[ february i log ]

[barrayarmods]

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.

Comments

[littlemissfutility]

"What? No." She can't decide whether to laugh or scoff; he sounds too serious for it to be a joke. So she settles for frowning, saying, "If your rabbits are carnivorous, we probably can't just set up a carrot and a box."

Not that they'd do that anyway--but still.

[vorrutyer]

"Hmm." He rubs at his chin, his face still deadly solemn. "I suppose we could take a bit of the horse meat to lure one of them in...Or I suppose we could use it to catch some Murderous Robins."

[littlemissfutility]

"You're just screwing with me," she says, skeptical and starting to smile a little. He has to be, right? "Nobody has murderous robins."

It's hard to imagine songbirds here at all, but murderous ones? No.

[vorrutyer]

"You mean you don't have them?" Still looking concerned and serious - far too serious, given her little smile, which is clue enough of just how serious he actually is - "What about the Ravenous Butterflies? Oh, they're bad ones."

[littlemissfutility]

She can't help it--she laughs a little. He's just really good at keeping a straight face, and this seriously can't be real. Even if they had ravenous butterflies, they wouldn't call them that.

Right?

"Come on. You're full of crap." It's one of the nicest things she's ever said to him, going by tone alone.

[vorrutyer]

"I'm wounded!" he cries, pressing his hand to his chest. And he does look genuinely mournful - but then he flashes her a quick, cheeky wink. Only that he allows, and nothing more. Still in the same tone, he goes on, "Well, at least there are certain animals you can trust in this world. Like the bears. They're terribly cuddly, and love to give hugs. Were they like that for you?"

[littlemissfutility]

"I never met a bear," she says dryly, willing to keep that wink a secret. If he wants to pretend he's serious as a heart attack, she guesses he can. It's nothing that actually matters--who cares what he means? "We ate littler animals. Deer, raccoons, opossums, rabbits, squirrels... Stuff like that. Once, Daryl caught a snake."

It's an accident that she says his name, and in the moment it catches up with her, a wave of homesickness hits her. He's on another planet. You can't miss anybody there.

Yes, I can. I do miss them--all of them.

Then you have to stop. You can't be that sad. There's a war.

[vorrutyer]

"Hm." He allows a tiny smile to escape now, since he's no longer spinning blatant lies. Instead, he says, "You really are a curious creature. Usually, when galactics come here, they're utterly horrified about the way that we kill and eat our meat. But you're all right with it. I appreciate how - hm - nonjudgmental you all are." Then, with a little horrified shudder - "A snake, though."

[littlemissfutility]

I used to cry when Mama killed chickens, she wants to say, but if they get on the subject of home, she'll be thinking about it all day and all night. Beth can't afford that, if she's going to keep being useful. And if she's not useful to the Barrayarans, she's pretty sure they'll throw her out on her ass.

So instead, she just says, "Something has to die, if you want to eat. That's life." Animals or plants--it's always true. And then, mostly in hopes of disgusting Byerly, "It looked gross. Lots of little bones."

[vorrutyer]

"Hideous," he declares, with an even more elegant shudder. "Though that's not entirely true, you know." He gives a little gesture of his hand, saying, "Most of the galaxy can eat without killing. Cloned meat, not attached to any animal at all. It's actually rather nice, even if it doesn't taste quite right."

[littlemissfutility]

Beth's expression is confused, then disbelieving, then appalled. "They just...grow meat? And you think snake is hideous."

It's the kind of technology that would have destroyed their farm. And the thought of it, a bunch of T-bone steaks or--or whatever, growing out of petri dishes, is indescribably disquieting to her.

[vorrutyer]

He blinks back at her, startled by her horror. "What," he says, "you prefer the thought of raising something to life, letting it have hopes and dreams and thoughts all of its own, and then chopping its head off? Better to skip all that, I think. Not have anything experience any pain or suffering. It seems less - "

Cruel was how he was going to finish that, but - no, better not to invite her to think about whatever emotions he might be having over the cute little cows and chickens. He finishes, instead, "Inefficient."

[littlemissfutility]

"At least an animal wasn't grown in a lab." Cuts of meat quivering on white plastic shelves, little electrodes attached to each piece--that's what she's picturing. It's unnatural, it's creepy, and there must be better ways to make farming efficient. "Since when do chickens have hopes and dreams, anyway?"

[vorrutyer]

He shrugs with one shoulder, leaning back slightly. "I assume all living things do, in one way or another," he says. "Even if it's just to lay an egg that hatches into another chicken." But all that runs the risk of sounding far too soft, and so he continues on, "Are you that unnerved by labs? You certainly must never encounter the Cetagandans in person, then."

[littlemissfutility]

"Not by labs. By meat grown in them." Beth shakes her head. Byerly, she suspects, hasn't spent a lot of time around animals raised for food. It's hard to see them slaughtered, but it's nearly as hard to imagine that most of those animals have any real idea of what they want out of life. Instinct isn't the same as thought. "I'd rather eat horse."

