Tasha does not remember ever being this wet. There were storms and such, sure, but those would only get her soaked. It was made worse, somehow, by being half out of the water, which made her feel chilled as well, since the well-insulated Phins didn't do much to heat the underwater lab. At least she was fairly certain that her hooves wouldn't rot or anything... but the salts in the water were starting to make her itch.
"Now take five steps to the left," Bumper told her. For over an hour now the elder Titanian has had Tasha stand in particular places, usually near one of the corners of the odd artifact jutting up from the seafloor. She had a set of small hammers that had tuning forks at the ends, and she would tap them against the alien material at times to get a vibration going, then tap that on Rushfighter's hammer.. and occasionally on Tasha's head. From the catwalk, Neesa just stared (but might have been asleep standing up with her eyes open - who knows what Dream Mage tricks she had to look awake) while the Phins didn't know what to make of it, but the odd sounds tended to disturb them.
Resisting the urge to rub her head, not to mention the rest of her, Tasha dutifully peforms the bizarre ritual along with the Titanians. She isn't exactly sure why she volunteered after the third bang on the head, but she does feel that she should be here, and so she continues to assist, ears back and face contorted in a mask of concentration.
The whole experience puts her in mind of her dealings with other gods and their various homes, be they prisons, strange mental realms, or holes in the darkness. Each and every one carried inexplicable mystery as part of their being, aspects Tasha couldn't understand and, in some cases, aspects she's sure she couldn't even begin to understand as the deity in question was composed of elements from beyond the universe. Along with their oddities came the odd rituals, and so, Tasha decides this is just another expression of that same dance: The unexplainable and convoluted for the inexplicable and mysterious.
"What are they doing?" Kaa finally asks, floating near Tasha. She suspects he may have 'goosed' her early with a bit of focused sonar. "Why are you being used like this?"
"Not sure," Tasha replies in curt pidgin, trying to focus. "Unsealing ritual, maybe sympathetic resonance? Progenitor or other."
"Dark," Bumper says as she runs a fork-hammer along one side of the structure. "She dark resonator. Gopher God in stasis, but only light-time stasis. Not affect dark-time. Dark-time two-dimensional."
"Are you saying there is a different kind of time inside?" Tkaat asks, with a whistling note near the end.
"So you use my ... My dark resonance to bring it closer? In to tune with our dimensional state?" Tasha risks asking, hoping it doesn't earn her a bonus hammer bonking.
"Find keyhole," Bumper clarifies. "You got dark key in you, from other old Hole God. Marks you."
"Oh, that," Tasha says, risking a little nod. It makes sense to her that one such being could reach another, but she isn't sure what to think about using its mark to potentially kill one of its own kind. She knows they plan to try to talk to it though, so for now, she decides that will be enough -- and she doesn't think she could halt the process short of violence anyway. "Hokay, what next?"
"We find keyhole, open up, see what inside," Bumper notes. "Other space, mebbe. D-Level."
Kaa lets out a tweet of alarm. "D-d-d-d-.. D-Level hyperspace? In there?" he gets out.
"D-Level?" The hybrid asks as she eyes the stasis chamber, wondering what may be inside and if she'll regret her curiosity later. "D-Level?" She repeats, glancing to the now startled Kaa.
"Fweeeeee.." the pilot whistles. "Many levels of hyperspace, Tasha. Confederates use them. Except for D. D is low-energy, but no guarantee of coming out when you expect. Tales of ships using D-Level, travel a day, come out decades later. Or come out.. messed up. There's things in D-Level.."
"Dark matter," Bumper adds. "Dark energy, dark matter.. dark biology. Dark time."
"And me in the dark," Tasha remarks, quite before she can stop herself. She gives a sheepish half-hearted grin, thinking about a space where ships travel -- which to her is much the same thing as a sky -- that twists time and changes people. "Messed up? Should I even ask?"
"Nightmares?" Neesa asks, which gets an odd look from Bumper but no other reply.
It also increasingly unsettles Tasha to know that she's the 'dark' resonator here, both due to its strange and apparently horrific properties, but also because she's been associated with it for a long time now and knew nothing about it. "And I'm attuned to this place? Or, um, state? Dimension?"
