Scene #9120: Syzygy - Union Members Need Not Apply

Owner	Pose
Dysnomia	The cargo bay, for all its futuristic bells and whistles, had a similar vibe to a warehouse floor. While lights hummed overhead, lightening bare industrial walls inactive cranes and goods of all stripes, held fast to pallets by spools of thick wire, with bright yellow arrows painted on the floor. It might not have been the most comfortable place on the ship, but it was without a doubt the most roomy, and Dysnomia had used it to arrange a card game, shifting a few boxes of MREs into a long table, surrounded with chairs. Captain watched from a high place, half-concealed between two pallets, seeming certain of her stealth. For a psychic, Dysnomia seemed very surprisely bad at cards, grumbling to herself as she kept losing at pivotal moments. A few things happened very quickly. In space, beyond the hull something touched the minds of the whales. It startled to a stop, alarmed, not anticipating that someone might already have asserted control. They crooned a confused, frightened sound, in the language of gravity, song reverberating against the hull until it seemed to sing beneath the crew's feet. Meresankh's instruments, back in her quarters, began to shift and slide, as the subtle waves of psychic power rose in a roaring, rising tide. The world rippled. Not through space, but through the way that the self whispers into being from synapse to synapse. A flick of conciousness, a shifting, a great weight sinking into the water behind you. The lights of the Syzygy flickered and hummed, dimmed and brightened. Captain spat, yowled, pressing harder into her hiding spot. The crew could feel it--A breathing on the back of their neck, slitted eyes watching through the seaweed, the gaunt face pressed against the porthole, smiling. There was no one there. It was in the room with them. It was Dysnomia who was hit first. Teetering in her seat. Falling forward, face first, onto the table, cards scattering haphazardly around her, as her body grew fuzzy and indistinct. One by one, all but implacable Echolalia were pulled down into the depths of their own conciousness by the pitch of dream. Awareness slipping through her fingers like bubbles escaping in the gasps of the D R O W N E D . . .
Dysnomia	Of all of them, Khosa took the longest to pull under. A disciplined mind was nothing to be underestimated, but the sheer weight of the claws sunk into her mind dragged her still, but Khosa grasped something. A mind. A feeling. There's a hurt, bone-deep, enough to drive one to wail, and plastered over its top. A burning righteous rage. The implacable weight of loss. I'll show you, she heard the mind hissing, though she knew the words were not meant for her. Just what they REALLY are. And then the blackness took her, too.
Dysnomia	There's cacophony-- --shouts and yells and-- --You're hungry and cold. Ask for more. His eyes are helpless when he says-- --There are signs. Pried off bits of hull, with words written across them in an unsteady scrawl. ORBITER INDEPENDENCE. ADMIRALTY? OUT OF TOUCH! Maybe you made some of them yourself. There's a nervous tension in the air, something between excitement and dread...Or both, at the same time. The man at the front of the crowd has a tidy beard. His hair has too much gray in it, for his age. But that's a common side effect, at his age. "I know some of you are scared. But, we can't keep living like this..." --Your hands are shaking. Plugging in hurts. But you can't stop. Can't let them see. You need this job-- "If we don't stand up for ourselves here, they'll keep walking all over us." He offers you a smile. You know him. A friend. Comrade. "You all know the plan." And, the crew finds they do. Shut down the machines. Take control of the airlocks. Broadcast their demands. Leave Unn no choice but to listen to you. Show them how much power you really have. There are some cheers in the crowd, but the mood simply isn't jubilent enough for it. Hands grip signs white-knuckle tight. People's faces are soot-stained and firm. Grim, steely determination. "Excuse me..." The man pushes through the crowd, briefly, to you. Other people take his place, doing their best to rally the crowd. "...I have a favor to ask." "My daughter wouldn't take no for an answer." His gaze touches on a young woman with bright eyes and brown hair. Their eyes met. "If something goes wrong...Promise me you'll make sure she gets out alright."
