[ may i log: the good fight ]

[barrayarmods]

Who: Everyone
What: The culmination of months of planning and suffering finally comes to bear as the Barrayarans launch their debilitating attack on the Cetagandan base. Politics, as always, go sight unseen but felt everywhere.
When: May 1st - 18th
Where: the Barrayaran camp, the Cetagandan base, Riverfall Village
Warnings: TBD

Quick links:
Riverfall
Barrayar: Camp / Missions
Cetaganda: Base / Missions

TIMELINE
5/5 Eavesdropping
5/7 Hacking
5/11 Mystery Plot
5/15 Attack on the Cetagandan base

riverfall
The village is finally starting to get back on its feet after a few blessedly uneventful weeks. Other than the routine Cetagandan patrols, there hasn't been much activity in the village, and no new strife. The villagers merely continue their rebuilding efforts and tend to their fields, and they'll still gladly accept any help offered by outsiders.

With the village down nearly half its population, there's room to grow, even after last month's fight destroyed some of the homes, so Speaker Gura has been taking in refugees from other nearby hill villages – about ten refugees have moved to settle anew in Riverfall in the last few weeks.

barrayar
The time to strike is now.

All three camps are preoccupied with preparations for the attack on the 15th: as far as Barrayaran intelligence knows, no reinforcements are on their way to the Cetagandan base, and the guerrillas need to strike while the Cetagandans are still down nearly half their forces. It's the only shot they have at forcing the occupying troops to leave Vorkosigan Vashnoi and give them a chance at retaking the city – and they're not throwing away this shot, because they might not get another one.

The political unease surrounding Dorca and Yuri is a quieter tension, plaguing only those politically savvy (or well-positioned) enough to understand the situation, but if you're paying close enough attention to the moody Crown Prince, you'll note that Yuri's primary concern isn't the outsiders, but something much closer to home. He's never been a particularly warm man by anyone's account, but lately he's especially given to foul moods, and only part of it is grief for his most recently deceased son.

All further attempts at hostage negotiation from Zahal have been as curtly denied as the first, and just about as politely. Incorporating a rescue plan into their attack strategy wasn't exactly easy, but they won't get another shot than this at rescuing Princess Sonia – or Byerly, whose cover as a spy was recently blown during a failed attempt at smuggling Sonia out of the base. On the 15th, the Barrayarans prepare for war, some donning Cetagandan uniforms and face paint, others swiping mud over their faces to better camouflage themselves in the dark.

And the attack is a success. There's no real such thing as acceptable loss, but the top brass consider the 70 lives spent on the attack a fair cost for what they got: almost destroying the immediate Cetagandan power supply and the return of their Princess. Plus Byerly. The mood lightens considerably, but there is no rest in war, and just as soon as they take their next victory, Piotr, Dorca and Yuri are already planning the next move: finally retaking Vorkosigan Vashnoi.

camp
All three camps are heavily preparing, officers running drills nearly around the clock, quartermasters taking inventory and making sure every piece of equipment is clean and in working order, medical officers and techs preparing the sickbay tent as best they can for the inevitable injured who will return.

But despite the impending mission, tensions are still rising within the army – while top brass is vocally discouraging the fights that have broken out, it hasn't put a complete stop to them, and no one has openly endorsed the outsiders except for Piotr Vorkosigan. Vorvolk and Yuri are both still staunchly in the skeptic camp at best, but Dorca does not seem to have passed a final judgment on the outsiders before the attack. Perhaps he's merely biding his time, because for all the dissent about the outsiders, the Emperor hasn't barred Piotr from letting them participate in critical missions.

The soldiers make enough noise about it on their own. They're especially tetchy about the outsiders who crossed over from the Cetagandan side – they're as good as spies, as far as some of the soldiers are concerned. But even worse is letting Duv Galeni, a Komarran, not only remain in camp and feed on their resources, but actively participate in missions. For the most part, the soldiers in camp who have known the outsiders from the start and have befriended them are sticking with them, but the half of Piotr's army that was with Vorvolk after the split when the location of their last camp was discovered by the Cetagandans are nearly as suspicious as the Vorbarra battalion. Hostility towards Duv and those who escaped from the Cetagandan camp is especially severe, and it's no secret that some of them would prefer the outsiders dead rather than taking up space and resources in their army, though no one has been so bold as to actually make any attempts. Falco Vorkalloner, one of the Rangers who had been in Vorvolk's half of the army, hasn't been afraid to make his voice heard, though. He's even been heard saying that he thinks someone ought to make an example out of the Komarran and demonstrate just what they think of those who would side with the Cetagandans.

