forbarrayar | [ may ii log: we're a broken people living under loaded gun ]

Entry tags:

!event

[ may ii log: we're a broken people living under loaded gun ]

Who: Everyone
What: Victory quickly curdles when the Cetagandans go nuclear -- literally.
When: May 18th - 31st
Where: the Barrayaran camp, the Cetagandan base, Riverfall Village
Warnings: TBD

Quick links:
Barrayar / Cetaganda

barrayar
The jubilant atmosphere in the Barrayaran camp doesn't die out, but it does shift back into the sense of intense focus on their next task, their exhilarating victory driving them forward. The attitudes toward the outsiders are gradually lightening -- the fact that two of them rescued Princess Sonia has gone a long way toward fostering good will. While Prince Yuri and Colonel Vorvolk are still staunch their position of mistrust, Dorca is now openly showing support for Piotr's decision, tipping the balance of politics among the top brass -- which always has a trickle-down effect. But it's a slow spread, and while some of the other soldiers have turned entirely grateful to the outsiders for their part in the attack, for most of them they're only just starting to tone down the hostility. But the shift in atmosphere, however gradual, is clear: the outsiders are starting to fall back into favor with the soldiers.

Vorvolk himself still remains unconvinced, and in the downtime between briefings, can be seen frequently in conference with Piotr, and they don't often look to be in agreement. The fact that the body of Falco Vorkalloner, one of the more vocal anti-outsider dissidents, was found dead shortly before the attack only throws things into hotter contest: although as far Lakshmi and Sisko, the ones to discover the body, reported to him, it appeared to be an accidental death. Colonel Vorvolk remains suspicious considering the timing, but a funeral for Vorkalloner complete with death offerings is held on the 19th. If one is positioned correctly in certain circles, too, one may overhear more talk about the increasingly tense succession politics – talk, say, about finding Yuri a new wife so he can produce another heir. Yuri, perhaps surprisingly, seems reluctant, and harshly bites off the subject every time it comes up.

Lapis has requested a note be delivered to Sonia through the villagers, and Sonia rushes to show it to Piotr. While the gene therapy trials weren't news – and subsequently dire conclusions could be drawn from it – any deals with Jackson's Whole are news, and dangerous at that. If the Cetagandans release the outsiders' gene complexes to the Jacksonians, they might as well be releasing them into the wild: there'll be no hope of permanently recovering them. Piotr is going to want the his handlers to pass on this information to their informants so that they can keep an eye out for any new developments or ways to sabotage the deal.

Scouts are sent to Vorkosigan Vashnoi to further coordinate their efforts with the civilian underground resistance in the city and move on to the next step in their plans to retaking the city. The attack on the base had been meant to force Zahal to withdraw some of his troops from the city, and it works – except that according to Barrayaran intelligence, by May 21st he has recalled the entire occupying force from Vorkosigan Vashnoi.

At approximately three o'clock in the morning on May 22nd, the night sky goes ablaze with a sudden flash of light. The sound of the explosion doesn't follow for another minute, but even at night, the mushroom cloud is clearly visible from the mountains. And even at night, given the vantage point, it's clear that this means only one thing: the Cetagandans have just bombed Vorkosigan Vashnoi.

There's nothing left of the city -- the Cetagandans went nuclear on it, obliterating the city and all its inhabitants and leaving nothing but an irradiated crater behind. Morale in the camp takes a sharp U-turn after the total destruction of the district's capital. Not only were they on the verge of successfully retaking the city, it's the capital of the district, and a symbol of hope for many of the soldiers, especially those from the district -- or it was, anyway. Now there's nothing left of it. Everything they've been working toward for the last few months, everything they've struggled toward -- simply gone.

The soldiers all react in different ways. Most of them are furious, angry like a wounded beast, despairing but only more determined to eliminate the Cetagandan threat to them. Many of them weep openly in grief or despair -- lost family and friends, a lost home -- and some are simply stunned into numbness at so dramatic an escalation. The Barrayarans are badly thrown, and they need to regroup before Cetagandan strikes again.