Meresankh	Meresankh is not unfamiliar with dreams. She does not sleep, or has not since the Great Sleep, which was more death than slumber. However, her interest in restoring the minds of her people has led her to study the processes of organic consciousness, including sleep and the curious activities of the brain during those periods of repose. When the dark took her aboard the Syzygy, there was hardly time to wonder how. The cessation of consciousness would send the Cryptek into a panic if not for her dulled capacity for physiological fear, and even so an instinctive terror grips her as she regains her faculties. Last time she slept, sixty million years passed. How long did she spend adrift under the light of Ran? How did she get here? How much has she forgotten, lost to the depths of time and the slow, certain decay of her mind? There is, however, something calming about the presence of... comrades, perhaps even kin, thronged around her in the staging-room for this little revolution. It's almost enough to let her fully suppress the trembling inherited from her long-lost biological origins. But not quite; she is clearly frightened. And somewhat alone in her fear, for it runs much deeper than simple anxiety about the mission ahead. The mission! It is time, apparently - and who is she to doubt that it is so? Shut down the machines, that she must know how to do. No technology that arose in the sixty million years of the Great Sleep could even pretend to rival the Necrons at their height; surely nothing more could come of the next sixty, if it has been so long. And if so, there is no more time to waste. Meresankh steadies herself, narrows her eyes in determination, and switches her optics to scan for thermal or other radiations. Follow the heat and you will find the energy, follow the energy and you will find the machines. She's halfway to the door when she remembers the man's request, his bright-eyed daughter, and turns around. Was she a volunteer for the mission, despite her age? Whoever she was, she seemed no more perturbed by Meresankh's presence than anyone else, further evidence that Meresankh should know more of what's going on, that she's met these people before, and that she simply doesn't remember. It's good that she doesn't have the reflexes to shudder at the thought. Wouldn't do to show fear in front of someone who'd be counting on her for safety. Lost in thought for a long moment, Meresankh looks to Odette, the only familiar face - and a suggestion, perhaps, that less time has passed than she first feared. Then her gaze settles again on the new volunteer. "We will keep you safe."
Odette Raskins	At least Dysnomia's not the only terrible one at card games. Odette's just awful at them, but not through bad luck or anything like that. By any reasonable metric, she's actually got pretty good luck! She's just prone to rolling way too high and blowing her own ass up. She takes in all good fun, of course, but there's the occasionally grumpy pout at her big gambit turning out to be basically nothing but a badly concealed bluff. Captain getting agitated at something unseen isn't a sign of danger right away to the EMT. She goes over to try and soothe the cat with light cooing noises and "Aww, what's wrong"'s, inadvisably holding a hand out to see if she can't calm her down with the presence of a familiar face. As she does, though, she feels something odd behind her, near her, around her, and she tries to ignore that feeling as best she can. It's just nerves. Nothing's watching them. There'd have to be someone there to be watching all of them. Hearing Dysnomia fall over, however, gets Odette turning in surprise. "M... Miss Mia?! What's wr...?" In her haste to run over to check on her, the EMT gets pulled down soon after, sliding just so along the floor of the cargo bay and ramming into a crate with her injured arm just as consciousness leaves her. --- Groaning as she starts to reawaken, Odette blinks her eyes groggily as she starts to recognize... Who are they? Coworkers. Comrades. People she's been working with for a while. People that she's been planning with for a while. Follow the plan. Do what needs to be done, just like they would. She inhales deeply, then nods at the graying man. "W.. will do. Don't worry, we'll be okay. W-we all will." What's supposed to be happening? No time to think too hard about that now. It's almost time to get started, isn't it? The man asking for a favor gets her attention, though, and she follows his gaze over to the young girl over there. She couldn't be any older than Odette, maybe her age at best if she aged super gracefully? It's hard to tell. "Huh? Oh, um.. O-of course. But don't worry, really. We'll... We'll be okay. I've got plenty of..." She pats her trusty bag of medical supplies. Is it even there? Wait, is she still in her Company uniform? That might help deflect attention, if... If this is still one of her stations. This is still one of her stations, right? It has to be. She starts towards the medbay she's been to dozens of times by now, trying to remember the way there, trying to recall if there was anything else she needed to grab from there to make sure things go without a hitch. She's really forgetting a lot today.
