[ march i log: we need medicine ]

[barrayarmods]

Who: Everyone
What: New arrivals, desperate times, whispers down the hall.
When: March 1st - 18th
Where: Barrayaran camp / Cetagandan base
Warnings: TBD

Quick links:
Riverfall
Barrayar: Plague / Camp / Missions
Cetaganda: Plague / 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.

With March comes some relief. The first few days to a week are still bitterly, dangerously cold, but the weather starts to pick up gradually over the course of the next couple of months. It only gets barely above freezing, but after the last month, it might as well be a summer's day.

riverfall
The party last month definitely boosted morale, and certainly brought the outsiders closer to the villagers. They're noticeably friendlier toward the outsiders afterward, although they still give the exotics and their accompanying ghem soldiers the evil eye.

Given the village's covert assistance with the war effort and the fact that the Cetagandans found enough data to include the village in its regular patrols, Riverfall has become sort of a middle ground between the two sides. Coinciding visits don't happen every day, but they can provide opportunities for the two factions to secretly meet. Of course, this always carries a risk…best be sure not to be caught by either side's soldiers. Thanks to Negri, the Barrayarans roughly know the patrol schedule.

barrayar
Temperatures are still pretty low by the time March rolls around, and the first week is considerably cold, but it's steadily getting warmer as the month goes on. By the second week, it's just warm enough to start taking baths again -- and boy is there ever a queue.

On the 2nd, a small troop of soldiers arrives, led by Prince Xav Vorbarra, Olivia and Sonia's father, and Piotr's aide-de-camp Captain Ezar Vorbarra, a distant cousin of theirs. They bring with them a load of relief supplies fom Beta Colony, improving not only their food and medicine situation, but some to pass on back to the Riverfall villagers in return for their help. Anyone lurking around at night might see Ezar talking to Negri from time to time as well, and Sonia seems to be getting up to some kind of mischief where Ezar is concerned.

Prince Xav gives Piotr a very helpful tipoff -- there's a Betan biochemist waiting in the occupied district capital, Vorkosigan Vashnoi, to rendezvous with him on his way back off Barrayar. Xav can't stay long; he needs to find another way off-planet, and Doctor Micah Niadem has been laying low in Vorkosigan Vashnoi, but the risk of their presence being detected grows with every day. It may be easier and safer to smuggle them back to the camp than try to get them back off-planet for now -- and besides, their expertise in astrophysics might prove useful. But Xav hasn't yet been able to make contact through the soldiers occupying the city, so Piotr sends his own scouts.

Piotr, with Xav and Ezar as advisors, is trying to come to a decision about what to do about the Cetagandans' wormhole project. There's no telling what the Cetagandans really intend to do with the wormhole device, but disrupting or destroying their project would mean no way home for the outsiders, and…Piotr no longer feels that to be the most honorable option. That, and the idea of this technology in Cetagandan hands does them no favors. But their intelligence on the project is limited -- Byerly will prove to be a useful intelligent asset, certainly, but Piotr is looking for more informants. Any outsiders willing and able to make connections with any exotics sympathetic to the cause would certainly be appreciated by the General.

plague
Early in the month, some of the villagers begin to get sick -- it looks just like a particularly nasty cold at first. It quickly worsens and spreads to the camp, and by the 7th it is evident there is an outbreak of the Barrayaran flu, an influenza variant that has mutated over the last several centuries. Barrayarans have built up antibodies against most strains, but this is a particularly virulent strain, and with a population that has neither vaccines nor modern medicine, it can be fatal. The recent cold snap and limited food haven't exactly fortified anyone's immune systems, either, and in the first half of the month, about half the population of the village and camp come down with the flu at some point.

