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forbarrayar2017-04-19 07:12 pm
barrayarmods) wrote in forbarrayar2017-04-19 07:12 pm
Entry tags:
[ april ii log: here's unbroken bone ]
Who: Everyone
What: The sun finally comes out in proper spring, the labs are full of excitement, and Piotr prepares for real war. Your princess is in another castle.
When: April 18th - 30th
Where: the Barrayaran camp, the Cetagandan base, Riverfall Village
Warnings: TBD
Quick links:
Riverfall
Barrayar: Camp / Missions
Cetaganda: Base / Missions
TIMELINE
4/18 Fast-penta interrogation: Sonia
4/19 Eavesdropping Alpha (Barrayar)
4/21 Eavesdropping Bravo (Barrayar)
4/22 - 4/23 Vorkosigan Vashnoi trips
4/24 Eavesdropping (Cetaganda)
4/25-4/26 Satellite launch
4/27 Flower-viewing party
barrayar
Morale is still recovering after Princess Sonia's capture and the deaths that resulted from the ensuing battle in Riverfall, but at least they were able to make contact with Colonel Vorvolk, the leading officer of the other half of Piotr's army, and reunite the guerrilla army for the first time since their last camp was discovered several months ago. Their discovery is not only timely, but critical -- Piotr intends to launch an attack on the Cetagandan base next month, before any reinforcements can arrive, in order to force Zahal to recall at least part, if not most, of the occupying force in the capital city, so that Piotr's army and the civilian underground resistance can work together to retake Vorkosigan Vashnoi. If they can take back the city and continue to defend it, they might even stand a chance at pushing Zahal's forces out of the district entirely, and considering that Vorkosigan's District is one of the hot spots of the invasion, this might even turn the tide of the whole war in their favor. They'll also be attempting to rescue Sonia during the attack, making the most out of the chaos, but that is their secondary objective.
Zahal, of course, means to make the most out of his new hostage. Knowing for certain now that Piotr's army has contact with the Riverfall villagers -- a fact that puts the camp at risk for discovery once again -- Zahal sends a missive to Riverfall with instructions to pass it along to Piotr. His demands are simple: they'll guarantee the safety and return of the Princess on Piotr's complete surrender. Piotr responds by scrawling a particularly rude and short-worded rebuttal over the original message and has it returned promptly -- stuffed inside the mouth of some poor beheaded ghem soldier, left at one of the base entry gates to be discovered by patrols.
Hopes for a successful attack are bolstered still when word comes that Emperor Dorca and Crown Prince Yuri are on their way to the Dendarii mountains. On the 18th, a courier from Dorca's battalion arrives, only to discover that the first courier sent by Dorca some weeks ago never made it to Piotr's camp to deliver the news. Dorca and Yuri bring with them another 200 soldiers when they arrive on the 20th, which nearly doubles their forces, and, like Colonel Vorvolk's half of the army, they set up camp in another part of the mountains nearby, connected by the cave netwrok that runs through the Dendarii mountains. Unfortunately, the occasion isn't entirely joyous, as Crown Prince Yuri recently lost his only remaining son and heir in battle shortly before departing for Vorkosigan's District. This is not only a sad occasion, but a politically uneasy one: Yuri's wife died some years ago, and while he is next in line to succeed his father as Emperor, the lack of an heir to his own makes for a politically shaky situation. Should he die before producing another heir, the title of Crown Prince will fall to his half-brother Xav instead, and that…brings a whole host of other political issues to the table. Needless to say, while Yuri's succession isn't an immediate issue, the politically savvy are feeling a little nervous about it.
But the war marches on, and preparations must be made. Their odds are better, but they're still vastly outnumbered by the Cetagandans. They'll need the help of the underground civilian resistance to prepare to retake Vorkosigan Vashnoi, as well as some supplies. After all, they'll have an easier time infiltrating the Cetagandan base with a larger force if some of them look enough like Cetagandans.
camp
Although the army is stronger than it has been in months, not all is at peace. Colonel Vorvolk has always been a trusted member of Piotr's general staff and a loyal officer, as well as a long-time acquaintance. However, his views on the outsiders don't exactly align with Piotr's: he thinks Piotr has been much too quick to trust them, especially given that several of them came over from the Cetagandan side, and Duv Galeni hails from Komarr, the planet that sold Barrayar out to the Cetagandans. Vorvolk doesn't believe that the outsiders should be given such freedom or privilege, let alone allow them to participate in critical military operations. Most of his own soldiers seem to share the sentiment, as do the Vorbarra soldiers -- in fact, Yuri vocally agrees with Vorvolk, and those outsiders who have been in Piotr's camp from the very beginning will feel an uncomfortably familiar air of suspicion and mistrust settles over the camp. While nothing has effectively changed -- the outsiders are not segregated away from the camp again as they once were, nor put back under guard -- the Barrayaran soldiers who are comfortable with and even like the outsiders are suddenly in the minority.
While few are foolish enough to disrespect the outsiders where Piotr can see them, some of the soldiers from Vorvolk's and Dorca's camps are borderline hostile toward the outsiders, jeering, taunting, even making hex signs or spitting in the most extreme cases. There are still plenty of soldiers who remain friendly towards the outsiders, but it's leading to friction between them and their other Barrayaran comrades as well. After several days of tension, a major fight breaks out in Piotr's camp over the outsiders' presence, and a few outsiders might even be dragged (or throw themselves) into it. Everyone involved in the fight gets a firm reprimand and then some, and worse still is that the fight does little to ease the tensions -- if anything, it only makes them worse.
