles asks him to calculate how far behind they’ll be when the rest of the Cetagandans return.  Tung works it out and says that five shuttles will still be waiting to unload.

Tung makes a few suggestions–don’t send those five shuttles down, and leave a thousand prisoners on the behind.  Miles isn’t keen on the idea, and points out that the last groups of prisoners have been watching Miles carefully, and any sign they’ll be left behind will likely lead them to riot.  Tung says they won’t notice, with the shuttle timing so skewed.

“So we just leave them standing there, waiting for us?” The sheep look up, but are not fed . . .


“You like that option, Ky?”

“Makes me want to puke, but—consider the 9,000 others. And the Dendarii fleet. The idea of dropping them all down the rat hole in a pre-doomed effort to pack up all these—miserable sinners of yours, makes me want to puke a lot more. Nine-tenths of a loaf is much better than none.”

Miles proposes an alternate option.  The freighters are the slowest ships, but the Triumph is faster.  If they can take the last five shuttles and have them dock to the Triumph instead, jettisoning five fighters to make room, then the Triumph‘s shields can protect them while they cram the prisoners into the corridors.  The added mass of people may slow it down, but they can jettison some of the drop shuttles to offset it.  They should have enough oxygen to make it to the jump point, after which they can redistribute people.  Tung begins to protest the cost, and Miles stops him and says he’ll tack it onto the bill to their employers.  Tung runs the calculations and says it’ll buy them 15 very expensive minutes.

The second wave of shuttles begins to return, and, after giving Murka strict orders to not bother returning to the ship without Miles, Tung boards his shuttle with the third wave, leaving less then two thousand prisoners still on the ground, waiting.  The last wave of shuttles begins to return just after the last of the third wave leave, but the Marilacans’ discipline seems to be holding.  Miles sees Suegar onto the shuttle first, noting that he’ll actually reach Triumph faster this way than he would if he’d been loaded onto a freighter first.

The last of the armored troops that had been occupying the Cetagandan ground installations reaches the shuttle, reporting to Murka.  Plasma fire bursts out of the darkness, some Cetagandan holdout who’d found a weapon.  One immobilizes a Dendarii trooper’s armour, another flies off harmlessly into the air; rear-guard soldiers pick up weapons and head off after it, but Miles calls them back, saying there’s no time.  Miles helps the trooper out of his armour and they dash for the shuttle.  As Murka is waiting for the last few to board, he gets decapitated by a plasma beam across his neck.  Miles grabs Murka’s headset and runs up the ramp, partly melted by the plasma beam, and tells the pilot to lift now.

The shuttle begins to lift off as the ramp retracts…and jams on the melted section.  They can’t pull it in further, or seal the hatch, so Miles tells them to jettison it.  Now it’s stuck, though, and can’t slide back out, either.

Hands reached out to thump on it urgently. “You’ll never get it that way!” Beatrice, across the hatch from Miles, yelled fiercely, and twisted around to kick at it with her bare feet. The wind of their flight screamed over the open hatchway, buffeting and vibrating the shuttle like a giant blowing across the top of a bottle.

To a chorus of shouting, thumping, and swearing, the shuttle lurched abruptly onto its side. Men, women, and loose equipment tangled across the tilting deck. Beatrice kicked bloodily at a final buggered bolt. The ramp tore loose at last. Beatrice, sliding, fell with it.

Miles dove at her, lunging across the hatchway. If he connected, he never knew, for his right hand was a senseless blob. He saw her face only as a white blur as she whipped away into the blackness.

The white blur loops over and over in Miles’s head, as he finds himself crouched on the deck, pinned by the shuttle’s acceleration, the hatch finally closed.  He sees Pitt’s lieutenant, who had grabbed a weapon near the end, standing over him, and tells him he’d better kill a lot of Cetagandans, because otherwise the price they’d paid was too high.

He crawls forward to talk to Suegar, who’s barely conscious with the drugs and the pain, telling him how it worked out according to the scripture, “up through the regions of air” with “agility and speed”.  Suegar tells him he knew it wasn’t scripture, they both knew it, but Miles make him laugh weakly anyway.  Miles himself manages not to weep until they’re through the wormhole.


Whew, that’s intense, that ending.  Even though they’d taken out a lot of the Cetagandan defense, the whole operation was, in some ways, so precarious that it didn’t take much to jeopardize it.  The one fighter who managed to take out two shuttles, the single sniper killing Murka (poor Murka, you were so brilliant on Jackson’s Whole) and, indirectly, Beatrice…  Those two deaths haunt Miles for a long time, as I recall, particularly Beatrice’s.  The whole scene with the ramp, though, I always found confusing and hard to picture.  Maybe now I have it down, but I guess I always had a problem with the relationship between the ramp and the hatch, and wasn’t sure why you couldn’t close the watch without retracting the ramp.  I suppose the ramp must retract to inside the hatch, but, evidently, it’s a bad design if all it takes is a little bit of plasma melting to make it unworkable.

She was set up for most of the story as a potential romantic interest for Miles, at least once he broke through the defenses that she had put up against the dangers of the camp.  How precisely their relationship would have worked, I don’t know, since I imagine she would be following Tris into the Marilacan Resistance.  I suppose Miles could have tried to make her join the Dendarii instead, but that would have been a really bad idea, since she’d have been torn between the two and probably ended up bitter and resentful.  Probably wouldn’t have made a good Lady Vorkosigan either, though I guess it’s hard to say; we don’t really know much about her beyond the hardened exterior.

The first time through the story, for sure, I had no idea what was coming, what Miles was waiting for, and when the dome shut off and the shuttles came down I had a sudden flash of recognition of how brilliant this plan actually was.  Especially when Miles was concocting it on the fly after the failure of the original plan and only able to communicate it to the Dendarii officers through indirect means, spouting sermons and hoping that Elli and Elena would be able to pass them along.  To think, the best thing the Cetagandans could have done to stop the plan would have been to just stop recording everything.  But I guess Elli and Elena (who are some kind of inseparable bicorporate Cetagandan-infiltration machine in this story) were probably prepared to make sure things got recorded anyway.

All those extra costs that Miles incurs just to try to save a few more lives–well, losing the two shuttles isn’t really his fault, but preparing to sacrifice five brand-new fighters, and maybe two or more of the freighters, can’t be cheap.  Even just mobilizing the entire mercenary fleet to save all the prisoners rather than just trying to sneak one out must have been a costly decision.  And that ramp will probably need to be replaced, too.  The original Borders of Infinity anthology had a scene with Miles trying to explain his cost overruns to Simon Illyan (set after Brothers In Arms), which leads into the story itself.  You ever wonder about those poor Barrayaran peasants whose taxes are used to subsidize Miles’s little adventures?  Well, I’m sure they tax the nobility as well…or, at least, get them to give the Emperor gifts on his birthday every year, but I’m not sure who the main tax burder really falls on.  I guess that somebody, at least, thinks they’re worth it, even if all they’re doing is secretly giving a black eye to the Cetagandans.

Still wonder whether the Cetagandans recognizes Miles, and if they did, if they recognized him as Miles Naismith or Miles Vorkosigan.  I guess, after the fact, unless the records got wiped by Elli-and-Elena, they’d be able to figure out who was behind it all, but in the context of Miles Naismith, for sure.  There’s no evidence that they ever connected the two, and if they did, maybe they just decided that Miles Vorkosigan had a clone or something.  Which would be ridiculous, of course, since clones don’t really work that way, do they?

On that note…we’re done “The Borders of Infinity” and ready to start on Brothers In Arms, wherein we ask the question, “What if Miles had a clone?”  I’ll start week after next, because I get another week off now before leaping into another full-sized novel.  Not quite into my favourite stretch, but without this one Mirror Dance doesn’t stand up, and without Mirror Dance, Memory doesn’t stand up, so it’s a necessary step, and in some ways encompasses a major transition in Miles’s life which begins to throw everything else out of balance.  So there’s that.  In two weeks, then…


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Back again you are welcomed, to the Vorkosigan Saga Reread.  Herein the Vorkosigan Saga I am synopsizing and commenting on, by chapters one or two.  At the moment, the novella “The Borders of Infinity” I am in the middle of; divided it I have into three parts, of which the second one this is.  (Annoying this is probably getting, yes?  When 63 posts into a reread blog you get, perhaps your jokes so good will be not.)  No further ado there is being, as Miles with the prison camp on Dagoola IV is dealing.

