On the trip back to Outpost Caltrop, Tasha learned from Bumper that the two days of travel required technically didn't happen. Or rather, they only happened aboard the Dainty Mauler. "Star Sea and Maelstrom time move faster. It trade off - longer subjective time for shorter apparent time. Will only have been gone a day when we return to Caltrop," the older Titanian explains in the observation dome. "Same for Abaddon - time we spend in Star Sea not count. Time is funny thing, depending on where you are. Always gotta reset your clock for each world. Some worlds slower than others too, because they move fast, or deep in gravity well. Never trust time, my advice."

"It's good advice," Tasha agrees as she checks her gear, the Niss stored in a carefully padded pouch. If the young woman has learned anything about travel and adventure, she can never have enough pouches, containers and beltspace -- and now her baldric contains an entire empire! "I'm still getting use to how subjective time is, even after having been in a regenerative tank for three months. Then there's gravity, faster-than-light travel, distorted perception ... It's going to be a while before I'm used to it all. It seems like nothing stays the same, except people. Oh, speaking of people: Bumper, I have questions if you're not busy..?"

The elder Titanian looks away from a monitor, and smiles down at Tasha. "Questions about people? Hokay, what you want to ask?"

Tasha smiles back. She's heard from others that smiling Titanians make them nervous, but her experience with them, and her similiarity, makes Bumper's smile feel reassuring. "Well, some are about people," she explains as she fishes out her notepad, which is an actual pencil-and-paper notepad that'ss een a lot of use given the Star Sea's treatment of electronics. "Lets see ... First: Did the Dainty Mauler take on Silent-Ones pasengers? Because one of them may have been a Khattan spy changed to look like a Silent-One, and I'd like to know where he came from and who sent him. Um, and two: I've heard Titanians have Clients, or at least something small that the outsiders think are Clients. Is that true?"

"Yah, we carry Spotties, but not spy Spotty," Bumper assures. "We bring Old Archon and apprentice to Abaddon, take them back to Zion with some others. Apprentice now New Archon I thinks. Fake Spotty found out. Titanians no have Clients like.. like other Galactics have Clients. We gots students."

"Well, it's a relief you didn't bring the spy! It seemed unlikely a spy would make it past your scrutiny. But, I'm also a bit disturbed now: If he didn't come here with you, just how did he reach Sinai?" Tasha frowns, head cocking to the side. She makes a little note of: Investigate alternative entries in to the Primus System, then asks as she looks back up, "So, you have students?"

"Oh, and I heard about the Archon," Tasha adds quickly, head cocking the other way. "I'm just not sure if I should pry. The Silent-Ones and the Savanites seemed to have that in hand, and it seems like an internal affair. I'm not sure I want the Star Empire knowing about me either, considering I was the pilot of the Seraph for a while. Anyway, continue please!"

"No, spy was on Zion whole time, never in Primus system, but had agents there, in relay station," Bumper explains. "We not only ones can get there anymore. Think maybe there a gate ship, or partially functioning gate. And yeah, we have.. students. For a long time. They help, very curious. Good in small places."

"A gate ship or functioning gate? I wonder if they managed to repair the gate at the edge of the system? But, that'd probably to too obvious -- that level of A-Level Hyperspace shunting, not to mention the gate itself, would stand out, wouldn't it? Plus we know where it is unless its orbit drifted. I'll keep an eye out though -- when I get back I'll suggest requesting a system-wide sweep to see if we can detect anything. If anything is there, it's probably hiding behind a celestial body or local anomaly, so we may just have to send out probes." The red women scrunches her muzzle in distaste; One more problem to take careof when she gets back. "Well, how about the students then? Are they still here, or have they moved on? I'd like to meet them."

"You from Sinai, you already met them," Bumper notes with a glint in her eye and a big smirk. "You clever.. tell me, who there are our 'Clients'?"

Tasha squints at Bumper, head tilting. "Hrrrrm," she goes as she stares at the women, thinking back on all the species she's met on Sinai. "I'm not sure I'm clever, but I'll take a guess. It won't be any of the Galactics, of course. It won't be any of the species generated by the Ark, but I don't have a complete list of those, just a partial one. Of the 'Ark possibles,' that'd be Rath'ani, and maybe Kadies. Hookas are alien, but I've never seen one do much with its hands other than grab my tail. Zelaks seem unlikely. Of the species I've met, that just leaves the Aelfin, but I know little about them. So: Rath'ani, Katies -- erm, Kadies -- or Aelfin? It'd help if I knew had a more comprehensive list of the Ark generated species."

"Nope, all wrong, way off," Bumper says, clearly amused. "We no modify them. They are as they are. Maybe stand out because of that, compared to others? Think like a Galactic: what race you know that would be best for uplift, because they not really been uplifted?"

"Not clever at all," Tasha admits, scratching her head and shrugging sheepishly. "Well, hm. Like a Galactic? You mean like the Vykarin? But Vykarin are large, and I thought they were always Silent-Ones clients. I've seen Wimmers though, and they look a lot like Terran avians, more than I do, or the Galactic Aquilians."

"We not the type with bird-friendly work," Bumper says, then tilts her head. "Really.. they well hidden for being all over I suppose.. You gives up?"

"Unless it's the Humans themselves, I know when I'm beat," Tasha admits with another shrug, ears splaying. "I guess you can see now why I'm better at field work than school work."

