Nobody disturbs Tasha during the cleanup phase of the Templar's operation. Warloq's forces are rounded up, and the K'hu'an retreat ever deeper into their tunnels. The are smells of things burning as well, which means someone probably found wherever the mind-control poisons (or other poisons, that being the stock and trade for the mysterious K'hu'an) were made or stored. A quick check of the surrounding tunnels seems to indicate that the Oracle chamber is the deepest, most central room. Instead of a pit-god, this group has the odd chair as the heart of their society.
Long after the adrenaline of combat had faded, with the bittersweet pain of a victory improperly won still in her heart, Tasha huddles around her halitool and stares numbly in to space. She thought she did the right thing, but yet again, she made a mistake -- she went too far and forgot important details in her rush to meet her own needs. Along with everything else, it's a tremendous burden on her self-esteem and positivity; Lately she's felt that everything is going wrong, even when it was supposed to be right. The doubt does little for her hopes to become a captain, and while she may yet claim her ship, a crew is another matter.
In the end, she just feels worn down. Beaten, and tired. But she's alive, at least, and so eventually the hours of solitude and self-relflection give way to boredem and the need for action rather than thinking. And so she puts Shojo's soup aside, trying not to remember his remark about her decision making, and rises.
Before her is the Oracle, a Sifran artifact of interest to both Warloq and the K'Hu'an. She has little trust of Sifran artifacts on a whole, having heard of -- and experienced -- far too many disasters from their works. She knows the Sifra themselves care nothing for other life, having destroyed sentient life in ages past, again and again. She eyes the artifact warily, wondering if she should risk exposing her mind to their devices.
"Decisions, decisions," the ghost of Blackwings notes, sitting down next to Tasha. "Always easier when it's just you. No agendas but your own. The Templars shouldn't be surprised by that - you aren't a soldier after all. Not trained to think like a cog, eh? You never been a team player, even when the team is all in your head in the first place."
"Maybe you're right," Tasha tells the shadow. "I tried to do the right thing. I thought what I was doing was right. But it wasn't good enough. I'm never good enough! And I'm tired. I'm tired of all of it." The young woman shifts herself just enough to lean over and against Blackwings, still bracing herself enough should the phantom be just that. She sighs, eyes closing. "And now I have the Oracle. So, do I expose my mind for its answers? Don't? What if the Sifra see me? What if they can read my mind? But it has answers, and I have so few answers. I'll make a choice and it will probably be wrong somehow. Not good enough. Too selfish. Or, I won't have the training. I've only been doing this for a few months! No one else is doing this; They don't even realize the danger. But I do it. For them. For me. It's just ... It'd be nice to hear, "Good job, Tasha. We know it was hard but you did your best," not, "It could have been better.""
The hybrid woman shakes her head, then asks, "What would you have done, Blackwings?"
"Gone and got drunk," the Vartan captain says. "I learn not to bite off more than I can choke down. Once, sure.. I wanted to do everything, all at once! But it never works that way. Always takes time. Burn candle at both ends you just get lots of mess. Don't rush in. Don't overthink. Know what you gots to deal with before you start, eh? Don't just shove off without knowing your course, how much food to take, what bribes you'll need to pay and who will be useful to you. The life of carefree freedom takes lots of work and planning."
"Oh, and always remember the one great truth!" the captain squawks, then turns and pokes Tasha in the middle of the forehead with a taloned finger. "You never gonna know enough, never gonna be prepared for everything, and that will never change. We all know it all until we realize we just fumbling around."
"I never heard you talk like that before. You never used to talk about being a captain around me." Tasha rolls her head to the side, pulling her knees up and hugging them to her chest with one hand and rubbing her forehead with the other. "So it's like this for you, too? Never really knowing? You just try your best to prepare, take it slowly, and plan as best you can?"
"Same for everyone, kid," Blackwings claims. "Find the best, most perfect person you can, who seem like they got it all figgered out, and you ask them. They don't got it figgered out. They just know how to fake it." She points to the glowing crystal seat, and says, "They don't know everything either, eh? I see the ruins, the broken bits. They stuff breaks, like everything else. I no have to worry about anything being used against me now. I knew I wouldn't last too long after joining up with Warloq."
"I had hoped to use him and his cleverness, because if I can't do it myself, I should find someone who can, right? At least, that's what they keep telling me," Tasha admits, turning now to eye the chair all over again. She stares at it for a long moment, then says, "You're right. Even the oldest of the old ones lost a battle in the end. Now what are they doing? Dying? All huddling somewhere? I never heard their side of things, either, maybe they had a good reason for it all. I don't know. I think I should use the Oracle, though. It's my job, and, maybe it has answers. Warloq didn't seem like a man who would risk himself needlessly."
The young woman rises, holding her hand out for Blackwings to help her up before she walks towards the Oracle together with her. "Do you know how it works? Just sit here..?"
"You gotta be sure, because it'll show you something.. powerful," Blackwings says. "I used it. It took away my fear, my reluctance. You saw what it made it me. It showed my my death, y'see. When you've been though that.. you don't really care about a lot of things anymore."
Tasha watches the machine, its beautiful, ominous glow with trepedation. Blackwing's warning is ominous, but the hybrid reminds herself she's already seen many things that fit the warning: The tank showed her the truth of the Expedition and the vastness of the univere, the Harrowers and the Titanians showed her universes and realities beyond her own, Balthasar showed her power, Gabriel taught her love, Katherine mutual reliance, and so on. So many changes, in such a short span of time. So many joys ... and horrors.
