[ january ii log ]

[barrayarmods]

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.

Comments

[shri]

She leads her along with a gesture, when she feels her lag behind her, and no - she doesn't trust men in a war camp. With no reflection to her or the Count or Countess, but men were men, and being pretty and sweet and fond reminders of home was nothing less than a death sentence when they turned hungry and lonely.

"To see the Countess," she intones it briefly. Eyes up - she never settles, an alertness like she's always waiting for something. "Your name again? Your full name? Was your father or mother noted for anything?"

[littlemissfutility]

Beth's learned to withhold her trust of lonely men, herself, though she's never very worried about it in the middle of the day. There are greater things to puzzle over, especially right now.

"Beth Greene. Nobody ever calls me Elizabeth. And--" She still doesn't understand this. Who gets this worked up over the fact that somebody they barely know might not have family? None of the outsiders have family here. And if Beth can only get home (and maybe back again), she'll have a sister and brother-in-law, plus everyone else in their group. "We were farmers. Why are we going to see the Countess?"

[shri]

"We will discuss it when we are with her. It is nothing you need worry yourself too much over." A hum, as they weave through the camp, the bustle of men moving about, the call of horses, birds and the soft crunch of snow that has fallen again where the previous fall has turned to muddy earth under the constant bustle of people.

"Were they landed?" A pause, and it's quite possible she has no notion of that meant, given she honestly seemed to have no clue about arranged marriages. "I mean, were they simply farmers, or was your family the landowners?"

[littlemissfutility]

"The farm was ours." Talking about it doesn't hurt the way it seems like it should. They lost it so long ago--a few years, years that feel more like decades with all that's happened. "For more than a hundred-fifty years."

And now it's nothing at all, just muck and blood and walkers. She pushes the thought of its present away; it's better to remember what it was. "This is a lot of questions for something that I don't need to worry about."

[shri]

Another stiff nod, good - respectable. More importantly, easy to how to phrase as respectable. Because she's right, it is a lot of questions that she has every right to worry about. Though Lakshmi's intentions are hardly awful, Beth had already proven suspicious.

They get to the tent, and she holds up her hand briefly to halt Beth and her words and questions beside her. Means she'll answer, at least in a second.

She turns to the guard at the front of the tent, and her shoulders roll, her gaze is direct and up at the ( always, here ) taller man. "I wish an audience, immediately, with the Countess." It brooks no argument, an art to looking down at those taller than her - but she does it well.

See it in the guard's face, only nobles talk like that and she pushes hard on it. Waiting for him to decide that it's above his level, stubborn as they all were before he nods and disappears into the tent. She watches him go before she turns back, lowering her head that little bit so she can talk quick and quiet.

"I need you to listen to me, I can tell you've never... dealt with these sort of systems before. But this is a matter of how to keep you alive, do you understand? It will seem a game, but it's the kind that men have lost their heads over."

[littlemissfutility]

Beth falls silent as they approach the tent, in part because the woman makes it clear that she should and in part so she can watch this play out. The guards don't look especially impressed, right up 'til they're told to let them in.

It reminds her, a little, of Maggie. Haughtier, maybe, and a very different accent, but it's that same won't take no for an answer voice and gaze.

"I'd understand better," she answers, when the woman's attention returns to her, "if I knew what was going on."

Her voice is pitched quietly, her expression neutral, but there's a slight pointedness to the words. She's not going to nod and smile over a deal when she doesn't know the terms.

[shri]

"Alright." She can work with that.

Hums a second, before she picks the place to begin. Nobility, their customs, true these are most definitely no lords of her home, and they're a little too comfortable with their own bloodshed for the worst of Victoria's Lords, with their petty false hisses. A mess of bureaucracy and lies.

No, these men were much different to that, better and worse because of it in ways she doesn't know completely yet, but most of the rules still applied the same. "Everything here is about who you know, and who you answer to." Licks her lips against the cold as she continues. "At the moment, we are strangers to them, it means they'll give us our space out of distrust alone." It won't last though, she knows, as they integrate themselves further, as this war goes on. "Eventually however, that won't be enough."

