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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

As long as you ain't cuttin' up people, but he doesn't say it. He just nods, slow, taking it in. He'd rather eat squirrel than horse, and that's as far as he'll go. He hasn't seen a single goddamn sign of deer on this rock. Christ, these assholes could use some goddamn venison around now.

But none of that matters, because it's not why Miles is here. He's indulging Daryl, and helping him a fair deal, even if he doesn't know the extent of it. He'll let that go, for now. "Better'n starving." Most, but not all, things are.

Daryl stands, and is mildly surprised to see how he towers over the other man. He knew he was short, but their interactions before now have been quick and chaotic. This puts it in relief. "That all you wanna talk about?"

His brows rise just slightly.

Look. They wouldn't cut up people to eat. Kill half-Barrayaran babies and hurl them at Cetagandans? Absolutely. Eat people? No. Probably not.

"Better than starving," Miles agrees empathetically. And that's the end of that topic for now. Not what he'd come to see Daryl about, anyway. He looks up at the taller man, rubbing idly at the forming crick his neck. "But no. As fascinating as this topic is, it's not what I came to talk to you about." A pause. "Well. The last time we met, I think you were trying to punch me in the face."

Daryl stares down at Miles in a fair parody of blankness. He's got a fair few opinions on the subject, why he was fighting and where the punch was aimed. Why it was important then, and not now. Life is a balancing act. If there isn't a reason for everything you do, you aren't thinking hard enough.

But instead, he just says, "you got one'a them faces."

It's pretty close to a joke, by Daryl's count. As much as the last few days have been a harrowing, chaotic mess, he's in an excellent mood. Someone he thought was dead, isn't. He's not in prison. Lakshmi isn't dying. Beth is here. All told, Miles has caught Daryl in positively excellent spirits.

Miles snorts at that. In truth he doesn't blame the man. He's just ... well, surprised. Especially given Daryl's cheer.

"I suppose I do. But - well, even so. You weren't on our side before. What changed your mind?"

It's a worthy question, one that deserves a similarly strident answer. One that, all told, Daryl would be completely unwilling to give him under normal circumstances. Daryl isn't the trusting sort. But weighing the pros and cons without the incredible stain of misery, paranoia, and that all-encompasing feeling of loss makes it far more simple than it would have been days ago.

"I got people on this side," he says. Okay, it's not the whole truth, but no way in hell is Daryl leaking the fast-penta incident in a hurry. Or, you know. Ever. "Cetagandans ain't got much use for traps, anyhow."

A man wanting to go out in the wilderness and survive because he's a survivalist? That seems ... weird. Having someone on this side, though. That's far more likely. "Ah, I see," he says with a nod. "May I ask who?"

It's all bullshit, really. Beth's continued existence is a happy accident, something he doesn't deserve and revels in anyway. The real reason, because the Cetagandans wanted to use him as a weapon, because he stabbed one of their grunts rather than bow his head, because of the drugs they pumped into his veins... that's his business.

Spilling about how he knows Beth is a sacrifice, but a small one compared to the information he'd rather keep back.

"Beth," he says, "Beth Greene."

Something else going on beneath the surface, he thinks. But whether it's a critical matter or a personal one is not obvious, and Miles doesn't feel the urge to pry. The man has just gotten here. And if he's a spy like Byerly is about to be, posing as a defector - well. He'll deal with that soon enough.

For now, he brightens. "Yes, I've spoken with her. Bright girl." A pause. "Said something about a zombie apocalypse."

It takes Daryl a moment to remember what zombie means. It such a stupid goddamn name for the thing responsible for nearly all the deaths he's seen, and the ones he was too late for. The thing that killed Sophia, the things that destroyed their home, the thing that drove Terminus to cannibalism shouldn't be called a word that sounds like a kind of theatre box candy.

The secret the Cetagandans tortured him over shouldn't be called goddamn zombies.

It's a secret he'd tried to die for. His face falls, settling hard into a closed off expression. He was in a good mood before, and that evaporates quickly. The change is subtle, but easily seen if you're patient enough to read the signs, the sudden sharpening of his features, the rigidity of his posture. Daryl isn't above leaning forward slightly, lording his full height over the other man.

"What'd you hear?" His voice is thin, edged harshly with suspicion.

