The hangovers have run their course by the time the trio is ready to return to Abu Dhabi. Fringe and Shojo managed to wear themselves out seeing all the sights and sites, as they also got to take the river trip down to the City of Hands. Since Lily and Axe were still officially their chaperones until they returned to Abaddon, transport was arranged on an actual Knights Templar airship visiting the various Sanctuaries that the Knights still held.
The ship itself was the Sword of Golgotha, a ship clearly meant to strike awe in observers. It looks like a lot of material salvaged from Golgotha itself was added to it after the Knights left Rephidim - and Tasha and the others are familiar enough now to recognize pieces from a Silent-Ones spaceship. A focused-light weapon was even mounted at the ship's prow. The Sword was crewed by a mix of Lances and non-combat personnel, the latter consisting mostly of Rath'ani.
Tasha has given her team leave to relax and enjoy the trip back, having nothing new to instruct nor any new orders. After all, while her mission continues, their part in it is complete -- and she feels they deserve their well-earned reward for daring the unknown.
Standing before the bow and gazing out across the luminal weapon's focus crystal array, Tasha has her hands folded behind herself and her mind turned inward. She enjoys the breeze, the smells of home and the moisture of the sky here on her birth world, but it's the stars that call to her now. She stands there, sorting out what to say and how to say it; Sorting out the challenges, and the weight of the burden. She steels herself, knowing how much she has to change to meet what's asked of her.
Kilmanjar passes below, and the lookouts are scanning the mountains with telescopes. Each of them has a clipboard with silhouettes of 'suspect' airships on it, as this region is a known meeting place for smugglers, pirates and worse. The ship's first officer, a 'City Jupani' with a defined Rephidim accent, approaches Tasha. "I'm told you're something of an 'honorary' Templar," the man says. "Your companions have been non-stop with questions about how things work on Sinai, which makes your relative silence curious. I'm Limjow, by the way." He even offers his hand.
Tasha turns to face the man as she hears him approach, perking her ears as she listens. She then nods to what he says, holding her own Jupani hand out in turn, shaking his. "Tasha," she offers, though she doesn't smile. There's no hostility in the act; Her mind is still turning from the immensity of the sky, the stars, and eternity. "This is an amazing ship. I'm sorry I didn't say so sooner, but I've been preoccupied with other matters and I didn't think to say so." She then tilts her head and adds, "I'm from Sinai, if that's what you're wondering. Abaddon is my home now, but it wasn't always."
"I'd wondered if you were a flatlander," Limjow admits, referring to someone who has never traveled by airship before. "You had the thousand yard stare of someone new to the heights. Is everything alright?"
That makes Tasha laugh -- she'd never been called a flatlander before. Have I really changed that much? She wonders as she shakes her head. "My mind is elsewhere, that's all. I grew up on an airship: The Rake. My companions are actually part of my squead, and we were sent here on a mission. Lets just say their part is complete, but mine will be continuing for a while yet. What I'm seeing, it isn't height."
"Ah," Limjow says, and winks. "Looking into the past, or into the future?"
"Does it have to be just one?" Tasha turns again, gazing over the bow and cocking her head to the side. "In the end, it's often the same thing. At least, that's been my experience." She then glances back and says, "Did you know, I'm about to recieve a promotion?"
"I did not know that," Limjow admits. "I don't know what your current rank is, if you have one."
The young woman turns her gaze back towards the sky. "Pilot-Cadet, Joint Expeditionary Force of Abaddon. Soon to be Captain," she explains without excitement nor audible apprehension, but something else entirely. The woman states it as if she were some strange new discovery, mysterious and inexplicable, uncertain what to make of it.
"That's quite a jump," the executive officer notes. "Still within the same organization?"
"I'm really not sure anymore. It seems that I'll need to travel abroad, far from home. It may be that I need to make my own rules, and do things my own way. That I won't be around much, to help with all the things we founded the organization to do. But it needs to be done, and I'm the one to do it. I am," replies the young woman. She's quiet for a moment, but then she says in a quieter voice, "I always knew this day would come. It's strange, being a captain was my dream. But this isn't how I envisioned it; It's more and less than I ever imagined. So much more."
"You must mean the paperwork," Limjow says with a grin. "So many checklists and inventory and roster rotations and the reports and bookkeeping.."
