The corpse of a lynx Khatta sits in the central hand, and the depression beneath it has been filled with blood. Three Savanites - members of the Twelve-Times-Twelve mages - circle and dance around the figure in silence, making hand signs and other gestures along with the complicated footwork.
The ghost of Ibrahim Warloq overlays the body, which is rather disturbing. It took several hours to conjure up fully, and the interrogation has also been a bit long. The Templars wanted a lot of information - basically everyone Warloq ever did business with, where the recovered loot came from and who it was going to, and so on. Captain Ink was surprisingly patient, and had a checklist. She'd often ask the same question multiple times but with different phrasing, just to make sure the answers matched up. "You have to be very specific," she'd told Tasha. "Spirits are stupid, and might run on about things only vaguely related to the question otherwise."
Finally, Tasha gets her turn to ask questions of the specter.
All in all, Tasha has found the ritual to be immensely eerie in a completely expected manner. It's not the oddity of the unknown, nor the discomfort of new customs, but an entirely cliche experience as hinted at in various popular culture: A dead body, lots of blood, rituals, a ghost and other impliments in a unettling locale make it such that she was a bit surprised something like this actually did exist. Even now, it strikes her with a certain sense of disbelief.
But that feeling is secondary to having to stare at the corpse of Ibraham Warloq for hours on end; A corpse she made, of a person she spoke at length with only recently. A man she decided was too dangerous to release, and scarcely less to bargain with. She doesn't regret her choice so much as the method of it, but still, she can't help but be struck by a mix of finality and sadness. For all the evil Warloq did, Tasha realizes he was still just a man, as any other. She wonders if things could have gone other ways, if he was a victim who became a victimizer, and so much else. Heroic victory against sentient beings doesn't have the glory and satisfaction she'd been told. In the end, she just finds it creates a hole in her, is depressing, and gives rise to far too many questions about life. She has since decided to use more care with the choice in the future.
But now it's her turn, and so she's freed from all the sad questions to ask questions more important to the future. Sitting up and stepping forward, Tasha asks the ghost, "Before we fought, you offered me one piece of information -- a 'key' -- in exchange for a deal to release you, and you hinted at another 'document' you had seen but would not tell me. Now, tell me what the 'key' is and any details needed to explain it in a way I would understand. Then do the same with the document."
"Hmmm, a key," the phantom says in that eerie, hollow voice. "Memories from just before my death are.. fuzzy. What was it a key to?"
"You called it a 'key,' a key that could help me or perhaps be another 'puzzle-piece.' You found it only recently. It may have something to do with the Sifra and ... " Here Tasha glances back for a moment, at the others, before looking forward again. "Well, something to do with them. Or the Progenitors. The document -- you called it a document -- would also deal with one or the other. You mentioned them together."
"Oh, the document. One sent to the Inquisition, and another version to the High Council of Caroban," the ghost says. "I have not read the full thing, only excerpts. Some from the Caroban version, some for the Inquisition version. It explains the source of power for the Sifra, and how magic was restored to Abaddon. It is uncertain how much is true, and how much is speculation - the accuracy of the source is in question. One thing that did stand out.. the key.. is that the Aelfin are somehow connected to the Sifras. Their language, at the very least."
"Very interesting," goes Tasha, who makes a mental note to try and get a copy of their language and of the document. "And the key?"
"That was the key," the ghost explains. "The language of the Aelfin is the language of the Sifras, according to the author."
"It spoke of two other related species, the Balfin and the Svartifin," the ghost continues. "Both living on Behemoth."
"Oh. Of course." It's been a long day; It doesn't help Tasha had a conversation with another ghost this morning, and is now surrounded by people she killed. "Othr species? That's new." She makes a note of that as well, this one literal. "Anything else that is relevant to the key or the document?"
"It was written by the Exile who destroyed the Imperial Life Dome on Abaddon," Warloq's shade offers. "It also hints at some future calamity, supposedly. With no way to confirm any of it, I have my doubts. The only thing I do accept from it is the notion that the Sifra's technology does eventually wear out."