"Here a hint," Bumper says, and holds her hands up to her face with the fingers curled to look like she's holding invisible binoculars.. or wearing a bandit's mask.

"But I said Rath'ani," Tasha notes, head cocking to the side again. "They're the ones with the masks, and I saw a lot of them as tinkerers and skilled dock workers. There's a lot of them in the Temple, too."

"Maybe you call them something else?" Tasha offers, ears beginning to perk hopefully.

"Raccoons come from Terra," Bumper points out. "Think smaller. Or mebbe not? You'd call them Kavi."

"But I thought they were something called a 'ferret' on Terra?" Tasha asks, ears going right back down. "Honestly, it's hard to tell the difference or make a useful comparison without the whole record. I didn't think to include them because they seemed like another Ark creation, and not that unusual compared to some of the others. Besides, no one think Kavi are skilled back home. Mostly, they're even worse off than we dockhands. They live in poverty. It's the Rath'ani who are the short, skilled ones in our society. Kavi were barely above the old slaves." The young woman frowns, shrugging again and holding her hands out to the side. "I'm sorry to say so, but the Kavi just aren't regarded very well back home, and they definitely don't have a reputation for skill so much as unreliability."

"Kind of the same as Titanians there, eh?" Bumper asks. "They not Ark creatures. Otherwise they have same lifespan as others, right? They gots two thumbs on each hand. Like you say though, they unsophisticated, rough... unfinished. Galactics would snap them right up."

"I was expecting someone with skill similiar to your own, because of their time with you. The Kavi just didn't register, but I see what you mean about them now. I suppose I never had much of a reason to think about them, save that I made sure I hid my coin purse around them." The hybrid woman's hands fall, her ears resuming their normal position as her tail wags a little. "Of course, they had to do the same around me. Not that they had any money: Believe me, I checked." Her head shakes, then she looks back down at her notes and makes a new one. "That's interesting to know, though. I'll pass that on, so we can help protect them if we need to. Lets see ... what else ... Oh: I'm not sure I'm ready for a real command, including a real ship. But it seems like we need something more, so, do you think a Titan could be converted to allow for space travel? Are there drives that would work on a machine that small?"

"Not any we know of," Bumper claims. "It a matter of mass. Too small for reactionless drive.. too small for big enough reaction drive. Would need external spaceflight system.. full ship, just.. no crew. Robot. Which has issues too."

Tasha ticks them off on a hand. "Hard to repair if its systems go offline, subject to external attack on its AI, complicated, doesn't really allow a lot of input from a living director. Power hungry. Lonely. Lots to go wrong, only me to fix it ... " She shakes her head. "Well, it's still an option, at least. The Melchior should be able to interface with another robot, with the right protocols and programs. I suppose I could look at ProgMat and telepresence myself throughout the ship, and sleep in the cockpit or in a small bridge, but then it'd be more like a ship with a small crew. Um, well. Does this seem like an unreasonable idea? I could ask Harmonia, but we're still uncertain what her actual mission is, and well, I'm not comfortable using a sentient being as my ship. I've been planning to hand over control to Eli."

"Oh, I know!" Fishing around, Tasha reaches down and plants a hand on the Niss. Were you listening, Niss? Do you know if any slower or faster-than-light drive system that would work with a machine of this size? Directing her mind, the young woman envisons her Titan so the Niss have a reference.

"There certain aspects of faster-than-light travel that make automation difficult," Bumper notes. "It why no machine civilizations used it.. they just go the slow route, or have a Harrower do it for them. Manipulating spacetime requires a living mind as part of the process. Like Old Ma, for us. Hyperspace travel rely on psionics, which need a living mind to work. Warp drive also need conscious perception. Only gate travel and tramline can work without conscious minds, since they no involve actual traversal of higher spaces."

Very small or very big the Niss reply. In-between not viable. We are small, but our ship was large. This was necessary. Short-distance virtual gating is something you have seen and experienced in your home system, but that technology is not understood by us.

"I see. So it's even more complex than simply having the right devices, power, and calculations correct. It takes an observer," responds the younger woman, who scratches at her nose with her non-Niss touching hand. "And I assume that the observer can't be just anyone, it needs someone with proper training? Or, with some special biology? Mindset? Modification?"

Tasha looks down again after her comment, patting the Niss orb. I see. Well, thank you anyway. I'll just have to find another means, she offers before looking up. "The Niss agree with you, Bumper. Small or large, nothing in-between that they know about, except the one the Xilfrim use."

"No, just sapience," Bumper notes. "AI not really suited, since it not deal with quantum drift well."

"With a ship, yes," Bumper says. "May not be ship you or I could understand though."

"I guess making a joke about how I don't understand them as it is would be a bit hard on myself, wouldn't it?" Tasha asks as she has a seat beside Bumper's console, puling her knees against her chest as she watches the other woman. "So much to learn. I just worry that I'm not good enough to handle a whole ship But that's for the future, isn't it? Or," here Tasha deepens her voice, doing her best to match the authoritative, aged and masculine voice of her history teacher, ""By reviewing the past and predictingthe future using available information, plans can be made with a minimum of faults!" That was on a test. Anyway, I'm just trying to be ready. I don't feel ready, though." She rubs her nose, then tilts her head, "That's all I have for now, mind if I just sit here and watch you work?"

