forbarrayar | [ february ii log ]

Entry tags:

[ february ii log ]

Who: Everyone
What: Traitors exposed, celebrations had, sleight hands passing cards under the table. And so begin the preparations for what is soon to come.
When: February 18th - 28th
Where: Barrayaran camp / Cetagandan base
Warnings: Torture (interrogations thread)

Quick links:
Riverfall
Barrayar: Barrayaran camp / Party / Missions
Cetaganda: Cetagandan base / Moon-poetry party / Missions

The harsh weather rages on, which temperatures still averaging far below freezing, and the wind is still strong. But things are a little less dire for the outsiders, and for the exotics -- well, they have their own chills to deal with.

riverfall
Riverfall village is your typical Dendarii mountain village, which means it's small, humble, and mostly poor. This is the most rural of the rural around here, a little backwater even by Barrayaran standards. Most of the villagers live in houses of wood and stone built themselves or by ancestors. Despite the cold, there are plenty of people outside at any given time -- working, mostly, because the daily grind stops for no one, but even the occasional group of children taken over by fits of cabin fever. The village is built up against a rocky mountain face, from the top of which the eponymous waterfall flows into the river that borders the west edge of the village and continues down the mountain. The place isn't exactly hidden, but if you don't know your way around, it'd be hard to find without a native guide.

The villagers are wary of the outsiders at first, even more than the soldiers had been -- the rural Dendarii are as superstitious as they come -- but, slowly convinced of their good intentions, start to warm to them. They're a blunt, hardy people, largely uneducated and tending toward the most extreme of Barrayaran sensibilities, but they are undeniably fierce. The General Count trusts them, so they'll be more or less civil (by Barrayaran standards, anyway), but you might catch the occasional scrutinizing, watchful stare. With Cetagandans in camp and exotics among them, they border on hostile, especially those who are visibly nonhuman. They keep their heads down enough to keep from getting into trouble with the soldiers, but they do not like you at all.

Not everyone in Riverfall speaks English -- Russian is everyone's first language, and only about half the village has any passable command of English. Thankfully, the village's Speaker Yakiv Gura speaks English, if heavily accented. They're clearly stretching to the limit to help the camp, but to the Dendarii, there's no higher act than one in the Count's service, especially when it comes to fighting this war.

barrayar
Even after scoring themselves a little extra food, morale in the camp is at an all-time low. The miserably dangerous weather hasn't let up, food is still heavily rationed, and everyone is still at least a little tired, cold, and hungry all of the time. It doesn't help that they've lost a few soldiers in the last couple of weeks, and in Riverfall, too, some villagers have died of the cold despite their relative warmth and safety, mostly children. This is hardly the first harsh winter they've faced, but that doesn't stop the inexorable loss that comes with it. Some villagers may be somberly putting their loved ones to rest in the village graveyard when the outsiders are in town.

But Piotr finally calls Negri out as a spy sent by his aide-de-camp Captain Ezar Vorbarra, partly to deliver a message and partly to test Piotr, because Ezar loves coy bullshit. However, he does learn that both Ezar and Prince Xav Vorbarra, Olivia and Sonia's father, are en route to Vorkosigan's District with relief supplies from Beta Colony secured by Xav's ambassadorial connections and tireless lobbying. Once Piotr judges it safe to release this information, it bring with it a bit of hope -- and to seal the deal, Piotr and Olivia arrange a celebration of sorts in the village.

Finally outing the ring of reason in the camp helps to bolster morale, too. Vorhalas is interrogated, and the names of his co-conspirators are revealed: Lieutenant Boris Vortala, who killed himself in disgrace shortly after his fast-penta interrogation at ghem-General Zefyst's hand, and their commander Captain Aaron Vorbataille. Vorbataille has, of course, already started to make his escape -- but with the help out of the outsiders, he won't get very far. Once Piotr is satisfied with Vorbataille's interrogation as well, both men are put to execution, but not by beheading as Doctor ghem-Miko: the sentence for treason is death by public starvation and exposure, and in this weather, it doesn't take long. They are publicly and emphatically denounced as traitors with no honor to speak of, sending a very clear message. Although this might seem like a gruesome sight to the outsiders, to the Barrayarans this is simply how it goes, and very few of them are sorry to see these traitors suffer, particularly as Vorhalas was the one responsible for their food shortage in the first place.

