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.
komarran: (neutral but a cute neutral)

[personal profile] komarran 2017-02-26 07:30 pm (UTC)(link)
Similar to the little the Cetagandans entrusted them to do then.

"I thought as much. I saw a few that seemed out of place in the normal rank-and-file during the raid." Miles and his partner in crime primarily though it was hard to miss Miles wherever he went. "Have you taken to scouting?"
natalia_vdova: (Red Dress Red Lips)

party dancing!

[personal profile] natalia_vdova 2017-02-26 09:30 pm (UTC)(link)
Natasha is a bit unnerved by her outfit herself, though it's hard to tell unless you're particularly perceptive. She's dressed in layers upon layers of thin silk robes, from scarlet red at the inside to a rose pattern printed in black on black at the outside. Even the scents they adorned her with are touched with roses and for her, black roses have meaning. Black roses and ribbons. But there's no way that they could know that, or so she keeps reminding herself.

She knows she shouldn't be drinking, because she has never in her life been able to get drunk, so she can only imagine how it will effect her. But, there's a glass in her hand regardless, even if thus-far she's done little more than pretend to sip at it. On the whole, though, she seems happier, like she's willing to pick up the idea of a party and run with it. The truth is something a little more cagey; something about playing to expectations and smiling because people are watching.

Either way, she checks in with the people she knows, which eventually means she wanders over to York. "Someone cleans up nice. Though I think you're more handsome without the facepaint," she admits. But, well, Natasha's always liked scars. A lesson they'd taught her as a child in the Red Room: cherish your scars because they meant that you lived.
infailtration: (pic#10657609)

[personal profile] infailtration 2017-02-26 10:11 pm (UTC)(link)
York smiles at Natasha when she approaches, thinking she looks lovely even if the robes don't quite suit her somehow. Most of the exotics look just slightly uncomfortable, slightly out of place, and while she seems to be at ease he can tell she's not. It's in the way she holds her shoulders up too-straight, the way she tips her glass but doesn't really drink it. When she steps into range he reaches out and touches her elbow lightly in greeting.

And then he looks surprised, when she calls him handsome. He's self-conscious about the facial scar, more than he's willing to admit, especially since getting here and having the Cetagandans judge him as inferior for it. "...thanks. That means a lot, actually."

Another sip of his drink -- he's two in and starting to feel decidedly loose -- and he glances towards the bustle of the party. "Not what I would have expected, in a war zone."
vorbratta: (why not show 'em your stuff)

[personal profile] vorbratta 2017-02-27 12:07 am (UTC)(link)
Her eyebrows lift slightly. "Oh? I wasn't under the impression your relationship was, ah...a little turbulent."
terrifyingrenegade: (That is quite queer)

[personal profile] terrifyingrenegade 2017-02-27 01:24 am (UTC)(link)
"Calcite and pyrite?" Pearl repeats, brows knitting. She shakes her head. "How peculiar.... You know I really have to question their scientific method on this one," she sighs, folding her arms. "It sounds to me like they only seem to have a vague theory based off of very minimal amounts of data. That sort of work would hardly stand up under peer review..."

In a way, it's almost not like she's talking to Lapis anymore as she rambles about this? She's just kind of thinking out loud.
mirrortide: (014)

[personal profile] mirrortide 2017-02-27 01:26 am (UTC)(link)
"Look, I don't know. This sort of stuff isn't exactly my forte, you know." Lapis Lazuli's like her have more important things to do than science. Like rearrange the faces of planets for Homeworld Habitation.
terrifyingrenegade: (the most intense blush)

[personal profile] terrifyingrenegade 2017-02-27 01:48 am (UTC)(link)
"Right. Sorry," says Pearl; she lightly scratches the side of her face, mildly embarrassed. "It's just if they're supposed to be working on some kind of wormhole device to get us home... I just hope they can be trusted."
mirrortide: (074)

[personal profile] mirrortide 2017-02-27 01:53 am (UTC)(link)
"It's not like we really have any other choice. And I'd throw my lot in with them before the group you came from. Sounds pretty rough over there, honestly."
komarran: (oh for fuck's sake)

[personal profile] komarran 2017-02-27 02:27 am (UTC)(link)
"We are speaking of the same Miles Illyan?" Because Duv can't imagine any relationship Miles has not having some turbulence if not more.
durango: (laugh)

[personal profile] durango 2017-02-27 03:06 am (UTC)(link)
She laughs. "Well you're in luck: if you're going crazy, then you've got a psychologist right on hand here. But I don't think you are. It makes sense really. If your scientists were frustrated in the efforts to construct an effective warp drive or discover reliable wormhole travel, you'd naturally look for other options, where as people in my world or this wouldn't necessarily be prompted to do so." Not that there isn't other research out there, particularly in trying to understand the Borg's slipstream technology, but it's not a driving force like it might be elsewhere.
durango: (do you think that's wise?)

