The wind plays with the edges of the tarpaulin covering the large flatbed hauler that has been pulled up next to the Titan hangar. It has a massive treaded cab at both the front and back to allow it to haul massive loads. It's taken a long time for this particular cargo to cross the desert and inch its way down the switchbacked heavy load road down to the floor of the Pit. The Star is emblazoned on the sides of the tractor cabs and on the tarpaulin itself.
Commanding-Hand is supervising the operation, guiding mechanized loaders and a single Lawbringer towards the flatbed. Tomorrow's-Hope is there as well, standing next to Tasha in full formal uniform. Even the Archon, Strength-of-Stones has come to witness the event. The Lawbringer lifts away the tarpaulin, revealing the recovered remains of the Seraph Titan, originally Balthasar.
Like Commanding-Hand, Tasha has chosen to dress well. She wears her opaque black Silent-Ones style mask enscribed with the Formal Sign characters of, "Winged-Gift," as Aldara translates to. At her side is Apollyon's sword; Too precious to risk in real combat, it servers well as a dress sword for especially formal occassions. And instead of her uniform, she's chosen to wear powered armor. In the end, she decided it was much more fitting than her uniform, given the circumstances -- and a part of her is glad for its protection.
Even now, she can feel the hairs on the back of her head stand on end, an increasing anxiety as the hauler arrives. The anxiety comes with a deep sense of sadness, as if she's watching a friend's body brought for its last right. A friend her own weakness let die, muddying the anxiety and grief with guilt. All in all, she paints a grim picture, her face a mask that has nothing to do with what she's wearing, and with her armor casts her as like a reaper, come to attend her macbre duties.
Once the covering is fully removed, it seems like there just isn't enough there. There are armor plates sliced by vibration blade, and a disturbing texture to everything. Balthasar was originally smooth and sleek, but now the plates show veining and rough textures. The Titan's mask is likewise half cheetah and half distorted demon. The only things that retain their original appearance are the damaged swords.
When the tarpaulin is removed Tasha grinds her teeth, exposing them in a silent growl even as her left hand tightens its grip on her sword. Seeing the remains hits her like a punch to the gut, her head is swimming with a tempest of emotions that had been rising until this point. And just as before, she feels bidden, almost compelled to approach the wreckage; A reaction to the unspoken challenge and resistance against the fear the builds in her heart.
The young woman makes her way forward, stopping just before the hauler and staring up in the disturbing, organic-styled armor.
After a moment, she signs, "This isn't all of it?"
"No," Tomorrow's-Hope signs. "Mainly armor pieces. Some of the mechanicals were salvaged, while the optic relays and other contaminated elements were disposed of."
"That is for the best," the red woman signs, nodding to herself as she stares up at the wreckage. How did this happen? She wonders, her mind shifting to reflection the longer she stands there, apparently content to watch the remains. No, I know how this happened. I promised you a better future, that power could be used responsibiliy, and then he interfered. Every time I think I have a grasp on the situation something else appears to test me. Was this a test? Did they use you to test me? Was there another way? Tasha looks down, her head shaking. Maybe it was his test. He was right, you know. About me. He knew how to get to me, and you paid the price. She looks up again, frowning. It seems you were always destined to be used in the power struggles of others, like me. May I recieve what I am due, in turn. Maybe I will join you some day. Maybe soon.
After stepping back, Tasha removes her hand from her sword so that she can sign with both hands. "I am sorry I failed you, Balthasar. May I be judged accordingly."
"He was defeated in glorious battle," Tomorrow's-Hope signs. "This is the only way for a Titan to die with honor. As a warrior, not just a machine. You did well by him."
