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.
infailtration: custom art by <user name="thebutt">, PLEASE DO NOT TAKE (7-2)

[personal profile] infailtration 2017-02-19 06:56 pm (UTC)(link)
"What you could, huh? That doesn't sound so encouraging." He's smiling, though, glad to hear Wash laugh about something. And he's glad that Wash has people again, after losing Freelancer. After... well. He knows what it's like to be on his own. York's always needed people, so he had a rough time of it, and he isn't going to assume that Wash had it any better.

He knows Wash judges him for trusting Ratchet, though. And maybe he's too eager, here, to let people in. To have friends again, something he's gone so long without. On the run he didn't trust anyone and it feels good to have a break from that, the constant fear and paranoia. And his need to connect has only gotten worse since Wash dropped the bomb of his death on him -- what if this is his last chance?

"Yeah, probably... it sounds like his outfit has some real characters." He accepts the little nudge, grinning, though his brows knit quizzically at the aborted question. "Are we..?"

Oh.

The grin turns into a broader smile as he laughs softly. "No, man. You're the last one I expected to have your mind in the gutter. We're just..." he waves a hand, searching for the word. "Contact helps, that's all."
protocol: (► i of never seen a diamond in a meat)

[personal profile] protocol 2017-02-19 09:30 pm (UTC)(link)
In his defense it's not like hooking ain't a form of contact. And it was a perfectly reasonable conclusion for him to draw.

Drawing smiles and an actual laugh from him is worth the awkward embarrassment of even asking the question. Wash just shrugs, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his chair, shifting to kick up his feet further down the edge of York's bed. He really doesn't smile that much anymore, but it's easy, with York, matching that grin with something almost just as broad, just as bright, and right now, even after everything that's happened, all those years apart, this feels. Familiar. Different, but familiar.

"I'm just saying, man. You can't blame a guy for asking." Seriously it was a perfectly reasonable conclusion to draw. He sharpens his tone, but clearly in jest, feigning some offense. "Besides, I'm the last one you expected? What's that even supposed to mean?"

He's not some blushing virgin okay. Not to mention he's spent a lot of his time recently surrounded by people who basically live in that gutter.

"Fair's fair, if you've got any embarrassing, personal questions for me."
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."
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."
infailtration: (pic#10907432)

[personal profile] infailtration 2017-02-27 08:06 pm (UTC)(link)
"Yeah, I guess there are a couple things I haven't lost. Hope, and a sense of humor." His smile fades, though, when he follows that thought through to 'but I'm going to lose everything.' "Not yet anyway."
Edited 2017-02-27 20:06 (UTC)
protocol: (► i have no pants)

[personal profile] protocol 2017-02-27 08:19 pm (UTC)(link)
Still not looking down. York might not say the words, but Wash knows what he was thinking anyway.

"I've tried to do that."
infailtration: (pic#10657599)

[personal profile] infailtration 2017-02-27 08:23 pm (UTC)(link)
"Still, even if you lose something you can get it back. Just like you've got a team again." He closes his eye, breathes slow and deep. "All you said was that they're unique and you've tried to whip them into shape. What are their names? Personalities?"

It's easier to talk about people who aren't here, people who he'll never meet, than it is to pry.
protocol: (► mr president i want a man from you)

[personal profile] protocol 2017-02-27 08:35 pm (UTC)(link)
Well, sure. This, he can do. He smiles a little, glancing down at York.

"The Reds and Blues." Sim troopers, he'd explained that, right? He'd adopted a bunch of goddamn sim troopers. Go figure. "Blues technically got me on their team for a while."
infailtration: (pic#10657601)

[personal profile] infailtration 2017-02-27 08:41 pm (UTC)(link)
"'Red' and 'Blue' aren't really traits, Wash." He grins again, though, at the expression on Wash's face. "What are they like? Who hogs the shower and who sucks at poker? They're your friends, you must know more about them than how they fight."
protocol: (Default)

[personal profile] protocol 2017-02-27 08:46 pm (UTC)(link)
"Don't tell them I said they were my friends."

He'll never hear the end of it.

"They're -- all pretty unique. The Blues had me, the Reds had Sarge. Just Sarge." Shaking his head. "Like every stereotypical drill sergeant you've ever heard of rolled into one, except he has no idea what he's doing. Still has the attitude, though. There was Simmons, always trying to get on his good side. Every squad has one of those, right? And Grif. The opposite."

Dramatic. Sigh.

"I'd have everyone in for training except for that one and I'd find him fast asleep in a closet with an armful of food."
infailtration: custom art by <user name="thebutt">, PLEASE DO NOT TAKE (8-1)

[personal profile] infailtration 2017-02-27 08:53 pm (UTC)(link)
York chuckles softly, picturing every lazy soldier he'd ever known back in the marines during the war. There's always one of those too. "And the Blues?"
protocol: (► recreation and forestry)

[personal profile] protocol 2017-02-27 09:18 pm (UTC)(link)
"Caboose." How does he start, with that one. "He -- he means well. Command had a shortcut in their system to register his fuckups. Might be better to keep him unarmed during a mission. And Tucker, I've spent the most time training Tucker. Has a good head on his shoulders, when he's not hitting on everything that moves."

"There's others, too. Doc. Donut. Lopez. And . . . " He stops.

There'd been Church.
Edited (i forgot donut im so ashamed) 2017-02-27 21:20 (UTC)
infailtration: custom art by <user name="reikofanel">, PLEASE DO NOT TAKE (york (13))

[personal profile] infailtration 2017-02-27 11:13 pm (UTC)(link)
It sure sounds like a bunch of characters. York listens to Wash's descriptions, to the life in his voice as he talks about his new friends, committing each name to memory. He can know them this way, through Wash.

"...who?"
protocol: (► but before we get out of our club)

[personal profile] protocol 2017-02-28 02:17 pm (UTC)(link)
Wash shakes his head. He'd tell you, York, he would, but wasn't the point to try and lighten things up? There's nothing about explaining the Alpha that would be light, nothing about what happened to Church that would be light. Some other time. Some other time, but not now.

There's an obvious weight to it, when Wash takes a breath. He's bad at this, this whole levity thing. Lets try and stay on point.

"They all sound awful, I know, and -- they are." He smiles, a bit, and it is genuine, not forced. "But they look out for each other. They've looked out for me."

Better than he's looked out for them.