The Borders of Infinity (cont.)

Suegar asks Miles where he thinks he’ll get 500 troops; Miles indicates the women’s group, but Suegar is dubious.  They never ever let him in to preach, and he gave up, though he assures Miles it’s not because of any residual guilt for past transgressions.  Miles wonders if the pressure is really high enough to keep the group together, and Suegar says that it comes and goes, like phases of the moon.  Miles makes the connection to menstrual cycles and is thankful that “time-release anti-ovulant” is required for female prisoners under the IJC rules, though he wonders whether having actual children to care for would be a stabilizing or destabilizing force.

“Well . . .” Miles took a deep breath, and pulled an imaginary hat down over his eyes at an aggressive angle. “I’m new here, and so temporarily unembarrassed. Let he who is without sin cast the first lure. Besides, I have an advantage for this sort of negotiation. I’m clearly not a threat.” He marched forward.

“I’ll wait for you here,” called Suegar helpfully, and hunkered down where he was.

Miles timed his forward march to intersect a patrol of six women strolling down their perimeter. He arranged himself in front of them and swept off his imaginary hat to hold strategically over his crotch. “Good afternoon, ladies. Allow me to apologize for m’beh—”

Before he can finish, he’s dumped on his face, then picked up, swung around, and flung away to land near Suegar.  Miles asks Suegar if he’d calculated the trajectory that precisely, and Suegar admitted he hadn’t been quite sure, because of Miles’s size.  Miles gets up, his ribs aching, dusts himself off, and picks up his invisible hat, gathering himself for a moment before heading back.  Suegar tries to stop him, but Miles tells him that he’s pathological persistent, so Suegar sits down to wait for him.  He is thrown back two more times, the second time much less far.

After that he follows along beside them, out of reach but parallel, telling them about his bone disorder (where he must clarify he is not a mutant), telling them he’s not a threat, and exhorting them to slow down so he can talk to them.  He plants himself in front of them and says that if they’re going to break every bone in his body, they might as well go ahead, because that’s what it’ll take to get him to stop.

A tall redhead suggests they take him at his word; she and another woman take his arms, offering to break them, and Miles says that it’ll be worth it if they listen to him for five minutes.  He braces himself as the pressure increases, before the women let up.  The redhead, Beatrice, asks him if he gets off on being beaten up, and Miles suggests they stop beating him up, to serve him right.  The leader calls her off and tells him he’s got five minutes.

Miles first apologizes for his nudity, his clothes having been stolen, which Beatrice confirms.  He says he’s approaching them because they’re the largest pocket of civilization, and he wants to help them expand and “improve the tone” of the prison camp.  The patrol leader isn’t receptive, saying they have all they can do just to hold their borders, and Beatrice adds that he’s not getting “any” from them either.

Miles sighed, and turned his hat around in his hands by its wide brim. He spun it for a moment on one finger, and locked eyes with the redhead. “Note my hat. It was the one garment I managed to keep from the ravages of the burly surly brothers—Pitt’s bunch, you say.”

She snorted at the turn of phrase. “Those jerks . . . why just a hat? Why not pants? Why not a full-dress uniform while you’re at it?” she added sarcastically.

“A hat is a more useful object for communicating. You can make broad gestures,” he did so, “denote sincerity,” he held it over his heart, “or indicate embarrassment,” over his genitals, with a hang-dog crouch, “or rage—” he flung it to earth as if he might drive it into the ground, then picked it up and brushed it off carefully, “or determination—” he jammed it on his head and yanked the brim down over his eyes, “or make courtesies.” He swept it off again in salute to her. “Do you see the hat?”

Amused, Beatrice says she does.  Miles asks her about the feathers on the hat, and she plays along, describing two of them, close together, but she draws back when Miles asks her about their colour.

“When you can see the color of the feathers,” said Miles softly, “you’ll also understand how you can expand your borders to infinity.”

She was silent, her face closed and locked. But the patrol leader muttered, “Maybe this little runt better talk to Tris. Just this once.”

Tris turns out to be an actual female trooper, not a tech, muscular and angry.  Miles knows that how he deals with Tris could make or break his whole scheme.  He takes a deep breath and offers her command of the camp; she is not impressed.  She says it doesn’t exist, so he can’t give it to her, and tells Beatrice to get rid of him.  Miles says that he can create command of the camp–power, not revenge.

Tris uncoiled from her sleeping mat to her full height, then had to bend her knees to bring her face level to his, hissing, “Too bad, little turd. You almost interest me. Because I want revenge. On every man in this camp.”

“Then the Cetagandans have succeeded; you’ve forgotten who your real enemy is.”

“Say, rather, that I’ve discovered who my real enemy is. Do you want to know the things they’ve done to us—our own guys—”

“The Cetagandans want you to believe this,” a wave of his hand embraced the camp, “is something you’re doing to each other. So fighting each other, you become their puppets. They watch you all the time, you know, voyeurs of your humiliation.”

He tells her that power is grasping the future, while revenge is being held back by the past.  She holds out a muscular arm and tells him this is power, and she can tell he wants some to protect him, but he isn’t getting any there.  Miles taps his head and says that that’s where true power is.  The Cetagandans are trapping their bodies, which affects their minds, but the mind is more powerful if they turn it around.  When the prisoners forget that, when they reduce themselves to their brawn and their bodies, then the Cetagandans win.

Tris says that the Cetagandans have won anyway–they’re prisoners, nothing they do will matter, because the Cetagandans control their environment.  Nobody’s come to rescue them, so they need to think about the long haul.  Miles says that they’re not there forever, or else the Cetagandans would have saved time and killed them all.  They’re there so the Cetagandans can break the best Marilacan freedom fighters and send them back to preach their gospel of surrender to the rest of their people.  He says the Cetagandans are really still waiting for the surrender of Fallow Core.

Tris says that if he’s right, then keeping up the fight just pushes their freedom farther away.  Miles, dismayed that she’s also got a keen, logical mind, says that there’s being a prisoner, and then there’s being a slave, which is what the Cetagandans want.  Tris notes that Miles doesn’t seem to include himself among the prisoners, and Miles, thinking fast, says that he’s not really a Marilacan soldier, but an outsider–a pilgrim passing through, according to Suegar.  Tris dismisses Suegar, having missed Miles’s hint.

Tris asks what Miles wants out of this–command of the camp himself?  Miles says he just wants to be an advisor, a spiritual advisor.  Tris reacts to the word ‘advisor’, and runs her hands over Miles’s face, noticing the distinctive indentations caused by frequent wearing of a space helmet, like the ones on her own face.  She asks again where he served before; Miles insists he was a clerk in the recruiting office, hoping that she’ll see the absurdity of that assertion.  She tells him to keep talking.

Suegar is asleep when Miles returns to him, so Miles wakes him and asks if they still have to remain naked, or if they’re allowed to get dressed.  Suegar is confused until he sees Beatrice standing there impatiently with two bundles of clothes.  She tosses them to Miles and stalks off.  Miles assesses them as he puts them on, only a little too long, stained, probably taken from a corpse.  Suegar is amazed that Miles got the women to give him clothes, and Miles said they’re giving him more than that.  He says they have to find Oliver, and wonders if the chow calls are on a predictable schedule or not.

They see a man running around the camp, weeping to himself; Suegar says it just happens to people like that sometimes.  Miles notes he’s coming towards them, and says they should catch him.  They hit him high and low and sit on him, and Miles notices how young he seems.  After he quiets down, Miles invites him to a “major party” and tells him to take the message to Sgt. Oliver, and bring his friends, and to say that Brother Miles sent him.  Then they set out to find Oliver themselves.

Oliver has 46 men, 18 more come back with the running man, and they induct anyone who happens to drift close to the edges of the group.  They pick up 75 more who see them being actually given access to the women’s area.  Miles cuts them off at 200, in deference to Tris’s nervousness.  He tries to convince her to use all of her personnel, not leaving half to guard their territory, because only this once will they have the advantage of surprise, so it’ll give them the best chance for success first try, before anyone else realizes what they’re trying to do.  Tris says that after too long at war, losing it seems better than prolonging it, but Miles asks if she wants to lose to _those_ bastards.  Oliver, when he sees the size of the group they have, suggests splitting up into twenty groups, to speed up distribution.  Miles says it has to be fourteen, a “theologically significant” number, for the fourteen apostles.

