With nothing but Melchior to focus on or provide a person-relative sense of scale, the Titan looms large. With its head tilted beak-forward in flying position, it looks even more like a bird of prey capable of swallowing up someone in a single gulp. As everyone else (save for Hakber and Yue) are busy preparing for launch, Tasha was alone. Very alone, since she'd had all data access and communications lines to the bay, and to Melchior, locked down with the best post-PersoComacalypse security that could be managed.
The precautions didn't stop there; Tasha also had the entirety of her access codes revoked for the the duration of the test. She came unarmed and without her powered armor, lest that be used through her to somehow gain an upper hand. The only way she's leaving the Bay is if the others let her out or if the Melchior tears a hole in the ship -- and even if she were to leave peaceably she gets a free trip to the Med Bay at gunpoint. The last time she corned a Khattan in his plans she ended up fighting, not only for her life but potentially also her clarity of will and purpose. With a Marker active, anything could be possible this time.
As for Hakeber and Yue, Hakeber has been put on standby in case her expertise is needed. She waits in an unused room outside the Bay with Yue. Yue herself has been asked to try and read Tasha upon exiting to try and guage and takeover or coercion and to be among the first line of defense if Tasha herself manages to breach the lockdown. In the event of a true emergency, even the armed guards from outside the ship may be called and have been forewarned. There just isn't enough personnel.
With all else ready, Tasha lowers her gaze from her Titan. The feeling something was off with the machine had never quite left her and now she seems to have found the heart of that doubt. The needle in the haystack of a thousand year plot. With the Magi acting as a final thrust of some elaborate plan, the spearhead is exposed in its action to strike. The young woman wonders if she'd have ever seen through enough to find this key evidence otherwise -- only repeated and intense scrutiny of the machine managed to get this far. If the plot's hayday, could she have ever gotten so far?
Whatever the case may be, it's time for answers. Fourty-foot rpedatory robot or not, the Melchior is still her's and she intends to push her claim and recieve answers from what lurks in her machine. She spreads her wings and prepares to board.
The cockpit airlock dilates as usual to let her in. Normally the armor would be needed for entering certain combat modes, but since the Gryphon isn't supposed to move this time it just adds an extra layer of security.
Tasha's been in the cockpit countless times before, but today feels different. It feels less like she's stepping on to backstage in preperation for a main event so much as stepping in to the blackness to confront an unknown enemy. Much, she realizes with no small amount of anxiety, like when she confronted Warloq beneath his keep. But Tasha is no strange to confrontation with enemies, nor with the unknown, and has learned to suppress her fear and move forward. She enters the cockpit and slide in to place, ducking her head for teh control arm to connect; thoughts of how to start off filter through her mind as she waits.
The arm connects, and the familiar tingle turns to words. "Did you want to run simulations, Tasha?" Melchior asks.
The steps fall in to place; Tasha knows what she'll do. "Not right now, Mel. Actually there's a, um, concern of another PersoCom style attack and that it might breach in to the hangar. I'm here to keep an eye on things." Lying to her Titan's AI pains her, but she knows it's for his own good. She has no idea how deep any failsafes may go, if the machine is programmed to deal with anyone who has slipped the bounds of predicted control, breached the margin of error. The AI could hurt her and never know why; she won't allow the chance either could be harmed in as much as she can try and prevent it. "To that end we're going to shut down as much as we can here. Can you disengage and lock down non-essential systems? I may even need your AI to sleep for a while and isolate itself."
"This seems counterproductive though," the AI responds. "Why wake me up at all? Are there particular subsystems you need access to?"
"I need ... " How does she reference systems the Titan's AI can't even detect, let alone become aware of? She recalls the Marker is in close proximity to the brain core, so she assumes it must be interlinked to primary control, the AI, and to who-knows-what-else. In other words, a worst case scenario. There's really only so much she can do. Even depowering many systems would only delay things as the system could simply restart them. It might give the people outside more time to react, at least. "I just wanted to let you know. There's also something else I need to do here. Please keep core control systems active and disengage everything else. Anything associated with the core control region, computer core, pilot interface and like that."
"Entering diagnostic mode," Melchior replies, as all physical control and motive systems are moved from standby to shutdown.
Even the external sensors are shut down.
"Thank you, Mel. And whatever happens? I'm glad I met you. Here and now, I'm glad I met you and you're an irreplaceable part of my life. I love you Mel. Don't ever forget that.//" She knows he won't forget; he can't. But it has to be said. Tasha then opens a window in her mind, the list of training programmes and walkthroughs. Knowing where to look she soon has the correct entry in mind, a blank space where nothing should be. The gateway to the PersoCom system.