A pause, as others pass them, watching them carefully as she takes her breath. "Unfortunately, you are an unmarried young girl, and orphaned no less. I would not suggest joking about it again near them. It doesn't put you in a particularly good... position. It's ridiculous and foolish, I know, but in such cases, it matters who you belong to especially. A woman is only worth what her family values her as."

Waits, watching her face. It's nothing pleasant to hear, she knows. "Do you follow so far?"

[littlemissfutility]

"I'm not--" Orphaned, she wants to say, except technically, she is. But orphaned sounds like Oliver Twist. It's not my parents are dead, but my sister and our group are alive. Beth shakes her head. "I think I gave you the wrong idea. I'm not going to do anything stupid."

She knows better than to trust that everyone here has her best interests at heart. Even if she hadn't just come from a hospital that was more like a prison, she would've been disabused of the notion as soon as they were shown to their tent. As long as they're outsiders to the Barrayarans, the number of people that they can rely on--that she can rely on--is going to be low.

But she's been in worse places than this camp, and she's seen (and done, a little voice reminds her) worse things. As well-meant as the speech she's being given seems to be, Beth's still not clear on how coming from a decent family and knowing how to sing is going to keep her safe. Or why it has to, for that matter. She'd be a lot happier to protect herself with a knife.

[shri]

She shakes her head. Doing her best to be patient - it's easier when she's in a place of authority, could just draw Beth to her side and be done with it. Make it clear just what she means. Cut out the middleman the Countess now was to the situation.

"It's not you. I've watched you. You had the sense to distrust me. You've already learned those lessons, so far as I can tell." How little a thing it was, and how much Beth had refused even that. Good - it was important, especially dealing with Lords. Everything, everything had a price.

She clears her throat, glancing around and this time it's pointed, just who she's referring to. "It's not your stupidity that I am worried about." No, no, this has nothing to do with Beth's ability to protect herself. It came down to a few simple things. "Everything is about reputation, about your place, where you stand. They have no reason to respect or fear you or doing anything to you. Being what you are, unallied as you are, it leaves you exposed. I am in much the same position."

Don't fight her too hard, she wants to say, please. "Which is why we are going to meet the Countess."

[littlemissfutility]

It wasn't exactly subtle, refusing to give so much as the time of day when offered something, but she still feels a crawling sense of embarrassment at being so easily read. You had the sense to distrust me. It's enough to make her wonder just where the woman comes from, that she'd prefer someone refuse a gift from her own hands if it meant they were cautious.

Something to ask sometime. Some other time, when they're not about to have this meeting.

"Okay." So they'll meet the countess, Beth's reputation will somehow be safe from gossip, and that will definitely matter when she finds a way to get back to her own people. It's still better than watching groats congeal in a pot.

...Admittedly, she can kind of see where this is all coming from, inasmuch as it doesn't take a rocket scientist to notice that the soldiers here aren't exactly what you'd call respectful. If not for the woman's intervention, she'd plan to rely on her own ability to watch out for herself, but it'd probably be a good idea to have backup. That's the whole point of a group, to make sure you have the strength of others to fall back on when you need it. "Um. And thanks."

[shri]

She relents then, as Beth does. Taking nothing less than a sigh of relief as she straightens herself up again. Clears her throat - what else.

A moment, she brings her hand up and brushes back Beth's hair momentarily in an attempt to neaten the girl up after their work. There's something - for all she doesn't seem so old, far too motherly to the gesture. "There are a few rules at least, you'll be forgiven most things for not knowing otherwise, she's not a harsh woman that way I noticed. But keep your eyes down. Unless invited to or instructed, don't speak out of turn, and never argue with them in public. With men especially. You are always at their leisure whilst you are in your company, it's important they believe that about you at all times, even if it's not true at all."

She looks, neat enough, for all they have nothing remotely appropriate. But at least with what she knew of Olivia so far. "If this works out well, she ought to accept you, and we can work at finding you something to defend yourself with more properly so you don't have to rely on her over much."