Ah. He's said something wrong, hasn't he? All right, he'd been a bit flippant there; he can acknowledge that. He puts his hands up again in surrender, though he refuses to take a step back. Or be properly intimidated by the taller man. (Here, the image of Taura helps considerably; no one is going to top his eight-foot-tall girlfriend.)

"An illness," he says, looking up at the other man with those clear gray eyes of his. "Upon death, the body rises again as an empty monster. Your world is overrun with it."

So, he knows? But he doesn't know enough. That's slowly obvious, from the way Miles doesn't back off. He isn't afraid of Daryl-- well. He isn't afraid of Daryl's illness.

Beth might have spilled the beans, but thank Christ, she didn't spill all of them. This Miles kid isn't a complete idiot. If he knew all the details, he'd be running for the hills, or jumping at the bit to inform on Beth and Daryl both. Depends on what kind of man he is, and Daryl hasn't made up his mind about that yet. It doesn't, honestly, matter.

What matters is, some folk in this camp might know, but they don't know all of it. Daryl lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. He steps back, no longer hanging menacingly over Miles. Running a hand over his face-- a pretty obvious tell, one he should really manage better-- he tries to think of what to say.

What is there to say?

"Yeah," he says, "that's what happened." He was in a good mood, and then a poor one, and now he's just tired. "Makes this place look like a goddamn picnic."

Once again Miles gets the sense he's missing something. And once again he hasn't the faintest clue about what it could be. But - that relief is obvious enough to make his eyes narrow, to sharpen his gaze. The man has a secret. And it has something to do with the peculiar fate of his homeworld.

"And yet," he says, with a flare of wicked interest, "I get the feeling it could be much worse. I get the feeling you think it could be much worse." He locks his eyes onto Daryl inexorably. "That's twice now you've not told me something."

Daryl is faintly aware he should be annoyed by this blatant needling. Once, it might have even made him angry. But after a certain point, that much emotional whiplash just gets exhausting. Daryl rocks back on his heels, staring down at Miles with a keenly unimpressed expression. Finally, he huffs, and finds a log to sit on. "Gone gimme a crick in my neck," he mutters.

And now he has to decide what to do with, apparently, someone with more curiosity than sense. Christ, if him and Beth ever team up, it'll be the end of Daryl as he knows it.

"The hell you think I'm hidin'?" He squares his shoulders. What would Merle do if someone so obviously tried to pull the rug out from under him? Turn it back on them, insult their manhood, try to fight them. Well, Daryl really has no interest in most of that, except... "If we're talking truth, you can start. You kidnapped Duv. What was in it for you?"

More curiosity than sense is pretty much Miles' motto. He follows Daryl, secretly glad that the other man is sitting down. It makes Miles the taller one, marginally, and most importantly he doesn't have to crane his neck back.

"I don't have the slightest idea," he say cheerfully. "Except that it must be dire, surely." Is that a joke? He means it as one. Kind of.

As for Daryl's implied offer, well ... He can say part of that answer easily enough. The other half, not so much. "All right, I'm game for a trade." He rubs at his chin lightly, letting his expression sober. "Duv is an old friend of mine. I'd intended to protect him." Clearly he hadn't been successful at that.

God damn, this kid is a pain in the ass. Daryl would admire his tenacity, if talking to him didn't feel like a hangover he's sure he doesn't deserve. He scrubs at his face again, trying to shake off the feeling that he's missing something. He's pretty sure he never said anything about a trade, but sure, if Miles wants to think that's on the table, let him. What's the kid gonna do, beat him up?

"Didn't ask what you intended," Daryl says. "What was in it for you?"

He's like thirty, jeez. But he sure is stubborn. And very good at being an annoying little bastard.

He blinks up at Daryl in confusion. In it for him? Personally? Not much, other than preserving the timeline by keeping a historian out of Cetagandan hands. But he's not about to go into that line of reasoning. "Nothing," he says. "He's an old friend. And I hate Cetaganda. Don't you?"

Anyone still capable of taking joy in life is obviously a kid. Don't question this world-weary wisdom. (Daryl is also like thirty.)

