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.
vorrutyer: (warmth)

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-02-18 02:41 am (UTC)(link)
"Ah." He touches his chin thoughtfully. "That's not quite what the lyrics are saying in French. In French, it's not saying anything about being beyond the sea - it's about the sea itself. Dancing in the rain - silvery - all those metaphors. The sea as the shepherdess of the clouds. It's quite lovely, really." He gives a little wave of his hand. "Not that your version isn't lovely as well, of course."
littlemissfutility: (89)

[personal profile] littlemissfutility 2017-02-18 02:48 am (UTC)(link)
"Yours sounds better," she says. The American song is a love song to a person. Writing a love song to the sea is a little more interesting. Shrugging, Beth glances down at the severed head, which is the same lifeless corpse it has been this whole time. There's the ugly, inexplicable urge to nudge it with the toe of her foot, which she decidedly does not do. "How long do you think it's been?"
vorrutyer: (punchable intensity)

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-02-19 12:18 pm (UTC)(link)
"A lifetime and a half," he answers with a sigh. He goes over, then, crouching immediately in front of it, studying its slack features. A pity. He'd have liked to have continued talking about music. It's a nice escape from their current surreality.

"Is it possible that cold kills the virus?"
littlemissfutility: (40)

[personal profile] littlemissfutility 2017-02-19 02:54 pm (UTC)(link)
"I don't know." It was never this cold in Georgia--not for so long, anyway--and she isn't sure whether that's how the pathogen works. If people in cold weather could survive it, wouldn't somebody in Sweden or Russia or somewhere have found a way to broadcast that?

The Cetagandan hasn't turned, though. And he was in camp long enough that, if it spread, it would have had it. She bends down toward the head, reaching out a mitten as if to touch it, but not quite letting her hand come that close. "But he hasn't changed."
vorrutyer: (really fucking stressed)

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-02-21 02:56 pm (UTC)(link)
"It seems not." He hesitates for a long moment, then takes a deep bracing breath and steps forward. Swallowing down his gorge, he kneels by the head, reaches out, and wrenches its eyes open. Its gaze remains glassy, motionless, dead, the eyes dull and unnatural. He stares another moment before he realizes that he can't quite take it; he flinches away, then, snatching back his hands. Then he takes a breath, and collects himself.

"Definitely not. Very dead."
littlemissfutility: (34)

[personal profile] littlemissfutility 2017-02-21 03:35 pm (UTC)(link)
"Maybe," she offers, after a moment or two of watching Byerly shudder, "it doesn't spread here."

For that matter, maybe it's not here at all. What if the pathogen disappeared somewhere on the way to Barrayar? There's no way to know, but she can hope. It bubbles up in her, the possibility that it could be gone. That Byerly won't have to stab her in the eye when (if) she dies.

"I'll come back later," she promises, to Byerly and the head alike. "So we're sure."
vorrutyer: (punchable intensity)

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-02-21 03:39 pm (UTC)(link)
"Sounds an excellent plan," he says. Horrible. He'll need to change out this pair of gloves for a different one, he thinks. Or simply burn these... He sighs and resists the urge to rub his face. Hell. "And I shall watch our new set of traitors as they die. Die with their heads intact. That will be pleasant."
littlemissfutility: (39)

[personal profile] littlemissfutility 2017-02-21 05:56 pm (UTC)(link)
Her expression folds up darkly at the thought of more deaths. It's appalling, and if she says so, there's a good chance that somebody might tell her to stop expecting Barrayaran morality to match her own. So she keeps silent, but her disgust isn't quite camouflaged in her face.

It's quiet in the clearing where they stand, and she knows she's got to fill it with something. "But Barrayar's safe for now."
vorrutyer: (or ugly)

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-02-21 06:45 pm (UTC)(link)
"Well," he says, a little quietly, just a hint of rough unhappiness creeping into his voice. "Safe from this."

He's quiet a moment. Then he stands up, unfolding himself from his crouch beside that head to his normal lanky height. "One's mind," he says, rather carefully - carefully meaning that he very deliberately adopts a tone of vague unconcern, "cannot help but also go to the prospects of this. If whatever brought you through time and space to this planet, if that is what it was, eliminated the virus, that could potentially have - hm - implications for those you left behind."

Of course, it seems rather more likely at this point that the whole thing was a cruel joke created by some monstrous people - that the dead do not indeed rise, that this poor girl has been lied to and deluded. But he'll not bring up that possibility.
littlemissfutility: (55)

[personal profile] littlemissfutility 2017-02-21 08:08 pm (UTC)(link)
"Yeah," she agrees, abashed. This is bad enough that it makes mere war seem like nothing in her mind. But it's easy to feel that way when it's not her planet. She'll never feel about Barrayar the way he does, even if she does like it. "From this."

It's impossible to believe that it'd be gone completely, but it seems like it could be--it really could. What other explanation is there? It existed in one place, she knows that from all the walkers she's killed and seen killed, but it isn't here.