Reports from those soldiers and outsiders who were in the village at the same time as the Cetagandan field science team present the General Count with another troubling problem, however: the implications of the Cetagandans building a device that could control this phenomenon are terrifying, particularly to this threadbare resistance movement. But sabotage seems hardly a worthy solution, either. This is the only lead they have on sending the outsiders home, and so many of them have already put their lives on the line for the cause of a planet that otherwise nothing to most of them. There would be no honor in robbing them of their only chance to return home. But whether they should continue to allow the Cetagandans to proceed with their research or try to find a way to copy their plans themselves, a dubiously possible venture at best, weighs heavily on his mind. It only complicates his strategic concerns further, but by his military orders in the next couple of weeks, at least one thing is clear: he wants Cetagandan bodies.

camp
Morale is critically low among the soldiers, particularly after a few casualties during a recent skirmish with a Cetagandan patrol, but spirits definitely begin to lift with news of relief. The soldiers are now more or less accustomed to the outsiders' place in the camp, and they're even starting to become a little friendlier toward them, particularly those who've been involved in the war effort. They might invite outsiders to play card or dice games with them, or share a conversation over an admittedly meager meal, or better still, bond with them in the true Barrarayan form: over a lot of alcohol.

Negri has more or less built himself a niche in the camp, and doesn't look like he's going anywhere any time soon. But he isn't the only spy around. They desperately need a man on the inside, particularly with the troubling news about the wormhole device, and right now, that man is Byerly Vorrutyer. Starting next month, Piotr is sending him on assignment to infiltrate the Cetagandan base under the cover of a cowardly collaborator.

party
By the time they have the party on the 21st, the villagers have warmed up to the outsiders a little, but they don't really bond until the party. With what little they have to share, they scrape together as much of a feast as they can: not much, but by this month's standards, any hot meal prepared with fresh ingredients seems absolutely decadent. And because this is Barrayar there is, of course, plenty of liquor, that Barrayaran moonshine maple mead not the least among them, and there's no shortage of wine or vodka, either.

The hillfolk light lanterns all around the village and raise large tarps to cover the open center of the village where they usually hold gatherings. Inside, protected from the wind and lit by the bonfire and braziers placed around the perimeter, it's actually almost warm. Every villager who's ever laid hand to an instrument seems to gather there to play music all night long, an energetic mix of lively folk music and raucous drinking songs. Anyone with any musical talent would be welcome to join them as well. There's plenty of dancing, too, very little of it formal or complicated, but everyone's having a good time for the first time in weeks, maybe months, and the mood is infectious. By the end of the night, morale seems to have risen overall, and people in camp have something real to look forward to. The partygoing visitors are put up in warmed tents within the tarped village center or in the villagers' homes where they have room. Come morning, they'll head back, but for just one night, it's almost like there isn't even a war on.

missions
Outsiders have been assisting with moving supplies between the camp and Riverfall all throught he rest of the month, and it mostly goes smoothly. Vorbataille is caught on the 20th, although he and Vorhalas aren't publicly executed until a few days later, when Piotr is satisfied with the intelligence he's extracted. By the time he gets Vorbataille's name out of Vorhalas, the traitorous Captain has already fled -- but thanks to Carolina, Duv and Zarya, he's dragged back to camp for his interrogation.

That evening, Maine and William have the misfortune of encountering a dragon -- Darkstalker is on a mission with a Cetagandan patrol, and they run right smack into each other. A fight breaks out, but ultimately Darkstalker and the Cetagandans come out on top, and the outsiders and Barrayarans are forced to retreat -- but not before managing to kill a Cetagandan soldier or two, just barely escaping with one of the bodies.

Miles finds himself in a terrible position when a guard patrol shift goes horribly wrong in a skirmish against some Cetagandans, resulting in the death of their squad leader and a very ugly aftermath.

Zarya, William, Beth and Miles are in Riverfall with some Barrayaran soldiers on a supply run when a Cetagandan field science team arrives with a few exotics in tow. This is a rare chance to learn more about the Cetagandans' scientific exploits, and among other things, they find out that whatever it is that brought them here, the Cetagandan scientists are convincede it has something to do with the wormhole that collapsed 700 years ago.

The unabridged mission writeup is here.

cetaganda
The Cetagandans are a notoriously tight-lipped bunch, but they're blowing away most of the smoke surrounding their wormhole science research. As has been alluded, they're currently working on a device to harness the phenomenon that brought all the exotics here in the first place, and hopefully find a way to send them all home with it. They invite any exotics with scientific expertise to a series of interviews about neurology, astrophysics, and mechanical engineering. None of the advisement they receive helps to solve one of their most critical problems -- that of generating a Necklin field to match the one that must have surrounded each exotic -- but it certainly puts them closer to their goal, particularly in the area of neurology, and they're hardly going to stop there. But it's clear that the mathematicians and astrophysicists on base don't have sufficient expertise to solve the most complex equations before them. But on the brighter side of things, in the interest of this scientific exchange, they're letting the lab techs help a little more beyond just grunt work.

