After a less-than-comforting meeting with the Archon, Tasha collects the Vartan Marker and heads for the airfield - to the one 'person' that never lets her down: Melchior. A few of the Lawbringers are out on patrol, and the mechanics have another one halfway stripped down for maintenance. Commanding-Hand holds a clipboard and pen, working through some paperwork.
With a particularly gloomy cast, Tasha makes her way towards her Titan without waving as she might normally. Indeed, she doesn't seem to notice the work going on around her, as she stares straight ahead and right in to her own thoughts. The weight of the Origin Marker of Vartans seems heavier in her hand, but she can't help but remind herself this is it; in a moment she may have the answer to one of her original questions, and finally figure out what the program secreted aboard Melchior was meant to do.
Everyone is occupied, so nobody seems to react to Tasha - she hasn't announced an intent to sortie Melchior after all. It's tricky to get into the cockpit with the bulky case holding the Marker, which just adds to the Vartan's frustration for a bit, until it's finally set next to the pilot chair.
Tasha lays back in the pilot's chair with an exasperated sigh. It's been an embarassing and frusterated day so far and she can only hope things go better, and soon. After taking a moment to just relax, she tne tips her head forward to accept the neural link.
The arm connects, and the cockpit comes alive with displays. "I am detecting an unsecured non-biological mass in the cockpit," the Melchior AI reports. "Your mood seems sour as well, Tasha."
"I can't fool you," Tasha admits, an amused smile coming to your face. "Want to guess what's inside the box?"
"Are you asking me to?" the AI replies. "I do not experience the state of 'wanting' anything."
"Is that so? You could have fooled me; you can be quite sentimental these days." Leaning over, Tasha hefts the suitcase in to her lap and knocks on the top. "The Origin Marker of Vartans."
"How does it make you feel?" the Titan asks, strangely enough.
"Proud, and I probably would be more so if it hasn't been such a rotten day. I sometimes wonder if I should have left the mystery behind these things alone, but that ship has sailed and now I'm left to captain it," the young woman admits. She begins undoing the latches. "To be honest ..," her hands pause, eyes closing, "I'm not sure where I'm going any more. I thought my heart would lead me in the right direction, that my message and beliefs would win out, but right now it seems like all I'm doing is making enemies. I betrayed Gabriel, whatever the reason ... Archon Strength-of-Stones thinks I'm insane for wanting to believe in Balthasar, and I wonder ... what am I doing? And if my ideals are wrong, or my heart lying to me, then ... Then what has it all been for? Am I just deluding people with charisma? I don't know." She shakes her head, then opens her eyes and continues.
There's a tingle in Tasha's scalp which lets her know that Melchior is accessing her senses - sight, touch, hearing and probably others that Tasha may only register subconsciously. The Marker looks 'normal' again, like some strange marble with the engraved image of a male and female Vartan 'floating' inside.
"/But at least I have this,/" Tasha thinks as she stares down at the Marker in her lap. "/We managed to find all three of them, and your first pilot as well. For better or for worse, at least we /managed to succeed in this./" The Marker is lifted, and the case put aside, until it rests atop her legs, flowing in that peculiar water-like way. "/We think it may be some form of manipulated space-time, some sort of inverted field that cancels out when brought near other Markers. 'Inside' is a stone object, much as you see it now, though who knows what it's made out of. What do you think of it? Does it jog your memories any? Cause any remarkable sensory disturbance?/"
The cockpit fades away around Tasha, replaced by a blank white plane. Elements begin to appear though: a white and gold conference table, and then glowing white walls and floor and ceiling, trimmed in gold. The aesthetic is not so baroque as on Harmonia, but it is clearly Khattan. A familiar Vartan sits at the circular table, across from an ancient looking but richly-dressed Khatta.
"I'm afraid my Clan is already contracted for the Joint Expedition, Ser Heraphel," Apollyon tells the elder, speaking in Vartan. The old lynx across from him smiles beatifically and nods. "I am aware of that, Apollyon," he purrs, "but this contract is one made by your ancestors, the Order of Horus."
