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

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.”

Eh, Greg's a smart guy, and it's not that hard to figure out, anyway. York gives him an unapologetic shrug. You heard Delta! They're on the lam, doing whatever it takes to survive!

But still, as a show of good faith, she takes the data disk out of her pocket, drops it on the floor, and crushes it under her heel. She raises her eyebrows and gives him a we good now? look as she slips back into a ready stance.

"Alright, then how long before your guys get here?"

Gregor winces when she crushes the disk, then sighs just a little.

“I very much would have liked to know exactly what was on it, but fair enough. And, not long. Ah, here we are.”

Suddenly two dozen heavily armed and extremely stressed looking Barayarrans pour into the room. Gregor reaches out and puts a hand on York’s shoulder.

“We are unharmed,” Gregor says in a clear, carrying voice. “The Cetagandans are disarmed and no one else was hurt. This woman saved Our life—she is to be protected, and is not to leave Our side for the time being.” Gregor makes direct eye contact with the officer he deducts is in charge and the man nods back, looking a little puzzled but mostly relieved. They start towards the door, his hand lifting self-consciously from York’s shoulder as the cloud of soldiers around them tightens up with them at the center. Gregor leans in towards York again.

“We’ll be taken to a secure room, one with a comconsole. Is there anyone you need to call?”

"I'm sure your very capable intelligence service can figure it out," York says, deciding not to be bothered about it.

That said, even knowing it was about to happen, being surrounded by Barrayaran military makes so antsy she feels like her skin is crawling, and she holds her hands up on reflex. At least they all seem to be as obedient to their Emperor as the rumors indicate.

"Nobody who isn't already here," she mutters. It's just her and Delta, after all. "Thanks for not doing that on my ship."

“Quite,” Gregor says dryly, gesturing for someone to pick up the smashed data slug and letting himself be whisked through a series of corridors into a very plush, comfortable, secure room and finally relaxes a little.

“You are very welcome,” he says sincerely. “I thought perhaps you’d like to keep your ship in one piece—an outcome that I was invested in as well, as I was on it at the time. This way left no room for misunderstandings.”He gestures for York to sit. “I’m very sorry, but I do need to make some calls. If you need anything, please ask. In the meantime, enjoy your glimpse into how badly internal Barrayarran politics falls apart when the Emperor goes randomly missing.”

He sits at the comconsole and keys it on—and is immediately in the middle of a four-way call where everyone stops to stare at him for a second in helpless relief before they all start talking over each other at once.

Alright, well, if any Cetagandans are still coming for her, now they'll have to get through an entire Barrayara security detail. And if they manage that, then York will consider herself well and truly fucked.

She doubts it, though, given the extremely sticky diplomatic situation between the two empires, so she decides to let some of the tension ease from her shoulders and takes a comfortable seat. The ensuing situation is actually pretty entertaining, and her esteem of Gregor goes up a few notches just from watching him deal with it all. Huh. He really is a cool customer.

Part of her is itching to get back to her ship before the Cetagandans decide to go that route, but she's got Delta on security alert, and York had been promised some kind of reward for safely delivering Gregor, and given that she's just been burned by the Cetagandans, she really needs that money to get the hell out of this hub.

Gregor is typing on the comconsole as he’s talking, explaining exactly what happened and how he’d gotten away, taking care to mention York’s heroics as well as he talks everyone down from their previous mild frenzy. Finally other callers start to drop until it’s just him and Aral and Simon, and after a few more heartfelt reassurances he concludes the call, but stays on the console for a few minutes.

“Well, Agent York,” Gregor says at length, pushing his chair back and turning to look at her, calculation bright in his eyes. “The data slug you so graciously destroyed happened to be details of my personal schedule which would have been used to put together an assassination plot, so you thwarted that too, congratulations. I have been delivered some very interesting intelligence regarding the Freelancer Project and believe I may have a deal for you. How would you two like it if everyone on Jackson’s Whole thought you were dead?”

"I do what I can," York says glibly, with the full knowledge that she was contributing to a likely assassination attempt, but hey, that was before she knew Greg. She likes Greg.

The offer makes York's eyebrows climb right up. He has Delta's attention, too, but he's already running probability scenarios about how badly this could go for them. A fair point.

"Damn, it must be my birthday and nobody told me." Her guard's still up, though. "So what's on the other end of this deal? I go exclusive for your mercs? 'Cause it seems like I'm really coming out ahead on this one, and if there's one thing I've learned, it's that most things that seem to be too good to be true usually are."

Gregor swallows a sigh and just shakes his head a little, a faint smile curling the corners of his mouth.

“While I think you would thrive in the Dendarii, no, it’s not a requirement. I’m simply in a unique position to be able to stage your dramatic ‘death’ very easily, and I’d care to do you a good turn. Is that—? No, I suppose that is a little hard to believe, after everything that’s happened to you and your teammates. Regardless, it would put me out not at all to blow up a decommissioned ship similar to yours in size, let the House to which you are legally indebted know discreetly that everything in the ship was destroyed, including your armor, and blame it on the Cetagandans. Whether you think that’s worth an exclusive contract or not is up to you.”

He settles back in his chair, looking thoughtful as he studies York.

“You are smart and dangerous, effective, and unique,” he says slowly. And funny, he doesn’t add, though it’s helping. “And you saved my life. Maybe I just want to do you a good turn.”