"Well, if you're going into it.." Kaa says. "Sometimes the crew are mummies, but the ship shows no long time passage. Or they drifted sideways in time a little.."
"Paralel universe?" The red woman inquires, risking another glance Kaa's way. "I've seen those, um, literally through a window. Other selves, sometimes nothing, sometimes different. That sort of sideways?"
"N-n-no.." Kaa says, splashing a bit. "You know matter. Reverse that, get antimatter, sort of. Go sideways, and you get dark matter. Our whole universe is like a candle flame in a sea of dark matter."
"So those that go through D-Level and come out drifted have.. parts that got young and parts that got old.. all at once," the Phin says ominously.
"So they became dark matter or antimatter?" Tasha blinks, remembering something, and then asks, "Wouldn't they explode?" The woman blinks at the next explaination, ears flattening. "Eeee, or that."
"Bat-men silly," Rushfighter opines. "Safe if no use stators."
"How close are we?" Tasha tehn asks, eying the container with renewed anicipation, and not the least bit of renewed apprehension.
"Almost have it," Bumper says cheerfully. She taps a spot on the angled 'top' of the thing. "Here I think. Poke your head through."
"M-my head?" Tasha asks as she hesitantly walks forward, eying the spot which looks quite solid to her. "I guess I'll," she makes vague gestures, unable to quite articulate what she expects what may happen and half-certain she'd be wrong anyway, "phase through, or some-such?"
"Mebbe, or get headache," Bumper says. "Help if you close eyes. Close eyes, head-butt spot."
"Nnngh," is the noise the hybrid makes as she makes her way to the spot. She pauses once she reaches it, leaning her head closer and using a hand to get a feel for the distance between her head and the stone-like cage before closing her eyes. She isn't sure she'd have gone through with the idea months ago, but her reaction to danger has changed with experience and so she finds herself willing to risk it.
"Here we go," Tasha warns before swinging her head forward!
She hits something. It feels solid and liquid, and her head goes through it.. and then she can't really feel her body anymore (but is sure it's still there). Up and down are reversed, so that her ears are telling her she's facing upwards.
"I think I'm inside," the young woman reports, her face scrunched up, ears flattening -- or atleast she thinks they must be. The peculiar sensation reminds her somewhat of the Gateway Tower experience, along with the queasiness. "Should I open my eyes now?" Even as she speaks, she really isn't sure anyone can hear her, or for that matter, if she's even doing it!
There's no reply, or at least none she can hear. Bumper should have given her more instruction than 'bang your head on this spot' really.
Titanians, Tasha laments. With nothing else to go on, and suspecting -- but not sure -- that Bumper asked her to do this for more than just seeing the results, the young woman considers what to do.
Well, I'm inside. I think. D-Level space. And, we were going to talk to it, so ... "Hello? Is anyone here?" It strikes her she could have been more articulate, or come up with something better than the same greeting she's use if she walked in to someone's apartment unannounced, but what's done is done.
There is an echo, but it doesn't sound like Tasha.. it sounds like a child. I am here. It isn't a voice. Or rather, it is a voice, but it's Tasha's voice in her own head.
This again, Tasha realizes, wondering if she'll see another form of herself, as has happened before. Except this time she suspects it isn't her firewall producing it, but something else; The kind of else that makes her skin crawl and hackles raise. "I hear you. I am from outside this prison," she explains, or at least hopes she's explaining. "My name is Aldara Tasha, you ... You know of me, don't you? You can see in that way, you see differently than I do?"
Differently, the voice replies. Prison. Interesting. You are not one of my keeper-followers.
There's no sense of motion beyond Tasha's closed eyes, nothing stirs her fur. There's only stillness.
"No." Tasha considers her words a moment, then tries, No. In this way she repeats her words in her mind, wondering which will be heard better. "We found your tomb. Your keeper-followers are gone. We do not know what became of them, save that they vanished long before our time -- you understand out concept of time? Here and now where we are beyond your prison, we have opened it enough so that we may talk. We would know who you are, and of you, and, what your desires are."
