Back aboard the Ningyo, Dr. Makanee insisted on giving everyone exposed to the artifact a new medical scan - which the Titanians refused. Tasha and Neesa were more easily persuaded though, it being their first time and what with Tasha's head having been stuck inside the thing and exposed to a different reality. None of which left any effects that Makanee could discover with her equipment, greatly disappointing the Phin.

True to his word, Lucky Kaa presented Tasha with a media cube - a nearly translucent device that was only two inches across, but which she was assured held lots of Phin cultural stuff and Kaa's own personal sonographic images. He showed her how to activate the holographic interface, and advised her to listen in a darkened room, sit in a comfortable position and close her eyes.

Then it was back through the docking tube to the Mauler, and the discovery that the Titanian airlock also had a massive blow-dryer function. Tasha and Neesa were able to change into their regular clothes again, and were dry for the first time since leaving the Titanian ship. "Go to fish market on Caltrop next," Rushfighter told them. "Another day cycle through Star Sea."

"As much as I like the Phin, I'm not sure I could get used to living underwater. I'm glad to be dry," Tasha remarks as she stretches, feeling her wings against the blow-drying air and wondering if she'll need to tend to them later. She lowers them after a moment, then turns to the Captain to ask: "Any duties for me, Captain? I only ask that I be allowed to the observation area when we approach Caltrop; I can't wait to see the ships and the station! The outpost gets traffic from all over, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, well.. from local zone. Not big trade traffic. Too far from core worlds," Rushfighter says.

Tasha says, "Turning to follow after the Captain in to the ship, Tasha asks, "Inner zone? Is that like a star system, or a collection of them? What are the powers in the region?""

"Caltrop is at edge of Sifran Space," Rushfighter says. "Dangerous area, unstable for lots of interstellar drive systems. But in a very resource rich location too, so it used. People go there are fortune seekers, smugglers, people that not want to be noticed much. And some religious sorts."

"I guess we'll fit right in," the hybrid notes with a smile. "So who controls Caltrop? And that reminds me," the young woman's muzzle twists, her smile turning wry, "I should probably sit down and write my report thusfar; The PHTO Council and the Captain will want to know about these things, and there's a lot to cover."

"Control? Nobody control," Rushfighter says, as they reach the ladder that leads to the 'normal' gravity section. "Outpost control itself."

"Ah, still automated, is it? The Sifrans really knew how to build things." Tasha waits for the Captain to go first, then joins him a moment later. "So, you said religious sorts? There's still people who see Sifran space as holy ground, then? Not that they're wrong, exactly."

"Lots of religions," Rushfighter says. "Lots of weird sorts, weird interpretations."

"I know all about weird religion and crazy interpretations. I used to be a religious figure, after all. Now I'm cloud-deep in Progenitor research," the hybrid explains. She crests the ladder, then follows after, pulling her wings infront of her for inspection as she talks. "Ever hear of the belief that the Primus System is the source of the First Ones's end?"

Tasha's feathers look a bit.. well, like they've been soaking for too long. Not rotting or anything, just in need of serious grooming.

"Yah, maybe. I've heard it said that the one that approaches the resting place of the Progenitors could face the same problem." Tasha frowns at her wings, head shaking. She then gestures at the one she's holding with her free hand. "This is awful. Embarassing, that's what it is. I'll have to tend to these while giving my report. Well," she glances towards the Captain, then back at her wings, "I should probably get to that, unless you need me for something, Captain. I'll be in our quarters, otherwise."

"I manage to fly ship, don't worry," Rushfighter says with a grin. Neesa and Bumper climb up into the control room after them. "I'm actually looking forward to that bunk after all this," the Dream Mage notes.

Tasha gives Rushfighter a wink before turning to Neesa and nodding. "I think it's time to go curl up under the furs, pull out a comb, and put ourselves back together. I hope you don't mind if I talk to my datapad until we enter the Star Sea -- lets go."

Once in their quarters, Neesa rushes to use the bathroom. The toilet facilities on the Ningyo and the undersea base were a bit strange. The ship shudders as it separates from the Phin warship, and then the 'rippling' sensation indicates the oarsmen have begun to work.

Tasha climbs on to her bed and fetches her comb, datapad, and some oil from her own duffle bag, then settles crosslegged against the wall. Once she's comfortable, she plus the datapad in to its charger and waits, turning her attention back to returning her wings to presentability.

It's a few minutes before the datapad has enough power to activate, but once it's ready Tasha turns it on and begins her log entry as she tends to her wings. She first gives an overview of her basic mission, then an overview of the Dainty Mauler that doesn't include anything she doesn't think Abaddonians alrrady know. From there, she explains the Star Sea while avoiding Titanians secrets, then it's on to Encante, its people, and its fleet. The Phins get a special mention along with the other 'new' Terran species, and then the report turns to politics and -- most importantly -- dangers. In particular, Tasha gives a strong warning about the Galactics lust for uplifts, and while she knows some of the nations of Abaddon have outside contact, she leaves the warning for those that don't.

By the time she's done, the warning of a Star Sea transition is blarring. "Well, got most of it," she notes to Neesa as she powers her datapad down, discharhing its battery as a extra precaution.

"Are you going to try and find that Terran place on Caltrop?" Neesa asks. "The one Kaa talked about?"

"The Surf and Turf? I don't see why not, although it's going to be an interesting encounter! We've never seen them, and they're going to be curious about us. Part of me wants to avoid it, because I'm not sure how much attention we should be drawing to ourselves, but, the other part of me thinks that as explorers -- and as one of very few Primus-system agents in the outside world -- we have an obligation to gather as much information as we can. Besides, I'm curious! Aren't you? Terrans, like Kaa! But there'll probably be Humans, and Karnor, maybe evn those Pan Kaa mentioned. We may even see other species," the hybrid replies, putting her comb aside as she gives Neesa her full attention.

"I went to Underside once," Neesa admits. "I'm sure I saw a few new species there that I'd never heard about. Or else some people have very bizarre fashion senses. Maybe if you're weird enough, nobody will notice?"