Once they get organized, they have to wait, and Miles hopes that the food arrives before he loses his tenuous control over the group.  When the dome begins to bulge, a third of way around the edge from them, Oliver points it out to Miles.  Miles thinks the timing is too perfect, since the Cetagandans are obviously watching them; if it’s not early or late, it must be a trick.  He orders them to wait, and they do, though reluctantly, as other prisoners begin to head for the bulge.  Miles hopes very strongly that he’s not wrong about this, as he gets Suegar to boost him on his shoulders.  Sure enough, the bulge disappears to reveal nothing…and another bulge starts on the opposite side of the camp.

Miles orders them to go toward the second bulge, and Tris sends her troops off.  Miles limps after them, hoping he can keep ahead of the redirected mass of the other prisoners.  He sees the troops beginning to break down the food pile, on guard and ready to distribute it, just as he is overtaken.  Suegar yanks him back to his feet and he makes his way through the lines, where he finds Beatrice, who is given ample personal space.

It was working, by God it was working. The fourteen command groups, still bunched rather too closely along the dome wall—but that could be improved next run—were admitting the hungry supplicants one at a time. The expediters kept the lines moving at top speed, and channeled the already-supplied along the perimeter behind the human shield wall in a steady stream, to flow back out into the larger camp at the edge of the mob. Oliver had put his toughest-looking bravos to work in pairs, patrolling the outflow and making sure no one’s rat bar was taken by force.

Not a few of the guards are taking out their frustration on attempted thieves, including some of the “burly surlies”, and Miles reluctantly sends Oliver to restore order.  The women are mostly in charge of the actual handing out of food, which seems to have a quelling effect on most of the men, some of whom are even polite.  Pitt is not one of them; Miles spots three of the women attempting to beat him up for his offensive behaviour to them.  He sends four men to grab Pitt and take him over to the wall; Tris and Beatrice arrive to reinforce them.

“I’m gonna rip the bastard’s balls off,” Tris was saying. “I command—”

“A military command,” Miles interrupted. “If this one is accused of disorderly conduct, you should court martial him.”

“He is a rapist and a murderer,” she replied icily. “Execution’s too good for him. He’s got to die slowly.”

Miles doesn’t feel right in handing him over to Tris, and Suegar points out that Pitt is far from the only guilty man there.  Pitt spots Miles and tells him that the women aren’t going to last long, they don’t have the muscle.  He says the women are the reason they lost in the first place, not like the Barrayarans, who fought off the Cetagandans; Miles wonders how much Pitt really knows about the First Cetagandan War.  Finally, tired of bandying words with him, Miles points out that Pitt is likely a Cetagandan spy and provocateur, sent to undermine them and help with their defeat.  Oliver whispers to Miles that Pitt is no spy, but Miles shushes him.  He tells them to take off Pitt’s shirt, as the whispers begin, and with the jagged edge of Suegar’s broken glass, he carves the words “CETA SPY” into Pitt’s back.  Then he tells them to give him his rat bar and throw him out.

Tris asks Miles if he was really a spy; Oliver denies it, and Miles says that they had to deal with him, but without condemning the many other men who may share his crimes to a greater or lesser degree, or else they’ll split the camp for sure.  This way, he’s dealt with, anyone tempted to follow his path is warned off, and Tris’s hands are clean.

When delivering rat bars to the sick and injured, Miles finds that Colonel Tremont has died.  Miles, Suegar, Tris, Beatrice and Oliver carry the body to the rubbish pile, where it is given the rare dignity of not being stripped.  Not long after they find Pitt, who has been beaten and strangled; Tris is sobered by finding the body, and Miles tells her that even Pitt’s death is a loss for their side.

After the distribution is finished, Miles commends Tris, her “general staff”, and the group leaders on an excellent job.  The food distribution will get easier as they practice it, people will get used to it, and they already forced the Cetagandans into action, which means they’re back at war.  He encourages them to wonder what the Cetagandans could do next, then yields the floor fo Tris, since he’s just the “chaplain” and she’s really the one in charge.

Tris suggests they might send in a short pile, so they’ll have to keep track of who gets food so they can make sure noboby gets short-changed too often.  Miles adds that they might send in too much, leaving to deal with extras.  Tris says that they could divide the pile.  One of the leaders asks if they aren’t doing the Cetagandans’ thinking for them, if they’re listening in, and Miles says that every response from their captors gives them more information about how they think.  Another leader asks if they won’t cut off the camp’s air, permanently; Miles says that would cancel out the hard-won PR coup of following all the IJC rules about their prisoners, which the Cetagandans are relying heavily on.  Even though the high death rate at the camp has already been noticed, the Cetagandans have managed to explain it away but 100% would be a bit much.  Later, Oliver asked quietly about the information, and Miles tells him he’s glad it sounded convincing.

They spend time planning out their responses to the various possibilities; by the time they’re done, Miles is flagging.  Tris asks about the possibility the Cetagandans will just do nothing, and Miles says it’s most likely, allowing them to blunt their momentum and eventually lose focus.  Tris asks what then, and Miles says they’ll have to pray for a miracle.  He wakes up only enough to let Beatrice roll him onto a sleeping mat.

Miles is, unfortunately, correct, and the rat bar schedule returns to normal.  He tries to keep them interested, using a prisoner with a steady pulse to time them, and getting them work on speeding things up.  At one point he starts issuing the bars 200 at a time, with half-hour breaks between, as a “spiritual exercise”, telling Tris that it’s a way to provide variety for themselves.  He gets them to carry the bars around the perimeter to distribute from evenly-spaced piles.  By the twentieth chow call, probably ten days in, the system is perfected, and he laments that he’s done too early.

By the thirty-second chow call, the system was still running smoothly, but Miles was getting frayed.

“Welcome to the long haul,” said Beatrice dryly. “You better start pacing yourself, Brother Miles. If what Tris says is true, we’re going to be in here even longer because of you. I must remember to thank you for that properly sometime.” She treated him to a threatening smirk, and Miles prudently remembered an errand on the opposite side of the camp.

Miles realizes that for people who’ve been in for years, sixteen days is nothing, but Miles is beginning to climb the walls, and wonders if he’s going to go crazy, or manic-depressive.  He thinks about leaders who have been wrong about their predictions of armageddon, and wants his miracle to happen now, now, now.


So does Marilac have a moon, for Suegar to be so familiar with their phases?  A moon large enough for everyone to see them?  Because I gather that, for Earthlike planets, that’s considered unlikely, unless you’re going with one of those “Rare Earth” hypotheses that they’re required for habitability.  (Or was it just required for the evolution of intelligent life?  I don’t remember.)  If they were more Phobos/Deimos-sized, seeing phases might be trickier.  And, for that matter, Miles makes a connection between the moon and menstruation, which it seems to me would require not only a moon but also one with an orbital period about the same as the menstrual cycle.  Maybe that’s not unreasonable–anything orbiting at the same radius as our moon would have the same orbital frequency–but then, if it’s smaller, it’d be less visible…  Especially considering that Miles is a Barrayaran; I don’t even know if it has a moon, or Beta Colony, or any planet we’ve been to.  Miles doesn’t get to go to Earth until the next book…

There are just over ten thousand prisoners in there, but I suppose that the Marilacan military is still far from sexual equality, because there’s no way that Miles got five thousand women to go with Oliver’s 200 men when they first take the food pile.  It’s not quite clear from the text, but probably not more than 1000 total, maybe closer to 700, so there’s about 500-800 women, 5-8%.

