It isn't much of a surprise that the private airship docked at The Overlook instead of landing at the airfield. It was ideal for maintaining the privacy of the passengers, after all - especially when one of them was supposedly a thousand miles away. Riddle wore a cloak over her lingerie at least, and both she and Frane had slept for most of the trip, leaving Tasha to herself.
The time alone didn't help Tasha's mood any, even if it shifted the hot frusteration of a multitude of worries, concerns, and insufficencies in to the cold and distant sullenness of quiet introspection. Despite bringing the bottle with her, she had barely touched it, avodiing it as one more source of potential problems and too distracted by her thoughts. She spent the hours sitting by one of the large interior windows placed deeper in the vessel, watching the world by and trying to make sense of how quickly she fell apart after her return. By teh time they've docked, she hasn't made a great deal of progress as effort falls to the avoidant mental silence that comes when troubles become too much.
Having lost herself in the vessel, she's the last of the special passengers to depart by virtue of distance and apathy. The bottle is returned on the way out, still largely full, and she pulls her cloak over her armor as she steps out in to the light.
An attendant offers to take Tasha's gear as she's ushered into the VIP lounge. The Viceroy himself isn't present, but he's probably a very busy man (and who he associates with may be monitored). "Finally back to civilization," Riddle notes. "I think I still have one more day of vacation though.."
"Just one day," Captain Frane confirms.
As her armor is a complex affair and currently without power, tasha can only hand over her cloak and baldric full of equipment and supplies. From the latter she removes her notes, wanting to keep those close. The rest isn't a concern, though the two people she's with are. Having made a fool of herself for reasons she's not entirely certain of and certainly not comfortable with, she keeps apart from the others both to avoid their displeasure and avoid her own displeasure making things worse. Captain Frane in particular is painful, given her stated feelings for him and his father-like quality, Tasha unable to deal with the repercussions of her ill-understood choices.
"Have you worked out a message to send to Tartarus yet, Tasha?" Riddle asks from where she sits, even though it's in a separate lounge cluster.
At least Tasha was able to get that done; the young woman had it firmly in mind given it was part of the final exchange between the two. She grunts a reply, pulling out her notes and tearing off a page, which she hands over.
Have returned to Abaddon
Delayed by attempt to confirm information and rest
Trip productive
Am returning to base
And that's it. Tasha didn't feel the drive to write more and justfied it as a security precaution. "Anything else?" She asks when it looks like Riddle is finished reading.
"You're in a mood," Riddle notes. "You going to stay here until the travel arrangements are confirmed?" she asks.
"Might as well," Tasha replies, turning to look around as if she had just noticed where she is. As far as being in a mood, she knows it and she's certain everyone else around her knows it too -- and so she doesn't think it needs to be confirmed. "I'll be, uh," she turns her headm searching, until she spots a circle-couch seating arrangement near the bubble window, " ... over there," she finishes, looking back to Riddle and thumbing towards the area in question.
"It may be a day or more," Riddle points out, then stands up and stretches. "I'm going to take a shower, then a bath, then put on my actual clothes, unless Rapatia swapped those out too." The woman then heads towards a hallway leading into the cliffside.
Tasha walks off as well, dropping in to the center of the circular seating arrangement and sliding back until she's more sprawled than properly seated. Her hair lies in a convoluted mess around her shoulders, her eyes fixed on the window and the Pit beyond.
Once again she wonders how she got here. Here, where is physically and here, where she is mentally. All the other 'heres' are there as well: professionally, spiritually, romantically, all lined up for inspection. And as before she can trace the steps and still not be sure. The last few weeks have been especially unpleasant, the young woman picking through her reality once again, just as she had on the airship. Time passes on.
After awhile, Captain Frane comes over to where Tasha is. "Need to talk?" he asks, without sitting down.
Tasha's answer is slow in coming; she looks apathetic, like she can barely muster the energy to speak let alone move, but it's only partially accurate when she realizes who is spekaing. The other part is a mask of fear and shame, something she'd developed as part of working with professionals -- at least when she has her mind and act together.
As she frantically searches for a response her eyes darting in small, quick motions as ifthe answers might lay upon the horizon. When she realizes she's edging on ignoring the man unintentionally, she finally offers an honest and unplanned, "I don't know," as a stopgap.
"Hmm," the big Vartan says, and then sits next to Tasha and pulls her up against him, so he can put his arm around her shoulders. "Alright. Don't talk. You've got things pent up inside you. Want to yell? Cry? Beat on something?"
The young woman isn't prepared for physical contact, not resisting at all but laying her ears back and blushing despite her mood. She realizes she wasn't prepared to another feeling, either, but at least she's had practice with dealing with it when it occurs.
As for initial shock passes she finds she has neither the heart nor the desire to move and so she closes her eyes, resting against the Captain. Aside from her emotions, her old feelings for Frane and the new ones, she adds the need for Vartan company to the mix. She hadn't realized how long it's been since a Vartan other than her mother held her. Beyond all this she works on a reply, but the emotions cast their voice before she can marshal them let alone the reply.
