The problem with going out drinking on a military base is that you either have to bring your own booze, or know the person who is making it in an old engine or radiator somewhere. There are other ways of overindulging though, mostly food related. The chef always has meat available, or something that could be considered meat at least, even it might have come from something that looked like a plant. The non-toxic metals that don't get leeched out in the preparation process always give the flesh an odd color and reflective properties - which don't matter if you get it in chunks on a skewer.
"Well, 'bout time you showed back up," a big Karnor notes to Tasha when she arrives in the lounge. It's Sergeant Bear, who gave her the grand tour when Bellerophon first landed. "What've you been up to?"
"Oh, I've been around ... " Tasha replies, right hand gesturing in an airy circular motion. "Always out in 'the field,' busy-busy. How are you, Mr. Bear?" She takes a moment to look around now, wondering if she'll see any old friends -- or new faces. It feels like a lifetime since she was last in here, though it's only been a few months and most of thoese were spent in a tube.
"Oh, same old Bear," the man says. "Had a new batch of men to break in, but that's about as exciting as it gets for me unless something explodes." There are few familiar faces, including Peanut (who was one of the guards originally posted at Belle's landing ramp). She also recognizes Chief Mechanic Gizmo near one of the billiards tables.
"Alpha's not around I see," Tasha remarks, having hoped to see more familiar faces. Her gaze sweeps the room idly having seen what she wanted to, but finding herself still going about the motions as she finds herself in a listless, zoned-out mood. A part of her wonders if coming here was a mistake and that she could be doing other things, like sorting out the problem between her and Fred, and also her and Mel.
"Don't you ever get tired of the boredom?" The young woman asks, trying to find something to ask and having a productive angle she hopes may lead somewhere.
"If I'm lucky," Bear says with a chuckle. "We still go out on regular sorties into the canal after all. And I know Gizmo is jazzed about those Tesla bits we were able to get. Are you bored, ma'am?"
"Just restless, I think. So much on my mind, so much to do. I can't help but feel I should be doing something, and I wonder why I'm standing here. Then I wonder why that's a problem." The hybrid woman shakes her head, staring off in to space a moment before looking back. "It's been a tough month. Has it been a month?" She tilts her head in askance. "Time doesn't mean what it used to. Maybe I am bored. I don't know; Maybe that's it. I'm not sure what I should be doing."
"Well, are you tense?" the man asks. "Hungry? Wanna hit something?"
Tasha considers this, is she tense? Her muzzle wrinkles as she stares off in to space and thinks about the ship and everything else -- and can feel her shoulders bunching up. "Tense," she repreats in agreement. Looking back she then arches her brows. "Both of those sound good. Food, and hitting things."
"Cookie, a round of ribs," Bear calls ahead. "Food first, then you can decide on bowling or billiards or something else. Ignore any man that suggests mud-wrestling though."
"That would give me a target to hit though," notes the young woman, who suddenly grins. She turns, angling towards a nearby table and then promptly drops back in to a chair, leaning back and scratching the back of her head. "So," she asks as Bear comes to join her, "we're taking a look at Tesla now? The electrical capacitance, conducting and discharge properties right?"
"Yup," Bear says as he takes a seat. "Biological superconductors. Gizmo hopes they'll prove one way or another if the big monsters are natural or manufactured."
Tasha looks up as she goes from scratching her head to the tip of her nose, her free hand fishing through the pockets of a pair of military red pants she changed in to for comfort, along with a tank-top. "I'd like to know that too. My guess is that they're part of the Sifran automated system, but they could just as well be from a precursor civilization. An old 'terraforming' facility, or, a base of some sort. That they're attacking us makes me think Sifran, though." She pauses, then she adds, "I volunteered to find the source, but the PHTO want me to focus on what's already infront of us. I'm not sure what help I'm to Abaddon anymore, though. Might ask one of the others to deal with it."
"Only matters if another of the beasts shows up," Bear suggests, as a platter of ribs is brought forth, dripping in sauce. It also comes with a pile of napkins and a carafe of.. water. "I'd be a lot happier if you shoot them from the air next time though," Bear says with a chuckle.
Tasha laughs at that; She can imagine the unmitigated chas the linear cannon sowed upon firing. "It was even more spectacular on my end," she notes, leaning in to get a big wiff of the ribs and having to lick her muzzle just to hold back the drool, " ... since I was caught up in the blast. It was almost the end of Mel and I; Stuck around as long as I could and due to a communication problem never got a signal to evacuate. Whew, that was a fight! I miss fighting things that don't think, have friends, and don't have political rammifications."
