Piotr's blow hides Miles' own flinch at Vorkosigan there; he'd been ready to respond to that name, damn it all. Letting any of his Vorishness filter back into his behavior is playing a dangerous game. He forces himself to become blander, more unassuming. Just a prole and a mercenary admiral. Nothing special here. No silver tongues or unusual heritage ...

"No," says Miles, his expression firm. "It's not over. We'll win it yet." He knows they will for sure, even if it takes ten long years. If all these outsiders haven't fucked it beyond recognition. "You can help one last time, Vorhalas."