"So it does," Tasha notes, having see and heard as much herself. "Lets move on." She looks up from her notes and asks, "As an agent of the invasion force that had a considerable technological investment and role, please tell me about all invasions assets you are aware of that are still present within the Primus System. Ships, agents like yourself, bases, and other structures, people, and vehicles."
"The general does not share the battle plans with the soldiers.. only the parts they need to follow," the ghost explains. "I knew of my mission. What resources I had, are now yours. I do not even know how I was brought to this system. While I am sure there must have been other agents, I do not know who they are. I was to create a surveillance network, and that is what I did. Others may have done the same, our activities overlapping. I was aware that the Nagai Empire would be part of the takeover. Given that their Emperor-Potentate was assassinated during the war, and then returned from the dead once the plan unraveled, I would think he might know something."
"You think the ... Emperor might know something of this plot?" Tasha asks again, just be to sure.
"Yes," the ghost claims.
"Well ... That will be something." She's been to Nagai a few times, but rarely past the docks. The Emperor was nearly as awe inspiring as the Captain Astromancer, yet even more nebulous and distant. And while she has the apparent backing of Rephidim to some degree, the same can't be said for the Nagai Empire. "Something for later, anyway. Now, tell me about Trade Lord Khoman. Which House is he part of? What is he like, in public and in private, if you know. What sort of resources does he have, and how he gained his information if you know it."
"The House of Khoman is great and powerful and ancient," Warloq claims. "And while I have met Lord Khoman.. I cannot describe him. All such memories are edited out for security purposes, and as that was done before I came to this world, it is unlikely my spirit knows either. I believe his House controls part of the planet-colonization market, and I know they are part of the trade in artifacts. It is from that smuggling business that I was chosen."
"Wonderful." Tasha runs her hand back through the hair -- such as it is -- on the left side of her mohawk. A great house, she inwardly groans, realizing she may well have powerful interests, or worse, enemies well before leaving her home system in earnest. She has only touched the surface on the Khattan Trade Houses, but she knows well that the Khattans are the dominant power in Galactic affairs, and thus,the great houses dominate the Khattan Trade Coalition. A deeply worrying bit of information for cadet.
"Do you remember anything from your days as a smuggler? Ports of call, contacts, anything that would be of value to another smuggler or would-be smuggler?" the young woman then asks, thinking ahead.
"My work involved finding buyers," Warloq explains. "Sometimes I was told which person to make a sale to, even if they were not the ones who could offer the most. These were almost always other highly-placed Khattas, but occasionally they were people in the governments of other Galactic civilizations. Sometimes I was called upon to move people or items for these clients. Lord Khoman's routes never fell prey to the Titanians."
"Also very interesting." The hybrid woman makes more notes, notes she may well be sharing with the Titanians -- or using herself. "Can you name any of your contacts?" The young woman decides it might be useful having an in, or at least knowing who to keep an eye on, should the need arise.
"As always, incriminating details were erased from my memory," the phantom says. "However, that does not mean I kept backups, just in case. These I hid in several places, in the hands of people paid well enough for me to trust."
"Please provide their names, any code or other key to approach them and get them to reveal their information, and any other relevant details as to their personalities, businesses, and other details you feel are important to dealing with them safely," the adet asks, notepad at the ready.
"The only one who would deal with anyone other than myself is Per Wynlass, of Daltoona Station.. if she still lives," Warloq says. "The passphrase for her is: In ancient Avalon did the sun silver shine with dawn, and deepest gold with dusk."
"Got it," goes the young woman once she's jotted it all down. She thinks for a moment, then asks, "Have you ever heard of a Khattan named Ser Herafiel? Do you know anything relevant to the Progenitors?" She thinks she already knows the last part, but she can't pass up the opportunity to check.
"That specific name I do not recall," the ghost says. "I was told of the Magi Mission, but the Progenitors were only tangential to that. Reclaiming the Seraph Titan was the important part."