What's one more?
"I'll do it," Tasha declares, stepping forward to lay a hand on the device and look it over before climbing on. "I survived the other revealatiosn, I can survive this one. Even if they don't believe in me, I can still get this done. Alone, if I have to. But I will." She lays her halitool aside, within reach. Then she slings her leg over and straddles the device, still sitting up. She pauses, then she turns to Blackwings and asks, "Um, and Blackwings?"
"Yah, Puppybird?" the Vartan asks.
Tasha can't help but grin a little at the stupid old nickname. She used to hate it, of course. But now with all that's happened, the old familiar pet name brings a little warth to her heart. "Would you mind, um, sticking around a while longer? With me? I could use your advice, and ... " She bites her lip, not quite able to spit out the last part. deep down, she knows it doesn't need to be said, anyway.
"I in your head now," Blackwings notes. "You ate me, kinda. What's another ghost? If you come out with your mind still there, I be there too. If something else get up from that thing, and it just look like you and sound like you.. I prolly not be there anymore. Or you be with me."
"Uh, I'll just take that as yes and try not to think about the ... The other part." Sentimentality dashed by reality, the young woman turns back to the chair and eyes it with renewed wariness. An old, familiar wariness by this point in her adventures, but no less potent for all that. "Well," she says after a second, " ... here I go."
And with that, Tasha slides in, lowering her head. Then, she waits.
It seems like the flickering, liquid glow is everywhere. That Tasha has actually, somehow, sunken into the crystal. It's almost pleasant, until all the light goes away, and she's left in darkness. Even her body and all physical sensation melt away into fog, leaving Tasha just a point of awareness in a black expanse.
Hoping that the experience of being nothing but conciousness it a brief affair, Tasha steadies her nerves and tries her best to hold on in the hopes that there's more.
There's no sense of time, which makes it more difficult. And even her awareness seems to be.. fragmenting? Or expanding. The feeling is like being a piece of toporgic. Instead of seeing alternate potential realities, she's actually being spread out across them. She sees herself on The Rake, older and a bit more worn, giving orders. She's also in a cottage surrounded by a green forest, and there's a lake. She's got a pup in lap, and several more chase around the room. She's also in her armor, drifting through space all alone, waiting for the life support to fail.
The visions are disconcerting, but not unique. Tasha had once asked to see what death is like and the experience reminds her of it; The part of her that remains coherent enough to realize at least. Her memories blur with what she sees, other visions that were similiar. As she sees more, she finds it hard to tell which is being shown to her and which are memories come again.
And there are memories. Fleeing through the Fenris, the roar of Themis-Skoll's engines shaking the air itself. Too slow this time - the fire catches her from behind, burns away her skin and seers her muscle solid in a second before the heat begins turning her into vapor. A bar, on Abbadon. She lies bleeding on the floor, staring into the dead, shocked expression of Hakeber a foot away from her. Sparks lighting up the dark as the mega-vermite tries to chew through her armor, but decides to just swallow her whole instead. Being sacrificed to Abbadon in Dianus. Dying in the snow. Torn apart by alien machines on Sheol. Strangling Aisha, only to feel Layth drive a dagger into her back. It's hard to keep track of what really happened. Or did it all happen, somehow?
Seeing herself die again and again -- feeling it as if she was there -- is a cold chill trhoughout her existence. She had always feared the spectre of death, even since she met Nora and saw how even the best of best could die a horrible, tragic death. It is one of the worries that spurs her to over-action, to suspicion, and to hunger for power -- all in the hopes she might continue living through all the endless dangers that threaten her. In the end, she doesn't know if they will, and suspects she never will: She just continues to try to be as ready as she can and hopes it's enough. It's all enough to turn her fur white.
"There's an old joke," a gray-haired human is saying as he stands behind a podium. There are camera-bots hovering around, but no live journalists. Even the footage being taken is likely to be edited. Nora stands with her classmates, her body rigid, trying to be perfectly still. "What do you get when you mix a man and a dog? Why, you get a man who is his own best friend. There's a basic truth in there. The partnership between human and canine predates civilization. We were the first such partnership. We domesticated each other. And together, we tamed a world. Our world. Now, there are new worlds to tame. And you will do that. You are the Elite. The best of man and wolf, distilled and perfected. Instinct, strength and intellect. Our partnership is renewed. We will do great things together."
And I will be the best, Nora tells herself. Nothing less. I will not settle. I will not fail. I cannot fail! I'll show them all..
In another world, and another time, a rabbit-man with a droopy black ear tells Tasha, "It's important to fail. The most important thing, really. It's how you learn what works, and what doesn't. If something works the first time.. well, I'd be suspicious of it. I wear my failures in my skin, and each one was a lesson learned. Never be afraid to fail, because you will fail. You can't progress if you don't."
"Ain't nobody born great," Blackwings says, a bit drunkenly as she and Tasha cuddle. "Everyone who got there clawed up and climbed over the backs o' others trying for the same goal. 'Member that, whenever you meet someone you think is great and powerful."
Great things ... What great things did Nora do, Tasha wonders in the selfless haze. She was the best, she trained hard, and in the end she died a hollow death. In the end, it was only the echo of her will that lived on, to carry on her dreams and pushed that greatness in to the future that someone might salvage it. In that way, she was the best. An enduring spirit; The invincible will.
