BlasTech

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Life, like many things, has its series of priorities. Food, shelter, security; the basic wants. The things every person needs. However, once those are a given, a person can be freer to choose how they order and organise their lives.

Speaking of freer ...

A less rigorous schedule was one thing she had never expected to come from the Gala ... but as much as she welcomed it, she found it suspicious. Almira wasn't one to just cave to a few words like that, Mira, herself or even the pinnacle of the Consortium, Adriana. No, if anything, Isabelle had expected her to double-down on her approach ... and the shift in tactics had her worried.

But ... that doesn't mean I have to look a gift horse in the mouth.

There was, after all, plenty to do - and even with the additional time, she'd be hard pressed to do everything before the match.

Hence ... priorities.

Lowest on the list, ironically enough, was mech training. The rationale here was simple - she was already good. Whatever technical ability she could practice, the impact on the match with Kiriala would be marginal at best. Even time spent reviewing the match tapes and files on her would be only worth so much until the moment they both stepped into the arena.

Until she could actually speak to her opponent.

Next on the priorities came R&D work - and that largely boiled down to tinkering with Emberlight and her drones. If the fight with Kirala came down to martial skill, then she'd need all the edges she could get - she'd need something new, something unconventional. And that meant working on the drones - on the visual displacement trick - but also on how far she could push the boundaries on their abilities.

And as for her own abilities ...

That meant lessons with Quar. That meant nights in her lab, or in her room, alone with her drones. Things had been getting ... weird ... for a while now on this front.

--===--

"You sure this thing will work? We made, like, eight of them and only two are functional." she says instead.

"I ... yeah, I think - no, I know they will."

"How can you be sure? I mean, I know you worked on them the longest, so not doubting your skills, but what we're trying to get them to do - the contextual interfaces - it's complex."

"I just know." Isabelle replies, almost shyly. "They'll work."

Isabelle turns the control glove over in her hands. Thinking back to the dance. To that moment when the alarms had gone off and when she and Mira had quickly made their ways back to their respective families. The drones on her dress had immediately taken flight, they'd immediately sought out Asil, guiding her to her target through the suddenly milling crowd.

They'd flocked around them as they'd gathered up Tomas, Rosa and headed for the shuttles. A school of fish, or herd of beasts, on the lookout for predators as they sought safety.

The thing was ... she hadn't told them to do any of that.

Had she?

Something strange was going on - the glove had been good technology, but not that good. And that had been before the twitches, the impulses that had encouraged her to take Quar prisoner. The improvement to her memory.

... the dreams.

-===-

She could now hold a (somewhat basic) conversation with Quar, and what the Zaldarian spoke of was like a whole new world. Spirits, Gods, Geists. The way the Zaldarians thought of their nanotechnology was so different to how she'd expected. It also opened new doors ...

Which took her to what was the highest priority on the list. Trying her best to understand what had happened to her on that moon. What those nanobots the Trak'tho guardian had implanted into her did.

Some of that, was simple science. Examining her blood under microscope in her lab. Admittedly, she was not a biologist, so that avenue was always going to only lead to limited results.

Okay, so - we've learnt that needles still hurt. And blood is meant to be red, right? I should probably be a little worried about those grey flecks.

Which led to the second route. If the Zaldarians thought of these things in terms of spirits or gods, then maybe the way to understanding was through a more ... esoteric approach.

After all, if you needed to talk to the spirits - what better way than to commune?

--===--

The doors are closed, locked against the world (well, almost all the world). Just Isabelle, her drones, and her bedroom.

She kneels in the centre of a cleared space on the carpet. Eyes closed.

Silence.

And ... more silence.

Am I doing this right?

Eventually, she's sure something will happen. Either she'll finally get some insight as to what these vague feelings of unease are about, she'll fall asleep, or she'll get a knock on her door.

Or maybe the door will just unlock. After all - any good priority list must leave a way for it to be overridden; Privileged access. Run as Administrator. Sudo. Programming languages had many ways to name the special type of command that would override anything else that was going on. That could make a computer devote all system resources to a new task.

In her language, it was Asil.