Tasha nods to this, as well as the lack of information as nothing surprising. "I remember you saying that." She then tilts her head and asks, "Are you aware of the mission and purpose of the Khattan Frigate stationed on Abaddon? An AI ship that appeared to be observing the Expedition races."
"I have no knowledge of that," Warloq claims. "Abaddon is not part of my mission."
Another nod, then Tasha makes a few more notes before lowering her notepad and then saying, "Alright. We'll go over the questions again now, starting from the first. Tell me about ... "
An hour passes as Tasha repeats her questions, each in subtly -- or obviously -- different ways in keeping with the method employed by the others. Tedious and painstaking, time passes slowly.
The adventure with the Templars ends as such things often do: with paperwork. Report forms, debriefing, and many other things. The information Tasha recovered is hers.. anything else recovered, however, is tied up. Scryers comb through the recovered treasures, trying to determine their origins. Survivors of the raids are put into Savanite care, and the prisoners are all questioned as well, including the survivors of Blackwing's crew. Cooperation could mean life.. in prison. Being uncooperative leads to the gallows; the traditional fate of all captured pirates. Blackwing's ghost is still rattling around somewhere in Tasha's head though, her only real keepsake of the woman.
"I suppose we will be returning to Abaddon now?" Fringe asks Tasha, her slight frame burdened with samples and books on Earth Magic.
"We should, we've been too long as it is." At elast Tasha will have a great deal for everyone back home to look over: Gabriel will have his hands full dealing with her personal problems, her departure, the need to prepare to explore the Hall of Souls, and all the other ominous and unsettling revelations and details; Eli will have a wealth of new leads, from mysterious documents to new languages and samples as well as tasks to investigate older concerns; Remiel will likely be rought in to study the samples and evaluate her medical soundness before she leaves. Like the others she too will be busy: She has a crew to consider, a departure to plan, debriefing to do, Titanians to inform, preperations to make and more besides. She sees busy days ahead of her, if not quite as stressful and action-packed.
Not that the young woman minds, after all she's been through lately.
"We could investigate the leads here, but we don't really have the funding at the moment, and I need to talk to Gabri- The Captain if I'm going to be asking the Emperor if he's a spy. The other information is more important anyway, and it needs to reach him and the others."
The voyage back to Abu Dhabi was uneventful, but did come with a bit more luxury as they took a commercial passenger ship this time. It was a bit of an expense, but both Shojo and Fringe were of the opinion that if they returned with any leftover funds, they would receive less in the future for similar expeditions. This meant the voyage to the Gateway Tower was also a bit more relaxing.
Fringe was woozy again after traveling through the gateway, while Tasha was more used to it. Shojo couldn't get sick.. but still might have been a bit dizzy.
Its been a long trip, but Tasha knows there's still more to do before the slow ride back home to Gabriel and her -- or his -- bed. "I need to check in with some people. Fringe, why don't you get us some tickets, uh ... " the young woman fishes out her ID, then hands it to the Eeee, " ... using my PHTO ID and your Knight pass. Shojo? You can join me or go relax. It might be good if you come with me, though, to see the kinds of people I'll be dealing with if you decide to join me in the future."
The Vartan agrees to follow along. The crowds are the first indication that the Dainty Mauler is on the ground. The second is the distinctive 'atomic grill' odor of cooking fish. The massive ship must have just returned from another fishing trip.
Seeing her luck is looking up a bit, Tasha approachs the ship without hesitation or pause. After all, however briefly, she served on this ship and it, like all the others, will always be a little bit of home. As she makes her way through the crowd, she gestures towards the monolithic craft. "The Dainty Mauler is unusual among Titanian pirate vessels, as it's switched to trade, mostly. It's still devestating, but it uses most of its resources now for fishing. If you take the time to ask questions, you can learn a lot from the people on board." The lecture goes on, helping to fill in Shojo's knowledge as the young woman continues forward.
Eventually she reaches the ramp, then waves to the First Mate. "Hoy Grillfang! Is Bumper around?" She asks the larger canid.