Echolalia	Echolalia is lucky at cards but she's real bad at bluffing. She cackles and grins and vibrates intensely whenever she has good cards. She's better when she has a bad hand in theory but since she's not hooting and hollering, it's pretty easy to tell when she at least has an 'average' hand. She blinks once when the presence arrives. Her eyes glow faintly green as she extends out her mind and she says, Hey...Lucida. Come on, she'll tell them-- She frowns, thinking of the Mia she has gotten to know over the past few months. [ransi(2,Well...Telling them this way is cutting out a lot of context...)] Echolalia sighs. ...I know you all hate me for sticking by her but she's a victim too, you know that right? She closes her eyes, reaches out with her mind but now in a different direction... IN THE DREAM... A tiny green dragon poofs onto Odette's shoulder and she says, "Behold....! The great and mighty Echolalia is here to free you from this--why is my voice squeaky?" She looks down at her tiny body. "No... Noooooo.....I don't wanna be small..." Her squeaky dragon voice whines before she shakes her head quickly and tries to crawl up Odette's face to hide underneath her hat. "Odette..." She says. "Okay I know what this is about... There's about to be, um, a strike. And it's going to go bad, okay? But... I'm here to help, okay? So maybe it...can go less bad?"
Dysnomia	The presence in the room hissed back at Echolalia. You think that makes it better? You don't know anything! There's no masking the hostility, and no attempt to do so. You disgust me; you're complicit. Do you even CARE what she did while you stood by her? The nothing seethed around Echolalia, but she was too entrenched in her own power to be touched by it. Alas. That did not mean that she couldn't dive into the dream on her own. What are you doin-- Echolalia dove after them, sounding the depths of the dream...
Dysnomia	Echo's appearance wasn't subtle, or quiet...But, none of the other workers acknowledged Echolalia's presence--as if they can't see her at all. Her presence cuts through the unreality of the dream. Something solid to hold onto... The girl couldn't be older than fifteen, the way those too-big, hand-me-down clothes swallowed her made her seem younger. "He sent you, didn't he." There's a line between terror and grim determination, and her young voice trembled precariously atop that line. "I deserve to be here..." Her eyes flicked toward her father, biting on her lip, hard. "And I don't need protecting." --Start working with the others on the line soon. Too young? Couldn't afford to-- The workers made their way into the factory--it was locked, but someone had the code. They worked here, after all... Meresankh's scarabs follow everyone though the factory, winding toward the machines. She knows what she should find, context sliding into her mind like it had been there all along; grotesque seats that stabs a needle into a psychic's spinal port, connecting them to mining machines, burrowing into asteroids. They weren't weapons, they were mining equipment--but they were heavily armored to survive microasteroid impacts, and their psionic drill could cut through steel. They would be instrumental leverage, in demanding-- --Something was wrong. When miners slipped into the seat, ready to boot up the systems...They just...Didn't run. "I don't know what to make of this..." Your friend said, grimacing. Meresankh, however, did--once the panel of a machine was ripped open, even looking at foreign, psionic tech, she could see where it was missing vital pieces. Sabotage? Emergency lights shone from above. A crisp, bored voice in a transatlantic accent sounded over the intercom. And it was...Familiar. "Attention, rogue laborers. We have provided you an opportunity to prove our predictions false." There's a heavy impact, doors flung open. Men in faceplaces, heavy gear and glowering weaponry stormed out. From...The inside. There was a sound of doors slamming shut, as the building went into lockdown. "An opportunity I always knew you would squander."
Odette Raskins	"We will keep you safe." Oh, good, finally! a familiar face. Breathing out a heavy sigh of relief, Odette looks like she's about to latch onto Meresankh as she hurries over to greet her, but stops herself at the last second (and also so she doesn't collide with her. "Miss Meresankh! Oh, oh good. You're... Okay. I-I was worried I'd have to do this myself, but... Okay. We just gotta make sure things don't go terribly wrong. L-like..." What exactly is going to happen, anyway? What do they even have to do here? she still doesn't fully know, but Meresankh's presence starts to clue her in. "Wait, when did you start... Um. Working here? W-wait, no, that's not right, is it?" A tiny Echolalia appears! Odette jumps a bit at her sudden appearance, not recognizing her until she says her name. That's not right, either, is it? "Aren't you...? Um. N-normally bigger, Miss Echolalia?" She asks while looking over the shoulder-sized dragon, eyes gelaming after a moment once the surprise wears off and gets replaced with awe and saccharine. "Aw...! D-don't worry, I'll keep you safe, too. I've got..." Inhaling deeply to puff up her chest, Odette quickly hunches over again once she realizes it