test drive meme

[barrayarmods]

Playlists by tsarcasm:
Barrayar ⚔ Cetaganda ⚔ The Invasion

Have you read the FAQ?

The Village ⚔ The Barrayaran Camp ⚔ The Cetagandan Base ⚔ The Fight

You've been on Barrayar for a while now, and you're finally starting to adjust. Or maybe you're not. Maybe this is all still too much for you – the attacks, the constant raids, living in the middle of a war zone by no choice of your own. But if you want to live long enough to make it back home one day, you might as well do what you can to help the war effort. Besides, where else are you going to go?

The fierce Barrayaran winter rages even to the southern end of the continent, and it's been none too kind to Vorkosigan's District. Temperatures at sea level are well below freezing, and up in the mountains, it's even colder. Several inches of snow already blanket most of the mountains all the way down to the Cetagandan base, and the storm that's just started up is only bringing more down. Visibility is low in the flurries, wind swirling snow everywhere, and God help you if you get lost on your own out in the storm. Nights are cold, these days.

A recent attack on the Cetagandan base has left half their facilities damaged and in disarray. Raid parties snuck in by night, planting bombs in previously scouted locations for maximum effect. Damage to the base's water treatment plant and organic grow labs have considerably impacted the Cetagandans' food and water supply, and in the chaos caused by the explosions, the Barrayaran guerrillas raided their medbay and made off with a considerable bounty of medical supplies. One man's bane is another man's boon, and while the Cetagandans have reserve supplies to sustain them for now, some of the damage is extensive and the repairs will take time. But in the meantime, the Barrayarans have scored a precious victory as well as equally precious resources.



the village
The Riverfall villagers are used to the harsh winters of the Dendarii mountains, and though they don't have much themselves, they are happy to offer what they can in terms of cold-weather clothing and extra blankets to those allied with the guerrillas. Despite the cold, the hill children are going wild in the snow, and they may try to lure you into their play by sneakily pelting you with snowballs.

Cetagandan allies, however, may not be met so warmly, and at the first sight of ghem soldiers, any children out playing in the snow will be immediately ushered into their homes. Unaccompanied outsiders from the Cetagandan base might have an easier time talking to the hillfolk, but any attempt at digging information about the guerrillas out of them will get you stonewalled fast. A sneaky hill child or two may steal away from their home to approach one of the "bad guy" outsiders to sate their curiosity.



the barrayaran camp
Morale is higher than it has been in a while after their recent victory, and the guerrillas are in high spirits. And do they ever love their spirits – as night falls, most of the Barrayarans gathered around the campfires are enjoying the deceptively named, dangerously alcoholic moonshine they call maple mead. It might start out sweet, but it burns all the way down, and a few glasses of that stuff will tank even the heaviest Barrayaran soldier.

But the storm rages on despite their celebration, and preparations must be made. Clearing as much snow off the tents as possible will help ensure that no tents collapse overnight, the horses need to be tended to, and the officers are always running training drills. Food is in real supply now, but the guerrillas need help foraging and hunting nonetheless. And when night falls, you'll have to find a way to keep yourself warm – it's a good thing there are a cozy ten of you to a tent.



the cetagandan base
The Cetagandans outnumber their guerrilla enemies almost seventy-to-one, so their base has not been completely devastated, but it hardly looks to be the work of a few raiding parties. Nothing is beyond repair, but the water treatment plant has been taken offline, which means that all water is now locally sourced and must be treated by hand with purification tablets. No one in the base will starve, but fresh food is mostly unavailable until they get the grow labs back online, which means that meals are mostly comprised of ration bars and MREs. Morale isn't exactly at an all-time low, but none of the ghem officers seem to be in a good mood.

They won't hesitate to put you to work, either. They need all the engineers and laborers they can get for the grow labs and the treatment plant, and the medbay's inventory needs to be thoroughly audited before they can send a request for more supplies. But if you need a break, it's not too hard to slip away for a little quiet downtime. Some of the lower-ranked ghem ladies might let you participate in some more artistic activities, or maybe some of the enlisted soldiers who are a little more used to you by now might invite you into one of their Cetagandan games of strategy. Or, since the treatment plant only affected potable water, you could appreciate your comfortable surroundings and take a nice hot soak in the bathroom while everyone else is working.


the fight
PVP
You're in the midst of a skirmish with the other side -- maybe you signed up for the battle, maybe you just got caught up in the fight -- but at least it's easy to tell who's on what side. Only one side is wielding swords, and the other guns.

