After days and days of traveling, Tasha and her group arrive in Abu Dhabi, where they bid farewell to The Rake. Toth seeks out transport to Nagai City, and the rest head to their usual resting point: the Lightfoot estate just outside the city. From there, Aaron and his brother can reach and contact traders, caravans and government agencies to try and arrange transport to and through the Gateway Tower back to Abaddon.
It's also been a nice touch of civilization after so much time in the wilderness. If they are being watched by agents of the Emir, they're well hidden as well. Hakeber, naturally, takes the opportunity for carousing, which Tasha and Gabriel have to chaperone her through (and thus limiting Tasha's own carousing). And of course there's a visit to the artist, for a new group portrait that would be far to embarrassing to show around, even though it was rather impressive for Gabriel to hold his pose for so long with a girl on his shoulders.
Finally they make it 'home' in the middle of the night, and Tasha can take a moment to wind down and have a smoke on the veranda out back.
Tasha places her cloak aside as she walks in, pausing to look at the travel-worn garmet. She brushes her hand over its surface, recalling every major tear through the memory of touch. It seems like the adventure will never end, until it finally does, and you're left with silence and memories. We've been to so many places together. Head shaking, she turns away.
Turning, she walks over to the balcony, leaning forward and looking out at the city and fishing her cigarillos from her pouch. It's still the same city. Same lights, same people, all having a place and fitting in in a world with limits made by the availability of knowledge and the reluctance to seek it out. The more I travel, the more it seems that we're the ones who become alien. A different horizon just helps that along.
A few clicks later and a fire blooms in the darkness, lighting the young woman's cigarillo as she takes a drag. I shouldn't brood. Still, I can't believe Aaron's leaving us. One crossroad after another, a little is lost, and something new comes in its place. I wonder what the Markers will take, and what they'll offer in return. Adam ...
Speaking (or thinking) of the Lapi, Tasha finds herself joined outside. "There's a drunk woman with glitter in her hair passed out on my bed," Aaron notes. "Are you sure you're going to be able to handle her on your own?" he asks with a bit of humor.
"No, but I wouldn't have it any other way," Tasha replies in low a voice made sulty by the dim light and coiling smoke. She pats the verada rail beside her, invite Aaron to join her. "You're sure you want to return home?"
"I can't just keep running around with a teenaged wolf-girl, people will talk," Aaron claims. "Besides, you're going back to Abaddon, and who knows where from there. Not my stomping grounds, like the backwaters of this world. I'm not sure you need my advice anymore either, Tasha. You've grown up."
"I'll miss you," Tasha whispers, turning to look at her friend. "Grown up or not."
The rabbit reaches into his vest and pulls out an envelope. "Take this," he says. "Detailed instructions for contacting me if you need to, to save you unnecessary world-hopping. You'll need to use the Xenean relay-thingy of course. But the rest will tell a Shadow Mage how to contact my sister-in-law here, and she can find me anywhere."
The red woman accepts the note, tucking it in to her pouch to deal with later. "Thank you, Aaron. I wish I could provide you with the same information, but other than contacting the PHTO or, if we're on the ball, our agents in the cities, even I don't know where I'll be tomorrow. You know the stakes now; things may come to a head soon, with Adam and the Markers. I'm worried about the reaction, so in that way, I'm glad you'll be here. I'd tell you to be careful, but I know you will be."
"Oh, can you do me a small favor?" the apothecary asks, pinching his thumb and forefinger together to show just how small it is.
"Cheer up?" Tasha asks.
"Nah, something easy," the Lapi insists, and produces a second envelope. "Can you deliver this to Spring Meadow for me? She's probably still on Abaddon near the Gateway. Don't mix it up with the other envelope though." This envelope is a little thicker to distinguish it from the first.
"I can certainly do that," the young woman agrees, taking the letter and placing it with the other before tapping the ashen end of her cigarillo off. "Is there anything else?"
"When Hakeber hasn't had a drink for two days, her libido drops," Aaron advises. "However, she actually seems to function better with a little bit of booze in her system. Just in case you need to get some real work out of her."
"That's good to know. Hake's going to be busy investigate leads on the Markers and the group, although I'm concerned about employing her this way and I'll need to discuss the matter at length with her before we proceed." Tasha taps off her cigarillo again, breathing out in to the cool night air before she continues. "It seems that honesty is immicable to politics and plots; I still hope that one day we can reveal all of this. Right now, I don't know what the fallout will be. I won't allow the JEF to become a burden on society, even if I need to resort to misdirection. You understand, don't you, Aaron?"
