It was a bit odd to see Melchior all alone in the upper hangar, and doubly so to see the thick cable running from the wall into his open cockpit. Once inside, Tasha found the cable terminating in a clockwork version of herself, which was in turn connected to the neural interface arm. Katherine remained on the hangar floor of course, having no means to reach the cockpit hatch unless Harmonia provides a ladder.
"Eeeerie," Tasha remarks as she studies her clockwork counterpart. And to her surprise, the bitter tang of jealousy comes with the surprise. After all, she's never seen anyone -- or anything -- take her place in the cockpit before. She insists to herself that it's just a dummy, but the emotion lingers as she moves to take its place.
"Alright Harmonia, you can retract the dummy and the cable," she notes more quickly than she'd have liked. As she waits for the dummy to be withdrawn, she scans the cockpit for its one other long-time occupant: The Origin Marker of Vartans.
As the mechanical surrogate (best not to think of it as a 'Tasha doll') disconnects and lumbers out of the cockpit, the real Tasha finds the Vartan Origin Marker snug in it's cubby, which of course was made to hold it in the first place, just off to the left of center-front. It looks like it did when she first encountered it, an odd translucent stone that seemed impossibly deep, with the image of a male and female Vartan 'floating' just beneath the surface.
Once she's retaken her rightful place in the seat, Tasha leans forward to collect the Marker and place it in her lap. She then settles in, allowing the neural interface arm time to connect and picking the Marker up again. "I don't know if you can hear me, or even if you care, but, thanks for saving me back there," she murmurs as she slowly turns the relic in her hands. "My Gabriel would tell me not to trust you, that maybe you're using me. I've thought that it's unlikely that, after so many other failed attempts, that I would be the one you would accept. It seems that you and the Sifrans have some sort of disagreement, and I'm not sure what to think of that either. Or, really, any of this. But there is one thing I am sure of: I'm willing to listen. If there is something you need me to do, or, some arrangement you require -- whether you're using me or not -- I'm hear to listen if you don't mind breaking your silence. I know you must be loathe to interfere, but, I think we're past that now. We may as wel
l try to work together. Maybe we can help each other, in turn."
The stone looks so deep, like a window into a sea or ocean. It has currents, even, from the way the reflections and 'marbling' seem to move about. It feels like it's not quite there in Tasha's hands, but if it's responding to her it may just be too subtle. But then, how many have spoken or prayed or cursed to the Markers over the millennia? Unless the lack of message is the message, which really wouldn't make much sense.
"It did not reply to me either," Melchior reports.
"It's too bad,/" Tasha laments as she lays the Marker back down on her lap. "/We know that it's aware, or, that something else is aware and interfacing with it. We know it can interface with you. But, that may be all it can do. Maybe it's just a monument, with a map and a defense system built in for emergencies. It may not even have complex communication system -- perhaps a slave to another system we are unaware of./"
Then, the young woman shrugs. "Or maybe they're ignoring us. Or, maybe they don't trust me either. They certainly didn't interfere the other times we were in danger, only when it seemed like Balthasar and I might be used against them. And they didn't say anything then, either. Not, "don't go with him Tasha!" or even any details about what we were doing, just that Abaddon must be stopped, and I think they told you that he was successfully destroyed?"
"I was made aware of it," Melchior explains. "There was no communication. I woke up knowing that you were in danger, and where, and that I needed the Silent-Ones Origin Marker."
"It seems like they took direct command of you," Tasha considers, shifting her head to rest propped up by her left hand. "I've wondered at the lack of a maker's mark on the Magi. They were specifically constructed to work with the Markers, masterworks, and the avatars of the Khattan secret effort, yet there's no identifier. That may be for security reasons, but I've also thought that maybe the Magi were not made by them -- reconstructed perhaps, but not made. It's either that or the Khattan's knew a lot more about how the Markers work than they let on -- which would not surprise me at all.//"
"The Khattans are familiar with and able to create or manipulate exotic matter," Melchior notes. "There is no indication that they understood just what the Markers are made of, or even if they actually exist in a physical manner."
"It is also possible that the Celestial Empire uses exotic matter in their faster than light drives," the Titan adds. "There is no confirmation of this, however."