"The film is pretty popular," Bear notes, and holds out a napkin for Tasha. "Best tuck this in as a bib if you don't want to ruin your shirt."
"I picked this shirt because it could be ruined. As log as Katie Kaboom isn't watching, I'm safe!" Tasha winks at the man, but she does accept the bib anyway. It gets tucked in, then the young woman reaches over and begins sawing the segments in to parts for faster consumption. "So, there was a film? I didn't think teh governments would let the civilians see that. Or, is it just you military types?"
"Any military action is filmed, just in case," Bear says. "There were a lot of cameras going. Every group had them. Even the long range ones on the Silent-Ones transports were used. When it was all cut together it was pretty spectacular."
"Well, I was happy to be of help." Tasha doesn't wait any longer; With her rack of ribs now in pieces, she reaches over and digs in. With no one to disappoint and only rough and ready military men to watch, she finds herself free to dig in like she used to back on Sinai. Hands on, bone-cracking gnawings and a lot of mess.
"Mmm," she goes seconds later after she's had a few good bites. "I don't care if it is reflective, I like it." She tabs her muzzle with a nearby napkin, then asks, "You or some of you wouldn't want to come with me and be my personal armed force on a dangerous, we'll-probably-get-lost-or-killed, off in to the wild-black sort of tour would you?"
"Will there be girls?" Bear asks with a grin. "We're soldiers though - we go where we're ordered to. Don't get to pick and choose, unless you're a specialist like Gizmo."
"I have enough clout and personal influence I could probably make it happen, and since I seem to like Terrans -- er, Expedition-types -- why not? Besides it'd be nice to have a group around I could play cards with and not have expectations. Hold on." The hold order comes with Tasha cocking her head to the side and gnawing, really gnawing a particularly tough section until she manages to crack it off and swallow it. "There. Yum-yum. What'd you ask? Girls? What, I'm not enough?" She lifts her head high enough to mock-eye the man. "Well, there'll be some others. A Karnor named Hake, Miss Kaboom if I'm lucky, and a few aliens. How many female segments do you like, anyway? At least more than half?"
Bear laughs. "Well, you don't count, Tasha - Captain Akkers isn't someone a guy'd want angry at him, y'know? Now, if you got the boss man's sister like you say.. she'd probably merit some official bodyguards."
"'Bodyguards,' huh." This earns the man another look, this one actually a little suspicious! "Well, that'd be true, I guess. I'd hate to see Katie hurt, at any rate. Hake too, for that matter. And the rest of the crew. I'm always dreading someone, some day is going to get it and it'll be my fault." The cleaned rib she's holding gets bitten hard in frusteration, cracking it. She does this a few times until the stress is gone, then drops it to the plate. "There. Better. Stressy, you know? Did I tell you I have a command now? I'm going to rule a planet and still be 'Cadet Tasha' at this rate, speaking of Big Bad -- that's Gabriel by the way. My big bad wolf. Tough, but fair. Usually. But here's the setup: One commander, maybe four soldiers. Bunk together, might be cramped. You'll be on a spaceship, and we won't be next door, if you understand? There'll be a lot of training. New weapons, armor, tactics, bla bla. We'll get what you need, you learn it. What do you think?"
"I can't imagine tactics have changed much," Bear notes. "Though I'm guessing this isn't JEF/PHTO stuff? I may not have the security level to be talking about it, is what I'm getting at. In any case, you'd need to bend Lt. Vesuvius' ear on this. We're the Special Tech and Exploration Corps. If you can convince him that's what your doing, he should be accomodating."
"This sounds like a job for my famous charm and another rack of ribs. Cookie!" Tasha sits up, waving the man forward. "I need the base Commander's favorite meal! I will donate liquor strong enough to put a full grown Vartan in the toilet -- for cooking of course. I have diplomacy to do."
Lt. Gordon Vesuvius has his office on the upper level of the base, next to the conference room. He also shares a secretary, it seems, with Dr. Kitty, who has an adjoining office. There are quite a few windows up here that have been blocked with plates, especially those facing the North Hangar where Bellerophon is berthed. Considering that the 'glass' is actually sapphire, it must have been quite a shockwave when the cannon was fired. The secretary is a young Karnor, with corporal's stripes on his sleeve. He's apparently never met Tasha before, because his expression is one of surprise when she shows up bearing food. "Uh.. can I help you?" he asks.
"I'm the food angel -- or demon, take your pick!" Tasha, who had been eating along the way, stops to lick her fingers and then wipe the same fingers off before looking back. "Is the Base Commander in? I'm here to tempt him. Oh, and official matters. Those too."
