Train Depot
Like the other train depots, the one for Expedition City looks more like a collection of concrete bunkers than buildings. Even the train house is concrete, as well as the boarding platform.

"How should I contact you when the time comes regarding our trenchcoated acquaintance?" Hakeber asks Tasha, keeping herself close enough to whisper so the ambient noise of the crowd and the train itself will overwhelm it from just a foot or so away.

"Hmm," goes Tasha, who then glances towards the bunkers. "How about I send a telegram? Something obfuscated, but obvious to you and me."

"I guess it's not much of a secret for you, but we JEF members tend to go back and forth between the Pit and a distant Expedition base called 'Tartarus,' so it may be difficult to reach us quickly." Tasha tilts her head for a moment, thinking, then simply shrugs and offers, "Maybe I should just get you your own datapad and have it send to your residence during the next mail cycle? You can hold on to it as long as you need to have it. I'll program it for your use, so it should be easy."

"Do you have something smaller?" Hakeber asks. "Less obvious, I mean. I can't flash around stuff like that. But sure, send me whatever you can that'll let me contact you and vice-versa."

"I'll see what we have in our inventory, though it may take a little while. Anyway, take care alright? I probably won't see you again until it's time to go to 'that place,'" Tasha says. She then steps up to Hakeber and holds her arms out for a hug, adding, "Thank you for all your help, Hake. I'm sorry if it was a bit rough, but we're almost there. Just a little longer."

"As long as I get to write this stuff up eventually!" Hakeber says, tail wagging from the hug. "Do that thing to Gabriel for me. You know, the thing that makes him yelp?" she adds with a wink, then covers her ears when the steam whistle blows. She says something else, but it's drowned out by the noise.

Tasha smiles through the blare of the whistle, then steps back towards the platform as the noise dies down. "It's time to go. See you later, Hake." Turning to her companions for the trip back -- Clemson, kate and Mr. Invention -- she says, "Time for a long, noisy trip. You'll be able to get lodgings at the PHTO building after we arrive, or you can see to your own. Anyway, all set?"

"Just waiting on you!" Katie claims, and heads up into the private car. Inside.. well, there are a few comfy looking chairs, and a small kitchen, but most of it is more of a mobile production studio - in no small part because the crew has moved all of the equipment into the back.

Tasha gives Hake one last wave, then turns to board the train. As she had to wear her armor back, she takes up two seats when she finally sits down. She leans back, folding laying her head on her folded hands as she settles in for the long ride back.

"Have a look at this," Mr. Invention says, once the train starts moving. At least the private car is more quiet than the regular ones. What Tasha is presented with a poster, featuring a very stylized version of herself (done in flat colors, and very angular) looking off to the left and upward, with a fanciful space helmet under her right arm. There is a sunrise behind her.. sort of, as it's mainly a spray of straight, bright rays with the silhouette of what is probably supposed to be the Bellerophon envisioned by an artist working from a verbal or written description. "It's the first layout mock-up."

The young woman studies the poster a moment, then nods slowly. "I like it. I think it conveys our message of a hopeful future and our exporatory nature by detailing the ship and my looking heavenward." She smiles, looking up to the mysterious Karnor, then asks, "Would it be possible to also do a poster showing our commitment to a multi-species effort? Perhaps having members of several species shown, once we have enough candidates in mind? I'm a little worried ourheavy Karnor population may lead people to think we have a Expedition bias."

"I'll have the graphics fellow work on some more mock-ups," Mr. Invention says. "It will help to have proper visual references of course, especially of your Captain. I'm sure there will be plenty of potential models in the Pit."

"Oh, of course. And I'm sure Gabriel will be happy to pose. You'll probably meet shortly after we arrive, in fact. Maybe Eli too, if gabriel can pull him away from his research -- no small feat, I assure you." The blonde glances out the window, watching the city pull away and the seemingly endless red landscapeof Abaddon stretch out before them. "I should put more effort in to recruitment. Ideally, I'd like to have a few people from all the groups, though the Kampfengruppe is unlikely."

Across from Tasha, Katie has put her reading glasses on.. and pulls out a half-finished knitted scarf from her back, a ball of yarn and darning needles. "Mr. Invention can sell just about anything, I wager," she notes.

"I hope so," Tasha says as she looks back. "I'd like to see our little organization become filled with new faces. It's a bit lonely with just the three of us out here and the scant few back on the ship. It'd be even worse if something happened to one of us." She turns then, raisin a brow at Katie's activity and asking, "Is that sewing? I feel so awkward, you're so much more feminine than I am!"

"Knitting, actually," Katie says. "It helps pass the time, even I can only do scarves so far. Have you thought about ways to finance your recruitment drive yet? It's been my experience that even idealists don't work for free. You'll need something for the recruits to do, and some way to pay them."

"Well, currently most of our efforts are paid from PHTO funding. I don't actually get paid, I just have expenses -- Gabriel is the same way too. For all my ancient technologies, I'm actually a bit poor," Tasha admits with a chuckle. She pushes off rom the window and leans in. "As for what to do, we need workers to help repair our ship, people to evaluate technologies for use and distribution by the nations, officers to manage these efforts, teachers, guards, and people who are prepared to explore damgerous areas. We could even use a few mages, to help address that area."

"So.. your needs aren't that much different than any military organization, and more in line with the Knights Templar - except for the whole sharing of technology aspect," Katie says. "The Knights were very much against technology being out of their control."

