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

"Maine is -- a mountain of a man, I'll grant you that, but -- " Sonia twists a lock hair between her fingers, fretting. "It's still a suicide mission, Miles. At best you'll be captured and fast-penta'd, and then they'd have more of us."

She chews on the end of that lock of hair, looking worried and a little plaintive. "Please don't, Miles. At least...at least talk to my sister first. She'd be just as aggrieved at Rani's capture."

Not that it's been easy to tell. Everything's just been so hard lately, and Sonia hasn't seen much of her sister in the last week.

Would that work? Could he convince his grandmother to convince his grandfather to send a raiding party? Miles wouldn't be involved in that, surely. And he knows it's selfish, but he's desperate to be involved one way or another.

(But Rani needs to be pulled out of that base even if he has nothing to do with it. That's the most important part here.)

"I'll talk to her," he says. It comes out slow and reluctant. No oaths being sworn here. "But I'm not going to just sit here."

The relief is clear on Sonia's face, a little of the tension draining out of her. "Nobody wants to sit around doing nothing," she says, and she means it, because that's what she hates. Sitting around and doing nothing while people are out there getting killed.

"You'll make good on your word, Miles. I know you will. But -- " She purses her lips and gives him as much of a stern look as she can manage. "If you go off and get yourself killed doing something stupid, I'll be very put out with you."

Edited 2017-02-04 18:54 (UTC)

He can't help but rub a hand across the cryorevival scars on his neck. Normally he might have quipped about not being able to care if that were the case, but ... It's entirely possible the Cetagandans have that tech. Another danger.

"I don't particularly wish to be killed," he agrees after a moment. "It's an unpleasant experience."

Sonia blinks, and her gaze follows his hand to his neck and...ah. Her eyes dim a little and she bites her lips together. "No, I can't imagine it was," she says quietly.

So she knows those scars too. He shouldn't be surprised, he supposes. How many people here would recognize them on sight?

"Consider it proof that I'm very hard to kill," he says. "Even death can't quite manage it."

"Thin ice," Sonia says, a little tersely, giving him a Look, but she relents with a little breath. "But I don't want you getting captured, either. Who would I talk to?"

He puts up a hand in surrender. No more talk of being killed, he swears. "Byerly, perhaps?" he says, teasing a little. "Actually, that might be more reason for me to stay safe."

She scoffs with a little pff, but she's smiling. "Oh, I know Byerly's game. He's harmless to me." She's just wholly unaware that it doesn't seem to work the other way around. "Besides, that's a very different kind of talk. You -- " She hesitates, teetering, searching for the right word. "You remind me of home, a little bit, in a way that Byerly doesn't."

If she weren't ridiculously related to him, he might have been a bit affronted at that. But - well. In this case, not being lumped in with Byerly is quite the relief. "Because I talk more a Betan?" he says with a bit of a grin. "I can do the accent too."

Sonia huffs out a quiet laugh. "I'll bet you sound ridiculous," she says wryly, twisting her fingers in her lap. "But -- something like that, I suppose. This place is...absolute insanity sometimes, you know that. It's just nice to talk to someone from...beyond all this."

Miles smiles softly at that. And switches over to his Betan accent impeccably. Strange, he sounds more like he's grown up with the accent since he was a child. His words, too, shift to something more casual - a slight exaggeration, but not by much.

"I can always do that for you. Been all over the Nexus - you name it, I've got a story."

Sonia lets out a delighted squeal of laughter and claps her hands together, eyes wide and bright. She looks instantly cheered, her face lit up like the sun in comparison to the tired look she'd been wearing before.

"Oh, you're good at that," she laughs, grinning, and her own accent shifts a little, not entirely consciously. The last ten years have filed away most of her Betan accent, the Barryaran gutturals eclipsing it, but now just hearing it -- she laughs again, propping her chin in her hands. "Alright, when was the last time you were on Beta?"

How long has it been? He genuinely has to think about it. "A few years at this point, I admit," he says, still keeping it up. Encouraged by her bright response. If he can cheer her up like this, then he's damn well going to keep doing it. "But it never quite leaves you. Don't you think?"

"No," Sonia agrees, tilting her head back and forth. A dreamy look passes over her face for just a second. "I can still smell the sand, sometimes. A funny thing to remember, I guess, but -- sometimes if I close my eyes..." She does close her eyes then, breathing in deep, and then makes a slight face. "And then I remember what it tastes like, and the moment's sort of ruined."

A surprised laugh bubbles out of Miles' mouth at that. Oh god. One does not want to taste the sand on Beta Colony, it's true. "Terrible, isn't it? I was always warned about it being poisonous when I was a child. So of course I had to try it."

"Of course you did," Sonia laughs into her hand. Yes, that sounds like something Miles would do. "I remember -- in the complex where my mother worked, there were these great big sculpture installations, abstract, weird-looking shapes. Every time Da took us there he had to keep me from trying to climb every one we passed."

He knows exactly the ones she means. Or something like them - Beta Colony is full of that sort of thing. Somehow he's not surprised either.

"But they're there to be climbed, aren't they?" he says with a grin. "Why else would they be so climbable to begin with?"

"Just so!" Sonia exclaims, her face lit up like the sun. Here, in this moment, she can forget about the icy wind and the unappetizing excuse for a food in front of her. "They build in all these creative handholds and steps and they expect you not to make good use of them? I always thought art was to be experienced. Turns out the groundskeepers don't care for that reasoning."

Miles just basks in her reflected warmth, glad to forget his own troubles for a little while. Nevermind that the more details he gets into about Beta Colony, the greater the chances he'll slip up about timing ... It's worth it to see her light up.

"Don't listen to them," he replies. "I never did. Broke bones because of it, but it was worth it."

Sonia lets out a little huff of laughter, blowing a piece of hair from her face. "I was thirteen the last time I was there. Do you think they'd forcibly remove an adult woman from the premises for climbing the art?"

"Oh yes," says Miles immediately. "They'd call it antisocial behavior and probably arrest you or something."

"Ha! And Betans think no one could accuse them of lack of imagination." Sonia grins wildly, leaning forward. "At least here if people think you're crazy, all people do is gossip about it."

"I've found Beta Colony to be more restrictive in some ways, to be honest," he says with an answering grin. "Barrayar, well. It's as you say. Gossip and hex signs to your face, sure. But some Betans say the nicest things to your face and the worst things behind your back."

"Oh, I know," Sonia sighs, and it's almost fondly. "It's like a planetary pastime. I got very good at it, too. I had lots of practice with all of my sister's old boyfriends."

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