[b]Mosaic![/b]

"Oh! It must be as you say, Praetor. There is no doubt my functions have been corrupted by my time underwater, and by the Master of Assassins. She shut me down, you know? Spoke to me first, said - well! It does not matter!" He puffs himself up, glowing plasma sphere growing notably larger and warmer. "Forgive me my dreams. I am Ohm, Strategic Logistics and Management. I was built to assist the functionaries of Empire with tutorial advice so they might acclimate to their new roles swiftly. I assume, then, by your presence on the Bridge that you are my new Captain? If so, I would be delighted to assist you in any way possible."

[b]Ember![/b]

It has been a long time since the Silver Divers got the chance to properly bully an Azura. They seem determined to take just as long with it.

It's some time later and you're out by a window with Taurus. She's not looking at you directly, but she speaks firmly. "I'm resigning as alpha," she said. "I've fucked up too bad for too long. Mosaic was right - I don't have a vision. All I've got is bloodlust and even that's not enough to motivate me any more."

She looks at you, and somehow it's different now the instinctive deference to the Alpha is gone. Just saying it is enough to make it real. "I just wanted to say that you were the best thing that happened to the Silver Divers under my command. You've somehow become the heart of the pack in a way I never was."

[b]Dyssia![/b]

She gave a discreet smile as, in the background, the world wrenched and realigned and the ship started to tilt upwards. "It is very kind of you to say, sir Knight. Besides, I suppose I only have one person I'm trying to impress and -" she paused. "Excuse me," she said, "I have some emergency prayers to make in the temple of Hera. Please excuse me, I'm sure you can take it from here."

And she's off, leaving you alone with the heraclean task of keeping the bulk of the Plousios straight. 

It's not a [i]physically [/i]demanding task, focusing the essence of gravity while inside a projecting array. The difficulty of the Rail at this scale, at this distance, is keeping your attention on a single point in space. A vast, unsecured body like a starship is a surprisingly easy thing to move with gravity, which means lapsed concentration and a drifting focus point might send the whole thing topping over like a collapsing skyscraper. Catching it mid fall likewise requires precision and concentration It's like holding a very, very long lever from the long end.

How do you do it? And, "I don't, everyone aboard the Plousios feels like they're in a washing machine" is a valid answer.

[b]Dolce![/b]

Finally you are bought before the edifice of the Architect. 

A vast balcony in muted gold and silver, before an enormous, ever-searching radiant blue eye. It swirls and snaps, the spotlight of it casting across the gap of space, tracking the movements of its defensive fleet - and then finally back to you. There is no further adornment here; the Architect does not often have guests.

The immensity of it crushes down. This is what it is to meet a giant.

"Well? Well? Who are you?" The Architect asks, in the exact same tone of voice as its puppet from before. There's a reverb, its voice is louder, but the same mannerisms, the same scratchy old nervous pride.

"20022, your lordship, of the Service," said 20022, bowing politely.

"Do you eat? Drink?" asked the Architect.

"Ah, well -" but the Architect is already bringing in swarms of drones. With glittering laser beams they carve apart the floor near where you stand. An acrid smell of scorched metal as manipulating arms rip up the paneling and bend it into new configurations. After a few moments a minimalist table and chair have been panelbeaten into place. Elegant, pretty, but seeing the raw force that went into its construction gives it a sense of unease. 

A robot twists a kettle into place in an agony of metal, sets it down and fills it with water. With a heavy [i]whump [/i]a large box of seeds, grains, and fruits is set down on the table, followed by a chemfire cube.

"Food, drink and fire," said the Architect. "Hospitality, correct?"