might just look like she's showing off. Instead, she reaches up to brush a finger over Echolalia's head, then blinks slowly at her explanation. "Is that what's going on? W-wait, bad how? L-like suppression bad?" She asks, saying 'suppression' in the same hushed tone that someone would use to talk about an execution. She takes another moment to steady herself with a deeper inhale, then fights the urge to nod with her a new passenger and just settles for pumping her fist once. "G-got it. What's the plan? If I can get some rollers or bags ready, that might help with the... Worst case scenario. But if it goes real bad, I'll... I don't know how much those'll really help. But if we're going with the..." She's really expecting the worst now, and she doesn't really know where she's going at all. The girl that the man directed her towards doesn't seem too keen on leaving, either, but the terror in her eyes is clear enough: She's being coerced to be here, isn't she? She can't force her to leave, but she can at least make sure she gets out of here alive, too. Just stay with the group, safety in numbers, all that. The sabotaged machine doesn't really make much sense to her either, but it's easy enough to tell that something isn't working properly. The voice coming through the intercom all but confirms it. That's- "The captain." Odette murmurs in a hushed, vaguely annoyed tone as she recognizes the voice without recognize it at all. There's still something off, but there's not much time to consider options at all with all those armored men coming in to meet the strikers here. If they weren't armed, that'd be one thing. With those weapons, though, she can only assume the worst, and she only has a moment to buy some time. Slipping a hand into her duffel bag, Odette rummages around rapidly until she finds just the thing she needs for this kind of situation: A jar of clear fluid. "W... Wait up! Stop!" She shouts while slipping and sliding between all those workers between her and the front of the oncoming guards, popping the lid off the jar just as she gets there. Lowering her voice, she whispers so quietly it might be hard for Echolalia to actually hear her. "Dropping in a second. If they come any closer, be ready to... D-do something, I guess?" She doesn't elaborate, but it's probably clear enough to the mini-dragon once Odette pratfalls right in front of everyone, complete with loud yelp and spilling her jar of stuff all over the doorway. It just looks like water, so it should be fine, but she looks utterly embarrassed (mostly faked) as she tries to slink back into the crowd. The clear fluid, of course, is an unholy concoction of slippery bullshit, perfect for clogging up doorway like that one. She just has to hope nobody catches on until the guards try swarming in further.
Meresankh	When the soldiers storm into the room, Meresankh only briefly considers killing them all. She could do it, of course, but not instantly, not without risking her peers, and a bloodbath is not the goal here. Her target is the station itself and its broadcast equipment, not its less revolutionary inhabitants. Instead she mentally computes a blueprint and waves her sceptre in an arc. The luminous green orb at its tip projects a simple holographic wireframe of a floor-to-ceiling wall between the guards and the rebels, which then materializes into opaque black stone. It would take heavy explosives or one of the mining rigs to get through it quickly, and neither of those are options the soldiers appear to have at hand. "I've bought us some time. Only a little," Meresankh buzzes. While she speaks she recalibrates her vision to the electromagnetic spectrum, looking for local radio or microwave hotspots. If anything these soldiers are carrying is 'smart', it may as well already belong to the Cryptek - AR displays, guided weaponry, remote-detonated explosives, brain implants, the works. Her sceptre shifts to a green-blue as she begins to tamper with anything open to a remote signal, falsifying data and commands where possible and scrambling the rest.
Echolalia	''N-normally bigger, Miss Echolalia?'' Echolalia whines, "Yeeaaahhhh... yeeeeeaahhh yeeeeaaaahhh..." But a plan? That's easier said than done. Echolalia isn't actually in the fantasy so she can only act in ways that violate the rules of the very system they've all been placed in. "So um... Mia... Isn't really on good terms with the Etherwyrms OR the people of the Terran Authority because she, um, well she ...maaaayy have broken this strike and.....maybeawarcriminal. But--! It's not what she's really like. I mean, you've gotten to know her--especially you, right Odette? So um..." Sabotage. Doors slamming shut. Dysnomia speaking... "Maybe we can stop this from happening, stop Mia from making the same mistake twice." Echolalia suggests. "Snap her out of it so she knows not to do it again--um, though I'm banking that it's her, it's a little hard to pick out... I'm not sure the tragedy can be stopped without Mia on our side here... Lucida--The wyrm that put you here can just reinforce the scenario over and over until we experience it too. And... And we should make sure that uh--that girl who doesn't want to be protected? We should probably um. Protect her. Her dad too if we can."
