Tasha's young guide, Toby, managed to sleep through most of the rail journey. There wasn't much to capture the attention of the passengers, after all, besides endless vistas of nearly-lifeless desert. The passengers themselves tended to stay to their cabins rather than mingle, even making sure there were empty ones between the groups for added privacy: competition among the few businesses that were authorized to trade with the Pit was fierce, and any little advantage could sway one group's fortune at the expense of the others.
For the two days of travel, Toby never changed his clothing - and since humans are notorious for sweating and producing body odor it was not very pleasant for Tasha's nose. By the end of the trip, even the dusty, rust-scented air of the Abaddonian desert was a welcome relief, along with the burning oil odor of the locomotive. At the Expedition City depot, Toby becomes more animated. "You want to go straight to the sanctuary?" he asks.
Tasha rubs at her nose as she gazes at the skyline, and doesn't answer immediately. Instead, she stares out across the graveyard of starships, knowing each to have once been an astounding feat of technology, a marvel by her standards, beatiful, alive. She thinks back to the recording of the Fleet departure, and wonders what their crews were thinking, when they first realized it would come to this. A grim expression crosses her face as passangers walk all around her towards their rusted city, most having long forgotten the reason this city exists.
Pulling in a breath, the young woman has to shake her head to clear it, but still looks like she had seen a ghost when she turns to face Toby. "What?" She blinks at him, but it comes to her after a moment. "Oh. Yes, that'd be best. We should let them know we arrived safely and that we are here waiting for the Captain."
Toby shoulders a courier bag full of Templar mail, and leads the way. "I bet you're glad to be walking again after that ride," he says. "I know I am! I guess your Captain is coming in through the airfield, right? And you've got someone to see at the sanctuary?"
Tasha picks up her weapons case in her left hand and shoulders her duffle over her right. "I hate to admit it, but you're right. For all the marvel of technology the train is, my nose was going to mutiny if I didn't get off it soon." She grins, and makes an effort to keep it there. It's not the first time she's seen the graveyard of her organization's predecesor, although the pang of regret is stronger here. It makes her feel like a ghost; all the more reason to try and keep smiling. "Captain Gabriel Akkers will arrive via the Ajax in two days, and I need to meet with a scholar in the santuary to further my research."
Toby leads the way through the city. It doesn't take long before Tasha's clothing is covered in dust. With no life-dome to block it out, the environment of Abaddon reigns unchecked, giving every surface a red tint. There are plenty of wheeled vehicles, often moving at speeds too fast for the roadways, with lots of yelling and shouting (except for the Silent-Ones vehicles, which sport air-horns). The people all wear pretty much the same types of clothes, with the cheetahs not even trying to look like proper Silent-Ones. There's nary a powered suit of armor to be seen, and face masks (as opposed to dust-masks) appear to be considered optional.
"I'm glad I'm already red," Tasha remarks as she walks along, looking down at the layer of dust accumulating on her uniform. Head shaking, she digs out her heavy leather coat and pauses to put it on before continuing. "The city seems very cosmopolitan, compared to what I've heard of the others. Do you know who the ruling nation is? Or, is this a neutral city with another form of government?"
"It's technically neutral," Toby says. "But since it's not so much a unified city as a collection of neighborhoods it's hard to tell. I mean, there aren't any city services, so.. nobody is actually in charge. The Academy is the biggest presence."
"That's unique. I've never been to a city run by the people before," Tasha admits. She glances over as two wheeled vehicles crowd in on each other, blinking as the drivers exchange some chocie words. "The Academy, you say?"
"Yeah, it's still run by the Templars," Toby notes, and points over the top of a fuel-tank-turned-house to one of the larger ship-based buildings near the center. "It's like a college or university, but.. you know.. for people from different groups. Lots of diplomats trained there, like Miss Smith."
"That sounds like a place I really need to see." Tasha peers through the smog and dust, taking in the details. She's been on a search for multinational, multispecies organizations ever since she arrived in the Pit of Himaar, and this sounds like another great place to learn from. "Did you know we're also a multispecies organization? I've been trying to get in touch with other groups like our own, for instruction and mutual benefit."
