There are several groups that break up and comingle, and quite a few 'up and coming' young people, including Tasha and the JEF candidates from the Knights Templar, along with ambassadors, knights and the various PTO sector heads and dignitaries. The entire living command staff of the JEF is also present, consisting of three ancient Karnors.
Walking arm-in-arm with the leader of the JEF, Gabriel T. Akkers, the ragged and necessarily punkish Cadet Tasha returns to their own, rejoining their organization's cluster. "Hi you two," she greets the two other ancient Karnor, Eli and Remiel, in the warm and friendly voice of someone in the company of old friends. "Keeping together without me? How have you been?"
"Well, Remiel has been mopey," Eli complains good-naturedly. "Missing his Dream Girl. I've been keeping busy, of course. Lots of numbers to crunch still from the scans and other discoveries."
Remiel has his arm around Neesa and rolls his eyes at Eli. "Throwing myself into work is not moping," he counters.
"We should get together and take a trip in to the wastes to study the entities still congregating out there. Actually, I've been thinking about that and other things, and was wondering if you'd be interested in taking over command of the hand that carries the picknick basket," Tasha notes, settling in to the conversation as the comforting sound of her old traveling companion returns like it had never gone. "And Remy?" She glances towards that man next. "Neesa was very helpful on thr trip, and I'm glad she came. I have some toys for you both to look at later, too."
"Uh.. toys?" Remiel asks, his ears turning red. This causes Neesa to cover her muzzle and snicker a bit.
"Not those," Tasha insists, rolling her eyes at the amusingly unprofessional behavior by the once stiff-collared Remiel. "Research toys. Datacrystals. Oh and I met a sentient cell cluster with psychic powers, you'll like that."
"Psychic powers, eh?" Remiel asks, his interest perked up. "I'll look forward to your report then."
"Data crystals containing.. what? Or can you say here?" Eli asks.
"I'll transfer the field report to your datapads later, it's all in there. I wasn't able to get any detailed information," explains the cadet. She then turns and nods to Eli, noting, "No, not here, but later! Sorry, I'm a bit excited to be back, and a lot happened. I guess I should mingle rather than work though, right?"
"Does the report explain your new hairstyle and.. teeth?" Eli asks.
"Actually it does," Tasha admits, grinning and tail wagging a little. "You're a doctor, Remy! Do you recognize the teeth and the hair style?" The young woman leans forward helpfully, the peculiar powertool cum weapon edging closer as well.
"Not from medical experience," Remiel notes. "Unlike the rest of you, I missed out on the moon trip, but I can guess where they come from."
"Then you should know I disgused myself as your guess for a while, because certain others shouldn't be aware of me. The hair was a sacrifice and expected, but the teeth are still there because my understanding of the glue I used was wrooooooong," Tasha explains, then reaches up and tugs on one of the teeth, which steadfastly refuses to come loose. "So now I'm stuck with them for the time being."
"Poor Gabe, forced to kiss a Titanian," Remiel says, shaking his head. Gabriel just raises an eyebrow at him in response.
"Yah, poor big wolf. But love big wolf, hug hug kiss kiss!" Tasha mock-grunts, using her fake Titanian pigon -- and then she leans over and tries to smooch the the poor Captain.
Gabriel turns the tables by dipping Tasha back for the kiss, causing a few cheers from nearby partiers.
Tasha's eyes go wide, but she doesn't resist -- and then doesn't notice anything else as she slips naturally in to returning the affection. After some amount of time, most of which she is uncertain of, she straightens. Looking to the others in a rather dissoriented sort of way, but grinning widely as she licks at her new teeth, she seems to need a moment before saying, "Um, well ... What was a talking about..?" There's a giggle, which is new, and then she says, "Oh. The ... guess. Titanians. That's, um, that's right. Learned a lot annnnd ... I'm not sure what I was going to add to that. Um, how are you liking the cadets? I think I scared them when we met -- and I'm probably not helping much like this, am I?"
"Well, this is a party," Gabriel points out. "Although I haven't seen the cadets acting relaxed at all. Must be a Templar thing? So far I've only seen them in a professional setting, interviewed them on their skills and ideals and goals. I still don't have a good idea of their personalities though, and in a small group like ours getting along well on a personal level is important. Only Joachim is familiar, but he's an old Karnor and an administrator - confirmed Beta sort, and acts it."
"May need to come up with 'team building' exercises," Gabriel mutters.
"Joachim and I should get along then," Tasha observes, glancing towards the distant, older Karnor. "I figured the more senior applicants would gravitate towards our own senior members, but maybe I was relying too much on age and not personality. I've spoken to -- or rather ambushed -- Shojo and he seems a bit nervous, really. Not what I'd expect from a soldier of the Knights, even a supportive one, but he's respectful and seems to be fine with following our leadership; Seems like a Gamma or even Omega type. Otherwise I've seen them even less than you have, and I'm not sure I made the best impression when we first met. I'm uncertain, but it shouldn't be a problem either way. I like the idea of trying to work on getting us all to get along better, though."
