barrayarmods: (Default)
For Barrayar mods ([personal profile] barrayarmods) wrote in [community profile] forbarrayar2017-01-18 09:31 pm

[ january ii log ]

Who: Everyone
What: The end of quarantine, a breath of fresh air, and the first taste of action
When: January 18th - 31st
Where: Barrayaran camp / Cetagandan base
Warnings: TBD


Quick links:
Barrayar: Piotr Vorkosigan / Barrayaran camp / Missions
Cetaganda: Zahal ghem-Zefyst / Cetagandan base / Missions
Special thanks to Ana for last-minute PB hunting!


It's been a little over two weeks since you first arrived on Barrayar. As the month wears on, the weather shifts a little colder, and snowstorms come, dumping over a foot of snow on the ground over the next couple of weeks.

barrayar
So far, the outsiders tent has only been visited by the Countess and the Princess. But on the morning of the 18th, the General Count himself makes an appearance. Piotr Vorkosigan is a lean, hard-faced man, battle-worn and fierce, but despite his reputation as a master strategist and the bane of the Cetagandan existence in the southern half of the continent, he looks to be no older than his early thirties, and he's held the rank of General for nearly a decade. When he comes to speak, the guards make way immediately, and he doesn't waste time mincing words.

"My name is Piotr Vorkosigan. I am the commanding officer of this camp." Hands clasped behind his back in a parade rest, he surveys the outsiders at a glance. "I hope it's been clear to you all that you aren't under arrest here. We had to detain you until we could find out what you were, because you clearly were not our enemy. I'm sure you've heard by now that we're at war, and not on the winning side. This planet -- Barrayar -- was cut off from the rest of galactic society for seven hundred years, until just thirty years ago. Until then we had no plasma weapons, no spaceships, no electricity. We had just barely begun to absorb the changes that had eclipsed us when we were attacked without word or warning by the Cetagandan Empire. Eight planets already conquered, and they sought to strike us while we were vulnerable. They claim to be saving us from ourselves, to bring us the light of civilization, as though we are dogs being taught a new trick."

His lip curls. "Komarr -- the planet that controls the only wormhole entrance to this system -- allowed itself to be bribed by the Cetagandans so that they could get their warships through the other side. They demanded unconditional surrender -- no treaty, no convention -- but we answer to one Emperor only, and our refusal to surrender under any conditions was met with warfare and occupation. Some Counts, traitorous collaborators with no honor, have surrendered, but our Emperor refuses. And Vorkosigan's District is loyal to the Emperor. Our only chance at outside help is through his son, Prince Xav, using his position as ambassador to Beta Colony to try and drum up support and get supplies through the blockade. With ghem patrols on every street of our cities, we've gone to ground to fight on our terms, wherever we can, lest we fail to remind the Cetagandans that this is our planet. They don't know these mountains, this land the way we do -- staying hidden is the only way we survive."

He gestures at the camp with one hand, the worn tents, the campfires, the weapons long-antequated by galactic standards. "If we used any galactic technology, the Cetagandans would be able to trace our location as easily as if we'd sent up a flare, so we are relegated to our own traditional weaponry, to fighting from the shadows. And our location has been compromised before." His face is mostly hard and impassive, but his eyes flash briefly. "A scant month before you arrived. How, we still don't know. But we were forced to split our forces and flee. We're operating at half our usual manpower and supplies, and we can afford to take few risks, so you must understand why we had to be so cautious with you. We still don't have a clue how you wound up here, or why; that's beyond even the imagination of galactic scientists, I think. But I do understand that you had no chance in the matter, none of you, nor have any of you given any reason to suspect you might be a threat to our effort. So, effective today, I am lifting the guard around your tent. You are free to walk the camp as you please -- save for the areas restricted for military use. But as you know, we are short on resources -- manpower included. We have no room for freeloaders or empty hands. If you wish to stay, you'll work like the rest of us. We could always use extra hands around camp." He surveys the outsiders once again with an even sharper eye. "We might be able to use a few extra hands elsewhere, too, if you can prove yourself trustworthy.

"I won't hold anyone in this camp against his will. Anyone who wishes to leave my do so -- but know that there is no protection in a war zone. All of our cities are occupied by the enemy, and their soldiers won't hesitate to shoot any man wandering down from the mountains. If you do want to leave, you'll be escorted by one of our scouts down to the foothills, to as safe a space as possible -- and to make sure you won't be able to trace back your route. We cannot afford to let our location fall into the hands of those face-painted bastards, however remote the chance."

