[ march i log: we need medicine ]

[barrayarmods]

Who: Everyone
What: New arrivals, desperate times, whispers down the hall.
When: March 1st - 18th
Where: Barrayaran camp / Cetagandan base
Warnings: TBD

Quick links:
Riverfall
Barrayar: Plague / Camp / Missions
Cetaganda: Plague / Base / Missions



welcome to barrayar.
It's the dark of night when you come to in the foothills. Snow on the ground, chill winter wind whistling -- in fact, it's dangerously cold, and all you have is the clothes on your back.. A steep mountain range towers just ahead, its peaks illuminated by the light of two moons. Whatever you last remember, it isn't how you got here, and you feel oddly jetlagged, slightly queasy.

And you're not alone. There are a few other people close by, all looking equally lost and confused. But before any of you have a chance to figure out what's going on, the soldiers arrive. There's a war on, they say, and you unlucky bastards have just been dropped right smack in the middle of it.

With March comes some relief. The first few days to a week are still bitterly, dangerously cold, but the weather starts to pick up gradually over the course of the next couple of months. It only gets barely above freezing, but after the last month, it might as well be a summer's day.

riverfall
The party last month definitely boosted morale, and certainly brought the outsiders closer to the villagers. They're noticeably friendlier toward the outsiders afterward, although they still give the exotics and their accompanying ghem soldiers the evil eye.

Given the village's covert assistance with the war effort and the fact that the Cetagandans found enough data to include the village in its regular patrols, Riverfall has become sort of a middle ground between the two sides. Coinciding visits don't happen every day, but they can provide opportunities for the two factions to secretly meet. Of course, this always carries a risk…best be sure not to be caught by either side's soldiers. Thanks to Negri, the Barrayarans roughly know the patrol schedule.

barrayar
Temperatures are still pretty low by the time March rolls around, and the first week is considerably cold, but it's steadily getting warmer as the month goes on. By the second week, it's just warm enough to start taking baths again -- and boy is there ever a queue.

On the 2nd, a small troop of soldiers arrives, led by Prince Xav Vorbarra, Olivia and Sonia's father, and Piotr's aide-de-camp Captain Ezar Vorbarra, a distant cousin of theirs. They bring with them a load of relief supplies fom Beta Colony, improving not only their food and medicine situation, but some to pass on back to the Riverfall villagers in return for their help. Anyone lurking around at night might see Ezar talking to Negri from time to time as well, and Sonia seems to be getting up to some kind of mischief where Ezar is concerned.

Prince Xav gives Piotr a very helpful tipoff -- there's a Betan biochemist waiting in the occupied district capital, Vorkosigan Vashnoi, to rendezvous with him on his way back off Barrayar. Xav can't stay long; he needs to find another way off-planet, and Doctor Micah Niadem has been laying low in Vorkosigan Vashnoi, but the risk of their presence being detected grows with every day. It may be easier and safer to smuggle them back to the camp than try to get them back off-planet for now -- and besides, their expertise in astrophysics might prove useful. But Xav hasn't yet been able to make contact through the soldiers occupying the city, so Piotr sends his own scouts.

Piotr, with Xav and Ezar as advisors, is trying to come to a decision about what to do about the Cetagandans' wormhole project. There's no telling what the Cetagandans really intend to do with the wormhole device, but disrupting or destroying their project would mean no way home for the outsiders, and…Piotr no longer feels that to be the most honorable option. That, and the idea of this technology in Cetagandan hands does them no favors. But their intelligence on the project is limited -- Byerly will prove to be a useful intelligent asset, certainly, but Piotr is looking for more informants. Any outsiders willing and able to make connections with any exotics sympathetic to the cause would certainly be appreciated by the General.

plague
Early in the month, some of the villagers begin to get sick -- it looks just like a particularly nasty cold at first. It quickly worsens and spreads to the camp, and by the 7th it is evident there is an outbreak of the Barrayaran flu, an influenza variant that has mutated over the last several centuries. Barrayarans have built up antibodies against most strains, but this is a particularly virulent strain, and with a population that has neither vaccines nor modern medicine, it can be fatal. The recent cold snap and limited food haven't exactly fortified anyone's immune systems, either, and in the first half of the month, about half the population of the village and camp come down with the flu at some point.