"The original cult kept it all secret," Aaron notes. "I'm sure there's a reason for that, beyond wanting to control the knowledge. Then again.. we're used to gods and stuff on Sinai. I'd be an athiest if I wasn't worried Logos or Blakat or someone wouldn't show up and break my furniture. The Silent-Ones and some of the others won't want their religions shaken up. Be prepared to keep things secret, is all. Especially the bit about the cult maybe being responsible for the collapse of the original Expedition."
The Lapi then grins and leans in close to whisper, "Besides, this way I get to be part of a secret society with a big conspiracy.. even if it's just four or five people."
"It seems that it was more than that. Your remember our Titan friend, Caspar? The alien power source within him is alive, and if it is to be believed, it is the guardian of the path to Adam -- taking orders directly from the Progenitors. And, that means the Cult may have been a front -- and the Progenitors may still be active, observing us." Leaning forward, Tasha pauses to listen and smiles a little at what she hears. "I've never been big on subterfuge and evasion, but I guess I'll learn, just like with everything else. We'll be leaving early tomorrow, by the way. The sooner the Markers are secured the sooner I can relax."
"I'm the one that arranged passage, so I'm well aware of when you're leaving," the Lapi points out. "I gave the introduction papers to Gabriel, once you get to Gateway City. Trader Kumaar will be taking you through with his caravan."
"I just wanted to be sure, in case you forget anything. We may not see each other again for a while." Straightening, Tasha walks over and wraps an arm around Aaron's shoulders, her other hand holding her cigarillo wide as she hugs him. "Don't be a stranger, alright? I should get to bed before I depress myself. Tomorrow will be a long day."
At the 'don't be a stranger' remark, Aaron can't help but reach down and squeeze Tasha's butt. "Get your sleep, since Hake will be groggy in the morning. One last night of carnivore-rutting for me I guess, then she's yours to deal with," he laughs. "And I do terrible eulogies, Tasha, so don't make me have to write one. Remember, if you ever need to disappear, my family has that nice little villa in the back end of barbaria."
"I'll try not to die again," Tasha promises, patting the man on the head. "I'm sure the Reaper is getting tired of Noras anyway. But, if the worst does come to pass, tell them why I did it. What I was trying to do." She then leans over and gives the man a kiss on the forehead before letting go, stretching her arms and brushing the hair from her face. "Don't get me wrong though. I miss Abaddon. It's where I feel needed. Good night, Aaron. Enjoy your rest."
After sbuffing out her cigarillo, Tasha gives her friend one final farewell smile before walking off, waving as she goes.
The passage to Gateway City is overland this time. Or more accurately over sand. Trader Kumaar's caravan is being transported on three separate Nohbakim sand triremes. A journey of several days, but not without entertainment. The Nohbakim are endlessly fascinating in their miscegenic forms, and while the scenery is dull the occasional wildlife is worth seeing - especially a school of not-to-distant Shriken, moving like giant sea-serpents through the Sea of Sand.
True to form, Hakeber manages to get sea sick the first morning out, but gets her 'sand legs' soon enough. Trader Kumaar has made the trip many times, and shares some insight into what is best traded with the Abaddonians. "Peat for nails," the lynxish Khatta claims. "Both cheap at their origins, valuable at the other end. Easy to carry, but not a tempting target for bandits."
"That's interesting to know," Tasha replies, back against the rail as she listens to the merchant explain his trade. "I don't have a chance to get involved with interplanetary trade, but I've always thought it was a fascinating thing. It's really a difference in values, which are something I try to be aware of in my own work."
"Speaking of which, have you ever heard of a story about the Nohbakim's origins? Something about a curse and Savanites?" Tasha asks.
"Ah, yes," Kumaar says, raising a finger. "It was, of course, dismissed until recently, but even so it is difficult to grasp - both that the Savanites had the power to warp Zerdas in such a manner, and have the curse continue for the thousands of years. It defies our understanding of Life Magic." The man gestures towards one of the crew, how has two spindly, Zelak-like arms on one side and one large Tiger-Khatta one on the other. "Do you speak Zerda, my dear?"
"I'm afraid not, but I do know Silent-Sign and several other languages," Tasha answers as she regards the peculiar creature, unsurprised to find she feels a certain kinship with the Nohbakim. "I'm something of a scholar, it comes with our work. I was able to hear that story from someone closer to the source of it. Regrettably, he did not offer any clues as to a cure -- if one is even desired."
