The knock comes early in the morning, certainly before dawn. It's loud enough to stir Tasha, who tends to sleep lightly on airships (but probably due to familiarity, tends to sleep best on them). Liza also stirs on the other bunk.
Liza can hear Tasha stir on the lower bunk, the tell-tale creek of the spartan bed as she rolls over and then the clip-clop of hooves hitting the deck as Tasha rises. Up and about, she walks over and fetches her jacket and slips in to her pants, leaving the rest to her undersuit as she walks over and turns the door latch.
"Yes?" She asks as she peks out the door, reaching out to sign the question a moment after before she can see anyone there.
Commanding-Hand is there, signing, "You need to come to the forward observation lounge."
"Hokay," goes Tasha in a sleepy-yet-obeying voice. The hatch closes again, the young woman waving Liza down as she wanders over to her clothes. "Got to get ready," she mumbles once seated on her bunk, already in the process of getting dressed. "Up and hairstyling."
"You really only need to wear your mask," the Lapi points out, as she gets to work on Tasha's bed-head hair. She works quickly.
"Hair," Tasha repeats with no greater amount of awakeness, even helpfully pointing at her head before she starts putting on her booties. It's a few minutes before she's ready and finally the mask goes on.
the half-Vartan stands, stretches, and then notes, "Going to forward observation lounge. Not sure why. Not sure when back. Um." She bites her lip and eyes the door, then begins walking to it as if pulled by a mysterious force. "See you later."
And then she's gone.
Commanding-Hand escorts Tasha in silence (naturally). There are not many in the lounge, and despite Liza's suggestion they're all wearing their uniforms. The 'window' shows dark landscape, although the sky above is beginning to lighten as the sun rises behind them. "You may want to sit down," Commanding-Hand suggests.
Silently and groggily, Tasha finds a seat. At firsts he's isn't sure where to sit, as she doesn't recognize most of the men and hasn't learned the nuance of mask-rank identification nor the details of Silent-Ones military ranks. She rarely deals with the militaries; Most of the armed forces she interacts with are defense forces, cooperatives, militias, and paramilitary.
Without knowing quite where to be, she opts for the closest seat -- she reasons that expediency may be worth something when propriety is unknown.
The Titan crew-chief sits next to her. Ahead in the distance are some dim lights, until the rising sun strikes the top of the life dome, setting it ablaze with light. More of the city is revealed, from the top down as dawn illuminates it.
"Wow," goes Tasha who forgets to sign, eyes widening behind her mask. She may not be quite awake, but she doesn't need to be for a city-sized shiny. She leans forward, then cocks her head to the side this way and that to catch all the rigth angles. At length she wonders why her people didn't join the Silent-Ones, then remembers more important -- But are they really that important ... -- considerations like culture, infrastructure, flight paths, general distaste and isolationisim would have been a problem.
"Few get to see it like this," Commanding-Hand signs. "I thought you would appreciate it."
"I kind of wan-" A clear of the throat, then: "I kind of want to keep it. It does not make sense, but I do." Tasha cocks her head to the other side, then signs, "It is more colorful than I thought it would be. I expected a city of golds, metals and glass, with light. Little greenery. Like a Mind-of-Light, or a Titan."
"We like our natural settings, even when we must construct and manage them," Commanding-Hand signs. "It is good for our souls." The view moves slightly to the north as the carrier continues it's approach. There are flashing beacons to the south of the dome - presumably the airfield.
"I like it. The shiny part, of course, but also the mind towards greenery. Abaddon is a barren, dry planet compared to my home. I enjoy the difference, but sometimes I miss it and barren wastes do nothing for the ... " Tasha pauses, flashes of her earlier conversations about souls blipping through her mind like landing lights. " ... Soul. We should consider adding more greenery or at least arboreal artwork. I could paint it."
"The Pit is still partly green," the Silent-One signs. "And generally free of monsters. We will be landing in about an hour."
"I am signing of ships and bases. Many of our people spent their time inside for longs periods and plants rarely grow well in space." Tasha reaches up and scratches the tip of her nose. I could do without the dryness, too, she considers. Her poor nose. "Is there anything I should do before landing? I would like to view the landing from atop the outter observation platform."
"That should be fine," Commanding-Hand signs. "The crew does not mind if passengers are out of the way, and that is the most out-of-the-way you can get while still being on board."
"I am not used to being considered in the way on an airship; I will proceed to the external deck and soothe my heart by looking at the city. After I inform my assistant we will be landing." Tasha inclines her head to the men around her, then rises. "I will do that now if I am not needed elsewhere?"