"The Underside? That's where I grew up!" Tasha wags her tail at the memory, wondering how her mother is doing and where she thinks her daughter has run off to. "My mother owns The Fallen Friend, a tavern in Darkside. I used to serve drinks, when I wasn't on The Rake. That's what I was doing before I joined the JEF, actually." She then tilts her head. "We could wear cloaks, I suppose. You'll probably fit in well enough aside from the clothes and accent, but me, I'm not sure what I can do. I get a lot of odd looks, even on Abaddon -- and people who don't know who I am and where I come from occassionally assume the worst or don't know what nation to place me with. I suspect I'll see the same again."

"What about your armor?" Neesa suggests. "You've got gloves and a helmet.. and with the gloves someone might notice you have a finger short on one hand, but that could be due to an accident or something.."

"Oh, good idea! And, remember: We're from Calaxia. We don't remember much about our past, and we were found by Titanians. Um, oh: They experiemented on us, the Confederacy, that is. That should deflect suspicion if they manage to figure me out," Tasha says, nodding. She then suddenly stands up and notes, "I should make some adjustments! Um, lets see ... Gods, I'm going to miss curling up in bed ... Oh! I know!" She snatches up one of the furs, then throws it over her shoulder. "Fur cloak! Captain Rushfighter will appreciate it, I think. This may take a few hours, so I'll be back later, to get some sleep. Why don't you enjoy some private time, while I'm gone, and rest up for tomorrow?"

"What if there are Confederates there though?" Neesa points out. "Are you going to try and make yourself a Titanian disguise? But... fine, I'll just take a nap. The adrenaline from that crazy flight is all worn off and I feel like a noodle."

"Well, we'll play it carefully! If there are Confederates, I'll um ... I'll think of something. I've foun making things up at random works very well, too: That way, even if you tell the truth they still suspect you're lying!" Tasha winks, then turns to head for the door, waving over her shoudler as she walks. "Have a good nap!" And then, she's gone.

The Dainty Mauler (or Precise Killer if one prefers Grillfang's translation) leaves the Star Sea behind and emerges once more into normal space. This area is dominated by a huge nebula, vaguely resembling a flower as it seems to flow outward from a central point, spreading into petals. Ahead of the ship is.. a snowflake? It grows larger as they approach, until it reveals itself to be something much, much larger.

Outpost Caltrop
Four glittering shards of crystalline material join together at a central point, forming a structure that, from a distance, looks like a strange and delicate structure, at once beautiful, yet sharp and injurious. Seen against the backdrop of the Lotus Nebula, one might imagine it as a pendant resting against a ruby evening gown of some noble woman, her features disappearing into the shadows of the starry expanse. This is no bauble, however, but rather a structure conceivably large enough to house a city, if its translucent interior were devoted to such a purpose. Instead, it serves as a docking port for gas-mining trawlers, and the occasional merchant freighter come out to the fringe of explored space, and home to the generations of creatures that service the visiting ships and depend upon them for sustenance.

Traffic near the Caltrop is mostly small gas-miners - little more than flying pressure tanks from the looks of them. But there are larger ships as well, some geometric in shape or flowing and organic. The closer the Mauler comes, the more detail is seen: the seemingly flat and smooth facets of the crystal shards reveal themselves to be riddled with a lacework or honeycomb of spires and hollows, some of which are large enough to serve as docking ports. There's a faint haze that surrounds the crystalline structures in sharp contrast to the crisp clearness of space.

Arriving in the observation dome is a particularly short Titanian in makeshift armor, with a strange tool on her shoulder. The Titanian is made all the stranger, considering no one has ever seen her before -- although they have seen the tool and the armor in the hands of another. There isn't much time to get a look at her though, because she runs to the edge of the observation dome to stare out the window, ahds braced against the transulcent bubble.

"Caltrop!" The woman barks, lisping slightly around her elongated, Titanian-style fangs. Her hair is stark white, while her fur is grey, eyes yellow -- at least what can be seen of these. She's wearing a half-mask made from an old plate, whith a lense obscuring her left eyes, much like a large eyepatch. Her armor is familiar, with the same wolves-and-birds, stars, and coolects painted on the upper arm and upper leg area. It's metal spacr armor, clearly fabricated from parts and leftovers, with a large fur cloak hanging behind it.

Of course, the cloak has to share space with the two rocket pods spanning out from the back of the armor. Looking much like a Titan's flight pack, they're a mess of nozels, tubes, and other bits, in a vaguely oval nacel configuration, much like a heavy-duty jet pack. "Ah, it's beautiful!" Enthuses the strange woman.

The new Titanian's tool, what looks like the result of a polearm and a machine shop having a child, gets rested against the dome as the new figure presses her nose to what's probably not glass. "Can't wait, can't wait! Look at the ships, I've never seen the type! Ahh!"

Neesa looks at the transformed figure next to her. "What do you think Gabriel would think of this?" she asks. "At least you still smell the same.. mostly. I suppose our cover story is going to change again now?"

"I started with just a bit, and well, I might have gotten carried away ... a little." Tasha the Titanian turns and smiles at her friend, showing off her elongated canines. "This is probably better than revealing myself, so I think it's for the best! Gabriel would approve of course, he's always happy when I take more -- rather than less -- effort to keep myself out of trouble. And," she leans closer, "I kind of like it. I've always thought I wasn't much of a Karnor, but as a Titanian, I feel more confident. So, how did I do?"

Up close, Tasha's a mess -- an intentional one apparently. She cut her hair short, in a mane-like style, and she mussed up her fur while also ading some oil stains for good measure. The whole look makes her seem like some sort of eccentric Titanian hull repair specialist.

"You look deranged and accident prone," Neesa says. "So clearly you are a Titanian fishing lure, right?"

"Of course! I like to think I also look like I work on heavy machinery, or do repairs, but I'll take what I can get. Deranged and accident prone isn't so different from my usual, anyway. It's actually kind of liberating, honestly!" Tasha turns back to the window, pushing her nose back against it. "And look, Caltrop! Caltrop! It's a Vartan dream station!"

