barrayarmods: (Default)
For Barrayar mods ([personal profile] barrayarmods) wrote in [community profile] forbarrayar2016-12-20 10:13 am

[ january i log: cetaganda ]

Who: Everyone
What: Arrival on Barrayar and what follows
When: January 2nd - January 17th
Where: Cetagandan base
Warnings: None (at the moment)


welcome to barrayar.
It's the dark of night when you come to beyond the foothills. Snow on the ground, chill winter wind whistling. A steep mountain range towers overhead, its peaks illuminated by the light of two moons, and the foothills behind you ascend quickly into rocky mountain faces. Whatever you last remember, it isn't how you got here, and you feel oddly jetlagged, slightly queasy.

And you're not alone. There are nine other people close by, all looking equally lost and confused. But before any of you have a chance to figure out what's going on, the soldiers arrive.

They're fitted with what look like futuristic tactical vests and armed with some kind of energy weapons that look deadlier than not. They surround you at gunpoint, dealing orders in intelligible English, but with some obscure, unplaceable accent, and their faces are colored with vivid paint. It quickly becomes apparent, however, that you are not the people they at first assumed -- something about Barrayarans, the barbarians in the mountains. The one who seems to be in charge steps away to murmur into what looks like a wristwatch-like communicator. After a minute or two of inaudible conversation, the officer steps back in. He orders his men to escort you all back to their base. As long as you cooperate, that's all that will happen.


the base
You are taken back to a military base of considerable scale and some serious fortification. There are two rounds of guard checks to go through, both taking what must be a lot longer than usual, and it's cold out. You are ushered past the guard checks into what looks like a barracks building, but relegated to a bunk on one end. They seem to have cleared the immediate area, with guards posted at the door, but there's audible activity beyond the short hallway in front of the door. They make it clear you are not under arrest, that you are merely being detained until they have ascertained the situation -- the word quarantine is used, but it doesn't seem to be of a medical sort. Either way, the only people who come to the bunk are those cleared by the guards, and they all seem much more interested than hostile.

They answer your questions with the very basic facts: the people who hold custody of you are the military service of the Cetagandan Empire, and the planet you are on is their Ninth Satrapy, and they're currently at odds with some of the native population. They won't say it outright, but it's clear they have no clue how you came to be here or why, but it's clearly of great interest to them. For the most part, the Cetagandan soldiers are civil, if at times distant and aloof, but if you look a little less -- or more -- than human, they'll eye you with visible curiosity, perhaps even some kind of appreciation.

At daylight, a few women in lab coats and the same face-paint as the soldiers come to the room to escort you across the base to the nearby medbay, two or three at a time. The medbay is an intimidatingly sterile and state-of-the-art facility, all gleaming chrome and polished glass and crisp holo displays. You are taken in one at a time for a physical examination -- they have to make sure you haven't brought any foreign contagions into their base, after all -- but the military physician isn't the only base personnel in the exam room. You hear the word exotic tossed around a few times until they realized they're talking about you. They call you the exotics.


the exotics room
For a military bunk, it's in surprisingly tasteful design. The room sleeps a dozen soldiers, so you even have a little bit of room to yourself, and while the furnishings are relatively spartan, they're hardly uncomfortable. If you're in need of clothing, the soldiers will bring you base fatigues – no rank insignia, of course, but the make of the textile is surprisingly fine.

You're served food at mealtimes, a combination of shelf-stable meal rations and what seems to be fresh food, all prepared with unusual artistry for a military base. There's a sophistication to the preparation that seems more like it belongs in a four-star restaurant than a military base. If you have any special medical needs, they'll do their best to attend to them -- and their medicine seems impressively advanced.

Soldiers and scientists alike come to the room every so often to ask you questions, more like interviews than interrogations, but behind the civility there's a burning intellectual curiosity. They seem intent on knowing as much as you'll tell them, and then some.

The nearest bathroom is at the end of the hall, and while they seem to have cleared the area of all other personnel, showers and baths are scheduled, and any trips to the restroom are chaperoned. The guards, while not hostile, are certainly not interested in letting you escape. You could try sneaking past them, but you probably won't get far.

Well, at least you've got each other for company: the exotics on the Ninth Satrapy.
eugengineer: (pic#10725593)

[personal profile] eugengineer 2017-01-07 03:56 am (UTC)(link)
Interesting, considering the other soldier with the identical implant was having so many difficulties. A glance passes between Diya and the Chief Medical Officer, a minuscule exchange of nods.

"It is not yet known," Diya says, somewhat reluctantly. Cetagandans aren't fond of admitting to ignorance; the haut especially so. She had once held such utter control when she was still in the fold.

"Our soldiers were rather taken aback by that encounter," says the CMO as he waves a med tech with a portable scanner. "Even the ghem-General wasn't quite sure what to do with you at first. But leaving you out in the cold, under these conditions, seemed an unintentionally inhospitable move.
protocol: (► you can call my queen)

[personal profile] protocol 2017-01-09 03:57 pm (UTC)(link)
That slightest glance between them does instinctively have him tensing up, even if he doesn't know what it means. It was in response to him talking about his implant. His fingers curve slightly over the back of his neck, still not quite touching the metal embedded into his skin, and he lowers his hand after a moment, calm enough.

He doesn't know what a ghem-General is, but he knows what a general is, and that's close enough for now. So the motivation for taking them in was. Hospitality. That's convincing. That's real convincing. It's still most likely that they were brought here, and even if they weren't, there has to be some ulterior motive for deciding to take them in.