"/I just wanted to show you this,/" Commanding-Hand signs. "You are free to do as you wish now./"
"Thank you for showing it to me -- I will always remember it." And Tasha knows she will. For one, the city is very shiny which, alone, would be enough. Two, it is also very impressive in other ways, such as design and scale. Three, it is her first time in a new place and four: She feels very out of place here.
"I will see you soon. Thank you all." The young woman offers the assembled a polite bow -- You can never be too formal or polite with Silent-Ones, especially near their capital// -- and then departs.
It's an escorted walk and a short talk, then Tasha is heading upwards again until she's back on the top deck. Liza was assigned to packing her things, with joining her up top as an optional bonuss hould she wish to after finishing. Otherwise tasha promised to meet her on the ground.
Tasha isn't alone up top. Lonevigil and Tomorrow's-Hope are also there, despite the chill of morning on Abaddon. At least there isn't frost on the surfaces. There is however, a small table with a picture of hot tea on it, and some cups.
Tasha pauses as she sees the two men look at her. "I am sorry," she signs with an apolgetic emphasis. "I did not mean to interrupt; should I leave?"
"Why should you leave?" Lonevigil signs. "We are all pilots."
"I am new to this," the hybrid offers by way of explaination. She steps forward, her dufflebag slung under her left arm as she approaches. "I cam to observe the city during our landing and to take in the morning air -- it reminds me most of Sinai. May I have a seat?"
In truth, Tasha came to do what she said, but also to scan the airship and attempt to get sufficent data on its stator functions. As it is, she decides she can't risk an active scan with Lonevigil present as she thinks his advanced suit may detect her. She decides she'll have to make do with the passive scan her datapad has been conducting since before bed last night.
The elder feline gestures to a free seat (there are only six). "Tomorrow's-Hope was telling me of his family in Star City," he signs.
"I have not heard of his family," Tasha notes, seating herself and then leaning in, ears perked. "It is alarming to think there may be more like him."
"My parents are very proud of my position," Tomorrow's-Hope signs to Tasha. "And very disappointed about the location of it."
"Perhaps you should have petitioned to name it the August Bountiful Bowl of Himaar, the young woman offers, knowing full well the name is not why Tomorrow's-Hope's family is displeased with the location. "But they should be proud, you are an excellent pilot and many people rely on you. That does not comfort them much, though, does it?"
"They are not fond of the cooperative nature of the Pit," the young pilot admits. "They believe it to be a poor investment of Silent-Ones resources."
Tasha listens, nodding slowly. At length she signs, "That is a very discouraging viewpoint, but I understand -- I think -- why they believe it. We will just have to demonstrate by action and result that they are mistaken in their belief."
"Unlikely," Tomorrow's-Hope signs, then shrugs. "My people are stubborn and age does not help."
Lonevigil makes a snorting sound at that statement.
"That is unfortunate, but we can still try. Alternatively you can become a Vartan, we are very welcoming and we also build very shiny cities." Tasha winks, then leans back before turning to Lonevigil. "Was that a snort for or against?"
"Righteousness can be confused with stubbornness," Lonevigil signs. "His parents belong to a sect that promotes purity of culture. That means mingling with lesser cultures can lead to moral corruption."
"I aplogize for any moral corruption then. I assure you my resemblance to any demons is purely coincidental. It is not easy for me," signs Tasha, who makes a show of bowing her head in mollification. "That said, is purity that valuable? If taken to the extreme, it would result in the loss of that purity. Purity can only be maintained by some cooperation, which is not pure. I have realized a conundrum. Is this also corruption? Should I be quiet and corrupt this tea instead?" She looks between the two, brows and ears up.
"There is cream if you wish to corrupt it," Lonevigil says. "And our demons are all reptilian."
"Thank you, I think I will." Tasha attends her tea with what may be alarming practice; She has been in the presence of so many tea-providing cultures and their elegance some of it managed to slip in. She's very delicate about the preperation and sips her cup rather than guzzles. After two such sips, one to test and one to taste, she nods and signs with ehr free hand, "I have heard something about reptilian demons. Forgive me if I corrupt you further, but I have heard the story of a being called Neith. Neith is a figure of Silent-Ones history and was not fond of snakes, though why I do not yet know."
"An old pagan goddess," Lonevigil signs. "Such things have little relevance to the Silent-Ones now. We no longer fear dragons."
"Some things only seem to be dragons. As a not-god once told me, it is an impressive form to take if you wish to proect an image of power. Itis interesting, too, because it shows the god or not-god comprehends your nature well enough to fabricate the illusion. Not all of them can or care to," Tasha idly notes as she sips her tea again, finding sign very useful when she wishes to have a beverage and still hold a fluid conversation. "I am interested in the gods and their works, it is my hobby."