The unabridged mission results can be found here.

cetaganda
Thanks to the Barrayarans' extremely effective sabotage, there's no hope of getting the main or backup power generator back in operating oder until their next supply drop arrives with reinforcements -- still weeks away. Most of the base is without power, which also means no running water, no refrigeration, and no way of recharging their weapons' power packs. As much is being done by daylight as possible, including pre-preparing meals -- still a mix of MREs and fresh food, but especially the latter, as they have no way of keeping it from spoiling, but when they run out of fresh food from the Grow Labs, the base's denizens are stuck with MREs and rather unpalatable ration bars. Thankfully, the water treatment plant has a considerable buffer, so while they may not have running water, they do at least have some manually retrievable potable water for the time being. Hey folks, if you ever wondered what it's like for the Barrayarans roughin' it up out there in the mountains, here is a tiny fraction of what that's like.

On the night of the 20th, Diya is discovered dead. According to Sei, she was attacked and killed by Natasha -- for what exact reason, Sei cannot claim to know, but this clearly marks Natasha as a dangerous entity. Natasha flees the base that night in a hijacked groundcar, leaving no one to fast-penta and no witness but Sei and Ba Talim, and -- even though it would be an affront to suggest it -- haut and ba are immune to fast-penta. An elaborate but solemn funeral is held for Diya on the 21st. It's about what you've probably come to expect of Cetagandan functions, but the mood is distinctly different. There is still a lot of poetry reading. When not in uniform, Zahal now dresses in mourning colors.

The one building that does still have power is the building containing the medbay and gene labs, powered by the secondary backup generator that clearly exists for that express purpose: if all else fails, protect the interests of the Star Crèche. However, even with the base's population reduced, there are still thousands of people who need power, and Zahal is in a heated argument with the haut over redirecting power from the secondary backup generator to other vital base functions. The secondary backup generator does not possess the capacity to power the entire base, but some of its power could definitely be rerouted to select other areas. By May 21st, the barracks and mess have limited power -- just barely enough to get running water and the most basic of kitchen functions running. A little bit of power is rerouted to one of the undamaged research buildings for continued research on the Star Gate Project, since it's of nearly as much interest as the genetics research.

By May 21st, Zahal has recalled the entire occupying force from Vorkosigan Vashnoi. This means a couple thousand soldiers have now returned to the base, but they're still badly undermanned. Reinforcements are slated to arrive along with a supply drop at the start of next month, but until then, it's time to make do. Some of the repairs can at least be started manually, so any off-duty soldiers and willing and able bodies will be asked to lend a hand to start fixing up some of the base now that it's more cleaned up.

At approximately three o'clock in the morning on May 22nd, the night sky goes ablaze with a sudden flash of light. The sound of the explosion doesn't follow for another minute, but even at night, the mushroom cloud is clearly visible from the upper perimeter of the base. And even if you don't have the vantage point to see it for yourself, it doesn't take long for word to get around: the Cetagandans have just bombed Vorkosigan Vashnoi.

Apparently Zahal was able to pull together enough resources to drop a nuclear bomb on the city, utterly destroying it and everyone in it. Judging by the surprise of the rank and file, this was not a long-planned maneuver, but a direct response to the Barrayarans' attack. It isn't the sort of measure they're supposed to resort to so quickly -- the city itself is a valuable resource, and it gave them leverage -- but Zahal is furious.

Between Diya's sudden death and the bombing, the atmosphere around the base is suddenly tense and uneasy. While the Cetagandans have hardly felt threatened by the exotics, after Natasha's supposed recent actions, there's a growing mistrust. The victory might go to the Cetagandans, but it doesn't really feel like it.

The unabridged mission results can be found here.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Pre technological? What does that even mean. But the rest of it is more familiar. ]

I was turned out when I was eighteen. My father— [ he frowned ] was very strict about my education. But he'd never had me taught how to cook. After I ran out of money I could spend in taverns, I thought I would starve. I killed my horse but I didn't know how to butcher it.