"Hokay," Bumper says, as she adjusts things on her monitor. "You learn much from Niss yet?" she asks.

Settling in, the younger woman watches Bumper work from the floor, puzzling over the displays. "They've asked to be taken to Caltrop, where they'll spend some time looking around before working out how to build a new body for travel. I'm thinking of leaving them with Kem, as I believe he can be trusted and the Niss need a guide rather than a protector. I considered taking them home where we could work with them, but they're deeply uncomfortable with being taken in to Sifran -- which they call Xilfrim -- space. I think their collective, reality-changing ability doesn't work with the Sifran version, which is interesting. Um, other than that they showed me their home planet -- a beautiful crystalline planet that was sadly destroyed in a supernova event. For a collection of trillions of individuals they're not that talkative," Tasha replies.

"Not surprising," Bumper says. "Try get any four people to agree on what to say to a fifth. Dimensional navigation much easier."

"Oh, and they were created from a medical experiment that had unintended side-effects: Namely, all their living cells became sentient, which is why they are like they are. They offered me a chance to become that, too, but I can barely handle the one of me -- trillions of me would be some sort of galactic disaster." The young woman chuckles, nose wriggling and the earlier itch returns. "It's strange to think trillions of minds were thinking about ehat to say to me. It's hard to wrap my head around. I think I like them, though. Or most of them? I'm not sure how it works."

"You never really met alien before, have you?" Bumper asks, looking at Tasha. "I mean, really alien alien."

Tasha blinks at the question. "Maybe? Well, not like the Niss. Abaddon was some sort of non-physical invasive ancient which may or may not have been what we call a ghost, but seemed to exist outside common perception. I've met actual ghosts, or whatever Sifran-specters really are. AI. Um, I guess I haven't? There's so many kinds of life forms, I'm not sure where 'alien' ends and 'really alien' begins. Do the Harrowers count? I think I touched one," the younger woman offers, sounding uncertain.

"They count," Bumper says. "Alien aliens think different, or perceive the universe different, or have forms with no common reference. You meet Galactics, all have pretty much the same drives and needs. Sinai you gots Ark races, which are all some degree of human. Yam God pretty alien, I thinks. Hole God too."

"I'm not sure what to make of 'Lord' Yama," the hybrid admits, scratching at her nose again as an earlier itch returns. "He appears to be a vine-like entity, but he's generating enough energy to power a Titan and its weapon systems, which are more power-intensive than my own Titan's. He's aggressive to the point of maliciousness, and seems to take pleasure in destroying life. He might be connecetd to the Holy Seeds, so he may be indirectly linked to the epidemic on Abaddon, which means if we need to, um, kill him maybe the Mages or the Imperials will have an iidea. He may be vulnerable to the same methods used to attack the overgrowth. Aside from that, he seemed to exist to carry out the Progenitor's orders and to judge 'the contact,' which right now is me. The Niss talked about that too, said I am 'intertwined' with an event -- quantum-intertwined? -- and that it didn't want to lead me away from that path. That may have been Yama's doing, too." After taking a deep breath, Tasha then tiltsher head, e

tilts her head, exhales, and then says, "Hole God seems to want what we want: To know. I consider him a kindred spirit, even if I don't really understand him or his existence. He must have foresw these events though, becasue his touch has been useful."

"Don't trust Yam God," Bumper says. "Not in our lore. That worry me. We keep good records."

"He seems to have been concealing himself within the Celestial Empire for most of their history, if not all of their history. Guiding it, whispering in ears, and who knows what else. He destroyed the previous incarnation of the Expedition and doomed us all to the Primus System, so of course I'm not going to trust him. I just don't know how he might be manipulating me, or why. He doesn't seem to do anything on his own -- unless he's lying -- which means that if I am being manipulated, it's a standing order or -- worse -- a Progenitor is actively involved. I don't want to sound concieted, but, these beings don't seem to manipulate for reasons we'd consider petty. If they're using me, there must be something bigger than me in mind -- and that makes my hackles raise," Tasha admits, shooting Bumper a worried look. "I'd guess at Ahriman, but it could be another. We know so little about them, or him."

"Snake gods are hard to understand," Bumper admits. "Celestials have different start from others. Thennenin were clever, maybe see a way to survive apocalypse. Was all long time ago though. Anything could have happened."

Tasha nods to this; She's seen enough to guess at just how far the boarders of 'anything' could be. "The only thing I can think of at the moment is the apocalypse. I've heard that failed contacts result in the destruction of their species. I thought that because I'm the only member of my species, then only I would be destroyed. But what if I'm wrong? What if every species associated with me is destroyed? That would be: Humans and all the Human Family and Vartans. Humanity would be gone, and the Khattans would be suddenly weakened as their primary military force vanished. All that would remain would be the Khattans themselves, the Star Empire, and the scattered others. The Star Empire is no match for the Celestial, and the Khattans may lose their place at the top. We think Harmonia may be an early warning system for contact, too. The Khattans send emmissaries only of other species. Could it be, the're all hoping for genocide..?"

And then the young woman's eyes wide with sudden realization, ears shooting up. "If that's the case ... I have an idea!"

"Progenitors not cause apocalypse," Bumper says. "Sifrans did. Progenitors not kill their children."