No, Tasha corrects herself, feeling as a chill down her spine the understanding where she has really gone before and will now return. The gateway in to the Marker itself. Mafdet's. The Origin Marker of Khattans.
She hesitates, marshling her courage and will, giving the machine a second to respond before the activation command is sent.
There's no 'bouncer' this time to ask her questions. Just the empty white space. It takes almost a minute (a rather stressful one) before Ser Heraphel appears. He looks a bit older, somehow, than their first meeting - where he already seemed ancient. "Bird of Hermes," he says, managing a smile. "Have we arrived at the Hall of Souls?"
Tasha looks as she did in the cockpit, not having even tried to modify her appearance in this place. Her avatar? Or is it her soul, her essential self, that is somehow here? And if so, what powers might she muster, what defenses? She wishes she had time to figure it all out but there had never been a chance, and further there had been little reason. She is in unfamiliar territory, but she is not without strength.
And she is not smiling.
"Change of plans, it turns out we're actually in a sun," the hybrid replies, spreading her hands and looking around in an exagerated fashion. The hands then fall to her hips and she leans in, brows arcing, ears perking. "Because we must be in a sun, right? Have you considered praying to the Star instead?"
"It was a gas giant, actually," Ser Heraphel remarks. "The Guardians of Heritage flew into it with the Marker."
"Oh, of course. Please tell me more lies. More Khattan lies. It's what you all seem to be good at, right? Smile, pretend to be everyone's friend? Shake their hand and stab them in the back? So, what's it all for today? Here to save your species from the Sifrans or the Ogdoad? Are you and Ahriman's children working together, or are you fighting to get in to the Hall first? Because ... " Here Tasha stomps a hood to the ground. She has no idea what frame of reference this place has to the outside world, but she assumes Ser Heraphel understands the gesture of 'down.' " ... It just so happens I found the Origin Marker of Khattans. Why, it's right under my incoherent body, isn't it? No wait--" She pulls her hands of her hips and gestures widely. "It's right here, isn't it? Here, where we are. You told me you were in something better than a PersoCom system -- well the Origin Marker of Khattans certainly is a step up."
"Now now, child, I didn't lie about the Marker," the old lynx claims. "It really was flown into the heart of a gas giant. But the thing about the Markers, besides their indestructibility, is that they are practically invisible to remote sensing. The Guardians released it before they hit the metallic hydrogen core. On a balloon. It traveled the winds and density layers, until several years later it reached the upper atmosphere where the attached transmitter sent out a single, directed message. To my faction, of course. So we recovered it, and nobody was the wiser."
"Nobody except me." Tashs straightens, crossing her arms and glaring at the man, or what she suspects may be man but could just as well be anything given the situation. "So you lied to me, amde me think you had to use these other ones and hid the one beneath our feet. Obviously you didn't want me to know." She snorts. "So you're hiding something there beside the Marker. And your faction. What was that, the Order of Mafdet? What's your faction today? Who are you really, and what are you really here for?" The young woman has some guesses and none of them are anywhere near good. Just thinking some of the possibilities brings the chill back to her spine, but she presses onward. "I'm done with your lies. Tell me or you'll never see the Hall, Ser Heraphel. If that's who you are. Or are you ... Khomen?" One of the worst; not the worst. She grits her teeth. " ... or Mafdet?"
"What have you endured to make you so.. suspicious?" Heraphel asks, eyebrows raised. "The Progenitor Cults, as they are called, were never unified societies. As with any religion, there were schisms and breakaways. For us Khattans.. well, it is a challenge to get multiple Houses to agree on anything. Of course our beliefs became fractured. The 'loss' of the Marker was necessary to prevent outright war. And that would hold so long as it stayed lost. If we had introduced it to the Magi Mission, those long-dormant disputes would have reared their heads like dragons waking from a centuries long sleep. It would have been impossible for the mission to continue unless the Marker was kept hidden."
"You know what?" The hybrid woman rolls her shoulder in a shrug, glancing around a moment, as if in assessment. "I don't believe you. Every time I find a secret it's just one more half-truth, or more layer. I don't have time for this. The Magi mission? The Magi mission belongs to us now. Your role is over." Her eyes turn, focusing on the old man who seems to age and wither under her glare. Is he really dying, or is that, too, a deception? She can no longer tell. "And don't think about forcing me. I've isolated the entire hangar, the are armed guards and weapons outside ready for any tricks. I have a TerraGen psychic waiting to assess me. If it comes down to it, maybe I'll even reach out to one of the dark beings. Did you know their blood flows through me, too? Just like your stators. How is Sedu-hem?"