Although the virus isn't spreading much more quickly than your average flu, it's still a nasty infection, and the symptoms are difficult to effectively treat without proper equipment of facilities. Some of the relief supplies brought by Prince Xav include surgical masks and gloves for the people working triage to protect them from the airborne illness as much as possible. The supplies also include some analgesics and synergine, but hardly enough to go around. Fevers, aches and chills, coughing, vomiting -- they treat them with what they have once they run out of relief supplies. And for the most part, those with the flu manage to pull through and recover -- but if the flu turns to pneumonia, there's almost nothing they can do at that point. Thanks to the tireless efforts of villagers, soldiers, and some outsiders, the first half of the month sees only a 10% mortality rate between the village and the camp, resulting in only 23 influenza-related deaths.

Sonia is among the first to get sick, but she sweats it out in five days or so and manages a full recovery. Olivia, on the other hand, falls much more seriously ill. Piotr takes great care not to get sick; the camp is already incapacitated as it is.

camp
Camp morale is still buckling under the weight of crisis after crisis, but the arrival of Prince Xav and the improving weather have done a lot to lighten the mood. Xav and Ezar coordiate to distribute the relief supplies even as the flu ravages the camp and village, never a dull moment . Olivia and Sonia haven't seen their father Xav in over two years, and it's a long-overdue family reunion. Piotr welcomes the return of his friend and aide-de-camp Ezar, and Sonia seems to be getting into some kind of mischief with her cousin. And in a quiet moment here and there, Ezar can be seen talking to Negri.

By the morning of the 1st, Byerly Vorrutyer will have abruptly disappeared from camp.

Piotr is trying to keep military operations running as much as he can while half the camp tends to the sick or fall sick themselves. They'd found the traitors, yes, but Piotr's anger is far from satisfied. The food shortage had derailed their power supply strategy, and it's only further pushed back by this current crisis, so large operations are off the table. But Piotr has never underestimated the value of psychological warfare in this war. He has a few conveniently available corpses for hacking up and planting in the Cetagandan base just to shake things up a little, and anyone who can lift a sword without coughing is qualified. Xav does not approve.

missions
The medical assistance provided by the outsiders doesn't go unappreciated, nor without effect. Not every day is a success, but they manage to keep the mortality rate relatively low.

The infiltration missions to plant the severed body parts mostly go according to plan, although Lakshmi and Nash run afoul of some guards. Between the outsiders and other Barrayaran squads, they manage to plant several body parts, and in doing so, inadvertently spread the Barrayaran flu to the Cetagandans.

The outsiders scouting out Vorkosigan Vashnoi manage to stay undetected by Cetagandan soldiers, although they run into exotics on the other side. They manage to get some information about Micah's location, but very little…thankfully, Byerly passes on to Miles much more specific information the exotics were able to obtain.

Here are the unabridged mission results.

cetaganda
The snow piled up around the base starts to gradually melt over the course of the month as temperatures rise. The new wave of exotics are processed and very gently prodded like every group has been, but they've been treated with the same level of civility. The Cetagandans are generally exceedingly polite, but they are becoming a little less patient with the exotics after the recent bouts of violence and escapism.

Despite the Barrayaran flu sweeping the base, military operations must carry on. Zahal might have lost his informants in the Barrayaran camp, but he knows they've been struggling, and wants to implement some more aggressive tactics to hit them while they're down -- and more than that, the dead body parts of his own soldiers scattered around the base have had their intended effect, rattling and aggravating the ghem-General -- even more so when they realize that this was the means by which the plague spread to the base. Whatever organized strategy Zahal starts to pull together is immediately disrupted by the rapid spread of the virus through the base. With Cetagandan soldiers dropping like flies, military operations all but come to a halt on the base.

