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

Natasha doesn't sleep well, as a rule. Back home she had less need of it than most others, could push herself further, and despite many of the changes she's sensed about herself, it hadn't changed that sense of restlessness. She's sitting on her bed, considering heading to the gym and trying to work through it, when she hears someone trying to leave. There's that sort of quiet that portends someone trying not to draw attention to themselves, which is in and of itself interesting.

She doesn't know Deanna, but she's seen her around. Maybe on that first night in the snow. She knows she should probably grab a jacket; not quite as immune to the elements as she's used to, but in the interest of speed and stealth she just follows after the woman as-is; in the normal clothes the Cetagandans have provided for them. See if she's getting into anything interesting.. and, well, in the worst case, it never hurts to help someone out.

Gratitude can be its own kind of currency.

Deanna sticks to the wall of the building as she creeps along under the eaves, her boots crunching in the snow. At the corner of the barracks, she stops and looks around, taking stock of her surroundings. A few guards patrol the grounds, but most seem to be around the perimeter. After all, there's more to worry about from outside the compound than within. Hopefully this will be to her advantage. The tricky part will be getting across the open ground from the barracks to the tactical center without being seen.

As she braces herself to cross the yard, she checks over her shoulder on the off chance she's already been spotted - and catches the slightest bit of movement. Stiffening, she waits and watches, cursing inwardly at the loss of her empathic sense. If only she had it, she'd know if for sure someone was there or if it was merely the wind and her hyped-up nerves.

Natasha isn't actually trying to hide herself, at least not from Deanna. She is, however, almost silent, her footsteps following in the other woman's, so there's no sound of snow as she moves. She grew up in the snow, she knows how to move in it. The chill bites at her exposed skin, but it's not the worst thing she's ever felt, not as long as they don't stay out here too long, keep moving. The wind whips the snow around, which is a slight damper to ranged visibility. Best bet is probably to go further to the side, make like they're heading for the mess hall, and then curve back, using the side of the building as cover.

She smiles through the snow, a tilt of her head and her red hair not too hard to pick out against the dark of the shadows, not quite like a banner in the wind. She's graceful, agile as she moves. She's cold, colder than she should be, and she hates that, but that's not the issue. The issue is seeing what the woman's planning.

Nat hasn't really spoken to anyone here yet. She watches, picks up on snippets of conversation, mannerisms, and she keeps her head down, for the most part.

If she's been watching, she's probably noticed by now that Deanna does a lot of her own watching, though she's much more likely to speak with the other captives than Natasha is. Still, she's more reserved than she would be at home, more... unsure of herself.

She nods at the redhead, offering a small, uncertain smile of her own as she waits for her to catch up. Watching her move through the snow, Deanna can't help but feel enormously clumsy and loud. And how is the other woman not freezing to death? Most importantly, however, Deanna is wondering how much she can trust her.

To be fair, Natasha has been trained in this sort of thing since she was a child. She's been trained in this terrain as well, left in the cold without so much as a sweater and had to work to survive, find her way back to the complex. Escape had never occurred to her back then, but now, here, it does. There's a whole planet out there, after all, and Natasha has never dealt well with house arrest.

She used to steal out in blizzards, catch a ride to the nearest town and make it back with stolen candy. Not always before they noticed.

"If you want to get in, best approach is from the side." Her voice is soft and low, just above the wind. A slight tilt of her head, a flick of her eyes in the direction she means. She doesn't stay still for long, both because it's freezing, and because she doesn't want to linger, make this any more suspicious. "You coming?" She asks, before starting to move.

Deanna debates for only a moment before following Natasha, stepping carefully in her tracks. She came out here for a reason after all, she's not turning back now. Still, she doesn't chance speaking yet, not unless it becomes necessary.

Natasha moves through the snow with surety, at an even clip, but not so fast as to outpace the other woman. And if Deanna is paying enough attention, she should be able to pick up on the tactic the redhead uses of looking for other footprints; using the already-broken snow to dampen the sound and obscure her tracks. She does exactly as she mentioned -- out to the side and then using the cover to press up against the building.