And so Tasha begins smacking her lips in rapid succession, ears flattening, the short, sharp breathes as she struggles to hold it back until the tears start to roll down her face and in a choking sob she loses control.
"It'll feel better, don't worry," Frane says, holding her a bit tighter. "Tears remove stress chemicals from your brain, did you know? It is very healthy."
Sobbing while being held by the man she respects isn't how Tasha pictured their relationship proceeding, in fact the idea would have moritified her if she had any semblence of control on her emotions. With the dam broken, restraining the flood becomes an impossibility; eventually the shame too washes away as she realizes what's happening will happen and she doesn't want to and can't stop.
It's almost a half an hour before the waters pass. The sobs broke off now and then, only to be brought back by a thought or a word from Captain Frane. By the time it's all over she's pulled against him half curled up, eyes closed and more than a little dazed. More than a little relieved, even if nothing else has changed. Too self concious to move and too deep in her shelter to want to.
"The armor can fool you," Frane says in a gentle voice. "It protects you, and so you grow to think you must emulate it. To be armored all the time. But armor is heavy. It isn't meant to be worn all the time, physically or emotionally. Even a soldier like me can't be a soldier all the time."
Tasha makes a noise of confirmation, muffled, comfortable, sad. She shifts so that she can talk turn her head before returning to lean heavily against the man. Though she spends most of her days surrounded by Karnors, trying to be a good Karnor in as much as she has the need to be, the need for Vartan support has stubbornly remained. At length she finally speaks, first thinking to beg he not share what happened, then knowing he never would and so moving on. "When I came back, I fell apart," her voice is dry and cracks, "and I don't know why. Maybe I do know? I don't want to know? Everything is falling apart and ... I ... can't fall apart!"
"Everything?" Frane asks. "Really? What do you think is falling apart, Tasha?"
Tasha knows it's hyperbole, but itemizing the vast complexities of her complicated life was and maybe still is beyond her. She struggles to anyway, wanting to try and wanting to please Captain Frane for helping her. "I am involved ... I am involved in a universe-spanning problem. Problems. And I thought I knew what to do. But I don't. Not anymore? I ... " She pulls in a breath and thinks, arranging her worries, trying to make sense of it all and bring it to words. "I found something. The Titan. And I dug, I wanted to know? And it went deeper, and deeper, and I kept trying because I needed it. I wanted to know, but I needed it. I can't match the others. I'm not useful unless I push. And I won't give up, but gods, Captain, there are gods! And the problem, my problem, the on I dug up ... It spans the stars!"
"And?" Frane prompts. "Just because it is big, does not mean you have to be bigger in order to deal with it."
Tasha sits up at this, half leaning on Frane's chest and leaning in to stare at him, wide-eyes. "I know! But it's not that simple! I can't stop seeing it. And I can't run away. I tried." It suddenly occurs to the young woman what happened on the airship, why she said what she said, why she baited Riddle. Running away. "Riddle- Miss Riddle, I provoked her. I think I was hoping you'd both hear it al and turn on me. Arrest me, drag me off, I didn't care. If you beat me, if I lost, it wouldn't be mine anymore. I tried, and I lost, and what could I do? Not my fault ... Not anymore." Her head lowers, ears with it, until she's laying it on the man's chest. "I thought I was rested. I thought I was prepared again. But when I came back, when it all came back with me, I ... " She blinks, hard. "I fell apart."
"That's alright," Frane says. "Sometimes you have to, so that you can put yourself back together in a more efficient way." He pauses, and then says, "There aren't any forests on Abaddon.. not proper ones. I'm sure there are many on Sinai. Varta is covered with forests, from the books I've seen. Forests grow and expand without a plan. They can choke themselves with undergrowth. Do you know what keeps them from choking to death?"
Tasha can't help but chuckle at the metaphor, though she isn't quite sure why. "Vartans," she replies, a self-deprecating joke and a thank-you all rolled in to ones. She closes her eyes.
The man chuckles, and says, "No. Fire. The forest would burn. All the choking underbrush, the dead trees.. all of it. And it was just part of its natural lifecycle, because it would grow up fresh again from the ashes. Sometimes you have to tear something down to fix it. I do it all the time to others; tear them down and rebuild them into what I need."
"But the tree doesn't want to be torn down. A tree is alivem and it doesn't want to be burned to make a new order." The hybrid reaches up and taps the back of her head, where the neural studs are. "Organics fear the inorganics. Riddle made me mad, that's part of it. She said it's everyone's duty to destroy the Berserkers -- the thinking evolving machines -- because it's making the forest for the organics. And the Berserkers, I think they must burn the forest for themselves. There are others." She splays her fingers, touching every stud. "I used to hate everyone except Vartans, because I was different. And I came here to be better, to prove I was better. Accepted. But it's all the same. Same dirty world, same us-and-them. Same forest, everyone with fire. Except me, I know, what it's like to be in between. I came back and realized that; it was what hit me, along with everything else. I understand now. Why save the world when they just want to kill each other? And Riddle, she wants me to push aside my allies, the AI. And the Galactics want that too. Everyone is fighting, everyone with their side and their ideal forest. But to me, they look like everything I hated before. And I thought, I thought ... "
Tasha lifts her head, opening her eyes and peering in to Frane's. "I thought, what's it all for? And then everything stopped making sense."