It all makes Tasha feel immensely self-concious, and small. Nora seemed -- and seems -- like a giat to her, perfection. And who is she? An unlikely hybrid thrown together by a fragment of Nora's memories, a ghost-child that was forgotten and left to grow up as a resentful, spiteful child in poverty. And now, she is a bit more. An adventurer. A founder. But she still fels insufficent; he knows Nora would and could have done it all better, faster, and with greater resiliency. The reminder is bitter.
The memories -- or revelations? -- drift. Tasha finds herself thinking on failure, but also resenting the advice. Nora failed, and what did she get? Nothing save a little recognition and a lonely grave where her ghost watched the man she loved rot. The hybrid's mind shifts, and she thinks about all the advice about failure that never seems to realize how bad failure can be. They don't see it, so she ignores them and tries harder. Fights more. Failure is only acceptable if you aren't destroyed.
And again Tasha's mind turns, like the hand of a watch. Like clouds rolling. Like the shifting hue of a diamond, turned in one's hand. She thinks on Blackwing's advice and realizes it's true: Everyone she can think of was built up by someone or something else. The Elite were made, refined. All technology is built on previous steps. Life grows, evolves from its predecesor. The Celestials owe their existence and technology to those who came before. On and on and on ...
"It builds up," Nora says, this time in bed with Gabriel, buried under a mountain within the Fenris. "Like an earthquake fault. If you don't let it out in little bursts, it'll just rip through eventually. It's all my own fault. I brought this on us by always.. trying too hard. Doing anything to avoid a setback, focusing only on success.." "This isn't your fault," Gabriel tells the distraught woman. "It's nobody's fault. It just is. You can play what-if forever but it doesn't change what is. That's what you deal with: what is. And then, you look to what's-next. Success isn't pushing a boulder up a mountain without slipping, it's in seeing if the boulder is worth pushing in the first place. Just because it's a challenge doesn't mean you have to meet it, Nora. You always chase the hardest prey. And when you do that, even a little failure seems big, because you weren't expecting it. You don't expect to fail.. it's your flaw."
Jealousy. Frusteration. Anger. Resentment. Guilt, anxiety, worry, doubt. They flow through Tasha's existence like storm-water through a city, too hevay to ignore, washing around all there is and forcing notice. She fears the same end; She fears what Nora did too. Chasing the unknown gives her life purpose, meaning. It calls to her like a siren's song, and all sailors know what happens when you heed the beautiful melody. There's beauty in her life here and now; She could abandon the road and settle, and be happy. Grow up. Raise Nora. Grow old, and die. It would be a good life ...
And yet still she walks on, determined to see and do. Determined to follow the road as far as it runs, returning home now and again for supplies like comfort and memory. The road calls ... She can hear the song. She musn't fail. The singing voice sounds a lot like Nora.
There's a wall in the way. But also there are bodies. All Tasha. Past mistakes, waiting to be piled up and used as stepping stones. Blackwings didn't mention that part: that sometimes the bodies you have to claw your way over are your own. And in order to get over some obstacles, you need a lot of bodies. And ahead.. there's someone standing on the side of the road, leaning against a tree. He's very shiny.. all shine, really, so that's all that's actually visible.
Tasha climbs the steps; A macbre affair made all the worse to know it's her. She could hesitate, she could stop climbing, stop piling the lives up. Broken lives; HER lives. But to do so would mean that it had all been in vain, that all the death was meaningless. She cannot fail now; Even in death, she cannot fail. The road is waiting, high above -- she will reach it. If not now, then eventually.
As she climbs, for a time she can only see ahead. To the wall, her destination. Sometimes she it seems like everything narrows to the point, and so even her ends are invisible against the all-consuming finish. Sometimes, but not always. Now and then, she stops and begins to see.
And so it is again. Pausing atop the pile, she turns around and stares at the figure, realizing she saw him but lost it in the haze of cinviction. "Who are you?" She asks, somewhat accusingly. This is her place, after all, and it's not comfortable for visiors to see her failures.
"I am your shine," the figure says in a somewhat better version of Tasha's own voice. "Your.. pride.. in all that you think you have accomplished. The part that judges yourself and others."
"Oh, it's you." Tasha remembers, albiet in a distant and hazy way -- or does she? It all feels familiar to her, yet also new. Turning fully, she walks to the edge of a life and has a seat, looking down at the shine. "Well, what do you want this time?"
"Me? I want for nothing," Shine says. "What do you want?"
"To succeed," Tasha answers, gesturing back towards he bodies. "I have somewhere to go, but it's not good enough. They weren't good enough." The gesturing hand pats the shoulder of a eviserated version of herself, one who picked a fight with Blackwings and learned the hard way the difference between a master and a pretender. "The Progenitors, I think? Yes, the Progenitors. But I have to be perfect, and it's never enough." She thinks a moment, then says, "This time I don't know enough, and on top of that, there's conflicting advice. I'm supposed to rely on others, but they're never around or useful in the end, and I don't want to get them hurt -- also a failure. And the obstacles, the challenges. Power. I need power too. Knowledge. Experience. Wisdom. Never enough."