"/I did not protect him adequately -- that is all I will sign on that./" Turning, Tasha signs to the assembled, "/But, Tomorrow's-Hope is correct: Balthasar -- also known as the Seraph -- fell as a warrior, in defense of this world against a threat that, even as it consumed him, drove him to aggression. It is by his sacrifice that victory over the aggressor was achieved; By his sacrifice that victory could be had at all. Let us all be proud of him: He, who was built for war, time and again. He who was remade by the Savanite Nation of Old to be their greatest weapons -- and he who has lived up to the duty he accepted without words. Though his makers feared him, he remained steadfast. Though they hid him away, he remained true. Though they sought to forget him, he remembered. Let us all regard him as he is and was: the greatest Titan that ever walked these worlds, and though maligned, never did he stray. Even in death, he is victorious. Let us all remember his deeds and the lesson he taught, in life and
in death./"
The Silent-Ones still their hands for a moment, until Strength-of-Stones begins to sign. The gestures seem like nonsense to Tasha though, as if he were using some specialized dialect.
Tasha inclines her head to those assembled, then turns back to face the Titan, looking up as she rests her hand back on her sword. I hope this is enough. I heard some time ago that the last of your ancient Empire vanished; You are the last of those people. They feared you, yes, but also were they destroyed. They should have trusted their Titan more, but it seems they forgot that lesson. It is a good lesson.
The Archon stops, and turns to the others. "The demonic essence is banished. We may proceed." He then climbs up onto the flatbed, followed by Commanding-Hand. The loaders fire up their engines.
The red woman follows the others on board, using her wings to ascend the bed. She walks through the ruin feeling strangely detached, almost far away -- something she knows is a response to trauma, as told to her by PC Remiel. Eventually she arrives at the mask-like head armor of the Titan, frowning all the more. How did he do this to you? Is this possession at its fullest? She removes her datapad, holding it in her left hand after executing some cursory scan sequences. Her right hand reaches over to run across the frame, feeling the abnormal structure.
It's still the same ferroceramic material, but feels like burned skin. It gives half of the face a terrifying visage, while the rest remains impassive and somewhat condescending.
Seeing the condescending expresion brings a slight smile to Tasha's face. /Even in death you retain an air of superiority. I wish I had half your nerve,/ she thinks as she turns to regard the demonic half. /Why did he need to do this? Wasn't it enough to take control? It's like he was trying to remake you in to himself./ The woman pauses, sucking in a breath. /He /was,/ that's /right./ He was trying to do the same to me. I am sorry to say I didn't suffer as you did, but as you can see, I did not walk away unscathed./ She leans closer, frown deepening at the scowling side. /Is this what I would have become, too? Is that what I means to be Enyo? I've heard of possession; In a sense, so am I. But I should have been an easier target -- or was I less important? Or am I missing something? I can understand if I was less important, but it seems to me machines are more easily possesed, and I don't know why. I can't even bring myself to believe he's actually /dead./ How can you slay a ghost? Or, a /spirit/? I'm
not even sure what it was we were fighting./
The mask is silent, but also a bit of a mirror. The transformed side of the mask is the reverse of Tasha's own altered face. A hand touches Tasha's shoulder, as Archon Strength-of-Stones comes up from behind her.
The woman jerks when touched, sucking in another breath, her hand tightening its grip on her datapad as she twists around, eye wide and teeth clenched. When she sees who it is, she exhales noticably, ears flattening. "Oh, it's you," she signs a second later, forgetting the decorum she otherwise would have used. "I am sorry, you startled me. Did you need something, Archon?"
"I was going to ask you that," Strength-of-Stones signs. "You have been staring at this mask for some time. Do you want to keep it?"
Tasha glances back at the mask, her emotions yelling at her to say, "No," but her brain having a differing opinion. "Yes, I think I would. It is a good reminder of something I shouldn't forget. Besides, I want to understand how this was done in case we must deal with it again." She pauses a moment, then adds, "You should know that you were not correct, but you were not far off, either. It wasn't Balthasar that nearly destroyed me, not directly, but another through him. But it didn't do this," she notes, gesturing at her damaged face. "I did."