She doesn't seem particularly prone to conversation either, at least not out here.

While Deanna doesn't have training in this sort of thing - officially anyway - she is very observant. Perhaps she doesn't understand the reasons behind all of Natasha's actions, but the other woman carries herself with such assurance that Deanna is willing to trust her, at least in this. And she's pleased to find that indeed her footsteps are much quieter than before.

Eventually, they'll come to a door in the side of the building, unguarded, but protected by an elaborate security system.

It actually gets a brief twitch of her lips at how if nothing else, Deanna is good at picking up and mimicking what she's doing, even if she doesn't know the reasons. Being observant and capable of picking things up quickly are good skills to have. Eventually they reach the door at the side of the building: no guards, but there's electronic security measures. She thinks she can figure out how it works, but it doesn't look like an easy bypass.

"Don't suppose you have the code?" She murmurs low to the other woman. She looks hopeful, but not like it'll end their little trip.

She shakes her head. That'd be too easy, wouldn't it? "I'm afraid we'll have to go about it the old fashioned way," she whispers back.

"Lovely. But, I think I can bypass it, unless you see another way in," she comments, looking over the interface with a faint hum and a tilt of her head, red hair whipping against her face from the sharp wind. Her fingertips are starting to numb, though, so the sooner they get inside the better, or her ability for fine motor control is going to degrade.

But it's easier than working with gloves.

Deanna signals for her to wait, then sneaks to the opposite corner, attempting to use the techniques Natasha showed her to minimize the sound of her footsteps. It's more or less successful - or at least, better than what she'd been doing before.

She disappears around the corner, only to return a minute later shaking her head. "That's the only entrance. No windows either." With a small frown of worry, she glances down at Natasha's ungloved hands, then back at her face - no scarf even. They better hurry.

Deanna turns to face out towards the yard between here and the barracks. "I'll keep watch."

She waits, pacing slightly, just enough so that she's moving, not standing still in the wind, close against the building so she gets some shield from it. It's not intensely painful, but it's certainly to the point that she would like to not be outside anymore. "It shouldn't take too long," she murmurs with a nod of her head.

Maybe this wasn't the best way to play nice, but it would give her information... and they could only hold it against her if she got caught. Which means she's careful even as she tries to get it done as quickly as possible. Not just for her own comfort -- the less time they're out here, the less chance there is they get caught.

Eventually there's a content sounding chirp, and Natasha's lips curl into a flicker of not-quite-a-smile. "Come on," she whispers to Deanna, only barely audible over the storm.

Deanna needs no second bidding to get in from the cold, dodging into the foyer of the building with only one last glance out into the yard, to see if anyone saw them. Once the door shuts behind them, she looks at Natasha. "Thank you. It would have taken me forever to break that code."

"Let's just say I've had a little bit of experience," she admits, her expression a little bit wry as she looks over at the other woman. The warmth of inside compared to the snow and the wind almost feels too warm at first, and she's rubbing her hands together, trying to work the chill out of her fingertips. It lingers longer than it should, but it's just one more thing that doesn't feel right in this place.

"Do you know what you're looking for?" It's said without judgement, but instead it's interest. If she's looking for something in particular or just investigating it's a different strategy.

Deanna shakes her head. "Nothing in particular. Simply... following a feeling." That they are not being told the whole truth by the Cetagandans is certain, but she doesn't even know enough to know what's missing.

"Well then, let's explore. See if we can find something to satisfy your feeling, one way or the other. Why don't you lead?" She smiles, but the truth is that with people who aren't as accustomed to stealthily making their way through foreign installations, it's often easier to save them from a misstep if she's behind them rather than trusting they'll follow. In the snow was one thing, but there could be guards, rotations they wont know until it's too late.