Dorca and Yuri's mourning casts a somber air over the camps, and both Emperor and Crown Prince are in grave moods, Yuri's especially prickly. As his son was a public figure, they hold a public burning of death offerings on the 22nd, so that Imperial subjects may pay their respects to the recently deceased Prince. A large pyre is set up within one of the larger caves, so that the smoke will be less conspicuous, and any offerings submitted in earnest will be accepted. Typical Barrayaran death offerings consist of a small lock of one's hair, or, if none is to hand, any other personal object they might have on their person that would burn, such as a piece of clothing.
missions
With contributions of…mixed success from the outsiders, as well as help from the soldiers, the villagers are able to repair some of the homes damaged in the recent skirmish. Some of them are too far gone for repair, and so are broken down to salvage whatever materials they can for other repairs. Considering the village now houses fewer than fifty people, housing space is not a concern at the moment.
Preparations for the coming attack on the Cetagandan base go well overall. The raiding parties manage to steal uniforms and face paint for about 50 soldiers to disguise themselves, and parties sent to Vorkosigan Vashnoi successfully make contact with civilian resistance cells to pass their plans along.
The unabridged mission results can be found here.
cetaganda
Zahal sends his terms to Piotr for Sonia's release, and the gruesome rebuttal -- a crude message scrawled over Zahal's own hand-penned calligraphy, the delicate paper shoved into the gaping mouth of a dead ghem soldier, his head left to be discovered just outside the best -- infuriates him. He's known Piotr for too long to expect him to give in right away, but this is just sheer insult. He's well aware of just how vulnerable the base is right now -- the epidemic has mostly run its course, but their total forces are down to about 6,000 soldiers, and there are only about 100 ghem scientists left. His requests for reinforcements have been delayed by Cetagandan central command -- they have no extra troops they can spare on planet, and it will be another month before more ships arrive. Zahal is struggling to balance out his forces, split between the base and Vorkosigan Vashnoi -- right now binternal base security is badly undermanned in favor of increasing the occupying force in the capital city. Piotr Vorkosigan is too smart a man not to take advantage of an opportunity like this -- Zahal just doesn't know exactly what he's planning to do. The Cetagandan base is in a vulnerable state.
However, there is one edge they have: Cetagandan intelligence knows that Emperor Dorca and Crown Prince Yuri are in Vorkosigan's District. The courier who never made it to Piotr's camp was intercepted by Cetagandan intelligence before he even made it to Vorkosigan's District, and the information was sent accordingly to Zahal's outpost. Piotr might have rejected his first demand -- but would the Emperor, the Princess's grandfather, respond the same?
But as the trials of war marches on, so do the advancements of science. Micah is still hard at work in the labs working on the Star Gate Project, but the data they've been able to gather is incomplete and insufficient. They have convinced the Cetagandan science officers to send a scientific party, Micah included, off-planet to take a closer look at the collapsed wormhole and launch a satellite to record more data. They've made a fair bit of progress in discovering the new type of field generated by the collapsed wormhole, tentatively named the Niadem field after its primary discoverer, but they still know too little about just how and why the exotics have been brought here to complete their designs.
base
Despite the military tensions, the Cetagandans work hard at maintaining a lighter atmosphere around the base. Since the weather this month has finally given them some real relief -- and the epidemic raging the base has been quelled -- the Cetagandans decide to host a flower-viewing party on the 27th in the gardens adjacent to the Grow Labs. It is explained to the exotics that such events are regularly held to herald the coming of spring, although emphasis is placed on the fact that the viewings are usually much more sophisticated and lavish than the 'meager' offerings of the lush gardens on the base.
Typical of Cetagandan functions, it is elegant, overwrought and full of a lot of needlessly artfully crafted food and drinks -- many of them intoxicating, so take care what you drink. Sonia and Micah are both in attendance, although Sonia doesn't look particularly happy to be there. The party is celebrating in particular some of the genetic-botanical achievements of some of the ghem lady artists on the base, as well as some recently genetically engineered koi, to update the atmosphere of the garden to proper spring. However, the real show-stealer is the debut of Amai's personal project: an elaborate zoo-biological sculpture designed as tribute to the Star Crèche itself. It takes up a considerable portion of the back wall of the garden, vinelike branches woven into the trellis, curling and spreading in elaborate patterns, and flowers bloom along the lengths in clusters, each a different color. On a closer look, they can be identified as asters -- but some in colors no one's ever seen an aster before. The vines themselves are ridged with what looks like some kind of delicate fin that sways softly with the slightest breeze, a shimmering dark blue. They look more like koi fins than anything botanical, and with the groups of flowers set over them, it looks something like a night sky. In the center is an elaborately crafted flower sculpture of the Star Crèche's screaming bird insignia in minute detail. And though it is rooted to the rest of the sculpture, it seems to move at times -- the slightest flutter of its wings. The placard placed with it explains that each colored cluster of asters is an artistic representation of one of the Constellations that make up the haut caste. The Navarr constellation, from which both Diya and Sei hail, is flowered in asters of a striking violet color.
As time passes, Haut Sei's presence becomes more palpable on the base, and her force bubble is seen more frequently outside of the science/medical complex. Though she and Diya are working closely together, it's clear to anyone who spends enough time around them that there is some tension between them. Ba Talim is almost always present when they are together, although it can at times be found on its own around the base.
missions
The gene therapy trials take a turn for the worse despite glimmers of promise earlier on, and all three subjects suffer from complications with no progress made.
The investigation into the weapons smuggling operation is ultimately a failure -- while they are able to track down one of the resistance cells, the civilians involved manage to get away before any useful information is extracted from them. The next time Cetagandan soldiers return to the place where they'd been discovered, the establishment has since been boarded up and closed down.
The unabridged mission results can be found here.
Note: Gavalas, Ezar and Gail are both available for threading on request. Hit Madi (Gavalas) or Ammay (Ezar & Gail) up if you are interested!
What: The sun finally comes out in proper spring, the labs are full of excitement, and Piotr prepares for real war. Your princess is in another castle.
