Two much younger women are in the chamber with Old Ma. One is a Karnor (although she still refers to herself as a Jupani) Dream Mage named Neesa. The other is a Karnor-Vartan hybrid, with a bit of asymmetry regarding which parts are Karnor and which Vartan.
"If you are going to sail with us, you need a proper name," Old Ma says to Tasha. "What color is your fur, child?"
"Red," replies Tasha, who as since taken to sitting on the floor beside Old Ma's life-support assembly. "A little white and gold, mostly red."
"Hmmmm, unusual colors for a Titanian," Old Ma says, and seems to chew things over (literally, although it isn't clear if she has teeth or even eats through her mouth at this stage). "You shall be known as Rustpuppy. What of your companion?"
Neesa twitches at being noticed. "Uh, just brown ma'am," she notes.
"Rust..?" Tasha pauses, then just shrugs, grinning. "Ya, Rustpuppy. Neesa not coming too, though. Only came to see ship and eel and talk."
"I like your voice," Old Ma says. "You will be.. Fudgy. Yes, I remember brown fudge. It was good."
At that, Tasha giggles -- or maybe cackles. It could go either way.
"People like fudge," Neesa says to Tasha defensively. "Rust is a hazard, isn't it?"
Once she maanges to stop laughing, Tasha has the presence of mind to ask, "You want to come, Fudgy? We're going far -- very far. In to space and ... farther."
"I'm a hazard too," Tasha insists a moment later. "Break things, fight machines, kill god. Breath oxygen."
"Normally, I would be terrified of such a thing," Neesa notes, "But Remy wants me to look after you. If you get swallowed by a space-fish he'll want to know."
"We almost never lose our bait, don't worry," Old Ma insists, with a grin.
Tasha's brows raise at that. "You sure? More like, I look after you on this trip! No magic where we going -- maybe not even rules of space and time, physics ... All machines." She then glances at Ma. "Huh? I not die easily. Macines try, god tries, ghost tries, statue ... Still here. Not defeated."
"I remember feet," Old Ma says, and then says something in a very guttural-sounding language, with the tone of a query.
"Wha?" Goes Tasha, tilting her head as she looks to the mechanized older woman.
"You don't speak Titanian," Old Ma concludes. "What are you, Rustpuppy?"
"Huh?" Tasha replies, head tilting to the other side. "Vartan. Mostly Vartan, also Karnor. A bit of machine, like Ma. Neesa is Karnor."
"I fought a lot of both in my youth," Ma claims. "Strange. Even on this world those races don't deal with us. But your accents are different. You aren't from Abed?"
"Abed is Abaddon? No, I from Sinai, air-planet. So is Neesa. But out accept is different too -- I have memories of old Terra, home planet of Humans and Karnors, and speak in that accent as well as Sinai," Tasha -- Rustpuppy -- explains.
"You sound a bit dim," Old Ma explains. "Just because the crew speaks pidgin Standard doesn't mean you have to. Have you been into space before?"
Tasha lays her ears back at that, looking as hurt as she feels. "I was enjoying it," she explains, biting her lip between words. "Most of the time, I have to speak carefully and mind myself the politicial and social arena. I'm under a lot of pressure to present myself in the a positive light and act as an ambassafor to my organization, a recruiter, and politician even though I have very little training in any of these areas. I thought, maybe, it might make the crew feel more comfortable with my presence, as well. When I'm in Amazonia, I speak Amazonian. When I'm with Silent-Ones, I Sign and wear my mask. When I speak to machines, I use their language." She shakes her head. "But you're right; I apologize. As for space, yes, I'm the navigator for the JEF Bellerophon, and I also have space walking training and Titan piloting training."
"I'm the one who helped Blammo get his Titan," Tasha adds in afterthought, "It was around the same time I got mine."
"Ah, the girl Blammo talked about," Old Ma says. "I was very cross with him for bringing back a Titan but none of the giant hunting animals that the Silent-Ones kept. They are very tasty. If you want to make an impression, make an honest one. It's easier to keep track of, and avoids awkward moments when two of the people you've been diplomatically lying to end up talking to one another. You seem to be a busy person, so why go on a fishing trip with a bunch of barbarians?"
"I wasn't lying, no more than I'm lying now -- this isn't my original voice or my original accent. I incorporate, and I change. I have absorbed the memories of a number of people, including machines. I was no more lying to you than I am lying to Archon Strength-of-Stones when I use Silent-Sign and wear the mask," the red woman insists, with some heat. She eyes the older woman a moment, then rolls her eyes and shakes her head. "Anyway. I'm an explorer, I'm researching Titanian culture, origins, and relationship with the so-called Progenitors, also known as the First Ones. I'm particularly interested in the origins of Titanians, their uncanny skill with machines, and ther relationship to the Vartans which I have cause to suspect may be deeper than simply a common origin, though perhaps not deeper than the others. I lack the data to say either way, yet."
