Dr. Caravelli finishes the examination, telling Tasha, "You've recovered well: muscle mass and bone density are near your pre-explosion levels. With the life collar off now, you'll have to start taking some meds orally though. Just some antidepressants to ameliorate any nerve twitches or phantom pains from the regeneration."
Tasha nods, looking at the bottle she's been handed. "Thanks, doc. I wouldn't be here without you." She looks up and smiles, then asks, "I have a question though. The Captain -- the Kamp captain, I mean -- he made a joke, said that I should see him again before I "turn in to a Vartan." That made me wonder ... Is this," she holds up her avian hand, flexing it, "Is it something that will, well, continue? I didn't think much of it at the time, but I've been thinking, without the high SPF levels, and with pure Vartan introduced to my system, won't this continue?"
"Ah, regeneration doesn't quite work that way," Caravelli claims. "The reason you have Vartan structures now is because.. that's what we had the data for. Regeneration in Terrans is much harder. The cells are still your cells though, it's only that we had to focus on expressing the Vartan heritage to do the repairs. We could get rid of the feathers easily enough though, but in a few more years they may go away on their own."
"Oh," the woman says, glacing at her hands again. "Well, that's good, then. I was a little worried. I'm the only one of my kind, and that was by magic, so ... " She shakes her head, then turns to smile at the PersoCom again. "Well, no need to worry about it, right? Anything else? You won't see me for a while -- or until I need to be put back together again." She winks.
"Try not to overexert yourself," the doctor says. "You may feel stronger, but don't go lifting furniture and such. Normal exercise is best."
"I plan to take it easy for a while. I think I've pushed myself a little too hard, and in doing so I nearly destroyed myself. So, I'm going to try and take things more slowly from now on," the woman promises. She lays her avain hand over her heart and says, "Thank you again, for saving me. I'm going to see Gabriel and pick up my gear before I collect Katherine and see if she wants to fly back with me."
"Be sure to check in with me there if you have any problems," Caravelli says, and grins. "Don't panic if you start growing fur on your Vartan arm."
Tasha looks down, squinting at her hand. "That'll be weird. I think I prefere it this way, but a furry talon is better than nothing," she says with a chuckle. She looks up, winks again, then turns and heads for the door.
"Make sure Gabriel doesn't overwork himself!" she calls out as she steps outside. Next stop: Gabriel's room to say good bye. The woman walks down the corridor, glad she's begun to remember where everything is.
Gabriel is at his desk. The terminal is off, as he's working through various paper (well, not really paper, just the Abaddonian wood-free version) reports. "Did you get a passing grade from the doctor?" he asks, turnning to smile to Tasha as she enters.
"I'm fit to go, though I might start growing fur instead of the feathers. I'm glad you're a Karnor and like that sort of thing," the woman reports as she walks over to the bed, taking a seat. "You're not working too hard I, aye? You know, I'm not the only one that should try to relax more. If you're not careful, your paperwork may explode!"
"I just need to finish up this base stuff," Gabriel says. "I should be joining you in the Pit on the next circuit."
"That's good. It'll be nice to have you nearby, though, I suppose you've been nearby for months. I still can't believe it's been three months!" The woman says, shaking her head. "People are going to join us and think, that Tasha, she's a sleeping-in-a-tank specialist or something. It's a little embarassing. Anyway, I came to tell you I'm heading out. Once I finish here and get my equipment -- maybe collect Katherine -- I'm heading back."
"Don't get into any fights," Gabriel warns, raising a finger. "Or I'll have to spank you."
"Why does everyone say that?" Tasha asks, grinning. "I mean sure I broke the unbreakable giant and, um, probably some sort of god, but they started it."
"Just so long as nobody else is threatening to spank you!" Gabriel notes.
"You'll always be my source of spanking, I promise," Tasha says, laying her hands over her heart. "So do I get a kiss, or do I need to requisition one?"
