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"I don t know a great deal about Serifosa. I throw myself on your mercy,
Madame, as my native guide. The last time I went shopping in any major way, it
was for military ordnance."
She laughed. "That s very different."
"It s not as different as you might think. For the really high-ticket items
they send sales engineers halfway across the galaxy to wait upon you. It s
exactly the way my Aunt Vorpatril shops for clothes - in her case, come to
think of it, also high-ticket items.
The couturiers send their minions to her. I ve become fond of minions, in my
old age."
His old age was no more than thirty, she decided. A new-minted thirty much
like her own, still worn uncomfortably. "And is that the way your mother the
Countess shops, too?" How had his mother dealt with the fact of his mutations?
Rather well, judging from the results.
"Mother just buys whatever Aunt Vorpatril tells her to. I ve always had the
impression she d be happier in her old Betan
Astronomical Survey fatigues."
The famous Countess Cordelia Vorkosigan was a galactic expatriate, of the most
galactic possible sort, a Betan from Beta
Colony. Progressive, high-tech, glittering Beta Colony, or corrupt, dangerous,
sinister Beta Colony, take your pick of political views. No wonder Lord
Vorkosigan seemed tinged with a faint galactic air; he literally was half
galactic. "Have you ever been to
Beta Colony? Is it as sophisticated as they say?"
"Yes. And no."
They arrived at the bubble-car platform, and she led them to the fourth car in
line, partly because it was empty and partly to give herself an extra few
seconds to select their destination. Quite automatically, Lord Vorkosigan hit
the switch to close and seal the bubble canopy as soon as they d settled into
the front seat. He was either accustomed to his privacy, or just hadn t yet
encountered the "Share the Ride" campaign now going on in Serifosa Dome. In
any case, she was glad not to be bottled up with any Komarran strangers this
trip.
Komarr had been a galactic trade crossroads for centuries, and the bazaar of
the Barrayaran Empire for decades; even a relative backwater like Serifosa
offered an abundance of wares at least equal to Vorbarr Sultana. She pursed
her lips, then slotted in her credit chit and punched up the Shuttleport Locks
District as their destination on the bubble-car s control panel. After a
moment, they bumped into the tube and began to accelerate. The acceleration
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was slow, not a good sign.
"I believe I ve seen your mother a few times on the holovid," she offered
after a moment. "Sitting next to your father on reviewing platforms and the
like. Mostly some years ago, when he was still Regent. Does it seem strange...
does it give you a very different view of your parents, to see them on vid?"
"No," he said. "It gives me a very different view of holovids."
The bubble-car swung into a walled darkness lit by side-strips, flickering
past the eye, then broke abruptly into sunlight, arching toward the next
air-sealed complex. Halfway up the arc, they slowed still further; ahead of
them, in the tube, Ekaterin could see other bubble-cars bunching to a crawl,
like pearls on a string. "Oh, dear, I was afraid of that. Looks like we re
caught in a blockage."
Vorkosigan craned his neck. "An accident?"
"No, the system s just overloaded. At certain times of day on certain routes,
you can get held up from twenty to forty minutes.
They re having a local political argument over the bubble-car system funding
right now. One group wants to shorten the safety margins between cars and
increase speeds. Another one wants to build more routes. Another one wants to
ration access."
His eyes lit with amusement. "Ah, yes, I understand. And how many years has
this argument been ongoing without issue?"
"At least five, I m told."
"Isn t local democracy wonderful," he murmured. "And to think the Komarrans
imagined we were doing them a favor to leave their downside affairs under
their traditional sector control."
"I hope you don t mind heights," she said uncertainly, as the bubble-car
moaned almost to a halt at the top of the arc. Through the faint distortions
of the canopy and tube, half of Serifosa Dome s chaotic patchwork of
structures seemed spread out to their view. Two cars ahead of them, a couple
seized this opportunity to indulge in some heavy necking. Ekaterin studiously
ignored them. "Or... small enclosed spaces."
He smiled a little grimly. "As long as the small enclosed space is above
freezing, I can manage."
Was that a reference to his cryo-death? She hardly dared ask. She tried to
think of a way to work the conversation back to his mother, and thence to how
she d dealt with his mutations. "Astronomical Survey? I thought your mother
served in the Betan
Expeditionary Force, in the Escobar War."
"Before the war, she had an eleven-year career in their Survey."
"Administration, or... She didn t go out on the blind worm-hole jumps, did
she? I mean, all spacers are a little strange, but wormhole wildcatters are
supposed to be the craziest of the crazy."
"That s quite true." He glanced out, as with a slight jerk the bubble-car [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] - zanotowane.pl
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