If she's about to say anything else, it's then that the guard comes back and clears his throat. Gruff and mildly resentful, and informs them, that they are allowed to be received, now.

[littlemissfutility]

Beth's mouth drops open as she takes in all these guidelines, which she realizes belatedly is probably also against the rules here. "Are you serious?"

Okay, she no longer sounds a thing like her sister. Maggie, who once ran a tractor over an ex-boyfriend's car without the slightest remorse, would never advise Beth to keep her eyes down and her mouth shut. It's a sudden, lonely feeling, like getting out of a warm bed on a cold morning.

But even if this isn't family at her side--and damn, it really isn't--she doesn't have better options at hand. There's no time to say anything else, unfortunately; when the guard comes back, it's obvious even to Beth that they probably should keep a countess waiting.

[truevor]

The guards do not tell Olivia who demanded an audience with her, but she doesn't need a name -- there's only one woman that comes to mind who would do so. Olivia stands as they usher Rani in, setting aside the letters from the district she'd been occupying herself with. The woman she knows gets a respectful incline of her head, but the girl behind her makes Olivia pause.

Whoever she is, she must be the reason for Rani's insistence on meeting. So Olivia takes her in with a sharp gaze but no demands of the girl or Rani as to what she's doing with her. Another outsider, that much is obvious, and the youngest one she's seen. It's strange to think of so many of them as being older than her, and some older than Piotr -- the Vorrutyer certainly is, and she can't pin Miles Illyan's age, and Rani only seems a few years older than she. But as that phrase goes: age is but a number. Perhaps not in the way the original speaker meant, but Olivia feels its within her rights to co-opt it.

"Rani," she says in greeting, eyes still on the other woman, "I take it that there is something you wish to discuss?"

[shri]

And like a mother scolding a wayward child, when Beth comes out with that, she's given a rather sharp look that she had best remember what she's been told.

She thanks the guard as they walk past - for all she's brusque she's never beyond appreciation either. These men worked hard, and were loyal, and she could never find fault with such things, even if for all she told Beth to do so, she had never lowered her gaze for anyone. Here's to hoping Beth following as she said, not as she did.

"Your grace, it is a pleasure as always." That isn't a falsehood, for all these things are so layered, she genuinely enjoys the other woman's company. "I did not mean to interrupt, it was just a matter of slight urgency." She clears her throat and turns, indicating to Beth behind her and in turn sweeps her hand up as an indication for the girl to step forward. "May I present to you Miss Elizabeth Greene, she is another of the.... Outsiders, like myself."

[littlemissfutility]

She dearly wishes she could answer that look with something substantial, but there's no time. They're standing before the countess, a sloe-eyed woman Beth's seen occasionally around the camp. Her dark curls bring Sonia to mind immediately, though she lacks Sonia's effusive friendliness.

Under normal circumstances, she'd offer to shake the countess' hand and say how nice it is to meet her--or, at least, say something. She knows perfectly well how to be polite, at least by the standards of home. But it sounds like Southern hospitality doesn't actually meet the standards she's been told to follow; what's just been described to her sounds much colder and more strict.

So Beth, who's tried to compromise by not looking directly at the countess' face but also not staring down at the floor, doesn't really know what's expected of her. She takes a step forward, because Rani kind of gestures to, but nobody's actually talked to her, just about her.

Never stopped you before, comes a thought. It sounds suspiciously like her sister, the memory of her no-nonsense voice no less clear for all the time they've spent apart. The rest of Beth's thoughts are in agreement, that if she doesn't know what Rani wants and doesn't like what Rani's suggested, she ought to do what she knows to be polite.

Her attention shifts to the countess' face, and she summons up a tentative smile for her. "Everybody calls me Beth." Please, please, please, don't call me Elizabeth. "I'm pleased to meet you." And then, recalling how Rani addressed the countess, "Your grace."

[truevor]

"Beth Greene, then," Olivia says with a bow of her head. It's not as deep as the one she gave Rani -- but it's respectful all the same. "A pleasure." Her voice is slightly accented, not the deep gutturals of the soldiers. There's a hint of flatness to it, akin to an American accent of old.

