Imperial Life Dome, Rim Forest
The outer layer of the new life dome is made of gigantic, nearly transparent leaves. The stems of these are thicker than tree trunks, and create a high-canopied forest around the inner parts of the dome, where the jungle is still wild in many places. The giant leaves move ever so slightly, but all in cadence, to produce a constant low breeze and pressure differential.

Evening is short on Abaddon, with night falling quickly. There are no stars visible through the leaf-dome, but the veins within the leaves themselves sometimes flicker and glow with multi-colored light. The low mist that hugs the ground does not encroach much into the circle of firelight at the center of the Templar training expedition. The silhouette of a Vartan is outlined by the fire, never seeming to move. It might be a statue, if the feathers didn't sometimes stir in the slight air flow.

With everything else done, Tasha sits alone in her tent watching the figure at the center of camp. She had planned to turn in early as she is exhaused from the long journey to reach the dome, but as she watches the immobile shadow that is Shojo, she realizes there's still one more thing to do.

After fetching a case she planned to unpack in the morning, a boxy and reinforced leather case on a shoudler sling, she stands up and makes her way over to the campire fire.

"Just fine," the young Vartan replies. "I haven't noticed any activity outside of the camp. It seems very peaceful here."

"It does, doesn't it?" Tasha has a seat on the ground beside the other Vartan, settling in to watch the fire a moment. "Have you been on many missions that took you away from the Templar camps?"

"Desert training, and the cleanup after the battle with Tesla," Shojo says. "Mostly I have been learning to be a good medic, in order to enact my vengeance on this world."

"Yes," Shojo says, without much inflection. "For what it did to me. With every life I save, I am spitting in Abaddon's eye."

"I guess we'd both like to do that," Tasha murmurs, turning back towards the fire. She stares at it for a long moment, then says, "Vengeance is good. It can keep you going. I had a ... A relative that lived for vengeance. It kept her going, too, for a long time. Longer than anyone I know. But I owrry about her, I worry there may not be much left, beyond the vengeance that drove her. What about you, Shojo? Is there anything else that drives you? Did you join the JEF mission for vengeance?"

"I want to see other worlds," the Vartan says. "I want to be strong. To be.. useful. Valued. And I want to tame this planet. It's alright to be a freak, if I can be a useful one, like you."

Tasha bites her lip. She's been called a freak before, an abomination, and worse besides. But, she's never had anyone call her one as a compliment, however painful a compliment it is to hear. Her silence draws out as she bites her lip, chewing on it.

At last Tasha says, "We're not freaks, Shojo. If they don't care about us, then too bad. We can look for someone else who will. I know it's hard as a Vartan -- I know. But it's true. Vartan community isn't everything. We don't need it no matter how much we crave it. We can find other communities. People like us. Or, who just like us. Or we can find ourselves, and stand alone if we have to." She tilts her head, then looks at the man again, smiling a pained smile. "Not that I've figured it all out. I still want people to like me, to be useful. Just like you. But at least I can say I grew beyond hating myself. And, you know what? Sometimes being different is strength, too. There are lots of the other sorts, but only a very few with what we have."

"Ms. Smith talked to me like that, when I was recruited," Shojo says, turning his head slightly towards Tasha. "She said I had a gift. That surviving childhood as I had proved it. She asked my why I was so angry, and what I wanted.. and convinced me that this was how to get there. To become a medic, because my hands won't waver no matter how afraid I am, or how chaotic things are around me."

"There's that. You will make a good medic. You could also be an excellent sniper, you would excel at reconnisance duties, you would make a fine non-combat pilot, or excel in anything that requires steadiness," Tasha agrees, nodding in the firelight. "But there's also your experience. You can help others survive what you did. You have a unique perspective. Even your anger is special, because it drives you. Mine drove me, too. It still does, when I need it. It's useful, if you don't let it control you -- but you have an advantage over me on that. And who knows? With time and effort, we may be able to find a cure. If not here, then elsewhere."

"Would I still be me if I am cured?" Shojo asks. "Still have my drive and purpose? Will I know.. how to be cured?" He holds out his arm, rock steady. "Muscles exercise themselves all the time. Tiny movements. Twitches. Even when asleep. I was so weak in my youth, because of that. I had to exercise more than others. It was difficult, you know. To focus. Exhausting. If I can do what I do and not be exhausted, that would be best."

