Young Miles - Lois McMaster Bujold [284]
"We're too far away. A day and a half from the action. Which will be at the Vervain Station wormhole. And beyond, in Vervani local space. We have to get closer. We have to move the Fleet across-system—pin Cavilo up against the Cetagandans. Blockade her—"
"Whoa! I'm not mounting a headlong attack against the Cetagandan Empire!" interrupted Oser sharply.
"You must. You'll have to fight them sooner or later. You pick the time, or they will. The only chance of stopping them is at the wormhole. Once they're through, it will be impossible."
"If I moved my fleet away from Aslund, the Vervani would think we were attacking them."
"And mobilize, go on the alert. Good. But in the wrong direction—not good. We would end up being a feint for Cavilo. Damn! No doubt another branch of her strategy-tree."
"Suppose—if the Cetagandans are now such an embarrassment to Cavilo as you claim—she doesn't send her code?"
"Oh, she still needs them. But for a different purpose. She needs them to flee from. And to mass-murder her witnesses for her. But she doesn't need them to succeed. In fact, she now needs their invasion to bog down. If she's really thinking as long-term as she should be, in her new plan."
Oser shook his head, as if to clear it. "Why?"
"Our only hope—Aslund's only hope—is to capture Cavilo, and fight the Cetagandans to a standstill at the Vervain Station worm-hole. No, wait—we have to hold both sides of the Hub-Vervain jump. Until reinforcements arrive."
"What reinforcements?"
"Aslund, Pol—once the Cetagandans actually materialize in force, they'll see their threat. And if Pol comes in on Barrayar's side instead of Cetaganda's, Barrayar can pour forces through via them. The Cetagandans can be stopped, if everything occurs in the right order." But could Gregor be rescued alive? Not a path to victory, but all paths . . .
"Would the Barrayarans come in?"
"Oh, I think so. Your counter-intelligence must keep track of these things—haven't they noticed a sudden increase in Barrayaran Intelligence activity here in the Hub the last few days?"
"Now that you mention it, yes. Their coded traffic has quadrupled."
Thank God. Maybe relief was closer than he'd dared hope. "Have you broken any of their codes?" Miles asked brightly, while he was at it.
"Only the least sensitive one, so far."
"Ah. Good. That is, too bad."
Oser stood with his arms folded, gnawing at his lip, intensely inward for a full minute. It reminded Miles uncomfortably of the meditative expression the admiral'd had just before ordering him shoved out the nearest air lock, barely more than a week back. "No," Oser said at last. "Thanks for the information. In return, I suppose I will spare your life. But we're pulling out. It's not a fight we can possibly win. Only some propaganda-blinded planetary force, with a planet's resources behind it, can afford that sort of insane self-sacrifice. I designed my fleet to be a fine tactical tool, not a, a damn doorstop made of dead bodies. I'm not a—as you say—goat."
"Not a goat, a spearhead."
"Your 'spearhead' has no spear behind it. No."
"Is that your last word, sir?" asked Miles in a thin voice.
"Yes." Oser reached to key his wrist comm, to call in the waiting guards. "Corporal, this party's going to the brig. Call down and notify them."
The guard saluted through the glass as Oser keyed off.
"But sir," Elena approached him, her arms raised in pleading. With a snake-strike sideways flick of her wrist, she jabbed the hypospray against the side of Oser's neck. His eyes widened, his pulse beat once, twice, three times, as his lips drew back in rage. He tensed to strike her. His blow sagged in mid-arc.
The guards beyond the glass snapped alert at Oser's sudden movement, drawing their stunners. Elena caught Oser's hand and kissed it, smiling gratefully. The guards relaxed; one nudged the other and said something pretty nasty, judging from their grins, but Miles's wits were too momentarily scattered to try to read lips.
Oser swayed and panted, fighting the drug. Elena sidled up the captured