"/And yet you were able to work with one. Perhaps the Markers are equipped with a universal interface system, or, maybe they're not what they seem to be at all -- not that I'm even sure of what they /seem/ to be. We could be dealing with something extra-dimensional, working in a way incomprehensible to our universe save in the wake of its doings, or, something equally complex. Perhaps they even work like Abaddon did -- spirit-like entities that exist within the fabric of space and time, perhaps not even /one/ space and time, capable of interfering with matter at a deeper level than the 'surface' levels, altering things on a fundamental level. Of course, I'm just speculating,/" Tasha thinks as she stares down at the curious relic, head shaking. She pauses to listen a moment, then nods. "/Lord Yama spoke of influencing the Celestial Empire. It is possible he provided some technologies. There may have been other agents, or he may have simply guided and moulded those who found technologies in order to stav
e off disaster without raising too much suspicion. I suppose we'll never know./"
"Can you not go back to Sinai and ask him?" Melchior asks. "The notion that the Markers may be extensions into our space from a higher dimension has been considered as well, but I have no records of any tests that could have determined if that were the case."
"There is one being who may know," Tasha notes, reaching up and tapping a spot on her neck covered by a bandana. "I had the pleasure of having a long conversation with the previous owner of the Marker, a or the 'Source': an extradimensional being drawn here by Sifran technologies, similiar to those floating snail-like beings. And you're right, Lord Yama may know as well. I'm just uncertain he'll be forthright with me. He ruined the Expedition, and manipulated the Celestial Empire. He seemed to approve of me, but how many others has he 'approved' of? It's difficult to trust an entity that could ruin so many lives so easily. Still, if he wanted me to die he could have destroyed me then and there ... But he didn't, he pointed me at the Marker. So whatever he may be up to, it seems to depend on my collecting them."
"That lends weight to the notion that the Markers are meant to be gathered together," Melchior comments, "as well as their transformative reaction when put in close proximity."
"It does, doesn't it? Just, not by anyone. It would have been a much simpler matter if Lord Yama hadn't scattered and then destroyed the Fleet. It wouldn't hve taken them very long to gather together and approach the Hall of Souls. Instead, they were ruined, and then ... me." The red woman takes a deep breath, brows raising before she exhales. "//Me. I'd like to think it's because they believe in me, or better, my message, but it may because I'm not a normal person. Nora's ghost created me, so in a sense, Sifran technologies did. That may be important. Or not. It may just be that I've tried to use power responsibly, though, not without temptation." She grins wrly, then shakes her head. "I'm sorry about that, by the way. Balthasar was hard to resist. It's one thing to dream of being able to do almost anything, it's another thing to suddenly be able to. To have that much power in your hands and then to let it go."
"Perhaps it is because of our isolation," Melchior suggests. "Any knowledge or repercussions from entering the Hall of Souls is trapped within this system, away from the fleet homeworlds."
"And perhaps trapped with you and me, if it comes down to it. There has been some thought that an improper contact can lead to a purgation of that species -- whcih may be a First Ones defense mechanisim, or, a Sifra one. We now know they have conquered part of the defenses here and may have an uneasy control over other systems. There is the possibility that reaching them must touch on some of these, and thus is very risky," Tasha notes. She glances off in to the darkness, switching her head to her other hand. "And maybe you're right. Maybe we're a 'test bed' for contact. I wish I knew. Sometimes I worry I'm not what they want -- but then I remind myself we know so little, it's impossible to really know. All we really know is Lord Yama seemed to give me clearance, where the key items are, and that Abaddon tried to use their knowledge and me to attack the First Ones. It does suggest that the seeker is more important than just someone to make fetch and evaluate."
"You are not one of the Marker races," Melchior points out. "That could be important.
"'Innocent,' that's what you called it. Though I am bits and pieces of the Marker races, so I'm not completely seperate. The Karnor part of me contains pieces of Humans, while I am also part Vartan. Perhaps different elements allow me to access more than one Marker, or something else," the pilot speculates. "It's alarming to be the keystone for so many plots. I'm sure Gabriel can tell that it's getting to me. I didn't tell him -- or anyone else -- how I really felt about Abaddon's offering. They know I feel gulty about it, that it bothers me to have been so close to having been the end -- it's still hard to grasp! The end of the world. I. Was. Almost. The End. Of. The. World.//"
"And as it happens, a ... A part of me was tempted by that. Just a small part, but I had to think about it for a moment. You wouldn't think there would be consideration, but a part of me thought: I could be the best. I could supreme. Unstoppable. Undefeatable. The last one standing. It all ended with me. Aldara Tasha, the end of the world. It's kind of flattering." She cocks her head up, head shaking. "I'm glad I have you to talk to. I don't know if I could tell anyone else that. It's very disturbing to admit it. To realize it. Just, just to be around myself knowing I had to think about it. I'm not sure how I can look anyone in the eye anymore. How many people know that the world almost ended with me? Would they even talk to me? Want me around? Try to get rid of me?"
