[ 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]

[ That is it. With no warning whatsoever, Miles launches himself at Bylerly, aiming to punch him square in the face. Or rather pull the man down so that he can reach Byerly's face. ]

[vorrutyer]

[ Now, By certainly cannot hold his own in any real fight. If he went up against one of these lunkhead proles, they'd have him broken across their knees in half a minute. But, well - ImpSec courses are ImpSec courses, and an informant of his level of course has gotten training in how not to be murdered if a situation goes sour. And so by instinct, By steps back, and with a smooth and capable movement redirects Miles' momentum to send him stumbling beyond him.

Ah, By thinks to himself. Shit. Not good for a man feigning incompetence. Very, very not good.

He tries to recover as best he can. A moment later, he propels himself forward, falling to one knee as though the tangle had left him tripping over his own clumsy feet. ]

Damn! [ He makes a great show of getting up and dusting off his trousers. ]

[dendarii]

[ Too late. Miles yelps and goes down in a heap, whirling in an instant as his own ImpSec (and combat) instincts kick in. Just in time to see Byerly fake a fall.

What the hell. Did Byerly just sidestep him like a pro and then pretend otherwise? Miles sits up again, now wildly suspicious in addition to his earlier frustration. Something isn't right here. ]

Where the hell did you learn to do that?

[vorrutyer]

What, fall? I know this might be a surprise to an Illyan like yourself, but you don't actually need to train yourself to fall. To most of us, it comes rather naturally. It's only you Illyans who seek to perfect it.

[ Hopefully that mockery would be enough to distract him. For good measure, By adds: ]

If this is really the Cetagandan Invasion, I could legally challenge you to a duel, couldn't I?

[dendarii]

[ Distraction enough for a moment, though Miles' eyes are still narrowed. ]

Yes, duel a mutated prole. That's an excellent idea.

[ He drags himself back up to his feet. ]

[vorrutyer]

Wouldn't be the most scandalous thing a Vorrutyer has done.

[ With an easy grin: ]

It wouldn't be the most scandalous thing a Vorrutyer has done this week. Whatever it is that this week means here. Honestly, I don't think it even matters which week we're talking about.

[dendarii]

[ Miles rolls his eyes again and focuses back in on his previous comment. What was it that Byerly had said earlier? Something Miles hears in ImpSec a lot - which seemed ridiculous coming from Byerly until that little move just now. Is it possible? Ridiculous, but ... ]

No, I'd say joining up with a legitimate branch of ImpMil would be the more scandalous thing for a Vorrutyer. Especially for someone with your sort of reputation.

[vorrutyer]

I'll have you know that many a Vorrutyer has had many a career in the military.

[ Byerly offers a dismissive little flap of his hand, trying to tamp down his vague feeling of unease. Distract, distract, distract... ]

Why, my dear uncle Ges was an Admiral, you know. Not that I ever met the man. He met with some horrible accident not long after I was born. I don't suppose you'd have heard of that, of course.

[dendarii]

Bit of an exception, him. [ Miles has no idea really. More importantly, it's not enough of a distraction to nudge his attentions aside. ] As are you. Tell me, how long have you been working for our dear captain?

[vorrutyer]

[ His smile stretches uncomfortably. There's a little shudder of panic in his guts. To hide it, he makes a show of looking around. ]

Which one would that one be, now?

[dendarii]

Don't play dumb, Byerly. [ A pause. ] Though I imagine you're good enough at it by now. Dear god.

[ Good enough to fool Miles anyway. He's kind of impressed. ]

[vorrutyer]

[ Shit. By looks back and smiles a puzzled smile, shaking his head in clear confusion. ]

I really don't follow.

[dendarii]

[ No escaping it now, coz. Miles has a certain Auditorial glitter in his eyes. ]

Of course not. That would disrupt your entire image, wouldn't it.