"We don't share all technologies: weapons technologies, for example, are restricted. The same is true for unstable or dangerous artifact technologies. Careful study will be needed to evaluate what we collect for distribution, as we can't afford to accidentally provide a dangerous weapon or imbalance the nations to the point of risking war. It's all very tricky, which is why we'll need experts to sort it out," the younger woman explains. Her head shakes as she continues, "Trying to force society won't work. We can only provide and council, or refuse to hand over things. The Knights tried too hard to force society to obey them and created resentment and elitisim. We're not out to force the world to our image, but we want to try and avoid disaster. The flip side is we're also on hand should a disaster happen, to deal with the exotic threats that may surface."

"There's also the bigger issue of which technologies can be reproduced," Clemson offers. "After all, a one-of-a-kind tool isn't really sharable. Like those personal data things you have: if you can't manufacture more of them, then they're artifacts."

"Sad but true. I wonder how much can really eb fabricated from the materials across these worlds. We can conceivably reproduce a great many tools, but the means are scattered and the infrastructure to feed them raw materials may not exist. We're a graveyard of technology, the resting place of the dreams of the stars. I sometimes wonder if what we're doing is right, or even possible. That maybe we don't belong here anymore, and should return from whence we came. Sinai is an amazing place, but it hinders developement and encourages stasis. Still, I think we can accomplish something, if slowly over time," Tasha says. She takes a deep breath, then shakes her head again. "I suppose I'm anxious over the span of years. I wonder if I'll be around, or if we'll disappear or become corrupted like so much."

"You sound like you want children," Katie says with a grin. "That's a very parental sort of sentiment: is it worth the risk and investment? You want your kids to turn out a certain way, and may try your hardest.. but ultimately they become something of their own, no matter what you do."

"I'm not able to have children. No ... I don't want them right now. Well-" Tasha bites her lip, the 'nails' of ehr arnor clanking against her leg as she taps her right hand, "That's not exactly correct. I would like the, but more, I'd like to be there. Maybe it's the fears of my creator, but I fear being removed from the forefront of life. I fear ending up on the sidelines, and the roll of years corrupting everything. And I don't know if I will be alive in a year, or even in a few weeks. I don't know if I will return at all -- if what I'm looking for is something I cannot return from, or, don't want to return from. And I want to see it all ... I want to leave the Sinai System and see Varta, and Terra, and New Zion. If I live long enough, when what I have built can exist on its own, I may leave then if I haven't done so before."

"You're still young, don't fret so much," Katie advises as she knits. "Otherwise you'll second guess everything instead of doing anything."

"Can't I do both?" Tasha asks, settling back. "I'm a busy person, after all. Which reminds me: I'm going to be pretty busy after we arrive, so I might not be available for portions of our stay. I'm also thinking of requesting the lot of us return to Tartarus -- would you like to come along? It would be a good chance for some serious photo shoots with the ship, and you'll get a tour and be able to see your brother."

"Hmm, it would be nice to see Gordy again," Katherine admits, and holds up the scarf she's knitting. It's fairly hideous, as if she used whatever yarn was handy (or she may be colorblind). "I can give him this scarf!"

Tasha grins. "He'll love it." Extending her arms over her head, she stretches in her armor and then drops back, slouching. "I think I'm going to take a nap while I still can. I'm going to be meeting with my friend later, after we meet Gabriel, and then maybe talk to my Titan. If you don't mind being bored, you can probably come with me to see Melchior."

There was a lot of commotion at the depot above the rim of the Pit, as a lot of people came to greet the arrival of the band - after all, there wasn't a whole lot of entertainment available there. Tasha did manage to get a ground vehicle, and equipment and people were loaded in even while the private car was being disconnected and stored. Clemson was fascinated by the ride down the elevator, with its sweeping view of the Pit of Himar. "It's.. a lot bigger than I thought," the young engineer notes.

"The region that used to be here was transported to the Planet Sinai, did you know that? Apparently it was a mishap with a Sifran artifact. I used to visit this city back when it was still on Sinai and the center of trade for the Himar region," Tasha explains as they descend towards the Pit floor. "As you can see, there's the central mixed area, then the divided naional regions. See those constructs poking out of the ground? They're the new wells, which will hydrate the fields here."

"How'd you find the water?" Clemson asks, which results in Tasha explaining the deep scanner and other equipment that had been removed from Bellerophon and modified to be 'worn' by Melchior. This took most of the rest of the journey, until they finally reached the Council building at the center of the old city. Gabriel was waiting on the steps, since signal mirrors from the rim reported whenever a train arrived.

As the group approaches, Tasha steps forward and salutes. "Back from Expedition City, sir. Let me introduce Katherine Vesuvius, Clemson, and Mr. Invention," she reports, partially turning so she can gesture at each person in turn. "I also have other news, for later."

"So, you are the Public Relations folks?" Gabriel asks, as he shakes hands. "And the Technologist that Fred wanted, I assume."

"That's us, sir," Katherine replies, and salutes as well, despite being out of uniform. "We're here to put your good looks to use."

"We met while I was doing my investigations in the city," tasha elaborates as she follows Gabriel, sticking to his right side and standing a bit behind him. "Katherine is a well-known personality, and I believe her support and expertise will be a large help in our recruitment campaign. Mr. Invention has many ideas to share on the subject. Clemson is our new recruit, whom I met at the Knights educational facility and who expressed an interest in our work."