Standing aside and apart from the memory, Tasha begins to walk closer, circling the figures as they speak, she studying the room and the features of those present. Interesting, she thinks after listening a moment. This must be what Apollyon was first approached for the Magi mission, but it appears to be an older obligation ... "
The Vartan's neck feathers bristle. "That Order is long dead, Ser Heraphel," Apollyon claims.
"As is my own Order of Mafdet," the Khatta claims with a slight grin. "But the old gods may not be," he says, and gestures with his right hand. The surface of the conference table turns to liquid, and the Vartan Origin Marker floats to the surface. "We have reason to believe that the Hall of Souls resides in the Primus system. We are not alone. The Disciples of Ahriman and the Children of Neith agree with us."
The warrior bird looks upon the Marker with.. awe? "Where was it found?" he all but hisses.
"Achera, twenty-three light years from Varta in the First Ones ruins," the lynx says. Another gesture fills the room with holographic images of other Markers, including a circular human one and a five-sided Khattan Marker. "Like all of the others. Never on the birth-world of the Marked race, always in First Ones ruins. Dating is problematical."
The Disciples of Ahriman are certainly the same group we saw on the Lucifer, but the Children of Neith ..? Another term for the Kampfengruppe's ancestors ..? Or another faction? Having another faction involve would certainly complicate things, especially if they're still active. Perhaps a Silent-One contingent .. Tasha pauses to prop her elbows on the table, leaning forward to stare at the holographic display. I don't recognize the planets, but I should be able to look them up. Could Varta be ... the Vartan homeworld? Or at least a center of culture ... Her muzzle twists as she eyes the other Markers, ears flicking. So those are the shapes of the others. I wonder if they possess them, or these are simply records ...
"Why do you need my people?" Apollyon asks, focusing back on the feline. "You have two others, and you only need three," he points out.
"Our Marker is lost," Ser Heraphel claims. "A schism over one thousand years ago. Rather than let the Marker fall to the other faction, the Guardians of Heritage flew it, and themselves, into a gas giant, beyond the reach of anyone."
So they knew about the three -- no surprie, given the contents of the mission-poem. It does suggest they had reached a point where they only needed to find the lock, and yet the the Mutiny ended their ability to do so ... And no second attempt that I know of, Tasha considers as her gaze flicks back to the wizened Khatta. An original Khattan, too. I didn't expect them to be lynx-like. That they'd sacrifice their own Marker fits with what I have heard about how far they'll go to protect their mysteries, and due to an internal conflict, no less.
"What is there to be gained then?" the Vartan asks.
"Knowledge, power, wisdom.. enlightenment," the old cat suggests. "What would you ask of your creator, Apollyon? What questions burn in your heart? And if you should enter the Hall of Souls, and Horus is gone - might you not take his place?"
The big Vartan broods. "You would not ask me so close to departure if you did not already have resources in place," he says, instead of answering the questions.
As she listens to her forebearer speak, Tasha's ears flatten as she realizes something. Could it be a lie? Apollyon said they didn't want to risk themselves. They may be concealing their own Marker, and several others, to use after an initial test. And, should the others fail, if Apollyon is right ... their rivals would be gone and the path to open to them. Tasha pauses in her thoughts to listen as the feline continues, muzzle twisting again. Lord Yama warned of seeking those things. Could it be a setup? And, is Horus the Vartan creator, as Ahriman is to the Naga, and Adam to Humans? It must be ... And to offer Apollyon to become his replacement ...
Another gesture from the cat brings up the images of the Magi. "Our orders are not as powerful as they once were, Apollyon. We are few, our wealth is limited. But together, we have created these, the three Magi, to carry out this mission. It has taken all that we have."
"Cast in the image of the old gods, I see," Apollyon says. "Are they named so obviously as well?"
The Khatta shakes his head. "As with all things, we rely on the Mysteries. The image of Ahriman is named Balthasar, the Serpent of Arabia. Horus becomes Melchior, the Bird of Hermes, and Neith is Balthasar, Homogenie"
"Terran names," Apollyon recognizes. "Not much to hide their origins though."
Or so you say; Harmonia is missing from the equation, Tasha considers as her gaze lingers on the image of the Magi. She blinks at Apollyon's opinion of the machines, frowning suddenly. Cast in the image of the old gods? I wonder how literal that is ... To think, I'd wondered what the Progenitors looked like, and all this time they may have been staring me in the face. She listens again, and then nods slowly. So the code names are more than simple allusions to the code and motivational mythological slogans ... But why Terran? And why not hide them better?
