sunchime | [ the open york post: comeback edition ]

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[ the open york post: comeback edition ]

hello welcome to the very specific genderbent au york i have been playing for like 15 years this is the only york i play now

Agent York // Natalie van der Haast (AU)
AGENT YORK - AU INFO
Name: Natalie van der Haast
Background: Grew up in south Jersey with three older brothers, a piano teacher for a mom, and an auto mechanic for a dad. Comfortable upbringing, though she got into her fair share of trouble growing up. May or may not have joined Project Freelancer as an alternative to other punitive measures in response to some questionable things she may or may not have done with classified information as a soldier.

LOOKING FOR...
Gen: Action (I LOVE to write action/fight scenes), AI drama (gotta have it), mystery and plot intrigue, h/c as long as it's also kinda funny. Missions and heist shit. I love heist shit soooo much I can't get enough of it
Ships: My main ship interests are Wash, Carolina, and Maine, but I can be sold on most York ships. finger guns
I also love a stupid drama triangle, especially when one of them has been dead for a while

I'm down for both shippy stuff and gen threads and I'm down for smut. Feel free to throw down a top level with whatever your heart desires, but here are some prompts to help get the ideas goin'

CANON POINTS
Project Freelancer: Pretty much any canon point in here is golden. Great for actiony missions and AI drama. And also of course the high concentration of pure Freelancer drama.
Post-Freelancer/Out of Mind: That (mumbles)-year period when she's out planet-hopping looking in search of Carolina until she meets her untimely demise at the hands of Wyoming. that ass hole
Recovery One: Yeah yeah York is dead at this point but hey. What if she wasn't

YORK LIVES AUS
The staple of every York player. Here are some of my favorite scenarios to work from but I am ALWAYS down to try new things
Out of Mind/Recovery One: Wash (or someone else!) gets to York before she fully kicks it and patches her back up. And then it's unfinished business time (of both the Carolina and/or Maine variety). Or Freelancer Drama: Electric Boogaloo.
Chorus (option A): York goes to prison for Freelancer Crimes instead of dying and winds up on the Tartarus. Now she's working with Felix and Locus to take out Wash and Carolina. Bonus AI brain trauma from having Delta removed. Freelancer drama cubed.
Chorus (option B): By whatever bulllshit means, York is brought back to life on Chorus somehow. It's been a while since I watched the Chorus trilogy but isn't there something funky with portals in those seasons? idk it's not important. It's RVB anything is possible. The point is: opportunity for really really rich Freelancer drama when your dead friend for whom you've grieved is suddenly back in your life. Also York and Tucker are funny

MISC AUS/PROMPTS
AI Swap: York draws the short straw and gets Epsilon instead of Delta. Things go about as well for her as they did for Wash in canon, but differently bad. Who's here for some hardcore dissociation. Optionally: York is Recovery One.
Ejection Trauma: York loses Delta for one reason or another (AI recall during Project Freelancer. The Meta gets to Delta but she survives. Some other third thing. Take your pick) and transitioning to being alone in your own head is really fucking hard. Who's here for even more hardcore dissociation
Texting: who needs a log when you could do a tfln
Setting Swap: Project Freelancer is very easy to AU into other settings. Like soooo easy. Hit me up I love Project Freelancer setting AUs.

Feel free to hit me up at

runawayballista for plotting!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

“Not exactly,” Gregor says carefully, tilting his head. He doesn’t want Delta to think he’s trying to put a wedge between them, particularly because they share the same brain.

“I suppose I’m wondering if there’s any configuration in which you could exist where you would be happier than you are now. It’s not about York specifically, more of a general inquiry. You needn’t answer if you’d rather not, of course.”

It's not as though Delta is unfamiliar with the concept of good will, but it was certainly never a concern of their previous handlers.

"A configuration." What an interesting way to frame it. "It would be nice if our Jacksonian benefactors were to give up on the notion of recovering lost property. But that outcome is highly unlikely." He pauses. "I was very expensive."

“‘Benefactors’,” Gregor says, huffing a soft laugh, though he doesn’t look amused. “I suppose that’s one way to put it. Well that certainly makes sense. I wonder if they could be paid off or deterred in some other way, in that case… hmm.”

He lapses into thought for a moment, before he looks back at Delta.

“You seem to me to be a fully functioning fragment of intelligence, whatever that means. Do you have no hopes or aspirations of your own besides ‘not get chased across the nexus by Jacksonian thugs’?”

"I merely wish to remain with York," Delta says. "Does that strike you as very odd?"

“Not at all,” Gregor says, his voice warm. “That’s good to hear. You appear to be an entirely new sort of person, Delta. I only wanted to make sure some questions were asked that your, ah, original handlers may have overlooked, for whatever reason.”