"I'd think it would be a Vartan nightmare," Neesa suggests with a grin. "There's no way this shiny will fit on a tail."

The Mauler moves in to one of the latticework areas, then rotates to be belly-first to the structure and touches down, which is announced via several klaxons. The observers get up and stretch.

"Hey not everything goes on the tail," Tasha insists, Neesa clearly able to see her own eye dart this way and that as she tries to watch everything simultaneously. "Some shinies are for enjoying, or as centerpieces! I have a collection of jewels in my quarters just for staring at." As the klaxons sound, Tasha pushes off and stands straight. "I could stare at this all day, but we'd probably better go join the Captain."

Back below, there is plenty of activity. Grillfang even has a clipboard! He's clearly giving orders, but is doing so in Titanian, which sounds like Boschian but is somehow even more guttural. Rushfighter and Bumper are already starting to leave for the hall that leads to the gangway.

Tasha hurries after the two Titanians, rushing up along side them and falling in to place beside Captain Rushfighter. "Hi, Captain! Ma!" The peculiar faux-Titanian shoulders her halberd-like tool, grinning at the two of them.

"Fancy dress, going dancing?" Bumper teases Tasha. The gangplank isn't down.. there's another docking tube extending from the ship into a mass of crystals. It's transparent, and the view is vertigo inducing for those not used to heights. The platform the Mauler rests on is on the side of one of the spires, with a drop of hundreds of feet between the odd filigree crystal spines that make up the platform itself.

Neesa stays close on Tasha's tail, possibly disturbed by the scale of things. The spire they're entering is probably big enough to cover then entire bazaar in cross section.. and up ahead it's clearly hollow, the far side being quite far indeed.

"Ya, maybe. Want to dance?" Tasha smiles at the older woman, then waggles her free hand at herself. "Though it'd better to just not be seen. Not many like me, maybe the only one? Could be too obvious to the right -- or wrong -- sort of people. Not sure how many spies back home, seemed after this way. Plus, is fun!" The 'Titanian' wags her tail, turning her attention to the desk as she peers down at the drop. "Ooh, look at that! This place is amazing! And shiny! Coming on this trip was the right decision."

Up ahead, Rushfighter steps off the end of the passage and.. should fall to his doom, since he basically just stepped off of a cliff. But he doesn't fall, just.. turns the bend.

Tasha goes to follow, then hesitates as she remembers her wings are bound and thus useless. "Huh," she goes as she peers in to the void, then, hesitantly, she takes a step forward and tries to follow. "What is this?"

Tasha steps out.. onto the floor. The passage she just left seems to be a hole now. The floor of the roughly cylindrical chamber curves up and around, but gravity seems to be directed towards the surface itself, as people (and other things) can be seen walking along the entire circumference. A crystal shaft runs down the center of the chamber, far out - or hight above, depending on one's perspective - and plummeting down to the heart of the Outpost. Bridges can be seen heading out to this central shaft, and crystalline pods can be seen shooting up and down the multiple tubes clustered in the heart of the structure. There are also voices that carry. Mostly alien, but there is a lot of Khattan being used too.

"I don't think I am ever going to get used to down being whatever is convenient," Neesa complains when she catches up. "If I did, I'm sure it would lead to a horrible accident.."

"So many people, so many species I've never seen before ... " The faux-Titanian's tone is one of astounded, reverent awe; The kind of rare, breathless realization that comes but a few times in even a adventuerous life. "Is down all you can think of? Look! We're in a metropolis, a space-fairer's melting pot! I've dreamed of what this day would be like, dreamed of being here ... and now ... " Unable to help herself, Tasha turns, glances, and peers from sight to site, person to person, ears flicking. "So much ... "

"It doesn't look all that.. unfamiliar," Neesa notes, pointing further on. It seems that the interior of the structure has been divided into a nearly labyrinthine collection of crystal growths and more recently added structures. In something of a mirror of the Bazaar or its imitations in so many cities on Sinai, there are merchants - mostly feline - who have shops set up. Most of the shops are considerably larger than booths lining the streets of the Bazaar, and they make use of curious, illuminated signs to advertise their wares. Signs in fluorescent colors have the words "SALE" and "CLEARANCE" in large, bold letters, almost overpowering the writing that says just what happens to be for sale.

"I go get trucks," Rushfighter says to Bumper, and begins to walk along the curve of the chamber towards the other side, where there are more 'holes' going out to docking areas. Bumper sniffs the air, then rubs her nose. "Fish market is low," she announces. "Not much stench. Good for trading."

"Khattans! Ah I should have learned Khattan. Layth would be making fun of me now," Tasha notes as she turns her attention to stare at the familiar-yet-alien bazaar approaching. "And just think of all the things they must be selling. Be careful, though. We don't know the culture nor the price, or, well laws or ... anything." She pauses to listen to Bumper, then nods to her. "I'm glad you're with us, Ma. I've seen toursist get taken back home, and, um, worse, and I could see that happening here if we're not careful."

"Come on, I take you to fun spots," Bumper says, and starts walking into the bazaar area. Nobody seems to hawk at Titanians, but the felines certainly track Neesa. "We get in first, have more fun before being kicked out."

"Ha ha! My first space bar and my first getting kicked out of one. Just like home," Tasha says, followed by a cackle as she rolls her free arm, limbering it up. As they walk, she notices the increasing attention Neesa gets -- and the lack the rest of them recieve. "Kitties not like us, right? Or no profit? Both? But they're watching Neesa, I can see them try and hide it."

"Karnors suckers for toys," Bumper says.. then alters course to give one shop a wide birth. It's more of a tent, and outside it are.. zelaks. Or rather, creatures that resemble them, but have scaly leather hide instead of chitin, except for the natural daggers and other weaponry that grow out from their limbs. Bright blue eyes with a tiny black pupil at the ends of a triangular head follow the newcomers, the largest of the insectoids wearing a tabard of sorts with the Star on it.. or a variation: there's a smaller star just underneath it.