[ He shakes his head. Maybe he'd had too much to drink. ]

I wasn't lying when I said I don't like swords.

[ Byerly's lip quirks up in a cockeyed sort of fondness. Dear God help him. Has he found a kindred spirit? The story rings painfully, agonizingly familiar. ]

Poor beastie. I'll burn a death-offering for your horse someday. [ That's not mocking; in Byerly's odd, arch way, it's genuinely sympathetic. ] What was your esteemed paterfamilias' reason for sending you to ruin and starvation?

He died.

[ A shrug. ]

I take it yours didn't.

[ Ah. A point of difference. Byerly sighs windily, sits back, turning his face to the sky. ]

No, the tightfisted son-of-a-bitch - all respect due to Grandmere, but the term is accurate - is still alive, back in my time. Muttering about how much he hates...oh, who knows who he hates today? Young people, the Vorkalloner family, the Vorhalas family, the Vorkosigan family, proles, Greeks, Komarrans - it's a roll of the dice, really. Still, in your story, one must wonder why you were turned out post-demise - that's not generally how it works, at least where I'm from. Are you not the oldest son, perhaps? Or does Harmonia not subscribe to the tradition of primogeniture?

Well, then I am sorry for your lack of loss.

[ He bows his head, a little, a funereal gesture.]

No— in Harmonia, bulk of the money and the importance passes from firstborn son to firstborn son. [ It's a bit of a pageant, though, as the church controls most of the real power. ]

But maybe I should rephrase. My father was murdered.

[ By presses his fingers to his lips, a little salute of thanks for Nash's condolences. He's watching all the while, though, his interest clear. ]

Murdered, hm? By a usurper of some sort? That's rotten luck if so.

By a usurper of some sort. [ He agrees. ] I couldn't stay in the capitol.

[ It was all a long time ago, something he rarely thought about. ]

Eventually, I learned how to cook.

Hm. [ A little quirk of his eyebrow. ] And I assume the Bishop, nowadays, does his part to ensure that his left hand stays reasonably plump and shapely. A hand's no good if it's too weak and emaciated to even hold a pen.

I haven't starved, if that's what you mean. [ He knew what he was admitting to. He adds, blandly: ] The temple is a great provider, after all. [ Nash tilts his head. ]

And why did your esteemed father turn you out?

[ Byerly sighs theatrically, and lies theatrically: ]

This is embarrassing. But I honestly can't remember. I was blackout drunk at the time, you see - and I've simply been too embarrassed to go back and inquire what exactly did it.

[ He considers this, less dramatically. ]

I don't know if I could stand that. I don't mind being stupid, but I hate to be ignorant.

[ Byerly blinks, genuinely taken aback by that reaction. When he tells that story, the reactions tend to fall into two camps: soft people get all sad-eyed about his suffering (his least favorite reaction) and most people get irritated at his apparent dissolution (irritating as well). That's a new one. What is that, empathy?

After a moment of staring, he recovers his balance. Shrugs. The lie is...a little harder to sustain after that comment, so his voice is less arch, more flat. ]

It doesn't much matter to me. For it to matter, it would have to be some sort of loss. Which it wasn't. Did you take revenge against your usurper, by the way?

[ Here are some things Nash believes he knows about Byerly:

1) Byerly likes drink, and comfort, and presumably having something some way to pay for both. 2) Byerly likes to know how people work. And neither of these things about Byerly make him likely to accept the mystery of his drunken disinheritance without even curiosity. It didn't fit. Except that 3) Byerly was definitely a liar, and one of the things he lied about was how hopelessly dissolute he was.

But Nash really is a bad interrogator, and one half of politeness is letting other people have their lies. In Harmonia, it's probably closer to two-thirds. ]

I guess we all have those things we become content not to know. As for the revenge: I botched it.

[ Not such a bad strategy, though, letting people have their lies. The fact that Nash doesn't call him out - it makes By relax. Leads him to take a slightly deeper drink from the bottle. ]

Oh? Hm - that's unfortunate. Well, not from his perspective, I suppose, but from yours, certainly. What happened?

