[b]Redana![/b]

The Hermetician steeples his fingers, dragged down by thought. The question you have asked seems to be more complex than you first imagined.

"We..." he said it like it was a confession, "do not [i]make[/i] Engines."

That [b]was[/b] a surprise. 

"The Order of Hermes does not understand the process. We... claim to. We do not, not truly. We recover them. We dare Poseidon's wrath to pull them from the deep. We..." he buzzed in a flustered, awkward way, and then backtracked abruptly. "We understand the mechanics! Every gear, screw, and bolt! Every secret of containment and enhancement! We have built entirely functional Engines that to this day bring divine light to the great Caravels. But... we do not understand the spark. We cannot [i]ignite[/i] them once they have gone dark. We can transfer a burning star from a damaged engine into a new one we have made but we cannot bring a new one to life. Not since the Great War."

Once this shame had left him, fiery energy exploded through him and he slammed a parchment scroll hidden somewhere within his robes onto the floor in a passion. "And it is not as though we have not investigated the principle! We have done heroic research into this topic! We have diagrams, instructions and even rediscovered the ancient Tauyk Drive Yards where thousands of Engines were once made! We have petitioned the gods with our questions! And yet, no matter how faithfully we follow the rituals of ignition no new sparks burn!"

A skeletal metal hand emerged from the robes cupped the technomancer's chin. "It is not our knowledge that is flawed. It is the [i]galaxy[/i] that is wrong. Something has happened, the natural laws have changed, some mighty god has decided to deny the universe new Engines. At first we thought it was Lord Apollo, who was indeed deeply involved in the process of ignition - the old rituals involve a great deal of purity of heart - but the Brilliant Lord has indicated that he does not hold us in disfavour. Perhaps he does, but if so he is keeping it a deep secret, and applying this same judgement to other groups that attempt the same thing. It seems unlikely. We do not know."

[b]Dolce![/b]

A blue light within the doorway. A single spark like a star.

You wish Hades wielded the supernatural in this moment. You wish he was a titan of smoke and charcoal skin and twisted beard. You wish he spoke to you in the voice of the divine. You wish he wasn't just a tall, spindly man in a suit vest who was striding towards you with a mouth locked in a line of restrained fury. If he appeared as a god rather than a man it would be easier to imagine that he wasn't about to murder you.

"What," hissed the Lord of the Dead, "do you think you are doing here?"

Soft hands rest upon your shoulder even as you stagger backwards into the arms of Hera. "I sent him," said she behind you, voice as soft as a silk noose.

"How dare you?" said Hades, and his voice became even softer as his fury built. "[i]How dare you[/i]!? In my domain? On [i]my[/i] ship? You would tempt them to contravene [b]my[/b] laws?"

You can feel Hera's fingers tighten around your shoulder a moment. There's nothing of it in her voice but you're suddenly aware that she's worried. Like she might have miscalculated. But there's not even a whisper of it in what she says next. "Of course I would never dream of contravening your laws, brother Hades. I am your guest here. I am not here to investigate your secrets. I have merely bought a servant."

"A servant?" said Hades, eyes like burning oceans.

"Yes," said Hera smoothly. "Quite apart from everything else, you simply have a [i]mess[/i] back there. Little Dolce here is a good and diligent servant, quite capable of keeping his mouth shut. He's merely here to tidy up."

The Lord of the Dead stared into your eyes. His expression has still not cracked. You fear it might never. "Fine," he said. "Clean. [i]Organize[/i]. And do not let his mind wander, sister Hera. I can find another crew if I must."

The gods passed away from the world like shadows cast by birds, and again you are left before that open doorway spilled with flowers.

[b]Alexa![/b]

A chase like this can hardly be contained. It erupts from the training room and into the corridors, and it goes, and it goes and it goes, feet pounding and hearts as the thrill of acceleration overpowers everything else...

And then your feet leave the ground.

You've run directly into one of the corridors that the Princess and the Hermetic previously stripped of grav-plating and haven't gotten around to replacing yet. And so you tumble together weightlessly down a seemingly infinite corridor carried by all the momentum of your earlier sprint and it feels like you've run so fast you've started flying. 

Oh, is this what space is, Alexa? Is this what could have been if people didn't drag their gravity up with them into the void? You know how to fight aboard ships but never before have you swum in the sea, and you drift together at once timelessly and at the speed of thunder. On your left are endless windows that open up on an aching vista everlasting, on your right are all those same stars caught in amber-eyed reflection.

[b]Bella![/b]

You'd never expected to see strength in Mynx's eyes. Mynx who would discard her whole identity to avoid a problem, Mynx who'd stab you in the back so she could outrageously flirt with Redana, Mynx who had all the consistency and sticky sweetness of strawberry jam. How was she capable of looking kind and wise enough to understand your feelings, how could she be someone strong and stable enough to hold you up in this moment?

(She wasn't really. This was an act, surely. She'd just never had a serious role to play before now...)

"I don't think," Mynx spoke slowly, and there was something in that cadence that reminded you of Redana - that this wasn't a guess, it was the considered opinion of someone who specialized in impersonating Redana, "Redana has space for more than one thing in her head at any point in time. It's what gives her that [i]presence[/i] - if you've got her focus you're the [i]only[/i] thing that matters. It's wonderful when you have it..." she trailed off a bit. "I don't think she stopped caring about you, Bella. I think she just doesn't remember right now. There's some other thought burning in her head. We just need to remind her."