"There is only the Star," Lonevigil insists. "All claiming godhood are of necessity false gods. There simply cannot exist more than one all-powerful being."
"Do you mean n this universe or all of them?" Inquires the cadet, who focuses her attenton on the elder Silent-One. "And do you speak with your god or his angels? Physical avatars?"
"Do not be blasphemous," Lonevigil signs.. almost harshly. "One cannot know god in a physical sense. God transcends the physical and supernatural. All-powerful and all-knowing implies dominion over all of creation."
Tasha holds up her hands, placatingly. "I am not trying to be insulting, I am simply trying to understand," she signs after a moment of waiting to see if she's if a fight is going to break out, "I am alarmed you cannot explain these things without anger, but that is also an answer. Some gods have various physical avatars, or, quasi-physical in the sense they are impressions in the mind. The Harrowers speak to me in voice, but it is projected. An abstraction, a compromise. It is necessary. We do not comprehend each other, but we understand enough to commuicate. I am curious how the Satr goes about communicating its wishes and how its angels speak."
"The Star grants Revelation to those it chooses," Lonevigil signs. "It does not resort to messengers and go-betweens, mortal or otherwise. Anything claiming to be such is a being of darkness trying to lead the weak away from the Star's light."
"I assume you mean the abstract darkness we spoke of and not literal darkness," the young woman checks, but she doens't need an answer as she continues. "So the Satr communicates directly; That suggests a very high level of comprehension and awareness which fits with the concept of an all-powerful being. How can you tell one rvelation is genuine and another is not?"
"Currently, we check that the prophet is not a genetically altered Khattan," Lonevigil signs.
"A very wise precaution I think and one I should remember," Tasha signs with a nod and a faint smile. "I see we are descending; Thank you for humoring me and my corrupting questions."
"You are welcome," the stoic feline signs.
The airfield is.. large. There are many other Titan carriers, along with a lot of Titans actually marching about. There are other vehicles, some with wheels and others that might utilize some sort of ground-effect. The Reaper is lowered first, before the ship descends to land.
By the time everyone has disembarked, a massive wheeled carrier has collected Giant-Slayer. "Stay close," Strength-of-Stones signs to Tasha, while Feather-Tail and Liza take care of their luggage.
Tasha doesn't need to be told to remain nearby; Her impulse to remain near people she knows is strong as she continues to be a sore thumb in a city of hands. "I am your shadow," she replies, emphasizing her desire not to wander.
One of the ground-effect craft settles down next to them, and the doors open. It's some sort of VIP transport apparently, since they're all getting onto it. From the inside, the walls seem transparent, which provide a nice view as the vehicle lifts off and skims into the dome and city proper, following some sort of special lane that is hidden from view by stands of trees. This leads to a the back of an amphitheater.
"I like this vehicle, so few are constructed with a mind towards observation," Tasha signs as she watches the city swim by. So many people, an entire culture. The heart of a culture; tens of thousands ... Rephidim had always been the measuring stick by which she judged all other cities, yet even in uts greatness it pales in comparison to the magnificent cities of Abaddon. She never imagined there could be so many people in one place, nor buildings so high or grand; And she knows that there are cities that are great still, the metropolis, the arcology, megaopoli that span continents -- even worlds.
And it all makes her feel so very small even as she marvels at the beauty of it all.
A group of officials is there to great them. There are a lot of formalities which don't seem to include Tasha. It turns out that two of the dour looking officials are Tomorrow's-Hope's parents, who must hold some special status in the city. There is a lot of deference shown to Lonevigil.. and very little to Strength-of-Stones.. which doesn't seem to bother the young Archon at all. Feather-Tail looks like she's about to fall asleep through it all. Tasha's stomach rumbles a bit, but nobody notices but Liza.
For her part, Tasha is content to be ignored. The absence of interaction gives her time to order her thoughts and observe, but also comes with an absence of insults, belittling, condemnation and rejection -- all of which she fears more. While she's become used to being treated with a certain contempt by hardliners, and dealing with the various cultures and opinions found throughout her travels, she knows she isn't immune to their negativity nor their attacks and would rather be ignored than test her patience and her resilience.
Silence really is better, sometimes, Tasha muses, having found a new appreciation for taling less rather than more.