"Really? I thought you were just Karnors so far?" Toby asks. "The Academy isn't as big a deal as it used to be - not much support anymore, you know? But it houses the sanctuary and stuff too."
"Well, mostly Karnors in the sense there are three of them. We have another tenative member who is a Lapi -- a bunny-person -- and I'm half-Vartan, leaning towards my Vartan side. A lot of people mistake me for a Karnor, but I didn't associate with Karnors much until very recently," Tasha explains, still gazing off at the distant Academy. "Maybe if we can, we can help the Academy return to prominance."
"You mean you can donate a lot of money to it?" Toby asks, as he winds through the haphazard streets. An immobile Silent-Ones Titan (holding up a billboard for a pizza restaurant) offers a break from the wind along the way.
The young woman shifts her gaze upwards as teh Titan blocks her line of sight, eyes widening as she realizes the Titan is being used for advertising. She looks about to comment on this when she suddenly snaps her fingers and points at the sign. "Pizza!" She delares, stabbing her finger. "That's that's been floating around in my mind all these weeks! Flat, red, pizza! I knew it had to be something real!"
After barking a laugh, she pats Toby on the back with some force, laughing all the more. "What a relief. That's been driving me nuts for a while. Where was I? Oh, money? Well ... " she shrugs a little, " ... we're still working on that ourselves. I was thinking more of information, technology, and as a traiing point for our officers."
"Oh, what sort of training do you need?" Toby asks, after regaining his balance. He looks from the billboard to Tasha with a confused expression. "Of course pizza is real. The Imperials claim to have invented it, though."
"Ambassadorial, general technological, advanced specialized technological, finance, management, piloting, a wide variety of sciences, and probably more. The Captain would know best; he's our leader and has a background in leadership. I'm primarily a field agent -- they send me when it's dangerous," Tasha explains, grinning. She then glances back at the sign and shakes her head. "Imperials? Really? My memor- ... I recall reading Terrans invented it. Strange. Either way, I need to try it."
"The Imperials claim to have invented everything first," Toby notes. "It's funny when they do it for food though.. I mean, they can't taste anything themselves.." He leads them to a longer, straighter lane - possibly an old airstrip? It leads straight to the Silent-Ones-looking starship that serves as the Templar Academy and Sanctuary. "It's pretty messy though, from what I remember.."
"I'm used to messy food, it's how I grew up," Tasha admits. Pizza. She pats her tummy as it growls, but otherwise pretends not to notice. Instead, she focuses on the approaching starship hull. "Silent-Ones starships seem to be popular locations for public works, such as the Knights Templar. I find that curious, as, culturally, they generally appear less compatible with a multispecies approach than say, Terrans. Humans invented Karnors, after all, and were the glue that once held the original JEF together."
"Well, the Knights do follow the Star, and carry on many Silent-Ones traditions," Toby notes, standing up a bit straighter. "Plus their ships look more.." Here the boy just sort of waves a hand around, describing arches and pinnacles in the air.
Tasha dutifully looks around, nodding in agreement. "They're grand in a severe, austere way that lends itself to law enforcement and higher learning," she agrees. Personally, she prefers the friendly Terran designs or the ornate Khattan works, but she's not about to mention that. "I actually know very little about the Star, though not intentionally. Shall we go in?"
There a little waiting area just inside the structure, where Toby goes to sign them in and deliver the mail. Then they need to go through what looks like an airlock. "Don't worry, it's just for getting rid of the dust," the boy claims as he steps inside and waits for Tasha.
When she hears it's for removing dust, Tasha hastens her entry. "Oi, I'm all for removing dust," she admits.
Several minutes later, after being exposed to a small electrified hurricane (the dust having a large iron content lends itself to electromagnetic cleaning) the inner door opens and a somewhat poofier Tasha is able to step foot inside the Templar Academy.
