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away with your Admiral Naismith scam?"
    "Just barely," said Miles. "The Dendarii are with me now. They're in orbit," he jabbed his finger skyward, "eating their heads off even as we speak."
    Galeni looked as if he'd bitten into something sour. "Does everybody know about this covert operation but me? You, Vorpatril—I know your security clearance is no higher than my own!"
    Ivan shrugged. "A previous encounter. It was in the family."
    "Damned Vor power network," muttered Galeni.
    "Oh," said Elli Quinn in a tone of sudden enlightenment, "this is your cousin Ivan! I'd always wondered what he looked like."
    Ivan, who had been sneaking little peeks at her ever since he'd entered the room, came to attention with all the quivering alertness of a bird dog pointing. He smiled blindingly and bowed over Elli's hand. "Delighted to meet you, m'lady. The Dendarii must be improving, if you are a fair sample. The fairest, surely."
    Elli repossessed her hand. "We've met."
    "Surely not. I couldn't forget that face."
    "I didn't have this face. 'A head just like an onion' was the way you phrased it, as I recall." Her eyes glittered. "Since I was blinded at the time, I had no idea how bad the plastiskin prosthesis really looked. Until you told me. Miles never mentioned it."
    Ivan's smile had gone limp. "Ah. The plasma-burn lady."
    Miles smirked and edged closer to Elli, who put her hand possessively through the crook of his elbow and favored Ivan with a cold samurai smile. Ivan, trying to bleed with dignity, looked to Captain Galeni.
    "Since you know each other, Lieutenant Vorkosigan, I've assigned Lieutenant Vorpatril here to take you in tow and orient you to the Embassy, and to your duties here," said Galeni. "Vor or no Vor, as long as you're on the Emperor's payroll, the Emperor might as well get some use of you. I trust some clarification of your status will arrive promptly."
    "I trust the Dendarii payroll will arrive as promptly," said Miles.
    "Your mercenary—bodyguard—can return to her outfit. If for any reason you need to leave the Embassy compound, I'll assign you one of my men."
    "Yes, sir," sighed Miles. "But I still have to be able to get in touch with the Dendarii, in case of emergencies."
    "I'll see that Commander Quinn gets a secured comm link before she leaves. As a matter of fact," he touched his comconsole, "Sergeant Barth?" he spoke into it.
    "Yes, sir?" a voice replied.
    "Do you have that comm link ready yet?"
    "Just finished encoding it, sir."
    "Good, bring it to my office."
    Barth, still in his civvies, appeared within moments. Galeni shepherded Elli out. "Sergeant Barth will escort you out of the embassy compound, Commander Quinn." She glanced back over her shoulder at Miles, who sketched her a reassuring salute.
    "What will I tell the Dendarii?" she asked.
    "Tell them—tell them their funds are in transit," Miles called. The doors hissed shut, eclipsing her.
    Galeni returned to his comconsole, which was blinking for his attention. "Vorpatril, please make getting your cousin out of that . . . costume, and into a correct uniform your first priority."
    Does Admiral Naismith spook you—just a little . . . sir? Miles wondered irritably. "The Dendarii uniform is as real as your own, sir."
    Galeni glowered at him, across his flickering desk. "I wouldn't know, Lieutenant. My father could only afford toy soldiers for me when I was a boy. You two are dismissed."
    Miles, fuming, waited until the doors had closed behind them before tearing off his gray-and-white jacket and throwing it to the corridor floor. "Costume! Toy soldiers! I think I'm gonna kill that Komarran son-of-a-bitch!"
    "Oooh," said Ivan. "Aren't we touchy today."
    "You heard what he said!"
    "Yeah, so . . . Galeni's all right. A bit regulation, maybe. There's a dozen little tin-pot mercenary outfits running around in oddball corners of the worm-hole nexus. Some of them tread a real fine line between legal and illegal. How's he supposed to know your Dendarii aren't