He'll leave it at that, and when he takes leave, so do the guards who have been posted around the outsiders' tent. The detainment is over.

camp
Now that you're free to roam about the camp as you please, except for the restricted military areas, the atmosphere has changed a little. Some of the soldiers still regard the outsiders with wariness or diffidence, particularly those who might not look not quite normal. Barrayarans don't take especially well to the unnatural. But they are ultimately social and outgoing by nature, and they’ll especially gravitate toward other soldierly types, although they're sort of dubious about the women who claim to be warriors or soldiers in their own right. Still, their disposition is tentatively friendly if on the gruff side. Now that you're no longer under quarantine, they might strike up a conversation or invite you to play card or dice games with them, even if just out of curiosity if nothing else. But Barrayarans are stubborn as well: arguments might escalate quickly, and you might find yourself in a confrontation.

Now that you're no longer confined, you eat at the mess at designated mealtimes like everybody else, and you'll find that the soldiers don't eat much better than you were these last couple of weeks. You also get access to the bath tent for the first time since you arrived, if you'd like to take your chances, but bathing in the winter is always risky business. Near the bath tent are the stables, which always have a soldier or two on duty as stablehand. If you need medical attention of any kind, sickbay is the place to go, although don't expect much in the way of bedside manner from the medical officers.

Lower-ranking officers and the little old Dendarii ladies who help with the camp direct you to your jobs, a variety of mostly menial but necessary tasks. The work isn't extraordinarily demanding, and it's hardly slave labor – you're doing no more work than the average soldier here. If you're decent with knives or know anything halfway about cooking they might requisition you for the mess, if you know anything about horses, you'll probably be assigned to the stables, if you're just plain strong they'll set you to chopping firewood, and no one needs any special skills to help with the washing. But no one is assigned to just one job – when something needs doing, they'll find one of you to do it.

Life among the guerrillas is tough – none of them have it easy, and neither do you – but it isn't all bleak and miserable. When it starts to get dark and the winter chill sets in for the night, the off-duty soldiers gather close around the campfires to socialize and swap stories, maybe even share a little wine or maple mead if they've got any. Once in a while a particularly courageous (or drunk) soldier will even start a round of one of Barrayar's many traditional drinking songs, a few of which have had their lyrics adjusted with more contemporary references. However war-worn, wary, and rough they may be, the Barrayarans have an unmistakable sense of family and unity among them.

missions
After Piotr's speech on the 18th, the outsiders will be offered an opportunity: they're short on manpower, but they can't afford to waste time. Their intelligence on Cetagandan security is out of date, and the operations are risky, but if you're willing to stick your neck out for the Barrrayaran cause, it'll start to establish a bond of trust.

Piotr orders Captain Aaron Vorbataille and Captain Alexei Vorinnis to organize two recon missions to scope out the base's perimeter security, and two more to infiltrate the base and scope out the power supply. On January 22nd, the first perimeter scouting teams return more or less successfully, but with some unfortunate bonus information: there's a traitor in Piotr's camp. On January 23rd, the second perimeter scouting teams have even better success with gaining intelligence, as well as happening on a Cetagandan field science team. Adrien and Beth's squad does not engage, but another squad chances an attack on the Cetagandan team, and manages to capture one of their scientists.

With the discomfiting knowledge that there is a traitor among them, Captains Vorbataille and Vorinnis choose their infiltration teams for the power supply recon carefully. Lieutenants Dmitri Vorhalas and Boris Vortala are ultimately selected to lead the teams, though there is some heated disagreement between the captains on whether they should be bringing in more personnel at all. The power supply recon mission on January 28th has mixed results: intel gathering was mostly a success, but otherwise it was a failure. Not only were the Cetagandans alerted to their presence, but Lieutenant Erik Grey was KIA, and Lakshmi Bai and Lieutenant Vortala were both taken prisoner. No one in either squad seems to be able to provide an answer as to how or why the alarms were tripped so early. The only upside is that Lieutenant Vorhalas has taken a prisoner: Duv Galeni.