Sign by its nature is.. slow. But eventually the ceremony ends, and smaller vehicles arrive. "We can get some food and rest now before the main ceremony," Strength-of-Stones signs privately to Tasha, as they are led to one of the vehicles. Tomorrow's-Hope and his parents head to another, and Lonevigil to a third along with the officials. Soon they're flying towards one of the rainbow-hued towers.
Seated, Tasha has resumed staring out the window. The greeting ceremony has colored her view of the crystalline city a little more; The bright towers are less bright, the gold seems a little duller and the shadows, longer. "I am sorry you have to endure that," she signs after a long quiet, finally looking back. "I am not sure I could handle so much rejection and not come to hate the people who rejected me."
"I have not been rejected," Strength-of-Stones signs. "I am simply an uncomfortable reminder that there is a world beyond the dome."
Tasha pushes a little smile to her face; not for herself, but for him. "Then I am glad it is not so. It is good they are reminded, I think. It is good on you to remind. It is their weakness and your strength. I am proud that I am your friend and that I am in the right vehicle."
"Plus I must send you to Hell," the Archon signs. Of course the sign for 'Hell' can also be interpreted as 'Sheol'.
"That is fine, as long as it is brighter than the Darkness. It is, after all, very dark and that is not something we Vartans appreciate," Tasha notes with a more genuine smile. She leans away from the window, then eases back in her seat. It's not comfortable, since ehr wings angle inward and make her look a bit like a Kajaku or perhaps some sort of peculiar feathered Tasha-clam, but otherwise she likes it. "Hell before or after brunch?"
"After," the Archon signs. "Never go to Hell on an empty stomach." The car docks at the tower, and the group is led to a guest suite. Tasha and Liza get their own room, and the Archon arranges for food to be sent. The decor is.. not luxurious. There are plenty of Star symbols though, which look odd without the Anchor component. "Will you be needed at the ceremony for the Titan?" Liza asks Tasha. "I would think they'd have provided any special clothing if you needed it."
"It depends on how grateful they are and how much they want to ignore the outside world," Tasha explains as she goes about unpacking her things, expecting to be staying for at least a day. "They may just want to gloss over teh discovery part and focus on the history of the machine and its return. They may even hedge towards generating the asumption that the conservative faction had something to do with it by focusing more on Lonevigil and other related politicians. My speaking would undermine at least one party's agenda." It's here the young woman rolls her eyes, turning and sitting on her bed and shaking her head. "Wouldn't that be something? Well, we'll see."
Feather-Tail interrupts to let them know that food has arrived. She doesn't seem that enthusiastic about it, however.
"There's also the possibility they may snub us because we didn't specifically hand teh Reaper over to one sub-faction or another. We could have gained a lot of internal support by handing the Titan to a noble -- if not official support -- and any of tehse long-time politicians are goingto see right through my simple plot to keep it away from them and use it to protect the Pit. Hi, Feather-Tail." Tasha gestures the young woman inside, noting her expression, then resumes talking. She isn't worried about the Archon's assistant overhearing her; she's certain the woman would have guessed all of what she intends to say long before this. "So, they're grateful, but not as grateful, and of course they'll need to also express their displeasure with us. I doubt they know this was my plan, though. They probably think Gabriel did it and see me as a little insult because he's not here personally. Also, i doubt they like my honorary status."
"The food here is nutritious," Feather-Tail signs, with a slight tilt to her hands at 'nutritious' that Tasha takes to indicate a sarcastic tone. "You may find it interesting."
"I think we're about to eat their opinion," the hybrid warns her assistant conspiratorially, " ... if I am assassinated tell Gabriel to bury me with steaks." She then leans away, reaching over to lift the cover of the tray and braces herself for the horror.
There is meat, lightly seared, and breads and fruits and vegetables and colorful, jiggly translucent cubes. But everything is cut into cubes. The utensils are sticks with flattened, spoon-like ends connected by a metal piece at the other end that acts as a spring keeping the pair of paddles opened. There are no knives or forks or anything that might conceivably be useful as a weapon. Except to a salad, perhaps.
To drink there is distilled water in a crystal carafe, with matching cups.
"This is very clever. Did everyone else also recieve this meal?" Tasha asks, looking up at Feather-Tail. "And these utensils?"
"It is common for guests, even the Archon," Feather-Tail signs. "Real meals are prepared in homes, by families. Tomorrow's-Hope will be eating better. This is closer to what the soldiers eat."
Liza goes ahead and tries some of the bread-cubes. "These would be better with pots of melted cheese to dip them in," she notes.
