Kitty Jones (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rathercommon) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
barrayar2015-05-17 08:36 pm
rathercommon) wrote in barrayar2015-05-17 08:36 pm
Entry tags:
vorkosigan au :')
This isn't a world that really matters to anyone. It's not on any important trade routes; it's not wealthy, doesn't have any real technology of value. The terraforming took hold well, so it's prosperous enough, but not so much to make it outright wealthy. There haven't been any real great thinkers from the world. There's not much culture of note there. If there were something that distinguished New London, anything at all, anything of real worth, then maybe people would care about what happened there. But there's nothing to take note of, and so no one interferes.
Which is a bad thing indeed. Because affairs on New London are...awful, honestly. Not so awful as to really arouse the fury of some of the more enlightened planets, because again, there's nothing really sufficient to distinguish this planet, but...The planet is ruled by a circle of quasi-religious oligarchs, a group of a few hundred wealthy men and women who use technology to make themselves appear to be magicians. They're able to conjure flames, make predictions about the weather and natural disasters, communicate over long distances, heal injuries that regular folk medicine can't; they use these remarkable deeds, and strictly control travel on- and off-world, and strictly control education, to make the people believe that they're nearly gods. It's almost laughable - indeed, on other planets, New London is sort of a joke, that planet where the people in charge have managed to convince people that they're magical. But the lines of control are cruel and efficient: the people are too afraid to rise up against people with such remarkable abilities, and so they work to prop up the horrid regime. They live lives of terror and squalor, while the so-called magicians live in luxury off their labor.
But those are secrets that can't stay secrets forever. The magicians are good at concealing the source of their power, to be certain. But there are people who are resisting magician rule, and they're making some small amount of headway. One rebel group, calling itself the Resistance, in one raid on a magician office, managed to acquire some communications equipment. One of the few survivors of the raid, Kitty Jones, actually managed to make contact with someone offworld - someone who knew what was happening on New London, how the so-called magicians held onto their power. And once she heard it all, Kitty - furious - began planning how to turn this opportunity into an outright coup.
An outside force is what's needed. She figured that out early on. And so, she rooted and researched and planned, and talked with offworlders more and more to try to determine who was best to contact. In the end, she hunted down a name: the Dendarii Free Mercenary Fleet, a group of mercenaries with reasonable rates led by a man named Admiral Naismith who, someone had said, seemed to have some fondness for just causes. And finally, after some time, she contacted them, and she asked to meet.
Which is a bad thing indeed. Because affairs on New London are...awful, honestly. Not so awful as to really arouse the fury of some of the more enlightened planets, because again, there's nothing really sufficient to distinguish this planet, but...The planet is ruled by a circle of quasi-religious oligarchs, a group of a few hundred wealthy men and women who use technology to make themselves appear to be magicians. They're able to conjure flames, make predictions about the weather and natural disasters, communicate over long distances, heal injuries that regular folk medicine can't; they use these remarkable deeds, and strictly control travel on- and off-world, and strictly control education, to make the people believe that they're nearly gods. It's almost laughable - indeed, on other planets, New London is sort of a joke, that planet where the people in charge have managed to convince people that they're magical. But the lines of control are cruel and efficient: the people are too afraid to rise up against people with such remarkable abilities, and so they work to prop up the horrid regime. They live lives of terror and squalor, while the so-called magicians live in luxury off their labor.
But those are secrets that can't stay secrets forever. The magicians are good at concealing the source of their power, to be certain. But there are people who are resisting magician rule, and they're making some small amount of headway. One rebel group, calling itself the Resistance, in one raid on a magician office, managed to acquire some communications equipment. One of the few survivors of the raid, Kitty Jones, actually managed to make contact with someone offworld - someone who knew what was happening on New London, how the so-called magicians held onto their power. And once she heard it all, Kitty - furious - began planning how to turn this opportunity into an outright coup.
An outside force is what's needed. She figured that out early on. And so, she rooted and researched and planned, and talked with offworlders more and more to try to determine who was best to contact. In the end, she hunted down a name: the Dendarii Free Mercenary Fleet, a group of mercenaries with reasonable rates led by a man named Admiral Naismith who, someone had said, seemed to have some fondness for just causes. And finally, after some time, she contacted them, and she asked to meet.
no subject
Kitty takes her eyes off of Taura to turn a swift, hard stare upon Naismith. Her gratitude towards him is considerable. Her gratitude will be staggering if he manages to dislodge her government. But, God above, if he's the sort of man who would put human beings under the knife to make monsters, then she won't abide him being in power, either. He'll be next on her list, even if it rends her heart to turn on him. And yet...The hardness lasts only a moment, because the affection with which Taura is treating the Admiral is palpable. And it's not the sort of affection a trained dog turns on her master. It's wry. It's flirty. It's the affection of a human being for another.
And speaking of human beings -
"Oh - " She's been silent an awkwardly long moment, consumed by the process of understanding Taura, Naismith, and Taura-and-Naismith. And Kitty, no matter her savage determination, has manners enough to feel flustered at that rude pause. So, with her cheeks a bit pink, she gives an awkward, stilted little curtsy. "Erm - it's - awfully nice to meet you, ma'am." No, wait - "Sergeant." Better? Worse? God knows. She tries to draw herself up and seem impressive, as an employer ought to seem. Unfortunately, her best model of authority is her schoolteachers, and so she just ends up sounding a little stuffy. "That was terribly impressive work." And then she bites her lip just a little bit and glances from the corner of her eye at the Admiral, for some sign of yes that's authoritative-sounding or you sound like a complete loon, Ms. Jones.
no subject
Despite Kitty's fears, Miles has brightened considerably at her attempts to be polite. He would be happy with anything short of making anti-mutant hex signs, but actually combating her own ingrained prejudices-- he can guess that New London must be like Barrayar that way, in the midst of their own Time of Isolation-- immediately ratchets up his admiration of her. Accepting him is one thing; accepting Taura makes him want to kiss her. Well, both of them. Erm. That has the potential to be awkward, doesn't it...
Miles wrenches his mind back to the problem at hand. "You can credit Kitty with our escape, actually. Very resourceful." He grins his approval at people who rescue themselves. "But we'd best be off. I trust you have an exit route picked out already?"
Taura returns to a more militaristic attention and nods sharply. "Yes, sir. Bel's waiting with the Ariel for us to board; its emergency evac shuttle is concealed a half-mile from here on a roof. The closest we could get," she apologizes.
"No mind, no mind. You did well." Miles waves her off. He glances back at Kitty. "You ready to go into space, my knowledge-hungry accomplice?"