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

But you kept the name. [ That's an assumption, but there was an identifiable pattern with names, here. ]

[ A little snort. And a very slight relaxation, as that's the path Nash chooses to go down. There's very little danger in that question. ]

What, take on a prole name? Don't be absurd, my good man. Having that little Vor prefix opens quite a few doors. When you're Vorsomething, pretty people tumble into bed for you, and give you wine, and give you food, all without you doing a thing. [ A sigh, and he shifts back, adding: ] Besides which...When you're Vor - High Vor - everyone knows you. I could be Byerly Morozov and everyone would still know me immediately as that odd little Vorrutyer boy. You can change the name, but there's no escaping the identity.

Did you change your name? I suppose so, if you were on the run.

I didn't, at first. [ He shrugs with open hands. He hadn't been particularly good at exile, looking back on it. ]

But no one would know you here, right?

[ A thin smile. ]

My dear man, I have the Vorrutyer eyes, the Vorrutyer nose, and almost certainly the Vorrutyer propensity for sadistic insanity. I swore off contact with my twig of the family tree, but that doesn't make me un-Vorrutyer. Besides, being Vor still gets you a little extra, even in this pathetic corner of this benighted District.

[ Nash leans forward, now, smiling a bit wider than he has. ]

That's what I thought would happen, with, well— [ He gestures casually at himself, and up and down gesture. First Class citizens have certain physical characteristics, though he doesn't point out what they are. ]

But you get far enough away, and it doesn't matter. The center of the world changes. [ He still doesn't know if people do. ]

Anyway. You seem pretty attached to your privilege to forgo your status.

Of course I am. I mean, you lived a privileged life, didn't you? Why in heaven's name would I ever give that up? No, no. Penniless Vor is better than penniless prole, believe me. It gets you into parties, and at those parties there's food, and there's another day when you're not starving.

[ It's a rather grim sentiment, but he smiles right back at Nash, matching wide smile for wide smile. ]

But that's just the unfortunate thing. There hasn't ever been any getting away. You're a charming fellow with marketable skills - poisoning people, stabbing people, so on and so forth - but I fear I've nothing to offer to anyone. To make it off-world, you must have something to offer your new world. And I have no education. I spent my whole youth out behind the school, smoking and drinking creme de meth. So here I am. To stay, forever. [ He lifts his hand, shrugs. ]

So - is my answer to your satisfaction?

[ He makes a little face while By goes into another litany about how useless he is. And then he shakes his head. ]

No. You told me that you left voluntarily, but you didn't tell me why. [ His tone, is, as ever, fairly pleasant and conversational. ] And if you expected me not to notice I'm even more insulted than I am with this charming implication I spend my days poisoning people.

[ The picture of innocence, By lifts his eyebrows and flutters his lashes - ]

What - is that insulting? It's good work if you can get it, poisoning people. I've known poisoners who take pride in their work. You should, too.

[ But...Well, as much as he's feeling a little hostile - he always feels a little hostile when he has to tell the truth - he doesn't really want to antagonize Nash. So he drops his hands and sighs. ]

I left because my father was a hateful old fool. Emphasis on fool.

[ He would protest, but he has poisoned people, hasn't he? So, instead: ] I don't have much professional pride. I don't have much pride at all, in fact.

Go on.

[ He paid for this information, after all. ]

[ What, that's not enough? Byerly's lips twist in frustration and annoyance, but, well - yes. Nash did pay. Rather handsomely, and without hesitation. So after just a moment, he pushes a stray lock of hair from off his forehead, and goes on. ]

When I was but a callow youth, some anonymous wag started a sweet little rumor about me, which my father swallowed whole. He swallowed it eagerly. I expect the raconteur forgot about the lie as soon as it passed his lips, but my father held onto it, and brought it out into the sunlight day after day, week after week. It became the old miser's fondest treasure. He polished it and coddled it like one of his family heirlooms. So one day I decided, no, no more, and I packed my things and left for the capital.