After the attack, the atmosphere of the camp is noticeably changed – the return of the Princess as well as what can only be considered a resounding victory for the Barrayarans has led to a jubilant and triumphant environment. And with Barrayarans, all celebration comes with a whole lot of drinking. Wine, vodka and maple mead are passed around aplenty in the nights and days following the attack, as soldiers burn offerings for their dead comrades and trade stories of action.

The tension with the outsiders begins to lessen after this victory, too. The fact that two outsiders, Wash and Lucy, are responsible for the Princess's rescue goes a long way toward relations between the outsiders and the rest of the army, and after the attack, Dorca gives the outsiders his endorsement as comrades to be trusted and honorary warriors fighting alongside them. Of course, this doesn't mean all hostility and tension merely dissipates – there are still plenty of soldiers like the now-deceased Falco who still think the outsiders are a threat and a parasitic presence. But things do start to lighten up a little after this victory...finally.

missions
General Piotr Vorkosigan himself leads the attack on the Cetagandan base, and Yuri leads his own contingent. Although there are some hitches getting in undetected, their plans to disable base security are overall successful, as is their sabotage of the power supply generators and Sonia and Byerly's rescue.

Meanwhile, Lakshmi and Sisko have found Falco Vorkalloner's dead body, and while it looks like an accident, it also looks like someone might have taken care to make sure it looked like one.

The unabridged mission results can be found here.

cetaganda
The social relief brought by the flower-viewing party quickly fades, and tension settles back over the Cetagandan base, underlined by Zahal's frustration with Piotr's flat-out refusal to meet his demands, or even so much as discuss them. He's sent more than one political ransom demand since Dorca's arrival, too, but to no effect. Given the recent guerrilla activity in Vorkosigan Vashnoi, he knows Piotr must be planning something, but with no informants left in the Barrayaran army, his intelligence is dry, and the investigations into weapons smuggling were ultimately fruitless. All known civilian resistance cells seem to have scattered and disappeared, their bases of operation boarded up or burned down. All he can do is concentrate as many troops as he can afford on the city's occupation, though he doesn't leave the base totally unmanned. But he does add another thousand troops to the occupying force in Vorkosigan Vashnoi in the week before the attack on the base.

Not everyone is being sent over, though, and the transfer doesn't make for as smooth a cover as one might hope. Gail is caught on an unauthorized trip to the city while off duty, and you might hear -- or overhear -- the dressing-down he gets from his commanding officer for it. He doesn't appear to have a ready excuse for it -- at least, not one that doesn't sound flimsy as hell.

Military matters affect those of the Star Crèche, however, and Zahal's frustration does not touch that sphere. Not that it isn't without its own tensions -- anyone who spends enough time with Diya and Sei (and Ba Talim, for that matter) will feel the rising tensions between them, though their origins are as obscure as the haut always are. The Star Gate Project, now officially under the jurisdiction of the Star Crèche, continues on with Micah at the lead, although they haven't for a moment forgotten that they are a prisoner here, or where their true loyalties lie.

After the attack, Zahal's fury reaches a boiling point, and since the Barrayarans did so much infrastructural damage, the consequences of military matters finally reach Diya and Sei, rankling them, too. The power shortage and damage to the science/medical complex has put a serious damper on Star Gate research, although as far as anyone is aware, the gene therapy trials and other related Star Crèche research goes on unimpeded, thanks to the successful protection of the secondary backup generator, which seems to exist only to power the medbay and gene labs. But since power is a hot commodity right now, Zahal is going to start pushing to reroute some of that power to what the haut would probably deem as lower priority needs.

base
The mood around the base is restless, Zahal's frustration trickling down into tensions among his officers and seeping into the very atmosphere. They're hardly prepared for the attack that comes because they don't even know what to expect. The soldiers all seem on edge, nervous, a little tetchy, particularly after Tarn's altercation with Diya and Natasha, and then the failed attempt to smuggle out the Princess -- but that did, at least, lead to the outing of Byerly Vorrutyer as a spy among the Cetagandans, confirming some suspicions held by the higher brass in Cetagandan intelligence. About the only comfort, if one can call it that, in all this tension is Byerly's summary fast-penta interrogation.

