The whole workshop has been changed at this point. Better to make it all look appropriate - she's just allotted a portion to him for his use alone. He doesn't seem to mind working in a temple, after all.

"No use hiding it from you, huh?" She smiles his way, setting the unfinished pistol down and tossing a part she messed up to a cat. She's not plugged in right now, but she only does that when she has a lot of work to do.

"I'm really conscious of how this place is functionally a prison sentence. Not that I mind working with you guys, but I got a taste of freedom."

It comforts her to be in these surroundings. On some level, she understands that there's a manic aspect to that, and the little hints that she has nascent supervillain traits never fail to amuse her.

"I'm less and less certain about that. I had ideas of being some big shot artist, but there's an irony to that - at being so good at something that you flip the bit and end up right back at the start again. I can't ever be left alone now that I'm known. People know that I can build and build and build."

She rubs at the base of a scarab's chin. "Of course, they don't know my limits, either. Somehow, I don't think that would matter. So what do I want? I don't know - the power to say 'no,' I guess."

She contemplates the jeweled wings.

"We've got that date tomorrow. Are you looking forward to it?"

"Unfortunately, while I'm sure those people exist, our government is run by a would-be fascist, and even if it wasn't, the state department and Homeland Security would never let someone with my kind of power roam free. It would be a bit like letting a private citizen own a nuclear weapon - it doesn't matter if she built it with her own two hands and bothered no one. It doesn't matter if she never intended on using it. That she might use it is a threat. That someone might make her use it is a threat. International affairs are a game, and you don't leave tools like superheroes on the table and expect not to lose - and when losing means you lose power, when it means you might die, you do everything in your power not to." She looks down at her shabti, the increasingly self-willed pieces of her power, and crouches down to rub their heads.

"Your idea, that people would just let me work on stuff for the 'common good' is not how the world works. People might say they want that, but deep down everyone wants advantage. In the last few months, our government has dropped standards for gas mileage in cars. They've pushed through drilling in protected land. They've pardoned criminals for political points. They locked children in cages for the crime of their parents walking across the border, and some died. They cozy up to dictators in Russia, the Middle East, and North Korea, while demeaning democratic leaders in Canada and Europe. How much force does your optimism carry against that? If I did live in Canada, do you seriously think their government could allow me to operate on my own? Even La Lame Argentee has to step carefully, making deals, because her power won't protect her from a government assassin. What do you think Wetzstein traded to get that building? Do you really believe the statement that said it was out of respect, that it was just their purchase of land? If they run into a CIA black site in some foreign country where they torture people to get around US laws, do you think she or anyone in the organization will lift a finger to assist the people inside, now that they have a treaty with the government that operates it? When a drone bombs a child in Afghanistan, do you think she'll flick her finger and cut drones out of the sky?"

She frowns at him. "What happens if a black man is murdered by police in nearby Boston and the town riots? We'll be called to contain it. Do you really think we'll be allowed to exercise our judgement when we're ordered to put it down? Do you think that if I refused, they'd hesitate one moment to call that a violation of my parole?

"What about the crimes we stop? You've analyzed the statistics - most of the robberies, the petty theft, the laws you enforce on patrol target minorities, who receive harsher sentences than equivalent crimes committed by white people, leading to jail time that hurts their families and leads to psychological damage that leaves them less able to cope with society when they leave, and inevitably get roped back in. Their children grow up with their fathers in prison and have to struggle through endemic racism that the majority white population doesn't give two fucks about really fixing.

"'What about criminal supers?' one might ask. Is it any coincidence that the majority are minorities who don't feel protected by the state? Yeah there's the Neo-Nazi ones and fuck them, but when we stop Ken Cedilla, whose movement is primarily composed of young, disillusioned minorites, are we really doing the right thing? Did I fuck up by providing the information that led to his capture? I don't know! I can't answer that.

"Kenan... the world is not a good place. It's not a happy place. It's not a place where we all come together and figure out solutions to problems. The world where I get to walk out those doors and just live my life like everything is fine doesn't exist, and being optimistic and pretending that it does actually hurts because it's not a real solution to my problem.

"How am I supposed to feel good about any of this when I know that me and my fath-!" She cuts off, almost biting her tongue.

She sighs, turning her head away. "Look at that, we're already fighting. I've gotta go."

She turns, making her way out of the workshop.

Seshat sighs, caught by the sound of her name, and gives him a smile. "I understand, thank you. I would, though... like to reconsider going out with you right now. I was captivated, I admit it, but I'd like to get to know you a bit better before complicating things with a date. Deal?" She holds her hand out.

Depressed as she is, she can't really escape her duties. She sighs and contacts Stream.

{Hey Captain, how did that fabric work out for you and Iry? When you have time, I want to introduce you to the Dragonfly, too.}

After a moment's hesitation, she pings Kordes. {Hey you wanna hang out sometime soon? No pressure or anything.}

Somehow that only makes her more endearing. It's not the kind of mistake Kenan would make, and she suspects Kordes could never follow along with her discussions like he does, but there's something appealing to opposites attract. Besides, Kordes likes listening to her talk.

