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Miles would very much prefer to keep his head, of course. He just bows again, neatly. "Naturally," he says. "I'll not undermine you to your people." He still thinks it's a symbol of her rule - and he has zero intention of disrupting her power. Get in, get rid of the UC, and get out. That's all he wants to do.
"No, it will not be easy," Miles admits. His next step here is to sleep and then plot. Or maybe just plot. He hasn't decided yet. "But I have a few ideas. And they might just work."
"No, it will not be easy," Miles admits. His next step here is to sleep and then plot. Or maybe just plot. He hasn't decided yet. "But I have a few ideas. And they might just work."
She smiles, nodding along with his words, "I wasn't sure.... well, even on Jhansi we have heard how at times Betans can be... strange."
Though, to the late - "I have brought with us... maps, of our planet. Each of my people all intimately know the layouts of some of our most important cities and UC fortifications. Please use them and myself as you need." The short of it is, whatever he needed to ask if she didn't know - one of them certainly did.
Though, to the late - "I have brought with us... maps, of our planet. Each of my people all intimately know the layouts of some of our most important cities and UC fortifications. Please use them and myself as you need." The short of it is, whatever he needed to ask if she didn't know - one of them certainly did.
Ha. Well, he's only half-Betan. He snorts a bit at the comment and moves on.
"I would be grateful for your help," he says. "Surely I will need all of the information you can provide." He plans on learning all he can, at least, and employing every trick he can possibly think of.
"I would be grateful for your help," he says. "Surely I will need all of the information you can provide." He plans on learning all he can, at least, and employing every trick he can possibly think of.
"Of course." She smiles wider, a merry flash of teeth. "But I hope it will not be all business. Are you still happy to join us of an evening? I think they're going to trip over just about everything they see until they adjust to it, and you may invaluable in helping with that."
"Of course." She bows in return, then sweeps a hand, shooing him. "I will see you then."
Miles takes this opportunity to exit, then. He has a lot to do - sleep, for one, but also dig up all the information he can. And start formulating a plan.
He'll go to meet them as promised, picking their brains (and their paper maps) for all the information possible. Afterwards, he'll retreat to his room again to figure this out. They can't face the UC head on, no, but he has a plan to surprise them. He'll lead a charge on their capital ship with all the force available, storm it himself. Cut off their supply lines. With a corporation this large, they'll be complacent at best, and Miles intends to leverage that small advantage to its fullest.
He'll go to meet them as promised, picking their brains (and their paper maps) for all the information possible. Afterwards, he'll retreat to his room again to figure this out. They can't face the UC head on, no, but he has a plan to surprise them. He'll lead a charge on their capital ship with all the force available, storm it himself. Cut off their supply lines. With a corporation this large, they'll be complacent at best, and Miles intends to leverage that small advantage to its fullest.
There had never been a doubt in anyone's mind, she supposed, that once they arrived, once the fighting started - that would be it. There would be nothing else. So perhaps it should not surprise her, that she does not seem him over much once it truly does start.
Not that there was much for her to do - she had never experience ship to ship combat. It was strange, and marvelling, as she stood back to watch the Admiral and his mercenaries work. How seamless they knew each other like she knew her own forces. Even if it felt like swallowing fire to know that this was the war for her home, and she could nothing from here and she must leave it into his hands. Doing her best not to snap for it, like a captured predator prowling at cage doors. She fills in the time with her training. With their exchanges when they have them. A slow process of getting to know each other. It does enough, in the intermediate, soothe her. But it doesn't take it away, that pent-up aggression, that awful sense of fate in her hands that was as strong as silk, fine as a single thread that could take a weight and snap when pulled too hard. Feeling it between her hands as she withdrew quieter as they came closer. Her mind clearly taken up even in their conversations. This would not be like the wars she had fought before, it must not be. She has risked too much. She laughed loudly, hit harder, and fell silent as mountains in preparation.