"And I certainly agree about the scope of the magic, though not that the Savanites possessed it. I'm sure you're aware of the Silent-Ones," she adds.
"The legend claims that only a Savanite Princess can lift the curse," Kumaar claims, and twitches his ears in amusement. "And of course the Silent-Ones have no magic. Ah, but you do not hear how the crew talk of you. Nohbakim are fascinated by Vartan hybrids, and you are one that has never been heard of before.. which always brings speculation if you are a Nohbakim yourself, of fine symmetry. Such types tend to hold high positions among them."
"I'm a product of magic, on my mother's side," Tasha relates, glancing again to the Nohbakim. "I'm half-Vartan, if an unusual one. The only one, as far as I know. I'm used to these sorts of questions." She nods towards the watching Nohbakim. "And certain thoughts about my origin. Not that I'm offended, mind you; I have nothing against the Nohbakim, but I don't mean to claim a status that isn't mine to hold. Incidentally," and here she glances back to the trader, "were there any others that wanted to join this excursion? Individuals, small groups? Anyone out of the ordinary or those you had cause to believe weren't truthful about their reasons to be here?"
"Now, I do not normally take extras," Kumaar notes, wagging a finger. "My porters have been with me for years. Anyone else is only accepted with letters of recommendation from traders I trust - and only they and I know who they are, so it is difficult to forge such a thing. Have you seen suspicious activity?"
"Not personally, but it never hurts to ask, don't you think?" The young woman smiles, shifting to recline back against the rail again. "By the way, if the Nohbakim want to speak to me, they're more than welcome to."
"The language barrier may prevent that," the Trader notes. "Few of the Sand Men speak Standard or Khattan. They're own dialect of Zerdan can be difficult to understand even for a Zerda, due to its modification to be more amenable to different speaking organs. Although there are those that are sent to study abroad, because they can pass for normal with proper attire, or are particularly beautiful. And when a Nohbakim is considered a beauty, it is something to behold I assure you."
"I'm sure," Tasha agrees, trying to mask her distaste at the selection process. "Do you have anyone interested in studying abroad on this ship?"
"I believe the Captain's son is schooling in Abu Dhabi," Kumaar notes. "It is difficult for many of them to live comfortably too far from the Sea of Sand that birthed them, but I've heard rumors of a sizeable colony on Rephidim, so may simply be a matter of transporting the tastes of home, or cultivating them elsewhere."
"Tell your Captain that if his son would ever like to study farther abroad, to contact the Joint Expeditionary Force of Abaddon, or the PHTO Council, which can get him in touch with us. We're always looking for new members who have an interest in travel and the strength to leave the comforts of home," Tasha offers.
The docks were bustling with trade when the triremes arrive, joining a small fleet of others, along with airships and the odd, dangerous looking rocket-powered sleds of the Titanians. While the Khattan Emirate reaps most of the benefits of interworld trade, the Nohbakim themselves must be profiting handsomely as well. As the caravan is unloaded into carts, a gaggle of multi-colored Arcadian Hookas look on. Tasha remembers to watch her tail around the strange creatures this time.
Gabriel climbs onto one of the loaded wagons, and holds a hand down for Tasha. "Time to play our parts," he notes.
Pulling her tail in with one hand and accepting the hand with the other, Tasha smiles to her mate and jumps down. "It wouldn't be polite to hold up the show," she agrees as she follows after him.
Hakeber is still fascinated by the people gathered here, even though she's been through before. The wagon train moves through the tunnel beneath the storm-wall and emerges into the inner town. There are buildings and embassies and barracks, huge warehouses and a sea of tents, all crowding together in the relatively small space. Towering high at the center of the storm is the Gateway Tower itself, patrolled by trenchcoated, masked and helmeted humans wielding strange hybrid rifles.
"Ah, the Kampfengruppe. Anyone you know here, Hake?" Tasha asks as they ride along. Like Hakeber, she's fascinated by the collection of people gathered here, although more by those from the worlds other Sinai. After all, she's been traveling Sinai most of her life. "Think they'll give us problems, this time around?"
"It's not like we can hide who we are, and we now know that we've been watched at least during part of our journey," Tasha adds as she watches the hustle and bustle pass by. "Any idea what thos rifles of theirs are, Captain?"
"They all look alike in those masks," Hakeber admits. "They don't seem to be doing any contraband searches though."