The sort-of-romance with Miles and Beatrice is interesting.  It starts with Miles being attracted to her because of her red hair (buzzcut as it is), and probably her height as well, and her disdain turning to respect, probably starting with the invisible hat scene.  One presumes Miles is between relationships right now (since Taura is likely an actual Dendarii and so not allowed to fraternize), and Beatrice is beginning to learn the attractive force that Miles can wield when he turns his interest on you…and at the moment he’s fairly distracted, too.  I’m not quite sure how Beatrice went from not-even-a-patrol-leader to Tris’s second-in-command, whether is entirely due to her bringing Miles to meet Tris, or if she’d been in a decent position beforehand and just wasn’t always a patrol leader.  Maybe ranks in the women’s group was just not formalized before.  I was surprised, on rereading, to discover that Beatrice wasn’t the patrol leader, because, in my mind, she was in charge there.  After all, the real leader didn’t even get a name, did she?

I wish I could have quoted the whole debate between Miles and Tris, or even the scene with Miles and Beatrice, but I think that would be crossing over the line.  Still, it is awesome dialogue, and convincing convincing, if you know what I mean.  Read it yourself, if you haven’t, or reread it if you have.

We’re now two-thirds of the way through the borders towards infinity, so next week will bring us to the end of it.  Then I’ll take a week off before starting Brothers In Arms, which may almost be the first time the break in the reread is longer than the actual time passed between books.  Keep with it; we’re in the good stuff, but we’re almost up to the really good stuff, which, to me, starts with Mirror Dance, but we have to get there this way first, because that will make the whole thing so much better…  Anyway, next week, “The Borders of Infinity” concluded, be here or be squere.

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Good evening, and welcome again to the Vorkosigan Saga Reread.  This week I’ll be starting on the novella “The Borders of Infinity”, which originally featured prominently in a collection of (alm0st) the same name, together with “The Mountains of Mourning”, “Labyrinth”, and a framing story.  The more recent omnibuses have split these stories up, so that “The Mountains of Mourning” is in Young Miles, “Labyrinth” is in Miles, Mystery & Mayhem, and “The Borders of Infinity” leads off the omnibus Miles Errant.  I think that’s actually a sensible decision, since “Borders” is linked closely with Brothers In Arms, which follows immediately after it in the omnibus.  There’s not much to the framing story, so I doubt I’ll be covering it.  So, without further ado, let’s on to the beginning of…

The Borders of Infinity

Miles and three other prisoners enter a gigantic force dome through a temporary doorway, and Miles is taken aback by what he finds inside, half-wondering if he’s arrived in Hell rather than the Dagoola prison camp.

Dagoola IV Top Security Prison Camp #3. This was it? This naked . . . dinner plate? Miles had vaguely visioned barracks, marching guards, daily head counts, secret tunnels, escape committees.

It was the dome that made it all so simple, Miles realized. What need for barracks to shelter prisoners from the elements? The dome did it. What need for guards? The dome was generated from without. Nothing inside could breach it. No need for guards, or head counts. Tunnels were a futility, escape committees an absurdity. The dome did it all.

Miles’s fellow prisoners are also disturbed by what they’ve found; having known each other before, from the same unit, they instinctively band together.  All their possessions were taken away, and what they’re left with is tunic and trousers, sleeping mat and plastic cup, and a tattoo on the small of their backs.  A group of men approaches, and Miles wonders who they might be, out of the numerous prisoners in the camp.

The battered remnants of the 3rd and 4th Armored All-Terrain Rangers. The ingenious and tenacious civilian defenders of Garson Transfer Station. Winoweh’s 2nd Battalion had been captured almost intact. And the 14th Commandos, survivors of the high-tech fortress at Fallow Core. Particularly the survivors of Fallow Core. Ten thousand, two hundred fourteen exactly. The planet Marilac’s finest. Ten thousand, two hundred fifteen, counting himself. Ought he to count himself?

The welcoming committee stops a short distance away; Miles’s three companions sensible retreat, and Miles realizes he’s alone, and all too conspicuous.  Miles knows it’s not going to work, but he asks them anyways, about where he can find Colonel Guy Tremont of the 14th Commandos, as they move to surround him.  They tell him there’s no ranks or companies or soldiers any more.  They kick him to the ground and take all his possessions, planning on trying to trade his clothes to the women.  A smart response from Miles brings a second beating, which leaves him broken ribs and an injured left wrist, as well as many bruises.

After a timeless interval of pain, Miles is approached by another man, gaunt and bony, also naked, seeming older but hard to tell.  All the prisoners had their hair follicles stunned to prevent growth, but this man had a strip of beard where they must have been sloppy.  He offers Miles a drink in a broken plastic cup, which he gratefully accepts.

The man squatted in studied politeness until Miles finished drinking, then leaned forward on his knuckles in restrained urgency. “Are you the One?”

Miles blinked. “Am I the what?”

“The One. The other one, I should say. The scripture says there has to be two.”

Miles asks about the scripture, and the man quotes a line about two men leading pilgrims up a hill, leaving their garments behind.  Miles asks the man, whose name is Suegar, and Suegar confirms that he is sure he’s one of the two men.  He notes that Miles doesn’t look like a soldier, and Miles claims to have been a recruiting clerk.  He asks how Suegar came to know his true identity; Suegar said it came gradually, when nobody else seemed to believe in his scripture.  He tells Miles it’s only a few sentences, so it’s not very clear; he’d torn out of a piece of paper from a book to wedge into one boot heel, and kept it in his hand when he came into the camp, since the guards didn’t seem bothered by it.  Only later did he realize it must be scripture, as the only writing in the whole camp.

Miles asks Suegar about the water, and where they get food.  Suegar says the water comes from taps at the latrines, but they don’t always work, and they don’t always get the “rat” bars either, only sometimes.

“Sometimes?” said Miles angrily. He could count Suegar’s ribs. “Dammit, the Cetagandans are claiming loudly to be treating their POW’s by Interstellar Judiciary Commission rules. So many square meters of space per person, 3,000 calories a day, at least fifty grams of protein, two liters of drinking water—you should be getting at least two IJC standard ration bars a day. Are they starving you?”

“After a while,” Suegar sighed, “you don’t really care if you get yours or not.”

Suegar seems to slump as Miles’s novelty begins to wear off.  Miles says that he’s looking for a relative of his in the camp, Colonel Guy Tremont.  Suegar says the old groups don’t stay together too much, and officers weren’t too popular with some of the groups inside.  Miles asks Suegar if he can take Miles to someone who might know where Tremont or somebody from the 14th Commandos might be, and Suegar says he’ll try.  He’s taken aback by Miles’s sense of urgency, until Miles prods him into recognizing that part of his scripture mentions “agility and speed”.

They pass other groups, giving some of them a wide berth.  The “surly brothers” who beat up Miles earlier seem to be a group of about sixteen with a large collection of mats, but most groups are smaller, and there are other loners, most of them keeping their distance from the others.  Miles spots a large group of hundreds of women who have staked out a large area, including two latrines, and are actively patrolling it.  Miles asks about the women; Suegar says they don’t “put out”, and Miles expresses some surprise that some of them haven’t turned to sex to relieve the boredom.  Suegar says that everything in the dome is monitored, down to every word…unless, of course, their captors have just automated the food delivery and abandoned them entirely.  Miles assures that the Cetagandans are still out there.

Suegar says that the monitoring inhibited some people at first, until they discovered that the Cetagandans didn’t interfere, so things began to deteriorate, and after a few rapes the women began to band together.  The Cetagandans do interfere in extreme cases, as when there’s riots, by cutting off oxygen and letting everyone pass out, or compressing the dome to extreme discomfort.
Miles notices a bulge in the dome and asks Suegar if it’s more new prisoners.

Suegar glanced around. “Uh oh. We’re not in a real good position, here.” He hovered a moment, as if uncertain whether to go forward or back.

A wave of movement rippled through the camp from the bulge outward, of people getting to their feet. Faces turned magnetically toward the side of the dome. Little knots of men came together; a few sprinters began running. Some people didn’t get up at all. Miles glanced back towards the women’s group. About half of them were forming rapidly into a sort of phalanx.

“We’re so close—what the hell, maybe we’ve got a chance,” said Suegar. “Come on!”

Suegar jogs towards the bulge, and Miles follows, hampered by his broken ribs.  As the bulge disappears, Miles sees a big pile of rat bars, acceptable IJC rations, containing half the daily nutritional requirements and guaranteed to keep you alive as long as you kept eating them.  Miles realizes that there must be one rat bar for every prisoner in that one pile.  The Cetagandans have delivered the food, they leave it to the prisoners to distribute it, and there’s no way that all ten thousand-odd of them are going to each get their even share.

