[ 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]

[ Fuck it. He's doing this then. ]

Seizures.

[vorrutyer]

[ A beat. ]

What - that's it?

[dendarii]

Isn't that enough? One bad mission without telling Simon about the issue and I was done.

[vorrutyer]

You could have gotten a desk job.

[ Hold on - ]

Without telling him about it, you said.

[dendarii]

[ A desk job. Could he have continued like that? God, the thought makes him shiver a bit. ]

Without telling him. Falsified a report. Now do you get it, Vorrutyer?

[vorrutyer]

[ He shoots Miles a look that's honestly disapproving, honestly a little horrified. ]

That's bad, Vorkosigan.

[dendarii]

[ Disapproval from Byerly Vorrutyer. What is the world coming to. ]

You think I don't know that? I was stupid and desperate and I didn't want a desk job.

[ And now I have nothing, he thinks wearily. ]

[vorrutyer]

[ He presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose. Right. Don't scold him. No point to it, and it'd just annoy them both. ]

How bad was the mission?

[dendarii]

[ Rather like trying a wrestle a pig, that. Miles huffs out a breath. ]

We rescued a courier. Went well until I cut off his legs with a plasma arc.

[vorrutyer]

[ By doesn't say anything this time; his face just gets more horrified. ]

[dendarii]

There you have it. As I'm sure you expected, Vorkosigans don't do things by halves. Especially failure.

[ He deflates afterwards, misery taking the place of hostility. ]

[vorrutyer]

[ He opens his mouth, then closes it again. Rubs at his eyes. After a moment - ]

How bad are these seizures?

[dendarii]

[ He'll give Byerly credit: the man is already jumping to the next conclusion without Miles even bringing it up. The really dangerous part of all this ... ]

Bad. I get a few minutes' warning at best. And then they last for several minutes.

[ Unspoken is the fact that if he has one of those in front of the Barrayarans - if he has one in front of his grandfather - he's almost certainly dead. If he doesn't just have one in the middle of a firefight. ]

[vorrutyer]

And how frequent are they?

[dendarii]

Every few weeks, as far as I can tell. Stress might trigger them as well.

[ Like, say, time traveling to a warzone. ]

[vorrutyer]

[ Sarcastically: ]

Well, we ought to make sure you avoid stress, then.

[dendarii]

Excellent advice, Vorrutyer. Let me get right on that.

[vorrutyer]

Well, may I just formally request right now, up front, that you try to avoid cutting off my legs with a plasma arc?

[dendarii]

Fortunate that we've no plasma arcs to do it with.

[ He darkens after a moment, though. ]

I'm more at your mercy than you are at mine, anyway. I can't hide this forever.

[vorrutyer]

At my mercy? What are you imagining - that I'll go and rat on you?

[ To be fair, he is a professional informant. ]

[dendarii]

Nothing so clumsy. All you need do is express concern to the guards that this poor mutie is ill. And that will be it.

[ Said with acidic bitterness. ]

[vorrutyer]

I'm obviously not the expert on the subject that you are, but I don't think injuries sustained in the line of duty quite count as a mutation.

[dendarii]

You know that. They don't. And they'll take your word over mine.

[vorrutyer]

I'm not exactly High Vor like you are, and I really don't give a damn about honor and all that, and I'm certainly not one of you service boys. But getting a veteran executed for his injuries is a bit beyond the pale even for my shocking self.

[dendarii]

[ Miles blinks. He hadn't quite considered that Byerly might not actually want to screw him over. ]

Oh. Well. That would be appreciated, yes.