Dream-Chaser escorts Tasha and her duffel bag to one of the tower elevators, where he uses a clear crystal card that reminds the hybrid of the data crystals used by MOTHER. This causes more buttons to appear on the elevator pad, and the Silent-One chooses the lowest one.
"Are we really okay, just walking around like this?" Tasha inquires as she waits at the back of the elevator, having since leaned forward a little to watch the keycard sequence. "Will there be a problem if we're caught together?"
The Technopriest just smiles (an actual smile, which Silent-Ones hardly ever do, preferring to use their ears instead) and shakes his head. "Nobody will see us. Our path is restricted," he signs as the elevator drops silently.
Tasha smiles back, nodding her head just a little. "Well, that's reassuring," she admits as she leans back and turns her attention to watching the floor indicator and the windows.
The indicator stops before the elevator car does. It winks out at the basement, but their destination is six buttons past that. When the car does stop and open, it's into a utility bay of some sort, with bare concrete walls and minimal lighting. Of more interest is what waits for them - a Silent-Ones version of a motorcycle. It looks slung over and feline, like a running cat.
The hybrid tries to look everywhere at once when she steps out of the elevator. It's not that she suspects a trap -- far from it -- but she's lived the explorer's life long enough that sometimes things go wrong, and occassionally, very wrong indeed. When she doesn't spot a disaster, she focuses fully on the motorcycle. "This is nice," she observes as she steps up to the vehicle, running her taloned hand slowly across the frame, "I bet my sister would like one of these."
Dream-Chaser goes about the process of powering up the bike. It actually rises up a bit, and becomes apparent that there's no physical linkage to the wheels, which just look like rims with treads. The 'paws' of the bike hold them in place when it's parked. There are a lot of lighting effects on the machine, and it has a purring electric hum. Tasha's escort climbs on, and gestures for Tasha to sit behind him on the passenger saddle.
"Very nice. I bet this isn't approved general use technology," the hybrid remarks. She stows her duffel, securing it, then slings a hoofed leg around and shifts until comfortable.
"Ready to go!" She reports a second later, patting the man on his left shoulder while leaning against and looking over the right.
The cheetah signs, "No private vehicles up above, but Technopriests have to get around quickly." He secures his feet and hands into the controls, much like those of a Titan, and they head into another long.. very long.. hall this is basically an underground road. Here the purr becomes more of a growl as they accelerate to what can't possibly be a safe speed for a tunnel.. especially other vehicles occasionally pass in front of them at intersecting tunnels.
Tasha has her cloak, but she doubts it's much used at speeds nearing sixty miles per hour giving her cause to wonder about their security. She might be a blur, but she's found that she can be a very identifiable blur. Having stated her concerns already she keeps the new ones to herself; After all, she wouldn't be able to voice them well anyway given the road noise.
Instead she watches the road speed along and tries to make a mental map of it all, drawing a map of Star City in her head and aligning their path to attempt to guess the rough location of the road and approaching facilities.
Given their speed and starting point.. they've certainly passed the outer boundaries of the Life Dome itself by now.. and possibly even the industrial zone. The intersections become fewer.. and after a mile without one it becomes clear that this tunnel is dedicated and extends well beyond the city.
As an avian, the rush of air past across her body is naturally comfortable to the hybrid woman. She's found motorcycles produce a similiar feeling of freedom to being flight to the real thing, something her sister noted despite her inability to fly. That she's racing along leaning on a young man is also fun even if it's not Gabriel; it reminds her of an -- idealized -- earlier time in her life and she wonders for a moment if the memory is really her's.
As the road passes on, the hybrid storis from her comfortable reverie to reconsider her mapping project. Reaching back she pulls out her datapad, shielding it behind Dream-Chaser's back as she wakes the INU mapping function and sets it to automapping. While spying isn't a priority, she thinks she may need this information some day -- either to get in or get out -- and having a working map and global position couldn't hurt. She also wonders, for a brief moment, when she began to spy out of habit.
My responsible adult friends are a bad influence, she decides (yet again).
It's hard to get a link to a navigation beacon. The tunnel is ever-so-slightly sloped, which means they've been descending the whole time, and could be a hundred feet or more below ground by now. They pass a marker on the wall, and Dream-Chaser begins to slow.
"THIS IS REALLY DEEP," Tasha remarks -- shouts really -- in the Silent-One's ear. She isn't sure what he can do with the observation while driving but her curiosity gnaws at her and any input now would be welcome. Another glance at her datapad reports limited-to-no connection with navigational beacons, but the INU at least shows her a line -- a line over a map with a depth marker. Good enough, she thinks, sliding the datapad away as the vehicle begins to slow.