"I'm afraid you've lost me now," Ser Heraphel claims. "I'm here to represent my species to Mafdet, since a Khattan pilot was out of the question. Nothing more. We are not inside the Marker. If we had the ability to access it, then why would we need the Magi mission at all? And by dark beings, do you refer to Ahriman, somehow?"
Another snort. It sounds plausible, but how can she be sure anymore? Every call for honesty has just been spun for some agenda, evey time she feels like Ser Heraphel has given her the whole picture she finds out there's more to uncover. She reinforces herself not to be swayed, not this time. It may be her last chance. "Dark beings. The Ogdoad, the Ogdr-hem, the beings the Waymakers fought, and their children! The secret Marduk and his children found, the reason the Sifra can't be defeat, the why behind Mafdet and Ahriman's refusal to return to Adam -- the beginning of Eve's desire for suicide. The reason the Khattans and the Naga are so advanced! To survive, to be the only ones left! Or to transcend that!" She unwraps her hands, spreading them again and clawing in to the air. "But if they live, who knows! I've seen Ahriman's memories in his Marker. Mafdet may be right beneath us!"
"You seem to have made more progress than my group.. if you are correct, and not simply raving," Ser Heraphel notes, starting to look a bit concerned. "The Ogdoad are a myth.. or at least were never linked to the Progenitors. Devils to oppose the Star.. or whatever religion needed devils to keep the faithful in line. And the Sifra are gone, so this talk of them being undefeatable makes no sense to me. I do not have the context to understand your accusations."
Tasha grits her teeth, running her taloned hand through her hair as she collects herself. The man may be a liar, or at least a spinner of truths, but he's right about her getting heated. She tries to calm down, focus. "Fine, I'll tell you, since I'm not leaving until I resolve things here." She pulls in a deep breath, exhales, and begins.
"The Ogdoad and their enemies, the Waymakers. The Ogdoad devour souls -- time and existence. The Waymakers oppose that. The Waymakers are the gods of the Progenitors, who are descended from Adam, or Atum. 'Many a name he hath full sure.' They are energy beings, drawn from Him and becoming individual. They are also known as Archons. 'Know who he is and all His kin.' For they're one. The Vril-ya, derive from his vril energy, contained within shells."
"The Ogdoad sewed life in this universe through the Outsiders and the Star Seeds. They placed their servant-slaves the Ogdru-hem 'between the sky,' to wait for the harvest because the Ogdoad are too alien to truly effect our universe, so their children are partly of ours. The oldest of the Old Ones are the Sifra, the Xilfrim, who betrayed the Ogdoad and contained their masters. They then annhilated the other Old Ones, to have the universe and its resources to themselves. The First Ones were created in the emptiness, and the Sifra struck again. Except this time the vril-ya and Adam arrived at the end of the war and saw what they had know be destroyed. They crippled the Sifra, but they were too late. So Adam sent his Archons out to fill the universe with life once again."
"And so they did, becoming individuals and creating the sentients as we know them now. But Mardul and the Cill discovered the secretof the Sifra and the Ogdoad, that the Sifra had been holding back the Ogdoad and in crippling the Sifra they had weakened their hold on the Ogdoad. And now they had a problem: Destroy the Sifra and the Ogdoad will wake and devour the souls of all sentient life. Let the Sifra recover and they will annhilate the Archon's children. Adam recalled the Archons to empower Himself, but they refused, to protect their children. Marduk and the Cill destroyed themselves. So did Eve. Mafdet cheated and helped her children with technology; so did Ahriman. Adam, lacking their vril, seems unable to act."
"And then we come to today. The Sifra are running out of Clients and will awaken soon to find them. That is how we could reach Primus at all. They can't use their crystals to test people anymore, because they always kept one species to maintain everything. And now they are almost out. If they run out, they will fade, and te prison Erebus will open. If they succeed, we all die anyway. The Archons fight so that their children become those Clients, or find another way. Genocide. But time is running out."
"I have spoken to the Ogdru-hem, The Source, Katha-hem. The beings from the dark hyperspace, outside of time. I have spoken to the Titanians. We have read the Book of the Dead. I have spoken to the Temple, the authority of Sinai, confirming the Clients are almost gone. And I have met Ahriman's agent, the creation of the Thennenin, Lord Yama. I have seen Ahriman's memories. And now it is almost time to reach the Hall. I have four Markers. Four."
