Most of the heavy lifting regarding the Silent-Ones Reaper Titan had been done some time ago, as it had to be moved out of the Bellerophon cargo hold in order to work on the second reactor. The giant machine had also weathered the fireball from firing the ship's linear cannon within the atmosphere - although someone had clearly polished and cleaned out the soot and dust that fell afterwards.
Lt. Vesuvius stands at the foot of the feline-shaped machine, and says, "I'm not sorry to see it go. It takes up a lot of space and I'm always worried it will suddenly 'wake up' and trash the place."
Tasha and Gabriel stand next to the uniformed Karnor, while Tomorrow's-Hope is paying most of his attention to the rolling mini-Mind-of-Light that is needed to start the great beast. A bit further back, Liza holds a notebook and tries not to look up at the Titan. In truth, she's mostly been staring at the golden winged-horse-head that forms part of the Bellerophon bridge module.
"It always was a bit of as problem," Tasha agrees, her hands folded behind her back as she cranes her neck to look the Reaper in the eye. "Took most of our hold, hard to move, then there's the worry of Minds-of-Light -- and political issues as well. At least we were able to find a good home for it." Her head drops and for a moment she studies the rolling startup computer, a machine she hadn't noticed in all the rush to get the Bellerophon up and running. She considers it a moment, but her gaze moves on to Liza soon enough. "Does the Titan make you nervous, Liza? But you seem to like our ship?"
"It's very big ma'am, and I am not," the doe points out. "I tend to feel uneasy around giant things that look like predators. I am still trying to understand the significance of the airship's decoration is all. Pegasi are very rare, but this head is not actually that of a Rhian, is it?"
"Ask me about it later, Liza. There are some things about our ship you should know, to answer your question. They are complicated answers, so it's best we have some time for them." Tasha reaches over and pats her personal assistant on the shoulder, smiles, and then adds, "If you're feling well and ready for it, that is." She gives a nod, trying to instill confidence, and then she turns back to the base commander. "We should be ready for a test start once Tomorrow's-Hope is done. I'll board Mel before then, as a precaution."
"Can your Titan catch that one if it falls over?" Gordon asks. "The corridor crane won't work with it, and I assume you want to walk it over to the North Hanger for pickup?"
"I'll run the assessment once my mind's got backup, I can't do the calculations on weight and grip offhand. If it's going down, though, I won't ruin two Titans in desperation -- so please keep your people clear," is Tasha's answer as she glances back at the Reaper.
Gordon waves to the crane operators high up near the rim of the hangar. Of the four original ones, two are still being repaired, but the other two lower cables down. "Hook those to the Reaper's shoulders. Those cranes lifted it before, they should be able to hold it again if it slips."
"You heard the man, Tomorrow. Once you're ready and inside, we'll get that done. Let me know when I should be boarding, too." The young woman turns to her personal assistant again and notes, albiet cautiously so as not to startle the Lapi, "We actually possess two Titan. This one, the Reaper, and my own Titan the Melchior. I'll be boarding Mel shortly, but you shouldn't be afraid. In many ways I am the Melchior, especially when I'm piloting it. He may look like a fancy Vartan -- a griffon to be correct -- but at his heart, he's me. I hope you can come to at least not be nervous around him, because where I go, he is usually not far away."
"You may as well get him up and ready now, Tasha," Gabriel says. "Tomorrow's-Hope will need a hand up to the cockpit, and we'll need the cranes to get Mel from the bay to the hangar floor."
Tasha salutes! "You got it, Cap'n. See you in a little bit," she says, then she turns and begins walking off -- only to pause.
"Wait here, Liza. I'm sure you'll have your chance to see the cockpit, but right nwo I'd like you to observe and take it all in. It'll be quite a sight," the hybrid woman notes, talking over her shoulder. Once all is said and done, she's off again. It's a not-exactly-short walk back in to the ship, up the ramp well, and in to her machine but she knows the way like she grew up walking it.
Moments later she's in and the arm's reaching for her head.
"Welcome back, Tasha," Melchior greets as the machine wakes up.
"It's always good to be back," Tasha greets her AI from inside her head. "I had an adventure back on Sinai, full of treasure, origins, warm robes and a new personal assistant. You'll meet her in a moment. Begin startup, prepare for launch-to-deck. We'll be using the cranes to reach the hangar floor, from there our mission is to escort the Reaver for pickup. Our kitty friend has got a new home."
"Where will it be taken?" the Titan asks, as it goes about starting up. This also involves standing up and unfolding things that were folded tighter to fit into the Titan cradle. Tasha can see a thick cable with a triangular steel foot-loop attached to the end as it lowers towards the top of Bellerophon.