"I don't know," Gabriel says, leaning back in his chair. "If I kiss you now, you might not leave.." he warns, still wearing a big goofy grin though.
"I think you're right," Tasha replies, grinning wider. "Better get rid of me while you can before I blow something up, or ... off."
Gabriel does get up and gives Tasha a pick on the cheek and a hug. "Don't want you too worked up if you're going to be traveling with Katherine," he teases, and then.. swats Tasha on the butt. "Go get your armor, you might need it!"
Tasha yelps, rubbing her behind and shaking a finger as she steps back. "I'm going to get you when you arrive, you know! Better be prepared!" The woman steps in to kiss her mate, then hurriedly scoots back out of range. "And remember: I'll be better educated! See you soon!" She winks, then rushes out the door, as if fleeing.
Once outside, it's a short walk to the Mechbay, where Fred awaits. It occurs to tasha that she's wreckd no less than one Titan, a suit, a datapad, and a host of other things along her rocky path to success. I guess it can't be helped, but something to think on when we plan for future wear and replacement, she decides as she steps in the hatch.
"Hello Fred!" She greets the man.
In the Mech Bay, a new suit of Achilles armor waits, sans helmet and right hand. Those are on a worktable, where Fred tests the glove with some sort of logic tool. "Tasha, my favorite return customer," the man notes. "I was able to salvage your glove."
"You ... You were?" Tasha asks, eyes wide and ears perked. "I thought there was nothing left except pieces of my undersuit."
"Your helmet was messed up, but your right glove came out fairly intact," Fred says, holding it up. It's clearly been refinished to match the new look of the rest of the armor. "Karnor armor is tough, and while your body armor was non-combat grade, the glove and helmet where."
"And I clearly wasn't. Make a note for future recruitment: only recruit military grade people," the woman says with a smirk as she walks over to have a look. "To be honest, I barely remember what happened after the explosion. I don't even remember my helmet being with me."
"It was in the debris, pretty squashed," Fred notes. "You probably had it hitched to your belt." He pats the new one, painted to match the armor but with the new J.E.F. insignia on it. "Don't ruin this one? It's a bit of a showpiece."
"hey it's a survivor, like me. It'll be fine," Tasha promises. She leans over to pick the glove up, turning it this way and that. "I like the new colors. Red and gold, with a bit of black. Symbol of a victory against the impossible." She returns the glove to the table, her head shaking. "I still can't believe it happened, though. Or that it's over. That part of the reason I chose these colors; as a reminder that we won and as a warning to myself. Did you recovery any of the flight records?"
"The Silent-Ones picked the wreckage over pretty well, but I got the impression they were in more of a 'make sure it's dead' mode than a salvage one. Does Melchior even have a recorder? I mean, they were a secret project," Fred notes.
"I'm a little worried about the remains. We didn't understand how the Titan functioned, nor do we know how it came to be, well, possessed. I would prefer anything that's not armor plating be destroyed, but, well, I guess I can't really force the issue with them. I'll ask, though," the young woman says. She glances at her new suit of armor, clearly thinking as she adds, "Melchior wasn't operating under normal flight conditions, so I don't know if he recorded the event. I don't even know how he was operating -- save that he may have been designed with Origin Marker interface in mind. The Khattan said they were made in the image of the old gods, and maybe there's more too that than just appearances."
Looking back, Tasha shakes her head. "Too many mysteries, you know? Were they using me? Indifferent? Trying to save us all? And what could I have done differently? It's a strange thing to trust your life to a miracle, to something that shouldn't have happened."
"Like coming back from the dead because of weird alien crystals that didn't do anything before you stacked them up?" Fred asks, quite deadpan.
Then again, our existence is a long line of miracles, Tasha thinks as she listens to the enginner. "That and other things. I guess what really bothers me is that I couldn't handle it myself. If not for a miracle, I wouldn't be here. Maybe none of us would. It's why I'm joining the college."
