The mild autumn wind blowing through the Capital turned biting as Miles stepped out of the groundcar. The Imperial Residence seemed strangely deserted. It had taken him four minutes to assemble the Armsmen, and eight to make the short, frantic drive to the gates of Gregor's palace. "It will take you less than fifteen minutes," the Count had said. Miles shivered. The antidote for the soltoxin had come from the Residence, over thirty years ago. Had his father counted out the seconds in his head, as Miles was now?

"No gate guards, m'lord," reported Pym.

"ImpSec should have picked that up, by now," Miles muttered. "Right. Two of you, take taxis and round up Lord Vorpatril and Simon Illyan. Discreetly." Some backup was better than none. He'd considered telling Galeni, but he was ImpSec too.

Miles dithered, weighing all the factors. They had plasma arcs in the groundcar, and all were armed with stunners. No nerve disruptors. And no space armor, partly because there had been no time to suit up, and mostly because the Armsmen didn't have any. And an unguarded Imperial Residence with two or more hostages inside, with x number of enemy forces…

Pym coughed. "The gate is open, m'lord."

"Quite. All right, just the way we planned it. If anything goes wrong, if you notice anything, don't hesitate to stun. Including each other, understood?" The Armsmen nodded. Younger ones paired off with those who were Pym's age. They entered the grounds, and fanned out.

Miles and Pym entered through the front door. No palace guards here, either. The darkened vestibules and chambers were eerily silent. Miles led the way up to the private quarters. Two other teams rendezvoused with them at the entrance. They reported no guards, or anyone else, anywhere. Miles bit his lip and waved them in.

Here there was evidence, finally, of malignant forces. For one, the power was out and all the curtains were drawn, spreading darkness throughout normally bustling living quarters. There was a faintly tangy scent in the air which Miles couldn't place. He hoped it wasn't lethal; his little team seemed to be doing all right. Then they came to several barricades of furniture, piled over certain doorways and narrower passageways. The scanners picked up booby-trapped stunner packs hidden in the pile. Organized, though unimaginative. This took a lot of people.

One of the Armsmen surveyed the mess. "I think I can disable those, my Lord," he whispered.

Miles shook his head. He'd explored those corridors as a child; they were dead-ends. Someone was trying to throw them off. "Just check for life signs."

Three Armsmen suddenly drew their weapons. Pym motioned towards an intersection they'd just rounded. Miles stiffened, hearing the muffled footpads. If they were discovered, they would be cut off…

Miles pulled ahead. Maybe his opponent wouldn't expect him, and aim too high. He braced, as the footsteps came closer. Now---

"Shit, Miles!" Ivan gritted. They holstered their stunners.

"Good timing, Ivan," said Miles. "Seen anyone else?"

"No, this place is like a crypt." Ivan stopped. Miles exchanged a grim look with his cousin.

"At least we're not to the half hour mark yet. Then Father's going to call ImpSec."

"And this is a good thing? Anyway, Illyan gave me a communicator. He talked to the Armsman on the way here, and he doesn't think you should tell ImpSec, either."

Well, if Simon thinks so, it must be all right. "The back way into the inner office, where I saw them last, is blocked." Miles considered. "Let's split up. You go through the front way, I'll try to get through the back way."

"You're not getting in that way," said a female voice. Ivan, to his credit, didn't hesitate to fire at the source. The others joined in, as Miles faded to rear guard to check for other ambushes and clear their escape.

He didn't get far. A palace guard was standing there, flanking them. In a strange slow motion, the shiny bell of a nerve disruptor rose and aimed squarely on Miles. Recovering from his shock, Miles was about to shoot him when stunner fire erupted from his side. The guard fell. Another woman in a loose fitting town dress stepped over the body. Pym turned, noticed her, and fired his stunner.

The second woman advanced, unharmed. Miles fired, and watched as the energy burst bubbled the air in front of her. He could feel the faint wave of heat coming back at him. "The stunners don't work," he heard Ivan say.

"Of course not," said the first woman. An Armsman fired a final burst, and the air shimmered around her, giving the effect of a dark-gowned apparition. In the dark, all Miles could make out was her tall figure and cropped hair.

"Fia," the second woman said, urgently. "We need to get back. The transmission will be any minute now."

Suddenly there was a scream, and a crackle of energy. It was coming from the inner chambers. A little communicator pin on the dress of the short-haired woman---Fia---activated.

"We need some backup, people, and a shield," said a familiar male voice. Miles, cursing silently, finally placed it. 'Lord Vorkosigan, if you enter the Imperial Residence, you will die.' It was Raina's accomplice. Or brother, whatever.

Fia grabbed Miles's elbow. "You're coming with me. 'Lene, take Ivan and three Armsmen, and go around. All of you, take the power cells out of the plasma arcs; stunners only. The rest of you, pair up, follow me, and shoot anything that doesn't seem right."

As Miles digested that irony, Pym said, perplexed, "My lord…?"

Miles looked at the woman, Fia. The Emperor could be dead, or worse, and a complete stranger had just saved him from a murderous palace guard. Now or never… choose, boy! "For the time being, obey them as you would me." Miles quelled Ivan's objections with a glare.

Fia looked surprised at his decision. She touched a button on what looked like a chrono, and Miles now picked up the low buzz of a power module. "Stay within two meters, and it'll catch nerve disruptors," Fia said, sprinting down the corridor. No one had force fields that small and powerful, to Miles's knowledge.

She jerked on his arm, to hurry him along and get his attention. "And for heaven's sake," she said tartly, "this time listen when we tell you how not to get scragged!"