Dysnomia	For a moment, it's almost as if the world is trying to reject Meresankh and her spectre. After all, this isn't the way it happened. But, nevertheless, Meresankh's walls slipped into reality. There was a soft sound of something not-quite-like firearms from the other side, and streaks of blue cut through the black stone...But left no holes. They phased through solid objects like they weren't even there. The shots went wild. But one of them carved through the old man, leaving him staggering backwards. At first, it didn't seem to have done much at all. Memories are ripped violently from them and twisted, amplified in all the ways that hurt. An inconvience grievable. A grief unspeakable. He fell to his knees, his body shook. Hands raked across his face hard enough to draw blood. "Dad!" The girl reached out toward the old man, only to be pulled back. That's supposed to be your role. "Let me go--" The dream hasn't quite caught up to the fact that the soldiers were stopped. When she reached out for devices to heck, she finds a veritable gold mine. She found a complex network of signals, radio chatter and updates--But the moment she started to scramble them...They just, stopped. "You should know better than to think you can outmaneuver me." Frustratingly, the guards seem to abandon any smart weaponry...But she can get into the factory computer. With a little time, the doors would be entirely under her control...She could even lift the lockdown. More guards scramble through another entrance--and comically slide and slip over each other, falling one on top of them other in a little pile--No. There are more footfalls, more weapon fire. There was only way left safe to the exit, but it wouldn't stay safe for long.
Odette Raskins	"I've bought us some time. Only a little," "A.. Anything we can get. Thanks! A-and thanks for not... Um. Zapping them?" Odette isn't actually all that certain what Meresankh is capable of, but she's seen those cute little robot scarabs of hers. It wouldn't be unforeseeable that she could use those to shock or inject all sorts of stuff into the guards if she had the mind to do so, and that's even assuming they're not equipped with lasers or something. Plus, the wall isn't shooting kill lasers at them, or she'd probably be hearing screams right about now. "So um... Mia... maaaayy have broken this strike and.....maybeawarcriminal." "I mean, you've gotten to know her--especially you, right Odette?" That's who that is! Wait, but does Mia noramlly talk like that? She's heard her speaking before, about projects and food and people and all sorts of other things, but she's never heard her talking to anyone about something like this. "She did? but then... W-w-wait, but we're in here, and we're with the strikers. D-doesn't that mean we'll get caught up in all this, too?!" She asks while rubbing her face from that little spill she took earlier, sniffing once and taking a second to stick a little wadded up tissue segment into her nose. "She didn't strike me as the person to be a... Um. Strikebreaker, no. Maybe a little rough with her words sometiems, depending on who she's talking to, but..." She purses her lips, letting her memory wander back to more conversations she's heard before coughing lightly into her hand. "I mean... I want to believe she wouldn't be that kind of person, either, so I will." She says, trying to reassure Echolalia with a light tap on the brim of her hat while turning back to the strikers with Meresankh's wall safely behind her. "But how do we snap her out of it? A-are those.. Um. The girl, and her dad. Are they people that were important to Miss Mia?" There's the issue of actually figuring out how to save them, too, but there's so much already running through Odette's head. Hearing those shots coming from behind her get her yelping in surprise, then breathing a sigh of relief once she remembers that Meresankh put a wall there. That, in turn, goes right back to terrified yelping as the blue shots come whizzing past her, and she dives to the ground with her hands covering her cap-based Echolalia protectively. "A-are they really opening fire?! Is that what happened?" She asks the tiny dragon, peeking up for a moment before releasing the cap. Seeing the shot hitting the father, Odette draws in a sharp breath before scurrying towards him, moving at a rapid clip even while crawling along the ground to get to him. No visible wounds from the shots directly, but something to trigger a terrible physical reaction. She shoves her hand into her bag again, then brings out a syringe and a bottle. For someone his age and his size... No, a few years younger, if her past estimates are any indication. A slightly heavier dosage, then. "We'll take care of him! Y-you get somewhere safe, too!" She barks out to the girl, drawing a precise amount of sedatives from her bottle and moving smoothly to get it back into her bag. She slips one arm around the old man to try and pin his arms down to prevent further clawing, then flips the syringe around to jab it right into his arm for a controlled injection. "Easy, easy! Settle down, we got you. You'll be fine." She speaks clearly and concisely, shushing quietly to try and get him to settle down. From there, she can hopefully start leading him towards the exit, or even just haul him onto her shoulders for proper carrying if she underestimated his age.
