forbarrayar | [ march i log: we need medicine ]

Entry tags:

[ march i log: we need medicine ]

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Daryl rolls his eyes at her, and it's far less indulgent than usual. He's bound and determined to rise to meet this challenge full on, and eats the food in sullen silence, not really taking his eyes off Beth the entire time. The food is terrible, and he coughs during the attempt. It's not a pretty process, made worse by the tense silence he insists on cultivating throughout.

Beth watches him, because sometimes sitting in Daryl's aggressive silences is easier than trying to force them to be something else. He's sick, she reminds herself. Let him eat.

But eventually, she can't stand it any longer, the way he stares at her like every bite he takes is proof that he's fine. Her voice low, she says, "I can tell them to leave you alone. If you want."

Don't bother him. Don't touch him. I can deal with it. It'd be easy, if they listen to her.

Daryl considers it more than he'd like. The idea that he'd just have to sit there, but not put up with any unneeded nursing, is a huge relief. They'd just tell him what to do, anyway. That's all nurses are.

The fact that it's ideal, though. "You think I'll bite 'em?"

She decides privately, while he considers the options, that she'll tell them anyway. He's my patient, I can take care of him. It's good she already made that choice, because he doesn't actually tell her what he wants. Not in so many words.

"No," she answers, after a moment of shocked silence. Only her wide eyes are visible, with the mask. "Because you're not gonna die."

"Then get outta here."

There's a sick sense of satisfaction that he gets from seeing her stop, sputtering after his words. Did he hurt her? He doesn't want to hurt her, not really. He just wants to make her leave.

Somehow, that's less cutting than the question was. It's him lashing out; it means something, but it doesn't mean everything. Not like demanding to know if she expects him to turn does.

"I'm gonna get you something to eat." She starts getting up only after she's explained that much. How do I know you're going to stay here if I leave? she wants to ask, but he's contrary enough that it'd probably just encourage him to sneak out. "Tea and groats."

And if he wants to sulk in the meanwhile, he's welcome to. He has to deal with being sick--being quarantined--in his own way.

Daryl holds back the urge to groan. That's too childish even for him. He sits in the stupid little cot he's been provided, and stares at the ceiling and wills this all to be over. He's always been good at forcing his mind to go blank, to mix alertness with emptiness. He does that now. The effect is... lessened by illness, but it's still there. It's still something. It makes time pass.

He doesn't move when she comes back. Maybe she'll go away.

She sets everything down next to him and sits, trying not to make any sudden movements. It's like trying to handle a skittish horse--all about keeping him from freaking out more than he already has.

"The tea tastes like crap," she warns him, resisting the urge to hand it to him. He'll probably be happier doing that himself, as much as he can be happy in here. "But they say it's good for you."

"Everything on this planet tastes like shit," Daryl grumbles. At least they can agree on that. He takes the tea and slurps it down, burning his tongue in the process. "You done yet?"

"The squirrels're okay," she offers, even though they're only about as good as any squirrel is--which is to say, not very. At least he's drinking his tea. She wouldn't want to, in his place. "Done with what?"

Daryl rolls his eyes. The tea is done, and he shoves the little cup back into her hands without much thought. "You done?"

Beth takes the cup--oh, sure, he can just about drop things in her lap, but God forbid she check his temperature--rolling her eyes right back. Done fussing over him, apparently. "You have to eat your groats."

Then, maybe, is waiting someplace outside the sentence, an implication she's willing to make despite not really wanting to fulfill it.

Daryl continues to strike out like a wounded animal. "That what you want," he growls, "to play house?"

"No," she says pointedly, picking up the bowl she made for him and holding it out. She's not going to touch him, just going to let him take it for himself. Or she'll sit here and hold out a bowl forever. Whatever. "I want you to get better."

Daryl takes the bowl roughly, but he's at a loss when he gets it. He stares down at the food, then at Beth. "You really gonna sit'n watch me eat?" Really?

Beth shrugs. The memory of him tearing into a fire-roasted snake, staring out from behind his hair like someone might take it from him, returns to her suddenly. "Are you gonna get up and go if I leave?"

"You'll just fuss until I come back," he says, derisive to the end. "Ain't no point."

And the thought of getting up and running around again makes him want to hurl, but he doesn't mention that.

"Then I'll check on somebody else." She's frowning--fuss, he says, like she's a kid about to have a tantrum--but she's standing up, too. If she takes him at his word and he leaves, and she has the feeling he probably will, then next time, she'll babysit him. For now, there's plenty of other stuff to do. "Get some rest."

"Yeah, yeah," he grumbles, turning on his side. He pulls the blanket up around him and waits for this all to be over.

It's not over before his resolve breaks. As Beth predicted, he leaves the tent before she comes back. When he sneaks back in, he looks guilty, and more than a little feverish. Cold sweat prickles at his brow, and he's covered in snow as though he's been rolling in it. He walks slowly, with a dizzy gait, trying to remember where his sad little cot was.

She doesn't see him go, but she knows when he's gone. Her plan was to check on him, try and get him to sleep--right up until she walks over to the bedroll she'd left him in and finds it empty. Then, her plan is to work a little longer and then go looking for him, but a whisper of cold air from the entrance makes her look up from where she's spreading a blanket over a sleeping, shivering patient.

He's back, and he looks a hell of a lot worse for his escape.

"Daryl!" He looks like he fell down out there, except even falling down, the snow wouldn't cling to him on all sides. Hurrying over to him, she holds out a hand, as if expecting him to start wobbling right then and there. "Jesus, what happened?"

"Fight," Daryl murmurs, sliding into his cot like he's almost grateful for it. It occurs to him a moment late that he ought to have lied. He ought to have done a lot of things. He ought to have punched that sniveling little shit-

Daryl begins coughing, and he curls away from Beth so she doesn't get whatever he hacks up all over her.

"A fight?" she squawks, following him over to the bedroll. When she sees him start hacking, she grabs a clean bowl and what basically amounts to an old-fashioned handkerchief. Kneeling down beside him--on the coughing side, naturally--she thrusts both of them in his direction, though not quite at him, she hopes. "Here. Barf in this."

Or cough up gross stuff, or whatever's coming. Both seem about equally possible at the moment. Her stomach twists as she tries to make sense of the situation, dread creeping in. "Did the Cetas--"

Daryl is too miserably dizzy to reject her offers this time. It's been hours, and he's exhausted and queasy. The bowl smells awful, of course it does, and he wretches into it pathetically. It's over quickly-- there isn't much in his stomach-- and he sets into a series of cold shivers. Christ, what a waste he is.

"Barrayaran," Daryl says, except without half so many vowels. Baryarn. She'll know what he means. "Little'n. Prick."

He looks like hell. Even worse than he was when she dragged him in here. When he finishes puking, he doesn't even wipe his mouth on his sleeve. That's the thing that scares her, more than the puke itself ever could, and she picks up the handkerchief to dab at his face herself. He won't like it, but someone's gotta.

"The lit--Daryl!" She draws her hand back, appalled. "You were fighting Miles?"

Daryl's eyes are closed, and he doesn't notice her hand until it's on him. He grimaces, but doesn't much move, lying there and feeling blessedly too tired for the waves of shame to roll over him.

"Started it," he wheezes. "Tried to kick my ass."

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