Not until they began boarding, taking over the ship according to his plan. She didn't hesitate. She would be the first to go, and no one else besides. For he had done his behalf, the surprise attack - getting everything into place. Now it was time for her to do her own part. Do what she had been born for, fated too. She doesn't see him before the battle, dressed by her own guards, protected to the last by them as they flanked her. The star and crescent moon painted onto her brow, that in turn with a red vermillion, she painted a dot to each of her guard's brow. Each of their fingers stained darkly. The sieging of a ship was something none of them had done before either, but at least the steps were familiar. Readied themselves to the ritualistic formula for it.
Even if maybe that once the fighting spills out, from that fight to the next - they aren't the best at anything at range. Neither she nor they, quite seem to grasp the concept of using cover outside of their own shields, archaic things that at least do the simple task of blocking nerve disruptor fire. But they get in close, with weapons the UC's armour considered itself superior too, so there wasn't much to stop her men when they got knives into throats. When they jammed plasma rifle into a stomach and blasted them apart. She wonders briefly, in the carnage of it all, if her people can see it, far below on the surface. Battle's that shone like Gods' light as she felt the shake of the ground - the ship - below her feet in a battle she understood far less of, but knew the importance - it would be as unforgiving as her sword through a man's chest.
She kills, and nearly is killed, and then kills again. Every quiet moment of their journey, every still moment, coming out harsh and all at once. It turns to a blur under her hands as it goes, for however long. Like this, there is no sense of time. It could be minutes or it could be days until it's over to her mind's eye.
Then it was, then there was no one left alive that was still fighting, there was only those that gave in, to the surprise of it all. The UC was fat as a spoiled pig, lumbering at its own weight. The commander of the ship that falls to his knees in front of her in surrender. That she sees his face - and she realises, she knows this man. She knows him. Knows him from when he made widows clear up the bodies of their own husbands. What little of them there was left when they had only dared to fight for food.
She doesn't even realise she's moving until the sword is in her hand again. Until she hears one of his soldier's cry to tell her to stop as she advances on him. It's too late, she wants to tell them, she won't be stopped. The commander had already made his choices. He would pay for them.
His head comes off in one clear-cut. Hitting the ground with a splatter of blood and a wet thump. Rolling with widely spinning eyes as brain caught up with death, until the stare turned glassy, and the mouth was open in an agonising scream. Breathing hard, fast, righteous in the action she turned back to - see him, to look only for him, nodding to him. "The spoils are yours." As promised by their agreement, she had no further business on the ship.
With that - she left. Retreated there firmly, for the next cycle of day and night, even if she's learned that means nothing when there is no sky when there is nothing but black and flickers of light. Takes food and drink - takes a lot of drink, more than she had ever imbibed for most of her life - and sends even her own away, her son kept far from the battle does not need to see his mother like this. Kashi had known her too long to know that it was anything she would like anyone to see.
Drunk, on blood and misery and whatever it was that they had been procured.
Not that there was much for her to do - she had never experience ship to ship combat. It was strange, and marvelling, as she stood back to watch the Admiral and his mercenaries work. How seamless they knew each other like she knew her own forces. Even if it felt like swallowing fire to know that this was the war for her home, and she could nothing from here and she must leave it into his hands. Doing her best not to snap for it, like a captured predator prowling at cage doors. She fills in the time with her training. With their exchanges when they have them. A slow process of getting to know each other. It does enough, in the intermediate, soothe her. But it doesn't take it away, that pent-up aggression, that awful sense of fate in her hands that was as strong as silk, fine as a single thread that could take a weight and snap when pulled too hard. Feeling it between her hands as she withdrew quieter as they came closer. Her mind clearly taken up even in their conversations. This would not be like the wars she had fought before, it must not be. She has risked too much. She laughed loudly, hit harder, and fell silent as mountains in preparation.