"The choice is yours. I'm just saying that maybe that's an option, if you want it. Or not, if you don't. It's not my choice, Shojo, just like it isn't anyone's choice to tell me what I should be," says the hybrid, who gestures at herself in turn. "At least, it isn't if I can keep from getting injured more." She grins a little, then reaches over to pat the man's shoulder. "But don't worry, Shojo. Everyone in the JEF has problems, you won't be unwelcome -- you'll fit right in! And if you like, I can even show you how to paint. Or introduce you to AI. The machines are good people to talk to, and they don't care about how much or how little expression you have."

"Your Titan is one of those, isn't it?" Shojo asks. "What, precisely, makes it an artificial intelligence?"

"He is. Melchior, a pilot assistance AI. He was created to integrate with, and support, his pilot. In some ways, he's like my shadow. Or, maybe more precisely, he and I are like this natural dome." The hybrid woman lifts a hand, gesturing towards the enveloping canopy. "I'm the seed, and through him, I can grow to be a giant the casts a greater shadow, greater than I could be alone. We support erach others' weaknesses, although I have a long way to go before I can stand equally with him. I'm trying."

Tasha's hand falls, then she tilts her head the other way. The firelight darkens her Karnor half, making her look fully Vartan in the low light. "As for what, well, he was created. Designed, I think. A sentient, even living mind created for a purpose from metals, crystals, plastics and who knows what else. He wasn't born like most organic life is, randomly. He was created for a purpose, to assist his pilot. But he can grow, as well."

Then Tasha tilts her head the other way; Vartan to Karnor in a shift of light. "A bit like me, but don't tell anyone. It's a secret." She then reaches up and puts a finger to her muzzle, smiling.

"It seems confusing to me," Shojo notes. "What do you think we will find in the jungle here? Do we have a destination or goal?"

"It is confusing," Tasha agrees, hand falling to her side as she looks in to the deep, dark of the green. "But it's good, too, Shojo. There's more life in the universe than upright walking creatures that smile, war, and throw parties. Life isn't even limited to our universe, to matter alone, or to time. There's all kinds ... And I'm sure there's a place for you too, if it's not here."

After taking a deep breath and exhaling, Tasha shifts gears and turns towards their mission. "Our goal is to study interaction and survivaility when working near a Holy Seed. I'd like to know as much about is, ah, anatomy, phisiology, weaknesses -- and if possible, its mind -- as we can. At the very least we'll get some practice working together and setting camp, whcih we'll be doing a lot where we're going. But if possible, the more we can know about the Holy Seed, the better."

"So this thing is intelligent too?" Shojo asks, and makes a gesture towards the giant growth. "It can't all be the same plant, can it?"

"That's what our 'guide' said. I don't know if it's intelligent or not, that we'll have to see, but it's possible. Maybe even probable. But we won't know unless we can talk to it. Luckily for us, I'm good at talking," The younger woman gives the Vartan a wink as she glances back. "Sound good?"

"I have my doubts that we would have enough in common with a giant plant to be able to communicate, but it is a plan and we will learn something either way," Shojo says. "So it sounds good."

"Hey I had a convesation with a being made of dark matter and alien time. A plant should be nothing for me. Besides, I hate eating vegetables." The woman grins, then pats Shojo's arm again before she rises. "I'd better get some sleep. You know what to do if anything happens."

"Sleep well Tasha, and I hope that the vegetables have a similar dislike for eating us," Shojo bids.

"We can hope!" Tasha says with a laugh, then she grabs her case -- which she never did get to -- and slings it over her shoulder before walking back to her tent. As she goes, she gives the man a thumbs up without looking back.

Nothing slithered out of the jungle to eat anyone's brain that night. At least, not that the watch shifts noticed. R'kshaw checked over everyone's gear and clothing once people were assembled. "When we return, you mussst each ssort through your clothing to check for ssseeds, shootss or other plantsss that are not secured in sspecimen casess," he instructs. "There are no insssects or animalss that we know of in the jungle. If sssomething bites you, or movesss, it isss part of the jungle."

"That makes sorting it all out easier," Tasha notes as she rolls her shoulder, the woman now fully equipped. Unpowered armor, halitool, sword, gun, and a myrid of assorted tools with weight that only a Vartan could find tolerable, she looks none the worse for the burden. "Has the jungle ever attempted to communicate?"

"It isss thought that the podlings are a form of communication," R'kshaw replies. "Or elssse an attempt at infiltration. It is unknown if all partsss of the dome have the same intention."

"So we may be dealing with multiple minds, or some sort of hive mind, like a sentient cellular collective," Tasha notes. She then bites her lip and glances in to the jungle, chewing her lip a moment as she thinks before turing back and asking, "You said the podlings are immature, but copy a person's spirit. How much can the immitate us? Are they mindless, or do they possess some of our skills, knowledge, or else skills and knowledge of their own? Are they made of plant matter or do they become copies inside as well as out?"