"Of course it is never enough," Shine says. "It cannot be. There is no end to the road. There is no perfection. There is just me!" He does a spin and a little dance. "I'll tell you that it's not your fault when you're treated like a fool for doing something foolish! I'll tell you how important you are! I'll tell you of all the wonderful things you've accomplished that nobody else sees! If you have me, you have all that you need!"
Tasha eyes the shimmering being for a long moment, then she lays her ears back and snaps, "That's stupid. What does it matter if you do it? You're a silly, nonsensical phantom! This," she pats another corpse, "is what matters. Real things, not lies. Not arrogance. I know you help me now and then, but I don't like it or you. I'm not proud of you, or me for letting you stay." Then she cranes her neck up, looking in to the infinite black and asks, "Isn't there anyone useful around here?"
"Who would you like?" the blackness seems to ask.
"I don't know!" Tasha cries in frusteration. She never knows, it so often comes down to more for the pile. But, then she realizes: Didn't one of the lives hear something?
Digging around, she searches through the mound of dead until she suddenly pauses. "Oh." Then she smacks her head, shaking it. "It was this one." Thinking a moment, she then tells the darkness, "A role model. And while you're at it, someone who can answer questions. Mysteries. There's too many in this one and the others. And it's probably a stretch, but is power around too?"
"A model for what role?" the darkness asks.
The advice giver didn't say. This frusterates Tasha even more, why suggest a role model without a role? "I don't know." With a sigh she falls back on her own corpse, hands spread out. "Why am I even here?" She asks no one in particular, then after a moment of feling the question weigh down on her, she says, "Well ... I can try. I need to overcome challenges, I need to be better with people. I don't have enough knowledge in the world, and my battles aren't going very well either. I survive, but how long? I think I'm getting close too." She squints -- why is it so hard to know? "Someone ... someone who can see. Walk between it all. Travel far, and together. If that's not enough ... Then just forget I said anything."
"Hmmm," a new voice rumbles. "This is stretching things a bit. We've never met, but there are causal links between us. And no, I'm not going to explain them." The voice is female but a bit hollow sounding, and coming from behind Tasha.
Tasha rolls over, resting on her side amidst the dead. he props her head upon a hand and eyes teh newcomer. "I wasn't expecting anyone to come," she admits, shrugging a little. "How can I know who to ask for when I don't know who I am or where I want to go? I used to, but I forgot ... And I forgot how that happened." She shrugs, then asks, "And who are you?"
The newcomer is a dragon. A big blue one. She lays casually atop a bed of ex-Tashas, with one arm propped up at the elbow so she can rest her jaw on the fist. "I'm the one you summoned, shouldn't you know who I am? No.. wait, of you course you don't. Why would you? And since I'm just a copy or echo or simulation, does my name even matter?"
"Everything matters," Tasha notes, reaching over to tap her nose. "Just some things matter less than others. I'm Tasha. And, I'm fruserated. I hope this is good, because I'm not in the mood for more confusion. If I'm going to be aimless, I should be being doing." And with that she pats one of the dead, the skull caved in by a Titanian's hammer.
"Well.. anyway.. that was a strange list of criteria you spouted out," the dragon says. "I guess I should ask some questions then, just to know where to lead things. First off, do you want respect or do you want power?"
"Power. Respect is nice, but it isn't as useful. Have you ever been crushed or eaten by a mindless creature? I have, many times. Respect doesn't really help there, but power can get respect and open doors. Literally and figuratively. Besides, I have the suspicion that might desire for respect is causing mistakes," the hybrid woman explains, thumbing back towards the pile. "Though, it is nice to have, isn't it?"
"Ah, that is a misconception," the dragon states. "Power gets respect, and opns doors, true. But it is the power that does so. Not you. Not the person wielding it. You're nothing compared to the power, ultimately. It exists with or without you. Is it nice? Hmmm. Sometimes, I suppose. It makes things easier. Sometimes things that shouldn't be easy, like genocide. There's not a lot of satisfaction in things being too easy, and especially not in being feared. Everyone will lie to you. Always tell you exactly what they think you want to hear. Never tell you you're wrong. If you've been told you're wrong a lot, it may be tempting. But you'll still do wrong things, it's just that nobody will call you on them."
"And nobody who desires power, as a rule, deserves to wield it," the dragon points out. "Right, Empress?"
"Oh it's one of those," sighs Tasha, who rolls her eyes. The eye-roll stops mid way when the Empress is mentioned, as does Tasha. There's an uncomfortable moment of silence, then the hybrid woman drops her head on her hands and sighs all over again. "Fine, you win. That didn't work out at all. But, you know, I learned a lesson from it. Well, how about changing? I've been told I'm the one who changes, so, what about focusing on my strengths?" Absently she pushes her left hoof down, nudging the Empress's dessicated, soul-dead face deeper in to the pile.
"Why focus on your strengths?" the dragon asks. "You don't need to change where you're strong, but where you're weak. 'Being better with people' was one of your criteria, wasn't it? You really aren't very good with them. You don't listen, or you let paranoia get to you. You see them as things that need your help, or things that can help you. But mostly that's just you trying to see yourself in others. Is there anyone you can say that you truly know?" The dragon looks around, and adds, "at least better than you do yourself.."