"Maybe you should talk to the Colonel about Shojo," Gabriel suggests. "Abaddonian Vartans are different than the Sinai ones, at least culturally it seems. But they may still be prone to.. uh.. psychological issues."
"It's sad that we Sinaian Vartans are perfect, I hope I'm not making him feel bad," the cadet remarks, rolling her eyes at her own comment and barking a laugh after. She then glances towards the Knight Vartan, head shaking. "Captain Frane may know too, assuming he doesn't fail me immediately for looking like this. Rapatia is here too, isn't she? I think I've traumatized the JEF enough, so I'm thinking of going to say "Hello." I still need to thak her for helping to put me back together, too."
"They should be ... somewhere," Gabriel says, looking around. "There are a lot of Vartans here.."
"I know her voice, I'll find her. Excuse me, officers." Stepping back and detangling herself, Tasha salutes the three senior Karnor. She then drops her saluting hand, kisses the underside of it, then touches Gabriel's nose before excuting a practiced heel-turn and walking off to find Rapatia.
It helps that Senator Cornelius is in a wheelchair, making him easy to find, and Rapatia is close by.. wearing a dress instead of her uniform. It certainly isn't one she could fly in.
Even at the best of times Tasha tends to stick out, and with her change to look like a Titanian, the young woman forgoes any attempt to be subtle about her movements within the crowds gathered at this social event. When she spots the two, she heads right towards them. "Hello Senator, Colonel!" She greets them, offering a little wave and wondering if any bodyguards might be about to intercept her due to the chunk of metal on her shoulder.
"Shhh, he just dozed off," Rapatia notes to Tasha, while the elderly Eeee snores softly (well, he whistles a bit actually) in his chair. Rapatia's dress is a shiny metallic gold affair, backless for her wings and tail, and bunched up a bit where it piles on her chest. "Did someone tell you this was a costume ball, Tasha?" she asks.
Hoping she didn't just check out a Confederate Colonel in plain view of everyone, Tasha is quick to note, "O-oh, this? Just an um, experiment in deception. A learning experience?" As she gets closer she lowers her voice, walking off a bit with the older Vartan so that she can talk more freely. "I've been busy, with this and other things. I'm sorry that it took me so long to come over and thank you for your contribution to my recovery, Rapatia."
"Everyone's busy, all the time," Rapatia notes. "That's the whole point. And your fur and hair are off a bit. I have a good eye for color. Been working out in the wastelands maybe?"
"You could say that," Tasha replies, glancing up at her halitool. "Out there in the frontier. I like your dress by the way."
"Everyone does! Especially the Senator, but I suspect it's because I have to bend over to talk to him," Rapatia notes with a wink. "I do have underwear though. Backless corset! Wonderful invention. Bulletproof too." She taps her knuckles on her stomach, which rings metallically.
"I see we both share a dangerous sense of fashion, or with me, a lack-there-of. Yours is a lot more classy, this I just threw together. I just got back," Tasha notes as she leans over slightly, examining one of Abaddon's many fashion wonders. "I should probably get a dress. Not that I'd have time to wear it, this time. So, how have things been? I've never seen so many Confederates before, or smiling ones for that matter."
"Well, if you haven't guessed, the new wellhead is in place and pumping away. Which means there will be an actual crop this season that doesn't have to be monitored for contamination all the time," Rapatia notes. "Which means the Viceroy is happy to show off all the stuff we might be able to actually use again down here."
Tasha's tail wags at the news, even as she scratches at her nose. "I'm happy to see all the work pay off. It was one thing to claim we'd use our technology for the betterment of Abaddon, and another thing to do it -- and then get results," she notes, turning to look at the pumping station with Rapatia. "By the way Colonel, we have a new Vartan recruit from the Knights with us, but we're a little worried about him. He's a little, um, off. Nervous, but I can't quite figure out why, especially since he's been in the field. We were hoping maybe you would know, as a fellow Abaddonian Vartan."
"Oh, what's his name?" Rapatia asks, then rolls her eyes, and amends, "Ah, never mind.. Templars change their names. Is he here?"
"Do Vartans on this world not change their names then? On Sinai, it's tradition to change your name for special events," Tasha says as she turns to gaze in to the crowd, quickly spotting Shojo as she knew where to look. "That's him, Shojo. He's a medic."
Rapatia stares at the man in silence for several moments. "Medic, you say?" she finally asks. "Watching him move, I'd say he has Maerkos Syndrome. His mother was probably exposed to contaminated water while pregnant. It's a nervous disorder, causes.. well, suppresses reflexes and involuntary muscle movements."
"You can tell all that by watching him?" Tasha asks, brows raising as she watches the young Vartan as well. Having been somewhat uncertain about the man, she can't help but feel a bit guilty learning he has a disorder. "Is it a concern for someone in the field? Should I abort taking him to Sinai, and potentially in to combat?"