"I've actually looked into them," Gabriel notes. "Made for use on Sinai. There's an acid reservoir, and when the trigger is pulled a few drops mix with water in a reaction chamber, causing steam which launches the bullet. There's a lag as a result, and weapons have to be kept level."
"That's good, at least. If I were going to stop us, I'd do it here though. What's your opinion on how they see the rest of us, Hake? Are your contacts the same?" Tasha then turns to nod to her mate. "I'd been wondering about them, since they couldn't have been unaware of how powder weapons perform on Sinai. We could probably use something like that for this and other high-SPM areas."
"I don't know how reliable the guns are," Gabriel notes. Hakeber shrugs, and says, "I don't know how often they even rotate forces out. These guys could be permanently based here on Sinai. The main thing to notice is that they aren't used Offworld Legionaries here. Almost all of them are from Sinai after all, so there'd be too much corruption and Gateway smuggling."
"Interesting, I didn't know that." She then nods to the looming checkpoint. "We're getting close now, lets see how things go." Leaning back, Tasha folds her hands on her lap and crosses her legs, settling in. "I hope things have been well on the other side, I'd hate to think we were absent when needed."
"They've survived thousands of years without us," Gabriel notes with a grin. The caravan waits its turn in the long line of carts that spiral away from the Tower. The soldiers are checking with the caravan masters and looking over documents, but not checking the wagons themselves.
Eventually, things start moving as the caravans head through the open gateway.
"Ah, that wasn't so bad. Just a few minutes until we're back home," Tasha murmurs as she watches the world pass on by. "Enjoy your stay on Sinai, Hake? Are you alright with the work we proposed you do with your contacts?"
"It was the first time I've really traveled," Hakeber says, and wags her tail a bit. "I'll miss the bunny. It was like having a giant stuffed toy in bed. That also did .. other things.." She eyes the soldiers warily as they pass by. It's impossible to tell what they're looking at behind those darkened lenses. "We'll see how it goes with my friend."
For her part, Tasha gives the soldiers a little wave and a big grin. "I hope things go well, for your sake. I'll be escorting you home after I take care of a few things. With Melchior elsewhere, helping you is the best thing I can do right now."
"Don't wave or smile at them," Hakeber whispers. "It makes them suspicious.."
"Oh fine," Tasha relents, dropping the smile and looking off at the carts before theirs. "It's the same way with the Silent-Ones really."
"They think you're mocking them," Hakeber explains. "Eyes down, act intimidated.. that's what they want. We're animals to them, and defiant animals get put down."
"That does rather encompass me, doesn't it? And to think, I just got over my omega-phase. If only we had met months before," the red woman whispers in a sardonic tone, twisting her muzzle even as she looks down and away. "I can't imagine they get on well with the Silent-Ones."
"Have they forgotten we're all part human, too?" The hybrid asks a second later. "Or does that make it worse?"
"They don't 'get on' with anyone," Hakeber notes. "They don't want to. The Terrans are corrupted by raising animals up to stand as -- mostly -- equals with humans, the Silent-Ones and the others don't even rate as people, and the Imperials - well, they get a bit more respect only because they're seen as the embodiment of evil."
"Somehow I doubt the latter will be a viable avenue of diplomacy for us," Tasha remarks, obidiently keeping her head down this time around. "Although I have been told I resemble demons from several mythologies. What do you think, Captain? "Ally with the JEF, we have as many asthetic symbols of absolute evil as the other guys.""
"I'm not sure they consider Terran humans to be 'true' humans either anymore," Hakeber says. "It's more than purity of species, it's purity of race with them."
Gabriel snorts. "I think you need horns before humans will consider you demonic looking," he points out. "No, we'll have to find something.. more subtle."
"I see. Probably purity of ethos too -- I doubt they take well to renegades. That could be a good avenue for us, though, should the opportunity arise." She nods to her mate. "Mutual use, perhaps. Or a group looking to break away and needing support. Of course, that wouldn't exactly endear us to the rest of the Kampfengruppe, but morally and strategically, it may be worth the risk."
"They're still human," Hakeber says. "And they need to watch the other powers. You'll see what I mean."
The Tower swallows them up, and space-time gets twisted and warped until they find themselves.. back in the Tower. Except this one is on Abaddon.
"I don't think I'll ever get used to that feeling," Tasha admits, laying a hand on her head. She then sniffs the air and grins. "Grit, the vague scent of blood, chill air ... We're home again."