"Life is survival, Tasha," Frane says solemnly. "No matter the scale you look at it from. Individuals, species, civilizations, ideologies. Sometimes cooperation works best, when the alternative is extinction. Sometimes it doesn't. It all comes down to resources. Who has them, who needs them.. what people are willing to do to get them. The world you are from is rich. Water, air, food, land.. You even have land in the sky. I'm sure the wars you've fought were still over territory, or power. But not for survival."
"You have the benefit of being young, and not knowing the past the way some of us do," Frane adds. "That's what makes you valuable. You don't think like us."
Tasha snorts a laugh, her chest quavering and shaking the Captain in turn. "We had a war a few years ago, for supremacy. I wasn't there when they attacked, but I saw the damage when I came back. And we had our Silent-Ones slaves, who before they were slaves were conquerors. And on, and on. It's all the same." The young woman rolls her head, shifting to cuddle a little closer, basking in simply having someone who cares about her and isn't trying to kill her, or mock her, or fight their endless war against her -- or so it feels. "I came to Abaddon to find a better world. To mke the better world even better, using who I brought and what I had. But I think I made a mistake, because I was naive. It's the same world. It's all the same. My world isn't here, after all." She reaches up and rubs the corners of her eyes; her tears are spent, there's little but dampness now. "I won't side against the AI. I won't side with the Terragens. I remember when Expedition City rejected me. And now I'm going to heav
en, and I'm afraid."
"Sometimes the best you can do is make things better for yourself and your loved ones," the Vartan says, and squeezes Tasha's shoulder. "I can't defeat a daikaiju by myself. But I still fight them, alongside others, to protect what I care about. You brought back the Joint Expeditionary Force - but did you do it for Abaddon, or for yourself and the Karnor Elite? Who needed it the most?"
"I did it for Nora," Tasha replies, the first answer that comes to her. "Nora first, and the others after. And when it seemed possible, for the betterment of Abaddon because I believed in Abaddon and I wanted the pople here to like and need me. Need us. I wanted a home; I was tired of being rejected, being different. I wanted to rise up, be important, not be a nobody too. But the world I believed in wasn't what I thought it was, and the organization I made doesn't need me. The universe full of wonders is the same as the streets of Underside. I was running away." She shifts, wiggling in to a more comfortable position where she can rest her head on Captain Frane without straining before she continues. "I was created. I'm an artificial being, even though I was born. I had a mission. Like a Titan. And also, I looked to beings who weren't like you and part of me, because I wanted an alternative? I think so. So now, I am with many kinds, still trying to help the old kinds. And they fight. And I don't kno
w, who to help, and if I help myself, how will I be different?"
"Is this why you are drawn to the AIs?" Frane asks. "You have a need to find a perfect being, it seems. Someone who can't disappoint you. And if you disappoint yourself or others, that seems harder on you. I have seen a perfect being. It's at the Citadel, cast in bronze. The artist was very good. And it is perfect because it never changes, never does anything.. because any action has a chance of failure, and perfection therefore demands inaction."
"Inaction ... Running away?" Tasha frowns; she doesn't quite like her answer. Running is at least going somewhere, it's looking for a new option, abandoning what was, or avoiding a dangerous situation for safer pastures. She thinks on that and then the nature of AIs, perfect but so often without motivation -- and those with motivation become the terrors that are called the Berserkers. And she thinks, the Berserkers in their willful ability, are like the mindful organics. The scale and nature is different; the conflict is in difference.
"Maybe you're right," Tasha agrees at length. "I envy them, I'm even like them in the smallest way. I have Mel now and what I said was true. I have been the Titan. I have seen the mind of machines, and I envy them -- but not in every way. I hate having Mel and Harmonia require me, it's a failsafe, like Riddle said? But that makes them my slaves, and I hate slavers. But I have to be one, because I don't know how not to be, and because I never saw it coming until it was too late." After exhaling, the young woman rolls until she can face the window, openng her eyes. "But I still care about them. If I freed them would they destroy me? Would Riddle and her Galactics destroy me? Would they abandon me? I'd still do it. But I still need them. I've been horribly unfair to Mel, but I think now I'm going to change that."
"The Titan is what you want it to be," Frane notes. "That is its function. Whatever personality it has, it was created to mesh with yours. I have a daughter, but I do not expect her to be anything like me, thankfully. I don't know what Harmonia is. Another machine mind? Is it your Galactic ship?"