Tasha bats down her fur then tries to get her hair in to some semblance of a style as she continues inside, remarking, "Well, you don't need to worry about styling your hair if you work here, at least!"
Being a teenager, Toby's hair is naturally greasy and easy to pat back down. "Umm, do you know who you were supposed to meet?" he asks.
"Lets see ... " Tasha digs though one of the pouches on her belt, then pulls out a strip of paper. "Here." She holds the note out for Toby to take.
"Scholar Hakeber," Toby reads, then checks the back. "Not much to go on.. do you know what he or she looks like?" the boy asks.
The young woman shakes her head. "No idea," she admits. Taking a deep breath, she twists her muzzle and thinks a moment, then offers, "He's likely to study both modern and moder- ... " She blinks in that way she often does when she has a moment of temporal dissonance, " ... Excuse me, modern and ancient religion and history."
"Oh, I think I know where that may be," Toby says. "You should leave your stuff though. There's a locker room nearby."
"For security purposes, I'd rather keep my things with me, if that's fine. My clothes, tools, and weapons are either irreplaceable antiques or too dangerous to leave unattended," the half-Vartan insists.
"What sort of weapons?" the boy asks, suddenly looking nervous.
"I'm carrying my personal defense weapon; that's it," Tasha answers. She taps a nail against the hard black case.
"Your personal defense weapon is.. as big as I am?" Toby asks, wide-eyed. "If a proctor stops us, you'll have to let him examine it. I didn't know you had a weapon.."
"It's imperative that I be able to protect my person, for a variety of reasons. I don't particularly like insisting on this, but there could be political and military fallout if I were captured or killed. In addition to this, I am also an antique, in a sense." And privately, Tasha would rather not make Gabriel worry any more than necessary. "I'm sorry, but we few members of the are irreplaceable in a resource sense, and that's not even including the value of individuals."
"Well.. maybe we can have Hakeber meet us instead," Toby says, looking around nervously for hidden assassins as he approaches the main desk. He talks quietly with the human manning it, and is given a piece of paper.
"The Scholar hasn't been in yet today, but I have a dorm address," Toby reports, waving the slip of paper. "Should we go there or wait here?"
Inwardly, Tasha tries to shake the unpleasant feeling that accompanies suspecting she's getting a big head. It takes some effort, but she manges to shake the emotion by reminding herself she's not just important as a resource and to Gabriel, she's also the only one who can captain the Harmonia. Were she to be captured or killed, any number of very real, very terrible results could come of it. Inwardly sighing, she rubs a thumb down the grip of her weapon case and thins, Better to be safe. She'll just have to swallow it; at least she didn't ask for bodyguards!
"Lets go," Tasha decides, feeling it better to keep moving than dwell on things more.
The dormitory is built into an old launch bay, with metal walls fitted to the ferro-ceramic ones of the ship. The outer doors of the bay are open (or missing), so there's fresh air circulating. Toby gets a few false starts before finding the block they're looking for. "This is it," he declares, gesturing to a green metal door with a number on it and a crude drawing of a human skull with crossed bottles under it.
"That's an interesting symbol," Tasha remarks of the drawing before she steps up and knocks on the door. "Mr. Hakeber?"
"Go 'way," comes a muttered (and half-growled) reply from beyond the door. "I'm not home."
For a moment, Tasha wonders if Raehab is Mr. Hakeber in disguise. Undaunted, she presses on -- it's not the first grumpy, drunk, or beligerant man she's had to get out of a cabin. "I will, sir, but I was informed by Ambassador Riddle that you're an expert on Progenitor Cults and Origin Markers, and I would like to confirm if this is true, and if we can arrange a meeting at some point."
There a sound of things being moved around, including a few thumps and some clattering. Then the door bolt is thrown and the portal opens. A pair of very bloodshot Karnor eyes look up into Tasha's. They belong to a surprisingly short she-wolf, light brown and cream with an unruly mane of black hair split by a bright blue stripe. She's wearing a bathrobe of sorts, but it's wide open at the moment, causing Toby some distress. "You wanna know 'bout that old crap?" the wolf asks. "Nobody ever wants to know about my research.."