Not until they began boarding, taking over the ship according to his plan. She didn't hesitate. She would be the first to go, and no one else besides. For he had done his behalf, the surprise attack - getting everything into place. Now it was time for her to do her own part. Do what she had been born for, fated too. She doesn't see him before the battle, dressed by her own guards, protected to the last by them as they flanked her. The star and crescent moon painted onto her brow, that in turn with a red vermillion, she painted a dot to each of her guard's brow. Each of their fingers stained darkly. The sieging of a ship was something none of them had done before either, but at least the steps were familiar. Readied themselves to the ritualistic formula for it.
Even if maybe that once the fighting spills out, from that fight to the next - they aren't the best at anything at range. Neither she nor they, quite seem to grasp the concept of using cover outside of their own shields, archaic things that at least do the simple task of blocking nerve disruptor fire. But they get in close, with weapons the UC's armour considered itself superior too, so there wasn't much to stop her men when they got knives into throats. When they jammed plasma rifle into a stomach and blasted them apart. She wonders briefly, in the carnage of it all, if her people can see it, far below on the surface. Battle's that shone like Gods' light as she felt the shake of the ground - the ship - below her feet in a battle she understood far less of, but knew the importance - it would be as unforgiving as her sword through a man's chest.
She kills, and nearly is killed, and then kills again. Every quiet moment of their journey, every still moment, coming out harsh and all at once. It turns to a blur under her hands as it goes, for however long. Like this, there is no sense of time. It could be minutes or it could be days until it's over to her mind's eye.
Then it was, then there was no one left alive that was still fighting, there was only those that gave in, to the surprise of it all. The UC was fat as a spoiled pig, lumbering at its own weight. The commander of the ship that falls to his knees in front of her in surrender. That she sees his face - and she realises, she knows this man. She knows him. Knows him from when he made widows clear up the bodies of their own husbands. What little of them there was left when they had only dared to fight for food.
She doesn't even realise she's moving until the sword is in her hand again. Until she hears one of his soldier's cry to tell her to stop as she advances on him. It's too late, she wants to tell them, she won't be stopped. The commander had already made his choices. He would pay for them.
His head comes off in one clear-cut. Hitting the ground with a splatter of blood and a wet thump. Rolling with widely spinning eyes as brain caught up with death, until the stare turned glassy, and the mouth was open in an agonising scream. Breathing hard, fast, righteous in the action she turned back to - see him, to look only for him, nodding to him. "The spoils are yours." As promised by their agreement, she had no further business on the ship.
With that - she left. Retreated there firmly, for the next cycle of day and night, even if she's learned that means nothing when there is no sky when there is nothing but black and flickers of light. Takes food and drink - takes a lot of drink, more than she had ever imbibed for most of her life - and sends even her own away, her son kept far from the battle does not need to see his mother like this. Kashi had known her too long to know that it was anything she would like anyone to see.
Drunk, on blood and misery and whatever it was that they had been procured.
Miles' own contact with the enemy is somewhat limited, thanks to the careful persuasion of his lieutenants. But once the tide has turned and its clear he can do no more from the command room, he too hauls on one of the suits and follows the Dendarii out into the field. Cleverness is his goal as always; he's responsible for making sure communications are cut off, that the rest of the fleet have no idea what's going on. Right up until the moment when he's behind Lakshmi and she takes the commander's head off. That's - um. That's unfortunate, actually. He'd much rather have had the man surrender, thus giving them a bargaining chip against the rest. Now he'll have to figure out an alternate plan.
But for now, the day is won. His mercenaries gladly help themselves to the spoils - and given they've seized quite a bit of the company's pay, it's a hell of a prize - but Miles himself takes little. No, he's after information, the next step, how to break the rest of the blockade and make this last ... The gap they have now is good, and Lakshmi's planet will get some needed supplies. But it won't last forever. At any moment they're sure to end up on the other end of a counter attack.
None has come yet. It's enough to make Miles deeply antsy. And enough to make him head for her quarters, knock on her door. He's brought a bottle of his own wine in turn. Vorkosigan wine, a very good vintage. "Rani?" he calls through the door. "Are you there?"