Huntresses of Hybrasil

The music fades out, leaving Mirror and Isabelle standing at the dance floor. The silence - well, relative silence. The party is still ongoing after all - is a welcome respite. In fact, it's more than welcome, it's absolutely necessary. After all, one doesn't have that kind of a speech thrown at them whilst doing that kind of a dance and somehow have a witty one-liner prepared to finish it off with.

It was going to take some time to unpack all this. This ... this ...

Fire and fury ... did she just declare war on my mother??!

That was not an outcome she'd expected when they'd started this dance. Was this going to be a thing? Just continually getting surprised by world-changing events like this every time she just honestly talked with someone?

This galaxy was ridiculous. And the sheer enormity of that thought brought a smile to her face before she could stop it.

"You know, I think I believe you can do exactly as you say, Mira Fishers, whose name is Whispered Promise."

Although in this case, the promise was anything but whispered. she thinks, casting a glance towards where her mother had been standing. Almira has gone, but that's about as comforting as not seeing the snake that had been in the room a few minutes ago.

"I won't bother warning you about just how dangerous she can be. I think you've already weighed that into your plans - but just ... my siblings ... they're in this picture too." she says.

"And ... thank you. For the Name, as well as the lesson. I will need some time to properly process this, but I promise I will."

Huntresses of Hybrasil

"Oh, I have hurt people too" says Isabelle as the two of you come to a stop in the dance floor. There's a pause, a gathering of thoughts, a weighing of scales, before she makes her decision.

She lifts her hands, a signal to resume motion. What motion is up to you, but this is not a conversation that is best had in stillness. For the mind to move, so too must the body. Lest one breaks the spell by paying too much attention to the other.

"And yes, I refer to one in particular; the fight with Ksharta, which was in order to keep someone important to me safe." she continues. "I find myself returning to it again and again. Playing it over in my head to see if maybe I'd choose differently. Take a more merciful approach. But each time I can only come to the same conclusion: I had to do it. I'd do it again. And I am ... not proud of that fact."

The pause echoes, and faintly the words "not a good person" can be heard behind the tail of the sentence.

"Maybe if I were stronger, I wouldn't find myself so ... bothered by it." she admits, as the walls continue to crack. "Mother always says that guilt is a weakness; that one must have the courage to do what must be done - even if someone gets hurt in the doing. So what if our decisions put a rival company out of business? It's like you say - people who are skilled will find new work ... and those who can't will have to make do. After all, business is simply the survival of the fittest. Just like the arena."

"I just ... she says alot of things like that: That family is all. That one's duty is to serve the family. That those who don't contribute to society will be left behind. That those who steal should be punished. That only the foolish believe the universe is fair. That some people have been given the fortune of a better start, and they are stupid if they don't use it to push themselves to realise the highest potential they can be ..."

The dance continues, but Isabelle's mind is moving further away. To nights spent in study, when her mother would tell her that she wasn't tired, just lazy. To the family's daily meal, where her mother would tell her that she didn't really want to eat something more filling, she was just being greedy. To the training accidents, when her mother would berate her for being clumsy.

"I'm not a goddess, nor am I an idiot. I know people can get hurt from the things we do, whether we mean to or not. But sometimes these things just feel ... wrong. I can't explain it - I don't understand it. But that doesn't make the feeling go away."

"In that sense, you have your answers - I hope. My Troubles are plain and plenty. The one who gave them to me is clear - myself. And as for my Loves, well - you were right when you said that I have dreams without a wish. I have things I love doing, machines that I love making, places I love going and people I l- w-well, that I might-"

At this point, a clear blush works its way up onto Isabelle's face.

"The POinT beInG that I have things I love. Okay. And yes, I'm still figuring some stuff out. I mean, I only had my debutante three years ago, and most of the people there were old friends of the family or business partners. Since then, it's been nothing but work and piloting. The boardrooms always have the same six faces (and two personalities) in them and it wasn't until Solarel crashed into that pirate skiff that ..."

"... that things started to really change, I suppose."

She sighs.

"Very well. If you truly think her worth such a price, then I guess I owe it to her to help save her too - even if she did hurt me. And even if you think it irrelevant, I hope you won't be offended if I take steps to at least reduce the harm to those who might get fired because of the broadcast."

