barrayarmods: (Default)
For Barrayar mods ([personal profile] barrayarmods) wrote in [community profile] forbarrayar2017-02-02 08:00 pm

[ february i log ]

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


Quick links:
Barrayar: Barrayaran camp / Missions
Cetaganda: Cetagandan 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.

barrayar
The cold snap hits the guerrilla camp hard, especially with a handful of new people to care for. On the 1st, a few people from Riverfall Village come to the camp, Village Speaker Yakiv Gura among them, who seems to have a rapport with Piotr. They bring extra supplies with them, such as clothing, heavy wool blankets and bedrolls, as well as extra firewood to help fend off the cold. The new outsiders are accommodated the best they can -- they're all provided bedrolls and any extra clothing they (probably) need -- but the Barrayarans don't have an extra tent to spare, so that means all twelve outsiders are force to share a tent that ordinarily sleeps ten. On the plus side, it should provide some warmth. The cold is

A young boy comes in tow of the villagers; Speaker Gura tells Piotr that the boy turned up a week ago and insisted on helping them with the supply haul, despite his small size. He's clearly Barrayaran, and looks as though he might have been living on hisown for a while. He doesn't speak mcuh, and when asked his name, will only give it as Negri -- first or last, no one's sure, but the boy doesn't seem easily fazed. Piotr tells the villagers he has no room in his camp for lost children, but somehow the day after the villagers leave, Negri turns up in camp again. He's curious, but quiet and unobtrusive, wherever he is in camp. He's a very good listener…even when you might not want him to be.



On the 3rd, the Barrayarans and outsiders awake to discover that the part of the cave where they've kept the majority of their food supply has collapsed, either blocking their access to the cache or destroying it entirely. It's impossible to tell. The villagers can't spare much more than they already have been -- certainly not enough to feed the hundred and fifty-odd soldiers in the camp -- so while they try to find out a way to recoup their food supply, they have no choice but to slaughter their own horses for food. Food will be heavily rationed, but fairly -- the outsiders receive no less than the rest. The prisoners, on the other hand, get nothing. There probably isn't enough wild game in the area to sustain the camp, but Piotr sends out hunting parties, and when they get wind of a Cetagandan supply drop on its way, they organize a raid on the supply lines.

camp
With temperatures well below freezing, no food, and excruciatingly little in the way of advantage against the Cetagandans after their last infiltration attempt, morale is beginning to drop. Piotr and Olivia remain bastions of perseverance as always, but Sonia is beginning to buckle and wilt as the days go on. The soldiers do their best to entertain themselves and keep morale up, but all they've got are maple mead, and old card and dice games. They could use some new forms of entertainment. Maybe a snowball fight might get the blood moving -- assuming you can stand the wind chill. Thankfully, there's no shortage of warm clothes and wool scarves.

The cave isn't big enough to simply move all of camp inside, but the sickbay and mess tents are moved where it's a little warmer and out of the harsh wind. It's generally crowded with off-duty soldiers despite the food shortage, because no one wants to be out in the cold right now. Things get a little better after the mostly successful raids, but food is still heavily rationed.



missions
The hunting parties are only moderately successful; there isn't much wild game out there right now, and while the soldiers fare alright, the outsiders' hunting party fails miserably. The raiding parties yield a little more in the way of relief, enough now that they don't have to keep eating horse meat, but Pearl was captured by enemy forces in the chaos.

Maine helps Piotr with a very successful final interrogation of ghem-Miko, the Cetagandan scientist taken prisoner last month. He reveals that the Cetagandans have been studying the locations where exotics appeared, as it seems to be linked to wormhole technology, and that the Cetagandans are planning on building a device to control it. They have the technology, they're almost sure, but it's a puzzle they haven't solved yet. Ghem-Miko doesn't live long past his interrogation -- public execution by decapitation is his sentence, and when it's done, a few soldiers carry off his body and severed head.

Piotr's interrogation of Duv Galeni goes about as well but, blessedly, less fatally. It becomes known that Duv is from Komarr, the planet that sold Barrayar out to the Cetagandans, and that Duv Galeni is really David Galen, a relative of a few Counselors in the head of Komarran government. However, he's able to successfully convince Piotr that he isn't allied with the Cetagandans, and after a few days of agony, Duv is granted parole at Piotr's discretion.

On the evening of the 15th, Maine, Beth and Byerly inadvertently catch Vorhalas in the act of trying to sabotage what little of their food supply they've been able to recoup. He tries both fight and flight, but the three outsiders are able to take him down and drag him to Piotr's doorstep. It quickly becomes apparent that Vorhalas was responsible for the cave-in earlier in the month. Piotr is both furious and victorious; he now has a lead on the traitor conspiracy among his men, and his esteem of Beth, Maine and Byerly has gone up considerably for their part. Vorhalas is up next in the interrogation chair, and this one won't be pretty.