Meresankh	"She didn't strike me as the person to be a... Um. Strikebreaker, no. Maybe a little rough with her words sometimes, depending on who she's talking to, but..." The Necron listens to Echolalia's account of the situation, and Odette's reaction, with interest. "This is a... re-enactment? I see." So it hasn't been sixty million years, then. "What were these people fighting for, Echo?" Meresankh watches the old man collapse with a disinterest that could be shocking to anyone who doesn't know what the rest of her mind is doing. "Working on the doors," she mutters. "We need to either move or make time. Can we do either of those?" Seeing Odette heading toward one of the remaining exits, Meresankh moves to follow while continuing her electronic break-in. "Let's get out of here," she orders to the other rebels.
Echolalia	''That's supposed to be your role.'' 'Lucida! Don't you think it's kind of fucked up to put her through this again? To put ''your'' people through this again? To put poeple you don't even KNOW through this?' But Echolalia isn't really expecting to make headway there. After all, these are conjured memories not people. But is still troubling to her. It isn't like a movie ot her, after all, with that veneer of illusion. ''You should know better than to think you can outmaneuever me.'' 'Mia, you gotta snap out of it!' Echolalia pushes telepathically. But she doesn't even know if she's Mia or a conjured memory as well. Not that it's really Mia of today either way. ''Doesn't that mean we'll get caught up in all this, too?!'' "We're already caught up in it, Odette!" Echolalia chirps adorably which ruins the impact of urgency she's going for. ''I want to believe she wouldn't be that kind of person, either, so I will.'' "...I..." She's partly relieved, partly worried. "I don't know... I wasn't around when she made all those cool memories with all of you...! maybe remind her of them?" ''Are they people that were important to Miss Mia?'' "No." Echolalia says. "Don't think so. But that's why..." She looks to the Necron for a moment and bobs her head. "Mhm, there's psychic force willing the story to go as canon, but it seems you can resist it to some extent...!" ''What were these people fighting for, Echo?'' "Um, well... the stuff people always ask for, right?" She asks rhetorically. "Better working conditions, a future... The Admiralty cares a lot about, you know, being orderly, a certain, uh, 'philosophy' of everyone serving the coommon society..."
Dysnomia	The story has gone well off the rails, by now. The memory of Meresankh's incredible arsenal, Odette's intrepid shenanigans and Echolalia's disruptive guidance turning inevitable horror into near miss after near miss. The narrive ripples with displeasure with every miracle, every deviance. Odette, tending the father, manages to carry him forward. The sound of the guards coming back around through the backways of the factory was rising, and the crew found themselves face to face with a locked bulkhead door, lined in threatening red. There's no way out. There's no way without losing them. There's no-- But Meresankh's knew she could break through. And so she did. It shuddered. WHen it opened, they were home free-- --A line of sizzling light cut through the air, leaving a sharp scent of ozone in its wake. It cut across the door, melting it shut. The narrative still had one last trick. WARRANT OFFICER DYSNOMIA ALTAIS-01 LAMBENT NAVIGATOR, GUARDIAN OF UNN She was...smaller. With a more youthful face. Her hair was short, barely past the length of her ears. Her suit was familiar, with a variety of unfamiliar military pins to her breast. "Your lack of civic pride has been noted." Her voice was cool. Her eyes were cold. Lightning played about her fingertips. "Surrender the leadership of this insurrection and your compliance may be taken into consideration...during your judgment."