"She 'round back, Rustpuppy," the big green-clad dire-wolf says. "Doin' laundry." Given the size of the ship, that's quite a walk to get around it.
"Thanks, Grill! Save some for me, and I'll tell you and the Captain some interesting stories about bad kitties and gods." Tasha winks, then pats the big man on the shoulder as she passes on by him.
It's not far before the young woman takes wing, leading Shojo in to the air as the circle the massive ship, landing on its far side. After they're down, she looks here and there, checking for her mentor. "BUMPER," she calls out, "I'M BACK!"
There are clotheslines strung across some of the lower 'oars' that extend from the side of the ship. And indeed there is clothing (or scraps of clothing) being hung to dry. Bumper is there, with a big heated tub overflowing with suds. She's even wearing a rubber apron, and has her sleeves rolled up. "Dat you, Rustpuppy?" she calls back. "Not dead yet, eh?"
"It's me, and not yet!" Tasha reports in as she hurries over to join the older woman. Moving close, the shorter woman ducks under the larger's arm, grinning up at her. "Mission accomplished. He's harmless. There's more, of course, but I did it. We even stumbled across a Khattan agent. Got him, too."
"Khatta always up to stuffs," Bumper claims. "So, Yam God not cause trouble? You sure?" she asks, then glances over Tasha's shoulder at the lest excitable Shojo. "Where you gets Vartan robot?"
"Naw, he's fine. Right where he wants to be, not going anywhere. My job now. I'll tell you more once we're out of the System." The hybrid woman then turns, but bumps her nose on the big woman's arm, so stands on her hoof-tips to look over the arm and at Shojo. "Him? He's my newest recruit, I stole him from the Knights, and then from the JEF -- or will anyway! I thought he'd match my other robot, I don't have enough of them pointing out my failings."
Then Tasha lowers herself, ducks the arm, and reaches over to Shojo's hand, tugging him over and then gesturing at Bumper. "Shojo, this is Bumper, you could say she's like my mentor. Bumper, this is Shojo, combat medic of the Knights, who is thinking about joining me out in space. Shojo has a disease that makes him a bit stiff-seeming, but he's really not inside. He's really a big softie."
Bumper tests this by poking the man in the stomach. "Hmmm, not that soft, but not metal. Can't trust robots you knows. They steal your underpants, use them for fuel." She also ducks down to look Shojo in the eye. "Guess he alright then." She straightens back up. "Out system? Oh, rights.. you wanted ship.."
Tasha puts her hands on her hips, looking up at the big woman. "Yes, I 'wanted ship.' You did remember that part, didn't you, Bumper?"
"Oh, rights, yeah," the Titanian woman says, nodding. "But you come back all alive and stuffs, was a surprise. So yeah, can bring you to ship."
"I always surprise people with not dying," Tasha notes, her muzzle splitting in to the biggest smile Shojo has ever seen her wear. "And I almost didn't, let-me-tell-you. Like usual. Anyway! A SHIP!" And then the young woman holds her hands out, fingers clutching the air in anticipation. "What kind is it? How big? What sort of FTL drive? Crew requirement? Color scheme? Who made it? Is it transatmospheri- Wait, were you trying to kill me ..? You know what? Nevermind! Transatmospheric? Interface systems?" The qustions go on and on.
"It the hammership, Dark Horse," Bumper says. "You maybe wake it up. No idea about rest. It really old. Maybe Tnuctipin. Not sure. Million to a billion years old, mebbe."
"A hammership, the Dark Horse ..," Tasha breathes, as if it were sacred revelation passed down to her by all the gods in a group effort. She squeezes her grasping hands together, literally bouncing on the spot. "Tnuctipin." And then she tenses up, pulling in her hands and biting her lip like she might well explode from the cheer anticipation of it all!
But she doesn't explode. Instead, she tilts her head after a moment, relaxes a little, and then her ears go askew. "Uhm," she goes, sounding uncertain, " ... could you explain what ou mean by hammership? And, uh, who or what the Tnuctipin are. And you said it's a million to a billion years old? Does it still, er, work? It need to wake up?"