Although the virus isn't spreading much more quickly than your average flu, it's still a nasty infection, and the symptoms are difficult to effectively treat without proper equipment of facilities. Some of the relief supplies brought by Prince Xav include surgical masks and gloves for the people working triage to protect them from the airborne illness as much as possible. The supplies also include some analgesics and synergine, but hardly enough to go around. Fevers, aches and chills, coughing, vomiting -- they treat them with what they have once they run out of relief supplies. And for the most part, those with the flu manage to pull through and recover -- but if the flu turns to pneumonia, there's almost nothing they can do at that point. Thanks to the tireless efforts of villagers, soldiers, and some outsiders, the first half of the month sees only a 10% mortality rate between the village and the camp, resulting in only 23 influenza-related deaths.

Sonia is among the first to get sick, but she sweats it out in five days or so and manages a full recovery. Olivia, on the other hand, falls much more seriously ill. Piotr takes great care not to get sick; the camp is already incapacitated as it is.

camp
Camp morale is still buckling under the weight of crisis after crisis, but the arrival of Prince Xav and the improving weather have done a lot to lighten the mood. Xav and Ezar coordiate to distribute the relief supplies even as the flu ravages the camp and village, never a dull moment . Olivia and Sonia haven't seen their father Xav in over two years, and it's a long-overdue family reunion. Piotr welcomes the return of his friend and aide-de-camp Ezar, and Sonia seems to be getting into some kind of mischief with her cousin. And in a quiet moment here and there, Ezar can be seen talking to Negri.

By the morning of the 1st, Byerly Vorrutyer will have abruptly disappeared from camp.

Piotr is trying to keep military operations running as much as he can while half the camp tends to the sick or fall sick themselves. They'd found the traitors, yes, but Piotr's anger is far from satisfied. The food shortage had derailed their power supply strategy, and it's only further pushed back by this current crisis, so large operations are off the table. But Piotr has never underestimated the value of psychological warfare in this war. He has a few conveniently available corpses for hacking up and planting in the Cetagandan base just to shake things up a little, and anyone who can lift a sword without coughing is qualified. Xav does not approve.

missions
The medical assistance provided by the outsiders doesn't go unappreciated, nor without effect. Not every day is a success, but they manage to keep the mortality rate relatively low.

The infiltration missions to plant the severed body parts mostly go according to plan, although Lakshmi and Nash run afoul of some guards. Between the outsiders and other Barrayaran squads, they manage to plant several body parts, and in doing so, inadvertently spread the Barrayaran flu to the Cetagandans.

The outsiders scouting out Vorkosigan Vashnoi manage to stay undetected by Cetagandan soldiers, although they run into exotics on the other side. They manage to get some information about Micah's location, but very little…thankfully, Byerly passes on to Miles much more specific information the exotics were able to obtain.

Here are the unabridged mission results.

cetaganda
The snow piled up around the base starts to gradually melt over the course of the month as temperatures rise. The new wave of exotics are processed and very gently prodded like every group has been, but they've been treated with the same level of civility. The Cetagandans are generally exceedingly polite, but they are becoming a little less patient with the exotics after the recent bouts of violence and escapism.

Despite the Barrayaran flu sweeping the base, military operations must carry on. Zahal might have lost his informants in the Barrayaran camp, but he knows they've been struggling, and wants to implement some more aggressive tactics to hit them while they're down -- and more than that, the dead body parts of his own soldiers scattered around the base have had their intended effect, rattling and aggravating the ghem-General -- even more so when they realize that this was the means by which the plague spread to the base. Whatever organized strategy Zahal starts to pull together is immediately disrupted by the rapid spread of the virus through the base. With Cetagandan soldiers dropping like flies, military operations all but come to a halt on the base.

However, Cetagandan intelligence gets wind of a Barrayar-allied astrophysicist from Beta Colony, a planet renowned for its cutting-edge technological advances, particularly in the field of wormhole science; they may be able to solve some of the pieces of the puzzle. The Betan scientist is apparently hiding out in Vorkosigan Vashnoi, the capital city of the city. The virus has spread there too; Barrayarans and Cetagandans alike are facing the outbreak, although the native population seems to be faring a bit better. The Cetagandans need help bringing medical supplies, so while they're at it, the ghem-General dispatches a few teams to try and sniff out the scientist's location. Meanwhile, in the R&D labs, some of the exotics who have been promoted to lab assistant are helping the Cetagandans to make some advancements, and they're finally let in on some more details about the project.