I owe that much.

"Which brings me to my next question - assuming we are still in the vein of trading them back and forth and assuming my answer suffices? Why all this to bring down Mayze Szerpaws? I admit I've heard of her designs - seen some tonight, in fact - but beyond that, and maybe having a name that sounds like a bad anime villain whose mech has hand-mounted masers, I don't really know her either. What did she do to earn such ire?"

Huntresses of Hybrasil

"S-Solarel?" Isabelle replies, eyes widening slightly. The two of them continuing in their dance to the beat Mirror has established. One two three. One two three. One two three four five four three. It happens without conscious thought.

"She hurt me once. Like I think she's hurt alot of others along the way." she says, eyes focusing that cold asteroid of memory. "Not intentionally, but ... thoughtlessly, I guess. Didn't even register the pain. It just seemed to be part of how she was. How she moved and how she thought."

"And you want to save her. Love her. And broadcast a ... message?"

Isabelle frowns.

"Will anyone be hurt by this? Won't you be hurt by this?" she asks. "I don't know her that well and I am sorry if this is an offensive question. I just ... don't want to cause more hurt right now. Even unintentionally."

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Mirror

Isabelle dances, letting you continue to lead, as she thinks about what she's going to say next. It's not easy, there's so much there, so many thoughts so many feelings.

Have you ever had so much to say that you feel pulled in six directions at once? Where the simple decision of what to say first feels confining? An array of paths you could take but if only one could take them all - give them all equal importance, equal rights to be the first thing heard and discussed.

It's not made any easier by the rush of impulses that clamour against her mind. The impulse to argue back. The impulse to take back the lead in the dance. The impulse to frown. To posture. To do something back at this strange alien who is spouting ideas at her that feel like they miss who she is while at the same time skewering her through her very core.

What to do, what to say first? How to respond?

She looks around for inspiration, noticing the others watching.

"Your family." she states as much as asks, glancing at the odd delegation around them. "I can see why you'd fight to protect them. You're lucky to have them."

"Family's an odd concept, isn't it? It's not something this tournament can grant. Sometimes ... it's not even what you're born with." she admits, and in those words there is pain for years. Guilt on display. Is this the effect of the Nectar? Or simply cracks opening in walls that have been beaten on again and again in the course of a single night.

"And it's important. Once you've got it, you'll do anything to keep it safe. From thinking on how to kill someone you don't know in case they turn out to be a threat ..." she says, and she dips her head in order to make it clear she is simply acknowledging what you'd said before - without judgement or offence.

"... Or, if you're scared enough, to shoot a girl through the heart just to avoid the risk."

"When I fought Ada Smith, you'd have seen the match - She spoke of her family too. It was a surprise - If she's here tonight I might try to ask her more about them. I feel like it'd help me understand her more."

Isabelle continues, her arms flowing as she follows you through the steps you lay before her. Does she meet your expectations here? And the name you have bestowed? Or is there something more - an extra decimal point that the Thirteen just doesn't quite cover?

"So, a long way to say that I am listening. Tell me your wish, Whispered Promise. Tell me what you'd like me to learn. Tonight seems to be a night for lessons and evolution. And it might be that by the end of this dance I'll be able to tell you my wish too."

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Isabelle watches Adriana go, a dozen questions still buzzing in her head: Whether she'd be okay. Why'd she choose this kind of challenge? What was she trying to prove? The steps needed to set up a factory - joint venture, but she'd have to oversight production. The drones were experimental, custom - any attempt to mass produce was, by nature, going to end with an inferior product. Even if it was still years ahead of the competition, even if it was still good.

Don't close off your heart.

Isabelle's hand twitches. A memory resurfacing - one lost in all the bustle of preparation for the Gala, in the plans and in the battles. A ... question she'd had. An area she needed to learn more about.

There were habits of hers that would be hard to break. Ways of thinking that had been ingrained over decades. She still couldn't think about them taking prisoners, stealing cargo and ships, without feeling genuinely uncomfortable. Such acts were meant to never be justified. The antithesis of liberty and freedom. What the law was meant to stand to protect.

But ...

