The spy theme hum dies in Dyssia's lips. No, that. That isn't right. That [i]can't[/i] be right. This isn't [i]right![/i] She's digging now, scattering papers to the wind, subtlety and spy shit forgotten in her desperation to find. To find something, anything, to show she's-- All of them? Just. Well, no, clearly not all of them. In the biomancers' minds, that's the problem, innit, is that some of the Pix aren't [i]doing their job,[/i] even though they've also decided that their job doesn't need to [i]exist.[/i] All of them? In cold blood? Wiped out, in one three-day purge, all because they don't have a purpose? For not [i]fitting in?[/i] She'd felt comfortable. Like it was cozy, knowing that somewhere, out there, there was somebody making sure that things went right, that were taking care of things, making sure everything happened smoothly. That there was someone with a plan and a handle on things. Because she was always going to be part of that plan. Like she'd been part of the plan for Merilt? Inconvenient, but an Azura. Unable to simply be disposed of en masse simply for not fulfilling a purpose. Sacrificed in the most optimal way. They [i]kidnapped[/i] her, for cryin' out loud. All she has to do to get her life back is [i]wait,[/i] and-- And go back to her old life, knowing that she'll never be challenged, and never have to fight, and can return to her workshop, and not striving, and-- And let them die. And not do anything to help them, when she has a chance to help, when she might be the only one who [i]can[/i] help, when all the help the biomancers offer is increasingly incredulous attempts at finding a niche for the Pix because they can't see that they don't [i]need[/i] a niche, can't see that not having a niche isn't a justification for genocide. It's okay, she can-- Talking to Tidal isn't an option, though? Tidal's great, hot, fun, but she also doesn't [i]listen?[/i] She knows what she knows, and what she knows is that biomancy is the greatest tool in allowing people to be happy maintaining empire? She'll get that look she always gets, and reassure Dyssia that things may not make sense right now, but in time she'll understand, and it's all for the good of everyone, and the empire is happy, and the people are happy, and-- How many drones can she request? Enough to make a difference? Not ten thousand, not for an Apprentice, even an Azura one. What can she even modify them with? Virus the lot of them, so they die in minutes instead of days? That just delays the project for however long it takes to whip up another ten thousand. Gives the Pix an extra few days. Maybe gets the Pix declared rogue, because who else could have the motivation to protect them? And if she gets caught, now she's being watched, now she's being protected--[i]for her own good, of course, the poor dear is confused, doesn't understand what needs to happen[/i]-- And don't think it hasn't slipped her notice that her first thought in response to a genocide was to treat a bunch of--well, not people, but living things as disposable objects, as tools to be tweaked to purpose. Aaaaaugh. Unleash the drones on the biomancers. No. Pix fight to protect their biomancers, she's just attacked the ship. How quickly can she whip up a protective instinct? In theory, it's established research, all the tools exist for it. But again, unless she can infect at least five thousand of the ten thousand, it's only a delay. And again, a three day delay at best. So, develop a new fighting species in days, find a way to keep the drones alive, somehow apply it to all then thousand drones, and effectively hold the ship hostage with her new combat species which will outdo a group of three-quarter Ceronians? While not also running afoul of Zeus for creating people, who will now be [i]fully people,[/i] and as such, their own. She's not ready to be a mom. She could turn the Pix into the best servitors? Find their best niche? But the thought sits in her throat like half-returned vomit, burning, acrid. It accepts the Biomancer's position, works within it, acknowledges that the best she can hope for is to prevent biomancers from biomancing near things she cares about. Which is, itself, a startling realization. She gathers the notes as best as she can, and puts them neatly back in their folders. Semi neatly. As best as she can remember, which admittedly is not very. Anything to buy time, prevent people from noticing what she knows. She doesn't know how much time she has. Or rather, she knows how much time she has, and it's Not Much. But despite all logic, despite all sense, she is [i]going[/i] to save her captors from themselves. Somehow.