Logfile from Envoy. (OOC) Log start: d:\logs\fenris\2012-09-27_crossroads.htmlAfter days and days of traveling, Tasha and her group arrive in Abu Dhabi, where they bid farewell to The Rake. Toth seeks out transport to Nagai City, and the rest head to their usual resting point: the Lightfoot estate just outside the city. From there, Aaron and his brother can reach and contact traders, caravans and government agencies to try and arrange transport to and through the Gateway Tower back to Abaddon.
It's also been a nice touch of civilization after so much time in the wilderness. If they are being watched by agents of the Emir, they're well hidden as well. Hakeber, naturally, takes the opportunity for carousing, which Tasha and Gabriel have to chaperone her through (and thus limiting Tasha's own carousing). And of course there's a visit to the artist, for a new group portrait that would be far to embarrassing to show around, even though it was rather impressive for Gabriel to hold his pose for so long with a girl on his shoulders.
Finally they make it 'home' in the middle of the night, and Tasha can take a moment to wind down and have a smoke on the veranda out back.
Tasha places her cloak aside as she walks in, pausing to look at the travel-worn garmet. She brushes her hand over its surface, recalling every major tear through the memory of touch. It seems like the adventure will never end, until it finally does, and you're left with silence and memories. We've been to so many places together. Head shaking, she turns away.
Turning, she walks over to the balcony, leaning forward and looking out at the city and fishing her cigarillos from her pouch. It's still the same city. Same lights, same people, all having a place and fitting in in a world with limits made by the availability of knowledge and the reluctance to seek it out. The more I travel, the more it seems that we're the ones who become alien. A different horizon just helps that along.
A few clicks later and a fire blooms in the darkness, lighting the young woman's cigarillo as she takes a drag. I shouldn't brood. Still, I can't believe Aaron's leaving us. One crossroad after another, a little is lost, and something new comes in its place. I wonder what the Markers will take, and what they'll offer in return. Adam ...
Speaking (or thinking) of the Lapi, Tasha finds herself joined outside. "There's a drunk woman with glitter in her hair passed out on my bed," Aaron notes. "Are you sure you're going to be able to handle her on your own?" he asks with a bit of humor.
"No, but I wouldn't have it any other way," Tasha replies in low a voice made sulty by the dim light and coiling smoke. She pats the verada rail beside her, invite Aaron to join her. "You're sure you want to return home?"
"I can't just keep running around with a teenaged wolf-girl, people will talk," Aaron claims. "Besides, you're going back to Abaddon, and who knows where from there. Not my stomping grounds, like the backwaters of this world. I'm not sure you need my advice anymore either, Tasha. You've grown up."
"I'll miss you," Tasha whispers, turning to look at her friend. "Grown up or not."
The rabbit reaches into his vest and pulls out an envelope. "Take this," he says. "Detailed instructions for contacting me if you need to, to save you unnecessary world-hopping. You'll need to use the Xenean relay-thingy of course. But the rest will tell a Shadow Mage how to contact my sister-in-law here, and she can find me anywhere."
The red woman accepts the note, tucking it in to her pouch to deal with later. "Thank you, Aaron. I wish I could provide you with the same information, but other than contacting the PHTO or, if we're on the ball, our agents in the cities, even I don't know where I'll be tomorrow. You know the stakes now; things may come to a head soon, with Adam and the Markers. I'm worried about the reaction, so in that way, I'm glad you'll be here. I'd tell you to be careful, but I know you will be."
"Oh, can you do me a small favor?" the apothecary asks, pinching his thumb and forefinger together to show just how small it is.
"Cheer up?" Tasha asks.
"Nah, something easy," the Lapi insists, and produces a second envelope. "Can you deliver this to Spring Meadow for me? She's probably still on Abaddon near the Gateway. Don't mix it up with the other envelope though." This envelope is a little thicker to distinguish it from the first.
"I can certainly do that," the young woman agrees, taking the letter and placing it with the other before tapping the ashen end of her cigarillo off. "Is there anything else?"
"When Hakeber hasn't had a drink for two days, her libido drops," Aaron advises. "However, she actually seems to function better with a little bit of booze in her system. Just in case you need to get some real work out of her."
"That's good to know. Hake's going to be busy investigate leads on the Markers and the group, although I'm concerned about employing her this way and I'll need to discuss the matter at length with her before we proceed." Tasha taps off her cigarillo again, breathing out in to the cool night air before she continues. "It seems that honesty is immicable to politics and plots; I still hope that one day we can reveal all of this. Right now, I don't know what the fallout will be. I won't allow the JEF to become a burden on society, even if I need to resort to misdirection. You understand, don't you, Aaron?"