The gene therapy trials, despite some...trials, continue, and with much greater success than last month. Sei and Diya are as impassive as ever, but even so, there's a tangible undercurrent of mixed relief and triumph. Micahworks as feverishly as ever on the Star Gate Project with the aid and oversight of the military's scientific division and the exotics working as lab assistants. The satellite launch has proven to be a highly productive venture -- it's yielding data they couldn't have gathered otherwise, which is proving to be critical, and Micah spends time having Kaidan, Symmetra and Pearl put through another series of brain scans and consulting the neurology team as they study the results.

Although Sei is never seen outside of her force bubble, and doesn't actually travel around the base all that much, her presence seems to dominate the more civilian areas of the base, overshadowing even Diya -- although Diya is considerably less visible around the base after her altercation with Tarn. Amai is, of course, somehow seen just about everywhere, a constant social and professional presence that refuses to let anyone forget she's there. But after the 5th, she seems to be troubled -- she's far less impassive than the haut, and her anxiety and discomfort are much easier to see.

After the attack, Diya seems somewhat shaken -- it's almost impossible to tell how Sei is affected, but with facilities down, audits are being done on all existing projects to determine what's important enough to remain active while they have limited power. The base isn't quite in a shambles, but there's a lot of damage -- while the Barrayarans personally only carry swords and bows, they clearly have no issue with taking the Cetagandans' plasma arcs to wreak havoc at home -- and the atmosphere is overall demoralized. Sending more troops to Vorkosigan Vashnoi was clearly the wrong move, and it's a bitter pill to swallow, but Zahal begins to recall troops from the city in small waves to help better man the base, knowing full well that this must have been what Piotr intended.

missions
A few interesting tidbits are overheard in the dark of night, and Amai finds herself in the uniquely uncomfortable position of holding Diya's dark secret in one hand, and Sei's in the other -- and Ba Talim seems to know something, though it isn't clear what. And some creative hacking turns up some unexpected dirt on Sei that makes Diya's illicit ba experiments look like mere misdemeanors.

Despite the best efforts of the soldiers and the exotics and the fact that, even undermanned, they still outnumber the guerrillas by a landslide, the base is still overrun by Barrayarans and their attack is successful. The main and backup power generators are totally disabled for the time being, and it's unclear how long it will be before full power is restored to the base.

The unabridged mission results can be found here.

Note: Gavalas, Olivia, Zahal, Diya, and Sei & Ba Talim are available for threads on request. Hit up Madi (Gavalas, Diya, Sei & Ba Talim) or Ammay (Olivia & Zahal) if you'd like threads with these characters!

Comments

[vorrutyer]

He takes the bottle - though he doesn't drink. He just holds it loosely, rubbing his finger over the glass, feeling the warped imperfections, the variable thickness, the graininess. Imperfect tools, in this camp. Poor Vorkosigan does have to make do only with imperfect tools. Sorry for that, you rotten old bastard.

"I'd expected you to be pissed off when you figured it out," he admits after a moment. "Most people are. - Well, not that most people do. But the ones who do are usually pretty pissed off."

He takes a hard slug from the maple mead. In contrast to the bottle, he reflects, this is a truly perfect brew in every way. Sweet going down, fire the next morning. Oh, he'll have a fierce hangover as soon as he permits himself to sober up again - which, admittedly, probably won't be for at least another day. But it's a drink of cosmic justice. Enjoyment balanced with bitter, bilious punishment.

"Lies from the very beginning, after all. No one likes that."

[vorbratta]

"Do I look like most people to you, Byerly Vorrutyer?" Sonia says with an affected air of affront, complete with hand to her chest, but she puffs out her breath and shrugs, letting her head loll to the side. "By the time I figured it out, I was done being pissed off with you. I'd spent weeks boiling in resentment and anger, and I lost my taste for it. And the truth was much more palatable than the worst of the lies I'd been fed. If things hadn't gone the way they did...well. It doesn't matter, does it?"