"Oh my, you want to hear the stories then?" Old Ma cackles a bit. "Nobody ever wants to hear those. Usually cubs are sent to me to listen to them as punishment."
"Learning and punishment are often difficult to seperate," Tasha agrees, grinning a little. "Whether intentional or not. And yes, I do. Please, Ma."
"Well now.. this is a first," the ancient woman notes, and then goes quiet for a moment. Finally she says, "There needs to be some common reference first. Have you made anything?"
"Scale?" Tasha asks, tiliting her head again. "I helped make a multi-national organization? Or, do you mean like a machine? A sandwich? Love?"
"Something that required tools," Old Ma says. And then clarifies, "Except for making love using tools. Tools to build something."
"Well, I helped repair some of our ship. I do have some engineering training, but a lot of it has faded with time, especially my ability to repair Silent-One Minds-of-Light. I've wanted to build things, and I'm going to school so I may some day learn how, but I'm afraid that what I can build right now isn't very useful to anyone. Mostly what I do is fight and talk, so that others can build in safety," answers Tasha.
Neesa nudges Tasha, and whispers to her, "What about painting?"
"Oh!" Goes Tasha, nodding to Neesa. "That's right; I forget about that some times. It still feels very new and, well, diffrenet from me now that I've been awake a while. But yes, I can paint."
"Surprising, given your Vartan lineage," Old Ma says. "Not the fighting part though. Do you paint with a brush?"
"Yes," Tasha answers, returning her attention to Old Ma. "It was taught to me during my recovery, as something that would help me relax and learn to utilize my new hand. I lost the old one in an explosion, along with half my face."
"And do you have the brush with you, right now?" Old Ma asks.
"No, I don't bring them along. I've been considering learning to paint what I see, for note taking, but my supplies are limited and I didn't want to risk them," the youngest answers.
"How very interesting," Old Ma says. "Does your brush have a name?"
"No," the red woman replies.
"For you to understand the stories, you must first understand tools," Old Ma claims. "Go to Rushfighter, and ask him about his hammer."
"Yes ma'am." Tasha sits up, taking a moment to brush herself off before looking between the two other women. "Want so come Neesa-Neesa? Or, should I say, 'Fudge'?"
"That Fudge-eeee," Neesa corrects. "Sure, Rusty. Do you have any idea who to get back out of here, or do we just follow the scent of grilled god-fish?"
"We follow the nose. Besides, if we get lost, that just means we get a free early tour and mapping," Rusty notes as she heads for the hatch. "See you in a bit, Ma! Want any eel?"
"I can't taste anything anymore," Old Ma notes. "Tasted it all in my time though, so ain't missing out! Go and learn."
"Hokay, be back later." Tasha says, waving over her shoulder as she goes out of habit more than anything else. Soon she's gone, along with the fudge-colored Karnor.
It takes a bit of backtracking to find the exit. The smells of the ship often overwhelm their scent trail - Titanians don't rely on there sense of smell any more than Humans do, really, so don't try to maintain a pristine, odor-neutral environment. The pair actually winds up in a chamber that looks like it's meant to be traversed in freefall, except that it has stairs going every which way and orientation to various hatches. Tempting though it might be, they clearly didn't come through that tangle so have to backtrack again. It's evening by the time they make it out of the maze. The grills are still hot, but most of the feasting has been done and the big holographic projector is being set up for the evening's entertainment.
Blammo is close by, and has a covered plate (covered by an animal fur, that is) nearby.
"Hello Blammo," Tasha greets her friend as the leave the ship. "Talked to Old Ma -- she's got an edge, doesn't she? -- and she told me to find Captain Rushfighter and ask about his hammer."
The big Titanian takes in Tasha's words, and.. giggles? "I save you meat," he notes, and lifts up the alien animal hide to reveal the eel-steaks. "I not know you like Captain that way."
"Maybe you should clarify that by hammer you mean the one he carries around with him," Neesa helpfully suggests.
"I swear," Tasha laments, putting a finger to her temple and closing her eyes, looking and feeling rather put upon. "I mean, his literal hammer. The one he fixes things with, or hits things. Smashy-smashy. The one he carries around."
"Ooooo," Blammo goes, as realization sets in. "You mean his Hammer."
"Yes, that's it," Tasha confirms, opening her eyes. She then eyes the plate and reaches out to nab it, pushing the skin back and throwing back a slice of eel.