"The original cult kept it all secret," Aaron notes. "I'm sure there's a reason for that, beyond wanting to control the knowledge. Then again.. we're used to gods and stuff on Sinai. I'd be an athiest if I wasn't worried Logos or Blakat or someone wouldn't show up and break my furniture. The Silent-Ones and some of the others won't want their religions shaken up. Be prepared to keep things secret, is all. Especially the bit about the cult maybe being responsible for the collapse of the original Expedition."
The Lapi then grins and leans in close to whisper, "Besides, this way I get to be part of a secret society with a big conspiracy.. even if it's just four or five people."
"It seems that it was more than that. Your remember our Titan friend, Caspar? The alien power source within him is alive, and if it is to be believed, it is the guardian of the path to Adam -- taking orders directly from the Progenitors. And, that means the Cult may have been a front -- and the Progenitors may still be active, observing us." Leaning forward, Tasha pauses to listen and smiles a little at what she hears. "I've never been big on subterfuge and evasion, but I guess I'll learn, just like with everything else. We'll be leaving early tomorrow, by the way. The sooner the Markers are secured the sooner I can relax."
"I'm the one that arranged passage, so I'm well aware of when you're leaving," the Lapi points out. "I gave the introduction papers to Gabriel, once you get to Gateway City. Trader Kumaar will be taking you through with his caravan."
"I just wanted to be sure, in case you forget anything. We may not see each other again for a while." Straightening, Tasha walks over and wraps an arm around Aaron's shoulders, her other hand holding her cigarillo wide as she hugs him. "Don't be a stranger, alright? I should get to bed before I depress myself. Tomorrow will be a long day."
At the 'don't be a stranger' remark, Aaron can't help but reach down and squeeze Tasha's butt. "Get your sleep, since Hake will be groggy in the morning. One last night of carnivore-rutting for me I guess, then she's yours to deal with," he laughs. "And I do terrible eulogies, Tasha, so don't make me have to write one. Remember, if you ever need to disappear, my family has that nice little villa in the back end of barbaria."
"I'll try not to die again," Tasha promises, patting the man on the head. "I'm sure the Reaper is getting tired of Noras anyway. But, if the worst does come to pass, tell them why I did it. What I was trying to do." She then leans over and gives the man a kiss on the forehead before letting go, stretching her arms and brushing the hair from her face. "Don't get me wrong though. I miss Abaddon. It's where I feel needed. Good night, Aaron. Enjoy your rest."
After sbuffing out her cigarillo, Tasha gives her friend one final farewell smile before walking off, waving as she goes.
The passage to Gateway City is overland this time. Or more accurately over sand. Trader Kumaar's caravan is being transported on three separate Nohbakim sand triremes. A journey of several days, but not without entertainment. The Nohbakim are endlessly fascinating in their miscegenic forms, and while the scenery is dull the occasional wildlife is worth seeing - especially a school of not-to-distant Shriken, moving like giant sea-serpents through the Sea of Sand.
True to form, Hakeber manages to get sea sick the first morning out, but gets her 'sand legs' soon enough. Trader Kumaar has made the trip many times, and shares some insight into what is best traded with the Abaddonians. "Peat for nails," the lynxish Khatta claims. "Both cheap at their origins, valuable at the other end. Easy to carry, but not a tempting target for bandits."
"That's interesting to know," Tasha replies, back against the rail as she listens to the merchant explain his trade. "I don't have a chance to get involved with interplanetary trade, but I've always thought it was a fascinating thing. It's really a difference in values, which are something I try to be aware of in my own work."
"Speaking of which, have you ever heard of a story about the Nohbakim's origins? Something about a curse and Savanites?" Tasha asks.
"Ah, yes," Kumaar says, raising a finger. "It was, of course, dismissed until recently, but even so it is difficult to grasp - both that the Savanites had the power to warp Zerdas in such a manner, and have the curse continue for the thousands of years. It defies our understanding of Life Magic." The man gestures towards one of the crew, how has two spindly, Zelak-like arms on one side and one large Tiger-Khatta one on the other. "Do you speak Zerda, my dear?"
"I'm afraid not, but I do know Silent-Sign and several other languages," Tasha answers as she regards the peculiar creature, unsurprised to find she feels a certain kinship with the Nohbakim. "I'm something of a scholar, it comes with our work. I was able to hear that story from someone closer to the source of it. Regrettably, he did not offer any clues as to a cure -- if one is even desired."