Tasha goes about her own work as pilot, moving hands and feet to better position them for connection to the crane lines. It's a simple procedure for her by now, performed many times before. She muses briefly on how comfortale she's become with it all, remembering ehr earlier days as the Melchior's pilot and how exciting and hectic it all was, before she moves on to explain the mission in more detail.
"First to Harmonia, then we're off to the Pit of Himaar, then from there we're heading to Star City for a parade. After all that's done, it'll come back to The Pit to help the defenders." Tasha leans back in her control chair, then smiles andthumbs at herself. "I thought it woould be a great way to earn some further appreciation for the JEF, help get our name out there, help protect the Pit and pre-empt the political storm that'd come if Star City's elite found out we have it. They'd fight tooth and talon, or so I've heard."
"And this will prevent them from fighting?" Melchior asks. From far below, Liza looks up from the hangar floor as Melchior is hoisted over the hull and then set down onto the floor of the main hangar. The starter-brain is glowing and flickering next to the Reaper, and some of its navigation lights are coming on.
Tasha bobs her head. "You see, if they fight over it now they'll just embarass themselves. It's not foolproof, but it's a lot better than taking a 'wait and see' approach. I got the idea by thinking about how the Galactics do things -- they're big, powerful, and they have almost anything right? So what do they argue about? Prestige. Trying to seize the Titan now will make them look selfish in front of the nations, because the Pit is multinational. If that fails, well, maybe I can rub that point in -- I'll think of something."
Once down, the monolithic -- yet shorter -- Melchior lowers its gaze to stare straight at the small grouping of officials. "Standing by," it reports in a equally large version of Tasha's own voice. "We're seeing internal EM emissions, heat signatures, and the lights of course. Hi, Liza." The great machine offers something of a half-wave to the very small Lapi.
The doe gives a tentative wave back, while Tomorrow's-Hope is already making 'pick me up' gestures to Melchior. This may be due to the Reaper's chest-cockpit opening up.
"Someone's excited," the Melchior observes, head tilting to the side. "I bet he can barely contain himself," Tasha notes to her AI. "It's understandable, I felt that way about you. Or, is it me?" The hand goes down, then another which points helpfully -- and entirely not patronizing and teasingly -- at the first.
The cheetah pilot puts his hands on his hips and taps his foot, and even tilts his head slightly up at Melchior to show his impatience.
"I had a thought," the Melchior notes suddenly as it pauses in conveyance. "We could just sell it for scrap. That'd solve all our problems and provide materials to fix Tartarus. What do you think?" The machine looks to Gabriel; Tasha has come a long way in making the largely expressionless robot have expression. Right now, it looks questioning.
"I think that would cause more problems," Gabriel calls up, and gestures to the Reaper. "Who knows what sort of toxic materials are in there?"
"That's a good point," the great black machine agrees. "We'd better have someone take a look. In you go!" And with that the Melchior resumes ot ferrying. "And before you start thinking, "I can take her," Hope, remember I do have the world's only' fought and defeated another Titan in combat' medal. Here you are!" The machine flattens its hand, providing a somewhat narrow bridge to walk across to the cockpit on. Its other hand angles underneath, providing that much more safety and reminding Tasha she does learn from her mistakes.
The Silent-One leaps into the cockpit, and starts strapping his legs into the feedback armatures and activating other systems. He then grins out at Melchior, wiggles the fingers of one hand in a 'see you later' gesture, and seals the cockpit back up.
"I think I may regret this later," the black-and-gold Titan admits, stepping back. "It's a shame I can't smoke iin the cockpit." The avian machine turns away, walking off to a point nearby but within reach before turning back around. Then, it folds its arms. Waiting.
The Reaper comes to life in stages. First the fingers flex, then the tail moves about to test balance, and even the articulated claws on the feet move about. That may be just to remind Melchior that it's just got hooves. Then.. the giant Reaper begins moving. Not in a direction, though.. it just bounces up and down a bit, and then.. does a lot of feline-style stretches. At least it moves a bit more smoothly than when Layth had to operate it.
Towards the end of the tests, the Melchior begisn tapping the it's left pointer-talon against the upper arm of its right hand, gently and impatiently. "I think he's rubbing this in," Tasha asides to her AI. "Look, he's moving his feet. He knows we don't have feet. I should have picked Light-in-Darkness, he's respectful.//"
"Digit envy is unbecoming," Melchior claims. "And we can fly. Size and toes aren't everything. And yes, he is showing off."
The Reaper takes a few steps, squats down, and does a few other things well beyond the dexterity of the Lawbringer models. But then, this was probably made for the Silent-Ones equivalent of a noble - like the leader of the Silent-Ones mission on Orpheus.