"Scars say much about a person," Strength-of-Stones signs. "It may be possible to salvage the swords. They will be useful against canal kaiju." He reaches forward to touch the altered surface of the mask. "The demon was a powerful one."
Tasha follows the Archon's hand, watching it a moment before she admits, "I knew him. The demon, I mean. He had approached me before, offering me things and demanding them in turn. You could say we were old acquintances -- perhaps even of the same faith," she admits, shifting her gaze to the corrupted side of the mask.
"No longer, I assume?" the Archon signs. "Or was he defeated because he did not have enough faith as you?"
"His faith was stronger than mine and his assessment of me was accurate, but ultimately it was imperfect," Tasha notes, head tiling. "I thought once that he was wrong about me, but in reflection I see he was more correct than even I knew. It shames me to admit it, but it is true. However, he either could not see, or could not understand, the parts of me that were unlike his purpose. In the end, I destroyed him. He drove me to the brink, so I tore him to pieces and mocked him for his failure."
The young woman draws in a breath, eyes closing. "He is ... Was: Abaddon, the Destroyer. A god of this world; A god of mine. I am .. I was? ... an Abaddonite; My faith is the faith of Abaddon: Destroyer, Master of the Forge, Warrior, God of Fire, and God of Conflict. He offered me a place at his side, he held out his hand to me, he called me his Enyo, said that I had granted him all he desired and ... And ... I refused. I killed him. And I wonder, is that what I bring? Did I refuse him? Or was I so like him that I ruined him for his interference?"
"So you are guilty of being mortal," Strength-of-Stones signs. "And realizing that you cannot be a god. Hardly a failing."
"/There has been so many times that I have stood at the intersection between continuance and destruction. I tell myself that I came here to make a better world; That I ultimately I am here to create something better. And yet by my own hand I have brought the world to the brink of ruin more than once. I have brough Balthasar ruin, I have ruined Abaddon, and I have endangered each and every person on the world and others in my pursuit of 'something better.' But I think I am just pursuing my own goals. Helping is part of it, but were I truly a kind person I would know when to be content and stop seeking. But I haven't, and I see now why. I see what Abaddon saw./" Tasha exhales, head shaking as she opens her eyes. "/And so I kill my god, and he kills my faith. And I wonder if the demon has been slain, or if she is here staring at the mask of someone whom she asked to trust her./" She reahes up with her left handm rubbing the bridge of her muzzle under her mask. "/At least I am a better deal than he was. Th
en again, we /are/ the invaders./"
"Life is never content," Strength-of-Stones claims. "It will always struggle and risk destruction to advance. That is the purpose of life. To improve, and conquer, and destroy and create."
"I know, I know." Tasha slides her datapad away, then turns to face the Archon. "I am sorry; Bemoaning my doubts in front of him is unseemly. My injuries are not fully healed and I am still dealing with what happened. With what it all means. But, you are right. I should not dwell on the details -- that we were victorious and the world still stands should be enough. I will shame his memory if I continue to doubt it as I am."
"Is there anything you want to talk about?" the Archon asks. "I am available if you need guidance, or just want to dance."
"What do you think of all this?" Tasha signs in earnest. "Is this something that other warriors seek guidance on? You did try to warn me, but I chose not to listen, and here we are."
"Such is the nature of youth," the Archon signs, and wiggles his ears. "I am also considered quite the renegade, always challenging authority. Of this current generation, no Titan pilot has fought another Titan to the death. Duels are no longer allowed, due to the expense."
"I cannot help but feel I escaped the battle with less than I deserved," Tasha adds. "That I am largely unscathed while he paid the price. That I could have done better, that I let myself be overwhelmed by my anger. That ultimately, I was useless when everything I loved, everything I believed in, was to destroyed right before my eyes."
"You sign of your loss, but believe you did not lose enough?" the Archon signs. "But is this not something you have done before: sacrificed your desires and dreams to preserve others? You are a dragon-slayer, Winged-Gift. That is your calling."