It tastes.. unlike anything Tasha has every tasted. The texture, the flavor.. it just doesn't match anything she can think of, not even seafood (and in her travels, Tasha has tasted a lot of stuff). It's a bit like cake.. meat cake. And it melts in her mouth and makes things tingle.
"Mmmm," goes Tasha, the food doing wonders to soothe her faltering mood. She opens her muzzle and tosses in another piece, then looks around for the Captain.
Rushfighter is 'supervising' the set up of the projector, which involves a lot of yelling and pointing at things, and for some reason making the men lift the contraption and move it only a few inches over to one side.
Glad her own captain isn't so picky, at least not with her, Tasha approaches the larger Titanian and walks to stand besides him, observing his work for a moment before saying, "Saw Old Ma, she told me to ask about your Hammer," with the correct emphasis this time. She then eyes the situation a bit longer, and adds, "Having fun?"
"Got to keep men from messing up," Rushfighter claims, his arms crossed against his chest. He really does look a bit like a barbarian, with the animal furs and leather belts.. but the underlying space armor is still a contrast. He unfolds his arms to rest his right hand on the head of his hammer, which is impressive looking, despite being battered and dented (and sporting what might be an old blood stain on one of the corners). "I tell you, sure," the big wolf says, never taking his eyes of the crewmen. "Wait until show starts."
"You got it, Captain." Tasha even salutes; After all, this is going to her ship for a while, and he is the captain -- and captains are to be respected and obeyed. Stepping back, she turns to Neesa and notes, "Looks like we have a little while, anyway. I'm going to contact the JEF and inform them ouf our progress, so if you want to leave Remy a note I can see he gets it," while fishing out her datapad.
It takes time for the connection to be made, given the distance to Harmonia from here, and possible interference from the Gateway's minor Forbidden Zone effect. There isn't enough bandwidth available for anything more than text messaging. "I suppose that's easier than sending a dream message," Neesa notes as she watches over Tasha's shoulder.
Tasha types in a status report containing the usual details as well a basic overview of her plans in the next few days. An additional message is then sent after, noting Neesa will be joining her and to tell Remiel, "Just tell me what you want to add, but don't make it too long," she notes, looking over to the other woman.
"Tell him that I miss my cuddlepup and wish he was here to bury his face in my.." Neesa starts to say, then purses her lips and says, "Just tell him that I love him and miss him."
After taking dictation, Tasha sends the second message and then puts her datapad away. "All done. I love this thing, you know?" She smiles, then turns back to watch the show prepare.
"Oh, and awwwwwwwwwww," Tasha adds as she stares forward, grinning lopsidedly.
The crowds have gathered, and when it looks like everyone is there who is likely to show up, Rushfighter draws his hammer and strikes the projector in an oft-battered looking spot. The strange device lights up and hums, before the title sequence for "Zebulon Schwartz, Space Privateer!" appears in the air, followed by the phantom orchestral score.
"Oh gods, it's this again," Tasha remarks with a laugh as she looks around for, then takes, a seat. "I think these are old Terran holovids, but who knows where and when they're actually from."
"I wonder if Warlord Crackjaw's more-evil-twin will succeed in his plot to overthrow the Galactic Brotherhood of Pirates.." Neesa notes, eating her eel.
"Oh, a fan are you?" Tash asks, glancing over. "Me, I'm more a fan of Katie Kaboom. but this is fun, too. By the way, I'm the evil twin -- if you wanted to know."
After talking to Grillfang, Rushfighter turns and heads back towards the ship. "Wait, you have a twin sister?" Neesa asks. "I suppose she's a nun. A nun with a vow of silence. Who lives in a cave.."
"Oh no, she's the more-evil twin," Tasha corrects, grinning even wider now. "We're both evil, but I'm the nicer one. Also, cuter. And smarter. And I'm part bird, which makes me superior in every other way that matters." She winks, then begins to rise. "Want to watch the show or learn about Hammers?"
"I'm not sure if I should sit it on that," Neesa admits. "It sounds a bit.. I don't know.. spiritual."
"I thought mages specialized in the spiritual," Tasha remarks, knowing full well she confusing the terms. "Well, enjoy your show. I'll be back later." Plate in hand, Tasha hurries after the Captain before his scent fades.
Rushfighter hasn't gone far. When Tasha catches up to him he's sitting cross-legged at his command position in the rowing room (or bridge, possibly). There's grate on the floor in front of him, with what might be hot glowing coals underneath that under-light the man in a slightly spooky way. "Old Ma give you a name?" he asks as Tasha enters.
Tasha takes a seat across from the man, familiar with this sort of situation. "Rustpuppy," she admits, ears canting back a little.