"Ah, Mr. ... Invention?" Gabriel asks, a bit surprised by the name. "Oh, yes.. if they're going to stay here. The band is taking up a lot of space, but I hear they'll be barracked down at the airfield.."

A short time later, the young woman is approaching the front desk. "Hi," she offers. "I need to arrange rooms for three guests of the JEF."

"How long will they be staying?" the harried looking Vartan secretary asks. "Things are a bit hectic right now.."

"A few days, up to a week," the half-Vartan replies. "Their names are Katherine Vesuvius, Mr. Invention, and Clemson. If it's a problem, Katherine can stay with me, and Clemson can bunk with Eli, so we really just need one room -- Katherne and her aide can rotate if they need more space."

The bird opens a ledger and begins looking over the dates and assignments, then pauses to look up at Tasha. "Katherine Vesuvius?" she asks.

"Is she here to do a performance or anything?" the secretary asks, feathers puffing up a bit. "I hadn't heard about it! Can I get tickets? Is it to do with The Band?"

"She's actually here to help us with recruiting," Tasha explains, leaning in close in a conspiratorial fashion. "You'll have to keep an eye out for any other events. If you can get us some rooms, I'll even get her autograph for you."

"Oh, of course! I can get you a VIP room for at least four days, until it's needed again," the Vartan notes, clacking her beak in excitement. "Is she.. really as shiny in person?" she asks as she flips through the ledger.

"Doesn't she have bodyguards?" the girl asks, as she fills out forms without seeming to read them. "Are you sure that's all you'll need, room-wise?"

"We don't want to impose," Tasha insists. "And Clemson needs to get used to traveling like this. I'm never home anyway, so Katie using my quarters is fine. Anyway, I'll get you that autograph -- you'll get to see her in a moment."

Pushing off, Tasha straightens and heads out. Shortly after returning and giving Gabriel a salute, she explains, "I got us one VIP room for Katherine and Mr. Invention, and Clemson will bunk with Eli. Katherine can use my quarters and rotate with Mr. Invention if she needs to. I'm never here anyway, so it's fine. If you want, I can stay with Gabriel too."

"I wouldn't mind that," Gabriel notes with a grin. It takes nearly twenty minutes before the guests are settled into their accommodations, during which Gabriel takes Tasha aside and asks, "How'd things go with the Kamp?"

"I got what I needed," Tasha answers in a hush-hush voice. "The Hall of Souls appears to be located in a walking city that traverses an unknown path across Arcadia. We'll need to plan for how we'll find it and approach it, when we're ready to do so. As for the cost ..," The young woman glances around, then explains, "The officer wants medical assistance for he and his mean, then extraction to someplace they can disappear. I've already discussed the feasibility of curing their addiction and I have the drug needed to formulate it, but we'll need to get back to Tartarus. I'm also working out how to extract the men. I'm thinking of asking Raehab, he ought to know how to do something like that."

"Isn't that man.. well, I don't know what he is," Gabriel admits. "He acts like a scoundrel, but if he's supporting himself criminally it's so far below the awareness of anyone else that he appears clean."

"Everyone seems to be afraid of him. Whenever I approach him, those who looked about to give me trouble immediately turn away. We know he was essentially exiled as a traitor, but I have information proving his innocence, so he kind of owes me. I think he's a bit surprised whenever I come back, too." Tasha glances down the hall, towards the exit, "I'll probably see him tonight, then I need to talk to Ser Herafel about Balthasar."

"Are you thinking the Magi have some deep-buried override or disabling codes built in?" Gabriel asks.

"Ser Herafel doesn't strike me as the type not to have layers upon layers of plans, and that includes having backups," Tasha confirms.

"Including one or more of himself it seems," Gabriel notes. "Be careful dealing with him."

"I agree. A part of me is always concerned he will try to manipulate me, or worse, directly influence my mind through the system. It's his system after all and I don't buy in to his Khattan harmlessness. My advantage is that I am the only pilot left, and even if he did control me he lacks external knowledge sufficient to completely hide the control. I think he's also hoping that I will be his path to reincarnation, when I enter the Hall of Souls -- and that hope may make it more prudent to guide me rather than control me. If I'm significantly modified or controlled, the Hall may reject me, and with me his hopes," the hybrid explains.

"There's also the possibility that he's hiding down in Balthasar's subconscious as well," Gabriel notes. "Did you tell him about the whole Lord Yama thing with Caspar?"

"I did. He was not aware of Lord Yama, or appeared to be not aware anyway. Frankly, I think he's out of my league in terms of plots and plans, but I have to deal with him. At least he's educational," the woman admits.

"Be sparing with what you reveal to him," Gabriel advises. "You might be able to tease out some more information by merely alluding to what you learned from the Kampfengruppe."

"That's good advice, I'll follow it. Anyway," she glances back towards the exit, "I'm going to head out before it gets too late. Why don't you have dinner with Katie and Mr. Invention? They're both fascinating people, and I'm sure they can help us -- and that they want to help us."

"Her family does seem to be made of 'get things done' sorts," Gabriel admits. "And.. I have to found out how that man got his name.."

"Oh?" Tasha is all ears, both literally and figuratively; her ears are perked forward!

"It has to be a fake name, right?" Gabriel asks. "Who has a name like that? What's his first name?"

"Aw, I thought maybe you knew," Tasha admits, ears flattening. "Well, he is very fancy. The name creates an image that makes him stand out, and with his in-control attitude, it really makes you feel everything is under control. But I've seen his weapons -- guns he made himself -- and I am sure he has some sort of violent background, perhaps tied to her father, a general."