"None that have been disscovered have been allowed to mature," R'kshaw reports. "They are made of plant matter, but ssstill have wooden bones and vegetable organss. I have heard that one wass created deliberately.. but that isss a rumor at best, classified at worst."

"Well it's good to know they can't copy us completely. Anyway ... " Tasha gives the jungle another long, considering look before shouldering her halitool and points in to the dense foliage with her free hand. "Try to avoid injuring the plant matter unless it's aggressive. Ask for passage and make an effort to communicate and warn it if you can, too, but don't risk your lives if you feel in danger. Malachite will take point, R'kshaw and I will flank him to the fore. Fringe, you're center. Shojo, you have the rear. Lets go."

The group doesn't get very far into the mass before the path narrows. The ground becomes completely covered with easily tripped over roots and vines, and while the trees aren't pressed too closely, they drape down curtains of willow-like leaves and vines. There are also noises, despite the claim that there wasn't anything animal or insect in the jungle.

Fringe seems to be looking everywhere but down, which causes her to trip often. "Oops! Sorry.. I'll pay more atten- wow, did that vine just change its texture?" the bat babbles.

Tasha hauls Fringe up for the fifth time, grinning down at the other woman. "Maybe we should save you a pod copy, you'd be the best of friends," she remarks. After taking a moment to dust the botinist off -- again -- she adds, "But try to be more careful. You won't learn anything if you're hurt, or worse."

"Right, of course," Fringe says, and laughs nervously. She's probably never been in an environment this densely packed before. Malachite is good and slithering over and under things that others would have problems with, and it's soon time to break out the machetes if they hope to go further.

Before they start hacking away, Tasha waves for the party to halt and steps forward. "Hold on, let me try something. It's good to knock on the Harrower's Doorstep before letting yourself in." The hybrid crnes her neck to look up, then around. She searches for a particular plant or offshoot of one, one that pulses with light. As she does, she raises her voice and says, "We're here to explore you. We want to proceed without injuring you, but we will injure you if we can't communicate with you or get your cooperation. We won't do it out of malice, but we need to proceed. We don't know if you understand us, or are sentient, or if you are hostile. Please respond if you can."

All of the vegetation gives off sparks of light every so often, in a seemingly random manner - especially when touched. Nothing moves after Tasha's request, however. Malachite helpfully repeats the request in Imperial.. to the same non-effect.

"Hmm," goes Tasha, who works to remove the gauntlet on her left hand. Once her talon is free, she stuffs the gauntlet in to her belt and then reachs over to lay her hand on the nearest sparking plant.

The plant feels a bit warm.. and then a thorn emerges and pricks Tasha's exposed palm. Even through the tough, scaly skin it manages draw a bit of blood.

Tasha just grunts, having expected something like that but knowing she had to give communication a try anyway. "It's a bit of an ass, isn't it?" She remarks as she pulls her hand back, then holds it towards Shojo to take care of. "I think it got some of my blood. How much of a problem is that going to be?"

The Vartan medic comes forward and quickly disinfects and seals the puncture. "Does your hand feel odd?" he asks.

"It melted off and when I woke up I had a talon," Tasha remarks with a lopsided grin. After revealing she's a different kind of ass, the woman looks down at her hand and flexs it a few times to see.

"Painless," Tasha remarks after a few seconds. "Which bothers me a little, but right now, nothing. Lets ... " She looks up, peering in to the foliage again. "Lets get going. Keep an eye on me, and I'll watch the injury as well." She retrieves her gauntlet and slides it back on, then retakes her position in the marching order and nods forward. "Well, I tried! Machettes out, lets cut our way in. Don't let the vines touch you, clear a wide path." She grabs her own machette, and moves forward.

The vines do seem to figure things out, and begin to clear away ahead of and around the group, making things a little easier - now it's just roots and branches and dangling, flashing willow leaves. "Can I take some samples?" Fringe asks, unable to hold back any longer.

"Might as well. Alright, lets stop when we reach the next clearing so Fringe can get her samples. Malachite, would you mind watching her? The rest of us will keep an eye out," Tasha directs in response to the question.

The next clearing actually has some rubble from the old dome in it, although it's been completely covered with mossy growth that transform it into shapeless humps. Still, it's enough to keep the trees at bay, and even provide a view up to the leaf-dome.