"Just.. just a moment please," the soldier says, looking a bit overwhelmed. He flips a switch on his intercom and says, "Sir, there's a.. red woman with wings and a plate of ribs who may or may not be a demon but would like to speak to you?"
"I'd go with demon!" Tasha calls after the secretary has finished, wondering if she got through in time. Her tail wags either way though.
"Is she dressed in chains and leather?" the tinny voice replies from the intercom. "No Sir, she's wearing a tank top and trousers and appears to be unarmed, but has very large teeth and lots of sauce or blood on her lips."
"Ah, it's just Tasha then," Vesuvius replies. "Send her in."
The corporal stands and holds the door open for Tasha, either out of politeness, protocol or not wanting to have to wash sauce-or-blood off the handle.
"Chains and leather, huh." Tsha momentarily considers how Gabriel would appreciate her showing up that wa, then earmarks that part of her brain for later. "'Just Tasha.' When did I become 'just Tasha?'" She laments as she heads on in.
Once inside, she puts on her best grin and says, "Hi, Commander! I brought you some food. But 'just Tasha?' I should keep this. It's your favorite isn't it?"
"Anything I don't have to prepare for myself is my favorite," Gordon notes, and pushes some papers aside to make room on his cluttered desk. The entire office is covered in charts and maps and binders and boxes. At least the guest chairs are still usable though. "Do you want some coffee? I've got coffee.. somewhere.."
Tasha puts down the man's plate first, then finds somewhere to put her own after a bit of elbowing papers side. In short ordr she's seated and wiping her hands clean with one of the extra napkins she brough. "Nah," she insists, shifting now to pull out a bottle, "I brought, um, 'cleaner'. Ned anything cleaned? It's, well, strong cleaner. Might have that coffee later though. Like I said, strong cleaner."
Eyebrows raised, Gordon accepts the bottle of cleaner. "Ribs and exotic booze?" he asks. "To what do I owe the honor of this bribe? Or is an apology for breaking so many of my windows?"
"I, being just a cadet, am not authorized to apologize for 'base destruction level' concerns," Tasha insists. She gives a wink, then wiggles her fingers in the air over her own meal. "I love ribs, even reflective purple ones! I really need to steal a cook from somewhere." The woman then looks up and holds her hands flat, forestalling a protest. "But not yours! I just want to steal five of your soldiers, to guard your sister who I also plan to steal. Planning's important, right?"
Gordon pauses with a rib in hand, dripping down onto his plate. "What?" he asks. "You're going into a canal? What does Katherine have to do with it? Is it for another film?"
"A canal?" Tasha leans back, arms foldings over her chest (but hands wide and stretched away so that she doesn't coat herself in sauce). "I wouldn't take Katie somewhere that dangerous," she insists. After clucking her tongue a moment, she notes, "I'm taking her somewhere more dangerous! If she wants to come, anyway. She's often told me she'd rather be doing something else, and we both know she loves technology and would like to escape her current life. So! Here I am, to help her do just that. And it's important, too. I suppose," her head tilts, "you could say we'd be going to a kind of canal ... Does deep space count as a canal?"
"It counts as oustside-my-operational-parameters," Gordon notes. "My forces aren't trained for space or ship-to-ship combat.. you'll need to talk to whoever is in charge of the Planetary Defense Cooperative.. which does not officially exist and you didn't hear it from me. But they're the ones with space combat on their minds. And all you need to bribe them with is a spaceship with hyperdrive."
"That's all?" Tasha asks, pausing as she's about to have another bite. "They don't want to own the ship, do they? Because taking a ship from me is even more dangerosu than taking these ribs -- which is very dangerous I assure you. And if they don't want that, how would I contact these people I've never heard of nor remember?"
Inwardly Tasha hears Gabriels's voice: "When did you start using metaphors?" He asks in a concerned, questioning tone. She wonders that too, now. When did she start using metaphors? I'm becoming like them, she realizes. I hope that isn't bad.//
"They want one to keep, and it has to meet certain specifications," Gordon notes. "As for how to contact them.. I do believe the Silent-Ones are still in charge."
"Keep. A hyperdrive enabled ship to keep." Tasha has the presence of mind to clean her fingers -- by licking and then napkin-ing them -- before running her temples . "All for a few soldiers. I get the impression I'm being taken advantage of. IA hyperdrive enabled vessel is worth a fortune. It's even worse if it's unregistered and undocumented. What are they think- Gaaaah." The bottle of 'cleaner' is retreived, then downed in a quick sip before being returned.