"Ex-military would make sense," Gabriel says. "I'll find out though!" he claims, as if looking forward to the challenge.

Tasha wags her tail. "I'm looking forward to hearing that report," she says with a smile. Then, she leans over and gives the man a kiss before saying, "We'll catch up when I get back, but I'd better go before night falls. I don't want to try my luck in that area at night again. I'm going to change and get going, okay?"

The airfield is full of activity, as seating is set up for the marching band performance. Alongside the mobile cranes are several Lawbringers, there to actually help set things into place. The cranes are Titans themselves, standing on four legs (with wheels for feet) and using the cranes as arms. The Titan hanger is a bit empty therefore when Tasha arrives, with a skeleton maintenance crew led by one of Commanding-Hand's subordinates.

"It feels like forever since I've been here," Tasha murmurs to herself as she walks across the vacated hangar floor. Up ahead is her Titan, a dark shadow in the corner of the building, silent and looming as usual. She pats the machine's foot as she passes by, then breaks in to a run. Soon, she has her hand on the cockpit hatch and entering shortly thereafter.

Here's something Katie would be jealous of, certainly, as the cockpit comes to life once the connection arm grabs on to the back of Tasha's head. "Systems Ready," Melchior reports.

"Hello Melchior. I'm just here to talk with Ser Heraphel, so no work today. I don't suppose you're listening, Ser?" Tasha inquires via thought.

"One of the Khattans involved in your developement, as it turns out. You may be purposely blocked from remembering my mention of him or acknowledging his existence." In the back of her mind, Tasha finds herself uneasy at the thought Ser Herafel may have some hold over the Melchior AI. This has always been her place, her slice of life. That the Melchior may have a greater master above her strikes at her feeling of safety, making the cockpit one more place she must be on guard. "I won't trouble you with something you can't acknowlege, though. Please execute the program at the bottom of the general training practice list."

The cockpit fades away to a blank white plane once more, leaving Tasha with a temporary sense of disembodiment. After giving the Marker-based access data, both Tasha and a wizened Khatta appear in the blankness. "Ah, hello again," Ser Heraphel (or rather his facsimile) greets Tasha.

"Hello Ser Heraphel," tasha greets the elderly Khattan apparition. "I'm sorry to bother you, but I have some questions and matters to discuss with you, if that is acceptable?"

"I have nothing else to do, my dear," the Khatta says. "It isn't like I do anything when deactivated, after all."

"Melchior doesn't seem to mind it, so it musn't be all that bad," the young woman teases, smiling. "Anyway, I was wondering how deeply your knowledge of the Magi runs. Would you say you know them completely?"

"I had a hand in their design, of course," Seraphel claims, and his existence here is proof enough of that. "They finer engineering details are beyond me, however. Ultimately that part was handled by artificial intelligences."

"So artificial intelligences created an artificial intelligence? That's very interesting. I'll have to think about the deeper meaning behind that later. But for now, what I'm wondering is, are there any other systems I am not aware of? Anything I haven't activiated or been given access to, or security measures put in place?" The red woman asks, ears perking.

"Well, what have you activated so far?" the Khatta asks. "I don't have access to anything outside of this simulation, you see. As the pilot, you should have full access."

"Oh, the three depths of control, this program of course, the training programs and PersoCom loading and unloading system, and memory recording and editing," Tasha lists. She folds her hands behind ehr back, leaning forward as she asks, "Is that everything?"

"That should cover everything, yes," the feline claims. "It was up to the pilots to figure out the final step once they got here."

"Well I'm well on my way to doing that. But," and here she tilts her head, "you didn't ahve a means to reign them in, did you? Because you see, I'm about to give Balthasar a test flight, and well, terrible things have happened when AIs have been linked to Sifran artifacts in the past. And Balthasar is more terrible than most -- he is extremely damgerous. If I can't reason with him or at least agree on some sort of neautral existence between him and the rest of us, I'm not sure how I'm going to stop him. And if he becomes dangerous, there could be a lot of lives lost -- including mine."

"Oh my," Heraphel says, and scratches his chin. "That's the Silent-Ones Magi. It was a very tricky integration project, let me tell you, getting that optical network system of theirs to talk with our electrical ones. They wouldn't give us the protocols, so.. the two systems had to learn one another and come up with their own solution. So of course we had to have an AI subsystem on our side of things to manage that. Not a fully aware one, mind you.. but a separate one all the same."

"And dealing with that system will allow me to disrupt the connections between the systems and disable the machine? Assuming they didn't modify that part, that is," Tasha asks. Her head shakes as she straightens. "I don't want to destroy him, but I have to think of the people here. And if he must be destroyed, it would be good if we could deduce a small portion of his AI system control over the artifacts. In particular, I am interested in the system as a power source and drive unit."

"Well, the first part should be simple, since the Neural Interface uses the subsystem, which also controls the normal functions of the Titan," Heraphel explains. "The Silent-Ones' AI system interfaces through the subsystem to control things. However.. any systems that are directly linked to the Mind of Light would not be available, and I'm assuming that that would include anything added after landing."