"Uhhh," goes Tasha, who looks around as well. She never quite noticed befroe -- or did she? -- it's awfully dark and lonely here. "Well. Um. I'm sure there's someone." She gthen looks down and starts picking through bodies, looking for the scrap of memory she thinks must be around here somewhere. "Gabriel..? No ... I still don't understand him well. We're doing better this time, but there have been problems and I don't really know him. Katie? I barely know Katie, it's just started ... ah ... again? Hm ... Nora?" She looks up, hopeful.
"Nora was frankly more messed up than you are," the dragon says. "Singled-minded to the point of tunnel vision, barely connecting with anyone. Then again, while you might have had the potential for her bad habits, Blackwings was the worst influence. It's really only recently that you've even looked at other people as being actual people, haven't you, instead of just.. accessories or background?"
"That's right. It's a big improvement," is the hybrid's answer, and it comes with a wagging tail. "I'm prou-" She then turns to glare at Shine, " ... of it. It was really hard, you know."
"It still is, apparently," the dragon says, and nods towards the shiny.. but empty.. figure. "All your life, you've only had your own self-image to live up to. You're still doing it, only you think it's others images for you that you're having to live up to. But it's still just you. You're the only one that really gets disappointed by yourself. That Templar boy.. he wasn't disappointed in you, when he found out you didn't get any useful information from the cat. Because you aren't a Templar. You don't have the training. He didn't really expect you to do it.. because he's better at seeing people than you are, most likely."
"Probably," Tasha admits, head going back down on her hands. "The boy ... He's ... " Memories turn, the mist shifts and ... "Shojo. I remember. He's uhm ... Now, I think. I like him. I know it's hard to believe, but I've been trying to help him. It's been hard though, with everything that's happened. Another dragon wants me to find the Progenitors, I killed Blackwings, and you already know about the disappointment. There's also, um, disillusionment. That's new -- this time, I mean. But it's like you said, probably a reflection. It worries me."
"Did Lord Yama actually ask you to do it, or just say that he wanted to sit alone and watch his enemies crumble on their own?" the dragon asks. "After all, didn't he approve of you precisely because you didn't represent an agenda, other than your own? You are young. Everyone expects you to reach high, and occasionally stumble, because that's what you're supposed to do at your age. It's normal. As for disillusionment.. tell me, do you dwell on the mistakes of others? Can you even recall any times you were let down by a friend? Certainly Hakeber has done embarrassing things. Probably even Katie, and Gabriel. But do you judge them for those.. again, assuming you can recall any?"
"Uhhhhhmmmm," goes Tasha, whose ears slowly sing the longer the considering sound continues. "No." She then squints an eye, asking, "Do you mena no one notices? But, what if I make a mistake that's huge? I have to be careful of small ones, because I never know if they're arge ones until later. And definitely not always before. If I had lost to Abaddon, would people forgive me? Would the ruined cities say it was just a easy mistake?" Her ears finally go completely flat, and she admits, "It's not just the mistakes. It's the fear of what happens with the most terrible of them. I've seen what happens."
"Don't ask 'what if', Tasha, that is a trap," the dragon says. "But yes, they don't notice. Or they forget. Because everyone thinks the spotlight is always on them, and that everyone must notice each flaw or wrinkle or stumble, because that's what we do to ourself. We catalog them, revisit them.. but only for ourselves, never for others. If you had lost to Abaddon, you'd be dead, so it wouldn't matter what others thought at that point. They'd never have known you were involved at all, really, save the few who saw you leave. They live on a world of monsters. Another one showing up to attack them is just Tuesday. It's why they chose Abaddon to settle, really. Have you noticed the lack of Abaddonians all lining up for an easy life in the paradise of Sinai?"
"I ... Um, no. Now that you mention it, that is very strange." Tasha lifts her head, tilting it. "And here I came to try and save them. It made me feel big. Important, needed. Then an Eeee woman explained it was pointless, even condescending, and I didn't know what to do anymore. It seemed like the JEF didn't really need me. I'm underqualified, I'm wreckless. I don't work well with others. The only thing I bring is the willingness to go in to the field. But you mentioned the settlers ... That is strange. But also not. They're rpoud of their survival? That's another thing, does Abaddon really need an explorer? Aren't I getting in the way?"
"There is much to explore," the dragon says. "It's not just about survival.. it's about world breaking. Taming it. That's what the Karnors were created for, wasn't it? Something they aren't allowed to actually do out there beyond the Primus system now. But on Abaddon.. that's a world with suitable challenges. A world to keep them sharp and strong. It's where they belong. And Shojo.. you feel sorry for him? But didn't he take a weakness and turn it into a talent? Why would he want that taken away from him? The thing about helping others.. as that Eeee woman pointed out.. is that they have to want your help. If you try to push it on them.. well, how would you react to that?"
"That's the problem," Tasha points out, tapping her nose after uncoiling a hand. "I don't know what they want. Maybe it's obvious to others, but it feels like half the time I don't even know. I just try to give them what it seems they want so they'll be happier, and maybe like me, too. I've been thinking that I can't even be a captain without knowing these things, and that mayeb I should give up and walk in to the stars alone. Maybe if I don't look for a cause, or leadership, or friends or ... anything except one thing, maybe I'll do better that way. I'll just focus on the road and whatever happens will happen. What about that?"
