Two of them are fanfiction, though not for one of your usual fandoms, but something that …actually, you introduced me to back on the Nutboard.
First off, the non-fanfiction:
In-a: Space Station?With-a: First Contact delegation?While-a: Member of the alien delegation begins to get an inkling of how utterly insane Humans are, compared to the rest of the Galaxy
And the others:
How did Lady Ekaterin Vorkosigan react to hearing some of the details of her new husband’s previous life, and how much corroboration was necessary?
General Harloche looking up Miles’ classified files after he leaves, to find out how he got all those medals, including the Cetagandan Order of Merit.
Ekaterin sat opposite General Guy Allegre in the otherwise bland and featureless room. It was one of the sealed variety with baffles technological and mundane to prevent anyone listening in. There was, no doubt, some authorised surveillance occurring, but it was also strictly electronic, unsupervised, untamperable, an inaccessible save to the chief of Impsec, who was in the room.
A room like this said, plainly and clearly, This is slit-your-throat-before-viewing material, and no horseshit. Ekaterin began to wonder if a minion was going to bring her her Vorfemme knife should such an occasion arise.
“Thank you for your time, Lady Vorkosigan,” said Allegre. “I am to brief you on some of Lord Vorkosigan’s -ah- past adventures.”
She nodded. “He talks in his sleep. Frankly, I find most of it perplexing, rather than informative.”
Allegre rolled his eyes in a surprisingly effective and communicative manner. Which meant that he knew about Miles’ annoying little habits, too. “Would you prefer the summary in order chronological? Or… order baffling?”
Ekaterin bit down a smirk. Much as she loved Miles, he could get to be an outright puzzling and hyperactive git. “I think I would prefer chronological. His more baffling nightmares seem to blur missions.”
“Quite.” Allegre cleared his throat. “Lord Vorkosigan gained Impsec’s attention when he left Barrayar a Service Academy reject and almost came back as an Admiral of a mercenary fleet… An event that resulted in the demise of his bodyguard-batman Sergeant Bothari. We recommended that the best place for him was -ah- where we could keep an eye on him.”
The birth of the little Admiral. Oh yes.
“His first assignment under military command was a notable failure on paper, but nevertheless bought to our attention the lingering psychological effects of an extended term serving at certain posts. And the inadvisability of placing certain elements in exile there.”
Kyril island. Camp permafrost. Ekaterin had heard little about it, apart from the idea that being the weather man there was the worst post imaginable.
“Afterwards, a fact finding mission under command in the Hegen Hub highlighted his… difficulties… in the traditional command structure.” Another throat clearing. “He disobeyed orders, went AWOL, and rescued the Emperor with the help of his pet mercenaries.”
Now the Emperor’s own Pet Mercenaries and Plausible Deniability.
“Goodness,” said Ekaterin. “Where does one of the Empresses of Cetaganda fit in?”
“That would be his diplomatic mission. Sent to be nothing more than a political olive branch, he managed to stop a war, rescue a… princess of sorts… and acquire one of the highest awards Cetaganda could offer.”
“That would be the ‘nightmare gene-groves’, yes?”
“Quite.” Allegre flipped through some events. “Acquiring unique personnel,” Taura the Unforgettable. “Freeing an entire concentration camp,” the Snoring Marilacans and the demise of Ensign Murka. And Sergeant Beatrice. “The Komarran clone plot,” Mark. “And of course you’re familiar with the Komarr Incidents.”
“Intimately,” said Ekaterin. “He did inform me of most of this himself.”
“Yes,” said Allegre. “But this,” he handed across the collected files, “is the unedited version.”
Oh dear. Ekaterin was glad she had since learned to speed-read. Miles could put a fine sheen on anything.