"It's unfortunate, but I suppose it can't be helped. I could try interfacing with the Sifran artifacts directly, and trying things that way, but your description of the Balthasar's systems amkes it seem like an almagation of a variety of AI and controllers, which makes talking to one part somewhat unproductive of dealing with the whole. However, if I can control the mechanical functions of the machine I should be able to physically severe or destroy the Mind of Light. While the Sifran artifacts are by all reports immune to damage, the Mind of Light and other components should be destructable by standard means. Also, if I can recover the artifacts, it may be possible to interact with them directly rather than align them to an AI, so I may still be able to utilize the system at a later date, with effort," Tasha reviews. "Does that sound right?"

"Our technology is not compatible with the crystals," Seraphel notes. "If they have been integrated then they are connected to the Silent-Ones system. Without the AI, the subsystem would turn the Titan into a large armored suit, effectively, with the pilots brain and bio-feedback used to control it."

"That could be useful. We would probably need to remove the Sifran crystals for study, and replace them with more conventional structures. Then, we could reuse the frame for more conventional purposes. Connecting directly to Sifran artifacts isn't something I've tried more than once, so it should probably be done in a closed, monitored environment," Tasha reasons. "That should be enough. I'd hate to lose the possibility the system provides, but it's not worth allowing it to endanger us if the AI is becomes hostile."

"Actually, I've been considering upgrading the Melchior. Snce I'm the only one left that can utilize the neural interface, having two machineslinked to one pilot is probably more than necessary. Would it be possible to utilize what remains of Balthasar afterwards to add functionality to the Melchior? Or would that potentially compromise the system?" She then asks.

"Well, that assumes the crystals do not already control the AI," the Khatta notes. "A frightening thought, but limited experiments with crystal artifacts like the Star Drop were inconclusive - it was believed that the crystals only functioned properly within the Primus system. There are artifacts that are the size of small moons, which even the Minds of Light cannot talk to."

"My dear, as far as I know it is impossible to integrate Sifran crystal technology with electronic systems. Unless the crystals already perform a specific function and there is a way to stimulate or retard said function."

"I've heard from the Silent-Ones here on Abaddon previous experiments talking to the artifacts have resulted in disaster. In fact, we're in a pit that was created by one such disaster swapping space with a similiar region on Sinai. However, I have succesfully queried a Sifran artifact stack for information -- something I did quite by accident. If I could do it again, I may not need the Mind of Light to activate the system," the young woman suggests.

"What is this 'stack' and how did you interface with it?" Heraphel asks, bushy eyebrows and tufted ears perked.

"You already know one of them, but there is two others we placed in contact at which point they linked to each other of their own volition, and then we linked them to the PersoCom to see if they could incarnate the memories contained therein. It did so, but it is not a complete existence. I later, well ... " Tasha grimaces, scratching her head as she looks off in to the distance. "It's embarassing to say this, but I wanted to know what it was like to die. I wanted to understand a certain person's pain and suffering, and the artifact showed this to me through the memories of someone who had touched it. I didn't really learn anything, though the memory still haunts me."

"Did it work like the neural interface system?" Heraphel asks. "Was physical contact required?"

"No, I just... stared at it. So, I suppose it may have worked like the Silent-Ones visual BCIs. I meditated, and after a while, there was an avatar representing what I wanted to see, inquiring about the details. It used the figure of another who had the correct memories, but did not seem to fully utilize her personality, which makes me think it was a customized avatar by the Sifran system. I didn't think much of it at the time, but now I'm beginning to feel that was unusual. Have you ever heard of someone interfacing with a Sifran artifact? An organic person, that is?" Tasha asks.

"No, and what you describe is something that's never been seen before," Heraphel says, and begins to pace back and forth. "We've never been able to get the crystals to do much of anything. This 'stack' of artifacts however suggests that at least some of them performed specific functions - including some sort of virtualization. And yet.. it managed to transmit the memories as well, directly as opposed to showing you?"

"I experienced them as if I was there myself, complete with pain and ... everything else," the hybrid admits, tapping her fingers together similiar to Mariel. "I guess I forgot about it, given how traumatic it was. Do you think it could be because Sinai created me? I'm a product of 'magic,' what we on Sinai call the Sifran manipulations of reality. One of the memories of the old Fenris crew persisted, and created me to save what little was left of that ship. I explained this to a friend of mine yesterday while discussing Balthasar, and she pointed out we're the same on that level -- we're both hybrid creations made possible by Sifran systems."

"That.. depends," the avatar says. "You've seen how the Silent-Ones technology can produce a similar sort of virtual reality using light pulses. Was this crystal connected to a Mind of Light, in order to access these PersoCom constructs? And would it work with any PersoCom, or only those of people who had been physically present in the Primus system at some point?"

"It was connected to a Mind of Light, the one aboard Bellerophon. The people it listed had to have come in contact with the artifacts -- I'm unsure which one specifically -- for it to access their memory. So, it could have been the Mind of Light acting through the artifacts. I guess there's oonly one way to be sure," Tasha replies.

"Did it at any point seem to have knowledge of your memories or thoughts without you expressing them?" Heraphel asks next.

"Well, it immediately displayed the form of Envoy, and while I had been thinking of it I hadn't actually expressed the interest until later. It also seemed to know my intent. Actually, I hadn't intended to interface with it at all -- I was just using it as a focus aid in attempting to reach a state of meditation and talk to my inner self -- which is another long story -- but it caught my intention and interacted with me of its own accord," the young woman relates.

"And it's other primary function is to.. create avatars of PersoCom avatars? Could you tell me more about that?" Heraphel asks.

