Getting to Rephidim meant getting back to a major city. Since almost all traffic from the Red Cliffs went to Abu Dhabi, it meant backtracking, which used up the last of her scheduled leave. From Abu Dhabi it was easier to find and airship going to Rephidim - but getting onto one was a different matter. Abu Dhabian ships didn't carry Nohbakim, considering them to be bad luck - and right now Tasha looked more like a Nohbakim than a typical Vartan hybrid, due to the mismatched hands and eyes. Luckily, Nohbakim captains didn't consider their own kind to be bad luck, so Tasha was able to get passage on a tramp airship full of other Nohbakim. Nobody seemed to mind that she didn't speak the language, and neither did they offer her any Rainbow Water.
The smaller airship always tried to keep in the shadow of a larger one. Tasha knew that ships like this were easy pickings for pirates, since nobody cared about them. The cramped airship was forced to use the docks normally reserved for livestock handling - not out of prejudice, but because they couldn't afford the fees for the other docks. Some of the passengers were also heading to the Temple to apply for citizenship, while the rest were heading for someplace they wouldn't talk about, but it seemed to be further up the docks.
Blackwings kept quiet most of the way - at least as much as any other voice in Tasha's head kept quiet. At least she didn't seem to care about the Nohbakim, but for Blackwings they had always been beneath notice, like Kavis.
With a cheap cloak she bought prior to the flight huddled about her and covering her ash-black armor, a weary Tasha plods along the docks along with the group destined for the Temple proper. It's been some time since she was in her home town -- as much her home town as any city or village might be. Born on an airship, her real home had always been wandering.
Not much has changed there, the young woman considers as she makes her way. Most of her equipment has been packed tight and well secured. Thieves are the eternal problem of travels, something she knows from experience from being on both sides of that fence. Her sword and the strange chemical gun remain in their holders, ready for action if discretion fails.
As she makes her way, she turns to regard her old home. How much like a fantasy it seems now, full of everyone mixing together, all the colors of life. A blue sky, moist air. She never imagined she'd ever miss the air, omnipresent as the moist air of Sinai was, but she does. Abaddon is too dry for her tastes, making her nose eternally itch.
Passing through the Bazaar is another reminder of how different the culture is. Hawkers of every kind offer up their wares, uncaring as to who they offer them too so long as they have Shekels. A kiosk selling makeup of all things practically erupts at the sight of the Nohbakim, as Kavi and Skeek girls bombard them with offers of 'total makeovers' and other cosmetic services. They don't make the same offers to Tasha though.. because no matter what her appearance may be, she looks dangerous. A Temple guard and his Zelak take an interest in Tasha, but don't approach.
Tasha considers their reluctance; it's not as if she wasn't a dangerous sort of person before she left Sinai for the first time, after all. It's the magnitude, she decides, that has changed. After a moment more of contemplation as she eyes the Guards watching her, she once again remembers -- confirming for herself -- that the hard road and one too many conflicts has left a scar on her that's more than mismatched body parts.
It is a challenge to reach the walls of the city without a Kavi getting a look under her cloak (her armor looks like metal, or at the very least something expensive). From there it's a straight walk to the Temple, although she'll stand out more as a result.
Tasha knows the main road to be safer than the back streets, having heard over the years of growing up here what districts and regions are safer than others -- and what areas low born children like her should avoid. It wasn't just crime that was a problem as nobles and other, higher, citizens could easily make a problem for her, having their way by virtue of status and wealth. Who's wealthy and powerful now, she thinks in a moment of petty victory, grinning beneath her cloak. It reminds her she's tired, but she doesn't stop and doesn't sweat the attention as she heads along the main street.
Things are busy, as usual. Regular citizens mill about, usually holding forms that they can't quite figure out and waiting their turn with an advisor. There aren't as many waiting at the Admitting window line though.
Tasha pauses just inside the door and out of the way, taking a moment to comb her hair with her mismatched hands and then glance at a metal-framed mirror she brought along. It'll have to do, she decides as she stares at her road worn face with its dour expression. She thinks she looks old.
After the mirror is pocketed, head shaking, the young woman straigtens and approaches the admittance area. Falling in line, she rests her hands on the hilt of her sword in a relaxed position, letting her mind wander as she waits. Thinking.
