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grabbed her arms, waist, legs. "P-please don't lock me up again! I couldn't
take it. I just wanted to go home! Get that goddamn ampule away from me! No!
No! No drugs, please, please! I'm sorry!"
She was hustled out, and the media event of the year collapsed just like
Steady Freddy.
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She was taken to a quiet room, one of the shuttleport's administrative
offices, immediately afterwards. The President's personal physician arrived
after a time and took charge, had everyone removed but himself and her mother,
and gave her some breathing space to regain her self-control. It took her
almost an hour to stop crying, once she had started. The embarrassment and
outrage stopped seesawing at last, and she was able to sit up and talk in a
voice like a bad cold.
"Please apologize to the President for me. If only someone had warned me, or
asked me about it first. I'm- n-not in very good shape right now."
"We should have realized it ourselves," said the physician sorrowfully. "Your
ordeal, after all, was much more personal than the usual soldier's experience.
It is we who must apologize, for subjecting you to an unnecessary strain."
"We thought it would be a nice surprise," added her mother.
"It was a surprise, all right. I only hope I don't get myself locked in a
padded cell. I'm a bit off cells at the moment." The thought tightened her
throat, and she breathed carefully to calm back down.
She wondered where Vorkosigan was now, what he was doing. Getting drunk
sounded better all the time, and she wished she were with him, doing so. She
pressed thumb and forefinger to the bridge of her nose, rubbing out the
tension. "May I be permitted to go home now?"
"Is there still a crowd out there?" asked her mother.
"I'm afraid so. We'll try to keep them back."
With the doctor on one side and her mother on the other, she dwelt in
Vorkosigan's kiss all during the long walk to her mother's groundcar. The
crowd still pressed upon her, but in a hushed, respectful, almost frightened
way, a great contrast to their earlier holiday mood. She felt sorry to have
taken away their party.
There was a crowd at her mothers apartment shaft too, in the foyer by the lift
tubes, and even in the hallway to her door.
Cordelia smiled and waved a little, cautiously, but just shook her head at
questions, not trusting herself to speak coherently. They made their way
through and closed the door at last.
"Whew! I suppose they meant well, but my Lord-I felt like they wanted to eat
me alive."
"There was so much excitement about the war, and the Expeditionary
Force-anyone in a blue uniform is getting star treatment.
And when the prisoners got home, and your story came out-I'm glad I knew you
were safe by then. My poor darling!" Cordelia got another hug, and welcomed
it.
"Well, that explains where they got the nonsense. It was the wildest rumor.
The Barrayarans started it, and everyone just ate it up. I couldn't stop it."
"What did they do to you?"
"They kept following me around, pestering me with these offers of therapy-they
thought the Barrayarans had been messing with my memory... . Oh, I see. You
mean, what did the Barrayarans do to me. Nothing much. V-vorrutyer might have
liked to, but he met with his accident before he'd got half started." She
decided not to disturb her mother with the details. "Something important did
happen, though." She hesitated. "I ran into Aral Vorkosigan again."
"That horrible man? I wondered, when I heard the name in the news, if it was
the same fellow who killed your Lieutenant
Rosemont last year."
"No. Yes. I mean, he didn't kill Rosemont, one of his people did. But he's the
same one."
"I don't understand why you're so sympathetic to him."
"You ought to appreciate him now. He saved my life. Hid me in his cabin,
during those missing two days after Vorrutyer was killed. I'd have been
executed for it, if they'd caught me before the change in command."
Her mother looked more disturbed than appreciative. "Did he-do anything to
you?"
The question was filled with unanswerable irony. Cordelia dared not tell even
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her mother about the intolerable burden of truth he had laid on her. Her
mother misunderstood the haunted look on her face.
"Oh, dear. I'm so sorry."
"Huh? No, damn it. Vorkosigan's no rapist. He's got this thing about
prisoners. Wouldn't touch one with a stick. He asked me..." she trailed off,
looking into the kind, concerned, and loving wall of her mother's face. "We
talked a lot. He's all right."
"He doesn't have a very good reputation."
"Yeah, I've seen some of it. It's all lies."
"He's-not a murderer, then?"
"Well..." Cordelia foundered on the truth. "He has k-killed a lot of people, I
suppose. He's a soldier, you know. It's his job. It can't help spilling over a
bit. I only know about three that weren't in the line of duty, though."
"Only three?" repeated her mother faintly. There was a pause. "He's not a, a
sex criminal, then?"
"Certainly not! Although I gather he went through a rather strange phase,
after his wife committed suicide-I don't think he realizes how much I know
about it, not that that maniac Vorrutyer should be trusted as a source of
information, even if he was there. I suspect it's partly true, at least about
their relationship. Vorrutyer was clearly obsessed with him. And Aral went
awfully vague when I asked him about it."
Looking at her mother's appalled face, Cordelia thought, it's a good thing I
never wanted to be a defense lawyer. All my clients would be in therapy
forever, "It all makes a lot more sense if you meet him in person," she
offered hopefully.
Cordelia's mother laughed uncertainly. "He surely seems to have charmed you.
What does he have, then? Conversation? Good looks?"
"I'm not sure. He mostly talks Barrayaran politics. He claims to have an
aversion to them, but it sounds more like an obsession to me. He can't leave
them alone for five minutes. It's like they're in him."
"Is that-a very interesting subject?"
"It's awful," said Cordelia frankly. "His bedtime stories can keep you awake
for weeks."
"It can't be his looks," sighed her mother. "I've seen a holovid of him in the
news."
"Oh, did you save it?" asked Cordelia, instantly interested. "Where is it?"
"I'm sure there's something in the vid files," her mother allowed, staring. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]