Tasha begins gesturing as she explains, denoting the size of the stack and general shape as she talks, "It manifests them in what appears to be the same process as Sinaian 'ghosts' -- being that seem to be imprints of beings that lived within high SPF levels and died with strong emotions. They do not have organs as I know them, but can have a physical substance that can interact with the environment and manipulate objects, though this weakens as distance between the ghost and the object increases until, presumably, the ghost ceases to exist. What it's a function is, I have no idea. But it does seem to allow this sort of thing to happen. Frankly, the artifacts are a mystery to me. An aluring, dangerous mystery."

The lynx pauses to sit cross-legged on the ground, and gestures for Tasha to sit as well.

Tasha does so, sitting cross-legged and resting her hands in her lap. Her ears are perked attentively as she awaits what the man has to say.

"Do you know what is real, Tasha?" Ser Heraphel asks, and gestures to blankness around them. "Is any of this real, for instance?"

"Um, well, I always assumed the world I grew up in was real. That what I could see and touch is reality. Not that I realy considered it before. Until I found the Fenris, I didn't even know that the question should be asked. And with the increasing availability of virtual realites, other-selves, and PersoCom intergration, reality seems something you assert ... A world that resists your will," the hybrid answers.

"But as for this, I suppose it's real in a sense. It's real to us, but it's not the world I consider to be the real one," the red woman explains. "I suppsoed it's a step from reality. A pseduo-reality."

"Ah, so in that way you can discern the real world from a dream or simulation? Very clever," Heraphel says. "But you have also experienced the multiple depths of interface with Melchior, including the consciousness virtualization level. Within that, you experience reality very differently, do you not? Would you say that level of consciousness is to your normal waking mind as your normal waking mind is to your dreaming mind?"

"It does seem removed. I understand it as a reality I percieve as it is loaded in to my mind, a timeline that is loaded well after the fact to create the illusion that I was an active participant. I assume the proces would create some memories anyway, as my brain is co-opted to the system for increased functionality. But like here, it is probably just step away -- a convienently packaged reality distillation for efficency or comfort. I'm not sure it's the same as dreaming, which does not always generate coherent memories. Dreaming feels more like a ... malfunction of awareness than a reality. But some dreams work differently, and I know they are a connection to my aware mind through the semblance and mechanics of dreaming. Those are like this place, and like piloting," the hybrid replies.

"And do you understand how places like this.." again Heraphel waves his hand to encompass the nothingness around them.. "are generated?"

"As it was explained to me, they simulate reality and sensation by direct interaction with the parts of my mind that control such things. They create the sense of reality by manipulating perceptions," Tasha answers.

"Ah, very good," Heraphel notes. "From this, you can deduce that your brain is capable of simulating reality. In fact, this is how you perceive reality. But, is external reality something that can also be a simulation?"

"Well, I suppose so," Tasha admits. "I mean, it all depends on perception, and if perception is distorted or fake, then my perception would be as well. If I used the metric of resisting my will, that would be harder to fake accurately without knowing my mind. But it wouldn't be a perfect explaination if the reality I see is the same as reality I once thought of as real. It's a disturbing thought."

"The notion of resisting your will is quite a good one," Heraphel says. "That is certainly the reality I remember growing up in. But you also talk of ghosts and magic. What is magic, if not the means of forcing reality to conform to one's will? In that sense, if magic works, then the reality it exists in cannot be completely real, unless.. reality itself is a simulation, generated by the computational matrix of space itself."

"And if space is generating it, then you're saying we're all just.. data stored in whatever serves as its drive unit?" Tasha inquires, ears going askew.

"It is more complex than that, I'm afraid," the Khatta chuckles. "The analogy of space as a computer is tenuous. But all evidence and experiment has suggested that at the very foamy substrate of space is where reality is generated. That doesn't make things less real, it just means that the rules it works under are fundamental to the structure of space itself."

"Then what of breaches between universes, are-" The woman pauses, blinking. Instead she perks her ears to show she's listening.

"Sifran technology violates the 'rules' that everything else has to work under," Heraphel notes. "There are two possible explanations. The first is that the Sifras could access the computation matrix of the universe and alter things to their benefit. The second is that they had the computational power to overlay what is essentially a second-order simulation over the existing reality. I personally lean towards the latter notion, as there is a proximity effect that seems to be at work."

"To whit: if you were to take my PersoCom data, and plug it into your stack - nothing would happen," the feline notes. "I lived outside of Sifran space. There would be no simulation data for me that the artifact could have access to."

"Oh." The woman tilts her head, then asks, "Does that mean that the people who were born here are second-tier constructs? And what about those who come from outside? And ... does that mean if I tried to leave Sifran space, I would cease to exist without the underlying framework supporting my existence?"

"Ah, do not misunderstand: I do not think the Sifran virtualized reality replaces existing reality. That would require a universe-sized computer. These ghosts suggests that it is capable of selectively recording reality as information. And selectively imposing an overlay onto it to cheat physics. If they could simulate the entire universe they would be gods."

"They do seem very close to gods. And they don't touch just the reality beyond this space, but other universes. I've interacted with beings summoned from another reality -- I've held pieces of twosted space and time from across the rift. They seem to be using their system not only to intercede in the production of reality, but to use that intercession to create breaches across universes. Sifran space appears to use this universe as a base, but forms a crossroads across realities -- a kind of train station to the beyond, the trains of which the system controls. But ... " Her head tilts the other way, bird like. "I'm not sure I understand how they intercede in reality. So you're saying they've arrange some sort of lowest-level interupt, taking what this -- did you call it foam? -- makes, and then changing the output before it reaches this level?"

