I am not your rolling wheels, I am a hive mind
THE POMOJEMA
DEEP CORE
DEEP SPACE
Mercy
received such a hero's welcome that Ashin — this place's captain and headmaster for decades until recently — couldn't get near the kaggath victor in a practical sense for a solid two hours past docking. The Pomojema was not a particularly lively or freewheeling place: everyone here was here for serious learning or serious advantage; its students were junior Masters or senior Knights or equivalents from various traditions and factions. But for one of their own to have triumphed at the great galactic kaggath at Ruusan as Bando Gora sorcerers tore open the Valley of the Jedi around her for her glory...even the senior permanent instructors, people like Captain Saavat Kishan and Lord Azel Moran, even they looked decidedly less dour today. And Ashin was reliably informed that upwards of a dozen credible individuals were making (or, by this point, had made) credible attempts to join Mercy's Graspborn coterie or secure a more personal connection.
Two and a half hours later, then, Ashin asked for
Mercy
to join her in their primary old haunt, a scarred small sparring room adjacent to Ashin's chambers. Cognizant that the hero of the hour could not be expected to constrain herself to civilized standards of punctuality, Ashin busied herself with staying fresh. Specifically, she was sitting on the floor and being shot repeatedly in the face with a snubnosed laser cannon. The air conditioning was at maximum and not even close to keeping up.
DEEP CORE
DEEP SPACE

Two and a half hours later, then, Ashin asked for