"It a hammership, because it made of hammer," Bumper explains, as if it were obvious. "Hull made from hammer material. Maybe it hull. Whole thing could just be big naked engine core. It got a dark horse in it. so.. it the Dark Horse."
Tasha scratches her head now, ears shifting but still firmly askew. "So, it's that material. That's going to be an interesting navigation system. Maybe Kaa can handle it? Delicate too, not going to be standard at all. Exotic material. An engine core? That's different. And, you said a dark horse? Is that ... Do you mean something dark, like, a Harrower dark? Or do you mean like a dark colored statue??"
"Dark, like dark energy," Bumper clarifies. "You know what a horse is, right?"
By way of answer, Tasha just points down at her lower half.
"Yeahh.. not like that," Bumper says. "Think bigger! Big animal! Strong! Carries people. Pull big loads. Likes carrots. Farts a lot. Can wiggle skin to shake of flies. That last one pretty damn impressive. Sometimes will eat small animals if you not paying close attention. Mean senses of humor.. but don't spit! That important. Spitting animals is nasty."
Tasha tilts her head, scatching at her nose. "This sounds like something Nora knew, and Gabriel mentioned. Something that looks like the lower half of me, like a Rhian, which I think were created from uplifted horses. Terran horses, I mean. From the Trade Library. I've never seen one, though," she admits.
But then the cadet ventures, "Sooo, it's like a big strong animal that's also made of Dark Matter, and transports people? Like a Harrower?"
"We think so," Bumper says. "More likely than it being a weird lamp. It look nothing like a horse though, it a blob, but maybe smart as a horse. If it smart. Not sure. Hard to say what alive and such with dark matter thingies."
"Sooo, it is like a Harrower, just ... not. A blob." This causes Tasha to scratch her head in turn, muzzle twisting in confusion, but also in thought. "That will take some figuring out, I guess. I see why you think I can wake it up, though, since I can talk to Dark creatures -- or Harrowers anyway. Well. Um. So. I'll need a crew, too. I'm thinking of Lucky Kaa for the pilot, and Shojo here can be part of the security team -- Gabriel would call them marines although I don't know why since they're not in water -- and I'll figure out where I belong eventually. So, I'll need a lot of others. Any suggestions?"
"Uh.. it hollow," Bumper says. "No idea where controls are, if there any. No idea how it work. Pretty sure it a prototype, one-of-a-kind thingy. So.. you gots to figure that stuffs out yourself. Maybe we give you tow to Caltrop though, if you wake it up at least."
"That would be a ig help, thank you Bumpy." Tasha grins at the woman, then turns to Shojo and says, "We'll be better off if we can find others. The crew will need to incorporate the bridge crew, security and landing party, someone to handle finances and accounting, a first officer, science, research, engineering and maybe a cook. Who we can't find here we can find out there, and we might be better off waiting to see who we can get from the Galactic side of things, since their training and exposure will be more useful out there. I, uh, sort of asked Katherine Vesuvius if she wants to come," and here Tasha has the decency to blush, looking very interested in the ore suddenly, " ... annnd we'll need Hakeber, too. One of your people, Scholar Hakeber. I'm sure there's a few others."
"What would they actually be doing?" Shojo asks.