The long road finally comes to a stop at another vehicle bay. This one has more motorcycles in charging bays and a few larger flat-bed cargo transports. A Silent-One in a black jumpsuit salutes, and holds the bike stable so the riders can get off without having to power it down.
Tasha disembarks the vehicle, stepping to the side and trying to look as inconspicuous as a unique life form can. She has no doubt that she's as obvious the sun in the sky, but she hopes that appearing to unconcerned and expectant will lend the air that she's supposed to be here. She says and signs nothing, not wanting to break the facade.
Dream-Chaser does his 'follow-me' gesture and heads for one of the walls. There he holds his card up before a glowing lens, which flashes a few times before another panel opens. The cheetah removes his mask, and sticks his entire face into the revealed alcove. Part of the wall slides open a moment later, revealing another chamber.
Well I'm not getting past this point alone, not without a bomb,// Tasha notes as she watches the process, moving to follow after Dream-Chaser heads off again. She momentarily envisions trying to use the facial scanner, which ends up being her scrunched against the device with her nose the only part that can actually make contact. Uncomfortable, awkward contact.
The technopriest can her a giggle escape from the young woman as she follows along.
Once they're both in, Dream-Chaser waves to a lens up in one corner and the outer door slides closed. The opposite wall is transparent, showing another section of corridor with yet another transparent divider before yet a third section that looks like the one they're in now. "May take a moment," Chaser signs. "When partition opens I go through alone. Wait until it opens again for you to go through."
"Of course," Tasha signs, pausing as she looks around all over again. She assumes that the partitioned, transparent inner chamber is some sort of scanning area and further assumes that 'bipedal canine-avian' does not match any known configuration for 'bipedal feline.'
The partition slides open and Dream-Chaser steps through, standing in the center of the next chamber while the wall closes again. He just stands there, his back to Tasha, for what is probably less than three minutes, and then the far partition opens and he steps through. Once that closes, the one next to Tasha opens, and the Silent-One waves for her to come forward.
Tasha is uncomfortable with body scanners. This peculiar opinion for someone who didn't even know what a scanner ws until several months ago was born from a distinct and pervailant need by seemingly every single medical and science related facility, practitioner, and vague enthusiast in all things unusual to either want her blood or analyze her in some way. It doesn't help that she still has an inkling of body issues, being unique and without a father causing her to grow up with a chip of on her weird, low self-esteem shoulder.
It is thus with some reluctance she steps forward in to the area, her right hand planted on her hip as she comes to a stop and head cocked to the side in what she hopes is a look of neutral bordeom and definitely not agitation and irritation.
The panel closes behind her, and.. nothing seems to be happening. There aren't any vibrations, noises or tingles that might hint at what's happening. After about three minutes though, the Olympian symbol for 'Air' glows briefly on the partition in front of Tasha. The same symbol that is used to represent Sinai. It winks out and the panel slides open.
Magic? Tasha wonders, her thought of machines and photonics shifting to the alien devices of the Sifra. Her head shakes as she walks forward, then she thinks to ass the man in sign, "Some sort of ritual scanning device? or part of the original gate facility?"
Chaser signs back, "Calcium-isotope scan. Each world has a distinct ratio. Hard to fool without replacing all your bones. Used for detecting aliens."
"That is clever," remarks the young woman. "I am ready to proceed." She then waggles her hand towards the door, anxious to get where they're going.
The wall opens onto a more standard security checkpoint, with actual guards - a Vartan and a Karnor, both rather large. The reddish-gold Vartan holds his hand out to Tasha, and says, "I need to check your stuff. Bag and anything in your pockets." Even though his tone is professional, he's staring at Tasha's left eye. He doesn't seem to have noticed her hand yet.
"Hoo-kay" goes Tsha, who had assumed this part of the tour would have been avoided. She puts her duffel bag aside, stepping away from it and holding her hands up. "I'm surprised to see anotehr Vartan and Karnor down here, or are you here just for me?"
"Lots of different folk work here," the Vartan guard says, taking the duffel over to a table, where he begins to set each item out for inspection. The Karnor approaches next. He's got a paddle-shaped device connected by a cable to a port in the wall, and waves it up and down Tasha. It chirps and warbles a few times, and prompts the man to ask Tasha to bend forward a bit.