"When did you become so good at evaluating teasing and handling envy?" tasha inquires, brows shooting up. Her AI is usually very robotic, she anyone might expect. She finds he's usually a little distant as well, and not very good with evaluating complex emotions; Everyone once in a while, however, he surprises her. Even stuns her. "Well. Fine. Hokay. No jealousy. And we can fly. Speaking of which, do you think we should consider upgrades? We can -- easily -- defeat local machines, but I'm more concerned about Galactic powers. Titans were used for duels before, and that was thousands of years ago."
"We are likely still top-of-the-line," the AI claims. "My design is centuries old and perfected for its role. It is unlikely the Khattans have created anything better in the past few millennia. Their technology has peaked."
The Reaper goes through a few more tests - motions to check balance and such - before returning to it's wall-cradle and starting to power down. The cockpit opens, and Tomorrow's-Hope exits, rubbing at his arms.
"/Well here's to the glories of stagnation,/" Tasha toasts, lifting her hand, kissing it, then smacking the side of her control chair. "/Lets follow Today's-Dope in case we need to catch him in an embarassing accident I may need to report during Titan training as an /example./" Despite noting it, the /Melchior/ is already moving as she maks the comment -- its hands are still folded. "/Speaking of missions, we may have the big one coming up: The Hall of Souls. I'm nervous. I am. But it needs to happen now, and I can't think of a better time to do it with House Khomen out there and the Progenitors to find./"
"Do you have an idea of what to expect there?" Melchior asks. The cheetah pilot waves for another pick-up (or lower-down in this case).
Moving closer, Tasha directs her machine to cup its hands for the other pilot to slide in to, largely because she thinks it's funnier than the alternative. Once he's in, he gets lowered to the ground and then the machine tries to pat him on the head. "It's a stronghold of beings from another universe, there could be anything inside. At the very least there seems to be a good indication Adam is present inside, but Apollyon thought he might not be alone -- there may be another Progenitor or Progenitors there as well. Or something else. There's also some thoguht that Adam is suffering, but we don't know from what or how. Other than that, Sir Heraphel seems to think he can live again if he can reach the Hall. I don't know if he's right. I don't know much at all. It worries me."
"Finding out will stop the worrying?" Melchior asks. Tomorrow's-Hope leaps from his hands to the ground, and does some more stretching. Maybe all of that activity wore him out! It does take a lot of muscle to operate the big Titan.
"I knew it, he doesn't have any endurance.//" Tasha shakes her head in her seat; Her machine hardly needs to read her mind to catch the double entandre. her arms fold, mirroring her machine's pose, yet she alone begins to rub them as if fending off an unseen chill. "No ... " She replies a second later. "No, it probably won't. There are other things, too. Other new revelations, and they're not much easier. Mel, what do you think a soul is?"
Even as she asks the question, Tasha directs her machine to look down. During the intermission between her internal conversation, she asks of the external, "/Tomorrow's-Hope, do you need to rest? I can wait here until you're ready to take him out. We have a few hours."
"I need exercise," the cheetah signs back up to the Titan. "Too much lazing on the journey out. May I borrow your rabbit?"
"That's up to her, but if she wants to, it's fine. Don't hurt my rabbit," the machine replies, its arms finally unfolding. Instead of look dubious and loom, it instead walks over to stand beside the other Titan and resume looking like a very convincing statue. "I'll be here. Mel and I will catch up."
"A soul is something that cannot be measured, according to my databanks," Melchior explains. "It represents an impression made upon the fabric of reality by consciousness. It may also be a form of 'magic' outside the Sifran system. There are many different descriptions for it, which all have varying qualities."
There's some gesturing, as Tomorrow's-Hope gets across the message to Liza that he wants to run, and needs someone to run with. The doe has to open the sides of her skirt (so that's what those buttons were for) to get full freedom, and then dashes off with the cheetah in pursuit.
"/I see. I never really thought about it before. We Vartans believe in spirits, or at least some of us do; I do, although it's a different belief now. The Titanians told me that we believe in them because our role in the, um, /tri-um-vir-ate/ was that of soldier -- we needed to sense threats outside what conventional technology and reasoning. I think my spirituality died a little that day, but maybe I see clearer now?/" the young woman shrugs a little even as she sinks back in her command chair, looking a bit smaller for it. She watches Tomorrow's-Hope chase Liza, smiling a little despite the weight of questions. "/The Harrower I amde a deal with told me we share 'blood' because of it. Lore, a Titanian record keeper, said what it did was change my /soul,/ my gravitic resonance or something similiar. We're going to the Hall of Souls. Ser Heraphel wants to live again. And, well, I have this thought Harrowers may be the Darkness the Star religion speaks of. I was told a story, by the Darkness, about the b
eginning of life. It all made me wonder, what a soul is. What we are. And if a Harrower can change my soul, what am I? What happens to me, when I die?/"
"The Darkness devours souls," Melchior claims. "In the oldest religious records that I have, that is their purpose. Speculation: the dark-matter beings are entities made of quantum gravitational resonance. If a soul is indeed similar, it would follow that they could consume them in some way. This could be the purpose behind seeding life, in the same way one would seed a pasture to grow crops."
