forbarrayar | [ february ii log ]

Entry tags:

[ february ii log ]

Who: Everyone
What: Traitors exposed, celebrations had, sleight hands passing cards under the table. And so begin the preparations for what is soon to come.
When: February 18th - 28th
Where: Barrayaran camp / Cetagandan base
Warnings: Torture (interrogations thread)

Quick links:
Riverfall
Barrayar: Barrayaran camp / Party / Missions
Cetaganda: Cetagandan base / Moon-poetry party / Missions

The harsh weather rages on, which temperatures still averaging far below freezing, and the wind is still strong. But things are a little less dire for the outsiders, and for the exotics -- well, they have their own chills to deal with.

riverfall
Riverfall village is your typical Dendarii mountain village, which means it's small, humble, and mostly poor. This is the most rural of the rural around here, a little backwater even by Barrayaran standards. Most of the villagers live in houses of wood and stone built themselves or by ancestors. Despite the cold, there are plenty of people outside at any given time -- working, mostly, because the daily grind stops for no one, but even the occasional group of children taken over by fits of cabin fever. The village is built up against a rocky mountain face, from the top of which the eponymous waterfall flows into the river that borders the west edge of the village and continues down the mountain. The place isn't exactly hidden, but if you don't know your way around, it'd be hard to find without a native guide.

The villagers are wary of the outsiders at first, even more than the soldiers had been -- the rural Dendarii are as superstitious as they come -- but, slowly convinced of their good intentions, start to warm to them. They're a blunt, hardy people, largely uneducated and tending toward the most extreme of Barrayaran sensibilities, but they are undeniably fierce. The General Count trusts them, so they'll be more or less civil (by Barrayaran standards, anyway), but you might catch the occasional scrutinizing, watchful stare. With Cetagandans in camp and exotics among them, they border on hostile, especially those who are visibly nonhuman. They keep their heads down enough to keep from getting into trouble with the soldiers, but they do not like you at all.

Not everyone in Riverfall speaks English -- Russian is everyone's first language, and only about half the village has any passable command of English. Thankfully, the village's Speaker Yakiv Gura speaks English, if heavily accented. They're clearly stretching to the limit to help the camp, but to the Dendarii, there's no higher act than one in the Count's service, especially when it comes to fighting this war.

barrayar
Even after scoring themselves a little extra food, morale in the camp is at an all-time low. The miserably dangerous weather hasn't let up, food is still heavily rationed, and everyone is still at least a little tired, cold, and hungry all of the time. It doesn't help that they've lost a few soldiers in the last couple of weeks, and in Riverfall, too, some villagers have died of the cold despite their relative warmth and safety, mostly children. This is hardly the first harsh winter they've faced, but that doesn't stop the inexorable loss that comes with it. Some villagers may be somberly putting their loved ones to rest in the village graveyard when the outsiders are in town.

But Piotr finally calls Negri out as a spy sent by his aide-de-camp Captain Ezar Vorbarra, partly to deliver a message and partly to test Piotr, because Ezar loves coy bullshit. However, he does learn that both Ezar and Prince Xav Vorbarra, Olivia and Sonia's father, are en route to Vorkosigan's District with relief supplies from Beta Colony secured by Xav's ambassadorial connections and tireless lobbying. Once Piotr judges it safe to release this information, it bring with it a bit of hope -- and to seal the deal, Piotr and Olivia arrange a celebration of sorts in the village.

Finally outing the ring of reason in the camp helps to bolster morale, too. Vorhalas is interrogated, and the names of his co-conspirators are revealed: Lieutenant Boris Vortala, who killed himself in disgrace shortly after his fast-penta interrogation at ghem-General Zefyst's hand, and their commander Captain Aaron Vorbataille. Vorbataille has, of course, already started to make his escape -- but with the help out of the outsiders, he won't get very far. Once Piotr is satisfied with Vorbataille's interrogation as well, both men are put to execution, but not by beheading as Doctor ghem-Miko: the sentence for treason is death by public starvation and exposure, and in this weather, it doesn't take long. They are publicly and emphatically denounced as traitors with no honor to speak of, sending a very clear message. Although this might seem like a gruesome sight to the outsiders, to the Barrayarans this is simply how it goes, and very few of them are sorry to see these traitors suffer, particularly as Vorhalas was the one responsible for their food shortage in the first place.