Tasha groans like she'd suddenly come down with a sickness. "I forgot about the paperwork," she says, needing to take a step forward and brace herself on the railing. "The paperwork, the rosters, the reports. Supplies. Crew. Personal conflicts. Politics ... " She wobbles, perhaps a bit dizzy, uncertain, or just considering jumping off for the less difficult path.
A bell is rung from the rear of the ship, and a Rath'ani girl runs over to Limjow, panting. "Runner, sir.. popped up behind us, heading east into the mountains.." Limjow pulls a horn-shaped speaking tube from the mounting of the light-weapon, and declares, "Captain to the bridge. Bear east, pursuit speed and prepare to intercept."
Tasha straightens as the girl approaches, clearly making an attempt to conceal her momentary weakness from the midshipman. She returns her hands behind her back and listens for a moment, waiting until the exchange is done and the call made, before asking, "A little excitement between the paperwork?"
"Xenea is really upset with this region," Limjow notes. "Not many governments actually support us, so we like to keep on good terms. Plus.. it's fun to be the police. Especially when the criminals really see what's bearing down on them.." He grins like a predator, and then steps aside as more of the tech-crew arrive to prepare the big crystal weapon. Even Shojo and Fringe return to the deck as alarms ring and the ship turns sharply.
"It's nice to have support, I agree. We have the same stance, back on Abaddon." Tasha grins back, then steps aside and turns, gazing down the 'barrel' of the weapon from off to the side where she won't be in the way. "Been getting a lot of nusances from this region, I imagine? Pirating, smuggling, taking advantage of the weakned Nagai and Xenean nations to sneak in some profit, raiding, slaving?"
"A bit of all of that, but it's the slave-trade that particularly pisses off the Queen, as one might imagine," Limjow notes. One of the Rath'ani spotters nearby announces, "We'll be in stun range in less than a minute. They're keeping low and blowing smoke, sir."
"I hate slavers," Tasha remarks with a hint of a growl. "Smugglers I don't mind, everyone needs their goods. But slavers?" She shakes her head. Her experience with Layth, Feather-Tail, and the long history of the Savanite and Silent-Ones Empire has given her reason to rethink her stance on the matter. Before, it was apathy born from disassociation; It wasn't her business, and she had no reason or want to know that Savanites were more than animals. That's just how it was, how it was taught to her. But things change, and through experience, her eyes were opened to what she believes. Wondering just who is about to have an incredibly bad stroke of luck, she peers forward, trying to assess the target.
There's a whistling sound from the speaking tube, and Limjow picks it up while tell the weapon techs to start warming things up. Everyone starts putting on very dark glasses. "Yes Cap'n?" the man asks into the tube, which responds with a somewhat squeaky, feminine voice, "I was about to take my bath, dammit! I don't want the water to get cold, so bring 'em to heel, Number One." The target is over a mile away, skimming just above the trees and putting out smoke. There are likely flyers with smokepots out as well, to confuse the trail. With the sun low behind the Sword now it's possible that the smaller ship might lose them in the shadows of the peaks if it reaches them in time.
Tasha reaches over to pick up one of the sets of goggles, putting them on before she distributes them to her team. "Laser lightshow," she explains, thumbing back at the cannon. "One of very few photonic weapons used on Sinai. They'll never see it coming, and if they do, well, they won't see much at all for a while."
"I didn't know they worked here," Shojo admits. "I still do not understand for certain how the engines work. Machines and magic."
"The smoke and mist may attenuate the beam, by deflection of its photonic energy off dense particulates. If they reach the mountains, it'll be worse. I don't think those are more than oil clouds though ... hmm ... " Tasha considers for a moment, then says, "If they are, striking the cloud might result in a fuel-air-explosion, or other ignition. Might be able to get it to chase back to the ship-board feeder." She then glances at Shojo and says, "You and the rest of the universe. Sifran reality alterning technologies change the fundamentals, randomize them to some extent. You could say that the method is also random, but, it probably also incorporates belief."
"The smoke will give us a lot of backscatter, but it'll be their undoing," Limjow notes as he fixes his own goggles into place. A raccoon gives a thumbs up to indicate that the weapon is ready, and another alarm bell is rung to make sure everyone else is aware that it's about to be fired. "Even with the smoked lenses, don't look directly at the target," the first officer notes, then says, "Fire when ready, Mister Thatch." With only a slight whine (which still causes Fringe to cover her ears) as warning that the device is going to do anything.. and then there's a flash. It's a bit like the sun hitting a ripple on a pond just right, but much, much more massive. Less a laser, and more an apocalyptic flashlight, the short burst is enough to cause the smoke cloud to light up like a flare as the polarized light slices into it.
