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[naismith]

[A man appears on the network of indeterminate age, extremely short-- under five feet tall, easily-- with a slight hunch to his posture and Germanic features. His eyes are sharply alive, bright with challenge. There's no hesitation as he speaks, in a gravelly kind of accent that sounds almost Russian, the words flowing quickly as he makes them up on the spot.

Right now, he desperately needs intel of all kinds, and eventually a spotter to watch him while he uses his seizure inducer. That fact he's assiduously ignoring. He'd checked his neurotransmitter levels this morning, and he has at least three days, even with all the stress of arrival. No, four days, probably. Five. Really, he can go a lot longer without one than the ImpSec medical staff had given him credit for. --Focus, Vorkosigan.]

So. I see you all have quite a neat set up here. Let's not waste time. Who can bring me up to speed, ex tempore? Surely we have more intelligence than "don't say its name" on our bogey man. Since confirmed facts are likely to be scarce, personal accounts would be acceptable.

I'm also taking proposals for getting miserably drunk at the bar, as is traditional in times of drawn out peril. I need someone to drag me home, y'see; alcohol has quite a soporific effect on my constitution. [And Ivan is unfortunately not here to do the dragging. Miles ignores the resulting pang that inspires in him.

Then he hesitates imperceptibly, the memory of his previous catastrophic failure to report his seizures clanging loudly through his brain. No. He can't ignore this, much as he'd like to. The only thing that scares Miles more than never going home is turning into a vegetable, mindless and drooling. He can at least do the preliminary investigation about options.]

Information about local medical facilities would be appreciated as well. They're not all-- er, at this level of technology, are they? [He looks dubious about anyone surviving on that level of medical care, but immediately recovers with a wide, convincing smile.] I'd just like to know preemptively for when I wake up with a skull splitting headache.

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[parallels]

Well, as part of the Welcome Center, I'll help where I can. Though, really, people will get cross if we discuss it over the network too much, so let's start with the rest.

Brazen Turtle's one of the more famous pubs in Turtle Land. Lots of us foreigners working there which means we tend to gravitate there. There's a few others about the sectors. Though if you slept in some of them, the Kedan would be quite cross.

And Soranik Natu's clinic is the best known place. Though there are a few chemists here and there. But mostly herbs and that sort of thing.

[naismith]

Oh? Who are we hiding the discussion from? Does it have a direct feed into the com consoles, no matter how secure? I'd think its omniscience would have a limit-- though that does make it not technically omniscience...

[Miles recovers himself from getting meaninglessly derailed by offering a lop-sided grin.] That's why I haven't gone by myself. Sleeping in public is never wise; I need an accomplice. But thank you, I appreciate the recommendations. [He definitely won't forget the name, either of them.]

What can you tell me about Soranik Natu's clinic, in that case? I'm afraid I'm used to a bit more than herbs.

[parallels]

It seems to be summoned when you talk about it. Especially on the network. Like I said, people will go bonkers if you talk about it on the network.

[She shakes her head with a little shrug. She doesn't understand it either, but she knows what it can do and it's not worth the risk.] And can't help you there. I don't drink, it always ends in misery and sick everywhere. But I bet you can find someone to have shenanigans with.

As for the clinic, it's in Earth Sector. Quite a few people volunteer to help there who can fix you right up.

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[asouthron]

Well you certainly don't waste time...

[ Gruff unhelpful man is unhelpful. ]

[naismith]

Generally, no. I find it much more effective. Gets me the drop and all that.

[And now he's looking at him expectantly, waiting for more input. That can't be all the man had to say.]

[asoothingvoice]

[Questions about the medical facilities available? She's actually surprised she managed to catch it this early.]

That depends on what you mean by 'this level of technology'. I'm Bianca Reyes, I work at the Soranik Natu clinic. I should be able to answer some of your questions if you have any, but you're out of luck if you're hoping for a saline drip to treat a hangover.

[A trick one of her coworkers told her about. While it was clever, it was also an abuse of resources.]

[naismith]

I've heard good things about your clinic. Well, I've heard one thing, but I consider that good. [He does look alert with interest, but that's honestly just Miles's baseline expression.]

You can call me Miles. I'm not hoping for anything that lavish, no. [He's visibly amused by the suggestion, but he'd never abuse resources that way, either. Really this is his covert way of assessing who to approach about his seizures.] I'm from several centuries after the discovery of jumpship travel-- ah, wormhole traversing spaceships, I should say. I understand that's rather ahead of present time.

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[bindsthedead]

You mean aside from what's been mentioned on this network before?

I suppose the most important thing is that trying to fight it directly is likely to be useless, given its power to possess and manipulate others, its ability to kill with a word, or turn the air in people's lungs to acid.

It's been- well, it hasn't been destroyed, but it was confined, for a time before it broke free.

[naismith]

[His smile sharpens just a little, as he has in fact read up before posting.] There's a considerable backlog, [he says smoothly.] It's very unlikely I'd manage to find everything of interest, but luckily you're all here to inform me.

That, for instance, I did not know. [Miles doesn't grow worried so much as serious and contemplative.] That is extremely alarming. Do you know anything more about its ability to... compel obedience? There's many ways one can be killed instantly, but to have your will taken over-- I find the very thought distressing.

[He'll get to the previous confinement in a bit. One line of investigation at a time.]

[fearlessherosheart]

If I see you, sir, I can most assuredly 'drag you home'. Should I know where your home is.

[Miles might notice that the woman speaking to him is rather taller than humans normally run, if one assumes the consoles are standard (otherwise, someone has set her up with child-sized equipment as a prank). Definitely over seven feet tall. That and slightly pointed ears are the only giveaways that she isn't a bog-standard human (at least by most people's working definition).]