"See, normally miracles turn people to religion," Fred points out with a grin. "But I guess that's where you started out, isn't it?"
"I'm made of religion," Tasha answers with a smile. "Though that doesn't mean I'm not religious, or, well, no longer religious. I'm still not sure how I'm going to deal with potentially having killed my own god. Then again, Abaddon's always been a god of war and conflict. Maybe he's proud of me, for overcoming." The woman then shrugs. "Or maybe ... He's dead. I'll have to think on it, but thankfully I have other gods to believe in. Maybe I'll find one more, to replace the one I lost."
"I do hope you'll keep me in mind for the position?" Fred asks, and stands up tall, chest puffed out. "God of Fixing Things and Throwing Parties: Fred Almighty!"
"I'll consider it," Tasha replies with a wink.
After taking a moment to think, scratch an ear, the woman says, "I do wonder what the First Ones think of all this, though," glancing towards a her armor, thinking of Melchior. "Were they listening? Are they aware? Are they avoiding us, trying not to be noticed? Or am I beneath them? Not that I could blame them for either sentiment. Still, I wonder. And I wonder if it will happen again. Abaddon said he was but one of many."
"Did he say where the others were, or if they were even working?" Fred asks. "I'm happy to have this world not trying to kill us. The others seem to be doing alright on their own."
"But they have higher SPF levels, and lower technologies. It would take magic -- a lot of magic, i'd think -- to stop something like Abaddon without technology. Abaddon said most were sleeping, and seemed to hint others were traitors or some sort. It's something to keep in mind, anyway. Hopefully whomever deals it or them will be ready. I plan to make sure that I am," Tasha replies. She shakes her head, then throws her arms up. "And here I am worrying again. How about this: happy to see you, Fred, how about I grab my suit and get to school before I end up in the Medbay from stress."
"Want to wear it out or have it packed up?" Fred asks. "And since you'll be starting college, be careful of the cafeteria food."
"That bad? I'll take your advice to heart. Expect souvineers and scans," tasha promises, stepping over to give the man a hug. "And they," she says, leaning back as she holds on, "thnaks for not complaining when I break everything. I really am sorry about that."
"It keeps me busy," Fred says with a grin. "Belle's refit is nearly completed, after all."
Stepping back, Tasha glances at a nearby display and frowns. "I talk to much, did you know that? I'd better get going -- could you ask Mariel ... " The woman blinks, then shakes her head and runs her hand back through her hair. "I almost forgot." She stands there for a moment, just shaking her head until she says, "Well, um, could you tap in to communications and request Katherine meet me in the hanger? She should be waiting, though she might be saying good-bye."
"I'll use the hardline to the base," Fred says. "She'll probably be with her brother until it's time to leave."
"Maybe I'll just stop by. I haven't seen him either," Tasha remarks, glancing towards her suit again. "I think I will, in fact. Help me suit up, and I'll clatter my way up and say hi. It'll give me some time to become used to the suit, too."
"Alright, you should be used to how it works," Fred says, and opens the suit up. A few minutes later, and Tasha is encased in ceramic alloys once more, with the power assist set just high enough to negate the weight of the armor itself.
Tasha holds her hands out, flexing them, before taking a few steps and nodding. "It's just not an adventure unless I'm surrounded in metal," she says with a grin before facing her friend. "Thanks again. And, um, if I don't see you before it's your turn in the tank, then I want you to know, I'm grateful. Grateful for your help, and grateful for your friendship. And that won't change, whatever happens. It'll just be my turn to help you."
"That'll be awhile yet," Fred points out. "I have to finish training Clemson, and at least a few other backups before I can afford to 'retire' as it were." He then pops off a salute.
Tasha returns the salute. "I just wanted to say it in case, you know, something happens. Be seeing you, mr. Fred Kohler." The woman smiles once more, and then she's off.
For the first time in months, Tasha walks through the rear airlock to the ramp, then down, out of the ship. and exiting the ship.