I am the Engine and the Harrower, the alien voice claims. He Who Moves. You are the Seeker.
Tasha considers that for a long moment -- even if she isn't sure an actual moment is passing. "It is a dscription of your existence? A title, and, a sense of being. A name that is you, like the one before you. I am the Seeeker, I seek many things. It defines my actions, and much of what I am. Therefore your being is that of one that generates, an engine, one that creates movement or force or energy to create work, but maybe not as I know it. The Harrower, you test. Like another. You strain others, to grant them experience? He Who Moves I do not know, but that you are an inhabitant of what we call D-Level space, movement in space-time, that could be part of your being as well?"
I am the Engine and the Harrower. I move. I work land. Large and small. Look upon me so that I might see.
Taking the request as literal in her understanding, Tasha pauses a moment to collect herself -- then forces her eyes to open wide!
The darkness is painfully bright. Burning blackness spreads in all directions, and before her is a mirror. A stasis field shouldn't move, but this does, as if filled with giant worms or serpents tangled into a ball. A bright light shines back from the surface: her own face. Fur and hair and eyes and even her mouth glow brightly, the colors not quite right. There is no seeing the horizon of the field, but who knows how warped the space in here really is. The chamber could be a hundred feet across, or as big as the Star Sea.
A shudder runs through Tasha, quaking her body as she looks upon something her body and mind are only faintly prepared to endure. "I-it h-hurts," she cries out, reaching a hand to her head for a sense of normal space, but uncertain if it ever reaches her. "I c-can see, I ... ah ... I ... I can see."
Her hand is blocked by.. the outside of the artifact? So far it's only her head that has passed through the barrier.
I am a prisoner, I see, the voice of He Who Moves notes. You will release me?
Contact with 'normal' space steadies Tasha's nerves somewhat, the anchor helping her feel a little more like herself, steeling her for what she's looking upon. Between her words, she grits her teeth, her face a mask of strain as she looks, but she does keep looking. "Perhaps," she answers, voice unsteady. She wonders how long she can keep doing this. "Others are concerned. They fear you are a danger. They cite your s-seal as indication that you are. They bring your destruction, or ask you to destroy yourself. I ask differently: I have met another of your kind. I do not assume you are a danger, but I am not sure you are n-n-n-" The young woman pauses, sucking in a breath of what she isn't positive is air, then stammering out, "N-not a danger. To use. Our reality. More. They know. More. Than I. Do." Another pause as the red woman steadies herself again, which gives her enough time to say, "I a-arbitrate. Will protect. If needed. Will fight. If. Needed. You. Or. Them ... them .... Answer.
And then Tasha snaps her eyes shut, taking a moment to rest as she 'listens.'
Danger. I am the Engine. I move things. Big things, small things. Stars. Planets. Space. If the keeper-followers are gone, they cannot command me.
"Do you wish to be commanded? What is your desire when there is none to command you?" Tasha asks, the qustions coming easier as she steadies her mind in the comfort of more 'natural' darkness.
Desire again. Desire. Desire. Explain.
"Want, motivation," Tasha elaborates. Deciding that she may not be able to explain it through langauge, she then opens an eye. "Look," she hisses as the view comes back in to focus.
Motivation. What is your motivation? The stasis field swims in front of Tasha, and something seems to appear just beneath the event horizon. It might be an eye, but it fills all the space Tasha can see. It's mostly just a flatter space, with some 'pupil' that constantly changes in shape and size.
Another breath is sucked in; Outside, Tasha runs her hand along the strange matter surface, using it for more than physical support. "I am the Seeker. I seek answers, I seek a better tomorrow for my people, and for those that are not my people. I seek the Progenitor relics, artifacts of my makers, and, the answer to another maker's plight. I seek the Progenitors, beings like and unlike you, who are the makers. I seek to explore, and know, and to meet other beings. I seek community, and friendship, love, and happiness. I know these last things may have no meaning for you. Look if you need to. I w-will try to keep my eye opened."
This is Desire. What is the Motivation? What is your Why for this?