"Aw, Greg, you really know how to sweet talk a girl." York grins, at least partly aware that she's violating multiple lines of Barrayaran social protocol, but hey, she's not Barrayaran and they're not Barrayar, and this is her good buddy Greg. This'll probably build character for his bodyguards. "I wouldn't complain about an exclusive contract, for the record. Everybody likes a little job security."

And the Dendarii are, as far as she's heard, doing pretty fucking well for themselves these days. Led by an absolute lunatic if rumor is to be believed, but you don't get into mercenary franchising if you're perfectly sane.

"Alright, it's a deal," York says as Delta echoes agreement in the back of her mind. "Ooh, hey, can you forward me a copy of that report? I just wanna see the footage of my decoy ship getting blown to bits."

The guards’ backs are so stiff it’s impossible to tell how offended they are by York’s behavior, but they say nothing.

“I am so glad you think so,” Gregor says sincerely. “I’m sure we could offer an exclusive contract if you so chose but I can’t imagine the Admiral wouldn’t let you freel—ah, take jobs on the side from time to time if you wanted to do so. I would be happy to send you a copy of the report. Would you care to take a knee, to make it official? It will only take a few moments.”

York snaps her fingers. "Aaand there's the catch. Knew I was forgetting something." She wags a finger at Gregor. "This is what I was talkin' about when I said too good to be true, Greg."

But, shit, it's not like she can say no now anyway. And while the thought of legally being some kind of vassal to the Emperor of Barrayar makes her itchy in a psychological sense, the protection he's offering both from Cetaganda and Jackson's Whole is worth the entire Nexus's weight in gold. There's really nothing to complain about: he is doing her a pretty good turn.

York starts to bend her knee, then stops, raising a hand. "Hey, I got a question real quick first. What happens if you die? Does the next guy in the line of succession inherit the whole liege-person contract? 'Cause I just have a feeling I'm not gonna like any of 'em as much as I like you, Greg. And vice versa."

Gregor smiles lopsidedly. “If you’d like to ask more questions about it, feel free. I wouldn’t want to rush you into anything.”

He tilts his head, considering his phrasing briefly. “I give you my word as Vorbarra that when I pass your duty as liegewoman will be satisfied and discharged in its entirety, which is legally binding. Good enough?”

"You know, I'm starting to like the way you run your government," York remarks, but she's thinking seriously, and so is Delta. She knows she's pretty much got no option but to go by his word on it, but Greg seems like a pretty good bet if she's gonna gamble on a Barrayaran.

"That works for me, sure. But I am getting a written contract for the job, right?"

This seems like a reasonable request.

“I’m flattered,” Gregor says, entirely sincerely. “And, certainly. The Admiral is quite Betan, he insists on these sorts of things. As an armswoman simple I will be legally obligated for your bed, board, dress, armament, and protection, but I hope you won’t mind me outsourcing most of this to the Dendarii. However, you will still be sworn directly to me, and therefore will be able to contact me personally if necessary. I’ll give you my private comconsole code, in case you require it. Sound fair?”

Edited 2025-08-05 15:24 (UTC)

"Ooh, a direct line to the head of an interplanetary empire? I'm starting to think I'm coming out ahead on this deal after all."

Delta notes a few potential dangers and snags they should keep in mind, but York files those away. If she's gonna put her trust in another person for the first time in years, it might as well be somebody with a massive military at his disposal. Do her a good turn, indeed.

"Alright," she says, bending down on one knee, "how do we do this, then?"

“It is a very cool mercenary job,” Gregor says again, suppressing a smile until York settles down on one knee and his face goes strange for a second, then serious.

“Kuznetsov and Konstantinidis, I request and require your attention for this extremely classified oath-swearing.” The guards start at being addressed directly but they step closer and come quickly to attention. Gregor turns back to York and reaches out.

“Put your hands between mine, like this,” he says, folding cool palms around her own. “And repeat after me. ‘I, Natalie van der Haast, do testify that I am an unsworn freewoman, and take service under Emperor Gregor Ezar Vorbarra as an armswoman simple.’”

It is the coolest mercenary job York's ever heard of, and the well-honed sense of paranoia she calls Delta agrees that there's always a chance that this is a trap of some kind, that this is too good to be true — but even Delta concedes that Gregor is as trustworthy as heads of government get, even if she is damn sure she never told him her name. Eh, she wouldn't have tried to steal from ImpSec if they were no good at their jobs.

"I, Natalie van der Haast, do testify that I am an unsworn freewoman, and take service under Emperor Gregor Ezar Vorbarra as an armswoman simple."

Look at that, Gregor, she can do things with a straight face! She's taking this seriously. That's how you can tell she likes you.

“‘And will hold him as my liege commander until my death or his releases me,’” Gregor finishes, and lets her hands slip from his. He can tell she’s taking it seriously and it touches him, though he’s prudent enough not to say so. He reaches out a hand to her to help her up and squeezes it briefly once she’s on her feet before letting go.

“Welcome home.”

"And will hold him as my liege commander until my death or his releases me," York says, letting Gregor help her to her feet even as Delta points out in her mind that technically, by the language used, only she is sworn to Gregor. That might be a useful distinction one day, but for now, York's pretty done with making things complicated.

"Dunno how I feel about home," she says, raising an eyebrow, "but it sure is nice to be not on the run. Hey, am I still allowed to call you Greg?"

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