"I ... um ... I don't like that reasoning at all," Tasha admits, reaching up and running a hand through her hair despite all of Liza's effort in styling it. "I like it even less because it I think it makes sense. At least some things I know ... Have seen ... It might be right." The young woman takes a deep, deep breath, then exhales in to cockpit. Her right hand lifts, and she looks at it, trying to see beyond it. "The Harrower called the beings of the Maelstrom prey, but thought that my sentience made me more. Maybe all of us. It can call my spirit, my Sifran spirit. I, um, I think maybe I can do that too. Maybe I'm wrong? It could be a coincidence but when I ... killed ... Blackwings, she became a part of me. She's here now, but only when magic is strong. I thought, maybe, it was the same thing. I used to hear stories, about how magicicians steal souls ... Every Vartan knows that story. And Blackwings ... "
Another deep breath, another exhale. An uncomfortable shift in the chair. "Blackwings said I ate her."
"'Kind of.'"
"What else did you learn from the captive Harrower?" Melchior asks, not really reacting to Tasha's discomfort.. but then, reacting to it might be worse.
"It said it was trapped, trapped in our dimensions and couldn't leave until our 'island' dispersed -- if it didn't vanish with us. It also told me that its directors -- the Ogdoad -- are the ones who are drawn to our 'islands of light,' and sew life within them because they are 'creators.' It said the Harrowers mark who they make deals with, so that other Harrowers will know. I have two marks, and one may be my ship. It said my ship was a being from the Maelstrom and thus prey; That I should protect it from those things that hunt in the Maelstrom. It said beings of the Maelstrom were once uplifted as Nephilim, and perhaps my ship could be too -- if I knew how it was done in the first place." Tasha rubs at her nose. It's not itchy, but it makes her feel better somehow. "It showed desire. It said that the Sifra are the first of the Old Ones, that they rebelled against the Ogdoad and pushed them out."
"The Sifra technology creates spirits, which seem to function as copies of souls," Melchior notes. "Could they have created this system to offer a soul substitute for their masters? Or as part of their plan to overthrow them, perhaps. If these Ogdoad are gone, and only their servants remain, then there should be nothing left to eat souls."
"They're not gone, not really. I've heard that there are some who may still deal with them, and it may be possible to reach them through their servants -- the ones who can still return to D-Space. There are ways to summon Harrowers, and they obey because they are supposed to. I've wondered why, I thought -- hoped -- that they did it out of an alien motivation, or because it helps their creation. But if they eat souls, then ... " The young woman bites her lip, glad she can do so and 'speak' at the same time. "The marks. I don't know. But the Harrower I spoke with can draw spirits to itself, and devour them. If they do eat souls, and that one hasn't learned to use Sifran magic, than it does seem to mean spirits and souls can serve as their ... food. And if I do it too ... " Tasha squirms, shifting in her chairturning to the side. "I don't know. I need answers. I should have thought to ask.//"
"Was not a magic ritual involved in your bonding with the spirit of your former mentor?" Melchior asks.
"That's right, and that's what I thought. It was when she described it as 'eating' ... Then I started to worry. or, I don't know, is worry the right word? What would it mena if it were true? Wouldn't that mean people I lose, they could stay with me?" Tasha makes a grunt sort of noise, frusterated, anxious, disturbed. "But it's probably not true. I shouldn't even be thinking about this. I just needed someone to talk to. At. At, about it. Even if it's true, I'll deal with it. But it's probably not. So I'm fine." A laden pause, then: "Right?"
"Is it the sort of remark she would have made to get under your skin?" Melchior asks. "She was exposed to a Sifran mind-altering device before her death as well. She may have seen things that would bring her to that way of thinking about it. Assuming she is thinking at all, unless you loan her part of your brain to do it with. In which case, you may want to take everything Blackwings says to you with the idea that some of it is coming from your own subconscious."
"Gahhh," goes Tasha, who reachs up and grabs the offending body part. "She would, I know she would. Usually I was just beneath her -- and that's not a joke -- but she loved to torment me. Degrade me. It was fun for her. Why did I ever love her?" Her head shakes. "But if it's not her, why would I torment myself by ... mocking myself? I know I have a lot to worry about, but I'm at least successful. I have love, people like me. I have a ship. So, why? Why, Mel? I thought I'd be over this."
"Do you still feel that you don't deserve any of it?" Melchior asks. "Is that your greatest anxiety?"