But for now, the day is won. His mercenaries gladly help themselves to the spoils - and given they've seized quite a bit of the company's pay, it's a hell of a prize - but Miles himself takes little. No, he's after information, the next step, how to break the rest of the blockade and make this last ... The gap they have now is good, and Lakshmi's planet will get some needed supplies. But it won't last forever. At any moment they're sure to end up on the other end of a counter attack.
None has come yet. It's enough to make Miles deeply antsy. And enough to make him head for her quarters, knock on her door. He's brought a bottle of his own wine in turn. Vorkosigan wine, a very good vintage. "Rani?" he calls through the door. "Are you there?"
She's drunk enough to feel the thickness in her lips, in her tongue, when the door opens, assuming for a moment - for once slowed, blinking at him as her brain caught up with his presences. Her voice low, dark, not so proper, like this: "a moment."
Lakshmi steps back once the door opens to let him in, ragged still from the exhaustion of it all but cleaned up. Her clothes simple long and covering, her hair falling to the top of thigh as she rakes it out of her way, pulled back from her face as she looks him over. "What brings you, Admiral?" Which is to say, she did not feel particularly glamorous to behold.
The quarters are as her people have set them up. Everything neatly ordered but lived in comfortably. Weapons set aside, but always within easy reach. Her discarded armour on the table that had been placed in the middle of the room with a silver plate that normally sat in the middle, with a low lamp that burned in the middle, pushed aside for the time being as the long sword that was her preferred working weapon, was laid out in it's place. The cloth beside it, stained with blood. The confession there - the length of time since it had finished, where she didn't know what else to do but clean it over and over again.
If there is trust there, it is in that she has let him in when she is like this at all.
Lakshmi steps back once the door opens to let him in, ragged still from the exhaustion of it all but cleaned up. Her clothes simple long and covering, her hair falling to the top of thigh as she rakes it out of her way, pulled back from her face as she looks him over. "What brings you, Admiral?" Which is to say, she did not feel particularly glamorous to behold.
The quarters are as her people have set them up. Everything neatly ordered but lived in comfortably. Weapons set aside, but always within easy reach. Her discarded armour on the table that had been placed in the middle of the room with a silver plate that normally sat in the middle, with a low lamp that burned in the middle, pushed aside for the time being as the long sword that was her preferred working weapon, was laid out in it's place. The cloth beside it, stained with blood. The confession there - the length of time since it had finished, where she didn't know what else to do but clean it over and over again.
If there is trust there, it is in that she has let him in when she is like this at all.
Miles holds up the bottle of wine in response. Though - looking at the state of her and her quarters, maybe he shouldn't have. Ah, well. He needs some himself. "A victory celebration, of course," he says, "if only a temporary one." The UC will be back, he can just feel it. Better to take some joy while he has it; better to do what he can while he has time.
He looks past her into the room, then back up at her. And - before she can potentially object - he slips past her, his small frame easily twisting around hers. "Get me a pair of glasses and I'll get us started."
He looks past her into the room, then back up at her. And - before she can potentially object - he slips past her, his small frame easily twisting around hers. "Get me a pair of glasses and I'll get us started."
He's quick, she can give him that. He's in there the second he has a chance and there - wasn't much to say to that. Bemused perhaps for the first time since she had returned, it makes it a little easier to relent. Alright then, glasses it was.
She beckons him to sit on the low couch that had been pushed aside for by her people, going to a cupboard herself and the glasses. What she fetches aren't the right ones for it, she suspects, she'd never had wine like this before. But they're deep cups, which is quite probably to both their tastes regardless of whatever they're losing out in on etiquette. "As you wish."
Lakshmi settles one the other end from him, putting both the glasses down in front of them on the low table.
She beckons him to sit on the low couch that had been pushed aside for by her people, going to a cupboard herself and the glasses. What she fetches aren't the right ones for it, she suspects, she'd never had wine like this before. But they're deep cups, which is quite probably to both their tastes regardless of whatever they're losing out in on etiquette. "As you wish."