"I don't feel very 'innocent,'" the woman concludes, dropping her gaze back to the Marker.
"I am certain that this is a common trait of flesh and blood beings shaped by evolution," Melchior claims. "It may be a requirement of sapience."
"How do you mean? Tasha asks, ears perking unnecessarily.
"The urge to dominate, both others and the world around them is a common trait among all known sapient animals," Melchior notes. "It may tie in with reproductive imperative, as eliminating all competition for resources or mating partners is a very successful evolutionary strategy."
"/I suppose if I conquered or destroyed the world there wouldn't be much competition. Of course, I can't have children, so it doesn't really matter how much I conqueror or destroy -- in the end it's still just me,/" the young woman laments. She then shrugs, head shaking. "/It doesn't bother me much anymore, but maybe it's still there in my /subconcious./ And really, I had thought the desire to fight and win would disappear after I sorted myself out, settled down with Gabriel, and became educated and influential -- but it's still /there./ Not as strong as it was, but it's still /there./ There's no reason I /need/ to pilot you, or fight for the Pit. I do it because I want to. I want to protect, but I also want to /fight./ Damn it, you know what? I think I miss the fighting. It's a good think Abaddon wasn't sophisticated enough to really understand me, or ... Well, maybe he was. It just bit him in the end. He /did/ drive me to destroy beyond my reason -- I've never hated so intensely, or wanted someone to
to die more, than when he pushed me to it. He just pushed the /wrong/ way./"
"I hope am I more subtle and successful then," Melchior claims. Was that a joke? "Have you had to fight throughout most of your life? Is it that you feel less alive or effective without it?"
"I've always been fighting in one way or another. I don't know if that's why I feel the way I do, or if I always felt that way and chose to fight because of it. Life wsn't easy, but I certainly didn't need to fight as much as I did," Tasha answers, her fingers tapping against the cockpit seat. "And then Abaddon comes along ... I hate him for reminding me of things I wanted to forget. For making me give in to that person who exulted in his demise. For pushing me to destroy Balthasar, someone I asked to trust me. For driving me to kill him. Not just kill him -- humiliate him. I pushed his failure in to his face for daring to hurt me and everything I loved. Harmonia would say 'he' is not really an entity -- but it's not so easy for me to dismiss him that way. He was someone or something I met; a terrible being, probably irredeamable. But I still knew him. And in the end, I killed him. Because I chose to."
"What alternate choice did you have?" Melchior asks. "Could you have chosen not to destroy him, even though it would mean the destruction of many others?"
"/I remember what was left of /Balthasar,/" the young woman thinks, shifting her head to her other hand in a anxiety-ridden fidget. "/That wasn't a victory. There wasn't anything clean about it. I tore him apart. Poor /Balthasar!/ I ripped him apart to destroy Abaddon -- I ruined him even as I spat in Abaddon's face./" She draws in a deep breath, reaching with her free hand to rub at her eyes. "/What did I say? "If you destroy a god you become a god"? I was mocking him. In the end, I killed him not to protect anyone. That was part of it at first, but once I gained your strength it wasn't enough for me. I wanted to /obliterate/ him. I wanted to crush every thing about him, his desire, his will, his body, and if I could have gotten my hands around it, whatever passed for his soul. Afterward it hit me, and I regretted it. I think I did, anyway./"
"Anger is powerful," Melchior says. "You do not regret destroying him, but the manner in which you did so?"
"/I wonder if, in the end, I destroyed him not because he was a danger, but because he hurt me. He /mocked/ me. Tried to take what was mine, tried /enslave/ me. His contempt, his subjugation, his desires. In the end it was about /me/ and /him/ and what /he/ did to /me./ I killed him for /myself,//" Tasha admits, biting her lip. "/I killed him to exalt myself. To be superior to him, to free myself from him and be greater than he was. And in doing so, I proved /I/ was /superior./ That /I/, not /him,/ am the stronger -- and in doing so I became /everything he said I was./"
"And I realized then, that he was right. He made me realize he was right, and I destroyed him for it. I showed him how right he was and claimed it for myself by ruining him," the woman finishes. She then glances aside, not having realized how she dug her nails in to the cockpit seat. She forces herself to relax, letting her hands go as she reclines, looking skyward. "And now I can't forget. I tried to convince myself it wasn't true, to forget it. To spin it in the best way. I didn't tell anyone. No one, except you."
