"Miles," Gregor said, holding out his hand. "Miles, I..."
"Don't," Miles said, warding Gregor off. It took all his strength to raise his hand, to keep his Emperor at bay. "Just. Don't." He knew he must look as grey as he felt, as grey as his rumpled civvies.
Ekaterin.
If she'd gotten out--she had to have gotten out. She had to have. She knew how to get off a ship: grab the children, get to a pod, get out, out, out.
Ekaterin. Helen. Aral. Ekaterin.
The hours passed in silence. Gregor watched him from under lowered eyelids, but didn't speak, or offer his hand again.
"A routine trip," Miles said, finally. "It was supposed to be safe."
Gregor didn't answer, and Miles exhaled, long and slowly. "At least I got you out, Sire. I did that much of my duty."
He didn't think of his wife and his children. She'd known what to do. If she could do it, she had. If she couldn't--if she hadn't--
He didn't think of her.
He didn't.
He didn't.
A Barrayaran heavy cruiser picked them up less than a day later. "Are there any other survivors?" Gregor asked.
"A few, Sire," said the young Captain escorting them. "Not many. Twenty, thirty. We think."
"Lady Vorkosigan?" asked Miles. My children, he left unsaid.
The Captain swallowed. "I don't believe so, my Lord Auditor. The Admiral might know."
"Miles--" Gregor tried, again.
Miles waved him to silence. Their bootheels clacked on the flooring.
The Admiral looked exhausted. "Sire. Lord Auditor Vorkosigan."
"My wife," Miles said. "Have you found her?"
The Admiral winced. "Her body, sir. And those of your children. I am...sorry. M'lord. If there is anything--"
"No," Miles said. "No. Nothing." Nothing.
God, what was he going to tell Nikki?
No. Nikki was Vor; Nikki would understand.
What was he going to tell himself, in the middle of the night, when Ekaterin was no longer beside him? When he woke from nightmares and could not walk down the hall to look in on his children, asleep and dreaming happier dreams?
Miles closed his eyes, but the world looked no blacker with all the
light shut out.
