[ 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

what is rping for except to make miserable characters' lives more miserable

[protocol]

"The year's 2556, where I'm from -- but even a similar number would be hard to compare, wouldn't it?" Frowning a little, folding his arms loosely over his chest. "Kind of depends on when your years are counted from."

Wash hasn't figured out much, but he understands enough that this Cetagandan empire is an entirely different civilization altogether, that he's somehow fallen into something very, very far outside his realm of experience. And if they really are in alternate realities, somehow, counting years from a different point doesn't seem all that hard to imagine. Or how years are counted, even.

"But you know about this place? You've heard of it. You know what the Cetagandan Empire is." Duv had said he was less exotic, had specified that he was but five wormholes away, whatever that even means. Komarr. That'd been the name. "I've never heard of any of it."

[komarran]

"Then I have strong doubts you're from our Nexus. The Cetagandan Empire is in control of multiple planets and has dealings everywhere." Perhaps a slight exaggeration, but unless those that went to a far-off planet like Chorus had been clueless when they left and managed to remain so their entire lives, not even hearing of the Cetagandans was impossible. "I only know this planet in passing, it's not one many have visited."

An outright lie in regards to himself, but he'd rather not say he has knowledge of the events transpiring or Barrayaran history where he might be overheard by their hosts.

"We're in the 32nd century according to Earth Common Era, but as you said it's hard to compare years," he says with a shake of his head. As much as Duv had wanted to believe otherwise, it appears the Cetagandans had found a way to bend reality and spiral this conflict even further. He wishes he could be surprised.

[protocol]

Wash doesn't voice it, but his expression hardens a little at the mention of the Cetagandan Empire as being in control of multiple planets -- and having dealings everywhere, that's a specific word. So not only has he been thrown into some military base with a research and development arm, it's apparently an outpost of what sounded like a pretty powerful galactic empire. Great.

Earth Common Era, though, that's something he knows. "Earth Common Era, huh? We can go off that -- the year's 2556 CE, as far as I know, and apparently I'm off by a couple of centuries."

So this -- is most likely real. This is something that's actually happening, and Wash is doing his best to ignore that voice at the back of his mind, the incessant but what if, but what if that still doubts he's at all sane. He's spoken to a few other people, and this is incredibly unlikely, but it seems to make sense. He drums his fingers against his arm.

"Do wormholes usually move through time and space, for you?" 'Cause there's sure as hell not how they work back home. In the past. Or in a separate reality. Who even knows.

[komarran]

"More than a couple." Good god, what did he even know about that far back? Not much beyond a vague timeline of events for the handful of planets that were of relevant interest to him. Earth only made that list due to his assignment there.

"Not normally no, and I certainly wasn't traveling through one when I ended up here," he answers with a shake of his head. "They move us through space and are our only means of traveling between systems."

[protocol]

"So wormholes are a thing that just -- exist? And you make use of?" That's what it sounds like, anyway. That makes even less sense, if wormholes don't usually spontaneously open and close in this -- reality, space, nexus, whatever, that they'd be somehow dumped here by one. Wash hums a little, thoughtful.

"The FTL engines on our ships make use of wormholes, but not existing ones. They basically create a rupture to slipspace and back, though exactly where you exit can be imprecise. Thought this might've been a slipspace jump gone wrong, but." He shakes his head a little, frowning. "Sorry, just -- trying to figure things out."

[komarran]

"Yes, we make use of them and utilize five-space math to jump through them." Something he's rusty on given that hadn't been his focus in the Academy nor was it a priority in Imperial Security. He could be stationed anywhere in the Empire's reach at any moment, but he'd never be the one piloting.

What Wash says however makes no sense to him. "Your ships create your own wormholes? How is that stable?"

[protocol]

Five-space math. Not a term he's familiar with, but probably just a different way to understand wormholes rather than an indicator that they might work in a different way altogether, here -- but who knows.

"It's what we use for translight travel." Wash isn't an engineer or a physicist, doesn't know the in-depth mechanics of it all beyond being able to rattle off what he's read about, but he knows the principles of how everything works well enough. "The FTL drive generates microscopic black holes and manipulates them into a slipspace rupture -- a wormhole. Jumps can take months, and they can be imprecise. They're stable, unless something goes wrong."

A pause. "Would you happen to know enough five-space math to know if that makes sense -- here?" In this. Reality. Or whatever this is. He'd still rather not jump to conclusions.

[komarran]

He shakes his head. "I'm afraid not. It was never a focus of mine." How much did the average university professor know about five-space math? Hell if he knows, so better to feign only a basic understanding.

"Our jumps only take moments, but the travel to them isn't instantaneous." Somehow he manages not to make a face at the thought of the sensation of jumping lasting for months. He would go mad every time he had to travel anywhere. "There have been occasions of wormhole travel going wrong resulting in the loss of a ship, but it's hardly a factor if the route is known."