Tasha moves towards the moss covered rubble, kneeling down to examine it a moment as Fringe sets off to do her work. "The explosion must have been tremendous to throw parts of the dome this far, or else the growth carried them all this way. How much the Celestial Life Dome remains intact?" She asks as she brushes off moss to try and see what's underneath.

"Well, some of the underground structuresss survived, but mossst of them were overrun. A few collapssed. It depended on the sssupport structure," R'kshaw says. "There wasss no explosion. But the 'bloom' wasss very fasst all the ssame."

"Hrrm," goes Tasha, who rises and pulls off her gauntlet to see check her injury. "What caused the Holy Seed to go out of control? Or is this the Seed's natural, eventual growth? It almost feels like they are terraforming agents, or some other mass-growth potential. Maybe interstellar?"

The wound seems to have closed - at least, there's no sign of inflammation of bleeding under Shojo's transparent bandage-paste.

"I wonder ... " Murmurs Tashs as she examines the wound under the light, her head shaking at it all. She isn't sure if she should take the fast healing as a sign, or simply natral healing. As her hand is new, she's never had the chance to see it heal from a prick. Turning, she asks Shojo, "Is this healing rate normal for Vartans?"

"The Sseed wass dead, but the Mage ssaid it might be revived, and the High Council let her try," R'kshaw explains. "Thiss iss the ressult. It may or may not be a natural thing, because the Seed wass dead."

"A mage? That explains a lot -- or 'a lot' in that mysterious way mages explain anything. Sifran reality manipulation isn't something I understand well." Tasha pauses to nod to Shojo in thaks, then returns her attention to her guide and asks, "What could kill a Holy Seed? I thought they were immortal."

"It wasss stolen from uss, long ago," R'kshaw says. "A madman needed it to power hiss abomination. It did sso once, supposedly. Then the Seed withered. It wass the Mage that recovered it and returned it to uss, explaining what had happened."

"A machine could wither a seed? What madman?" Tasha asks, but risks a glance to check on Fringe.

The botanist is scraping moss into a sealable pouch. With Malachite hovering around her.

"Human," R'kshaw claims. "Sssome disgraced military ssscientist who was booted out for being too extreme. I don't recall the name. He died 70 or 80 yearss ago, and left a lab filled with booby-traps."

"Nobody we know either. Strange, though, that he could do so much and destroy what was thought to be immortal. I wish I knew what he was doing," says Tasha as she looks back to R'kshaw, glad to see Fringe isn't hanging upside down by a vine or something. "Do you know where the revived Seed is radiating from? The center of all this?"

"The bloom sssuposedly started in the in underground laboratory complex," R'kshaw says. "I have never ssseen the center. It iss very guarded. I know that it isss now where we get our power, and also a communicationss hub. And that the Mage was swallowed by the bloom, only to be found 100 days later and ssstill alive."

Tasha bites her lip a moment, peering at the growth, then shakes her head. "Strange, but not that strange. We won't be allowed to reach the center will we?" she asks, then she looks past R'kshaw and asks Fringe, "Almost done?"

"I want to get a clipping from something that lights up," Fringe notes, pointing to towards the 'willow' trees and vines.

"Let me help you," Tasha says as she walks over, then kneels down so Fringe can climb on her shoulder. While one of the shorter members, her armor at least makes for solid footing.

"Of coursse not," R'kshaw answers. "It iss the source of life for uss now. Would you expose your beating heart to otherss who wanted to poke at it?"

"It wouldn't be the first time," Tasha remarks as she helps Fringe up, glancing back to grin at their guide. "I guess there's a limit to how much our sponsors will trust us, so I won't push the matter."

"This whole place is using magic somehow isn't it?" Fringe asks Tasha. "It's the only way it could have grown so fast and big in such poor soil."

"It might be," Tasha answers as she lifts Fringe up on her shoulders, careful to steady her. "No one knows what the Holy Seeds drw on to create the energy that they do, or what the anture of that energy is, save that it can be converted. They can manipulate space and time enough to allow overspace travel -- which is creates a gravity wave in space time -- and can do other things besides. Personally I wonder if they have some level of advanced awareness that allows perception and direction of quantum events, but I'm sure Eli would have a better guess."

Raised up, Fringe is able to reach the drooping leaves with her little clippers. Once a frond is cut, the sample piece stops lighting up, but the bat stores it away anyway. "Sounds like magic," she notes. "Especially the bit about copying spirits. That sounds downright religious."

"Spirits exist, but I don't know if they're what religions call a 'soul' or even a 'spirit.' We don't really know what they are, except that they seem to only manifest here in the Primus System. I've met ghosts, and other spiritual beings, and they seem somehow connected to the Sifran effect of magic. But, I don't know why they exist, or what purpose they might have originally served," Tasha explains as she gently lowers Fringe, then steps back. She takes a moment to look around and asks, "Everyone ready? Any questions?"