"The bridge crew is responsible for command control of the ship. Since all ships have a bridge, even strange ones," Tasha glancs to Bumper to check if she's correct briefly, "they'll be in charge of operating the ship. Navigation, communication, weapons, FTL, piloting, and such. The bridge crew will also include the captain, who has responsibility for comamnding the ship as a whole. The engineering team is obvious, but will also help with engineering tasks outside the ship, including other ships and technologies. The science personnel help us understand and use what we find, so their job is mainly studying the artifacts, species, and other oddities we come across. Learned people. They'll probably also handle research, so we can lump those two together. The researchers help me follow the Progenitors, which will be Hakeber's main duty, ut they also help study and implement new discoveries. The security and landing party group is responsible for ship's security, and will join me when we're off the s
hip and in dangerous areas. They'll rpobably ahve other specialities, but their duties off the ship will be keeping us safe and using their other skills to keep us alive, healthy, informed and ready -- yo'll be one of these people. Oh, we'll need a medical officer too. The ship's steward will handle comfort, but also records, pay, and that sort of thing. Buying supplies. We'll need someone with trade experience." The young woman then tilts her head and spreads her arms. "Everyone will probably have many 'hats' as Eli likes to say, so there'll be overlap. It all depends how many we need to crew the shp safely and effectively."
"And how much you have to pay for it all," Shojo notes. "I do not believe our local currencies will have value in other star systems."
"You're right, but I already thought about that!" Tasha taps her noggin in a show of pre-planning. "We can't just rely on Abaddon to support us; We'll be on our own, even if we can expect a little support here now and then. I don't want to draw resources away from the JEF, either, so by in large it'll be up to us to handle paying for what we need. To meet that, we'll hire out our services. Depending on what the ship is capable of, we can decide what services to offer. Gabriel suggested smuggling, including immigration and emmigration. We can try trade once we can purchase goods, and maybe deal in information through the Trade Library. There's also other options."
"Other options?" Shojo asks. "Do you mean hosting birthday parties for the children of the very wealthy?"
"Well, that. I just mean, there are many options. Sight seeing. Tours. Body guard duty. We don't have to use the ship, we can use our skills and talents, too. And, uh, well, there could also be piracy." Tasha shrugs a little, grinning an apologetic grin. "If it turns out we do have enemies, well, why not ask for a doncation? But that's something to consider later, when we're confident." And then the young woman turns to Bumper and notes, "Speaking of which, how much would you pay for information about hidden Khattan artifact smuggling?"
"Pay?" Bumper asks. "Dunno.. never did that before. I guess.. depend on what being smuggled?"
"Not really what, but how. As in, Titanians can't detect it," Tasha notes, smiling and folding her hands behind her back. "The spy was very informative once he was a ghost."
"Ghost?" Bumper asks, tilting her shaggy head. "Like with cards and two-knocks-for-yes and crystal ball?"
"You don't know what a ghost is?" Taking the opportunity to turn Bumper's tut-tuting for lack of knowledge back, Tasha spreads her hands and explains, "Sifran phantom copy. It's a lot like the real thing, but most of them are limited. They often have the same memories, but not the same will, and most are locked in to the same thinking as when they died. Some are greater, though. They seem to be similiar to Sifran demons, like Abaddon. Warloq -- that's the agent -- the Savanites used their magic to summon his ghost, which they compelled to answer us. I got a lot of answers, and he told me a certain House can smuggle artifacts without Titanian piracy. Any. At all."
"Hmm, an' you trust this hologram thing to be true?" Bumper asks, raising an eyebrow.
Tasha nods her head. "I asked the question at least thirty times, in many different ways, as they taught me to do. The ghosts aren't smart. They look alive, but most are like expert systems that need clear orders, then they answer, but they don't think. At least, not much. he even gave me a contact name and a passphrase, so, we can try finding her and seeing if we can get information that way -- or wait around her to see if any of those artifact shippments arrive. We could even do it seperately, so we can keep our association a secret."
"You find something good, we be grateful," Bumper agrees. "Help pay for you transport costs."
"Transport costs, huh. Well. I would owe you," Tasha agrees, giving the older woman a sidelong look. "Just don't tell the wrong sorts of pirates; I have enough blood on my hands and I don't want any more ghosts. Anyway ... " Here she glances back, nodding towards the train depot, "we should head back before the train leaves without us or Fringe gets worried."
"Hokay, we be here awhile, 'til rubber-men shoo us away," Bumper claims.
