[b]Alexa and Redana![/b] The crabs continue their thoughtless advance, for crabs know no respect and no fear. Imperial princess, avatar of Athena - they would clack their claws at the sun itself if they thought there was clamflesh inside. Lack of fear does not equate to efficacy in battle, though, and these crabs are very much figuring things out. They are newly hatched, their shells are soft, and their battle tactics are crude and undirected. They are trying, bless them, but they're not putting either of you in any particular danger. [b]Vasilia and Dolce![/b] "Hmm," said Iskarot, clearly weighting the discussion of motivation far lower than you do. "Then what you want is planetary locals. Some backwater servitors who've been cut off from space and have stories and dreams about journeying amongst the stars. In that case, I definitely recommend intercepting the [i]Yakanov[/i] - one of their exploration objectives is to elevate a tribe of primitives." He shuffled through his papers and produced an anatomical diagram of an avian servitor, all sharp edges. "One of the Order's scouts found these and designated them Species AVX-44. Abduction and study indicated that they are sourced from dive predators such as kingfishers. In the absence of interstellar contact and modern energy sources their society has collapsed to the point of emphasizing ocean-going trade and warfare. Magos Birmingham is commanding the [i]Yakanov[/i] to investigate and uplift qualified individuals into the Order and locate rare technology." The Order of Hermes is one of the great interstellar powers in the post-Emergency Declaration galaxy, but it has no interest in conventional displays of might. Holding territory seems to the Order perverse at best, as does diplomacy or recognition of foreign rulers. The Hermetics are a self-absorbed and insular religious order with an ideology that considers all outsiders in terms of how they can be made to serve the Order's divine mission. There are a great many instances of them doing just this - taking up orbit over a primitive planet in one of their great cathedral-ships and conducting their research without bothering to communicate. This, in the old parlance, is something of a prime directive violation. Plenty of civilizations have been pushed into religious rapture at the arrival of these star-faring magi, old traditions of power and government have been destroyed as the Hermetics invite all the qualified individuals on the planet to join them on the Saffron Path, and everything worth having is looted into sacred vaults. The Order leaves wreckage and cargo-cults in its wake, shattering cultures that were just starting to acclimate to being cut off from galactic society and their human masters. They are, of course, not the only faction who does this, but their means are considerably greater than many of their competitors as is their disregard for consequences. "With their nautical culture they should adapt well enough to starship maintenance," the Hermetician went on, oblivious to the reputation that surrounded Hermetic interventions. "And they're likely impressionistic enough to believe we are demigods so control should not be hard to establish." [b]Bella![/b] The knights let out a bellicose cheer in response to your words, banging on their shields in rhythms that their clans quickly pick up until the entire room is shaking loud enough to momentarily drown out the detonations against the hull. Everything about these people is to do with courage and cowardice. Their responses, their rituals, the battles of their hearts is one of fear and of overcoming fear. The Lanterns wear heavy armour and bright lights so that they might render themselves too slow and too radiant to even be able to flee, and it is their exhortations that keep the clans standing firm. In the dark these people have nursed an ember of hope and now, with your recognition and words, it is finding fuel at last. That same conflict is clearly raging inside the heart of your chosen herald - from her blush to her inability to figure out where she should put her eyes and the way she shivers against her collar and beneath your hand. But, too, the light of Apollo is settling around her shoulders like a mantle. "I am Jil of Bridge-Clan," she said in a voice that hardly wavered at all. "Daughter of Ri and Ter, defended by Lantern Gol. I will defend your ship, Praetor. May Apollo give me the strength to do so and abandon me in darkness if I fail!" Impacts on the hull - those are different. Enemy Plovers - at least a dozen. You know enough of military strategy to get by, Bella, picked up from helping someone through Imperial lessons on war, but this is a novelty. The process for boarding an enemy starship is a well-explored concept, balancing skirmishers, phalanxes and esoterics in an hours-long struggle over key intersections and power nodes, striking always towards the Engine. But Plovers? Perhaps it makes sense from a financial perspective - splitting the spoils between a dozen champions rather than a hundred soldiers would make sense from a pirate's perspective.