[ This is a slight misrepresentation of how it all ended. It ended rather more dramatically than By slipping away into the night. But the image of what he was like that night...Well. Sharing that would do rather a lot to undermine the suave image he tries to maintain. ]

Admirable in its own way. [ And he means it, though he doesn't necessarily sound like it. He likes conviction. ] Not the kind of courage they sing about in poems, though.

You know what I'm going to ask next.

[ He does. Of course. And he'd used that whole speech to gird himself, to gather up his courage. But that comment about admirable - it's hard to go on after hearing that it was admirable. It doesn't feel admirable. It feels cowardly. Even after all these years.

And even after all these years, he still finds it's painful to say this. His smile is strained and nauseous, but he smiles, still. The only way to talk about it is to pretend it's funny. That's the only way. ]

He believed that I was molesting my sister.

[ His jaw works a moment. He wants, suddenly, to go and pick a fight with someone big and strong, bigger and stronger than him by a lot. He wants that very much. But he sits, instead, and avoids Nash's eye. ]

Which I was not, of course.

[ It wasn't the revelation he expected. Not that he had been expecting anything in particular. Maybe it's better to say that it wasn't something he could have come up with— outside of his own considerable vocabulary of degradation. His own family life, before the scandal, had always been happy.

He presses his lips into a queasy line and then gestures at the bottle. ]

You can have the rest of it, if you want. I don't blame you if you don't want to remember this tomorrow.

[ A moment of pausing. He actually feels a bit bad for pressing, now. ]

If you were wondering, I'm offended on her behalf.

[ That draws a short, harsh laugh out of him. ]

And what would drinking myself into oblivion now do? Whether or not I've told people - that's not the part I'd want to forget. And you can shove your pity, by the way.

[ Still, he says that without any great rancor. And he falls silent a moment after that - and then he snags that bottle and takes a heavy swig out of it. Lowers the bottle. ]

You should be offended oh her behalf. Fine enough if my father didn't want to listen to me. I am a liar and a pervert. But Nadine has always been decent - for a Vorrutyer, at least.

[ He sighs, sways slightly. He is drunk. Ah, well. ]

She's doing all right, though. Married. Two kids. Apparently they're even moderately well-adjusted - fancy that.

Well, I didn't ever think that it did any good. But I thought that you liked it.

[ Then he looks down. ]

No one decent will marry my sister. It's well-known that her crazy older brother tried to kill her last fiancé. [ His fault. ] It's really a tragedy. Even I'm married, and I think my sister would actually like it.

Ah.

[ He lifts a finger. ]

Are you still hanging around her?

She lives with my aunt. A terrifying, rigid woman. We have a saying in Harmonia: there's nothing so dangerous as someone who is exactly as they appear. [ He rather hopes Byerly pictures a dour, grey matriarch. ]

[ He doesn't. He imagines someone like...well, like Alys Vorpatril, a stylish, tasteful, modest, well-bred, utterly terrifying society lady/spy handler. Wonderful woman. ]

Ah. Then I have no help to offer. That was my solution, you see - just be absent.

That's something I'm somehow discovering a new and remarkable talent for.

[ Was he drunk enough to be homesick? No, probably not. ]

[ A wry, bitter little smile. ]

Do you miss her, then?

Who? My sister? My country? My wife? [ He counts them out on his fingers. ]

There are many women in my life, and they all misunderstand me.

[ That makes By laugh. Of all the turns he'd been surprised by in this conversation, the sudden detour into the complaints of a henpecked victim is by far the most amusing. ]

You poor thing. Here you are, just trying to get by in the world, and so many demands are being placed on you...

It's extremely tiring. [ He's not slurring, but the stresses on his syllables have become more exaggerated. ] I managed to leave my entire world without outrunning obligation.

You were at least going backwards. [ He makes another gesture with one hand, pulling it back toward his body. ] The same direction duty usually goes.

[ Byerly, by contrast, is phenomenally precise and measured in his own mannerisms. He's put away a pretty phenomenal amount, though you wouldn't know it - he just seems a bit distant but incredibly together. That is his sort of drunkenness. ]

Is that the direction duty goes?

I've never known people to swear oaths to ideas that haven't happened yet.

[ He pauses, and seems to think that over a bit. ]

But I guess maybe you could manage.

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