[ catch-all: barrayar ]

[forwardmomentum]

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.

Comments

[whatdidisay]

"Not that I've figured out." And believe him, he's tried. That should be a point in his favor, shouldn't it?

[hostessing]

She frowns and tightens her hold on his arm. Suddenly there are several more reasons why they shouldn't overstay their welcome here and she glances up at the sky as if it might come crashing down on them any second.

"Is the ship safe?" Or at least safer.

[whatdidisay]

Ivan, normally the first to complain the moment his mother approaches clingy, allows it -- one of his hands going to cover her's. "Depends, I guess. The heating failed once, and we all nearly froze to death. The captains try, but they don't know their own ship and they weren't expecting all of us to show up."

[hostessing]

"I don't understand how anyone can call themselves a captain and not know their ship or expected crew." The whole system on the Moira was a mess and wouldn't pass for a second in the Imperial Service. "Should we stay here long if things could go awry?"

Which is to say, they should be heading back the way they came, thank you very much.

[whatdidisay]

"Be glad you weren't around for the first few months. I thought Miles was going to take it over just out of sheer aggravation." Now he's not sure if that's better or worse than where they are. Worse, maybe, because once Miles got going he didn't stop. Ivan doesn't expect that to have changed after... whatever it was.

But everything goes fuzzy there, sliding away from under him, and his face wrinkles slightly. "This is Vorbarr Sultana, Mamere." Where else are they supposed to stay?

[hostessing]

With how the ship's been run, she wouldn't be surprised if her nephew would be a better candidate for captaincy. If he's managed a mercenary fleet and was raised by Aral, surely one ship with a relatively small-sized crew would be more manageable. Instead the poor man is working himself into exhaustion with other tasks.

She frowns up at him before she's casting her gaze around at the foreign sites. Similar yet different in so many ways. Surely he couldn't mean that? "I'm not so sure. It's not the one I remember."