But then you come across someone who doesn't look like they're either -- not one of the rugged Barrayarans or the face-painted Cetagandans, but an outsider, an exotic like you. They must be. So do you fight?

RECON
Maybe you're not on the front lines, but there's plenty more to winning the war than just fighting. You're partnered with another outsider on recon; the ground is cold, and you try not to let your shoes crunch too loudly on snow as you scout, scanning for patrols or supply lines.

Or maybe you're with the Cetagandans, hiking it thorugh the mountains with one of your fellow exotics in an attempt to locate the enemy camp. Except it's damned cold, and there's hidden ice everywhere, and everything is starting to really look the same.

--

Feel free to write prompts for your character on either side -- you don't have to choose just one for the TDM! Just label it clearly so folks know. GO WILD, MY FRIENDS

Comments

[dendarii]

His hand is deflected, but Miles still leans in close. There's more fire in his eyes than there was a moment ago, at least. (He will pull out of that slump one way or another, and not just by forcing his alternate self to fix things.) "Why the hell not?" he says fervently. "Just catch up to Mark a few days earlier. Help him with the damned strike team, and then drag him back to Barrayar to be part of the family. That's all you need to do." And Mark can escape torture too, and Miles won't die, and - it's the best solution, isn't it? Completely undo the need to wreck himself in the first place.

[forwardmomentum]

Good God, is this really what he looks like when he's like this? He had no idea he looks just as insane as he feels sometimes. He draws back another half-step, looking at his older self in disbelief.

"What?" He shakes his head. "Drag Mark to Barrayar? That was never in the plan! What happened to just -- letting him live his life, be whoever or whatever he wants to be?" Oh, right. That apparently resulted in his own death. Dammit. Miles shakes his head vigorously, which only makes him dizzy.

"Look -- no. I'd talk to Bel and make sure that whole debacle never even happens. And Mark -- he was on the Moira too, for a while. He...saw what happened to me." When his identity utterly collapsed. That hadn't been fun. "Maybe it'll be different for me."

[dendarii]

"Mark's happier with the family, trust me," he says fervently. "He's with us now. And he doesn't get out of this mess untouched either." It feels wrong to go into the details of exactly what happened, so he won't, but - it is important to save his brother too.

Yes, he's sure this is the right decision. For his younger self, at least. As for what he has to do for himself ... that's another question. If he continues to exist like this - which seems likely, given that his younger self is already different and Miles hasn't disappeared - then he still has to find another solution. But this is clear enough.

"Maybe so," he replies, a little breathless. "But talk to Bel. Tell them about our meeting. Make sure it doesn't happen."

[forwardmomentum]

Mark -- happy on Barrayar? What the hell happened? It makes Miles cold all over to contemplate too deeply.

"I will," he says fiercely, almost defensive. "It's not going to happen to me. Things are different with Bel and me, they're not -- they won't betray me." It would cut him to the core if they did, after all they've been through. Suddenly uncomfortable being the topic of conversation, Miles deflects it back at his older self.

"Besides," he goes on, "you still have to deal with all this. Focus on your own bullshit."

[dendarii]

"Good. Don't waste the opportunity." He thinks he can trust his double to follow through now. The most important part is done...

Which leaves him in. The exact same place. As his younger self has astutely pointed out. He settles back into his chair again, the fire in his eyes going out again. "How did you do it?" he asks after swatting away his initial instinct to be petulant again.

[forwardmomentum]

Miles resents being told, even by his own self, not to screw things up -- he's not the one who fucked it up so badly, anyway, is he? But they've slid off that topic and onto one that is...weirdly easier to discuss.

"Ah." Miles watches his older self for a few moments before he retreats back to his own chair, relieved not to be standing anymore. "Well, several months of being totally cut off from Barrayar and the Dendarii really did the trick, I guess. I just kept reaching for things that weren't there, finding gaps in my own story, realizing I didn't even really know...who I was without either of those things. Add to that all the insane stress and constant disaster, working two full -- well, one and a half jobs, but there were hundreds of people on board by that point, plenty of work for the Personnel Office -- add a few nightmarish hallucinations and about a month's lack of sleep..."

He smiles crookedly.

"The ice bath might've helped. But I still had to pick up the pieces after. Find some way to put them back together."

[dendarii]

Is that all. Well, he's cut off from the Dendarii, that much is true, but Barrayar is entirely inescapable. Insane stress and constant disaster ... is a distinct possibility. So is working himself half to death, if Piotr's requests so far are any indication. And he can easily manage the lack of sleep.