"Heh," the big wolf remarks. He draws out his hammer, and lays it across his lap. The head has faceted face, and the tail angles in and forms a wicked-looking spike. The handle appears to be made from a giant femur bone, but the connection to the head is hidden by sinew. Nothing sticks out of the top of the head to indicate that the shaft goes all the way through. In the odd light, the metal takes on an oily appearance. "You want to know my hammer?" he asks.
"Yes, Captain," Tasha answers without hestition, feeling there is some ceremony to the question and answer.
Rushfighter looks thoughtful, and rests one hand on the head of the hammer. "Give me moment," he says. "Translation of name is.. awkward. This is.. Song-Of-Stars-That-Echoes-Heart-Of-Time. Very old, very powerful."
"Even though I don't have the cultural background to fully understand its meaning, I feel like I can grasp some of it, or at least, grasp it in a way that is appropriate to my own cultural experience," Tasha notes, taking a moment to really examine the tool, her keen vision picking out details in the dim light. "The name itself, it is a story of the travel through the stars, but maybe, deeper, what the stars tell us in turn. The heart of time is experience: memory, learning, history and culture. It tells me that it is a reflection of many adventures, and of the people who experienced them and of the stars who spoke and were spoken to."
The big star wolf grins, and does something odd. He unties the sinew at the base of the hammer head, and slides the bone away to reveal the actual handle.. which is a rod that seamlessly emerges from the head. "Hold the haft," he offers.
Tasha leans over, using her right hand to hold the haft.
At first, Tasha doesn't feel anything. The metal is exactly the same temperature as her hand. But then the vibration starts.. and while she feels it in her palm, she can hear it in her head. Echoes of.. rhythmic tones? There are a lot of them, coming from every direction and all slightly different and distinct streams of data.
The red woman blinks at this, looking up to the much larger wolf questioningly. But she only does so for a moment, instead casting her gaze back to the hammer as her brow furrows in concentration and she begins to focus on the rhythm, the streams of data. In many way it reminds her of the song that played in her head when she aligned her brainwaves, and so she tries to puzzle out the way she might tune herself to the sound, to hear it better.
It's alien and familiar. But not anything like her vision-song - it's something she definitely heard before that. "Hammersong," Rushfighter fills in. "Of the Mauler. Of the spotters, and the engine men, and all of crew that reports to me. I hear it all through this."
"I thought it sounded familiar," Tasha notes as she looks up again. "In hearing them, I see why you don't need an intercom. But it's more than that, isn't it? It's something that links you all together, it's the living, breathing sound of this ship, and in it, the memories and thoughts of everyone, past, present and future. I think with this, and with your own Hammersong, you could guide that future as if you all were a single entity."
"Not just Mauler," Rushfighter notes. "All captain's have hammer like this. All are.. synchronized. Can find others with this. Hammersong to other captains, anywhere."
"Wow," goes Tasha, who leans back, ears perking. "That's impressive. I couldn't make out all the distinctive lines of communication without a frame of reference, but I didn't expect t to extend that far. I've never even heard of something like this!"
"No technology," Rushfighter says, and laughs. "You just like Khatta. Never trust in something simple! They call this 'verterium cortenide 947/952' because they need to name everything. Then, keep it a secret! No wires, no technology, it solid. Special properties come from matter and space itself."
"Oh, well, I meant technology in the general sense, but I see I mispoke. Ah, to me this is technology. I didn't mean to imply it was created, if that makes sense," Tasha notes, casting her ears back. "I mean, it doesn't surprise me there are materials with strange properties, created naturally. I've held in my hands congealed space-time, and ... Other things that may or may not have been created by any species."
"Oh, it made, yes," Rushfighter notes. "Hammers don't grow on trees. Or continuum distortion stators, either. Khatta steal the know of it from Titanians, long long long time ago. They don't make it too good though. Good enough I suppose. Good enough for Naga too. And Silent-Ones."
"Oh, then I'm just confusing myself -- nothing new there." Tasha grins wryly. "So, it appears to be some sort of matter-space -- and really those are interchangable -- weave, perhaps existing simultaneously across the universe? Or, composed of materials that are in sync? I think our engineer mentioned something like that, but it was a bit over my head. Stators, stators I know. Not well, but I know them."
"It does all explain where they came from though," Tasha notes, head tilting, "and I thought that, perhaps, the First Ones were the ones that know-how came from."
"Impure mixtures in stators, but.. good enough," Rushfighter says. "Khatta sell stators, people not know it same stuff they already use. Gates, warp drive.. all based on this. Only Humans and Batbats come up with their own methods. And yah, First Ones give to Titanians, others figure it out second-hand."
