Young Miles - Lois McMaster Bujold [244]
"On your feet, Techie." A guard's voice, directed to Gregor. Thumpings and hangings, as the mattresses were flipped and the cupboard doors flung open. Yes, he'd figured the cupboards for useless.
"Where is he, Techie?" From the directions of the shufflings, Miles placed Gregor as now near the wall, probably with an arm twisted up behind his back.
"Where is who?" said Gregor in a smeary tone. Face against the wall, all right.
"Your little mutant buddy."
"The weird little guy who followed me in? He's no buddy of mine. He left."
More shuffling—"Ow!" The Emperor's arm had just been lifted another five centimeters, Miles gauged.
"Where'd he go?"
"I don't know! He didn't look so good. Somebody'd worked him over with a shock-stick. Recently. I wasn't about to get involved. He took off again a few minutes before we undocked."
Good Gregor; depressed maybe, stupid no. Miles's lips drew back. His head was turned, with one cheek against the floor above and the other pressing against something that resembled a cheese grater.
More thumps. "All right! He left! Don't hit me!"
Unintelligible guard growls, the crackle of a shock-stick, a sharp intake of breath, a thump as of a body curling up on a lower bunk.
A second guard's voice, edged with uncertainty, "He must have doubled back onto the Consortium before we cast off."
"Their problem, good. But we'd better search the whole ship to be sure. Detention sounded ready to chew ass on this one."
"Chew or be chewed?"
"Hah. I'm taking no bets."
The booted feet—four of them, Miles estimated—stalked toward the cabin door. The door hissed closed. Silence.
He was going to have a truly remarkable collection of bruises on his backside, Miles decided, by the time Gregor got around to popping the lid. He could get about half a breath with each pulse of his lungs. He needed to pee. Come on, Gregor. . . .
He must certainly free Gregor from his slave labor contract as soon as possible after their arrival at Aslund Station. Contract laborers of this order were bound to be stuck with the dirtiest and most dangerous jobs, the most exposure to radiation, to dubious life-support systems, to long, exhausting, accident-prone hours. Though—true—it was also an incognito no enemy would quickly penetrate. Once free to move they must find Ungari, the man with the credit cards and the contacts; after that—well, after that Gregor would be Ungari's problem, eh? Yes, all simple, right and tight. No need to panic at all.
Had they taken Gregor away? Dare he release himself, and risk—
Shuffling footsteps; a widening line of light, as his lid was raised. "They're gone," Gregor whispered. Miles unmolded himself, centimeter by painful centimeter, and climbed onto the floor, a suitable staging area. He would attempt to stand up very soon now.
Gregor had one hand pressed to a red mark on his cheek. Selfconsciously, he lowered his hand to his side. "They tapped me with a shock-stick. It . . . wasn't as bad as I'd imagined." If anything, he looked faintly proud of himself.
"They were using low power," Miles growled up at him. Gregor's face grew more masked. He offered Miles a hand up. Miles took it and grunted to his feet, and sat heavily on a bunk. He told Gregor about his plans for finding Ungari.
Gregor shrugged, dully acquiescent. "Very well. It will be quicker than my plan."
"Your plan?"
"I was going to contact the Barrayaran Consul on Aslund."
"Oh. Good." Miles subsided. "Guess you . . . didn't really need my rescue, at that."
"I could have made it on my own. I got this far. But . . . then there was my other plan."
"Oh?"
"Not to contact the Barrayaran Consul . . . Maybe it's just as well you came along when you did." Gregor lay back on his bunk, staring blindly upward. "One thing is certain, an opportunity like this will never come again."
"To escape? And just how many would die, back home, to buy your freedom?"
Gregor pursed his lips, "Taking Vordarian's Pretendership as a benchmark for palace coups—say, seven or eight thousand."
"You're not counting in Komarr."
"Ah. Yes. Adding in Komarr would