"I thought I moved past that," Tasha admits. "That it's what it is. I put my head in that machine, too, did I tell you? I saw me, other lives. All the ends. I thought maybe that helped me believe I did deserve it, or, that it didn't matter. Life isn't fair, right? Why did Nora die and I succeed? I don't know; It's not fair. But why think about it? But I did, I suppose, because Liza helped me realize it in that small shop in Chromotopia. That I didn't give myself a chance. So I tried to, I tried to live up to who I want to be. And it helped. A lot. But Blackwings is still here. So I don't know. I just hope the Progenitors don't mind it, because I don't time to be perfect. I don't want to think about what happens if I fail. I've seen it."
"Caspar approved of you," Melchior notes. "The implication being that he would not have approved Appolyon. Should a representative be a perfect being, free of doubt or sin? Or should they be actually representative of what it means to be a mortal person. A wide range of experience, behavior, high and low points. Would that not be a more honest offering to a god?"
"I hope so. I guess I'm still worrying if people like me, except the people now are gods.//" With one more exhale, Tasha slides further in to her chair, splaying out and feeling a little lighter for it. "We'll see, won't we. I'm glad you'll be here with me. It'll just be us, after all." Remembering that today isn't 'just her,' Tasha turns her mind to the sensors, checking if her kitty friend has stopped chasing her bunny assistant.
The pair are back in the hangar, but Liza is on her back, with her jacket off and a few buttons loosed (deliberately or from the running). Tomorrow's-Hope is.. back at the starter-brain, apparently reading through a screen of symbols. Telemetry results, most likely. Gabriel and Gordon are nowhere to be seen.
"At least she helps draw insinuations away from me," Tasha remarks of her less-than-respectable looking assistant. She briefly considers having a word with her, but decides that having Mel's head glance at her is enough. In truth, Tasha doesn't mind that much; But she knows her personal assistant will if she realizes it. Beyond that she knows they must both strive to cleave to a higher standard, and that means uncomfortable moments of reflection -- although the hybrid woman can't help but long for them in the face of more terrifying reflections. "How is it looking?" She asks of the tall, skinny Tomorrow's-Hope.
"Power output needs tuning," the cheetah signs back. "Many unneeded systems drawing power."
"You can't cut power to them, I assume? What are they?" Tasha inquires from the cockpit, glad for the new distraction.
"Weapon mounts, cosmetic muscle systems, light projection," the feline signs. "I will find a way to shut them off unless needed."
"That's a good plan. Let me know if you need help. We have about two and a half hours until our first departure deadline, but we can use the second if we need to," the Melchior seems to say.
"More practice is preferable," Tomorrow's-Hope signs. "Your assistant needs a shower."
"Head on board, ask the nice engineer or the less-than-nice blonde for access to my quarters and how to use the shower, Miss Liza," Tasha directs, lifting a gigantic talonedhand to point towards the loading ramp. "Or Gabriel if you see him, but I think he's with the Commander still."
With some effort, Liza gets to her feet and collects her jacket. She looks cooled off, but her ears are drooping. She looks uncertainly at the ramp, then heads up it and out of sight.
"Need to run tests," Tomorrow's-Hope signs. "Not going to move it again for some time if you want to stretch your legs."
"There goes me, a few months ago," Tasha mentions idly to her Titan compatriot, the machine she's piloting folding its arms again and almost seeming to be leaning casually against the wall like a fourty story guard statue. "I could take a walk. I'm just not sure where I want to walk to. But I should walk somewhere. Alright." Patting her chair and knowing Mel heard her, she directs her machine to take a breather while she exits to the deck.
From there, Tasha walks. She has no direction in mind, but she moves forward. It feels like a metaphor for aspects of her life.
Tomorrow's-Hope is sitting cross-legged on the ground, with part of the Mind-of-Light in his lap that appears to be some sort of interface. It looks like a clear piece of glass to Tasha, but she knows the man is seeing glowing symbols in it. The Bellerophon looks.. odd. Calm. Nobody is crawling over the once-exposed engines, no showers of sparks are spraying or anything else to indicate activity. Whatever is going on, it's going on inside (or else all external work was stopped for the Titan test). There's work happening in the hangar though, as a crew works on one of the cranes and another peals away protective covers from the newly installed windows. There are plenty of mechanical noises coming from the central corridor, and glimpses of vehicles moving about.
For an explorer who has been accused of always running places, Tasha finds herself decidedly uncertain where to go. The conversation took a lot out of her, leaving her in a daze. She looks around; Seeing Tomorrow's-Hope busy working makes her want to bother him in a particularly work denying way, but she bows to professionalisim. The same is true for the works and the base, although she'd have checked in more out of curiosity than yeasing a friend. That leaves her with the ship and its contents. She isn't sure she can handle visiting Mariel just yet; With how she's feeling she's afraid it might just involve a lot of crying and crying isn't conductive to a test of giant machinery. So, in the end she heads up in to the ship, and from there decides to check on her secretary to make sure her quarters haven't been flooded or that her sister hasn't traumatized the poor Lapi.