Needless to say, the implications of a traitor being in camp are troubling, but with two prisoners from the Cetagandan side, hopefully they'll be getting some answers.

The unabridged event writeup is here.


cetaganda
Zahal ghem-Zefyst approaches the gathered exotics with a welcoming smile, and a near bounce in his step – face fully painted in a more intricate manner than any of the other soldiers present. Unlike the rest of the Cetagandan soldiers, he's dressed in multiple layers of robes, all in colors matching his face paint to the exact shade. To the casual observer he looks unarmed and relaxed, but those who know what to look for will find that some of the folds of fabric are designed to keep things hidden, especially at the hip. Once he's certain he has the attention of every exotic, he gestures, open armed, as his smile grows.

"Good day. I am General Zahal ghem-Zefyst, commanding officer of this base and all operations, and I would like to first offer my sincere apologies for what has occurred – ending up here from wherever," and here his eyes light upon the most non-human of the group gathered before him, "you originated from must have been a shock. You've been told little of what is going on, but I see no reason why that should continue. You are currently on a planet known as Barrayar – but we," he gestures to himself, his wife, and the assembled soldiers with him, "are from the Cetagandan Empire. Nine planets wide, the Cetagandan Empire has existed for centuries, and flourished for all of them. There is nowhere else in the galactic Nexus that can rival our standards of living, our level of technology, and our way of life.

"This planet," he continues, cheerful voice taking on an edge of scorn and sadness, "has been left in the dark for seven hundred years. You can imagine what befell them without modern technology – society could not handle the strain, and these past eight centuries have been filled with bloodshed and fighting. Only recently has the government become truly centralized, and even then it is a tenuous peace, enforced by more bloodshed. Cetaganda's hope – our hope – is to bring them back into the Nexus as a whole. We wish them no harm, and some of their district Counts have willingly joined us, having seen the value of our cause.

"But the Barrayaran Emperor – Dorca Vorbarra – has resisted us, and there are still some districts where the population refuses to acknowledge the value of galactic technology. Of what it can do for them, of what we can do for them. This fracture between Emperor and Counts, of subjects and their ruling class, is only proof as to how fragile this society is, and how desperately it needs to be guided. We wish to be that guiding hand, and want nothing more but to live side by side with the Barrayarans."

The statement is made with a soft gesture of togetherness, before Zahal continues, smiling again. "Again, I apologize for your quarantine. We know you are here not by choice, and are taking steps towards understanding how you arrived and perhaps, how to send you home again. Until that time, however, you are free to go wherever you wish on base, respecting those areas set aside for military use. Some of you have expressed interest on learning about our culture – if you desire more in-depth information, that will be provided on request. You need not do anything beyond respect the boundaries and continue to be as civil and courteous as you have been. There are all only ten of you, and we have plenty resources to spare.

"Lastly – none of you are required to stay here with us. If you would rather brave the elements and undiscerning Barrayarans, we will escort you out, so long as you leave any technology you acquired here behind. Thank you, all of you." He bows, then, and turns to leave – gesturing the guard to follow him out of the room.

base
Now that you're free to roam about the base. as you please, aside from the restricted areas, the atmosphere has changed a little. It's still heavily military -- they are at war, after all -- but the genteel, almost delicate air hinted at during the exotics' quarantine seems to permeate the entire base, a certain fundamental Cetagandan sensibility. On a military level, everything here is built with function in mind -- but to the Cetagandan eye, form can rule supreme even in utilitarian contexts. Even such ordinarily mundane areas as the mess or the washrooms are dotted with art and designed to please the eye, even if subtly. You couldn't mistake it for anything but a military installation, but it's probably the most beautiful military installation you've ever seen.

The ghem troops are nothing short of civil, same as everyone has been. Some of them are even quite interested in the exotics -- whether seeking camaraderie or merely partaking in a novelty, it may be difficult to gauge, but there's no getting around the fact that anyone who doesn't look quite human, or anyone with an especially aesthetically pleasing form, is getting a little extra attention. However, they are all quite polite, in a way that is clearly cultural rather than circumstantial. The ghem ladies are a bit more elusive and much fewer in number, but they're even more outgoing than the soldiers, and any of the ghem on base might be pleased to share with you any Cetagandan cultural pastimes or teach you about Cetagandan art, although there may be a few polite laughs at the expense of anyone particularly "uncultured". 