"Is it safe to eat any of this?" Shojo asks. "Have there been any medicinal applications discovered."

The strictly carnivorous Nagas look as surprised as their reptilian features allow. "Eat.. it? It is a plant.." R'kshaw points out. "We don't eat plantsss.. not even the wriggly bitsss this one exhibits. It might eat uss back."

"We can test for edibility and medical properties when we get back. I'm sure Remiel will be thrilled to have a look at all this," The hybrid notes, turning now to Shojo.

"Any ssuch ressearch is ssurely ssecret," R'kshaw claims. "The Holy Seeds have never been used for ssuch before."

"Understandable," Shojo says. "We are little more than parasitic mites compared to this organism."

"Secrets and more secrets," Tasha then says, grinning a wry sort of grin. "Well, what about stories then? Are there legends of the Seeds? Where they come from? Are they all the same or did they have different properties?" Something occurs to the young woman and she thinks to add, "Has there ever been a Seed associated with death?"

"The Seeds are Holy Seeds," R'kshaw says. "The ships that carry them are named for the gods and goddesses of old out of respect. They are symbols of the eternal nature of the Celestial Empire, and our species place as the oldest and wisest."

Tasha's brows raise and she actually barks a laugh before she can help herself. After clearing her throat, she grins rather unrepentently. "Everyone wants to be the center of the universe, don't they?" Her head shakes, then she spreads her hands wide. "But I know you aren't the wisest, and not the oldest -- and that's not even including the Khattan Trade Emirate. There were empires long before ours, including the Celestial Empire -- and there are beings that make this living dome seem like a feather in the whole of the sky. I've spoken to some of them. Now," she nods towards the jungle, "ready to get going?"

R'kshaw seems sullen for a bit afterwards, as they begin to probe deeper into the jungle. "I smell flowers," Fringe reports, and there is a lot more flashing sparks of light (and mysterious movement) as the light gets dimmer. It's almost as if they're going underground, into a living cave of vegetation, but it's more that there is just more of it above them now. And this time they seem to be along an actual path.

Tasha lets their guide stew on her words a while. While she has met god like beings, she's also been humbled by them. In her relatively short adventure, she's had her illusions dashed and her ego crushed by more than one revelation, event or being. She's seen her whole universe expand so far that the old one became small, and though it hurt at first, she's found she was always better off learning the truth then living in ignorance and hubris. It's the first step to understand, she decides as she thinks about it. He'll recover and be better for it. Or so she hopes.

The smell of flowers the hybrid from her from her thoughts, head lifting and nose twitching. "I do too. This area seems like it might have been created. R'kshaw, has their been a expedition this way?"

"I don't think ssso," the guide claims. "The jungle changess. Thingss move about." He stabs his machete through gaps in the 'wall' to see if there is anything solid giving shape to it all, but doesn't connect with anything.

"I wonder what it's up to then? One way to find out," says Tasha, who waves forward before moving that way herself. "At least the flowers are nice. I haven't smelled anything like that since my last trip to Sinai."

"Why would it need flowers though?" Fringe ponders. "The smell is stronger up ahead, certainly.."

"Why wouldn't it?" Tasha asks, having little idea as to why plants need anything. "We'll head towards the smell, since it's the first out-of-place thing we've come across, and maybe we'll see what the Seed is doing with them."

The source of the flower smell is a clearing of sorts, although it's nearly roofed over by branches and vines. There are flowers here - big ones.. all on the ground. Some are still giant buds, and the opened ones are either flat with large greenish glowing petals.. or sport huge, coccoon-like pods.

Tasha holds her hand out, indicating the party should halt. In a low voice, she asks, "Anyone know what those are?"

"Then the 'people' must be inside. How dangerous are the pods themselves? I'd like to have a look," inquires the mohawked, pinkish party leader.

"If the ssscientists were able to transplant one into a lab, then they cannot be that dangerouss on their own," R'kshaw reasons.

"Keep a look out for defenses then, and lets move towards the nearest filled pod. I'd like to see one for myself, and I'm sure Fringe is dying to get her samples." Just as she says, Tasha begins leading towards the party towards the nearest mature, pod-containing flower, stopping to have a look at it. "Malachite, Shojo, keep an eye out while we examine this." She turns her gaze up now, staring in to the murky depths of the pod.