"Give the Kampfengruppe a hrad time for me, will you?" Tasha turns back and grins, then reaches over and hugs the big Titanian. "And, um, thanks. I know you could have just pretended to forget, or sbubbed me, and I couldn't do a thing about it, but you kept your word and I'm grateful. I'll see you soon. I have a lot of preperation to do before I return, but expect at least Shojo and I, and maybe others." She leans back, then nods. "Better head back too, if you want some of the food before it's gone." Then, she turns to Shojo and thumbs back towards the city, such as it is. "Lets grab something to eat along the way, and get back before we're walking home."
At the edge of the Pit of Himar, the group splits. Shojo and Fringe head for the Winged Citadel, taking the rim-road, while Tasha needs to head down into Elamoore itself - even if they plan to meet up again at the Citadel in the next day or so anyway. By the time Tasha staggers into the PHTO Council building, she really does feel like she's traveled across two planets to get here.
Looking more like an old woman than a enegetic teenager, Tasha leans on her halitool more than usual as she walks down the darkened corridor. It's late, the sun having just set and the day's business largely concluded. Diplomats, politicians, business people and other assorted guests make their way to the respective rooms or out in to the city for some nightlife. And while Tasha does love the nightlife, she's beat and only wants to see Gabriel before falling in to bed and staying there. It doesn't help that she's carrying all the JEF supplies, notes, and other materials belonging or destinted for her organization that had been split across the others.
By the time she drags herself down the hall, she feels about ready to collapse and just sleep then and there. using the tip of her halitool, she knocks on Gabriel's door.
The door opens, and Gabriel looks.. big. He immediately hugs her, which takes some of the weight off at least. "You're finally back!" he says, tail wagging. "About damned time! I was about to go searching after you. Riddle assured me you were in safe hands though.."
Tasha falls in to her mate lack a sack of potatoes. Warm, travel worn, road-scent potatoes. She doesn't say anything at first, instead enjoying the hug and the sensation of finally being home and safe, loved by this amazing man she's lucky to have at all.
"I love you," is the first thing she says, followed by, "I'm sorry to worry you." There's more snuggling, then she peers up, had half-buried against the man and says, "We had some problems. There's a lot to talk about, but, I'm really just glad to be home with you."
Gabriel brings her into the room, and lets her sit on the edge of the bed while he takes the various packs and boxes.
There are a lot of packs and boxes -- more than the man remembers her bringing. Tasha herself sits patiently as she's unloaded, although she does reach over and grab her mate's pillow, which she hugs to her chest and lays her head upon. "Yama's dealt with. Harmless," she mumbles after a while. "Learned a lot. Going to be a long debrief. Eli will be happy. Remy busy. I'm tired." She sounds more than exhausted, too. Gabriel's been around Tasha long enough to catch the turn in her voice, not to mention her scent. The usual signs of a long journey are there, but she smells like old anxiety, Titanians, Vartans, and something that wasn't there before.
Once things are set aside, Gabriel leans down.. and gets Tasha's boots off. The official 'I'm home' status of shedding them is now granted to her. "You smell like a railroad," the man comments. "I won't make you take a bath until tomorrow though. This way I get to smell your adventures a bit."
Tasha waggles her legs, looking down at her hooves. "What an adventure. I'm glad it's over, though," she confides. Then she pats the bed next to her, looking up to ask after. "But, how were you, Gabe?"
"Things have been calm, which is why I was getting so worried," Gabriel says, sitting next to Tasha and putting his arm around her shoulders. "Lack of distraction, apparently. Not much to do but exercise.. aside from a 'hunting' trip into the canal once. Have to admit it was a bit fun to be looking for monsters."
"You're getting to be like me," Tasha notes, leaning in and nudging her mate, resting against his side. She lays there a moment more, then says, "Well, we found Yama again. It turns out he's not what we thought he was, but something else. You could say he's not our enemy anymore. Maybe a friend, as hard as that is to believe, I know. Um ... Then ... " The young woman winces, eyes trailing to her halitool. gabriel can catch the pained scent, the far away look in her eyes. "Then ... Pirates. We, um, we handled that. It's in my report. It turns out they were backed by a Khattan agent, of House Khomen. Abandoned. He was handled, too. It's been a long journey ... I feel old."