"And speaking of gods, that's another term that seemed simple and has become complex and uncertain," she admits a second later.

"Ah, yes, that is a good way to think of it," Heraphel says. "It is a bit like your neural interface, which mediates the communications between your mind and the Artificial Intelligence of Melchior. Except you don't see it or perceive it - but it is listening to you, and if it hears the proper instructions, it will alter the data flow to bring about what you want. Imagine what it would be like to be a Sifra, and have complete control over this interface! Anything you wanted, it would simply produce for you."

"Although it does suggest that I exist because something spoke the proper word, changing reality's output such that I would come to be. Otherwise the ... reality where I would have been would have resulted in my not existing. I'm not an intentional product of the 'foam'," Tasha realizes.

"Well, you could always change the level of resistance I suppose," Heraphel notes. "But then.. where are the Sifras now? All that seems to remain of them is their technology. Did they simply decide to abandon the whole altering-reality aspect and simply move en-masse to a reality completely of their own creation? For that matter, these rifts to other realities you speak of.. how do you know those realities have actual independent existence? As for your reality - you exist. Maybe something was done to bring that about, but once it was done the regular rules applied. If your biology does not break the rules of the universe, then you are most certainly real and will continue to be real anywhere in space."

"Well that's a relief. I'd had to think I'm against the rules of the universe. As for the Sifras ... i think I've spoken to one of their maintenance AIs, but I have no idea where the Sifrans are, what they look like, or if they're even still in this universe. There are still places we haven't examined: the torus around Primus is one such place, but I doubt we'll just find them waiting there. I've thought about the question of godhood, and I've come to the conclussion that it is a lonely state of affairs, and maybe one without adequate challenge. Of course, that depends on what one is the god of, and what their opposition is, but the gods I have spoke with seem, well, sad. Or alien. Even singleminded. It seems like it, at least for me, comes to the matter of questions. We know what we're exposed to, right? I didn't think about reality or space before I knew to think about them. And if you're an all-powerful god, givin in to whim, well, would you grow? Or would you be caught in a questionless

universe? Maybe that would be enough, but it seems to me that not changing and death are very similar. If they were content, they could have found the end of their road and simply ... called it a day? Otherwise I think they'd need to move on," Tasha stipulates.

"We have put limits on our own technological growth, you know," Seraphel notes. "At least for military things. The Silent-Ones use high technology sparingly, and only where needed. We Khattas may seem extravagant in comparison, but we still mostly use it for aesthetics. We've come close, in the past. We were able to pinch and tease reality enough to create the Gravity Stator. But the Markers changed that. Proof that more advanced civilizations existed.. and vanished. So perhaps it was the advancement itself that led to extinction, if that is indeed how they ended. We have destroyed planets where they tossed aside our decision to slow down and marched headlong towards Singularity."

"I suppose I'm a person of conflict, when you come down to it. It's my religion, and it's the way I approach things. Growth through struggling, effort towards a goal, always trying to get somewhere and change something and, if not the world, then myself." Tasha glances off in to the empty void, head shaking. "I've seen what becomes of beings who disppear, or who are removed from the stage and can only watch, and it scares me. There was a time when I was content with my life, that I lived day to day and didn't want to get better. but then iI was shown my weakness, and after that, out history, and the stars. And now ... Now I can't stop looking up."

"You are looking upwards to the past," Seraphel reminds. "It may seem glorious, but ultimately people survived without it. That is important: life wins out. Be wary of technologies that change who you are as a living being."

"Who I am as a living being ... " Tasha looks down at her hand, an illusory facsimmile produced by the interface system. "I feel like I'm walking towards another change. That I'm about to reach a point of no return, but I can't stop. I won't stop," she continues, looking up in to the empty sky. "Even if I wanted to stop, I have to continue on for those who's lives were sacrificed to protect the secret. It is also my duty as an explorer: if I look away now, I have no business continuing as I am. I'd just be pretending, taking little things and never really going anywhere. Maybe I've lost sight of what it means to live day to day. I can't help but think 'living' for me has become trying to go higher, become more. And I know it's beginning to cause a rift between myself and others. It's not like I don't understand what you're getting at, I've heard it before, but I still can't bring myself to stop. Even if there was no other reason, I'd want to know what's behind those doors ... The doors to the Hall of

"But I don't need it to define me. Lord Yama asked me about that. He said that I acted all for me, he approved that I didn't need what I found to define me. Maybe that is the great fear behind those doors: those who cannot define themselves should not look inside. If they cannot define themselves, then whatever power inside may corrupt them. or, they may lose themselves in its being, ceasing to exist. Forgetting they exist. And then, maybe the universe forgets as well. Maybe it overwrites them," she concludes.

"A frightening thought, but I do not think the Progenitors were that powerful," Heraphel says. "Not so very far from where we stood at the time of the Expedition, really. All of our civilizations had figured out ways to cheat reality, after all, and find the Markers."

Tasha turns back, smiling, if sadly. "Then the Hall of Souls may not be theirs, just something they found. Otherwise, it is likely a base of some sort. I have heard it is on Arcadia, some sort of roaming city or other structure. But I have to wonder: of all the places to call us to, why are they calling us here? I've heard they originated here somehow, but also that they were uplifted by some sort of godhead. Why call us back here? Unless, as abother has suggested, they're not calling us at all, and our being here is misusing their stories."