There's some fluid inside, and a dark shape.. and some motion too. "Shojo, I need a syringe," Fringe requests, causing the Vartan to produce one.

Tasha squints, having hoped to get a look at the contents and see one of the mysterious 'pod people' for herself. "You asked why the Seed would need flowers, Fringe. What do plants use flowers for, anyway? Besides smelling nice and luring bugs?"

"Reproduction," Fringe points out as she pokes through the outer hide of the pod to draw a fluid sample. "They're the plant's sex organs."

"Really?" Tasha leans back a little, ears shooting up in surprise. Considering how many flowers she's had her nose in, it still comes as a shock despite her own libido. One thing she's certain of: She'll never look at a flower the same way again! "Well, um ... That's interesting," she mumbles as she leans in a little more carefully -- and awkwardly -- to stare at the murky abyss.

After Fringe gets her sample, she actually tries tapping on the outside of the pod, which causes the Nagas to hiss a bit in alarm. Especially when whatever is inside starts tapping back.

"Is it copying you? Or communicating?" Tasha asks, then she reaches up and tries tapping a few patterns in the Terran analog flash code, which is akin to the eevn older morse code and her own world's airship flag and lantern codes. "H E L L O," she taps out.

The returning taps aren't any sort of message, but they do seem to be getting stronger, as the outer hide of the pod begins to bulge from them.. and start to tear.

"No message, but here it comes!" Tasha steps back, waving the others to do the same. "Malachite with me, everyone else get back and keep an eye on the area around us. Don't attack it unless it's hostile."

As people get into position, the cocoon splits apart. There's an outflow of fluid, and then the shape inside shambles forward. It's wet, and green.. and Tasha. Except for the fact that it has two heads, one Karnor and one Vartan.

The sight causes Tasha to step back in horror, her face contorting in to a bare-teethed snarl more out of fear than aggression. "W-what?" She asks, her voice a little strained. "I thought they're copies ... But ... what ..?"

"It isss a reflection of your sspirit," R'kshaw notes, and puts a machete into Tasha's hand. "You probably need to ssever both headss to stop it."

"Well ... Well, that makes sense. I suppose. My spirit is ... It's different." Tasha watches her plantlike self wallow in the goop of its birth, but doesn't attack it just yet. "We, um, we should take some time to study it. We won't learn anything if we ... If we kill it now. You said they're not dangerous, and no one will mistake this for me, so ... So lets study." Still, she keeps her machette ready, just in case.

Of course, Tasha isn't at all sure she can swing it. She overcame her self-hate over time, and much of it is gone. She finds she doesn't have the wrath she had before, and seeing her and Nora's faces turn her stomach and remind her a little too much of Nora's plight. She's also never had another of her kind, making the idea of terminating her close that much more heartwreching.

Not-Tasha lurches about, the two heads clearly not coordinating with each other, and possibly exerting different levels of control over the body.

"I'm not at all comfortable with any of this," Tasha notes quite clealy, gesturing at the body. "Killing friends, family, and myself, aren't exactly comfortable for Vartans, and I definitely don't want to see my severed head on display." She stares at the stumbling pile of goo and atrocity for a few seconds more, then sighs as logic cathces up with her and reminds her she's here for a reason. "We'll see," she hedges, then gestures at the pod person. "Better get your other tests done now, anyway."

Fringe timidly approaches, while Malachite circles around behind the creature. "Help me restrain it," the Knight asks Tasha.

"I'd be the expert wouldn't I ... " Tasha mumbles. She hands her halitool off to Shojo, then walks over and grabs her duplicate using what she knows of her own anatomy while trying not to look at her catch.

It doesn't help that the Vartan head stares at Tasha. The flesh beneath the skin (and even the fur) feels off. Like grass at first.. but slowly changing to feel more real.

Tasha tries to ignore the staring, but it feels to her like it's boring through her head and straight in to her soul. After a while it gets to her, so she turns and asks the head, "What?! You're just a plant copy, stop staring at me like that!"

"Wark," the head .. warks.. it's wooden beak clacking shut afterwards. The green is fading, becoming more violet now. "Wow, bits you clip off stop changing once clipped off," Fringe reports, holding a fist full of green hair. The stuff still sprouting from the Karnor head is turning blonde. "Woof!" that one complains.

"Ugh," goes the real Tasha as she watches her copy's idiotic antics and disturbing verisimilitude continue. "At least it's not talking. I was expecting this and it's still disturbing -- a lot more than I thought it would be too!"

As Not-Tasha gets more real.. she also gets a bit better coordinated, and tries to shake off her captors. This isn't much of an issue for the massive Malachite, but Tasha weighs the same as the clone.. less one head. It's also still a bit damp.