"Because ... Because I want to. I have traveled and seen, I am not old, but I have seen ... Seen what I was and what I am and what I might be, and I seek the might-be because I believe it to be better than the me that is. I do it, too, for o-others that t-they might find their b-b-" Another pause, another moment to collect herself, and then, "Might find their better way. Less suffering. More understanding. Of each other. Better future. Happiness, safety, knowledge and ... T-the better t-tomorrow."
Better. You seek improvement. Interesting. And you do not, perhaps, know what it will be. Is what you believe to be better, truly better? The keeper-followers sought many things. I do not know if they found them. Perhaps they did, and did not need me anymore. You have found one of their worlds, to find one of the doors to me. What is it like?
"The knowing is ... is in the Seeking. And, the r-res-ul-" Tasha closes her eye for a moment, using the time -- if indeed any time actually passes -- to gather herself again. The eye opens, and she continues, "The result is an answer. The Seeking is imperfect and, neither, is living. We must seek to know. So must I." Another pause, but this one is simply to collect her thoughts for explaination, and as she does she stops to wonder if she may actually be getting used to staring at this strange space! "I believe it is better to seek, to use options, to find the answer through s-seeking. The world ... "
Tasha tilts her head reflexively, and again she does not know if it actually happened. "The world is water, a mix of liquid chemicals, atoms and ... molecules. Sceince of our world. Explainaton is ... Is beyond me. Lengthy. Will. Be. Brief. Water world. Disputed. Ruins below. Found from i-impact. Look."
If He Who Moves is looking into Tasha's mind, there's no sensation of it. Much of your time has passed then. I do not recognize this world, but if my door is here, I must have moved it. Have you decided what do to with me?
"No," Tasha answers. "Need to know: Motivation. Desire. If any. Seek? If released, what ... What would you do."
Leave.
"Where?"
Your island universe. I am a creature of the dark sea. To there I will return, until summoned here again in the proper way.
"Summoned? Do you ... Do you come willingly?" Tasha inquires, again feeling the strain of too much staring at the impossible.
"I do not need to know," the hybrid adds, a second -- an hour? day? -- later. "Curious. Seeking. Not important to chosing."
Willing. Another alien notion. I am. We are. There are rules. That is all there is.
"Rules ... Exchanges. Deal. The other spoke of them. We had ... There was, rules. Agreement. Between us. Deal. I ... I remember. Will remember. Will you make ... an agreement ... with me?" The hybrid ventures, using the time after to closer her eyes again and rest in case the dealing demands even more from her.
If it is proper, perhaps. What do you desire?
"Return home in peace. Do no harm until you do. Do this, and you can go. Home. I will protect you, if I can. If able. Do not ... Do not tarry," the young woman offers.
Haste.. from your perspective, it is possible. Agreed.
Tasha cocks her head to the side, ignoring the uncertainty of the movement. "That is, do no harm until home. After, that is ... That is your decision ... and ... your summoners. My apology. Still agree?"
What constitutes harm?
"Damage to space-time, ruin of the structures of sentients not including your prison. Damaging sentients ... Mind ... or ... body ... or ... other elements. Without permission. Indirect causes of these ... Actions sentients do no desire, not counting your return home. Physical violence. More ... ah ... Look." Tasha opens her eyes again, sucking in a breath of air -- or not.
Damage. Such things were of no concern to the keeper-followers. Release me, and my 'prison' as you call it comes with me. I will leave no doors behind. They cannot be used without me.
"The doors are curious. But I do not need to kknow them. Interesting. That is what you say. Yes. Do you desire to go now? More questions? More answers?" Inquires the young Tasha, feeling slightly more confident that she's getting used to where she is and not at all certain that's a good thing.
"I have both, but I will ... I will not keep you. I dislike the idea ... Of prisons. You do not know desire. Only rules. But to me, they are ... the word ... ah ... offensive. I will respect your viewpoint, if you wish to talk. A little more," the young woman then adds. Even if she suspects she's gaining some resistance by remaining here, she can't help but feel she can only take so much more. The wear is slowing down, but she knows her endurance is finite. No much longer? What is time, here? She does not know.
Questions. None. Answers? A game. What good is an answer without a question? But that is linear. Only a joke to you. You should not spend overly long in this timespace.