The unabridged event writeup is here.

cetaganda
The recent supply drop not only provides resources for the base and for distribution to their other outposts, but also brings fresh species for transplant into the gardens at the Grow Labs. The arrival of a handful of new exotics gives rise to a fresh wave of buzzing curiosity around the base. All of the new exotics are given thorough physicals, just as the first wave were, and provided with fatigues and anything else they might need. They make an even dozen now, their bunk at capacity. The Cetagandans are beginning to become accustomed to having the exotics on base, some of them even forward enough with their curiosity to be friendly. Darkstalker now has a small following of ghem lady scientists who regularly feature him as a subject in their art.

New arrivals will be processed as the first were -- once everyone has been whisked out of the extreme cold, everyone is subject to a thorough physical, including a number of scans that may or may not seem totally arcane to you. Other than a blood sample, nothing they're doing is at all invasive. Lady Diya d'Zefyst, while not a physician, is present at all physicals. She is easily notable not only for her striking, almost ethereal beauty as is typical of the haut, but, as the only haut on base, she is easily distinguishable by her lack of facepaint.

While the exotics still have freedom of movement around the base, the recent extreme temperatures have their hosts diplomatically suggesting they travel as much as possible, they are provided cold weather wear, as the mess hall and medbay are in separate buildings from the barracks. Weather warning aside, they encourage the exotics to take advantage of the non-restricted recreational facilities -- exercise rooms, art rooms, the lush gardens in the Grow Labs -- and will satisfy any reasonable curiosities.

base
In an effort to make the exotics feel more at home, the Cetagandans decide to put on the sort of function they might for visiting diplomats, full of art of all sorts, to show that they're just as willing to share their culture with the exotics as they're asking the exotics to share with them. The function is hosted on the evening of the 7th in an annex to the Grow Labs apparently meant for this express purpose, as it shows off the most beautiful and elegant of the Grow Labs' specimens, and acts as a live arboretum in and of itself, and quite vibrantly beautiful.



If there's one thing the Cetagandans are good at (besides art, and language, and genetics) it's throwing a good party. Functions like this are always an opportunity for Cetagandans to try and socially one-up one another; everyone is in their most fashionable dress in the latest fashions they manage to keep off-planet, or at least a dress uniform, wearing fanciful scents and vibrant facepaint they might not otherwise on the job. For the artistically inclined ghem (read: a lot of them), this is the chance to show off their artistic endeavors as well -- large sculptures of unusual and improbable materials, walkable installations meant to engage every sense, and of course the living art engineered by the ghem ladies, ranging from relatively simple and tame pieces such as koi fish patterned with clan insignia or black roses and blue orchids, to complex combinations of non-human DNA to create some genetic sculpture. There is, of course, food and drink -- in the usual flagrant Cetagandan style, although the hors d'oeuvres and drinks are even more ecletic than the usual mess hall fare. It seems as though the Cetagandan passion for genetic art extends even into the culinary realm.

At the center of the party is a particular kind of art installation called a discernment garden. Housed in a beautiful, improbably architectural tent, the discernment garden consists of a series of rooms, each meant to test the refinement of the senses -- not unlike a varietal wine tasting. Each room is dedicated to a single sense, inviting participants to judge a collection of samples and suss out the differences, or match tastes and smells and textures to labels; the end of the garden presents its visitors with a final art piece incorporating all five senses, as a final test of one's refinement. Some of the ghem might (a bit wryly) confess that this is actually more of an education tool used for Cetagandan children, but this is meant as a gesture of good will toward the exotics.



missions
On the evenings of the 6th and the 8th, some of the exotics do a little sneaking around, and not for the first time. York lends Kaidan his access badge to the R&D Lab on the 6th and Kaidan, along with Sans and Symmetra, stumble onto a whole lot of wormhole data and schematics to construct a device capable of controlling the phenomena of the exotics' appearance. On the 8th, Deanna and Natasha sneak around to the tactical buildings and overhear some marital discord between Zahal and Diya, and a troubling glimpse at their diverging plans.

On the evening of the 13th, Jasper, York and Daryl are all in the medbay when a biocontainment breach sends it into automatic lockdown, trapping them inside. They overhear Diya arguing with one of her subordinates over unauthorized use of ba genetic material, whatever that is.

