forbarrayar | [ february i log ]

Entry tags:

[ 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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It's the final day of ghem-Miko's interrogation -- at least, it's definitely not the first. The tent protects from the icy winds, but it's still mercilessly cold inside the tent, and the prisoners haven't been getting any of their extremely scarce rations. And Duv isn't getting much better treatment than the Cetagandan -- he's Komarran, and that's the next worst thing. Duv is tied to what must have been a chair at some point, hands bound behind him, ankles bound to its legs, and it's clear he's already been through the wringer a few times. His tenacity, Piotr will admit, is notable.

Piotr's allowed Byerly to sit in on this interrogation, but if that fop starts spouting nonsense, Piotr will happily kick him out -- or satisfy a temptation and tie him to that damn chair.

Oh, Byerly has excuses for why he's in this interrogation, if anyone asks. I'm related to old Pierre Le Sanguinaire, don't you know, so I suppose dear Piotr Pierre fancies I might be like his grandfather. Or, taking notes, don't you know. What, don't you pucker up for the leadership of the camp? He has a few reasons he keeps telling himself, too, reasons why he keeps reassuring himself that this is a good idea: that he knows of Duv Galeni and will be able to tell whether the erstwhile head of Komarran Affairs has reverted to type and started fighting for the subjugation of Barrayar; that having witnessed torture will be a good excuse for cutting and running once he convinces someone that he can actually spy on the Cetagandans.

Truthfully, deep down - Well. Deep down, he's here because it seems...necessary. Wise. In case Vorkosigan decides to cut Galeni's throat. In case...In case Miles decides to come in here and take the blade-stroke meant for his friend, from some deep guilt over what's happened. Because of course Byerly simply couldn't stand losing his lone ally in camp, and he also couldn't stand making a Koudelka girl cry - imagine! Poor Delia. Even the thought of how fetching she'd look in a widow's dove-gray isn't enough to make him relish the thought of Galeni's death.

For once, By doesn't have anything to say, any smart comments. His face is a little drawn, and his eyes flicker over the bound man - and then he just waits, silently, for Vorkosigan to begin.

Edited 2017-02-03 02:29 (UTC)

Duv wishes he could say this wasn't an experience he had all-too-recently. At least he can say the emotional damage is far less, the only pain he feels here is physical though the flashes of when his father oversaw his last dance with torture bleed over at times. Bleeding along with other parts of him. The sins of his forefathers hounding him once more and Duv wonders if he'll ever truly be able to escape it. The light had to be somewhere or so he believed. He's survived too much to let this be the final nail in the coffin.

Experience and Imperial Security training have him holding whatever shreds of dignity he can. The break between sessions has been short and he barely feels as if he's caught his breath when he hears the pair enter. The howl of the wind had been comforting compared to the sound of footsteps closing in. It hurts to move his head, but he refuses to let this go by without staring his captor in the eyes. If he weren't bound to a chair and being tortured by the man, he'd be fascinated at meeting Piotr Vorkosigan. Somewhere in the beating, his historical curiosity left him.

The other man is new, more than likely a Vor though he can't quite place him at a glance. An audience for what is to happen next? He's not here to bring Duv food or comfort, he knows that much.

"Well?" he manages to ask, voice quavering despite his attempts to keep it steady.

"Ready, are you?"

Piotr doesn't address Byerly; doesn't need to bother. He'll spare Byerly a glance when he's relevant. Piotr's face is dead set, stone cold, an eerie stillness to him. The words drag out, hissing like hot iron on skin. "Bracing yourself for another round? Breathe in, breathe out, find a place in your mind to retreat to when you can no longer bear the pain..."

Piotr does look over at Byerly then, his expression unchanging. "The man claims to be an academic. I've never known an academic to make it more than a day, maybe two, under torture. What do you think, Vorrutyer?"

What does By think? By thinks that he would break his own fingers right now for a hypospray of fast-penta. That's marvelous stuff - But, no, even if they had some, Galeni surely had the allergy treatment...Irrelevant, anyway. All just dreams and vapor. They don't have any tools but cudgels and knives, pliers and needles. Hot irons. Cold water. Starvation.

Well. The General's pointed use of his name filled him in on the role he'll be expected to play here. And so By licks his lips and tries to tap into the reservoir of sadism that's supposed to lie at every Vorrutyer's heart. Hard to do when the man's voice is trembling...

"It does seem odd." Somehow, in spite of everything, that manages to come out just right - a contemptuous, arch drawl. A bit like Richars during their more...colorful childhood games, with an added sauce of world-weariness that can only come from a long adulthood full of casual atrocities. Like he sees things like this every Tuesday, by appointment, but that standing appointment just doesn't have any spice any longer. "I've never seen it myself. Particularly given that he's a Komarran - they're not exactly known for their courage under pressure. Quite the opposite, actually."