"We agree. On that. The strain ... I am feeling the strain. It is growing u-unbearable. One more: You mention summoning. We have spoken, we ... get along? ... Not offensive to ... the other ... Maybe ... help each other, again. Talk? Summon, how? If you want ... If you desire it. Help each other." Tasha squints, cringing. She realizes just how right the He Who Moves is: she thoguht she was gaining resilent, but she sees now that she is only hardening to this place. And like hardened medal without flexibility, she fears she may shatter. She knows that is is her last question; to stay any longer and she may break.
It occurs to her that the being somewhere beyond her urged her to leave, and so Tasha thinks to add -- once her mind can see through the strain: "Thank you. the concern ... thank you."
Summoning takes time. More than one of your typical lifetimes. And much psychic flensing to weaken the boundaries, and the death of a star.
"No, then." Tasha tries a smile, and again the movement is lost to her. "I am done. Go in safety ... Go in peace. The deal, made. G-good-b-b- ... G-good-bye."
The young woman doesn't waste any further time, if indeed she has time here at all. She strains, attempting to pull herself out of D-Level space and back in to her world!
There's.. a transition. For a moment, Tasha stands and looks to see herself still embedded in the artifact, and standing around it at certain points and even entering the chamber for the first time. Then the wave collapses, the past retreats and she's got her hands on the nuclear-lattice iron surface of the artifact, and gasping to avoid passing out.
"Did you hit your head?" Neesa is calling from the catwalk.
The dazed, frazzled woman sucks in breath even as she staggers backwards, her hands immediately going to her head as she then sinks to her knees. From her knees she slouches forward, head pressed in to the water, she she screams.
There are hands on Tasha's shoulder, and a dolphin beak against her neck. "She just smashed her head into that thing!" Neesa is yelling. "Do you have ice here? Painkillers?"
The onlookers can see Tasha dig her nails in to her scalp even as she chokes down air, her head tilted so that her muzzle -- in particular her nose -- are above the surface and allow her to breathe, if not comfortably nor without choking. She hardly minds, though; Her mind is elsewhere, still backing out of that other space are the strain of realigning to this world hits her like a hammer and all the fraying that happened inside catch up with her.
There's a hum. It's soothing, cool.. and it's coming from one of Bumper's hammers. The fork is upright, the head of the hammer touching Tasha's forehead. "Silly girl. You look into face of gorgon, you get turned to stone," the older woman notes. "Talk to Gopher God, in its Gopher Hole? It going to dig up our garden?"
"Ugghhhh," is Tasha's response to the scolding. There's actual blood from wheer she dug her nails in to her scalp, tinging the water. At length she manages enough of a recovery to at least pull her head out of the water and stop impaling her ehad, but she still clutches it like it's going to explode at any second.
Once up, she settles on to her folded knees, wings limp and body swaying unevenly. "Uhhh?" She murmurs, and when she opens her left eye she cringes for several seconds, the eye widening as her expression turns to momentary horror. The expression fades quickly, as she registers what and when and how she's looking at. "Where..?"
"Maybe she has a concussion?" Kaa suggests.
"Focus, Rustpuppy," Rushfighter says, leaning in before Tasha. "You here, on Encante. Noplace else. Smell.." and then the big Titanian exhales onto Tasha's nose, as if his breath were proof of existence. Then again, the sense of smell does bypass the higher brain function areas, so maybe there's something to it..
"Y-yes," Tasha mutters. She jerks at the scent, blinking several times and cringing a little more for it. After a moment, she finally pulls her right hand from her head, waving it infront of her eyes. She then reaches down and scoops up some water, letting it fall and watching the results with brows narrowed, an intense look of concentration upon her face.
Seeming satified, the young woman breathes a sigh of relief. Both hands fall in to the water, her whole body relaxing at once as she rests in as much of a heap as a kneeling woman can. "Here ... I'm here. I remember ... Here and now. After that, and then ... Then I was there. And then here. Again. Encante." The young woman's eyes dart to Rushfighter, and then she asks, "Want answer?"
"I care about my tomatoes," Rushfighter claims. "So what word on gopher?"