Tasha nods her head to Bumper's words, but then points behind her, indicating far-off worlds. "Yes, but the Progenitors have their base on a Sifran world. They appear to be controlling the system somehow, inhibiting it. I've seen an Origin Marker directly interfere with Sifran magic; It's what saved Mel and I from being overwhelmed by the Seraph. If that's true, then approaching the Progenitors may mean accessing or interfering with the annhilation system. That may be why the Progenitors are there in the first place! And if that's what they're hoping for ... If I had a little of their species as part of me ... I bet they'd suddenly scramble to stop me."

Then Tasha frowns, blinking. "Wait, they did cause it?" She realizes, so caught up in using the point rather than considering it in depth. "Then, well, that suggests a link, like I said. We think the Sifran system -- the reality control system -- isn't working at full power. Maybe if it was, it could ... It could be that apocalypse. I don't know." Looking up, the young woman spreads her other hand and explains, "The Khattans or Ahriman. If they're hoping I'll bumble in to contact and remove their competition somehow because I'm linked to them, what would they do if I linked myself to them, as well? Then they'd all face annhilation, so they would have to try and stop me. Then, we'd know."

"Hah, not a contest," Bumper points out. "Sifrans kill everyone, everywhere, all at once if they could. They can't right now, is all. Maybe Progenitors jamming them. Have to ask Progenitors that."

"Well, I thought it was clever anyway. Maybe too clever for something that's actually simple," Tasha admits as she drops back on to the deck, hands splayed out and looking at the ceiling. "I'm not sure, then. Every time I think I might have the answer, I find out something new and it's wrong. I'll keep trying, but it may be that all I can do is keep going, and find out when the time comes. Whatever Lord Yama is up to, he doesn't seem to be doing anything to make it happen. He barely seems to care." After making a frusterated noise, the hybrid reaches her hands over and rubs her face. "I'm glad I have friends like you. This would be a lot to handle alone."

"No, I'm not. And for that I thank the gods and the stars themselves," the young woman says, smiling a little. "I just need to remember that more often. I'm so stuck on trying to do it myself."

"I'm turning in to my sister," Tasha groans, squinting out between her hands. "Control issues. That's what it is. I don't know how to stop, though. Maybe I should get a real ship, then I'd have to remember to rely on others or I might as well name my ship the JEF Coffin."

"Old JEF Lieutenant-Commander. Bossy woman with my face and hair; It's where I got it from. She died, but her ghost continued, and the ghost interfered and helped make me when my parents were having fun. Her name was Nora, Nora Argentine." The hands fall, Tasha reaching up to tap her nose. "I thought she helped make me to save the Fenris, Gabriel and the other Karnor Elite. But looking at me, I don't really look like her beyond my head -- which was enough. So maybe. But maybe, too, I think she was dreaming of what she loved, and helped make me in the image of their Titan, instead. I look like it." Fishing out her datapad, Tasha brings up its image and shows Bumper -- the Themis-Skoll and Nora. "We're going to clone her, but a younger ghost her exists now. Don't tell anyone. But the clone, she'll be my little sister."

"Oh, I know. I know! You should meet my mother, though. I bet you'd like her!" Sitting up, Tasha cranes her head at monitor. "How soon until we make the transition to the Sea, anyway?"

"Soon.. some turbulence so moving further out first," Bumper asks. "Your mother like to drink then, complain about children, ogle guys?"

After the laughter quiets, Tasha spreads her hands and explains, "My mother is pure Vartan, about your height and much bigger than me -- which she is always giving me grief about. She thinks I'm off with the First Ones, which, um ... " The hands fall a little, the young woman's ears going askew, " ... Which is correct now, isn't it? ... Huh." She blinks, looking a rather bewildered at the realization that she has met some of the mysterious, apparently unreachable gods of the Rephidimite religion.

"Oh I know, but we seem to have met a few, so, that still counts! I wonder what the priests would think, if they knew gutter-trash Tasha had met the first ones." Tasha snort-chortles at the very idea, a kind snortle. She looks up, squinting an eye. "I've come a long way, haven't I? I should be more proud of that."

"You should avoid priests," Bumper advises. "Don't trust people who hear voices in head." She then gives Tasha an odd look, since she hears voices in her head often enough.

"I used to be a religious figure!" Tasha notes with a broad grin, intentionally not helping her case any. "An avatar. Better stop me now, or I'll confuse your ship or something. I'll get religion all over it."

"We got special soap for that," Bumper claims with a straight face. "Made from bones of gods."

"I can take you!" Pushing herself up to her feet, the younger of the two walks over and gives the big Titanian a over-dramatic bonk on her head. "You just try shooting your anti-whatever god-bone-dust at me. You might have an enormous ship, a whole crew, experience, skill, wisdom, weapons and whatever that is," she points at a peculiar device nearby she had been wondering about, "But I have a conglomeration of tools I build three days ago and probably other things!"

"I am legendary when it comes to drinking! My mother owns a tavern, you don't stand a chance!" Tasha declares, shifting to lean on the elder Titanian's chair and looking down at her face as she leans over her. "I hope you have something better than watered-down swill; I have refined tastes now. I'll want at least regular swill.""

"We gots engine coolant ale," Bumper claims, and shuts down her console. "Let's go, before Groggy get it all," she notes, standing up. "He never go through Maelstrom sober.."

"Finally a mission I am prepared for. Lead on, Commander!" Tasha says cheerily as she falls in with Bumper.