"Actually, we've been working on a new form of stator using extrauniversal materials, which I suppose is a bit like cheating, but it works," Tasha explains, conversationally. "Could be dangerous though, so not safe to use except for testing. What do you know about the First Ones?"
Tasha reaches for her datapad, pulling it out and after manipulating it a moment, asks, "Have you ever seen this?" The image is of the lone Origin marker of Titanians, laying in a mysterious corridor.
"Lots of First Ones," Rushfighter says. "Was Old Ones, all dead. Then First Ones, plant seeds in the graves. Give Keys like that to ones that.. function best. Keys like Captains Hammers. But.." Here he grins again, and says, "Best hammer in universe still no better than one who wields it, yeah? Everyone gets the tools they need to do their jobs."
"Seeds in graves ... Ah, the later species! And the ones that function best, the so-called Archons, first of their kind. So you're saying the Archons came from the seeds, being raised up by the Keys? Not First Ones at first, but maybe became them, or, became their servants, the Archons?" She then twists her muzzle, ears flicking. "That almost sounds everyone has a purpose, or, an admonishment -- but I'm probably being over-sensitive. I've been through a lot, and everyone has an opinion." She shakes her head. "So a purpose, at least by First Ones standards. That suggest an overall purpose? Hammer are used to build, and a team constructs. The team gets hammers to build something. If the First Ones are overseers, then what are we building? Ourselves?"
Tasha then snaps her fingers on her Varatn hand. "Ah, no ... Seeds that function best, Best created species. It's what Lord Yama said, that not all species get Markers. And purpose ... The Titanians purpose is to build?"
"No, not like that," Rushfighter says, looking a bit confused. "Don't think so, anyway. Old Ma know. She send you to ask this, because.. you don't need to know about hammers. You need to know about build. About tools. The value of them. This hammer here, older than.. something very old. Passed down, used to build, to control, to lead. More valuable than me, or Mauler. More valuable than a world. Because it is. It a tool. Tools need be cherished and used. Respected."
"Well, I like hearing about hammers, too. I'm intrigued that you think Hammers and Keys are similiar." Tasha smiles, tail wagging as she leans forward. "but I understand the point she's trying to get me to learn, I think: That tools, especially old, and rare ones, carry with them their history and purpose -- and maybe longer than we do. It's a living memory and should be respected. It's also a purpose and a means, which also should be respected. But it isn't a trophy, it's to be used. Respected and used. Use it, but remember everything else it is, too. Did I get it right?"
"Starting to think like Titanian, yeah," Rushfighter says, and winks. "Try picking it up," he says, offering the hammer.
Tasha grins at the compliment, then reaches out with both hands to pick the tool up, feeling the weight of it as she lifts it in to the air.
Something.. is off. When she first lifts it, it feels heavy - heavier than it should, to her mind. But once it's moving it becomes lighter.. and she has to stop herself before it swings out of control, like it wants to accelerate. And stopping it makes it heavy again, heavier than iron.
"Hrk," goes Tasha as the weight shifts around amking her struggle with control until she manages to steady the thing, even if it does weigh heavy in her hands when still. "That's ... something," she notes, her thoughts secondary to control as she studies the weapon a moment, gaining time to focus. After a few seconds she notes, "It feels like it wants to move, like its mass changes when udnerway. Like mass converts to kinetic force."
Rushfighter grins. "You see why Mauler uses oars now?" he asks. "The others - Khattas, Naga, spotties - they forget what it is to hold a tool in their hand. They ships use big power reactors, force the hammer-metal to do things inefficiently. Big waste, need big ships, big gates, big everything. Titanians remember. We can row."
"By using your own power, you forgo the need for excessive automation. You think automation makes them weaker, by relying on it so much. Maybe you disagree with their design ethics, as they waste a lot of avoiding doing the work themselves, just like they avoided inventing the stators by stealing them?" Tasha ventures, carefully, and slowly, moving the hammer to lay across her lap so she doesn't risk smashing something.
"Further you are from something, less you understand it," Rushfighter says. "Less you can feel it, the less you care about it. Where is respect in pushing a button?"
"Actually," she realizes as she looks down at the hammer in her lap, "it's reminded me of something that's been bothering me for a while. I rely so much on machines I don't understand. Even the JEF is something I borrowed, and fixed. But I haven't made anything myself. Sometimes I think, I'm that wasted space. I know I help the morale of the ship, um, usually. And Gabriel's of course. But for everything else ... It was just handed to me." She looks up now, frowning pensively. "I see what you mean. It's like with people. It's easy to feel they're not worth your time, or, they're beneath you if you distance yourself. I felt that way now and then, in my great machine. Like a god. A bad one."
