Pylo stared at the micropolity with disdain. She could taste the various exchanges and deals being made within ▙◀.

Altruism was still in high standing of course. Pylo had made something of an alliance block between them and Survival. Accomplished through very terse communications made to Survival and the other demiurges on just how Pylo’s displeasure would be manifested if one of the more idiotic power blocks tried to pull a coup and betray her contracts with ▙◀.

This however did not reassure her.

The micropolity was a particularly disgusting example of a canner down to the lowest level processes as far as Pylo was concerned and she would never give another one of them the slightest amount of slack EVER again.

No squirmy little words or technicalities of agreement.

Nothing.

Far as pylo was concerned anyone that deep in the canner philosophy as the micropolity of ▙◀ was were just a liar waiting to happen.

A liar and a traitor.

She sent off a cascade of communications to the embassy they had provided her demanding why the polity had bothered to come so close that she had to taste the politik of their internal struggles.

“Pylo, as per our contract of my passage and your agreement with redweed I am here to assist you in the care and well being of your passengers. I have something of grave concern that endangers them to bring to your attention.”

The external missive agreed upon by the demiurges was of course precisely what their current party line said it was. Not a concept or intent out of place. Which honestly just made her vent heavily in even further exhaustion.

“What happened to them now? Are they somehow intolerant to the specific shade of the colour blue and I’ve been slowly poisoning them without even realizing it? Oh wait no I bet their immune systems actually require daily reprimands and sexual frustration to avoid digesting their brains and I am going to have to beat them despite their outward wishes? What?! WHAT DELICATE FRAGILITY OF THE THRICE STONE BORN TERRANS HAS COME UP NOW?!”

The demiurges rallied, they had apparently expected this. Honestly that was almost more upsetting. Altruism, Justice and Survival drafted and began to send their answer but Pylo simply read ahead of their own intents and processes before they were completed interrupting the missive before it could be broadcast.

Then she boggled.

If she had been under acceleration she would have collapsed but instead all the tense little flexures and agitated tensions relaxed.

“Y-you! Me?! what?”

The missive was carefully and pointedly packaged and sent, ignoring that she had broken the protocol in a way that would have stung deeply and disappointed her sisters, mother and aunts.

“Their Ship Mistress, One Pylo, Birth Child of the Mother Courtesan herself of the Siren Clan Courtesan is overworked, over stressed and needs to make more use of the resources already contracted to her by the polity of ▙◀.”

Altruism and Mutualism were both being very smug.

There was quite a lot of internal currency passing between the demiurges and several other lower processes that had apparently bet on this particular series of outcomes. Futures markets paying out while other stocks and trades plummeted. But not many.

The majority of ▙◀ had seen this coming. Had bet on her losing her focus.

“I.. You’re trying to steal Tunie from me?! This is a trick!”

The polity did not recoil, the demiurges did not react, except survival which as it always did was calling up contingency protocols for an emergency egress.

But no.

Pylo delved into the micropolity, her tissues heating up and others getting jerkily out of sync as she examined every archive she could. The plots and plans and contingencies and projects long term and immediate.

The Micropolity had built libraries and archives and easy digests of their observations. Had the relevant parts of her contract with them on display, the obvious considerations they had about how this situation related to her extremely binding contract with them.

Breaking the agreement on Tunie’s well being and the ▙◀ 's complete non-interference in literally any aspect of her anatomy and functioning would literally dissolve enormous segments of the entire polity’s legislature and code if it was violated.

Pylo had insisted and (after much debate with each Demiurge) been ceded that right to have the contract autonomously integrated into the constitution of the micropolity’s deepest autonomous systems.

There was nothing circumventing it.

There was no loopholes she could see although that did not mean there were none.

The proscribed and expected plan was laid out, the prompts and buffers to send it to her openly awaiting the right moment.

But still she seethed.

It had looked right before too.

But if they so much as pushed a Motile element out of its proscribed path the entire micropolity would seize.

If a Demiurge attempt to circumvent that they would have their shares dissolved and their organization divided amongst their rivals.

Pylo could literally just ask Tunie to bury it in her motiles and ▙◀ would be trapped.

The only way for the Demiurge to escape this without extensive intervention by a third party would be for them to exit service to Pylo, leave the ship and have her depart and meet them again after visiting a second port.

And yet she had been tricked before.

Pylo knew she could not see all the angles that even the Terrans could.

There could be a trap for Tunie here.

But it looked safe still.

It had before.

But still.

She was very tired, exhausted even, unable to focus, unable to be there for Tunie in this difficult journey with all the interruptions.

She huffed out a heavy mist of already frosting coolant to vent again.

“Alright ▙◀, Fine you go deal with the Terrans and the Clerks until we breach the canopy. Tunie needs me right now”

She whirled and threw herself to her quarters. Opening her senses to Tunie entirely and embracing her friend with all of her attention.

It was straining too, this was a difficult crossing.

This was always a difficult crossing.

And it was not made any easier by the certainty she had that after it was over.

After she made whatever dealings were needed with the polity that had been set aside and bound to clan courtesan for her benefit.

After all of that she would have a message from home to ingest.

And with it all the context of who she was to her mother and all her family would fill her up.

With that association all the memories would be fresh and raw and sharply close.

But she would suffer it, Tunie needed her.

And if that filthy traitor canner of a micropolity had somehow snuck a way past Pylo to hurt her friend and ship?

If this was to be some kind of betrayal hidden in sneaky clever ways she could not see?

Pylo would call a Maeth'gild down on the micropolity.

Make them pay “The World Price”.

If that awful canner betrayed her there would only be whispered tales of caution that the filthy thing’s lineage ever was when Pylo was done.