Can he really remake himself in a crucible as strange as this one? And - if he can - does he want to? Either he's irrevocably changing his own timeline or stranded in an alternate, neither of which appeal. He'll give the situation this much: it's made him want to go home very, very desperately. He huffs a little, gaze drifting back towards the fire. Not entirely sure what to make of that advice.

"Only ice baths here," he murmurs, almost to himself. "I'm not sure I want to break myself into pieces either. Doing that with cryoamnesia was bad enough already."

[forwardmomentum]

Miles's smile only grows more crooked.

"You don't look altogether whole from where I'm sitting." Which is pretty damned close, and not just in the immediately physical sense. "You said you'd lost Lord Vorkosigan. There's a missing piece right there. So you can either try to find him here, or try to find...Miles Illyan," he says, a little wryly, but not mockingly. After a moment and a short breath, he looks up at the ceiling, tapping his fingers absently on his knee.

"After Clark and Ivan dunked me in that ice bath, I was still pretty...lost. Ivan and Gregor wouldn't even let me out of our cabin for almost two weeks. Thought I'd go mad. Turns out it's kind of hard to get much crazier than that." He scratches the back of his neck, lips twisting. He's drunk and rambling, go figure.

"I couldn't exist as Lord Vorkosigan or Admiral Naismith there. So I really only had two choices. I could keep going on, trying to be two incomplete people, giving myself constant psychological whiplash, or...I could choose to be someone else. Someone entirely new." He turns out one palm in a sort of shrug. "It's not like we haven't done it before. Conjured up a whole new person out of thin air and hysteria and sheer necessity. Easier than trying to be one incomplete person, or worse, two at the same time." That hadn't really gone well. You'd think he'd have learned his lesson after London. "So instead I just became Miles Naismith Vorkosigan, Personnel Officer of the Moira. That place was the only damn thing to hold onto, and it did pretty alright for me, until -- well."

Well, maybe let's not touch on just who he's supposed to be now. Keeping the focus wholly on the other Miles, here. "So you can either look for Lord Vorkosigan here -- and I'm not so sure this is the place to find him -- or you can do what we've always done. Adapt. Carve a niche for yourself, and then a cave, and then make it so damn big everyone else has no choice but to come inside or sit out in the cold."

Yes, very drunk, but he feels like he's making a point somewhere in here.

[dendarii]

Try to find Miles Ilyan. And who is that, exactly? He's tried to blend as much truth into his identity out of sheer practicality if nothing else. The less he has to lie, the better off he's going to be. He could have slipped back into Admiral Naismith - perhaps that would even have been the safest option - but it seems wrong to turn his back on his Barrayaran heritage completely. And impractical, when his language skills are proving to be so damned useful.

Where does that leave him really? Lord Vorkosigan is beyond impossible, even if he'd felt himself up to it. Miles the ordinary Barrayaran ... Ha. He knows himself too well for that. The younger version in front of him had it right about making a cave so damn big everyone else must needs be drawn in. Knowing himself, it's going to happen eventually. He might as well make it a good one.

In the end he snorts lightly. If his younger self is drunk enough to make a rambling point, then Miles is drunk enough to accept one.

"Miles Ilyan of the Barrayaran resistance?" he says, with no small amount of sarcasm. It's such a bad idea. Which means it's probably going to happen. "Perhaps you won't even get a chance to fuck up the same way I did. The timeline is going to be absolute chaos."

[forwardmomentum]

Miles grins fiercely back, shrugging one shoulder. "If I make it back home and I remember all this? It's not going to happen. I'm going to make damn well sure it doesn't happen. And so will Bel," he adds, just a touch defensively, and God does he ever wish he could talk to Bel right now, if only to clear his mind of all these damn hypotheticals. "I've got no frigging clue why the Ingress dumped me here of all places and times -- maybe just because it was funny, that thing has a cruel sense of humor -- but I'm not going to make the same mistake twice. Not mine, and not yours."

It's his turn to have that slightly terrifying fire in his eyes, fueled by maple mead and momentum and hysteria and underneath it all, when everything else is eroded away, sheer spite. He leans forward in his chair. "So be Miles Illyan. He'll be whoever he needs to be -- outcast, translator, guerrilla warrior, whatever. He'll be a survivor. You already know plenty about surviving. You can do that much."