"I can tell because he has no body language outside of his face, and because he hasn't moved his drink holding hand at all," Rapatia says. "It's more of a social handicap. Because they can't express emotions without practicing them, they also have trouble reading them in others. They tend to become surgeons or go into other fields were very steady hands are crucial, and also seem to end up with the Templars a lot, or in other military positions where body language isn't as important as discipline."
"I can't confirm.. but I've heard that when they're asleep, they don't move at all," the Colonel notes. "Unconsciousness equates to paralyzation, effectively."
"I feel bad for him now. It didn't occur to me that he might have some sort of medical problems -- things like that are still new to me. But, it's no excuse," the cadet admits, frowning and shaking her head in disgust at herself. he watches Shojo for a long moment, then asks, "So he might want to express himself better, but can't. He may not be as submissive as I though, either, but his condition won't handicap him in the field. Aside from simply wanting to know, I'll be leading him in to the field in a week. The Templars wouldn't have mentioned his condition because of their seperatuon from the past, would they?"
"Maybe? I don't know the Templar traditions that well," Rapatia says. "They wouldn't put him into a combat role without reflexes.. but at the same time, he can be working on a wounded soldier and not flinch if a cannon shell exploded behind him."
"Hopefully if he has to work, the exploding will already be over. Hmmm." After watching the young Vartan a moment longer, Tasha turns to Rapatia and notes, "Part of me is dreading bringing them with me, and even more so now that I didn't even know he had a serious disease. I regained my confidence, but I don't have a lot of experience as a leader."
"He won't give you problems," Rapatia says. "He may seem a bit mechanical at times, and won't react to flirting or show any interest in sex or physical contact, but he won't be afraid of anything either. If he seems nervous, he's probably just worried about being disappointing. He made it to JEF candidate.. so must crave adventure or something that goes with that, yeah?"
"I thought so too, which was why his behavior was so strange. A timid person wouldn't rush to join us, and he didn't refuse, but he seemed very nervous about it too. Now I know. Or think I do, anyway." After taking a deep breath, Tasha exhales, then turns to face Rapatia and says, "I'll think about that. I don't want to take up all your time while the Senator is asleep, though, and I should probably say hello to the Archon and the others. We should have a drink together some time, though. Maybe we could see a certain scoundrel?"
"Hah.. don't tell him about this dress," Rapatia says, and pats Tasha on the butt. "Go see Strength-of-Stones, he probably miserable right now."
"You saw me looking at you, didn't you?" Tasha asks as she raises a brow at the butt-patting. "Don't tell anyone, okay? I have an image to uphold." She then points at her mohawked, long toothed, off color face and grins. "I may tell him if you do! But really, everyone should know about that dress. I know I'd tell everyone, if it was mine!" She then scoots away in anticipation of being further grabbed, patted or worse. "See you later, shiny lady!"
The young Archon is wearing his formal robes (including the fancy hat) and mask, and is standing near one end of the buffet. The stoic Scholar-to-Aliens is with him as chaperone. Feather-Tail is also there, unmasked and wearing a colorful Xenean style dress. Unlike the other two, she's all grins as she fills a plate from the buffet.
"Just the people I was looking for!" Tasha declares as she rounds the corner, acting like she just came upon the three when, really, she had spotted them from a ways off and chose her route carefully so as to surprise them. "My friend!" She walks towards the Archon, but then turns right towards Scholar-to-Aliens and holds out her hands for a hug. Having never gained the stoic woman's approval, and certain as Primus shines in the day that she won't looking like she does now, the cadet just decides to run with it and face the inevitable glares and storm of disfavor head on.
Scholar-to-Aliens reacts to the gesture with wide eyes and a bark of alarm. Her tail poofs out as well. The Archon's ears quiver in amusement. "You make a bold impression, Cadet Silver-Spear," Strength-of-Stones signs, his gauntlet translating it into a flat monotone voice.
"Is that what this?" Tasha asks, grinning as she turns to face the Archon and offer him the hug instead. "Watch the halitool! 'Bold' is more generous than I'd give it, more like salavaged. And don't call me Silver-Spear! It messes with my head, and it's messed up enough as it is!"
"You know I cannot hug you in public," the Archon notes. "Feather-Tail will chastise me later if I do, and Scholar will faint."
Tasha's turn to aim her hug at Feather-Tail instead, while looking at the Archon. "How many medals do I need to hug an Archon in public, anyway?"
"My mother is not allowed to hug me in public," the Archon notes. Feather-Tail is only too happy to hug Tasha.. and in order to use both arms she balances her plate of food on her own head.
It's Tasha's turn to blink now, but she hugs the Savanite woman all the same. "Thanks," she tells her after the hug is done, "You know I'm relentless." She winks, then turns back to the Archon and, after shifting to drop the butt of her halitool on the dirt and then assuming a more rigid, formal posture, notes, "The Colonel said you might be in low spirits, so I came to cheer you up and assit you in your operation against the buffet. Being around the people I care about, and so many happy faces, has me in a good mood too -- and I just got back."
"Where have you just gotten back from?" the Archon asks. "A blind barber, perhaps?" His ears wiggle madly.