"Not known, huh?" Just going to press on that, right now. He'd rather ask you more questions so you don't get to ask him that many. "Have any working theories?"
eugengineer: (pic#10725600)

[personal profile] eugengineer 2017-01-10 03:16 am (UTC)(link)
The CMO is mostly silent, except when speaking in murmured tones to his med techs. This man is smart, educated. But paranoid. They are all so paranoid. Diya says, "Are you familiar with the astrophysics subfield of wormhole science?"
protocol: (► will i make a husband out of you)

[personal profile] protocol 2017-01-11 07:38 pm (UTC)(link)
Wormhole science? He won't be able to build a trans-light engine from scratch, no, but he does know some of the basics, what they covered in basic, what he's learned from speaking to engineers on ships he's been assigned to. Slipspace jumps create tears, also known as wormholes depending on who you talk to.

"I know what wormholes are," he says, with a slight frown. "So what, a wormhole is what dumped us here?"

Like a badly calculated slipspace jump. Except last time he checked a person can't really do that, but maybe he'd gotten here in a ship and was thrown out in the cold, who knows.
eugengineer: (pic#10725593)

[personal profile] eugengineer 2017-01-11 09:07 pm (UTC)(link)
"Not as such." Knowing what wormholes are and knowing wormhole theory are entirely two different things, but Diya decides to humor him. "There are only two known wormholes in this system, and one of them collapsed several centuries ago."

She smiles by way of a shrug. "I was appointed here by the Star Crèche, not the Wormhole Science Board. The ghem-General's scientific team is handling the matter, but as I understand it, they agree that wild conjecture, at this stage, is more hindrance than help."
protocol: (► but before we get out of our club)

[personal profile] protocol 2017-01-17 07:47 pm (UTC)(link)
That's a lot of words he isn't familiar with, Star Crèche, that ghem-General thing again. There being known wormholes -- that's different from what he's familiar with, when the Shaw-Fujikawa engines that open ruptures into slipspace. If there was a wormhole here that collapsed, it makes sense to him that it might be reopened, but that's probably already something they've considered. Besides, a wormhole doesn't really explain how everyone he's spoken to who's also just showed up here in the snow seems to have come from wildly different places.

Wash is frowning, clearly poring over what she'd just said, before he presses further. "Could I see what the scientific team's found out so far?"

Probably not, but he can try.
eugengineer: (pic#10725608)

[personal profile] eugengineer 2017-01-21 03:45 am (UTC)(link)
Diya's eyebrows twitch slightly. And what, he's an astrophysicist now? "That research is still in progress. And I'm afraid you lack the necessary clearance for our Research and Development department."
protocol: (► once you have a soul)

[personal profile] protocol 2017-01-21 02:53 pm (UTC)(link)
What he is, is not particularly confident that any information that comes about regarding this whole wormhole thing would be shared with him or the other -- exotics.

"I understand," he says, with a nod. "I just hope we'll be kept up to date about any new information regarding how any of us got here."
eugengineer: (pic#10725606)

[personal profile] eugengineer 2017-01-22 03:06 am (UTC)(link)
"When we have more complete information, it will be shared with you." Diya reaches out to turn a portable console toward her. "I imagine you must be eager to return home."
protocol: (► recreation and forestry)

[personal profile] protocol 2017-01-23 05:23 pm (UTC)(link)
"Looking forward to it."

And he will question and scrutinize absolutely everything.

"You could say that," he answers, turning to look at some of the nearby displays. It's all readouts he doesn't quite know how to read, there's little he can make of it. "Is that enough tests yet?"

Can you tell he doesn't like being here.
eugengineer: (pic#10725605)

[personal profile] eugengineer 2017-01-23 06:13 pm (UTC)(link)
"Nearly," the CMO answers, lips pursed, as though he's not really any fonder of the haut's cagey bullshit than Wash is. "I'd just like to get a proper scan of your neural implant, and you're free to go. I take it this is for use with artificial intelligence as well?"
protocol: (► once you have a soul)

very belatedly sob

[personal profile] protocol 2017-01-31 06:16 pm (UTC)(link)
A proper scan of the neural implant, that alone has him tensing up slightly, but it's what she says next that has him freezing in place for a moment. For use with artificial intelligence. If this place and these people are as foreign as they seem, then how could they have -- it doesn't matter, it probably doesn't matter, they might have similar technology, but still. Wash would much rather these people know as little about him as possible.

He'd really rather not them have that scan, but there doesn't seem to be much he can do in the situation about it.

"Sure," he says after a moment, forcing himself to relax. "Is there any similar technology here?"
eugengineer: PB: Ming-Na Wen (Default)

SSSHH ITS OK so is this

[personal profile] eugengineer 2017-02-03 06:00 pm (UTC)(link)
"No," ghem-Colonel Naru says as he splits his attention between Wash and a monitor attached to a scanner. "Not much successful research on artificial intelligence has been done in the Nexus. But one of your bunkmates had an identical implant, and he was concerned about whether it was functioning properly."
protocol: (Default)

[personal profile] protocol 2017-02-06 11:23 pm (UTC)(link)
One of your bunkmates had an identical implant. That alerts him immediately -- someone else here with a similar implant, someone with him who'd been carried over. Carolina, is his first assumption, but they're referred to as a he, and that's not all that clear who else it might be.

"Mine's not giving me any issues." Glancing to that monitor, to the scanner. "What was the problem with his?"