"Tasha? Can you hear me?" the nagging voice keeps asking, followed by pokes, pinches and what might be a slap. "I'm going to go get the cold water. There's ice in it," the voice threatens. It sounds like Neesa, but Neesa would never be so cruel.

"Nnnngh," goes Tasha, or at least whom the voice thinks must be herself because it's all a horribly painful blur. "I don' know who you are bu' I'm-a-goin' hit you in five sec-unds." Her left hand raises and wobbles, forming a ball and waving in an unsteady, possibly threatening pattern.

Waking up is horrible. Whatever she drank seems to have transported parts of Tasha's brain into D-Level Hyperspace from the feel of it. She's had hangovers before, but never has the bad taste in her mouth extended throughout the entirety of her digestive tract before, such that she can taste the nastiness with her butt. And worst of all: she can't remember if she beat Bumper or not!

Slowly Tasha sits up, making an unabashedly pathetic wimper as she does. She doesn't open her eyes yet, though; She assues there will be fire there, which she decides might actually be an improvement. Once up, she sort of wobbles where she is, looking fit to pitch over, or possibly simply fall apart at the seems in to a pile of bubbling, toxic goo -- or at least that's what she feels would be appropriate at the moment.

"Are you going to live?" Neesa asks. "You've been asleep and babbling about gods and corn and tentacles for two days. We're about to land at Outpost Caltrop."

"Nooooo," Tasha responds. "Tell Gavriel an' Katty I died doin' wha' I love ... Drinking." And then the woman collapses back on to the deck in a uncomfortable looking heap.

"Well.. I suppose that's one way to get blood back to your brain," Neesa notes. "I suppose I'll have to give some Fenterol; a hangover cure developed by one of our more notorious Chaos Mages. It is about three times worse than the hangover, but only for five or six minutes, depending on your body weight and how much cheese you've eaten in the past week.."

"Make the talkin' stoooop," moans Tasha to the gods. "I've been good, haven' I? Makeee iiit stooop."

"I'll take that to mean 'yes, dear Neesa, please relieve me of the consequences of my youthful folly' then," the Dream Mage notes, and begins to prepare a concoction from things she's brought along. It smells noisy.

The afront to silence has gone on long enough, rallying Tasha to rise and fight the horrifific menance. Wobbling, the heap pulls itself up while Neesa is working and then lunges at her!

Clearly, Titanian booze warps space time, as the feral lunge falls short by several feet. It may be that Tasha has actually slid backwards a bit. Neesa at least doesn't whistle while she works, but soon turns back to the hybrid wielding a large Titanian mug. "Are you ready to prove your strength and the goodness of your heart?" she asks.

Her voice is a bit nasal sounding, since the Karnor is pinching her nose closed with her free hand.

"I hate everything," mutters Tasha, who rests flopped where she landed in a muzzle down, squish-faced pile.

"Trust me, it's better if you drink this," Neesa notes. "Otherwise I can administer it as an enema."

"You-er my enema right now," Tasha insists as she flails an arm in what she hopes is the right direction. When the attack fails, the arm drops to the deck and the young woman just sighs. "Fineee gimmmeee," she goes, the hand of her arm opening and closing helpfully.

The mug is passed to the gripping talons. Maybe the Vartan hand is less susceptible to drunk-spasms? The brew smells horrible - if Tasha had anything in her stomach it'd be trying to escape by now.

Rolling over on her back, Tasha tries several times to plug her nose before she can manage the accuracy, then squeezes her eyes shut and throws the goo back. The mug is drained in one go -- Tasha is no stranger to hangover cures -- and then gets tossed aside. After that, she smacks herself with enough force to turn her head!

This is immediately followed by swallowing, and much clutching of her head with both her hands. Wimpering ensues.

It's horrible. Her feathers ache. Her fur aches. Snakes are crawling out of her pores. Her nose is turning inside out, her ears are trying to fly away, and her eyes are seeing colors that shouldn't exist. It's pure agony while her organs rearrange themselves in an attempt to escape her liver's almost certain imminent explosion. It goes on forever - at least for several minutes. Then the spasms stop and an even more horrible sobriety falls upon Tasha.

"You'll probably want to eat something now," Neesa notes, keeping a safe distance. "Like, within the next twenty seconds. I have a cold sausage here from breakfast. I'm pretty sure its sausage. I've been to Sylvania, I know sausage. It's green but that's its normal color for some reason. Maybe it's vegetable sausage? Did you know that all of the meat on Caltrop is actually made from vegetables using some sort of machine? Except for the fish. Phins like live fish. And what the Titanians bring in. I think I've got some spicy mustard here too.."

When it clears, if leaving the storm to fall in to a vortex could be called getting clear, Tasha opens her eyes. For the entirety of the dreadful experience she'd simply rested on her back, twitching and making horrible noises like someone about to give up the ghost. And for a moment it seemed like she had; Just as the feeling passed in to a new realm of awful, she remained still. Eyes now open, the flick to the babbling Neesa and her mention of food. Teeth get barred, and for a moment Tasha considers adding cannibalisim to her list of new experiences.

But the impulse passes, and so Tasha just feebily accepts the sausage and pushes it in to her resisting face.