"And I certainly agree about the scope of the magic, though not that the Savanites possessed it. I'm sure you're aware of the Silent-Ones," she adds.
"The legend claims that only a Savanite Princess can lift the curse," Kumaar claims, and twitches his ears in amusement. "And of course the Silent-Ones have no magic. Ah, but you do not hear how the crew talk of you. Nohbakim are fascinated by Vartan hybrids, and you are one that has never been heard of before.. which always brings speculation if you are a Nohbakim yourself, of fine symmetry. Such types tend to hold high positions among them."
"I'm a product of magic, on my mother's side," Tasha relates, glancing again to the Nohbakim. "I'm half-Vartan, if an unusual one. The only one, as far as I know. I'm used to these sorts of questions." She nods towards the watching Nohbakim. "And certain thoughts about my origin. Not that I'm offended, mind you; I have nothing against the Nohbakim, but I don't mean to claim a status that isn't mine to hold. Incidentally," and here she glances back to the trader, "were there any others that wanted to join this excursion? Individuals, small groups? Anyone out of the ordinary or those you had cause to believe weren't truthful about their reasons to be here?"
"Now, I do not normally take extras," Kumaar notes, wagging a finger. "My porters have been with me for years. Anyone else is only accepted with letters of recommendation from traders I trust - and only they and I know who they are, so it is difficult to forge such a thing. Have you seen suspicious activity?"
"Not personally, but it never hurts to ask, don't you think?" The young woman smiles, shifting to recline back against the rail again. "By the way, if the Nohbakim want to speak to me, they're more than welcome to."
"The language barrier may prevent that," the Trader notes. "Few of the Sand Men speak Standard or Khattan. They're own dialect of Zerdan can be difficult to understand even for a Zerda, due to its modification to be more amenable to different speaking organs. Although there are those that are sent to study abroad, because they can pass for normal with proper attire, or are particularly beautiful. And when a Nohbakim is considered a beauty, it is something to behold I assure you."
"I'm sure," Tasha agrees, trying to mask her distaste at the selection process. "Do you have anyone interested in studying abroad on this ship?"
"I believe the Captain's son is schooling in Abu Dhabi," Kumaar notes. "It is difficult for many of them to live comfortably too far from the Sea of Sand that birthed them, but I've heard rumors of a sizeable colony on Rephidim, so may simply be a matter of transporting the tastes of home, or cultivating them elsewhere."
"Tell your Captain that if his son would ever like to study farther abroad, to contact the Joint Expeditionary Force of Abaddon, or the PHTO Council, which can get him in touch with us. We're always looking for new members who have an interest in travel and the strength to leave the comforts of home," Tasha offers.
The docks were bustling with trade when the triremes arrive, joining a small fleet of others, along with airships and the odd, dangerous looking rocket-powered sleds of the Titanians. While the Khattan Emirate reaps most of the benefits of interworld trade, the Nohbakim themselves must be profiting handsomely as well. As the caravan is unloaded into carts, a gaggle of multi-colored Arcadian Hookas look on. Tasha remembers to watch her tail around the strange creatures this time.
Gabriel climbs onto one of the loaded wagons, and holds a hand down for Tasha. "Time to play our parts," he notes.
Pulling her tail in with one hand and accepting the hand with the other, Tasha smiles to her mate and jumps down. "It wouldn't be polite to hold up the show," she agrees as she follows after him.
Hakeber is still fascinated by the people gathered here, even though she's been through before. The wagon train moves through the tunnel beneath the storm-wall and emerges into the inner town. There are buildings and embassies and barracks, huge warehouses and a sea of tents, all crowding together in the relatively small space. Towering high at the center of the storm is the Gateway Tower itself, patrolled by trenchcoated, masked and helmeted humans wielding strange hybrid rifles.
"Ah, the Kampfengruppe. Anyone you know here, Hake?" Tasha asks as they ride along. Like Hakeber, she's fascinated by the collection of people gathered here, although more by those from the worlds other Sinai. After all, she's been traveling Sinai most of her life. "Think they'll give us problems, this time around?"
"It's not like we can hide who we are, and we now know that we've been watched at least during part of our journey," Tasha adds as she watches the hustle and bustle pass by. "Any idea what thos rifles of theirs are, Captain?"
"They all look alike in those masks," Hakeber admits. "They don't seem to be doing any contraband searches though."