When: April 18th - 30th
Where: the Barrayaran camp, the Cetagandan base, Riverfall Village
Warnings: TBD
Riverfall
Barrayar: Camp / Missions
Cetaganda: Base / Missions
TIMELINE
4/18 Fast-penta interrogation: Sonia
4/19 Eavesdropping Alpha (Barrayar)
4/21 Eavesdropping Bravo (Barrayar)
4/22 - 4/23 Vorkosigan Vashnoi trips
4/24 Eavesdropping (Cetaganda)
4/25-4/26 Satellite launch
4/27 Flower-viewing party
barrayar
Morale is still recovering after Princess Sonia's capture and the deaths that resulted from the ensuing battle in Riverfall, but at least they were able to make contact with Colonel Vorvolk, the leading officer of the other half of Piotr's army, and reunite the guerrilla army for the first time since their last camp was discovered several months ago. Their discovery is not only timely, but critical -- Piotr intends to launch an attack on the Cetagandan base next month, before any reinforcements can arrive, in order to force Zahal to recall at least part, if not most, of the occupying force in the capital city, so that Piotr's army and the civilian underground resistance can work together to retake Vorkosigan Vashnoi. If they can take back the city and continue to defend it, they might even stand a chance at pushing Zahal's forces out of the district entirely, and considering that Vorkosigan's District is one of the hot spots of the invasion, this might even turn the tide of the whole war in their favor. They'll also be attempting to rescue Sonia during the attack, making the most out of the chaos, but that is their secondary objective.
Zahal, of course, means to make the most out of his new hostage. Knowing for certain now that Piotr's army has contact with the Riverfall villagers -- a fact that puts the camp at risk for discovery once again -- Zahal sends a missive to Riverfall with instructions to pass it along to Piotr. His demands are simple: they'll guarantee the safety and return of the Princess on Piotr's complete surrender. Piotr responds by scrawling a particularly rude and short-worded rebuttal over the original message and has it returned promptly -- stuffed inside the mouth of some poor beheaded ghem soldier, left at one of the base entry gates to be discovered by patrols.
Hopes for a successful attack are bolstered still when word comes that Emperor Dorca and Crown Prince Yuri are on their way to the Dendarii mountains. On the 18th, a courier from Dorca's battalion arrives, only to discover that the first courier sent by Dorca some weeks ago never made it to Piotr's camp to deliver the news. Dorca and Yuri bring with them another 200 soldiers when they arrive on the 20th, which nearly doubles their forces, and, like Colonel Vorvolk's half of the army, they set up camp in another part of the mountains nearby, connected by the cave netwrok that runs through the Dendarii mountains. Unfortunately, the occasion isn't entirely joyous, as Crown Prince Yuri recently lost his only remaining son and heir in battle shortly before departing for Vorkosigan's District. This is not only a sad occasion, but a politically uneasy one: Yuri's wife died some years ago, and while he is next in line to succeed his father as Emperor, the lack of an heir to his own makes for a politically shaky situation. Should he die before producing another heir, the title of Crown Prince will fall to his half-brother Xav instead, and that…brings a whole host of other political issues to the table. Needless to say, while Yuri's succession isn't an immediate issue, the politically savvy are feeling a little nervous about it.
But the war marches on, and preparations must be made. Their odds are better, but they're still vastly outnumbered by the Cetagandans. They'll need the help of the underground civilian resistance to prepare to retake Vorkosigan Vashnoi, as well as some supplies. After all, they'll have an easier time infiltrating the Cetagandan base with a larger force if some of them look enough like Cetagandans.
camp
Although the army is stronger than it has been in months, not all is at peace. Colonel Vorvolk has always been a trusted member of Piotr's general staff and a loyal officer, as well as a long-time acquaintance. However, his views on the outsiders don't exactly align with Piotr's: he thinks Piotr has been much too quick to trust them, especially given that several of them came over from the Cetagandan side, and Duv Galeni hails from Komarr, the planet that sold Barrayar out to the Cetagandans. Vorvolk doesn't believe that the outsiders should be given such freedom or privilege, let alone allow them to participate in critical military operations. Most of his own soldiers seem to share the sentiment, as do the Vorbarra soldiers -- in fact, Yuri vocally agrees with Vorvolk, and those outsiders who have been in Piotr's camp from the very beginning will feel an uncomfortably familiar air of suspicion and mistrust settles over the camp. While nothing has effectively changed -- the outsiders are not segregated away from the camp again as they once were, nor put back under guard -- the Barrayaran soldiers who are comfortable with and even like the outsiders are suddenly in the minority.
While few are foolish enough to disrespect the outsiders where Piotr can see them, some of the soldiers from Vorvolk's and Dorca's camps are borderline hostile toward the outsiders, jeering, taunting, even making hex signs or spitting in the most extreme cases. There are still plenty of soldiers who remain friendly towards the outsiders, but it's leading to friction between them and their other Barrayaran comrades as well. After several days of tension, a major fight breaks out in Piotr's camp over the outsiders' presence, and a few outsiders might even be dragged (or throw themselves) into it. Everyone involved in the fight gets a firm reprimand and then some, and worse still is that the fight does little to ease the tensions -- if anything, it only makes them worse.
Dorca and Yuri's mourning casts a somber air over the camps, and both Emperor and Crown Prince are in grave moods, Yuri's especially prickly. As his son was a public figure, they hold a public burning of death offerings on the 22nd, so that Imperial subjects may pay their respects to the recently deceased Prince. A large pyre is set up within one of the larger caves, so that the smoke will be less conspicuous, and any offerings submitted in earnest will be accepted. Typical Barrayaran death offerings consist of a small lock of one's hair, or, if none is to hand, any other personal object they might have on their person that would burn, such as a piece of clothing.
missions
With contributions of…mixed success from the outsiders, as well as help from the soldiers, the villagers are able to repair some of the homes damaged in the recent skirmish. Some of them are too far gone for repair, and so are broken down to salvage whatever materials they can for other repairs. Considering the village now houses fewer than fifty people, housing space is not a concern at the moment.