"This is.. worrisome," Ser Heraphel says. "It is far beyond what our mission was. We only wanted to contact the Archons, present their tokens. Prove we were adults. But it seems that much has come to pass in six-thousand years, knowledge we.. I did not have. But the mission is still unchanged. Make contact. This other scenario.. I suppose it explains certain things. The rivalries. But I do not know if I can accept it all." He looks at Tasha with old, sad eyes. "I just wanted to know my maker."
Tasha frowns. The man's plea tugs at her heart strings, but she just can't bring herself to trust him. If only she had the power to see through lies; maybe Adam has such a power, maybe the Waymakers or the Ogdoad -- but she is just a mortal girl on the cusp of something so far beyond her even its shadow can devour all that she can see. And yet, somehow she has become a kind of arbiter to this situation; messenger, courier, judge and executioner. All because she asked the single question of: why?
"They're not as amazing as you might think," she offers, seeing no reason not to offer at least some consolation. She is, after all, delaying things. This battle won't end in a strike, but in time. She need only wait to conclude things. Speaking will not slow that down. "There was a time I thought they would save us, save me from everything I have seen and know. Do you know what I used to do? I drove animals on a ship made of wood. I didn't even know about space, or the Galactics, or anything until one day my eyes were opened and I couldn't look away. I couldn't go home. And then I looked again and I have this, now." The young woman looks down at her hooves, tilting back and wrapping her arms around herself, swaying ever so slightly. "But they can't save us. Eve made me see that. I read her suicide note, the parts we could understand. I didn't like her. She seemed, I don't know, weak. Cowardly. Afraid. She ranted."
Tasha's head shakes. "I wanted to like the Progenitors and believe in them, but I didn't like Eve. And then I realized why. She sounds like me. And then I knew it. They can't save us. They can barely save themselves, maybe not even that." And her shoulders roll. "I still want to meet them, but we can't expect they'll solve our problems. Maybe together? Maybe ... I don't know. But I'm going. I'm going to meet Adam. You want to be a adult, I guess? Well, then think about this: Maybe they need us. Maybe we're the salvation this time. At the very least we can't expect them to do everything."
"And what is the role you thought I would be playing in all of this.. madness?" Ser Heraphel asks morosely. "I doubt you trust me. And if I say what you want me to say, it will also not be trustworthy because it will be an actual lie. There is nothing I can do or say to allay your suspicions."
"I had planned to keep you on as my teacher if I could return you to life," Tasha answers, looking up. "There's no need to hide it, not now. But that's what I had planned for you. But what you're doing, well, I it seems likely you had intended to use the Marker and the incomprehensible alchemy-code to do something with the Markers. To recreate vril, to harness vril. The recipe calls for three, not four. I don't know what four means, I barely understand how this is suppose to create something. Three Markers, create an energy or refine a spirit. Eve handed that power to her children, once, and they destroyed themselves. With it -- if you're adult and 'deserve' it -- you might defeat the Sifra and surpass the Archons, maybe even Adam and the Ogdoad. Destroy all your rivals."
"All of my rivals, including myself, are long dead," the lynx points out. "Who are the rivals of the Khattans nowadays.. aside from other Khattans, of course? So, by introducing our Marker, I may have.. disrupted the plans of the other Magi Project members? By your own reasoning, I could not have intended to fulfill this supposed formula."
"Maybe you could or couldn't. I don't know the recipe, only what it's supposed to do and even that may be wrong. Eve's writing is difficult to understand and we have only drawn so much from it, at great cost to the reader's sanity. There is a thought that the Markers can heal Adam somehow, but that it must be done correctly. They are vril -- as far as I can tell they are parts of the Archons and may be all that is left of them. Your goddess may have always been a foot away from you." Tasha looks away, staring off in to the blank whiteness of infinity, seeing no answers in the simulated eternity.
"With vril the Naga could be destroyed, then the others. The First, the Old. The Xilfrim. Maybe harness Adam? Adam was enough to defeat the Sifra, maybe alone. A power Khomen and so many others would do anything to have. I once killed someone I loved, because I knew -- I knew -- if I didn't she could continue to be horrible to the world. And if I didn't, she would die anyway, but screaming as they tirtured her. I killed the Seraph in what I thought was defense, because Lord Yama tricked me. I destroyed the Berserkers -- genocide -- because of the threat they could be. I killed Khomen's agent Warloq for the same reason. Neither could be trusted; the stakes were too high." Having explained her reasonng, the young woman tilts her head back and, blinking at the endless white, realizes the is nothing she can do but wait. As before, no clear answers. Just sadness.