The hangar is much more crowded than Tasha remembers. The cranes are all in use, and the deck is littered with vehicles and supply crates. Huge pieces of cast-aluminum hull are suspended over Bellerophon's wing, while hydraulic jacks hold up similar pieces below as work continues on replacing the missing engine cowlings. A familiar human woman waves to Tasha from the back of an electric cart: Dr. Kitty, civilian liason between STEC and the New Zion University.
Tasha returns the wave as she walks along, marveling at all the construction going on. Abaddon has shown her wonders she never dreamed of, such as these massive construction projects, and of metal no less. The cranes, the plates, the countless arrays of tools. She can't help but feel proud, knowing she's a part of all of it.
Soon, though, she's passing from the bay in to Tartarus Base proper. And from there, the winding path up to the commander's quarters.
At the officers' level atop the base, a Karnor soldier salutes smartly - it's Pvt. Pearce (aka Peanut), who formerly guarded Bellerophon's boarding ramp. "Greetings, Cadet Argentine!" he barks. "It's good to see you up and about and wearing clothes, ma'am."
Tasha stops, giving the man a squinty-eyed, ears askew sort of look before returning the salute. "And just where did you hear about that?"
Peanut looks a bit flustered, and says, "Ah.. from when you had to wash the vehicles ma'am," he says. "I helped bring the water barrels over, so you didn't have to go all the way into the base in the altogether. Ma'am. Not that I ogled or anything!"
"When I..?" Tasha's expression shifts, her ears flattening, then pressing back. "Did I do that? I remember you, but ... " her head shakes, then she shrugs. "I'm sorry, I don't remember. I suffered some brain damage -- which has healed thankfully -- but my memory isn't what it was. Ah, is Katie and the Commander here?"
"Yes'm," Peanut reports. "Both in Lt. Vesuvius's room, just down the hall, number 6."
"Thank you, Private. And, I'm sorry for forgetting." Tasha inclines her head before she begins down the hall, wondering what else she's forgotten and hoping it's nothing important. Deciding she should stop dwelling on it, she pushes herself to put on a happier face as she reaches to knock. "Pilot-Cadet Aldara Tasha, zombie, here for Katherine Vesuvius."
The door is opened by Gordon, the older of the Vesuvius siblings. "Ah, Tasha, come in. Kath and I were just going over some things."
"Hello Commander. I hope I'm not interupting?" Tasha asks, ears perking. We're schedualed to leave soon, but I can put our launch off a bit if you need more time?"
The officer's room is a small suite, with a combined office and meeting area. There's a round conference-style table at the center, and Katherine is seated at the far end. There are various sketches and design mockups spread across it. "Hi Tasha! Oh, I'll be ready, the shuttle isn't even here yet." She points to one of the windows, which overlooks the second hangar. "We'll see it there."
"I actually came to offer you a trip in the Melchior, as thanks for helping me while I was recovering. I know you've been hoping to see my Titan," Tasha notes as she steps inside, tucking her hands behind her back to an at-ease stance.
"Oh! Well, I wouldn't pass that up," Katherine says. "Do I get to wear space armor like that too?" She grins and winks.
"I'm afraid the armor is Vartan, and most suits are tailored to the wearers," the red woman answers, sounding apologetic. "But don't worry -- the Melchior is equiped with a number of pilot safeties that will protect you in any emergency."
"Does it have seats?" Katherine asks.
"the seat is customizable. It does lack windows, or, well, displays of any kind," the vartan explains. "The reason being, it's all in my head. Like so many things." She then grins.
"Or lack of them, lately," the woman adds, head tilting as she grins more.
And then Tasha continues to grin, as if she's locked in the pleasant, dumb grin so long as Katherine grins back.
"Maybe I could ride on the outside then?" Katherine suggests, a bit glibly. "Sounds like it would be more fun! Unless I have to sit in your lap or something?"