"I'll see what I can do. They'd better be willing to pay more than a few soldiers, though. With a ship like that I could buy my own Cooperative. Well ... Is there some contact data on them? Encryption? You know about them, so clearly you're connected somehow. Probably because we're here and your focus?"
"Partly," Vesuvius admits, and takes a swig himself. "I was part of the initial exploratory group on planetary defense, back when the Silent-Ones thought we might get invaded. It's basically a military version of the PHTO. Last I knew, they were limited to monitoring local space for incursions."
"That's something I'l like to be a part of, then. I'm a bit worried about those myself -- enough I'd been considering what to do about one if we detected it. That was until I heard there was already a plan in order, and that I was getting very close to 'don't do everything yourself or stick your nose in to everyone's business Tasha' level of involvement. Not that I listen, of course." The young woman shrugs, shoulders rolling in a 'what can you do' sort of way. "I'm not sure how it happened, but my nose is involved in a lot now. Anyway! I'm going to go get myself involed. They'll talk to me. Well, they'll be mad first, then, "why is this girl here and bothering us," then they'll listen. That's how it goes with government-types."
"These aren't government types," Gordon points out with a rib. "They're military. But they do have civilian advisors. I think you're chummy with one of them: Vasterlion."
"Vasterlion! I knew he'd involve me in something shady some day. Or am I involving him, and I'm the shady one? Either way, we're both pretty shady and involved." Tasha gnaws on her own rib for a moment, then licks her lips before continuing. "I'll go find him. That's all I had, by the way, so we can eat in peace without plots now. Oh, and I do plan to steal Katie. That hasn't changed. But the way might." Another shrug. "Well, lets eat!"
There's no way to avoid passing the Bio Labs when one uses the main gangway. It's possible that Tasha has been avoiding them though - except this time she catches sight of something entering the lab just as she exits the vehicle bay.
"Hnn?" Goes Tasha, uncertain she saw something and suspecting either the alcohol or the ribs have tricked her somehow. Whatever the case may be, she decides she's not about to let strange movement in her home go unexplored. Shifting her steps to quiet them, she stalks forward and edges towards the aperature, then leeeaaans around to have a peek inside.
There's definitely an unfamiliar figure inside. It's back is to her, and it looks a bit like a powered excursion suit, but one laid bare and unarmored. There are openings where the body cavity should be visible, but which are filled with wires and other devices. And, for whatever reason, it is bright yellow and blue with no really symmetry to the application of the color.
Tasha studies the creature for a long moment, then suddenly asks, "SAINA?" She's also glad she has a very solid bulkhead wall between her and the interior if she's very, very wrong.
The head rotates around until it's facing backwards. There's no visor to the modified helmet, but the camera eyes and 'face' at least are familiar, even if Tasha last saw them mounted atop a box with wheels. "Tasha," the robot replies, and a light glows pink between its cameras. "You Are Looking Well But You Have A Viscous Substance On Your Collar."
"I was attacked by some ribs. It was a close battle, but I was victorious." Sliding around the bulkhead, Tasha walks inside and then cocks her head to the side as she studies SAINA's new body. "You're looking taller," she notes. "And sturdier."
"I Assist Chief Fred," SAINA notes. "This Form Is More Versatile For Engaging This Environment."
"Well, good for you! It's good to help out and make new friends." Tasha scootches closer, still inspecting, head leaning this way and that in a very avian style. "So, how are things up on the moon?"
"Many Of The Systems Have Been Restored Aboard ORPHEUS," SAINA reports. "Active Sensors Are Operational. We Have Detected Expedition Sophonts On The Far Side Of Sheol. It Is Not Known How They Arrive Or Depart."
"That's too bad, but I know why they're here and I'm pretty sure I know how they get there. It's not something to worry about, anyway. Just our allies sneaking around for political reasons." After pausing to scratch her nose, the young woman admits, "I wish I could talk to them. The moon AI, that is. I've been, um, having some problems with my own AI -- you remember my big robot body don't you? And not just AI, but greater minds in general, things we talk about being god-like. Harrowers, those too. I could use non-organic minds and their advice."
"What Advice Do You Hope To Receive?" the robot asks.
"I'm not sure," the young woman admits, shrugging in a helpless sort of way. "How do I understand beings that immensely greater than me in terms of thought processing, memory, and so on? Or are from another reality entirely? Someone used to tell me I was acting like a god because I I wantd people to tell me what I wanted to hear. PC Me suggested that maybe these entities are doing the same thing, just showing me what I want to see. Mirrowing me. So does that make me a god again? Is it bad?" She heaves a sigh, then walks over and hops up on a counter to have a seat. "And now there's Mel, too. I think I hurt his feelings by admitting I don't trust him like I used to."