It is the most wonderful thing Tasha has ever tasted. Because she was nearly certain that she would never be able to taste anything again because her tongue had been pickled, and was only suitable as a sandwich garnish. "You're really dehydrated still, so you'll want to drink a lot of water," Neesa advises. "Also avoid any open flame for a bit, just to be safe. Don't panic if you begin speaking in a strange language either, it passes."

Tasha hopes the strange langauge has strange curse words, because she feels like reciting them like some sort of infernal cant. "Where am I?" She asks instead, chewing on the sausage and looking around. "Did I win?"

"Do you feel like you won?" Neesa asks. "Bumper brought you here over her shoulder. What were you trying to win? And we're in our cabin on the Dainty Mauler, heading in to Outpost Caltrop.. apparently a day after we left or something.. I'm a Dream Mage and even I don't want to deal with time-craziness. You're Tasha, by the way. I don't know if you still go by the last name Argentine or not? Anyway, you're supposed to bring the Niss civilization to the crazy pervy Vartan artist, and make sure his Phin girlfriend doesn't try to eat them or anything. Then we can go home. Maybe we'll get there before we left and can warn ourselves or something.."

"Ugh," is Tasha's summary response to the review. Pushing herself up, she stands, albiet wobbily, and begins rummaging around for her things. "I need to ... To Library," she notes. "Too." It's several second later befroe she answers, "Ya ... Argentine." Then several more before she adds, "I lost..? How could ... I ... " Sounding particularly bewildered.

"I didn't see it," Neesa says, holding her hands up. "Maybe Bumper cheats? Maybe Titanians have trans-uranic-iron livers or whatever. Or more likely the fact that she's got about a hundred pounds on you made a difference."

"I'll beat her some day," Tasha mutters, now fully dressed if not nicely dressed. She picks up her halitool and seems to contemplate sticking herself with it a moment, to preserve her drinking honor, but decides against that too. "It's because I don't drink much anymore! I've been trying to good, and there's no alcohol in the Academy. Nooooone. talking and no drinking, all of it. Um." She peers around, then asks, "Niss?"

That doesn't really narrow down where they are of course.. so Tasha needs to search her pouches.

Thanks, thinks Tasha, which is manages to sound tired despite being just a thought. Feeling around, the young woman searches for the missing civilization, and might be amused by the strangeness of the experience if she wasn't brain-dull from her recovery.

The Niss is there right were Tasha left them, probably, unless they can teleport around to confuse people. Now that there's something in her stomach, Tasha feels things waking up more. She's very thirsty and still hungry.. especially if she hasn't eaten in two days!

Now that she isn't about to be blamed for losing an entire civilization, tasha peers around. "Food," she grunts, then begins sniffing the air in a particularly feral way before following her nose on out of the room. From somewhere in the corridor, she asks, "How soon Caltrop?"

There's a shudder as the ship comes to a stop. "I'm guessing now," Neesa offers. "I saw some interesting food last time but didn't have the nerve to try it. You'll probably eat anything at the moment though! So I can make suggestions and see if you turn green or anything. You don't mind, do you?" the Karnor asks, smiling sweetly and wagging her tail. Mages must all be crazy.

Tasha does a heel -- or rather hoof -- turn and heads right for the airlock. After a while she starts running towards the airlock, heading in to the station. Part of her wonders if Nora was reborn as a brown Karnor mage and is taking a particular interest in teasing her, but she decides that that would be too easy and a lot exists to annoy her and it can't all be Nora. The running does help distance her from her worries, and from neesa -- at least for a little while. Soon, she's in to the station, then in to the nexus and with the crowd. Then, the sniffing begins and she follows her nose.

There are a lot of food stalls along the concourse. Khattas offer up meat and vegetables roasted on sticks, Nagas tout various live animals, and a few humans offer up sausages in buns and meat patties. One stall has bowls of noodles, and another bowls of.. well, cooked eggs and meats and bread all together. A few brave souls hawk salads. And there is always someone selling candy or coffee.

So much food. Hungry as she is, Tasha could spend the day here eating non-stop. She wanders up to the nearest meat-and-whatever vendor, which happens to be Khatten. "Meat stick," she growlfs, then points at them. Part of her reminds her the Khattans hate her apparent kind, but that part of her is promptly attacked by the combined force of her stomach and her ire.

"Ah," the merchant says, at a loss for flowery speech. On the one hand, Tasha is a small Titanian. On the other.. she's a Titanian. He hands over several different styles of skewers, and tries to smile without showing any teeth.

The skewers are accepted, which means Tasha didn't need to employ her insidious Plan B. "Thanks kitty," she ruffs, actually giving the man a toothy smile for his contribution to the 'Feed Tasha' campaign. Walking away, the small Titanian begins a conveyor belt approach to stuffing her face, which involves a timely insertion of meat and disappointingly not-meat in to her muzzle. eating makes her feel hungry, though, and so she begins to prowl the stalls like an animal on the hunt.

The next stop: A Human sausage-and-bun vendor. The process repeats with a slight variation. "Sausage bun," Tasha growlfs, pointing.

"You want onions or kraut on that?" the human asks, preparing something nearly a foot long. "Relish? Chili? Cheese? Peppers?" the list of optional add-ons seems never ending.

Tasha grunts. Finding that isn't enough, she deigns to offer, "Fast. Now," then begins chewing on the sticks that once skewered her kabob.