Odette Raskins	"We're already caught up in it, Odette!" "I know I know but still! W-we weren't even here, but who knows what'll happen if we get hit with one of those? O-or worse?!" Odette definitely sounds like she's freaking out alraedy, but she's still doing her damndest to subdue the girl's father before he can do more damage to himself. "We need to either move or make time. Can we do either of those?" "Both. Gotta... I-if we just move, we'll be cornered, and then..." Odette shivers lightly at recalling what had happened with the man moments ago. "Can't have that happening. No, we need to slow down the officers, or..." She glances over at Meresankh, then bites her lip, like she's considering something that she really doesn't want to say. It probably doesn't fully help that she isn't familiar with what Meresankh is actually capable of yet, but knows well enough what Dysnomia could and would do in a fight. And considering what she's seeing here already... At this point? It couldn't hurt to ask. "Miss Meresankh... Can youw all us off again, then space the room we were in? Th-then..." "Mhm, there's psychic force willing the story to go as canon, but it seems you can resist it to some extent...!" "Maybe that'll a be big enough punch to the story to... I dunno, throw it all off course! Or even wake Miss Mia up, so she knows we're here!" Odette spitballs, clearly not having a great idea of how brain stuff works. "Oh geez oh heck, this... Wh-why couldn't Mister Flamel have been here?!" Thankfully, Odette can feel things shifting, and not just in her usual panicky way of feeling way too in tune with everything going on around her. No, there's a sense of displeasure hitting her even as she drags the father away from the hell that is the front, hauling him over her shoulders for easier transport that also conveniently lets her keep his arms from reaching his face so easily. If only there wasn't a locked door. Stepping rapidly in place as she tries to figure out a way around that, ODette's face is in a state of constant panic that only wears off once Meresankh opens it up, and she's about to run on through with the rest of the strikers when- No, the door isn't open at all. Instead, it gets melted shut, and the EMT very nearly topples over in her haste to not rush right into it with her living cargo. Squealing lightly at the sight and the stench, she turns around to see a younger Dysnomia threatening the strikers and the group alike. Odette stares at her in utter disbelief, both at seeing a younger Mia and at the demands being leveled at everyone. Not just the threats, but the way she's speaking. This doesn't sound anything like the Dysnomia she knows. "M... Miss Mia? What are you doing? This isn't..." She pauses, growing uneasy as she struggles to consider what her relationship with Dysnomia even is. Co-workers, definitely, but how much does she really know her to begin with? Certainly not enough to ever picture her looking like this. "... You're on the wrong side! Weren't we on our help these kinds of people?! N... Not be a strikebreaker of all things!"
Meresankh	"Um, well... the stuff people always ask for, right? Better working conditions, a future... The Admiralty cares a lot about, you know, being orderly, a certain, uh, 'philosophy' of everyone serving the coommon society..." As she works on the door, Meresankh chatters distractedly. "But... the 'common society' is these people. You can't have one without the other. Why is it that on so many worlds, the people become an expendable commodity for their governors? One moment, I nearly have this open..." That moment passes, and the door is welded shut in an instant by Dysnomia's plasma. Meresankh whirls, and on reflex shouts "You DARE!?" before remembering her place in the 're-enactment' and recovering her composure. "That is to say, if you knew this was coming, then you'll know these people aren't here to lay down their arms. No matter who you think you represent, these men and women, their voice is the voice of justice! It will be heard, and you will see what it can do!" The Necron flourishes her cloak, and a thin beam of green light emerges from her sceptre. Her aim appears to be a little off as the beam strikes the floor near Dysnomia, but it tracks in a rapid arc toward the psychic. Whether it finds its mark on Dysnomia's body or she raises some defense, it is revealed to be only a beam of light - not an organic disintegration ray, or a focused conduit of plasma, but a simple projection of harmless, luminous energy. Meresankh's true gambit is revealed a split-second later, as at least a half-dozen scarab drones finish skittering and leaping across the floor toward Dysnomia. These machines are outfitted not with grinding maws but paired fangs which bite downward, spider-like, through the psychic's jumpsuit. What begins as a sharp pain becomes a nearly-numb warmth. There is a higher order to serve, the sensation implores. Submit to your new purpose. To the will of your Queen. How effective the mindjacker scarabs will be against someone with well-honed psychic potential is uncertain, but perhaps Meresankh can at least slow her down, shake her faith in her orders...
Echolalia	''Warrant Office Dysnomia ALTAIS-01 Lambent Navigator.'' Echolalia stalls for a moment, thinking about how pretty Mia looks. She peeks her head out from underneath Odette's hat. Cute, cute cute-- "Erk, sorry, sorry... Um, don't let Mia kill you....? Wait...maybe..." She fliese out from underneath Odette's hat to throw herself at Dysnomia's face. "Mia Mia Mia Mia! You don't gotta do this, your dad's a jerk, you'll regret it you totally will forever and ever so in this dream maybe...maybe you don't gotta! Okay??" She cranes her head to look to Odette, "Yeah...! This isn't who youa re anymore...! ... No, it never was who you ''were''. They twisted you, manipulated you... I know it doesn't make it ''okay'' but... But it isn't you, Mia. It just isn't...!" ''But... the common society is these people.'' "Uh well, some people are more society than others." Is Echolalia's hurried explanation. "I mean, I'd rather it not be that way but..." She is so focused on trying to reahc Mia that she doesn't quite realiz just what Meresankh is up to.