The first to arrive at the pile grab armfuls and try to sprint to safety.  Those who don’t make it get beaten up by the surly brothers and other kindred spirits.  After that it gets harder to get away because of the crush of new people arriving.  Miles and Suegar are caught in the press.  Suegar grabs a bar and hastily starts to eat it, but Miles can’t keep a grip on his, trying too hard to keep from getting trampled, which terrifies him.  He eventually extricates himself from the crowd as the pressure eases, and sits and shakes in the dirt for a while.  He made it out this time, with nothing more than a trampled foot, but he’s afraid now that he might die at the hands, or feet, of potential allies rather than friends.

Eventually Miles forces himself back to his feet, telling himself it’s time to find Colonel Tremont, the hero of the siege of Fallow Core, who held to the last.  General Xian had promised to return, but been killed himself, and HQ had fallen to the Cetagandans.  Fallow Core had held out a long time, but had eventually fallen–not surrendering, but taken.

Looking around, Miles locates Suegar, being driven away by an unappreciate audience; he walks closer and calls Suegar over.  Suegar says he has to keep trying, in case he missed the Other One the first time.  Miles asks Suegar to lead him to the guy who would know where Tremont is.  As they walk, Miles asks if that’s a typical chow call, and if so, why somebody hasn’t just taken that arc of the dome; Suegar says it moves around all the time, so it’s hard to tell where to wait for it.  Suegar asks the date, and Miles tells him; Suegar is surprised that it hasn’t even been three years yet.

They reach a group of men, who aren’t happy to see Suegar; Suegar point out a man named Oliver, introduces Miles to him, then backs away.  Miles appraises Oliver, noting he’s still got his original equipment, but no stolen extras.  He tells Oliver he’s looking for Colonel Tremont; Oliver says there’s no colonels in here anymore.  Miles says he’s a relative, and the only person he might know in the whole camp; Oliver allows as he might have a right to see Tremont, for all the good it’ll do.

Oliver leads them to another group of mats, on the edge of which a figure lies curled up on a mat.  Oliver says it’s not Tremont, just his remains, but Miles sees that Tremont is breathing.  However, Tremont seems entirely catatonic, surrounded by urine-soaked mud but obviously cared for.  Oliver pushes some food into his mouth but Tremont makes no move to eat it.

“Was—was he injured when Fallow Core was overrun?” asked Miles. “Head injury?”

Oliver shook his head. “Fallow Core wasn’t stormed, boy.”

“But it fell on October 6th, it was reported, and—”

“It fell on October 5th. Fallow Core was betrayed.” Oliver turned and walked away before his stiffened face could betray any emotion.

Miles wanders off, wondering if his mission is over.  He looks up at the dome, considering how the Cetagandans have twisted the IJC rules.  Ample allotted space per prisoner; no solitary confinement, no excessive periods of darkness (because there’s no darkness at all), no beatings or rapes–by the guards, at least, since there are no guards at all.  The rat bar distribution, leaving it to the prisoners to come up with their own unequal distribution.  No forced labour; access to medical personnel, because they still have their own medics, though no actual equipment…  No communication with the outside world, of course.

This lack of word from the outside world might drive even him crazy shortly. It was as bad as prayer, talking to a God who never talked back. No wonder they all seemed touched with a sort of solipsistic schizophrenia here. Their doubts infected him. Was anybody still out there? Could his voice be heard and understood?

Ah, blind faith. The leap of faith. His right hand clenched, as if crushing an eggshell. “This,” he enunciated clearly, “calls for a major change of plans.”

He finds Suegar again, telling him he’s found his “cousin”, but he’s dying.  He asks what they do with dead bodies, and Suegar says they get put on a rubbish pile near one side of the dome, which is periodically enveloped and taken outside–after being incinerated first, of course.

Miles tells Suegar that he’s realized he is the Other One, which Suegar takes with surprising equability.

“It came to me in a vision,” he declared dramatically, following his script anyway.

“Oh, yeah?” Suegar’s attention sharpened gratifyingly. “I’ve never gotten a vision,” he added with envy. “Had to figure it all out, y’know, from context. What’s it like? A trance?”

Shit, and here I thought this guy talked with elves and angels. . . .  Miles backed down slightly. “No, it’s like a thought, only more compelling. It storms your will—burns like lust, only not so easy to satisfy. Not like a trance, because it drives you outward, not inward.” He hesitated, unsettled, having spoken more truth than he’d intended.

Suegar looked vastly encouraged. “Oh, good. I was afraid for a second you might be one of those guys who start talking to people nobody else can see.”

Suegar says he recognizes the sensation, and is a little relieved.  He’d tried to evade it himself at first before giving in to God’s will.  Miles says that he should know that when he’s given a task, he’s also given the power to accomplish it.  Miles says that they’ll need more than two for the task, though, and tells Suegar they need to recruit his friends, and acquaintances, and anyone they can find, because they’ll need them all in the end.  Suegar says that Miles reminds him of an officer he used to have, and seems a little skeptical when Miles reminds him he’s still a clerk.

They visit Oliver first.  Miles tells him they need to change the way things are run around here, which doesn’t impress Oliver much, until he threatens to pound Miles unless he shuts up, and turns away.  Miles grabs Oliver and tells him that cynicism is a nice comfortable moral position which claims that it’s okay to do nothing.

“You listen up, mutant,” Oliver snarled. “We’ve done it all already. We’ve done drill, and games, and clean living, exercise, and cold showers, except there ain’t no cold showers. We’ve done group sings and floor shows. We’ve done it by the numbers, by the book, by candlelight. We’ve done it by force, and made real war on each other. After that we did sin and sex and sadism till we were ready to puke. We’ve done it all at least ten times. You think you’re the first reformer to come through here?”

“No, Oliver.” Miles leaned into his face, his eyes boring into Oliver’s burning eyes unscorched. His voice fell to a whisper. “I think I’m the last.”

Oliver laughs, saying that Suegar has found his soulmate at last.  Miles turns to Suegar and asks him to read the full text.

Suegar rustled around and cleared his throat nervously. ” ‘For those that shall be the heirs of salvation,’ ” he began. ” ‘Thus they went along toward the gate. Now you must note that the city stood upon a mighty hill, but the pilgrims went up that hill with ease, because they had these two men to lead them by the arms; also they had left their mortal garments behind them in the river, for though they went in with them, they came out without them. They therefore went up here with much agility and speed, through the foundation upon which the city was framed higher than the clouds. They therefore went up through the regions of the air . . .’ ” He added apologetically, “It breaks off there. That’s where I tore the page. Not sure what that signifies.”

Miles absorbs the raw material he has to work with, finding the last line aptness particularly creepy.  He tells Oliver that he’s working for all of their salvation, which Oliver says sounds very uplifting.  Miles tells him that ‘uplifting’ is exactly correct, and he takes his scripture very literally.  Oliver looks at Miles with a new sharpness, and says that will take a miracle.  Miles says it will be a miracle for all of the masses, not just the chosen few, but they need to be prepared for the miracle to come.

“Sh . . .” Oliver’s voice trailed off. He glanced for confirmation, oddly enough, at Suegar. “Is this guy for real?”

“He thinks he’s faking it,” said Suegar blandly, “but he’s not. He’s the One, all right and tight.”

The cold worms writhed again. Dealing with Suegar, Miles decided, was like fencing in a hall of mirrors. Your target, though real, was never quite where it looked as if it should be.

Oliver asks more about their salvation, and Miles says that they will need a “priesthood” to organize the rest.  Oliver points out that the absence of a miracle may well lead to a human sacrifice.  Oliver says he can bring in about twenty, and Miles tells them to make him the corporals of the…Reformation Army.  Miles says that for now they’ll just work with reforming the food.  He tells Oliver to bring the twenty before the next meal call, pointing out that despite appearances, they don’t have all the time in the world.  He wants them to take the food pile; Oliver is dubious, saying it’s been tried before, but Miles says they just want to distribute it equally.  That’ll give them leverage with those who’ve been shorted in the past.  Oliver says it’s impossible with twenty guys, and Miles says he never said about doing it with only twenty guys.  He promises five hundred, and walks off with Suegar.


