Young Miles - Lois McMaster Bujold [251]
"He doesn't look like a batman. He looks like an officer."
Gregor looked insensibly cheered at this unbiased encomium.
"You can't go by looks. Commodore Tung looks like a wrestler."
Oser's eyes were suddenly freezing. "Indeed. And how long have you been in correspondence with Captain Tung?"
By the sick lurch in his belly, Miles realized mentioning Tung had been a major mistake. He tried to keep his features coolly ironic, not reflecting his unease. "If I'd been in correspondence with Tung, I should not have been troubled with making this personal evaluation of Aslund Station."
Oser, elbows on table, hands clasped, studied Miles in silence for a full minute. At last one hand fell open, to point at the guard, who straightened attentively. "Space them," Oser ordered.
"What?!" yelped Miles.
"You," the pointing finger collected Oser's silent lieutenant, "go with them. See that it's done. Use the portside access lock, it's closest. If he," pointing to Miles, "starts to talk, stop his tongue. It's his most dangerous organ."
The guard released the tangle-field from Miles's legs and pulled him to his feet.
"Aren't you even going to have me chemically interrogated?" asked Miles, dizzied by this sudden downturn.
"And contaminate my interrogators? The last thing I want is to give you rein to talk, to anyone. I can think of nothing more fatal than for the rot of disloyalty to start in my own Intelligence section. Whatever your planned speech, removing your air will neutralize it. You nearly convince me." Oser almost shuddered.
We were getting on so well, yes. . . . "But I—" They were hoisting Gregor to his feet too. "But you don't need to—"
Two waiting members of the half-squad fell in as they were bundled out the door, frog-marching Miles and Gregor rapidly down the corridor. "But—!" The conference room door hissed closed.
"This is not going well, Miles," Gregor observed, his pale face a weird compound of detachment, exasperation, and dismay. "Any more bright ideas?"
"You're the man who was experimenting with wingless flight. Is this any worse than, say, plummeting?"
"At my own hand," Gregor began to drag his feet, to struggle, as the air lock chamber heaved into view, "not at the whim of a bunch of . . ." it took three guards to wrestle him now, "bloody peasants!"
Miles was getting seriously frantic. Screw the damn cover. "You know," he called out loudly, "you fellows are about to throw a fortune in ransom out the air lock!"
Two guards kept wrestling with Gregor, but the third paused. "How big a fortune?"
"Huge," Miles promised. "Buy your own fleet."
The lieutenant abandoned Gregor and closed on Miles, drawing a vibra-knife. The lieutenant was interpreting his orders with horrific literality, Miles realized when the man went for a grip on his tongue. He almost got it—the evil insect whine of the knife dopplered centimeters from Miles's nose—Miles bit the thick thrusting fingers, and twisted against the grip of the guard holding him. The tangle-field binding Miles's arms to his torso whined and crackled, unbreakable. Miles jammed backward against the crotch of the man behind, who yipped at the field's bite. His grip slipped and Miles dropped, rolling and banging into the lieutenant's knees. It wasn't exactly a judo throw; the lieutenant more or less tripped over him.
Gregor's two opponents were distracted, as much by the bloody barbaric promise of the vibra-knife show as by Miles's ultimately futile struggles. They did not see the leather-faced man step out from a cross-corridor, aim his stunner, and spray. They arched convulsively as the buzzing charges struck their backs, and dropped heap-fashion to the deck. The man who'd been holding Miles, and was now trying to grab him again as he flopped around evasively as a fish, whirled just in time to intersect a beam square in the face.
Miles flung himself across the blond lieutenant's head, pinning him—only momentarily, alas—to the deck. Miles wriggled, to press the tangle-field into the man's face, then was heaved off with a curse. The lieutenant had one knee under