Now that you're no longer confined, you eat at the mess at designated mealtimes like everybody else, and you'll find that the artfully prepared fresh cuisine served along equally (somehow) artfully prepared meal rations you've been getting are the standard here. There are no longer any guards posted around the exotics' room, which has been officially dubbed as your living quarters, and you share a communal bathroom with the rest of the hall. There's a common room on each floor where soldiers often go to spend their off-duty hours, with the appropriately recreational accoutrements: the materials for a few kinds of games popular on Cetaganda, a couple of sizeable vid plates for watching holofilms, as well as the supplies for a variety of Cetagandan art forms. There's also an exercise room in each barracks building with about what you'd expect, but probably prettier and more future.

You aren't asked to do any work, just politely told to keep away from restricted areas. A couple of ghem officers appointed by Zahal take you in individually for interviews of a sort, a couple of times a week. They're perfectly civil, and the interviews themselves are tame -- the Cetagandans are merely trying to collect some more information to better understand this phenomenon. So while there might be some questions in the personal sphere, they're primarily interested in where you come from. They won't try to force you to answer in any way -- if you sit there in stubborn silence for the hour, they will endure it politely, if in exasperation.

missions
We're using that word loosely, because none of this is official or even remotely organized.

Now that the exotics' room is no longer guarded, curiosity gives rise to temptation. On the night of January 22nd, Ratchet and Kaidan sneak out to the science/medical complex and overhear Zahal and one of his science officers talking about signs of wormhole activity as they try to puzzle out what happened. On the following night, January 23rd, Lapis and Darkstalker make their way near the war rooms and listen in on Zahal and one of his intelligence officers discussing the Barrayaran information leak and confirming that there are 'exotics' among the Barrayarans too. They have also learned that the Barrayarans are planning a raid sometime in the next week.

Things get a little chaotic on January 28th, when security alarms are suddenly tripped and a few curfew-cutting exotics run into outsiders from the other side. The evening is sort of a mixed bag for everyone involved -- Duv is captured by one of the Barrayarans and this time, no one gets back to the barracks without getting caught. On the other hand, Wash and York manage to capture Lieutenant Vortala, for which the soldiers thank them in appreciation as they take him into their custody.

The unabridged event writeup is here.
vorrutyer: (god honestly what is this guy's face)

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-01-28 04:34 pm (UTC)(link)
Oh, it does him good, I think.
dendarii: (for real?)

[personal profile] dendarii 2017-01-28 04:38 pm (UTC)(link)
Having Simon and his mother come after him?
vorrutyer: (what a shitty grin)

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-01-28 04:39 pm (UTC)(link)
Well. At least - it does me good. Entertainment-wise, you see.
dendarii: (yes yes i am the best)

[personal profile] dendarii 2017-01-28 04:41 pm (UTC)(link)
Ah, the truth becomes clear. Poor, poor Ivan.
vorrutyer: (world-weary (and smug))

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-01-28 04:50 pm (UTC)(link)
So that's that, then. Now you know. Back to shoveling shit, shall we?

[ And perhaps while they're at it they can avoid ever talking about his disinheritance ever again. ]
dendarii: (honest help)

[personal profile] dendarii 2017-01-28 04:51 pm (UTC)(link)
I'm done. By all means, enjoy finishing your section.

[ He won't let that question go, though. One day he's getting the entire story whether Byerly wants to tell or not. ]
prorenataa: commission dnt (pensive pacing)

[personal profile] prorenataa 2017-01-28 05:50 pm (UTC)(link)
"Define 'a while ago'?" Adrien asked, his tone a bit wry. It had been a long time since he'd had to watch a bone heal the old fashion way, so to speak, but he did remember that from the patient's perspective two weeks could feel like an eternity.

However, before she might have a chance to respond (unless she talked rather quickly) their group was pausing and the need for silence became apparent.

Following the lead of the other three members of their party, Adrien moved to hunker down on his heels, making his profile small and low to the ground as their leader made the initial investigation of the area. Balanced this way, he glanced back towards Beth to see how she was managing in cowboy boots and the uneven weight of a casted arm.
prorenataa: dnt (wet profile eh)

[personal profile] prorenataa 2017-01-28 05:58 pm (UTC)(link)
Conversation was not Adrien's long suit, by any stretch of the imagination. But in the wake of the mission and his own investigations around the medical tent before hand, and after actually, he had finally pushed himself to the realization that a conversation was in order.