"And running away is a choice, and so can lead to failure," Frane notes. "It is no coincidence that the Star of the Silent-Ones does not act. It inspires, or loves, or does anything but choose. That is left up to the mortals, and because they are mortal, any mistakes fall onto them, and not the Star."
Tasha points upward, uncurling a finger from the back of her head to do so. "Harmonia is my first ship. I found her on Abaddon. She's what people called, "The Phantom." Do you know a man named Raehab? Ex-Captain Raehab, Confederate airforce? Harmonia shot him down when they approached. She nearly did the same to me, but I was able to interact with her. Both of us were attacked by the entity known as Abaddon, the Sifran being. It switched from her to me." The young woman is surprised to hear herself talk about the situation so plainly after a waterfal of tears, deciding she must be out of worry just as she's out of the waterworks. "I could never captain her properly, because to me Harmonia is a person and I refuse to be a slaver. But I think she's different from Mel, like you said."
"I'm going to return to Mel when I get back and change our relationship. I had relied on him like I'm relying on you now, sir, but worse. To be the thing that shielded and comforted me; to be bigger and better than I was, to be my refuge. But I now I think I need him to be my mentor, and to help with with everything I can't be as. He told me once 'to expand in to this space.' I was afraid to, because it menat the space was me, and I doubted me, so I refused to ruin my 'superior emptiness.' But it's time."
Tasha rubs her nose with the hand that had pointed, then says, "The Star sounds like a big coward; I can sympathize." A little grin touches her face. "And by the way my Galactic ship is Dark Horse. No mind, not that we know of. I hope I cna handle it if there is one. You have a daughter?"
"The Star is Perfect, and so must suffer the rules of perfection," Frane says. "And yes, I have a wife and daughter in Expedition City. I am going to visit them, as I do on all of my leaves of duty. I just used the first two days to retrieve miss Smith."
"Poor Miss Smith, she risked her life for my crazy plan and all I did was break down and yell at her," the Cadet admits, ears flattening. "I look up to her, did you know that? I gthink that's why I belived enough in her to hope she'd ruin me." She doesn't add that she must therefore have trusted Frane with the same, knowing he would understand without the confirmation. "I'll apologize to her later, and thank her. For me, I'm going home to report what I found, it's, um, it's a lot to deal with. I have to apologize to Gabriel, and to Katie, and ... " Her ears flatten all over again, muzzle wrinkling as she turns her head to look up at Frane from the corner of her eye. "Well, I can't disappoint Miss Vesuvius just like I can't disappoint Gabriel? Speaking of family. Can I visit yours?"
"My family is nothing special," Frane notes. "My wife teaches children, and my daughter is a student at the university.. although it is unlikely she will become a Templar. She wants to be a nurse."
"Sometimes a copy of my mind likes being a nurse," Tasha contributes, knowing it sounds peculiar and maybe even a little bit childish, but enjoying sounding a little childish in the face of things. With all that's happened, a little sharing and a little simplicity seem welcome. "My mother is a tavern owner. My sister is a tavern server. I used to be a drover when I wasn't also being a tavern server. My other sister is a Lieutenant Commander. I don't know who my father was." She sits up, turning to Frane and leaving the connection her last admittance suggests unspoken as well. "They're all on Sinai, but I have Katie and Gabriel now. I guess I do look for gods, don't I?"
"Then if they are your family here, they will forgive you for disappointing them," Frane notes. "I know what is it like to be seen as the 'hero' and having people try so hard to 'live up' to my example. I hate it. I want people to be honest and realistic. Everyone makes mistakes, everyone disappoints themselves or others many times over the course of their lives. But everyone fails to understand that other people forget the disappointments. Everyone but themselves."
Tasha's expression falls. "I know, but some of the mistakes I can make can't be forgotten. I told you about Abaddon, that was my mistake. I should have pushed harder to get people to believe me when I said I was under attack, and I did somewhat, I told Remy to be ready to deal with me, but it wasn't enough. We were saved by luck," the Cadte admits. She bites her lip, then shakes her head. "I'm not a regular person anymore, I know that now. This is what I learned about power, it's like what was said in class -- social studies? -- but I think the teacher never had real power. With power, every choice is your responsibility. The more power, the greater and wider your responsibility. And I have more than most, and when I fail or don't act or do act, it's always my fault, and it's the wrong that leads to equally large disasters." She cocks her head to the side. "That bothers me a lot, too. I don't think you'd have forgiven me if my mistake burned down Expedition City."
"That's part of why I yelled at Miss Smith. I've been afraid of the power I have and the mistakes in using it. If she -- if you both dealt with me I'd never have to feel that burden again." The young woman rolls her shoulders in a shrug, ears down and back. "I think I pity the Star now. It must be crying all the time."
"That would depend on the circumstance," Frane claims. "But.. you may simply be overestimating your power, Tasha. You have some powerful tools, but many people do. You yourself are not dangerous. You will not accidentally crush someone. You feel the pressure, but you need to think about what power you actually have, just as yourself, and how to use that. Just like everyone else."