Meanwhile, the genetics project that seems so strange and arcane to the exotic carries on, largely behind the scenes, although Diya is increasingly at odds with her husband and even some of her senior staff, particularly the precocious Amai ghem-Soren. But there is very real purpose behind it -- and far more than just one -- and Diya d'Zefyst is a woman of great ambition. And more than anything else, she is haut.

Unfortunately, the relative peace on base is abruptly broken when Daryl, Lakshmi and Wash all manage to escape in a wild breakout attempt on the 25th. York and Ratchet are left behind, and as a result, some of their privileges revoked. They're now being watched a little more closely as a result.

base
Overall, despite simmering tensions under the surface and the miserable weather, life on base seems to be going more or less smoothly around them. The Cetagandans have had some recent victories against the Barrayarans, so morale is high. Unfortunately, after the breakout they begin cracking down on security with the exotics -- going back to treating the exotics a little more like they did when they first arrived. They aren't under guard, but after the 25th, they are being watched.

They still maintain that insistent veneer of civility, however, breaking only in cases where they feel the need or security risk is significant enough. The ghem on base remain overall cordial and courteous to the exotics as they ever were, which is to say considerably and always with a touch of smug superiority. With her success at the party earlier this month followed by her performance in the moon-poetry garden, the often-sequestered Amai ghem-Soren is seen more around the base.

moon-poetry party
The moon-poetry party is about three hours long and steeped in ceremony, each participant taking their turn to recite. This is, apparently, not a recitation of one's own work, but rather selections of classical Cetagandan poems, and in so referencing something culturally ubiquitous, each makes a statement in its mere selection and juxtapositions. If you pay close enough attention, you might notice that each participant has very subtly coordinated their outfits to further complement the theme of their recitation. Although there is a definite dignity to the party, it doesn't take much to pick up on the fact that this is yet another arena ghem use to try and socially one-up one another. Among the participants are both the Chief Medical Officer Colonel Faro ghem-Naru and Doctor Amai ghem-Soren, whose performance was especially well-received, the theme apparently being something about subtle passions.

missions
The science interviews with the exotics go more or less well, although not quite so hopeful as the Cetagandans were hoping. They do, however, learn some things about FTL travel in other worlds as well as other kinds of neural implants.

On the evening of the 21st, York, Natasha and Kaidan accidentally bear witness to what is clearly some kind of travesty: clearly a human being, but both overgrown and underdeveloped, and exhibiting powers of hydrokinesis and psychic empathy, referred to only as a ba.

On the 23rd, Jasper, Lapis, Pearl and Darkstalker accompany some soldiers and a field science team to Riverfall village, coinciding with a visit from some outsiders and soldiers. They encounter some outsiders while there but also pick up a bit on what it is the Cetagandans are doing -- that the Necklin field problem still remains their biggest problem, and they've been getting conflicting orders from the higher ups lately.

The unabridged mission writeup is here.

Note: Negri and Zahal are available for threads by request only this round. Please hit up Madi or Ammay respectively if you want threads with either of those NPCs. You can also request a thread with Village Speaker Yakiv Gura if you want, in which case hit up Madi.

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[ Well. He's not entirely sure what else to say. Haggard at least sounds kind of cool and tough. Really, she'd looked half dead.

He makes a face at the thought of the Cetagandans taking the blackwater. He'll have to thank Daryl personally for getting that back. ]

Mmm. You looked near to death, to be honest. Have you had a chance to take some then?

Come on, Byerly. You can literally look down on me. You certainly pull that one out frequently enough.

[ Well hey, it's one of the outsiders Miles hasn't met yet. One of the ones who'd helped rescue Rani ... He's out with the horses himself, happily saddling up one of them for a quick ride. He pauses when he sees Wash, though, and grins. ]

Come closer. They won't usually bite.

He is a mercenary admiral, after all. He doesn't often get his hands dirty directly, but he certainly can.

Anyway, he leans in close to watch Daryl. Making the same motions with his own hands, silently. "Ah, I see. The bigger they are, the harder they fall." He can get behind that idea.

Miles is there around drink three, soundly drunk on his own mead. Enough that he actually listens to Tucker on this Q guy - some kind of 2-D holonovelist? - for more than five minutes. It's even kind of interesting.