"Old Ma teach you about gods," Rushfighter says, and gives Tasha reassuring (and rather crushing) squeeze on the shoulder. "But yeah, simple things.. they fulfilling in ways that big things aren't. Make something, that something is yours like nothing else is yours. It matters, because you made it. Because you wanted to, or needed to, or it because it needed you to make it. Why Humans make Karnors?"
Tasha can't help but giggle a bit at the reassurance, feeling better for it and not quite sure it makes her giggle. She smiles, then answers, "It sounds like we're talking about will. By distancing ourselves, we distance our will. We think we control it, but really, we don't like we used to. Our control is distant, our will is distant -- as is our empathy and appreciation. In the end, it's all distant and we fool ourselves in to thinking we're superior because of it. It really does explain the Khattas. They control so much, because they have so little -- and they did it to themselves. Did you know, they threw their Marker away? The First Ones thought they were worthy ... The Khattans they that away." She shakes her head again. "It's sad. Sad for all of us. As for Karnors, well, there were many reasons, as I recall. They wanted servants, sure, but mostly they did it because they could, and to understand themselves through it. They're close to the Karnors, but maybe not as close as they could have been."
"Hah, just 'cuz you make something don't mean you control it," Rushfighter laughs. "That not the point of making things. The thing that is made is itself. It exists without your control. We make babies, and raise them and teach them but no control them. Why make something that won't surprise you? But for Humans and Karnor.. you know Humans? Really know them? Know history? And the others: Naga, spotties, Khatta, Bat-birds, Vartan. Know them? Know why they act like they act, do what they do, as a species?"
"They did try to control them. The cards, the grades ... They tried very hard, to refine them in the image they desired. That was what I meant, and that the control was an illusion, but also real, but both distanced as you say." Then, Tasha shakes ehr head. "I only know a little of everyone, but some more than others. I know my people back to the days they were mercenaries, clans full of family and warfare. The humans come from Terra, but I've only seen it in images and I know little of their history there, or even here. I know the Karnor fairly well, because they're relatively young and I have met many of them and see and read their history."
"Do Karnor want to prove themselves?" Rushfighter asks. "Do you?"
"They did once, as a species. But no longer; They grew out of it," Tasha answers, then she tilts her head, takes a deep breath, and admits, "I haven't. I have much to do."
Rushfighter reaches out and puts his hand on top of Tasha's head. It covers her entire skull pretty easily, and his fingers feel around the back of it until they brush the interface studs. "Blammo say you get pilot implants. But you talk about Khattas technology... Did you find something else, hmmm?"
"Oh, so much else," Tasha says, deciding she may as well be honest, given how much the Captain has trusted her in turn. But it's more than that; He never asked anything of her, and welcomed her without hesitation. She wants to be honest with him, because to do otherwise just feels wrong. "I have my Titan, the Tech Level 2 Magi Class Titan Melchior. But I also learned that the Khattans fear the Titanians -- and the Vartans too. They know -- probably through their reverse enginneering -- that Titanians and Vartans have a connection, that technology made for one can be used by the other. And ... " She pauses, then pushes herself onward, " ... I found the Origin Marker. Not just one. Three."
"But not the hidden ship?" Rushfighter asks.
"Huh?" Goes Tasha, looking up and seeing nothing. "The hidden ... Not the Bellerophon? Wait, do you mean the Khattan frigate?"
"Yeah, golden bauble ship," Rushfighter says. "And if you have Markers.. that explain things."
"What do you think it explains?" Tasha asks as she stares at the blackness of Rushfighter's eveloping hand. "Do you think they're using me?"
"Or do you mean the Magi project? Or is that the same thing?" She ventures further.
"Heh, control is not the goal," Rushfighter says, releasing Tasha's head. "No matter what Khattas and others try, they will not control everything. I know of bauble ship because stators are 'good enough.' Captains Hammers can sense them. How we sneak up on them, big secret, don't tell." He holds a finger to his lips and winks. "But I only tell you, because my hammer senses you too. You keep secrets. Because I can always find you, yeah? I know your song now. You have it because of Markers I bet. Or something else, something similar. You no had it first time you come here."
"Well that's a big scary hammer, so I better behave," the red woman notes, grinning lopsidedly. "But I won't tell. I'm, well, maybe not the best with secrets because I want to share and, well, sometimes I'm weak and lonely, and I want someone to understand. Or to help. But, that secret is different, so you can trust me. Plus, you can beat me up if I tell." She winks, though she has no doubt he would if she endanger the Titanian's people or ship. "As for the ship, it has claimed sentience. I think their control on it is slipping -- and I hope it breaks before its purpose wakes that control up fully. And, did you say you can sense me? It might be the Markers -- I really don't know much about them except that they solidify when brought together -- but I did touch one of the First Ones' angels. Lord Yama, that's his name. He seemed to approve of me, which is good, because otherwise I would be dead now."