"I ... " Tasha smiles weakly, looking away. "You humble me by your sign, Archon. I think that I have complained enough for the time being." She turns back, bowing her head before asking. "What now? I admit that I did not consider much beyond the eulogy."
"You are having your Titan moved to the Winged Citadel," the Archon signs. "I will have Commanding-Hand prepare the mask of Balthasar for transport with it, once the pilots have all had their time with it. It is a good symbol for the corrupting influence of power - this time seen in the flesh itself. Not yours though. The feathers look nice, by the way. You should color them."
"According to some, I am a different sort of corrupting influence," Tasha jokes with a much more confident smile. "Be that as it may, please accept Balthasar's swords as a gift to the people of the Pit of Himaar. They will require charging, so you will need to put some thought as to how do to so -- I will help of course -- before they may be used. One is damaged, but I believe you can trim the blade down and use it as a smaller blade. They will make short work of any opponent that threatens the peace here."
And then the mostly Vartan pushes up her mask, leaning forward. "You think so? I was thinking that too, but I did not want to unsettle anyone. I am thinking maybe gold, or perhaps white or black. Or spots, then I can confuse everyone." She winks.
"You do not need help being confusing," the Archon signs with an ear-wiggle. "I have seen worse, do not worry about your appearance. Black and gold are appropriate, as you are an honorary Silent-One."
"An honor I think of highly," Tasha notes in sign before dropping her mask, ears wiggling. "Thank you for coming to see me and for speaking to me about those issues despite our previous conversation." She then nods towards the haulers. "Well then, it looks like we have some work to do."
Tasha draws a few looks when she enters the bar. She always did before, too, but now she can just tell they're focused on her new features. The bartender knows her though, and nods his head towards the curtained booth in the back.
I never though I'd stand out more, Tasha muses as she crosses the room. Feeling particulalrly light after her conversation with the Archon, she almost gives in to the urge to wave to people who stare at her, but decides she doesn't need to cause more problems than she already has.
When she reaches the booth, she raps the knuckles of her right hand against the side. "Zombie," she offers by way of explaination.
"No brains in here," Raehab's gravelly voice replies. "Just brawn."
"Good enough," Tasha says as she pushes the curtain aside and slides in to the booth. "I'm surprised you've even heard of zombies," she murmurs as she gets herself situated, tucking her cloak away and finally pulling back the hood. "It's been a while, hasn't it, Raehab?"
The half of the vartan's face that can still show expression looks surprised. "Well, Tasha... looks your admiration of me has gotten you to start looking like me. Could of just slept me with though to show your devotion, saved yourself some hassle.."
"I know, but I never do things the easy way, you know?" The young woman grins, winking, then reaches up to wave at her Vartan-side. "You can thank our favorite Vartan officer for the assistance. As it turns out, our doctors just couldn't recreate the Karnor side. It's like my mask is beginning to chip away, or something. At this rate I'll be all Vartan in a year. Anyway! How are you?"
"Oh, keeping busy with things you'd be better off not knowing about," Raehab says with a grin. "Heard you had a big robot fight."
The red woman leans in. "Oh?" Her ears perk forward, one Karnor and one Vartan. "Things I'm better off not knowing about are my favorite kind of things to know about, but I understand if you're reluctant." She then spreads her hands and admits, "It's true. There were clashing swords and everything. It was a disaster, frankly, but ultimately the right side won. I lost one of my two Titans in the battle, but that cost was worth what it bought us."
"You picked up another one?" Raehab asks. "That I hadn't heard about. Who was the other pilot?"
"Also me. It's all about me, don't you know? I'm my worst enemy." Tasha winks again, then leans back and drops her head on to her hand. "Oh don't give me that look. It's true, at least for a while -- at least until he showed up. As it turns out, there are some beings on these worlds that really don't like us. We're invaders, if you recall your Expedition history. And well, he had been trying to recruit me for a while. Took control of my second machine and everything, was planning to do the same to me until help arrive. Then I killed him and the machine too. It was really sad."