She'd spoken of family. The dossier had been silent. What more didn't she know? She at least owed it to herself to find out.

The Gala was the opportunity. Every pilot was sure to be there. Including the outlaws. She just had to find her.

After this dance.

She turns, looking at Mira of the Fisher Clan. Looking at the Whispered Promise. Wondering what she'll ask. Wondering what she sees.

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Mirror

Isabelle regards you, frowning and trying to figure out your deal. What you're looking for in dancing with her. Suspicion is there, after all you are a competitor in the arena, but it's not as strong as you might expect. You've no way of knowing - but the shock from misjudging Adriana's actions earlier is still strong in her mind. Between that and the residual effects of the [Nectar], you have a unique window here, a moment before the walls are put back up.

Adriana takes her back to the dance floor, still unsteady, but determined.

As they twirl away in drunken spirals, you watch, observe, and turn syllables around in your throat.

Lozano is a name well known in Terenian space, and chewing it over only shows you her history. Daughter, heir, raised by the woman who is - even now - watching the dancing duo closely from a place behind the food tables. Probably thinking she's being discreet, but clearly far too invested in her monitoring of the situation to care about who notices her.

Isabelle's Terenian star name forms first. It comes as you watch how closely she follows Adriana around, how much attention she pays her - the most powerful woman in their space, the literal sun around which much of their world orbits.

Starchaser.

A fitting name for one always trailing behind those who blaze the path. Whose role is to follow, to pursue, to capture. Uncharitably, it might mean she was always going to be in their wake, but that was not the whole meaning of the word you are forming. To stop there would be ... limiting - stopping at the most basic level of her personality. Unfitting. Incomplete.

You watch her dress closely, those little drones, so intricate - do they seem familiar? Do they remind you a little of the nine-drive system? Although clearly manipulated through a different process. Her own control structure. Unique.

Different - the next level of the name reveals itself. Starchaser. The one who reaches beyond. One who will find the edge of space and keep looking. Keep exploring.

Starchaser. The one who seeks. The one who comes after. Maybe, perhaps, the one who inherits.

It fits well, but here is where simple observation will soon reach its limit. How much more intuition does this moment give you? How much of these next conclusions are you able to reach? Fed by something more than a keen wit - through instinct, superstition and something ... special?

For to translate this sentiment into her Hybrasillian star name will take that something special. An ability to see the webs of destiny and fate and to get an inkling of the strange powers within her - both literally and figuratively. You can't know that Trak'tho technology is in her blood. But do you get a sense that something about her is ... different?

If so, you might start to see the deepest layers of Isabelle Lozano unfurl before you.

Starchaser, whose name is Thirteen Citallic.

Of where she's been, where she is going now, and where she might go in the future. A blueprint to all she was, is and will be.

And if you are able to understand all this, the next question is obvious.

What will you do?

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Adriana

Paranoia is a hard thing to get away from, particularly when you've been raised on it your whole life. When you've been taught to treat everyone as a threat or an opportunity - not to trust, not as company to just enjoy. When you've been taught that building your walls high is the only way to survive.

What do you know about Almira? With all your sources, your power and resources, do you have any better insight as to how she treats her children beyond what's in the tabloids? Can you even imagine what it's like? To be told you're an idiot for every small slip, that you're stupid whenever you just can't do something, that you're worthless if you can't be of value to your mother's plans?

Think then, how it feels for every. single. piece. of praise you've ever received to only have been doled out, sparsely, on those few moments where you've done something that literally anyone else would have found impossible. For every little bit of validation to be locked behind tricks, traps and tests. Everything designed to withhold the one thing any other child would receive naturally - all in the name of forcing a girl to grow up on a preordained path.

What were your parents like, Adriana? Were they better? Or do you understand the sheer scale of damage a parent can inflict on their child's psyche when they want to?

Isabelle's paranoia is a deeply conditioned response, as is her competitiveness, arrogance and her fear. These emotions run a path with very well worn grooves. And one woman's fingerprints are all over it.

That said, all of this simply emphasises just how important it is when that paranoia just ... slips away.