"Do you wish me to monitor your decisions for abusive tendencies?" Melchior asks. "Are there limits you wish to set for the level of response to danger or attacks?"
Tasha closes her eyes, even shutting off the mental displays so that the darkness is true darkness, leaving her undistracted. "What good would that do? Isn't this supposed to be about 'me finding myself?' The Path of Sephirot, the Philosopher's Stone, it's all about self-development, isn't it? Lord Yama, when he assessed me, he said, "I see. So it's all about you." I think maybe, maybe he saw what I couldn't. I thought he meant the search was about me, what I wanted to see and do, how I grew during it, and maybe he did, but maybe he saw what Abaddon saw, too. Maybe he liked what he saw, as Abaddon did," the woman answers. Her left hand reaches over, patting the Marker. "I hoped they would answer me so I could seek direction. If this is who I am, at least let it be of use to someone."
"Are you suggesting that you have gotten this far because the Progenitors needed a warrior like you?" Melchior asks. "Someone who would be undaunted when fighting something like Abaddon?"
"Undaunted ... Perhaps, even enjoys it," Tasha considers. "A warrior that could seeks supremacy, but not what may come with great martial strength: conquest, greed, subjugation, control, callousness. At least, not universal callousless. Neith, Horus, Ahriman. Their Markers are here, with us. But where are they? Ahriman was said to have rebelled in some fashion, but what of Neith and Horus? Of all of the Archons I know of, they were the greatest fights, and with Ahriman, the most aggressive. And now, perhaps they are gone -- and their Markers now rest here with someone like me."
"A warrior that could 'eat her wings,' that would obey," Tasha concludes.
"Or limit her ambition," Melchior suggests. "Eating your wings to make yourself tame. That is different from having your wings clipped by a greater power. It implies a personal choice."
"That's true. If I chose to develope my abilities but not use them for, well, I don't want to say non-selfish -- as fighting is always selfish on some level -- if, at least, not in especially egregarious abuses of power, then that would fit with what we know of the First Ones. They reside in their citadel, yet they do not reach out to rule us. They don't answer prayers in any obvious fashion. They won't even answer us when they clearly intervened for the first time in recent history. They clearly have immense power and yet they remain silent, aside, and probably observing," the young woman agrees, eyes opening as she stares at the darkened ceiling. "It's hard for me to reconcile my drive to fight with a lack of ambition, at least when everything is so vague. I had hoped for some direction. Some explaination. Something, so I could direct myself." She then chuckles, head shaking. "But maybe they want me to figure that out, too."
"It is possible that the lack of direction is what qualifies you," Melchior suggests. "Lord Yama grounded the Expedition because he did not think it was ready, or that the pilots were, correct? What is the major difference between you and them, in attitude? Did they not know what their goal was? Did they question it?"
"I know this: the seeker is not content. Those who are content do not seek out dangerous mysteries. They don't ruin their own relationships, or constantly seek to develope organizations, convince others, learn, grow, and create. To seek the Markers is to seek conflict; to admit your lack of contentment. To desire to grow. It is a lonely path. That's anotehr I didn't want to believe: ultimately, I sought the Markers above everything else. But the Markers weren't the goal; They are simply its current avatar. They are the face I have put for the gnawing need to grow, to ascend, since I knew I desired to seek it. And I know, deep down, that it will lead me far away from here. This world, maybe even Gabriel and the JEF. And yet I keep doing it -- that and my desire to fight may be the most fundamental parts of me. Unpleasant parts of me. But there was never any guarntee the earch for truth and ascension would be pleasant," Tasha notes.
"It is a struggle," Melchior notes. "Does a child struggle to be born? I do not have that data."
"I see now that it is difficult to find, because we do not want to find it," the pilot adds, head tilting. "The truth of ourself, the greatest truth, is often terrible to realize."
"Truth is an abstract concept," Melchior notes. "Although if the Markers were made of Truth, then it would explain the inability to empirically analyze them."
"/But without it, could I go any farther? I would probably still be lost deluding myself. Oh don't get me /wrong/: I believe in what I do. The other things, I mean, making the JEF, exploring, protecting people. Those aren't /lies./ But they can obfuscate /other/ truths. The darker truths. They can become something we do so that we can hide behind them, as I did,/" the woman explains. She shakes her head, then adds, "/I had long suspected I had other reasons beyond altruisim. I tried /very/ hard to be the best person I could be, knowing that I was probably hiding from my darker half. I thought forgetting it would make me better. Instead I see it is always there. Hiding from it simply means you lose sight of it. And /that/ means you lose control of /yourself./"
"Is it possible that nobody shows their true nature?" Melchior asks. "Being good, being evil, being ambition, being altruistic.. nobody can be defined by a single characteristic, but you present or exaggerate the characteristic you wish to have associated with you."