"Mpf," goes Tasha, who has to shield her sensitive eyes with a hand. She realizes she still has a long, long way to go -- no time to get there -- as she literally sees she was wrong about the weapon. A bright, blinding epiphany.
The cloud is already dispersing as it's clear the target ship is no longer moving - the pteras were likely blinded, along with anyone else who wasn't below deck. The smoke scattered the light everywhere, so the shadow provided by the envelope wouldn't have shielded the crew. A might air horn peals out across the landscape. The message is clear: don't try to run.
"Keep flashing them," Limjow instructs. "I don't want them trying to abandon ship and then burning it to destroy evidence."
Tasha shakes her head out, then says, "Effective. It's nice that you don't have to use anti-crew or anti-ship weaponry. A lot of advantages to that. I'll have to takes notes." Proving it's not just a saying, she actually pulls out a notepad and writes it all down.
The hybrid engines of the Sword close the gap in a few minutes, while the Sun Lance keeps the target from doing much of anything. Without anyone feeding the smokers, the cloud is beginning to disperse as the mountain winds cause the airship to drift. Between flashes, it's hard to make out what the fleeing ship even looks like though. That doesn't stop the harpoon crew from charging their compressed-air cannons and sighting in on their target.
"They're going to capture the airship?" Fringe asks in disbelief. "Intact? Nobody's ever captured an airship on Abaddon.."
"Shojo, Fringe. When we near the target, please take cover in your quarters and prepare our equipment for departure -- just in case." Tasha glances back towards the woman and smiles. "Another learning experience, then? Take some notes while you get ready."
The barrage of blinding light continues until the Sword is right above the target ship, and borders are already going over the side on ropes, by wing.. and two on ballista-equipped Rhaktors.
"Oh, and could you get my armor and weapon, please? I don't like to just sit by when our hosts may be fighting," Tasha adds, head tilted as she watches and learns.
"I may be needed," Shojo notes, but does retreat - probably to get his medical supplies. The captain finally appears as well - a pitch-black furred Skeek woman, wearing a fluffy bathrobe, a tri-cornered hat with a big feather in it, and carrying a saber. "Running from us!" she squeaks, her white teeth being the only really visible feature of her face. "That's almost an insult! I want them all alive, Limjow. Not necessarily moving but alive."
"Of course, Captain Ink," the twice-as-large first officer says, saluting the captain.
Tasha nods as Shojo retreats, but decides not to press the issue too much. She will if she has to -- they have their own mission after all -- but for not there's no need, or so she belives. "Captain," she greets the smaller woman, giving her a nod in turn.
One of the spotters also comes over and salutes. "Captain Ma'am, we have identified the ship as the Dagh's Chibix, which has several warrants against it."
"Dagh's Chibix?" Tasha suddenly spits out, her mask of trying to appear calm and captain-like broken by the sudden reappearance of a ghost from her past. She spins around and leans over the bow, looking -- and then looking again. "It can't be..?"
Without the strobing light and smoke, the ship being boarded is easily familiar to Tasha - although it might not be as shiny as it once was. The old Babelite design has lost some of its spiky parts over the years.
"Heard of it?" Limjow asks Tasha.
Tasha grimaces, teeth barred as she stares at the ship with a mix of horror and disbelief. She watches for several seconds before pushing off and shaking her head, stepping away from the rail. "I can't believe it ... here, of all places. Now of all times!" Her hands uselessly claw the air beside her and for a moment it seems like she didn't hear the First Officer, but then she turns, eyes wide. "I know it. I'm going aboard."
"It's not been secured yet," Limjow notes. Behind him, Tasha can see Shojo pop up from a hatch. He's got her armor.
"I don't need lines," Tasha mutters as she turns away, walking quickly towards her armor. She takes it without a word, plops herself down on the nearest crate, and starts to get ready.
"I mean there's still resistance," Limjow says. An Eee flies up to the railing from the skirmish below, and whispers into Limjow's ear. "Ah, I see.." he mutters.
