[b]Redana![/b]

The shuttle doors open revealing a howling hurricane beyond. Within the atmosphere of the gas giant is a storm worthy of Poseidon, a colossus of destructive fury larger than some planets. Even the bulk of the Plover suit struggles against those squalls like boulders, even the pulse of the plasma that floods the suit's engine through the thick cable whines from the stress of the celestial forces.

Down below, far below, a mighty cruiser hangs suspended on a curtain of hydrogen more solid than steel. The ancient derelict has been hanging here atop the storm winds for many hundreds of years, a lost marvel half consumed and holding strong. Its faded nameplate is recognized by your Auspex - the [i]Achae[/i]. A legendary warship destroyed in battle with the Azura, its corpse marked by the Order of Hermes and left for future recovery. That day is now.

You, half a dozen of the Coherent, and two Magi wear mighty Plover suits on this mission. The goal is to sever the mighty beak of the Achae and raise it from the gas giant's depths for the [i]Plousios[/i]' new crown. 

It's time to jump.

[b]Alexa![/b]

Your quest is for nothing less than the favour of a wizard. A perilous mission indeed.

The ancient autodog limps behind you through the decks of the Plousios. The Coherent were no help - they're manual labourers, and something this old and complex is beyond their limited abilities. What you need for this project is one of the true, ordained Magi but in the ancient tradition of wizards they are aloof, unapproachable, and endlessly busy. As a mere petitioner with no ties to their order or history of devoted service you are finding it extremely frustrating to corner one. The autodog watches you without judgement or understanding. It knows you're doing the best you can.

So what is your best in this case? How are you going to gain the attention of a Hermetic Magi?

[b]Vasilia![/b]

Hestia makes more cocoa. She does not magically conjure it, she does not pour it from some ever-full horn. Such is not her way. Her way is the joy of the quiet moment of the kettle heating. Of fiddling awkwardly with the packaging before leaving to find scissors. Of the gentle wafts of steam and the taste that isn't miraculous but for the promise that you could have something this warm and sweet every day from here till Hades. 

She sets down the cup in front of you. She's wordless, just leaning down on her elbows and waiting patiently for you to keep telling your story.

[b]Dolce![/b]

"Once upon a time I had a pain like yours," said Hera. "I wondered if my wife's wandering eye was my fault. My weakness. I wondered if I was simply broken and I had to fix myself so that I would be worthy of love."

Her eyes curved along her arm as it flicked out, threads of divine sleeves ending on nails of perfect shape.

"It drove me to madness for a time," she said quietly. "Do you know of the torment of Sisyphus? It is not, as many think, a tale of the cruelty of Hermes. At any moment the king could step away from the boulder, but he does not. He thinks the flaw lies within [i]him[/i]. He's sure if he exercises enough, if he perfects the angle, if he approaches his task with a clear and perfect mindset he will conquer his mountain. I watched him for many years and with each failure he kicked himself and declared himself insufficient. Not once has he blamed the boulder."

[b]Bella![/b]

Say what you will about the Order of Hermes, they know how to manage an evacuation. All void-capable ships were launched, the vast majority of escape pods have been fired, and they somehow did all this while leaving no one behind. All you have access to is the escape pods, which will fire you directly down at the planet; the problem there is that you'll likely land somewhere in the ocean, and you understand instinctively that if space travel is bad then traveling via water would be truly wretched.

That leaves you with the only mode of available transportation the grim products of the repair deck. Apollo lights this place up, seated quietly below a tool rack with that smile upon his face. It's an entire floor of the station, a massive area of stilled foundries and exotic tools carelessly dropped in the middle of a job. The reactors hum through the walls and all manner of marvelous and archaic machines can be found here; tall MRU walkers, in-progress cybernetic limbs, some manner of mechanical hydra, and there at last - a voidskiff.

Starships are almost always immense things. The smallest ship in the Fleet still has a crew complement of almost five hundred. You understand vaguely that this is to do with the massive size and expense of a true Engine making anything smaller impractical. It was only too late that your attention was turned to the threat of a voidskiff when Redana escaped on one.

Voidskiffs are the toys of daredevils, smugglers and adrenaline junkies. They're barely armoured by Imperial standards but built for ludicrous speed and agility and can cross interstellar distances at a pace even full warships can't keep up with. They pay for that, though. You grimly remember where you found Redana's abandoned voidskiff - torn half to shreds from the stresses of deep space travel and crash-landed on an alien world. Cautiously stepping away from the cursed thing and seeking an alternative is the natural response - even if you gather from Apollo's position that this is going to be your only real option.