Gregor had come to the conclusion that the bowl of fruit in the middle of the table was probably for show and not for actual eating. Which was unfortunate because he was starving.

The lay-over at Komarran customs had been longer than usual, and then there'd been some trouble which had resulted in Gregor cooling his heels with two very troubled looking customs agents while his guards dealt with it. Something about a hysterical woman armed with a thermal welder. After that, it was straight to the embassy and into this room.

By his calculations, that made breakfast the day before the last full meal he had eaten.

Gregor was certain that he could commandeer someone to find him a danish if he really wanted, but that seemed like a waste when there was a bowl of fruit sitting right in front of him. Besides, he really doubted anyone would object if he decided to snatch an orange. In fact, they would probably be relieved at the imperial permission, since none of his staff had had time to eat either.

They would starve to death on formalities. The thought worried him.

"Why haven't we sent in military forces yet?" he asked finally, suppressing hunger in favour of politics.

His staff shuffled and eyed each other with that special glance they didn't know he could read. It was the one that said Well, now that he's asked the difficult question, how do we phrase this nicely?

"Well, sire," Kolodeznik said, ignoring the way Vorotyni was trying to glare him into silence. "They're civilians."

"Civilians?" Gregor repeated, leaning back and raising an eyebrow at Vorotyni for confirmation. Vorotyni grimaced and made a mumbled attempt at affirmation.

"Yes, sire," Kolodeznik said. "Civilians."

"I don't understand. I thought you said there were," Gregor eyed the brief, "twenty of them. Twelve who are armed with plasma arcs and the rest with nerve disrupters. Not to mention that they have taken control of a military courier that they are planning to use to, and I quote, 'blow the Barrayaran oppressors to hell.' What part of this are we defining as civilian?"

"They aren't part of any registered military group, sire. They're just…disgruntled."

"Disgruntled, right," Gregor smiled thinly. "Do they have a list of demands?"

Vorotyni's grimace grew more pronounced. "The complete liberation of Komarr from Barrayar's oppressive, totalitarian rule, and a promise of non-interference with all of Komarr's social, economic, and political functions for the next twenty years. Oh yes, and a the complete demilitarisation of Barrayar."

"So they're either insane or stupid?"

"Yes," Vorotyni grinned briefly before settling back into sour. "Only the insane, stupid ones try things like this. Only the insane, stupid ones forcibly take over imperial ships and threaten to ram them into space stations. I think we can safely assume that these men are both insane and stupid, sire."

"Mmm…" Gregor paused reflectively. "What about the station police? As long as the ship is still in the docking ring, it falls under their jurisdiction, right?"

Kolodeznik shook his head wearily. "Not particularly good odds. Thirty police with stunners against plasma arcs and nerve disrupters?"

"So we give the police plasma arcs and nerve disrupters. If a civilian is a civilian regardless of armaments, then surely a police officer is as well."

"It would look bad," Dejan said, speaking up for the first time since they'd arrived. "It would--"

"Sire, could we get some coffee in here before we continue?" Vorotyni asked suddenly.

Gregor inclined his head to Vorotyni before making a gesture to the non-com near the door. The non-com tapped his forehead in a vague salute and headed out the door.

"As I was saying," Dejan said with an officious glare at Vorotyni, "it would look bad. It would look like Barrayar is as oppressive and militant as the terrorists are claiming."

"Terrorists? I thought we were calling them civilians," Gregor reminded him silkily.

Dejan's glare turned in Gregor's direction and then, subserviently, to the floor. "I'm just say that, as your press secretary, sire, I wouldn't suggest it. It will look bad. Besides which, Minister Tas won't agree."

"Why not?" Gregor asked, a little sharply.

"He's a representative for the people," Kolodeznik said. As if that explained everything. "And they support the terro-- civilians."

Gregor drummed his fingers on the desk. It was times like this he wished that his absolute monarchy was as absolute in practice as the name suggested. Damn to hell the person who thought up district ministers.

The door slide open, and the non-com reappeared with a tray and four coffee mugs. Vorotyni picked up his mug as soon as the tray hit the table and inhaled with a grateful little sigh.

"Could we set up a commlink with Minister Tas?" Gregor asked, picking up his own mug, fastidiously so as not to burn his knuckles.

"It would take a bit to track him down," Kolodeznik replied slowly. "But we could manage it, yes."

"Good," Gregor sipped. "Do it."

---

Gregor took sometime to spruce himself up before the commlink was opened: tidying his hair, washing his face, and trying to unruffle his clothes so that they no longer looked like they had been slept in for two nights running. It was a good thing too, because Tas appeared almost immediately, earnest and lean and pale.

"Your Excellency." Tas nodded his head tightly.

Gregor returned the nod, tight formality for tight formality. "Minister Tas. We appear to have a problem."

"Yes, sire. I would say we do."

Gregor waited until it was apparent that all Tas was planning to do was blink unproductively. "My staff seems to think that you would be opposed to police intervention." Tas blinked, and Gregor had to swallow the childish impulse to scream. "Is that right?"

"It is, sire."

"Why," prompted Gregor.

"Because I am a servant of the citizens, sire, as well as of you. These men are citizens of Komarr, sire, and they have committed no crime." Gregor's eyebrows lifted slightly, and Tas sighed. "There is no crime against a Komarran citizen being present on Komarran soil, sire, and the docking ring is still part of Komarran territory. Sire."

Aral had once told him that the number of "sires" in any given sentence was directly proportional to how frightened someone was. Gregor smiled.

"Minister Tas, are you familiar with the theory of extended state sovereignty?"

Tas blink was slightly more pronounced this time. "I'm afraid not, sire."

"It's a theory in Barrayaran law that a ship is like moveable territory. It remains an extension of the state that built it regardless of where it is docked. In this case, that means that presently your 'citizens' are not on Komarran soil but Barrayaran."

"I don't see how that makes a difference."

"The difference is this Tas," Gregor said, leaning forward a little viciously. In his head, he made a note to spend less time around Miles. "Either you are a part of the Barrayaran empire or not. If you are, you will send police in to deal with this matter as peacefully as possible. If you aren't, you are free to ignore me."

Tas gaped. "What?" Behind him, Gregor was certain his staff felt the same way. "You mean I can choose?"

Gregor shrugged slightly. "Of course. But, if you choose to ignore, I will be forced to interpret that as meaning Komarr is supporting the terrorists in their continued, violent occupation of my sovereign territory. Which is a widely accepted reason for going to war, isn't it?"

Tas froze, face rigid. "I will have the police moving in as soon as possible. Is that acceptable, sire?"

"Yes," Gregor said and then cut the comm before Tas could reply.

There was a long period of silence, and Gregor took advantage of it to grab his coffee mug and take a long swig.

Finally, "Sire," Kolodeznik began tentatively.

"Yes?"

"There is no theory of extended state sovereignty."

Gregor smiled a little over the rim of his mug. "There is now. So let it be written, so let it be done." And he leaned across the table and grabbed an orange with his free hand.