[ He leans back and arches an eyebrow. ]

Do you want the whole story?

[ He assumes so, but asking gives him a moment to figure out how to tell it without mentioning his sister, at all. ]

[ He sits back, lifts the bottle and makes a show of squinting at the level of liquid. Then he makes a show of whispering a few calculations, translating liquor to time-it-will-take-to-drink-said-liquor. Then, with a nod, he says: ]

If it will take longer than, oh, twenty-five minutes, then I should say that you ought to shorten the story. But any shorter than that, and yes, dear man, I want the story.

I've been told I'm a fast talker.

[ He sighs, then continues. ]

The first thing you have to understand about My Usurper [ he gestures a little to properly capitalize his speech ] is that he was a professional. Trained from a very young age in very easy ways of death. He belonged to a powerful— hmmm — you could call them a cult, I guess, of assassins. He had to kill his own family to be initiated into their rites. A good interrogator, but a poor conversationalist. [ He tilts his head left. ] I don't know if you're familiar with the type.

[ Byerly's gaze doesn't sharpen, exactly, as Nash talks. What happens is more subtle than that. He still blinks, and leans back casually, and makes a show of unconcern, interest that's idle - but his reactions are far too swift for him to be listening with merely half an ear. His lips twitch in surprise over cult, and thin at killing his family, and his eyebrow arches ironically at poor conversationalist. At Nash's question, Byerly smiles ironically and spreads his hand over his heart. ]

Ah, very familiar. You've just described three-quarters of my relatives. [ Then, with a little gesture of that hand: ] It's an unfortunate thing indeed when such men start to crave power. Or was he doing it on someone else's behalf?

[ Well, yes and no. He shakes his head. ]

He wanted revenge. Not on me, specifically, but the whole aristocracy. The idea that you are who you are born to be, nothing less and nothing more. It's nearly impossible to rise above your station in Harmonia, and he'd been born into a low caste…
that was why he joined up with those assassins, they're at least a meritocracy. But he'd already weaseled his way into another noble house by the time I met him, got himself adopted and declared the heir.

[ He was watching Byerly's reaction. They had their own caste system on Barrayar, he knew. ]

I don't think he appreciated the irony. This is one of the reasons he was a poor conversationalist. [ He waved his hand a little. ]

[ Byerly's response is a snort. ]

Oh, dear heavens. Worse by far when such men start to get political. Nothing worse than a prole with grand ideals. [ Which is a thoughtless response, and one deliberately typical of high-born louts like himself. But the next moment, he adds a less showily glib: ] Why your family specifically?

[ Yes, that was the expected reaction. ]

I don't know. [ He shrugged, looking up. ] Our politics were strongly People's Faction, and we didn't keep slaves. If I were to guess— it was just the easiest of all the First houses to infiltrate. My father only had the one son. So there was plenty of room for him to acquire a new favorite.

He killed my parents very slowly. Poison. Everyone thought it was a wasting disease. [ Did Byerly hate his mother too? ]

[ Oh, yes, there's quite a lot of hatred there - but no matter his own complicated feelings towards his own complicated progenitors, and no matter his studiously indifferent stance, Byerly still flinches a bit. How...brutal. ]

What a terribly cruel and impractical revolution he was enacting, then. Going after half-decent people who'd come to love him and leaving their son alive to grieve them - one might begin to suspect that his little revolution was simply a cover-up for sadism.

[ He laughs, bright and bitter. There's no revolution to be had in Harmonia. ]

Would it have been better if he'd used a knife? [ He knows that people have their ideas about honorable deaths and easy ones. ]

[ A short shrug. He meets Nash's eye. ]

I'm not one to judge better or worse. I just know that it's a different sort of man who'd kill with a knife versus killing slowly, day-by-day. [ Then: ] Do you think it would have been better if he'd used a knife?

[ It was a fair point. ]

Well, it would've been better for me. [ A pause. ] Everyone thought they'd died a natural death. He didn't expect me to know anything about poison.

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