[ january i log: cetaganda ]

[barrayarmods]

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.

Comments

[eugengineer]

Diya's eyebrows barely even raise. The man is like an untamed dog, wild and wary. She considers the merits of simply going ahead and sedating him, but Zahal would probably not be pleased.

"We are not doing you any harm."

[pigsfeet]

"You ain't doing me any good, neither," is his immediate response. Let them think he's petty and cruel, needing incentive to do anything at all. It's better than the more likely outcome, that whatever it is they actually do around here, he wants no part in it.

[eugengineer]

"And how would we? You'll hardly let us." Diya's head tilts, her eyes narrowing slightly in an expression reminiscent of a smile. "A routine physical would expose any underlying health conditions you may not be aware of, or at the very least, alert us to them. The Cetagandan Empire possesses some of the most advanced medical technology in the Nexus. If there's any good to be done for you, we could certainly do it."

[pigsfeet]

Underlying medical conditions, shit. He knows exactly what she'd find, too, the shit swimming around in his brain or his blood that makes dead people into walking corpses. No way is he letting her near that. If this is a warzone, if this is a military base, he doesn't want the thing that made Atlanta burn used like a weapon against whoever these pricks are fighting.

"But lemme guess," he says, "if I say no, you won't just lemme up and walk away."

[eugengineer]

Diya's expression doesn't change. "It is not a request. " She unlocks a small compartment in the medical cart with her thumbprint and discharges a small hypospray. "We kindly request your cooperation in the completion of your medical assessment."

[pigsfeet]

"Yeah," Daryl says, "that's what I thought."

He hopes the other 'Exotics' are watching this shit; otherwise, he's going down for nothing. One thing's for sure, though. However he goes down, it's gonna be swinging. He grabs the nearest lab assistant and pushes them back, trying to make a b-line for the door. He knows he won't make it, but he's gonna try.

LMK IF THIS IS OK

[eugengineer]

The only door to the room is closed, with nothing more than a rectangular slit of a window. The med tech lets out a noise of surprise when Daryl pushes her, and she stumbles back, caught by the arm by another med tech. The CMO and his one male ghem assistant, however, take after Daryl without hesitation -- the CMO draws the stunner holstered at his hip and fires a blast squarely at Daryl's exposed back before the escapee's even gotten more than a meter away.

"I suggest twenty milligrams of hortazelam in addition to the stun," Diya murmurs from the other end of the room. The CMO gives her an unreadable look, then repeats the suggestion as an order to one of the med techs as he and his male assistant move to pick Daryl up.

👍👍👌👀

[pigsfeet]

Daryl feels the crackle of energy shoot through his spine; it feels like when he touched an exposed livewire when he was seven, except it's right through his whole being. He goes limp and crashes into the ground, a twitching mess, then goes still.

He can't run. He can barely move. All his limbs feel completely fried. He trashes ineffectually against the guards carrying him toward the observation table, but he knows it's no use. It's more for his pride than anything else.

"Ain't done me no harm, huh?" He looks Diya square in the eye, ignoring anyone else. He knows she's in charge. Everybody else is some gutless lackey. "Some- s-some doctor you are."

[eugengineer]

"That was a light stun," the CMO says unsympathetically as the med techs load him back him onto the examination table. "You're still talking, aren't you?"

Diya meets Daryl's gaze straight on, unwavering as stone. "We did ask for your cooperation first," she says reasonably as a medtech presses a hypospray to the crook of Daryl's arm to deliver the hortalezpam -- a conscious sedative that will leave Daryl awake enough to talk, but little else.

[pigsfeet]

"That don't mean shit," he says, but he can feel the strength leaving his body. He has to fight to keep his eyes from rolling back, his head from lolling to the side like a corpse. At least, he knows, he won't turn. At least he won't be stuck in that hell.

"Just means you're too lazy to be upfront." He keeps his eyes on Diya the whole time. She'll do it, he knows, but he'll make her look him in the eyes. No flinching from either side.

[eugengineer]

It isn't hard to match eyes with an animal, especially one so chained down. She might as well be staring at a still image, or he a marble statue. The CMO rattles off a phlebotomy order, a series of laboratory codes for tests.

"On the contrary." Diya's voice is as still as her face. "I think we have been quite clear."

[pigsfeet]

It's all bullshit, and Daryl doesn't care what her excuse are. He knows her type. Gareth looked at him like he wasn't a real thing either. Like he was an animal, a meal. The Governor had that same steely blackness behind his eye, too. Everybody was just a tool to be used.

"If this is for our own good," Daryl says, voice grim, "that's just a accident."

[eugengineer]

"From your perspective," Diya murmurs, "I'm sure it would seem so."

The med techs continue with their examination, using handheld scanners and one mounted on a multi-jointed metal arm attached to the wall, all arcane to Daryl's eye, no doubt. But aside from the blood drawn, none of it is invasive.