"I guess it's easy to be overwhelmed by it all. Before I started my journey I had very little control and even less wealth or power over anything. And now ... Now I pilot Seraphs." Tasha wrinkles her nose. "I don't know of anyone who has changed that much. It scares me, it's hard to take in, and on top of everything else." The young woman shrugs again, exhaling and leaning back. "I had to figure it all out along the way with what help I got. Sometimes it seemed like a joke, and sometimes it seemed like the whole world was insane, because how could it be otherwise? Maybe some day, I'll be able to see things your way. I don't know. I'm going to ask Mel for help, even if it means having more of it."
"You haven't been a parent yet," Frane notes. "You've just described every day of raising a chid. And nobody's advice really properly applies to your situation. But millions of people do it, all of the time, Tasha. You can handle it too."
"Sure, I'm invincible," Tasha agrees, sitting up again and putting her Karnor hand over her heart. "Don't let anyone tell you otherwise." She gives a wink, then reaches to wipe her face off again, grinning as she does. "Just like Nora. Well, I should apologize to Miss Smith before she has me shipped back in a cargo container. Then I need to figure out what I'm going to do with a day stuck in a fancy kitchen. I have ideas."
"Would you like me to contact your doctor before I leave the Pit?" Frane offers.
Tasha considers that, then nods a little. "Alright. Go ahead and be honest, tell him what happened, though maybe leave out the other details. I'm feeling better, though." The young woman stands up, brushing herself off and then peering at her reflection in the window to make sure she doesn't look too disasterous. Then she looks back and smiles. "It looks like you're still teaching me, after all."
There is a lot more activity in the hangar than Tasha has seen before. Crews work to clean the scorch marks from the newly grafted hull components, and Karnors with odd detectors in hand are combing over the surface of the Bellerophon, making use of scissor-lift cars and cranes. Spotlights eliminate any shadows as well. After her trip alone in the Picnic Basket, it's quite a crowd for Tasha to face.
Wide eyed, Tasha makes her way in to the hanger with her things stuffed under her talon-equipped arm, bemused by the sheer amount of people in the often unpopulated hanger. She shields her eyes against sparks only to nearly run in to a low-lying pallette stacked with components she doesn't recognized. This is new, she thinks as she walks along, the kind of thing she had long hoped for but became used to not seeing. I wonder how close we are to launch now? Her steps and her thoughts lead her towards the Bellerophon.
As she walks along Tasha waves to the Melchior, knowing he can't see it and isn't awake, but feeling it's something that needs to be done. Even after her change of heart, she still can't help but see of the machine as another being on a level. It makes her wonder if she ought to correct that or leave things as they are. She hasn't long to consider it as she nears the ship.
None of the Bellerophon crew are seen outside, just the Tartarus technicians. Chief Gizmo is easy to recognize though, as he stands on a crate and yells at everyone like a reverse choir-master. "Don't drop that, Ace!" he growls to a guard that is carrying.. a bucket of soapy water. "Hadn't planned on doing so, Chief," the wolf replies.
Tasha has to laugh even as she cringes at the bucket. It's probably not the same bucket she used during her punishment ritual for her well meant -- as she inwardly insists -- but ultimately disasterous revelation of the rest of the crew. A humiliation for a humiliation. But not wanting to bog herself with further unpleasantness, she waves to Gizmo as she goes along. "Hi Chief! Hi Ace!" She calls out.
"What are you doing outside the ship?" Gizmo asks in alarm when he spots Tasha.
"I, uh, took a walk?" Tasha offers lamely, making a big shrug to not at all compensate. "Maybe I'm like those particles Fred talks about, always here or there!" It's only slightly better, but much wittier, which the young woman thinks is very clever of her.
"Get on the ship!" Gizmo insists, flapping his arms. "We haven't finished decontamination procedures, and you probably don't want all of your fur shaved off!"
"No I do not!" Tasha agrees, hurrying towards the vessel as fast as her legs will carry her!
The guards at the ram salute and then pretend they didn't see Tasha. The main airlock is closed of course, so she has to cycle through.
Tasha fidgets at the door. She didn't bring her datapad to prevent its unfortunate exploding on Sinai, and thus wasn't in contact. She thinks Harmonia could have informed her, but decides there must be a lot of distractions going on with this level of work. Either way the airlock can't operate fast enough.
Once inside, the outer door has to be closed. It's as if vacuum protocol is in effect.
"What is going on here?" Tasha asks no one and nothing as she stands inside, looking around despite having seen the airlock many times before. We didn't have all this when we returned from Sheol. Did something happen, or is this new? She remembers the situation of the Berserkers very well, though she was never deep in the before and after details -- her place was always with the immediate situation of her task and missions.
The inner door opens, and the environment suit room is both dark and empty.