"Accept That You Can Not Understand Them," SAINA advises. "You See Reflection Because You Are Interacting With Their Model Of Your Mind. All Interaction Between Sophonts Requires Both Parties To Have A Model Of The Other In Their Mind, In Order To Predict Responses. Artificial Intelligences Can Not Be Fully Modeled By Your Mind. They Know This, And So Present The Model They Have Of Your Mind."
"Uhh, that's an interesting way to put it. Also, you've gotten very wise." Leaning back, Tasha waggles her hooves in the air as she in turn watches them waggle. "So, I'm just not capable of understanding them as I am now. That does explain why the Magi Project was needed, to help understand the Progenitors because we cannot do ... it ... ourselves ... " The young woman's feet pause, her muzzle scrunching up. "That's it, isn't it? Why Mel has that ... system. I can't understand them with this brain, but maybe I can understand them with that one." She snaps her taloned fingers, grinning. "There it is, the answer. Well, maybe. Seems right, though!"
"I Do Not Understand You," SAINA admits. "That Is Best."
"Is it? Well, if you think it's best for you, then it is. But for me, I routinely interact with beings very different from myself. Communication is paramount, and understanding would be very useful. Besides, I've been asked to understand the heart of god-like beings and have been touched by other types. I need some understanding, desperately!" The hybrid woman heaves a sigh, then pushes off and slides back to the floor. "Deseperately. Hey SAINA?" She looks up, ears perking. "Mel's got an AI in him. Another one. I trus Mel, just not that man. What should I do? He's in the way."
"What Is He In The Way Of?" the robot asks.
"Trust. Peace of mind? he may even be dangerous. I don't trust him, and I don't want him so close to our minds. he's a complete stranger and he's connected to a machine that connects to my brain. I would feel much better if he were gone, but I don't want to kill him ... I don't think ... " Biting her lip, Tasha shakes her head. "He's in the part that thinks for me. Uh, that takes over thought. A had a scan done, and, my thought shifted to Mel in certain modes. That's where he is. That suggests he's also there, too. That he knows about that system. That he's going to use it."
"Did He Move Your Titan Without You?" SAINA asks, since that's the only time Melchior acted without a pilot.
"Someone did. I'm more worried about what he's not telling me, why he's really there. Maybe I'm being paranoid? Gaaah." Tasha raps her knuckles against her head, shaking it. "Maybe. But that's a good point, it did move. You know what? I'm going to go ask him. Did he move it? What are you really up to? If I don't come back, or something happens, tell the crew immediately about what we talked about." And with that Tasha pivots, then storms towards the door!
There's a 'bloop' sound from behind her as she moves.. and behind SAINA, effectively. Or in front of him.
Tasha pauses, hew strange signal throwing her focus off. "Hnn?" She goes, slowling as she looks back.
The robot moves aside, and Tasha sees the incubation tube he must have come into the lab to examine. There's a puppy floating in it, connected to an umbilical and lots of surface sensors. She doesn't have any fur yet, so is still likely in a pre-birth stage of development. There's a twitch.. a kick from one of the legs, which causes another bloop of released gas.
The sight causes Tasha to slow, then halt. Her eyes widen, and for a moment she looks horrified. "Mariel" She whispers, shocked to see her old friend in such a tiny, helpless body. More so, she's horrified at herself for going angry, stressed-out diatribe while her poor friend is in such a state. She had intended to come see her, but life got in the way.
Ears wilting in shame, the young woman walks closer. Slowly at first, then faster until she's right by the tube. "I'm so sorry Mariel!" She pleads in an agonized voice, "I forgot. I mean, I didn't forget about you! I've just been so busy ... so much to do ... and now there's ... there's ... " Eyes closing, Tasha wills herself to shut up for a moment, then simply offers. "I'm sorry."
"She Cannot Understand You Yet," SAINA notes.
Tasha reaches up her Karnor hand and gently rests it there, her eyes staring in to the murky fluid that helps keep her friend alive. "You're wrong," she insists without looking away. "Mariel can hear me. I know she can. She knew I was leaving and I was angry." Dropping her head, the young woman lowers it to rest against the glass as well. "I miss you Mariel. I wasn't there when you went in, but you were there for me. I know you were. I'm going to be here when you come out. It'll be wonderful, we'll have everything rady for you. You can start over. Have a family you deserve. Another chance. No more stupid cards, or expectations. We'll be here for you. I promise. Leave it to me, your ... Your big sister."
The furless pink baby twitches again.. and lets out a few more bubbles.