However, Cetagandan intelligence gets wind of a Barrayar-allied astrophysicist from Beta Colony, a planet renowned for its cutting-edge technological advances, particularly in the field of wormhole science; they may be able to solve some of the pieces of the puzzle. The Betan scientist is apparently hiding out in Vorkosigan Vashnoi, the capital city of the city. The virus has spread there too; Barrayarans and Cetagandans alike are facing the outbreak, although the native population seems to be faring a bit better. The Cetagandans need help bringing medical supplies, so while they're at it, the ghem-General dispatches a few teams to try and sniff out the scientist's location. Meanwhile, in the R&D labs, some of the exotics who have been promoted to lab assistant are helping the Cetagandans to make some advancements, and they're finally let in on some more details about the project.

plague
A few days into the month, some of the soldiers start to show cold-like symptoms -- and then the outbreak of Barrayaran influenza spreads rapidly throughout the base. Unlike the Barrayarans, the Cetagandans have no antibodies for this strain, and even their advanced immune systems cannot defend them against a totally new pathogen. They are infected even more quickly than the Barrayarans and their symptoms escalate rapidly as well, resulting in an alarming mortality rate. Cetagandan soldiers are falling sick left and right. Triage starts in the medbay, but they have to quarantine off another wing of the building just to make room for the rapidly growing population of infected ghem. The airborne virus is spreading through the base at an alarming speed -- save for Byerly, no one on base has ever been exposed to it. The symptoms are severe and while the Cetagandans have plenty of equipment, they have neither an antiviral nor a vaccine for the Barrayaran flu. High fever, vomiting, dehydration, respiratory and sinus problems run rampant, and though they have plenty in the way of synergine and analgesics, the Barrayaran flu quickly leads to pneumonia in most Cetagandan patients, and with their immune systems so completely unprepared, most patients with pneumonia die within 24 to 48 hours. The triage assistants are, at least, provided with surgical masks and gloves and antibacterial gel by the bucket load to protect them from the airborne illness as much as possible. By mid-month, nearly two thirds of the base has been infected.

The medical staff scrambles to put up a quarantine while also working on a vaccine for the uninfected population on the base. Byerly, being the only person on base who has ever been exposed to the Barrayaran flu, offers a blood sample -- potentially containing antibodies to this strain. Some of the Cetagandans' testing methods are a little ethically questionable, but they're trying to work fast. They're able to develop a working vaccine with a projected effectiveness of 70%.

Toward the middle of the month, Amai catches the flu and is laid low for about a week. Diya and Zahal take great care not to catch it -- Diya seems particularly absent lately.

base
Paranoia of infection hovers over the entire base, but some of the Cetagandans are concerned with another upcoming event: the arrival of the Handmaiden of the Star Crèche. What the Handmaiden of the Star Crèche actually is or does seems to be rather vague to the exotics -- she seems to play some role in genetic politics -- but it's known that she's haut, like Diya. The Cetagandans are scrambling to prepare for her arrival with considerable worry about resolving the flu epidemic before she touches down. The Cetagandans are about as close to cultural panic as they get right now. Diya received personal notice from the Handmaiden of the Star Crèche herself.

Starting on the 1st, Byerly Vorrutyer joins the exotic ranks as an undercover agent, looking not only for information but to potentially recruit exotics sympathetic to the Barrayaran cause.

Meanwhile in the labs, the Cetagandans have been letting the exotics get a little more hands-on with their research. Natasha, York and Symmetra have risen a bit in the ranks and are brought in on more specific projects. The ghem ladies are, surprisingly, now looking for volunteers to work in the gene labs too -- personnel shortage, of course.

missions
Even though a few of their own fall prey to the illness, the exotics' medical assistance does wind up being quite helpful, particularly with development of the vaccine. Meanwhile, eavesdroppers are doing their usual business and digging deep in places they shouldn't -- particularly where Amai and Diya are concerned.

The exotics that accompany the Cetagandans to Vorkosigan Vashnoi manage to stay undetected by Barrayaran soldiers, although they run into exotics on the other side. They are able to get some very detailed information about Micah's location, which Byerly passes back to the Barrayarans via Miles.

Here are the unabridged mission results.

Note: Negri and Zahal are available for threads by request only. Please hit up Madi or Ammay respectively for 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.

Comments

Byerly Vorrutyer (Cetaganda)

[vorrutyer]

Arrival, pre-plague
There's a certain look to the Barrayaran natives - tall stature, square jaws, olive skin. Centuries of inbreeding have reduced the number of phenotypes available, and so it's not hard to spot one of the locals. Less common is one of the locals coming into the Cetagandan base willingly - but here, coming in, accompanied by (rather than arrested by) the guards is a lean, rather hungry-looking man with a few days' beard growth and rough mountaineers' clothes. He disappears into the ghem-General's offices for some time.