[personal profile] durango 2017-02-27 03:36 am (UTC)(link)
Be that as it may, Deanna is hardly hailing from a small, uninfluential region of space herself. The Federation is hard to intimidate, especially in regards to something like this.

"The legislature would ultimately have to make that decision."

Which would involve a lot of arguing, and ambassadors and scientists investigating the situation... and of course, the truth is, though she claims powerlessness, Deanna's word would influence a great deal, if she were to return to the Federation with knowledge of the Cetagandans. And that's all assuming the immediate reaction wouldn't be to shut down whatever the hell this is that created a rift between parallel universes in the first place. Nothing good ever comes of that.
Edited 2017-02-27 03:37 (UTC)
symmetricks: (pic#10950171)

[personal profile] symmetricks 2017-02-27 04:11 am (UTC)(link)
"Hm."

She considers for a moment, putting what she's learned to use as she lets her eyes take him in, head to heel, with a considering look. "Your fabric has a little more weight than the others. There's sturdiness there, but a certain grace as well. A neutral palette of colors in an earthier hue, for a more grounded personality. As for the pattern of paint..."

Her gaze lingers on his bad eye, the way the silver seems to blend away the milky color, as though it were simply a stray beam of light catching across. The corner of her lip curls upwards faintly.

"It has nothing to do with the Cetagandans, but it brings to mind a tradition I've heard of in Japan. They use gold, but the effect is still evocative."
symmetricks: (pic#11019134)

[personal profile] symmetricks 2017-02-27 04:15 am (UTC)(link)
"It does. Breathing improves the intake of oxygen, and that is vital to maintaining healthy function. It also works to calm the mind. If you are focused on your breath, your mind ceases to wander. And like all other parts of the body, it needs rest and rejuvenation."

She's pleased, quietly, to have so attentive a student.

"Try it ten times. Focus on nothing but the breath, in and out. See if it helps."
symmetricks: (pic#10948812)

[personal profile] symmetricks 2017-02-27 04:19 am (UTC)(link)
"This is foolish. But if it will prove my point, so be it."

At least someone will be keeping an eye on him in the meanwhile. That's better than one of them traipsing about causing trouble, and the Cetagandans thinking the lot of them completely ungrateful for their hospitality.

One hand gestures onward. By all means. This is your one opportunity Kaidan, and she's watching you.
symmetricks: (pic#11019141)

[personal profile] symmetricks 2017-02-27 04:23 am (UTC)(link)
And you sound as if you don't believe in much, yourself.

[ A cynic. Not surprising, in truth, if disappointing. But given time, surely he'll come around.

She gestures to the art that surrounds them in the meanwhile. ]


I see no reason to doubt them. They are a culture that values the advancement of beauty, art, and the quality of life. I cannot believe such a people would seek unnecessary destruction, when there is much that both stand to gain. It is only a pity that peace must only come after such brutality.
natalia_vdova: (Unimpressed)

and then I have just sucked this week guh

[personal profile] natalia_vdova 2017-02-27 11:42 am (UTC)(link)
[She picks up on the twitch of his lips, and she understands it. There's no insult to it, more just understanding. That he knows the truth of it as well as she does, just how dangerous those sorts of people are. What the results look like. Maybe they do change the world, but they never stop to ask if it's for the better, they never ponder the cost and the fallout and the loss. It's never those grand men of vision that are asked to sacrifice, is it?

Really, in understanding how little he knows about her, that she shared only what she could afford to lose, Wash maybe knew her better than anyone aside from Clint or a man that had long since forgotten her. She had her friends back home, of course, but each of them got a different facet of her, a version of Natasha Romanoff that was part truth and part lies. She told Steve as much, which was maybe her biggest confession, but at the end she wasn't sure he understood. That she was lying to him, too.

Maybe it's why she likes him, why she gives him as much as she does -- because unlike people like Steve and Tony she can believe that he'll get it when it's too much. She doesn't think he'll push, desperate for answers because men like them need to know the full story, like it's theirs to ask for. It never is.