The lines moves quickly, and Tasha soon finds herself facing a uniformed Jupani.. well, Karnor technically.. woman on the side of the wall. "Next.." the woman calls, barely looking up at Tasha. "What is the nature of your visit to the Temple today?" she asks.
"My name is Aldara Tasha Argentine, Cadet, Joint Expeditionary Force of Abaddon. I am currently investigating archaeological leads on the surface of Sinai and am here to request special assistance from the Bridge. They know who I am," Tasha replies, ready to make eye contact and to assert dominance as needed. She knows her declaration and request are both unusual -- to say the least -- and she she prepares to level both presence and authority as needed.
"Here's my ID." The PHTO ID is slid across the counter's surface. A new ID, her wry grin of put-upon amusement at having to get a new photo after her injury preserved on the face of her bona fide.
The clerk takes the card and looks it over front and back. "Never seen one of these before," she notes. "Abaddon, you say?" She gives Tasha a good look now, comparing her to the photo on the card. "Please wait over in Reception Area.. ahh.. Three," she then says, holding onto the card while pointing to a closed door.
"Thank you ma'am." Tasha inclides her head and departs for the waiting area. Authority is one thing, and politeness another; she's glad to see she still remembers the latter in the face of entirely too much stress.
The Reception Area is a small square room with two doors, one leading to the main gallery and another leading deeper into the Temple, presumably. There's actually a slide-bolt on the inside of the door Tasha enters through. For furnishings there is a bench, a set of stand-up lockers and a table with a pitcher of water and some glasses. Light comes from glowing panels in the ceiling.
Tasha has been through the ritual of 'enter the small room, wait, meet person of authority at a desk' many timeds before. So many that seeing this new area of the Temple simply feels like the same old room in a new -- or rather old -- location. She amuses herself by thinking that every waiting and meeting room are actually the same room and that these sorts of rooms all exist in a kind of meeting universe, a place seperate from reality, like the prison of the Source. It does a little to lift her spirits as she sits at one side of the table, knowing she'll end up there anyway. The bag that holds her helmet is placed on the table, then she leans back and closes her eyes. A little rest where she can get it.
It isn't clear how long Tasha has been waiting, but the opening of the inner door actually wakes her up from her nap. "Tash Argentine?" an old Jupani asks. He must be in his sixties.. but doesn't seem frail. His uniform is that of the Bridge as well.
Tasha bliks several times, but when she sees the man's uniform she quickly sits up and straightens. "Yes sir," she confirms in a clear, attentive voice.
The man goes to bolt the other door, then turns to Tasha with his arms behind his back. "For security reasons, I must insist that you store any weapons in the locker. And that cloak as well."
"Of course," Tasha says after a momentary pause. She wonders when she became so suspicious as to second guess the Temple's request, trying to feel out any hidden agenda or lurking danger, but decides as she pits her weapons in storage that it's just one more piece of baggae brought along the path.
The sword goes in followed by the chemical pistol, a folded up rifle, a utility dagger complete with compass, and then the cloak. She turns now, allowing the man a clear look at her inky, matte-black armor that covers everywhere except her hands and face. No insignias mark it. "Is this sufficent?" She then asks.
"Are there any devices you intend to bring besides your armor?" the man asks politely.
"Deeviiiices ... " Goes Tasha in a drawn out and thoughtful tone, head cocking to the side as she thinks. Devices have become such a part of her existence she wonders if she does anything without them, though many were left behind due to their instability on Sinai. She has to give the question more thought than her weaponry, fishing out a small pile of equipment. Compasses, notepads, uneaten MRE packets, 'K'-Rations, a clever mechanical calculator. The list goes on.
"Uhhhh," the young woman utters as she fishes through the pile, removing her notepads, several small books, a handful of pencils, colored chalk and similiar items, maps, and finally her remaining identification documents. She puts the rest in the locked, then turns to the man and shrugs apologetically as she returns what she's taking to their pockets. "Sorry," she offers, "you never know what you'll need out there."
The guard examines the pencils and checks the books for hollowed-out spaces. "Alright, that should be it. Please follow me," he then says, and knocks on the door leading into the Temple. It's opened from the outside and another canine guard checks that everything is in order before letting him through.