[naismith]

[He's sadly not immune to being addressed properly, and on such a tall woman, though he can't tell precisely how tall from the video. It's still delightful.]

Metal sector, [he says promptly.] That's kind of you, if opportunist. How about making it-- ah-- less happenstance, and meeting me there directly? I've received several wholehearted endorsements for an establishment called the Brazen Turtle.

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[mythically]

I suppose it's best that you're asking for the explanation before the drinks.

[naismith]

I'd say business before pleasure, but that's giving entirely too much credit to the drinking, and altogether not enough to a good mystery.

No, I'm simply preparing for the inevitability of running out of windmills to tilt at.

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[skybluejeep]

Thirding the call for the Brazen Turtle, I work there and it's super high-class, no drunken brawls or anything. If you're in to drunken brawls, we can't help. Customer is not always right when it comes to that.

As for the rest of it, uh. There's the time that it got itself on the network somehow, with all the appropriate terrifying shenanigans along with. Made a bunch of vague threats against the baby turtles here and then never came back. Don't know if that's a good thing or not. Medical treatment, there's a clinic in, uh. Crap. I wanna say Metal Sector? I think? I've never been, I don't know, I'm healthy as a horse.

[naismith]

I prefer a lack of brawling with my intoxication, not to worry. Brawls don't favor me. [For obvious reasons, such as being tiny and frail, though Miles would resent both such labels.] It seems quite the hot spot. I'll have to visit.

[His light, airy tone fades into something appropriately contemplative.] I saw that post. What is its interest in the turtles? We all seem convinced it's out to kill them wholesale, but why? I find "intends to destroy all life in existence" somewhat lacking, as far as motives go.

--And I've been referred to the clinic adequately, but thank you.

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[isnotokay]

If you're hoping for an adequate explanation of this war, you'll be left waiting. The enemy is vaguely defined, and none train those they recruit or seem to prepare in any meaningful way.

[ She makes an indelicate sound. ]

It's incompetent.

[naismith]

[He makes a vague throaty noise that could be agreement or disagreement. Privately he agrees with her, but it seems unwise to advertise his dissent too vocally before he's grounded himself.]

It's at least short sighted, or they must be direly strained for resources. But if they are they're hiding it well. Overall I find this whole thing very odd. I've seen my share of action-- including forced recruitment-- but this doesn't fit any of the patterns I'm conversant with.

I take it you've served before?

[iguanasolution]

You should have gotten here a couple months ago the level of technology has actually improved. [A shrug. They had little technology back at camp so this doesn't bother him much.]

We've pretty much all we can gather at the Soranik Natu clinic. Mrs Reyes will be pissed if you show up there to treat a hangover though.

[naismith]

Improved? Dare I ask how? That doesn't seem the sort of thing that happens overnight.

So she's informed me. [Miles smiles at the comment, unoffended.] I am properly warned-- she seems a capable sort. [This is half fishing, half genuine. Miles generally wants to know everything about everyone; he can't help himself.]

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[warrioreidlos]

You'd think that, right? Far as I can tell, there is nothing more available except just that. Feels like whoever brought us here is proving a thing or two about military intelligence. Makes it feel like--

[Reiner pauses, before shortly pressing his fingers against his brow for a moment, then waving away his own comment. This is a stranger. He isn't sure if he wants to get into it with him.]

Ah, nevermind that.

At least if you are looking for a drink, I'm sure you'll find plenty of people willing to take you up on that. I'd recommend you a place, but I haven't really been here long enough myself to find a good spot.

[Also, he's seventeen, but lets not quibble about silly matters like that.]

[naismith]

[He wrinkles his nose somewhat comically, displeased and disbelieving that there's nothing more to know.]

Makes it feel like home? [he finishes. Maybe that was wrong. Miles can sympathize if it wasn't, however.] I've had a couple missions that made me vow to wring the neck of whoever was responsible for the lack of intel. That leads to people being killed, good people. [Something he obviously knows by experience, given the grave surety with which he says that.

As for the drinking... Well, Miles can't say he wasn't drinking at seventeen. Not excessively, since he was too busy doing such things as accidentally appropriating a mercenary fleet, but to be entirely honest, Miles has always done whatever he wants and he can't blame others for doing the same.]

I've been reliably and consistently informed that the Brazen Turtle is the place to be. Foreigner run, apparently, so perhaps friendlier to our woes than a local establishment.

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[wreckingbert]

They don't tell anyone anything.

[Why would they? Soldiers don't need to know what their commanders are up to, anymore than terrorists do.]

[naismith]

[Sure, sometimes Miles had to keep things from his subordinates-- okay, most of the time he did, but his commanders weren't supposed to keep things from him. It's a double standard but not one he's about to give up.]

Maybe not, but that doesn't mean we can't find it out. [He looks like he has about ten plans in mind already. (He does.)]

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[sonofsamcro]

You're up shit creek and the paddle ain't ever existed.

[That's the sum of all parts according to one Jackson Teller.]

I ain't big on this bullshit war deal, but drinkin' I can help you with. You better be a heavyweight, or you'll be pukin' into a bucket a few drinks in. Stuff's strong here.

[naismith]

[Miles likes his parts a little more nuanced than that, thanks. But he wouldn't be very good as a Vorkosigan representing his district, would he, if he couldn't work with the straight forward mentality espoused here.]

Oh excellent, it'll take even less than normal, then, [he sighs, dourly self-critical.] The warning is nice, I suppose. My metabolism disagrees with alcohol, [Miles adds in clarification. Obviously his metabolism's disagreement isn't stopping him from drinking, though.]

What about you, do you like the Brazen Turtle, same as everybody else?