"She ... it feels like it's becoming more focused," Tasha notes to the others, Fringe in particular. "How fast do they develope R'kshaw?" As she talks, real-Tasha considers the immediate future and the very real ideal she may have to cut her clone's head -- heads -- off, she thinks about how to do it, and how to push herself to do it at all.

Shojo interupts her thoughts, however, and so she looks up and says in a very distracted tone, "Huh? Oh, well, we need to study it and it is clearly not me, so it's not like it can impersonate me. It's safer than any of you, so we're better off with it than anyone else. Let Fringe work and when she's done will figure it out from there."

"I would really like to see inside of it," Fringe notes. "What are its organs like? Could they be used as replacements for your own? What's this thing for?"

The clone is becoming more agitated, with the wolf head snapping at the falcon head and vice-versa.. and then it starts convulsing!

"What's what for?" Tasha asks, trying not to think too hard about seeing in to a copy of herself; After all, it feels like only yesterday she was staring at the steaming remains of half of herself. Luckily -- or unluckily -- she doesn't have to consider it long, because she begins to shake along with the clone. "W-what's it doing now? R'kshaw? Fringe?"

The botanist and guide are edging away quickly. "They do not do that," R'kshaw claims. It isn't clear if the clone is in pain, or undergoing a spasm from having two competing heads.. but it's certainly not well.

Tasha exchanges a look with Malachite that says it all: Stay or go? While her instinct is to go, she recognizes it may endanger the others if it gets free, so she defers to the professional warrior.

The Naga Knight is still holding on, trying to get the clone under control.. until its left breast explodes as a mass of black vine-like tentacles erupts from it. Then Malachite answers Tasha's look and hisses, "Get away from it!"

Not needing to be told twice, Tasha leaps backwards and rushes to grab her halitool back from Shojo, leveling on it. She has no idea what's going on, but as she watches her ears flatten and teeth grind -- if it's a clone, then somehow what's happening might reflect her as well.

The duo-headed version of Tasha flails about and finally falls over backwards. The tentacles fall back to cling to her, as if something is trying to pull itself out of the body.. but then the flailing stops. The tentacles stop soon after, the single eye buried in the root of them never fully opening.

Tasha is silent for several seconds after the horror show seems to conclude. Then, very slowly and her teeth bared in a strained look, she inches forward and takes a look, then nudges the apparent corpse with her weapon.

"What is that?" Fringe asks, finally daring to come closer again. "Why did it have two heads? Did you.. confuse it?" she asks Tasha.

Tasha doesn't lower hear weapon for a while, just staring at the mass with that same, strained expression on her face. But slowly, very slowly, she sees that the body isn't about to move, and after several seconds she releases a sigh and the butt-clamp of her halitool thumps to the ground.

"I think so," Tasha answers, sounding tired for the experience. She frees a hand and gestures at the remains without looking away from them. "It copies the spirit, so ... There's mine." She bites her lip a moment, then says, "I think that's a Harrower."

"You used that word before, but I do not know what it means in this context," Shojo notes. "You have a 'spirit' or piece of one belonging to this creature?"

Tasha considers if she should answer the question or not, if she wants to risk her pact with the Source. As she stares down at the ruin that used to be her clone, and thinks of what Shojo just said, she realizes it's too late for obfuscation and decides that the others deserve to know. And so, she sits herslf down on the ground beside her spirit-replica and explains, "Harrowers are beings from outside our universe. They exist in what's refered to as 'D-Level Hyperspace' by the Galactic powers. They're beings of dark matter, and dark time. Dark biology. They are alien. Alien-aliens. They can speak to us, but it hurts. Even with translation. That we can actually see this one tells me there was something very different about its creations. They're not supposed to be comprehensible, and they don't like light. They're probably not even made of dimensions we can percieve. This body may just be an approximation in our universe."

Tasha pauses to gather her thoughs, thinking more carefully about the next part. She leans over, staring at the unopened eye a moment before saying, "The eye. I don't know if they have eyes, or if this represents mine. But I've touched one, so it seems like I'm a little bit of a Harrower too. It's how I can speak to the beings greater than us -- gods, and the like. Other Harrowers. I can percieve D-Level Hyperspace and exist in D-Time."

Almost forgetting there's more, Tasha then gestures towards the heads. "I'm a hybrid, right? Well, I'm more than just a Karnor and a Vartan thrown together, and I guess that's true in spirit."

"Oh, so it's not some weird plague or anything and I can cut it open?" Fringe asks.