And feeling the energy drain from her, Tasha sits down where she ist and puts her head on her hands, staring at infinity. "So that's all I can do. I'm not smart enought to see through the lies, I don't know enough to be sure you can't act. All I know is that I don't feel safe enough to bring you to the Hall. I will not meet Adam just to hand Him to the Khattas, or have him stabbed in the back. To watch our hopes be destroyed because I failed. I guess you'll know if Mafdet loves you, because she's the only one who can save you now. If I'm wrong, I'm truly sorry."
"So.. you're going to kill me," Ser Heraphel says calmly. "To come this far.. it was always a gamble, you know. I gambled on Apollyon. I couldn't trust the others, after all. But Melchior was wholly our creation, untouched by the Celestials or Silent-Ones. My best chance."
Tasha doesn't turn around. She knows it's despicable not to look someone in the eye as she brings their precious life to a close, but she has killed so many people. So many who would be her friend, who were her friend until treachery, necessity, uncertainty, or survival demanded their death. So many, in so little time. She can still remember each and every moment. She wanted to stop the killing, but it seems she can't escape it. The universe is too cruel to allow it.
"I guess ... you couldn't trust, either." Tasha bites her lip, pulling in a breath. It hurts, it really hurts. "If I've failed you too, I'm truly sorry."
Aaron Afks a moment, giant cockroach on the wall.
"Before you do it though, I noticed you mentioned House Khomen several times," Ser Heraphel notes. "They were not involved in the Magi Project. What is their part in all of this?"
The young woman had laid back with her hands beneath her head, staring at the sky and cursing the universe for its cruelty until the question stirred her from her resentment. "Khomen uses the dark being Sedu-hem to make the stators. He and his whole House may be working with the Ogdoad somehow, or using them to gain their own power be taking apart every powerful being, object and technology they can find. He also sent Warloq, tried to gain control of Primus, gain the Seraph, create an army of Sifran technology and use a disguised Khattan to take control of the Star Empire. I thought maybe Mafdet was backing him somehow, but I guess she might be right here." She shrugs. Fat lot of good she's doing. If you let an innocent man die just to test me, just because of some gods-pact not to interfere, or what-ever, I will never forgive you.
"Hmmm," the ancient Khatta ponders. "They always had a certain reputation. Kept things very close. Our only dealing with them was for the Magi mini-stators."
"Are those different, somehow? They're the smallest our engineer has ever seen. If they carry dark blood, it's never been noted," Tasha says in a tone best described as absent. She's listening, but she can feel part of her mind and heart begin to turn off in anticipation.
"Dark blood?" Ser Heraphel asks. "They are.. smaller.. is all. I don't know if that required something special. We just needed them to be smaller."
"Dark blood. The fluid that flows through the Ogdru-hem. It can effect gravity; it can change a being's nature. When I made a deal with the Source, some of it ended up in me. And some of it is in every stator ever sold at Daltoona station. Katha-hem told me, they draw it from Sedu-hem." Absently tasha lifts her taloned hand and opens it, shielding it against the unrelenting white. Inspecting it. Loathing it and herself.
"I'm not familiar with a Daltoona Station," Ser Heraphel says, and finally sits down next to Tasha. "After my time. I think the broker we dealt with was Per Wynlass of House Khomen. She was a formidable negotiator when it came to price.."
That catches Tasha's attention; she rolls her head over and stares at the man. Her gaze is locked, but her eyes aren't the eyes he faced when she arrived. Something beyond them has shut down. "Per Wynlass existed back then? Is Per Wynlass a title?" her tone remains unchanged, aware but ... absent. Distant. As if she were in a daydream.
"Well, it means Lady Wynlass.. a title, yes. I'm not sure what the equivalent would be.. do you still have knights and nobility? I am Sir Heraphel, a 'knight' of sorts," the ancient man explains.
"And it couldn't be the same person, not after six millennia," Ser Heraphel claims with a chuckle.
Tasha rolls her head back to watch the sky. It wasn't the answer she hoped, but she keeps talking. "I know a few people who have existed over six thousand years, but the ones who are mortal as we are weren't awake the whole time. Only the immortals, the AI, and the others like the Progenitors seemed to be able to keep existing that long without sleep." She takes a slow, deep breath, then she exhales. Tired. "But we have knights. Sinai has a lot of nobility, so do the Silent-Ones. I'm a honorary knight of a Silent-Ones order."