"Thank you Mariel. Now, you get some rest, okay? You have a lot of growing to do. We'll be here, don't worry. Take your time. I'll come back to talk to you again, soon, and before I leave." Not sure what else to say, and increasingly having to suck in a breath manage her welling emotions, Tasha bites her lip and then leans back. She knows Mariel is all alone in the world, and if she can give anything to fill that gap of loss, then she will. In a quick motion she gives the side of the tube a motherly kiss; She knows Mariel is all alone in the world, and if she can give anything to fill that gap of loss, then she will. "You're never alone. We're always here, if not physically, then in your heart. And you in ours. We miss you! Grow up when you'r ready, and be safe."
Tasha swallows, hard. She thinks if she remains any longer, she might well start crying. After sucking in another breath, she turns and gives SAINA a very stiff, wooden nod, then turns towards the exit in an equally stiff movement. "I have to go," she breathes, strained. "S-see you soon, Mariel." And then she's off.
On the way to the upper hatch, Tasha runs into Fred, who asks, "Did you want to keep all that disguise stuff on Mel, or can we get him back to normal now?"
When Tasha turns around, Fred is met with a very red-eyed face, with clear and glossy trails from the young woman's eyes and what frontal teeth she has firmly biting the lip of her muzzle. She stares at him like she'd never seen him before, and then longer for a second or two before she stammers, "W-whatever is best," and then tries to walk on!
"Uh.." Fred says, but doesn't pursue. Nobody else interrupts her progress, until she's finally standing on the upper hull with Melchior. The disguise is good, in that it reduces the Gryphon to looking like just a machine.
Knowing what she just did was rude but too worked up to deal with her issues with Fred at the time, Tasha inwardly promises herself she'll go find him later and finally work things out between them. Right now, she struggles just to work herself out. As she tries to control her breathing, wiping her faces with the back of her hands as she looks up at her great machine. She decides she isn't sure what to do about the armor, but quickly realizes she won't be much use in arguing with Mel and the canny Ser Heraphel as she is.
With nothing else doing, Tasha lifts up her Karnor hand and gives herself a good smack. Then she does it again, and again, until it's too hard to concentrate on being sad and it's just starting to piss her off. The hand wavers, then goes down.
After heaving a sigh, Tasha nods to herself. Good enough, she decides, feeling she won't be able to manage much better. As ready as she'll ever be, she spreads her wings and makes her way for the cockpit.
Once inside, the interface arms connects to the back of her head, and the Titan wakes up. "Welcome back, Tasha," Melchior greets.
"Hi Mel," Tasha greets her machine automatically, a reflex that makes initial greeting easy. "I don't like how we parted last time, so I'm here to fix it. You asked me if I trusted you. I said no. What I meant was that i don't rust him, that man that had the nerve to show up in our place. Maybe he's a friend, or maybe he's up to something, but his presence here bothers me. After having my mind nearly hijacked by Abaddon, and a Khattan spy messing with it in another way, I've gotten suspicious. The problem is, I don't know how to handle it; Well, except for going to find that man and having words with him."
"I cannot monitor you when access that level of immersion," Melchior reminds. "Nor can I do anything about a presence I cannot detect."
"No, but I can. If I have to I'll -- if I really have to -- I can deal with him. Hopefully it won't come to that, because I'm sure he has his own plans. Even so, he needs me. He could overwrite my mind and he'd still fail, because if the crew didn't detect it the Progenitors would. Lord Yama would. No, whatever he wants he has to go through me to get it, whether he knows it or not.//" Tasha lifts her hands, then smacks her balled fist of a Karnor hand in to her taloned one. "I'll fix this, don't you worry!"
"You should calm yourself first," Melchior advises. "It is uncertain how anger would affect things in that state of consciousness."
"I wish I could. You're right, but it's not that easy." The hybrid woman stares in to the darkness of the cockpit for a long moment, then with tense effort, lowers herself back in to the cockpit chair and stares at the ceiling instead. "It's not easy, but you're still right. I thought the same thing. I'm just going to lay here for a while. Please play the recoding of Katherine Vesuvius, the one about angels. I'll head in when you think I'm ready."
And with that Tasha closes her eyes. nothing to do but try to relax, nowhere to go.
The music plays, and Katherine sounds so young. There isn't complete darkness, however - wavy lines and colors are projected through the implants, showing her respiration, heart rate and other stress indicators. By being able to see them though, Tasha can begin to consciously try to alter them.
And she does so, though the results are erratic and occassionally counter-productive at first. Tasha is't sure how long it took to calm herself enough to not simply rile herself up more, then the stretch of time it took to actually see progress. By the time she's seeing the readouts close towards the idea, she's so relaxed time might as well be meaningless.