Tasha untwines her right hand from her halitool, using it to Sign her upbeat thoughts in a travesty of Formal. "Space. I have walked part of the path the Archon of the People walked, and wandered in to the stars. I was then endoctrinated by Titanians and am now half Vartan, half Karnor, and half Titanian." Now it's Tasha's turn to wiggle her ears. "I may be half not good at math, as well. But recogning the need to conceal my origin, I've been a Titanian for the last two relative weeks."
"I was not informed," the Archon replies, turning off the translator. "So your concealment must have been effective. I hope you will tell me more in private?"
"No one was informed, as it was supposed to be a 'simple,'" Tasha waggles her hand in emphasis, "effort to help me regain my confidence and do some research on the Titanians as a culture. As it happened, it was more." Angling aside, Tasha then grabs a plate and quickly begins filling it, pausing to Sign, "Is there anywhre we can talk?" before resuming her gathering, looking ovr now and then for an answer.
"Without drawing suspicion?" the Archon replies. "Not here."
"I would not want to draw suspicion. I am the soul of caution and subtly," Tasha signs, then grabs her plate full of various edibles. It's an awkward carry, given her already loaded hands and need to Sign, so she puts it on a nearby table and eats while she Signs. "I suppose we will have to wait, then. And given that it is rude to Sign and eat, and that your aide may be about to have a heart attack, I think I will go harass another guest before I have my mask revoked."
"Please drop by for a visit before anything else interesting happens, or I will never get caught up," the Archon signs with an ear-wiggle.
"It is always the way of things." Tasha takes her plate in hand, then steps back and bows to the Archon as she learned is appropriate, then does the same -- though lesser -- to Scholar-to-Aliens, and finishes by giving Feather-Tail a smile, then she departs.
Next on her list: Riddle Smith of the Expedition and Malachite of the Knights Templar.
The brightly-haired human is keeping close to the bar - even if it is just serving water. She's also dressed in a semi-feminine manner, with her tunic flaring out like a skirt over her pants, and a shiny blue-crystal necklace and matching earrings. Malachite is wearing a Templar tunic, which is about as informal as the Lancer gets.
"Good evening, Miss Smith, Lancer Malachite. It's been a while, hasn't it?" Tasha says as she approaches, looking considerably less femine, and just as uncivilized.
"Tasha?" Riddle asks. "I like what you've done with your hair. It was a bit dull before."
"Proper fangs too," Malachite hisses. "Very attractive."
"I'm not a very exciting person, you know?" The off-color hybrid walks over and places her plate on the counter, then turns to lean against it and look back at the two. "Although I can't take credit, it was mostly a salvage operation. It seems everyone likes it, though, so now I'm very tempted to keep it! And you like the fangs, Malachite?" The young woman reaches up and taps one of them a few times. "I wasn't sure about them, and I was planning to have them removed, but since I fear that's going to involve me, Remiel, and some sort of sander, and since people seem to like them, maybe I should just keep them?"
"They do not compensate for the rest of your mammalocity, however," the serpent notes.
"Malachite was traumatized by wild breasts as a snakeling," Riddle comments with a smirk.
"It is the excessive fur and hair I refer to," the Naga counters.
"If she would only shave her head, Miss Smith might be more presentable," he adds.
"I do have a sad bit of mammalocity," Tasha mock-laments, looking down at herself and shaking her head. "Maybe I should look for getting some scales next." She grins, looking back up and shaking her head at the two. "And here I thought Lancers didn't have a sense of humor! But I expect this from you, Miss Smith. You always seemed like a secret smartass."
"Secret? I must not be trying hard enough," Riddle says with a grin, and shakes her glass of water. It doesn't quite smell like water though. "And Malachite has no sense of humor. He's being completely serious."
"Yes," Malachite confirms. "Fur is for food."
"That must be why Tesla tried to eat me. The next time I need a new look, I'll consider scales." Tasha scootches closer to Riddle, giving her glass a certain attentive, knowing look before turning to Malachite. "By the way, I'm probably going to be on Sinai soon, near the Savan. I've been thinking I could use some practice fighting against the various reptilian species, plus I have all this sudden self-esteem; Would your Lance mind beating me up a bit?"
"We are professionals.. is that the level of resistance you expect to encounter?" Malachite asks. "Also, we are rather uniform in build. I understand that Sinai is home to a wide variety of reptilian subraces."
"I expect there may be violence this time. It won't be possible to get broad training, but your insight in to Celestial fighting methods, and thus Naga, might be useful. Plus I've always wanted to try my sword against Lancer. I may have other questions for you, too," Tasha explains, then she shoots the bright haired woman's drink another obvious bit of focus.
"Have you tried the ice cubes?" Riddle asks, noting the interest.
"I will show you many fighting styles then," Malachite offers.
"I am feeling a bit warm, I should," Tasha replies, turning to get a cup, and then making sure to fill her cup with ice cubes -- a lot of them. When she's done and drinking, she turns back to nod to the Lancer. "Don't hold back, I still have two legs, a arm, and half my face to lose. If you have any Lancers with scholarly interests who are also Naga or familiar with Naga, they're welcome to come, too."