"In the legends, Ahriman and Neith were enemies, but both respected Horus," Heraphel claims. "That is why my order can only trust you, Apollyon. Your honor is unquestioned. I am sure the others will try to obtain enough Markers to enter the Hall of Souls by themselves. You must prevent that from happening. Even if it means ensuring that nobody reach the Hall."
"This.. explains the presence of the Teutons," Apollyon grumbles. "They must have their Marker as well. How much of your faith is based on their Mysteries, Ser Heraphel?"
Tasha's brows rise. He's asking Apollyon to ... protect the Hall? But is his intent honest ... The old codger looks like he could plan his way through anything. The woman turns her gaze to Apollyon' studying hsi reaction as he speaks. And he recognizes the Hampfengruppe's forebear's presence in the Fleet, but it appears they have but one Marker; does that mean they're not aware of the number requirement of the lock?
"We have confirmed their claim to have discovered the Human Marker with the remains of Eve, if not the Book of the Dead as yet," the lynx notes, frowning slightly. "The Celestials claim their own source, but are impenetrably close about that source. We are at a disadvantage, if they are correct. Our gods were not so generous."
"Hmmm," Apollyon grunts, a bit skeptically. "And how long have you been in possession of the Vartan Marker?" he asks bluntly.
"We have had it since before our two peoples met," the Khatta admits.
"Of course," the Vartan says, betraying no emotion. "Our mutually beneficial alliance was instigated by your Order, wasn't it? You wanted us in your pocket from the beginning."
"Yes," the Khatta admits, spreading his hands and smiling apologetically. "And all it has cost you is having to suffer being prosperous and wielding the greatest military technologies in Known Space."
So it seems that everyone started to mobilize at the same time, from their own discoveries. It could suggest an alliance between the others, though we've not found any evidence yet. But, what is the Book of teh Dead? A manual? Record? It sounds like something that would act as a guide ... And the Celestial's source, that may be Lord Yama, who would have been actively manipulating things if he spoke the truth. But how did he end up in Caspar? Could the source be something or someone else? Even as she considers this, Tasha can't help but feel her hackles stir. To think, the mystery extends so far back, through who-knows-how-many secret dealings and obfuscated conflicts, right down to her, someone who found it all accidentally after wandering off in a fit of pique. Her head shakes as she listens to Apollyon's reaction. Clever old man. I wonder if he's still around. And they knew about the Titanian-Vartan connection, too. At least it wasn't one sided.//
"And what is it you would ask of your goddess, via proxy, My Benefactor?" Apollyon asks, crossing his arms against his chest.
"I would wish to know if she is proud of us," the lynx claims.
A goddess, so they're sexed too. It seems their referenced gender may be literal, and not simply a convienent simplification. Tasha listens to teh reply, a wry smile coming to her face. Oh I just bet that's what you want. Maybe at first ...
Apollyon sits in silence for a moment, and then reaches out pull the Marker to him, marvelling at it's strangeness. "They aren't really gods, you know," the bird says quietly. "The First Ones. They left ruins and mysteries, but that in itself speaks of their mortality. They died."
"Or left," Heraphel counters. "Returned to the Hall of Souls, in the Seventh Heaven, waiting for their children to claim adulthood and the privileges it brings."
"Or to take their place, as the humans believe," Apollyon says.
"Some children are compelled to challenge their parents," the lynx notes with a shrug. "It is the natural order of things."
"I punish my sons for failing such challenges," the Vartan notes. "I have had to drive one out of the Clan, into exile. These are also parts of the natural order. Keep that in mind, old cat."
The old lynx bows his head. "I would not dream of challenging Mafdet, only hope to rest my head against her bosom in my final minutes," Seraphel claims.
