Diplomatic Immunity

Greenlaw's voice by his ear made him jump. “Is there something wrong with that one?”

“He appears to have suffered some sort of mechanical injury. That . . . shouldn't be possible, in a sealed replicator.” He thought of Aral Alexander, and Helen Natalia, and his stomach knotted. “If you have any quaddie experts in replicator reproduction, it might not be a bad idea to get them in here to look at these.” He doubted this was a specialty where the military medicos from the Prince Xav were likely to be much help.

Ve

Ve

Miles abandoned his worried study of the injured haut infant and edged over to Ve

“About 0200, sir,” a distressed voice responded from the wrist com.

“This wasn't authorized!”

“Yes, it was, Crew Chief, duly. Portmaster Thorne authorized it. Since it was the same passenger it had brought on board yesterday, the one who had that live cargo to tend, we didn't think anything was odd.”

“What time did they leave ?” Ve

“Not on our shift, sir. I don't know what happened after that. I went straight home and went to bed. I didn't see the search bulletin for Portmaster Thorne on the news stream till I got up for breakfast just a few minutes ago.”

“Why didn't you pass this on in your end-of-shift report?”

“Portmaster Thorne said not to.” The voice hesitated. “At least . . . the passenger suggested we might want to leave this off the record, so that we wouldn't have to deal with all the other passengers demanding access too if they heard about it, and Portmaster Thorne nodded and said Yes .”

Ve

“What was that all about?” asked Miles. Roic had strolled up to loom over his shoulder.

Ve

“Where did Thorne go after that?”

“Escorted Dubauer aboard, apparently. Neither of them came off while my night-shift crew was watching. Excuse me. I need to go talk to my people.” Ve

Miles stood stu

Roic, eyes narrowing, asked, “Could your herm friend have gone renegade, m'lord? Or been bribed?”

Adjudicator Leutwyn looked to Greenlaw, who looked sick with uncertainty.

“I would sooner doubt . . . myself,” said Miles. And that was slandering Bel. “Although the portmaster might have been bribed with a nerve disruptor muzzle pressed to its spine, or something equivalent.” He wasn't sure he wanted to even try to imagine the ba's bioweapon equivalent. “Bel would play for time.”

“How could this ba find the portmaster when we couldn't?” asked Leutwyn.

Miles hesitated. “The ba wasn't hunting Bel. The ba was hunting Guppy. If the ba had been closing in last night when Guppy counterattacked his shadowers . . . the ba might have come along immediately after, or even been a witness. And allowed itself to be diverted, or swapped its priorities, in the face of the unexpected opportunity to gain access to its cargo through Bel.”

What priorities? What did the ba want? Well, Gupta dead, certainly, doubly so now that the amphibian was witness to both its initial clandestine operation, and to the murders by which the ba had attempted to completely erase its trail. But for the ba to have been so close to its target, and yet veer off, suggested that the other priority was overwhelmingly more important to it.

The ba had spoken of utterly destroying its purportedly animal cargo; the ba had also spoken of taking tissue samples for freezing. The ba had spoken lie upon lie, but suppose this was the truth? Miles wheeled to stare down the aisle of racks. The image formed itself in his mind: of the ba working all day, with relentless speed and concentration. Loosening the lid of each replicator, stabbing through membrane, fluid, and soft skin with a sampling needle, lining the needles up, row on row, in a freezer unit the size of a small valise. Miniaturizing the essence of its genetic payload to something it could carry away in one hand. At the cost of abandoning their originals? Destroying the evidence?

Maybe it has, and we just can't see the effects yet. If the ba could make adult-sized bodies steam away their own liquids within hours and turn to viscous puddles, what could it do with such tiny ones?

The Cetagandan wasn't stupid. Its smuggling scheme might have gone according to plan, but for the slipup with Gupta. Who had followed the ba here, and drawn in Solian—whose disappearance had led to the muddle with Corbeau and Garnet Five, which had led to the bungled raid on the quaddie security post, which had resulted in the impoundment of the fleet, including the ba's precious cargo. Miles knew exactly how it felt to watch a carefully pla

But if the ba was paring down its payload to a minimum mass, it certainly wouldn't saddle its escape with a prisoner.

“I think,” said Miles, and had to stop and clear a throat gone dry. Bel would play for time. But suppose time and ingenuity ran out, and no one came, and no one came, and no one came . . . ”I think Bel might still be aboard the Idris . We must search the ship. At once.”

Roic stared around, looking daunted. “All of it, m'lord?”

He started to cry Yes! but his laggard brain converted it to, “No. Bel had no access codes beyond quaddie control of the airlock. The ba had codes only for this hold and its own cabin. Anything that was locked before, should still be. For the first pass, check unsecured spaces only.”

“Shouldn't we wait for Chief Ve

“If anyone even tries to come aboard who hasn't been exposed already, I swear I'll stun them myself before they can get through the airlock. I'm not fooling.” Miles's voice was husky with conviction.

Leutwyn looked taken aback, but Greenlaw, after a frozen moment, nodded. “I quite see your point, Lord Auditor Vorkosigan. I must agree.”

They spread out in pairs, the intent-looking Greenlaw followed by the somewhat bewildered adjudicator, Roic determinedly keeping to Miles's shoulder. Miles tried the ba's cabin first, to find it as empty as before. Four other cabins had been left unlocked, three presumably because they had been cleared of possessions, the last apparently through sheer carelessness. The infirmary was sealed, as it had been left after Bel's inspection with the medtechs last evening. Nav and Com was fully secured. On the deck above, the kitchen was open, as were some of the recreation areas, but no cheeky Betan herm or u