"Yes sir," goes Tasha automatically, following the man in to the Temple. The last time she was here she was with Gabriel; it was the first time she'd ever been so deep in the Temple itself. Now alone, she turns this way and that as she takes it all in. She'd been far too nervous to do it the first time, but this time around the nervousness is just a small voice amidst a tide of other concerns, allowing her to do more than fret. She knows it's a bit suspicious, but feels confident she'd be exonerated of any concern given her history and position.
The route taken is.. not what Tasha expects. It winds through service corridors and seems chosen specifically to cause disorientation. It also means there aren't any other people to run into. It ends in a lift, although one that's fairly roomy. There aren't any controls, aside from a single key-switch. The guard uses his key, and the entire thing shudders and starts rising. And rising! It's enough to tell they must be in one of the Temple's few towers.
"Did you replace the magnetic lift system with a cord, pulley and motor design?" Tasha inquires as they head up, the desire to investigate the historical wonder combing with her growing anxiety as being taken to a strange new location pushing her to talk. "The original Ark specification used multi-directional magnetic suspension elevators systems, if I remember correctly. They were secured against freefall and zero-G and contained ... " Her head swivels as she looks around, " ... emergency hand-holds and stored safety equipment."
The walls are paneled in polished wood, and don't even have hand rails, much less storage bays. "If I were a Technopriest I might understand that question," the guard notes. "But if I were a Technopriest, I'd probably have you hauled off for even asking it."
The elevator shudders to a stop, and the guard opens the doors. There's a little lobby outside, with an Eeee woman behind the desk. She looks up long enough to identify the visitors, then nods to the guard. "He's waiting," she tells him. He in turn leads Tasha to a large set of doors, which he opens. "Go right in," he tells Tasha.
Tasha frowns, face scrunching up slightly. "I forget how much has been concealed over the generations. It's all old news to me. My apologies," the young woman offers the guard, inclining her head as she passes him.
Once in the lobby she offers the Eeee woman a nervous smile, but no words. She isn't certain who is waiting, but she had a good idea about it and isn't about to waste time outside his office talking to his secretary. Without stopping she proceeds right towards the door.
The door closes behind Tasha and the Officer looks up from the documents on his desk. The Eeee is ebony black, and has a surprisingly deep voice. "Please sit down, Cadet Argentine," the bat says, and steeples his fingers. Tasha can see her ID card on the desk, next to the documents.
Tasha takes the seat as requested, hands folded in her lap, sitting straight. It's as presentable as she knows to be, her road-weary appearance aside. "Thank you for seeing me, sir, and on short notice." She had suspected -- even feared -- it would be the Captain Astromancer himself. Seeing that's not the case comes as a relief; she'd rather deal with the man infront of her, even if she doesn't recognize him.
"Short notice, indeed," the Eeee says, and picks up a sheet of paper. "According to this, the Bellerophon was scheduled to land yesterday. Yet, you seemed to have traveled the breadth of settled Abaddon to the Gateway, transited through to Sinai, and reached my Office in just a day. Clearly my report is incorrect, or else you have a better explanation of your anomalous arrival?"
Tasha cocks her head to the side, making no show of hiding that she's thinking on her words carefully. Her ears cant as moment; she twists her muzzle. "I won't belittle you by claiming your report is inaccurate, nor I will I disrespect you by evasion, but I will note that I'm under no obligation to answer your questions about my movements as I am not under Rephidim authority." She raises her brows, with makes her gut twist. Had she not had the world on her shoulders and genocide under her belt, she knows she never would have had the strength to tell the man 'no.'
But 'no' isn't good enough and she needs more if she expects to leave, let alone recieve help. "Besides, the important part to me, and I hope to you, is that I have a good reason for traveling quickly. Questions about House Khomen's intentions, among other things. Threats to Primus and concerning archaeological issues." She maintains a steady tone, even, as she's learned to do. Not too aggressive, but not passive. She's alone here, but she doesn't mean to seem weak.
"I am unfamiliar with this House Khomen," Nimiss notes, after raising an eyebrow to Tasha's evasion. "I assume it an offworld group operating.. beyond the Gateway worlds, perhaps?"
"House Khomen is the interplanetary -- or intergalactic if rumors are true -- trading monolith of ... " Tasha pauses, leaning forward and scrutinizing the Eeee infront of her. She changes direction, instead asking, "What is the Temple? Do you know?"
"I am the head of the Audit, my dear," Nimiss notes. "There is very little I do not know regarding the Temple and its allies and agents. Please continue. If I need you to clarify anything I will ask."