The fact that he seems genuinely surprised, perhaps even confused, by the idea that kidnapping someone in a warzone would accrue him personal gain only bolsters this opinion, in Daryl's eye. Damn, look at this kid.

But it's a deflection that brings them further from the subject of undead monstrosities covering the face of the Earth, so Daryl will take it. "We ain't friends," he says. "Why you so quick to hate 'em? You ain't lived with 'em," which, in Daryl's mind, is all the reason one needs to loathe the bastards, "you ain't from here."

Not everyone over thirty is a jaded dick, Daryl. And Miles didn't "kidnap" Duv to begin with, which sort of sinks the argument already. But - he has a much better response to Daryl's question anyway. His grin becomes knifelike in an instant.

"But I am from here," he says with acidic cheer. "Just because I was pulled in from the greater Nexus doesn't make me any less Barrayaran." A pause. He's not done yet. "And while I haven't lived on Cetaganda proper, I have lived through one of their POW camps. Didn't leave me with a good impression of their hospitality."

Huh, so he's like Duv? From the same... universe, solar system, whatever, but still dropped here in the middle of a warzone with no fancy spaceship to get out. Daryl feels a little bit of sympathy well up for the kid, until he remembers that doesn't, actually, make him worse off from any of the other Exotics-- Outsiders, whatever. Hell, Miles might just be better off.

"So it's 'cause you wanna win," Daryl says, "that's why you sold him out."

Daryl nods, tone carefully... not angry, not really. Just low, gruff. He feels anger over the incident, but honestly, it's mostly at himself. It's becoming clear to Daryl that Miles was just doing what he always would have done.

Much worse, really, but Miles isn't about to go into those details. His status as a time traveller is a closely guarded secret.

As tempting as it may be to spit it out now. He scowls a bit at the suggestion that he would have sold Duv out. Of all the asinine notions ... "I did nothing of the sort," he says. "Duv came with me willingly. We both agreed it was the safest way to get him to the right side of this conflict."

Daryl waves his hand at Miles, a dismissive gesture. "That ain't it," he says, still grumbling low. "You wouldn't'a done it if you thought it'd screw up Barrayar's chances."

Would he have? From his perspective, "don't screw up Barrayar's chances" is tantamount to survival. If history goes off the rails here, Miles ceases to exist. Or goes home to a world hideously changed ...

So, if Duv had been an active danger, would Miles have dragged him back? He's not completely sure. The hesitation shows on his face for a moment. "Duv is my friend," he repeats firmly. "If I thought his presence poor for Barrayar's chances, we might have risked an escape instead. But he is still my friend."

Daryl stares at Miles, a little put off from the answer. It's... well. More and more, he feels like he's the ass for bringing it up. Which, if he's honest with himself, he probably is. When in doubt, he's usually being a dick about something. Jesus, he hardly knows this guy. It's not his place to rake him over the coals about this stupid goddamn war, especially when the person really to blame is Daryl, not Duv or Miles. Daryl's the one without any true allegiance to either side. He should have had the backbone to get out there and do something about it.

But instead, he's taking it out on someone who looks like they could fit inside a washing machine. Great.

"Whatever," he says, "ain't my business."

He stands again, giving Miles a shrug. Maybe if he just leaves, this whole stupid conversation will die in the dust. He doubts it, but a man can dream.

Oh like hell it's dying. Miles is stubborn at the best of times, and now he's kind of pissed off. Who the hell does this guy think he is? Does he even care about Barrayar? Unlikely - that should be the default position of all the outsiders, after all.

"I've more than answered my half of the bargain." Nevermind Daryl had never actually offered to trade. "Now you get to answer me. Why did you actually leave the Cetagandans?"

"You're the one talking 'bout bargains," Daryl says, perhaps a little airy. After the shit he just pulled, he really doesn't like bringing this up. He let Miles assume he was owed information, didn't correct him-- the liar, the moral filch, that's Daryl, for all the aspersions he cast toward Miles.

That shouldn't bother him as much as it does.

But still, he can't risk this little prick knowing the truth. It's dangerous to every idiot on this planet, not just them, not just the war effort. People in places on the other end of the planet could die because of some dumb shit a redneck said a million miles away. What a sad fucking world this is, that the fate of it might hang on somebody like Daryl Dixon.

"I ain't saying shit."

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