The unabridged event writeup is here.
skelepun: (Default)

Escape Attempt

[personal profile] skelepun 2017-02-03 07:12 pm (UTC)(link)
[In terms of awkwardness, this had to rank somewhere between seeing a stranger cry and walking in on a family member mid-coitus.

Frozen in place, day old cucumber sandwich still half-masticated in his mouth, it takes Sans a little under four seconds to assess the situation. The girl was the Barrayar one -- the prisoner. The guard wasn't (isn't) going to be giving his side of the story any time soon. The look in her eyes says leave with no addendums, caveats, or fineprint. He should really get outta here.

He doesn't get outta here. If anything, he relaxes.]


Y'know. [He begins, around a mouthful of food.] I dunno if they're gonna be into you doing that.
protocol: (► mr president i want a man from you)

[personal profile] protocol 2017-02-03 07:16 pm (UTC)(link)
Wash isn't sure about this. At all.

Interrogation. Not something he's unfamiliar with by far on either end of the equation, but the word alone brings back memories that make the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, the Counselor sitting across from him with his fingers laced together, calmly staring back at him, his words burrowing into his mind. His own hand wrapped around a pistol, staring those poor sim troopers right in the eyes, fucking shooting one of them down and feeling only the slightest, barest twinge of guilt. Wash isn't about to judge the Cetagandans and how just their war might be, but this is war and even with everything he's been through and everything he's done, there's still little he wouldn't do if he knew it could get him information he needed.

Still. He wants to see how far they might go. He wants to hear about the Barrayans from someone other than a Cetagandan. The more he knows, especially about how they hold their prisoners, the more they'd be able to help -- and especially this woman, the one that'd fought with Maine, that had helped to buy him time to escape. He needs to help her, and for that, he needs to know as much as he can. He hopes, vaguely, that maybe having someone around that she would know in some way was on her side might help her in some way, but. That's probably naive.

The description of fast-penta makes him uneasy, too, makes a different memory surface to mind -- from the first time he had a sit-down with a counselor from school, you can tell me anything, David, all the times Freelancer asked him about Epsilon, how are you, Washington, do you remember, Washington. An irresistible, truth-telling drug. His eyes flick down to the bottle, to the syringe.

"No questions." He looks briefly over at the other exotic he'd been invited here with -- the dragon. Wash has seen them around but hasn't approached them, because well, that's a damned dragon, wondering briefly if human drugs would even work on a dragon before looking back to Zahal. "It sounds --" -- fucking terrifying, but there's nothing in Wash's tone that betrays that, he's well practiced -- "Effective. Efficient."

Almost elegant, even. Wash can honestly admire that, and god knows that if he'd ever had access to fast-penta there are plenty of times in his life he would've made use of it.
skelepun: (Default)

[personal profile] skelepun 2017-02-03 07:16 pm (UTC)(link)
"Is it obvious?" Sans asks, leaning hard into the disdain. If anything, he seems energized by it. It's the most pleased he's been since being thrust into a strange new world, with a strange new people, and a strange new body. His grin is electric -- though not enough to distract from the grisly display that is his face.

"Well, y'know how it is with us humans. Too tough for our own good, right?"

Which, Sans assumes, is definitely, definitely a thing a human might say.
durango: (do you think that's wise?)

[personal profile] durango 2017-02-03 07:57 pm (UTC)(link)
"Nothing's broken, is it?" Not that she knows what to do in that case other than to march him back to sickbay.
skelepun: (Default)

[personal profile] skelepun 2017-02-03 08:28 pm (UTC)(link)
Something about the question makes Sans laugh, though not for reasons clear even to himself.

"Depends on what you mean by broken." He flicks at his own nose, wincing at the uncomfortable sensation of physical pain. Monsters could hurt, of course, and did so often. Still, there was something tangible and uncomfortable present about flesh wounds. Hefting himself down into one of the beds, he makes a halfhearted attempt at cleaning his face with the sleeve of his jacket. "Lost a fight earlier."
natalia_vdova: (surprise)

A!

[personal profile] natalia_vdova 2017-02-03 08:29 pm (UTC)(link)
Natasha is cooperative as they put her through the exam, the almost routine nature of her behavior indicating someone who's been through similar exams in no small number. The most troubling part of the tests for her is honestly the fact that her reflexes feel slower and that her senses don't feel as sharp, like they've somehow been muffled. She's not sure if it's the fault of however she arrived here, or something having to do with this planet, but she affects a mask of pleasant gratitude through her interactions with the staff.

There is of course the potential for the medical exams to be a forerunner for things more nefarious in nature, but so far everything they've done has been routine and largely non-invasive, so she doesn't see the reason to protest. Yet.

