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forbarrayar2017-02-02 08:00 pm
barrayarmods) wrote in forbarrayar2017-02-02 08:00 pm
Entry tags:
- !event,
- #barrayaran camp,
- #cetagandan base,
- *diya d'zefyst,
- *olivia vorkosigan,
- *piotr vorkosigan,
- *sonia vorbarra,
- *zahal ghem-zefyst,
- agent maine | traitorous,
- beth greene | littlemissfutility,
- kaidan alenko | standsentinel,
- lakshmi bai | shri,
- lapis lazuli | mirrortide,
- ratchet | asafepairofhands
[ 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.
What: New arrivals, desperate times, whispers down the hall.
When: February 1st - 18th
Where: Barrayaran camp / Cetagandan base
Warnings: TBD
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.
no subject
"Keep it covered, try to rest the other eye so that one doesn't move around too much. Come back if it hurts beyond an ache when the meds wear off." Which sounds pretty standard to York, except that there's a nerve reattachment involved and he needs to know. Before it starts healing, preferably.
no subject
no subject
no subject
"Yeah. 'Course I will."
no subject
no subject
"Yeah. Just keep your eyes closed, all right?" He makes a low sound, thinking for a moment. "Well, you haven't exactly missed much--it didn't even take as long as I thought it might. I've been using the exercise room more. You know," he adds reproachfully, "you didn't tell me it was going to hurt afterwards. I felt completely fine until I woke up the next morning and could barely move. A warning would have been nice."
no subject
He doesn't actually expect to get a straight answer to that, like most of the questions he asks. "When I feel less like I'm made of lead, I'll work you. You probably just need to stretch out better, I should have covered that too."
no subject
"All right. Thanks," Ratchet says without any idea what York means by 'working' anything, but he doesn't want to make two stupid mistakes right in a row, and it's not like he doesn't trust York not to hurt him. "No rush, though. You worry about healing up, first."
no subject
"I can do it with my eyes closed," he assures Ratchet, "Just not while I don't trust myself to sit up. Where are you sore?"
no subject
"Everywhere," he says, but even he can hear the petulant whine in his voice now, faint as it is. He sighs. "Mostly my back and legs though, I think. Arms seem all right, for the most part."
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no subject
"Washington?" Ratchet hazards a guess, curious but not pressing. "Or someone else?"
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no subject
"Sorry to hear that."
no subject
And York feels Ratchet shift and knows exactly what he's doing, he's touching his scars again. His hand shifts, moves to catch one of Ratchet's.
"You've gotta tell me what's up with those, one of these days."
no subject
"Mmm. They're... related to a good friend of mine, actually." He swallows. "It's not a particularly good bedtime story, and it's long, but I'll tell you if you want to know."
no subject
no subject
He draws in a deep breath, then releases it. "So. My hands. They aren't mine, exactly. Mine quit. Just... gave out, a few years ago. I've been a surgeon my entire adult life, I was Chief Medical Officer of an entire army during a shooting war that's lasted nearly as long as I've been alive and I've worked almost every day trying to keep people I know alive and eventually my hands just quit." There's a rawness in his voice, carefully controlled--an echo of remembered pain and helplessness and the terror, not of dying, but of being rendered useless. "Kind of hard to be a surgeon when your hands don't work. So... I went to a medical base in the middle of enemy territory to find a very old friend of mine. We went to med school together and he was brilliant--better than me in some ways, even, and I was good. I wanted to find him and give him the job, because I couldn't do it anymore. He--"
But York had given Ratchet North's name--York had given Ratchet all sorts of intensely personal information for absolutely nothing in return. Ratchet closes his eyes.
"Pharma," he says, his voice tired. "His name was Pharma."
no subject
York can't relate to any of it, to being something so important to so many people or to losing your livelihood, but he listens quietly, keeps his head down and decidedly does not peek to see if Ratchet's hands are a slightly different color than his arms. He just keeps hold of his friend and listens, because he asked. God help him, he asked, he's putting Ratchet through this pain now, and he should stop it. Should say nevermind, you don't have to tell me, but then he'll be wondering and Ratchet will be thinking about it anyway. So he listens.
"Pharma," he echoes softly, respectfully, a million questions spinning in his head, a million possible endings to this. "You found him?"
no subject
"Ohh yeah, we found him. You see, the other reason we slogged into enemy territory to pay him a visit was because I was notified of a really genuinely weird steady spike and plateau of patient deaths at that facility. For a while they were all over the place, which is normal, but then they'd climb a little and then flatten out, climb a little and then flatten out. It was worth checking into, at least, and if it was nothing then I wouldn't have wasted my trip because I could give Pharma my job." Ratchet makes a low sound. "There was a whole mess that went down once we got there, but it turns out the whole place was in quarantine due to--to a virus, a lethal one. Potentially lethal. Some patients it'd be fast acting and their tissue would go necrotic and they'd be in septic shock or dead in days, if not hours. Some patients lingered for weeks or months, unconscious. The reason the whole place was in quarantine is because Pharma cooked the virus himself to wipe the base out."