[dendarii]

His younger self's assertion that he won't make Miles' mistakes is strangely freeing. He's salvaged something at least, even if it's just an alternate timeline that he'll never actually see the results of. Which leaves him to refocus on what he can do for himself. Even here, in the middle of all his madness...

God. That light in his other self's eyes is terrifying. Does he always look like he's about to jump off a cliff and learn to fly on the way down?

"You have to admit that it's a hell of a challenge," he says, but his tone isn't quite so defeatist any more. A flicker of rising to the challenge himself. "It's going to get insane before I make anything resembling progress."

Progress being identity. Progress being ... usefulness? But really, he wants progress to mean going home someday. Is that even possible? Miles' comment about the Ingress digs at him, making him chew at his lip thoughtfully.

[forwardmomentum]

Miles just grins wider, sharper. "So did Tau Verde. So did Dagoola. Hell, so did being born in the first place. I'm pretty sure we don't know how to do things any other way."

The weird thing about talking to yourself -- actually talking to yourself, not a clone, not a brother -- is that it's way, way too easy to spot what he -- you -- whatever is thinking about. And it's not hard to figure out, anyway. He banks the fire a little, nodding at his older self by way of reaching out.

"If the Ingress dumped me here," he offers, "then there's got to be a way back out. Hell, maybe it's what dumped everyone else here, or something close to it. It was sort of like a wormhole, it was connected to all the other Ingresses and it reached pretty far, only..." He shrugs, making a face. "Only it was a real prick, sometimes. It didn't just grab people, it grabbed things. Like, say, forty copies of The Komarr Report. But -- my point is -- I'm pretty sure both of us are going to get back to where we came from at some point or another. With this many displaced people, we're bound to find a way."

Whether back to where we came from means Barrayar or the Moira for this Miles, he's not sure, but he doesn't really want to think too hard about it. He hasn't even thought about how to keep his identity from collapsing again, but hey, it should get easier each time, right?

[dendarii]

Reasserting their past experiences is like tossing a log on the fire. Suggesting a direction, especially a crazy one ... now that's just pouring lighter fluid directly on top. He stands so abruptly that he has to brace himself against the mandle to keep from tumbling into the more literal fire next to him.

Screw being bound to find a way. He's going to find the way his own goddamn self, and maybe before everything goes to shit. Or before spits out forty copies of The Komarr Report, which would be terrible for different reasons.

"You'd know it if you saw it, right?" he says, a little breathless. "Or something like it." Now he's got the feverish glint in his eyes.

[forwardmomentum]

Oh, Jesus. They're going to give each other whiplash, going back and forth like this. The Miles Vorkosigan Experience Squared.

Miles half-cringes when his older self almost stumbles, and it's probably only because he's drunk that he's taken aback by the sudden intensity that is painfully familiar.

"Uh -- probably," he says, brow knit, mouth still open in hesitation. "I think so. I mean -- it was a giant, glimmering portal. Sort of hard to miss. And not something I'd ever seen anywhere else." Then again... Miles chews on the side of his thumb. Whatever's throwing them all here is way too similar to the Ingress. It has to be. "But the one on the ship was broken. So were most of the ones we came across. If there is one here -- and that's a big if -- it's probably broken, too."

[dendarii]

"So let's find a broken one," counters Miles, his eyes still feverishly bright. "That'll be a better start than what we have now." And could they fix it? Well - Miles probably can't, but there has to be someone who can. Eventually, given enough people having been pulled in.

Or ... Another terrible idea occurs to him. "It'd be hard to miss if there was a working one in the Barrayaran camp. But what if Cetaganda has it?" It makes some kind of sense. After all, Cetaganda is the one that stands to benefit from changing this era of history. Barrayar certainly doesn't.

[forwardmomentum]

Miles would like to point out that a broken Ingress is the most likely cause of all of this in the first place, but the thought that the Cetagandans might have an Ingress gives him serious pause. Actually, he looks pretty disturbed as a few of the implications of that occur to him.

"I don't know how that'd account for any of us ending up out here," Miles says, gesturing vaguely around them, "instead of...wherever they've got it. But then, no one here's seen an Ingress. And I'm not even sure the Cetagandans are capable of fixing that thing. But if anyone around here was..." He chews furiously at a hangnail on this thumb, looking both daunted and just as feverish as his double. "I'm not convinced it isn't just some kind of next-level wormhole technology, only it goes beyond the normal bounds of spacetime. But Captain Thán, he talked about it like it was some kind of magic. I don't know. Shit." His breath quickens. "If we get a working Ingress on this planet..."