plague
A few days into the month, some of the soldiers start to show cold-like symptoms -- and then the outbreak of Barrayaran influenza spreads rapidly throughout the base. Unlike the Barrayarans, the Cetagandans have no antibodies for this strain, and even their advanced immune systems cannot defend them against a totally new pathogen. They are infected even more quickly than the Barrayarans and their symptoms escalate rapidly as well, resulting in an alarming mortality rate. Cetagandan soldiers are falling sick left and right. Triage starts in the medbay, but they have to quarantine off another wing of the building just to make room for the rapidly growing population of infected ghem. The airborne virus is spreading through the base at an alarming speed -- save for Byerly, no one on base has ever been exposed to it. The symptoms are severe and while the Cetagandans have plenty of equipment, they have neither an antiviral nor a vaccine for the Barrayaran flu. High fever, vomiting, dehydration, respiratory and sinus problems run rampant, and though they have plenty in the way of synergine and analgesics, the Barrayaran flu quickly leads to pneumonia in most Cetagandan patients, and with their immune systems so completely unprepared, most patients with pneumonia die within 24 to 48 hours. The triage assistants are, at least, provided with surgical masks and gloves and antibacterial gel by the bucket load to protect them from the airborne illness as much as possible. By mid-month, nearly two thirds of the base has been infected.

The medical staff scrambles to put up a quarantine while also working on a vaccine for the uninfected population on the base. Byerly, being the only person on base who has ever been exposed to the Barrayaran flu, offers a blood sample -- potentially containing antibodies to this strain. Some of the Cetagandans' testing methods are a little ethically questionable, but they're trying to work fast. They're able to develop a working vaccine with a projected effectiveness of 70%.

Toward the middle of the month, Amai catches the flu and is laid low for about a week. Diya and Zahal take great care not to catch it -- Diya seems particularly absent lately.

base
Paranoia of infection hovers over the entire base, but some of the Cetagandans are concerned with another upcoming event: the arrival of the Handmaiden of the Star Crèche. What the Handmaiden of the Star Crèche actually is or does seems to be rather vague to the exotics -- she seems to play some role in genetic politics -- but it's known that she's haut, like Diya. The Cetagandans are scrambling to prepare for her arrival with considerable worry about resolving the flu epidemic before she touches down. The Cetagandans are about as close to cultural panic as they get right now. Diya received personal notice from the Handmaiden of the Star Crèche herself.

Starting on the 1st, Byerly Vorrutyer joins the exotic ranks as an undercover agent, looking not only for information but to potentially recruit exotics sympathetic to the Barrayaran cause.

Meanwhile in the labs, the Cetagandans have been letting the exotics get a little more hands-on with their research. Natasha, York and Symmetra have risen a bit in the ranks and are brought in on more specific projects. The ghem ladies are, surprisingly, now looking for volunteers to work in the gene labs too -- personnel shortage, of course.

missions
Even though a few of their own fall prey to the illness, the exotics' medical assistance does wind up being quite helpful, particularly with development of the vaccine. Meanwhile, eavesdroppers are doing their usual business and digging deep in places they shouldn't -- particularly where Amai and Diya are concerned.

The exotics that accompany the Cetagandans to Vorkosigan Vashnoi manage to stay undetected by Barrayaran soldiers, although they run into exotics on the other side. They are able to get some very detailed information about Micah's location, which Byerly passes back to the Barrayarans via Miles.

Here are the unabridged mission results.

Note: Negri and Zahal are available for threads by request only. Please hit up Madi or Ammay respectively for 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.

Comments

triage/medical assistance

[littlemissfutility]

[in sickness]

Beth's hurrying from patient to patient, asking questions from behind a surgical mask and doing her best to figure out what can be done for each of them. It's nothing like her last experience trying to help the sick; it's busier, for one thing, and everybody's too intent on trying to stop the illness to get involved in petty politics. They're all on the same side here.

It's what a hospital should be, even if it's only a medical tent in a camp without even the most basic technology. She can work under it.

"Where's the medicine? The--the synergine." The word's still unfamiliar in her mouth. "We still have some, right?"

If they don't, she doesn't know what she's going to do.

