thisavrou_log | [ catch-all: barrayar ]

Who: Miles, Ivan and Gregor of the Vor Boy Band feat. Lady Alys and you, probably
When: gestures vaguely at May
Where: Barrayar
What: all Ingress trips to Barrayar, whether it be Vorkosigan Surleau, Vorbarr Sultana, or anywhere else on Space Russia
Warnings: TBD

Welcome to Barrayar, the planet that was cut off from the rest of the Nexus after its only known wormhole connection collapsed, leaving its meager starter colony population stranded. 700 years in total isolation saw the loss of their advanced technology and a regression to a pre-industrial and feudal society, until a new wormhole route to Barrayar was discovered and propelled them from horseback to spaceflight in the space of a single generation. Its terraforming is still incomplete, the landscape characterized by the mixture of imported Earth green plantlife and the reddish native flora of Barrayar. After a couple of generations, Barrayarans are growing more and more accustomed to galactic peoples and cultures, though they're still a little wary of outsiders, and an old and long-entrenched cultural paranoia of genetic mutation means they can be a little hostile or mistrustful of people who bear visible disabilities or who don't look quite human.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Doesn't your world have means of watching people when there's no one around?" Ivan thought that would have been obvious. "And the people on the other side tend to go 'stun first, fast-penta interrogate later' as a general operating procedure." Dammit, he doesn't want to be here.

Ivan pokes at his MID forlornly, and stares at the empty space on his opposite wrist. "I left my commlink back on the Moira, I didn't think I was going to need it--"

Nothing Napoleon knows is able to watch people discreetly. Cameras were supposed to be large and in full view as well as not that reliable. He's evaded capture more than a few times because of inattentive security guards. He also doesn't know what fast-penta is either, but it sounds like something he'd want to avoid.

"I doubt it would even work here unless signals could cross universes." And it could for all he knows. All of this might as well have been mystic mambo jambo to him.

Then there's the faint sound of footsteps on rock and Napoleon raises a finger to his lips.

"My comm link would work here," Ivan defends in a hushed whisper, "it's got a direct link to ImpSec." Because he, Ivan Vorpatril, is third in line for the entire goddamned Barrayaran Empire by some accounts. Ivan quiets when not-Clark tells him to, but his eyes widen as he sees the ImpSec men close in on them.

Their uniforms hold remnants of the country that contributed to Barrayar's founding -- green with red highlights, and this time with silver horus eyes pinned on their collars. Ivan groans but keeps his mouth shut as to not make this work.

Except-- they don't stun him. Instead they lower their stunners when they see both of them. "Lieutenant Vorpatril, Captain Solo," says one, and now Ivan's even more confused than he was a moment ago.

"What--"

Napoleon had been all set to either make a break for it or try and talk his way out of it when something else happens. Their uniforms are unfamiliar, but if this was based off Ivan's homeworld he wouldn't be expected to. What would be nice to know is what those horus eyes would mean in terms of rank so he'd have a better idea of where he stands in relation to them. He'll have to make a guess since his companion is obviously floundering.

He straightens up, assuming an at ease stance. "Is there a problem?" The chances are these men are enlisted since they're on guard duty and since he's been given a bump up in the rank department he thinks they could get away with this.

Of course if he's wrong they're going suffer until their time is up.

Edited 2016-05-14 01:59 (UTC)

This doesn't happen to him. Ivan gives Solo a look that makes him want answers -- there's no way he works for ImpSec. Ivan would have known, wouldn't he have? Swallowing the panic, Ivan slides into a less obviously suspicious stance, trying to look that he clearly belongs here. Which he doesn't.

"No problem sir," says the man. "Captain Illyan had been wondering where the both of you were." Ivan decides the least he can do is keep Solo (who has a name like that?) from making a mistake here.

"Thank you Lieutenant, you can let the Chief of ImpSec know we'll give him a report." It's not the smoothest delivery, but it seems to satisfy the ImpSec men, who usher them forward before falling in behind as they're being shown up from the basement of the building. Ivan leans into Solo, whispering, "What the hell?"

Napoleon has to be quick to follow along, but that also betrays to Ivan that perhaps he is a little more familiar with undercover work than the average person. Maybe he'll say he's an actor. The name could also be passed along as yet another doppelganger, Ivan doesn't seem like the type who would question it.

With a glance behind to check their escort won't be able to overhear them, he walks a little closer to Ivan, but doesn't do anything so obvious as lean in.

"We either go with it or get arrested so make sure we don't get caught."

Case in point there's a split coming up ahead and Napoleon has no idea where to go.

"Whatever's going on, Illyan's going to know something's off when he sees me," Ivan hisses back, not sure how much he likes the idea of impersonating an ImpSec agent when Simon's going to tear strips off of him. He doesn't have the goodwill that being Miles Vorkosigan gives his cousin. There's no loyalty to Aral Vorkosigan can that save his hide.

Ivan directs him to the right with a jerk of his head, and a few steps in there's another staircase taking them up, through another door, and into a rather extravagantly decorated hallway. "This is the Imperial Residence," he provides, attempting to look as casual as possible without drawing attention to himself. "In the parts they don't let tourists into."

Well... if Napoleon had been so gently inserted into Ivan's world, there was a chance they could pull this off provided Ivan was capable of pulling off stoic. He may have been very good at what he did, but even he couldn't create miracles out of nothing.

The Imperial Residence is very impressive. Napoleon resists the urge to whistle in appreciation. It was the sort of place he wouldn't mind visiting after hours. It certainly wasn't the sort of place where someone like him would normally be allowed to stroll right through.

"Good thing I'm not one. I'm assuming we're nearly there so can you be quiet and look grumpy or should I bring out plan b?"

"Look grumpy? Why--" He doesn't get to ask the full question as they draw close to their goal, and Ivan can already see one or two Vorbarra armsmen milling about. If Gregor's here, then he should probably steer not-Clark Solo away from them. But there's a bland brown haired man in a green uniform, and Ivan sighs.

"That's Simon Illyan," he hisses to the other man right before he attempts to look as grumpy as possible. The silence is easy, though, he just has to pretend like he knows nothing. Perfect.

[ catch-all: barrayar ]

no subject

no subject

lmk if this doesn't work.

change everything x(

fine i WILL

google tells me simon illyan got his name from tmfu....

google is 100% right, he did. he is a bland looking spy with an eidetic memory chip.

so illya-ception

yes