Gordon clears his throat at that suggestion.
Tasha explains that won't be necessary. At least she would have, if she had the presence of mind to do so. Instead she just giggles oddly.
"Anyway.. I think we're done here, brother," Katherine says, patting the portfolios on the table. "Let me know what the brass thinks of the new STEC uniform designs."
Tasha smiles, but then she blinks, suddenly looking very interested in the documents on the table -- which convienently mean she doesn't need to look at anyone. "Oh! Um, I see you're busy with the military. Like, um, us. I'm sure they're nice," she remarks, hoping she didn't sound as inane as she thinks she did.
"Well, we have our own recruitment drive coming up," Gordon notes. "You have a spaceship - we have Katherine."
"I guess I don't really qualify anymore, huh?" Tasha asks, waving at her birdface. "Oh well, it's hard to match Katherine or spaceships. Ready to go?"
Katherine hugs her brother, who endures it stoically, and then takes Tasha's arm and heads for the door. "Mr. I already has my stuff ready in the second hangar," she notes.
Tasha obidiently follows along, like a puppy in powered armor. "That's good. I can carry any bags, then we'll transfer to my ship and board the Melchior. From there we can get a gravity assist and arrive early, or go to the bridge and eitehr relax or be there 'instantly,'" she explains.
"You'll make Mr. I jealous if you carry the bags," Katherine suggests playfully. Then it's past Peanut, who makes no comments about the state of anyone's clothing this time, into the elevator and down to the main floor. Then a leisurely stroll to the second hangar, while everyone hoots and waves and cheers.. for Katie Kaboom, generally. There are a lot of 'Come back soon!' and 'I love you!' calls among them.
"I wouldn't want to ever upset Mr. I.," the hybrid admits in a solemn tone. As she follows along, she can't help but look around at all the cheering and calls. "I'd feel jealous if I didn't have a giant robot," she admits.
"I feel jealous that you have a giant robot, if that helps," Katie says. The South Hangar is a bit more orderly than the North. There's a big landing platform set up - the same one that accepts the lowered cargo sections of the giant airships. It's currently empty, but the hangar doors are opened high above. There's a stack of cargo crates ready to be loaded, and a smaller set of luggage next to the familiar, nattily-dressed Mr. Invention, who is consulting a pocket-watch.
"In our defense, we really have each other. So by having me, you also have Melchior, and thus a giant robot. We're really the same being, even if we're different. The time I spent with him in the tank, I learned to see him differently than I once had. Now, I think, there really isn't a seperation between us. You could say he's my shadow, exists in my absence to fill the space I cannot," the mostly Vartan explains as they walk along. "And, um, I hope I wasn't too embarassing back there."
"Oh, Gordo needs to be shaken up a little every so often," Katherine says, while waving ahead to try and catch Mr. Invention's attention. "I think he feels a bit threatened by the JEF. You stayed independent, and he'd have preferred to have you all rolled into STEC."
"I'm sorry to hear that, though I can't say I'm surprised. I'm sure there are more people out there that resent us, either because they cannot control us or expect we owe them something we do not. More than once, I had Confederate agents approach me strongly hinting that I should help them and trying their best to make me feel comfortable. The Silent-Ones have also honored me, though I like to think that is out of the kindness of Archon Strength-of-Stones rather than a political move. I'm sure, though, that issues like this will only increase. It's good that we have the Knights working with us, or I'd fear they, too, resent us," the cadet says as they approach the platform.
"I'm sure some of them do, and others are hoping for influence," Katherine notes. "The Knights are not above politics and corruption, despite everything. They still exist in the same world as the rest of us, and are still made up of the same sort of people. Multinational organizations are great opportunities to spy on one another."