"I am 'that old crap'," Tasha replies, meeting the woman's eyes before looking her up and down. It says something about her change in values, that countering a historical judgement preceeds leering.
"Huh? Well.. uh, come on in, I feel a draft," Hakeber says, and steps aside.. revealing a room with stacks of books on every surface except the floor, which is mostly covered in empty bottles, food containers and a colorful scattering of coffee mugs. There's a box of half-eaten pizza lying open atop a pile of papers on a small table, a couch with a wolf-shaped depression in the cushions, and a beanbag chair with a passed out cheetah in it. "Watch your step.. I have things carefully organized.."
"Should I wait out here for you?" Toby asks Tasha, his expression adding an unspoken "where it's safe" tag to the end.
Tasha chokes down a laugh as she steps inside, not wanting to wake the Silent-One nor insult the scholar, despite everything she sees -- and smells. Rubbing at her nose for the second time today, Tasha sweeps her gaze across the room, taking it all in, before saying in a lwo voice, "Thank you for meeting with me on such short notice, and I apologize for mistakenly think you were a 'Mr.' I wasn't given much information to go on, but I apologize." Turning to face, or rather look down at, the scholar, Tasha offers, "I am Pilot-Cadet Tasha, of the Joint Expeditionary Force, second founding. This is Toby, with the Knights Templar. He's acting as my guide during my stay in the city."
Finally noticing the boy, the Scholar makes a half-hearted attempt to close her bathrobe. From Tasha's perspective, she couldn't be much older than Mariel.. when Mariel was a flesh and blood person. "Joint.. right.. uh.. you want to sit?" she asks, gesturing to the couch. "Hey, you've got wings.. did you know that?"
"I've had that mentioned to me once or twice," Tasha replies, smiling a little. She eyes the couch, but takes at seat anyway, knowing her coat will protect her uniform. Her wings jostle a few bottles, as she settles them against the back of the couch. "Should I address you as Professor, Miss Hakeber? I am correct in that your field, or fields, include mo- ... " a sigh, and, " ... Excuse me, ancient cults, such as the Progenitor Cult? Are you familiar with origin Markers?"
"I'm just a Scholar, still working on my dissertation," the wolfess claims, and shuffles towards a kitchenette in the corner, where a mechanical icebox chugs and wheezes intermittently. "Origin Markers.. yeah.. I know about those.. gimme a moment.." she mutters. A lab beaker is set on the counter, and into it go two raw eggs, a liberal amount of red liquid from a bottle and an equal amount of yellow liquid from a different bottle. She uses a plastic ruler to stir it all up. "Did you want some breakfast? Is it still morning?"
"Yes, although noon isn't all that far away," Tasha answers. She eyes the pizza box, and finds hersefl unable to resist. "If you don't mind, could I ... try a slice of pizza?"
"Yeah, go ahead," Hakeber says, and downs half of her noxious looking concoction before making a sour face. "Pretty sure I got that last night, with.. uh.." She seems to notice the cheetah finally. "Oh, right, the delivery guy." She throws a blanket over him, and heads for the couch. Toby stays near the door, red as a beet and looking ready to bolt.
Almost seeming oblivious once she gets the go ahead, Tasha reaches over and pulls the entirety of the remaining pizza out of its box, peering at it this way and that while also sniffing at it. "I've wanted one of these for weeks now." What she doesn't add is that she had no idea this is what she wanted; Nora's memories often leave subtle artifacts, and the food cravings can be some of the most powerful. Like a gormette about to sample a rare delicacy, Tasha inspects the gigantic slice carefully before biting in to the crust.
It's sweet, from the red sauce. And there's a layer of semi-hardened cheese-type-food on top, with bits of meat floating around in the congealed currents. It's probably better when still hot, but otherwise.. she's had worse sandwiches in the Bazaar.