"That is called throwing the baby out with the bathwater," the dragon says. "You don't succeed by removing all of the things that you feel you can't deal with. That only makes things worse. But you also need to realize that you can't control things. Not people or events. You have to understand them, and to do that.. just don't make assumptions. Don't think everyone is just another version of yourself. Talk to them. Ask them. They'll tell you all you need to know. And don't feel bad about things you helped start getting away from you. That is a very common thing. Just ask your mother. I'm sure she wanted you to turn out a certain way, or be like her.. but you grew up and become yourself. She still loves you. She's still proud to have been a part of your creation. But that's the way of things. You don't mourn when your child exceeds your ability to control or understand, or does things you never could. And here's one thing you're forgetting, Tasha, because you have had the dream for so very long.."
The dragon moves her head close enough to whisper into Tasha's ear, "You can own a ship without being the captain. A captain rarely owns his ship. He's just there to make sure it runs properly and goes where the owner wants it to."
Tasha leans back at the new advice. "Just ... Just ask them? It's that easy? I don't have to guess, or puzzle them out, or ... anything? And it's okay that the JEF is outgrowing me? I can just ... be proud of it and let it grow? Let it go?" She then leans in so the dragon doesn't have to reach as far, listening for a moment and then blinking at the revelation. "I had forgotten that!" She admits, pulling away and waggling her free hand. "I think it's because all the major captains in my life do own theirs. Eyeshine. Blackwings, Gabriel, Harmonia. I ws never involvd in captain-captain talks, or merchant business, but I did hear about it a few times. It's been so long. But you're right!" Her tail wags. "So, then I need a captain too."
"I'm sure you'll find one," the dragon says. "I suspect you've already met one. Now.. there's still one big thing you asked for: a role model. So I must ask: why do you think you need one?"
"Uh ... " Tasha tilts her head, then admits, ears canting back, "Ghosts and visions told me I needed one. I know it sounds stupid when I say it out loud. But, it seemed like they were right. That I'd lost my way, and didn't know who to learn from or whose advice to follow to grow ad overcome my weaknesses." Her head cocks the other way. "And should I resign? You said it has grown away from me, but my mother let me go. Should I let go, too? Step aside so the JEF can grow without me getting in the way? If I leave, I won't really be exploring the Primus System anymore, or, well, not as much. I'd just be drwing on resources, too. What do you think?"
"I think.. don't be hasty," the dragon says. "As for who to listen to and learn from - why limit yourself? Learn from everyone you can. The mistakes they made, the tricks they learned and the consequences they've dealt with. Never give up anything you don't have to. And don't feel responsible for others. They can take care of themselves, just like you. If you pick a specific role model.. you'll start thinking about how you don't live up to the standard they set, instead of setting your own standards that are right for you. And just because someone is pretty, or wise, or friendly.. that doesn't make them a good role model. You wouldn't want me for one, for instance."
Tasha lays ehr head back down and admits, "Well, at least you're good at advice and analysis." She then wags her tail a little, and asks, "So, steady as she goes, don't think so hard on it all, stop assuming, you can own a ship without being the captain ... Anything else?"
"Well, if you want to learn from me.. I'd say my best advice is: the ends don't justify the means," the dragon says. "I failed to live up to that one myself, and sacrificed over thirteen billion people to stop one villain. Don't lose your perspective."
"I guess I'm not the only one who deals with mistakes, even big ones. Or makes them." Tasha rests her head on the side of her hands then says, "Well, I should probably get back to the road. The wall is high, you know, but I think I can still get over it. I'll remember what you said, too. Or try to. I forget sometimes."
"It must run in the family," the dragon says. "And unlike your father, you haven't tried to pinch my tail. That puts you ahead by a few points, I think.. now go wake up and get on with things." The dragon then blows on Tasha, sending her over backwards. The road is gone, and the black sky is replaced by the deep black pupils of Shojo, looking down at Tasha. He'd probably look concerned if he knew the proper muscle sequence.
Tasha stares up at Shojo for a long moment, looking blank and rather skewed of ears. Then she just utters, "Hi," and lifts her hand and waggles her fingers hello.
"You have been asleep for some time," Shojo notes, and puts a finger to Tasha's neck to check her pulse. "I could not rouse you. We need to leave."
"Sorry, I was everywhere and talking to a blue dragon. She had good advice." The young doesn't sit up immediately, but instead says, "I'm sorry, Shojo. I'm sorry about assuming you needed me to fix your problems, and, for trying to change you because I thought you needed it. I'm also sorry about leaving you behind, um, I thought that was the right thing to do, but I should have waited. I've been too self-absorbed lately."
"You do not look like a hermaphroditic sponge though," Shojo says, offering a hand to help Tasha up. "I've not seen you bathe, however, so if I am wrong I commend you on your disguise."
Tsha blinks at this. Twice. "Am I still dreaming?" She asks suddenly, looking around with a hint of worry on her face.
"My Shojokes still need work, apparently," the Vartan says. "The lack of body language must affect the humor."
"It was the nonsense, really." Tasha notes, looking back. She reaches up and pas the man's shoulder, then takes his hand and stands up. As they begin walking out, she asks, "I should ask this again, in a different way: Shojo, do you have any interest in seeing space, in a way that would probably violate your Knight oaths, but I might be able to have you released from them if you were truly interested?"
"Space? It's rather empty isn't it?" Shojo asks as he sets a brisk pace up the long tentacled-tunnel. "I have seen photographs, and once looked at Ashtoreth through the observatory telescope."