Preparations for the coming attack on the Cetagandan base go well overall. The raiding parties manage to steal uniforms and face paint for about 50 soldiers to disguise themselves, and parties sent to Vorkosigan Vashnoi successfully make contact with civilian resistance cells to pass their plans along.
The unabridged mission results can be found here.
cetaganda
Zahal sends his terms to Piotr for Sonia's release, and the gruesome rebuttal -- a crude message scrawled over Zahal's own hand-penned calligraphy, the delicate paper shoved into the gaping mouth of a dead ghem soldier, his head left to be discovered just outside the best -- infuriates him. He's known Piotr for too long to expect him to give in right away, but this is just sheer insult. He's well aware of just how vulnerable the base is right now -- the epidemic has mostly run its course, but their total forces are down to about 6,000 soldiers, and there are only about 100 ghem scientists left. His requests for reinforcements have been delayed by Cetagandan central command -- they have no extra troops they can spare on planet, and it will be another month before more ships arrive. Zahal is struggling to balance out his forces, split between the base and Vorkosigan Vashnoi -- right now binternal base security is badly undermanned in favor of increasing the occupying force in the capital city. Piotr Vorkosigan is too smart a man not to take advantage of an opportunity like this -- Zahal just doesn't know exactly what he's planning to do. The Cetagandan base is in a vulnerable state.
However, there is one edge they have: Cetagandan intelligence knows that Emperor Dorca and Crown Prince Yuri are in Vorkosigan's District. The courier who never made it to Piotr's camp was intercepted by Cetagandan intelligence before he even made it to Vorkosigan's District, and the information was sent accordingly to Zahal's outpost. Piotr might have rejected his first demand -- but would the Emperor, the Princess's grandfather, respond the same?
But as the trials of war marches on, so do the advancements of science. Micah is still hard at work in the labs working on the Star Gate Project, but the data they've been able to gather is incomplete and insufficient. They have convinced the Cetagandan science officers to send a scientific party, Micah included, off-planet to take a closer look at the collapsed wormhole and launch a satellite to record more data. They've made a fair bit of progress in discovering the new type of field generated by the collapsed wormhole, tentatively named the Niadem field after its primary discoverer, but they still know too little about just how and why the exotics have been brought here to complete their designs.
base
Despite the military tensions, the Cetagandans work hard at maintaining a lighter atmosphere around the base. Since the weather this month has finally given them some real relief -- and the epidemic raging the base has been quelled -- the Cetagandans decide to host a flower-viewing party on the 27th in the gardens adjacent to the Grow Labs. It is explained to the exotics that such events are regularly held to herald the coming of spring, although emphasis is placed on the fact that the viewings are usually much more sophisticated and lavish than the 'meager' offerings of the lush gardens on the base.
Typical of Cetagandan functions, it is elegant, overwrought and full of a lot of needlessly artfully crafted food and drinks -- many of them intoxicating, so take care what you drink. Sonia and Micah are both in attendance, although Sonia doesn't look particularly happy to be there. The party is celebrating in particular some of the genetic-botanical achievements of some of the ghem lady artists on the base, as well as some recently genetically engineered koi, to update the atmosphere of the garden to proper spring. However, the real show-stealer is the debut of Amai's personal project: an elaborate zoo-biological sculpture designed as tribute to the Star Crèche itself. It takes up a considerable portion of the back wall of the garden, vinelike branches woven into the trellis, curling and spreading in elaborate patterns, and flowers bloom along the lengths in clusters, each a different color. On a closer look, they can be identified as asters -- but some in colors no one's ever seen an aster before. The vines themselves are ridged with what looks like some kind of delicate fin that sways softly with the slightest breeze, a shimmering dark blue. They look more like koi fins than anything botanical, and with the groups of flowers set over them, it looks something like a night sky. In the center is an elaborately crafted flower sculpture of the Star Crèche's screaming bird insignia in minute detail. And though it is rooted to the rest of the sculpture, it seems to move at times -- the slightest flutter of its wings. The placard placed with it explains that each colored cluster of asters is an artistic representation of one of the Constellations that make up the haut caste. The Navarr constellation, from which both Diya and Sei hail, is flowered in asters of a striking violet color.
As time passes, Haut Sei's presence becomes more palpable on the base, and her force bubble is seen more frequently outside of the science/medical complex. Though she and Diya are working closely together, it's clear to anyone who spends enough time around them that there is some tension between them. Ba Talim is almost always present when they are together, although it can at times be found on its own around the base.
missions
The gene therapy trials take a turn for the worse despite glimmers of promise earlier on, and all three subjects suffer from complications with no progress made.
The investigation into the weapons smuggling operation is ultimately a failure -- while they are able to track down one of the resistance cells, the civilians involved manage to get away before any useful information is extracted from them. The next time Cetagandan soldiers return to the place where they'd been discovered, the establishment has since been boarded up and closed down.
The unabridged mission results can be found here.
Note: Gavalas, Ezar and Gail are both available for threading on request. Hit Madi (Gavalas) or Ammay (Ezar & Gail) up if you are interested!
Lavernius Tucker | Barrayar
[Self-control wasn't exactly in Tucker's wheelhouse, but he managed restraint somehow. He was trying so fucking hard not to run off and just fix shit, trying not to have a stupid plan and make it work like he always did, trying not to pick a fight with these asshole fucksticks that came in and kept making comments. So far? So far he had succeeded.