Tasha herself isn't carrying much on her; Her datapad, which is interesting in itself but now locked against intrusion and a small foldable comb case with a mirror inside. Her dufflebag is another story, filled with her clothing -- which has been reduced to just her semi-csual military style clothing and her fully casual stuff -- assorted paints in a hard leather case, a leather bound volumn full of interesting paintwork, brushes, toiletries and Karnor perfumes, and the most interesting and potentially most alarming: A sword.
It's an elegant blade in its understated simplicity, clearly not a native work by any nation and long enough for one or both hands -- Vartan hands. A crystal glitters at its base and its sheath and hilt bears old Vartan markings, speaking of a clan that no longer exists. Tasha glances at it a moment when it's removed, but then is urged to move and so bends over. At the same time she pulls out her datapad and hands it over, anticipating the request.
The Karnor sifts through Tasha's hair to find her exposed interface studs. "Do you any other metallic implants?" he asks. "And do you have protective non-conducting covers for them?"
The Vartan guard sets the sword aside. Everything else, including the data pad, goes back into the bag.
"No and no. They're robust though, built to handle abuse," the young woman replies, feeling more than a little awkward. She wonders what Lonevigil would think of Khattan implants that reach the deepest part of her mind -- not much she assumes.
"They'll need to be fitted with caps, all the same," the Karnor notes. "We've had electrical burn issues in the past." He then goes about sniffing Tasha.. everywhere.. which also includes some light frisking, which seems mainly to determine what she's wearing underneath her clothes. He even asks to smell her breath.
Having spent a lot of time around Karnors now, Tasha isn't surprised when her fellow Karnor begins his sniff-a-thon. It's a great deal more of a sniff-a-thon than she's used to from anyone other than her Gabriel, but given the security of the place she's in, that too doesn't surprise her.
It's awkward, though.
"Alright," she agrees to being capped, delayed somewhat by the having to shift and move for the inspection. Beneath she's wearing her usual undersuit; it smells like her and faintly of exotic materials, stiffening when handled too quickly and roughly.
"Comes recently from the Pit, had Starsteak and a brewshake for lunch, not menstruating, no illness," the Karnor narrates in a tone that suggests something or someone is listening. "Smells equally of Karnor and Vartan. Not really comfortable with this level of examination, but not suspiciously so. Flexible armor undersuit, no active power sources. Exposed metal implants on back of skull, require insulating." The assessment concluded, he gestures for Tasha to stand on a slightly raised plate.
"Metally suspect, follows strange men in to ominous concrete basements, highly attractive, extremely smart and a nice dresser," Tasha narrates as she walks over to the panel, trying to match the guard's tone and style. If she can't be comfortable, at least she can be a smartass -- it's a lesson her sister taught her.
"Forty-seven kilograms, sans gear," the Karnor reports, looking at a display over Tasha's head.
"That's dainty for a Vartan," Tasha adds, smiling a little lopisdedly as she waits on the guard expectantly.
"Rest should fit.. can lighten a bit," the Vartan notes. "Don't need the extra clothes. Or what you wearing, 'sides underwear. Sword gotta stay. Too heavy and no weapons allowed."
The hybrid woman bites her lip; she's really comfortable with leaving Apollyon's sword behind, but she doubts that it will be damaged or lost by the caretakers. She had long ago removed the original datacrystal and stored it on the Melchior for access, replacing it with a fresh and currently blank one for recording future items as needed. With something of a sigh, she nods.
"Fine," she conceeds, not looking forward to the transport and wondering if she cans neak some clothing after arrival, before she's detected.
The sword is placed in a secure looking locker. "It won't leave this space until you come claim it," the Vartan says, and slides the repacked duffel over. "Try to lighten your total to 50 kilos if you can," he advises.
The duffel is accepte as Tasha peers in to it even as she says, "Yes sir." Carrying it back to the table, she stands there a moment before sorting through her things. The paints and the book at the first to be put aside; the book being a prototype of her record of the origins of the universe, the gods, and other matters she's involved in but to the uninformed eye appears to be a series of fanciful collection of mythological, fantasy, or religious imagery depecting what appears to be a crawling darkness reaching for a point of light, tentacles reaching between the stars and, further, depections of the Primus System, titanic beings, ihabited worlds and more besides.
Aside from the paint collection, the young woman puts aside all of her clothes except her jacket and most of her toiletries except for her tooth brush, a regular brush and comb, three bottles and a feather brush. This leaves her only with those items, her jacket, and her datapad. She even leaves the duffelbag on the table, putting all of the removed items in to it and stuffing the rest in to her folded coat. "Better?" She inquires, ears up.
The guard weighs them, then adds in the other non-clothing items. It's slightly over three kilos with the paint and book included. "That should be fine," he says. He also points to the 'casual' outfit, and says, "Maybe change into this before you go. Fancy stuff may get ruined up there."