Instead, she's gathering information, watching how the medtechs interact with each other, and especially the woman without the facepaint. She almost reminds her of Melinda May, except taken to some sort of superlative perfection. But the right angle, the line of her cheekbones makes her think of the SHIELD agent she'd been friends with back when things still made sense.

She watches Diya, but not hawkishly; a quiet observation, not focused enough to make Natasha's scrutiny overly obvious, but still there for those sharp enough to catch it. And then the woman is addressing the redhead, and the questions start. Normally, Natasha lies through her teeth with a practiced normalcy and answers that make sense to the rules of peoples' worldview.

But she's out of her depth, and she hates not knowing the right answers. How much can their equipment pick up, what is their normal? It's a gamble on whether or not lies or truth will better serve her. She hates playing blind, but the low level agitation she's feeling doesn't touch her blue eyes or the pleasant smile. "Seventy-six," she answers the question about her age, watching. Easy enough to change tacks and clarify it's the year she was born -- not that she assumes similar calendars based on what pieces she's picked up so far.
how_high: (pic#10987037)

[personal profile] how_high 2017-02-03 09:28 pm (UTC)(link)
Negri gazes back at William, unblinking. If the boy's intimidated by adults, he sure as hell doesn't show it.

"I'm not hiding," he says plainly.
truevor: (pic#10925366)

horses. ish. lmk if this works!

[personal profile] truevor 2017-02-03 09:43 pm (UTC)(link)
( Olivia waits until Illyan is done instructing those more wary around the horses, watching from where she's taking care of her own mount. He's familiar around the animals, which seems at odds with a presumed life spent on ships. Who would have taken the time to teach him?

But over the month he's proven himself to be capable and earnest in his desire to aid Barrayar, regardless of the way Barrayar has treated him. It's admirable, and so it's with a hint of a smile that she address him.
)

I was not aware that you possessed any skill with horses, Illyan.

( For once, she has to look up at him. Which, she supposes, might have helped with his desire to learn to ride. )
truevor: (pic#10925383)

that's princess and countess olivia vorkosigan to you, buddy.

[personal profile] truevor 2017-02-03 10:05 pm (UTC)(link)
( Very good, Byerly. Olivia doesn't wait to answer him before she's leading him away -- back towards the center of the camp. If she is going to stab him, it will at least be a public stabbing. )

I only wish to talk to you about a certain... mutual acquaintance. That is all.
durango: (serious)

Team Sigma

[personal profile] durango 2017-02-03 10:07 pm (UTC)(link)
Now that Deanna has been on Barrayar for a week and had some time to learn the base, it's time for a little snooping. Though she's been cooperative with them thus far, she feels more like an exhibit than a guest, and she certainly doesn't trust them. So the night after the party, she sneaks out of the barracks, hoping none of the others will hear her leave their shared room.
vorrutyer: (Backpfeifengesicht)

how about Olly

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-02-03 10:11 pm (UTC)(link)
[ A public stabbing. Ah, a true Vor lady indeed. ]

I should be pleased to. Quite pleased to, actually. I do love discussing friends. Which one?
komarran: (nevermind still awful)

[personal profile] komarran 2017-02-03 10:12 pm (UTC)(link)
[ There's a long moment where he doesn't move. Surely he's not hearing Miles of all people, rushing toward him when he's trying to rest. A slow-opening of his eyes revealed that yes, it was the other man and as much as he wants to be annoyed, he can't deny the relief he feels at a familiar face. ]

Miles, [ he answers as he moves carefully to sit up. He can feel the aches acutely and he's grateful Miles is seeing him after he's cleaned up rather than before. They'd already had a similar meeting in the past and once had been more than enough. ]

I trust your coming back here went more pleasantly.
dendarii: (frakkingcylon 104)

[personal profile] dendarii 2017-02-03 10:29 pm (UTC)(link)
[ A faint snort. He can't argue with that train of thought, really. Half the soldiers here probably will respect him more as a result. ]

You're the one upset for me coming back bleeding. Almost like you care.

[ Said rather softly as he looks down at the coat he's been wrapped in. Clearly no caring at all here, no. ]
dendarii: (frakkingcylon 192)

[personal profile] dendarii 2017-02-03 10:30 pm (UTC)(link)
[ The stallion snuffles at her, his great velvety nose tickling her palm.

As for Miles, well ... he's trying to picture Carolina's comment. And failing. ]


I - er - a mongoose? A giant one?
dendarii: (cocky lil bastard)

TOTALLY

[personal profile] dendarii 2017-02-03 10:33 pm (UTC)(link)
[ It sure is a bonus, that's for sure. Miles would be mad for horses regardless, but ... he can't help but grin a bit as he looks down at her.