When he reappears a few hours later, he looks considerably better. Washed, clothed in fatigues (which he doesn't look terribly comfortable in, but c'est la vie), facial hair trimmed back down to mustache and goatee, he seems quite thoroughly content as he claims a bunk in the exotics' quarters. He seems a cheery sort of fellow, whistling a cheery tune as he settles down, grinning at anyone who happens to look his way. Indeed, lucky (unlucky?) sorts might even find themselves hailed by him - "You there. I don't suppose you could answer a few questions."

Plague
Even his forced good mood is strained by the epidemic. By volunteered to help without actually really considering what it means to give help - without considering that he'd be hauling and sweating and struggling, surrounded by the violently ill and dying. Now, he's not exactly a sheltered delicate flower, but he's never been exposed to something like this before; his courage breaks at several points throughout the whole ordeal, and he has to go out beyond the sickbay just to recover. He crouches down, staring into the middle distance, trying to look together and not doing a particularly good job of it.

Wildcard
Byerly can be found underfoot just about...everywhere. He really seems like an excessively nosy asshole, to say the least.

arrival, its time

[mirrortide]

Of course she's looking his way, because he's making that diamonds awful high pitched noise and Lapis doesn't appreciate it. She also can't exactly make him stop which is even more annoying. Thankfully he does stop to open his mouth to speak at her.

Which just earns him a completely friendly look. Which is to say Lapis is glaring at him, and then redirects her attention to a book she's picked up from somewhere.

"No."

[vorrutyer]

Well, that...

Was rather unexpected.

A grin blooms on his face, one of pure delight. Lapis, poor thing, now has his full undivided attention. (Up to this point, she at least had his divided attention, because she might very well be the most attractive woman he has ever seen in his life. Dear God.)

"Ah. Are you afraid you won't know the answers? You seem clever enough. You shouldn't sell yourself short."

[mirrortide]

"No, I just don't feel like telling you anything, even if I did know the answer. I'm sure someone else might, though." Thankfully she's too engrossed in her book to actually see the delighted smile on his face. Otherwise she might have just gotten up to walk away.

How unfortunate.

[vorrutyer]

He gets himself under control enough to nod. He lifts an eyebrow and tries his damnedest to look respectable and decent. With a small bow, he completely ignores her prohibition, asking: ]

"I see. Well. What's your name?"

Plague Time

[moneytwin]

It isn't long before a second figure exits the sickbay, though how likely it is that Vex'ahlia was shown the door earlier than her shift accounts for than her choosing to ditch her assigned med-assist duties is anyone's guess.

She's still dressed in the finely patterned scrubs all those aiding the medical teams were assigned, though at some point she ditched the stretchy rubbery gloves (they made her hands sweaty, it was almost as gross as the ward they've left behind them). On her way back from the dining hall, idle fingers adjust the mask so it rests more easily (Percy, she thinks, would approve), Vex tucks the sealed bottle of water that she'd been given under her arm and pads silently around a corner. And pauses at the sight of Byerly ahead.

She'd heard a few mutterings, that this one had 'come over' or some such. Her grasp of the local language was slippery at best - everyone here spoke such a weird variant of Common - but as he's not one of the Cetagandans, she had reason to be a little more friendly. He has the look of a man best not left by himself during these trying times. It's truly a pity there's no local pub, since the Gods knew they could all use a drink right about now.

"I know it's cold out," she begins by way of greeting, silent approach broken by her voice, "but you may find it more refreshing outside than staying in a stuffy hallway."

[vorrutyer]

"Ah," he says. He stands up as soon as she speaks and turns to her. By the time he meets her eyes, he's slid an expression onto his face - an expression of irony, sarcasm, a voice devoid of any genuine emotion. He is not about to show someone unfamiliar any sort of true vulnerability, it seems - but there's just a little strain to his smile.

