Chapter Text
Argamakia had one spaceport. It was in something of a state of disrepair, and was run by a platoon of twitchy-looking ghem. One of the ghem directed them to a desk. They'd been the only foreigners on the ship.
“Welcome to Argamakia. Ghem-General Dalen would appreciate it if you didn't get killed, so try to restrict your obvious suicidal urges”, the ghem-Lieutenant greeted them. He looked prematurely aged. “Please sign here”, he said, and pushed flimsies at Aleksei and Filippa.
They were legal documents stating that the signatory party knew the risks of Argamakia, that the Cetagandan Empire bore no responsibility for the acts of the Argamakians, et cetera. Aleksei signed.
The ghem-Lieutenant collected the signed papers. “Your Cetagandan escort is waiting for you at the official exit. Have a nice trip, and whatever you do, don't create any more paperwork for me.”
After a few moments of trying to find an exit amongst the one-storey buildings and barbed wire, they found a large-ish door that had an antsy, rather than twitchy, ghem standing next to it. They walked over.
“Excuse me, is this the official exit?” Aleksei asked.
“It's the only exit, idiot. I am ghem-Ensign Yan Kovin. I assume you are the foreigners I'm supposed to escort. Where are you going?” he asked. He was attempting to look and sound haughty, but wasn't quite concealing a nervous quaver in his voice.
“Horse shopping in the wilderness”, Filippa smirked.
Kovin looked like he'd just taken a large quantum leap towards nervous breakdown.
Three days of traveling in an armored groundcar later, Aleksei was fed up with the whole assignment. He wished the Emperor had come up with something easier to find, like stuffed toys. But no. Lord Auditor Vorkosigan must receive horses.
Aleksei drove. Filippa was doodling horses on a stack of flimsies. Kovin looked like he was going to freak out at any moment.
“Is that bunker a checkpoint?” Aleksei asked.
“We passed the last checkpoint fifty kilometers ago.” Kovin looked even closer to freaking out.
Something exploded beneath the vehicle. Aleksei heard the fuel tank make sparking noises and dove out of the car. He rolled and rolled and rolled.
Another explosion happened. That would be the fuel tank. Shrapnel flew over him.
He looked at the smoking ruins of the groundcar. It didn't look like it would explode any time soon.
Kovin was clambering to his feet a few meters behind Aleksei. Filippa had been on the other side of the vehicle.
Aleksei felt a nerve disruptor poke into his neck. He raised his hands. Kovin looked like he was going to cry. He lifted his hands as well.
The Argamakians looked remarkably uniform. All were deathly pale with light-colored hair and similar facial features. Of the six terrorists that Aleksei could see, half were women.
Footsteps. Aleksei slowly turned his head to see Filippa being walked towards them by another two Argamakians.
“Who are you?” a woman said from above. Aleksei turned.
The woman looked identical to the others, but she was riding a horse. The horse was a very shiny palomino, the color of a newly-minted gold coin.
“I am Aleksei Kostolitz, citizen of Barrayar. These are Filippa Cherenkova, also of Barrayar, and ghem-Ensign Yan Kovin.”
The Argamakians looked at Kovin disapprovingly.
The leader was just about to say something when Filippa said, “A mare. How much does she cost?”
“You're a horse person.” It wasn't a question.
“That's why I'm here.” Filippa smirked as she answered.
The leader tilted her head. “How many?”
“Three mares and a stallion.”
The leader addressed her underlings, and Filippa and two guards followed her as she rode off. Aleksei and Kovin were eventually prodded towards the treeline with nerve disruptors.
“What do you think they're doing to her?”
“I don't know! I'm just as new to getting kidnapped as you are!”
Their captors brought them some sort of stew. Its taste was reminiscent of home. Aleksei slept badly.
Filippa returned at the crack of dawn, leading three horses. One of her three escorts was leading a fourth one. The leader had her idiosyncratic horse.
One of the horses Filippa were leading was a brilliant mahogany bay shining in shades of red. Another was a shiny golden buckskin. The third was a beautiful cremello, at risk of outshining the rising sun. The horse being lead separately was pitch black with a stunning blue sheen.
“Aleksei! Grab Jazyr!” she shouted, nodding her head at the black horse.
After the stallion's lead rope had exchanged hands, the Argamakians vanished into the forest.
Kovin wasn't thrilled at having to walk to civilization. To tell the truth, neither was Aleksei. Then again, Aleksei had a very spirited stallion on his hands, so the going was less excruciatingly mind-numbing. At least none of the mares was in season.
When they got to civilization (complete with horse trailers), it was a relatively short drive to the spaceport. The prematurely aged ghem-Lieutenant cried when they told him of the ground-car's fate.
“Have you any idea how hard it is to replace those?!”
In his despair, he rubber-stamped the horses' export documents without looking at them.
On the ship home, Aleksei asked Filippa why she'd bought the stallion.
“Well, Lord Vorkosigan will want a stallion to breed foals with, so I sensed a market opportunity...” she replied. “Besides, he was pretty.”
“You're evil.”
“Thank you.”
Sometimes, Ekaterin wanted to bash the Emperor's head in. It wasn't very often, mind you, mostly when he sent Miles away on a long mission.
Or now. Ekaterin had no idea what to do with five horses. Miles, however, did. Thankfully.
“Oh, don't worry, Ekaterin, Cleena II – the bay foal – will be excellent for the kids once they grow up! Her twin sister taught me how to ride. And Midnight II – the black foal – will grow up into a very pretty and valuable show horse, just like his brother!” he said.
“But what about the other three?” Ekaterin wailed.
“Oh, we'll breed Akhal-Tekes with imported sperm! They're really rare, so everyone will want one! – Dauriya's the buckskin, Alaya's the cremello and Sayat's the bay”, he explained. It might have been useful if Ekaterin had had the faintest clue about horse colors. The way they were defined, the one called ‘black’ probably referred to the gold-colored horse.
Filippa Cherenkova was very happy. She owned two high-quality, sought-after stallions (an Escobaran breeder had just contacted her over purchasing some of Jazyr's sperm) and was drinking what had to be the best tea on the planet.
“So, why are Akhal-Tekes so shiny?” Aleksei asked her from the other end of his couch.
“Well, regular hairs have an opaque core. With Akhal-Teke, the core is small or even completely absent. Thus the whole hair consists of the transparent part, and functions like a fiber-optic cable.”
“I see your parents saw fit to provide you with an education.” Aleksei smiled. “More tea?”
“Yes, please.”