What makes the dome all that impenetrable from the inside?  I suppose if you don’t have a big plasma cannon or something to overload it…  I suppose it’s just like the other force domes which we saw in Cetaganda.  It just feels like, if it can be made selectively permeable to oxygen and other gases, there should be some way to trick it, or use that somehow.  Like quantum tunneling, or port forwarding, but yeah, that would probably also require more tech than they have available in there.  And I guess they’re trying to be all about the subtle right now, and assuming extreme clairvoyance on the part of the enemy, but still.

There’s something about the initial supplies the prisoners receive that makes me think of Riverworld, somehow.  Basic garments, water cup, sleeping mat…  No “grails”, though.  The situation always makes me remember Larry Niven’s story “Cloak of Anarchy”, except lasting more than a few hours.  “Lord of The Flies” is a bit obvious, but I suppose you could mention that one too, though I confess I’ve only seen one of the movie versions of it, haven’t read the book or anything.

A quick Google shows that Suegar’s “scripture” is an excerpt from “Pilgrim’s Progress”, so I guess it is practically scripture after all.  I wonder if Bujold started with the scripture, or searched for something appropriate once she had the idea.  I kept wondering if it actually contained the phrase “borders of infinity”, but I guess not.  Miles does use the phrase, or a similar one, later, so I guess that can account for it.  It is a good title, one of her better ones.

This story is, as you can probably tell already, another one where you get to see Miles’s fast-talk ability in action.  Since he comes in with, literally, nothing but himself, and his body has never been a major asset, he’s left with just his mind, and, of course, his voice.  Except that, even more problematically, he knows that it’s likely every single word of his is being monitored.  Do they recognize him?  After all, Miles Vorkosigan did make a visit to Cetaganda (even if that wasn’t necessarily in the works yet when Bujold wrote this), and his body shape is fairly distinctive.  Admiral Naismith doubtless has a bit of a reputation by now, and surely a few people know what he looks like, though the description may have gotten distorted through transmission.  But it may just be that nobody cross-referenced, that the ghem-lords (one presumes, unless they’re just rank-and-file soldiers) who processed him never thought of doubting his story, where presumably he had to pretend to be a Marilacan to get picked up and sent to Dagoola IV.  That’s a part of the story that is never clearly drawn, though, Bujold deciding to start with Miles being thrown into prison, only slowly beginning to imply that he may have planned it that way…

When I first read it, of course, I had no idea what was going on, and why Miles was there, so I took him at face value, though I would hope that I began to be suspicious of his clerk story.  I certainly didn’t think at the time that there was someone, besides the Cetagandans, monitoring him, but there’s a few lines in this section (which I’ve quoted) that are very telling when you take that point of view.

I wasn’t quite sure whether to do this story in three parts or two, so I chose three, since that’s less work for me.  Still pretty long, if not necessarily two full-length chapters.  Two more weeks of “The Borders of Infinity”, then, so see you for the next one in a week’s time.

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Welcome back to the Vorkosigan Saga Reread, as we enter a whole new era, by which I mean a new omnibus.  This one is, for some reason, called Miles, Mystery and Mayhem, and it looks like it contains Cetaganda, Ethan of Athos, and “Labyrinth”, only two of which actually have Miles in them, but I suppose they all have mystery and mayhem to a greater or lesser degree.  The first of them, Cetaganda, probably contains a fair bit more mystery than mayhem, depending on how you define them, of course.  It comes fairly late in publication order, later even than The Vor Game, and I think is the last one published that was out of chronological order–that is, the last one to come chronologically before any other already-published novels.  So she hasn’t done that in a while, but I suspect that, given the large gap before Cryoburn, we wouldn’t mind something filling that in at some point…

I am amused to note that at the beginning of Miles, Mystery and Mayhem electronic copy (I don’t have a paper copy to check, alas) there is a nice little wormhole map of Barrayar and some of its environs, including Komarr, Pol, The Hegen Hub, Vervain, Aslund…  Yes, that’s right, this is the map that actually should have been in The Vor Game, a.k.a. Sir Not-Appearing-In-This-Omnibus.  Oops.  Anyway, that’s enough ado, so on I shall proceed to cover the events of the first two chapters of Cetaganda

Chapter One

Lieutenants Miles Vorkosigan and Ivan Vorpatril are in a small personnel pod being piloted from a Barrayaran courier vessel toward a station orbiting the Cetagandan homeworld, Eta Ceta IV.  Miles compares the many lights on the planet below to the comparative sparseness of population on Barrayar, as he compares Ivan’s stature and handsomeness  to his own stunted figure.

Barrayaran Imperial Security didn’t pay him to be pretty, thank God, they paid him to be smart. Still, the morbid thought did creep in that he had been sent along on this upcoming circus to stand next to Ivan and make him look good. ImpSec certainly hadn’t given him any more interesting missions, unless you could call Security Chief Illyan’s last curt “. . . and stay out of trouble!” a secret assignment.

On the other hand, maybe Ivan had been sent along to stand next to Miles and make him sound good. Miles brightened slightly at the thought.

They are there to attend the funeral of the haut-lady Dowager Empress, and they speculate idly whether her death was natural.  Miles points out that she was a generation older than his grandfather, after all, and if it were at all suspicious, likely Illyan would have kept them home.  And if the Emperor had died instead, then they’d be in some defensive outpost hoping the Cetagandan war of succession didn’t spill over.  As it is, they’re just there to pay their respects and report on the event for Illyan later.  All the haut-lord satrap governors are going to attend.

“If any two governors come, I suppose the rest have to show up, just to keep an eye on each other.” Ivan’s brows rose. “Should be quite a show. Ceremony as Art. Hell, the Cetagandans make blowing your nose an art. Just so they can sneer at you if you get the moves wrong. One-upmanship to the nth power.”

“It’s the one thing that convinces me that the Cetagandan haut-lords are still human, after all that genetic tinkering.”

Ivan grimaced. “Mutants on purpose are mutants still.” He glanced down at his cousin’s suddenly stiff form, cleared his throat, and tried to find something interesting to look at out the canopy.

“You’re so diplomatic, Ivan,” said Miles through a tight smile. “Try not to start a war single . . . mouthed, eh?”

The pod is piloted into their assigned docking station, and Ivan and Miles unbuckle and head for the airlock.  As it opens, a man hurtles inside, white-haired but with no facial hair.  As he reached for a pocket of his uniform vest, Miles shouts “Weapon!” and Ivan launches himself at the man.  The man pulls a nerve disrupter from his trouser pocket, but Ivan dislodges it, and it ricochets throughout the cabin before Miles snatches it.  Ivan gets him in an armlock, and Miles pulls the object out of his vest pocket, an odd wand somewhat like a shock stick.  The man cries out in dismay as Miles takes it, continuing to struggle.

The intruder shook off Ivan’s grip and recoiled to the hatchway. There came one of those odd pauses that sometimes occur in close combat, everyone gulping for breath in the rush of adrenaline. The old man stared at Miles with the rod in his fist; his expression altered from fright to—was that grimace a flash of triumph? Surely not. Demented inspiration?

The man ducks back through the airlock, and kicks Ivan back into the pod when he tries to follow.  By the time they emerge from the pod, he’s disappeared out of the docking bay.  Miles tells Ivan the man had a desperate look to him, even before he drew a weapon.  They look around and realize that nobody else is there, Barrayaran or Cetagandan, and wonder where their welcoming committee is.  Miles points out two surveillance cameras ripped from their moorings, so it looks like the man wasn’t any kind of official emissary.  They speculate on whether he wanted to pod for an escape, or if he was after Miles, and wonder where station security is.  Ivan notes that the man must have been in disguise, since the hair that came loose during the struggle has an obvious adhesive at one end, and Miles wonders if station security has cleared personnel out of the station to try to hunt down a fugitive.