Lakshmi settles one the other end from him, putting both the glasses down in front of them on the low table.
That's how Miles gets what he wants half the time: just go for it and hope the other person doesn't care too much. He settles down after a moment, carefully uncorking his bottle. "Thank you, your highness," he says. And once the glasses are in place, he pours them each a liberal portion of wine.
He eats his food far more slowly and watches her with a raised brow. Someone was neglecting the care of those newly in their service if she was this hungry. Or did she fear food would not be forthcoming for some time?
"Frightened your food will run from you?" he asks. If she continued eating like that, she might choke. "No one will take it from you."
Anyone that tried would regret it, in any case. No doubt facing retribution from her first. The fight and ferocity he saw in her that day in the streets was there, underneath it all. Elgar'nan would be pleased if he could harness that for his own purposes.
"Frightened your food will run from you?" he asks. If she continued eating like that, she might choke. "No one will take it from you."
Anyone that tried would regret it, in any case. No doubt facing retribution from her first. The fight and ferocity he saw in her that day in the streets was there, underneath it all. Elgar'nan would be pleased if he could harness that for his own purposes.
She's well and truly on her forth piece when he speaks. It hadn't taken her long to understand how things worked for the newest of Elgar'nans people. She did not yet have the right to her own meal. She had only the right to fight for it. She'd been successful th day before but the injuries in the effort there of took their toll the next.
But self conscious, she stopped. Hovering with another piece of food she was about to cram in. So instead she took a smaller bite and forced herself to swallow before she took another.
Misunderstanding, for a moment. "I did not mean to be rude." She waits, still for it, a flinch in her words trying to skirt the blow.
But self conscious, she stopped. Hovering with another piece of food she was about to cram in. So instead she took a smaller bite and forced herself to swallow before she took another.
Misunderstanding, for a moment. "I did not mean to be rude." She waits, still for it, a flinch in her words trying to skirt the blow.
He waves off her words. "You will need to try harder if you wish to be." With his place in Mythal's service, he's dealt with far worse than someone inhaling their food.
"I am in no rush to leave. You have time to savor it," he adds after a brief pause. "Have you been given duties to attend to while here?"
Was there a reason for her being here beyond 'breaking her in,' as it were? Solas knows what Elgar'nan himself is up to, but he would be naive to think there were not other motives for the visit. He watches her closely as he picks away at his food.
"I am in no rush to leave. You have time to savor it," he adds after a brief pause. "Have you been given duties to attend to while here?"
Was there a reason for her being here beyond 'breaking her in,' as it were? Solas knows what Elgar'nan himself is up to, but he would be naive to think there were not other motives for the visit. He watches her closely as he picks away at his food.
She falls silent as he does so, only venturing to move when the glass was poured. She reaches for it, then shifts herself in her seat. Letting her legs curl under her, so she could sit to face him more directly. Her bare feet tucked away under the wrap of her skirts.
"I am surprised, Admiral. I thought you would be celebrating with your own men."
She lifts her wine to her lips, sipping slowly. It wasn't like she hadn't already drunk her fair share this evening. ( Thank Goodness she had hidden the already empty bottle elsewhere. ) Though this tasted far, far better than whatever else she'd been able to get her hands on.
"I am surprised, Admiral. I thought you would be celebrating with your own men."
She lifts her wine to her lips, sipping slowly. It wasn't like she hadn't already drunk her fair share this evening. ( Thank Goodness she had hidden the already empty bottle elsewhere. ) Though this tasted far, far better than whatever else she'd been able to get her hands on.
It's much easier when he asks to pick her food into little pieces then look at him as she makes him. "To... attend my lord, at his pleasure and entertainment." There is an embarrassment in her face - she didn't like to brag, to note even on her skills let alone be dragged into the spotlight. Nevermind how that might sound outside of what had been her tasks so far.
"He wants me to stay on hand at all times... in case he wants to impress."
"He wants me to stay on hand at all times... in case he wants to impress."
"I hope I can be pleasant."