"And thank you," Tasha adds, raising her ice cube filled glass to the Lancer.
The ice cubes are not what they seem, it seems. Not many here would even ask for them - but these only ice on the outside. Once it melts, there's a core of clear alcohol inside.
"We are not venomous here on Abaddon," Malachite notes. "I cannot prepare you for that, only for being bitten."
"These are very refreshing, thank you Miss Smith," the hybrid then offers the other woman, smiling. She then turns the smile towards the reptile and nods to him. "It seems unlikely, but it may help. Maybe I should learn how to bite, too, in case I'm poisonous." She winks, then holds up some fingers to forestall a retort. "I'm joking! And serious about preparing. The site will have some Naga-shaped machinery too, which may be aggressive, and the main concern. Bandits are also possible, that far south. Pirates. Highwaymen."
"There is much to steal?" Malachite asks. "Are you requesting an armed escort?"
"An armed party would be useful. However, we may be up against a rogue machine -- a Titan, whch we would need to engage and defeat on foot without firearms, rockets, or the like. Swords, crossbows, wit and preperation will be what we have," Tasha explains as she sips at her much improved drink. "And there are other complications, but we can go over them during practice."
"A Titan can operate, but our anti-kaiju and anti-titan weapons would not?" Malachite asks. "Do not underestimate the usefulness of a lance. A mounted soldier could deliver an incredible amount of penetrating force with a good lance."
"I'm not sure trained riding Vykarin are that common on Sinai," Riddle notes. "I've heard they are much smaller than the ones the Silent-Ones have here."
Rather than expouse her appreciation for polearms and their charges, Tasha tips her halitool down to show its drill bit spear head. "The Titan is special -- I'll elaborate when we're gathered with the others. I'm hoping it can be recovered, too, but if it cannot we'll use what we can and what we have is quite a lot. As for riding Vykarin, well ... Would you be surprised if I told you I used to ride on a giant Vykarin warrior? It may surprise you, but I was bit of a barbarian before I came here." She grins all over again.
"Silent-Ones Knights ride Vykarin," Malachite notes. "I do not think they would like to be considered barbarians. Are you sure you were a barbarian?"
"The riding of a Vykarin was seperate from my beign a barbarian. I was the avatar of the goddess of vengeance, whose job it was to speak her word and carry out her task for a culture considered barbarians by most of the surrounding regions: Amazonians. They use trained Vykarin war mounts, and I had one too: Eadwig. In fact, our Captain said I made for a good barbarian! I can probably contact my allies there, and see if they will provide us some mounts. I'm sure they'd be excited to be included in what may be a memorable battle -- if we need to fight that is," is Tasha's answer.
"I've never heard of these Amazonian barbarians," Riddle notes. "Are they an offshoot of Titanians?"
"Lapi, actually! One of the many post-planetfall Uplifts created by the Ark crew, but much larger than what you usually see in cities. They're about equal to we Vartans and other strong species, and so too are their mounts," Tasha explains, then takes another sip. After savoring the drink a moment, she adds, "Anyway, if it will help I'll write some letters. We may even see additional assistance. It's all a possibility of a fight, but it's an important fight. You'll see when we all get together."
"Are they still cute and fluffy though?" Riddle asks. "The few I've seen looked very cuddly."
"They do look very cuddily," Tasha admits, giving a little shrug. "But then I think Vartans are too. I shouldn't go in to too much detail here, though, so I'll leave you to your fun and see if I've missed anyone."
"I expect you'll be visiting the Citadel soon then," Riddle notes.
"I made a promise to Captain Frane I mean to keep, plus I'm looking forward to seeing the reeaction to walking in with fangs and a mohawk!" Tasha winks, then thros back the rest of her 'water' and puts the glass on the counter before she resumes talking. "Those chosen to acompany me on the mission will also be meeting there, and we can coordinate with the Green Lance that way, too. I'll have a basic presentation ready tomorrow morning, and will work on something more detailed for later."
"Moving quickly then? You just got back from.. uh.. someplace barbaric, I assume," Riddle notes.
"An exciting barbaric place," Tasha notes with a smile. "Besides, I may as well get it all down while it's still in my head. The initial meeting will cover the basics and help us figure out what we need and who we need, and to see if who we may already have still wants to go. That way I can figure the rest out over the next few days while I relax, and by the time we're arranging the trip in earnest, we'll have a good idea of how we're to go about it. "
"There are also other matters I need to see to after this mission is complete, and so I don't have a lot of time to rest," The red woman also notes. "Sooner is probably better."
"Ah youth, always in a rush to burn it up like a candle trying to light up the world," Malachite says. "I was like that once, a few decades ago."