The Karnor manages to produce a small plastic sack with a cinch-neck for everything to go into.
"Hokay," Tasha agrees with a dog. Her coat is unpacked, then she pulls out her cloak, some shorts, and a light tank top. It's simultaneously flattering and not: most of her body is ocovered in her form fitting undersuit, but the shorts and top don't look right over them. The young woman chose the outfit for a bit of modesty rather than style, knowing that she'll be the only woman on board. If all else fails, she decides, she can always pull the cloak around herself.
The rest goes in the cinch-bag, then Tasha steps aside and looks to the guards for further directions.
"Here, wear this," the Karnor guard says, holding out a lanyard with crystal tag on it displaying an ever shifting pattern of light. The guards were similar badges, but theirs are red and Tasha's is blue.
The tag goes around Tasha's neck, giving her the sense of being slightly more fashionable given the inherent shininess of the badge. "Anything else?"
"Just go where Chaser takes you," the Vartan says. "Hope you enjoyed your lunch. Station food is gonna be bland."
"It's fine, it won't be the first time I've had to eat bland food for a while." And it's not. Tasha grew up on an airship, and that often meant a steady diet of salted meats, ship's biscuit, lightly alcoholic water. Fine dining, she recalls, it was not.
Finally ready the young woman walks over to Dream-Chaser and nods. "Packed light and ready for bland food and poorly understood technology," she reports in.
The Silent-One salutes, then pulls open a steel door. Beyond that is a catwalk circling a large underground chamber. It's a bit like one of the hangars at Tartarus, but smaller, maybe a hundred feet across and forty high at the apex of the domed ceiling. The floor below is filled with boxes and barrels of various colors and materials, forklifts, cranes and a pair of large Nagas that are loading packages onto a circular 'pool' of what looks like mercury. It's enclosed by a raised rim of Sifran crystal, and veins of it fan out like the roots of a tree. Glowing light-cables are connected to various points around the rim, and all lead back to a complicated looking device that is equal parts clockwork and glowing optics. A countdown clock sits atop it, tiles flipping over to reveal digits. It's at a little over three hours right now.
"I knew about the gate, of course, but it's another thing to see it. This is clearly a different design than the Tower," the young woman observes as they make their way along the catwalk, her Karnor hand gesturing down at the device at the vault's heart. "I wonder what it was originally used for? It doesn't look it was built for humanoid transportation as I don't see any architecture that suggests it and the alignment seems off. Maybe internal transport within the greater Sifran structure that is our world? Maintenance?"
"It only goes to Sheol," Dream-Chaser signs. "It is dedicated, and operates differently than the tower system. It transports both ways at the same time when activated. It is limited to the mass it can transport as well, depending on recharge time. It is currently on a 96-hour cycle."
There are ramps that descend to the chamber floor, but also more chambers dug out along the sides at the catwalk level. There are also some strange structures on the ceiling connected by cables.
"That sounds like maintenance to me. Sheol is oxygenated, but but the structures there are limited and I get the impression it was used as a industrial or special purpose district. Of course, the facilities and ruins we see are mixes of First Ones and Old Ones -- possibily others -- and it can be hard to know who constructed what and what is repurposed, recycled, or rebuilt. A lot like this room, if we were future-aliens here to observe," the cadet discusses as they proceed. here and there she'll duck forward or lean back to get a good look at the chambers surrounding them, trying to take it all with avian doggedness.
"Whatever the origin, we have elements in place to prevent invasion through it," Chaser signs, and points to the packages on the ceiling. "We have explosive charges that will bury this place and seal off the gate."
"That would definitely stop material invaders," the young woman agrees, looking up and nodding towards the charges. "Of course immaterial ones would probably ignore it entirely. It's good that they're rare. Are we heading to a loung to wait, then, or do I get a tour?" The question about a tour comes with tail wagging, ears perking, and the use of smiling and leaning closer.
There isn't much to see.. a barracks, dining area and kitchen and a bathroom area. "The stuff sent back from Sheol is shipped out for analysis" Chaser explains, and leads Tasha to a large closet full of janitorial supplies - but it's got light and room to move. "You can change in here. It would help if you went to the bathroom before transport as well."
"So, no undersuit? Just the shorts and top?" Tasha asks as she scratches at her nose, ears back. "It's not like I'm shy, but you know what I'm walking in to."
"Up to you," Chaser signs. "Very hot and humid up there. If your undersuit helps with that you should keep it on."