The simulation menu replaces the biofeedback and music. Now it's just a matter of accessing the 'hidden' simulation of Ser Heraphel.
Access is simple enough, and something Tasha remembers well and with pride. After all, she managed to find the hidden simulation all on her own -- something a clandestine organization took pains to conceal. "Here we go ... " she says in an almost lazy thought. "Three ... two ... one ... Execute."
There's an odd weightless sensation, and then the white plane under a white sky appears, along with the elderly Khatta. "I feel a bit like the djinn of legend, summoned by stroking his prison. Alas, I cannot grant wishes," Ser Heraphel says in greeting.
Tasha takes a moment to look around, not really looking so much as gathering her nerve and trying to look nonchalant about her arrival. "On Sinai, the word "djinn" means a tricky demon. There's a painting of me dressed up like one, off somewhere on a ship back home," the young woman remarks, her eyes studying the peculiar lins of this place. "But I didn't come here for wishes, at least, not ones I can't grant myself."
Turning fully now, Tasha looks the man in the eye and then tilts hr head. "We've been talking for a while now, haven't we? I think it's time we came to a decision about where we stand with each other, and what both of us want. The truth, too. I'm here to sort it out."
"Something must have happened then, to bring on this decision?" the man asks. "I thought we shared a goal; to meet the Progenitors."
"I became more like the rest of you. Suspicious, clever. I'm not as naive as I used to be. A lot has happened since we first met. Simple answers aren't enough anymore." Tasha scratches at her nose out of habit, head tilting. "Your presence here doesn't make sense to me. You're the leader of this hidden project, able to afford covertly joiing the Expedition, building these Titans, recruiting Apollyon and the other pilots and groups. You were plotting long before I was born. I don't really believe what you're here for is as simple as that. You mentioned being able to live again, and to meet your Progenitor -- or at least a Progenitor. But, Mafdet may not even be here. Beyond that, you were trusting a man who clearly abandoned his role after being seperated from this machine. He wasn't even that fond of the mission. The others all failed, as well, for their own reasons. This seems like a very poorly designed plan for a Khattan of so much learning and influence."
"Have you ever known desperation, Tasha?" Ser Heraphel asks. "I've mentioned before that my time is limited. My time being awake like this. Because this image was made during my death. And so, that experience limits me. Too long awake, and I will start to fall apart.. because that was recorded as well. This was our.. my.. one chance. Was it a good chance? No. But what did I have to lose? The chance to meet my creator. Maybe to be reborn into a new life, or a new level of existence. Who else could fix me?"
As she listens, Tasha tries to maintain a neutral face. In truth her heart churns at the story, but even so, she tries to harden it in the face of seeking the truth. She further tries to reconcile this effort with the knowledge that should all be well, then all tha will have happened were some hard words. It helps. "/Alright/," she says after a moment to collect herself and think on what she's doing. "I can't know the truth about that, so I'll /move on:/ Who is /our?/ You said /our/ chance? Who is our? And this place we're in, this is more than just a mirror-simulation, I know now that I'm actually thinking /from the Melchior./ I thought about that, and I've decided this is part of the Magi's ability to speak to the Progenitors. We can't /understand/ them; They're beyond us, like Harrowers and the other god-like beings. How could we comprehend them? Reach them? We needed to be /on their level,/ or /close/, and that's what this place is, isn't it? An ... An artificial uplift. Right now, I /am/ the /Melc
"So, we're both here. And you're desperate. Were you really hoping Apollyon would do all you said? Or were you lurking to wait and watch, and take over when contact was made? And again, who is our?"
"And you tempted him," Tasha recalls a split second later. "Meet your god ... Or replace him. I remember. Apollyon showed me."
"I trusted Apollyon," Ser Heraphel says. "I still do. The mission has not failed yet. And as for us.. we were the Progenitor Cult leaders of our respective peoples. In this mode of thought, we can have this conversation in a fraction of a second, and not strain the resources of your Melchior." He seems lost in thought of a moment then. Or gathering them. "It is no coincidence that these machines were named the Magi. We sent them toward a beacon, a star, that may have ushered in.. we don't know. The old gods. Or new gods, waiting to be born. They've been silent for so long. Why did they abandon us? Where they even real? Are the Markers just an elaborate prank? All possibilities. Apollyon was a man I knew to have an open mind, to make good decisions in difficult or confusing circumstances."
"He decided to abandon the mission for something more immediate," the old man continues. "Was that wrong, or was it wise? It was his choice to make. That's the key, do you see? It has to be your choice. How else could they accept someone?"