Tasha considers her forebearer's words for a moment, head tilting. Does mortality really mean something is not a 'god?' My creator was long dead when she made me. I guess it's all relative, she decides. She listens for a moment longer, working her muzzle. So the gods may be waiting beyond the door. Or dead, waiting for us to take their place. Answers, power, wisdom, enlightenment ... It seems like the Hall of Souls is a pirate's treasure, fulfilling every desire, yet all the more so. And, perhaps, far more real. She can't help but chuckle at Apollyon's parenting habits, being, as they do, reminding her of her Vartan mother. Find the Hall, find Adam ... I may not need answers, but who knows what how what I hear may effect me. Lord Yama thinks I should proceed, but he may be lying. They may just smite me for my insolence, and I may never know why.
Ser Heraphel's words remind her of the request of the shaman, inadvertantly making her feel sympathetic towards the old Khatta. Is it really so hard for me to believe he may just want a little comfort from his creator, before he dies? Am I any different, when I run to Nora for help ..? She exhales, leaning back. Probably not. It's not as if I'm innocent of making plots, either, especially these days.
"I'll think about your request during the journey to Primus," Apollyon says, taking up the Marker. "You'll just have to be patient in learning the outcome."
"Patience is one of the virtues of my kind," Heraphel claims. "We have waited tens of thousands of years already, after all."
With those final words, the simulation fades away, and Tasha finds herself back in the familiar cockpit again.
Tasha taps her nails against the table, even as if fades away. She stares at the blue-lined cockpit wall and frowns. "In the end, Apollyon turned down the mission, fearing he was simply being used so that the Khattans need not risk themselves. Harmonia's presence lends credence to that theory, too. Never was it mentioned that there would be an observer. I bet the old codger is still waiting, wondering if his plan will ever reach fruitition. Maybe he even knows who I am ... " She shakes her head, asking, "Anything else, Melchior?"
"I do not understand your request, Tasha," the AI replies.
"Were you unaware of what just took place, the projected memory?" Tasha inquires, tilting her head and looking up.
"I have no record.." the Titan begins to report, then goes silent. "I have been offline for several minutes according to my clock. There is no record of a shutdown or restart request."
"That is very peculiar. It's a similiar to what took place when I accessed the concealed program listed in your general training list. I had thought, then, that there must be black box systems that you are unaware of, and now I'm certain of it. Hopefully they're nothing to worry about, but I admit that I'm a little anxious that the Khattans didn't put something in you to keep an eye on things; they don't seem like the type to forget contigency plans," Tasha explains. "Speaking of which, I'm going to access that hidden program now, to see if it contains anything different. I apologize for making you deal with this, Melchior. It must be unpleasant?" She knows what his answer will be, but feels she must ask anyway; while Melchior may not have his own will now, she has long suspected that day may come, though she knows not when.
"I take pleasure in performing my function," the Titan claims.
"I think I may envy that," Tasha admits, smiling a little to herself. "Please bring up the training menu. Execute the program listed at the bottom of the general list; I know that there doesn't appear to be anything there. Please try to anyway."
In the simulated space, Tasha sees Melchior's avatar once more, but as before.. it doesn't seem to be him. "What is the geometry of creation?" the black-and-gold Vartan asks.
Tasha has to think a moment. Last time she was here, she was in full depth, and her emotional memory was disabled. The choice to remain in full depth while accessing this system made for unreliable memories, given the importance of emotion in sentient organic memory creation. After a second or two digging through her mind, she answers, "The hexagon is geometry of Vartan creation."
"Do you have the Marker?" the avatar asks next.
"Yes," the hybrid woman answers.
"Have you met with the Serpent of Arabia?" is the next question.
"Yes, Lord Yama has allowed me to proceed. I have the Origin Marker," is Tasha's reply.
"Have you met with Homogenie?" the figure prompts.
feeling herself settle in to the ritual of question and response, Tasha answers, "Yes, though he is not what he once was. I have the Origin Marker."
The faux-Vartan looks at Tasha and asks, "Have you located the Vault of Creation?"
"I have it's general location, but not it's specific location," the red woman explains.
"Have the others located it?" not-Melchior asks.
"By all accounts, no. I believe the Kampfengruppe is searching, possibly with present day Khattan assistance, while the Celestials have long since forgotten the search. As far as I am aware, I am my allies are the cloest to finding the vault," Tasha says, though she can't help but feel like she's reporting in. The feelings makes her wonder if this was Apollyon's means to contant his superiors in the various cults, but with so little to go one, she decides she needs to explore every avenue if she's to proceeed.