"Maybe he mark you?" Rushfighter says. "And feel weak, and lonely, and want someone to understand? Maybe that why Humans make Karnors, really. The others took what they wanted from Terra, and then snubbed them, after all."
"Maybe. He didn't tell me about it if he did. He wasn't very forthcoming, even though he seemed to be doing very little else except killing time -- and other things. I do know he destroyed the Expedition and guided the Celestial Empire before he became stuck on these worlds -- if he's stuck." Tasha shakes her head at it all, lopsided smile becoming more lopsided. "It's all very mysterious, you know? And maybe you're right, though I didn't know the other species took from Terra. Gabriel doesn't talk about Terra much."
"Oh, there's one more thing I found," Tasha notes before she forgets, "My Titan, the Melchior, there a man inside. A PersoCom recording, or something very much like it, of a Khattan man: Ser Heraphel."
"He says he doesn't know what the frigate is for," she then adds, feeling it important.
"I trade with Terrans," Rushfighter says. "Not many do that with Titanians. I learn about these worlds. On Sana, Karnors and Titanians and Eeee all part of Temple run by Humans. All the 'lesser races.' On Abed, they try and ally with everyone, even though allies won't ally with one another. Khattans.. Everything they do is to impress. Make others feel small, because kitties are scared and insecure."
"I'm beginning to see that," Tasha says with a not, her grin fading in to a somber frown. "I don't trust Ser Heraphel, even though I like him. Or like what he appears to be. I know the Khattans attempted to conquor these worlds at least once before, through agents, tricks and awe. But the humans, they always seemed mild to me. Even forgetable, if not for their odd lack of fur or feathers. But as you say, there seems to be a yearning in that oddness. A desire to come together. It reminds me of the story of Adam, the First One, who seemed to be of the same sort -- bringing people together. Bringing the First Ones together, maybe, to this place where they still are."
"Of course, I heard it didn't work out, or at least that's one story," Tasha adds, tilting her head. "Much like with the Terrans and the Expedition here, it seems."
"Ahriman disagreed with the desire to interact, or so the story goes," the woman concludes.
"Oh, you talk about Archons, yeah?" Rushfighter asks. "Ours Vulcan, the smith. Great Archon."
"Vulcan ... " Tasha savors the name a moment, consigning it to memory. "Is there a difference between Archons and Great Archons? Besides one being 'great'?"
"Not title, just.. he was great," Rushfighter says. "Strong, made lots of stuff, fun. Gave us hammers and guidance. Forge God, Hammer God.. Vulcan."
"Sounds like someone I'd like to meet! He sounds like a great person, and not just great in a godly way, but likable and interesting. He sounds like the kind of person I'd like for a mentor, if that doesn't sound presumptious. Our Archon is Adam Kadamon and Horus, and Horus seems like a great person too. Honorable, brave, noble," says the smaller wolf.
"Ah, Vartan Archon?" Rushfighter says. "Not war god?"
"Maybe war god, but so much more, too. Ser Heraphel talked a little about him, tempting Apollyon Stormbreaker with the possibility of replacing him. There's also Neith of the Silent-Ones, Atum who may be Adam, Ahriman of the Celestials, Eve mate of Adam, and one more ... of the Khattans ... let me check my notes." removing her datapad, Tasha searches through it while she adds, "I don't know much about the others, be Neith seemed as much a war god as Horus, and probably more so -- especially against serpents which suggests a conflict with Ahriman."
"Ahh and Mafdet, the Lynx Goddess, Archon of the Khattans. I don't have any data on the Archons of the others, nor their Marker. I suspect the Kampfengruppe has the Human Origin Marker, however," the young woman notes.
"Who know what their Archons originally like, before myth and legend and religion get in way," Rushfighter says, and gives a mighty shrug. "Vulcan simple."
"I like him even more for that. Smplicity is something that I rarely come across when dealing with these mysteries; I always feel like I'm stumbling around in the dark while great beings walk around me, watching or ignoring me, but there, able to step on me if I get in there way -- or help me if they chose. But they remain silent and I keep stumbling," says the hybrid, her head tilting this way and that as she works out the stiffness from sitting. "Is Vulcan still alive?"
"Of course," Rushfighter says, sitting up straighter. "Whenever we found new treasure of nice junk, that is Vulcan. Whenever we make a new ship, that is Vulcan. When we crash things together, that is Vulcan. When we blow up, that is Vulcan. We are alive, so Vulcan lives in us."