"It's not bad," Tasha decides. Realizing her fingers are now greasy, she hunts for something to wipe them on, and ends up using her coat. The pizza is returned to the box, where it won't destroy her outfit. "This is my first time in Expedition City," she admits, leaning back. "It's fascinating to visit the primary landing site of the Fleet, if also painful."
"Yeah, landing.. I suppose that's technically accurate," Hakeber says, and drinks the rest of her breakfast. After letting out a mighty belch, she sets the beaker down and says, "Ancient history isn't studied much, especially Pre-Expedition stuff. What's your interest in the Progenitor stuff? Or is it really the Kampfengruppe you're digging into?"
"Ancient history is my future, Miss Hakebar. As I mentioned, I'm a member of the Joint Expeditionary Force, and that name is not a coincidence. We are the second founding of the original Fleet mission, charged with carrying out the exploratory goal of the Fleet, with an expanded goalset to fit with the needs of modern day society." Tasha reaches over and pulls out her datapad, but settles it on her lap, for now. "In the course of our adventures, and mine in particular, I came upon records indicating the presence of the Progenitor Cult embedded iin the Fleet.I am here to investigate this connect, as it has both professional and personal ramifications."
"Personal?" Hakeber asks with a raised eyebrow. "I think I remember reading about you guys in the newspaper. Got a working Expedition ship and all, right? Well, what do you want to know? And what do you know already, since that might be useful to me."
"Before I continue, would you give me your assurance that what I tell you will remain if confidence? Also ... " Tasha glances over, spotting the reddened Toby and grinning, "Toby, would you please wake Miss Hakeber's guest and help him on his way?"
"Oh, yes, Miss Tasha," Toby says, and goes to rouse the passed-out cheetah.
Looking back, Tasha patiently awaits the scholar's decision.
"Wait.. you mean I can't use anything you tell me in my own research?" Hakeber asks, looking stunned. "I mean.. if it's not documented where I can reference it, then I guess I can't use it anyway, but still.."
A hungover cheetah is a rare sight, especially a wobbly one. Toby helpfully sifts through the debris to recover the delivery man's clothing.
"Certain details should remain between us, for now. However, I'm willing to assist you in your research and potentially provide additional, informational, benefits depending on how much we can help each other. I will note we have our own working Expedition-era data core, and I possess centuries old knowledge, as do many of my colleges," Tasha explains as she waits for the cheetah to depart.
The human finally helps the taller cheetah out of the apartment, the door swinging closed behind them.
As the cheetah exits, Tasha smiles a little more, "Your decision, Miss Hakeber?"
"Okay, I promise not to use anything you tell me without your permission," the young Scholar says, making a cross-my-heart gesture.
Tasha nods. "Thank you, I appreciate your willingness to cooperate. I know this is all rather covert and perplexing, but I'm dealing with a great deal of unknowns, many of which could be quite problematic, depending on how they turn out. Anyway." Taking a deep breath, the young cadet explains, "Yes, we have a working Expedition-era vessel and several Titans, including my own, the Magi Class Gryphon, "Melchior." The Melchior references Progenitor Cult symbology, which I believe is in reference to the Origin Marker of Vartans, which I believe to be on Sinai, and plan to locate when I am free to do so. In addition, I am attempting to locate any other Marker that may be found, and suspect there is at least four of them somewhere in the Sinai System, quite possibly more. I am also looking for information about the 'bearers' of these Markers, what any information detailing their purpose, and any organization that may have connections to the Progenitor Cult. In addition, I am also attempting to locate the
other two Magi, Balthsar and Caspar, and any information as to their pilots."
Pausing, Tasha then adds, "I am the Bird-of-Hermes, if that means anything to you."
The other woman's eyes get bigger and bigger as Tasha talks. "I.. never heard of these Magi Titans before," Hakeber admits. "But you're implication here is that the Cult was operating within the Expedition, and had resources and a purpose?"
"Correct." Tasha realizes she's starting to sound like her Titan, too. "A particular Khattan group funded the establishment of a covert mission to attempt to carry out the prophecies of their cult. They belived in it enough to think it was worth the expenditure, and they may very well be awaiting the results still, somewhere in the galaxy."