He looks over at York, knowing York won't be looking back at him and obscurely grateful for it. He feels his belly clench, torn between not wanting to give too much detail and wanting York to understand, even if it wouldn't change anything now.
"The reasons Pharma did that are a wild kaleidoscopic whirl of ego and bad management decisions, but first and foremost it was because of where the base was held. When I said it was in enemy territory--I mean enemy. There was a small group on the other side of the war that called themselves the Justice Division, their job was to capture and publicly torture and murder defectors to deter people leaving the army, and Pharma's base was right smack in the middle of where they'd set up shop. One of them was, well. Was ill, chronically, and needed regular organ transplants, and there was this convenient medical-slash-mining base right there. So he basically threatened to break the base open and torture everyone inside to death unless Pharma provided him with a steady stream of organs from his patients. That was the death rate--Tarn kept asking for more and more, and Pharma would have to find a way to get them, but he wouldn't kill more people than he'd have to, so the rate would plateau. He made the--the rotting virus to... I don't know. Save his ego, I guess, just wipe the base off the map without having to ask for help. He was very proud. Maybe he was trying to take Tarn out, and he didn't care who got in the way. Maybe the constant threat of gruesome torture and slaughter for him and his entire staff forcing him to murder people for whom he was responsible just drove him completely crazy, but there it was."
Ratchet stops again for a moment, just breathing steadily, his own eyes closed.
"I've never met a researcher like him. Or a better surgeon. He pioneered, he wrote, he did insane things nobody had ever tried before to cure patients just to prove they were possible. He was gifted, and all that was just... broken. Destroyed. He wasn't the same person anymore, and as much as I miss him it was also such a goddamn waste."
no subject
"How did you control the virus?" It's just one question of many, but he's sure the story will come back around to Ratchet's hands somehow.
no subject
Ratchet slows again, remembering--he's editing out of necessity, to try to conceal the inhuman aspects of what had happened, since humans don't contract rust viruses, but most of this story is unvarnished and raw. He recalls the snow on his face, the anger and disappointment, the awful, copper taste in the back of his throat as he felt his systems slowly failing, one by one. It's excruciatingly clear.
"Anyway, he tried to shoot me out of spite before I could leave him and Drift... I don't know. He was worse off than I was, but somehow he dragged his carcass up onto the roof and managed to lunge for Pharma just before he fired. With a sword--that's what he fights with. Chopped Pharma's hands clean off tipping forward, which was pretty much all he could manage in his condition, and sent him off the edge of the building." He's quiet for another moment, fairly sure that York can do the math about what happened after that but unwilling to leave it ambiguous. "We can't just grow organs like they apparently do here, and I had a medibay full of dying patients and antidote to cook more of and... I took them. Pharma and I were a match, and they were able to, to transplant them.
"So that's why. The scars, I mean. They're where my old hands were removed and the graft done. Everybody else lived and I didn't have to give up the title of CMO, because I would work again. That's all."
no subject
"I'm glad you made it," is all he's got, the words inadequate but genuine. He's glad Ratchet took the hands, too, that he could continue his life and saving others, that something good came out of that horrible experience. Still holding Ratchet's hand -- and they're Ratchet's hands, as far as he's concerned, they've offered him too much help and comfort to be anyone else's -- York shifts to lie closer until he's warm and solid against Ratchet's side, chin settled on the other man's shoulder. "Thanks for telling me... I'm sorry I asked."
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"You've got nothing to apologize for. If I really didn't want to tell you, I wouldn't have. You haven't pushed me on anything else, I didn't have reason to believe you'd push about this. But it's all right." He snorts. "I just hope you actually wanted to hear it. It was a hell of a mess.
"Actually it was Drift--the guy who saved my life when Pharma was trying to shoot me--he was the last person to ask me to kill them, before you. When he first fell ill, really ill, and we thought it might have been the Justice Division's doing and they might be coming, he wanted me to kill him rather than let him be tortured. I told him to shove it." Ratchet sighs. "Anyway, we're all okay and that base is no longer active so there's no further danger. Case closed, I guess."
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"I wanted to hear it. It might be over, but you obviously still think about it a lot." It's the way Ratchet touches his scars all the time. "Not exactly case closed. I wouldn't have pushed, though."
Ratchet will tell him whatever he's hiding when he's ready. York thinks now that maybe he wants to, just doesn't think it's safe. Because this story was really personal.
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