[dendarii]

"Then that's terrifying," Miles say firmly. He loves Barrayar, he really does, but Barrayar has a bad habit of weaponizing pretty much anything in desperate times. Like ... say ... now. "You've seen one, though," he continues. "We could find it. That would be a cave worth digging out." Whatever the hell the tech is, the point is that it could be here. And if anyone has a chance at understanding and working a pile of magical bullshit sci fi properly, it's Cetaganda.

[forwardmomentum]

"Yeah. Yeah, it would be." Miles's face goes a little distant as he contemplates not just what Barrayar might do with something like that, but what Cetaganda might do. Probably would do. He wets his lips. "Alright -- okay. Say there's an Ingress on this planet. Say we find it, and actually manage to fix it -- and that we can use it..." He draws in a breath. "Alright, I'm on board. Let's find an Ingress. Just -- one condition."

[dendarii]

He's completely drunk, having the craziest conversation of his life, and now he's considering stomping into a Cetagandan base to try and find a multi-dimensional magic bullshit portal. He doubts there's anything his double could say to put him off.

"All right. What is it?"

[forwardmomentum]

Neither of them would've made it this far into the conversation without alcohol, so thank God for maple mead.

Miles tents his fingers in his lap, biting his lip. "If we actually fix it and get the thing running, if we figure out how to use it -- we connect it to the Moira first. They actually have an Ingress we could connect to and -- I think it might fix it. Or stabilize it, at least."

And he has his word to keep. If there's a way...

[dendarii]

Miles slows a bit. His younger self may be able to read him too well ... but Miles can read himself right back.

"All right. I swear it. My word as -- " He hesitates, uncertain. "-- Myself. Whoever that is."

And that's the truest oath he can make right now. But it's not the end of his other self's story, he thinks. He looks his other self up and down for a moment. "Who are you going back to?"

[forwardmomentum]

Miles gives his older self a tilted grin. Man, it sure is a good thing they get extremely drunk to make all these important decisions. "I'll take it."

He glances away for just a second at the question, at the fire, or the middle distance in between, whatever. He puffs out his breath. "More like bringing back with." He smiles a little, ruefully. "Well -- Bel, for starters, and Ivan and Gregor, if they're still there. I don't know if they are. But there were some people -- some friends I gave my word to. Zam, J, Elizabeth... They either had no real place to go back home, or they were dead. I gave them all my word that when we got the Ingress fixed, I'd take them back here with me."

Maybe it was a stupid thing to give his word for. It was never something he could guarantee, was it? But maybe he has a chance to try. He perks up, grinning wildly at his older self. "Hey, did I tell you a recruited a shapeshifter for the Dendarii?"

[dendarii]

Ah. His expression softens instantly at the thought of leaving any of his people behind, especially anyone from home. He'd already go back for any of those people. And while he doesn't know the other names his other self is throwing around, he has faith that anyone he would make that kind of oath to is worth keeping such an oath for. "Then we'll find a way back to them," he says, straightening. "I'll swear to that too."

It probably is stupid to swear such a thing, but at least now they're both idiots.

He pauses, slightly, at the mention of a shapeshifter. And blinks at himself, temporarily derailed. "I - er. No. What?"

[forwardmomentum]

Miles is heartened by his older self's unquestioning faith in his own judgment, a weird kind of self-validation he's never been able to achieve with any certainty before. Not like this. God, this is weird, but not entirely terrible. And when they're not screaming at each other, it seems like they could work together pretty well. His grin broadens, his gaze going fond.

"Yep, that's Zam," he says brightly. "An alien bounty hunter in her world, and apparently a damned good one. But, ah, also dead, so sort of out of a job. I asked her if she'd ever thought of doing long-term contract work. It took a while to convince her, but I promised to assign her to Bel's ship." He lets out a laugh. "Can you imagine the miracle work we could pull off? Shit, just imagine Simon's reaction."

[dendarii]

What a beautiful thought that is. The Cetagadans would never see it coming - nor would anyone else, for that matter. The havoc they could wreak on Jackson's Whole ... Mark's dream of bringing the clone business crashing down could certainly be sped along with certain key applications.

And Simon, poor Simon. "He would turn purple," agrees Miles with a grin that's a bit less maniacally gleeful. He'll never get to prompt that sort of face again. Or recruit anyone else into the Dendarii, shapeshifters included. "Maybe more refugees would enjoy your Dendarii as well."

His other self's. Not his any more.