"The Khattans?!" Hakeber says in surprise, followed by a burp. "We have next to nothing on them. I've been following the Terran histories, where the Cult shows up in reference to the origins of the Kampfengruppe.. from a few centuries prior to the Expedition, during the First Diaspora."
"First Diaspora?" Now, it's Tasha's turn to look alert, ears perked. "The Khattans are -- or were -- a species of space-fairing felines decribed by Terrans as 'lynx-like' in build, much as I am 'wolf-like.' They were primarily traders and possessed the most advanced technology of any other Expedition races, often going to extreme lengths to protect it. They built my Titan, and the stator technology you see on the Expedition ships. Their homeworld is unknown, even back then."
Hakeber nods. "The origins of the Kampfengruppe go back to the first years of interstellar travel," she notes. "Back then, Terra was not a monoculture, unlike just about every other spacefaring race. There were hundreds of nations with different cultures and religions, and those with the resources built their own ships in an effort to establish colonies that preserved their way of life. See, even then it was clear that Terra would need to unify in order to deal with meeting an alien intelligence. So, most of the first extra-solar colonies were culturally distinct. Fafnir was one of them, founded by the Teutons. They were the first ones to talk about Progenitors when other races were encountered among the stars."
Tasha settles in to listen, nodding here and there. "This is very interest; I didn't know that about Terra nor its peoples. Please go on. I fear my connection to the Cult may draw the interest of the Kampfengruppe sooner or later, and I would like to have an idea as to what form that interest will take. I've nearly been killed three times in the last week, so I've learned to be careful wheer I may," she says.
"It was hard to piece it all together, given how isolationist Fafnir was," Hakeber explains. "See, they never had any contact with other species, or even with Karnors. They claimed that Terra was the legendary Garden of Eden, with a divinely created prior species of humans being the actual Progenitors. There were claims of proof - artifacts - to support this. It was really popular for awhile, because it explained the similarity of other sapient races to Terran animals, and that the creation of the Karnors was a sign that humanity was following in the footsteps of its own creators. Of course they also claimed that the settlers of Fafnir were the direct descendants of the original human race, and thus superior and all that sort of stuff, so the whole framework was labeled as propaganda and pretty much ignored by the majority. The Progenitor cults among other species were usually stamped out, or co-opted into the mainstream beliefs of their society."
"The real surprise was that a ship from Fafnir joined the Expedition," Hakeber notes. "I mean.. they were isolationists that didn't interact with other species, so why join? I've been trying to figure it out."
"If I'm not mistaken, they were searching for the Seventh Heaven," Tasha offers. She settles back and looks down at the datapad in her hands. It all fits. A creator species, a prior type of human -- likely the so-called 'Archons' -- the peculiar interest in the Expedition. But where did they learn it from? "Do you know from where they derived their belief? An artifact, perhaps?"
"They claimed to have discovered the Origin Marker for humanity, and much more, on Fafnir," Hakeber notes. "In an ancient tomb that supposedly held the remains of Eve and held the journal of Adam, the Progenitors who created humans in their own image. But they never shared any of it. They've never tried to recruit more people into their group, or intermarry or anything. They protect their territory, but don't challenge other groups for resources - but then, from the histories it sounded like Fafnir wasn't so different than Abaddon in harshness."
"They're looking for something," Tasha decides, head shaking. "Why would an isolationist group control the Gateway, a bridge between cultures ... Why join the Expedition ... " She pulls a breath in, holding it, before exhaling. "They're searching for the fulfillment of theor beliefs; they are looking for whence Adam came, or departed to. They are doing what I am doing."
"There's another little oddity that makes their version of the Progenitors stand out though," Hakeber says, a bit teasingly. "There wasn't one set of Progenitors. They claim that Adam created the humans, Khatta, Titanians and Silent-Ones - but that Ahriman was the Progenitor of the Imperials - and that they're evil as a result."