"I did not expect the Silent-Ones to ever honor an outsider like that," Ser Heraphel notes. "My title is from my religious order, of course. I've never been a combatant. You don't seem like one either."
"I've sure killed a lot of people for someone who isn't a combatant. I think I'm up to a hundred now? Blackwings. I loved Blackwings, but she was horrible. She skinned people. Sold people in to slavery. I ran her through." Tasha uses the hand she had been inspecting to count off. "Yama infected me somehow, made me corrupt the Seraph -- what Balthasar became. I thought the Sifrans did it, or the dark beings, but it was him. To make something happen. To make the Marker react? 'That which is the leader of all this game.' So I destroyed the Seraph even though I promised it and the Queen I'd use it to do better. Prove power could be used well." She laughs, light and empty. "Then Warloq. The Seraph's late pilot. Spy, agent. For Khomen. Too dangerous, couldn't trust him. Cut his head off." Another finger goes up. "And then the Berserker remnants at L3. They were all paranoid and crazy, so I destroyed them all. I had help, of coure. But I did it. I wonder if someone will destroy me too, some day? For b
eing dangerous; untrustworthy and unstable."
Tasha blinks. "I let Katha-hem live, because I was tired. It's a slave. Some day I may have to kill it, but not then. It foresaw it. And now you. You know, I don't think I've ever killed anyone and felt proud of it. Or good. Even the monsters were just Katha-hem's attempt to get us to work together. All I do is kill people because I had to, or thought I had to, but maybe it was all empty and meaningless. Nothing to be proud of. I don't think I ever killed an honest enemy."
"Not in combat, you mean?" Ser Heraphel asks. "And Berserkers.. well, anything you do to them is technically self-defense. Of course, you don't have to run down my clock, you know. Although I have to wonder: was it Horus who animated Melchior, or was it Mafdet?"
"It was Horus's Marker that was spinning and glowing. I was in bad shape when it happened, but I'm pretty sure it was Horus's." Tasha frowns, though. Could they have been working in concert? Or was there another power in play? It frusterates her to no end. "Stupid gods," she exhales without any real strength. "They can animate a Titan but didn't warn me Yama messed with my head. Won't help us now. They'll probably just let you die, and then if you're innocent it'll be something about a test or some agreement or maybe they're all just scared they'll screw up again. If I was really smart I'd have picked the dark beings, at least they're usually honest and direct. Or the Star. So perfect it doesn't do anything."
"You don't want to kill me, do you?" Ser Heraphel asks, in that grandfather voice of his. "Like you didn't want to kill those others. Why put yourself through this? You shouldn't have to be tested at this point."
"To prevent disaster," Tasha answers simply. She may not want to, but she understands her conviction and its reasons. "Every time I did it, I did it to stop something from happening. I thought, "Can I risk this?" and it was always, "I can't." Warloq would have disappeared and used his drugs and his training to manipulate the world, toy with peoples' lives, enslave them. Blackwings already did that. The Berserkers promised me everything but they'd have become a menance. The Seraph seemed to want to consume me, turn me in to a mindless weapon, make me kill everyone I loved. Make me destroy the Hall of Souls. I asked you to be honest, but you couldn't even be truthful about the Marker. Why would you hide it? If I let you live, you may stab me in the back once we reach the Hall. Supplant my control; take what they wanted to hide."
"I explained about the Marker," Ser Heraphel says. "It wasn't meant to be used to enter the Hall, so.. it would only matter if Mafdet noticed it. It was not a risk to you, I promise. This was my life's work, after all. Of course I wished to see it through. But remember, I had chosen Apollyon - a man of unquestioned honor. And certainly not anyone I could have bested. You may feel yourself vulnerable.. but keep in mind that he was not."
"Your kind hasn't given me a lot of reason to trust you. I don't think I've ever met a Khattan I trusted. Even the Silent-Ones and Naga have people I like, and sometimes I want drag the whole population of Star City to the City-of-Hands and rub their noses in it. The Celestials aren't much better with the Clients. But the Khattans? Nothing; nobody. You were the only one until today." Tasha's head shakes, eyes wide. "Apollyon may have been honorable, but Warloq was right in that we Vartans -- as a people -- aren't the best at deal-- No, why smooth it? We can be really gullible. We sold away our freedom for some Khattan toys. We just aren't very good at ambition or dealing with politics and ending up on top."