"I know that look," Captain Ink says, looking upset herself. "We've hit the jackpot, but the horrib is ready to stab it, eh?"
"Oh I hope there is," Limjow can hear Tasha remark as she slides on her gauntlets, then picks up her helmet, halitool going over her opposite shoulder. With a set gaze and a hard express she walks purposefully across the deck at a quick pace, joining the boarding party.
Shojo is right next to her, medical bag in hand. Down below, Tasha can see a half-dozen Vartans maneuvering a huge net into place below the Chibix.
Tasha's non-grasping hand -- her taloned one -- opens and closes in anticipation, the woman's eyes locked on the ship below as if it were welded to her sight. Her other hand, it thumbs along the haft of her halitool, just as impatient as the other.
There's an explosion.. but it's from underneath the Chibix, and too small to be from a hydrogen gas bag. Instead, debris falls into the net held below.. including many little golden-furred forms and one very surprised looking Khatta. The net is closed up and the Vartans begin hauling it up towards the Sword. "Second sortie, head in," Limjow says to the group Tasha is with. "Clean up and capture, compartment by compartment and up in the envelope. That's where you'll find the captain. They always head into the envelope."
A grin slowly forms across Tasha's face at the mention of the Captain. "The envelope, then. Don't die on me ... " And when the team moves, she's over the side with them.
The others have clearly done this before. They don't have to tell one another where they're going, they just split up and tackle different parts of the ship. There are a few bound and wounded sailors on deck, and Shojo heads for them. One of the remaining Templars near Tasha boggles. "Well, might as well be patched up and healthy for their date with the noose," he mutters, and then begins searching the rigging.
"Don't stay with them alone, Shojo." But then Tasha's off with the Templar beside her. As they go, it occurs to her to share what she knows -- something that she'd forgotten in the rush. And then she realizes if she does, she may never be allowed a shot. It's risky and selfish, but she can't bring herself to turn away either -- not when she's so close. So vulnerable. If she turns away now, she might regret it forever -- and for what she has to do regrets are only a burden. A burden she doesn't need.
It'll feel good, too, of course. The anticipation comes like a hunger, unrelenting.
The Chibix isn't set up like other airships, which usually have multiple linkages and transfer pipes between paired gas cells for venting and inflating. Instead, it has a centralized hub where it can all be controlled by one person, called the hydra's nest, further back in the envelope above the bridge. It was set up that way so one person could, if necessary, ignite every hydrogen cell at once to scuttle the ship in an emergency. It's the one place where someone could still have a bargaining chip even if the rest of the ship was taken.
Tasha was never let this far in to the ship, she was never that important. All she was, was another girl and another stop. One more halpless resources for the crew to devour, casting aside the remains when they had their fill. Her eyes search, wanting. She knows Captain Blackwings enough to know that she'd never surrender -- never allow herself to be forced to kneel to anyone. It's part of what she liked about her, until she saw past the bravado and the shine to the ugliness underneath.
No ... You'll be here, here at the heart of everything, the hybrid thinks as she hunts.
There's light - an oil lantern. It rests in the talons of a Vartan woman. She could easily crush it, and spatter burning oil over the rubberized Zolk of the hydra's nest and doom the ship - and likely any ship too close as well. "Who's there?" Captain Blackwings squawks. "Show yourself slow, or I send us all to Dagh, eh?"
"It's me," Tasha calls out, not disguising her voice. Wanting the woman to hear who has come. But then Tasha realizes its been years, and for her, it may as well have been lifetimes. "Or di'ya f'get me, aye, Cap'n?"
There's a pause, and then a burst of laughter from the Vartan. "Hah, couldn't be! Me ol' puppy-bird? Fumes mus' be gett'n to me."
"Back t'gether 'gain, innit?" Tasha steps out from behind the cluster of tubing, valves and piping they had been approaching from, helmet still on. "It's been a while, hasn't it, Captain?" The difference in accent is jarring, even to the speaker. She's changed so much, so much she doesn't even recognize herself somtimes. So much she thought she might lose herself in someone else's life, never finding her way back again. To hear herself speak in both voices, to stare in to the past and at someone who knew the old her, knew her so well she could use her, play her like a bard's lute is jarring beyond words. But she doesn't need words for how she's changed, she only needs them for the woman infront of her.