"How could she forget me?" Kaa asks Tkaat. Dolphins can't shrug, so the xenoarchaeologist just makes a rude nose with his blowhole.
"We have a deal. He Who Moves will go home, and do no harm in doing so. I agreed." Tasha glances away from the space-wolf, eying Kaa with a mix of puzzlement and concern he'd nevers seen before. "More details? Yes: He will not return, until summoned. Dark sea ... that is his home. That is where he will go. I agreed. Please do so too."
"Hokay," Rushfighter says. "We pop stasis. Tomorrow."
"Time was not agreed; That is fine." Tasha pulls in another lomg breath, her gaze shifting to each of the others in turn, the confusion on her face dissipating with each new person. "What now?" She pauses, then adds, "Now what?"
"You see doctor," Rushfighter says. "Then eat maybe."
"Hokay." Tasha begins to rise, but wobbles a moment before falling back on to her hands and knees as her spatial awareness and inner-ear balance confuse her. "Ah. Like the floor better," she admits.
After being checked over by the base medic (and given a mild sedative that she hoped would work), Tasha was shown to one of the living modules. There were fold-down bunks, and the water had been pumped out. There was even a heater. Portholes looked out into the alien sea, where the silhouette of a patrolling dolphin could be seen occasionally. The bunks were too small for Rushfighter, who was probably going to sleep on the floor whenever the Titanians turned up. "What do you think they'll have for dinner?" Neesa asks Tasha. "I'm guessing raw fish."
For her part, tasha has been quiet. After being brough here, she would mutter off partially comprehensible sentences and talk about where she is, but otherwise she kept to herself and stared out at the ocean waves. Over the following hour she'd reply to this and that, her communication slowly shifting from stilted and confused, to over-focused on content, to long, tired-sounding sentences to what Neesa is now dealing with: Brief, exhausted replies.
"Fish," Tasha agrees as she stares out the window, her primary interest since arrival.
"You're like a sleepwalker," Neesa says, and comes over to put an arm around Tasha's shoulders. "What happened? I saw you bounce your head off that thing.. but what really happened?"
Tasha doesn't hesitate in leaning in to the other woman. She begisn to close her eyes, too, but jerks once they've been closed for a moment, opening them again. "What?" She asks, sounding as confused as she does exhausted. "Oh. Oh ... There. Yes, D-Level space. The prison. You want to know." After taking a deep breath, the young woman holds out a hand, indicating the space infront of her. "Other-dimensional space. Time-and-space were different there. Perception, different. Even with eyes closed. We spoke. That is, him and I, he: He Who Moves and I ... " Tasha frowns, head shaking. "You know. Not important. Sorry. Where was I ... Oh. We spoke. Not actual speaking, but communication. In the mind. It was hard; He didn't understand. Neither did I. Asked me to look at him, so he would. Understand, I mean. I looked. It was ... Darkness brighter than a sun and things that were impossible. No, impossible here. It hurt."
"Like a nightmare?" Neesa asks, cradling Tasha against her. "How long were you.. in there?"
"But I didn't sleep. I know the difference, I slept a long time. Not as long as some." Nessa can feel Tasha's full weight now; The young woman isn't even trying to hold herself up anymore. "How long? Doesn't matter ... No answer. What does time mean in a place without it?"
"I suppose it means whatever you want it to?" Neesa guesses. "You can't still hear the.. thing, right? It's not in your head anymore?"
"No. He may not be speaking. Or. He may not be able to. I don't mind the words -- I mind the place," the hybrid replies. Then, she reaches over and pats Nessa's hand on her shoulder, smiling an exhausted smile. "Just the place. He was hard on the mind, and, um, everything else ... But ... He was not hostile. Not as we know it. Maybe not at all. He was, as he was. A being of laws and nothing else. We have made an agreement. He will keep it. I'm satisfied, ... yes? Yes."
"So why are you still so wigged out?" Neesa asks. "I mean.. I mentioned food and you didn't even blink. You're half Karnor - food should get your attention."
"I can't put it in to words," Tasha replies, head shaking. "And maybe that is the best answer I can give you, for a place outside of words and ideas that we know. Maybe, that we can know."
