[ february i log ]

[barrayarmods]

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.

Comments

[vorrutyer]

He gives a merciful gesture of one hand and lets up a bit. "One can never see oneself," he says. "One relies on mirrors to do so - and the only mirrors that reflect a person are other people." He gives a little smile. "And when those mirrors are as enormous as the ones you find yourself reflected in, a hundred feet tall and a hundred feet wide, the grandest mirrors in Barrayaran history, you look at your image and you think: I am small. Look at how little of the frame I take up. But that's merely an illusion, dear Sonia. A trick of the eye."

[vorbratta]

She looks back up at him, warmed, a little encouraged, and gives him a small smile. She sniffles discreetly, but blessedly with this cold weather and her already reddened nose and cheeks it's impossible to tell whether it's from emotion or just the unfortunate effects of being in the cold.

"The last time I saw my uncle, he told me the most useful thing I could do during the war was to get married and start having children," Sonia says, and the disdain in her voice would've been clear enough without the small curl of her lip. She lets out a haughty little breath and tosses her hair over her shoulder, pursing her lips. "But there has to be something better. I want to do something better. I just don't know what I can do."

[vorrutyer]

He reaches out then, and touches the back of her hand - lightly, kindly. Then he withdraws. "I should say there's something better you can do," he huffs. "Good lord. Could you imagine having to feed babies in these circumstances? Nightmarish. Which uncle was that, by the way?" He tosses in that last question casually, sounding thoughtless. He is...thinking, though.

[vorbratta]

"Eugh," Sonia mutters in wholehearted agreement, and she seems heartened somehow by that light touch to her hand. "Even Count Piotr and my sister haven't started yet -- I don't know how they could, with everything going on..."

Sonia blows a very un-Princess-like raspberry with her tongue and tucks her chin a little more closely against her arms. "Uncle Yuri," she sighs glumly with a long, slow roll of her eyes. "I think he's actually offended that I'm still not married at my age, but even if that weren't the case, I assure you, he has a long well of complaints for my father to dip into."

[vorrutyer]

Uncle Yuri. Uncle Yuri. It's strange to think of him as having opinions, truly. Well - no, that's not entirely true. History has well recorded the man's opinions, which have mostly tended towards kill, kill, kill. But Mad Yuri, having human thoughts - having opinions that any stuffy Vor might have...It's strange. It's - It makes his skin crawl, honestly, to think of how before too long, Yuri's thoughts will have turned to murdering those children of hers. When, By wonders, does he make the turn from humanity to madness? When does he become a monster instead of a man? When does he start hurting more than just Sonia's feelings...?

He realizes that the expression on his face has gone taut. He tries to force it to relax.

"Those old Vor imbeciles," he says, trying to sound good-humored. "I truly must apologize for my class and gender, for how many of them think that a woman's use is between her legs. Some of us know that there's much worthwhile in your head, too. Cold comfort though that is."

[vorbratta]

"He's not that much fonder of what's in my head, either," Sonia says with another roll of her eyes. Her hair tumbles back down over her shoulders as she shakes her head, makes a face and affects a deeper, man's voice. "Really, Xav, you must learn to control your children. It speaks ill of you. But of course, I suppose no one expects any half-Betan to know how to behave on Barrayar like they belong here."

The face-making continues, and Sonia sticks out her tongue and then drops her cheek against her arms, eyebrows raised at Byerly. "And he only ever says it when Grandfather's not in earshot, of course." She shrugs and puffs out a breath. "That's why I don't mind being down here in Vorkosigan's District. I mean -- aside from my sister, of course. It's sort of the reason we were sent back down here in the first place. It all wound up working out for the best, really."

[vorrutyer]

"Better to stay down here, yes," he says, a little too hastily. He clears his throat immediately afterwards - smooth, Byerly - and amends quickly, "Not least because you do wonders for morale, I think." Okay, yes, that's a better line of conversation; he gets his feet under him again as he continues on. "The soldiers here do love you."

[vorbratta]

Sonia's eyebrows raise slightly, but she lets it go by uncommented. She slumps a little, tiredly, and gives Byerly a pale smile. "Oh, yes. They're all very nice."

[vorrutyer]

That was...less enthusiasm than anticipated. He cocks an eyebrow at her and opens an inquiring hand, inviting elaboration.

[vorbratta]

Sonia opens her mouth to reply and just -- exhales, shaking her head. "I'm sorry, Byerly, I'm just -- " Exhausted, freezing, wrung out, stomach clenching around hunger pangs... "Just a little tired."

Damn this weather. If only it weren't so cold, so frigging windy that she can't even sleep away the rest. She's almost tempted to see if she can find somewhere in this cave to curl up for the night, maybe convince Gavalas not to bring her back to her tent. Might be worth a try.

[vorrutyer]

"Forgive me," he says at once, lowering himself into a bow and watching her from under his lashes. She looks tired indeed; no question of that. But why did that comment set that off? He thought she'd take pleasure in being reminded of the role she could play. He sits up after a moment, studying her, and then asking, "You do not enjoy that adulation?"

[vorbratta]

"No, it's not that." Her voice is half-muffled against her coat sleeve. Under any other circumstances, she'd come off as morose, maybe even sulky. But this is genuine exhaustion. The animated warmth of minutes before was strangely wearying, however welcome; and she's been trying hard to put on a good front, smile, stay as cheerful as possible as the camp slowly starves, barely getting by with no guarantee of respite on the horizon, only hopes and gambles. "Adulation's nice, but it's...inherently distant, don't you think? One gets lonely."

