For the turn that this is about to take you might think that you are being punished for your happiness.

If you did, you would be right.

*

Feet of sharpened bone crack crystal lattice underneath. Torn and bloody silks writhe and peel from the walls like eucalyptus bark. Every few steps a shadow flashes across the light, there is the sound of a scream, a crack, and a crunch. Watery blood spills across the pure sea water that covers the floor, and the robed Tidal bureaucrat crumples to the ground in a rubbery heap. From their corpses bubble riotous growth, the bloom of Demeter's garden seeds as groves of bioluminescent coral expand across the dying mind of the Sunshark.

A sunshark is not an individual thing; it is a nation, an ecosystem, an organization. Even in the days where Hades' realm offered the tantalizing possibility of escape these things were immortal for they were the greatest of Demeter's children. Even when the field is ploughed the growing climate remains the same.

And so Liquid Bronze moves through the wreckage of the Leviathan. In his wake comes his robed legion of Biomancers, and their endless swarm of drones. They set about the rituals required to asset-strip and repurpose the fading starbeast. From its bone marrow it begins to drip battlecrabs by the tens of thousands, its heart is surgically implanted with the [i]Cancellation[/i]'s salvaged engine, and the great cathedral to Poseidon in the Sunshark's throat crawls with drones that scratch at the mortar and carry away loosened stones. 

The hunt will resume. No matter the cost.

*

[b]Bella and Redana![/b]

The corridors are filled with moonlight.

Moonlight is, in the end, just sunlight. The same kind of sunlight that'll burn the wings right off a girl who flies too close to the realm of the Gods. Someone down here had the bright idea to play the gods off against each other so hard that it momentarily broke time and now it's getting bright - and it's getting [i]hot[/i]. In your Auspexes you can feel the Eclipse coming - and with it a time of disaster. All the delicate balances that go into keeping a ship alive are starting to come down.

You got lucky with Vesper last time. Her plan worked. Everyone was saved. Everything came right in the end.

She's going to roll those dice again. She can't help herself. Not when she's like this. Bigger and better. Double or nothing.

Iskarot is here with you, back in his familiar rubber-yellow robe, carrying a heavy medical case. He cautiously stays in between each of you; your auspexes together, the two Eyes of Hermes, together representing more awareness than he could possibly have on his own.

[b]Dolce and Dyssia![/b]

You have stolen an army. In some ways this is easier than it might sound.

Imagine that you have stolen a fighter jet. Being expected to operate from an airbase, it does not have a lock or car-alarm or any other top level security features. You can simply hop in and start flying - if you know how, and if you can keep up with the punishingly elaborate maintenance routines required for sustained operations. The Summerkind are not drones, to swarm with perfect obedience, who are always at risk of being redirected by another Biomancer - they are a full Servitor species designed for full integration with the military of the Endless Azure Skies at a moment's notice.

You have one Biomancer deeply familiar with the design and operation of the Summerkind, you have Dyssia - an Administrator Species, and the only one on board other than the Ceronian's magos prisoner. This is enough to ensure that you, Dyssia, are personally in charge of this entire ship. That much is not in question.

What is in question is how you're going to keep it together. This is the hard part.

Even the Publica does not deploy different battle servitor species alongside each other because of the catastrophic levels of competition it creates. The Pix and the Ceronians were already feuding, but the presence of the Summerkind destabilizes that already delicate balance. The Ceronians are using their own pet Azura as a political center to start making Summerkind loyal to them, the Pix are beginning to intervene to stop this happening, what senior Summerkind there are are desperately trying to figure out what's going on and why, and even if your personal presence can calm down flashpoints it's a big ship and you can't keep the wolf away from the rabbit and the rabbit away from the lettuce at the same time. Put three Servitors species in a closed environment and there's [i]going [/i]to be a war. 

(And that's not even taking into account that territory is cramped due to the Tidal infestation on the lower decks, which is becoming increasingly violent and agitated for some reason, and that the ship's general crew is resort planet Servitors and not a true voidbreed).

This is a crisis point. Give it your best, and know that it might not be enough.