But everything was tense because waiting wasn't his strong-suit, leaving him feeling like a bullet in the chamber. The looks he kept getting from some of these soldiers were enough to get the trigger squeezed, and his mouth was sore from where he kept biting the inside of his cheeks. He was on thin ice to start with, though; he knew it, which meant behavior was mandatory.
Of course, then he heard one of them laughing and pointing at him, and he couldn't--]
Yeah, who know who wasn't laughing last night? [And someone please stop him before he finishes with a Your mom, because I was making house calls. Or don't. Fights could be fun, but outnumbered odds? Not so much.]
B. Repairing Houses - Let's Just Not.
[Coming back to the village was hard, his eyes always drifting to the place where she had been taken and the blood-soaked ground that had been turned over to get rid of the stain. Guilt was smoothed over by actually helping to rebuild some of the houses, and while he sometimes took breaks for pirozhki, he was finding out one important thing:
He wasn't very good at this.
Seriously, he wasn't. Sure, he was trying, but he had a habit of using the wrong tool for the job, for bending nails with too-hard hammer strikes, for putting wrong boards in wrong places and making cuts that were way, way off measurements. In effect: he sucked. He probably shouldn't be doing this, for his sake and that of everyone else.
But hey, roof. He could work on the roof, right? He was almost done for the day and he was actually putting effort in, which was more telling than other things. The support beneath him whined a little, but he didn't pay attention; he was trying to get this row of patching done so he could go back to camp and sleep for a week.
Trying to repair houses
and effectively failingwas a more lot hard work than he planned on.]C. Med Tent - Ouch, MFer. Ouch.
[Tucker should have stopped while he was ahead. Maybe dropping the hammer on his foot was the hint that he shouldn't have ignored, but no. He kept going, kept building, kept trying to help.
Until he fell through the roof, feeling it cave out from under him with a deafening crash. Until he landed. Until he woke up here, in the stupid med tent, stuck in bed, bored out of his mind and in enough pain that he wanted booze or meds or something to take the edge off. This sucked; he hadn't been stuck like this since he had been stabbed by Fucklix, and by the end of that, he had gone stir crazy, too.
At least he had Epsilon to talk to back then, checking on him, constantly there while he mended. Worried, even if he wouldn't admit it, covering it up with a bullshit line about how he had nothing better to do.
Dammit, he wished Church was here.
Grunting a little, Tucker tried to sit up, to slide his legs to dangle off the edge of the cot, to find his feet even if he wasn't supposed to. He needed to get up, to do something before he just lost it. ]
D. Wildcard
a
He doesn't say anything. It's all there in his expression, the hard set of his jaw, his lips pressed into a thin line. You know better than this, Tucker. A jerk of his head off to the side, away from the instigating soldiers. Leave it. Let's go. ]
no subject
He glared at Wash, a slight shake of his head as he clenched his jaw. Amid the anger in his brown eyes was a plea.] Dude, just let me have this.
[And his shoulders hunched a little, tightening up as he heard one of the other soldiers cheerfully remark, "Oh his mother came to take him home".
Teeth ground as Tucker's jaw tightened, and he looked to Wash again.]
Let me. Do. This.
[At least he was asking permission.]
no subject
He hears that little remark. Doesn't react to it even in the slightest, doesn't turn his head, no shift in his expression. ]
I need your help with something. [ Haha, not really, of course. He drops his hand, but it's there in his eyes, he doesn't really have to physically restrain you here, does he, Tucker? You're better than that. He believes you are. ] Let's go.
no subject
...and he saw that you'd drag him out of there if you had to, which would only look worse for both against him and Wash. Tucker didn't want to make this his fault, didn't want to make him look bad when it was the Sim Trooper's mouth running this battle. Besides, the last thing Tucker needed was to be caught instigating fights when he was trying so hard to get that One Special Mission. ]
Fine. Whatthefuckever.
[Rolling his eyes, he begrudgingly relented, his head held high because it wasn't defeat, not in front of this weaseldicks. And when they were out of earshot, he started crafting angry promises under his breath.]
I'm pissing in all their shoes when they're asleep. Going to drink all the fucking water in the camp and just piss a lake in each one, you watch me. They'll never know who did it.
no subject
[ Yep. ]
You're better than this, Tucker. You know you are. [ The most effective means of keeping Tucker in line, Wash has found, is just placing expectations on him and watching him inevitably manage to meet them every time. But he does mean them genuinely, each time. Tucker is smarter than this. He gestures for Tucker to keep following him, just starts moving away from those soldiers through the camp. ] Getting into a fight isn't going to solve anything. It'll only make the tension in the camp worse, and General Vorkosigan is bound to hear about it.
no subject
This isn't about me, Wash; it's about those assholes! [Not even cockbite; that was reserved for people he almost liked. One arm waved behind him, back at the general direction that they left, feeling the anger come back with a vengeance.] Who the fuck do they think they are, coming in here and just being dicks like this?! What did we ever do to them? We're fighting their goddamn war for them! They should be fucking thanking us!
[And if that wasn't enough, have a scowl, too.] Blah blah, General Vorkosigan. Fuck this place. Fuck this whole thing.
[Read between the lines, Wash. Read the I just want to go home. Because he was tired and he was worried and he felt so goddamn useless in everything he did: Church, the Reds and Blues, now Sonia. He couldn't fix anything.]
no subject
[ This is Barrayar. This is the way things are. Land of garbage and shit, like Byerly said, understandable cultural biases like Miles had said, where there's no place for people like me, like Sonia had said. Wash has never been the kind of person to want to keep his head down, prefers to stand on principle, but god, there's so much riding on this. More than just his own petty pride. ]
I'm one more smartass comment about women and muties from grabbing someone by the throat and breaking his arm. [ So very calmly, and he gestures him over -- they're at the armory tent, now. ] So come on. I do need help with something.