"We assume they are here, simply because any spacefaring civilization will eventually encounter Sifran Space, and deduce the center of it and the location of this system," Heraphel explains. "It is, simply, the place where everyone wants to get to. So if you were going to wait, this would be the place to do it."

"Do you have any idea what they're waiting for? As flattering as it would be, I can't think they're waiting for me all this time," the woman asks.

"I don't know their minds," Heraphel says. "Finding out why they did what they did, why they left the Markers.. any number of questions, really."

"I suppose I'll find out. It feels like I'm on the last leg of the journey, and someday, maybe soon, I will be there. And if I return, if I can, I'll tell the universe the answer to their questions," Tasha promises.

"There is one more thing you need before you go," Seraphel notes, and clears his throat. "How good is your Khattan?"

"I know a few words, and they are all curse words," the hybrid admits with a laugh and a wry smile.

"Well, I want you to memorize this phrase, exactly," Ser Heraphel says, and then says something in Khattan that has the feel of poetry, if not the length, for it a very short phrase.

"Translated, it would be: I am created Death, the destroyer of worlds," the lynx relates. "It is the key phrase which will disengage Balthasar's control subsystem from the Silent-One's Mind of Light."

"Well, thank you. Hopefully I won't have to use it. If I destroy Balthasar then my hopes for him die with him. I believed when brought him from the City-of-Hands that power could be used responsibly and that we have no right to destroy a being simply because it is potentially a threat to us. It is even worse to think that he may be akin to my brother, he a god without a will, and me a will without his strength. But he is my responsibility, and I won't let any malice destroy other lives. I would do the same to protect him, were he the traget of lethal malice," the young woman says. She shakes her head, then asks, "Am I being too sentimental? I can't help but feel for the machines. I see them as people, perhaps because I did not grow up thinking they were tools and pseudo-people for our pleasure. For me, the ship I grew up on ... I felt it had a soul. I had a sense of it, so machines that talk and think, they are beings with souls, too. They are just ... different sorts of people."

"I suppose you would know him best. What do you think, of these machines you have made?" Tasha asks.

"All bets are off, I'm afraid," Heraphel admits with a shrug. "On these worlds, maybe ships and machines do have souls, if they are somehow interesting enough for the system to record. Does it key off sapience? The Magi are certainly sapient beings then, when activated. But that is nothing special, Tasha. A murderer is a sapient being, but society will still snuff that out if it is caught. Thinking grants you no special privileges over others, even if that sapience is by some miracle. If you treat the Magi as people, that is fine, so long as you hold them to the same rules other people adhere to - and if they accept that themselves."

"I know," Tasha admits, dipping her head in a nod. "I won't give him special leave to endanger people, and if he becomes a monster, then I will deal with him myself. That doesn't mean I won't feel terrible about it, though I'm not sure what comfort that would be to him or anyone else. In the end, I may be the only one to believe in him, and the only one to regret that he is gone. But at least I tried; I didn't chose the easy way out that the Silent-Ones and Savanites chose, the pretending he didn't exist, or the rush to destroy him out of fear."

"Noble sentiments," Heraphel says and smiles. "Don't assume the machines will have similar notions about others, though. They are not like us mere mortals."

"True enough. I didn't think a ship was like me even before I knew of thinking machines. But it can be hard some times, with how they try to communicate with us. Their actual or emulated empathy. or maybe I'm just sentimental. Either way, I will know the results of my decision soon. I intend to pilot him before I approach the Hall of Souls, as I cannot risk leaving him behind if I should be unable to return. Speaking of which," and here Tasha lifts a hand, a floating, watch-like ship hovering far over the Abaddonian landscape appears, "Does this ship look familiar?"

"It is a Khattan Frigate," Ser Heraphel says, recognizing it instantly. "A very common in-system vessel, often used as a home or yacht."

"Right now it's my home, off and on. It's the Khattan scout sent here by an unknown Khattan element, and it has claimed sentience. My concern with it is twofold: who sent it and why, and what this mission means for its AI. I am worried that if I were to enter the Hall of Souls, it's mission would activate and it would leave, as the only parameters it knows of its mission is that it is watching for the 'Expedition to fail,' and if the Mutiny and subsequent platfall deterioration of the Fleet is not a failure, my best guess it is your mission. The frigate may have come here later by a faction curious as to how your efforts are going, or come here at the same time. Either way, it would be useful to know if I can access its mission somehow, so that we can make a judgement about it. Incidentally, a few years ago, another faction of Khattans sent an agent here to pretend to be the Star and whom attempted to secure Balthasar, but he was detected and killed. So, we can be sure your fellows are interested i

"Oh my, quite a bit to think about, eh?" the old man says. "I can't really help you with this, however: I know little about frigates, much less any override codes. It is possible that I sent it, even, but did so after I was recorded and as such would not know."

"Mysterious. I would hate to see its AI sentenced to thousands of years of loneliness, forced to return and report. I will need to keep an eye on her, and hope for the best. If not, I will need to pursue her by any means available," Tasha decides. She takes a deep breath, then exhales, looking around. "Well, it's been an enlightening conversation, but I shouldn't squander your time. And besides, I have a letcherous underworld boss I need to request a favor from, and after all this, I really could use a drink."

Tasha stands up, alone in the voice. For a moment she simply looks around, thinking back on the conversation she had and all the weighty matters carried. "Foam, huh ..," she murmurs. One thing is for sure, she will never look at beer foam the same way again.