"Maybe it would be best if you just.. forgot about it," Neesa says. "Stop thinking about it. At least until you can get some proper trauma treatment."
"I'll be fine," the hybrid promises, patting Neesa's hand. "It's not the first time. It is the first time I looked, but, not the first time. I've met many gods, and one like that one. I have fougth with another, that tried mind-horrors on me, too. I'll be fine. I just need to ... To be here again. Fully. It takes a while, to come back."
"The Phins seem to 'be here fully' all the time," Neesa notes with a grin. "I think one of them felt me up in the water, somehow. It felt like it, anyway, even if he didn't touch me. It's like a race of teenagers."
At that, Tasha's muzzle splits in to a smile. "I've been getting that, too. I like them. I wish I could do more to help them, but I'm not sure what more it is that I can do. I hope they succeed, however. It would be a terrible tragedy if Encante were to fall."
"They have to prove themselves by themselves.. I'm sure having the Titanians come remove a god doesn't count as interfering," Neesa notes. "I've been thinking about the so-called Titanian Clients too. They don't seem the type to have Clients. But at the same time.. I could see them being mentors. Granted, we've only seen our Titanians and this group.. not the dreaded space-barbarians everyone on Abaddon talks about."
"Prove themselves, by themselves? Yes, I see what you mean ... I agree. But I would still help them rather than let them fall. Sometimes failure doesn't teach; Sometimes it's just failure." There's a little shrug from Tasha, then she says, "I once had the power to force an end to many things. I wonder if I made the right choices. I wonder ... Oh, cheering up? Right, that, um ... Clients. They've taught us, so maybe you are right. Mentors. Our origins are similiar, they and us: Titanians and Vartans, that is what I mean. But the mother, she is not of the Dainty Mauler. There is only one trader of the Titanians. Therefore, she must be something else. A pirate?"
"You mean Bumper?" Neesa asks. "I thought she was.. an archaeologist or something."
"Maybe. I've never heard of Titanian archaeologists, only one trader and many pirates. But we cannot know from guessing: I'll ask." Tasha pushes off, sitting up on her own now. "I like the sea, but I'm bored now," she admits. "And cold. What else ... Curious. Yes. Want to find Bumper? And food."
"I'm surprised you're bored," Neesa admits. "I kind of liked being pulled around by the Phins in the water. But maybe the Titanians have a way to cook the fish.. so that's worth knowing too!"
"If I sit here too long, I'll think about that place again. Better to be distracted by a pace I need to be, rather than one I don't," the hybrid explains as she rises to her feet. Her stance is unsteady for a moment, but by bracing on Nessa she's able to stabilize herself -- and then she's walking towards the door. "I feel like I have too many questions I've forgotten," she admits as she goes.
"See, what I would do.. is write them down," Neesa advises as she helps with the hatch. Of course the corridor beyond is half-flooded.
"My datapad is back on the ship, and I can't bring it here. Too identifiable. Maybe I need a new one? Too poor." Tasha fetches her breathing aparatus and pulls it over her head, waiting for Nessa to do so too before she dives in.
"Did you ever wonder what happens to Old Ma when they're in the Star Sea?" Neesa asks before following.
"Yes ... I do. Did? Do," is tasha's answer. "She remembers it, but it's not something that I could remember and navigate, unless I missed something. It may be a method unique to Titanians, in the same way that they can utilize technology. That is, after all, how they were made -- just as being a combatant is how a part of me was made."
"I meant.. well, she's part machine now isn't she?" Neesa asks. "But a lot of the machines didn't work in the Star Sea. So if the Mauler can operate in the Star Sea, where they say other ships couldn't.. could it land on Sinai? They use oars after all.."
"I'm not sure. Maybe there is technology that still works. Maybe she is dead in the Sea of Stars, and something that is part of her can guide her -- like how it happens on Sinai. I cannot speak of the oars, but what you say may be true: They may be able to land to Sinai. Or not. I don't know enough about either to say," Tasha notes as they swim along the otherwise empty corridor. "I have seen technology work on Sinai, even on the surface. The interference is not even, and there seems to be methods to inhibit it. It may be, too, there is nothing they want on Sinai."