"Oh, that's a good sign then. I was expecting the worst after the reception." Tasha points, then explains, "The safe, cube-like meal and the non-pointy utensils made em think they were making fun of me, which I tought was very clever only it wasn't what I though, so, I guess I'm the one who isn't clever?" She shrugs, then reaches down to grab a cube and pop it in her mouth in what is assuredly not formal dining convention. "Well, it's good anyway," she notes while chewing, teasing Feather-Tail with her obvious barbarisims.
"The Silent-Ones do not believe in cheese," Feather-Tail explains. "It is a waste to let milk go bad. And they do not use much milk."
"Cheese is merely a corruption of milk brought by lesser foreign cultures," Tasha points out, literally pointing with her utensil whcih she has internally dubbed 'the grabby sticks.' She also smiles, proud of her pun.
"It is little wonder that the Archon prefers the Savanite version of cooking," Liza notes.
"The Pit of Himar is full of savage decadence," Feather-Tail signs while wiggling her ears. "I am a savage wench that the Archon is trying to civilize."
"I should ask him for pointers," notes the hybrid, who tilts her head in a very overdone gesture of thought as she taps her chin with 'the grabby sticks.' "I am, after all, now in charge of my own savage wench. But maybe I am a savage wench too? In that case, Gabriel would be the one civilizing me. That must be why he was so proud when I made him a sandwich and learned to stop talking with my fists. I like this wbbilu cube, by the way." A 'wobbily cube' gets tossed in her muzzle before she resumes her pose of careful consideration.
There is a crystal chime from the main chamber, and Feather-Tail rushes out to answer it. Somebody must be at the door. And Tasha can tell when it's opened, because there is a smell that enters the suite. Something fried.. onions perhaps. And other more savory odors.
"Did you want me to civilize you, Miss Tasha?" Liza asks. "That may require dying all of your fur and hair gray."
Tasha pauses in her lfting of a meat-square, studdenly sniffing at the air vehemently until she turns right to Liza. "I believe salvation is at hand. And no, I just got my fur almost the same color from the last time I died it grey. i think I prefer barbarisim; It's an easier style choice."
There are some barks from the main lounge - Feather-Tail calling out, effectively. A peek through the door shows the Archon performing a very complicated looking handshake with a rather shabby looking Silent-One wearing spectacles over his mask. There are several sacks set on the conference table from which the odors emanate.
In hushed tones, Tasha asides to Liza -- which is really more of a below given her head is directly beneath hers as they both peek out the door. "I think we're observing whispered-of but never shown Silent-Ones criminal element. He must specialize in blasphemous and corruptive onions."
Feather-Tail ignores the two men, and begins unpacking the sacks. There are.. sandwiches.. technically. They look like someone took the idea of the sausage-in-a-bun sold in Rephidim's Bazaar, and then tried to implement it at Bromthen Heaven. They are dripping with juices and who knows what else, the bread only holding together because it's been toasted. There might be peppers in there. There are also plastic-paper bowls of sauces, and a big basket of fried and salted vegetables - they look very starchy, and are orange or purple. Nothing about the food looks the least bit nutritionally balanced.
The drinks are also in the same plastic-paper cups, but are the size of beer mugs and have straws.
"Maybe I should have claimed the Archon when I had a chance, because I think I may be in love with him now," Tasha notes to her personal assistant. "You might want to edge back a little, I don't want to drool on you but I make no promises at this point." Liza can also tell that her employeer is fidgeting, because the door shifts to-and-fro and she can hear Vartan talons clack against Karnor nails; She might even be shifting her feet!
The Archon finishes the elaborate greeting, and then uses his gauntlet to speak, "Please come out and meet my friend, Winged-Gift."
"//They're on to me,//" Tasha notes with mock-horror. "If things go badly, save the sandwiches and tell my friends I was captured valiantly trying to save the sauace." Stepping back, the young woman releases Liza's head abd quickly wipes her mouth with a napkin -- drooling being only acceptable and complimentary in Karmor company -- and then steps out to meet the newcomer.
The stranger gives out an involuntary bark and looks fidgety upon meeting Tasha in person. "This is Dream-Chaser," Strength-of-Stones signs. "Part of the Planetary Defense Cooperative." The man (who may be just a teenager) doesn't seem the sort to be involved with defense of any kind. He holds out a hand towards Tasha and smiles nervously.
"He also brought us real food," the Archon signs. "Or at least good tasting food."
"Hi," Tasha greets the man, opting for nonchalant rather than formal greetings given the situation and the man's obvious discomfort. "People also call me Tasha." She takes the hand and gives it a shake, not too firm, and then signs with her free hand, "Or Winged-Gift, as you prefer. I am Pilot-Cadet Winged-Gift, of the Joint Expeditionary Force. Because you have brought me food I am automatically going to consider you my friend until you tell me otherwise."