"Well, ain't this my lucky day then," Blackwings says, making a sly smile. "How ya planning on gettin' us out then? Put me in yer armor so I can just fly on out?"
"No, Captain. The Lancers probably wouldn't appreciate that, and I don't think I would either." Tasha steps in to full view, then reaches up and removes her helmet, hooking it on a nearby valve. "I think you promised me a dance once? Just another lie, then? Maybe going to call it quits, take us all in to the fire?" The hybrid woman waves at her face, ruined as it is.
"Holy.. what happened to you?" Blackwings demands, the look on her face showing.. a bit of disgust? Regret? "And what're you blathering about? You ain't no Lancer!"
Tasha just smiles at the reaction, knowing she's ruined in Blackwing's eyes, ruined to a lot of eyes. A searing, perverse sort pride to go with the scar. "You're right, I'm no Lancer. I'm wouldn't make it. No drinking," she says as she walks close, stepping fully in to the lantern light. "Besides, they don't need to be here for this. You won't surrender, and we both know it. And I'm not leaving. They got what they wanted, so how about you and me finish the rest?"
"Hah, you can't be standing up to me, little girl," Blackwings says, and stands up to her full height. "You apologize now, and maybe.. maybe.. I'll do you a one-nighter, for old-time's sake. But I'm the Captain here, and don't you forget it. I wouldn't want to mess up your face more than it already is."
"More scars for me, then? You were always so kind to me." Tasha doesn't draw herself up, but she does casually reach over to her helmet and slide it back on. Once it is on, she turns. Captain Blackwings easily dwarfs her, Tasha knowing she has the skill to match her intimidating air. She's watched as the expert swordsman slaughtered a man, after all -- all for spilled drink and an apology too late. A farce of a duel, over when it wasn't fun anymore. "In case I was being too subtle, the rest of you should evacuate the ship and pull away. Now."
The Lancer further back says, "Cap'n Ink wants her alive, so she can be plucked naked, keel-hauled, tarred and refeathered and then brought to the Queen to be hanged or magically exploded or whatever it is they do to slavers and murderers."
"The Captain won't get what she wants. She'll kill us all before being taken alive. I know her. I've known her for a long time, now. You'll just have to settle for me ... and what power I have in my broken hands." Tasha calls back, never breaking eye contact with Blackwings. Were she alone, she knows the woman would kill her in an instant if she could. The Lancers prevent it, but there no room for weakness, and she knows it. Her old hero might have a trick, after all. "Right, Shojo?"
"I don't know if your armor can withstand an explosion," Shojo points out. "It was damaged in one before, wasn't it?"
"Hah, I get it.." Blackwings says, practically sneering. "Yeah.. you guys run while you can, or I'll blow your nice big boat up as well!" she threatens.
"I guess we'll find out," Tasha says with a little shrug, taking a moment to adjust the fit of her gauntlets before taking hold of her halitool and leveling it.
"You really should leave, by the way," Tasha adds in afterthought. "That's an order, incidentally. The rest of you ... You'll have to take it as advice."
The Lancers begin to withdraw.. taking the subdued crewmen with them of course. After a few minutes of staring at one another, Blackwings breaks into a grin and asks, "They gone now? You see to pteras if they still alive. I get to wheel. We haul outta here once big ship is backed off.. and close your eyes! Stupid magic trick not get me twice.."
Tasha smiles behind her helmet but she doesn't lower her weapon -- she just waits. Waits for it to sink in, for Blackwings to feel it.
"You put on pretty goo' show, Tashy," Blackwings says. "Almost had me fooled! But we gots to get moving now. They not wait forever before deciding to burn us from range." She gestures for Tasha to move aside.
But Tasha doesn't move out of the way; She steps to match Blackwing's own movement, to prevent her from leaving. "Having your ship taken is an embarassment, isn't it? Captain Eyeshine once told me that no captain should ever allow it to happen, save for their crew's lives. But your crew is gone, and whatever nobility, or honesty, or pride in anything other than yourself left a long time ago. So for me, and for you -- but mostly for me -- I came to say good-bye. A gift, for all you've done for me."
Blackwings crosses her arms over her chest, and looks down at Tasha. "Yah, I did a lot for you. Taught you, took you under my wing," she claims. "Gave you some power. Control. Without me, where would you be now, eh? Who gave you ambition?"