Reports from those soldiers and outsiders who were in the village at the same time as the Cetagandan field science team present the General Count with another troubling problem, however: the implications of the Cetagandans building a device that could control this phenomenon are terrifying, particularly to this threadbare resistance movement. But sabotage seems hardly a worthy solution, either. This is the only lead they have on sending the outsiders home, and so many of them have already put their lives on the line for the cause of a planet that otherwise nothing to most of them. There would be no honor in robbing them of their only chance to return home. But whether they should continue to allow the Cetagandans to proceed with their research or try to find a way to copy their plans themselves, a dubiously possible venture at best, weighs heavily on his mind. It only complicates his strategic concerns further, but by his military orders in the next couple of weeks, at least one thing is clear: he wants Cetagandan bodies.

camp
Morale is critically low among the soldiers, particularly after a few casualties during a recent skirmish with a Cetagandan patrol, but spirits definitely begin to lift with news of relief. The soldiers are now more or less accustomed to the outsiders' place in the camp, and they're even starting to become a little friendlier toward them, particularly those who've been involved in the war effort. They might invite outsiders to play card or dice games with them, or share a conversation over an admittedly meager meal, or better still, bond with them in the true Barrarayan form: over a lot of alcohol.

Negri has more or less built himself a niche in the camp, and doesn't look like he's going anywhere any time soon. But he isn't the only spy around. They desperately need a man on the inside, particularly with the troubling news about the wormhole device, and right now, that man is Byerly Vorrutyer. Starting next month, Piotr is sending him on assignment to infiltrate the Cetagandan base under the cover of a cowardly collaborator.

party
By the time they have the party on the 21st, the villagers have warmed up to the outsiders a little, but they don't really bond until the party. With what little they have to share, they scrape together as much of a feast as they can: not much, but by this month's standards, any hot meal prepared with fresh ingredients seems absolutely decadent. And because this is Barrayar there is, of course, plenty of liquor, that Barrayaran moonshine maple mead not the least among them, and there's no shortage of wine or vodka, either.

The hillfolk light lanterns all around the village and raise large tarps to cover the open center of the village where they usually hold gatherings. Inside, protected from the wind and lit by the bonfire and braziers placed around the perimeter, it's actually almost warm. Every villager who's ever laid hand to an instrument seems to gather there to play music all night long, an energetic mix of lively folk music and raucous drinking songs. Anyone with any musical talent would be welcome to join them as well. There's plenty of dancing, too, very little of it formal or complicated, but everyone's having a good time for the first time in weeks, maybe months, and the mood is infectious. By the end of the night, morale seems to have risen overall, and people in camp have something real to look forward to. The partygoing visitors are put up in warmed tents within the tarped village center or in the villagers' homes where they have room. Come morning, they'll head back, but for just one night, it's almost like there isn't even a war on.

missions
Outsiders have been assisting with moving supplies between the camp and Riverfall all throught he rest of the month, and it mostly goes smoothly. Vorbataille is caught on the 20th, although he and Vorhalas aren't publicly executed until a few days later, when Piotr is satisfied with the intelligence he's extracted. By the time he gets Vorbataille's name out of Vorhalas, the traitorous Captain has already fled -- but thanks to Carolina, Duv and Zarya, he's dragged back to camp for his interrogation.

