The line between a strike and a riot could be erased at any moment in a lot of cases. This was, without a doubt, one of those cases. A picket line had been set up to contain the throng of angry workers, their faces etched with determination and frustration. The somewhat outdated umbrella term "Steamworkers" contained metalworkers, caulker, welders, boilermakers, aeronautical engineers, and pretty much everyone else who worked in industries related to building airships. The Adeptus Sociological, a representative of the government's labour department, stood before them, his eyes scanning the crowd with a mix of concern and authority.
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He called out for the union leaders, his voice carrying above the din of chants and shouts. Two strong-looking men walked up to meet him, unlike most of the other workers who did not brandish signs with union slogans like weapons. The two men were flanked by several burly workers who looked like they could have been their bodyguards.
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"What dae ye want?" the one on the left grumbled in a coarse, gravelly tone, his words dripping with hostility.
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"To convince you to stop this strike before it is too late," said the Adeptus of Sociology, his voice firm but measured.
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"Urr ye aff yer heid? We shall nae be stopping!" the man snarled, his accent thick and difficult to understand. "How could we? You're asking us to go back to work for people who care nothing for our lives or our well-being?"
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The Adeptus of Sociology took a deep breath and tried again. "The Covenants Inquisitors will not hesitate to dismantle your union, take its members into custody to be tortured, imprisoned, or worse."
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The man thought for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he considered the threat. "Hence how we're striking!" he snarled. "We've had enough of the Covenant, the Triumvirate, 'n' especially o' Technocrat Rodeney bloody Limos!"
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The man's anger was palpable, and the Adeptus of Sociology could see that he was not going to back down easily. He decided to appeal to the man's sense of reason.
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"During Technocrat Limos' tenure as the Controller of the Technates of Blix, Ekholm, and Ravillion," he began, "anyone who disobeyed his word was executed. An early attempt at rebellion in Narciss resulted in Earl Malum ordering Thermobaric attacks on suspected rebel strongholds and nearby dwellings in an event known as the Night of the Ashes. Would you be willing to gamble with your fellow workers' lives that Technocrat Limos would not be willing to do the same?"
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The man's expression turned cold and calculating. "No."
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The Adeptus of Sociology sighed inwardly. He had hoped that reason would prevail, but it seemed that it was going to take more than words to bring this strike to an end. "No? Then I suggest you get back to work," he said firmly.
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The man's face twisted in contempt. "And I suggest ye get oot o' here afore things get worse," he growled, turning away and striding back into the crowd.
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The Adeptus of Sociology watched him go, wondering if he had just made things worse despite stopping the strike. He knew that he had to report back to his superiors about the situation, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to blow up in his face.
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