"Well, I'll think of something. Give me a moment?" Tasha makes a twirling gesture with her pointer talon, indicating the man should turn around. Given she already shed a lot of her clothing and was expecting to have the shed more, it doesn't take her very long to slip out of her clothes. She folds the remainder and leaves them on the table while she slips in to her cloak, then puts them under her arm and walks over to tap the man on his shoulder. "All done. Should I just wait here or ..?"
"I'll take you to the lounge, and bring any clothes you aren't taking back to the security locker," Chaser signs, and leads Tasha to the lounge, which is just part of the cafeteria really, but has some padded furniture and lots of posters (including a few Katie Kabooms) along with magazines to read.
The young woman makes herself comfortable next to a cluster of Kabooms which urge her to 'Believe in Yourself,' 'Serve Your Country: Join the Military!' and one that mostly just urges the viewer to notice how attractive Katherine is and how little -- for an Abaddonian woman -- she is show to be wearing. Their proximity comforts Tasha in this strange but increasingly familiar place. A Silent-Ones magazine about Titans, their pilots, and other military affairs is picked up.
The hours pass and magazines are devoured or at least semi-enthusiastically thumbed-through. Datapad information is updated, notes are written, a self-picture is taken with Tasha making giant toothy smile and a thumbs up beside the posters, and some thought is given towards why there are no posters of her and if there ever will be -- and how comfortable she is about that. She wonders if the real Tasha lives up to the comic and if there will be any more adventures of Winged-Gift.
The time passes slowly, but it does pass.
Eventually Chaser returns to lead her down to the gateway. The circle is only about eight feet across, and is almost completely covered by boxes and barrels of water, such that Tasha is directed to sit on top of them.
She's also handed a sealed envelope. "Give that to whomever is in charge today," Chaser signs to her. "It also helps if you take a few deep breaths before the count hits zero."
Sitting atop a barrel makes Tasha feel like she's posing for something, largely because she had been thinking about posing for things earlier. She sits onthe highest object she can comfortably climb and reach, avian instinct and a little bit of vanity. "Give letter to commander. Take deep breathes. Don't vomit on self and supplies. Do not get lost in hyperspace," she returns, then gives a thumbs up, smiling, "Don't let the darkness win. Is that everything?"
"I think so," Chaser signs. There's less than 10 seconds now, and he backs away from the platform. The machine is starting to whirr and click, and pulses of light are passed down the cables.
10 ... 9 ... 8 ...
Tasha eyes the countdown with some trepedidition. Not as much as she might once have had, but a little. She finds that no matter how many times she does things like this, there's always a little fear.
7 ... 6 ... 5 ...
Deep, deep breathes.
4 ... 3 ... 2 ...
The gateway activates, and there is the familiar stretching sensation and sense of flying through space - but this time there are things coming the other direction as well, and pass right through Tasha. Still, the experience is shorter than using the Gateway Tower.
The dome is transparent, giving a wide starry view - but with no sign of Abaddon itself. There is a lot of equipment, especially telescopes, scattered about or in various stages of assembly. Boxes have been stacked up to form makeshift walls and partitions here and there. There are also various sorts of boards set up that take quite a bit of space: white boards, chalk boards, crystal boards.. and all of them are covered with mathematical equations. There are also piles of printouts overflowing from boxes. Several large standing fans are set out, but none of them are turning - which might explain the somewhat hot, humid nature of the air.
A very startled and skinny looking Eeee wearing boxer shorts gapes at Tasha. "Ah.. ah.." he stammers, then yells, "ALIEN!"
The young woman on her perch is in the middle of getting her bearings when she hears the shout. Quickly turning, she eyeballs the Eeee a moment and is about to say something mature and reasonable when That Show pops in to her head.
"SURRENDER OR BE DESTROYED," intones Tasha, who slides off her box and throws her arms and wings wide as she tries to look very big and very scary.
The Titanians were right, That Show is useful for things! She can't help but muse as she ries her hand at alien invasioning.
It's quite possible that the Eeee hasn't seen that bit of entertainment, because he screams and starts running around in a panic. This brings everyone else hurrying over. There's a Silent-One, a Human, a Karnor, a Vartan and a Naga. They all look young.. maybe even younger than Tasha. They also all look a bit underfed, and are all dressed the same, except for the Naga who doesn't wear anything at all (but is likely the most comfortable in this atmosphere). "Don't hurt us!" the human boy says, smelling of sweat. His hair is long and a bit greasy. The Karnor is howling and the Vartan takes one look at Tasha and sort of.. curls up. The Silent-One is the only one who doesn't panic, but also doesn't do anything else but stare. He's also got a speaking-glove in addition to his shorts. None of the furred or feathered types look like they've groomed at all.. or at least not for a while.