"Doesn't sound so sad to me," Raehab notes. "I'd have bashed that being's head in too if he was out to kill everyone."
"Yes, well, I just wish I could have saved my machine in the process and showed more ... Restraint," the woman murmurs. She shakes her head, then shrugs. "But, maybe it's for the best. That machine wasn't like my Melchior. It may have been the most powerful vehichle on this world, if not in the whole Primus System. It was hard not to feel like a god, sitting in that cockpit. At least I can say I wasn't tempted to rule the world, but oh, the places I could have gone and the things I could have accomplished with him. Well, no use in dwelling on it." She gives a brief smile, then asks, "So, I've been wondering, what is it that you do here? Some sort of black market? Criminal overlord? Fixer -- I think that's the word? Hired muscle?"
"I... help people who are otherwise enemies conduct useful exchanges," Raehab replies. His tongue isn't forked, it just sounds that way.
"That sounds distinctly and cunningly un-Vartan, but I like the mystery," Tasha admits with a lopsided grin. "So you're sort of the middle-man for all those backroom, back alley deals no one wants to admit to but everyone seems to need done. I wish I had the mind to ask earlier, that could have been very useful."
"Now now, you are an upstanding girl who would not have anything to do with a shady character like me beyond listening to my old stories," Raehab insists.
Tasha holds up her free hand. "Of course. What were we talking about? Oh right, stories. Well: long story short, there are things on these worlds -- immaterial things -- that may be waking up. Things that don't like us, that were old before the Expedition left Zion. This one wanted us gone, but we were able to destroy it -- seemingly permanently, though I can't quite grasp how. If you, or any of your friends, should ever feel something like this is making itself known -- maybe offering too-good-to-be-true deals for obidience, do let me know and I'll express our displeasure."
Reahab laughs. "I'm sure some evil spirit could do better than me or the likes I associate with," he says. "Not after going after giant walking war machines."
"They do seem to prefer dramatically dangerous persons such as myself," Tasha condeeds, hand over heart. "But I can't discount other methods. This one was very direct. There may be other who are more subtle. Aside from that, I've mostly been recovering in a vat for the last few months where I learned to paint and forgot who I was. It was kind of complicated, but I'm mostly in one piece now. Has anything happened here that you think I should know about, but no one would otherwise tell me?"
"The marching band came through, great turnout," Raehab says. "And of course the potato heads made all nice-nice with the Knights. Still funny to see those Silent-Ones Titans fighting to protect the dam.. heh. I remember when those same Titans were massed on the edge of the Pit, getting ready to level the Winged Citadel.."
"Ah, the band ... And Katherine Vesuvius ... " Tasha looks wistful for a moment, smiling absently. "I do like the band." She glances back to her drinking partner and asks, "But, what did you say? This must have been long before I arrived?"
"A few years," Raehab says. "The Pit is young. Some of the Titan pilots here remember the fight over it."
"I recall the fighting, that it happened around the time Confederate Life Dome fiasco occured. It doesn't surprise me that there was nearly a war over the Pit considering its resourcing potential, but I'm surprised the the Knights were the target of aggression. I would have thought they'd be busy trying to iron out an agreement between the powers," the young woman notes.
"I'm a bit vague on how all the events tie together, actually. Or were the two incidents unrelated save by proximity in time?" She then asks.
"The Knights were well into decline at that point," Raehab explains. "The other powers wanted them gone, and having them sitting right on top of a new resource was a good excuse."
"Yikes," Tasha remarks, ears askew. "I knew they had been an irritation to the powers that be for a while, but I didn't realize they were on the verge of annhiliation. It seems they can't get much of a break on this world or Sinai. So how is it that by the time I arrived everyone became all chummy?"
"The Pit, and contact with Sinai and the other Gateway worlds," Raehab claims. "In those early days, 'magic' still worked here in the Pit, and we saw what it could do. Suddenly it looked like we could get our resources from other worlds... at least at first."