"Alright," Tasha remarks, leaning back. "This is just a lot to dump on someone if they're new to the, ah, truth. I know from experience." She taps the side of her head before continuing. "House Khomen is one of the Khattan Trading Coalition Houses, the great Houses that span the stars and trade among the planets of Galactic Space -- the planets and stars beyond Primus. They had attempted to conquor us at one point, which I know you know about, and after their defeat their stranded agents attempted to complete their own plans. One of those agents, Warloq, appeared to be interested in the Aelfin. I want to figure out what he was up to, the history of the Aelfin, their language, and any records describing their doings prior to the arrival of the Ark -- including if our arrival destroyed their civilization."
"And what do you expect to find if the Temple library is opened up to you?" Nimiss asks. "I ask because expectation can lead one to certain conclusions, regardless of the evidence."
"I only want the truth. Whatever that is. I won't blame anyone for what was done in the past, if anything. I don't have time to crusade about and spread the truth, either, if you're concerned about that." The young woman returns her hands to her lip, head tilting and ears flicking. "But I believe the Aelfin may be older than we are. All of us. At least First Ones, if not older. Something destroyed their civilization and it might have been us. I suspect they have greater ties to this world than many suspect. I think their existence may important."
"I will save you some time," Nimiss says. "There is no Aelfin civilization. They exist in a single valley where they were cut off from the outside world for many centuries until just recently. They have their own culture of course, and make very skilled mages and enchanters. They may be First Ones, or what is left of them. Another version of them, called the Balfin, exist deep beneath the clouds of Behemoth. The third form, called Svartifin, maintain the Sifran planetary 'engines' at the core of Behemoth, and are heavily modified with Sifran crystal implants. They are not the Sifras themselves, however, only the base stock from which Svartifin are made. But no new Svartifin have been made in a very long time, and their numbers are already below the critical level needed to maintain all of the engines."
"I, um, I appreciate your clarification." Tasha's ears lay back, her muzzle scrunched in thought as she takes it all in. After a long moment of silence, she then reaches for one of her notepads and begins writing even as she talks. "An agent of Warloq's mentions he was collecting Aelfin in order to experiment on them. She said he wanted to "throw the universe in to chaos." As an agent of House Khomen, it's possible he knew everything you just told me. He was interested in learning their langauge, which suggests to me the language is important in interacting with the machinery. The Sifran Probility Matrix and its ancillaries." She taps her pencil on the notepad; two taps.
Tap. "He may have been trying to create artificial Svartifin and disrupt the engines further, or control them. He wanted power. Immortal power."
Tap. "Whether this was one of his directives is unclear, but he did attempt to seize the Seraph, so this may be a secondary plan or what would have happened after that step. Or his own power grabbing." She then looks up. "What are your thoughts, sir?"
Abruptly Tasha frowns, adding before any response as it occurs to her, "I had suspected the engines were in the core, it only makes sense," though she says it as much to herself as to the man across from her. "And the Torus. The power to write fundamental reality, change it ... It's not a small endeavor. Hrrm."
"He's an idiot," Nimiss claims. "Or at the very least, his information is woefully out of date. It doesn't matter what happens to the Aelfin - the Sifra haven't been making more Svartifin, even though they were needed. This implies they no longer have the ability, or are about to phase out the Svartifin. The Sifran systems are tuned to Aelfin at the moment, but they cannot be accessed by language alone.." Here Nimiss pauses. "Well, in any case Sifran crystal attuned to the user is needed."
Tasha stops writing, looking up and swiveling her ears forward. She frowns again, this time deeper. "Attuned. They use outside help. Attunded, phasing out. Replacements. You think they're about to begin headhunting for replacements?" Her brows rise and she leans closer. "Souls. Worthy souls?"
"I don't know about souls, but they need bodies," Nimiss notes. "The Svartifin are flesh-and-blood-and-crystal, and need nourishment.. of some sort. The report wasn't entirely clear on that, only that they didn't need the food that the Balfin sent them. And while they are long-lived, they are not immortal. They wear out and die eventually, and the Sifran machinery also wears out and requires maintenance."