Realizing that she may have just accidentally conquerored a top secret military facility by way of a dumb joke, Tasha lets her hands fall as she stares at the assembly of young man, thinking of what to do next. She could resume being reasonable, she considers, but at the same time a little voice in her head urges her to not do that and continue the fun. The voice sounds a lot like Nora.
"Excellent," she goes, wondering why villains like to say 'excellent' so muchm and also wring or tap their hands together. "I come from the ba- um, oh: I come from RED RUIN OF THE ANGELS OF THE BEYOND that I might KNOW THINGS and so ... so ... " Her head tilts. Oh. "BEHOLD. From HELL I shall OBSERVE all BENEATH ME."
She then reaches in to her cloak and pulls out the letter. "WHOM AMONGST YOU IS YOUR PUNY LEADER?" Things are always puny to villains, she considers. There's also a lot of talking loudly, making her further wonder if she isn't a villain by default.
This seems to cause more confusing and fretting, until the Karnor nudges the Naga, who flicks his tongue and says, "Oh.. I.. I am the Pan thiSSSs week." He doesn't sound too thrilled about it.
Tasha thrusts the letter at the Naga, trying to look imperious about it. "READ THIS AND DISAPPEAR." A pause. "DESPAIR!"
The reptile snatches the envelope after slowly reaching for it, and opens it with a look of dread. He reads in silence, and then somehow looks even more upset. "Sssshe's not here to conquer uSss," he tells the others. "It'ss much worSsse! We have to go outssside!"
This quells the panic at least, but ends up with most of the boys looking down and shuffling their feet (except for the Vartan, who is still curled up).
"She'sss a Wendy," the Naga goes on. "We gotta do what sShe wantSss."
"Yeah, that," Tasha confirms, letting her wings resume their normal position and returning to a more friendly stance. She lifts her taloned hand and wiggles the digits. "Um, hi, by the way.
"We're the LosSt BoysS," the Naga says, and starts pointing. The Silent-One he names as Savage-Wit, the Eeee is Ferb, the Human is Allan, the Karnor is Deek and the Vartan is Nurple. "I am SssCutess," he finally introduces himself.
"I'm Tasha," Tasha contributes, giving a little wave with her already friendly-wiggle raised hand. She decides to leave off her rank and other details for now, but then recalls something and tries, "Or Winged-Gift? Winged-Gift, pilot of Talon-of-Star? Defeater of Lightning-Dragon?" Perhaps if she can't charm with bad entertainment, official notices and brief helloes she can win the locals over with celebrity status.
Savage-Wit twitches at the introduction, and then wiggles his ears goes a bit wide-eyed. "You're a pilot?" Allan asks. "Are those real scales?" Ferb asks, referring to the bits of Tasha's undersuit that show past her clothes. "You smell like steak," Deek says with approval. Nurple (who has purple feathers and eyes) peeks out from his ball of feathers and looks at Tasha. "Nice boo..oo..ings. Wings. Wings!" he squawks, and then dips his head back into his wings.
"Don't mind them, they are all crazy," Scutes claims.
"I am a pilot. A Titan pilot." "They're hexagonal reactive plates with self-cleaning technology." "Everything should smell like steak." It's at Nurple Tasha pauses, her Vartan sentimentality welling up. She considers him for a moment, then simply says, "Thanks!" with a wink before turning to Scutes.
"It's okay, I'm used to talking to all kinds of people. Did the letter explain what I need?" She asks him.
"You want to borrow a teleSscope to look at Abaddon," the Naga answers. "That meanSs going outside."
"Why we gotta do that?" Deek whines.
"'Cuz she'ss going to bring uSs a spaceship if we do!" Scutes announces. This results in a bit of .. dancing? "Finally!" Allan cries.
"That's right. Fun, rocky, thin-aired outside. I don't think there are any monsters, anyway. I've been in space before," the cadet notes, turning to gaze out of the dome and nod towards the barren landscape. "Then I'll get what I need and I'll be done!" Turing back, she then cocks her head to the side and studies the young emn for a moment. "I know you want a Galactic Confederate bioship, but, um, will it just be you five? Because, well ... " She is't quite sure how to explain that shyness and a lack of courage aren't the best traits in an explorer venturing in to dangerous territory.
"Well.. we know where to take it.. almost.." Ferb claims. Since his initial panic he seems to be warming up more to Tasha.. and may be trying to puff up his chest a bit.. making his ribs show more prominently.
