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uess。 I don't know what land。〃
〃Too bad；〃 said Vorkosigan； keeping his face straight。 〃I hate to make you alter your plans； Lieutenant Koudelka； but you've been reassigned。〃 And laid on his bedside tray； in order； like a fine hand of cards； Koudelka's newly cut orders； his promotion； and a pair of red collar tabs。
Cordelia had never enjoyed Koudelka's expressive face more。 It was a study in bewilderment and rising hope。 He picked up the orders carefully and read them through。
〃Oh； sir！ I know this isn't a joke； but it's got to be a mistake！ Personal secretary to the Regent…elect…I don't know anything about the work。 It's an impossible job。〃
〃Do you know； that's almost exactly what the Regent…elect said about his job； when he was first offered it；〃 said Cordelia。 〃I guess you'll both have to learn them together。〃
〃How did he e to pick me？ Did you remend me； sir？ e to think of it。。。〃 He turned the orders over； reading them through again； 〃who is the Regent going to be； anyway？〃 He raised his eyes to Vorkosigan； and made the connection at last。 〃My God；〃 he whispered。 He did not； as Cordelia thought he might； grin and congratulate； but instead looked quite serious。 〃It's…a hell of a job； sir。 But I think the government's finally done something right。 I'd be proud to serve you again。 Thank you。〃
Vorkosigan nodded； in agreement and acceptance。
Koudelka did grin； when he picked up the promotion order。 〃Thanks for this； too； sir。〃
〃Don't thank me too soon。 I intend to sweat blood out of you in return。〃
Koudelka's grin widened。 〃Nothing new about that。〃 He fumbled clumsily with the collar tabs。
〃May I do that； Lieutenant？〃 asked Cordelia。 He looked up defensively。 〃For my pleasure；〃 she added。
〃It would be an honor； Milady。〃
Cordelia fastened them to his collar straightly； with the greatest care； and stepped back to admire her work。 〃Congratulations； Lieutenant。〃
〃You can get shiny new ones tomorrow；〃 Vorkosigan said。 〃But I thought these would do for tonight。 I'm springing you out of here now。 We'll put you up at the Count my father's Residence tonight； because work starts tomorrow at dawn。〃
Koudelka fingered the red rectangles。 〃Were they yours； sir？〃
〃Once。 I hope they don't bring you my luck； which was always vile； but…wear them in good health。〃
Koudelka gave him a nod； and a smile。 He clearly found Vorkosigan's gesture profoundly meaningful； exceeding his capacity for words。 But the two men understood each other perfectly well without them。 〃Don't think I want new ones； sir。 People would just think I'd been an ensign yesterday。〃
Later； lying warm in the darkness in Vorkosigan's room in the Count's town house； Cordelia remembered a curiosity。 〃What did you say to the Emperor； about me？〃
He stirred beside her； and pulled the sheet tenderly up over her bare shoulder； tenting them together。 〃Hm？ Oh； that。〃 He hesitated。 〃Ezar had been questioning me about you； in our argument about Escobar。 Implied that you had affected my nerve； for the worse。 I didn't know then if I'd ever see you again。 He wanted to know what I saw in you。 I told him。。。〃 he paused again； and then continued almost shyly； 〃that you poured out honor like a fountain； all around you。〃
〃That's weird。 I don't feel full of honor； or anything else； except maybe confusion。〃
〃Naturally not。 Fountains keep nothing for themselves。〃
AFTERMATHS
The shattered ship hung in space； a black bulk in the darkness。 It still turned； imperceptibly slowly； one edge eclipsed and swallowed the bright point of a star。 The lights of the salvage crew arced over the skeleton。 Ants； ripping up a dead moth； Ferrell thought。 Scavengers。。。
He sighed dismay into his forward observation screen； and pictured the ship as it had been； scant weeks before。 The wreckage untwisted in his mind…a cruiser； alive with patterns of gaudy lights that always made him think of a party seen across night waters。 Responsive as a mirror to the mind under its Pilot's headset； where man and machine penetrated the interface and became one。 Swift； gleaming； functional。。。 no more。 He glanced to his right； and cleared his throat self…consciously。
〃Well； Medtech；〃 he spoke to the woman who stood beside his station； staring into the screen as silently and long as he had。 〃There's our starting point。 Might as well go ahead and begin the pattern sweep now； I suppose。