(Should he be hiding this? Does it fit with his story? Eh ... he'll manage something.) ]


I've ridden since I was very small. Some old Vor had a stable not too far from where I grew up. I broke into the stables, I was so mad to ride. And instead of flaying me alive, the old man was impressed.
dendarii: (bg054)

[personal profile] dendarii 2017-02-03 10:45 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Miles flinches at both the comment and the clear evidence of Duv's pain. God. He's not going to get over this guilt any time soon, that's for sure. ]

Infinitely more pleasantly. Yes. [ And then, more softly: ] I'm sorry, Duv.
vorrutyer: (Default)

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-02-03 10:52 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Sourly: ]

Shut up, Vorkosigan.
dendarii: (support)

[personal profile] dendarii 2017-02-03 10:53 pm (UTC)(link)
Ilyan, remember.

[ He gently rests his head back. ]

... Thank you.
vorrutyer: (explaining everything (badly))

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-02-03 10:56 pm (UTC)(link)
Is shut up a difficult phrase for you right now? I know your brain must be quite scrambled, but it's only two words.
dendarii: (welp)

[personal profile] dendarii 2017-02-03 11:02 pm (UTC)(link)
So's "thank you." Why do you hate my gratitude?
vorrutyer: (shaaaahhhhts)

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-02-03 11:05 pm (UTC)(link)
[ He purses his lips - but answers, at least, relatively honestly. ]

I don't want it. Or need it. I don't like sentimentality. And you're so...sincere. All the time. It makes my skin itch. And it's not like this is some remarkable feat, is it, keeping you from bashing your brains out.
Edited 2017-02-03 23:06 (UTC)
dendarii: (cunning plan)

[personal profile] dendarii 2017-02-03 11:07 pm (UTC)(link)
Not everyone is clever enough to realize I want them to punch me in the face. Surprisingly enough.
natalia_vdova: (Liar's Eyes)

Barracks!

[personal profile] natalia_vdova 2017-02-03 11:08 pm (UTC)(link)
[Natasha's working on settling in. She spends a considerable amount of her time appreciating the art, the manner of dress of their hosts, doing what she can to absorb the slivers of culture and draw what conclusions she can of the people whose lives her own has been entwined with, one way or another. She dislikes the term exotics, but she smiles pleasantly enough at the Cetagandans regardless. She understands that to these people they are just that -- strange people from disparate worlds landed in the middle of their war. Of course she's heard the rhetoric before, and it doesn't exactly endear her to their cause, but she's fought worse battles.

And they're not even asking that of them. Part of her wishes they were, just because combat, fighting is an easy focus. But she's fought other peoples' wars before. She keeps the bodysuit she'd been wearing when she'd arrived here, but mostly she wears the clothes that have been provided. They're comfortable enough, and her goal is to find a way to fit in, to extract alliances and power and whatever else she can from the situation.

In theory she wants to go back. But she'd spent the better part of a year chasing the answer to where she belonged now, and being displaced from her world somehow didn't make the answer to that any more apparent. This at least is a new puzzle. Natasha was heading to the barracks, planning to change, maybe throw some punches around in the gym for a while, but she pauses when she sees Satya. She'd seen her around, of course, thinks they'd arrived on that same night, but they haven't spoken.

Natasha hasn't spoken to many of the others yet, mostly content to observe as she tries to put together where they belong in the scheme of things. They're all pieces- admittedly potentially useful ones- but she's still trying to work out the layout of the board and is trying to avoid committing to an angle until then.

She recognizes the pose as she steps inside, and is careful to let the door shut quietly behind her because of it. It's all but impossible to exist in modern America- let alone Washington, DC- without being able to recognize yoga, and Natasha had spent time in India which had given her a different lense on the practice, even if she still doesn't know much of it herself outside of the breathing exercises. She walks all but silently as she moves around the room, watching her curiously.

She can't help thinking that Tony would have been interested in her arm. Wanted to know what it was made of, how much she could lift with it, reaction delay and a hundred other things. At the end he would have insisted he could improve it, whether she wanted him to or not. Men. But she's not Tony, thankfully, and she waits until there's a lull before she raises her voice. Old adages about honey and vinegar; she's polite to everyone who deserves it while she draws her lines.]


How long have you been practicing?
vorrutyer: (annoyed and/or stressed)

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-02-03 11:16 pm (UTC)(link)
Then they must be dull sticks indeed. I hear nothing else but that request when you speak.
dendarii: (solpadeine106)

[personal profile] dendarii 2017-02-03 11:18 pm (UTC)(link)
I've picked the right man to pick fights with, then.