Dysnomia	"M... Miss Mia? What are you doing? This isn't...You're on the wrong side! Weren't we on our help these kinds of people?!" "The best help is often a guiding hand." She said, steely. "Gentle, or harsh. You forget your duty." "That is to say, if you knew this was coming, then you'll know these people aren't here to lay down their arms." "Before you quash rebellion, you must wait for it to prove itself rebellious." Dysnomia narrowed her eyes. "Your predictability is proof only of your banality. Now..." Plasma arced in her hands. "Mia Mia Mia Mia! You don't gotta do this, your dad's a jerk, you'll regret it you totally will forever and ever so in this dream maybe...maybe you don't gotta! Okay??" "Lia...?" For the first time, a flicker of doubt slides across Dysnomia's face. "...You..." The daughter stares daggers at her, the dream quaking. "You can't undo what's been done." Dysnomia's voice is resigned. "You can't bring back the dead. Some things can never be forgiven. Some things can never be made right." She raised her hand in the air, a lance of burning power forming in her hand, pointed at the old man. "We all know the ending--" --But her moment of melancholy gave Meresankh the opportunity to strike. Scarabs descended on Dysnomia en-mass, digging into her flesh. "What are--You--STOP!" There's a detonation of burning ozone, and suddenly, except for the dreamers, everything came to a halt. "Stop it...!" Everything except...The girl. Her eyes burned a deep, angry red, with no pupil,s and her hair began to drift, weightless and ethereal. She scowled at Echolalia. "Still. You're a thorn in my side." "You think they would understand what she's done, if they didn't feel it?" Lucida spat. "To me. To my people. My father." --live feed. Flickering flatscreens. You try to stay still as you're jostled. You watch, as a firing line aims at leaders of the strike. You force yourself to watch the moment your father dies-- "You'd never tell them what she is. So I will."
Dysnomia	"And you." Lucida speared Echolalia with a burning glare, a sneer. "You think I don't know how you'd tell the story?" "'Look at how much she's changed.' FUCK you." The dream shimmered with her animosity, ripples in the fabric of the landscape. "Like you weren't wringing your hands while she was still doing it all, 'Oh, she's a victim too. Oh think about poor Mia.' Don't make me LAUGH!" But she's not laughing. She's shaking. "Pretending you thought of anything but how fucking 'hot' a girl is in uniform. I see you. And you disgust me." She turns to the others, scowling, now, to make her final case. "You lucky fuckers. You? You get to push around inevitablity. You get to pretend this happened differently. You? You get to wake up." "This fucking bitch destroyed my life." She spat at Dysnomia. "And how many others, huh? How many more strikes? How many deaths? How many fucking 'suggestions' that ruined EVERYTHING?!" Dysnomia stood still. Her hands closed into fists by her side. Her mouth formed a line. "You think I kept a list?" "--You--" "You think I dedicated every suppression I ever did to memory?" Her eyes narrowed to slits. "No. All this? Wasn't even worth keeping track of." "You--Fucking MONSTER." It's the first time Lucida's face showed anything but rage. Grief shakes her like a quake, fracturing her face in pain. Glowing tears seep down her face. "Stop dragging it out, worm." Dysnomia leaned forward. "Do it." The pause says everything. "...I'm not here to kill you." Lucida's voice shakes. "--Tch--" "You. Elites or whatever. If this bitch and her fucking overfed houseplant haven't gotten to you yet..." "You get to wake up from this. But I didn't. The only place her navigation will ever take you to is hell. You'd be better off leaving her to rot. Or she'll turn your lives into another nightmare." The dream quivered, shimmered-- "Consider that MY fucking 'prophecy.'" --Shattered. They found themselves sprawled across the cargo bay floor. Emergency lights flashed above. Captain was trying to knead Odette's face. "...ARNING--Dorsal Sail Projector Status Critical. Code yellow. Code orange. Risk of escalating: HIGH--WARNING--Dorsal Sail..." Dysnomia punched the table. Once, gently. Again, leaving a dent in it. Standing up, she walked away, toward the engineer room. Shoulders stiff. Didn't look back.