"How would they know unless they'd been there though.." Neesa starts to say, but by then they've found the 'mess' tube. It's crowded with Phins, and the dangling legs of Titanians as well above the waterline.
"We'll talk more about this later," Tasha promises as they reach the waterline. After stepping out, Tasha removes the helmet, leaving it to hang back between her wings by its strap. She waits for Nessa to be ready, then walks with her to the Titanian table.
"You hungry?" Rushfighter asks. Bumper seems to be napping while sitting up.
"I am," Tasha confirms as she takes her seat, her elbows on the table and head dropped on her hands. "Anything interesting happen? Is Bumper a pirate?"
"Bumper is Titanian," Rushfighter says. "Good mother. Hits really hard. Smart too."
"I see," goes tasha, who still sounds tired despite her motility. "Pirate to some, Titanian to Titanian. Makes sense to me. I knew the rest. I have more questions."
"Questions like.. uh.. no that opinions.. never mind," Rushfighter says. "Questions for me?"
"Ya, sure," Tasha answers, "Maybe Bumper too. Smarter?" The young woman leans over, giving the older one a poke to see if she's awake yet.
As the poking goes in to its second poke, Tasha asks, "So, how did Vartans become clients?"
"Shinies," Rushfighter says, while Bumper opens one eye to look at Tasha.
Tasha's muzzle wrinkles. "I was afraid of that," the hybrid remarks in a voice of regret. "Was expecting a trick. Maybe still a trick? Why Khattans afraid then?" The poking stops once sees the opened eye, causing her to return to settling on her hands. "More structure underground, ma?"
"Yeah, prolly," Bumper replies.
"No trick. Khattans have lots of good stuff. Vartans fight for them, get best stuff. Vartans are swords," Rushfighter notes.
"Door and prison leaving with He Who Moves, and I'm not sure how much of this place goes with him, so warning you now. Still want stuff, too." Tasha smiles lazily, then rolls her head to glance at Bumper. "No one ever gives me stuff for fighting," she admits, muzzle wrinkling again. "I found all the best stuff. Uh, so, if it's all an agreement, why be a Client? Culture come too? Or just look like Clients to make Khattas look big? And why fear?"
Rushfighter shrugs. "They must think it a good deal at the time. If Khattans not treat them well.. then lots to be scared of. They give Vartans best weapons, yeah? Don't want soldiers used against them."
"Hmm, wish I knew. Shouldn't get involved, but, family you know? Plus, nosy." Tasha reaches up and taps her nose, indicating the offending metaphorical avatar. "Ever see god-statue or Marker?"
"Nope," Rushfighter says. "Those on planets." Bumper remains silent on the subject.
"I ... I'll keep looking then. Uhm, what else," mutters Tasha as she stares at Bumper's chest, though her gaze is far away. "Hard to ... It's hard to think straight. Mmm, um, oh, have ship Bumper?"
"Dainty Mauler," Bumper says.
"Do you have anything to cook fish with?" Neesa asks.
"Flamethrower," Bumper replies.
"Ahh, didn't see you before. Or old ship? Makes sense ... Am I beign rude?" Tasha squints, ears laying back. "Fish," she mutters a moment later.
"You're dark-touched," Bumper notes. "Maybe crazy. Maybe not crazy enough."
Kaa swims up, and throws a large fish onto the table. It has two tails and four eyes and a mouth like siphon. "Fish!" the Phin declares. "Hardly any heavy metals."
"Gods are always meddling with my life," Tasha mutters even more, eyes continuing to narrow. "Like them. I like them? But they're too big, and knock everything over. Or too small and not enough." The young woman's eyes shift to the fish, which makes her smile. "How crazy am I?" It's not clear if she's asking Bumper, the fish, or herself.
The fish flops a bit, until Bumper chops its head off with a big knife, making Neesa squeak. "You want gut it?" she asks Tasha.
"Have knife I haven't used," Tasha replies, pulling her belt knife from her waist. "Just like Star Sea! I am so hungry. And tired. And brain hurt, ah ... Kill fish."