But it's such a stale complaint by now, isn't it? And it's slowly starting to turn around, with the outsiders here, with at least a few people she can connect with for the first time in years. But it seems so fragile, their situation so uncertain. Sonia lets out an unapologetic hum and turns her head to look at Byerly. He's the wrong person to complain to about this, lest he think her ungrateful for his company.

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to complain. I'm just...not feeling very well. Perhaps not my best face." She rubs one eye, feeling oddly self-conscious. "I haven't been sleeping much."

[vorrutyer]

"Having never been much adored, I couldn't say," he says, smiling with a flip of his hand. It's not self-pitying; it's wry. Still, he reaches back a moment later to take her hand again, asking, "What keeps you awake?" And he lifts his eyes to hers. "Worry? The cold?"

[vorbratta]

Both is most accurate, probably; Sonia's about as used to the anxieties of war as she could be, but the food shortage and... She smiles slightly when he takes her hand, letting him, a small comfort just to be touched so simply. Hardly anyone but her sister ever touches her like this.

"The cold, mostly. The tent blocks the wind, but it's still loud. I don't think there are enough blankets in the world." She manages a small, wry smile. "The only thing I envy about my sister's marriage, I think."

[vorrutyer]

And so Byerly lifts his eyebrows and suggests, "Come sleep with us. The outsiders' tent." His lips quirk up. "People snore. It's terrible. You won't sleep a wink. But at least you can rely on the bulky ones to block out the wind. That one fellow, Maine? He's a marvel. A positive radiator."

[vorbratta]

For a moment, Sonia actually seems cheered. "Your lot can't possibly snore more than a dozen Vorkosigan armsmen. They almost drown out the wind sometimes."

But then her expression sobers, painfully wistful. "You know they'll never let me."

[vorrutyer]

"Why not?" He lifts his eyebrows, leaning back slightly. "What's wrong with it?"

[vorbratta]

Sonia gives him a look. "You know," she says, not quite accusingly. "Propriety. And the danger of the outsiders. They are starting to trust you, but it's still only been a month."

And she'd probably get in trouble, but that hasn't really stopped her in a long time. And God, is it ever tempting. Just for one night...

[vorrutyer]

"Hm." He lifts his eyes in acknowledgment of all these protests; they're decent ones. Honestly, By wouldn't trust most of the outsiders further than he could throw them. The only one he half-trusts is Miles, but the no-further-than-he-can-throw-him thing is true for Miles as well; it's just that it's possible to hurl the little man for miles. Hence the name, perhaps?

Hah.

"What if you brought an Armsman with you?"

[vorbratta]

"You mean my babysitter?" Sonia raises her eyebrows, but her gaze is past Byerly -- near the mouth of the cave, an armsman in black and silver Vorbarra livery stands, relatively unobtrusively, but watching nonetheless. He seems faintly worried, but not entirely because of Byerly. "Who do you think is going to try to stop me? He's practically always there. He's been my bodyguard since... Well, near on ten years now. I think he's getting a little weary of getting in trouble for losing track of me."

Sonia chews on her lip thoughtfully, though, now too tempted to wholeheartedly talk herself out of it. If she can't have Byerly's Vorbarr Sultana -- if she can't escape this stupid war -- then dammit, she'll have something, even if it is an overcrowded tent full of almost-strangers, all awkwardly fit together. But there's something really charming about that. When has she ever had that?

"But," she says slowly, raising her eyebrows innocently at her armsman even at this distance, priming him for some maneuvering, "I...might be able to convince him."

[vorrutyer]

"Ah." His eyes crinkle in amusement, though his mouth stays serious. "You have a dangerous glint in your eye, dear Sonia." He raises his hand to his chin, stroking his short beard. "How ever will you do so?" A recounting of her manipulations will lighten his heart and cheer him considerably.

[vorbratta]

"Dangerous? Me?" Sonia pouts at Byerly with a bat of her eyelashes, innocence entirely feigned, although the light of amusement is genuine. She still looks tired, but the promise of sleep and...and company is lifting her spirits. Not, perhaps, the kind of company she's been craving, but in this weather, it's taken a backseat to just wanting to rest.

"Gavalas is easy," she murmurs, dropping her voice a little. "Bless the man, he puts up with a lot. I almost feel a bit bad. He'd have to stay in the tent too, can't let the poor man freeze to death, but I think the, hmm...demographic distribution might appeal to him." She smirks at Byerly. "I can always give him an Imperial Order. It doesn't actually work like that, and he knows it, but sometimes he'll pretend not to know that if he thinks it'll really make me happy. Or more tolerable."

[vorrutyer]

"Ah." His lips curve up, and his eyes crinkle in approval. "That's the sort of person you want to know. How delightful." He glances over at him, a little curiously, and then back at her, and he asks - "Can I support your quest in any way? Tell any lies? Create any distractions?"

[vorbratta]

"He is," Sonia sighs, with genuine fondness. One day, when she's older, she's be truly sorry for all the torment she puts that poor man through, but she has quite yet learned to appreciate it just yet. She purses her lips in thought, then shakes her head.

"No, no lies, and I am the distraction, so -- " Sonia smiles and gives Byerly a fond pat on the cheek before she starts to rise to her feet. "Just sit here and try to look harmless, hm?"

[vorrutyer]

"But that's easy!" he says. "I am the absolute picture of innocence and virtue. I cannot help being charming and good." And then he offers her a sitting bow - "I await your return, madam."