[ 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

[vorrutyer]

"Left?" By's eyebrows quirk with curiosity and surprise. "I didn't leave. Barrayar is still my - " Home? Prison? Personal albatross, hanging about his neck, weighing him down? "Well." He gives a little sigh and a wave of his hand. "Place of residence. Vorbarr Sultana is still Barrayar - though it's a bit less benighted than the rest of the planet."

He sighs again. Would he leave if he could? No, he thinks. He's too...tied to his duties. He loathes this place, loathes the people sometimes - loathes his lifestyle, loathes his friends - loathes his family, God knows - but he lives to serve. His patriotism (a curious thing to have in combination with his hatred of his planet), and his desire to make things different for the people kicked around by the paranoid and powerful, ties him down here. Ah, if he dies here, he hopes he's done enough for the people he cares about...

"And the whole rest of the planet is less benighted than this place. This is the poorest district of this entire world. The rest of the place is less like this, I promise."

[littlemissfutility]

That's comforting enough, the idea that even if this is the shittiest hike she's been on since the last time she ended up hiking thrive the forest, it's not the only thing they have before them. At least he can say there are less empty parts to the planet; what they see right now is what they'd get if they were on Earth, no matter where they headed.

"Okay," she corrects herself. "Not left. But you've seen the world. Or the...the galaxy, or whatever."

He's been places completely different from where he's from, even if that's where he came back to. She's envious, in a distant sort of way. (It might not be justifiable, now that she's on another planet, but she always daydreamed about going to faraway places on Earth.)

[vorrutyer]

"Oh, I was just following the party," he says breezily. Or following his duty. Or both, at times - his duty, after all, tends to be reporting on parties and the sedition that might or might not happen there. Still, it's interesting how she focuses on that, isn't it? He turns his gaze on her speculatively a moment, trying to evaluate her expression. Yes, he supposes it would be impossibly exciting to someone who didn't even know of the possibility of interstellar travel until recently, wouldn't it?

So he comments, "It's not expensive, though. Travel like that. If you get out of here, you can pursue it yourself. Could be...fun."

[littlemissfutility]

Beth doesn't really notice him looking at her--at the moment, she's stepping carefully over a large stone in the path, determined not to make herself colder by stumbling into the snow. When she glances back at him, he looks the same as he has throughout the conversation. Specifically, right now he looks like the kind of person who thinks everyone should try the things he likes, because he likes them.

"Maybe," she agrees, after a moment or so. She'd like that, truthfully--seeing real cities again, with consistent electricity and running water, and maybe law enforcement, and of course, food that's never been canned--but it can't be her first priority. It's low on her to-do list, well below entries like find out what happened to Earth and go back and find everyone...but he doesn't need to know that. "What's your favorite place you've been?"

[vorrutyer]

"I'll tell you my second-favorite place, how about that?" His first-favorite place is, of course, the Orb of Unearthly Delights. The Orb is, admittedly, probably the favorite place of about a third of the Nexus, a paradise of enthusiastically consensual sensual experiences - and a place that Beth would be welcomed to, given the Betans' liberality about what constitutes adulthood. For Byerly's part...Well. He has a Barrayaran sense of the line between childhood and adulthood - it was set at twentyish as soon as he reached his majority and has been creeping higher and higher every year as he gets older - and this girl isn't there yet. So, no, he's not going to encourage her to go to the Orb.

"The Spacefaring Museum on Beta Colony. I know that probably sounds dreadfully dull, a museum for heaven's sake, but it's actually quite fascinating. Tracing the development of the technologies through the centuries. If you can endure something educational, that's the place to spend your time." He considers, then allows, "That or Crater Lakes on Escobar."

[littlemissfutility]

"Why your second-favourite?" she asks, the corners of her mouth twitching up. That only makes his first-favourite sound a little more interesting to her, even without knowing what it is. The places, anyway, aren't really the point. He's starting to seem like the kind of person who's going to talk whether she wants to or not; if she pushes the conversation toward him, he can fill up the silence with whatever he wants.

After a moment or two, she adds, "I always liked museums."

[vorrutyer]

"Little miss curiosity," he comments, smiling despite himself. Ah, his weaknesses...He can't help it. Give him a nosy, precocious little brat and he'll find himself congenitally unable to be properly withering and cruel. Truly, it's a bit pathetic. If his fellow town clowns knew of his soft spot - or if they knew he had any soft spots at all - oh, they'd rip him to pieces. Better to hide that down deep, thank you very much.

"My second-favorite because my first-favorite is a secret," he responds. "Anyway, you'll quite like Beta Colony, then. They're hideously educational. All over, trying to force all the information they possibly can down your throat to make sure you're a maximally educated citizen who can make the best possible decisions at all times, as though information will make that happen." He flutters his hand dismissively. "It's both charming and very obnoxious."

[littlemissfutility]

"A secret," she repeats, making no effort to hide her dubiousness. He's allowed to say or not say whatever he likes, but the way he says it doesn't really make it sound like he wouldn't tell anybody. It sounds like he wouldn't tell her, though she's not sure why.