"Who or what are they?" Tasha asks as they avoid the tent, her own golden eyes watching the aliens watch them. She thinks they look like Zelaks, but she knows very little about Zelkas and even less about where they come from. "They aren't Zelaks, are they?"

"Tandu, like hunted us," Bumper notes. "Cult of Absolution, bad news. Stay clear."

"So that's a Tandu ... " Tasha mumurs as she watches the peculiar aliens as they shrink in to the distance. "What's the Cult of Absolution about? Not friendly, I take it."

Bumper takes a moment to gather her thoughts. "They sin-eaters," she says. "You go to them, Priest perform ritual of absolution, then snickt off you head so you die in state of grace, eat your body."

"I like my sin and my head where it is," the faux-Titanian mutters, still eying the peculiar beings as they fade. "Scary, though. Can't imagine wanting to die." She shudders.

Silent-Ones, Vykarin, Nagas.. and 'Jingai', the lesser reptilian races (which are probably Clients of the Celestials) mingle and cluster. There is a big collection of reptiles around a heat bar, and the variety of humans is like nothing Tasha has seen on Sinai or Abaddon. Although their hair doesn't come anywhere near to being as colorful as you might get on Abaddon. There are also Karnors, although they don't look quite the same. The patterns in their fur are more varied, the shapes of the tails.. it's a bit like if Karnors and Gallahs interbred. They look more domesticated. And occasionally there is something like a hairy, dwarf human mixed in with the other Terrans, but never one that Tasha can get a good look at.

There's a squawk, and an Aquilan seems to be having a disagreement with a Khattan shopkeeper. His Eeee companion looks unhappy as well.. until a Vartan emerges from the back of the shop and the two Confederates quiet down immediately.

Tasha's eyss track and follow the groups as they come, the young woman taking note of the various species and, in particular, the Karnor. There's something off about the way the last-generation Karnors look to her, something she sees is like a domestication, but beyond that, her gut tells her ut's something deeper beyond appearances. It's a feeling that disturbs her; Not like the Cult, but more of the uncomfortable feeling that something that should be familiar is off in a bad way. "See the Karnor, Neesa? And look, a Vartan!" Tasha's attention shifts to her own kind, her head turned and gaze lingering on the familiar sight in fairly open staring.

The Vartan notices and glares back at the 'Titanian'. "Move on, barbarian," the big woman hisses, the feathers of her neck puffing out a bit.

Tasha's ears shoot up at the threat, the hybrid momentarily stunned by the rancor from her own kind despite knowing how she must look. "Uhhhhh, sorry ... birdie," she tammers out after a moment, remembering herself and pushing on with the illusion as she struggles to think of how a Titanian would respond. "No trouble, ya?"

"Here," Bumper announces a bit further on. There's a large building.. very large, if only a few stories high. There are a lot of windows, all reflective, and a large entrance. Over it are two symbols, the first a sort of trident with a bar across the base, and the second a circle divided vertically and horizontally into four quadrants. Below those is the name in Standard: Surf 'n Turf.

The hybrid's been quiet since the Vartan hissed at her, frowning to herself as they walk along. In truth, she found the experiene more disturbing than she'd have ever expect; Being rejected by her own kind wasn't a kind of evil she ever had to experience before, and she doesn't feel better for the experience. The feeling gives rise to a lot of old insecurity, which she works to force back down as they approach the building.

"Been here before?" She asks as they near the building, tilting back to eye the sign. "Fork and plate?"

"Symbols for Neptune, god of ocean, and Earth, goddess of harvest," Bumper notes. "Yeah, biggest pub on Caltrop. Also hotel. Probably whorehouse too."

"Huh," goes Tasha at the lesson on religion, then she tilts her head and snorts at the mention of a whorehouse. "Guess some things stay the same! Lot like Underside and Darkside, back home. Used to live in places like this." She follows after, expression returning to neutral as the bad experience fades from her attention and she follows the other women towards the tavern.

Once inside, the chaos of the place is nearly overwhelming. The 'tavern' area is huge, likely taking up the entire first level. It also isn't even. Most of it is build over a huge water tank, with dry islands connected by bridges. The islands have tables and chairs, but no railings.. and some of them are even half submerged, so the table tops are near the water level, making it easier for those with legs to mingle with those with fins. Although there are a lot of bipeds in the water as well, mostly humans. Above this is a vast net of thick rope, and the short hairy beings with long arms use them to swing around from place to place (and there are a few Eeee hanging upside-down up there as well). One of the half-sunken areas has a large group of humans, Karnors and Phins (and a few Pans, if those are the hairy ones) all listening to a single human. That man is tall.. taller than any human Tasha has ever seen, certainly, at least seven feet.. with start white hair cut short and skin black as space. There

are a few more like him at the table as well, the women having mohawks for hairstyles. His voice is booming: "And then Malk sees the port, and says, 'Hey let's fire this sucker up!' and we have to tackle him to keep from doing it! He had the plasma conduit and was just going to jam it in there." There's a lot of laughter from the table, and one of the hairy dwarves in a very shiny suit looks embarrassed.

After adjusting to the bdlam, simething helped by a life full of taverns and bars, Tasha scans the room and fixates on the largest crowd. A captain, she decides after a moment, wondering when Humans got so tall and if that was a modification they did to themselves. She watches the group with interest as she follows after Bumper, occassionally looking away to watch something else or listen to a remark before looking back. After a while, she asks, "Know the tal man telling stories?"

"Hmpph," Bumper snorts. "Beowulf Samson," she notes, her voice making it unclear how she feels about the man. "Cheats at cards."

"Sounds like braggart, probably Captain. I know the type," Tasha reviews as she continues to watch the man, and listen. "Maybe second, or beta. Um, pilot too. Ship bravo or captain." She pauses to listen, then tilts her head. "Belter? BDO raider?"

"All Belters captains, they claim," Bumper says. "Belter.. live in asteroid belts. Prospectors. Modified for space - no suffer from zero gravity, radiation. That one likes First Ones space artifacts.. BDOs. Big Dumb Objects."