There's some activity on the bridge, which means nobody accosts Tasha on her way to her quarters. The door is slightly open, and there are some clothes neatly piled on a chair. No sound of running water or sonics however, but Liza must be in the bathroom.
"Liza? It's me," Tasha calls in, momentarily amusd by having to delicately walk in to her own quarters. "Are you figuring it out? Is everything okay?" She pokes her head in to her quartrs, not wanting to embarass Liza by asking rom the hall.
"I'm having some trouble," Liza calls from the bathroom. "There is no washtub. I have found the area with a drain, but.."
Ahh the wonders of technology and having no idea how to use it. "I'm coming, hold on." Tasha slips inside, then closes the entrance behind her. Her quarters are hardly spacious, only a fraction of those in the Pit and much less than her own ship of which she has half an entire deck to live. This makes for a quick arrival, with Liza's boss stepping in to the bathroom.
The doe is standing side-on in the shower stall, looking at the.. the blank touch screen. It isn't like there are knobs to turn or anything that she might be familiar with. She actually looks a bit embarrassed about needing help. "The sink is too small to wash my clothes in," she notes as well, sounding apologetic.
"Here, I'll show you how it works. I can explain some things too, while we're here." Tasha removes her jacket, then steps out of the bathroom in order to put it aside. Moments later she's back, looking a bit more prepared to deal with running water in a way that doesn't ruin the entirety of her uniformed look. "You see, this," she leans in, past Liza, to touch the screen. It lights up! Like a picture, come to life. " ... is a touch screen interface. It uses, um, are you familiar with electronics? Mechanics? Engineering of any sort? Well, technology, to light up. It accepts commands, which are like knobs and switches, just, well, different. How do you like your bath water?"
"So it is magic then," Liza says, looking more comfortable with that explanation. "I like it.. bath.. warm?" she replies, trying to decipher the symbols. "Blue is cold, red is hot?" she asks.
"The numbers use standard Terr- ... Standard shipboard heat measurements. As for magic ... Lets call it magic. Like Sifran magic, you see? It's all magic. There's an old saying about that: Gabriel told it to me." Touching the screen again, Tasha up the temperature until it's high enough -- to what she'd think was 'warm and comfortable.' "The ship heats the water and cleans it, so it's always fresh and the right temperature. The JEF has a great many 'magic' devices like these, which you'll learn to use in time. Tell me how it is?"
"How do I start and stop it?" the doe asks, and then a bit more shyly points out, "There are no towels. Is there s a spell for drying fur as well?"
"Press this," Tasha points, an indicator that's labeled conviently enough for desperate inference, "and then once the flow stops activate this the drying function, which isn't display because the water is running. The watre also automatically shuts off if you don't keep it going by pressing the part of the screen that says 'maintain flow,' as a safety and conservation measure."
"Is there a magical laundry service too?" Liza asks. "I need to know how to handle your and my clothing."
"We use a ... Well, lets save that for later." Tasha eyes the shower, then herself. Shewouldn't mind a shower, but she is afraid to let Liza take one without supervision given her own first experience with technology -- and she had Gabriel there. Flooding her room, or worse, a scalded Liza would be disasterous. She thinks for a moment, and then suggests, "I can stay outside and wait if you want, but I could use a shower, and it'd be safer if I was here to watch you -- the shower isn't foolproof. Believe me, I know. Whatever you prefer."
"We can share then, and I can see to your hair properly," Liza says. "Do you want me to help you disrobe?"
"I think I remember how," Tasha says with a grin. She does make a point of folding everything when she does, even going so far as to worry if she folded it right because she isn't sure she can handle a disappointed Liza right now, then she returns looking less professional but entirely Tasha.
A slip in to the shower later and Tasha is tapping the screen, leaning to the side so Liza can watch. "once you understand the words, it's really very easy. There will be many of these on the ship, but the dangerous onces won't let you use them, for safety and security reasons. We have some spare quarters you can use, too. And you asked about the ship's iconography? It's a Pegasus. Liza ... Are you familiar with the story of the Ark?"
"The Ark is what brought all the people of Sinai into the world," Liza recites. "But.. I don't remember if the story says where we came from."
"The Ark is ... Was a ship very much like this once, except larger. This ship once traveled with the Ark in the Joint Expeditionary Fleet, and that Fleet traveled between the stars." Reaching over, Tasha does soemthing with the console that's too fast for Liza to follow. ACCESSING flashes on the screen, and then the screen shows not only the shower controls, but what appears to be the night sky. There are things there, and it's brighter. Something big, and round, and green-and-blue looms to one side. It becomes apparent after a moment of review, that the things are what Liza believes to be airships -- somehow hanging in the night sky. More touching, and the water begins to flow. Tasha decides nice, warm water will be good for easing the shock, for both of them. "The Ark is the Temple of Rephidim. Our people come from beyond the sky, between worlds and stars, from another world -- worlds. I know their names, and some day you will too. You may get to see them."