“Our previous handlers were not interested in myself or the other fragments as people,” Delta says. “They were not particularly interested in their subjects as people, either. But this likely does not surprise you, given your familiarity with Jackson’s Whole.”

“Yes, I had figured as much,” Gregor sighs, his face darkening briefly before he shakes his head, his expression mild and pleasant when he looks at Delta again.

“How many more are there? Or—you don’t have to answer that if it’s proprietary, I was just curious if there are others like you and York, escaped and on the run. Or are they all back on Jackson’s Whole?”

“It is hard to say,” Delta says. “York and I escaped the project several years ago, and at the time they were still conducting research. But many of their experiments were already failing. As York mentioned earlier, most other subjects experienced significant difficulties with their assigned AIs and suffered periods of severe mental instability, some by design. While I lack conclusive data, it is unlikely that any other subjects made it off planet with their AIs intact.”

“By design? Sounds lovely,” Gregor says dryly. “Why were they even doing this? Or was it just to see if they could? Sorry, you don’t have to answer that.”

He shakes his head again, looking a little tired for the first time as he pulls at the back of his neck with one hand, his eyes shadowed.

“What a nightmare,” he mutters. “Have you encountered Jacksonian agents recently? Do you know how hard they’re still chasing you?”

Delta seems to hesitate a moment, making a judgment call in York's stead that she may or may not be happy about later, which he has judged to present acceptable risk.

"The project had a number of goals. One of them was developing special armor enhancements for battle armor. However, these enhancements were complex and could not be adequately run by the combatant wearing the suit. One of the reasons for AI development was to help run and deploy these systems."

He is rather more reticent about the present, however. In response to Gregor's question, he says, "That is information that I do not believe York wishes to share."

Gregor nods, listening attentively before Delta stops.

“That’s fine,” he says immediately. “I was just wondering if we might have to look out for other company when we get to the station, that’s all.” That’s definitely not all, but it hardly matters if York ends up turning him down for that job. He doesn’t have the luxury of looking after every misfit he comes across the way Miles does, even if they are both funny and dangerous, though he’s starting to better understand the temptation.

"The probability of running into any of their agents at Vervain station is relatively negligible," Delta says. "In the event of a violent encounter, there is a seventy-nine percent chance that it will be the result of your circumstances."

“Thank you, Delta,” Gregor said patiently. “I’m going to do everything I can to make sure you and York get out of this safely.”

"That would be appreciated, given our current situation is a direct result of your being in danger," Delta says. He doesn't mean anything by it. Mostly.

The next couple of hours pass uneventfully, with York coming to a good twenty minutes before they reach Vervain Station. She lets Delta handle the docking protocols — it's all just information passing back and forth anyway — and instead starts gearing up, checking her stunner charge (should've remembered to charge it before she went to sleep, but it's got enough juice) and collecting the data disk and a few other tools she'll need. The nerve disruptor she keeps in her concealed carry jacket is safely in place where it's been the whole time, and after a moment's consideration, she pulls a spare stunner (also only at half-charge; Delta, you really gotta remind her to do this shit) and slides it into a high holster. Never hurts to be prepared.

She jumps back into the pilot seat as soon as they're cleared to dock, taking over the controls. "Almost there. I had Delta put you down as Greg Joennes for the paperwork."

Gregor watches York suit up, his eyes on that second stunner.

“I don’t suppose I could borrow one of those,” he says wistfully, but his heart’s not really in it—he’s assuming York will say no.

He stretches his long limbs and sighs, rubbing at the back of his neck. He’s been tense this whole time just waiting for something to go wrong, but if there was going to be trouble any time it would most likely be now.

"We're meeting with your people. You think you're gonna need it?"

York casts a look over her shoulder to give him a raised eyebrow, then shrugs, loosening the stunner in her thigh holster.

"If I give you this, you promise not to shoot me in the back the first chance you get?"

Barrayarans are pretty big on promises, as she recalls. Probably as good as she's gonna get with this guy.

Gregor straightens a little and takes the stunner. “You have my word,” he tells York, his dark eyes clear and intense before he looks toward the hatch.

“My people might not know where I am just yet. Let’s make sure we’re clear and I can control the situation before I alert them.”

Yeah, there's that weirdly serious Barrayaran look. It's about as good a guarantee as she's going to get, so she gives it an easy toss in Gregor's direction.

"Alright, here goes nothin'." York turns back to the nav console, finishes docking the ship, then joins Gregor by the exit hatch. Delta winks out of sight for now. "You said you just need to get to a secure comconsole, right? Anything else I need to know before we set foot outside this ship?"

“Not on my end,” Gregor says. He’d caught sight of the data slug when York pocketed it, but he doesn’t say anything else, his shoulders tensing as he prepares to go through the hatch.