"And we'll have a way to escape," Deed claims. Then he amends that to, "I mean, a way to get back and warn everyone if there's an invasion. Because he can only send messages when the gate cycles right now.."
"WE MUST UNLOAD THE SUPPLIES," Savage-Wit's glove speaks.
Tasha turns and smiles at the young man, but not too much least she terrify him again. "That's good. The hyperspace nodal point, right? The corridor. I'd also like information on the corridor, its stability, and the possibilty of using it for reliable two-way travel." The young woman then glances at the crates and barrels behind her and waves at them with her Karnor hand. "Need help? I'm rated very highly in cargo moving."
"Can you lift a water barrel by yourself?" Allan asks. The barrels aren't that big, compared to ones Tasha's dealt with before. She can carry her own weight after all.
"Oh, sure. I'm at old hand at water barrels." Tasha walsk over and hefts the barrel up, then raises her brows. "Just tell me where! If I can, I'd like to be of use."
Everyone stares at Tasha for a moment. Scutes finally says, "Over here please!" and slithers towards one of the partitioned off areas.
"Up we go," sing-songs Tasha as she hauls the barrel over, dropping it down where indicated. She then turns around and walks over to pick up another one, mentioning as she goes, "See, I have my own ship and I'd like to return to Abaddon now and then." Barrel goes down, Tasha goes back. "The current method works okay, but it's very time-window dependant and it's hard to transfer personnel. Don't ask, I can't tell you about it." Barrel goes up. "I've also been trying to keep an eye out for intruders, spies, invasion plans, that sort of thing. If I can't get back home in time, I won't be of much use." Barrel goes down.
"You should take your cloak off before you get too hot," Deek says, while the others clearly want to ask about Tasha's ship - until they hear that suggestion, then they're all nodding along. "Yeah, you might pass out!" Allan offers. They haven't moved anything themselves yet. Tasha is just too novel to ignore at the moment.
It all feels very familiar, except instead of burly dock workers she's now surrounded by intelligent men -- and neither had what Tasha would describe these days as 'social skills.' She decides to put her hoof down before things get out of hand. "I know what you're trying to do," she notes, placing the barrel down next to her half-way to the storage area, then leaning against it. "Pretty girl, alone for weeks or months. Exciting. I know." She then gestures vaguely at herself with a hand. "But I have a mate and I really am here to get work done. I know I'm distracting and I'm also sure I know what you're thinking because smart or not, most men are the same. But don't. Look all you like, but don't. It's better for you and me and I don't want any hurt feelings, okay?"
Those that can blush do. "We wouldn't try anything," Allan claims. "But we can look?" he asks, in a hopeful manner that suggests there might be more to look at. This suggestion causes Nurple to squawk and curl up into a ball again. "TERRANS ARE OVERLY HORMONAL," Savage-Wit declares. Scutes remains silent.. but then he's more concerned with unloading the supplies apparently. Nagas do not exactly have libidinous reputations - at least not where mammals are concerned.
"There's a monster outside the dome," Ferb says. "We don't know what it is."
Tasha surveys the result, then nods. "Great. Back to work!" She scoops up the barrel and returns to moving it. One the way back she glances over to ask, "Can you describe the monster? It's not Naga-like, is it? Translucent? Glowy?"
"Robotic?" The young woman thinks to add a moment later, hefting up another barrel.
"It only comes at night, and watches us," Ferb claims.
"That's kind of ominious," the cadet admits, dropping off the barrel and walking over to the last two. She eyes tehm for a moment, then lifts one and places it on her shoulder before adding the other to the other shoulder, and heads to drop them off.
"WE HAVE NOT ALL SEEN IT," Savage-Wit claims. The glove doesn't have any sort of inflection, but the boy's expression is a bit sarcastic looking. As the only Silent-One, he doesn't bother with a mask.
"We see lots of things," Deek admits. "Maybe stuff that's not there."
"Ghosts of the damned!" Nurple suddenly squawks, and then runs off to hide behind a wall of crates.
Once the last water barrels are down, Tasha pauses by the drop-off area to rest a moment and cocks her head to the side. "No captured images, right? No description? Seeing things -- halucinations, that sort of thing -- is common in expeditions like this, or so my doctor tells me. We'll keep an eye out for it. If it's dangerous, we can deal with it. If it isn't, we can try dialogue. If it's nothing, then we don't worry about it. Easy, right?"
"I.. guess.." Allan says. "You're the Wendy. You'll take care of us."