But he has another, more important topic in mind. "S'mores," he says, gesturing at the fire in the center of the party. "You have to tell me how to make them."

Nothing like a good ol' party. Miles is here with his maple mead, grinning like a loon as he mills about. It's nice not to get hexed at tonight. Most drunks don't care quite enough for that, and it's welcome break for him. He spies Sonia in the crowd and makes his way over to her.

"Nice to have some cheer, isn't it?" he says with a grin. "Sorely needed, I'd say."

Daryl gets up as soon as he can, and oof. Well, fair's fair, and he probably deserved it. There are no rules in these kinds of fights, and they both knew that from the outset. Daryl's vision swims, but he doesn't double over, doesn't stop or stall. He's had worse from others, felt greater pains, and shit, it's not like he's never been kicked in the balls before. He'd take this pain over another arrow in the gut, or being shot in the head again.

So his movements are slower when he backs up, squaring himself for whatever Byerly has next. He doesn't strike. He doesn't attack. He waits. Counter attacks are the only thing that work with this shithead.

Beth's gaze shifts between the crowd of dancers and Byerly, watching and listening to him as she leads the song. He picks it up quickly, even more proof of his skill--and so does the band and the audience, who make the three claps in the chorus raucous. She grins back around the words--the major and the corporal and the captain sought her--at Byerly. His fingers move swiftly over the fiddle's fingerboard; if she didn't have her own singing to do, she'd be tempted to stand there and watch.

It's a quick song, even if you repeat the chorus one last time at the end. When it's done, she takes a quick curtsy before applauding with the rest of the tent. Byerly and the rest of the musicians deserve just as much attention--they're the ones who followed along without knowing the melody to start with.

"Not bad," she says to Byerly, the biggest understatement of the night, just under the din as the band starts up another tune.

[ A snort. ]

Vorkosigan, you are literally the only person who cares about how tall you are. The rest of us just see how much you care and use it to rile you up. It seems to work.

If it doesn't matter that much to you, then stop referencing it.

What, and lose a surefire way to get you upset? Oh, no. No chance.

Case in point.

"Ah," he says, a miserable little smile plucking at the corners of his mouth. He turns his face away to hide it. No. No, I won't be practicing it...And I won't be around you to drop any pearls of any sort.

"I wouldn't even know where to start," he says. "Practicing, I mean. I suspect it'll be like practicing the piano for someone who never learned to play - if you don't have the basic skill, you can't train yourself up, can you?" He strokes her cheek with his thumb. "It's all right. I do all right as I am, I think."

Miles, do you believe that your stature makes you a worse person?

Daryl nods, slowly becoming more impressed with the kid. He may have a punchable face, but he's got a quick mind behind it, and he's ready and eager to learn, and Daryl can appreciate that. He hasn't once felt like he's being taken for granted, and with Daryl's prickly sense of self-worth, that's... rare.

Hm.

He finishes setting up the trap. "How'd you find the burrow?" Daryl's pretty sure he didn't see him follow the tracks, but he could be wrong.

The problem is that now that By has been taken by surprise, taken a real hit, he's moving cautiously himself. He backs away, tensed, half crouched. His posture is open, fluid. By his stance, he knows how to handle himself. And by his movements and the focus in his face, he's not the least bit drunk. Quick, alert, and dead-sober.

His eyes flick down to Daryl's waist, pocket, boots. Searching for every place the man might be concealing a knife. Quickly, sharply, he grabs at his own belt like he's going for a knife. He's unarmed - regrettably - but he wants to watch Daryl, to see if the man goes for a weapon himself. And if so, where he keeps it.

Daryl, meanwhile, is less than impressed with his abilities. The arrow still hits a few inches too high for the bullseye he wants. Shit, it's been years since he used a real bow and arrow, and he's never used one of these longbows before. It was a fancyass compound bow Merle stole from some rich kids hunting in their backyard. This thing... the balance is all different.

He's stuck pensively considering his many failings when he hears William's voice squeaking over his shoulder. Who was that? Oh, just the guy Daryl'd been pretending to almost shoot. Like he'd ever accidentally shoot a person.

Still, he knows a joke when he hears one. Daryl's mood is still better than usual, good enough to give one back, even if his tone hardly lets on. "Was in my way."

He waves his bow in quick acknowledgment of the applause, and then hands the violin off to someone else. Up here in these hills, an astonishing number of people have musical talent; these instruments get passed around from hand to hand, everyone taking a turn with the many instruments they're able to play. "Not bad yourself," he says with an open smile. Then he leans back and puffs out a heavy breath.