Tasha stares at that emptiness. It makes her nervous; not even a contact or a hello so far. She lays her things just inside the door and fishes out her weapons, suddenly worried that one of the Berserkers might have infiltrated the ship. She isn't sure what she can do with a sword and water pressure pistol, but she isn't about to leave. Inching on, she peers in to the darkness.
The air circulation system is still running, along with the airlock, so 'life support' is still active at least. But this part of the ship seems to be shut down deliberately. And beyond this is the lower vehicle bay, which is scary enough when the lights are on (not that having to run through the smaller Fenris version while it was melting would have anything to do with it).
This is really spooky, Tasha tells herself, not liking the situation at all. It does occur to her people may be messing with her, or busy, but her life is filled with sudden and incredibly dangerous turns, and she feels perfectly justified in her concern and her fear. Making her way on, she diverts to one of the weapons lockers and sees if she can open it.
The lock has a manual overide (a combination), which Tasha does remember. But the weapons inside are without their ammunition.
Oh wonderful, Tasha decides, only to remember a moment later there really should be ammunition in the container. The line between concerning and a potential threat in progress is crossed; Tasha dons her helmet and considers grabbing a power unit, but decides against it in the case of electronic attack. Without power or a decent weapon all she has is defense, but at least she hopes she can scout, assist, or if it comes do it escape with what she has. She plots and maps her escape path to her Titan mentally as she turns towards the bridge, knowing any problem will inevitably congregate there.
Passing by the vehicles, she can't help but notice that each is in some state of disassembly, with power and motor units laid out next to them, along with some of the control modules. The forward doors are closed, and need to be manually cranked open.
If I were an AI needing repair, or construction, I might do that. This might just be an inspection in progress, though, Tasha considers as she puts her muscle to opening the hatch. She opens it all the way in order to facilitate her escape, if need be, and slips through. A part of her wonders if she isn't stepping all over some unknown procedure, but she can't let her guard down for the possibility of embarassment later. A lack of caution has lead to embarassment for her, but also near destruction.
The lower deck is also dark, save for the Bio Lab immediately to the left. The door is open, and cables snake out of it and down the length of the corridor, towards Avionics.
Tasha considers this, why would cables extend from the biolab? She peeks inside to see what they're attached to be immediately comes to one of two conclusions: Either the crew is monitoring the Bio Lab from Avionics for some reason and all other channels are down, or else someone or something requires the Bio Lab systems to connect to avionics -- and of this possibility she knows little save a vague idea about bio-mechanicals. There is also the immediate concern of the welfare of Mariel, whim she had briefly forgot about given the situation and who becomes a priority once remembered. She searches for the reborn young woman even as she cans for threats, wondering what she'll be able to do for her if the ship is compromised.
Everything is dark in the lab except for the suspension tube. Baby Mariel floats within, connected by tubes and wires to the cap. She's constantly twitching.. which is probably to maintain muscle development. There's a rather makeshift looking collection of electronics that is the life support interface, which is connected to the long cables instead of into the lab's own computer.
The scene comes as a relief; only a compassionate or covetous enemy would take the time to secure Mariel, which means they'd also do the same for everyone else. More likely, it means she's stepping on some sort of shipwide decontamination procedure she's never been trained for. The choice between, 'assume threat' and 'stop stepping on things,' is a heavy one. Without knowing for sure she decides she can only continue to assume the worst unless given overwhelming proof the other way, yet the nagging feeling she's ruining everything only gets stronger. Pushing off, she heads deeper in to the ship and follows the wiring.
The cables do lead into Avionics, from which light is spilling - which means the lines are probably connecting directly to MOTHER. The door to the Artifact chamber is also open some, with the multi-colored, liquid light making that end of the ship look like it's underwater.
Nobody, Tasha laments. She had half expected everyone to be huddled in avionics, but at least she can get some answers here. Stepping in to the multicolored light, she proceeds to the MOTHER core and begins to open the security door.
The door is already open, in order for the cables to pass into the core. MOTHER is lit up, in stark contrast to the rest of the ship so far.
From here Tasha repeats something she has dreaded ever since the Fenris: communicating directly with the MOTHER system. As the last MOTHER attempted to murder her, and as the ship is both ominiously quiet and strangely devoid of crew, a comparison of the previous event is impossible for the cadet to ignore. It makes her hackles raise even as she lifts her hands. "I am Cadet Silver-Spear. MOTHER, please elaborate as to the current status of the Bellerophon and its crew."
"SHIP SYSTEMS SHUT DOWN MANUALLY," the ghostly hands of MOTHER sign. "ALL UNINFECTED DIGITAL COGNIZANCE SYSTEMS DEACTIVATED. CREW IS HUNTING. NON-ESSENTIAL PERSONNEL RESTRICTED TO QUARTERS."
Tasha's ears flatten, she has maintained preparedness and the assumption of danger but had begun to think she was being overly concerned and procedurely cautious. That no threat existed, she simply needed to proceed as such until she found proof otherwise. Unfortunately her proof has fallen the other way. She's glad she never powered her armor. "Explain the nature of the infection to the digital cognizance systems, its origin and the time of detected infection," she signs.