Scutes mutters something as Nurple runs off. "Ferb, you gotta refuel the lightSss yoursSelf again," he notes, opening a crate that's full of cylinders. To Tasha he notes, "We only have Sssolar power, and only when we get the sun, few times a day. Dehumidifier runSss then. CapacitorSss charge up. Not lot of electric stuff here. Don't want to Sssend out any sSignals, y'know?"
"That's usually how it works. "Tasha, big monster go kill it please," "Tasha, there's a artifact go find it please." I can handle it." Tasha winks, then pushes off the barrel and walks over to the rest, surveying thrm as she thinks a moment. It's then she notices Nurple is gone. "Scutes, is Nurple going to be alright?" She asks, turning to the man. "He seemed to take my arrival harder than most. I think I understand why, but you know him better than I do. Oh, and anything else you need me to do right now?"
"Nurple is very sensitive," Ferb explains for the Naga. "He's really good at math. He'll sit and stare at the equations for hours and hours, then suddenly write a solution.. he's just not good dealing with anything else. We're all a bit like that. Weirdos."
"Like I can call anyone a weirdo," Tasha remarks, gesturing at herself with a taloned hand. "The only Karnor-Vartan hybrid known to exist anywhere. I'm not good at math, or any of the sciences, though. Sometimes I wish I was. Often, actually." She pauses, biting her lip, then explains, "It's why I'm usually in the field, not that I wouldn't be anyway. But, well. You know. Still."
"But you can carry heavy stuff," Deek notes, dragging a crate off the platform. For a Karnor of his age.. he's a bit of a runt. And his tail curls. If anything, he makes Tasha think of the current Galactic Karnors.
"Do you want us to wash up or anything?" Allan asks. "We gotta save water. Dehumidifier recovers some of it, but never runs long enough to really dry out the air. Oh.. we should make up the.. uh.. meditation room.. for you.."
"That's true. If I hadn't been an explorer I could have had an excited and rich life moving heavy things from one area to another. Maybe they'd write a book about me, teach my techniques in a university." There's some eye-rolling, but Tasha grins a little after to show she isn't upset. "It's okay, there's no need to try and make me feel better. I've accepted who and what I am. I have my friends, my career, my ship and people I love. If I have problems about what I am, I should get over myself." She walks over and reaches to help deek with his crate, telling him as they go, "By the way, and I don't mean to be rude or mean, but are you ... and ordinary Karnor?"
Looking away as she waits for an answer, Tasha replies, "Wash? Don't bother. be comfortable, hokay? It's your home. I wouldn't appreciate anyone walking in to the JEF, our ships, or our homes telling us what to do. I'll be fine. I'm used dock workers, anyway."
"No," Deek says. "I can't hardly smell anything. My smelling-part of my brain is all for math and spatial stuff instead. I'm a mutant." He does wag his tail a bit when he says it though.
"So nature's experiment instead of a Expedition of Terran lab? I understand. Maybe you haven't heard, but the Galactic Karnors -- the ones from the space outside Primus? -- some of them look like you do. That's why I asked," Tasha tells Deek, after turning back. "I was made by magical influence. The Sifran system made me possible."
"You know magic?" Ferb asks, following along now. "What kind of magic?"
"I didn't create myself, if that's what you mean. I was created by the influence of s Sifran spirit. I don't know any magic myself, but I can talk to things using a kind of gravitic or dark matter resonance," the young woman answers as she and Ferb put the box down. She then follows him back to the ohers and resumes helping. "Harrowers, but sometimes other things."
"Ghosts!" Nurple squawks from his hiding spot.
Scutes comes over carrying Tasha's bag of stuff. "I'll take you to where you can sSleep and do private sstuff," he tells her.
"Ghosts," Tasha confirms with a nodd and without looking to the squaker, not wanting to scare him. "Or demons. Or angels of angels. It seems to depend on how they were created and why." The box is put down again, then the young woman dusts her hands off and nods to the Naga. "Lead on," she bids him.
Scutes takes her to a square structure made of stacked crates, with a blanket-curtain as a door. There's no ceiling, and it's a bit cramped, but it's clearly meant to be a place where someone can get some privacy. There's a 'bench' made of crates, and covered in blankets for padding. A small makeshift desk, a stack of books and magazines and a pin-up poster of Katie Kaboom are the only other furnishings.
Tasha surveys her new accomidations. They're not what she's used to anymore, but they're a far cry better than what she once had to call her own. "Thank. It's wonderful," she tells the Naga, knowing he knows she's just trying to be polite but also hoping he realies she appreciates the space they're letting her use. "I'll just unpack my things next to Katie. Its late for me, so I think I might get some sleep while I'm here. Wake me up if you need anything."