Perhaps more importantly? They shared more mutual attraction in a few seconds then she and Kenan have in weeks.

{Okay! Kitchen kitchen it is~}

And to Stream {Great! I'd love to see her in action. Meet me in the lab in ten or fifteen.}

She still needs time to clear her head, after all. And use the bathroom, for that matter.

If it wasn't for the stuff Seshat wasn't allowed to work with, the whole building would be steadily revised and updated. Even if she didn't change the aesthetics, she would have reinforced it, layering in composite armor behind the walls, updating the security, planting her little devices everywhere -

She may be a little bit maniacal.

"Yeah, I've been a busy little queen bee lately," she says, not commenting on her throne at one end as they make their way down to where the Dragonfly sits under a massive tent. She pulls aside the flap for Stream and steps within.

The shabti have just about finished the frame. She's not made it over in Egyptian style (mostly). Most of the creations she makes for other people show more of a shared design sensibility, after all. It's a sleek craft with two pairs of variable geometry wings that can shift their orientation, as they contain the maneuvering mechanism. It's not as long and narrow as the term "dragonfly" implies, since it serves as a team carrier, but the cockpit does feature flush windows with facets like a dragonfly's eyes. From within, they serve to subtly expand the field of view for whoever is flying it. It looks like a spaceship, even though it's not sealed to be. The black carbon surfaces have been left mostly as is since it'll be less visible at night, but that's what the projectors will be for.

"So this is her. I haven't started inscribing yet, so she's functionally just a nice little display piece at the moment." She takes Stream up the lowered ramp in the back. There are several points of entry, but this is the primary one. "When she's fully operational, she'll be capable of sustained flight within the atmosphere of 96 miles per hour, 160 in a pinch, and can carry up to 13 passengers. Two in the cockpit, eleven here.

Seats with crash webbing have been unfolded. There's storage space for gear and supplies above and below the seats and restraints for prisoners, doors on either side can be opened as needed. "Aside from these spaces, the seats can be converted to beds for long missions or, I dunno, team campout."

Turning to her, she beams. "The armor is impervious to small arms fire up to and including RPGs, though some modern anti-tank missiles would give it trouble. I've installed early detection capabilities and it's incredibly maneuverable thanks to the anti-gravity drive so even that can be dealt with. The ship can fly herself with voice commands if need be, though a trained pilot is best. My final planned feature is a tractor beam that can lay down a force field on a target, but that's down the way. Later on I might see about increasing the airspeed or other changes as requested."

She laces her fingers together. "So! Thoughts? I'd really appreciate ideas."

The pilot has an almost 360-degree view thanks to the crystalline matrix, with the chair suspended in the bubble.

Seshat takes out her tablet, quickly sketching bulbous bumps along the sides. "Interesting! Let's see what I can do with this..." She starts envisioning the changes to the interior, queuing up little guys, letting the spark flow...

~~~

12:39 PM] BOTFate: @jachra: 18-3d6 Inspiration roll = 18-(2+1+1) = 14
[12:39 PM] Jachra: HAHAHA

Critical Success: She generates EP equal to twice the margin of success, minimum 10

(28/30)

~~~

Seshat's stylus pauses. She stares at the open air, eyes wide. In her mind, letters spool out, complex diagrams of words flowing out like a wellspring. She turns her head faintly to stare at Stream, then mouths. "I'll be back."

It's a flurry of action, pulling out her stylus as she goes. She opens the panel behind the cockpit and starts scribing on the tiny crystal plates, intricate writing that flows out and covers the entire back wall of the cockpit. She moves on, going to the center console of the crew compartment, and then keeps going, getting on the scaffolding. She paints like a woman possessed, scarring the outside with intricate designs as she moves along the gravity plates, the armored sides to plant the reinforcing forcefields, the holograpic projectors, the seal that will let them fly underwater, everything except for the tractor beam and the drop pods.

It takes her maybe twenty minutes of Stream watching her scratch her way across the ship like a madwoman, layering it in chains of interlocking signs. Then, with a deep breath, she imbues the Infrastructure, and the ship comes alight, lights forming in the hull and the holographic control panel lighting up.

{Hello, Captain,} the onboard computer says. {Dragonfly online. Beginning diagnostic check. Capture beam down. Droppods down. All other systems operational. Would you like to confirm voice print ID?}

Seshat, for her part, is shaking. She's never been this productive in her life. This is a month's work, and she can finish the rest out in just a few hours.

She works her jaw, kitty ears raising as she peeks about. She could learn from this creation, and that's both scary and awesome.

"The substrate is ten percent or less of the creation, usually. I honestly expected that she would go live next month, but uh - happy birthday! I can finish the rest out this afternoon, once the pods have been built."

She beams, climbing into the second cockpit seat. It extends a cable to connect to her neck. "Why don't we take her for a quick spin?"