"Made of 'truth', huh?" Tasha picks up the Marker, holding it up like a mirror. "If it's made of truth, then it's made of the world and of us. And of me. If it were made of 'truth,' then it would look different to every viwer, and become transparent only when we find the 'truth' we seek." She then pauses, looking up and grinning. "That sounds manipulatory, but I think you're right anyway. I'm talking about a different sort of truth, though: the face we show to ourselves."
"Do you only show yourself one face, out of the many you must wear?" Melchior asks. "Like the face you showed me while on the island?"
"If we lie about who we are to ourselves, then we become a lie. It is different than realizing something about yourself and deciding to change. In the latter case, we change the truth of ourselves. In the former, we change nothing. And if we realize we do not want to change, even if that aspect is not one we regard well, then we have arrived at the end of the path, I think." Tasha puts the Marker down, patting it. "That was a broken me. Broken in body and broken in spirit, but content. Content to be with you, and to disappear from the world for the crime of having nearly destroyed it. That face didn't want to find any other truth -- it could not handle the ones it had already. Katherine, though, she reminded me that I still had things to do. And in her own way, that I was still hungry."
"She seemed a very determined woman, but not blunt," Melchior notes. "Is she a teacher?"
As she wills it, the displays pop back in across Tasha's vision. The great head of the Melchior turns, looking down upon Katherine Vesuvius. "She's an entertainer, a scholar, a model, soldier, racer, icon, and maybe even a spy. I sought her out to find someone who was above me, to feel that limit again. And as it turns out, she looked up to me, too. I didn't stand much of a chance after that." The memory puts a smile on Tasha's face. "She seduced me, did you know that? I didn't stand a chance. We should all be glad, that Abaddon did not chose Katherine Vesuvius as his agent."
Outside, Katherine waves up when she sees the head turn towards her. "Everything okay in there?" she calls. "I nearly had a heart attack when that robot climbed out!"
"She must be very ambitious," Melchior notes.
"I think so, too. I just don't know how ambitious. A part of me is afraid she's using me, that she's like me, maybe worse. In a way, she's trapped in her own life just as I was. But unlike me, she was raised to power and prestige. She's used to people fawning over her," Tasha tells Melchior as she studies the figure below them. "But I dearly want to believe in her. Her world is beautiful, and so is she -- and not simply because she's gorgerous."
"I'm not sure how I feel about seeing a mechanical version of myself, either," Tasha admits, her voice booming from the Titan. "Then again, maybe you should get used to it with how my life goes. Robot, Vartan, brain-in-a-jar. You'll still hang out with me if I'm just a brain, right?"
"I thought it was you! That the Titan ate your skin or something and .. eh, I read too much science-fiction horror," Katherine says. "Is everything okay in there?"
"We were just having a discussion, which gave Melchior some time to run pre-flight tests and calibrations," the Titan explains. "It's nothing you need to worry about. So: do you want to ride in the cockpit, or in the hands? I can't promise either will be especially comfortable, but they'll be memorable. You'll even get to keep your skin! Probably!"
"Since I didn't bring a pressure suit.. probably inside, if there's room," Katherine says. "Would I have to sit in your lap? Or should I have Mr. I rig something up?"
"Which reminds me: why does everyone suspect the Titan has either eaten me or stolen my bodyparts?" "Of course that's nonsense: you already have all of me, and I'm a lot more fun together than in pieces. Not that you haven't also had me when I was in pieces," Tasha notes as she speaks.
Leaning over, tasha returns the Marker to its cubby, then activates its security seal. "Oh the cockpit seat is fully mallable, so it can seat two if you don't mind being a bit cramped up against me. But I guess we wouldn't be here if that was a problem, right? Right." The Titan steps forward, shaking the ground beneath Katherine's feet, then it reaches down. "Hop on, then enter the open hatch. And don't freak out when you see me with wires connected to my head."
The Karnor climbs up and sits in the palm of Melchior's hand, being careful to avoid the actual gold-colored talons. "I can't believe this is really happening," she says happily.
"Oh don't bring that up," the machine insists as it carefully reaches back and lowers the starlet beside the iris-hatch, which then opens. "That was my whole two weeks ago! Anyway: on behalf of we, the Melchior let me welcome you to us. We hope you enjoy your first trip within a Magi."