"Ah, magic. Which is really the same as science. In fact, it's all the same -- a spirit is the same as an AI is the same as you and me, even thought we're different on the face of things," Tasha remarks, idly twisting a lock of her hair around the finger of her free hand. "It's a shame about the Tower, though. Only limited transportation. The structure appears to be significantly damaged and the main tunneling machinery is no better off, and there's the possibility it may fail given how it's acting. That may be tomorrow or thousands of years. So, everyone decided a huge war wasn't an immediate need, that instead they should investigate trade before blood is shed?"
"It's a bit more than that too.." Raehab says, and drinks his booze for a moment. "You grew up in the gutter, didn't you Tash? Fighting for every scrap? Now imagine you find out you have a cousin or half-brother or something - some relation you never knew about, but who has found you. And that relation is.. wealthy and powerful beyond your dreams. And now that he's found you, he writes to you, asks what you're doing. How would that affect you? Would it make you act differently? Not want to be seen for the desperate person you are? That's what Sinai is to Abaddon. Not that we haven't tried for peace in the past: that's what the Knights were created for. But we still had wars, despite having a neutral peacekeeping force. We're in a relatively peaceful phase right now because nobody knows what to expect, so we're keeping our cards close until someone else shows their hand."
"And Sinai holds the Jokers," he adds. "Because who knows what they'll do? If there were another war.. would the Sinai Imperials send support to the ones here? Would Rephidim support New Zion?"
"That does sound familiar," Tasha admits, reaching and making grabby hand motions towards Raehab's drink as she talks. "You could say it's all why I am the person I am today, or at least a big part of it. When I first met my Gabriel and his fellows, I felt like garbage. There were times I knew I was 'beneath' others, but I never felt like such a worthless person until I went after him. Of course, it had been building for a while, but that's closest to what you mean. So ya. Maybe that's part of why I feel like I belong here, and not there." She listens for a moment, then nods. "Thing is, Sinai is just as war-torn as here. Sure it looks nice, but we just finished a major war around the time of the Pit, and the big players are just the same as they are here. You'd think magic would make everything okay, but instead we had magical wars too. Whole tracks to land that spawn monsters, demons, tear airships from the skies ... Sinai and Abaddon are really the same, one just look prettier. That's all."
"I wouldn't worry too much. What can they do? Send a bunch of troops with bows, crossbows and muskets? Magic's the big thing, but the Guild controls that, and they were nearly annhilated in the last war. They won't rush to fight again. It would cost them everything. Sure the nations could pull out weapon designs and train troops, but they'd have to do it on this side, and they wouldn't have enough time," Tasha adds. "The same is true in reverse. The rules are too different, at least at present whle everyone's figuring it out. I'm sure sooner or later, someone will push their luck though."
"Not quite the same," Raehab says, surrendering his drink to Tasha. "Maybe on Sinai you have wars of magic, but that means you have defenses against it. Here.. well, just look outside! The Pit of Himar itself. That's power on a scale beyond reason. And then the whole destruction-and-recreation of the Imperial Life Dome. And they say that was just one Mage. The nations here are holding their breath for good reason. We've got gods walking around and fighting each other here, magic or mechanical. I guarantee that each power is trying to develop their own mages as we speak."
Tasha takes a long draught before sliding the drink back. "I figured they might be. It just makes sense. I can't really speak against it, either, since we'd be doing the same if we could -- and for all the best reasons -- but, still. No one wants to feel powerless and afraid, and with, well, people like me -- no matter how positive we try to act -- someone's going to feel apprehensive. And that's just in reaction to the best-case scenarios. There's bound to be some people out there who do not have the most altruistic intentions in mind. There's also a lot of desperate folks, like the Confederacy." The woman shakes her head, then pulls the bottle back to take another drink, sliding it back again. "It's a big mess, you're right. I knew it was big but didn't think how big it could yet be. To be honest, though ... I'm wondering when the day will come, when someone, somewhere walks up to me and asks, "We know you're trying to help, but could you just leave instead?" There's probably other like me, and I f
ear that sentiment will only grow universally as more strange and dangerous things arise."