"If we could bring them here," she says, doing her best to keep her voice even. Not too much hope, no expectation--she tries, at least. It's something she's daydreamed about since her arrival, but this is the first time it's seemed possible. "They'd help Barrayar. My sister knows how to farm--Rick used to be a cop, everyone could help with the war."

She's not sure why she's telling Byerly, who can't do anything about sending for people from completely alternate dimensions. But if there was a way...
vorrutyer: (Backpfeifengesicht 5)

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-02-22 12:30 am (UTC)(link)
"Well." He gives a small shrug. It is in his best patriotic interests, of course, to get her to fight for Barrayar. To get everyone to fight for Barrayar. Every person on their side could mean a battle lost or won, and every battle might mean the outcome of the war. But...something deeper, some pang of conscience that runs deeper than his patriotism, makes him say, "To be completely fair, Cetaganda would be more likely to help you than Barrayar would. Just from the perspective of technology."

He hesitates a moment, then shrugs again. "Though on the other hand, they very well also might try to weaponize the virus. They're quite fond of their vicious biological agents on that planet."
littlemissfutility: (26)

[personal profile] littlemissfutility 2017-02-22 12:59 am (UTC)(link)
Her face falls at his first suggestion, and further still at his second. She's already decided what side she's throwing in with in this war--permanently--and there's no way she's going to head over to the Cetagandans. Not for help, not to give somebody the opportunity to start another turn here on Barrayar.

"They can't know." But they might. She'd told Rani about the walkers, and who knows what they're doing to her in their compound. Her stomach feels like it's turning over. "Nobody has to know that it spreads, right? Or that it could."
vorrutyer: (punchable intensity)

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-02-22 10:44 pm (UTC)(link)
"Oh, I've no intention of telling anyone," he says, waving his hand dismissively. "Believe me, all of this is far beyond my pay grade. Haven't the faintest idea how to deal with it. I'm already far more involved than I want to be - someone else can bring it up to - oh - whoever knows what to do."

Which is not entirely the truth. All right, which is the complete opposite of the truth. It's precisely at his pay grade, and precisely his responsibility, to pass along this sort of information to interested parties. But - But the interested party would be Piotr, and he cannot trust for even a moment that Piotr wouldn't kill Beth.

And so what? It's your place to decide who your commanding officers condemn? You're an informant, not an analyst. You're supposed to collect and pass on information, not to act on it. Not even to judge it. What are you trying to do here, Vorrutyer?

"So you can count on me to keep your secret."
littlemissfutility: (28)

[personal profile] littlemissfutility 2017-02-22 11:56 pm (UTC)(link)
She didn't realize how much she'd tensed until he promised not to say anything. Hearing it makes it a little easier to breathe. Far beyond my pay grade. It would be, for a drunk. For whatever else Byerly is, she's not sure.

"Thank you." This situation still isn't great, but it could be worse. The way he promises is dismissive, the kind of small drama she's starting to associate with his false front, but what choice does she have here? If he's lying, there's not much she can do about it. For now, it's easier to hope this is the truth. So she lets it go at that--for now, at least--and asks the question she needs an answer to. "If I do die, will you still stab me? Just in case."

The thought that she might still turn somehow still sickens her stomach. If it comes down to it, she'd rather her corpse endured stabbing than becoming a walker.
vorrutyer: (serious)

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-02-23 12:55 am (UTC)(link)
He hesitates. Then, finally, quietly, without mockery - because this means so much to her, and he can understand why - he says, "My oath as Vorrutyer. I'll take care of you."

He pauses a moment, then adds, "And if something happens to me...Miles Illyan. You can trust him with this oath, as well. He'll help you."
littlemissfutility: (32)

[personal profile] littlemissfutility 2017-02-23 01:15 am (UTC)(link)
It sounds like he means it, and she wants him to--this much, she wants to be true. If anything Byerly says is worth hearing, let it be these promises: that he'll keep her secret, and that he'll make sure she stays dead. He seems serious enough, though she's still not sure that means anything at all.

"Okay." It's not the first time he's brought up Miles to her, and that seems like proof in itself that this might be real, inasmuch as anything is. (Or Miles is also inherently untrustworthy, but that wasn't the sense she got from him when they spoke.) If it ends up she has to take her chances in the wild, she will. For now, she'll try to trust him, and for later, she'll have her knife.

Which is where one of her hands settles now, not quite idly. There's one other thing she has to say, if she's going to trust him, really trust him, on this. Taking a little breath, she looks up at him. "You could've killed me when we came out here, but you didn't. Um. Thanks."
vorrutyer: (shocked! and! appalled!)