"They are descended of the Serpent from the Garden, that led to the downfall of Adam," the Scholar claims.
Tasha doesn't look surprised, which may be surprising in itself. "I've heard the same thing, that there are multiple Progenitors. In my version, the Progenitor is Adam, and he mated with the Archons to produce the Fleet species." She then rubs at her hand; an ear flicks. "I didn't know this, about the Imperials. This is the first time I've heard the names of the Archons, as well. That would suggest the Imperial Origin Marker is different some how, and that the machines and pilots of the ... Wait." Looking up, Tasha asks, "Where do Vartans fit in all this? I didn't hear their name listed."
"The records didn't make mention of them.. they were from a time when it was believed the Vartans had been created by the Khatta, just like the Karnors were created by the humans. I think there was a reference to a book that discussed how Vartans fit into the Kampfengruppe mythology, but there's no known copy of the book itself. It's possible they thought the Vartans were from yet another Progenitor line. There wasn't much known about them back then."
"I don't know much more about my people, save that they didn't create technology themselves and worked as mercenaries for the Khattans. However ... " Reaching down, Tasha touches her datapad, which glows in response. After manipulating it a moment, she turns the screen around. There, surrounded by uniformed Vartans, rests a peculiar stone carved with the image of a male and female Vartan. "The Khattans knew differently and were aware of the Markers. That they banned the cult was to eliminate competition, I think."
"Wow, where'd you get that image?" Hakeber asks, fumbling a pair of reading glasses from the pile of stuff on the table. "I could never figure out why the Fafnir cultists claimed the Origin Marker for humans had one edge. I assumed it meant that it was circular instead of faceted."
"I retrieved this from the database of the Fleet Carrier Orpheus, where I also found the Titan, Melchior. From my research, I have discovered the Melchior was created to 'bear' this Marker, somehow, and that its pilot was also somehow significant. There's mention of a 'gift,' which could be either the Marker or the pilot. I also have this." Tasha turns the datapad around and does something with it, then shows Hakeber. Like the first picture, a mysterious stone is shwon, but this one is unaccompanied, and bears fewer sides. On it are two Titanians, male and female.
"The Origin Marker for the Titanians?" Hakeber asks, looking surprised. "But who had it?"
"We don't know," Tasha dmits. After taking a deep breath, and a moment of soul searching, Tasha explains, "I am the continuance of the Khattan mission; I am seeking to complete their work, if maybe not for their reasons. The Progenitor Cult is a part of me, literally and figuratively. I want to know what drew so many to come here; I want to know why my machine was created, and if there is any truth to these beliefs. And, well, I also wish to prevent any misuse of what may be found, should the legends prove true. And it appears that means I, most likely, in direct conflict with the core beliefs of the Kampfzengruppe." Looking the other woman straight in the eye, Tasha asks, "I'm just one person, however much power I may have. I need help, to find my way. Will you help me?"
"Sure, this is fascinating!" Hakeber exclaims. "I may be able to get more out of my sources if you let me dangle some of this as bait. If the original Jotun crew knew about this Khattan mission, it could be why they joined the Expedition in the first place!"
"The Jotun was the Kampfzengruppe's ship? Do you know where it is?" Almost forgetting a request was made of her, Tasha suddenly looks hesitant. "Please understand, if this gets out, it could significant problems. The JEF musn't be associated with the Cult, for one thing. That's not its purpose and not what I recreated it for. This is a personal mission, so these are my own beliefs and interests. On that note, should the Kampfzengruppe learn of my existence, they may know what I am and move to interfere, especially if they learn I am also chasing the same thing, and in a way that doesn't solely benefit them."
Looking down, Tasha stares at the image of the Marker, thinking hard. More information could open new doors, but who will come through them? She looks pained as she struggles with her decision, knowing full well tipping her hand may amount to a personal declaration of war against an entire nation. With a shake of the head, she finally says, "You can mention some of this. Please frame it in a way that doesn't include myself, my Titan, nor the JEF, and try and leave out the existence of these Markers. Is that acceptable?"