Realizing something, Tasha then walks a little closer to Neesa and notes, "Careful of Terrans, might notice you're different if you get too close," before stepping back beside Bumper. "Huh, so modified like uplifts, genetic modifications. Didn't know Terrans do it to themselves, too. Handy, though, the immunity." She glances at the group again, then asks, "Going to meet anyone in particular?"

"Beer, and steak onna stick," Bumper says, maybe a bit too loudly, as the tall human cranes his head and catches sight of them. "Bumper!" he bellows. "You old claim-jumping skull-crusher! You owe me a round, or did you forget?"

"Round sounds good," Tasha admits as the Human notices them. "Or, maybe we punch him?"

"Punch for children, beer for grown-ups," Bumper says with a sigh, then reaches into her pocket and produces a stick of.. gold? She holds it up over her head, until a swinging primate plucks it from her hand with his toes. "What'll it be ma'am? Not sure I can change this.."

"Round for that table, whatevers they having," Bumper notes. "Black Hole Beer and meatpops too."

"Hey I only punch if you do," Tasha insists, sounding a little embarassed as she watches what she thinks is a Pan take their orders.

"Half fried, half with Devil Sauce. Also platter of wings. And make that a carafe of beer. No, three.." Bumper adds.

With the order taken, Bumper leads her companions back towards the crowded table.

All the talk of beer and meals makes Tasha's Karnor-side happy, causing her to begin wagging quite without her noticing. She continues this as she follows along, grinning as they approach the table.

People scoot along benches to make room. An incredibly fluffy white Karnor woman with one blue eye and one green one pats the cleared space in invitation. Several of the dolphins make raspberries of greeting.

Deciding the white Karnor woman looks particularly friendly, and that she'd like to talk to a modern Karnor first hand while also buffering Neesa, Tasha takes a seat beside the white one. "Hi," she greets the woman, tucking her halitool closer and resting it against her neck. "Uhh," she then goes as she considers her words carefully, offering after a moment, "Rustpuppy, hi." She realizes it makes her sound inane, but she comforts herself in the knowledge inane is safer than interesting.

Beowulf gives Bumper a shoulder-hug when she sits next to him. "Everyone, this is Bumper, the bumper-offer! She nearly burned my ass off at Broghram's Ring, and right after we stopped Malk from blowing it up to boot!"

Neesa sits between Bumper and Tasha, looking very out of place in her normal attire. It makes her look like a priestess or nun.

"It would not have blown up," the Pan claims. "I just wanted to see if we could energize one of the rings, to see what sort of gravimetric sheer it produced.."

"That sounds like a joke," 'Rustpuppy,' notes, tilting her head. "Like joke another Karnor made, pretty lady. I, uh, Titan pilot. Fix things, break others. Sometimes funny too." She then winks. The whole experience is surreal for the young woman as she tries to be charming while also trying to be Titanian with people who are closer to her physically than her Titanian companions.

"You caught me out," Siska admits with a laugh. "I sort gasses. Close enough title though. Are you here to invade the Outpost?"

"The Ring belongs to my clan, you gotta stick to rocks, Samson," Bumper claims. "Got rocks in head, so you find them easier anyway."

"Sure," goes Tasha with a toothy smile. "Start here first, eat all steak and drink all beer, then chase kitties and make, uh, birdies angry. Then, maybe other things. Put shiny crystal in pocket, conqueror Vartans later. Easy!"

"So, Miss Bumper.. what is the Ring then?" Malk asks. "What do you need with a particle accelerator that's 625 million kilometers long?"

Tasha nods to this, reaching up to tap her halitool. "You help, maybe. But that later. Now ... Ever been to Terra? Lady say Karnor stuffy, like big brother to Phin, but you not seem stuffy." The young woman wonders what would happen to her if she had to keep talking as she is for more than just an evening. I might forget how to talk normally, she decides.

"My boyfriend is a Phin," Siska says with a wink. "This is the ass end of assness. Nobody cares about kissing up to Galactics out here."

"Soap with nuclear-lattice bonding I bet," Beowulf says, and raises his mug. "To Big Dangerous Things That Man Was Not Meant To Understand!"

"Ya, thought so maybe. Just wonder. Not leave ship much, not meet many others. First time here, uh, Ma bring me." The faux-Titanian nods towards Bumper. "Interesting. Like Phin, too. Lots of fun." The younger woman pauses to raise her glass to the salute, in particular because it's s salute she can really get behind, what with her expsure to the Progenitors.

"Who's the little Titanian?" Siska asks, looking across Tasha to Neesa. The Sinaian Karnor really does look a bit closer to Titanian than to Siska, albeit a short-haired dwarfish one. And she's unfortunately too busty to be passed off as a child. "I'm.. Fudgy," Neesa introduces herself.

"Well, you should know that the Celestials are sniffing.. flicking their tongues.. at the Ring. Again," Samson notes to Bumper. "Belt there is verboten now.. Tandu infesting it."

"Ya, Fudgy!" Goes Tasha, who wraps her arm around Neesa and pulls her closer, so their heads touch. "My friend, Fudgy. Get out even less, kind of nervous, kind of shy? Smart though, almost sound like Karnor. Dress like Karnor once, pretty good." Worried the modern karnor's suspicions might be aroused against one or both of them, the hybrid then adds, "Buy Karnor perfume once, smell like Karnor. Got Vartan too, that last week. Not make Vartans friendly though. Oh well!" She tehn barks a laugh, as much at the stupidity of it all as wanting to sound amused by her own joke.

Waiters appear overhead, swinging and sliding down on robes that drop from the net. They've got trays of food and big carafes of drinks, including ones with really big straws.. presumably for the Phins.

Tasha wastes no time in getting a drink, figuring that's what a Titanian would do and tired of staring at her empty mug. "So, work for tall Human or work here?" She asks Siska.

"Both," Siska says, refreshing her own mug. "Samson Mineral and Gas. The miners go get it, I refine it here on Caltrop. Or, in one of the limpet factories, actually."