Thus, Tasha is handed a Polish sausage on a bun with lots of stuff on top. It's about than that Neesa catches up, cash in hand.

Not seeming terribly concerned by her first bout of piracy, even if it is food piracy, Tasha munches away as Neesa rushes past her. The brown Karnor gets some sort of full-mouthed grunt which might be a hello, or disapproval. It's hard to tell.

"I paid the kabob merchant," Neesa notes after paying for Tasha's sausage.. then decides to try one herself. "Don't forget to drink water too," she reminds.

"We've got FizzCola in thirty-two different flavors," the human vendor claims. "And 64-oz cups."

The faux-grey, faux-Titanin grunts again, and actually manages to stop eating long enough to bark, "Water," at the merchant. Then: "Lots," in stunning verbosity.

The man shrugs, and fills a big plastic cup from the water spigot. "Don't mind her, she's recovering from a two-day drunk," Neesa tells the man apologetically. "He's a she?" the vendor asks in surprise.

Tasha smiles toothly over her meal, then stuffs the remainder of her Polish sausage magnificence in her muzzle in one go. It gets chompted to pieces while she smiles, then devoured. "More," she notes after swallowing. "Not punch if fast."

"You're my best customer so far today," the man claims with a smile, and fixes up another sausage for Tasha. This time there's chili on it.

The sandwich is lined up fro the same fate as its fellow, but this time Tasha pauses long enough to leans towards the vendor and try to give him an extremely sloppy kiss on the cheek, which he may relish mostly because that's what will end up on his cheek.

"Thanks.." the man says, and asks Neesa, "Is she still drunk? I'm not gonna be abducted or anything right?"

The Karnor woman shakes her head. "These are very good sausages. Lots of.. saus.. in them," she says instead.

Tasha doesn't answer, but instead wags her tail and begins to wander off to accost more merchants. The situation repeats itself several more times, until at last the rampaging tyranophage begins moving towards Kem's Studio.

Kem Studios
Across from the Surf-n-Turf and a bit further up the curve of the shaft is an unassuming structure that has a glass (or at least transparent) front, so that many pieces of art can be displayed. There's also a notice of a immersion pod for acoustic art. Like the front, the floor is also transparent and covers a four-foot-deep water tank.

Lielani is swimming beneath the floor, but still manages to alert Kem of the arrivals. "Ah, you have hastened back," Kem says in greeting, giving them a Vartan smile. "Perhaps you wish to pose some more? Perhaps as a group?"

Tasha returns the smile, but it's primarily a Titanian smile despite her being a hybrid and neither side being Titanian. "Need your help Kem-Kem," goes Tasha, who looks to Leilani and then nods towards the backroom indicatively.

"Ah.. what is it this time?" the Vartan asks once they've gone to the back-room studio. "I assure you that I cannot smuggle anything.."

"No smuggling!" Goes Tasha, who licks her teeth now and then and she rummages through her pack, then fishes out ... and orb.

"Niss," she explains. Clearly sensing that isn't enough and pushing herself to use the high art of multiple words, she then clarifies. "Meet the Niss: Elder species, sentient cellular collective. Trillions of minds. Not very chatty. We saved them when their body was consumed in multi-space and gravitation tidal force. They asked to come here, so I thought of you!" Then, the young woman leeeans over and offers Kem the sphere.

"Don't drop the Niss. You don't want to commmit genocide or anything," the faux-Titanian also notes helpfully. "They may be invincible though."

"It looks like a giant truffle," the Vartan notes, holding the Niss as if it might explode.

"Well, it's the evolved brain-like collective of trillions of sentient cells! So don't eat it. Um, Niss? can you say hello or anything? Use some of your telekenisis to interact with us? Kem here will be your guide and help you while you stay in Caltrop, so you should try to say hello, and find some way to communicate. Oh, and don't break anything please," Tasha informs the orb, laying a hand on it as she speaks.

The brain-ball remains quiet, if not inert. The changing patterns of the grooves glow slightly, and change faster. Kem nearly drops it, and sets it down on a stool instead. "It talks then?" he asks.

"Mostly just to me," Tasha admits as she stares at the orb, tapping her muzzle in thought. "I have a, um, link from contact with a Harrower, which they can use to talk in to my head. They're actually capable of telekenesis, and they're probably working out what to do right now. It's a collective, so they have to agree or ... something. Maybe vote? I don't know how it works. Anyway, they're probably at least First Ones, and maybe Old Ones. They want to remain here and get their bearings; They've been lost in D-Space for a while, we think, and their old body is gone so they're not going anywhere quickly. Don't worry too much about protecting them, though. I don't think anything here can threaten them."

"So.. they are a brain looking for a new body?" Kem asks. "And you want them to have mine?"

"What?" Goes Tasha, who looks up at Kem and gives him a weird look. "No! They're elder beings! They can get their own body and not steal one, right Niss? Right." She then watches the orb a moment, brow raised, then nods a little and continues wih, "The new body is right, though. At least as far as exploration, anyway. They don't actually need a body to exist. Really, they don't do much with the outside world except talk to me. I assume their inner life is very active, though."

"So.. a civilization of shut-ins?" the Vartan asks, looking more closely at the orb.

