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

Beth falls quiet, trying to decide what to tell him. It would be better to tell him about the people who came from Woodbury, all the ways they made the prison better. But he doesn't want stories of better; he wants betrayal.

They're nearly at the tent when she offers, "He wasn't an enemy at first. He was with Rick's group when they came to our farm. My group."

She hasn't confided to him everything she told Sonia, but he doesn't need to know everything to understand the bigger picture. "I don't...something happened, and I think he tried to kill Rick. He's dead now."

"Ah." He tilts his head up slightly as they walk. After a moment, he asks, "Accidentally dead, or deliberately dead?" A small tilt of his head indicates the execution-ground they came from.

"Not like that." She shudders a little, hoping it looks more like a shiver in this weather. "You'd have to ask someone who was there."

All that matters is that it was bad. Survivable, for everyone but Shane, but bad.

And it's nothing that she wants to dwell on. Slipping inside the tent, she holds the flap open for him and adds, "We took in dozens of people at the prison. We didn't regret that."

Not aside from those first prisoners, anyway, and even then, only some of them.

"Ah - thank you," he says as he ducks inside - quite literally ducks; the flap is a bit low for his lanky frame - sounding a little startled by her consideration. (The source of his surprise is purely cultural; having a woman hold the door for the man is very odd for him, and it genuinely takes him aback.) He straightens his coat once he's inside, and then asks the rather burning question -

"But...Forgive me, dear Miss Greene. But do you mean to imply that you were in prison?"

She laughs, moving out of the way of the entry, toward an empty bench. It's a moment in which she can see clearly just how little she's told him--which is kind of satisfying to look upon. He hasn't ferreted out her whole life; she can tell it to him, or not, as she prefers. "No, I lived there."

Thinking of it in any detail doesn't exactly inspire laughter these days, of course. It's in ruins now, as surely as the farm is. She adds, more soberly, "The world ended. Nobody needs a prison when the world ends--except people who want a safe home."

"I...see," he says a little dubiously. But dubiousness isn't fair. It makes quite a lot of sense, really: those bars can keep dangers out just as easily as they can keep dangers in, of course. A well-fortified structure, few entrances, few exits...Dirty, of course, but as their current circumstances demonstrate, one ceases to care about dirt when one grows sufficiently desperate. Hm.

Well. He sweeps a bow towards her. "Might I fetch for you today's ration of food, Miss Greene?"

"I already ate." Which is true, but it's accompanied by a tiny pinscratch of a frown as she looks up at him from where she's sat down. Willing though she is to have some conversation with him--today, at least--the return of his demonstrative gesturing seems like a bad omen. It's only a step or two away from his snide comments. "But you should get yours."

"Mm." He wrinkles his nose, glancing up towards where the scant rations are being handed out to those who are eating during off-shifts. And he says, experimentally, wondering how this will go over - hah, like he doesn't already know that it'll just result in fierce independent prickliness - "I haven't been able to stomach the thought of consuming horse, I fear. Do you want mine?"

She can see exactly what he's doing, as soon as he does it, and part of her wants to get up right then and there. But he's otherwise being...well, not nearly as much of a creep as he has been in the past. Which doesn't mean much when everything he does is suspect, but it seems more like he's trying to be nice than anything.

Which could just be some other ploy in some elaborate way to get whatever it is he wants from her, but people who want things don't usually make elaborate plans, in her experience. They just take.

And anyway, she has a knife, which takes some of the bite out of her but is this some kind of trick wondering. Even if it is, she has a solution to the whole mess, right at her waist.

"I hate eating horse," she tells him, which isn't a lie, even if it's not the reason she's telling him no. "But it tastes okay. You should try it."

"I tried," he answers, slumping down onto the bench and sighing mournfully. "Bravely. Heroically. You ought to have seen it, me doing battle with my gag reflex. But in the end, my gag reflex won, and I nearly threw it all up." He uses a fist to prop up his chin and studies a point above her head. "Eat it, don't eat it, I don't care. But I simply can't. It'll go to waste otherwise, I suppose. Ah, well. Perhaps I can use it to lure a wolf and trap that wolf and train that wolf to hunt me rabbits."

She's not sure whether that's even close to the truth--the part where eating horse makes him want to barf, specifically, not whether cooked horse would be interesting to a wolf--but it sounds a little like bullshit designed to make her eat his food. But it doesn't really matter at the moment, because they haven't grabbed a bowl to argue over yet.

More importantly, his plan sounds like a really bad one to her. She barely knows how to hunt, and she knows it's not going to work. "Why don't you just trap rabbits?"