She gives him a slight smile. "I prefer the man who plays magic tricks with his character in service to Barrayar to the more or less honest coward who would turn his back on it. And," she says, her voice going softer, the syllables curbed as the liquor starts to make her mouth clumsy, "it wasn't all lies. Not to me, anyway. Back there, you told me that our friendship was real. Even in the midst of all those lies, you told me a single, critical truth, without which I...I don't know if I'd have weathered that time as well as I did. And by now I think you'd have a hard time convincing me otherwise."

She holds out a hand; whether for his or the bottle, it isn't clear. "You seem to take offense whenever I imply you're a good man, Byerly, so let me be more specific: you are a good man to me. You are a man of honor to me. You can lead the others to think what you like. They can all go suck an egg, for all I care."

[vorrutyer]

He looks at that hand, uncertain which one to pass over. In the end, he does the bottle. It's safer. And he has no doubt that it'll be welcomed. They both need to be drunker.

"I don't have friends, really," he says, and then revises that to - "At least not generally. Not historically. I have - assignments. Or contacts. Or sometimes acquaintances - sometimes. Not friends. So this is something - a bit raw."

He'd meant to say fresh, but raw is better, on reflection. He's quiet a moment, picking at a loose thread on his trousers. He finally works up the courage to ask her, "How do you know for sure that I'm not screwing with you? That our friendship really is real, and that I'm not just pretending?"

[vorbratta]

Oh, it's very welcome. Sonia isn't as drunk as Byerly is, but she's catching up fast, and that won't be enough, either. She bites her lip at the word raw, thinking that over -- nothing she hadn't gotten a hint of without thinking it out, nothing she hadn't felt but didn't bother pinning words to.

Sonia gives him an oddly serene smile before taking another long drink from the bottle, hissing like a cat as it burns all the way down. She wipes the bottle on her sleeve and coughs to clear her throat, shaking her hair from her face.

"Because," she says, that odd smile returning, "if it wasn't, you wouldn't have just asked me that. Because you're asking me to think about it. To look at it. Sleight of hand is all about misdirection, isn't it? You show your mark the empty hand before the coin appears, not the hand you're really holding it in."

[vorrutyer]

"Mm." It's a fair point, and one that gives him a little bit of comfort. He wasn't exactly...asking her just to get her to think about things. He was rather asking for himself, too. Because he's not entirely sure. The thing about selling a lie is that often, you have to make yourself believe it. You convince yourself you're in love, you convince yourself you're perfectly willing to break down the Imperium, you convince yourself that these are honorable men. He's not sure he's not lying to himself now. Not entirely.

How glamorous and wonderful it is, being ImpSec.

"I could be a con man, rather than a magician," he says. "The con is all about getting people turned around. Making them question. Giving them little hints that they can cling to to prove you're honest." A beat, and then he confesses, "I was involved in a few when I was younger. And broker. I was very good."

[vorbratta]

"Only a few?" Sonia raises an eyebrow, half-smiling. That comforting warmth is coalescing in her chest and belly, weighting her to the ground, and she relaxes against the tree a little more loosely. "I should imagine you were very good at it. But if our friendship is a con, then I'm afraid I don't see the payoff. Now magic tricks, the entertainment is in the thing itself. But a confidence trick..."

She drags her fingers through the spring grass, digging up little tufts of green and rusted brown. "You did succeed in turning me around when you left, but that wasn't for a con. And you drew me back around full circle when you tried to break me out of that cell. The only time you truly surprised me before that was when you wouldn't sleep with me, and every lie for that you offered up was so embarrassingly flimsy that it only made the truth stand out more. And I suppose that, too, could have been a lie, but to what end?"

She takes a good, long pull from the bottle, giving Byerly a moment to consider that. She will, later, regret having no water to hand, but right now it's hardly a concern. "You didn't give me little hints of something fake, Byerly. You gave me something very real to hold onto. But let's say, for argument's sake, that you're running a long con on me. What does a self-described despicable lout stand to gain from a princess in wartime? A lonely princess with no friends makes an easy target, surely, but in a war camp she has no real power; her status is reduced to its purely symbolic worth. She doesn't have any wealth to steal away, and this so-called lout has no interest in her body or -- God forbid -- her hand in marriage. She isn't even especially effective leverage against those who do hold power, not as a mere friend. From what I can see, the despicable loud stands little to gain from this con. There's no ultimate payoff." She smiles. "The lonely princess, however, stands to gain everything."