[vorrutyer]

He tilts his head just a little bit to the side, a curious - and slightly confused - smile playing over his lips. "But it hurts the horses to be slaughtered," he says, smoothing his moustache down just a touch. Heaven preserve him - he's actually arguing for the Galactic position. They'll strip him of his Vor title any moment now. "I'm not some soft squeamish fool, to be sure, but there's very little pleasure in thinking of that pain. I cannot help but think it's better to avoid it entirely."

[littlemissfutility]

"It sucks," she agrees, her mouth twisting down a little. It took time for her to come to terms with the knowledge that every chicken in the yard, every cow in the field, was probably going to end up on her plate. And if not her plate, somebody else's. "But it's real, not some kind of Frankenstein meat. And if you do it the right way, it doesn't hurt them."

[vorrutyer]

"Frankenstein meat?" The other eyebrow raises up a bit, and he sits back with a small, half-amused snort. "My word. You should have been born Vor yourself." He shakes his head; for once, his mockery is - well. Genuine. It seems to come from some genuine feeling, rather than just from some some desire to provoke. "Just because something proceeds from technology doesn't make it corrupt or perverted, you know. There's quite a lot technological that's been quite a blessing. Uterine replicators, for one. Stunners."

[littlemissfutility]

"So tell me about those." Because she doubts--quite strongly--that cloned meat is ever going to meet with favour from anyone in her family, herself included. And while he's kind of being an ass, you should have been born Vor seems like a compliment on this planet. It's the kind of "kind of being an ass" that doesn't stop a conversation.

[vorrutyer]

"What, uterine replicators and stunners?" He clears his throat, and tugs at his cuff. This is not precisely how he wanted this conversation to go. "Well. The stunner is exactly what you can imagine - a nonlethal weapon. A distance weapon, more precisely. No need for all this ghastly cutting and bleeding and dying of infection when you're using stunners. A stunner fight is far more civilized.

"As for uterine replicators - " He gives a little wave of his hand. "It's a mechanical incubator for infants. It makes it so that women no longer need to undergo the pain and danger of pregnancy and childbirth. Which, if you ask most of the women on this planet, is a marvelous thing. Strangely, if you ask the men, it's an abomination that results in freaks of nature. It's almost like they want to keep their control over the women. So curious."

[littlemissfutility]

Okay, so stunners are science fiction laser guns. That's easy enough, and she guesses it makes the count's earlier explanations about weapons--how they could be tracked by the Cetagandans if they used anything other than blades--make a little more sense. (Of course, if they just used guns with bullets, they wouldn't have that problem.)

Uterine replicators, she's more interested in, and it shows in her face--a mix of interest and perhaps a little longing. "We could've used those at home. The uterine replicators, they sound..." She shrugs. It's hard to imagine hating technology like that, but when things are good, it's easier to pretend you don't need it. "Good."

[vorrutyer]

"They are." Oh, true, he's not supposed to advocate for such things so openly; old Vor like the Vorrutyers are supposed to keep to the old ways, reject all this technological wickedness and all of that. And it generally suits his image to come across as careless and devoid of empathy. Idiot fops aren't supposed to care about preserving the lives of women; idiot fops are just supposed to care about getting into their pants. But this is something he cares about quite a lot, not least because -

"Particularly since children born via replicator can be gene-cleaned." He gives a small smile and glances off to the side. "You can remove all those predilections towards disease, inherited insanity, all of that. Better for mother and child both."

[littlemissfutility]

Her thoughts are of Lori, how Lori could have lived to see Judith instead of dying on a filthy floor in an abandoned prison. How, if Maggie and Glenn wanted to, they could have kids without worrying about Maggie surviving it. How she could, someday, if she met somebody who lived long enough to get close to. Technology like that would have changed their lives--if they had some way to make it work, back in the ruins of modern life.

Gene-cleaned brings her back to the reality that Byerly's used to, and she frowns again. On the face of it, it doesn't sound terrible--of course people want healthy babies, that's just common sense--but messing around with people's genes seems like a dangerous way to do it. "Why does all your technology end up being creepy?"

[vorrutyer]

"Creepy?" By lifts his eyebrow at her. "Perhaps your object isn't with our technology, but to technology generally." He gives a little gesture. "But consider this. Barrayaran history is littered with - bloodied by - madmen. Torturers and sadists, whose insanity came in no small part from mutations. Though you didn't hear that from me, mind - calling someone a mutant here is grounds for a duel. So which one is less creepy: a bit of engineering, or a ruler with an insane penchant for flaying his enemies?"

[littlemissfutility]

"They're both creepy," Beth says decisively. She's pretty sure that this is Nazi stuff, but with her luck, he'll probably seize on that if she says it, and she doesn't know enough about World War II to actually prove it to him. "You could have technology that doesn't screw up people's genes--or you could stop letting crazy people be in charge."

It seems obvious from the outside. Nobody has to have an emperor, insane or not.