A quick word with one of the native medical leads, followed by another with the guards on duty and the doctor found himself cooling his heels outside the General Count's tent, waiting for permission to enter.
komarran: (squints suspiciously)

[personal profile] komarran 2017-01-28 08:07 pm (UTC)(link)
"Now I'm surrendering," he grumbles and stares for a long moment at Miles' hand. God. He'd ask where his life had gone wrong, but he's afraid he'd pinpoint too many points in time.

With a sigh, he accepts Miles' hand. "Let's make this quick then.
infailtration: (pic#10657609)

[personal profile] infailtration 2017-01-28 08:34 pm (UTC)(link)
[ York isn't as optimistic as Wash on their chances for getting Maine and his companion out of dodge. As stealthy as they might manage to be, there's going to come a time when they just have to run for it and the Cetagandans have guns. Extremely effective guns, from what he's heard... he hasn't actually been allowed near the armory, none of them have. If even one of them had a weapon like that they could lay down cover fire and potentially all get away but right now, as things were, three of them armed with swords and York barehanded? This wasn't going to be easy.

He brings up the rear as they run, hears soldiers giving chase behind them, can pick up the orders being shouted somewhere in the distance. They're about to be surrounded. He skids in the snow when guards pop around the corner, and the next thing he knows Wash is shoving the woman at him out of the way of a long shot one of the guards is aiming at her. Shit. The only direction for them to go is out into the snow, completely uncovered.

What happens next is a blur. A soldier aims for Maine, who's close on York's left. He darts in front of his friend but he isn't the only one -- the woman is launching herself at the Cetagandan guards. It's brave but stupid, York thinks... the safest move right now is to give themselves up. Either way there's a risk they'd be killed but it's a certain one if they keep fighting. Maybe if he could cause some kind of distraction -- but if he goes the other way to try and cause one that'd leave Maine and his friend with only Wash to cover them. He turns to Wash and Maine, who looks like he's going to dive in after the woman, and mutters, ]


Run.

[ Then York dives into the fray instead, hoping he can get ahold of a weapon or just block the guards' fire from her. Her gambit paid off and together they manage to take down a few soldiers just by being in close quarters unexpectedly but then a shot rings out above the alarms and screaming, and hits the blade of her sword, unsteadying her and causing her to loosen her hold. Wash has joined them in the fight but there are now three soldiers that York can see aiming for her, center mass, with their unknown weapons. She has no armor, no shields, and he thinks fast, ducking between her and certain death. He knocks her sword into the snow and grabs that arm, twisting it behind her. It has to look real so he makes it real, a grip she can't just break out of. One leg sweeps forward to bring her to her knees. She snarls at him, at the apparent betrayal, and he ignores it and shouts to the soldiers. ]

Stop, I've got her! She's down!

[ He hears heavy footsteps trailing off and hopes it's Maine getting away. He doesn't dare take his eyes off the soldiers to check, fully expecting to be taken into custody with her for this, for injuring the guards. To be questioned as to where his loyalties lie. ]
littlemissfutility: (25)

[personal profile] littlemissfutility 2017-01-29 12:41 am (UTC)(link)
Beth shrugs, the only answer she can think of that won't involve speech. Two weeks here in camp, all those days before in the hospital? It feels like forever to her. The fact that she's been able to do normal work despite the injury--hell, she shot a gun with it, albeit before she came here--makes it seem less and less important.

She braces herself in the snow, her bad hand on the trunk of a tree. When Adrien looks back at her, she nods in acknowledgment. There's not much more they can do, waiting in silence like this. Eventually, their leader returns to them, ready to give his orders.