"There's actually entire civilizations out there," Tasha explains as they hurry along. "Whole planets, and I've heard some have populations larger than Sinai, Abaddon and the other planets combined. And then there's the mysteries, and the truly alien beings like Harrowers. There are ships, and fantastic technologies -- things we can actually understand. Advanced medicines, greater than what the Expedition had at its prime. You could see Varta."
"It sounds very lovely," Shojo says. "But I am not sure I would feel very useful. I am a combat medic, after all. Unless you require a Vartan?"
"I require a combat medic. I would like a primary doctor as well, a chief medical offier. But I'll need someone with my landing party who can take care of wounds, and who is trustworthy. And if we go to Varta -- and I suspect we will -- having aother Vartan would be helpful. But ... " Tasha glances over now, muzzle twisting in an anxious frown. "It wil be hard. You'll need to learn so many new things. And, it will be overwhelming. You'll feel tiny, and confused, and overwhelmed. There are empires that span the stars. And if we go to Varta ... You may feel rejected. It's a world full of Vartans, ruled by Vartans. Our home world. It might be hard on you. But I'll be there with you."
"Before I joined the Templars, Colonel Rapatia visited me," Shojo says. "She asked me to become a spy. My condition means that I can lie without showing any of the physiological indicators of it. I cannot betray my intent through body language.. unless I do so deliberately, in order to provide a deceptive reaction. I cannot appear amazed, or surprised or afraid. I show no outward signs of stress. And I am much, much stronger than I look, even for a Vartan. Do the inhabitants of Varta combat giant monsters, by any chance? If not.. why should I fear them? How can they be anything but soft compared to our Vartans?"
"Because that many Vartans together will have a strong pull on our emotions. I'll be honest: I'm a little afraid of Varta, myself. Because I know, it may be hard to want to leave once we arrive. A Vartan that lived there said it's embracing. If they accept you, then you can expect to be loved, welcome, part of the group. But it won't be a family, or a clan, but a world. A paradise, and as beautiful as Sinai. At least for me, who has always had a problem fitting in, it might be hard to let go of." They advance in to the light, Tasha shielding her eyes from the sudden brightness. She squints, looking around a moment, then heads for the ruined exit. "You'd at least be very helpful as a spy. I'm usually too, um, emotional, but I can lie too if I rely on people's expectations and drama.We could work well together. As for giant monsters ... Well, we'll see won't we? Do you like monsters without dimensions as we know them?"
They pass a number of packages attached to the walls, and especially the statue. They each have the symbols for the Sphere of Fire and the Sphere of Earth on them, and long fuses running out towards the landing pad outside the citadel. "I imagine such a monster is also soft. Do not worry about me feeling small, Tasha. We recently crossed from Abaddon to Sinai by taking a single step. Unless the star-spanning empires you speak of let you walk from world to world, I doubt I will be overawed," Shojo assures. "I have a family, and a clan, and all of the other ties that Vartans derive comfort from.. and I walked away from those to become a Templar. If you want someone who can drag you away, then surely you need me."
"I don't have any of those, except my mother. So ... Come along. Save me from my weakness, and maybe I can save you from yours. And in the process, you'll see more of the universe than most can dream of." Tasha grins, reaching over and patting the man's shoulder. "Should I take that as a yes then? I can talk to Treache-err, Miss Riddle. After she's done with her revenge, I'm sure she'll agree."
"That could be dangerous," Shojo warns. "She'll want to go." There's a big.. target.. sitting in the middle of the landing pad, with the fuses all leading up to it. A few technicians are finishing up with it, and the two airships are keeping to a half-mile distance.
"Well, how could I say no to Miss Riddle? I need someone to drink with, after all. I'd just have to find a role for her; No matter how much I like everyone, a ship is a ship, and there are no 'free rides' as you say. Food, medicine, weight limits ... They have to be taken in to account. But! I'll worry about it later. I think I'm late for Captain Squeaky's disappointed lecture," Tasha says, then she starts walking faster, looking back and waving Shojo on. "Care for a race back to the ship? I'm fast, you know!" And then she's off running!
It isn't clear if Shojo even tries to catch Tasha. He arrives a full minute after she does, and both are then handed dark glasses. The light-cannon on the prow has been modified: a series of lenses has been attached to the barrel, extending it by almost twenty feet.
"You cut it awfully close," Fringe chides the pair. The deck is crowded, but most of the crowd is wearing manacles.
"I hope the K'hu'an got the hint," Tasha remarks to Shojo after he's landed and situated. She slides her goggles on, leaving her helmet -- which now has a few knuckle sized dents -- off. Turning to Fringem she says, "I'm sorry to worry you, I was busy staring at crystals and talking to a blue dragon who gave advice and caused genocide. Anyway," she spreads her hands, "I see there were a lot of prisoners."
"I guess the side effects of my antidote last longer than I thought," Fringe says, and nods. "Yeah, all of the uninjured brigands. There might still be some inside.. but Captain Ink wanted them up here."
"A show of force, huh? Where is Captain squeaky anyway?" Tasha asks, looking around. "And were there any complications? Did they find the records, his money?"
The last technicians land, and the Sword of Golgotha begins to turn to point its nose towards the fortress. Ink actually climbs up to stand atop the cannon. The shaded glasses look too big on her. "Show me how accurate you can be, gunner!" she squeaks. "Hit the target in one shot, and I'll give you five days of shore-leave."