That evening, Maine and William have the misfortune of encountering a dragon -- Darkstalker is on a mission with a Cetagandan patrol, and they run right smack into each other. A fight breaks out, but ultimately Darkstalker and the Cetagandans come out on top, and the outsiders and Barrayarans are forced to retreat -- but not before managing to kill a Cetagandan soldier or two, just barely escaping with one of the bodies.

Miles finds himself in a terrible position when a guard patrol shift goes horribly wrong in a skirmish against some Cetagandans, resulting in the death of their squad leader and a very ugly aftermath.

Zarya, William, Beth and Miles are in Riverfall with some Barrayaran soldiers on a supply run when a Cetagandan field science team arrives with a few exotics in tow. This is a rare chance to learn more about the Cetagandans' scientific exploits, and among other things, they find out that whatever it is that brought them here, the Cetagandan scientists are convincede it has something to do with the wormhole that collapsed 700 years ago.

The unabridged mission writeup is here.

cetaganda
The Cetagandans are a notoriously tight-lipped bunch, but they're blowing away most of the smoke surrounding their wormhole science research. As has been alluded, they're currently working on a device to harness the phenomenon that brought all the exotics here in the first place, and hopefully find a way to send them all home with it. They invite any exotics with scientific expertise to a series of interviews about neurology, astrophysics, and mechanical engineering. None of the advisement they receive helps to solve one of their most critical problems -- that of generating a Necklin field to match the one that must have surrounded each exotic -- but it certainly puts them closer to their goal, particularly in the area of neurology, and they're hardly going to stop there. But it's clear that the mathematicians and astrophysicists on base don't have sufficient expertise to solve the most complex equations before them. But on the brighter side of things, in the interest of this scientific exchange, they're letting the lab techs help a little more beyond just grunt work.

Meanwhile, the genetics project that seems so strange and arcane to the exotic carries on, largely behind the scenes, although Diya is increasingly at odds with her husband and even some of her senior staff, particularly the precocious Amai ghem-Soren. But there is very real purpose behind it -- and far more than just one -- and Diya d'Zefyst is a woman of great ambition. And more than anything else, she is haut.

Unfortunately, the relative peace on base is abruptly broken when Daryl, Lakshmi and Wash all manage to escape in a wild breakout attempt on the 25th. York and Ratchet are left behind, and as a result, some of their privileges revoked. They're now being watched a little more closely as a result.

base
Overall, despite simmering tensions under the surface and the miserable weather, life on base seems to be going more or less smoothly around them. The Cetagandans have had some recent victories against the Barrayarans, so morale is high. Unfortunately, after the breakout they begin cracking down on security with the exotics -- going back to treating the exotics a little more like they did when they first arrived. They aren't under guard, but after the 25th, they are being watched.

They still maintain that insistent veneer of civility, however, breaking only in cases where they feel the need or security risk is significant enough. The ghem on base remain overall cordial and courteous to the exotics as they ever were, which is to say considerably and always with a touch of smug superiority. With her success at the party earlier this month followed by her performance in the moon-poetry garden, the often-sequestered Amai ghem-Soren is seen more around the base.

moon-poetry party
The moon-poetry party is about three hours long and steeped in ceremony, each participant taking their turn to recite. This is, apparently, not a recitation of one's own work, but rather selections of classical Cetagandan poems, and in so referencing something culturally ubiquitous, each makes a statement in its mere selection and juxtapositions. If you pay close enough attention, you might notice that each participant has very subtly coordinated their outfits to further complement the theme of their recitation. Although there is a definite dignity to the party, it doesn't take much to pick up on the fact that this is yet another arena ghem use to try and socially one-up one another. Among the participants are both the Chief Medical Officer Colonel Faro ghem-Naru and Doctor Amai ghem-Soren, whose performance was especially well-received, the theme apparently being something about subtle passions.

missions
The science interviews with the exotics go more or less well, although not quite so hopeful as the Cetagandans were hoping. They do, however, learn some things about FTL travel in other worlds as well as other kinds of neural implants.

