Ianthe's version of a tactical advance amounted to moving between cover using her personal cloak: she'd wink out of view only to reappear a few moments later several meters distant, always with her sub-gun held at low ready. The gore at the security console hadn't seemed to bother her, but Neymi could<i>feel</i>the trepidation she radiated at the news of a malfunctioning psi-dampening field.<span style="color: teal">"Remember I'm a shaper much more than a reader,"</span>she cautioned softly.<br/><br/>Her reaction to Neymi's description of the projects, and of the necessity of visiting each wing of the complex, was hidden by her helmet. But her off-hand,<span style="color: teal">"Kes sounds like <i>interesting</i> people,"</span>was leavened with amusement, perhaps her own effort at reassuring their tech.<br/><br/>She'd noticed the hum, but at first had chalked it up to something with the complex's mechanics -- something with the lighting, maybe. But as it grew louder, she muttered,<span style="color: teal">"This isn't good,"</span>notwithstanding the subtle tug it exerted on her mind. She tried to block it out, to construct those walls of will like she'd been taught, but the shriek and sudden silence distracted her, and when the harmony of sound started up again found herself edging in the direction of the tech wing.<span style="color: teal">"Are we sure the weapons wing is best? I think that scream came from this direction. Someone might need help..."</span><div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>