"I don't like museums that much," she admits, with a little shrug. There just aren't that many that can be visited at home, these days. It's novel, thinking of visiting one. After a moment though, with an expression that's unsmiling but not exactly unfriendly. "But I could visit one or two. Couldn't hurt to find out how y'all get around."

The more she understands the kind of space travel they have here, the more prepared she'll be to navigate it.

[vorrutyer]

Ah, youths. God forbid they express passion for anything. It's so endearing, in its odd way. "No, information is always key," he agrees easily, restraining himself from mocking her - purely because it would reveal his age, of course. The thing about mocking the teens is that it always does make you feel so dreadfully old. "And for that, Beta Colony is the place to go. They'll load you down until you're about ready to retch from overindulgence in knowledge."

He hesitates, then advises her, "Make certain you avoid Jackson's Whole. At all costs." He gives a small wave of his fingers. "It's a...dangerous place for someone in your situation."

[littlemissfutility]

Passion is easier when she's talking to somebody she actually knows. And easier if it's something she cares about, for that matter. Music, maybe, or how big Judith's been getting--

Or maybe not, when she doesn't even know whether Judith's alive. She lets his descriptions of Beta Colony fill the empty space, wondering whether it's warm there.

"What's my situation?" she asks, hearing something in his voice change. She can't quite decide how, but something seems different as her gaze skids back his way. Somebody ignorant of the area is her guess, but there are plenty of other potential weaknesses in her possession. She's young, she's essentially powerless if they really do things by counts and royalty, she's a girl--and it's starting to sound like that could be a problem.

Luckily, a name like Jackson's Hole isn't exactly inviting to start with. It's got to be easy to avoid.

[vorrutyer]

"You have no money," he answers simply. In many ways, Jackson's Whole is actually quite a lot more egalitarian than Barrayar, then Cetaganda - honestly, by some measures, it's even more egalitarian than Beta. No prejudices about age, gender, background, none of it - the only rule being that if you have the gold, you make the rules. But if you don't... "Anyone who lingers in Jacksonian space runs the risk of being kidnapped and sold into a work gang, unless they can pay more than the work gang would. It's an old smugglers' colony, and it has no laws at all. If you're wealthy, you can run the place. If you're not - " He waves his hand. "You're vulnerable to every predator in your vicinity."

He cocks an eyebrow at her. "Unless, of course, you're a deadlier predator than the others. The very clever and vicious do find the Whole to their tastes, at times. But forgive me - you don't exactly seem the sort."

[littlemissfutility]

It's tempting--very tempting--to say I've killed people, or maybe just Everyone still alive at home is deadly. But it would be stupid, too, and not just because she's learned from the hospital that what people know about you, they can use to hurt you.

He's right that she's not a predator. She didn't like killing people, and if she's going to do it, she wants to be sure she's killing the ones who really need to die. That might be deadly, but it's probably not deadlier than the average gangster. Saying anything would be stupid, especially if it got around enough that other people took notice and figured they could take advantage of the opportunity.

Nobody's ever going to use her to do their dirty work again. Not if she can help it.

So she just shrugs, her gaze lingering a moment too long before she turns her attention back to the landscape. "I think I'll skip it. Sounds like it's run by a bunch of jerks."

[vorrutyer]

"Ha," he says - not a laugh, but an articulated word indicating his amusement. "Jerks. Quite so. I might possibly go a bit further than that, but - " He flips up a hand in a half-shrug. "I suppose that's the simple sour grapes of being an impoverished nobleman. I'm no one over there. Quite embittering, particularly since here, people just about fall over themselves to worship me just because of that prefix before my surname. Ah, Barrayar is a beautiful place."

He looks over at her then, trying to catch a glimpse of her expression. Then he looks back at the road ahead. It seems to him as though they're beginning to draw near to the camp - the snow is better trod-down, and there's a glimmer of light out there. So he asks her, "Anything else you desperately want to know?"

[littlemissfutility]

At the moment, most of what's on Beth's face is determination: to get through the rest of this walk, ideally without tripping, and maybe to keep anything else she might be feeling out of the furrow of her brows. Giving into worry is only going to make this harder for her; showing anyone, even a drunk, that she might be worried could make things even worse.

"Can't think of anything." Beth shrugs at the question--then, a little irony entering her voice, she adds, "I probably don't know what I want to know. Not yet."

[vorrutyer]

"Too right," he agrees with a weary sort of wryness, answering her irony with his own. No fool, she. Nor any shrinking violet, either, he reflects, looking over and seeing those drawn-down brows and that set jaw. Which is...Well. There is something to be said in praise of shrinking violets in a time of war, the sorts of people who'll happily and uncomplainingly hide behind you to save their hides. Brave people are unpredictable people. Brave people are the sorts of people you don't want to start having feelings over. Ah, to be surrounded only ever by cowards and slugs, villains and trembling fools, and feel nothing at all...

"Well." He gives another little hiccup. "If you do think of something, at some point I will be sober, which means my advice will get...oh, worse, probably. But if you still desire it..." He stoops down in a little bow over his walking stick. "Your servant, Miss Greene."