On the evening of the 21st, York, Natasha and Kaidan accidentally bear witness to what is clearly some kind of travesty: clearly a human being, but both overgrown and underdeveloped, and exhibiting powers of hydrokinesis and psychic empathy, referred to only as a ba.

On the 23rd, Jasper, Lapis, Pearl and Darkstalker accompany some soldiers and a field science team to Riverfall village, coinciding with a visit from some outsiders and soldiers. They encounter some outsiders while there but also pick up a bit on what it is the Cetagandans are doing -- that the Necklin field problem still remains their biggest problem, and they've been getting conflicting orders from the higher ups lately.

The unabridged mission writeup is here.

Note: Negri and Zahal are available for threads by request only this round. Please hit up Madi or Ammay respectively if you want threads with either of those NPCs. You can also request a thread with Village Speaker Yakiv Gura if you want, in which case hit up Madi.

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[around camp]

Beth hates the knowledge that a man is starving to death, but every time she thinks of doing something about it, she remembers Byerly's words. Anyway, please bring up the prospect of democracy in front of Piotr Vorkosigan, and please invite me along to watch. That would be a sight to see. Confronting the count, having hardly spoken to him, won't save a guilty man from an ugly fate. But watching it happen sickens her.

She spends her time among the horses and the weapons, riding and practicing the basic sword skills she's started to pick up. It's easy to find her working in the mess hall, too, cooking without much enthusiasm.

And she's out of the cast, for what it's worth. The only outward scars from her experiences at home are the two on her face.

[graveyard]

"I'm sorry for your loss," Beth tells a villager, her expression gone somber. The size of the coffin set near the half-dug grave makes it obvious who was lost; no one but a child could fit inside. She tries not to think of Judith, or of anyone she knows at all. Gesturing to the shovels two villagers hold, she asks, "Could we help you?"

When she gets a nod in return, she glances at the closest outsider to her, raising her eyebrows in a you're going help, right? kind of way. This is hard enough for the family without them having to hack through the frozen ground alone.

[party]

Beth doesn't bother with the maple mead, but otherwise, she's delighted by the party. It's warm--by Barrayar standards, anyway--it's bright, and it's full of kind people. And she got dinner, so it's perfect.

Aside, at least, from the way people notice she's sober and try to help her. She finds it more amusing than anything, though she quietly passes the alcohol on after.

"They keep giving me cups," she says, holding out an untouched glass. "Do you want it?"

She's as easily found singing with the musicians or dancing to the music, though she has no idea what the steps are. If you need an excuse to get dragged into a dance, Beth is a perfect option; she'll gladly try to coax just about anybody into a dance. "Come on--it's fun."

[wildcard]

[If you have another idea, have at! You can PM me or PP

prettydoes if you'd like to discuss it first.]

Edited 2017-02-19 01:37 (UTC)

It's only been a day, and already a few themes have started popping up. For one, people all seem to know who Beth Greene is. For another thing, they know about the dead. They know far, far more than they should. Daryl has something that looks like a snarl on his face, an angry grimace, and he walks toward Beth with that rigid expression of anger.

She's fiddling with something on the edge of camp. He doesn't give a shit. Daryl snaps his fingers. "C'mon, princess. Let's chat." He points to the line of snowy trees by their side. Let's go.

Beth's method of keeping busy when she's sick of chores and can't justify taking a horse out as "practice" is simple and, frankly, boring: she wanders around and calls it taking a walk. It's not like there's anything else to do. Everything that kept her busy at the prison--playing with Judith, reading, decorating her cell--is impossible here, and nothing that happened at the hospital is worth revisiting.

For a moment, she's glad to see Daryl coming; going out to set traps should break up the tedium. And then she sees his face.

"Princess?" she demands, following him out to the trees he pointed to. "What the hell's up with you?"

