[ january i log: barrayar ]

[barrayarmods]

Who: Everyone
What: Arrival on Barrayar and what follows
When: January 2nd - January 17th
Where: Barrayaran guerrilla camp
Warnings: None (at the moment)


welcome to barrayar.
It's the dark of night when you come to in the foothills. Snow on the ground, chill winter wind whistling. 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 nine 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.

They're dressed in weather-worn green uniforms, bearing swords and bows, and they surround you immediately, poised to attack. But they quickly realize you're not their enemy, the ones they call Cetagandans. They're just as confused as you are, but rather than hanging around to puzzle it out, they start shepherding you toward their camp in the mountains while it's still dark. There's a war on, they say, and you unlucky bastards have just been dropped right smack in the middle of it.

the guerrilla camp
It's a few hours' hike through the mountains to get to their hidden camp, set up in a clearing framed by dense, hard forestry and backed against a rock face. Daylight is finally dawning when you make it there. You and your fellow sudden arrivals are ushered to an empty tent on the far end of the camp, just big enough to fit all ten of you. You can't help but notice they've posted guards all around it. You aren't under arrest – they just don't know what else to do with you.

You are able to glean, from hearsay and what the soldiers are willing to share with you, that you are on a planet called Barrayar, and this is their home, and ten years ago they were attacked without warning by the Cetagandan Empire. They've been holed up in the mountains fighting against their invaders ever since, outgunned and outmanned, but scoring little victories where they can. They don't tell you much more than that. Some dialect of Russian seems to be one of the predominant languages of the camp, but for the most part they all speak English too, if with an accent. They're gruff and wary, and if you look a little less – or more – than human, they'll eye you with suspicion, maybe even make obscure hex signs at you that seem intended to ward off evil or disease. But they aren't hostile to you, not unless you start something with them.

the outsiders' tent
It's not in the greatest shape, but if you look around the camp, the rest aren't much better off. It's cramped, but you've at least been provided with bedrolls and heavy wool blankets to ward off the frozen chill, and if you're in need of clothing, they'll provide it, although it probably hasn't been washed in…a while. The soldiers bring you food at mealtimes -- not very good food, mostly tough meat and groats, and they keep you your own campfire, just to keep you warm. They've also hastily dug you your own latrine area at the edge of the perimeter, just behind the treeline. No private bathroom stalls in this outfit, unfortunately. The entire camp seems tense and wary, and the soldiers are alert, but they don't talk much. You could try sneaking past them, but you probably won't get far.

Well, at least you've got each other for company: the outsiders on Barrayar.

Comments

[dendarii]

[ Miles clenches his teeth at that. Of course he wants to save Vorkosigan Vashnoi. And the rest of his dead family, for that matter. He could do it, he's sure of it ...

But he shakes his head sharply. ]

We can't, Byerly. God only knows how that will affect things. If not the war itself, then the politics afterwards.

[vorrutyer]

That's really your excuse? We can't take risks because we might screw it up?

[ By regards Miles with a lifted eyebrow. Now, he never got this whole story. Rumors of Vorkosigan getting sacked in disgrace had filtered down to him through some of his contacts - not, of course, through the inimitable Lady Alys, but through some of the others. Eyes ripped off had been the rumor. And then Illyan's illness, and then the sudden Auditorship, and the whole story had been lost. But this...This is a different Vorkosigan than the one who'd confronted him those months ago. ]

Why did Illyan fire you?

[dendarii]

[ Miles goes utterly still at that, a dangerous light in his eyes. His eyes half-lid as he regards his cousin venomously. ]

You're from my future. Why don't you tell me?

[vorrutyer]

[ By meets Miles' eyes directly, not flinching from that dangerous look in the least. Grand Vorrutyer family tradition, that, stoking the fires of a Vorkosigan's rage. ]

Oh, it was all hushed up. Besides which, rumors of it wouldn't ever have reached the lowly ears of a humble town clown. How are we to keep track of the comings and goings of you service boys? There are so many of you.

[dendarii]

[ Doing an admirable job of it, really. Miles is certainly all fired up now. ]

Don't play dumb, Byerly. Either you know and you're goading me, or you don't and you're distracting me. I won't give you the satisfaction.

Telling General Vorkosigan what is going to happen is a bad idea, period. Personally, tactically, and historically speaking. Better to lie low and use our information to aid the resistance with some degree of subtlety.

[vorrutyer]

Subtlety. And what sort of subtlety are you looking for? Hiding beneath a rock so the Great General doesn't notice you and attempt some late-stage infanticide?

[dendarii]

[ Miles rolls his eyes again at that. ]

As if I could hide anywhere. He'll know I'm here, yes. But he can't know who I am. Trust me, all Vorkosigans are currently accounted for.

[vorrutyer]

And I still don't understand how being a prole will protect you from having your throat cut.

[dendarii]

What do you propose I pass myself off as? Another Vorrutyer?

[vorrutyer]

Heaven forfend. You haven't the panache.

[dendarii]

[ Miles snorts a bit at that. ]

Being prole is ideal. Being Vor in any capacity invites questions about why the hell I was permitted to live. A single stubborn prole family with no legacy to live up to is much more believable.

[vorrutyer]

Have you ever actually met a prole?

[dendarii]

Of course I have. If you're really ImpSec, then surely you know of a few of my missions.

[ They may not be Barrayaran proles but they're still, y'know, not nobility in the slightest. ]

[vorrutyer]

[ For once, he doesn't bother to pretend to play dumb. ]

Galactics are different from proles.

[dendarii]

[ Well that answers one question. No need to play coy with his adventures around Byerly, at least. ]

Then I'll be perfectly fine acting like them. I've been off-planet long enough. And it's still less dangerous than claiming to be a goddamn Vorkosigan.

[vorrutyer]

[ Impatiently: ]

What prole family has the resources to send their progeny off-world? In this day and age?

[dendarii]

I smuggled myself off, obviously. Illegally. And had the intelligence not to return willingly.

[vorrutyer]

That's not obvious, because it's stupid. On what ship? When?

[dendarii]

The details aren't going to matter. He's got no way of checking even if he wanted to.

[vorrutyer]

Just say you're a galactic. Don't overcomplicate things.

[dendarii]

[ Too late for that. Miles presses his lips together stubbornly. ]

I can't pretend to be anything but Barrayaran in origin. I'm too well-versed with the area.

[vorrutyer]

[ He shakes his head. Vorkosigan wants to be found out, doesn't he? Honestly...Probably, yes. The man's psychology is damned transparent. Make enough of an effort at protecting his identity, force a reckoning. Most likely once he's proven himself in battle so that his sadist grandfather won't have any choice but to accept him. Sure.

Don't count on it, Vorkosigan. That old man murdered my aunt for less infidelity than this. Made it look like a suicide. He won't be best pleased. ]

And it's your opinion that I should lie, too? Pretend to be Byerly Illyan?

[dendarii]

[ That ... is basically what Miles hopes will happen. With rather more grim expectation of what will happen when Piotr finds him out. He doesn't expect acceptance at the end of all this either. ]

You could easily continue to be a Vorrutyer. There's more of your family alive now, my gran'da doesn't know you all quite as well, and you don't stick out the way I do. Easy enough to slide in.

[vorrutyer]

I greedily anticipate the day when he lops off my head for lying. That's how the Vorkosigans like to carry out their executions, correct? Beheadings?

[dendarii]

[ Miles snaps back: ]

He'll take your head off for ludicrous stories too. You won't manage anything with him if you tell him you're from the future.