"As for the Markers, I don't know how it all works. So I can't be sure yours can't be used to interfere. I just don't know enough," the hybrid concludes. "And there isn't much time left to find out. I may not know the reason for every little plot, or prophecy, or code until I'm there and their intentions play out."
"They could all be wrong of course," Ser Heraphel points out. "The Archons were interested in the the species they fostered, not the individuals that made it up. It's why we never followed any prophets - the very notion of Mafdet granting special knowledge to just one, flawed being was preposterous. And so we don't pray to her for guidance, or aid, or.. anything. A mother can dote on her children.. but when there are a billion of them it all comes down to statistics."
"My god is indifferent," he leans in to say. "So for any of them to have acted.. they must have perceived a credible threat. But.. was it? Would Balthasar have tried to destroy everything if the Markers hadn't reacted?"
"Except right now you and me are the two who could have entered the Hall. We're not just 'two in who-knows-how-many-billion. Lord Yama said I'm the one who acted when it mattered; but who knows if we can trust him either now? I rather doubt it." Tasha glances over only to notice the Khattan has leaned closer. She looks wider or eye, ears canting back, for the proximity. "Um, he also described Ahriman. I think I saw Ahriman's memories when we trid to look in the Marker, we were able to see something using Sifran magic. I was the only one who had the experience of eyes staring at me." She frowns now, but doesn't make any move to scoot away. "I don't know. Maybe not? Katha-hem -- I thought maybe Katha-hem had done it, later -- said the corruption came from me somehow. Through the neural link. It must have used the Sifran system to corrupt the body, because I don't see how I could have done that. Abaddon -- that's what the viral construct called itself -- wanted to use me to attack life on the planet
, then turn on the Hall. But Harmonia saw it too so ... I don't know. Maybe Katha-hem is lying. Maybe they both are, and I'm just their dumb puppet."
"It's dangerous to think that you are a puppet," Ser Heraphel says. "It will make you question every decision.. or make others rashly. Or regret them later. Someone isn't being honest with you.. but nobody is ever totally honest. Even you, I'm sure. Katha-hem, Lord Yama.. beings you don't understand. But that might make them easier to trust, from your perspective. Perhaps the best thing to do is not take anything you find as rote. Or look for the places where accounts overlap. You may not find the real truth that way, but you can find the statistical approximation of it."
"Oh, you know, Lord Yama told me what might task might become. Mel -- the Melchior's AI and I both agree that it might be correct: I'm supposed to explain the Archons to Adam. That's what he said. There's some thought that the Archons were corrupted by being in contact with mortals; that they've become more like us and not only do they want to protect their children they also don't want to die." It occurs to Tasha, in her morose but active reflection on the subject at hand, that she might exert some control over this place. So she reaches up and focuses her mind, trying to make the diagram and images of the Archons appear such that she might explain their relations and nature better. "See, we think Adam isn't like us at all. That Adam is some kind of AI, or a being without a sense of self like we have. A 'pure' being, maybe even from another reality entirely. That Adam doesn't understand what his Archons have done and why they won't return."
"Hmm, interesting," Ser Heraphel says, tapping his cane. "We broke our gods? But then.. what are the Markers? If the Archons would not return to Atum, then where did they go? Did they choose to die instead?"
Tasha sits up, propping her head on the hand cloest to Heraphel. She scrunches her muzzle in thought, then explains, "Archons have two parts. The first is vril, which comes from Adam or Atum. It's a kind of energy. Maybe like their soul. It seems like it can do a lot of things besides just carry their 'self,' but Eve doesn't say much about it except it seems like it does more. Then there's the shell, which the Titanians describe as a stone-like material that can change shape. They usually look like giant beings, which is where the Titanians got their name -- they were very impressed with the Archons which they called Titan -- in their own language of course." The young woman taps her talon pointer against her chin. "They also said some of the Archons were 'killed,' but also that they're immortal. You can bring them back to life by combining their vril and their shell. Or, that's what they said anyway. We think the Markers are like a bit of them, like a PersoCom system. They might also be all
that's left of them, like an escape pod."
"Then.. the goal is to return the Markers," Ser Heraphel says, before going into a fit of ragged coughing.
"Uhhh, probably. They're definitely not making it easy though," Tasha remarks as she sits up more, reaching to lay a hand on the man, then hesitating, hand hovering in the air an inch from his shoulder. She almost asks if he's okay; the absurdity of the impulse tugging her to either laugh or cry. Or both.
"I'm sorry that you had to go through with this," Ser Heraphel says, after a few ragged breaths. "If.. if you do meet Mafdet.. please ask her if she was proud of us?"