"I did suggest they get their own "squishy" body though," Tasha notes in afterthought, "So they may need your help to make one. I think they can just ... assemble ..? it out of parts, or maybe just think it in to being. Telekenesis is a bit beyond me, really. But either way, they'll need a body that won't cause problems for you, me, the station nor themselves. Something that can blend in but allow for some oddity. Something that doesn't draw attention or have a lot of cultural issues. Easy, right Mr. Artist?"

"In return, they can tell you about places they've been: Worlds only they have seen, and only they remember," the hybrid suggests.

"Well.. assuming this is all really happening.. I suppose I could try sculpting again," Kem notes, then looks to Tasha and asks, "Can they paint?"

Tasha steps forard and plants her hand atop the orb, then picks it up and walks toards the canvas. Niss, can you sense Kem's presence? He'll help you here on Caltrop, but you need to devote more of your attention to interacting with him, and helping him get to know you and your needs. In return, I'd like you to help him with his work -- and his work is painting. The young woman holds the orb near the canvas, then walks to another painting and holds it near that as well. Painting involves using various chemicals to create pleasing mixes of color, pattern, and form. You can use it to create flat images of places. Do you think you understand the technique? Can you do it?

We perceive Kem, the Niss respond. He lacks a resonance interface. How does he communicate in meatspace?

Tasha stares at the orb, and for all anyone can tell that's seems to be all she's doing. he communicates by using his meat to move things, or creating sound, as you've probably noticed I do! He also communicates through abstraction and the creation of images which convey places. I can also paint, but I'm not as good at it as Kem is. If I do it, would that help you?

Sounds are inefficient, the Niss reply. We can inject a node into his cortex. This would be better.

The staring Tasha grimaces, reacting to the unseen suggestion. That sounds invasive. We meat beings are uncomfortable with strange things being, er, injected in to us. At this point the young woman has to bite her lip, part to keep from laughing and part out of pure frusteration. I can ask him, but if he refuses you'll need to use sounds. We're not as developed as you are, so you may need to make concessions to interact with us on a level we are comfortable with. Anyway, I'll ask first.

Turning back to Kem now, Tasha holds the orb in her left hand while scratching her head with her untaloned right. "The Niss want to know if they can inject a ... node in to your corte. So they can talk to you. They find our 'sounds' to be inefficent."

"No," Kem says. "Can they use Lielani's neural amplifier socket though? Or.. radio or something?"

He said no, and I'm not surprised, tasha notes as she turns her attention back to the orb. The being Leilani has a neural amplifier. We can also recieve various kinds of electromagnetic radiation, such as what we call 'radio waves,' light, and so on, and interpret that if we have a common code. Is that acceptable?

The response to this is the room going crazy for a moment. The holographic backdrop projectors flash bizarre, impossible patterns and objects for several seconds before stopping. The sound projection system is also momentarily used to create a chaos of noise. "We are the Niss," the system finally says, in a bit of a monotone that still manages to convey the sense of many, many voices speaking at once.

"There we are!" Tasha exclaims as she stops cringing from the weird images and horrible noises. "That wasn't so hard, was it?" The Niss get put down on a counter, with the not-currently-red woman shifting to lean on a nearby wall. "We can all feel proud of ourselves for intiating general contact with the other. I'm sure this will be in a history record some day! So, um, say hi? Ask questions? Maybe, um, try not to look so nervous?"

"Don't try to scare me," Kem notes to Tasha. "My studio is now haunted by the ghosts of an ancient civilization.. or something. I'm sure we will get along fine."

Tasha clears her throat, then smiles a sheepishly. "They don't, basically. I'm not sure how they maintain themselves, but they do. They'll let you know if they need anything, but really all they need is to learn, build, and be left to their thinking and dreaming. Right Niss?"

"Don't we all," Kem says. "In this room, I attempt to record dreams. You should fit in fine, if you do not frighten the customers."

"Oh I wasn't trying to scare you, I've just been interacting with them for a while now and I am beginning to be able to predict their basic responses. Which are brief." Tasha leans over and pats the Niss, then tells Kem, "If you have any problems, tell the Dainty Mauler crew and I'll return if I can. If any of the Galactics try to snoop around, inform the Niss and they can probably handle it somehow -- just tell them what not to do and help them understand our culture. They'll probably build a body at some point, but I'm sure you'll have each other figured out by then. Anyway, um ... That's it. I'm sorry to dump this on you, but I can't bring them with me to Sif- um, to where I'm going and there's other reasons they can't come with me, so we have to part ways here. I'll probably return in a few weeks in order to prepare to find Moraeu, assuming I, uh, survive. If I don't, you'll know that too."

"So, you do intend on coming back and.. taking the Niss of my hands if they don't manage to do so on their own?" Kem asks.

"I'll arrange something. The Niss can't return to my home, and they don't want to walk with me out of concern for interfering with my, um, destiny. So, I'd need to find another caretaker, but I will if necessary. I'll also inform my collegues, so they can see to it if I can't. But for now, I'm going to visit your Library -- I have some research to do. Except, I'm not sure they'll let me in," the hybrid explains.

"If you have money, you can use the Library," Kem notes. "The results you get depend on how much you are willing to pay, however."

"Well that's convient considering I'm a 'Titanian,'" Tasha says with a grin. "But money ... I think I may have to go find Bumper. I hope she doesn't mind, but it's for a good cause. Or for me, which is something too!" Glancing over, the hybrid looks at Neesa and thumbs towards the exit. "Time to go, dear Neesa-Neesa!"