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“So, you are the only one to return to us,” Captain Negri says, his full attention on Simon. Simon does not like to have Negri’s full attention on him.
Negri is not Vor. None of his ancestors were Vor, as far as anyone can trace, but by some quirk of genetics and fate, Negri is fae. He is like shadows and blood, twisting and creeping in dark places, impossible to escape. Ezar’s Familiar, they call him, and he is, Ezar’s wholly and entirely, his to wield, unchained by any other law.
“Yes sir,” Simon says.
“Well,” says Negri, “I suppose it’s to be expected. We shall have to be careful in our selection, if we hope to continue the program.”
All the subjects chosen for the chip program had been proles. No one had said that the possibility of Vorish peculiarities interfering with the chip was a concern, but it wasn’t too hard to infer. Simon, backcountry greekie that he is, was as certainly human and only human as anyone could be on Barrayar, and so from the beginning he had been, out of the ten Barrayaran test subjects, most likely to undergo the procedure successfully.
“It’s not just us, sir,” Simon says, which is speaking out of turn, and not something one does in Negri’s presence, but it is information that Simon has reason to impart.
“Oh?” Negri says. Simon cannot tell if the sense of shadows creeping round him is meant as an exertion of threat, or is merely a manifestation of the Chief of ImpSec’s curiosity. His clear knowledge from the chip that the lighting in this room is perfectly ordinary, the image of Negri simply as a man sitting at a desk, is oddly comforting, though, even if it is in a way less true than his subjective perception.
“There were fifty test subjects in total, I was not told where everyone else was from, but there were several groups from multiple planets,” Simon says, “I was the only survivor.”
Negri’s attention on him sharpens. It feels like being a butterfly pinned on display, wings stiff and dead.
“So,” Negri says, “What makes you so special, then?”
“I don’t know, sir,” Simon says.
Simon does not like to have Negri’s full attention. He does not like that Negri knows his True Name and True Tongue. He is under Negri’s power entirely. The chip is now yet another way in which he is under Negri’s control, the contents of his head are the property of Barrayar. He does not like it, but liking or not liking is not only irrelevant, but not within his rights. He lives, after all, to serve.
“Hm,” Negri says, after studying him for a long moment, “It seems we must give up on the memory chip scheme then, leaving you rather at loose ends. Pity. Well, I’m sure Ezar will find something to do with you. You shall report directly and exclusively to myself and the Emperor until further notice. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir,” Simon says.