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-02-23 01:21 am (UTC)(link)
"Killed you?" The irony is back, now, the mockery and sarcasm. He lifts his eyebrows and widens his eyes. The deal is sealed, it seems, and so he's giving into sarcasm once more. "What, and ruined my good clothes? Do you know how much blood there is when you kill someone? No, thank you. Pass."
littlemissfutility: (27)

[personal profile] littlemissfutility 2017-02-23 01:26 am (UTC)(link)
"Yeah. I do." She gives him the kind of doubtful, don't give me that crap look that teenagers are peculiarly good at, her thumb brushing idly over the handle of her knife. The last thing she wants to do is give him ideas, but he has to realize it was an obvious option here.

Doesn't he? Maybe he doesn't. If it never even crossed his mind, she's going to feel guilty for waiting for him to try something out here.
vorrutyer: (god honestly what is this guy's face)

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-02-23 01:32 am (UTC)(link)
He looks down at that gesture - and his lips suddenly curl with realization. "Ah," he says, and then gives a short laugh. "Now I understand the sword." He presses his hand to his heart and gives a small bow. "Well, truthfully, I do not. I am not a killer, Miss Greene, and have no intention of becoming one."
littlemissfutility: (15)

[personal profile] littlemissfutility 2017-02-23 01:44 am (UTC)(link)
She grits her teeth at the laugh; it feels like he caught her playing dress-up in things belonging to somebody older and more sophisticated. Like bringing a sword out here was a cute little quirk. Doing anything other than listening to him comment on her choice of weapons will only encourage him, though, so she bites her tongue.

"Oh." Stay that way, she wants to tell him. It's better if you don't have to kill people. But she's told him more than enough already today. Nodding back the way they came, she says, "Let's get out of here."

You go first.
Edited (i reread it and was like, this feels incomplete.) 2017-02-23 04:26 (UTC)
vorrutyer: (attentive)

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-02-23 02:46 pm (UTC)(link)
"Madam." He bows, his hand pressed to his heart. He twitches his cuffs back into place, and then waits expectantly - and then realizes that she is expecting him to move. Now that she's raised the prospect of murder, he wonders if she's going to cut his throat from behind - content that she's safe and the disease is contained, eliminate the only other keeper of this secret...Hah. Wouldn't that be a way to go? Slaughtered by a child in revenge for doing something decently kind. Marvelous. It'd certainly put one in the eye of Lady Alys, who had warned him strenuously many many times that if he kept taking unnecessary risks, he'd end up murdered by one of his targets...

He steps out first, leaving the glade, looking for all intents and purposes as though he's going for a casual stroll.
littlemissfutility: (56)

[personal profile] littlemissfutility 2017-02-23 03:08 pm (UTC)(link)
There are several awkward moments in which neither of them takes a step, moments in which Beth realizes uncomfortably that maybe he doesn't trust her, either. It's probably smart not to--she brought a sword with her for this meeting, and she could have brought disease to his entire planet--but it still disquiets her. She'd much rather if Byerly trusted her, and she'd just...not trust him back. Not entirely, anyway. How do you trust someone who lies that much?

That's not how trust works. You can't expect somebody to believe you when you don't believe him.

But it doesn't stop her from wanting it.

He breaks first, turning to go, and she follows. She can't decide if she wants silence or conversation, or if she just wants him to understand without her having to say anything. (Already, she can imagine what he'd think of that. Really, Miss Greene, it would behoove you to stop demanding this nonsense. Am I to be a mind reader now?) But she's not sure she has a way to say I'm not going to kill you, not if you don't hurt anybody, and even then, if there's another way... that isn't...well, that.

So eventually, when they're getting close to the camp proper, all she says is, "Somebody probably ate the rest of your horse."
vorrutyer: (punchable eyebrow)

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-02-23 03:37 pm (UTC)(link)
"Thank God," he sighs without so much as missing a beat. As though they haven't just been silent for the past however many minutes, as though he's just taking his own turn in the conversation.

"Foul stuff. I told you I didn't want it. It could have been yours, you know, if you'd gone for it."
littlemissfutility: (89)

[personal profile] littlemissfutility 2017-02-23 07:04 pm (UTC)(link)
"I didn't want it," she answers, nearly as lightly. She owes Byerly enough already: for a secret, for a promise, for a really awkward hour spent among the trees outside camp. A bowl of horse and groats isn't much by comparison, but it's still one more thing to add to this pile of what Byerly's done for me. Besides, none of this matters--it's joking, basically. Nonsense that makes it sound like they were just on a walk. "I already ate my share."

And even if she hasn't, contemplating eating more horse than she has to is hard, even after going hungry. She'll do it, but she really doesn't want to be pushed to that point.
vorrutyer: (wry)

[personal profile] vorrutyer 2017-02-24 01:12 am (UTC)(link)
"Ooh, listen to who's a good girl," he says, his voice turning lightly mocking. "Properly socialized, she is. Miss Greene, never mind what your share is. When you have the opportunity for something extra, you should always take it." He flutters a hand at her. "That's how Vor got to be Vor. Being a bunch of rotten bastards. I'd like to see a prole like yourself being a bit of a bastard back at us."

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