"Huh, interesting. Lots going on here, interesting." Tasha throws back her glass, half-emptying it in the initial rush of having real alcohol to drink after an extended haitus without. The Winged Citadel, after all, disallowed it and she'd been avoiding her drinking habit to focus on studying. "Any interesting ships? Not mean ours though, still interesting but see it all the time."

"Belter ships are all unique, but mostly it's just the tankers," Siska notes, leaning back and sipping. The platter of 'meat-pops' arrives.. looking like big spheres of marbled meat on sticks, which are actually long forks. There are dipping sauces and some of the meat has a crusty shell of fried batter.

"Although a few weeks back one of those fancy Khattan Christmas ornaments flew through. Didn't dock at the Outpost though, just sent shuttles."

Not pasuing to really consider what she's eating -- her nose seems to think it's fine after all -- Tasha nabs a skewer and talks with it and one hand and her beer in the other. "Khattan what? Uh, ship? Not know Christmas. What Khattas want? Warship? Where going?"

Siska shrugs. "Just some rich guy. Big gaudy ship like a bunch of.. you know eggs?" she asks.

"Vartans make them?" The psedo-Titanian ventures, amused that she was able to use that old, dumb assumption herself.

"Hah, don't say that around any of them," Siska advises. "Big.. oval spheres. Lots of glass, so you could see the gardens inside. Gaudy, showy. Coupla bugships, including a big-ass crab. Silent-Ones of course. Everyone needs gas, even the snakes. Not many Terran ships though. Gate-fees can be high if you don't have a contract already with the Spotties."

"Ahh ya, static overspace linkages. Not as fun as D-Level though. Ever talk to Harrower? Pretty nice. Not know nice, but know law and orderly," Tasha says, realizing she's become the weird Titanian that discusses obscure and disturbing technology, just like the others! "Kitties more boring though. Buy everything, have nothing. Vartans, sell out for shinies. Terrible."

"Could use some Vartan mercs," Siska says, and nods towards where Bumper and Beowulf seem to be having whispered conversation. "Clear out the buggos from Broghram. Lots of good stuff in the planetary debris there."

"Water, uranium, gold, cobalt.." Siska rattles off. "Rumors of ruins on some of the rocks, but there's always rumors like that. What's the point when the biggest ancient artifact in known space is sitting there already."

"Huh, resources. Interesting. Ruins more interesting. This Sifran space limit, ya? Find old record, something about Expedition this way. Time on record broken, not know time. You know, maybe? Maybe see them?" the pseduo-Titanian inquires between bites of meat and rinks of beer. Her glass is nearly empty, nearly matching her meal.

"What expedition?" Siska asks. "And time? You mean the idea that the Ring is a time machine?"

"Naw," Goes Tasha, head shaking. "Expedition to Sifra, lots of Galactics. Talk about Sifra space, lots of ships. Not tell time, not say more. Wanted to see, lots of ships. Big fleet. Looked old, maybe."

"Ancient history stuff," Siska claims. "There's a branch of the Library on Caltrop. Ask there."

"Ancient, huh. Ya, maybe ask." Tasha gives a shrug, not wanting to seem too interested in the matter. "Anything else interesting? First time, lots to see."

"Oh, Vartan mercenary group here? Not Khattan? Or all Khattan? Forget which," the hybrid then adds as she reaches for drink round 2.

"First time to Caltrop?" Siska asks with a grin. "You should go for a walk outside then. Everyone does eventually. As for mercs.. most likely they've got a Khattan manager. The cats are always between you and hiring a Vartan. Could get a Vykarin without dealing with a Spotty."

The grey-and-white fake Titanian frowns at the mentio of needing a Khattan to reach a Vartan for hire, quite before she can stop herself and it takes her a second to force herself to calm down. She smells bothered, even disturbed. "Huh, good to know," she says after a moment, taking a long draft of her drink such that it's nearly empty again. Is this what Horus gave up control for? For us just to find another master, and sell our future out for a bit of shinies? Rushfighter's admonishment comes back to the hybrid: The tool is only as good as its wielder. She wonders what that makes her people, and she fears the answer. "So ... so ... walk outside?" The question comes off a bit more growly than she'd like.

"Yeah, outside, on the surface," Siska says. "It's the only real tourist attraction out here."

"Oh ya, shiny crystal artifact. Make for nice walk ... Maybe need a walk." Tasha finishs her glass off, then frowns as she looks around a moment. Suddenly, she feels like she needs a walk, or else she might let her mood give her away. "Bumper, going to walk outside a bit, hokay?" She asks, looking over.

"Ah, ya, perspective," Tasha confirms, cathcing the double meaning. "Be fine, see you later." She reaches over and pats Fudgy as she stands, then refills her glass, grabs another skewer, and heads for the exit.

Neesa gets up and excuses herself to follow after Tasha. "I want to go outside too," the mage whispers, sounding a bit odd about it.

"Not.. quite," Neesa whispers. "It's something. Maybe it'll be clearer outside, away from so many minds."

"Sure," says Tasha, who begisn to walk back towards the docking hub, whuch she assumes leads outside somehow. "Want to walk too. hearing about Vartans makes ... Is making me mad. It's always the same, everywhere I go. We always end someone's servant, or muscle, or we decay in a backwater. The stories say our creator loved us enough to let us go, to not use us, and then ... this. It makes me mad. And ashamed."

"I thought it'd be different, out here," Tasha adds a moment later, head shaking. "I guess I was wrong."

The soon come upon a 'hole' leading out to the surface, presumably. Someone does walk up from it. "Huh, and here I thought it was Jup- Karnors on Rephidim that always seemed to be serving the Temple. What about the Vartans on Abaddon, aren't they part of the Confederation there?"