"Why did we come?" the doe asks, and jumps slightly when the water starts. But since it's warm right away, she actually turns her face up and luxuriates a bit.
Tasha opens her mouth to speak, but sees how much Liza is enjoying herself and decides she should too. The question goes unanswered until Tasha is soaked, steaming, and a lot happier -- although wet she does look a lot skinnier too. The answer does come, if belatedly. "To explore. To colonize. To understand the ancients. The Sifras are what we call 'Old Ones,' they are the oldest of the Old Ones, the first generation of sentient life -- that is life that can think and is aware of itself. There were more, many more, and otehrs, but that is another story. It's enough to know why we came, and that we had to stay. The Fleet was sabotuaged, and it has been a very long time since we left. But the old empires still exist. The nations on this world are closest to being like them. You'll see them, with me. We will be returning to the gulf between the stars."
Wet Lapi look a bit scraggly, but Liza isn't a long-furred sort, so it doesn't look that bad. After a bit of turning and making sure the water is carrying away all of her sweat, she asks, "Do you need a massage? Tomorrow's-Hope seemed to after working that big machine."
"Tomorrow's-Hope is a big ham and a letch, but maybe we have that in co-" Tasha holds her tongue, remembering she's not supposed to be too open with her employee, but finding Liza easy to relate to and -- thus -- make mistake and slips around. The hybrid woman smiles awkwardly, then continues with, "He's a pain, but I like him. And that would be wonderful." Shifting, the winged woman leans against the wall so that she can relax a bit, her taloned hand waving towards the screen. "The Ark fleet is where I found my Titan, on a ship called Orpheus. The image of the Pegasus is an old legend from the place where Karnor and Humans came from; It's that legend it reflects. Gabriel was surprised to learn pegasii are real on our world."
"What is the legend?" Liza asks, and squats down to rub at Tasha's hooves.. just to clean them, apparently. The furred paws are natural shammy cloths.
Tasha watches, unsure if she should laugh, feel awkward, or just stare in a giddy 'I'm rather a bit wealthy now' sort of way -- she decides none of them are appropriate and tries her best to look neutral. That the story she's about to explain is grim helps. "Bellerophon, a great hero, rides a winged horse. he accomplishes great things, but in the end he decides he should be equal to the gods. He attempts to reach heaven and is cast down, disfigured. He loses his horse."
And I really hope it's just a story and not a prediction.// Far too many things in Tasha's life read like ominious portents, predictions, or hints at something devestating the waits beyond, just out of reach. Just a step ahead. Really, really hope.
"And he became this airship, with the head of a horse?" Liza asks, looking up at Tasha.
"No I think he just lived miserably," Tasha replies, unable to quite hide a laugh. "This ship ws named after the story. Terrans liked naming their ships after ominous legends and gods, to show their defiance of the terrors of the dark and the danger of travel. It's to embolden them. I don't like it personally." The hybrid woman reaches over, there's more ACCESSING -- and this takes longer -- and then there's a very green airship before Liza. Green, glowing, and with a ring of fire -- that is also green. "The Dark Horse, my ship."
"It does not look like a horse, ma'am," Liza notes, after dodging a bit. "But something from the deep ocean, where life is strange and said to produce its own light where the sun does not reach."
"Then you have a good sense of it," Tasha admits, glancing backwards. "It is very much like what you say. Space as its own deep oceans, and there are deeper places still. Not all places, need a sense of place. Some darks are deeper than others. My Horse is one of the lighter darknesses." Briefly, the winged woman considers what she said and wonders when she started to speak in riddles, half-truths, and outright bind-bending commentary. She holds up her hands, in defense. "Of course, you don't have to worry about any of that! Um, much. That's my job!"
"You make it sound as if it is a demon-possessed ship," Liza says, and shivers. "The sailors told tales of such things, when they were too tired for love but their tongues were restless."
Tasha bites her lip at the mention of demons; She isn't exactly sure she isn't some part of a demon herself these days. She'll get used to the demon ship. I love my demon ship. Some demons are better than others. And some angels are worse.// The hurried logic makes her feel better, as does loving her ship. "You ... spent a lot of time around sailors?" She asks instead, needing an escape topic and wondering if she picked correctly.
"Yes," Liza says. "To earn money for charm school, I was a ship's Tail for a year," she explains. The Rake didn't have one of those: basically a ship's prostitute.