"There was a lot of loot hauled out," Fringe says. "No slaves though, but a few people claiming to be hostages being held for ransom. They'll have to be checked out.." The Eeee puts her own glasses on.
"She's dramatic for such a tiny woman," the hybrid notes as she joins the others at the bow. "A shame the Oracle will be buried, but maybe burying it and the K'Hu'an poison factory is for the best. I don't know if this will kill them, maybe not, but maybe they'll change their mind about distributing poisons."
The cannon pulses, and the lens focus the beam to a pinpoint. It still washes out the landing pad with glare, but the target burns.. which means the fuses will be running soon as well.
The ship begins turning again immediately, to be broadside-on to the mountain.
"Oh.. we're supposed to cover our ears too," Fringe notes, and presses her hands to her rather large ones.
Tasha nods, not wanting to lose more of her hearing than she already has. Holding her hands over them, she doesn't comment -- as no one would hear it -- and instead walks over to the railing and peeks over the side.
The enchanted demolition charges erupt within the 'cathedral', and Tasha can see the pressure way expanding out just ahead of the flames. Flames also burst out of other parts of the peak, where hidden entrances and sniper nests were. These immediately get targeted, and the cannons of the Sword of Golgotha and the Star of Justice turn the puffs into full on explosions, even as the cathedral caves in. Hands or not, it sounds like a constant barrage of thunder, less from the actual explosions than from the massive landslides they trigger.
Tasha's eyes widen, she hasn't seem something like this since Tesla revieved the shot that went around the world. The Titanian part of her is really impressed, not to mention curious, but she's sufficently sedate at the moment she doesn't think to go ask about how it was done later. Instead, she just sits back and watches the show.
"So that is what happens when you use magic to make explosives," Shojo comments once the noise dies down. "I wonder if the recipe will work on Abaddon?"
"It might, but as a JEF officer-cadet, I cannot help distribute weapons-like technologies! So, someone will have to mention it if it is useful for non-destruction," remarks the hybrid, who then thumbs back towards the Captain. "I should go report, it might look better if I just face her now rather make her hunt for me."
"Remember well what you just saw!" Ink yells at the prisoners. "Those of you that ain't gonna hang.. if any.. can pass it along. Don't f### with people under our protection, or we'll f### you right back and our d###s are bigger!"
"Ahem, Star be praised. Amen," the captain concludes.
Tasha walks up behind the captain, and after clearing her throat, says, "I hate to interupt you and your giant dicks," and here she gives a sidelong look, "but I thought you'd want to know what happened, ma'am."
"Lemme guess," Ink says, turning and looking up at Tasha. "You found the bastard, he ran, you cut him down. What details are missing? Did he reveal anything, monologue, piss himself? I got his corpse to resurrect so I can kill him a few more times. I never thought spirits could feel pain, but apparently there are ways.."
"He's an agent sent from powers outside our system, and he worked for a Trade Lord as part of the plot to seize control of this world, as well as assets from the City of Hands. He was abandoned here, and used his knowledge to protect himself. He was using K'Hu'an poisons to control minds. We talked at length about the plot, his reasoning, and other matters. I forgot to ask about the buyers for the children, but I know he ddn't think much of it and so may not resist sharing the knowledge as a spirit. He was heavily modified and would have presented a severe danger to even armored Lancers, and-" here the taller woman holds up her helmet to show the dent, "could dent hardened Expedition-era armor, did not grow tired, and was far more dangerous than he appeared to be. I couldn't beat him in single combat until Axe arrived, paralyzing him. Then I buried my halitool in his neck. In hindsight, I should have probably taken him alive, but I believed he was better off dead. He was also guardin an artifact, whi
ch is now under rubble."
"Also," Tasha adds, head tilting, "I am very sorry for getting in your way and for what happened with Blackwings. I would have done it again, but I am still very sorry."
"Oh joy," Ink says. "Thank the Star no Knights ever grab a bunch of stuff and go rogue, or we'd be dealing with this sort of crap all the time." She then looks up Tasha, eyes narrowed. "Sorry? Hell, don't be. Look at me, kid. My own religion says I'm going to hell for all the stuff I've done. But I ain't sorry. I don't care one whit if it means some other slob gets to live and sin and do whatever stupid crap people get up to when not being terrorized by scum. I embrace it. When I get down there, first thing I'm gonna do is kick a demon in the nuts, steal his flaming whip, and go to town on these assholes for a thousand years!"
"You're a scary lady for being so short and mostly adorable," notes the cadet, who grins lopsidedly. "If you ever want lessons in how to use a whip, I can show you. And, um ... " Here, the young woman holds out her hand. "Thanks, by the way. And one more thing: I have a few questions for that spirit before you kill him again."
"And yes, I'm too short to kick, but I'm at the right hight to bite," the mouse says, and shakes Tasha's hand. "It'll take a day or too to conjure the old hairball up. Raithe isn't the best necromancer, but at least he doesn't smell like embalming fluid. Much. You can sit at my table tonight and get drunk. I find having a hangover improves my interrogation techniques."
"I promised I wouldn't get drunk anymore, but I think this is different. This isn't running away, it's celebrating, so count me in. I'd like some company, to be honest. And, I have some apologies to do." Tasha shakes the hand right back, then thumbs back towards the ship. "I'm going to go get out of this armor, then bathe. And you know, I have a great story to tell about the battle -- you'll all love it! Especially if I'm drunk!"