[in death]

She needs a break. She's needed a break for at least an hour now, but it's not exhaustion that finally drives her out of the med tent. It's the sight, the feeling of a soldier--maybe Sonia's age, maybe younger--slipping from a sweaty, labored sleep into something dark and empty. She'd been holding his hand, trying to find his pulse.

Her first reaction had been to reach for her knife, even knowing he wouldn't turn.

At the far corner of the tent, as far from the entry flap as she can get, she stands with her arms wrapped around herself, her mask dangling from her fingers.

We don't get to be upset. We all got jobs to do. But right now, she needs to to stand in the cold, breathing in the icy air.

[wildcard]

Beth's doing both triage and medical assistance, and she's gotten good at pushing down any squeamishness about barf or coughing stuff up. While she's not experienced enough to lead medical efforts, she's a good listener and a quick study. She makes a pretty useful orderly, though she'll insist on knowing the reasoning behind any direction that sounds to her like it might hurt a patient.

When things aren't at a fever pitch (ha. ha, ha.), she'll still mostly be in the tent, keeping the ill company as best she can. On breaks, she'll head over to other parts of the camp--the outsiders' tent, the mess tent, occasionally the bathing tent to throw water on her face--and outside the camp to check Daryl's traps. But most of the day, she sticks close to the sickbay. Everyone's survival depends on stopping this sickness.

in sickness

[komarran]

Duv has put himself to use in the medical tent. While he's a very different type of doctor than the one that would be of best use here, he has basic first aid training from his military training and is an extra pair of hands where they're needed most.

He notices Beth once she speaks. The woman had said she was helping where she could and part of him is grateful that those with no stake in this conflict have thrown themselves into helping Barrayar. God knows the damn planet needed it, no matter what the Vor might say.

"We do, but it needs to be used sparingly," he answers, frowning.

[littlemissfutility]

Look at her, she wants to snap back, throwing a hand out at her patient. If it was Daryl, maybe she would. Jab a hand for emphasis, say bluntly, She's in pain.

But this is Duv, and everyone in this tent is in pain. So what? So it gets left on the shelf? The thought worries her, but she doesn't know what the threshold is that makes synergine an acceptable treatment. With doubt and frustration colouring her voice, she answers, "Okay. What can we use?"

She's already going over the options in her head. The analgesics (another somewhat new term for her, they're just painkillers) are off limits if the synergine is. That leaves...she heads over to their limited stores of medicine, looking through the remaining local remedies.

[komarran]

Beth had said this place was more pleasant than her world. Safer in a way since the camp was not found by the Cetagandans. Has she seen sickness of this kind before? Their relief supplies would be spread thin already and while he hates not being able to hand a dose of it to her, he knows there are worse cases in the tent.

"A cold washcloth," he answers bluntly. "And water, if she can keep it down. I believe they have a local herb that helps to break fevers if she hasn't had that yet. Or do you believe her case severe enough to warrant the extra care?"

[littlemissfutility]

Camp is still safer than home, but at the moment, it feels like a close race. This is too much like the dying days of the prison--and if the Cetagandans find them while half the camp is about to keel over from the flu, they're going to be screwed. But her frustrations with their options are starting to wear on her. Everything that could make a real difference is off limits. Everyone who's caught the flu is just going to suffer.

"They'd better," she mutters, looking for the right little jar. "A cold washcloth isn't going to break anything."

[komarran]

"No, but it could help her find comfort." For at least a little while until the fever burned through it. Duv sighs into his mask. The whole situation was frustrating and he knows he's risking infection himself by trying to help. He can only hope to make their supplies stretch a little farther until this passes.

"Do you need assistance?"

[littlemissfutility]

"I got it," she says shortly, and she does--an herb she's going to have to boil in water or mash up into a paste or whatever. It won't do crap except taste bitter and eat up some time, and maybe someone's fever'll drop a degree.

Don't be an asshole, she tells herself after a moment or two. It might do some good, even if it feels pointless in the wake of the deaths they've already seen. With some effort, she mutters, "It's better than nothing."

in death

[shri]

She hears the murmur that someone had died - the low count all the staff in the medical tent are keeping of their patients. Trying not to focus on it, but always being overly aware of it. Some will die, that's just the nature of it, but others will live and that's more important.

That doesn't make it easier, though.

When she hears that it's one of Beth's, she is detangling herself as quickly as need be. Some things are as important to keeping moral up and shock takes many forms even when it's not battle. She goes to the mess tent first, finding a warm cup of tea for her before she goes to find Beth.