Tasha pushes herself up to her feet; she's had enough. It's time she did some testing of her own. The gods can take the fall for this one if everything should fall apart because she made a mistake here. "Tell her yourself," she barks, the strength returned to her voice. Then she shoves the exit command through her mind with all the speed she can muster.
As the departure begins, she has a split second to reflect on her choice. Allthe Markers are here; here now she'll judge their Archons in turn. If they could have acted, if they could have said something when it mattered, here and now was the time. She's tired of these 'what-if' murders, tired of being tested by being too haughty to give a damn by the petty little drama of their lives. If she's to explain them to Adam, she hopes for their sake when their own lives are weighed they too do not fall so far as to be insignificant. And if she made a mistake? They could have said something. If so much depends on a petty being such as herself, wouldn't it be failure on the part of her greaters to have said or done something when it mattered -- when she knew of them, was deep in their mysteries such that revelation would change little?
She supposes she'll find out.
Everything freezes. As she exits the simulation, there's a brief flash of a message: Cortical Simulation Collapse Halted: 15 Seconds Remaining.
So little time. There was so little time. She was right to have exited when she did, and pushing things so far proved a certain truth to the man's claims: He never tried to attack her in any way she could detect. No defenses activated, no secret plots or mockery came forth as they did with Warloq. He was, if anything, like he always was. It gives her reassurance she made the right choice and that their suffering wasn't in vain.
Returned to the cockpit, Tasha leans back and sucks the deepest breath she thinks she ever has. Fifteen seconds from ending a man's life. She had just sat there as she killed him slowly, reviewing her choices, talking becaue there was little else to do. Fifteen seconds. She wonders if she's really any better than any of those she's destroyed, only able to take heart in her abortive last second change of heart and her belief she was doig it to prevent disaster. It's all she has.
"Gods," She gasps in to the cockpit, more curse of frusteration and disbelief than any cry to deities. "What a nightmare."
"Diagnostic Complete," Melchior says. "All systems functioning at optimum levels. I do not see how this is a nightmare, Tasha?"
Tasha goes from leaning back to hunching forward, fingers running through her hair and nails digging in. "I almost did something terrible Mel. Again, I almost did it again. A man's life ... I almost killed Ser Heraphel because I couldn't trust him, couldn't trust Khattans. He only wanted to meet his god. He just wanted to know if she was proud of him."
"Is that important to know?" Melchior asks.
"/It's /everything./" Tasha digs her nails deeper, letting out a growl as she burns her anxiety in one head clutching, snarling outburst before dropping back in to the chair. "/I almost murdered your creator./"
"Did he say if he was proud of me?" the machine asks.
At that, Tasha chokes; the sobbing laughter is not long in coming.
"Are you having a seizure Tasha? Should I run a diagnostic?" Melchior asks.
Aaron says, "You're pretty worked up," Yue says after putting her hand on Tasha's head for five minutes in the Med Bay. "But still yourself as far as I can tell.""
"I feel worked up. I spent an hour crying and another one curled up in the cockpit probably scaring Mel, as much as he can be scared." The armed guards had since returned to their duties, though Tasha hasn't had her command codes and acces sreturned yet. "I almost killed him. I almost killed him. Just likethe others, just because I couldn't trust and couldn't risk it. But I did risk. This time I said no."
"How can you kill a personality construct?" Yue asks. "But you're satisfied that it can be trusted now.. or that it just isn't a threat?"
"I don't know the difference between one person and another. Maybe it all makes sense to you what makes a construct not a person and someone else a person, but I don't know how you can tell the difference. I'm not from your world; they all look the same to me. All of them." Tasha sits up and turns to regard Yue a moment, then nods a little. "He almost ran out of time. Maybe it's all a ruse, I don't know. But we'll find out. If I was wrong, this time I'm going to let the gods shoulder it. And if they won't, I'll remember that if it ever happens that I have to judge them."
"Would judgment even be applicable to gods?" Yue asks, and shrugs. "Well, you're fine now. No excuse to be lazy."
Tasha scrunches up her muzzle but realizes she's glad to get back to preperation work. It will turn her mind away from what happened, but also give ehr a chance to do something positive and productive. It won't be long before her questions might be answered, then she'll know if it was all worth it.
The young woman slides off the table. "Right, back to work -- and back to your room, gnome!" Se pats Yue's shoulder as she goes to walk out ahead of her, then halts at the door as it refuses to open.
"Um," the hybrid's ears go askew. "Could someone give me my access back, please?"