""What they are and all their kin,"" Tasha repeats from memory, her tilting head stopping to her left. "They're us, a bit of them in each of us and all we do. Given their form and personality, it seems like we're derived from their nature, which makes me wonder which of us came first. They're called 'First Ones,' but was there a human named Adam, or Atum, alone in the universe, creating a smaller version of himself? Or are they born from us? Or, is it all circular? Or am I overthinking?" She grins.
"Yah, overthinking," Rushfighter says, and taps the side of his head. "Too much thinking. What happens when you don't know anything and lots of bolts without nuts."
"It's a bit frusterating, but there's nothing I can do about it right now. So, here I am! I came here to learn. Is there anything else you feel I should know?" Tasha asks.
"When you got nothing to do but think in circles, that is when you should build something instead," Rushfighter advises. "I gotta go turn off projector. Can't let Grillfang do it. He'll think he doesn't need me to tell him what to do then. Then he start overthinking, and get into trouble."
"I better start building then. And um ... " Tasha pulls the top of her datapad out and eyes it. "It's a bit late, too. I might have missed the train back. Do you mind of Neesa -- Fudgy -- and I stay here? We can help out with whatever you feel we of be of use with." Tasha stows her datapad again, then returns the hammer to its owner before rising. "I'll start by helping you carry everything back inside. I do want to ask one more thing, though: How did the Dainty Mauler become a trade ship?"
"Was easier," Rushfighter says. "Only one to come and go here for long time, following Hammersong of the Titanic. People bring their junk to me, and I go trade it for more better junk! It not as fun as raiding, but good fishing in this sector, makes up for it."
"Do you like raiding?" Tasha asks as the two walk for the hatch.
"Oh, it great fun!" the Titanian says as he rests his ancient god-forged hammer on his shoulder. "Meet lots of interesting people, fight with them, take they stuff. Big party!"
"Ha ha ... You make it sound so fun! My parents would come and find me if I did it though," Tasha notes as they exit, walking in to the corridor. "To be honest, I was raised to despise pirates -- even privateers. Captain Eyeshine, my first Captain, really hated them, and I learned from him. But, Captain Blackwings always seemed to have fun, so I wondered, now and then, what it would be like."
"Oh, without pirates what the fun in star-sailing?" Rushfighter asks, shaking his head. "Dull dull dullness.. Grillfang! Stop dancing! Oh, you hit the power conduit didn't you, stupid! That why you s'posed to wear rubber underthings!" He marches off to take charge of ... whatever appears to be going on.
"You missed a good show," Neesa reports. "One of the pirate chiefs was actually a quadruple agent who was actually a Vartan woman in a very good costume!"
Left to her own devices, Tasha takes the Captain's lack of comment on whether she and Neesa can stay as acceptance. After all, if he didn't want it he would have definitely said so, that's how Captains think, she decides.
Approaching Neesa, Tasha smiles to see the woman in such a good mood. "It's okay, I got another kind of show -- and no, not that kind." She shakes her head, waggling a finger. "Think I could pull that off? I've been mistaken for a man before, but I'm terrible at disloyalty."
"Who or what mistook you for a man?" Neesa asks, shocked. "Wait.. was it Blammo? After talking to him a bit I get the impression that he can't tell with Karnors.."
"A bespeckled human man. To be fair, I was wearing my powered armor," Tasha notes, slinging an arm around Neesa's shoulder as she turns to look in to the ship. "Welcome home, by the way! Are you sure you'll be okay here?"
"Wait.. what?" Neesa asks, looking Tasha to the ship. "I thought we weren't launching right away? I.. have to update my will and such.."
"Well, we probably missed the train. Besides, the longer we're here, the more we can learn. It's a learning buffet, really. And you know, I have the urge to make something suddenly," Tasha explains as she guides the reluctant Karnor back in to the ship. "And you know what? I think I like it here. Don't tell Gabriel though. Maybe I just miss being on a ship?"
"Oh.. well.. you know, I can just walk over to the Mage's camp and get a bunk," Neesa notes, sounding apologetic. "Technically I have my own tent and stuff, I just don't use it. But you go right ahead and sleep on the.. Dainty Mauler.. if you want. I'm sure that name has nothing to do with their bunks.."
Tasha releases the mage, grinning widely. "Not the adventerous type are we? I understand. And bad bunks don't scare me, I grew up on a ship full of men and cheap hammocks, this will be like a vacation!"
"Just hope that Titanians don't snore," Neesa notes. "I need my sleep though, it's part of my job. And this way you can warn me about what to expect!"
"I'll make it terrifying, don't worry," Tasha notes, winking. She takes a few steps inside and then turns around, spreading her hands. "Thanks for coming, by the way. I'm sure whatever happens, it'll be interesting."