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The conference in Nuovo Valencia had seemed like the perfect opportunity to get away from the stifling atmosphere of New Monte. The glossies had plenty to say about Esteban’s not-quite broken not-quite engagement. Not that he’d been reading them, but many people, his father and cousins especially, had seen fit to inform him of all the details.
If Sol had still been on-satellite, she would have told him to just ignore it all; why did he suddenly care what the glossies had to say? Wasn’t he above all that? But Sol was off on Earth, with—Ruth, that was her name. And Julia.
He just felt so stupid. And Julia wasn’t answering any of his mail. If Sol was even actually passing it on like she said she would.
So, well, the conference. Properly, he shouldn’t have left New Monte right now—appearing to run away would only make the scandal worse, and there was so much business to take care of. But the paper he’d written on novel uses of Terran biological components in commercial fertilizers had emerged from peer review just in time. And he just couldn’t bring himself to show his face at all the parties like he was supposed to, trying to appear unaffected, as if anyone would even believe it. Maybe he could have, if Sol had been there, but she wasn’t. It would just be more pointless bluster over things that didn’t really matter.
Escobar had several very well-respected terrabiology programs, and Esteban had never been there before. A fresh start was what he needed; a real one, not just retreading and retreating to old ground.
And he’d thought it would be nice to be on a planet again. Especially a planet that wasn’t Earth.
At least the paper presentation had gone well; that had been the one bright spot in all of this. He’d garnered a small but attentive audience, several of whom had made insightful comments during the Q&A. And Esteban had quite enjoyed the presentations he’d attended during the day—there was fascinating work being done developing Terran and Escobaran hybrid flora. But by the evening, the hustle and bustle of the conference center hadn’t died down at all, leaving Esteban adrift. People gathered and clumped up together by some completely incomprehensible mechanism.
He’d had no idea how similar an academic conference could feel to a New Monte ball. Except he didn’t even know all the steps here before he fumbled them! It was absurd. He missed Sol horribly, not that he actually wanted her here. But even out of her element, she’d know how to join the dance.
He scrolled through the schedule on his PD again, frowning. Networking, networking, networking... He’d always felt that New Monte was uniquely insular and vacant and small. But perhaps that had been foolish too. But surely it couldn’t be like this everywhere?
The waiter-bot of the hotel bar where he’d ensconced himself beeped inquiringly. Esteban sighed, and ordered another Port Beauchene Sunrise. Maybe he should give the networking a try. There might be some interesting discussions. And if he embarrassed himself, well, unlike at home, he’d never have to see these people again.
He was still staring fiercely down at his drink when a man stopped beside his table and cleared his throat.
Estaban looked up. His interlocutor was a very short and very fat man, dressed in a style that Sol would have coolly observed and declared Betan. Probably. Without her to confirm, it was hard to say.
“Yes?” Esteban asked. He was fairly certain this table wasn’t reserved for anything, but that would be just his luck.
The man stuck his hand out. “Mark Vorkosigan. I had a few questions about your conference presentation.”
Not Betan after all, then; that was one of those high class Barrayaran names. Esteban had dutifully memorized a long list of various etiquettes as a teenager, but he’d never had cause to use that particular one—Barrayarans were not known for their impulse towards galactic travel, even these days. Barrayar’s particular biochemical environment was much more interesting than its baffling social structure, anyway. Esteban had read several monographs on the subject.
“Esteban Mendez-Yuki,” he provided automatically, and then winced. He’d wanted to avoid giving his surname when he could. Escobar wasn’t particularly close to New Monte on the wormhole nexus—another point in its favor as a getaway—but MYCorp was well-known everywhere.
But the man only nodded and sat down across from him. “The nutrient yield parameters in your study—do you think they could be extrapolated beyond your sample environments?”
He certainly had a refreshingly direct manner. Esteban smiled. “Well,” he said, and launched into an explanation of the limitations of the results. They’d only been able to get environmental samples from Earth, Escobar, and Gliese, but the signs for effective extrapolation beyond that were positive, although it was hard to say what the practical yields would be in real world conditions—
Vorkosigan nodded along. At some point while Esteban had been talking, he’d pulled out a wrist-held PD and was keying in notes. Esteban could just imagine Sol kicking him under the table and reminding him that it was probably time for him to ask a question. He cleared his throat, explanation petering out, but Vorkosigan only looked up and made an impatient keep it rolling gesture.
See, Sol, some people are interested in things that matter!
Then, of course, it was as though across several wormhole jumps she’d heard what he was thinking. Esteban’s PD chimed, startling him into looking down at it. He swiped away the alert as fast as he could, but it didn’t stop him from seeing the notification of incoming mail from Sol. He lost his train of thought completely, and when he looked back up, Vorkosigan was raising an eyebrow at him.
“That’s just my elder sister,” Esteban said stiffly. “My apologies. It’s not important.”
“Ah,” said Vorkosigan. “I know all about that.”
“You know Sol?” This seemed very unlikely. Sol performed her social duties with annoyingly admirable grace, but, well, she didn’t cultivate a particularly broad correspondence. Especially not with the type of people who found themselves at agricultural science conferences.
“Not at all. But I do have an older brother.” Vorkosigan’s mouth twisted into something halfway between a grimace and a smile. “He can be…trying.”
“Oh, I’m sure, if he’s anything like Sol! But—well, I apologize. You don’t want to hear about any of that.”
“Not at all.” Vorkosigan folded his PD closed. “I’ll admit, I’m a little curious now. Did you say you’re from New Monte?”