She lets the mead slosh around in the bottle a little before she hands it over to him in some concession, passing the point. "If this friendship was meant to be a con, Byerly, then I think the only person you've succeeded in conning is yourself. But what do I know? I'm just a lonely princess."

[vorrutyer]

"Ah," he says, and then a moment later, again, "Ah." After that, he's quiet for a long time. It all sounds right. It's funny, of course: it's his job to ferret out all those hidden motivations, to search for things that will indict or exonerate. Not to analyze, technically speaking; raw data is what he mines, for those basement-dwellers to smelt into ore that is forged into the swords and axes of the Imperium's strangest army. But all the same, he sometimes tests the data himself - considers, pries, pokes, thinks. Analyzes. He's good at it. He thinks sometimes, in another life - a more regular life - he might have been a passable analyst. But this is an analysis he couldn't have made.

Why not? Is he losing his touch? Or is he simply that blind to himself? Who knows. But laid out like that, convincingly as any formal report, it all makes sense. Something to set departmental policy by.

He finally takes a drink. Deep and thirsty. Then he drags his sleeve over the back of his mouth. "So your trust is absolute." A moment of pensive silence before he asks, "Have you...surmised who I really work for, then?"

[vorbratta]

Sonia is surprised that she's somehow stunned him into silence, and she watches him in bemusement. It had been a discussion, a debate -- a sincere one on a very sincere topic, but had she just told him something about himself he truly didn't know? That, too, is a new perspective, and it shifts things slightly to the side, a prism catching another shade of color in slow motion. Sonia's thoughts run more like honey than water now, a pleasant slurring of the mind, but Byerly's silence isn't difficult to read.

"There are few people in this camp I trust more than you," she says simply, and it isn't a flattery for once. She sure as hell trusts him more than some of Piotr's men -- Vorvolk, for instance -- certainly more than her uncle... Her eyebrows knit at that question and it takes her a moment he doesn't mean here. Here, he works for Piotr -- that much is clear. She taps a finger to her lower lip in open contemplation.

"Where you come from, you mean? Hm. Well, you haven't told me much about it, aside from how all the parties are much better." She smiles lopsidedly, looking contemplative. If she were sober, and not quickly getting drunker, the answer would have come in an instant. She might be naive, but she's clever enough to assemble the pieces when they're in front of her. The fact that he's just told her that he does, in fact, work for someone at all, that's a clue. Now, though, there are several moments of contemplative silence with the occasional thoughtful hum.

"Mmm. You wouldn't ask that question if you thought I couldn't know the answer, would you? Which means that whoever you work for, it's someone or...something I could know." She tilts her head to the side and gives him a curious look. "Does ImpSec handle civilians too, then?"

[vorrutyer]

A little circuitous, a little hesitant, but she got there. By takes in a breath, and takes a swig, and then lowers the bottle. "They do," he says. "That was actually one of the very early functions of ImpSec. The recruitment of civilian informants to keep the Emperor - or at least his proxies - apprised of what was going on around him. Particularly with regards to what was going on with his Vor. My division is one of the oldest in ImpSec - though it's changed a bit since its original iteration. We still report back High Vor dissatisfaction with the Emperor, but it's generally not acted upon. Almost never with torture. To the best of my knowledge, anyways. Who knows what some of my colleagues really get up to."

He's babbling. How pathetic. Lord, he's as awkward as - Well. As his dear cousin Miles, frankly.

"So you'll forgive the...rather amateurish nature of my extraction attempt. I hope. Extractions are not, you understand, my specialty. A proper professional would have done better. So do not think ill of the organization. Hm?"

[vorbratta]

Sonia is, at least, drunk enough by this point not to comment on the babbling -- she just sits there and draws her legs up to her chest to listen, resting her cheek on her knees and watching him.

"Wrong kind of spy," she sums up with a quirk of her mouth. "I suppose I'm getting more history lessons after all, hm? But no, don't think for a moment that I hold it against you -- or ImpSec, although I don't have any particular feelings about it, except for how utterly terrifying the man in charge is. Scared the hell out of me as a girl."

Her smile widens a little, warming, and she makes a move for the bottle, but puts her hand on Byerly's arm instead. The night is starting to blur pleasantly around the edges. "You already apologized, back in your cell. You risked everything for me. I'm just...so glad you're here. That's all that matters."