Tasha grins, but there's a hardness in her eyes and her grin is a little sharper than it might otherwise be. "I know you must think I'm rushing around, and I'd think so too if I were you. It's not as if I don't do that a lot, after all, or even that I don't do it recklessly. But not this time. This time, I do need to hurry." She glances between the two, then pushes herself to stand and says, "I'll see you there, then? It's getting late, so I'll be heading back to my people -- Gabriel will want to dance."
There are a few special guests, along with the invited Templars, which include Riddle Smith, Malachite and Captain Frane, along with Fringe and Shojo. Tomorrow's-Hope is there to represent the Archon, while Rapatia sits in as well. Gustav Altieri, the Karnor second-in-command for the Expedition in the Pit is also present. And of course Gabriel and Eli are present as well.
Dressed not in her traveling clothes but in her uniform, a much more professional Aldara Tasha Argentine stands at the front of the class, halitool resting against the ground and held steady with a hand. Her free hand hovers near a slide projector which has been modified to use JEF datapad outputs, the common companion of both Doctors Eli Zerachiel and Remiel Caravelli for their own presentations. She watches her group slowly assemble, eyes alert and expression a mask of focus.
Once everyone has been seated, Tasha nods towards the door to make sure it gets locked. With that final precaution complete, she begins to address the crowd. "Thank you for coming, everyone. As you've all been told, this planning session has been called to go over the general details of the JEF's mission to Sinai, a assessment and, if necessary, containment mission in to a Forbidden Zone located in northern Savan."
"What you haven't been told is the nature of the target, and why so much effort is being undertaken to prepare for our second encounter with it. But you're not here just for your skills: You are here because you descended from members of the original Joint Expeditionary Force. This is more than a potential battle against a dangerous machine, nor even the hostile alien that now pilots it: It is a matter of pride and of reckoning. It is also a matter of secrecy. This is the target." Turning, Tasha nods against towards the door, and the lights go off. She then flicks the projector to life; Behind her, a assembly of images glow against the wall: A map of the Savan region, text listing design specifications and weaponry, another window showing artist rendition of a Holy Seed and details about it, and center a towering reptilian giant of green and black metals towering over a man.
"The Tech Level II Magi Class Titan "Casper,"" Tasha explains, pointing to the machine with her finger without looking back at it. "Of the same Magi as my own Melchior. But it is not the real target; Tts pilot is. Within this machine an alien existence rests, powering it and using it as its body. This entity is believed to be related to the Holy Seeds. In addition, it is likely responsible for the destruction of the original Joint Expeditionary Force, the manipulation of Henry Canaan to mutiny, and a countless other manipulations -- an angel of death."
"Where does this information come from?" Malachite asks while the others still seem to be digesting things.
"I have spoken to it directly through a direct mental connection through my implants," Tasha explains as she turns her attention to Malachite. "It has admited as much. Furthermore, it is very clearly composed of a vine-like material similiar to the Holy Seed records, and it is able to power a Titan purely by its own energy, and within a Forbidden Zone. Other sources hint at its original and powers. Prior to coming to Sinai, it existed within the Celestial Empire -- the spacefairing intergalactic empire."
"Note that when we first encountered it, it attempted to kill us and only deigned to speak with me when we had entrapped it. It regularly destroys life in its region, despite having no apparent need to do so," the cadet adds.
"I am aware of the Celestial Empire and the Holy Seeds," Malachite notes. "Every nation on Abaddon is acutely aware of their power, after the destruction of the Celestial Life Dome. Is this entity unique, or present in all of the Seeds?"
"We believe it is unique. There is some thought that it may be the First Seed, progenitor of all other Seeds," Tasha answers.
"It identifies as 'Lord Yama,'" the red woman then adds.
"What threat does it currently pose," Frane asks. "It's been there for six millennia already, hasn't it?"
"Its threat isn't known. Even after speaking with it, I wasn't able to determine what its real motives are. Furthermore, that we -- and now you -- are aware of it may in itself provoke it. It did not believe the original JEF was ready for these worlds, and so chose to ruin us -- to save us as it suggested. But I'm uncertain. There, um, other details as well. It will only speak to me, and I have a tie to it -- but I do not trust it and I half suspect it is manipulating me. A being such as this does act lightly, and it did not hesitate to manipulate and destroy before," is Tashan's answer. She then gestures towards the machine, head tilting. "What we need are answers. The strength we bring is is there in case it becomes agressive, but just as much, because we should be united when we seek those answers. However, some answers it may only offer to me, and I will need to keep those. It's a very complicated situation."
"When you last met it.. did it say anything about consequences of revealing it to us?" Riddle Smith asks. "Will it feel you betrayed it in any way if you show up with a mixed force?"
"I never promised to not reveal its existence. We do not exist to maintain ignorance for its benefit, and I'm hardly going to put the desires of a being that destroyed our predecessor and manipulated and murdered countless lives. If I agree to its desires, it's because I feel it is better for us, and not because I am intimidated by it. It may be godlike, but I don't agree with our Captain that the gods are beyond our judgement. It may suggest it has our best interest at heart, but its behavior doesn't suggest that. It may be my ally, or it may be my manipulator. We need to know and not be afraid to ask it. But this meeting is to plan how we go about this, and we will definitely listen to any suggestionsm including avoiding a military force. To be perfectly honest, I'm uncertain how to handle this entity in relation to the whole of Abaddon and even Sinai. It would be different if I were acting alone, but I represent more than my quests and research, and while it may suggest one thing that favors my rese
arch, in doing so it may endanger other things I hold dear. Without more information, the situation is hard to assess."