"I know all about you!" Dream-Chaser signs in what might be considered a 'blurting' manner. Strength-of-Stones wiggles his ears, and heads for the conference table feast of greasy grub. "I hope you like the food!" the young man signs next, then has to take off his glasses and wipe them because they've steamed up a bit.
"I hope it is all good, but I kniow me and am fairly sure it will not be." Tasha wiggles her ears as well, then turns and gestures down the fall in a come-hither motion. "The sky is clear Liza, it's time to eat. You can have my salad." That done, she waves the man to follow her as well as she proceeds towards the table.
"So you heard about me, then you might know I've heard about all of you? There's a little piece of bent space-time-and-hyperspace I am very interested," the hybrid goes on to explain as she goes about unpacking the food, needing both hands free.
"Yes!" Dream-Chaser says, apparently too excited to eat with them. It turns out that the drinks are.. well, semi-frozen. Creamy and slushy and still with a familiar base. The best description might be beer smoothies.
"Is this ice and beer?" Tasha asks as she pauses to sniff at one of the interesting new drinks. "Wow, this is different. Liza, you should try one of these -- not too much though." One of the drinks is slid towards her assistant and another to herself, then tasha begins piling up her plate with food. "You really did do your research; this is practically a bribe. A good bribe. Archon, if you ever need to bribe me you should take notes here." Finally done, tasha sits herself down and places a napkin in her lap before placing her elbows on the table and turning to Dream-Chaser. "So, what do you want? Or is this more about what I want?"
"Well," the feline signs, and then looks around to see if anyone is spying before removing something from his jacket. It's a small book with a colorful cover. Only when he lays it on the table and pulls his hand away can the cover be fully seen. Five formal glyphs at the top form the title: Winged-Gift Against Lightning-Dragon. Below that is a rather stylized looking Melchior choking a green reptilian thing, while Tasha strikes a pose on his shoulder, her hair streaming back and her gloved fists on her hips. It's clear she's wearing her Silent-One's mask.. and that she's female, moreso than her actual armor would indicate. "Could you.. autograph this, Winged-Gift?" Dream-Chaser signs nervously. But at least he did think to bring a pen.
The young woman's face goes through a curious mix of emotions as the book is first announce, pulled out, and then revealed. At first there is l ear perked curiosity; this graduates to ear-perking, then at least her expression crashes in to a look of bemused confusion and ears going askew.
"Wait, wait ... " she begins needing a sudden drink of her beer slurpy, straw and all. "What is this?" She leans in, examining the cover: Yep, it's her and Mel. More study brings her to realize it must be Tesla she's standing on, but then she really looks at herself. At first she thinks of Katie, but it's clearly her. She then reaches forward and starts flipping through pages, consumed by the mystery.
The pages are all drawings, and broken into panels. There isn't much dialogue or narration, but the drawings are clear. It starts out immediately with a Titan squadron doing battle with Tesla (or 'Lightning-Dragon') which also looks a bit more demonic than the real one. The battle goes on for several pages, as one by one the Titans are crippled. Lightning-Dragon has one in its mouth, and there are closeups of the pilot's face with glyphs of prayer.. And then on the next page there's a single panel. There's an explosion with 'Talon-of-Star Answers The Call!' in it, above a view of Melchior (or Talon-of-Star) zooming in from the sky. The page following shows Tasha in a very Silent-Ones looking cockpit, declaring that darkness cannot prevail.
"Huh," goes Tasha who continues to flip through the pages as she slurps away at her beer. In time she also starts eating her sandwich, lost in the reading of a book about herself -- or at least what seems to be about herself. As the story continues she can't help but be reminded of all the other Tashas, the Empress, the pile of bodies: They eerie sense of looking at anotehr world, another her fills her reading experience. Unlike many of the other selves she saw beyond the Oracle, this version of her seems particularly dynamic, even exciting. The old, colorful artwork and the action scenes engross her, more so for the singular peculiarty oftheir being about her. An idealized her.
And very religious and busty, Tasha decides, flipping another page. Having been there, she knows how the story ends -- but she can't quite seem to put the book down. The story is different and flashy enough she isn't quite sure if history will repeat itself nor that this otehr Tasha will succeed; She fidns herself rooting for herself living vicariously through herself in art. It's an experience she couldn't explain if she tried, which is part of why she just makes the occassion, "huh," "wow," and "hrrm," noise.