"C'mon," Daryl snaps, his tone acrid. He doesn't speak until they're several yards clear of the camp, standing between two trees that, if they were on Earth, Daryl would have called firs. But the pines are muddy red and they're on an alien planet, so they're just scratchy, snow-covered trees, and Daryl is standing between then with his arms crossed like an angry school marm.

"The hell'd you tell 'em," he hisses, "'bout home."

He's barely been here a day. There's no reason for him to be this angry at her. What could she even have done? She never does anything here except what she's told, and all that amounts to is shoveling stables and cutting up horse flesh.

"About home?" Even without any idea what to expect, she doesn't expect this. Beth gives him a blank look. He's pissed, obviously, but she still doesn't see why. "Just...about it."

And then, her stomach folding up inside her--this is it, maybe this is it--she adds, "Wait. Were you talking to Byerly?"

Well, that throws Daryl for a loop. "Who the hell is Byerly?" Christ, another boyfriend? They've only been here two months. But that doesn't goddamn matter-- it implies she told him something, she told more than one person?

"How many people you told about the Turn?"

"He's--" And then she wonders how she's going to explain Byerly in a way that doesn't take them off the subject entirely. It's not worth it, especially when it'll probably just make Daryl madder in a mood like this. "It doesn't matter. I told a couple people, okay? Otherwise, nothing I say makes any sense."

She knows why he's pissed--it's part of the reason, she thinks, that she'd worried Byerly was going to take matters into his own hands when he'd found out how it spread. But people, Byerly included, have understood. They haven't freaked out about it. It's not as big a deal as Daryl's making it.

"How many's a couple?" Daryl says, gesturing angrily into the cold air. His voice gets that low, harsh tone he hates, the one it always finds in anger. He wants to punch something. Maybe after this he'll scare up some dinner, put some use to this pointless anger. But for now, he can only gape and try not to scream. "Shit! What'd you tell 'em? Which parts?"

"I don't know! About the walkers! And the prison, and the farm. Stuff that matters." She's not going to back down on this. He's snapping like she was supposed to know he wanted the end of the world to be a secret. Just because she can tell what he's thinking, more often than not, doesn't mean she's a damned mind reader, especially when he was in a different camp altogether. "Nobody here understands anything. I had to tell them something."

"You didn't have to tell them shit," he snaps right back. Maybe once, he'd have felt some level of sympathy for her teen angst. Shit, an hour ago, he definitely would have. But now, he's too angry, at himself and this goddamn planet and every idiot on it, to feel the gentle pangs of empathy.

Well, that's not true. That's not true at all. But it's sure easier to ignore the feeling with hot rage pumping through him.

"How long you think it's gonna be before the wrong person finds out? Before they get it into their heads they can use it?"

"They can barely hunt! What are they going to do with it?" Maybe somebody, somewhere, could cut one of them open and do something with the pathogen floating through their systems, but the Barrayarans are probably the wrong people to look to. The Cetagandans could, maybe. From what he said. But she hasn't told a Cetagandan, has she? "It doesn't spread here anyway. I checked."

Which is where Byerly comes in, but like hell is she telling him that.

"It's a war," Daryl yelps, anger curdling into offense. He hates having to say this, to explain it, to dwell on it, or to mention it at all, but the time has clearly come. "Folk get captured. Get tortured. Shit, I ain't even told you what they done to me over this crap. You think I ran outta there for fun?"

Yeah, now he's just angry, just looking for something to scream about.

She stops short on the verge of yelling right back, eyes wide. Everything she wants to say--I thought I was the only one! I thought I'd never see you again!--withers away before it reaches her tongue. Everything except a little, worried murmur. "They tortured you?"

The look on her face stops Daryl dead in his tracks, that's for sure. Seeing her so openly shocked, so openly concerned-- she's so strong, he forgot how young she is. And he sure as hell didn't consider how likely it was that people had been shielding her from how bloody this war was. She has big eyes and a kind smile and a pretty voice. That's what people do.