Piotr's voice he's used to, it's Byerly's that has his eyes narrow. Of course a Vor lordling would come to join in and watch. Would the man even get his own hands dirty or was he simply there to jeer at Duv while he was unable to do anything about it? Neither would surprise him at this point and he steels himself for the prying he knows is to come. The less he says the better, there's a chance he can use any assumptions they make to his advantage.

"I didn't take either of you for an expert on Komarran affairs," he replies dryly. He can't hide the wince as he shifts in his seat, trying to relieve the pressure on some of his injuries.

The first blow comes quickly, without warning. One of the armsmen near Duv hits him hard in the jaw with his closed fist, officially beginning this session. Piotr has never found that warning the subject contributes to success.

"You don't need to be an expert to know that Komarrans don't teach their academics how to resist torture," Piotr says flatly, though there's a scathing edge to his voice. "Your people don't even do their own fighting. But you've had training."

He learns forward, eyes hard. "Have you ever received any training in resisting torture? I want an honest answer this time."

By hasn't been invited to speak, and so he nearly bites his tongue. He doesn't want to be thrown out of the tent, after all. (Or maybe he does - maybe this is an act of sabotage of his own good intentions, because he's too cowardly to bear to hear the fleshy sounds of a fist on a face, to see the way Galeni's body jerks when he's struck. Thank you for your service to the Imperium.) But he thinks his perspective might give him a bit more understanding of Galeni - Galeni the collaborator, the coolly confident head of Komarran affairs, who firmly keeps the peace between his home and her conquerors. Smart man like Galeni has to know that this might well end with his execution - might well draw it out, holding onto information to delay that execution. By...needs to open in his head the possibility of another path.

"And don't assume the answer will damn you. There are quite a few uses in this camp for well-trained men. No waste here."

Come on. Talk. Collaborate, Galeni, you're good at that, you damned Komarran. I can't tell them you have ImpSec training, but you can come up with another plausible story. Just convince him you can be trusted...

Ah. First blood. His head rolls with the bunch as he closes his eyes, ignoring the shooting pain that's starting anew. Just when some of it was starting to dull to a bearable level. No, Komarrans didn't train their own in anything combat-related, not until the 'resistance' had begun to pick up momentum. There hadn't been a reason before when their credits were good and their hired guns had enjoyed being an intimidating part of their space.

How times have changed for him. He takes a long moment to work his jaw, more to make sure that wasn't the punch that broke it, and settles his eyes on the newcomer Vor first.

"Then what am I supposed to assume," he asks Byerly calmly through gritted teeth to Byerly. The man couldn't make him any promises to Duv's knowledge. His gaze shifts back to Piotr. "All actions have pointed to a desire for me bloody and beaten than in working order."

Inviting Byerly in on this is a mistake Piotr might yet regret, and he has to suppress the urge to roll his eyes at Byerly's entirely unfounded suggestion, but it doesn't really matter if Byerly gives the Komarran false hope anyway. This Vorrutyer annoys him, but he has a chance to prove himself to be less of a total jackass in Piotr's eyes today.

"I don't give a shit about your assumptions. I want your answers." Piotr leans forward. Duv gets another blow, from the other armsman this time, sending his head back in the other direction. Piotr's voice is businesslike and demanding. "Have the Cetagandans ever given you espionage training?"

By remains silent here, hoping - trusting - that Galeni will be smart enough to admit only to having been trained by others. Not Cetagandans. There's only so much that By can do to help him, only so much he can do to guide the interrogation and Galeni's responses. Or to hurt him, if he indeed intends to hurt Barrayar. So he stays silent.

If it weren't for the pain of the second punch, Duv might have laughed at the notion of a Cetagandan training him. If only it would be so simple to convince them how foolish of them that would be.

"No," he grits out, true venom behind his adamant refusal. This was an enemy they had in common whether the Barrayarans believed it or not. "Why would they waste resources training an outsider? They think we're as foolish and uncivilized as you are compared to them."

Piotr has stopped responding to Duv's questions and commentary. He knows the ghem could come up with a thousand reasons for a non-Cetagandan agent, but more than that, he's not indulging Duv's responses. Another blow to the face. Piotr's voice remains cold.

"Did you deliberately let yourself be captured by Lieutenant Vorhalas?"

Byerly's eyes narrow just a little bit in sympathy - in horror - as that blow falls, and so he turns his face away. Pretends to find something intensely interesting in the space over to the right. He tries to make himself think that all of this is phenomenally boring, absolutely commonplace. Tries to adopt an expression like he's never been less impressed with something going on.

"Yes," he growls. Better not to correct the man that Miles had been the one to bring him to Vorhalas. As much respect as he has for Miles, he knows the other man's appearance can't be winning him favors among his ancestors. What a pair they make here.

"I'm sure he told you of my good behavior." A dry comment he can't help adding even as he braces himself for the incoming retaliation. "I saw this as my chance to get away from them. Far away from them."