"Do you suppose? Well. I'll only go if you join me. As a rule, I never take a walk without a beautiful woman on my arm."

[moneytwin]

Vex'ahlia knows a little something of masks, of keeping your real emotions walled away. Current circumstances are certainly enough to shake her own foundations - she won't begrudge him the moment needed to settle back behind his.

The flattery gets a return smile, at least. "Well now, I can hardly refuse after you've asked me so politely," she replies, sidling closer with a wink, and offer of her arm. "Now, I'm not super familiar with the layout of this particular base yet, but I do believe the exit in the direction of the barracks is this way."

[vorrutyer]

"I'll trust your judgment."

He takes her arm, hooking elbows with her. He fixes a good, convincing smile on his face before he sets out.

"I fear I'm as new here as you are. You just arrived, correct?"

arrival;

[infailtration]

York is curious about the stranger and he'll admit it readily, eager to know whether or not he can ask about his friends. Word spreads fast on base, after all, and even though the guards are extra guard-y around York these days they seem to find no harm in telling him that the man that they brought in is Barrayaran.

He's on his bunk going over some lab notes when Byerly is brought into the barracks, and is one of those who will grin back, even offer a little wave.

"I could, but I'm not sure you want to be talking to me. I'm sort of a pariah around here."

[vorrutyer]

That's a comment that rather wins By's heart. Far from shrinking away, he just lifts his eyebrows and presses his hand to his heart in something that has the spirit, it not the shape, of a courtly bow. "You're in luck, then," he says. "I have quite a fondness for low people."

He stretches luxuriously, then, and shifts his seat in order to get a little closer. "So what have you done that makes you such a disgrace?"

[infailtration]

"I'm surprised they didn't tell you," York comments idly, then shrugs. Byerly will hear it one was or another. "My friend and I set the Barrayaran prisoner free and made a run for it. Didn't get far, obviously, but they got away."

He leans forward himself, putting his lab notes aside. "And you, you left them. Why's that?"

[vorrutyer]

"Worried your friend isn't walking into a paradise?"

Byerly smiles wryly, then says without rancor. "There are quite a few complicated reasons for why I'm here. The story might bore you a bit. But I must ask - who is your friend? I can tell you if they made it."

A

[sparkwhisperer]

A few bunks away is what appears to be a perfectly normal woman, if not a bit weary and scarred. Appearances can be deceiving. Especially when that woman used to be a 30 foot tall, millennia old, robot. Tarn is none too pleased about inhabiting this weak skin suit, in fact he is downright indignant about the whole thing.

It’s hard to ignore the cheery tune being whistled. It seems rather at odds with the foul mood brewing within Tarn. How can he possibly seem so content?

Tarn accidentally makes eye contact. He sighs as conversation is attempted.

“I’m afraid not. I haven’t been here long.”

Tarn hopes that will be that and he’ll be left alone.

[vorrutyer]

"Well," Byerly says, with more abominable cheeriness, "you shouldn't necessarily assume that the questions are about this place. Perhaps I simply want to know about you, eh?" He grins at Tarn, crossing his arms. "You seem like an interesting woman, after all."

[sparkwhisperer]

Tarn looks at him flatly, like he's not sure what to make of the sentiment.

"What's a woman?"

[vorrutyer]

"Ah," By sighs, hardly missing a beat at her hostility. "What a question that is. Indeed, what is a woman?" He lowers his head in acknowledgment, then says, "What is your definition of woman?"

Arrival!

[standsentinel]

Closeted in with a hand-reader in a corner of the exotics' barracks, at first glance Kaidan looks like he'd seem right at home in Barrayaran green: tall stature, dark hair, a solidly military build, and the silver prematurely glinting at his temples to lend him an air of Mature Officer. He is, of course, in a set of fatigues much like Byerly's, but in place of cheerful whistling there's a quietly observant calm as he sets the reader aside and nods for the new face to pull up a seat himself.

