[IC] TEST POST

[dendarii]

[ Miles Vorkosigan cuts an unusual figure even under the most extraordinary circumstances: tiny and somewhat hunchbacked, his curved spine obvious even beneath his custom-cut Imperial Security green military uniform. Unless you're bitty like him (and he's met few adults below his height of 4'8"), he likely comes up to your shoulder or a little lower.

There is, however, a manic energy to the man that makes him fill up more than his physical space. Sharp, penetrating gray eyes take in the world around him as great refreshing gulps of information. Depending on the situation, he may be taking in you as well. ]

A - Canon

[ In his case, you suddenly find yourself in an empty and rather old-fashioned looking house. Old-fashioned except for the high tech consoles installed in various areas, anyway, and if one looks out the window a relatively sci-fi-esque view can be seen interspersed with vaguely Russian architecture. Miles looks up, startled by your sudden appearance. ]

I'm sorry, have we met?

[ In other words, how the hell did you just waltz into the Vorkosoigan House without him being alerted by the guards? Visiting his father or mother, maybe? That's the only thing coming to mind. ]

B - Mask or Menace

[ Staring, Miles can deal with. It's depressingly normal and almost comforting, given the circumstances. But having people approach him like some kind of celebrity is damned unsettling. It feels like some awful combination of being both Lord Vorkosigan and Admiral Naismith at the same time ... which is technically true, but he's not enough at ease with himself to cross those wires just yet.

Speaking of which. He fixes a brilliant smile on his face as his confident swagger threatens to knock over anyone within a five meter radius of him. The space operatic Admiral Naismith persona in full force and practically spilling over. After all, when faced with a wall, Miles tends to charge right the hell on through. First obstacle to be defeated: finding out what the hell is going on and why his head is feeling strangely full all of a sudden.

He's about twenty or so, though with a face like his he could be anywhere between early twenties and early thirties. The tell-tale import barcode flickers at his wrist; he hasn't quite realized what that means for himself or anyone else. In a remarkably flat, pseudo-American accent: ]

You know, I think I've gotten myself lost. Any chance you're more familiar with this place?

[ Heropa is where he's come out first, but by now he could be in any of the Porter cities. ]

Comments

[dendarii]

[ Reluctantly, Miles takes it. Yep, all back to relatively normal. He can feel the rubber band dying down in the back of his head too. No more rebounds unless he tries using the power again. ]

And you have a theory?

[scienceping]

I do. You provided the necessary insight when you stated how your parents "didn't let you" grow taller. You were referring to your impaired skeletal development, were you not?

[dendarii]

Yes, that's right. Any bigger than this and I'd have been crippled.

[ Not that he doesn't feel half-crippled already. ]

[scienceping]

My conclusion is that while your power allows you to change the general shape and size of your body, it does not affect your bone density. When you shifted to a larger form, your body could not sustain the new mass, resulting in the pain your felt. And yet you did not experience the same pain during the power rebound. I suspect that your bone density increased as your form decreased, providing you with more sturdy skeletal structure.

In light of this, I believe your power would be better suited to changing into smaller forms rather than larger than your typical form.

[dendarii]

[ Miles opens his mouth to protest. Snaps it shut again and frowns as he thinks through the logic himself. That ... ha both the ring of truth and irony about it, which means the Vulcan is almost certainly right.

He is getting a little tired of the Vulcan being right. ]

... I am not testing that theory today.

[scienceping]

[ You'll get used to it. Now that Miles is up, Spock goes to take his seat on the couch again, wiping the remaining liquid from his hands with the towel. ]

As you wish.

[dendarii]

Thank you, Commander. How are you feeling? Because I'm exhausted.

[scienceping]

Vulcan stamina is generally greater than that of Human's, but I am also feeling somewhat fatigued.

[dendarii]

Is there anything a Vulcan isn't better at?

[scienceping]

Humor.

[dendarii]

[ Miles snorts a bit. ]

That sounded like a joke.

[scienceping]

I defer to your good judgment on the matter.

[dendarii]

Definitely capable of wordplay, anyway ... You don't give yourself enough credit.

[scienceping]

I believe it would be more appropriate to say that I embrace technicality.

[dendarii]

Is that what you call it?

[scienceping]

I believe I just did.

[dendarii]

[ Miles' mouth quirks upward, appreciating the technicality. ]

Have you ever considered serving anything other than Starfleet, Commander?

[scienceping]

Admiral?

[dendarii]

Like, say, a free mercenary fleet?

[scienceping]

With respect, I would have to decline.

[dendarii]

I thought you might say that. Consider it an open offer, anyway.

[scienceping]

Thank you for your consideration, Admiral, but by definition, a mercenary is a professional soldier hired for service in a foreign army, primarily for monetary gain. As those in the Federation are no longer bound to monetary needs, and more specifically that Vulcans have not employed the use of currency in several centuries, I do not believe that service in a mercenary fleet would be in my best interest.

[dendarii]

[ There's a very, very wry tinge to Miles' smile. ]

As the one handling the vast majority of our contracts ... I wouldn't say I'm doing it for the money.

[scienceping]

Oh?

[dendarii]

More for the fulfillment of it all.