"Handled? Since when have you started resorting to euphemisms?" Gabriel says. "It makes me think you did things you aren't really proud of."
"I did. And I'm not," Tasha admits, head shaking. She stares off in to space for a moment, then finally says, "Maybe? I don't know? They had to be done, but I don't think I had to do them. Maybe I could have done better? Tried harder ... Trusted more ... " And then she takes a deep breath, exhales, and simply says, "I killed them them both. The man was Ibrahim Warloq. The woman ... "
The young woman blinks back a tear, biting her lip until she she manages: "The woman was Captain Blackwings."
"Your Captain Blackwings," Gabriel asks. "The one you've told me about? The Anti-Katie?"
Tasha just nods her head, not quite able to admit it. Sometimes she can't believe Captain Blackwings is dead, and then she has the heart-rending shock of realizing she did it. She isn't sure why; She remembers it well and thinks she may well never forget it. But every now and then she gets to relieve the shock all over again, as if her heart can't quite accept it and her mind shuts it away.
"Hey, you caught a big one," that familiar voice says in the back of Tasha's head, as Gabriel scoops her into a hug. "I totally would have killed you to get him," the ghost of Blackwings claims.
Tasha's actually stiff when hugged; She shoots upright at the voice, looking a bit wide eyed. Before Gabriel can ask what's wrong, she explains in strained voice. "Um, oh: I hear her voice in my head. See her sometimes. We talk. She's talking right now."
"Is this something you need to see Remiel about?" Gabriel asks cautiously. "Or is it something you haven't explained yet?"
"I killed her so she wouldn't be tortured. So she could die with respect, on her ship where a captain belongs. I did it because I loved her, even if she didn't deserve it. The knights weren't happy." She reaches up and taps at her head, hoping it'll make the voice go away for a while. "So they made me channel her spirit, relive her past, and, um, mine. So they could get answers. But I think it stuck her spirit in my head. And Gabriel ... " Looking up, Tasha lays her ears back and says, "I know if I ask if you really want to e with me, you'll just tell me, "Yes," in your stern voice, but I want to warn you, I wasn't a good person back then. I did things. A lot of things for attention. I hope they don't come here, for your sake, and Katie's."
"What could you possibly have done for attention that could cause problems here?" Gabriel asks.
"It wasn't a secret I was with Blackwings. I was her toy, her 'arm candy.' That's what Aaron would say. I did whatever she asked, and she was cruel. Vicious. I did it for a long time. Too long." Tasha slumps down, tired and weighed down by the past, all but crumpled in to Gabriel. "But I admired her. She's a vile person, but I was vile, too. Or wanted to be. I could have been just like her. She used me. It's humiliating, now. ut I thought it was over. But now I worry. I saved her, maybe someone will mention things. It'd be bad for our image, and worse for Katie's."
"You were with the Knights Templar at the time, right?" Gabriel asks. "They aren't known for talking about such things. Remember that Templars give up there pasts, even their names. That hints they have plenty of things they don't want to remember either."
Tasha's ears perk a little, her face turning hopeful, if tired-hopefully. "Really?" She asks. "That's right, um, of course it is ... I think I'm just tired. I wasn't going to mention what happened, but then I couldn't stop and it just ... It just ... " She heaves a sigh, then drops her head right back down. "I'm just tired."
Gabriel turns to let Tasha lie down, and even goes about undressing her (there's no way to deal with the road dust covering her hands and head and wings though). "We'll sort it all out tomorrow," Gabriel says. "For now, let's just sleep. I'll try not to sneeze on you, even."
Tasha smiles at that. "I love you, Gabe. I really do." She lets herself be undressed, then reaches over ad hugs his pillow until she has the real thing to hug. Then she curls up, close as can be, and as sleep drifts closer she forgets about all her problems. All the regret, the worries, and the sadness. Love really does conqueror all.