You can see it - the surprise, the widening of her eyes as you actually stumble. That's the moment that she realises you're truly finding it hard to balance - not just acting, not tricking her. The moment her hands go from testing your reflexes to holding you upright earnestly.

She frowns in puzzlement, and then in genuine worry as her own feet stumble.

"What in the ..." she whispers, as the two of you stop dancing - only to sway unsteadily in the middle of the dance floor.

Her hand goes to her forehead, her eyes refocus - as if seeing you more clearly. No. Not just you. But your dress. A flicker of horror even, as she realises what is being done to you against your will.

She places a hand on your shoulder, steadying you both, and closes her eyes.

Click.

Click. Click.

A soft whirring noise comes to your ears as a trio of drones take flight behind her. They're small - each about the size of a fist, but as they float towards you you can see just how much care has gone into their creation. Their shells are polished smooth, their control joints move seamlessly, precisely. They're definitely not mass produced, but are the kind of machines one could spend months building by hand.

They circle around you gracefully, carefully. Like a shoal of fish. Or planets entering into orbit. And with them comes a gentle breeze of fresh air, pushing away the intoxicating miasma that you didn't even realise was engulfing you.

A few deep breaths later, Isabelle opens her eyes. You never even saw her reach for a remote.

"Are ... are you okay?" she asks.

And in that moment you can see what she truly loves: It's not the arena, it's not companies and planets and money. It's not power and planets or politics. Those are things she does. Things she's been raised to do.

She craves validation. She craves love. She craves touch and being held. But they're not what she loves either. They're just things that have been denied her for too long.

No, what she loves - what she truly loves - are things like these drones. Building things. Creating things. Discovering things. It's the love that makes a little girl build a model of the known galaxy, just so she can dream of the edges that are still to be explored. The kind that make a woman spend days tweaking a drone just to make a pretty dress prettier, in a way nobody has before. The kind that drives someone to take a prisoner, when your ruler has told you not to, just so they can learn more about their opponent's culture. The kind that is trying, so hard, to find her own spaces, her own things, free of her mother's influence - but who just doesn't have the strength to do it alone.

Yes, hers is a spark that keeps getting crushed. But you'd be a fool to blame Isabelle for that.

The question is, what will you do with this insight Adriana? Has this put you off her - will you step back and let her fend for herself? Will you just 'see how she goes' - and in doing so, subject her to yet more tests? Will you be just another person who turns their back on her, withholding the things she truly needs?

Or will you help her too?

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Isabelle's world wobbles - Asil's hand is no longer there to anchor her. Instead, it's reality - in the form of a very forward, and drunk Adriana, who is literally pushing her way into her attention.

And yes, alot of this feels weird. Not just that she's now dancing with the most powerful woman in the Consortium (who also seems drunk off her feet). But also that it's happening in the Crystal Gala, in front of three star systems' worth of dignitaries, whilst dressed in a kimono that is trailing snowflakes.

It would be safe to say that nobody, nowhere has ever been in a situation like this one.

... so then why does it feel so familiar?

-=====-

She steps into the boardroom, the first time in front of the directors since her appointment. Their faces turn towards her, frowns at the unfamiliar waif now approaching them. Not sure what to make of her.

One man stands up at her arrival, moving around the table at a speed that is faster than his size would suggest. He is big, easily a head taller than Isabelle, shoulders wider than you'd expect from a lifelong businessman - more suited to a weightlifter or someone who spends alot of times in gyms.

"Isabelle Lozano!" he growls, shoving a hand forward and grabbing her own as he gets uncomfortably close. She's forced to tilt her head back, just to be able to see him. The handshake is strong, firm, dominating. Another message. A message?

"I hope you're up to the task of turning this company around. Profits are down, retention is falling. Our major suppliers are deserting us and it's all thanks to your predecessor that our last flagship investment is not earning the returns it should have." he speaks, hard and fast, giving no opportunity for Isabelle to interject. "I had petitioned your mother to appoint someone with extensive industry experience, but she was adamant on giving you this chance. Given your lack of a track record in mining, I don't know what she's expecting, but I want you to be on notice that the Board will be watching you very closely."

Isabelle frowns. Stopping herself from taking the reflexive step backwards. Overriding instincts that scream at her to dissassemble, to stammer or run from the onslaught.