The pilot tells them that flight control has stated quite forcefully that they are in the wrong dock, and orders them to leave the station and wait for instructions, even though he’s sure he docked at the coordinates he was given.  They reboard the pod and the pilot undocks.  He asks if he should report the incident to station security, and Miles tells him to wait until they ask, since it’s not their job to do the Cetagandans’ work for them.  Ivan is dubious, but Miles says the competency of Cetagandan station security is doubtless something Illyan would be interested in.  Miles examines the items they captured.  The nerve disrupter is civilian make, not military, high quality but not decorated, meant to be concealed.

The short rod was odder still. Embedded in its transparent casing was a violent glitter, looking decorative; Miles was sure microscopic examination would reveal fine dense circuitry. One end of the device was plain, the other covered with a seal which was itself locked in place.

“This looks like it’s meant to be inserted in something,” he said to Ivan, turning the rod in the light.

“Maybe it’s a dildo.” Ivan smirked.

Miles snorted. “With the ghem-lords, who can say? But no, I don’t think so.” The indented seal on the end-cap was in the shape of some clawed and dangerous-looking bird. Deep within the incised figure gleamed metallic lines, the circuit-connections. Somewhere somebody owned the mate, a raised screaming bird-pattern full of complex encodes which would release the cover, revealing . . . what? Another pattern of encodes? A key for a key . . . It was all extraordinarily elegant. Miles smiled in sheer fascination.

Ivan asks if he’s going to give it back, and Miles says he will if they ask for it, otherwise he’ll keep it as a souvenir.  Or give it to Illyan, whose cryptographers could probably spend a long time picking it apart.  To placate Ivan, Miles gives him the nerve disrupter.  They receive new docking instructions, and end up two rows up from their original dock.  They debark again, a little more hesitantly this time.  They are met by Lord Vorob’yev, the Barrayaran ambassador, with four Barrayaran guards, and two Cetagandan station officials.  Miles is taken aback by the lack of Cetagandan security he was expecting, and realizes they didn’t connect their pod to the fugitive below.

They give a coded diplomatic disk to Vorob’yev and declare their six pieces of luggage, but don’t mention their more recent acquisitions.  One of the Cetagandans takes their luggage off, no doubt to be searched, but Vorob’yev tells them not to worry, it will be returned, eventually.  Miles tells Vorob’yev their trip was uneventful, but comments that they were redirected to a different docking port at first, and Vorob’yev says this is just a particularly ornate runaround to put the Barrayarans in their place.  They go to Vorob’yev’s diplomatic shuttle, leaving their Cetagandan escort outside, and relax in Vorob’yev’s lounge with a glass of wine.

Miles debates on whether to tell Vorob’yev about the incident, as Ivan silently urges him, but he tries to consider possibilities.  The Cetagandans could be stringing them along waiting for them to incriminate themselves, or they may just not have caught up with the fugitive yet.  Their luggage arrives as they finish their wine, and as Vorob’yev goes to deal with it, Ivan asks Miles what he’s up to.  Miles isn’t sure, off-balance because the Cetagandans failed to respond as he thought they would.  He tells Ivan they should be reporting to Lord Vorreedi, who’s in charge of ImpSec at the embassy.  Miles doesn’t look forward to having this little mystery taken out of his hands, though.

Vorob’yev returns and tells them they are welcome that evening to attend a reception at the Marilacan Embassy, which he heartily recommends.  Ivan asks about clothing, and Vorob’yev recommends they stick to uniforms, which will help keep them from running afoul of the complex Cetagandan language of clothes.  The shuttle undocks from the station, and Miles concludes that the fugitive must have eluded the Cetagandans, and nobody else knows of their little prizes.

Miles kept his hand down, and did not touch the concealed lump in his tunic. Whatever the device was, that fellow knew Miles had it. And he could surely find out who Miles was. I have a string on you, now. If I let it play out, something must surely climb back up it to my hand, right? This could shape up into a nice little exercise in intelligence/counter-intelligence, better than maneuvers because it was real. No proctor with a list of answers lurked on the fringes recording all his mistakes for later analysis in excruciating detail. A practice-piece. At some stage of development an officer had to stop following orders and start generating them. And Miles wanted that promotion to ImpSec captain, oh yes. Might he somehow persuade Vorreedi to let him play with the puzzle despite his diplomatic duties?


I never remember Vorob’yev’s name, though now I wonder how I could forget it with its awkward (from the Anglophone standpoint) apostrophe in the middle.  Apologies to my friend Anna Korra’ti if she happens to be reading this, but I’ve never been sure about the usage of apostrophes in fantasy names, so I’m obscurely troubled when I find them in real-world names too.  I find it a little puzzling, since from what little I know of Russian, the apostrophe is often used to represent the glottalization of a consonant…but so is the “y”, so are they really both needed?  Not sure.  In any case, it’s awkward to type.

Earlier I think I mentioned Cetaganda as one of the “planet” books, but I guess that’s not strictly true.  Cetaganda isn’t a planet, it’s an empire, and each of the planets (as we see later) is Something Ceta, where Something tends to be a Greek letter.  Where this actually comes from is unclear, since it’s not an astronomical thing, or at least not an Earth-centered one.  The constellation of Cetus, the whale, is well known for the star Tau Ceti, among the nearest sunlike stars, but Tau Ceti appears on the Nexus map and is not part of Cetaganda; there’s a completely different Tau Ceta which is one of the Cetagandan worlds.  Anyway, it’s clear where the “Ceta” comes from, but what about the “ganda”?  It’s a mystery, I guess.

I can understand Ivan’s frustration with Miles’s refusal to offload the mystery onto their superiors, though it’s entirely in character for Miles not to want to.  Here he is on a completely non-Dendarii mission, which he doesn’t want to be just boring and diplomatic, and this thing drops right into his lap; of course he wants to explore it.  One can already see him burning through another superior or two, like ImpSec Captain Lord Vorreedi…

Reading chronologically, it’s almost a little frustrating to see Miles with no Dendarii.  First we see him in The Warrior’s Apprentice, at the end of which he’s forced to leave the Dendarii behind, and then in The Vor Game he is reunited with them and assigned as a liaison.  And now we have Cetaganda, where (spoiler alert) the Dendarii never appear.  Again, this was written chronologically out of order, as Bujold filled in a time gap, and explained some of the events in her (very early) novel Ethan of Athos, and by that point she’d already written several Dendarii stories.  She never really did a straight Dendarii novel, if there really was such a thing, and one presumes she was never really that interested in that kind of story, so there’s lots of gaps in the timeline.

Chapter Two

Miles dawdles about getting dressed for the reception, trying to figure out whether he should carry the rod with him or leave it in the room.  Ivan chides him for his slowness and says that maybe it’s a practical joke designed to drive Miles crazy.  Miles makes a quick sketch of the symbol on the end on a plastic flimsy and leaves the rod in his dresser, telling Ivan that since they don’t have a lead-lined box, it doesn’t really matter where they hide it.  Ivan says they have one in the embassy, but Miles says that since Vorreedi is out of town, trying to deal with some Barrayaran merchant ship impounded at a jump station, he’s reluctant to tell anyone else at the embassy about it.

Ivan once again tells Miles to finish getting ready.  Miles puts his leg braces on under his uniform trousers, lamenting the fact that he hasn’t had his bones replaced with plastic yet.  They join Vorob’yev in the foyer and head over to the Marilacan embassy, which he tells them is “neutral but non-secured territory”.  There won’t be any haut-lords there, but there may be some minor ghem-lords.  Vorob’yev notes that Marilac has been accepting much “aid” from Cetaganda, thinking that that will keep them safe.

“The Marilacans aren’t paying sufficient attention to their own wormhole nexus maps,” Vorob’yev went on. “They imagine they are at a natural border. But if Marilac were directly held by Cetaganda, the next jump would bring them to Zoave Twilight, with all its cross-routes, and a whole new region for Cetagandan expansion. Marilac is in exactly the same relationship to the Zoave Twilight crossings as Vervain is to the Hegen Hub, and we all know what happened there.” Vorob’yev’s lips twisted in irony. “But Marilac has no interested neighbor to mount a rescue as your father did for Vervain, Lord Vorkosigan. And provocative incidents can be manufactured so easily.”

Miles is worried briefly that Vorob’yev is alluding to Miles’s own experiences in the Hegen Hub, but concludes that he has no way of knowing of Miles’s involvement.  They discuss the way that the ghem-generals are subdued by the failure in Vervain, and Ghem-General Estanis having committed suicide, even though he may have some help along the way.