But it does, at least, urge her to ask, "Who are you?"
"I am the Magi Core," the virtual Vartan replies.
"I see. Then you are a higher-level AI than the personality I interact with. Why the need for a seperate AI?" Tasha asks, head tilting. "And do you have more questions?"
"Clarification request: please define the terms 'Lord Yama' and 'Kampfengruppe' and elucidate 'not what he once was' with regards to Homogenie," the Core asks.
Tasha arches a brow, but answers anyway, "Lord Yama, the power core of Caspar, a seed, is sentient. It has claimed to act on behalf of the Progenitors, acting as a hidden gateway and security measure, and is now in control of Caspar's body. If it is to be believed, it is responsible for the mutiny aboard the fleet, as well as a great deal of manipulation throughout its time assigned to the Celestial Empire. As for Homogenie, it has been remodeled using Sifran technologies to be used as a weapon of war, a counter-invasion system. Its AI has undoubtedly been touched by the alien mind of the artifacts, and I am still assessing the viabilty and danger he presents. The Kampfengruppe is the modern form of the Teutons," the young woman replies.
"And I still would like to know why the melchior has two levels of AI," she adds, a second later.
"Oh, actually I suppose it would be three levels," says an only recently-familiar feline voice from behind Tasha.
Tasha spins around, brows arching and ears perked. "Ser Heraphel??"
A wizened lynx stands behind Tasha, leaning heavily on an ornate cane. "Ah, yes, that would be I, young woman," the man says. "You however, are not who I was expecting."
"And yet, you were who I was expecting," Tasha says as she regards the old feline, taking a moment to look him over. "At least as of several minutes ago. I suppose you were expecting Apollyon?" She looks up, head tilting. "Unfortunately for us both, he's long since passed on."
"I'm curious about that, and many things in general," the old Khatta says, and grins. "Amazing, that. I really do feel like I'm thinking. Although I'm probably long dead. Ingenious technology, isn't it? What happened to Apollyon?"
"I wondered if you were a true AI, a PersoCom based AI, or an AI working inconjunction some sort of transmitter network," Tasha says, then she cocks her head the other way. "It is ingenious, I agree. As for Apollyon, I think he died of old age. It has been roughly six-thousand years since his time, and our worlds do not posssess whatever longevity technology yours may have had, at least, he did not seem to have access to the scant few that remain. It's a shame, I would have liked to have met him. He seemed like he would have been a good role model. You said you have questions?"
The feline looks.. stunned. "Six.. six thousand years?" Heraphel asks. "My.. my but that's a long time. PersoCom you say? Yes.. yes.. something like that. I like to think it's a bit better of course, but that's just me. I suppose I should start with who you are, my dear?"
"My name is Aldara Tasha, I came upon the wreckage of the TSS Fenris and was able to revive some of the crew. Together, we proceeded to locate the JEF Orpheus, wherein I came upon the Magi while wandering the ship alone," the young woman explains. She can't help but feel anxious, talking to Ser Heraphel, even though his physical self may be dead and gone. She suspects he's far more clever than his demeanor suggests, but she also knows questions can be answers, so she keeps talking, "I discovered the Magi system and hidden goal through personal investigation, while I and my associates have reformed the Joint Expeditionary Force."
"Reformed," the Khatta notes. "And wreckage. What befell the Expedition, do you know?"
"A mutiny -- the Mutiny -- caused a majority of the Fleet to make planetfall throughout the Primus System. As Sinai's planets often inhbit the performance of more than simple tools and systems, most of our technology became inoperable, and over time, much was forgotten. Henry Canaan, the leader of the mutiny, hijacked the gate ship and attempted a forced jump back to Zion, destablizing the unfinished gate and likely destroying both himself and the gate ship, stranding us," the young woman answers. "Until recently, I was unaware of the history of our worlds, and I knew nothing of advanced technologies. Compared to your society and levels of technology, you could say we have regresssed considerably."
"And what of the Magi?" Heraphel asks. "You found Melchior, but the others.. tell me what become of them?"