"Hmmm, I'll have to work something out around those..." Hakeber says. "How long are you in town for, anyway?" she suddenly asks.
"Three days. I'll be departing aboard the Ajax with our Captain the day after tomorrow." Looking down again, Tasha flips through menus, before looking up again. "If you like, I can arrange for you to depart with us and for you to join me. As you'ld expect, we'd need to be quiet and depart by different means, arriving in the Pit and joining together. After that, I can conceal your presence much more easily. You'll also get a chance to see several artifacts personally."
"Artifacts.." Hakeber says, shivering before licking her lips. "I can at least claim it's part of my research.. and I hear the Winged Citadel is pretty decent. Do you like to drink?"
"Does a ptera love to fly?" Tasha replies, looking a little more upbeat in the face of what lies ahead. "And I could really use one, right now."
"I think it's after noon now, so the bars should be open," the Scholar says with a grin. "And.. uh.. have you got any money?"
At that question, Tasha's ears go askew. "I have a ... PHTO voucher?"
"Gotta be able to cash that out somewhere.." Hakeber mutters. Then more cheerily, she says, "Doesn't matter! I know which bars to hit where we can drink for free, if we wag our tails just right. Do you like spotties?"
The young cadet looks at a loss at what's suggested, then suddenly barks a laugh. "I haven't shaken my tail like that in months," she insists, grinning wider. "Can't let Gabriel get jealous. As for spotties, I have an official spotty name!"
"You do? What is it?" Hakeber asks.
Laying her datapad down, Tasha lifts her hands and signs, "I am Winged-Gift, by the honor of Archon Strength-of-Stones."
The Karnor actually sounds it out, then grins. "Well, the story of how you got that should be worth a few rounds," she claims. "And isn't he the young handsome one? You dog! Er.. Bird! Whatever!"
Tasha wiggles her ears, then waggles a finger. "He already has someone, her name is Feather-Tail, and while that sounds like it could be me, she is actually a young Savanite from Sinai. I was given the name in a ceremony before the Titan pilots of the Pit, in honor of my defense of the dam from a large scale incursion from the canal. I like to think we are friends."
"I.. you don't have to sign," Hakeber notes. "Everyone understands Standard around here, and I'm not that good at reading the Formal stuff yet. The Silent-Ones tend to use a more casual dialect in Expedition City."
The hands go down. "I'm sorry! I'm just used to speaking formally, as I'm often engaged in negottations and cooperative efforts where I wish to be respectful, which I believe means also speaking in the listener's own langauge. It's also the only form of Sign I know, so that's also a limiting factor," she admits. "To be honest, I also came here to relax after a stressful few weeks, but I'm not sure I remember how."
"You look younger than me; how can you have forgotten how to party?" Hakeber asks with a grin.
Tasha gives a little shrug. "I used to do it all the time, back before I realized I didn't like that me.I had a lot of bad habits back then, and I've been trying hard to improve ever since I discovered I wanted to. But, I've been at it so intently, and everything I'm doing demands more and more of me, partying seems like an indulgence I can't afford -- even a backstep in my progress. Even the Marker seems to demand something of me, and I'm trying to live up to what's asked. I guess I get lost in that. Sometimes, I feel like I'm changing so fast that I barely recognize myself, like I'm being pulled farther and farter away from this life. I ... " Realizing she had gone on far longer than she wanted to, Tasha lets out a sigh and shakes her head. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to go on about my problems. Well, not problems, really. I can handle them ... Reasons?"
"You want some beer or not?" Hakeber asks. "It's not complicated or fraught with drama, really. And you can keep me from going crazy," she points out. "And you start by helping me find some pants. I'm sure I had some last night.."
Tasha apologizes again, assuring the other woman she won't slip like that again. Her datapad goes back in its pouch, but not without a quick message to the JEF that she plans to bring the scholar along. All while she searches for the woman's pants, she thinks about what she's learned today, where it's going, and what sort of person she'll be, when it's all over.