"The goal is not to provoke it, as I see it," Frane notes. "This isn't a kaiju, with some urge to hunt us down and attack us. It stayed in one place, where it could be found by whoever was supposed to find it, since the only person that could communicate with it did indeed show up eventually, correct?"
"It was very curious if I had mentioned its existence. It seemed to want to be forgotten. However, it did not show a sense of trust, and therefore I likewise do not fully trust its requests or needs. To put it another way, it was like being asked for silence by a murderer who had tried to kill you moments ago, had killed your family before, then helped you only after you trappd him and convinced it to do so, and even then he seemed to be judging if you should die," the hybrid elaborates, then she turns to Captain Frane. "Yes, but you see the problem. It had already attacked and destroyed us. But it spoke to me and seemed to approve of me, ad yet I wonder if it is manipulating me as it has many others. or, what seems more likely: A murderer will continue to murder, or suddenly decide to help you? It is Lord Yama, it was identified as 'death incarnate.'"
"And what is the actual goal here?" Frane asks. "Destroy it? Interrogate it? We need something definite for planning. It is a vague thing now, a criminal from antiquity, far removed from those of us living today. There is risk in approaching it, so there must be a reward as well."
"We need to speak with it again, or rather, I do. It needs to understand that we are not here to be manipulated, and that I -- and maybe all of us -- are willing to respect its wishes if it returns that respect and agrees to some form or showing of mutual trust. Something to demonstrate that it is no longer threatening us or to otherwise demonstrate it is not a danger to us any longer -- something more simply not killing us at the moment. Perhaps it could agree to leave the Primus System, or some other offering. It will never be completely safe, but if it is willing to compromise, I think we can too. Destroying it for old crimes would be satisfying, but it may also result in new deaths, and I'm uncertain it even has a sense of regret, compassion, or ethics in which to appeal to. Beyond that, I just wanted some participation in this. I need your thoughts. I don't like bargaining with the world; He has ties to us all and how I chose to interact with him needed to reflect that," says the woman at
the front of the room.
"Does it even know about us here?" Tomorrow's-Hope signs.
"It may. Its senses seem to be different than ours, and it has, um, other awareness. Its ability to percieve doesn't appear to be limited to the position of its body. The entity is alien, more akin to a Harrower than to us, or so it seemed," explains the cadet.
"What is a Harrower?" Gustav asks.
Turning to Gustav, Tasha spreads her arms and explains, "An extrauniversal sentient being constructed primarily of dark matter and gravity, primarily existing in D-Level Hyperspace."
"Oh..." the old Karnor replies, trying not to look confused.
"I would recommend a small, mobile reconnaissance group," Frane says. "One or two strict observers included that will not engage or make themselves known to the target, if possible, to ensure that someone is able to report on the outcome of your meeting with the alien again."
As she watches the man struggle, a dawning realization seeps in to the hybrid's mind. Turning to look at each and everyone of the people gathered in the room, the old feeling of being out of place strikes her; Oh having seen too much, of walking along, only to realize that the people who had been at her side so long, had fallen to the wayside while too busy looking towards the future.
Do they even want to know? Tasha wonders, wondering at others. I brought them here to have a say, to stand against the angel that punished us and demand an answer. Am I asking too much? Would they be better off returning to their lives, without being called to answer such terrible questions? Have I ... Have I made a mistake? Silence stretches on in this classroom, the young woman turning around to stare at the projection of Caspar, a frown clearly visible from the flickering projector light.
It's a good several seconds before she responds to Captain Frane's suggestion. "Maybe you're right," she agrees, though she sounds distracted and distant of mind. After reaching up to scratch at her cheek, she then says, "I'm willing to do this alone. I think maybe it was a mistake to involve anyone else. I thought that approaching him together allowed us all to have a voice, but maybe a mutual voice isn't needed or even wise this time. When I faced the Fenris, when spoke to Lord Yama, when I was alone with the Harrower ... Some places are better walked alone, maybe. I think I've mistaken inclusiveness for kindness. I see that maybe it's not that at all. It's not even that he was waiting for me -- it's that I sought him. Our mutual effort, I don't think it's what I thought it was after all."
"We still need to know the outcome, one way or another," Frane says. "You can't speak for us, because.. well, we have nothing to say to this creature. Our past is not so recent to us as it is to you. We're only concerned with the future."