Lieutenant Grey points to one of the native Barrayarans and sends him down toward the right. "Take the outsiders. The rest of you, come with me."
shri: (» we are higher than the sparrow)

[personal profile] shri 2017-01-29 03:35 pm (UTC)(link)
[ When she shuts her eyes later, she'll count watching Maine's face as the last thing she sees before it goes to pieces so damn quickly. Isn't that always the way? Flicking between him and Wash and the half made plan to get out of there. Apparently they've got company now. That'll be a thrilling thing to explain to Count Piotr on the return. Already forming how she'll need to say it, even if it's none of her business, but if they were offering to stand by their side through this, then she could do the same -

Washington shoves her. Feels his hands harsh into her shoulder, feels the shot hit the ground as it goes whizzing over her head. The rest, the rest comes without forethought or even consideration after she's shoved hard and the otherwise silent, snowy night is ripped apart by gunfire and the shouts of soldiers. Churning the ground muddy under their footfalls. A lifetime fighting outgunned means it comes naturally at least; swords to the best of the British Empire and their armaments. Then less than that again to the finest guns that Tesla could give the Black Coats as they came charging down the slums of Whitechapel. Barricades and broken bottles to hurl at them until she could get her hands on something worthwhile to put into theirs.

Up until then, the rules had always been simple, which: never bring a knife to a gun fight, but never let an enemy use his range if he has it and you don't. To that, she doesn't waste the time, charges to crash into the nearest soldier as soon as she gets her feet under her. It's ugly, harsh spat war cries as she rams into the nearest man with her shoulder. Might be more effect if she could feel the blackwater - but it isn't coming, that strength, the violent quiet that made them monstrous as the things they fought, doesn't come up into her limbs.

It's like knowing she's already lost this war in the same breath as she started fighting it. She's a woman again, she's a woman alone fighting an Empire.

It doesn't mean a damn thing, it never had, and now isn't the time to consider what that means, even as she tries to get back to Maine's side as she grabs another soldier by the arm, wrenches it back so they go down with a sharp cry and a quickly slit throat. One second where she's alone and the next she's reaching for Maine in the transcendent breaths, taking a fistful of his jacket and her scarf to yank him to face her. Close, exhaled words between them and brief, they have seconds before someone hits them, sitting targets that they are -
] Get out of here, as soon as you can - and tell Miles where I am. We're no good both captured.

[ She shoves him hard away from her. Half a step and she feels a yank and she swings in a circle, wider, forcing the man that thought to sneak up behind her to use the gun he's holding to block the blow that would have shattered his skull instead of shooting her. Doesn't look back from then, can't afford to, there are more and more of them. Ants out of cracked ground, maggots teaming on a corpse. Her blood and heart beat so loud in her ears as she kicks hard into the closest man's chest to send sprawling backwards, her head snapped up, readying to follow him down in a broad stroke of blade to the flesh that his armour exposed. A swing that will cut him across the belly, he'll bleed like a stuck boar. All bright red like his fellows on the white, white ground and in the morning he'll be nothing but another body along with the others. Unseeing, in the heat of it, that she's surrounded and that she'll be just the same, soon enough.

The blow doesn't land, and she feels herself wrench with the force redirected as York grabs her arm, yanks her down and under. Hitting her knees to the cold ground in a wave of rage that washes up. Betrayed, shouldn't have trusted him, shouldn't trust him with Maine, should have just shot them down where they stood - this is what she got, always the way, isn't it? -

She looks up and takes gulping breaths of freezing air into her burning lungs. A mess of hair over her face, blood hot and red mattered into it, tacky against her skin. Sweat that stings as it cools in the frigid wind. Sees for herself, just what he's saved her from by shouting that 'she's down'. A dozen or more, armed and ready to shoot whoever is in their base. Blackwater wouldn't help her with that.

Maybe she should thank him, and maybe later, she will.

Right now, her face scrunches, better dead than a damsel, better going out with blade in hand than being captured, but if she's captured and where-ever Vortala has gone - then they won't be looking at anyone else, will they? Makes a show of it, a wounded animal fights harder and so does she, ugly undignified noises and words worse than a sailor on his first week back dockside spewing out of her.
]

- whore son's bastards. Go to hell - [ He twists, she yanks, pulling hard. Setting her jaw, clenched and harsh. Looking, desperately between the soldiers' faces for Maine, for the other of his friend that she lost sight of in the fight. Doesn't see him so clearly with the sting of sweat in her eyes and the burning off adrenaline. Looks for the slash of gold that is her scarf he's wearing. Good, it had been her favourite, she will want it back, and if the enemy has it, she might not be to take it with her then, so better he give it back when she sees him again.