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[There’s something comforting in knowing that he wasn’t the only one holding back by a thread, that even Wash was feeling his frustrations get to a fever pitch. It was a solidarity that he was searching for, something that made him relax, made him breathe, made him follow a little easier. Fine. Armory? He could do armory.
Well, on one condition.]
If you’re going to make me organize and count the shit in here, I’m going to bail. Just warning you.
[But for now, he gave him the benefit of the doubt, following him instead.]
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[ The slightest, upward twitch of his mouth, at Tucker's comment. No organizing, you'r safe. For today at least. ]
I'm getting rusty, I think. [ Well, not really, but it wasn't a complete lie either, the stress of everything and the amount of things he has on his mind means he's not exactly slipped in his usual training regime, but he has been less focused. It leaves him feeling restless, agitated, and with all these frustrations mounting, he's sure they could both use a bit of an outlet. He glances at Tucker over his shoulder. ] How about a spar?
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For a moment, it would almost feel like home, and he thought about pushing back and being an ass about it just to feel like what they're used to, but he kept it down. A little. Kinda.]
Yeah, only if you want your ass kicked. [And he smirked as he wiped his hands on his pants, slowly walking into the center of the room.] You sure you can keep up with all this? I mean, I pretty much am a master at sword-fighting.
[Stabbing wildly did not a master make.]
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[ He moves towards the other side of the armory, where weapons other than the swords are stored, and in a blink of an eye there's suddenly a knife in his hand, drawn fast enough that unless Tucker was already paying close attention he probably couldn't have seen where Wash had hidden it on him. Wash spins it idly in his hand, head turned just enough to watch Tucker carefully out of the corner of his eye. ]
How's your knife work, lately?
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Ugh, if this is that unarmed hand-to-hand combat shit again, I told you, I just won't get disarm--
[But the words died as if each syllable was shot, murdered on his lips, when he saw that knife. It caught the light, hypnotizing in a way, and Tucker couldn't drag his eyes away, as if doing so would make the blade find a home somewhere in through his skin and in his gut. He could taste his heart as it tried to crawl up his throat, and the hands at his sides twitched before he crossed his arms so his fingers could grip them, tight, tight, tight.
It's cool. It's Wash. It's not Fel--]
Um, I don't do knives. [He dragged his gaze - a little more wide, a little more worried than he knew - up to Wash's face.] We already got a knife guy: you. I'm sword guy. No reason to fuck up a perfect set of roles.
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[ And even then, the way Tucker's expression shifts the moment Wash pulls his knife, the twitch of his hands, the way he folds his arms over his chest. He'd caught a bit of that, back home, had never really had a chance to try and ask him about it. He watches him for a moment, another casual spin of the knife in his hand, practiced, familiar, he does it like breathing. Everyone was better than him at fucking everything, in Freelancer, but there were a few things he genuinely excelled at, beyond being adequately mediocre. His knife work was always one of them. ]
Guess I am a knife guy, though. [ Tipping his head to the side, just watching him as he spins it again, with more flourish this time, letting it run over the backs of his fingers and tossing it easily to his left hand where he starts spinning it there just as easily. Something flashy. Uncharacteristic, for Wash, he's never been a show-off, but ah. Someone else certainly was. ] Wasn't the only one we had for a while, was I?
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[Loud. He said it louder than he meant to, and the fingers gripping his arms tightened, nails digging into the skin. He should have just fought the soldiers instead.
Asshole, Wash, you're an asshole. Especially the longer it went on, the longer Tucker watched those moves that weren't entirely his. He knew it, knew the unspoken implications, saw it in the motions and the ego hidden within, could feel the scratching at the surface--
At the end of the day, if I am stronger than you and I am faster than you, then I can kill you.
He shoved it down, shoved all of it down, but the boil of old betrayals started to roll again. The lies. The fucking smirk. His role in half his team being missing. The goddamn way he tried to wipe out a planet and made Tucker - for a few weeks at least - think that he had a friend, had someone who fucking understood what the hell he felt, what he was going through when everyone else was gone. Then came the old familiar shame at realizing that the fell for it, the anger aimed at himself as much as Felix.
Tucker took a step back, tried still to act like it wasn't a big deal, that this was nothing. It was a thin veil at best, transparent, easy to see the shit beneath.]
We never "had" him, Wash. He was a fucking lying traitor and he's dead now so let's just not waste breath talking about that fuckstick again.
[Fucker is gone. I killed him. It's over!]
Why the fuck are you doing this?
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Wash had known it wouldn't be particularly difficult to pull out of him -- Tucker was never that sort of guy. He keeps other people's secrets, yes, but this isn't about that, this is about his own feelings, and Tucker has always been the kind who liked to wear his heart on his sleeve. Even something he didn't like, even something buried deep. A little bit of digging is all it would take. He does feel badly just about immediately, watching the way it plays across Tucker's expression, the way he takes physically has to take a step back. That's all so much more telling than Tucker's own words, even if he doesn't dodge around the issue, can't dodge around it.
His expression softens. He stops spinning the knife, flips the hilt back against his palm, lowering his hand to his side. ]
I wouldn't waste time talking about him if I didn't think it was still bothering you.
[ He turns, grabs a knife from the armory, and without moving forward to close the extra distance between them just turns it in his hand to offer it hilt-first. ]
You need to get past this, Tucker.
Sorry about the novel. I have lots of feelings about this...
[Because it wasn’t. It couldn’t be. To still be bothered by it meant that Felix still had some place in his orbit, and Tucker had blown him off a fucking tower. He had won. He had been the goddamn victor, for all of Felix’s useless posturing. That dickslit had no place in anything anymore because Tucker had made sure of it.
Felix hadn’t been faster or stronger than him. The Sim Trooper had fucking proved it in life, and it wasn’t going to be any different in death.