[vorrutyer]

"It's not all that matters." He says that more glumly than harshly; Byerly is not an angry drunk, is in fact nearly incapable of being angry while drunk. He's a harsh self-critic, though. That's for certain. "If I'd handled it better, my cover might still be intact. I might still be there, doing my part for Barrayar. Now I'm just useless and spent."

A beat, and a swig. He reaches up to stroke the hand that's on his arm. "It mattered, saving you. Of course it did. But - you understand, I'm sure. My duties shouldn't be over yet. I should still be able to serve. But I cocked it up." He blows out a breath. "So - perhaps I'm apologizing to House Vorbarra, rather than to Sonia."

[vorbratta]

"Sonia is a part of House Vorbarra," Sonia points out primly, fishing the bottle out of his hands for another good drink. She leans back against the tree a little more heavily, her head loosely lolling to the side as she gazes at the view over the cliff.

She lets her head roll to the side to look at him, one corner of her mouth tugged down. "Byerly," she says firmly, despite the soft slur to her words, "you are not useless and spent. Who decided your duties ended when your spy mission ended? Who says you only get to serve once? You can still serve, Byerly, don't be so ridiculous."

[vorrutyer]

"A spy with no cover," he responds, watching as she drinks and then recovering the bottle as soon as she does, "is like a soldier with no limbs. He's all right to parade around and decorate afterwards, a cute little mascot, but he can't go back into battle." A beat, and then a rough sigh. "Unless he's a charmed fool like Miles, but Byerly is not Miles."

A swig of his own. The bottle is getting a little light.

[vorbratta]

"Dear Byerly," Sonia sighs, all too honestly, "do please try to pull yourself out of the self-pity you're wallowing in and think outside the box a little. Who says a spy is the only thing you can be? You're far too talented for that. If Miles can serve -- if I can serve -- then you can find a way to serve, too. Don't be so quick to give it all up."

[vorrutyer]

"Dear Sonia," he responds, "eternal optimist, kind heart, you and Miles are rather more than I am." He sits back, tilting his head up to look at the cloud-dotted sky. "Remarkable people, the two of you, truly. You have certain qualities - remarkable qualities - that make it so you can overcome anything. I quite admire that."

[vorbratta]

Sonia's frown this time is a little more annoyed. She nudges him with her shoulder. "Byerly, you are one of the most remarkable people I've ever met. I know genuine compliments tend to offend you, but you'll just have to take it. Why don't you believe you could be anything more? You haven't even tried. You want so desperately to serve Barrayar, but you won't even try."

[vorrutyer]

"I suppose you're right." He gives up easily and facilely, reaching out to squeeze her hand and saying nothing more on the subject. Instead, he pivots quickly - far too quickly - to something else. Namely - "But you, Sonia, let's talk about you. How have you been doing since we got back? You do look well."

[vorbratta]

"The last twenty-four hours have been better than the last six weeks combined," Sonia confirms heartily, lifting her chin to give Byerly a pointed look, "and it's been lovely to see all my friends and family. I'm doing very well, Byerly, thank you, but I'm not nearly drunk enough for my short-term memory to be that impaired."

Which isn't to say she isn't working on correcting that, but he played the whiplash subject change card a little too early in this game. She is, at this moment, the perfect level of drunk to have lost all regard for any inhibition toward total honesty without having completely lost her critical thinking. Sonia purses her lips at him and leans forward, giving him a Look that he's probably quite familiar with by now. "You contradict yourself, Byerly. Not often, but I've noticed a trend toward it whenever there's something you don't want to talk about. You want to serve Barrayar. I know you do. You would have died for it back there. But as soon as it was all over, what? You're done, out of the game, because you played what you think is your only card? God, you Vor men can be so one-track sometimes. You know that isn't how it works. It's bred in you, Byerly, as much as it is in me, and I'm not even wholly Barrayaran. You'll serve Barrayar until the day you die, and you'll always want to. You just haven't bothered to figure out how."

She takes the bottle, inspects its dwindling contents with a squint, and then downs the rest of it on her own. She knows where to get more.

[vorrutyer]

His mouth opens in protest when she drinks the last of it. Damn it, he's still not drunk enough, he needs more of that - But he doesn't voice his dissatisfaction. He just pouts a bit.