Tasha pauses, deciding she /definitely picked the wrong topic -- and wonders if everywhere she goes is either strewn with angels or devils. She knows, though, that she'd better say /something/ or else leave her assistant to to awkwardess and pain. "Oh," she goes, not quite having time to myster her thoughts. "I see. Um, well." The winged officer bites her lip a moment, struggling with how to address the problem as an employer, not having any experience to back her up. In the end, she cleaves towards empathy over leadership. "I see."
It's not the best start at empathy she's ever had.
She tries harder. "I grew up on a ship. I, well, I know what you're talking about. We, well, um, we didn't have one. But I know." The part where she balances seeming respectable versus showing solidarity is hard, and she isn't sure what's right. Again, she choses empathy over position. "I, well, if it helps or matters to you at all, I did much to try and better myself."
"That's why I did it; to be able to better myself," Liza says, and doesn't seem upset or anything. "The sailors were always nice. Being a Lapi.. people think I'm fragile, so they treat me gently. And most of the time they just wanted to cuddle and talk. It is a useful talent to have - being able to listen and comfort."
"It's, well, it's not a skill I'm very good at," Tasha admits, turning to lean her back against the shower wall and folding her arms, watching Liza. "A long story, but being what I am, I resented the world. I used what I had to try to get what I wanted, but there are others who are better at it. She taught me a lot, and I almost ended up like her, but I chased ... " Eyes linger. "Someone, to a far aay land. And it was there I saw how little I had, and I wanted that to change. I found an old ship, like this one. And in it, I found secrets -- and the stars."
"Stars.." Liza says, then smiles and hugs Tasha. "Do not worry. I will be good at comforting for you. I make things better by being fluffy, you'll see."
Tasha laughs, hugging back. She even rests her nose on Liza's. "Well, good on you! I knew you were the right choice. I have a sense abouit these things," she explains with mock-conspiratorial quieteness. "And I need the comfort. The sky is dark at night, and the waters glimmer with distant stars." It sounds like an old airship saying.
"Sailors spent time away from their families too," Liza points out. "If you must spend a long time away from Gabriel, you should bring along a shirt of his. I can wear that and smell like him, and you will not feel lonely."
"I already have the shirt, but smelling like Gabriel will make for awkward nights," Tasha admits, setpping back and putting her hands on the Lapi's shoulders. She peers at the other woman for a moment, and then leans in, eye to eye. "No one on my ship has to be a Tail, you understand?"
"Does it need one?" the doe asks, one damp ear rising up.
"That is your choice and the choice of everyone on my ship, with my permission, of course. I lived that way once, and others that will join us have suffered too. I won't repeat it on my ship. I got lucky, and I've prospered. I mean to share that luck, and not just because of the lectures and the introspective ramblings." Tasha bumps noses, then lets her hands fall. "You do seem eager, though. I would have thought you'd be glad to get away from it? You always seemed to want your professionalisim to be what is seen."
"I am professional about it," the doe claims. "My job is to take care of things to make your life easier. That extends to the morale of your crew. And I like the cuddling and talking, admittedly. I am a Lapi - I don't like to be alone."
"And here people keep telling me I shouldn't do things alone. That is, after all, part of why I hired you. I realized that. I also," and here Tasha turns, leaning her shoulder against the wall. "Like backrubs and warm towels. Did I tell you the person I chased was a Lapi? In to Amazonia. A princess. She stabbed people."
"You must have been very foolish back then," Liza says, without malice. "Amazonia is very dangerous. Moreso than Titania."
"Well you're not wrong. Foolish, hotheaded, angry, cruel. That was me, not so long ago." Tasha rolls her shoulder, but then there's some extra pointing at her shoulders. Very indicative. "It wasn't easy, but I had people to vouch for me. The getting in part; The being me wasn't that easy either. It helped that I looked like one of their gods -- I spent some time as an avatar. The oracles lead me to the ship."
Liza reaches up and rubs Tasha's shoulders. "Did you chase her because she stabbed people?" she asks.
"I, um ... No," Tasha replies, shifting a little. She does really want that massage, but she's flown in to dangerous waters. Lip biting doesn't help at all.
"Ah.. she was shiny then?" the Lapi guesses. It doesn't help that she's pressing up against Tasha a bit. "You feel tense. We should dry off, and you can pet me until you are relaxed."
I am very easy, Tasha realizes, or rather already knew but poorly avoided. She had been trying so hard, too. But no one is looking; No one even thinks to look, except the people she knows won't tell. There's more shifting, but as she said before: She's not a very strong person. At least, not for some things -- especially when they're insistent. She turns, so the massaging arms are around her shoulders. "Very shiny," she whispers, leaning in to touch noses again, but this time not holding herself back. She slips forward, closer. "Very, very shiny."
And then: a kiss.