"WARRIOR GHOST INFECTION OF HIGHER SIMULATION SYSTEMS," the hands sign out, almost agonizingly slow. "ORIGIN: BERSERKER REMAINS. DETECTED WHEN PERSOCOMS REPORTED SUSPICIOUS ACTIVITY DURING LANDING SEQUENCE."
"Berserkers," Tasha says, almost spitting the word. She should have guessed they wouldn't die quietly. And why should they? I wouldn't have, she thinks as she turns half around and stares at the open hatch leading to the main corridor. With the threat determined she is now left to consider what -- if anything -- she should do about it. She has absolutely zero training in dealing with threats such as this, limited to physical threats alone when not in her Titan or assisted by equipment and other allied AIs. At length she decides she only has one useful quality to the current situations:
Tasha is the one who ordered the deaths of the Spiral Dancers.
As the source of the civilization's destruction, there is the possibility the entity will desire revenge on her. Lord Yama was created to avenge the Thennanin, this being may be out to do the same. It strikes her as more likely it is a last ditch recovery effort or even a isolated system acting randomly without the full system's control, but she can do little about the last two. There's also the possibility, she decides, a recovery system will label her a high level threat and attempt to remove her as well as attempt recovery. Either way, she can use this.
The question becomes: should she? She could head to her quarters and wait, or evacuate to her Titan and stand by in case the situation becomes out of control. She can override her Titan's AI and other systems through a secret code provided to her by Ser Heraphel, so she's less worried about an attack on her Titan. As she walks towards the corridor, she weighs her options.
"THE SITUATION IS UNDER CONTROL," MOTHER claims. "THE INVADING ENTITY IS NOT DISPLAYING SIGNS OF FULL AWARENESS. IT IS A MEMETIC EXPRESSION OF INSANITY."
Tasha only partly understands the explaination when the flashing lights of the Sign call her to turn around and read, but she doesn't need to know more once she's sees that things are under control. The rest is just added detail, interesting but not requiring her assistance or input. She nods to the computer display and Signs, "I understand now. Thank you MOTHER. I will relocate and await the all-clear." And with that she heads out in to the corridor, wondering where to wait.
"Who is that?" a tremulous voice calls down the rampway leading to the upper deck.
"Tasha," the Cadet calls back, tilting her head upward. "I just returned. Who are you?"
"Hakeber," the voice calls down. If it's Hakeber, she sounds awful.
"Hakie, what are you doing out of your quarters? Are you helping with tracking down the rogue AI?" Tasha doesn't use memetic expression of insanity' partly because she doesn't understand it and partly because 'insanity robot,' is her best guess and sounds absurd to her.
"Gabriel has a collar on and is with the others down in the ghost room," Hakeber says. "I.. peeked.. when I finally came out. I don't know what is happening, I've been.. distracted.."
A collar? Tasha only knows the collars from two situations, medical recovery and direct neural interface with medical machinery. Neitehr comforts her. She frowns, her face obscured by her helmet. "Is Gabriel okay?" She asks as she begins towards the ramp. "Hake-bear, what happened? The Book? Was it the Book?"
"I can't.. I can't burn it," Hakeber sobs from above. "I need to. It needs to be burned. But there aren't any matches. Hah.. hah.. spaceship, but no matches.."
Tasha increases her speed when she hears Hakeber begin to break down. She thinks to pull her helmet off but there isn't time, and so rushes on. "Hake, Hake it's all right!" She insists as she makes her way up the spiral, gritting her teeth between words. She knows that rambling; she has done that rambling. And she knows it's not all right, but also knows to insist it is anyway. "I'm coming, Hake-bear!"
The Karnor scholar is standing shakily atop the ramp, clutching a pillow. In the dim emergency lighting, she looks like she has a full-body case of bed-head, and probably hasn't changed her clothes in days. "Is it really you, Tasha?" she asks.
Tasha slows to a halt at the end of the spiral, not wanting to scare Hakeber by racing towards her in her sinister full-Vartan armor. She wrestles with her helmet as she replies, "Yes, Hake, I left the ship after the talk we had to confirm some things. I've been on Sinai, I spoke to the Source, even the Temple. I delayed a while because I was ... " The helmet comes off and is tossed to the floor, forgotten, as the young woman walks forward. "I needed a rest, Hake-bear. I know how awful it all is. Come on, lets go to my quarters? We can talk about it." She holds out her hand.
"I shouldn't leave the papers alone," Hakeber says, squeezing her pillow and lowering her tail. "Someone might read them."
"Your quarters then." Tasha doesn't wait, scooping Hakeber up in her arms before returning for her helmet, deciding she may yet need it. She picks it off the floor using her hoofed foot, putting it in Hakeber's lap before carrying them both towards Fred's quarters, where Hakeber has been staying. "I'm sorry I asked you to translate them. I'm sorry, Hake. I should have warned you, how hard it is to handle. I thought maybe because you're older, you would be okay." She leans down and kisses Hakeber on the forehead like she might a child, then asks, "What did you find, Hake-bear? What's got to you?"
