[b]Champions of Bitemark![/b]

Three great labours must be completed to launch the Plousios.

Firstly, the Engine must be ignited. It rests uneasily, a stellar spark flickering in the heart of the great reactor. Someone must don mighty armour, so thick and heavy it can endure direct plasma burns, and walk into the massive spherical chamber. They must manually apply kindling to the fusion spark until it burns bright, then open the emergency plasma flow gates from the inside. Finally they must exit before the scalding liquid energy boils them alive. 

Secondly, someone must occupy the Captain's chair. Lieutenants must be commissioned. Tribes must be given control over districts and functions. The ship is in the throes of chaotic land grabs as people throw their baggage down in the first empty rooms they find. Given how quickly temporary decisions can become permanent ones, a wise and steady hand must act to prevent injustice from taking root.

Finally, someone must angle the ship. A direct thrust right now will send the ship directly into the mountain, so it must be turned nose-up. Accumulated rust, coral and seawater has rendered the massive turning pikes that angle the Engine's mighty output jammed, but the seawater collected towards the rear of the ship renders the vessel bottom-heavy. The clearest method for this would be skillful use of a Grav-Rail, and a warrior servitor from the town named Vasilia has volunteered her experience with the weapon, but even that must be matched with raw force or whirling cleaning.

[b]Dolce![/b]

"I'm honestly shocked that you have to ask," said 20022, brushing down his fur with a handkerchief before offering a spare to Dolce. "Having to do things wrong on purpose is [i]shameful[/i]. A mistake can be corrected, but having to actively deny reality because the government of the day has certain [i]ideologies [/i]-" he sniffed as he said the word, like he was allergic to it, "- well. It feels like one should be checking oneself in for an afternoon wearing the bell, when the truth is punishment would come from exactly the opposite action."

He gives a serious look. He seems to have fully calmed now, having thought through a new intellectual framework to exist within. "I think this question, though, is ultimately the product of your design. Human Synnefo were built to prioritize individuals; as a domestic servant you were made to fixate on the needs of your masters. Azura Synnefo are taught to prioritize the needs of the State. And, frankly, that is why the Endless Azure Skies endures even after humanity has passed into extinction."

The shuttle launches. The stricken [i]Slitted [/i]is left floundering in the water, weighed down by half a mountain. Ahead, where a crimson star once burned, now roars a distant gold one. Armoured soldiers settle into place, the broken flickering light of the Architect starting to stabilize and become more steady as the electrical storm is left behind. Once they hit void 20022 instructs one of the soldiers to go outside and break off any ELF spikes from the exterior of the shuttle.

"Regardless," said 20022 eventually. "I understand that you're likely to experience purpose conflict at the idea of corrective biomancy - though I do recommend it. But in its absence, I can assure you that there's still a place for... people persons in the State and Service. If it is compassion for the people of Bitemark that stirs you then you can demonstrate that firsthand taking my role as policy officer. If you think you can do better than I, I would be delighted to see it."