"You mean you used me and called it a gift. What are you giving those Savanites you had in the hold? The strength of endurance?" Tasha rolls her shoulder, tensing in case the other woman takes advantage of the movement. "I looked up to you, but you know that. That's what made it fun for you, isn't it? Control? You mean manipulation, using people like you did. In your image. Breaking and twisting another girl, so maybe you didn't have to feel alone? Or unjustified? We all turn out the same, don't we? So who cares, it's all for our good, isn't it? How many others? And slaves now! We're all just tools to you, aren't we? Shekels. Fun, until we're done. And then it's the next one."
"You didn't give me ambition. I already had that! What you gave me was resentment, self-loathing and hate," the hybrid woman continues. Under her mask her face is tense, strained. Facing Blackwings isn't just revenge, it's so much more than that. Like an avatar of the fear of the future, and the chains of the past, Blackwing's return to her life has arrived at the right time to matter. But that aside, she can't let her go. Not after what she'd just seen. "All you ever give anyone is pain. I don't know what happened to you to make you this way -- maybe there was another Blackwings that taught you? -- but you're mine, and I'm not letting you go."
"So what you gonna do, puppy-bird?" Blackwings asks. "Big heroic fight against master swordswoman, high in rigging of pirate ship? You want me to break down, confess that my life was sham? I lived it. I made it mine. Nobody else's to command, and that all that matter. You think you gonna take it away from me? You got the strength to be me then, and do that? And then what? You feel better, or see you just as bad as me? As bad as everyone. Petty, take everything personal like a baby.. I betting you won't." The Vartan doesn't go for her weapon.. or even take up any sort of defensive stance. She just takes a few steps forward, nearly to the point of Tasha's weapon. "I control my life. It over when I say it over. I deny you your little-girl vengeance."
And then Tasha steps forward, thrusting her spear-head with the weight of her body.
Blackwing's eyes go wide and she lets out a surprised squawk that ends in a cough. She looks down at the blade in her chest, then back at Tasha's helmet. "Welcome to club," the Vartan rattles. "You murder for yourself. COUGH Because.. you.. want to. Go. Live with it. My ship go with me. I take it all.. wi.." The bird is coughing up blood now, and starting to slump... but still holding onto the lamp.
"I wanted to give you an end. I wanted you to die with dignity, not strung up like a prize. You, and your ship, because no ship should ever have to die like that -- like prize. Even you," Tasha says as she blinks away the tears, pushing herself to focus with all her willpower and every little thing that kept her from falling apart these last years. "I w-won't say I didn't come for revenge! But there's more to it, I fight for more than just myself now! This way ... This way you die ... and I have my end ... and you have your dignity ... and this ship dies fighting and ... and ... the Queen has her victory. The Savanites are free. The world is safer. Mercy I couldn't show him, because I was weak! But you ... you ... " Blackwings can hear the woman suck in a breath, but her grip doesn't relent, and she steps forward again to bury her blade deeper. "You I'd give a little more, for everything, for what you are. Even if you don't deserve it! If not me, then them. If not now, then who else suffers bec
ause of it?! Better me ... than them. B-because ... because I CAN take it!"
"Don' need your mercy," Blackwings gurgles. "Don't.. give it.. nobody ever give me anything.." The lamp slips from her talons, bounces off the edge of the catwalk and splashes down across rigging. The burning oil works on the ropes, slowly climbing. The rope is treated after all. It'll burn slow, but it's still a fuse.
"I-I'm an explorer ... we ... we share new things, s-so ... " Tasha jerks her weapon free, then steps forward to help Captain Blackwings, lowering her on to the deck. "A little piece of the i-impossible, right? Just a little ... To take with you ... to give back ... " And then she hugs the dying woman, the first person she ever loved, holding on to her for however long it takes until the end comes.
"Stop helping.." the Vartan woman gurgles, each breath bring up bloody foam on her beak. "Off my boat. My moment.."
For a moment, Tasha considers staying. If she closed the seals, if she readied herself ...
But no. She knows that this is Blackwings's time, a time between a captain and her ship, before they sail off beyond the horizon ... and in to legend. Rising, Tasha pulls her halitool up and steps back. She snaps to attention and gives the woman a salute, then offers, "G-goodbye, Blackwings."
"Set pteras.." Blackwings starts to say, and ends up coughing too hard to finish.