Tasha listens with perked ears, still maintaining her neutral expression albiet at increasing difficulty. Her old self would have had little problem with laying in to someone, but she's changed so much since then, found compassion she never knew she had and a will to help people. She never wanted to be as suspicious as she's become. As hard as she feels she needs to be, here and now. "If you're just here for the ride, then how did you manage to save me?" She then asks, her voice wavering slightly as the effort to keep the tough facade wavers. Inwardly she thinks she knows the answer, but waits for the reaction before proceeding.
"Save you?" Ser Heraphel asks. "I don't recall saving you. I may be unraveling.. you will have to give me more context, child."
The young woman pauses, her mind weighing what she choses to say next like a scale. At length, she decides on trust over suspicion, and so replies, "You asked me if I ever felt desperation before, if I knew what it was like. Well, I have and I do. Did I tell you about Balthasar? What they made him? A Sifran Titan, a unriveled on this world or Sinai. I had gone out to test him, after we claimed him from the ruins under agreement. I promised him we'd do good, that his power could be used for more than war. And then he came and made a liar out of me." Drawing in a breath, the hybrid woman tilts her head back and stares in to the featureless sky in a muted, silent fury. Its been months, but the violation still burns in her. The hate. She came to terms with Balthasar's death, but her hatred of Abaddon burns on. "Abaddon, a Sifran Ai. A ghost? I don't know what he is, some sort of hyperdimensional, intermediate, inter-medium entity. They hate us, you know that, don't you? And so did he. I tried to fight and I lost. He was going to make me in to a puppet, the pilot and messenger of his revenge. A holocaust!"
The word hovers in the air like a storm. "And there was nothing I could do. I tried to damage the machine, I tried to kill us both. Nothing. But then, Mel was there. Unpiloted, like a miracle. The Marker was active, and he was there. Mel and the Marker saved me. But it wasn't you, was it?" She bites her lip, then finally looks back, her pained expression making her look older than her years. "And, I know. Believe me, I do know. I'm always afraid you're here to be the next Abaddon, here to steal my mind. So I came to confront you. I stil don't know what happened to let us keep living, though."
"I remember giving you the deactivation code phrase for Balthasar," Ser Heraphel says, sounding stunned. "They intervened. They do still exist. They watch us through the Markers!" The man is practically in tears now. "They protected you.. they know about us, about the mission.. they must!" The old feline gives in and falls to his knees, hands clasped together as if in prayer.
At first worried the old man might be about to die, Tasha steps forward as he falls -- the she pauses as he starts in to prayer. "Well ... maybe ..?" She counters, hesitant and not knowing what the answer is herself but uncertain if she wants to jump to intervention. Part of it is the suspicion bred in to her by her many close calls in such a short span of time, but the rest is old-as-Tasha self-esteem problems; The doubt the Progenitors may have saved her, specifically. "Maybe ... Maybe they were just defending themselves? Abaddon was going to turn me against them, he was going to succeed. Or, maybe I was just bait so they could lure him out and kill him, when he was vulnerable?" Being suspicious of hose who saved her feels distinctly ungrateful to the young woman, but she's been pushed and prodded to maintain doubt, that she might not be lead astray. It's a very bitter tasting medicine. Inward struggle aside, she eventually gives in and walks over to sit beside the man and lay a hand on his shoul
der. "I ... I, um, for ... For what it's worth, I'm sorry. I seem to say that a lot these days, don't I? I'm sorry ... I want to believe ... I think ... " She looks downward, biting her lip a moment then shaking her head. "I think I'm just scared."
The old man puts a hand on Tasha's knee, and says, "That is what faith is for. It is what we choose over fear, to guide us past it. You have vindicated all I have done. Please.. you must let me rest now. More than ever, I want to be able to meet them. They can access me, I'm sure."
"I will. I found what I came for, so I don't need to bother you again, Ser. I'm sorry for causing you so much strain, but maybe you can understand why, now." Tasha pats the old man's hand, then rises. "I understand why now, too." And she does, if not about the same thing: She knows now why should couldn't relax in Mel's presence and even part of why she's been more suspicious than she otherwise might have been. All this time she'd been living under ther shadow of Abaddon, gone but not forgotten, living on as a specter ready to destroy her from within her own machine. Another Titan, another lurking, sinister presence. She could never relax, subcinciously fearing the day when Ser Heraphel would turn on her and obliterate all that she is. With her fear confronted, she has what she sought: Peace, in this place that is her's. "The next time we meet, it will be within the Hall of Souls," she promises, then she offers a smile. "You can trust me, too. Lets go there together."