"I wouldn't even know how to start," he answers quite honestly. Frankly, training a wolf does seem more manageable to him than rabbit-trapping. How on earth do they manage it, anyway? Rabbit-trapping? In the holovids, you always see the traps lifting up with the rabbits in them, but how do you make them go automatically like that...? What a mystery.

"Do you know how to trap rabbits?"

It would be so nice if she could nod, but he'd ask how, and then she'd be sunk. She spent her days taking care of the baby and doing chores around the prison. Even when they were out in the wilderness, she wasn't the one catching dinner.

"A friend of mine did." Daryl, but saying his name will only make him feel further away--and he's already in some other universe. Her voice droops a little even as it is. "He was teaching me to track animals by their footprints. Before...you know."

Before the hospital. Before all this.

"What rotten timing," he responds, cocking an eyebrow. "Right before you were brought here? Dreadful. Well." He heaves a little bit of a sigh, leaning back in his seat, crossing his arms.

"Tell me what you know, then. We'll see if that might be a starting point for something good."

"No," she says, before she can stop herself, and then, to clarify, "Not right before."

But God, she can't imagine anything worse than explaining it. Even if Byerly's somehow restraining himself from making whatever nasty comments are probably bouncing around inside his skull, she doesn't want to talk about it.

"I don't know if you have the same kinds of animals here." And she knows better than to think she could track down a rabbit and kill it with a knife. There's a reason Daryl used a crossbow for just about everything. "I can find Earth rabbit tracks. Not Barrayar ones."

This, she realizes belatedly, is asking for a lecture on her inability to grill Miles Illyan for every possible detail about Barrayar, but it's better than saying well, once Daryl ate a snake, that might be better than horse.

"Hm." By sits back in his chair and frowns, hand lifting to his chin. His brows draw down thoughtfully, and he asks, "Well, I can't imagine they're that different. Earth rabbits are carnivorous, yes?"

He asks that with such intent solemnity that he certainly doesn't seem to be lying.

"What? No." She can't decide whether to laugh or scoff; he sounds too serious for it to be a joke. So she settles for frowning, saying, "If your rabbits are carnivorous, we probably can't just set up a carrot and a box."

Not that they'd do that anyway--but still.

"Hmm." He rubs at his chin, his face still deadly solemn. "I suppose we could take a bit of the horse meat to lure one of them in...Or I suppose we could use it to catch some Murderous Robins."

"You're just screwing with me," she says, skeptical and starting to smile a little. He has to be, right? "Nobody has murderous robins."

It's hard to imagine songbirds here at all, but murderous ones? No.

"You mean you don't have them?" Still looking concerned and serious - far too serious, given her little smile, which is clue enough of just how serious he actually is - "What about the Ravenous Butterflies? Oh, they're bad ones."

She can't help it--she laughs a little. He's just really good at keeping a straight face, and this seriously can't be real. Even if they had ravenous butterflies, they wouldn't call them that.

Right?

"Come on. You're full of crap." It's one of the nicest things she's ever said to him, going by tone alone.

"I'm wounded!" he cries, pressing his hand to his chest. And he does look genuinely mournful - but then he flashes her a quick, cheeky wink. Only that he allows, and nothing more. Still in the same tone, he goes on, "Well, at least there are certain animals you can trust in this world. Like the bears. They're terribly cuddly, and love to give hugs. Were they like that for you?"

"I never met a bear," she says dryly, willing to keep that wink a secret. If he wants to pretend he's serious as a heart attack, she guesses he can. It's nothing that actually matters--who cares what he means? "We ate littler animals. Deer, raccoons, opossums, rabbits, squirrels... Stuff like that. Once, Daryl caught a snake."

It's an accident that she says his name, and in the moment it catches up with her, a wave of homesickness hits her. He's on another planet. You can't miss anybody there.

Yes, I can. I do miss them--all of them.

Then you have to stop. You can't be that sad. There's a war.

"Hm." He allows a tiny smile to escape now, since he's no longer spinning blatant lies. Instead, he says, "You really are a curious creature. Usually, when galactics come here, they're utterly horrified about the way that we kill and eat our meat. But you're all right with it. I appreciate how - hm - nonjudgmental you all are." Then, with a little horrified shudder - "A snake, though."

I used to cry when Mama killed chickens, she wants to say, but if they get on the subject of home, she'll be thinking about it all day and all night. Beth can't afford that, if she's going to keep being useful. And if she's not useful to the Barrayarans, she's pretty sure they'll throw her out on her ass.

So instead, she just says, "Something has to die, if you want to eat. That's life." Animals or plants--it's always true. And then, mostly in hopes of disgusting Byerly, "It looked gross. Lots of little bones."

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