Because she will, she can promise that in arrogance and desperation, she will because she must but the only chance of that, is if he tells someone she's here. Another shove up, more desperate, that they keep their gaze on her and York, whatever she has to do to get their attention, looking up over her shoulder, back up at York and it's to draw deliberate attention.
] I am so pleased to know Cetagandan hospitality lives up to its reputation, here I thought they were exaggerating being spineless dogs that don't know how to fight honourably.

[ Drawls it out ugly and mean, good at that. Pitching to be insulting to anyone near enough to hear her. ]
Edited 2017-01-29 15:58 (UTC)
for_art: (Default)

SORRY ABOUT THE LACK OF ICONS YET

[personal profile] for_art 2017-01-29 04:27 pm (UTC)(link)
[ good god, what a clusterfuck.

the ghem-general -- or anyone above them in the chain of command -- isn't really going to be all that happy about the exotics getting out or the barrayarans getting in, but at least these exotics seemed to have done well, capturing this woman. the barrayarans aren't generally given to women soldiers -- but they are getting desperate, aren't they?

she's got about the level of refinement as a barrayaran, with all that cussing, but one of them -- presumably the senior officer among the bunch -- hits her at this close range with the stunner. at least she'll be less trouble now. as for the sneaky exotics...

the senior officer waves away half the soldiers around him with snarled orders into his wristcom for medic and to the soldiers around him go get him and get to the main generator. a few soldiers take off after main, but they're too late, he's fast, and their shots hit dead air. he doesn't look too pleased with wash and york, but the other soldiers don't haul them up the way you might expect a prisoner -- it's more like helping up, if not very cordially, considering the circumstances. a lot of feathers have been ruffled. the senior officer jerks his head at two soldiers who take custody of lakshmi, hauling her up with arms under her shoulders. ]


Catch up to ghem-Yenaro and take her to holding. He's got another one. And you two -- [ there are four dead on the ground, and other soldiers injured. the alarms are still blaring, there's still chaos everywhere. the senior officer nods at another couple of his guards. ] You'll be escorted back to your barracks, medbay if you need so. We found another guerrilla unconscious, and not by stunner fire -- your work as well, I take it?

[ he's not pleased, exactly, but it does make him a little less fucking annoyed about all this. ]
for_honor: (erik grey)

MAINE

[personal profile] for_honor 2017-01-29 04:31 pm (UTC)(link)
[ as maine dashes away from the conflict by the grace of lakshmi's conflict, blasts of stunner and nerve disruptor fire just barely missing him -- mercifully, because even a huge brute like maine would be laid low by nerve disruptor fire -- lieutentant grey comes running toward him, breathless and urgent. they're not far from the gate now, their stealth utterly compromised. they are fucked. ]

Come on, hurry, we don't have much time before they overtake the gate --

[ he's doubling back around for maine to follow, speaking even as he moves at a dead run. ]
truevor: (pic#10925383)

[personal profile] truevor 2017-01-29 04:49 pm (UTC)(link)
"Then consider that something in their favor. Miles Illyan -- he claims to be from Barrayar at one point, and has the accent to make believe there is truth in that, for all it must have been difficult for him. I want you to give him an audience, and to hear him out." Olivia gives Piotr a look that, for an instant, is more calculating than affectionate. "You will not want to once you see him, but any man willing to give his life for a planet that would have sooner have seen him dead is worth your time."

Does Barrayar deserve that depth of loyalty? Both sides of her are at war with each other over it -- of course it does, for what would Barrayar be without it? And yet, and yet -- there's a small Betan voice in the back of her head that pulls at her doubts. Olivia shakes it off, refocusing.
asafepairofhands: (human - tired)

[personal profile] asafepairofhands 2017-01-29 07:27 pm (UTC)(link)
Ratchet pulls the jacket he'd managed to remember to collect closer around himself and hisses a soft breath from between his teeth, narrowing his eyes as it puffs in front of him visibly. He nods back at Kaidan though--as much as he hates the cold, he hates not knowing what the hell is going on much more.

"This isn't my usual thing," he says, his own voice pitched low. "I'll follow your lead."
komarran: (this uniform upsets me how dare)

[personal profile] komarran 2017-01-29 11:52 pm (UTC)(link)
"I'm merely an outsider observer, as all of us are that were brought here," is Duv's careful reply. He's from this Nexus, but with how large and varied it is, it's easy to play the neutral party.