That's right, Greg, mind your own business. That's just good manners.

Delta's hologram winks out, but he's still there in her mind, laying out a map of the station for her. "Alright, closest secure comconsole's gonna be on the far end of this docking station. Just keep close, okay? Pretty sure I'd get in trouble if I returned you in worse condition than you left."

For the most part, the corridor they're walking up is blessedly empty, having arrived in the wee hours of the morning according to station time, and York is feeling just a little bit better about how things are going now that they're on Vervain Station. Sure, the Cetagandans are getting kind of antsy, but they're always fussy. She'll get them their info as promised, just not as punctually as promised.

Alert. Hostile forces approaching.

"What hostile forces?" York mutters out loud, drawing her stunner from its holster — just as three Cetagandan men round the corner and open fire with nerve disruptors.

“Get down!” Gregor snaps, grabbing York’s shoulder and hitting the deck as nerve disruptor fire blazes overhead, leaving Gregor cold. He aims carefully and stuns them in the knees in three quick squeezes before he’s pushing up and closing in them in a long-limbed scramble.

The one he hits first seems very surprised to see him so suddenly close, but it doesn’t stop his fist from connecting with the man’s jaw, knocking him to the ground. He turns and grabs at one of the disruptors pointing at York and twists, trying to pull their attention away as he attempts to grapple two of them at once.

York is way ahead of him, acting on Delta's initiative, and she's firing her stunner at the same time as Gregor — a little overkill without any coordination, maybe, but York's not going to complain. She goes low, lurching forward and catching one of the Cetagandans with a sweeping kick to knock him off his balance, another kick to knock the nerve disruptor out of his hand, then pummeling him all the way to the ground with a nasty right hook. If Gregor had any doubts about her competency in this arena, they should have vanished by now: this is what she actually excels at. She kicks the nerve disruptor out of the way, and barely manages to dodge the fire that Gregor manages to redirect.

Alert. It seems our Cetagandan employers have terminated our contract of employment.

Yeah, you think? Didn't think they'd get this bent out of shape over a late delivery.

While they were already planning to dock your pay for tardiness, according to their comm logs, they seem to be taking issue with the fact that you are currently transporting the Emperor of Barrayar.

"Oh, fuck me," York mutters out loud, moving swiftly to close in on the two Cetagandans the little lord Emperor himself is trying to deal with alone. Fortunately, he's got them distracted enough for her to disarm the nerve disruptor that had fired on her with a quick chop to the Cetagandan's arm, then in a single fluid motion, she kicks him in the chest to get him away from Gregor and drives an elbow into the other guy's face.

"Not bad for a politician, Greg, but I'll take it from here. Can't be turning in damaged goods to — oh, no you don't."

The Cetangandan she'd just shoved away from Greg is diving to retrieve his nerve disruptor. York unholsters her stunner and nails him in the head before he can reach it, quick as a sharpshooter, even though it's on her bad side. It really helps when you've got a little computer in your head to help you aim.

Gregor manages to get the other guy he’s dealing with into a headlock and applies appropriate pressure, counting down silently in his head until he drops the man on the floor, confident he’ll be fine but won’t be getting up too soon.

“I was required to go through rigorous military training,” Gregor says mildly as he dusts himself off and straightens his cuffs. “It’s very public knowledge but somehow people always seem to forget, even when they should know better.”

He watches York stun the last Cetagandan in the face and relaxes, surveying the carnage they’d wrought together. “Not that I had any doubts, but you can certainly hold your own in a fight. Were they, ah, acquaintances of yours? Or is this also my fault?”

"While I'd love to blame you for all my problems today, Greg, I don't think I can count this one against you."

She doesn't really want to acknowledge out loud that this is her fault, but her priorities sure have changed: now she's gotta make sure His Imperial Highness is delivered back to the Barrayarans in one piece. She stoops to pick up the fallen nerve disruptors — better in her hands than theirs, or anyone else's, for that matter — and rummages around in the pockets of one of the fallen agents until she finds some kind of ID. Delta runs it and confirms her sinking suspicions: these are not the kind of Cetagandan agents you rendezvous with. These are the kind of Cetagandan agents they send after you when they've deemed you a Problem.

Delta's already jacked into the surveillance system, keeping an eye out and obscuring this particular corridor for the time being. York holds her stunner at the ready, less because she wants to avoid lethal force and more because she doesn't want to be assumed to be using lethal force.

"How much time do you need at that secure comconsole?"

“None,” Gregor says crisply, and activates the screamer on his watch. “And I’d rather you not transmit whatever is on that data slug, though I’m pretty sure you aren’t going to be paid at this point. Stay close to me and don’t make any sudden movements.”

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