"I could... although if we can start with a name, I'll feel a little more confident that this isn't some bizarre new interpretive art approach to interrogation."

[vorrutyer]

Byerly responds with a smile, and a pass of a thumb across his lower lip as he considers the man. Truly, he does have a Barrayaran look to him - the right physical presence, the recruiting-poster physique. (Which is, notably, very pleasing to the eye.)

"Ah, that sounds fascinating, though," Byerly laughs. "Wouldn't that be a fun game? Interpretive-dance interrogation. Holding strange poses until the other party is simply overwhelmed by confusion about what on earth you're trying to do and they break down sobbing." Still, smiling, he shakes his head. "Byerly Vorrutyer, my good man. At your service."

[standsentinel]

Kaidan's eyes track the pass of that thumb with an interest that, while subtle and largely subconscious, suggests that pleasing is a shared quality here, even as he snorts in brief amusement. "I've already gotten one migraine from the artistic approach here, I'll pass on another... but that," he says, attention more caught by the name than its owner's continued smiling "Is an interesting name, based on what I've been reading. Kaidan Alenko," he offers his own in trade.

[vorrutyer]

Ah. It's Byerly's job, of course, to notice interested glances, subtle signs of appreciation and approval, to see who he can lure into bed or into bad choices. He likewise notices that look, and files the information firmly away, to be drawn up later. Good. Useful.

"I see," Byerly says, the corners of his lips lifting wryly. "Interesting because you've been reading about the Vor generally, or because you've been reading about my famous clan particularly? - If it's the latter, I promise you that I don't like to bathe in virgin blood. I tried once, but I just ended up stinking for days."

Plague

[asafepairofhands]

Ratchet's attempting to be well-behaved for once--completing a task and actually stopping for a break before moving onto the next one without York forcibly shoving food into his hands before they close around another test tube--if only because he can feel the wear on his body now, more than usual after the extended strain, and it's more important for him to not make a mistake than it is for him to keep working until he passes out. When he comes out into the hallway Byerly is there, curled over and struggling for composure. Ratchet vaguely remembers him from the medibay and he stops, eyeing the too-familiar expression on his face and debating for a moment.

"C'mon," he says, coming up next to By and twitching a hand as though to offer to help him up. "When's the last time you ate? Or had some proper rest?"

[vorrutyer]

As soon as Byerly sees that hand in his field of vision, and as soon as he hears that voice, he pulls himself together, shoulders tensing and face firming into an expression of indifference. It does not, he must admit, help his cover to maintain this image of indifference. It suits the character he's playing just fine to be completely rattled by all of this. This is, for once, not about his sensitivity to the game he's playing.

No; this is something deeper and more primal. This is his much-neglected pride as a Vor. A Vor does not shrink and whimper when confronted with death and illness. A Vor does not shiver knowing he might have caused a man's death. A Vor stands straight and upright and proud. Byerly does not give a shit about being Vor, generally, but there's a certain amount of genetic memory, inherent compulsions, which cannot be altogether thrown to the side...

"You know, I think it's been a while," he says, forcing his voice to be light and indifferent. "I was just feeling a little woozy there, is all. Thank you, good man, I'm all right, really."

[asafepairofhands]

"Uh-huh," Ratchet says, as skeptical as it is physically possible to be without being outright insulting. "Good, me too. Let's go." His voice does not brook argument and he waits not-quite-patiently for Byerly to push to his feet then tilts his head in the direction of the mess hall.

"First plague?" he asks conversationally, his eyes sharp with irony but the line of his mouth serious, still watching Byerly's face.

[vorrutyer]

"Oh, you know," he says, turning his face away from Ratchet's but lifting his eyebrows. His voice is droll, sardonic. Defensive, frankly. "I had studied for a while to be a doctor, I had the wits and the skills and the steady hands for it, but I was simply weary of all the female adulation, so I decided to be a useless bounder instead." A beat, and he sticks his hands in his pockets, and answers a little more usefully.

"First one I haven't been able to run away from."