"Do you have any extant medical conditions?" the CMO asks, although by his tone it's clear he's not expecting much of an answer.

[pigsfeet]

Daryl rolls his eyes at Diya, but keeps his attention firmly on her. The buzzing and whirring goes on around him, and he ignores it all. He never looks away from the woman causing all this. He doesn't look up when the CMO asks him questions he doesn't give a shit about.

"Yeah," he says, "you shot me."

[eugengineer]

The CMO snorts. "I stunned you. That's not a medical condition."

"I think," Diya says, and when she speaks, none of them look at her but all of them stop, "you will get more answers from your results than from him, Colonel."

She's not so sure the man has anything useful to offer anyway. She waves the CMO away from the exam table to converse in indistinct murmured tones for a few moments, and although he is facing her, he doesn't look directly at her when she speaks -- rather some distant point just above her head, or just past. The CMO steps back to the exam table and Daryl's supine form.

"The stun will wear off in a couple of hours," he says, pulling the mounted scanner to hang a foot or so above Daryl's head. "The sedative, a little after that. We'll have you escorted back to your room after your recovery."

[pigsfeet]

"The hell're you doing?" He turns his attention back to Diya. He knows the nurses and technicians are too dickless to do anything interesting.

The pain is significant, but it's not worse than he's had before. The type is new, but that's somehow easier to deal with. There's no memories to tie him back to worse times. And as much as this lady must think she's got him under her heel, this isn't shit compared to Earth.

"What's thisall for?"

[eugengineer]

A distant look of puzzlement passes over Diya's face. She leans forward only slightly. "Do you think that if you continue to repeat the question, you'll get a different answer?"

im sorry

[pigsfeet]

Daryl doesn't think he'll get new information, but it was worth it to try. It was worth it to see her reaction. It was worth it to see how the medical personnel reacted (they didn't). It was worth it to say something instead of rolling over and taking it.

It was worth it for Diya to lean in a little closer so Daryl could hock a loogie and try to spit on her.

never

[eugengineer]

Cetagandan reflexes are impressive, particularly in the ways that have been bred into the ghem, rather than the haut; they are, after all, the military caste. So before even Diya has a chance to move away, one of the ghem med techs lunges in front of her with a cried, "My lady, no!"

The sleeve of her lab coat is dirtied instead of Diya, and the tech looks both indignant and disgusted -- so does the rest of the room, the heat rising palpably in the otherwise cool room; Diya looks distantly disappointed as she draws back. The martyred med tech grabs a sterile pad to clean her sleeve off, a faint flush showing through the thin veneer of delicate face paint. "She is haut," she starts angrily, but Diya, not looking pleased, holds up a hand to silence her, as does the CMO.

"My lady, I think," the CMO says, looking pained, "that you will find little interest in the rest of the proceedings. I think you'll find the reports much more to your satisfaction."

It's the politest way he can request she leave, a careful attempt to save some very fragile face in the upset of the room.

[pigsfeet]

Drugged, tazed, exhausted and disoriented, Daryl still knows how to read between the lines. They want her gone so they can get some real work done, and not have to worry about offending her. Whatever haut is, it matters to them.

The makeup, Daryl begins to suspect, ain't just a fashion thing. It's status. She isn't wearing it because she's... hmm. He's not sure. Maybe if he ever sleeps again, that'll help his thinking.

It might be better for him if she left. It might be worse. Really, all of this boils down to one fine point, sharp and direct enough to fit through the head of a pin: Daryl doesn't care what they do to him. His people aren't here. He's never going to see them again. Beth's brains are blown out over linoleum flooring in Atlanta. He's on some goddamn alien operating table. Daryl is finding it harder and harder to care about anything at all.

So he goads her. "Better run," he says. "Let your little slaves do the real work."

[eugengineer]

The med tech who'd taken the fall glares at Daryl even more fiercely, and the rest of the room seems to stiffen. Diya's look goes faintly quizzical, the corner of her mouth twitching slightly.

"You are a simple man," she says, sounding disappointed, and turns toward the door, moving like water. "Colonel, you may deliver your reports directly to my comconsole."

The door opens into that slice of hallway Daryl had fallen just short of, and as soon as Diya is through, it closes again with a hiss.

[pigsfeet]

It occurs to Daryl that they'll be more unkind to him when she's gone. He should be afraid. He should feel something.

He doesn't. Daryl stares at the head nurse as Diya disappear. "Get on with it." He's prepared for whatever comes.

[eugengineer]

"So melodramatic," mutters the CMO, but it's hard to tell if he's talking about Daryl or the haut. Both, perhaps. The other ghem med techs still look scandalized, but the Colonel mostly looks faintly exasperated. "The most invasive thing we'll do is a blood sample. You do know that the rest of our equipment is noninvasive, don't you?"

He gestures with a pinched mouth at the scanners, some mounted, some handheld, in the room. "Whatever it is you're paranoid about, you're overreacting. We just needed you to hold still -- and stop accosting our med techs."