"For me, the past is the future," Tasha notes as she turns around to look at those gathered, her thoughts weighing on her, somber expression making her look older than she is. "And I should stop being scared of it. I ought to be more aware of the different, and be more careful about mistaking guilt and revelation for kindness and unity." She bites her lip a moment, then says, "We'll go with the original idea then: I will speak to the target. Shojo will observe and if necessary provide medical support should the worst happen. Fringe will assist in observation and will handle recovery of biological materials if that is necessary. We'll abandon bringing anyone else in to this, and of brining more personnel."
"What's your estimated time to target?" Frane asks. "How long before we send someone after you?"
"With an airship, time to the nearest outpost would be a day or so from Gateway. On the wing, about two and a half depending on how much stamina everyone has. From the outpost, a day or two on foot. From the air, a day given that flight is dangerous from within a Forbidden Zone. This all depends on a lack of weather and other problems. The absolute fastest method would be to charter a small, fast airship and fly directly to the outpost, then anchor near the transition point and debark, which would reduce he whole journey to about a day and a half. It would be expensive, however," is Tasha's assessment.
"How expensive?" Riddle asks.
"Airship captains or trade ships and passenger ships recoup some of their travel expenses by moving goods between ports, delivering mail and other packages, and so on. Even in a remote port they can usually gain or sell something. Direct routes focusing on speed and long range endurance forgo most cargo and force the ship to remain nearby. The charter would be something around twenty times our passenger cost, plus food and supplies. This would be cheaper for smaller vessels, and much more for larger ones. There are some ships that specialize in this, however, and they may have lower prices for a full-ship charter," elaborates the cadet.
"I'll need to send some letters, see what can be arranged," Riddle notes. "Give me a few days."
"The Savan is also much more dangerous since the Coalition War, seeing a lot more pirate activity -- most of it being associated with warlords or ex-military that broke off after Nagai lost most of its power. That would need to be taken in to account. Ideally, the best ship would be the smallest airships, crewed by six to eight, light and quick in a good wind. They can outrun slower ships, and ofte rely on smaller, more valuable cargoes like VIP passengers and high worth cargo," suggests Tasha, who then nods towards the human woman. "I appreciate your effort. I'm willing to fly there on the wing, if that's what it takes!"
"Hey, I have my contacts.. I'm not an ambassador for nothing, you know," Riddle says with a grin. Frane and Malachite look away from the woman when she does that.
Tasha just smiles, having some idea of just what sort of ambassador the appropriately named Riddle Smith really is. "I'll leave it in your hands then." She turns then to the others and says, "For the rest of you, I apologize for calling you here when you won't be needed. Anyone who won't be participating further is free to go. Malachite, I'll still want your help."
"We do not have the appropriate training zones here," Malachite notes. "You will be going into jungle, yes?" Gustav is getting up to leave, but Rapatia and Tomorrow's-Hope don't seem to be in any rush.
Inwardly, Tasha wonders if she upset the older man by talking about D-Space or by bringing him here. Without an answer, she presses on. "It'll jungle or light brushland, and the Beast Lands -- the Forbizzen Zone's name -- is a rocky, twisted place with a bruised sky and it doesn't correspond to anywhere else."
"I will see if some time in the untamed areas of the Celestial Life Dome can be arranged for training purposes," Malachite says.
There's a surprised squeak from Fringe at that suggestion.
"That sounds wonderful! Well, you know what I mean," Tasha remarks, smiling a little. She then reaches over and powers off the projector, motioning for lights before turning back to those gathered. "Fringe doesn't seem to agree, but it is the closest thing we have to the target. Maybe it will have some suggestions."
"Getting into the wild zones.." Fringe says, looking a bit drunk. "Nobody knows what's in there.. aside from the pod people.. what I wouldn't give to get hold of one of those those to study.."
"Maybe we can help them out while we're there. I was able to speak to Lord Yama through contact, and I have learned I have another ability to reach the minds of alien beings, so it might be possible to make contact with the failed Seed -- and that would also be good practice," Tasha suggests as she goes about uplugging her datapad.
"I don't know that they would allow you to attempt contact," Malachite says. "The Celestials are establishing their own system that uses the biological network that has been created. Not that I know the details of that."
"If they don't want it, then we'll avoid it. We have enough problems to deal with and don't need to upset them," Tasha agrees, nodding. She begins wheeling the projector towards the back of the room as she talks. "Does anyone else have any questions or ideas? Thoughts?"
"Will there be fighting?" Shojo asks. "Can I get your medical histories so I know what to prepare, since I understand some equipment will not function where we are going."
"Doctor Caravelli has all my information and is the expert on putting me back together, often literally," the hybrid notes, straightening once the projector is by the door. "As for the fighting, that depends on Lord Yama and any pirates, highwaymen, brigands, drunks, thieves, animals, ghosts and monsters decide."
"Alright, I'll put in the request when I see him later today," Shojo says. Fringe is still vibrating a bit.
"Thank you, Shojo." Seeing there are no further questions, Tsha pockets her datapad and then reaches to open the door for the others. "That's it everyone! We'll gather again the day before we leave and work out what Miss Smith has arranged for us, then we'll be off. Captain -- um, Captain Frane -- I need to talk to you about class."