Never mind that his focus remains on the Barrayaran attackers. He winces slightly when he sees one go down. "We'd be better off moving farther from the fight."
asafepairofhands: (human - unsure)

exercise room

[personal profile] asafepairofhands 2017-01-30 12:59 am (UTC)(link)
Ratchet is curious about the exercise room--exercise he understands, on a basic level, but the uniquely organic process of straining and building muscle still seems... weird. Though no weirder than anything else he's been doing since he arrived here.

Still, the unavoidable oddness of a relatively well-built adult male having next to no grasp of the fundamental mechanics of exercise keeps him away until he finds himself out of other things to do, but when he does finally poke his head in the only occupant is York, to whom he wanted to speak anyway. He eases into the room, not wanting to interrupt, and just watches for a while, trying not to look too curious as he waits for York to notice he's there.
startpoint: (23)

[personal profile] startpoint 2017-01-30 04:25 am (UTC)(link)
[ She goes still as her eyes track the patrol, ducking down in case they have anything that might enhance their vision in the snow. It'll be a poor showing for their mission if they're caught because some low level soldier caught sight of her hair. ]

Any ideas on how to get inside without setting off alarms? Do they monitor their soldiers' heart rates while they're out?

[ It was something they did for Project Freelancer and she wouldn't put it past the Cetagandans to have something similar. ]
artsofwar: (pic#10746024)

[personal profile] artsofwar 2017-01-30 04:28 am (UTC)(link)
"None, although we are working on determining how and why you ended up here, where you do not belong. Surely you've noticed that others seem to be from nowhere in the known Nexus?" It was interesting, but hardly his business. That he left to his haut wife, preferring to occupy himself with the war. It's what he was here for, after all.

Zahal gives Duv a small, friendly smile that almost reaches his eyes. "What did you do, in Solstice?"
startpoint: (20)

[personal profile] startpoint 2017-01-30 04:45 am (UTC)(link)
Fighting is something Carolina can do. And more important it's something she's been wanting to do since she first showed up on Barrayar. Finally having a chance to do what she's best at is nice so when a figure appears out of the snow and dark to throw a punch she snaps into action. She's not good with the rapier they gave her so she goes the old fashioned way and just fucking charges Daryl with a shout. The alarms are already going off, it isn't like that they can go off more.

His punch connects but her momentum carries her into him with her shoulder leading the charge toward his sternum.
komarran: (dramatic side look)

[personal profile] komarran 2017-01-30 04:52 am (UTC)(link)
"I have noticed," he admits. "It's strange, to say the least." Not only from different planets, but different years if they were using the same set of chronological guidelines. He still had a hard time wrapping his head around that someone claimed to be from the 26th century on a planet he'd never heard of on the fringes of space.

That question at least has a simple answer. "I'm a professor of Komarran history at Solstice University. I suppose it would be too large of a request to be taken back there?" Because the next best step would be to remove himself from the equation entirely. He could make his way on Komarr if he somehow ended up there though he knows that's too much to hope for.
dendarii: (solpadeine114)

[personal profile] dendarii 2017-01-30 11:26 am (UTC)(link)
[ Miles has to think about that for a moment. He'd had that same tech while he was a mercenary admiral, in fact. But he doesn't see it on Cetaganda ...

Doesn't mean they don't have something similar. ]


If they have powered armor, then yes. Definitely. Otherwise I've no idea. [ He pauses a moment, thinking. ] There must be some sort of side entrance we can use.
eugengineer: (pic#10725600)

[personal profile] eugengineer 2017-01-30 09:45 pm (UTC)(link)
"Blood," Diya corrects nonetheless. "It is quite curious -- color aside, even. The plasma is host to cells other than blood cells -- these flecks of what would otherwise be categorized as inorganic material -- but they're not very stable. They seem to be in flux -- attempting to coalesce into molecules of their own, but eventually breaking apart before long."
eugengineer: (pic#10725605)

[personal profile] eugengineer 2017-01-30 09:45 pm (UTC)(link)
"You would have been notified." It doesn't take a rocket scientist -- or a head geneticist -- to figure out that Duv's somewhere he doesn't belong right now, even if he's not strictly not allowed here. At least he looks at her directly. That, she appreciates.

"How may I assist you?"

Haut-speak, of course, for what the fuck do you want and how can I shove you out of here.

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