There are quite a few liberties taken. During the actual battle, Tesla didn't talk, and certainly not talk trash. Nor did the battle become a grappling contest where Melchior wrestled Tesla into the canal by his throat. And Tasha also didn't leave the cockpit after Tesla was down, and then say a prayer about consigning darkness to the pit that called down a column of fire. Tesla was just a dark silhouette within the blaze, breaking up and turning to ash over several panels. The last panel shows Tasha standing with the Silent-Ones warriors with sun setting behind them. The very last page has text in Standard though: First Printing. Kaboom Komix, Expedition City.
By the end of the story Tasha's brows are as up as they've ever been and she's reading the final page was considerable focus. "Kaboom Komix," she repeats. She isn't sure what a 'komix' is, but Kaboom has a decidedly familiar tone. "It can't be ... Can it?" She mumbles to herself, then to Dream-Chaser, ears perked and curious.
"We know it is propaganda," Dream-Chaser signs, "but we like it anyway. It is contraband here in Star-City.. but we also have Katie Kaboom posters."
"I've never seen it before. Um, this book not the Kaboom posters -- I have a few of those. Katie signed mine. Um, oh!" The mention of signing brings back the request; The Pen is accepted and Tasha leans over to sign the book, but pauses. "Where should I sign this? You know I didn't make this, right?"
Most of the last page is blank, with just the Kaboom Komix note at the very bottom. "Here is fine," Chaser signs, tapping the page with his other hand. "Any sentiment you wish.. if you could sign it to me?" He seems a bit embarrassed at that last request.
"Oh, um, sure ... " Tasha replies, leaning in and nodding slowly and feeling more than a little awkward. She's seen katie sign things -- a lot of things, in fact --- but this is the first time she's ever fone it herself. Beyond that she's stunned there are books about her! Given her previous relationship with books, she'd have expected they might boycott her existence altogether, or at least disparage her in multiple volumes. "Alright, hmm. How does Katie do this ... Oh. 'To my biggest fan, Dream-Chaser.' But, that's not very personally is it? I'm just copying Katie. Let me think ... Oh, I know. 'Never stop chasing your dreams, they will lead you to the stars and beyond,' annnnd, 'the way to the stars is open to those who believe in it.' There. How's that?"
Tasha looks up and around, realizing everyone is now watching her. her ears lay back a little, though she tries to smile with positivity -- if just to hide her embarassment. Signing things is a lot harder than it looks, she decides.
"Perfect!" Dream-Chaser signs, and almost looks like he's about to cry.
Tasha puts down her beer and reaches over towards the young man, afraid she botched things somehow, whatever he said about her signing. "Are you okay?" She asks, not quite touching him and face an mask of concern. "I've never done this before, I didn't break it somehow, did I?"
Strength-of-Stones seems a bit amused by it all. "The Technopriests have many privileges and stigmas associated with them," he signs. "Much like the mages of your world, they are a society unto themselves that few understand."
Dream-Chaser freezes for a moment, then signs, "I am happy and honored. You are my first aliens."
"Is that so?" Inquires the cadet, who glances over at teh Archon. "Katie didn't mention these to me. I think they're a surprise? Or, well, i don't know. I know she and her group have been working on propaganda for us, but I ddn't think I'd be signing anything. Maybe a few posters, or, I don't know. Something." She looks back as she catches motion on her periphery, then she smiles. "Well, I'm glad your first experience with aliens is a good one. It should be. I'm glad you like the book, too. It's very sweet."
Chaser makes a wheezing sound for a bit - maybe he's trying to laugh? Or he's just wheezing. "I can't wait to show you off to the others," he signs.
"Well, that's good." Tasha notes, leaning back and picking up her food again. "I've been looking forward to seeing you all too. That hyperspace node is an important strategic point for me -- us, really. Is it stable enough for interstellar transport throug the Sifran space-time bending?"
"Ships have passed through it," Chaser signs. "We do not know how stable it actually is. Not without direct probing."
"It would be nice to have an avenue to return home through," the book-signer ramrks, head tilting to the side. "Currently my method for returning from Galactic Space requires outside help, timing, planning and occassionally bribery. If you like, I can arrange to have the tunnel inspected directly.
"
The cheetah lets out a squeak at the offer, and then stashes the comic book back into his jacket. "I have been told you are going to try and get us a ship," he signs, keeping his hands close to his chest. "In exchange, you will be sent to the moon-base for an undisclosed purpose. I am to arrange for that transport."