Presses it into her hands with a look that says she is to take it, and she'll have no argument about it. "It's chai-" pauses, corrects herself back to English. "Tea. Drink. Small sips."

[littlemissfutility]

Beth takes the cup between both hands, breathing in the scent of the tea. It's warm in her chapped hands--she should have grabbed her mittens, it was stupid not to--and the heat rises up against her face. Just that is worth it, that brief moment of warmth--even if her cheeks feel colder when the wind hits them again.

Drinking the tea has the same general effect, of warmth where none exists on its own. It's not really to her taste, but sweet tea would only make her colder. Homesick. And anyway, they don't have sugar to spare for it.

After a few long moments, when she looks at her cup and the trampled snow and not much else, she glances up at Rani. "Thanks."

[shri]

She does nothing else but wait there, a brief adjustment of herself. Cleaning dirt off her hands on her long scarf and when she goes back in to clean it off properly with soap - who knew it could be so important apparently, Tesla was right about those strange beings that caused disease - but other than that she waits patiently.

"It is no matter." Rather, since Beth had done the same for her, and since her conversation with Daryl, there was no turning back from it. Beth was very particularly, in her care. "Have you eaten today?"

[littlemissfutility]

"This morning." The concern's there in Rani's face--maybe not as easily read as Daryl, but she can see it. Or imagine it, at least. Nobody brings you tea after somebody dies on you because they think you're doing fine. Beth straightens up a little, lifting her chin. "I'm okay. Really."

You don't get to stop just because there's a setback. Just because somebody dies, dozens or hundreds or thousands of miles away from his family. People die every day, and here, they don't even turn. A few minutes to breathe, and she'll be able to go back in there. She has to.

[shri]

"I am sure you will be, you are no one's flower." and then without a breath and an easy look. "Take another drink."

It's not a question of whether she's strong enough because as far as Lakshmi was concerned, it never was where Beth was concerned. The girl had a sensible head on her shoulders and she would firmly state it to anyone that asked about her. She always made such things plain and obvious.

That being said - "I have fought more battles than I care to say, and I can tell you this. It doesn't matter how much you think you will come to stomach such things: it never gets easier when you gave your all to care for someone and they pass from you."

[littlemissfutility]

She does as she's told, trying to think about the way the tea nearly burns her tongue. It's better than remembering that boy's hand, or wondering how long his family will go around thinking he's still alive before somebody sends word.

And she listens to Rani, the force of her words. It's a lesson she doesn't want to hear, but it's true, even if she doesn't want it to be.

"Somebody told me once," she offers, after a long silence, "that pain doesn't leave you. You just find somewhere you can put it." Not exactly like that, but she thinks Andrea wouldn't mind the paraphrase. And then, after another long draw of tea, "It'd be more screwed up if it didn't bother you. Wouldn't it."

It's not really a question.

sickness

[protocol]

Wash has been helping out with triage as much as he can, but when it became clear that they needed more than just that -- and that they can't quite afford to be picky -- Wash had been one of the first to volunteer. Beth had been another, too, and he's seen her hurrying around and doing as much as she can, figuring things out, and Wash has been doing much the same, sometimes stepping back to help out with the overall organization and flow of things, which is really what he does best.

She stumbles a little over the word, and Wash looks back at her. He's been keeping track of their supplies. The situation is -- grim.

"I'm still figuring out distribution. Just let me know who needs it," he says, his tone a little wary. It doesn't look good. A pause. "How're you holding up, Beth?"

You. Not a patient.

[littlemissfutility]

Beth nods toward the patient in question, one who looks--to her, at least--like he'll spend the rest of the day moaning in pain if they don't do something for him. She assumes that'll be the last of it, but then Wash speaks again.

"I'm okay." It's a guarded little answer, one that asks what're you really asking? without meaning to. He just seems so intent in that moment that she can't imagine it's entirely offhand. "How about you?"

As she asks, she turns away, tugging up the blankets of a patient who'd kicked them all off in his sleep. There's always more to do, these days.

[protocol]

Wash follows her nod towards the patient, and god, yes, their situation looks grim, but he was already trying to go through the med tent figuring out just how to ration what they have left and he doesn't really know -- he shakes his head, not right now, just notes who it is. Stay on point, stay on focus, he'll figure out the best possible way to distribute everything, he's sure of it. Right now, he's talking to Beth.