This gives her a better chance to try and keep her from trouble if it comes up. Natasha might not be the sort of admit she was here to help, but well... she was.

Fortunately, Deanna proves to be much better at moving quietly through man-made structures than she is through the snow - she's not entirely without experience after all. Not knowing exactly what she's searching for, the first thing she is going to do is hunt down a computer terminal. It's not long before she finds one stationed in the wall near a set of stairs.

Automatically, she says, "Computer," in an attempt to activate it before remembering that's not how things work here. With a small sigh, she taps the screen, bringing the console to life.

Natasha follows after Deanna, not too close, but close enough that she could catch her by the elbow, pull her back if she was about to walk into a guard or the like. At least Natasha is fairly accustomed to people trying to talk to computers, so it doesn't strike her as too eccentric. Instead, she smiles a little indulgently, putting her back to the wall in the best position to watch the hallways as Deanna works the console.

She wishes she had a weapon, but the Cetagandans have not been particularly accommodating in that direction. Not because she'd use it against them if she had one, but she hates being unarmed. Even just a knife tucked into her boot would be a comfort.

She returns Natasha's smile with an embarrassed one of her own. The Cetagandans have shown Deanna how their technology works and it's already similar enough to home that she shouldn't have any problems with it. But then again, maybe because it is so familiar feeling is exactly why she reverted back to her usual habits.

Either way, it doesn't take her long to find what she's looking for: a layout of the building. It's not as helpful as she would like, considering all the areas that need special authorization to access, but it's something. "I wonder what all they're storing here," she murmurs.

Natasha nods, and there's a faint shrug of her shoulders -- seems like a good place to start she lets carry on implication. There's a faint gesture of her fingers. She's quiet, not wanting to draw any undue attention, and just given how computerized her own world is, there's a faint concern of things like voice recognition and the like. The Cetagandans do seem to rely far less on monitoring, however, although it doesn't particularly calm the paranoia.

This time she takes the lead, careful, quiet, keeping to the shadows and dodging the few guards on patrol. They're just approaching the room, when she hears a voice she recognizes: Diya. She manages to find them a hiding place, deep shadows despite the emergency lighting, and there's a look that tells Deanna to stay quiet and listen, the lights giving Natasha a grim look in the dark.

Hunkering down in the shadows to listen, Deanna doesn't need to be told twice to keep quiet. There is little she trusts about Diya, especially considering how her medical examination went. And now... her instincts are only confirmed by what they hear.

Unspeakable waste of potential.

At those words, Deanna looks at Natasha with wide, alarmed eyes - the only commentary she can make right now.

Natasha catches the look that Deanna shoots her and she nods slightly, the gesture small, as calming as they can afford. Neither of them with any interest in getting caught, the best they can do is stay silent and see how much they can hear. There are words that concern her -- things like why would you reverse it?.

Natasha understands in a breath what thin ice the exotics are on here. Diya isn't going to send them home: she wants to bring more of them here.

Deanna, for her part, is fixated on that on the human samples alone. She knows already how interested they are in her Betazoid half, just from that initial medical exam. Never in her life has she felt personally targeted for her heritage, on either side. Always she's been able to move in both worlds easily, embracing the cultures of both her mother and father.

But she is her mother's daughter, no matter how much she may sometimes deny it. Her jaw sets with determination. Whatever is going on here, she's going to find out and she's going to stop it.

Diya and Zahal's voices drift away, but as eager as Deanna is to leave and digest all this information, she waits, giving them time to truly leave.

There are so many things going on in the words she hears, but getting out without getting caught is the most important one. Although she does want to sit down and talk with Deanna, they can't do it here and they can't do it now.

So instead she waits until she thinks they have their best timed opening, and then she waves Deanna along after her. Quiet as she moves back into the hall, checking the corridors, and she'll guide them out the best route they can find, and then back across the snow.

She wont speak until they're back, though one there will be a tilt of her head, an incline inviting her to join Natasha so they can speak more.

[ february i log ]

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