〃Yes； please do； Pilot Officer。〃 She had a gravelly alto voice； suitable for her age； which Ferrell judged to be about forty…five。 The collection of thin silver five…year service chevrons on her left sleeve made an impressive glitter against the dark red uniform of the Escobaran military medical service。 Dark hair shot with grey； cut short for ease of maintenance； not style； a matronly heaviness to her hips。 A veteran； it appeared。 Ferrell's sleeve had yet to sprout even his first…year stripe； and his hips； and the rest of his body； still maintained an unfilled adolescent stringiness。
But she was only a tech； he reminded himself； not even a physician。 He was a full…fledged Pilot Officer。 His neurological implants and biofeedback training were all plete。 He was certified； licensed； and graduated…just three frustrating days too late to participate in what was now being dubbed the 120 Day War。 Although in fact it had only been 118 days and part of an hour between the time the spearhead of the Barrayaran invasion fleet penetrated Escobaran local space； and the time the last survivors fled the counterattack； piling through the wormhole exit for home as though scuttling for a burrow。
〃Do you wish to stand by？〃 he asked her。
She shook her head。 〃Not yet。 This inner area has been pretty well worked over in the last three weeks。 I wouldn't expect to find anything on the first four turns； although it's good to be thorough。 I've a few things to arrange yet in my work area； and then I think I'll get a catnap。 My department has been awfully busy the last few months；〃 she added apologetically。 〃Understaffed； you know。 Please call me if you do spot anything； though…I prefer to handle the tractor myself； whenever possible。〃
〃Fine by me。〃 He swung about in his chair to his console。 〃What minimum mass do you want a bleep for？ About forty kilos； say？〃
〃One kilo is the standard I prefer。〃
〃One kilo！〃 He stared。 〃Are you joking？〃
〃Joking？〃 She stared back； then seemed to arrive at enlightenment。 〃Oh； I see。 You were thinking in terms of whole…I can make positive identification with quite small pieces； you see。 I wouldn't even mind picking up smaller bits than that； but if you go much under a kilo you spend too much time on false alarms from micrometeors and other rubbish。 One kilo seems to be the best practical promise。〃
〃Bleh。〃 But he obediently set his probes for a mass of one kilo； minimum； and finished programming the search sweep。
She gave him a brief nod and withdrew from the closet…sized Navigation and Control Room。 The obsolete courier ship had been pulled from junkyard orbit and hastily overhauled with some notion first of converting it into a personnel carrier for middle brass…top brass in a hurry having a monopoly on the new ships…but like Ferrell himself； it had graduated too late to participate。 So they both had been re…routed together； he and his first mand； to the dull duties he privately thought on a par with sanitation engineering； or worse。
He gazed one last moment at the relic of battle in the forward screen； its structural girdering poking up like bones through sloughing skin； and shook his head at the waste of it all。 Then； with a little sigh of pleasure； he pulled his headset down into contact with the silvery circles on his temples and midforehead； closed his eyes； and slid into control of his own ship。
Space seemed to spread itself all around him； buoyant as a sea。 He was the ship； he was a fish； he was a merman； unbreathing； limitless； and without pain。 He fired his engines as though flame leapt from his fingertips； and began the slow rolling spiral of the search pattern。
〃Medtech Boni？〃 he keyed the inter to her cabin。 〃I believe I have something for you here。〃
She rubbed sleep from her face； framed in the inter screen。 〃Already？ What time…oh。 I must have been tireder than I realized。 I'll be right up； Pilot Officer。〃
Ferrell stretched； and began an automatic series of isometrics in his chair。 It had been a long and uneventful watch。 He would have been hungry； but what he contemplated now through the viewscreens subdued his appetite。
Boni appeared promptly； and slid into the seat beside him。 〃Oh； quite right； Pilot Officer。〃 She unshipped the controls to the exterior tractor beam； and flexed her fingers before taking a delicate hold。
〃Yeah； there wasn't much doubt about that one；〃 he agreed； leaning back and watching her work。 〃Why so tender with the tractors？〃 he asked curiously； noting the low power level she was using。
〃Well； they're frozen right through； you know；〃 she replied； not taking her eyes from her readouts。 〃Brittle。 If you play hotshot and bang them around； they can shatter。 Let's stop that nasty spin； first；〃 she added； half to herself。 〃A slow spin is all right。 Seemly。 But that fast spinning you get sometimes…it must be very unrest