"The Cill," Hakeber whispers, then is quiet until they're in the darkened cabin. There's an electric lamp on the desk, and.. papers everywhere. Some crumpled up and then smoothed back out, or torn and pieced together again.
Tasha hits the autoshut button only for nothing to happen. She puts Hakeber down on the bed and walks back to activate manual controls, sliding the door closed with a solid clunk under the force of her strength. She then hooks her helmet on the edge of Hakeber's chair back and picks up several notes as she walks back to the stricken scholar. "The Cill, Hake-bear, the ones who found something beyond the ... the gates? One of the three species tasked with exploring and pacifying the universe," she repeats, both to get Hakeber on track and remind herself, "They found something and the gods balked, Thoth and the others, and some of them refused Adam. There was more?"
Hakeber laughs.. or barks.. briefly. "Found something.." she says, with a giggle. "Yeah.. It was all a mistake, Tasha. Everything! US! The Progenitors screwed up in the biggest possible way!"
Tasha knew the Progenitors weren't infalliable, she had long suspected they were godlike, yes, but not on the same level and of the same nature as other godlike beings, certainly not the Star which may be entirely conceptual or the Harrowers and their kin which are of a wholly exotic nature. Somehow closer to mortals like herself, just grander, though she never knew how much. Facts have always been in short supply when dealing with the ancient beings, so even her assumptions were suspected. To have what may well be fact and a overwhelming evidence of failure and mistake gives Tasha pause.
The hybrid woman stands there, nonplussed, for half a second before blinking in a daze. "All a mistake?" She repeats, feeling it all over again. "What mistake, Hake-bear?"
"They didn't know what was happening," the scholar says, hugging her knees to her chest. "War, civilizations gone that they'd seen before.. everything falling apart. And so many.. so many attacking here. Primus. Trying to destroy the Sifras, and.. they never had a chance. So the Progenitors tried to help. They thought they crippled the Sifras. They had crippled them! But then.. then they had to try to bring the universe back to where they remembered it. Spread sapience, civilization.. before they knew the whole story.."
Tasha walks forward and sits herself down beside Hakeber, pulling her close with an arm and leaving it there, her free hand trying to awkwardly smooth out the notes she picked out, flattening them in her lap. The details she learned from the Source, from theTemple, and from others filter through her head but can't form in to the answer Hakeber is trying to give her. She can't state what bothers Hakeber, as much as she would like to show Hakeber she's not alone, so she does the only thing she can do -- needs to do -- and pushes on to share the burden. "Hake-bear, what's the whole story?" She asks as gently as she can even as she fights her own growing anxiety, still trying to smooth out and make sense of the notes she gatheerd. "What did you learn?"
"The Cill.. they found out, somehow," Hakeber says quietly, now that Tasha is close. "They told the Progenitors, and then.. and then they killed themselves, and made sure they didn't leave anything behind. If the Progenitors had done nothing after the war, they might have won! But they made us instead, and.. we're what the Sifra needed to survive." She looks into Tasha's eyes, and says, "They had to decide, don't you see? Whether to destroy their children, or let it all repeat, or fight to be the last one. Because there's only one species that survives - the one who ends up serving the Sifras. Maintaining them, until they start to wear out. But by then a new wave of civilization will have grown, and new servitor race could be chosen.. and the rest destroyed, to free up resources so a new batch could evolve for when they needed replacements again.."
Tasha meets Hakeber's gaze, even as she wishes for all the world that she could look somewhere else. The pleading, half-crazed look is enough to nearly send her over the edge herself. The rest makes her want to look down and in to nowhere, where the truth can't exist, cast out of her mind. Her only consolation is that she had suspected as much by piecing together everything and drawing a conclusion, so that at least the truth is not new to her. No less awful, but not new. She feels like her stomach has dropped out of her; it's hard to breathe.
After a moment Tasha forces herself to nod, very slightly and slowly, that she understands. The motion gives her time to shore up what strength she has and keep talking. "I-I know," she offers, hoping it might help somehow to know someone else knew first, ir at all, "I pieced it together, H-hake-bear. The Source, the Source knew part and the Temple, the Temple knew more. And what you told me ... It's why I had to leave." She sucks in a deep breath, then pulls Hakeber close and hugs her. "I'm so sorry, Hake! I'll, I'll ... " What will she do? The Progenitors failed, the Galactics failed, what can she do?
In a crack of her will, in some momentary insanity born out of frusteration, and anger, and having had enough, wanting to fix what she caused and spit in the face of everything whatever she might be, or how small, she declares, "I'll fix it Hakeber! I will! IUt will all be okay! I will go to the Hall, and I will fix it! And the gods and the Sifras be damned!"