The blow Duv braces for doesn't come this time, but one of the officers grabs him by the hair at his commentary. Piotr barely acknowledges anything but the one-word answer. The rest of it might as well be dead silence to him. His eyes bore in on Duv.

"Is Duv Galeni your real name?"

Just say no. Byerly comments, wryly, archly, "A Komarran with a Barrayaran name. It does seem unlikely, doesn't it?" Internally, he's hoping desperately that the man will give something - anything - to make the Armsmen lighten up on him.

They know something. He can tell by the 'hint' the younger man is dropping and the way Piotr is boring into him. He can't lie to Barrayarans about his very Komarran parents selecting a Barrayaran name to improve business relations back when the planet had been newly rediscovered. Perhaps when selecting his new name he should have veered farther from his heritage than stubbornly sticking close to his family name.

"No," he finally spits out. "It's not."

Piotr's expression doesn't change, but there's a spark in his eyes, a tiny flare of triumph. He stares Duv down, intent. The officer hasn't yet let go of Duv's hair.

"What is your real name?"

Oh. Oh, that's good. If Duv is talking - That question comes without another blow to the face, which Byerly frankly treasures. An exchange without violence is an exchange he approves of.

He stands back a bit, arms crossed, eyebrows raised, trying to look impressively sadistic and Vorrutyerly. By, of course, can't help but be a bit curious about the answer here. The handsome Komarran in charge of Komarran Affairs has always been a little bit of a mystery, and no one on the social scene seemed to know much about him - and, unfortunately, dear Delia Koudelka told him to go soak his head when he put a few subtle and well-phrased questions to her at a party one time. So discovering this information would be - hm. Interesting.

Are they asking for the nail in the coffin or do they truly not know? There's a long moment where Duv considers the two men, or what he can see of them with his limited range of vision. If they didn't know now it would only be a matter of time before the connection was made. If his fate is to be sealed, he may as well do it with his own words.

"Only if you promise to include it in my obituary," he manages to joke dryly. There's only a second's pause before he continues, "David Galen."

Piotr's eyes flash not with surprise but triumph. The answer earns Duv another blow to the side of his head. He leans forward, as though bearing down on Duv, though he hasn't taken a single step towards him.

"Of any relation to Counselor Vincent Galen?" Piotr's words come out cool and hissing. "Or perhaps to his cousin, Counselor Theresa Galen?"

In retrospect, it seems obvious. Galen, Galeni - But good God. Duv Galeni, of Komarran Affairs, related to those Galens? Heavens. And they let him into ImpSec? Because By doesn't remember his Komarran history too well - or much history at all, really - but he's fairly certain that the Galens were involved in the Komarran resistance. Heavily involved. His eye lights on Galeni with mingled surprise and, vaguely, horror.

Well. All the more reason to be careful with the man, isn't it? Though...ImpSec has trusted him, in spite of that colorful past. Illyan trusted him. For some odd reason, that information...well. It...rather makes Byerly more inclined to trust him, rather than less. What a strange effect.

His head is spinning from the attacks. There's a long moment where he focuses simply on his next breaths and ensuring what little might remain in his stomach doesn't end up heaved in front of him. No, he knew that admission wouldn't earn him any points though the good General's triumph and ready list of relatives seems to confirm this was an assumption on their part before he said anything.

"Not closely. I'm afraid I haven't had any conversations with them around the dinner table."

Duv gets another blow to the head for that bit of sass, but Piotr holds up a hand and the soldier stops immediately mid-swing in a follow-up. Piotr's expression is hard, intent, but there's no joy in it, even in the flashes of triumph. Just a terrifying wall of sheer will.

"Now," he says evenly, kicking a small, battered chest next to his feet in front of him, "we have a baseline."

Piotr flips open the top and pulls out a handful of something thin and rust-colored, each about half the length of man's finger. "You may not know this, being Komarran," he starts, sounding dangerously conversational, "though having been on our planet for some time and seeing how incomplete the terraforming is, I'm sure by now you know that much of Barrayar's native flora is toxic to humans when ingested. Useless for food. But up here, in select parts of the Dendarii mountains -- and this, I wouldn't expect even a Barrayaran to know, if he's not a district man -- there grows a particularly hardy species of grass. Nearly as tough as bamboo, though it doesn't grow as fast."

Piotr fans the blades of grass in his palm, mindful of their points. "Lieutenant," he says, holding his hand out. The officer at Duv's left carefully retrieves the handful of grass from him, and Piotr watches, unblinking, as the officer takes the pointed end of one blade of grass and slowly pushes it under Duv's thumbnail.

"Now," Piotr says again, his voice hard, "are you working for the Cetagandans?"

[BARRAYAR] INTERROGATION: DUV GALENI

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CW FOR TORTURE/HAND TRAUMA THIS IS WHERE IT REALLY STARTS