Miles Errant - Lois McMaster Bujold [162]
"But will Destang think so?" asked Ivan.
"I do not believe," said Galeni distantly, staring out the canopy, "that I give a good goddamn what Destang thinks."
Miles found himself in mental agreement with that sentiment. But then, they were all very tired. But they were all here: he looked around, savoring the faces, Elli and Ivan, Galeni and Mark; all alive, all brought through the night to this moment of survival.
Almost all.
"Where do you want to be dropped off, Mark?" Miles asked. He glanced through his lashes at Galeni, expecting an objection, but Galeni offered none. With the jettisoning of the Cetagandans Galeni had lost the hyper-adrenal edge that had been carrying him; he looked drained. He looked old. Miles did not solicit an objection. Be careful what you ask for, you might get it.
"A tube station," said Mark. "Any tube station."
"Very well." Miles called up a map on the car's console. "Up three streets and over two, Ivan."
He got out with Mark as the car settled to the pavement in the drop-off zone. "Back in a minute." They walked together to the entrance to the DOWN lift tube. It was still night-quiet here in this district, only a trickle of people flowing past, but morning rush would be starting soon.
Miles opened his jacket and drew out the coded card. From the tense look on Mark's face he was anticipating a nerve disruptor, in the style of Ser Galen, right to the last. Mark took the card and turned it over in wonder and suspicion.
"There you go," said Miles. "If you, with your background and this bankroll, can't disappear on Earth, it can't be done. Good luck."
"But . . . what do you want of me?"
"Nothing. Nothing at all. You're a free man, for as long as you can keep so. We will certainly not be reporting Galen's, ah, semi-accidental death."
Mark slipped the chit into his trouser pocket. "You wanted more."
"When you can't get what you want, you take what you can get. As you are finding." He nodded toward Mark's pocket; Mark's hand closed over it protectively.
"What is it that you want me to do?" Mark demanded. "What are you setting me up for? Did you really take that Jackson's Whole garbage seriously? What do you expect me to do?"
"You can take it and retire to the pleasure domes of Mars, for as long as it lasts. Or buy an education, or two or three. Or stuff it down the first waste chute you pass. I'm not your owner. I'm not your mentor. I'm not your parents. I have no expectations. I have no desires." Rebel against that—if you can figure out how—little brother. . . . Miles held his hands palm-out and stepped back.
Mark swung into the lift tube, never turning his back. "WHY NOT?" he yelled suddenly, baffled and furious.
Miles threw back his head and laughed. "You figure it out!" he called.
The tube field took him, and he vanished, swallowed into the earth.
Miles returned to the friends who waited for him.
"Was that smart?" Elli, breaking off a rapid fill-in from Ivan, worried as he settled in beside her. "Just letting him go like that?"
"I don't know," sighed Miles. " 'If you can't help, don't hinder.' I can't help him; Galen's made him too crazy. I am his obsession. I suspect I'll always be his obsession. I know all about obsessions. The best I can do is get out of his way. In time he may calm down, without me to react against. In time he may—save himself."
His own weariness flooded in. Elli was warm against him, and he was very, very glad of her. Reminded, he keyed his wrist comm and dismissed Nim and his patrol back to the shuttleport.
"Well," Ivan blinked after a full minute of wiped-out silence from all present, "where now? D'you two want to go back to the shuttleport too?"
"Yeah," breathed Miles, "and flee the planet. . . . Desertion is not practical, I'm afraid. Destang would catch up with me sooner or later anyway. We may as well all go back to the embassy and report. The true report. There's nothing left to lie for, is there?" He squinted, trying to think.