Olivia folds her hands together, lips pursing as she takes in the young woman standing in front of her. As the woman doesn't offer any further explanation for her presence, Olivia turns her attention back to Rani. "A matter of slight urgency? Is she in danger, somehow?" She hardly means to talk over Beth's head as an insult. Rani seems to have taken the girl in-hand, and therefore she appeals to who might be the authority on whatever matter it is.

[shri]

She casts another look at Beth - what a bad habit she had, she ought to just leave the girl be. Ought to leave well enough alone.

But that wouldn't be her, she knows as she takes her measure, eyes flat with something that turns the corner of her mouth down - old, frustrated, somewhere between both. Loathes this as necessary, but it is. The soft glimmer of gold that shifts as she turns her head back to the Countess that is stiff with it. "Of a kind, more in matters of reputation."

A sharp clear of her throat, a hand that sweeps as she gestures idly with it. "She spoke openly in the kitchens to me that she had no marriage, and no parents to arrange her one." Open, in front of other women, who'll talk to anyone else in the camp. It felt like a headache there at the front of her head. "It's an exposed position, for one young as she is." Which brings her to her request she supposes.

"I would ask that you consider taking her into your service, my lady." It's asking, as broadly as possible, nothing direct, a dance in circles that must never be pointed. She is below this woman in any way that matters, and she would keep to the rules. Just as she had said to Beth, at their leisure, and it was always worded to keep it so. "She tells me her family has been landed for well on 150 years, that she is efficient in knives, crossbows and firearms. Additionally, she sings ... very beautifully. She would be good company of an evening to you and perhaps your sister."

Squares her shoulders, turns back to Beth, and it's still old, still broaching. Hadn't exactly given Beth much to go on. "And if you want to, it's nothing I would force on you or you must accept."

[littlemissfutility]

The conversation continues around Beth, but that's nothing new; part of her suspects it might be best to let them forget about her and talk, at least to start. They speak the same language, one that Beth only barely understands. That much is made clear by the way Rani starts by bringing up the fact that Beth admitted that she wasn't married. It still doesn't seem like a big deal to her; sure, being here alone is a vulnerability, but she knows how to take care of herself. And once she gets a knife...

Then she'll make her own reputation. What anybody thinks, based on their conversation in the mess tent, won't matter.

Rani's attention shifts back in Beth's direction, just as Beth's trying to decide what kind of service the woman means. If they weren't all women, and if Rani didn't seem at least a little trustworthy, company of an evening would have her dander up and goodbyes on her lips. Lacking that context, it sounds like something old-fashioned and a little silly. What's she supposed to do, play cards with them? Sing?

She doesn't know, and she has presence of mind to realize that if this is the start of something awful--manipulation, killing, anything like the hospital--they aren't going to say so. But they might give her an idea of what would be expected of her, and that might be enough to help her decide just what kind of a deal she'd be making.

She searches for some way to answer Rani's assurance, uncomfortably cognizant of the fact that this conversation has so far been as formal as Rani warned. If she says the wrong thing, it might actually be a big deal.

"I..." She pauses for a moment, looking first at Rani and then at the countess. The vague feeling that she should answer Rani alone, rather than direct her words to them both, makes itself known. She has no idea if that's what's expected of her. "I guess it depends on what the countess needs me for."

[truevor]

It's an impressive list of qualifications, when told as such. Olivia listens impassively -- Rani need not sell the girl so hard, but she appreciates the effort to lay out her qualifications so thoroughly. As if the young woman was from a time and place where that was of no concern. So beyond her protection, were they to teach her how to play the game as they know it? It would be difficult, but not impossible.

If the girl should choose to accept, that is. "To take you on as a maid, a lady-in-waiting. It would provide you with some measure of security, as young and as unwed as you are. But more importantly, it would give you the chance to take up arms again, outside any of your other duties in the camp." She is no Vor woman, but Olivia knows that arming them is the easiest part, once Piotr comes around to it. Knives first, to set the others at ease.