She nods as he answers, and there's a glint, a tilt of her head. It's non-specific, but enough that it seems like she might not be alone, the only one stripped of what she had been. She's not sure if that makes her feel worse or better about it, but she digests the thought, and when she catches his expression she can feel the question. She considers her words for a moment -- it's not exactly a secret, she told Diya more or less as much when they put her through the medical tests. And her trust for Diya is pretty much nonexistent.]


The brass had a saying.. one agent in the right place, at the right time, with the right skills was better than an entire army. The program I was part of involved biochemical alterations.

[She flexes her fingers and there's a shrug of her shoulder, a twitch of her lips that's almost more rueful than anything. Wash is sharp, she figures he can pick up on the pieces, on what it is that she's lost. It's more than the routine that drags her here time and again, no matter the hour.]
protocol: (► ladderpoints is now upon us)

[personal profile] protocol 2017-02-27 12:24 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Find him an idealistic soldier and he'll show you a soldier who's never really been to war. It's awfully hard to be anything but cynical when you've been at the front. ]

It seems to me that they're a culture that values art and beauty, but also precision. Efficiency. Control. [ One dark spot, when they control the rest of the planet. What would that matter so much? Wash knows if it were up to him, he'd be rooting out the resistance, too, making sure they had no chance to strike back, that they'd be pulled out from the root -- but that's because he'd be viewing it as a military man. As someone who thought of the game as an issue of control, than about helping. ] It's hard to say what their core motivations might be.

Have you been outside of the base?
infailtration: custom art by <user name="reikofanel">, PLEASE DO NOT TAKE (york (13))

[personal profile] infailtration 2017-02-27 04:06 pm (UTC)(link)
[ York crosses his arms, giving Natasha a long look before answering. Can he trust her? ]

I'm grateful they saved us instead of leaving us to die or executing us -- that's what my outfit would have done finding strangers close to the base -- but I don't like them and I don't trust them. I don't know what they want from us or what's going on behind the doors in R&D, and their propaganda pisses me off.
infailtration: custom art by <user name="thebutt">, PLEASE DO NOT TAKE (5-4)

[personal profile] infailtration 2017-02-27 04:20 pm (UTC)(link)
"It means you've never commented on my sex life before. Or yours." Or the lack thereof. York shifts his legs so Wash has a bit more room to stretch out if he likes, still grinning at his friend.

"No embarrassing personal questions, but I don't want to ruin this mood, either. It's good to see you smile again."
infailtration: (2519159)

[personal profile] infailtration 2017-02-27 04:29 pm (UTC)(link)
I wasn't -- it sounds like you guys got all the payback there is to be had. Besides, why waste whatever time I have left?

[ He's still and quiet for a moment, still holding on to Wash, biting at his tongue to keep from asking. But... ]

Do you know how much longer I've got?
protocol: (► recreation and forestry)

[personal profile] protocol 2017-02-27 06:55 pm (UTC)(link)
Wow there is no lack thereof, York, he's fine, okay.

Wash is still smiling, but whether or not York meant to ruin the mood, there's a shift in it, a difference in the tone, the mood. A little sad. Times have changed, it's been so many years. He would've rather that York or anyone else never needed to know him as anyone else other than the ever-bumbling rookie.

"Things change."
infailtration: (pic#10119111)

[personal profile] infailtration 2017-02-27 06:59 pm (UTC)(link)
He meant his own, okay, it's not like Carolina was actually reciprocating.

"So do people," he looks thoughtful for a moment, then waves his hand. "They can keep changing, though, things can get better." For Wash, anyway.
protocol: (► so go home in a six pack up yours)

[personal profile] protocol 2017-02-27 07:11 pm (UTC)(link)
Just looking at him for a moment, and then smiling, shaking his head, leaning back slightly and tipping his head towards the ceiling.

"You were always better than me, at this."
infailtration: (pic#10657603)

[personal profile] infailtration 2017-02-27 07:13 pm (UTC)(link)
York raises his unbandaged eyebrow, watching Wash carefully. That was an interesting reaction. "I'm better at what now? Gotta add it to the list."
protocol: (► once you have a soul)

[personal profile] protocol 2017-02-27 07:44 pm (UTC)(link)
"Finding something positive. Staying on the bright side."

He shrugs, still looking up at the ceiling.

"Finding a way to laugh at something."