"Yes, that's right. It's like we look for a master. I've found the outlying Vartan communities -- the clans and tribes -- and they hadn't moved much beyond being a tribe in thousands of years. On Rephidim, we have the same jobs. On Abaddon, the same jobs. Or we regress in a backwater. Where is the Vartan culture? Where are our communities, or cities? Where's our drive as a people?" The hybrid bites her lip, scowling as thinking about it makes her even more irritated. "Originally the Vartan of the Confederacy were Khattan mercenries, just like here. Mercenary is a polite word though, it's less equal than that. Far back, we worked with the Titanians and the Cill to server the Progenitor effort, but our creature loved us too much, and lets us go ... And this is where we've gone." Tasha eyes the hole, then risks sticking her hand through it to see if it's safe.

Sticking her hand into it doesn't feel different. Gravity still seems the same, which would make the hole 'down'.. but someone just walked up through it a moment ago, so it must work like the first one.

That first step seems to hover over empty space, until the body swings forward and contact is made with the new wall. Then it's just.. a tunnel heading through the crystal.

The passage opens up into a crystal forest, with the neon-colored nebula filling the sky overhead. Since the crystal itself provides some light, it isn't that dark or cold, despite apparently being exposed to space.

Tasha resumes walking, saying, "I've met individuals who go their own way, but I've never seen us really achieve anything. There's no Vartan nation, or even a planet that I know of. And worse, it's always the same story, even out here. Is it just me? Does it bother me because I noticed, or because I'm different?" She gives another, harsher shake of her head, then throws her arms, haliberd held in right hand, making a disgusted noise. "I'm working mysef up, I should be focusing on this place. That I'm here. Sorry, Neesa. It just ... It got to me, that's all."

When Tasha steps out, she pauses at the breathtaking sight. "Well," she goes, sounding calmer for the vista, " ... at least there's this. I know I appreciate this, just like the others."

"Very dreamlike," Neesa says, and pans her head around the area. "This way," she says, and walks off to the side, which would take her around the curved edge of this sub-spine.

"Following. Ah, right: Ya following. Me Rustpuppy," notes Tasha with the hint of a grin as she traces after the mage, her halitool going back on her shoulder.

The artificial atmosphere has an odd effect on sound, muffling it over distance faster than would be normal. But Neesa keeps panning her ears, as if she can hear something. It causes her to stop, turn around in a complete circle, then move off in a different direction several times.

"What are you looking for? Or hearing?" Tasha asks as she follows the peculiar path of the wandering Dream Mage. "I don't hear or sense anything."

Then.. Tasha can hear it.. or feel it, rather. It's low.. very low, enough that she feels it in her stomach more than in her ears. "This way," Neesa insists, and heads around a large crystal shard-tree.

"I hear ... I feel something too, now," the faux-Titanian notes in a tone of unease, not having expected to sense anything. She wonders what it is, but the realm of magic is beyond her, and so she can only follow and wonder what is at the end of their search.

The scene that Neesa and Tasha come upon is.. a bit surreal. A crystal shard juts out of the ground and nearly a 45-degree angle, and reclined against is a nude human woman. She has metallic red hair, and pale skin with freckles. She gazes out at the nebula. Nearby is a dolphin in a walking harness, and next to that is a thin Vartan with shocking green plumage (including a sort of crest on his head) and electric blue wings. He's holding a paint palette in one hand, a brush in the other, and is painting the scene on an actual canvas covered frame. The low sound is coming from the dolphin's harness. It's a song.. but deep and slow and interspersed with high notes, and somehow sad.

Tasha stares at the group with open bewilderment, and even admits, "I'm not sure what I'm seeing," a second later. She wonders if the people infront of them are even real, and on some level she thinks they remind her of metaphors and symbolisim more than actual people.

The Phin turns its head to look at the newcomers. "K-k-karnors?" it says, as the strange song stops. This causes the woman (model?) to blink and sit up, before swearing, "Crap! Sorry Kem." She then lies back into her original position. The Vartan finishes the stroke he was making, and finally looks to the intruders. "May I help you?" he asks in perfect Standard.

Tasha doesn't look very Karnor at the moment, but the blanket question makes her wonder if the Phin can somehow see through her disguise. Rather than say anything, the young woman just eyes the other group with an expression between weariness and curiosity, her fingers nervously and silently tapping along her halitool. That is, until she notices the painting, causing her to tilt her head slightly to get a look.

It's a slightly abstract painting of the nebula itself, while the woman seems to be in higher detail.. but also appears transparent, with the nebula 'filling' her body with swirls of color.

"Can't have," the dolphin claims. "Only a Phin could hear Whale Dream from passage."

"I you want a portrait, you'll have to wait until tomorrow," the Vartan painter notes. The claim of Tasha being a Karnor could simply be due to nobody ever expecting a Titanian to show up.

Drawn in by the painting, Tasha stares at it for a long moment. In it, she sees more than just a work of art, but also a familiar soul in the other artist. Her earlier lament as to the state of Vartandom makes her particularly sentimental about finding this piece of commonality, something she wasn't expecting to find here, or anywhere -- but definitely not here. A part of her wonders if the universe guided her here, to ease her despair. Sh struggles a moment, balancing her need for disguise with a desire to reach out, then finally says as she moves closer, "It, um, it symbolizes oneness with the universe, um, and paralells the sameness between us and the galaxy. The red woman is avatar and, uh, just as the nebula is itself and her?" in a low voice.

"Very astute," the Vartan says. "Also an expression of what it feels like to be here," he notes, gesturing to the nebula, and to the Caltrop itself. "We start out feeling small and insignificant in the face of such things. But once we embrace the universe, and let it fill us.. we see we are a part of it all. Big and small, all the same."

"I also like naked women," the artist admits and gives Tasha a quick wink. "And dolphins too."

"But different," Tasha adds, walking to stand beside the Vartan to further examine his work. She's so focused she almost misses the remark, the sudden realization and content making her bark a laugh. "Ya, me too," she replies, turning to smile at the man. "Name's Ta- ... uh, Rustpuppy. I, um, I paint ... sometimes."

"It's all I do now," the Vartan notes, as he tries to capture the merging of the woman's soul with the universe in acrylics. "You're one of the gas miners? Seems an odd name for a Karnor. I'd be interested in painting your friend though."