Right: networking. “Yes,” Esteban said derisively. “It’s not worth the visit. It’s horrible. All glitz and no substance. I’m…well, I’m running away a little bit, if you must know. My father doesn’t quite approve of me spending so long off-satellite. There are some delicate merger discussions, and I’ve been taking over more of the business these days.” This time, Esteban remembered his manners, and returned the question. “Vorkosigan—that’s Barrayaran, right? I must admit I don’t know much about the place.”
“Yes, although Barrayar is really more my brother’s area of expertise.” Vorkosigan smiled, steepling his fingers. “Running away is actually more of mine, though I’ve been exploring new markets recently.”
“That’s just how it feels on New Monte. It’s Sol’s world, and she doesn’t want it either! She understands everything there, and I’m just set dressing.”
Vorkosigan nodded. “I grew up…very much in my brother’s shadow, you could say. I’m sure you felt the same. He’s everything I should be, of course. ”
“Yes! Yes, that’s exactly it! I’m the one with the…prospects, that’s what everyone says. But Sol is the one my father looks to, to take care of the business. He actually respects her. It’s always been like that, always! She doesn’t care about it any more than I do, but somehow she never says the wrong thing. Everyone thinks it would be better if she was the heir.” Esteban glared down into his drink. “Well, of course they’re right. I just feel like—well, like I’ve been molded for a place that I simply won’t ever fit into.”
“Personally, I’ve found confounding expectations at every turn can be quite rewarding.”
“Sol’s better at that too,” Esteban said bitterly. “She actually left. I came all the way here, and I’m just going to turn around and go right back. Every time I try to do something real I realize it’s all pointless again.”
“Well,” said Vorkosigan, “what if you didn’t go back?”
“Oh,” Esteban said. “I mean—I can’t. My business interests back on New Monte…well, suffice to say that I can’t just leave. It’s simpler for her.” A little embarrassed, he said, “It’s MYCorp. That’s my father’s company. I did try to go once before, but…it didn’t work out.”
If Vorkosigan was surprised to hear the name of such a large conglomerate, he didn’t show it. “Actually, I have a business venture of my own I was hoping to discuss with you—we’re looking to expand. Our new product lines are in need of a way to bioengineer large amounts of nutrient rich soil, compatible with Terran, Barrayan, anywhere-an based flora and vegetation. We have a way to produce a great deal of fertilizer, but it’s making sure the soil is compatible to start with that’s causing Enrique trouble…”
Esteban sat back in his chair, considering the problem. “It’s a fascinating conundrum. Planetary biomes are so disparate, as I’m sure you know, but there are some compounds that can be considered close to universal, and many more that can be adjusted to be so. If I had more time, I could certainly look into it.” Actually, he had a few ideas already.
“Perhaps if MYCorp considered purchasing a stake in my business venture, you could provide us with advice.”
“Are you offering me a consulting position?”
“Not quite. I was wondering if you might make the journey to Barrayar and join our team—let’s say on a trial basis, but really I just need you to meet another colleague of mine, Dr. Borgos. It’ll be you putting him on trial, I assure you, not the other way around. He doesn’t tend to have strong opinions on his human colleagues. For, ah, legal reasons, it isn’t convenient for him to set foot on Escobar at the moment.”
“Oh,” Esteban said. “Well—well, that would be wonderful, but—”
Vorkosigan held up three fingers, ticking them off as he spoke. “As part of our contract arrangement, and in the spirit of reciprocity, I could offer advice on those matters that I have my own particular expertise in. On the business side, I mean. I’m something of an investment hobbyist.” One finger down. “Barrayar isn’t as much of a backwater as people tend to think—spun the right way, this move could seem novel, clever, and strategic. Your father might even be impressed.” Another finger down. “And the nice thing about conducting business based on Barrayar is—”
“Well, of course, the unique soil biochemistry—”
“—the relative seclusion.” Vorkosigan smiled. “To put it bluntly, Vor only care about Vor. People there can be shockingly uninterested in off-world business, and certainly no one has time for non-Vor socialites. No one will know or care about the Mendez-Yukis or any scandals they may or may not be caught up in.”
“Oh,” said Esteban glumly. “So you do read the glossies.”
“The…? No. I read your paper, saw the potential applications, and did some prior reading on your situation.” He grinned at Esteban in a way that suddenly reminded him of several of his father’s lawyers, all at once.
“I see.” He wasn’t sure anyone had ever heard of him based on his work first, and not his surname. “So Barrayar really isn’t like here?”
Vorkosigan turned his head to survey the bar around him. “Not at all. I can confidently say that Barrayar is absolutely unique.” He flipped open his PD and keyed in a few commands; Esteban’s chimed where it still sat on the table. “I’ve sent you some of Enrique’s exploratory findings, if you’d like to take a look. I have a preliminary contract drawn up, but I’ll just make a few edits while we’re here...”
Esteban nodded absently; he was already absorbed in the research Vorkosigan had sent over. The contract, when Vorkosigan had made his additions, was much less interesting, and Esteban only hesitated for a moment before signing without fanfare. It would take weeks for mail to make it back and forth for him to ask Sol her opinion, let alone his father; and anyway, wasn’t he supposed to be able to do these things for himself?
“Excellent,” Vorkosigan said. “Now, what do you think? Enrique’s a genius, but he does have his gaps in knowledge, and he lacks your focus in edaphology.”
Esteban cheerfully told him his thoughts.