"Even Sifran engineering isn't eternal," Tasha remarks, though more as one might repeat a saying than a real commentary. "And now its engineers are failing. No replacements. The Sifra are cripplied, that much I know, but I can't confirm if they're too crippled to repair the damage accruing or if they have another plan in mind. There are indications, however, that their systems have been recovering and I can verify from personal experience," here she taps the Vartan half of her head with her pencil eraser, "that at least one Sifran defense AI has become active. Attacks on Abaddon are increasing, the kaiju. I can verify that personally too. Now," her head tilts the other way, " ... what am I missing? Failing machinery but increasing activity. Fading servants. And one other piece ... " She perks her ears again, watching the man carefully. "Do you know anything about a 'cycle?' About genocide?"
"I know that the Sifras infrastructure is far, far older than the First Ones," Nimiss notes. "But the first ones are all gone now.. except, perhaps for the Aelfin on Sinai, which became the Sifra's servitors. Now, either the Sifras chose the Aelfin and got rid of the others, or the Aelfin were the only survivors to choose from. Neither option is pleasant, and quite frankly both could have happened. And before the Aelfin there would have been another servitor race.. maybe the Zelaks for all we know. They've been around a long time and nobody knows much about them. So maybe this cycle of yours is just finding new workers when the old ones wear out.. or just because someone more suited is suddenly available. If your purpose is to find the ones that fit your needs, it doesn't make a lot of sense to let the rejects keep using up resources, does it? Better to start over, and hope a better crop of candidates rises up. That's what I'd do, anyway."
"It is also said that the means of accessing the Primus system are cyclical as well," the Eeee adds. "Another part of the equation. Why go looking when you can let the candidates come to you, hmm?"
"It makes a very cold, logical sense. I know nothing of their mindset, but I've spoken to their agents and servants -- enough to know compassion isn't one of their legacies." The cadet rests her pencil even though she knows she should be writing, instead closing her eyes and leaning back for a moment before she resumes speaking. Without opening her eyes, she says, "As far as we are aware, the cycle has repeated in its entirety at least twice. The Old Ones, of which the Sifra are members, and the First Ones. They were attacked, however, and no longer maintain the control they had. We don't know how badly off they are. As for space flattening, it seems they may well open their jaws now and then and see what leaps in. Whether they close them or not seems to depend on ... " The half-Vartan misses a beat as she realizes something, but keeps on anyway. "Um, well, on quality. The others are destroyed. All sources that are suspected to be reliable agree with wide spread genocide."
What Tasha doesn't mention is her sudden fear that the a new canidate has been found. Not Galactics and not the remaining Old or First Ones, but the Progenitors. Beings that may be truly immortal would mean that new servants never need be found; new life needn't be planeted. But the Progenitors defeated the Sifra, or at least thought they did, she reminds herself, but a false victory and a trap now seems possible. Is that why Adam is 'in pain?' Or was it his own kind, who opposed him ..?
Nimiss leans forward, and steeples his fingers again. "Let us continue the game of speculation," he says. "House Khomen. Yes, I know of them in regards to the attempt at controlling the Silent Ones empire. A bold move.. to what purpose though? Why not approach the Emir, who has far superior resources. If you were the leader of a civilization, and found out that the end of the world was coming.. but one small group would be chosen to survive.. what would you do to ensure that your people made up that group?"
"Everything," Tasha says without hesitation; she has already destroyed one civilization out of fear for her own family, after all. "As for the Emir, he may be in contact with a rival House, or else so far behind modern Galactic practice House Khomen considers them beneath their notice, even as tools. Or, well, a threat and as likely to grab power as share it as a servant." Another thump of her pencil against her notepad, the political gears of her mind spinning as she pulls in the pieces. "Seizing power of Primus may allow a people to control Primus and therefor provide a strong military and industrial advantage. House Khomen is powerful, but not enough to tackle all its rivals single-handedly -- including those from their own kind. Rival Houses. Khattans are loathe to be direct, as well, so I think they planned to gull the Silent-Ones in to war, splinter the Junior Civilizations or whittle dfown the Celestials and other peer level rivals. It was probably just one part of a larger plan to seize ove
rall victory."
"Or they've figured out who the most likely candidate is already," Nimiss suggests, then leans back. "In any case, it is all speculation. I do not trust the source of my own information, but I do believe they are honest. Which means anything they didn't want the Temple to know would have been left out, rather than covered with fabrication."
