“I have a brother,” remarked Baron Fell. “He inspires no such emotions in me.”

I’m right with you, Baron, Mark thought.

Thorne piped up in Mark’s ear, (“He’s talking about his half-brother, Baron Ryoval of House Ryoval. The original axis of this vendetta was between Fell and Ryoval. Bharaputra got dragged in later.”)

I know who Ryoval is, Mark wanted to snap, but could not.

“In fact,” Baron Fell went on, “my brother will be quite excited to learn you are here. After you so reduced his resources on your last visit, he is alas limited to small-scale attacks. But I suggest you watch your back.”

“Oh? Do Ryoval’s agents operate so freely on Fell Station?” Mark purred.

Thorne approved, (“Good one! Just like Miles.”)

Fell stiffened. “Hardly.”

Thorne whispered, (“Yes, remind him you helped him with his brother.”)

What the hell had Miles done here, four years ago? “Baron. I helped you with your brother. You help me with mine, and we can call it square.”

“Hardly that. The apples of discord you threw among us on your last departure took far too much time to sort out. Still … it’s true you dealt Ry a better blow that I could have.” Was there a tiny glint of approval in Fell’s eye? He rubbed his round chin. “Therefore, I will give you one day to complete your business and depart.”

“You’ll act as go-between?”

“The better to keep an eye on both parties, yes.”

Mark explained the Dendarii’s best guess as to the approximate location of the cryo-chamber, and gave its description and serial numbers. “Tell the Bharaputrans, we think it may have been hidden or disguised in some way. Please emphasize, we wish it returned in good condition. And their Baron will be too.”

(“Good,”) Bothari-Jesek encouraged. (“Let ’em know it’s too valuable to destroy, without letting ’em guess they could hold us up for more ransom.”)

Fell’s lips thinned. “Admiral, you are an acute man, but I don’t think you altogether understand how we do things on Jackson’s Whole.”

“But you do, Baron. That’s why we’d like to have you on our side.”

“I am not on your side. That is perhaps the first thing you don’t understand.”

Mark nodded, slowly; Miles would have, he thought. Fell’s attitude was strange. Faintly hostile. Yet he acts like he respects me.

No. He respected Miles. Hell. “Your neutrality is all I ask.”

Fell shot him a narrow glance from under his white eyebrows. “What about the other clones?”

“What about them?”

“House Bharaputra will be inquiring.”

“They do not enter into this transaction. Vasa Luigi’s life should be sufficient and more.”

“Yes, the trade seems uneven. What is so valuable about your late clone?”

Three voices chorused in his ear, (“Brother!”) Mark yanked the ear-bug out and slapped it to the counter beside the vid plate. Quinn nearly choked.

“I cannot trade back fractions of Baron Bharaputra,” snapped Mark. “Tempted as I am to start doing so.”

Baron Fell raised a placating plump palm. “Calm, Admiral. I doubt it will be necessary to go so far.”

“I hope not.” Mark trembled. “It’d be a shame if I had to send him back without his brain. Like the clones.”

Baron Fell apparently read the absolute personal sincerity of his threat, for he opened both palms. “I’ll see what I can do, Admiral.”

“Thank you,” whispered Mark.

The Baron nodded; his image dissolved. By some trick of the holovid or the stimulant, Fell’s eyes seemed to linger for one last unsettling stare. Mark sat frozen for several seconds till he was certain they were gone.

“Huh,” said Bothari-Jesek, sounding surprised. “You did that rather well.”

He did not bother to answer that one.

“Interesting,” said Thorne. “Why didn’t Fell ask for a fee or a cut?”

“Dare we trust him?” asked Bothari-Jesek.

“Not trust, exactly.” Quinn ran the edge of her index finger along her white teeth, nibbling. “But we must have Fell’s cooperation to transit Jumppoint Five. We dare not offend him, not for any money. I thought he would be more pleased with our bite out of Bharaputra, at the strategic situation seems to have changed since your last visit here, Bel.”

Thorne sighed agreement.

Quinn continued, “I want you to see what you can find out about the current balance of power here. Anything that may affect our operations, anything we can use to help. Houses Fell, Bharaputra and Ryoval, and anything coming up on the blindside. There’s something bout all this that’s making me feel paranoid as hell, though it may be just the drugs I’m on. But I’m too damned tired to see it right now.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Thorne nodded and withdrew.

When the door hissed shut behind Thorne, Bothari-Jesek asked Quinn, “Have you reported all this to Barrayar yet?”

“No.”

“Any of it?”

“No. I don’t want to send this one over any commercial comm channel, not even in code. Illyan may have a few deep cover agents here, but I don’t know who they are or how to access them. Miles would have known. And …”

“And?” Bothari-Jesek raised an eyebrow.

“And I’d really like to have the cryo-chamber back first.”

“To shove under the door along with the report? Quinnie, it wouldn’t fit.”

Quinn shrugged one defensive shoulder.

After a moment Bothari-Jesek offered, “I agree with you about not sending anything through the Jacksonian jump-courier system, though.”

“Yes, from what Illyan’s said, it’s riddled with spies, and not just the Great Houses checking up on each other, either. There’s nothing Barrayar could do to help us in the next day-cycle anyway.”

“How long,” Mark swallowed, “is that how long I have to go on laying Miles?”

“I don’t know!” said Quinn sharply. She gulped back control of her voice. “A day, a week, two weeks—at least till we can deliver you and the cryo-chamber to ImpSec’s galactic affairs HQ on Komarr. Then it will be out of my hands.”

“How the hell do you think you’re going to keep all this under wraps?” Mark asked scornfully. “Dozens of people know what really happened.”

“ ’Two can keep a secret, if one of them is dead’?” Quinn grimaced. “I don’t know. The troops will be all right, they have the discipline. The clones I can keep incommunicado. Anyway, we’re all going to be bottled up on this ship till we reach Komarr. Later … I’ll deal with later.”

“I want to see my … the … my clones. What you’ve done with them,” Mark demanded suddenly.

Quinn looked like she was about to explode, but Bothari-Jesek cut in, “I’ll take him down, Quinnie. I want to check on my passengers too.”

“Well … as long as you escort him back to his cabin when you’re done. And put a guard on his door. We can’t have him wandering around the ship.”

“Will do.” Bothari-Jesek chivvied him out quickly, before Quinn decided to have him bound and gagged as well.

The clones had been housed in three hastily-cleared freight storage chambers aboard the Peregrine, two assigned to the boys and one to the girls. Mark ducked through a door behind Bothari-Jesek into one of the boys’ chambers, and looked around. Three rows of bedrolls, which must have been podded over from the Ariel, filled the floor space. A self-contained field latrine was strapped into one corner, and a field shower hastily connected in the other, to keep any need for the clones to move about the ship to a minimum. Half jail, half refugee camp, crowded—as he walked down a row between bedrolls the boys glowered up at him with the hollow faces of prisoners.

I freed you all, dammit. Don’t you know I freed you?

It had been a rough rescue, true. During that hideous night of siege the Dendarii had been liberal with the most dire threats, to keep their charges under control. Some clones now slept, exhausted. The stunned ones were waking up sick and disoriented; a female Dendarii medic moved among them administering synergine and soothing words. Things were … under control. Suppressed. Silent. Not jubilant; not grateful. If they believed our threats, why don’t they believe our promises? Even the active boys who had cooperated enthusiastically in the excitement of siege and firefight now stared at him with renewed doubt.