Tasha stiffens at the request. There was more to say -- so much more -- but there no more time, if she's to do what Blackwings wants. Turning, the older Vartan can hear the sound of footsteps echo in to the distance as Tasha races for the ptera perches.
The reptiles have been muzzled and are agitated. First the blinding flashes, and now more smoke and the smell of blood! They aren't ones that Tasha recognizes. No telling how many Blackwings has gone through after all.
Without any time to do things properly, Tasha uses her halitool for what it was truly built for: Demolition. She hacks through the binds on the group, tearing them away before she steps back and grabs the droving whip nearby. With it she chases the most of the flock off the ship, leaving just one that she holds be the reigns. "Shh-shh! It's okay, we'll be alright, just ... just shh," ... she tries to comfort the animal, the old lessons snapping back to her in a clarity she never had before. A little part of her mind wonders how she can be so calm in a pending inferno, after killing someone she once loved, when all the rest of her easier days were spent in anger -- but there's no time contemplation, either.
"Shhhhhh," she whispers, cutting the last remaining lines as she mounts the ptera, knowing she'll never get away in time under her own power. "Shh ... now go. Go! Hyaa!" And with a final crack of the whip she droves her last ptera in an attempt to save them both.
The outer envelope is burning by the time the panicked ptera flaps clear. It's a struggle to control it - it wants to fly after the others, but Tasha wrestles it around towards the distant Sword of Golgotha.
And wrestling it is -- There's a reason pteras aren't used as mounts and Tasha became abundantly aware of it early in her life. It's all she can do to tug reigns, poke sides, and hold on in the hopes she may make it back.
The ptera fights for control right up until the explosion - and then it's going in a straight line at full speed away from it. Dagh's Chibix goes up in a fireball, the flame light reflected off the platinum Zolk skin of Sword's envelope.
Tasha cringes at the explosion, both the force of it and what it means. Dagh's Chibix is no more, and so ends Captain Blackwings. Never again will she the woman's wry smile, her sardonic grin, not hear her callous remarks. Deep down, she knows that she's going to miss her, and it's going to hurt for a long, long time.
But it had to be done, and she knew it then as she knows it now. Like Abaddon. Like Daikaiju. A trail of blood and necessity, a gesture of opinion.
And so alone Tasha guides her unwilling mount back to the ship, trying to land anywhere they might touch down. With no talons nor feet, the pteras land as hard as they ride. Tasha thinks that a lot of rides are ending that way, these days.
The ptera struggles on the deck, trying to throw Tasha off so it can finally escape. The landing causes a small panic as well, with people running all over and grabbing ropes and poles and anything else that could be used to keep the creature at bay.
Tasha hits the deck after the third buck, landing hard though she doesn't feel it. Slowly she pushes herself up the her knees, then reaches over and swats the ptera to send it off again.
The beast flops its way over the railing, goaded by pokes from the crew.. and then it's away, back into the sky and heading further away from the burning wreckage.
Beat up inside and out, Tasha holds herself on her hands and knees to catch her breath. She knows there's going to be a talking to, and quite possibly hell to pay, for interfering with a Knight operation and allowing the destruction of the ship and it's captain -- but she doesn't care. The world owes me one, she thinks as she recovers, And if it doesn't ... I can take it.
Shojo is hurrying up to Tasha, but he's halted by the bathrobe-clad captain. "There's blood on your blade," she notes in her mousy voice to Tasha. "I'll want to hear about it. After my bath." She then turns and strides off to the forecastle. Shojo finally reaches Tasha. "Are you injured?" he asks.
Standing with help, Tasha rises. Once up, she straightens with obvious effort, standing straight with her halitool held butt-down on the deck. She turns to Shojo, and he can just make out her tear-stained face beyond the lense of her helmet. "I'm fine, Shojo," she says, though he can just make out thepain in her voice. A quiet, lingering pain that she's trying so hard to hide.
"I'll help you clean up," Shojo says, and guides Tasha towards the stairs heading below deck. "Was the captain the only one who died back there?" he asks quietly enough so just Tasha can hear.
"Captain Blackwings is dead," Tasha replies as she follows along, finally pulling her helmet off once they're outof sight of the others. She looks haggard, older somehow, worn down by what transpired and the weight of so much else. "Everone else ... Everyone else will survive."