Hands still full, Tasha has to continue speaking. Her beer and sandwich refuse to elave her hands and call to her in tasty goodness to eat them, like a bar maid siren's song. "I can definitely try. I've heard you want a Confederate starship, which is a bit more difficult, but I'm sure I can manage teh channels necessary to acquire one -- one way or another." A pause to eat, then the cadet continues while gesturing vaguely with her hogie, "And the rest sounds good. Anything else I should know? Requests, warnings, that sort of thing?"
After pausing for a moment to consider after placing her questions, Tasha then adds, "Specifications of the vessel would be great, by the way. Otherwise you'll get what I can manage and that may be unsuitable."
"You will be going with our normal supply shipment," Chaser signs. "There is a mass limit, so please only take what is absolutely necessary." He then nods at the request, and signs, "The crew there should have the information for that. They do not know that you are coming, however. I will send a letter with you to explain things. Communication with the base can only be made via physical messages so far."
"So I'm sneaking in. That seems to be the way of things lately." Another pause to eat, Tasha shifting her gaze towards Liza, then telling her after a moment to eat, "Liza, you'll need to stay behind. This will help to make it appear I'm still down here and also help keep us under the mass limit. There won't be much you can do in the base, anyway, and at least down here you can continue your training with the Silent-Ones. Mayeb you and Feather-Tail can exchange notes? Or, just take the time off and enjoy the scenery." The hybrid them turns back, using the paw to sip at her beer before noting, "I'll pack lightly then. When do I leave?"
"The supplies are to be sent tonight," Dream-Chaser signs. "So as soon as you are ready. He finally seems to notice Liza, which causes him to stare for a moment, until Strength-of-Stones helpfully nudges him. "I had forgotten for a moment that you are female," he signs apologetically to Tasha. "With all of the other excitement, I did not consider that element. But I am sure the base crew will adjust."
"Really?" Tasha asks, ears shooting up. "You forgot?" A mischivious grin crosses the red woman's face and she leans in to poke his chest, right where the book is. "That book definitely didn't forget. I'm not sure if I should be insulted or not, now."
The man barks nervously, then signs, "Forgive me! I was taken by your presence, and did not think about the effect it will have on the crew. They are rather awkward. They do not fear females, but they tend to find them intimidating."
"Welll," goes Tasha, who leans back and cocks her head to the side, tapping her chin with her Karnor pointer, "I suppose I can forgive you. I'm not sure what I think about being in a book that makes me out to seem manly, but I know I'm a Vartan and we don't come across like other species' women. I mena look at Liza, she's so cute, isn't she? We're not like that at all." The cadet shrugs, then rolls her eyes as she takes a long draw from her icy-beer before going on. "Anyway, I understand I'm different. I'll try not terrorize them or what-not." She pauses, then asks, "When you read this, did you know I was a real person?"
"Of course I knew," Dream-Chaser says. "We have many spy-photos of you and your Titan, and even moving pictures from the battle. I do not know anything about your assistant though. And you must please be gentle with the crew. They are extremely skilled with numbers and equations, and terrible at just about everything else."
"Spy-photos, huh?" About to make a remark about being spied upon, Tasha remembers that she has Harmonia and an actualy spy spying on people, and decdies she ought to rather cram it. "Well. Um. Right, I'll be nice. I'm usually very nice, not intimidating at all unless I need to be. Right Liza?" After turning, Tasha gives her assistant a winning smile and short, encouraging nods to agree.
"Yessss," Liza says with a forced smile. "Tasha is very patient with awkward people and very.. demure and subtle."
"See this is why I hired her," Tasha explains as she turns back, gesturing rearward towards Liza with her near-empty cup. "She's very relaxing and supportive. I don't think she's being quite honest though. Oh well, politics right? It's probably for the best." The cup is raised to salute the young man, then the hybrid turns back to the remaining food. "Since I'll be departing, we'd better eat all the evidence as quickly as completely as possible."
For whatever reason, Feather-Tail and Liza don't partake of the feast. "I'll prepare a minimal travel kit for you," the Lapi tells Tasha. "Are you sure you'll be alright on your own?"
"Liza, Liza, Liza," Tasha begins to say as she turns in her chair to fully face her assistant. "I was poking around ancient technology, fighting the undead, marveling at the stars and seeking the unknown long before I met you. I dug Gabriel out of a mountain, I helped found the JEF -- and this wasn't very long after i learned not to slur most of my words and that punching wasn't an appropriate form of communication. I'll be fine. I didn't get where I am by being completely incompetent and I know how to handle a men, even awkward smart men. Now," she gestures to the mess before them, "lets help the Acrhon get rid of the evidence and then you can forget all about me as you lounge around eating my food and hogging all my diplomatic benefits."