"Melchior surived intact and untouched. Caspar, if it can be believed, has become 'possessed' by the energy-generating seed that appears to power it. In truth, the seed is sentient and appears to have been for a very long time. It referes to itself as 'Lord Yama,' and claims responsibility for acting as a security system to prevent those it believes are unworthy from reaching the Hall of Souls; it has manipulated the Celestial Empire for a long time, or so it said, and may be the Disciples of Ahriman's concealed source,"
Though not needing it in this virtual world, Tasha pauses for a breath, taking a moment to marshal her thoughts before continuing. "As for Balthasar, he has been reworked by the then-emergent Savanite -- what we call Silent Ones on Sinai -- Empire, to be a war machine along side their mastery of magic -- the manipulation of SPF to create effects -- and as a defense against interplanetary invasion. I left Caspar on Sinai, but Balthasar I have recovered. I am still assessing his stability, potential, and whatever danger he might pose."
"Mafdet protect us from the machinations of Serpents," Heraphel intones, raising his cane a bit. "So, the other two are no longer part of the mission, it would seem. But you have their Markers?"
"Yes, and thanks to the memory contained in Melchior, knowledge of the others as well," the young woman replies.
"But you must know by now, I, too, am not part of the mission," she adds.
"Have you brought them together then?" the Khatta asks. "We never had the chance to see what would happen if two or more were brought close. Ah.. but.. you are the Bird of Hermes. The pilot of Melchior. You have collected the Markers. In what way are you not part of the mission?"
"I am not part of the original mission," Tasha corrects. "And maybe others things, as well. But to answer your question, yes, they appear to negate each other somehow. Negated, they appear as simple stonework, albiet of a material we are uncertain of."
"I notice that the Bird of Hermes is both a reference to the pilot and to the machine, the latter referencing Horus as well. It is a curious distinction, to call them all one," she remarks a second later.
"How.. unexpected," the lynx notes, bushy eyebrows raised. "So many things have been tried with the Markers. Most who knew of them believed they were means of communicating with the gods, but if our prayers were transmitted through them then there was never any indication that they were received. And what is curious about calling many parts a single whole?"
"There can be answers in questions and questions in answers. The nuance of which, I find, can explain a great deal," Tasha answers. She smiles a little, then says, "I do not know if the gods answer though the Markers. I have my own gods, some I have met, like the humans, and others that are more distant and nebulous. Some of them have answered me, but none have claimed to be the gods you have named."
"It is a convenient term, easily understood," the old man explains. "Much more so than 'Archon' or similar. We don't know if they were gods or not. In the early days, of course we thought so. But then the universe became known to us, and we discovered the ruins of past civilizations, the Markers and even stranger and older artifacts."
"The Sifrans, possibly others? I have encountered beings from another universe. What was once an imposing, great world seems a great deal smaller now. Do you feel better, for having found so many answers?" Tasha inquires.
"Not the answers I seek.. or sought, I suppose," the elder notes. "We have learned the how, and the when.. but not the why. Were we created? Is there a reason our worlds share so much in common? Do the Markers simply mean that we are recognized, or have been contacted? No clear answers to those, I'm afraid."
"I find myself with similiar uncertanties," Tasha admits, willing a stool to appear, then sitting on it. It's a simple wooden barstool, remarkable if only for being so simple. "I have incorporated the memories of several people and a great deal of knowledge to get this far. Together with my fellows, we have tried to build something for the betterment of the sentient life on these worlds, while exploring their mysteries. Like you, I find that certain knowledge has lead to an increasing need for secrecy and hidden plots, though I am sure I am not your match in those. As it is, I find myself deeply concerned with the potential aftermath of a contact; I have tried to push my allies away to avoid inadvertantly risking their lives, even their entire species. I am preparing Balthasar to see if he will assist in defense, if the worst should happen. And yet I feel uncertain ... I feel like I'm walking down a path that may lead to isolation, and yet I can't bring myself to turn away. You're my forebearer in all this, what d
o you think? Am I right to fear allowing them to help me? Are plots inevitable? Does the road truly lead to isolation?"