"Ah, you misunderstand your popularity," Raehab says with a lopsided grin. "You're bringing back the glories of the past, one which we on Abaddon feel a lot closer to. It's what we understand. And your big fight.. that's also quite a tale. Because the loser was powered by magic wasn't it? You beat the power that everyone is scared of."
"Um, yes, well, I sure did, didn't I?" Tasha conceeds uncertainly, scratching at an ear with her free hand. "So now I'm to be the champion against magic? Sinai's daughter who took up old traditions and lifts the people back in to the stars?" She just blinks at the idea, then shrugs a little. "It sounds like what I set out to do, but it's a lot more dramatic than I considered. I'm really not used to being, well, popular, and I see all the nastiness and danger that doesn't filter in to the stories. I'm sure no one mentions how I felt guilty -- still feel guilty -- about destroying that machine, or how tempting it was. It's really not something to make a story out of -- a lesson, sure, but I'm not some hero from the old tales. I'm just struggling to to use what I have for some greater good rather than let it consume me. It's a scary road once you start thinking, "I could rule the world.""
"You pal around with Vesuvius now, don't you?" the old bird asks, raising his one eyebrow.
Tasha's brows raise. "W-what does that have anything to do with it?"
And then she quickly retakes the bottle and has a long, long drink.
"Ever wonder about the stuff she isn't telling you about all this?" Raehab asks. "The Expedition has been awfully quiet. But they've supported your group.. and the magic side of things, if the rumors I've heard are true. They're no better than the rest of us though, keeping their secrets and weapons programs."
Tasha leans back, ears flattening. "I always knew she was dagerous," she admits, her gaze shifting to stare at the table. "I don't know if you'll believe this, but, when I first met her, I only really knew her through her brother. In fact, I saw her racing, and that and her, um, well ... Lets just say I didn't expect her to even acknowledge I existed let alone want to spend time with me. I want to believe she's doing it because we're friends, because we have a lot in common, but I can't escape the feeling something isn't quite right. That maybe there's more to it. And then I wonder, who else has a hidden agenda?" She then holds up a hand. "I know, I know: everyone does. But that's not what I mean, I mean, what am I not seeing? Colonel Rapatia is obvious enough. I figure you could be selling some of what I tell you, sure, and there's probably a lot of information sharing -- but what's the big picture? And what about those older, more clever ones I can't see, the ones behind the scenes? Pros lik
e Katherine? And then ... the others. The ones like that spirit, and, well, others. I feel like I could second guess everything I do and still not figure it all out."
"Eh, my advice is to not bother second guessing," Raehab says before burping. "You'll never have all the information you want to make a decision, because you can't see the future. Do your best, deal with the mistakes, move on. Oh, and don't trust anyone who won't get drunk with you."
"Good advice. I guess I'll just have to play it all like I have been, hoping for the best and having a giant robot and my own two hands when things turn out differently. I'm glad I have you to talk to, a lot of people won't give it to me straight or say it so bluntly." Tasha takes another sip, then stretches before pushing the bottle back. "Gods I haven't had a drink in months. Was it like that for you, too? It feels like yesterday."
"I didn't get to sleep through this," Raehab says, raising his insect hand. "But I was doped out of my mind at least. And hey, you could always just ask people if they have a secret agenda. Could be amusing."
"Ha!" Tasha barks, pointing a finger across the table. "That's a good idea! I'll have to try that. Maybe I should ask from my Titan, or, I don't know, while standing on a monster or something. Could be just as interesting without, might learn something from doing both." She makes a "hrrrrm" sort of noise, then simply shrugs again. "Bah, I'll think about it later. I'm thirsty and I have a big wad of money from not doing anything for months. Lets see what we can get."