Work Text:
The Betan information net was second to none. Being able to log onto it was one of the fringe benefits of the fleet stopping here for its refit. Commodore Tung, relaxing in his cabin after a dull day, connected to it and entered the name of his favourite living strategist into the search program. Lord Vorkosigan.
The first set of results was old data, news reports dating to the Escobar defeat, odd bits of Barrayaran news that had made the galactic press, nothing Tung hadn't read before. But below was another result, a small item from a recent news vendor. Lord Vorkosigan visits Beta, the summary read. Tung was frankly surprised he could get there, despite being the Barrayaran Prime Minister. He called up the story.
It was very dull, a clipping from the Galactic Interest pages of a minor Quartz tabloid, the kind of journal more commonly filled with unlikely sex scandals and illegally obtained vids of minor celebrities. Not the kind of thing to take an interest in serious politics. The story was short: Lord Vorkosigan was seen arriving on Beta on a private family visit. Of course, his wife was a Betan. There was no mention of her, though. It surprised Tung that a visit from the Barrayaran Prime Minister, even an apparently private family visit, did not merit more attention from the notorious Betan journalists.
There was a picture attached. Tung called it up in turn, and stared at the comconsole screen in utter confusion. Instead of the familiar, intense, aggressive face he kept a framed portrait of on his cabin wall, an equally familiar face rose before him. Lord Miles Vorkosigan, the caption said. Tung swore, just once. What on earth was this?
He could see the similarities. They had the same piercing eyes, the same dark brows, the same determined expression. Admiral Miles Naismith. Lord Miles Naismith Vorkosigan. He let out his breath slowly, recalling his first meeting with Naismith. Naismith had read Vorkosigan on Komarr, had mentioned a private meeting with him… well, he would have had a lifetime's worth of private meetings if he were Vorkosigan's son.
Theories began to whirl in his head. No wonder Naismith was such a tactical genius, he'd been raised by one. But what on earth had he been doing here? And why? He turned back to the comconsole and entered a new search, specifically for Barrayaran sources. Lord Miles Vorkosigan.