“Thirty-two stab wounds in the back, worst case of suicide they ever saw?” murmured Ivan, clearly fascinated by the gossip.

“Exactly, my lord.” Vorob’yev’s eyes narrowed in dry amusement. “But the ghem-commanders’ loose and shifting relationship to the assorted secret haut-lord factions lends an unusual degree of deniability to their operations. The Vervain invasion is now officially described as an unauthorized misadventure. The erring officers have been corrected, thank you.”

“What do they call the Cetagandan invasion of Barrayar in my grandfather’s time?” Miles asked. “A reconnaissance in force?”

Vorob’yev tells them that ImpSec has been informed of his suspicions about Marilac, but so far it’s just a theory.  He asks them to keep an ear open for interesting gossip and information, and relay it to Vorreedi when he returns, while trying to not to give away too much in return.  Their car drives into the Marilacan embassy’s garage and into a foyer, then the lobby where the reception is taking place.

The center of the lobby was occupied by a large multi-media sculpture, real, not a projection. Trickling water cascaded down a fountain reminiscent of a little mountain, complete with impressionistic mountain-paths one could actually walk upon. Colored flakes swirled in the air around the mini-maze, making delicate tunnels. From their green color Miles guessed they were meant to represent Earth tree leaves even before he drew close enough to make out the realistic details of their shapes. The colors slowly began to change, from twenty different greens to brilliant yellows, golds, reds and black-reds. As they swirled they almost seemed to form fleeting patterns, like human faces and bodies, to a background of tinkling like wind chimes. So was it meant to be faces and music, or was it just tricking his brain into projecting meaningful patterns onto randomness? The subtle uncertainty attracted him.

The Marilacan ambassador, Bernaux, tells them that the sculpture, called ‘Autumn Leaves’, is a gift from a local ghem-lord.  After being introduced to Bernaux, they are set loose to mingle, though Miles wishes he could listen in on Vorob’yev and Bernaux’s conversation.  Miles and Ivan separate, and Miles watches ‘Autumn Leaves’ cycle through to a cold, bleak winter.  He doesn’t see any hairless faces that could be their mysterious fugitive, but he watches as Ivan quickly corrals himself a ghem-lady.  Miles considers the difference between himself and Ivan, how Ivan can bounce back from rejections until he finds an acceptance, while Miles takes them personally and spends his time brooding instead.

Ivan, Miles and the ghem-lady are soon joined by a ghem-lord who is introduced as Yenaro, who turns out to be the sculptor who created ‘Autumn Leaves’.  The ghem-lady, Gelle, introduces the Barrayarans to Yenaro, who tells Miles that they have a connection–his grandfather as the ghem-general who commanded the Barrayaran invasion (not “reconaissance”) that Miles’s grandfather Piotr repulsed.  Miles points out that General Yenaro was only the last of the five commanders, and received more than his due share of blame as a result.

Gelle asks Yenaro about the “banal” sculpture in the lobby, which Yenaro says is only a practice piece, but the Marilacans are happy enough with it.  He prefers to create scents, himself, putting down Gelle’s own scent in the process.  He also tells her how Ivan is a biological body-birth, which Gelle apparently finds faintly off-putting, deploring Yenaro’s obnoxiousness and taking her leave.

Yenaro tells them that they should experience the sculpture from the inside.  Miles agrees, but is then called over by Vorob’yev, though he promises to return.  Vorob’yev introduces him to an attractive, slightly older woman named Mia Maz, from the Vervani Embassy.  Maz specializes in women’s etiquette, and has apparently been trying for some time to convince Vorob’yev that he needs a women’s expert as well.  Vorob’yev protests that he hasn’t one with the experience, and Miles suggests that Maz could take on an apprentice.  Vorob’yev excuses himself, and Maz expresses her gratitude to Miles for his father’s help against the Cetagandan invasion attempt.

Miles asks Maz if the ghem-ladies are really that different, and Maz insists they are, though she admits the Barrayarans have more in common with the ghem-lords than many other cultures do.  The haut-lords and ladies, on the other hand, are entirely different, each sex with its own area of power and control, though mysterious to outsiders.  Miles takes a chance and shows her the sketch of the bird-logo from the rod, asking her if she recognizes it.  Maz says that it looks like a personal seal, rather than a family, but it lacks the decorative cartouches which have been in vogue for three generations so it must be an old one.

Ivan reappears with Yenaro, turning his charms on Mia Maz, and insisting that Miles take a turn passing through the sculpture as Ivan has just done.  Miles reluctantly takes leave of Maz and lets Yenaro escort him inside.  Miles asks for technical details, and Yenaro says that the floating flakes are driven by magnetism, not gravity, but it emerges that it was really put together by technicians, with Yenaro as the designer.  Yenaro and Miles get into a discussion on whether design is sufficient, or if physical work is equally of value, and Yenaro invites Miles to a private gathering at his home two nights hence, which Miles decides to accept.

They enter the sculpture, and Miles is interested enough until he realizes that he can feel burning sensation in his legs–something about the magnetism is heating up his leg braces, and he frantically peels them off, leaving burns on his legs and hands.  Yenaro calls for help, and Miles finds he’s drawn the attention of most of the attendees.  Miles concludes that the magnetic fields used by the sculpture had a bad effect on the metal of the braces, like shoving them in a microwave.

Bernaux asks if he wants to go visit the embassy infirmary, but Miles says he’d rather go home.  Yenaro, distraught, insists that the sculpture be destroyed, though Bernaux temporizes that they may settle for just doing a thorough safety check.  Ivan and Vorob’yev escort Miles to the Barrayaran groundcar and head back to their embassy.  They discuss whether this was more than an accident–the field would have been harmless to anyone not wearing a lot of metal, but it seems like it would have taken too much lead time.  Their departure had been scheduled two weeks ago, the reception invitation came three days ago, and the sculpture had only been installed the day before.

Vorob’yev thought it over. “I think I must agree with you, Lord Vorpatril. Shall we put it down as an unfortunate accident, then?”

“Provisionally,” said Miles. That was no accident. I was set up. Me, personally. You know there’s a war on when the opening salvo arrives.

Except that, usually, one knew why a war had been declared. It was all very well to swear not to be blindsided again, but who was the enemy here?

Lord Yenaro, I bet you throw a fascinating party. I wouldn’t miss it for worlds.


Second bizarre incident, check.  No suspicious deaths, yet–the Dowager Empress’s doesn’t count, I don’t think–but definitely a mystery looming.  We have nowhere near enough information about anything yet, but what’s going on is definitely very Cetagandan, if nothing else.  Or “Byzantine”, if you prefer.  I don’t recall yet if Cetaganda is really a hotbed of intrigue, but I suspect that it is, with haut-lords plotting and ghem-lords carrying out their schemes, or something like that.

One thing I don’t recall us ever seeing is regular, everyday Cetagandans.  We see the lords and ladies, and a few police-types, but what about the Cetagandan civilians?  Are they oppressed, or fairly free?  The fact that they still live in a monarchy implies something closer to the former, since the Cetagandans seem a little more paranoid, if more technologically sophisticated, than Barrayarans.  Or are there any civilians?  Is everyone either ghem or haut?  I suspect not–after all, we see a lot of Barrayaran Lords, but there are still regular people out there too, in the cities as well as the backwoods.

More than a few references to past Cetagandan adventures–Mia Maz and her thanks from Vervain–and future ones, with Vorob’yev’s discussion of Marilac’s relationship with the Cetagandans.  From books already published, by this point, so this is more backfilling, like the links to Ethan of Athos I mentioned earlier (though they don’t come up until much later).

Yenaro is so obviously a rebellious youngster, like a teenager, emotionally, an artist working with scents as a way of annoying his no-doubt militaristic ghem-lord father.  This is probably why we haven’t had nearly as much trouble with the Cetagandans in a while, if the up-and-coming generation are this kind of “retro-avant” spoiled dilettantes.

So, two chapters in, we can see that Cetaganda is shaping up to be a mystery, of a sort, though what kind is not quite clear.  We have an implicit promise from the author that things will be explained if we read to the end, though, so please join me next week as I continue to do so.

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