"You must have picked up Apollyon's paranoia," the Khatta says, grinning and wagging a finger. "However, I cannot say what lies at the end of the path. Have you been in contact with the Teutons? They claimed to know, the information found in a book. The Book of the Dead - or The Book of Emerging Into the Light. To them, it is a path that leads to paradise. The Vault of Creation, Hall of Souls, Seventh Heaven.. all the same thing, but different. The First Ones were powerful beings, but they all vanished. Did they find heaven, and simply forsake the living world - save for a few who stayed to set the next generation on the path? It is a pleasant thought, especially for one so old as myself. The Silent-Ones believe it may be the cauldron of reincarnation, where souls go to be cleansed and reborn - at least, those who still follow the goddess Neith believe so, and that in greatest secrecy."
Tasha grins at being compared to Apollyon, admitting, "I had thought that he's my forebearer in all this, and I can see he's both stubborn and anxious, like I am. But the more I talk to you, the more I realize I'm probably most like you." She pauses to let that linger, then nods and says, "I've heard many of those descriptions, though no one really seems to know. I've even heard Adam may be suffering, lingering in regret over being torn from his children. The followers of Neith are new to me, but I am not surprised there is an element of the Silent Ones who also believe in the Progenitors. Of all these groups, only the Teutons seem to remain, at least as far as I am aware. I'm in the process of investigating them, though I do not know how that will go. It has all put a strain on my other plans, but I still hold hope I can find a way."
Tasha shrugs a moment, then continues. "After all, I don't seek the Hall and Adam for meaning or paradise, though I wouldn't mind hearing their meaning or seeing their paradise. I don't need power, though ... No, maybe I do crave it," she twists her muzzle, then shakes her head. "Power and safety. The ability to see my plans succeed and to keep the people I loved safe, though lately it seems I'm as much a danger to these things as phantom threats. I don't need power though. I noticed you mentioned godhood too ... I'm not sure what being a god is, I have met so many in so many different forms. Sometimes they seem enviable, and other times, full of sadness. Just like us, I suppose."
"So the Archons seemed. Us, but.. writ large," Heraphel notes, grinning. "You speak of Adam. The Teutons mix things, to be more in line with their own mythologies. We are certain the Book refers to Atum, with the Archon Eve (or possibly Lilith) as the Progenitor for Humanity. Atum is the godhead, or leader or.. something superior to the Archons. It is hard to decipher the layers upon layers of symbolism. You notice that we use Terran myth for the Magi project. Because they are not involved with it, you see? The names are applicable, as is the mythology, but they are not participants. So, no favor is seen to be given to one group over the other. Otherwise we would still be arguing over the names and symbols to this day, I imagine."
"I had wondered about that, and the other things," Tasha admits. Drumming the fingers of her left hand on her leg, she asks, "It seems to me, to be akin to what I have seen in some other religions. There is the god or god-level beings, and then there is a level below them, the servants. Silent ones might call them god and angel; in Amazonian religious thought, god and subservient god. In the end, the pattern is the same. Perhaps Lord Yama is an Archon, given his status. So, you believe that the Archons produce the species individually? I have heard that Eve, or Lilith I suppose, created humanity with her mate, Adam."
"It is unclear and varies," the lynx explains. "The Disciples of Ahriman claim that the sires of Humanity were Ormazd and Lilith, but that they themselves were equal with the Archons - that Ahriman was a Celestial, like themselves. They deny the faiths of the other Nagai gods and goddesses, or the newer monotheistic Great Serpent. It was Ormazd who corrupted them, through the humans - making them degenerate to their current forms instead of the grand, godlike beings they once where."
"Interesting. That would explain Ahriman's hatred, either through direct corruption of himself, or displeasure over what happened to his people. As I recall it, the Celestial Empire was suffering some sort of genetic crisis and needed the variation?" The young woman asks, leaning closer, ears perked.
"In some of their tales, it was Ormazd who stole Ahriman's first wife, Eve, away from him," the old man continues. "Our own goddess Mafdet protects us against the venomous serpents, and Neith of the Silent-Ones is a great slayer of snakes as well. But sometimes they are goddesses that create us, and sometimes teach us or nurture us. It would seem that they have their own grudges and agendas, however."