"I've actually looked into them," Gabriel notes. "Made for use on Sinai. There's an acid reservoir, and when the trigger is pulled a few drops mix with water in a reaction chamber, causing steam which launches the bullet. There's a lag as a result, and weapons have to be kept level."
"That's good, at least. If I were going to stop us, I'd do it here though. What's your opinion on how they see the rest of us, Hake? Are your contacts the same?" Tasha then turns to nod to her mate. "I'd been wondering about them, since they couldn't have been unaware of how powder weapons perform on Sinai. We could probably use something like that for this and other high-SPM areas."
"I don't know how reliable the guns are," Gabriel notes. Hakeber shrugs, and says, "I don't know how often they even rotate forces out. These guys could be permanently based here on Sinai. The main thing to notice is that they aren't used Offworld Legionaries here. Almost all of them are from Sinai after all, so there'd be too much corruption and Gateway smuggling."
"Interesting, I didn't know that." She then nods to the looming checkpoint. "We're getting close now, lets see how things go." Leaning back, Tasha folds her hands on her lap and crosses her legs, settling in. "I hope things have been well on the other side, I'd hate to think we were absent when needed."
"They've survived thousands of years without us," Gabriel notes with a grin. The caravan waits its turn in the long line of carts that spiral away from the Tower. The soldiers are checking with the caravan masters and looking over documents, but not checking the wagons themselves.
Eventually, things start moving as the caravans head through the open gateway.
"Ah, that wasn't so bad. Just a few minutes until we're back home," Tasha murmurs as she watches the world pass on by. "Enjoy your stay on Sinai, Hake? Are you alright with the work we proposed you do with your contacts?"
"It was the first time I've really traveled," Hakeber says, and wags her tail a bit. "I'll miss the bunny. It was like having a giant stuffed toy in bed. That also did .. other things.." She eyes the soldiers warily as they pass by. It's impossible to tell what they're looking at behind those darkened lenses. "We'll see how it goes with my friend."
For her part, Tasha gives the soldiers a little wave and a big grin. "I hope things go well, for your sake. I'll be escorting you home after I take care of a few things. With Melchior elsewhere, helping you is the best thing I can do right now."
"Don't wave or smile at them," Hakeber whispers. "It makes them suspicious.."
"Oh fine," Tasha relents, dropping the smile and looking off at the carts before theirs. "It's the same way with the Silent-Ones really."
"They think you're mocking them," Hakeber explains. "Eyes down, act intimidated.. that's what they want. We're animals to them, and defiant animals get put down."
"That does rather encompass me, doesn't it? And to think, I just got over my omega-phase. If only we had met months before," the red woman whispers in a sardonic tone, twisting her muzzle even as she looks down and away. "I can't imagine they get on well with the Silent-Ones."
"Have they forgotten we're all part human, too?" The hybrid asks a second later. "Or does that make it worse?"
"They don't 'get on' with anyone," Hakeber notes. "They don't want to. The Terrans are corrupted by raising animals up to stand as -- mostly -- equals with humans, the Silent-Ones and the others don't even rate as people, and the Imperials - well, they get a bit more respect only because they're seen as the embodiment of evil."
"Somehow I doubt the latter will be a viable avenue of diplomacy for us," Tasha remarks, obidiently keeping her head down this time around. "Although I have been told I resemble demons from several mythologies. What do you think, Captain? "Ally with the JEF, we have as many asthetic symbols of absolute evil as the other guys.""
"I'm not sure they consider Terran humans to be 'true' humans either anymore," Hakeber says. "It's more than purity of species, it's purity of race with them."
Gabriel snorts. "I think you need horns before humans will consider you demonic looking," he points out. "No, we'll have to find something.. more subtle."
"I see. Probably purity of ethos too -- I doubt they take well to renegades. That could be a good avenue for us, though, should the opportunity arise." She nods to her mate. "Mutual use, perhaps. Or a group looking to break away and needing support. Of course, that wouldn't exactly endear us to the rest of the Kampfengruppe, but morally and strategically, it may be worth the risk."
"They're still human," Hakeber says. "And they need to watch the other powers. You'll see what I mean."
The Tower swallows them up, and space-time gets twisted and warped until they find themselves.. back in the Tower. Except this one is on Abaddon.
"I don't think I'll ever get used to that feeling," Tasha admits, laying a hand on her head. She then sniffs the air and grins. "Grit, the vague scent of blood, chill air ... We're home again."