For Barrayar mods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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forbarrayar2016-12-20 10:13 am
barrayarmods) wrote in forbarrayar2016-12-20 10:13 am
Entry tags:
- !event,
- #cetagandan base,
- *diya d'zefyst,
- *gail ghem-estif,
- adrien arbuckal | prorenataa,
- agent washington | protocol,
- agent york | infailtration,
- darkstalker | threemoons,
- daryl dixon | pigsfeet,
- duv galeni | komarran,
- egil dagsson | norms,
- kaidan alenko | standsentinel,
- lapis lazuli | mirrortide,
- ratchet | asafepairofhands,
- vlad tepes | theyfear
[ 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.
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.
Ratchet | OTA
Ratchet wakes to fire.
He feels like he's being scorched all over, a burning, numbing pain. It's long, disorienting moments before he can clear his vision and his whole body feels strange as he stares up at the sky, trying to reorient himself. The last thing he remembers is being on his shuttle, closing in on Drift's signal... and now he's here, and whatever this is goes beyond mere disorientation. He feels raw and hypersensitive all over, his head aching, and he realizes abruptly that he can feel his chest rising and falling, air searing his--
Lungs?
He sits up so fast he's nearly sick, nausea rippling out from his belly in waves as he feels the wind whip around him, blowing snow into his face. He can feel each flake against his cheeks like a hot spark blown back from a welding torch and he realizes abruptly that the burning sensation he's feeling all over is cold. He's cold, because he's sitting on an unfamiliar planet in a t-shirt and fatigue pants in the middle of a snowdrift and there's frozen water against his... skin. He can feel his breath getting faster and faster as he stares down at himself, flexing his painfully stiff hands and feeling his stomach roll again as he takes in the thick, taut scars wrapped around each wrist. He watches his fingertips tremble and it takes him a moment to realize it's because his whole body is shaking, wracked in long, rippling waves as he fights the urge to curl into a tight ball there on the ground, his teeth clattering together uncomfortably before he clenches his jaw. Shivering. He's shivering, and he just sits there for another few seconds, watching the tiny hairs on his arms prickle uselessly before he hears noise around him and he finally kicks his brain into gear.
He looks around, his vision weirdly blurry, his HUD disorientingly absent, but before he can do much else he's being heaved to his feet, a sudden light blinding him as he's frog-marched off with the others, trying not to look as terrified as he feels.
{the base}
The first blast of heat when he's inside dizzies him, but once he starts to defrost properly he's oriented enough that he can think again, and what he's coming up with is not comforting in the slightest. He recognizes a military base when he sees one and is relaxed not at all--his voice is hoarse and clipped as he answers questions with the bare minimum of information possible, since, oh yeah, I was a fifteen-foot person made entirely of metal and I'm five million years old doesn't seem like the wisest thing to divulge right off the bat. He doesn't sleep.
He's even more familiar with the medical bay when he's taken there and he's more focused than he has been since he was picked up, his head twisting, trying to take in all the equipment by sight without asking any questions. He doesn't argue with the physical, watching himself being poked and prodded with as much interest as the medic performing the exam. It's strange, but the clinical setting and the bizarrely universal scent of hospital is what finally really grounds him, and he's clear-eyed and alert when they funnel him into quarantine with the rest of the "exotics," as they're apparently being called. Ratchet is aware that they don't know the half of it, and he hopes they don't find out anytime soon.
{the exotics room}
Eating is weird.
There are more observations Ratchet has collected during his stay here, but that's the one most present in his mind. It certainly isn't the weirdest thing about being an organic, but it's up there. Still, he manages it, knowing that the alternative is passing out at some point at best, and he slowly starts to acclimate to it, same as he does for everything else. He still doesn't answer many questions, but he sure as hell pays attention to everyone else if they do within earshot, trying to gather as much information as he can. If you catch him looking at you, that's probably why.
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"Yes. I'm blue. Do you have a problem with it?" Okay, she also might be getting frustrated too.
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"Not in the slightest. Are you always blue, or did this happen when we were kidnapped here?"
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"I notice you weren't eating. It isn't poisoned or anything, as far as I can tell--it should be safe, if that's what you're worried about."
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"You're not used to having to eat, you mean. Blue or not, you look pretty organic to me. You've got to get fuel from somewhere, in that case."
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"Have you eaten anything since we got here? Drank anything at all?"
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"Your what, excuse me?"
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Ratchet's tone is carefully polite before what she's saying really penetrates and he frowns again.
"And you had them before, but they're gone since you got here? How do you intend to get them working again?"
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It's really all she has.
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"They might let us go," he says slowly. "But if it happens, I don't think that will be why."
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Oddly enough, Lapis can recall feeling the same way she had when she had been trapped in a mirror. But these are Humans, not Gems. And she isn't cracked. She can speak, say what she needs to. It should be fine, right?
Her shoulders hunch together as she tenses.
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Ratchet shifts forward, leaning his knees on his elbows and looking up at her, trying to ignore how weird his clothes feel against his skin.
"How are you holding up, otherwise? If you don't need to eat, do you get energy some other way?"
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