His words feel like they drop out of his mouth unbidden. "Uh," he says, "yeah."

She hasn't been that shielded, at least by her mark. People are tortured here--people are brought out into the center of camp and beheaded. They starve to death in front of everyone. And she hates all of it, but she sees it.

"Oh." Anger flares in her, worry on its heels. She should have realized, but he didn't look hurt yesterday, only exhausted. Even now, there's no outward sign of it--though she of all people knows that not everything people do to you leaves a mark. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he answers on instinct. "Shit. Just-"

Just what? Just be honest. It's the least he can do for her.

"Ran bloodtests," he says, avoiding her gaze. "They found something weird. Gave me some drug, made me spill everything." And he means everything, though he's got no energy to explain the extent of his failure on that mark. "They know. Ain't putting it past this side to try something. All everybody wants to do is win."

She'd like to hug him, but things aren't what they were the night before. The camp is awake and (mostly) sober, the sun is out, and Daryl's upset enough as it is. Nothing she can do is going to help unless she can convince him they aren't completely at risk.

"Nobody here..." She pauses, trying to decide what she wants to tell him. When she starts again, it's something else--something more concrete than Nobody's tried anything. "Only one of them knows how it spreads. We watched a corpse for hours. Even if it's in us, it's not contagious here."

And if that's true, maybe the Cetas won't be able to find a way to use the pathogen against them. Maybe something went wrong when they were dragged over here.

A weight falls from Daryl's shoulders. At least it isn't spreading. It's not getting worse. Not yet anyway. "Something's stopping it," he says glumly, "that don't mean some genius can't figure out how to make it go. Don't you get it? These people'll do anything to get an edge over the other side."

And if it means unleashing a horrible disease, he can easily see someone making that choice. For himself, Daryl would rather watch this world burn than fall to the dead.

"Of course I get it. I screwed up, I get it." That's what this is boiling down to. I screwed up--and so did he, under that drug, and that's what he's really mad about. "But it already happened, okay? We have to figure out what to do next."

And it won't be telling more people, clearly. He makes a good point, and maybe more importantly, he's going to carry around that anger for a while. The people she wants to know--Sonia, mainly--already do, and that's what matters.

The victory feels incredibly hollow, but then again, Daryl's never been one much for glorying in people admitting he's right. If he's right, then shit's really hit the fan. He sighs, the angry energy slipping away like sand through his fingers.

"Just-" he sighs. "Just tell me who all you told."

Beth doesn't like it any more than he does. It's something she's had to live with so long--this is a walker, don't get bitten--that trying to cover it up is a frustrating, probably pointless idea. Eventually she'd say something that'd make people wonder, anyway. And she'd like to talk to people about it. It feels more normal than refusing to say a word about home.

"Um. Sonia. Byerly. A little bit to Rani." She shrugs, trying to remember if any of her other conversations have dug into the subject.

Daryl crosses his fingers over his chest, giving Beth a decidedly unimpressed glare. "And Miles," Daryl says. "He thinks I'm hidin' something," which is to say, Miles is right. "Little shit."

He shakes his head. Get back to the subject. "Why'd you tell 'em?" Tell me about them.

"Oh--yeah." Oops. She spoke to Miles once, at the very start of things, and not much since. Forgetting about that conversation was easy enough; she keeps busy here, and when her thoughts drift, they go to friends rather than acquaintances.

And then Daryl asks her a question so obvious that she can't help but give him a skeptical look in return. "What else were we going to talk about? I don't know anything about Barrayar, and nothing about home makes sense without the walkers. Nothing about us does."

Without the end of the world, she's just a high school dropout orphan who lives in the woods half the time.

"Yeah," Daryl says with a shrug. They went over that, he knows what she means. He can even half way empathize with her desire for understanding. "But why them?"

Why trust these people, these quasi-aliens. Who are they to her?

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beth greene | barrayar

you know whatever.

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party - tags this years later