But he could feel it, the way his eyes kept flickering to Wash’s hand to make sure the knife was there, was held tight, to make sure it wasn’t coming towards him in any capacity. It frustrated him, this compulsion to look when every time he dragged gaze up to the Freelancer, it would flicker back down again just to make sure. Again. Again. Again. Dammit, he was stronger than this, he was tougher than this; Wash had been hurt a million times and he wasn’t all jumpy about shit. Donut didn’t get skittish about Wash even though Wash nearly killed him. Why was it different for him? Why was he being a fucking wuss when he had survived just fine?
Because it’s everything else.
Maybe. Maybe it was as much about how he got played, about what they did to him and Chorus and all of his friends as much as it had been about that blade sinking past his suit, through his skin, into him. Maybe it was the intimacy of being that close to a sociopath, one that didn’t have an excuse like the Meta did, the one that just cared for nothing more than the billboard sized TV they wanted. Maybe it was all some symbolic crap that he didn’t give a fuck about and didn’t want to understand. Denial was a beautiful thing.
Get past this? Shit, he barely knew what “this” was.]
What’s there to know about knives? Don’t get stabbed. That’s the only fucking rule and I already know that one.
[But that’s not what Wash was talking about, was it?]
if you have to apologize then i do, too. insert novel get novel
Felix had been a specific kind of betrayal. A manipulative one, a clever little bastard who knew how to worm his way under your skin, to carve himself a little space right next to your heart, to make you trust him before tearing himself right out. He liked doing that. Delighted in that. And Wash knows how to deal with that hurt, that pain, has felt it enough that he's almost ( but not quite, never, not even fucking close really ) numb to it, anymore, but Tucker.
Wash isn't obviously jumpy about anything, sure. Not outwardly. But there are things he jumps at, things that pull at cracks in his mind that'll never heal ( he still doesn't think he'll ever be able to bring himself to even so much as say Allison ). He second-guesses everything, lets paranoia rule him, jumps at shadows because a false start or two is a hell of a lot better than missing a knife in the dark, and sure it's safe in some ways but it's a miserable fucking way to live. It's a misery that he'll live with, because he knows how broken he is. Tucker isn't there, yet. Will never be there, if Wash can help it. Tucker can do a lot better than him here, like he can do a lot better than him in so many places, and Wash is determined to help him there.
And, yes. Apparently he's going to do this now. What better way to really pull Tucker away from the hell going on around them, after all. He'd honesty not planned on really delving into this too deeply, just to bring it up as something for him to to be aware of while they trained, but Tucker never does things in halves, right. ]
Don't get stabbed is a great rule, but stabbing's just part of what you do with a knife. [ So very calmly, while watching Tucker evenly for every little reaction, every flinch, every twitch. ] The thing about a thrust with a knife, though, is that you usually need to be real close to pull it off. Usually it's slashing first, getting what damage you can, carving away at your target however you can reach, bit by bit until they let down their guard or until you get past their guard enough to go in for a clean stab.
[ Knives are great weapons for cunning little shits. Goes with the theme. ]
Even then, you twist the knife, when you can. Drag it through the flesh for more if you can manage it. You make it count. You make it hurt.
[ But ah, he isn't just talking about the knife, is he? Wash still has his hand held out, still holding it out by the hilt. This isn't about knives and Wash is sure that Tucker knows that as much as he doesn't want to admit it. ]
Felix was real good at that. [ Takes a liar to know a liar, right? Wash should've known better, because he's been through that shit, he's done that shit, but the Reds and Blues had softened him so much he'd been just as blind to it as the rest of them were. He needs to be more careful, sure, especially when he's looking out for them, but hell if he'll let anyone turn Tucker into as miserable of a bastard as Wash himself is. ] We all bought into it, you know? Not just you.
wow, we're can talk a lot about feelings.
And Wash wasn't wrong; Felix was really good at that, really good at getting in, making it count, making it hurt. He wanted to carve his name into every tree trunk before he chopped it down and set fire to the wood. But while knives were intimate, while knives were close and carved and chipped away at doubt and defenses until they got at the heart, they were ultimately just a tool.
Felix wasn't a tool of Hargrove. He did it because he wanted to. Because he had fun with it.]
You weren't there for a lot of it, Wash. [Stuck with the Feds. Stuck with Locus. Locus was easier; the air around him was different.] I hung around him. I got drunk with him. When we had good missions, we fucking celebrated, and when we had bad ones, he called me out on it. I...He was a friend.
[Fingernails dug deep into his sleeves, jaw tight. His eyes weren't on Wash; they were on the knife.]
...But I was never a fucking friend to him. I was fucking up left and right; everything was a shitshow, and it was secretly his fault as much as it was mine. But he was the only fucking person who I thought knew what the hell to do. He was the only one I could fucking look to. He was--
[you]
--someone that didn't fucking exist. And you think that would make shit easier, right? But noooooo, it doesn't, because that just means he was fucking laughing at me the entire time and I should've been able to tell! I had all the fucking time in the goddamn world to see through it and I didn't. How fucking stupid am I?
[What if someone else had gotten hurt? What if he had killed Caboose or Grif or Simmons or Kimball?
He started to move, to pace again, to do something because this was tension, this was wound up, wrapped up and he couldn't sit still.] But he's dead, Wash. Ding-fucking-dong, the bitch is dead. So this shit? All this shit? It doesn't fucking matter anymore. There's nothing to fucking worry about and I'll fight with swords and you can keep your knives and everyone can forget that that part of Chorus happened.