"I hadn't thought of that. I guess their peacekeeping effort made me think they were composed of people like us, in the JEF. In hindsight, it seems obvious. But that's why the Captain is leading and I'm not. At least I had the foresight to know I'm not qualified. I remember our talk that night, and in the morning. You're pretty, and, well, you like the things I do. And you're smart, and ... Um, well, what I mean is, that wasn't why I sought you out. I sought you out because I needed to feel beneath someone. I had such power for a time, I thought I was losing my grip." Tasha smiles as they approach Mr. Invention, adding in whisper to Katherine as they near him, "The accident ... It might have lead to my salvation, in a different way."
"So what power do you have now that's dangerous?" Katherine asks as they reach the platform, but she looks up into the sky before waiting for answer. There's something up there, dropping down..
"Are you wondering why we're together? That's because what I sought you out for, and what I found, were two different things. I never expected you'd acknowledge me, or even look at me. But you did, and I found out how much more there was," Tasha answers as she looks up at the sky. "As for my power, well, I'm not really sure anymore. I was offered the world, you know? To surmount all comers. And all it costed was my soul. Now, I just have myself, and what remains."
What remains descends silently from the heavens. It's the same size as the cargo module of Ajax, conveniently, so that it rests neatly on the same cradle. Unlike that module, however, this one is made of interwoven bands of brass and bronze, with gears filling the gaps. Above it is an arch, at the apex of which is a glowing crystal structure. Gears on the face turn and churn, and the wide cargo door opens.
"See, we aren't late for the picnic after all," Katherine says with a grin.
Tasha smiles at the sight, suddenly remembering how she came to meet the owner of the cradle, and what that took. She even waves at the crystal as she steps forward.
Looking around now, the mostly Vartan remarks, "It's certainly an interesting picnic, at that. Very dramatc. Hello, picnic. It's been a while."
"Greetings, Tasha," comes the transmitted voice of Harmonia. Inside the basket - it looks rather bare. There are some obvious mechanisms for maintaining air pressure and heat, and grilled speakers for the communications system.. and benches. Not even padded benches. The floor is covered in recessed tie down attachments, which are being put to use as the crates are brought in and.. tied down. There aren't even any windows.
"Did you miss me?" Tasha asks as she walks over and has a seat on the bench closest the exit. "I know its been months, but it feels like only yesterday. I hope I didn't worry you."
"I was assured of your recovery," the speakers reply. "Did you miss me?"
"Of course I did!" Tasha insists, leaning over to pat the frame of the lift. "I was worried thinking you and Gabriel had to see me like that, but what i was really worried about, was the danger I put you in. I'm glad it worked out, but I am very sorry for risking your safety. I didn't anticipate what happened, and that was my failure."
"The danger is gone," Harmonia replies. "That is the important result. Please take your seats for lift off."
"I hope so, Harmonia. I really do. But next time, at least, we'll be ready for it." The hybrid does something to the panel on her left arm and her boots suddenly snap to the floor, then she leans back and straps her upper body in. "Was it your idea to use this design? It's very elegant. I'm glad I have such elegant people, because you know, I'm hopeless at it. Right Katherine?"
"And Mr. Invention, of course," the red woman adds, smiling. "Who knows better than anyone. I think my scarf offended him."
"Eli helped with the specifications," Harmonia explains. "He is very useful and cute." There's a clunk as the cargo do closes and seals with a hiss. The air pressure begins to drop slightly as well, and then it moves. It's not as smooth as a stator, and involves the rather unpleasant sensation of accelerating upwards while also falling somehow. The toporgic clearly has some bugs to work out.
As they rise, Tasha watches the topogoric glow its strange, ethereal light. "He is very very cute, I agree. I'm sure sure he likes you, too." In watching the crystal, she can't help but think on the multitude of realities the crystal shows in its facets, the endless fates, countless other Tashas. And she wonder what they're thinking, and if they survived this far. If some of them are now Enyo, if their worlds are gone, if they're alone, or even better off. She wonders what it would be like, to meet herself, realizing she already has in a way. But most of all, she hopes her other selves are doing well, and that whomever they found to live with, does too.