"That's always the way of it, isn't it," Tasha conceeds, eyes cracking open and hands spreading again. "Even in my line of work, there's always layer upon layer upon layer of obfuscation, uncertainty, and lies. But if you're right,I haven't seen any indication of an alliance with a particular group -- unless they are the chosen group. I know they intended to subjugate us through proxies." The young woman looks down at her notes, then resumes writing as she tries to catch up. "I fear we may be running out of time. Many groups have begun to move, including the Sifra." Her head shakes; too many mysteries. "Do you know how Sifran crystal works? Is it alive, do things live within it?"
Tasha then suddenly frowns. As before a insight flashes in her mind; she stops writing a moment and notes, "The Silent-Ones may be the ones chosen. The Star, an obsession with light. Technology that works with the crystals. And a ... " She bites her lip. "A patron pushing them. Pushing them to ascend in to the light. To join them."
Nimiss spreads his hands. "If I did, that would certainly be a big secret," he admits. "But I do not. Life is a slippery concept. It is believed that the crystal is some exotic form of matter, if it is matter at all, which forms a 'computational matrix'.. I am no Technopriest. The only who has a good understanding of it is.. problematical to contact. And from other reports.. quite dangerous to be around at this point."
"Neith is an angel who will some day join the Star in the light." The mangled quite echos in Tasha's mind. Ahriman through conquest, Mafdet through subtle dealing. Neith through concession and suplication. The young woman's muzzle twitches. Have you betrayed us too, Neith? She wonders if there will be any Progenitors left who haven't -- and who that leaves her with as an innocent. Adam, she decides. One more reason to keep going.
"I see. I won't pry, then. I have my suspicions anyway." Tasha wonders when she'll be 'dangerous to contact.' She suspects it'll be sooner rather than later, at this rate. "What do you think of my guess about the Silent-Ones?"
"That they could be used to spur on war?" Nimiss asks. "Well, the plan had succeeded, and the Silent-Ones had the power of Sinai's magic at their disposal, I suppose they could be quite formidable. Mind you, I know little of Galactic powers. My focus is on Rephidim and things that affect her."
"I mean that they could be the chosen ones. It might be a trick, as well, to disqualify them. Their technology and belief seems to suggest they're predisposed towards service, and I suspect a patron might be pushing them towards it. A strategy," the cadet explains, turing back to her writing. "Using them to seize power here could provide two benefits: a proxy army and annoying the Sifra in to rejecting them."
"If the selection criteria is related to the Sifras technologies, then yes, the Silent-Ones would appear to be at the top of the list," Nimiss admits. "Magic use would be another factor, I imagine. The Aelfin are very good at it. Magic may exist solely as a system of testing, if that is the case. The Silent-Ones.. the Savanites.. have a history of magic use, and once ruled an empire with it. Today, however, they are at a disadvantage to those that can use speech instead of only dance."
"That's true. Still, they're one of the best canidates that I can think of. Their technology and intentional limitation of growth may also be attractive. The Aelfin haven't maintained an advanced civilization and it doesn't sound like their variations have either. 'Humbleness' may be a valued trait," Tasha suggests. She makes a note about that, then looks up. "The guardian I came in to conflict with hated a large swath of us, however. It was hostile to at least the Celestials, but also others. We may be able to rule them out. What else?" She glances at her notes again. "The Old City. I remember hearing that it was older than the Expedition, haunted. What really happened there?"
"The Old City is.. the Old City," Nimiss says. "There is more folklore and legend than history dealing with it. It is not considered a First Ones site by the Temple, however. Oh.. I should ask this, given what you're involved with: are you in close contact with any local gods? I don't know if Abaddon has any, but some of Sinai's have been active."
"I was associated with the Abaddonian Temple in Amazonia, as an avatar of Tisiphone." And then it becomes decision time for the youing woman, more so than before. To tell this stranger about her history, which she even concealed from Gabriel and others closest to her. It could be used against her, used to manipulate her, but it may also open new paths and provide fresh answers. /How much is it worth to me,/ she wonders. /Nora is recovering, Tisiphone has completed what she wanted from me. It's old news. A piece, I'll offer a piece and see where it goes. "I have an affinity for Tisiphone, Goddess of Vengeance. A connection. I met her 'sisters,' but the primary gods have never spoken to me. I have encountered other beings that are god-like, but not considered gods in our mythologies, that I /know/ of." She cocks her head, looking up again. "Is that what you're asking?"