It's a wonderful kind of shock as she becomes aware of the ship in an intimate way, its skin becoming her outer skin.

The garage doors grind open, letting in a rectangle of sunlight.

"Hah! Yes. I should probably get permits. Thankfully, we don't need clearance to fly - " She pauses to review " - up to 14,500 feet or over restricted airspace like the airport or other government buildings. You know what we can do, though?"

She guns the engines and the craft hums as it races out. The holographic displays pick out tiny drones and outline the shapes of buildings and antennae as the scanners form a detailed topography map. When she turns, the seats rotate gyroscopically to keep them level as they head for the open sea. Soon they're at top speed - which is slow for an airplane, but fast for a car - and trending up, while numbers rise.

She's been flying twice before. Once on a plane to and from Egypt to meet family, once with her father. This time, though, it's under her own power, and that's something great.

It takes just a couple minutes to get out over international waters and (after checking a map to see if it isn't in the part of the Atlantic managed by the US for international flights) she accelerates straight up. Below the cockpit, the Eastern seaboard falls away as they rise. Airplanes are picked out by the scanners, and then even those are lost as they leave the clouds behind.

"How are the seals holding?" she asks aloud for Stream's benefit.

{No loss of pressure detected. All life support systems stable.}

"Propulsion?"

{Strength of gravity diminishing, but no substantial barriers remain between us and the Legrangian Points.}

"How long until we reach open space?"

{Twenty minutes. Two hours if you want to reach the height of the International Space Station.}

She turns her head to smirk at Stream. "That last one sounds a little far, but are you up for a quick trip to the dark?"

"Of course. The wire just gives me a more direct experience, and that lends a kind of instinct to the process."

She certainly couldn't get anywhere quickly with this alone. A much, much more powerful contragravity lifter, though, could accelerate them with considerable deltas even in solar space.

What she really needs is to deploy a solar sail. Rockets are an option for getting around, though.

Maybe we'll see if Kin-and-Six develops good fusion rockets. Then she'd be able to refuel at Jupiter.

Or, or, if she can steal someone's teleport powers. Or a space warp power!

"Yeah, I really did make a spaceship," she murmurs as the darkest purple steadily gives way to black. The cockpit darkens over the sun, keeping it from blinding them, while the stars gleam above them. Earth is a curving surface beneath them, the atmosphere a thin layer against the dark.

They hover there in awed silence, the world's youngest known astronauts. They're still accelerating, so things haven't gone weightless - not until Seshat begins the controlled glide back down, anyway.

Detaching her cord, she sets it to autopilot and opens her webbing. It automatically retracts into the seat, and she grins as she floats up.

"Dragonfly? Record."

That sets a pang in her. She holds out her fingers and feels an ache - an old one.

When she closes her eyes as she floats along, she thinks of what was holding her back in the workshop just a bit ago.

How very much she wished she could just - reach out and make those symbols without the intervention of the stylus.

Gods.

If she had her father's power, could she just lasercut her vision? That's terrifying.

"I know what you mean. I - once upon a time, he took me flying. You know, superhero meets kids event, since he lives locally," she lies. She knows she's the worst liar in the world, but she hopes Stream catches the emotion in her voice instead. "It was one of the most incredible experiences of my life. I felt really envious of him."

She does a flip-spin, then posts video to her Twitter. Suck it, Vine stars.

For a longer video, she turns towards the recording apparatus. "Hey there. This is Seshat, currently at 100,000 meters up and descending fast. There's something incredibly wistful about watching the stars fade as the sun's light diffuses around you. We're going to be decelerating soon so we don't crash into the planet, but for a while at least I'll be here, floating over the Eastern seaboard."

She finishes with a gif of a chibi Egyptian cat doing free fall stunts. Slowly, they drift back to the base of the Dragonfly as it slows in the half hour descent to earth, leaving the two of them on the floor.

"I should install artificial gravity in here if we do make this baby an LEO launch vehicle," she muses to Stream. "It would let us accelerate and decelerate much more quickly. I can easily replicate 1G against even very fast maneuvers."

"Oh hey, look who we dropped in on."

She triggers the projectors and sets off a display of lights around the Dragonfly for the sake of the people looking up at her before turning around and heading home.

"I'd say that was a successful test. Want to bet we get yelled at when we get home?"

Seshat giggles with her, and her heart grew another size. Maybe this is a paramilitary prison sentence, but at least she's finally making friends! They're more connected than ever before.

That done, she takes a shift to finish up the Dragonfly.

~~~~

@jachra: 14-3d6 Perspiration roll 4 hours = 14-(3+4+1) = 6

~~~~

It doesn't take all that long. She spends a few hours guiding the shabti in creating the pods and installing them in place of six of the seats. They're little half-eggs that pop free and land safely with a gravity plate.

She also puts in the time to finish the tractor beam - and while she's at it, she installs artificial gravity plates and starts to work on enhancements for later.