And of course she turns away before anything else. There's that tone in her voice, too, and Wash lets her finish tugging up the blankets before he reaches out to curve his hand over his shoulder. Gentle, but firm.

"Beth." More seriously, this time. "I don't think I've seen you slow down since the morning."

Wash has been here all day too, of course, and all the previous days, just like her.

[littlemissfutility]

Beth's here to multitask. Talking is always going to come second to doing her job here, however much it can be done. The longer they work, the more bodies pile up--the more it feels like they aren't actually making anyone better, just making them comfortable until God decides whether they live or die. But at least they're doing something. And it's something that needs doing twenty-four hours a day.

So there's no time to waste--until Wash's hand lands on her shoulder, anyway. Her hands still, her head turning slowly to regard him over her shoulder. What he's saying still isn't the whole truth of it, and they both know it. What he actually means is take a break.

"We have work to do," she reminds him. "I'm fine."

[protocol]

Of course there's work to do. There's always work to do. There's lives on the line, and everyone here is doing their damned best -- but Wash has urged a break out of a few of the other medics here, too, would've done the same for other volunteers, other Barrayaran soldiers just trying to do their part. He would've always come around to Beth to ask her to take a break, eventually.

"I know there's work to do," he answers -- believe him, he knows, he knows, he's been the one staring at their dwindling supplies. "We need to look after ourselves, too."

A sigh, giving her another slight squeeze on the shoulder before he lets his hand fall away. "Maybe think about taking a break?"

[littlemissfutility]

Beth watches him for a moment after his hand drops, angling toward him slightly. This is turning into a conversation she didn't intend to have, but now that it's started, she wants to have it. "Are you going to?"

He's been in here as long as she has--longer, probably. She thinks he was already working when she came yawning into the tent for the morning, but she threw herself into work so promptly that she doesn't recall for sure. Every day starts to blend into the last one.

SICKNESS

[dendarii]

Hello, fellow member of Daryl's girl scout troop. Miles has been with her a few times to check traps, but they haven't spoken a whole lot. Until now, anyway.

"None here," he says rather grimly. He's tending to his own patient with an herbal remedy - an antiemetic tea brewed from a native plant. Nowhere near as good as synergine, but it's something. If he can make the man keep it down. "I'd save it even if we did. There are too many ill and not enough medicine."

[littlemissfutility]

"How far away do we have to go to get more?" she asks, the words bound up too tight with frustration to be purely conversational. They'd sent out a group to get medicine when things had gotten bad at the prison. There's nothing that says they couldn't do it here--nothing besides the fact that they're someplace in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by mountains rather than abandoned pharmacies. Asking seems better than sitting here and watching people suffer in silence.

[dendarii]

"The Cetagandan base," he says. "If they're not out themselves." Presumably not, given that Cetaganda likely has an abundance of everything, but ... "Otherwise you have to go off world. Barrayar can't produce medicine like this." Not yet, anyway. He continues to carefully coax his patient into taking another swallow.

[littlemissfutility]

"And they don't import it?" slips out, and then she realizes no, of course not. The Cetagandans can probably block them from getting things from other planets. They have billions of people across multiple planets, according to Sonia. They aren't going to have to work too hard to control what comes to Barrayar. "Never mind."

And then, quieter, knowing the man she's kneeling beside is probably too delirious to notice anything she's doing or saying, she mutters, "They need more than herbs."

[dendarii]

Not for a while, no. But he can't say that without looking like he's insane. "Mm, I think you answered yourself already. Cetaganda blocks the only route in or out of this system." Except for whatever effect brought them here, of course.

He too looks down at the man she's working with. Quiet or a moment as he thinks. "I know," he says softly. "For most, at least, herbs will be enough. We're a hardy lot."

[littlemissfutility]

"Yeah." I figured that out, she wants to say sourly. It's a little unsettling, how much she wants to pick a fight at this moment, when she steps back and looks at herself. But that's only going to make things worse. They already have nothing to give all these poor people; they can't afford arguments on top of that.

So she's quiet for several breaths, trying to drop all her anger at this crappy situation back where it belongs, with the part of her that says why are we even bothering? She can't afford to let herself end up dragged under by misery and hopelessness. She has to try and have faith. But she can't help a moment of contrarness, mixed up with regret. "We've already lost some of your 'lot.'"