And he can only imagine the insanity that went into those that did blind wormhole jumps. Betans.

b e l a t e d l y sobs

[protocol]

"But still, I'm assuming that wormholes don't just spontaneously appear and disappear, even here -- and I know I wasn't near something even capable of a jump."

It's difficult to make any real guesses about this without a more thorough understanding of the physics involved, but information is information, and the one thing that Wash is sure of is that the Cetagandans probably know more than they're letting on about it.

He sighs, with another slight frown. This is all a lot to take in, and his mind is still reeling a little from the idea of this being a different -- timeline, somehow. He can chew on that later, but right now he just needs more concrete information, anything practical.

"There anything I should know about this place or this Cetagandan Empire?"

ripperonis

[komarran]

"No, they don't. Not any I know of," he adds with a frown. It certainly hadn't felt like a wormhole jump when he found himself here and none have ever sent someone through time itself, only space.

At least he can provide cultural information even if he isn't an expert on the planetary Empire. What he wouldn't give for a copy of the Imperial Security guide to the Cetagandans.

"They're nuanced, so you'd do best to pay attention to subtlety. Every gesture, scent, and word is carefully placed and selected to convey what they mean." Which made Cetagandans needlessly frustrating to deal with most of the time. Their money had always been good on Komarr which had been more than enough to make up for their oddities. "They're one of the more technologically advanced powers with a rather... strange social structure. You may be better off trying to get one of the ghem-lords to elaborate for a better understanding of it."

[protocol]

Every gesture, every word, every scent. So they're one of those types of people. Wash could've guessed some of it, just by the impression these people gave, by the elaborate facepaint, just how beautiful the facility seems to be despite being ostensibly a military base. Technologically advanced, with a strange social structure -- ghem, that's a word he's heard before, too, and he makes a note to try and learn more about what all of it means.

There's a bit of a grimness to his expression, now. Wash is all too aware that when it comes to most social situations, he doesn't -- fit in, all that well, even in a culture he's familiar with. In an entirely foreign culture with a tendency for subtlety, who knows what he might end up doing to accidentally offend them.

"Thanks." A nod. "At least I'm not completely in the dark, now, though I'm not looking forward to dealing with any of this."

[komarran]

"Neither am I," Duv agrees though the admittance is more of a murmur. And he thought diplomatic events with Cetagandans were bad. Now he was in a whole base of them with no hope of refuge elsewhere. His previous posting on Earth felt more appealing by the moment despite his minor gripes with it.

"I've kept my previous dealings with the Empire limited. This internal view was one I had been hoping to avoid." He rubs at his temples lightly as if the thought is already causing a headache. "I wish I could provide more assistance."

[protocol]

Maybe the slightest quirk of the eyebrow, giving Duv a bit of a look -- by the sound of it the Cetagandan Empire isn't something he's particularly fond of. Whether it was for some specific reason or just because of general reputation or something else, well, that's what's curious to Wash. Wash has his own secrets to keep, and Duv has been helpful enough that he doesn't want to press too much, but.

"Nothing like a view from the inside." A slight shake of the head, sympathetic enough. "Previous dealings with them not the most pleasant?"

[komarran]

He shrugs. No, he's not overly fond of the Cetagandan Empire and it's not as if it and Komarr have had a close relationship. This deal between them that allowed the Empire into Barrayaran space unhindered revolved entirely around money, not a diplomatic relationship.

"They've been limited, my planet's interactions with them are typically limited to trade dealings. Many of those passing through Komarr don't stay for long and I thankfully never had the task of entertaining." Even at the embassy that hadn't been his task, thank god. He can only imagine the headache of planning an event to host the Cetagandan embassy and all the work that would go into it.

[protocol]

"It's interesting that whatever wormhole activity that brought us here ended up pulling in someone closer to home. Makes me think of what they might've been trying to do, if they caused it."

It's an if, but one that Wash isn't willing to dismiss just yet. They've seemed genuine enough of having no idea what had happened to leave them all here, but who knows what they might be hiding. He shakes his head slightly -- idle speculation over so little information is more harmful than helpful.

"I'll keep an eye out," he says after a moment. He doesn't spell it out, but it's a clear enough offer, you've been helpful, we're in a similar boat, lets keep each other updated. "Maybe there'll be someone else around here from your Komarr."

[komarran]

"If they did this intentionally, they made a poor choice of planets to draw from. Komarrans aren't known for their fighting spirits," he replies dryly. If Cetaganda had done this intentionally, they must have been aiming higher than Komarr. Not that the implications of that are good.

He nods in understanding. He isn't eager to see his countrymen thrown into a conflict where one side despises them, but he'd rather know sooner than later of their appearance.

"And perhaps there will be someone else from Chorus." Because how many different universes can there be to pull from? Spoiler: it's a lot.