"No contact with the Babelite Pantheon, like Barada, or with Morpheus?" Nimiss asks.
"Nothing at all," Tasha confirms, head shaking. "I haven't even been to Babel in years, not since trade fell apart after the Coalition War."
"Good to know," Nimiss says. "As for the Aelfin language.. it seems difficult to learn if you do not possess musical talent. But any Aelfin you meet is probably going to speak Standard anyway."
"I can sing, somewhat. But I may not have the time nor talents. Maybe I can have someone else do it," the hybrid woman remarks. But who? Who can sing? Really sing? The answer is obvious enough: Katherine. If she doesn't murder me, I'll have to ask.
"Remember that just knowing the language will be of little use," Nimiss reminds. "Otherwise we would all be bowing before our short, golden-locked overlords by now."
"I'll keep that in mind. Every piece helps." Tasha ears up again. "Since we're being curious about things, does the Temple maintain active contact with Galactic forces? The Terrgens Coucil? Is the Temple opposed to a tenitive arrangement of mutual support regarding possible outside incursions and the overall Sifran threat?"
"That would be for the Captain Astromancer to answer," Nimiss notes. Then holds up a piece of paper, which Tasha can see details the launch and return times of the J.E.F. Bellerophon. "I run the Audit, the Department of Records and Procedure. But I think it is clear that your group is not the only one that possesses still operating Expedition equipment."
Tasha nods to this, seeing little reason to hide the fact now. "The world is slowly waking up in more ways than one. If there wasn't other groups now, then there would be shortly. We're slowly losing our isolation and great powers are moving. I think we both see that," the cadet confides.
"All the same, I don't lose any sleep over the idea of planetary invasion," the Bridge Officer says.
Tasha remains silent over her own fears, though she does watch the man with an unpleasant stare from eyes that have seen and known too much. Instead she simply asks, "Is there anything else you would be willing to provide, that you think may be of use?"
"Focus your energies on what you can deal with," Nimiss says. "Whether the Sifras are a threat or not is beyond any of our abilities to address. Other threats, however, may be more manageable within our limited lifetimes."
Again Tasha is quiet, watching with the same eyes, ears back. She doesn't voice her concern that she may not be able to handle anything she's meddling with, yet, somehow, she's managed. I'll know when I'm in the Hall of Souls. When I stop being Tasha and the JEF alone, she decides. One way or another, she suspects things will come to a head there. Has always suspected. "I'll do what I can," she offers at length, voice neutral. She then inclines her head.
"Thank you for your time, sir. I hope I haven't wasted it with my questions. Please pass on anything you feel is of interest to your superiors." She glances down at her notes a moment, making sure they're complete, then nods and looks up again. She extends her hand.
The Officer seems surprised at the gesture. He accepts the hand and gives a single shake. "Good luck Cadet," he says, "Try to stay out of local trouble too."
"I try to keep things quiet around here, but you know how it is." Tasha rises, sliding her notepad in to its pocket and pushing her pencil down beside it. "I'd say keep an eye out, but that would be completely unnecessary wouldn't it?" She risks a grin, then thumbs back towards the door. "I have a flight to not catch. Please pass on my regards to the Captain Astromancer." The hand falls, then she turns to leave.
Half an hour later, Tasha finds herself back in the sunlight, with all of her gear. Nothing much has changed.. people are still filing in and other of the main entrance, Zelaks and Guards patrol the area, and some minor Noble is complaining about something to some minor functionary who was probably just going to get a cup of mateh when he was intercepted.
It always strikes the young woman how the world never seems to change, no matter what revelation or new horror appears in her life. No matter that she just had a professional-level conversation with the Head of the Audit as if they were equals, and she isn't exactly sure they're not on some level. She wonders if anyone here suspects the dirty, dangerous looking young woman is anything other than a upjumped Nohbakim mercenary; she doubts it. She changes and the world remains the same.
Head shaking at it all, Tasha walks towards the door. She considers a drink, but reminds herself she's permanently on duty during this mission. A ragged sigh escapes her. She almost decides to plod her way to the dock and then scrape together whatever airship travel she can, but the old sights remind her of something she's forgetting: Underside. The Fallen Friend. Mom.
It is getting late, she considers. Without another thought she changes her travel plans; time to vsiit home.