Dolce went limp as she shook him, his wool bouncing to and fro. It felt like she needed that. Like she needed to say what she was saying now. Wasn’t it nice, to be useful? 

[i]A servant, being outside all other social standing, and bound by a sacred trust, is the most ideal listener in the world. Do not waste the opportunity. Always seek to better fulfill your duty.[/i]

“I can’t say for sure.” He lightly patted her jagged exoskeleton as if it were the softest cotton. “I can say, at least, her judgement was sound as far as it concerned you. She was fortunate to have you as a friend.” Not a coworker or a bodyguard either. The Princess rarely described her as such, so neither would he. “Her heart is strong though, and I tell you before the gods that it has not broken yet. Perhaps, if it would help put your mind at ease, I could look help after it in your stead? For until she returns.”

He rummaged about in his pockets. “I could swear it on an oath, if you like.” And if he could find the right material; another candle, a few bits and bobs, surely there had to be something in here that would please a god?

***********************************************************

The unloading bay belonged not to the [i]Anemoi[/i], but lived for the honor and glory of Demeter. Here gathered her attendants, in the inevitable march of life enduring. None were wasted in a fruitless chase. A phalanx of bonsai, planted immovable in the gate. Grasping roots to line every surface of the passage. Bouquets of flowers, dripping with intoxicating aromas, swollen to bursting at a breeze. Here her rightful prize would come. Here, she would be halted. Life would persist. Life would renew. For it was the glory and right of Demeter, Lady of Seasons, for whom all things were bound. 

But Captain Vasilia did not come unprepared.

A line of violet lightning carves an arc through the room. Plants do not so much burn as instantly turn to ash, their toxins and thorns vaporizing harmlessly. Vasilia parts the smoking clouds, flying by her grav-rail down towards the exit, but the work of Demeter cannot be halted! Already, the bonsai are growing thicker hides. Vines spring forth from the ash to grasp at her limbs, to pull her down and hold her tight. She is forced into a wide, corkscrewing turn away from the exit, burning away vegetation as fast as it could grow, but no faster. To blast the arm from one bonsai gave three more the chance to heal back stronger. Again and again, she sallies the exit, and again and again she is turned back. The seconds tick away to Demeter’s victory; the engines of the Anemoi are almost firing. Soon, they will be away, far beyond hope of rescue or escape. Demeter will not be denied! All living things are bound to the Lady Demeter! Her victory is assured!

One. Two. Three.

And the bonsai are all but gone. Gone in a volley of perfect shots. Herded, by careful approach, by tantalizing opportunity, baited into changing in their formation just so, until a clean line could destroy them completely. Destroy them faster than even Demeter can mend them. Her legion is only one. It drops to the deck, roots shooting desperately outward, spreading with all haste. The engines ignite, the whole ship rises from its mooring, gathering the impetus to hurl itself across the stars. Vasilia grips her pistol in her teeth, draws the glaive from her belt, hurls towards the exit and strikes the hammer-blow! As through mere air! The bonsai is not cloven in two, it is [i]annihilated.[/i] And Demeter’s servants are no more. For the price of precious seconds, Vasilia buys the Lanterns safe passage to the stars. No abomination of life will remain to threaten them.

But how precious those seconds! Already, they pull away from the [i]Yakanov[/i]! She cannot stop. She will not stop. There is no time to worry about missing. She dips her flight low, tucks her legs to her chest, and kicks. Her feet find the bare edge of the exit ramp, closing, as the ship accelerates away beneath her. She is off! She hurtles towards the hangar, and no wave of Poseidon will set her off her course! 

Ah! Within the hangar, a welcome awaits! Two Coherent phalanxes, drunk on their battle-song, wait to catch her. Space distorts around twin MRUs, charging to full. All they have to do is wait to catch her, but the Coherent philosophy does not abide waiting. The air howls with SP fire, and crackling chunks of spacestuff. Vasilia weaves a tight spiral around a bolt of molten light, and every scar on her body burns in remembered agony. She finds the SP fire when she rams straight into it, a hundred stringing blows striving to push her back. She bends. She flips. She corkscrews so violently she nearly snaps in two but she does not return fire. She does not turn away. Her direction is down. Her mass is unstoppable. The grav-rail screams at the strain, driving heavier and heavier, and she does not intend to land gracefully.

She hits the deck, and the deck loses.

The beat accelerates to a rapid staccato. The Coherent line dances back and forth, ready to spring. The smoke clears, and instead of a victim there is a great gaping hole in the deck. They’ve lost her! The music shifts to a marching tune; find her! Do not let her escape! But my dear coherents, you will not have to look far. The ground bulges and breaks beneath their feet as she soars through deck and air alike. With one motion, she hurls her glaive like a meteor, with gravity to match, and it pierces through both MRUs. Technicians scramble to escape the smoldering wrecks, only some remembering to pull out the power tethers before they can catch fire.

Now, she draws her pistol.

Now, she is close enough to place her shots.

How kind of you, Coherents, to display your bodies so proudly! To adorn your additions with gold and silver inlaid, bright glowing lights, thumping bass! How could she miss? You race ahead to keep time with the music; did no one teach you how to dance? Have you never had to improvise the steps? You stumble! You fall! You are [i]predictable.[/i] The music is your master, and you have mastered nothing. See what the Starsong have made, in the centuries you spent in contentment! Above the thunder and screaming, Captain Vasilia [i]sings.[/i] She sings the notes your music begs for. She takes lead in a dance of hundreds. She twirls, and her pistol finds the soldiers leaping at her the beat their feet leave the ground. They fire, ten steps behind, and she is already gone. Their comrades litter the dancefloor, screaming and clutching the smoldering remains of their pride.

What greater defense could they muster? Eccentrics behind phalanxes, on their own ground, every flank protected? What more could the [i]Yakanov[/i] bring to bear against a single skirmisher? But no philosophy, no tactic, no intelligence borne of mortal imagination could withstand her. The Coherent line [i]shatters.[/i] The music that once spurred them onward now drives them ahead in madness and terror. Run! Flee! Flee the coming wrath! We came with song, and she wrested it from our hearts! We came with bodies born of the Path, and broke against the broken! All is lost! All is lost! The [i]Yakanov[/i] hears their cries, and their hearts fall to despair. Rallies go ignored. Messages go lost. Souls scatter to the winds, struck by fear beyond their understanding.

So lands the first battle-stroke of Captain Vasilia, honored of Zeus, bearer of the Starsong.

Woe to those who dare remain for the second!

[Overcome: 3 + 4 + 1 = 8, damaging Blood to upgrade to 10+.]