"I don't know," Tasha notes, looking back to the Harrower-piece. "I really don't. Harrowers shouldn't exist in physical form. I don't know what that is, and so I don't know if it's safe or not. The wise thing to do would be to leave it be, but I'm not even sure about how safe that is." The young woman twists her muzzle, thinking, then she makes a decision and says, "But we need to know. We can't risk the Celestials if it's dangerous. Fringe, this is your specialty. So I'm asking you to do it. You can say no, of course."

The bat already has her biggest specimen bag out.. and a trowel. "I'll try to get the whole thing," she says happily, before digging in. "It feels a bit like a yam.."

Tasha tries not to think about it feeling like a yam, or her two-headed spirit-self, or the fact it seemed to give birth to a dead extrauniversal baby -- naturally, she ends up thinking about it anyway. "I'm glad you're interested, at least," she says in a quiet voice as Fringe gets closer, trying to push herself to sound like she isn't bothered and is in control. "Be careful of the eye. I'm not sure what it will be."

Of course, Malachite's question shows just how well her attempt to seem unbothered is going. Tasha lifts her head and gives teh Lancer a thin, pained smile. "I'll be okay," she assures him. "I deal with things like this now and then, so I'm used to it. Or should be. It just ... well ... I think the Captain would say, "It hit a little too close to home." It's nothing I didn't know, but to see it like this ... " She gestures towards the corpse, "Is unnerving. I expected something like this would happen and it stil bothers me, I'm just trying to figure out why." She turns back to the body, head shaking. "Maybe a lot of reasons, I think."

Slowly and carefully, the dark mass is dug out of the clone body. The exposed cavity does indeed seem to have a heart and lungs, although they look a bit mangled from the 'secondary' birth.

Looking at the little Harrower, if that is what it is, Tasha winces visibly. Unable to have children, a fact had always bothered her, to see her spirit-clone die while doing so and the 'child' along with it disturbs her in ways she can only begin to understand. She thinks about what Shojo said, about being a freak. And here, with part of herself turned outward -- like a mirror -- she can't help but feel his words a little too deeply. And she knows part of what she sees was done of her own accord, all to chase a dream. A useful freak, she repeats, then immediately regrets the though.

"Clearly, people with complicated spirits cannot be 'processed' by this pod system," Shojo claims.

"That seems like the case," an uncertain sounding Tasha agrees. "I'm sorry you all had to see this. I expected something might happen, but not this." She gestures at the cadaver.

Once Fringe has collected some of the easily accessed organs through the broken (wooden) ribcage, she turns to Tasha and asks, "Can I have one of the heads?"

Tasha turns to eye the woman, but finds she isn't in much of a mood for arguing. "Go ahead," she answers, holding her hand out towards the heads to indicate she can take her pick. After she does that, she stands and takes a moment to stretch, then shoulders her halitool and walks off a ways to stare at one of the pod-flowers.

While the others go about the gruesome recovery task, Tasha notices that her clone smelled of flowers. The fragrance is strong here, especially near on of the pod-flowers. They don't come in bright, attractive colors, since they aren't trying to attract pollinaters - the thorns actively get the missing ingredient for fertilizing them.

At least they smell nice, Tasha decides as she watches the flower and its pod with a dispassionate, far-away look in her eyes. Inwardly she's struggling, but she's decide that her party has seen enough of that side -- not to mention other sides -- of herself and that she needs to steady herself if she hopes to present any sort of leadership quality. The scent of flowers is comforting, though. It reminds her of the fields outside Rephidim, of blossoms in the warmer days when The Rake would sail over untouched fields and meadows. It smells like life and sun, even here. She wonders what purpose the scent serves, since there's nothing to lure with it.

"We should get a sample of this scent, too. The smell the flowers give off. Maybe there's something to it, after, why is it here?" She calls over her shoulder.

"I'll grab a chunk from one of the flowers," Fringe promises, sounding a bit giddy.

"Good idea, just be careful," Tasha repeats, feeling Fringe needs the repetition and wondering if she's even listening. "Once we're done, we'll inspect the others, and then keep going. We'll head back two hours after mid-day, to give us some time if we get lost returning."

With everyone else busy, Tasha turns her attention fully on the flower before her. She wonders what it all means: Why copy people? Why their spirits? What is the Holy Seed truing to say? Is it saying anything? Does it even have a mind? And what does it all mean? She's no closer to understanding the Holy Seeds than when she got here. If anything, she finds she has more questions than she arrived with. As she thinks of these things, they all tie back to one more question: Lord Yama, and what to do about him.