[shri]

She falls quiet as Beth asks a sensible question. Good, be smart about it. Is all she can think. She doesn't know nobles, but she knows nobles. Vicious as they are, being on a different planet didn't change that wariness. Seems Beth might not know nobles, but she knew to worry.

Slides her eyes briefly to the Countess with a thankful little nod. Then back to carry on. "Whatever you do not know about the position, I can teach you. As I said, everything is about who is to be held accountable. Likewise, anything you do, the Countess will similarly be upheld to. The same applies to myself, for recommending you."

The power in this situation, worked many ways.

[littlemissfutility]

What Lakshmi says gives her pause, her mouth thinning as she tries to decide just how bad it'd be if held accountable ends up being...well, really held accountable. The last thing she wants is to have to choose between answering to them and screwing up their reputations. She's used to being part of a group. Having to worry about people judging the leader based on what she does--that's new. And it feels constraining.

But the countess said take up arms and it doesn't sound like she only means when you're told to. That strikes up hope in her chest.

"If I can have a knife," Beth says slowly, "like...all the time. Not just on perimeter scouting, or...or whatever else they want me to do. Then I'm in."

It's what she wants more than anything, and that makes laying her cards on the table more difficult. But there's only one way to get what she wants, in this situation, and that's asking.

[truevor]

Olivia presumes that the eagerness with which Beth agrees to it has more to do with how little she knows of the system that she'll become a part of than her desire to hold a weapon. "It is a balance," she explains, gesturing with one hand. "You'll carry a knife, but you'll be in my service. Follow my orders, protect me. In turn, I protect you -- as will Rani. If either of us fail, then it all fails.

"Are you willing to agree to such a thing so readily? It is not a light undertaking, however simple it seems. And I will not force you into it."

Not here, and not now. It is the least she can do for the people who haven't had a choice when it comes to ending up on Barrayar.

[shri]

She nods in agreement to her. Letting the Countess speak, letting Beth make up her mind of herself. A mind keen to weapons, she smiles however slightly to herself in a flicker she smothers down.

She liked Beth, clever girl that she was. For all she looked like petals and glass and sung like a bird on a wire. Thought her the good victorian lady, to look at her. Sweet in her tower, repulsed by the notion of violence. But she'd gotten those scratches on her brow for good reason, it seemed, and it wasn't laying down to other people's cruelties.

But the Countess was right, she needed to know. "These sort of games, men and women both lose their lives over. I know that you are American and they have done away with much of it, but you should know it can cost you everything as well."

[littlemissfutility]

"What do I have to lose?" Rani's made clear that reputation's about all anybody sees in her here, at least on first glance. She's far from home, far from family and friends--she doesn't have anything of her own here except bloodstained clothes. Her life is the only thing that's actually important, and it still seems ridiculous that anyone would die over the who's-who of social circles.

Besides, I'll have a knife.

The question isn't exactly a yes, though, she realizes. There's one more thing lurking in her thoughts, demanding to be asked. It's Dawn waiting in the corners of her mind, giving her advice about respect and power. This is the only other thing that matters. "What happens if I change my mind?"

[truevor]

"Does your life matter so little that swearing it away in an instant is so inconsequential?" Olivia frowns, tapping a finger against the back of her other hand. "I will not take on anyone who view death as a release from this world. What good is a guard who would rather die than fight? It is useful as a final victory, when all has already been lost, but not a quality I am looking for in anyone who would pledge themselves to me." She knows her fate should the Cetagandans take her husband, threaten to take her -- she would rather die by her own hand and rob them of the satisfaction of her capture. They will not use her, and she will not submit to them.

As for the matter of Beth's question, well. "Then you are not beholden to me, and I to you. You leave the knife and go your own way. On Barrayar it is a custom to consider taking oaths and swearing loyalty as an unbreakable contract. But you are not of this planet." Yet Olivia would approach it with the same level of seriousness, of dedication. It wouldn't work, otherwise.