"Pfoooo," he sighs, a ridiculous sound, but he's cheerful rather than mocking. Hell, he's barely even self-deprecating. "I'm getting old."

Ratchet is doing his absolute best not to climb the walls, with limited success. He knows York is just a few cells over, and injured, dammit, and he can't even talk to the man let alone check the burn on his leg, make sure he's all right. He tries to rest, but he bunk is cold and solitary and his sleep is fitful when he snatches any at all. Even pacing is unsatisfactory. He's almost--almost--relieved when he watches a small group of guards come down the corridor and pass York's cell to stop at his, watching them with lidded, too-vivid blue eyes as they unlock the door and gesture for him to stand.

He doesn't even catch a good glimpse of York as they march him past the cell, but he doesn't dig in his heels or try anything else obnoxious--this is probably going to be bad enough as it is. He knows it's not going to hurt, he saw Vortala's interrogation, but the memory of it and the knowledge of how they'd found him later still clenches an icy fist low in his belly. He sighs when he's directed into the interrogation room and he sees who's in charge, submitting to whatever restraints they deem necessary.

"Ghem-Colonel," he says, feeling his heart pounding hard against his ribs, his breath just a little too shallow. Maybe this stupid useless meatsack he's stuck in will have a deadly allergy to fast penta and they'll just try to beat whatever they want to know out of him. That he could probably handle. "I imagine your day has been about as pleasant as mine, and considerably more hectic."

Daryl doesn't have a knife. Daryl would have used it by now, if he did. Just as a threat-- he really doesn't want to kill this man, whose only crime, as far as he can tell, is being an idiot-- just to keep his head above water. He's never much liked the idea of trick weapons. You don't pussyfoot around with bodily harm.

Once it's obvious they're both waiting for the other to strike first, though, that means... something. It means this stupid thing doesn't have to go any further. Daryl has landed a hit-- his feelings are, if not calmed, at least assuaged. He stands up straight, and even puts his hands up. He won't attack unless Byerly does.

"Where'd you learn to fight?" He's a nasty fighter, a painfully good one. Not relying on strength, using counter-balance and all that shit, it's clever. As much as Daryl dislikes this man-- and he does, a great deal-- he could be of use.

And there it is. But Sonia thinks she's had enough unrealistic expectations of Byerly tonight. Perhaps she ought to give the poor man a little slack. She smiles slightly even as he turns his head away.

"You do." She reaches up to touch his face, just three fingers over her cheek before she drops her hand. "Better than you think, even."

Daryl has never seen the queen before she was... whatever she was, back in that cell. He assumes the age is metaphorical. "Think she's got some kinda sickness," he says. "Got her medicine."

It's the nearest explanation Daryl can think of.

Ah. A bit of a pity. Byerly doesn't want the fight to continue, precisely, particularly since he suspects that this man outclasses him in sheer skill and strength. But he did half want to see if he could land one more blow. Something embarrassing. Ah, well.

"Bars, mostly," Byerly lies. "And when you're Vor, you learn to fight." He lifts an eyebrow and moves along before Daryl can think too deeply about that lie - plausible-sounding, but not one that holds up well under scrutiny, considering how very unlike the other Vor Byerly's combat style is. "Where did you learn to fight?"

"Oh, don't say that," he says, his voice going light with irony. "You haven't the faintest idea of how truly, deeply egotistical I am. No one loves Byerly more than Byerly."

Which is not, perhaps, saying so much. Ah, well.

He's quiet a moment, then says, "Sonia...The war will end. Have faith. It will end, and you will be...all right."

"You don't care," is Daryl's first reaction. The truth is impossible to phrase. Where? Everywhere. When? Constantly.

Anyway, Daryl's mind is already working quickly, trying to picture it. 'Vor' is their way of saying rich assholes who piss on everybody else, and he can see them taking up leisurely self defense bullshit, except Byerly fights like a goddamn shadow. Like someone on the rails. Like somebody who's done it before, and it mattered, like it wasn't just for show. The crazy laughter, that was rich asshole stuff. The kick in the balls, that was something else.

Everything he says is a lie, Beth had warned him.

No, it makes more sense that something bad happened to him, something real bad. It's possible... the way these people are, the backwards way they talk, it could be dangerous to be the kind of man Byerly clearly is.

Well, at least that means he's safe around Beth.

"You teach it any?" Daryl asks, "or it's all instinct?"

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[ february ii log ]

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HORSIES

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Ratchet [CETA | INTERROGATION]

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