"Your argument is undermined by the work I do," he returns. "Hunting down traitors. Good Vor men and women - mostly men - almost always men - men truly are despicable - who are happy to undermine the Imperium for their own self-interest. So it's not an issue of my breeding. Vor genes lend themselves to treason and faithlessness as easily as any other genes." A small gesture of his hand. "And who I am - it's not an act. I really am a drunken town clown. It's just that someone saw how a town clown could be made to serve."

His hand drops, and he leans back. "Can you think of any other way that someone of my utter lack of skills can be put into Barrayar's service? Into your service?"

[vorbratta]

"The work you do in your Barrayar," Sonia points out, waving the empty bottle at him as if that proves her point. "I don't think you're lying about who or what you really are, Byerly, not when it gets right down to it, that's just not all you are. Don't give me this utter lack of skills horseshit. Sleight of hand, Byerly, only I don't think you realize you're doing it half the time."

Conned himself, indeed. Sonia looks at him -- not thoughtfully, she doesn't have to think about it, just looks at him like she's seeing right through him with those dark eyes.

"Yes," she says simply, with utter conviction, and then gets to her feet -- not altogether steadily, because as soon as she tries to stand, she realizes how drunk she is. Which is: still not enough. "I can think of many ways. You serve me greatly, Byerly. But this is not a dry topic of conversation, and I am already thirsty again." She waves the bottle again and then grins wickedly. "Don't think I could sneak a bottle of wine out of Count Piotr's tent right now, but Miles showed me where he keeps his. I don't think he'll mind if I borrow a little."

[vorrutyer]

"He owes me, anyway," Byerly murmurs, though he only half means it. I owe him. They both owe one another in a complex web of indebtedness that By can't wholly keep track of, aside from a general feeling of...Of what? Obligation, guilt, gratitude, something else. To Miles bloody Vorkosigan, the most irritating of all Imperial Auditors. Save him.

After a moment, though, he stands, grateful for the distraction from...this. All of this. He offers, the desperation hopefully not fully coming through in his voice, "I could go get it for you. You could just sit, stay put - I could come right back." And maybe, hopefully, get lost on the way.

[vorbratta]

"Oh, no you don't. I'm not leading you right to his stash just so you can pilfer it later." Sonia wags a stern finger in his face and then pats him on the shoulder, a gesture for him to sit back down. "I'll go get it. And you'll sit right here and not go anywhere. I'm not drunk enough yet, and neither are you."

She doesn't give him much of a chance to respond before marching off in determination, but she isn't gone longer than ten minutes or so when she comes marching right back with a deliciously full bottle of maple mead cradled to her chest. She is in it to win it.

[vorrutyer]

"Rude," he protests faintly, but he doesn't follow. He does faintly consider running away - could he fake getting lost taking a piss in the woods? Only if he followed it with a convincing topple off a cliffside and going smash below, he supposes - but he's just too drunk and too lazy. So he sits - the first time he's been still all day.

First time he's been still for the past few days, actually. He slept after their rescue, but only fitfully and with difficulty. And certainly he didn't sleep before that...And consequently, by the time she gets back, he's dozed off, head back against the rock, face twisted with whatever dream he's having, breathing rather heavily. There's no question: this boy is a goddamned mess.

[vorbratta]

Sonia tromps back gleefully, about to announce her return, and she sees Byerly slumped against the rock, the look of a man trapped in a nightmare on his face. She all but drops the bottle and kneels before him, placing a gentle hand on his neck. This isn't all just self-pity -- if this is what he looks like when he's asleep, the man must be truly lost. Sonia bites her lip.

"Byerly," she says, not quite shaking him, trying to wake him as gently as possible and get him out of the grips of whatever dream he's having. "Byerly, it's me."

[vorrutyer]

This wasn't a faked sleep. He fakes sleep quite a lot to get out of things - sex, promises, paying his share of the bill - but fake sleep, just like fake drunkenness, looks different on him. Real sleep, like this, is light, as he wakes up the moment she speaks. It's also a little undignified; he wakes with a loud, ugly snort, a bewildered sort of blinking.

"Erhm," he says, and licks his lips, and stares up a her a little puzzled. Then he slumps back against the rock again. "Ah. How long were you gone?"