"Good." she interjects, her own voice hardening. Her own hand tightening on his.

"This company is in a poor position, but it will not stay there for long. I have already worked out three potential strategies to restore Akkanis to profitability, and I hope that today I can make the Board see the value in each." she replies, matching his energy with her own.

"What's more, I have also read up on the profiles of key personnel in preparation for today." she continues, and is pleased when the man's eyes shift slightly. Just a hint of a widening, but well hidden - a valuable talent for someone in his role.

"You can inform my mother that her test has been met." she continues, and by the sudden slackening of his handshake she can tell she hit home with that. "And a credit to your firm for your performance today. Was it Interstellar Motion, or Parascape Pictures? In either case, you nearly tricked me - as you are close enough in appearance to pass for the description I was given of Director Perez. But he's not due back for another week."

The whole room is quiet for a handful of seconds before a single clap echoes from behind her.

"Well done, Isabelle." says her Mother, who dismisses the actor with a glance before gesturing towards the remaining Board members.

"Now, show these gentlemen your ideas."

-===-

It's a bull rush. Aimed to get her off balance with momentum, compliments and insults in just the right amounts. Strikes high and low, but with words rather than a sword. Even the "drunkedness" was an element in the attack - one on social norms and decency that Isabelle was known to hold herself to.

Her eyes narrow, as she steps around - managing Adriana's weight before swinging her upright and giving her the option to step quickly or lose her balance.

"Full of contradictions." she says, helping as much as guiding Adriana through the next moves.

"You claim you can't make head or tails of me, but everything you're doing here - interrupting my dance, insulting me and complimenting me with the same breath, even knowing what I have or haven't been doing with Quar, shows you've been watching me closely for a while. And more than that, you've been analysing me enough to know exactly how to annoy me."

She watches the other woman's face, her arms and body held in hers, for the same tells as the paid actor all those years ago.

"If it's special you want, you can just keep watching - I'll deliver on any challenge you set me, any hurdle that you or anyone else puts in my way." she continues, her voice hard. "And as for your advice on enemies - well, I only make the ones I have to."

Behind that hard mask, she stamps on the flash of pain that the match with Ksharta brings up - she'd had to do it. To protect the things important to her. To protect Asil.

"What I can't understand, is why you care enough to give me advice, but in a way that you know that I'd instinctively want to reject it." she continues.

[Rolling to figure out a person: 3 + 2 + 2: 7 - what do you hope to get from this? What are your feelings towards me? Adriana can ask one.]

Huntresses of Hybrasil

It's the event of the season, retinues and representatives from all corners of the Galaxy! Prime socialising opportunities, and network building to boot.

Yet, for all that, Isabelle can only find her thoughts focusing on the dance floor and the woman's hand by her side. She leads the other woman out, where a small ensemble is currently playing Alazairs Concerto no. 8.

She stands opposite Asil, smiling slightly at the other woman and raises a hand. Asil's out of her element, but can recognise a signal easily enough and places her own against it. They step slowly, giving each other time to acclimatise to the movements, to the beat. Swaying back and forth amongst the other dancers as the whole station seems to fade away into the background.

Eventually Asil gets more comfortable. Isabelle can tell, in the way her shoulders untense. In the way that she starts to lead the movements, despite not knowing the proper steps. She raises an arm and Isabelle twirls beneath it. She comes forward, challenging, and Isabelle steps around her, behind her. Coming up to her side. The dance changes into a game - Asil trying to direct her, Isabelle follows, but at the same time guides. Yes, you can pull me in - but I will step this way, so that we don't collide. Yes, you can send me away, but only till our fingers' last joints - lest I lose you. The two of them feel their way through the set, dancing in harmony while also learning more about one another.

All too soon, the dance will be over. Whether from Almira reminding her duties in socialising. Or maybe Adriana will give her a signal (she hasn't completely forgotten that the woman wanted to speak with her). Or maybe, just maybe, the galaxy can be put on hold for a while and she can just enjoy herself for a few more moments.

"Thanks for coming" she says, as they come together, palms up.

"I know this is not your normal element, but I'm glad I don't have to face it alone."