She wets her lips, taking - a bigger sip, this time. She ought to know better, Vishnu forgive her for her weakness, the wanton destruction she had wrought. There - the thought sits ugly and heavy in her mouth as she swallows down. Her fingers held on either side of the glass carefully.
"Before... in the battle... I am glad to know I did not startle you with my... actions. Though, if what I have heard of them, I am sure it is nothing to what you must have seen on Barrayar."
She wets her lips, taking - a bigger sip, this time. She ought to know better, Vishnu forgive her for her weakness, the wanton destruction she had wrought. There - the thought sits ugly and heavy in her mouth as she swallows down. Her fingers held on either side of the glass carefully.
"Before... in the battle... I am glad to know I did not startle you with my... actions. Though, if what I have heard of them, I am sure it is nothing to what you must have seen on Barrayar."
Ah, he means the viciousness. He has to pause for a moment, to order his thoughts. Honestly - he'd been goddamn turned on by it. Barrayaran roots and all, plus a huge weakness for tall, dark-haired women kicking all of the ass. But he needs to be a bit more subtle.
"You would fit in very well there, I think," he says, slowly. "I am not certain that is a compliment, though."
"You would fit in very well there, I think," he says, slowly. "I am not certain that is a compliment, though."
Rather than be put off, there's a smile, her eyes turning down, looking at her glass to hide it away. Whether it was that apparently, he hadn't been too bothered by it, or that Barrayar would like her.
"I am glad to hear it. My advisors told me if I had no luck with you, I ought to go to them, next. Propose a marriage to honour both our people and secure the alliance." Another mouthful, laughter filling her words. "A dry serious Barrayaran. I've heard they barely even dance except when they drink." The filter through of stories by propaganda from the UIC. Tall tales and exaggerations.
"I am glad to hear it. My advisors told me if I had no luck with you, I ought to go to them, next. Propose a marriage to honour both our people and secure the alliance." Another mouthful, laughter filling her words. "A dry serious Barrayaran. I've heard they barely even dance except when they drink." The filter through of stories by propaganda from the UIC. Tall tales and exaggerations.
He's clearly not that upset about it. Trying to pretend he is, maybe, but secretly thrilled. And wishing he could find a way to convince her to come home with him.
Just as he has that precise thought, this woman says that. Oh god. He chokes on his wine, nearly spilling the whole damn glass all over him. Would that even have worked? Well - yes, obviously. He might even have retired from the Dendarii for that. Alas, alas ... "They're not as boring as you would assume," he says, a bit affronted despite himself. "Traditional, yes. But tradition includes drinking. And very good wine."
He indicates the bottle for emphasis.
Just as he has that precise thought, this woman says that. Oh god. He chokes on his wine, nearly spilling the whole damn glass all over him. Would that even have worked? Well - yes, obviously. He might even have retired from the Dendarii for that. Alas, alas ... "They're not as boring as you would assume," he says, a bit affronted despite himself. "Traditional, yes. But tradition includes drinking. And very good wine."
He indicates the bottle for emphasis.
That was - she gives him, then the glass a look. "This is theirs - ? Alright, wine then." She can agree to that. ( Alright, another sip - the flush that is steady in her cheeks as she raises a toast to his point with it. )
"But what then, if I were to marry a Barrayan, will I have nothing but drink and my husband to occupy my time? No singing, weapons or prayer? Everything I've heard says I may as well lay about in bed all day." It's faintly challenging, go on then, prove her wrong.
"But what then, if I were to marry a Barrayan, will I have nothing but drink and my husband to occupy my time? No singing, weapons or prayer? Everything I've heard says I may as well lay about in bed all day." It's faintly challenging, go on then, prove her wrong.
He really, really shouldn't. It cuts too close to his true identity; he'd be much safer just saying he knows nothing of it and moving on. But. Goodness. These are some first rate lies he has to clear up here. "Nothing of the sort," he says. "You'd marry a Vor, first of all, and their women are famously violent. Have you not heard of a Vorfemme knife?"
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