"Paint Fudgy? Sure, she not mind, um, probably. Can I watch?" Tasha asks, scooting aside and watching regardless of the answer. "Name's, um ... Different. Did you used to do another thing?"

"I was a poet," the Vartan claims. "Then I met Lielani here," he gestures to the dolphin, "and decided I needed to find something else."

"Oh, together? Everyone loves Phins," the hybrid notes as she pays special attention to the man's technique. It so entrances her that she just sits right down where she is, her weapon resting across her lap as she rests her head on her knees. "Poet not pay much? Same everywhere. Meet her here? Not mercenary?"

"I met Leilani in Hawaii, on Terra," the Vartan notes. "It was a pilgrimage, of sorts. I'd.. lost my muse. I went there to meet a god. I wasn't disappointed."

"Sounds like a story, and been to Terra too. Always wanted to see Terra. Sound like you travel lots, um, didn't know Vartans go to Terra for anything." Tasha tilts her head, thinking a moment before she decides to add, "Sorry for loss," not knowing how to express sympathy as a Titanian, as all the Titanians she knows either shrug loss off or else approach it head on with action.

Tasha then thinks to ask, "What god?" with the question of sympathy past and the oddity of Vartans seeking god on Terra standing out in hindsight. "Oh, ya, Rustpuppy: Hi," she repeats, feeling the need and finding Titanian expression a bit cumbersome in small talk.

"The dolphin god," Kem says, adding a few thin streaks of silver to highlight the form of the woman. "The Whale Dream is a poem. The poem. A poem that is also a god. Refined over a million years.. I couldn't write poetry again after that. It was just too.. inadequate. Language, I mean."

"Ah ya, language," Tasha agrees, feeling a distinct lack of langauge herself at the moment. "Sound like ... concurrent memory in song. Cultural evolution, refinement through generations. God is in the memory, like god of soul of a people. Divinity by expression and representative soul. But, take a long time, ya? Shouldn't give up; Not being best and giving up is silly. If poem give up, then no god, no poem. Maybe no people. Maybe I think, wrong lesson to take along."

"Some experiences change you," Kem notes. "I like painting. I'm better at it than I was at poetry. Some things do not lend themselves well to poetry, but painting.. it's clearer, even if static."

"Huh, ya. Like it too. Meditative. Calming. Visual, so good for Vartans, ya? But maybe you say, like going too far. Crossing bridge, growing up. Can't go back. Have to go forward. Like painting of woman and universe," the hybrid says, still watching them man paint with rapt attention. He may well be the most expressive Vartan she's ever met, a fact she's finding nearly hypnotic and even familiar, in a uncommon way. After all, she's only barely become comfortable with her own inner artist.

The brush hovers above the canvas, and then pulls back. Kem is quiet, looking at the painting. "Too much detail can ruin the impression," he mutters in Vartan. Then in Standard says, "I'm finished, Linda, you can get dressed now."

"I could sleep out here," the woman, Linda, notes, then gets to her feet and goes to the bundle of clothes near Lielana.

Tasha's ears perk at the observation, and then she says, "Fine line between too much and too little," she notes. She doesn't get up quite yet, still examining he painting for tips and something deeper.

"It's beautiful," Linda says when she finishes dressing and sees it. "It.. it matches the memory so well. And the special treatment?" she asks.

"It takes a few hours, but you can pick it up at the studio in the morning," Kem says, and finally signs the piece, using Vartan script.

The hybrid tilts her head at the mention of a memory, but quickly stuffles it. She doesn't want to sem like she's intruding, even if she rather wants to. So, she just glances off out at the crystalline forest, trying to look occupied.

Linda bows to the artist, and do Lielani, and then heads off towards the main spire. A moment later, Neesa says, "I'll pose for you, if you will play more of the Dream while painting me."

Looking back, Tasha asks, "The song really moves you, Fudgy? Sounds like old relic, like god-voice. I stay here if you want to pose."

"Tomorrow," Kem says, as he secures the painting in a special case. "Come by my studio. It isn't far from the passage, just around the curve."

Tasha nods as she rises, dropping her halitool back on her shoulder and taking a moment to adjyst her gear. "Probably can, maybe staying a few days. Maybe longer. If Fudgy wants to do this so much, can make time."

Painting supplies are packed away and the case secured to Lielani's harness. "I hope you'll make the time then," Kem says, and gives a little bow before he and the Phin head off into the forest.

"I could feel something," Neesa says softly once she and Tasha are alone. "The dream song.. it's the key."

"That was interesting," Tasha observes as she walks back to her friend. "I wouldn't have imagined we'd run in to someone like that, out here. And you, hearing that song. It's almost like something wanted to show them to us. That's what my gut wants me to believe, anyway." She puts an arm around the other woman's shoulders as she watches the peculiar group drift off in to the distance. "And a key, you said? But, a key to what?"

"You think the artifact is resonating with the song, somehow? It is a giant crystal of some form or another, it may have a harmonic reaction to certain sounds, much like the Harrower artifact reacted to certain quantum harmonics. Come to think of it, I've seen Sifran artifacts react oddly when placed in a medium that can conduct sound, like water. I've also heard songs, when I meditate. You may be on to something," the hybrid notes, turning to face the other woman fully. "The question is, what happens if pursue this?"

"We don't have to regret not pursuing it," Neesa says. "That Vartan.. he had a religious experience because of this. I think that song may be a Dream spell. I want to know what the dream is."

"I can't argue with that. Well, you have my full support now -- this seems like something we came to look for, so that's what we're going to do. Besides, now I'm curious. I can't hear it, but I still want to know what the answer is -- and hopefully before this disguise melts my mind," the mock-Titanian notes, walkng with Neesa back towards the inner area. "And that Vartan, he's different. Not like any Vartan I have ever met, but he feels familiar, too. We're both painters, but he's been at it so much longer, and he's comfortable with it. I'd been so anxious about my people, thatfinding him here was like a message. I want to find the answer to him, too." She then nods torwards the looming portal. "Lets head back and tell Bumper, and figure it out from there."