[vorrutyer]

[ Well, By thinks to himself, you certainly did fuck this one up, Vorrutyer. ]

If your guess is correct -

[ A bit of the fey mockery has gone out of By's face as he looks at Miles. Left behind in its place is a small, ambiguous smile, and steady eyes. ]

That would make me the sole ImpSec officer here. Which would mean, logically, that you would be deferring to me. Tell me, do you really want that to be the case, or do you want to rescind your guess?

[dendarii]

[ Fuck. Either admit to being wrong or admit to being in Byerly's chain of command? Like hell. Miles stands a little straighter, his chin raised in defiance. ]

Neither. I'm right, and you know it. But as I am not in ImpSec myself, I owe you nothing. You cannot command me.

[vorrutyer]

[ By's lips ripple in annoyance. ]

You just tried to say I should let you handle it because of your ImpSec authority. Turnabout, Vorillyan.

[dendarii]

[ He did just argue that, didn't he. Dammit. Miles crosses his arms over his chest in irritation. ]

Illyan. And I would be much less argumentative if you weren't being an absolute idiot. We cannot tell the general where we came from.

[vorrutyer]

[ By's lips tighten. He looks away, disgusted with himself, as he points out: ]

We have a duty to Barrayar. Including Barrayar's greatest hope against the Cetagandans. No less than if we'd been born in this era. [ Then, snidely - because even if the story was medical discharge, By heard the gossip - ] That's how you avoid getting fired from ImpSec, Illyan.

[ Which is, of course, a bit hypocritical. It's certainly not as if By hasn't had his fair share of getting demoted for taking too much initiative. ]

[dendarii]

[ Super hypocritical. Even without knowing that ... well, Miles would expect no less from a Vorrutyer. Still stings, though. ]

We do have a duty to Barrayar. To preserve our history as best we can, and not meddle in ways that might have disastrous consequences. God only knows what us interfering will cause.

[ Miles has a selfish bit of self-interest here too. In that he's quite certain he'll never actually be born unless Aral is forced into a military career of some kind. ]

[vorrutyer]

Yeah. Or what us not interfering will cause.

[ He shakes his head, all mockery gone now. ]

Barrayar only barely drove out the Cetagandans during the Occupation. What if this changes something in some way so that they win? I would sooner peel off my own skin than become Byerly ghem Rutyer.

[dendarii]

[ That's enough to make Miles shiver with revulsion too. God. He'd sooner kill himself before permitting that too. But he still doesn't agree with Byerly's method. ]

What do you propose we do, sir?

[ He loads that one syllable with as much fuck you as he possibly can. ]

[vorrutyer]

Start by not blowing each other's cover, Illyan.

[ He holds out his hand and makes a quelling, downward gesture. Don't get funny. No sirs. ]

I'm no one's sir.

[dendarii]

You're the one who wants to be my commanding officer.

[ But - well, they've probably attracted enough attention with Milies' little attempted fistfight. He reluctantly swallows down what he was going to say next. ]

What else do you propose we do?

[vorrutyer]

[ By drags the heel of his hand along his cheekbone, trying to wipe away some bit of grime there. Hah. Of all the things he expected, Miles Vorkosigan getting cooperative wasn't one of them. It's almost delightful in its unexpected novelty. Of course, the problem with being in charge, such as it is, is that you have to be the one to make decisions. And he has no idea what to do.

Shit. Is it too late to pitch himself headfirst off one of those cliffs he'd seen earlier? Beautiful cliffs, those. No, his fear of heights would keep him getting too close to the edge, he knows. What an idiotic thing a phobia is. I want to use this to die, but I can't, because inside my brain it triggers my fear of dying. Ah, well; life it is. ]

Convince me of your reasons that we shouldn't tell the General about our situation. Aside from the fact that you're scared of the General.

[dendarii]

[ And Miles is here to watch him for mistakes every step of the way. And be a general thorn in his side. As Miles tends to do.

Speaking of which, Byerly gets a slight eyeroll at that. ]

If you knew him like I do, you'd be nervous too. This is a desperate time, Byerly. You really think you can walk in there and just tell him you're from the future?