"I have to admit, it's disturbing to see how great the machine is, how many gears turn and the powerful beings who may yet linger, carrying ancient agendas or grudges. I think you also shared these concerns. It is hard not to feel inconsequential and fragile compared to the movements of giants," the red woman admits. "I keep wondering when one will pop up. Better people than me have dared to challenge the unknown and met terrible fates -- not that that will stop me anymore. I just fear for the ones I love, and for my goals. I believe in my message, even if I'm uncertain about how I'm carrying it out. I suppose I won't know the truth of what I'm seeking, nor be able to judge if it was right or wrong, until I stand before the opened Hall of Souls?"
"Perhaps," Heraphel says. "Perhaps not. The Teutons are here, against all reason. They could have brought their Marker, and more critically: the Book. If it does detail the Path to the Hall of Souls, then it may be what you need."
"Then I will find it. I may not know the truth, but I at least know what path to walk down, and that is enough for now." Tasha stands, the stool vanishing as she rises. "I should keep walking. Before I go, is there anything else you'd like to know? Maybe a plan to manipulate me, or take over my mind..? Speaking of which, why so many levels of AI? What else is hidden within Melchior?"
"Oh, the second one isn't really an AI, just a sort of.. doorman," Heraphel says. "For me. So I wouldn't be woken up for nothing, you see. I'm not sure how it works, but I can still die, even in this existence, if I give up. All I want is to see the outcome. Or at least, some part of me see it. It's hard to think of myself as dead, you know. But then again, perhaps I can live again through the Hall of Souls, eh? Wouldn't that be something?" He gives a raspy laugh.
Tasha smiles at the man's hope. "It would be something. For both our sakes, I hope you are correct." She inclines her head a moment, then asks, "What are you, if you don't mind telling me? Not a PersoCom ... Something superior to a recording? It would be useful for me to know."
"Well, all I know is that a PersoCom takes effort to create, and may be incomplete as a result," the lynx says. "Our method is a more complete copy, although that can have its drawbacks. Usually parts are edited out, like emotion, to form an AI seed."
"Thank you for telling me. I have some interest in the PersoCom systems, you see." Tasha inclines her head again, then asks, "What will you do, now that you're awake? Will you return to rest when I leave, or continue to watch from within Melchior?"
"I will go back to sleep, until you call me," the old man says. "I feel that my time is limited, and that is enough to make it come to pass you see. The drawback of copying the mind of a dying man: I still think that I'm dying. You seem like a nice girl, Aldara Tasha, even without a beak. Just don't forget about me."
"I won't. I'd like to speak to you again," Tasha promises. "Sleep well, Ser Heraphel."
Tasha moves to request exit, but pauses, head tilting. "One more thing, if you don't mind?"
"Yes?" the man asks.
"You wouldn't happen to know why an unlisted, AI-driven Khattan frigate has been lingering over Abaddon, waiting for "the Expedition to fail," would you?" Tasha asks, glancing over to the ancient Khatta.
"What an interesting question," Heraphel says, and scratches his head. "Especially because my answer would be 'no' - which I find a bit disturbing."
"So do I, now," the young woman remarks, frowning. "I'll investigate. But lets not end our first meeting on a negative twist; I've had enough of leaving people disappointed for one day." She turns to smile, albiet a bit lopsidedly at the man, "It was good to meet you, Ser Heraphel. Sleep well. We'll meet again."
"I do hope so, on both counts," the man says. The sky turns back to electric gray, and Tasha is facing Melchior again, along with the simulation menu.
"That was enlightening," Tasha remarks in cheery tone, quite at odds with her earlier -- and for Melchior, momentary -- disposition. "It's nice to know I could make someone happy, today. What an interesting man he is, Ser Heraphel. Was? Like a puzzle, all wrapped up in a polite, unassuming box. A dangerous puzzle, to be sure, but exciting for it. The Empress in me must like him a great deal, I think ... I never thought I'd find someone that part of me could relate to. And he really is quite nice."
The avatar of Melchior blinks at Tasha. "I do not know who you are talking about," he notes.
"You could say I met your father. Grandfather? I'm sure he's far more than he seems, but you know what? I think I like him better for it." Tasha says as she walks over, hooking her arm around the avatar's waist and leaning in to the crook of Melchior's arm. "It seemed like it's been harder and harder to relate to others, but I see now it's that I just relate to different people these days. Don't worry about it, Melchior. I just found some comfort in the unlikiest of places -- and direction, as well. Sit with me a while, and I'll tell you all about it."