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Felix, though, was the monster. A clever little liar, and Wash should've seen it because it takes one to know one, and the worst kind of liar, too. He didn't do it for a purpose, not really, he did it because he could, because he liked to, for the thrill of the game and the cruel satisfaction of drawing it out until the last, last moment before he twisted the knife. Tucker, the Reds and Blues, they weren't ready for someone like that. He should've seen it. He should've been there. But everything Tucker was saying, he understood. The guilt, the idea of being so completely taken in, the utter betrayal of it. Wash stands there, quiet, before he eventually lowers his hand. The first knife he was holding is -- gone now, apparently, concealed back wherever he'd drawn it from in the first place without Tucker noticing, but this one he'll keep. Weight slightly different, grip not quite what he prefers, but good enough for some idle thing to do with his hands as he tips his head, gestures for Tucker to follow. Let's go for a walk. He's been taking a lot of walks, lately. ]
Forgetting doesn't help. [ Neither does dwelling, but pretending things never happened does nothing. ] You put it behind you, you let the wound heal, the memory is what's going to make you stronger.
[ As long as you don't let the memory ruin you. As long as you don't let it rule you. Like Wash so often does, with his own memories, vivid and bright as they are. Tucker can do better than that. Will do better than that. ]
Did any of the others ever tell you about South Dakota? [ His voice is light, here, but in the way where it's -- detached, distant, not quite stiff but just a little clipped in the way only the particularly observant or people who knew him well enough would be able to notice. The easiest way to talk about something like South was to separate himself from it. A pause, there. Even if that bit of gossip had gone around the Reds and Blues, he doubts her name would've survived it. ] Another Freelancer. Don't worry though, she isn't going to show up to give you a hard time anytime soon.
Because I killed her.
[ So, you know, if you ever heard about Wash shooting anyone of his friends, or a nice lady, or an angry lady, or a purple lady. That might've been South. ]
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So he walked without bitching, grateful as if he was heading away from Felix and Locus and the memories themselves. He listened, a little eye-rolling because Wash was getting That Tone, the one where Tucker tended to tune out.]
You sound like a bargain bin Hallmark card.
[South. South Dakota. There was the start of a shake of his head, something a little confused until it finally clicked. Caboose and his “Oh, yeah, Agent Washingtub killed a lady. She was in purple and angry and I think they were friends…? Different than Church’s girlfriend angry, though. You would not have liked her very much.”
And Tucker was pretty sure he wouldn’t have.
He didn’t stop walking.]
I think Caboose might have mentioned her. [Enjoy whatever horrors that might have included. Tucker looked back at him.] So, another Freelancer, huh? Can’t you guys ever have a break-up without murder being included?
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He spins it, as they walk, not flashy, just a simple idle motion to keep his hand busy. And he does, in fact, make a bit of a face when Tucker says that Caboose mentioned her. Well. Okay. He guesses that would be the person who'd probably know the most about it to share, anyway. ]
Not the point, Tucker. [ Besides, murder is an official Freelancer pasttime! ] The point is, she's -- she was a friend. A good friend.
I fought beside her for years. Laughed with her, got laughed at by her. She was family, as much as anyone else there was. She was like a sister to me. [ And he killed her. Hopefully Tucker doesn't think quite so poorly of him as to think he'd kill her without reason, but if he does, well, maybe Wash can't exactly blame him. His voice is calm enough, but there's some tension to it, subtle, only noticeable if someone who knows him well enough is listening for it. Still spinning the knife. It helps him focus. ] And when she turned on us, I was the one who killed her.
[ Simplifying, a little, but Wash really doesn't see the need to go into the details. ]
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Besides, he trusted Wash, right?
Right. And that made it marginally easier. So he listened, and he thought on it, and he finally shook his head.] Dude, I'm sorry, and that sucks. I can't shoot any of our assholes [really, the thought gave him chills, made him sick], so I don't know how you managed it.
But. [And he looked at Wash hard, aware.] She was your friend once.
Felix was never mine.
[The bitterness sharpened the edges of his tongue, made the words sting. What an idiot he had been.]
I mean, he was my friend, but I was never his. And maybe that's the difference between you and South D: you weren't an idiot for trusting her, not like I was. Because at one point, she was at least deserving of that fucking trust.
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A quiet sigh. ] I don't know if she ever was.
[ But moving on. ]
I trusted him too, you know. [ Wash had been right there with when they'd first met Felix, after all, and he'd be the one that Felix had saved from sniper fire. ] I should definitely have known better.
[ Because Tucker, Tucker isn't much of a liar. He wears his heart on his sleeve, he always has, but Wash, Wash lived and breathed a lie for years of his life, knows what it is to hide behind a mask or two or three. Tucker would never have been able to see through it, but Wash should've fucking known better. He should've seen through it. He'd grown soft, in his time with the Reds and Blues. Learning to trust people again . . . Learning to trust too much. ]
And maybe, maybe we both should have known better. But Tucker, this was his job and he was damned good at what he did. It wasn't just you, or me, or our team. Did you forget he managed to lie to basically an entire planet? That for god knows how long, he was lying to Kimball?
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And wasn't that depressing? It would be like saying that about Carolina, Carolina who at one point put a gun against his head. There was a weight there, and Tucker didn't say anything because he didn't know what to say, just looked at Wash with a wrinkled forehead as he tried to think about what he was talking about.
Fuck. This shit was heavy.]
Look, it's just different. [And he wouldn't let Wash blame himself for this, he wouldn't. it wasn't his fucking fault!] You weren't there for most of it, for the weeks we were split up and with the News. You saw him for, like, a second before you "Freckles Shaked" it all up, and then I was left with him. I had dinner with him in the mess, I trained with him, I ran missions with him, and I tried to beat him so I could be allowed to come save you. I spent a lot more time with him than you did, than anyone, so I can only blame me.
[Well, and Grif and Simmons and Caboose. Kimball. Everyone else. Fuck. Shut up, Wash.[
My instincts suck sometimes. I didn't want to trust you at the beginning, I got people killed while I was looking for you, and I let Felix in. I just...hate it.
[I just hate being wrong.]
im sorry this was so slow