Things are always hectic when it's time to launch a spaceship. There are a lot more consumable supplies being loaded onto Bellerophon, since it will be flying with a full crew - including Clemson, Fred's engineering assistant. Yue and Hakeber hole up in Fred's quarters, since the human is still technically a secret and the woman has no intention of letting Hakeber work on the translation unsupervised.
Nora also kept Tasha close on the bridge. While the senior officer still handled the navigation for launch, she made sure the young Cadet was watching closely. It isn't until Bellerophon is heading into its slingshot around Abaddon that she quietly tells Tasha, "I need you to run some return-course simulations while we're outbound. You and Clemson are here in case anything happens to me and Fred."
"Yes ma'am," Tasha semi-whispers back. With the full crew on board and the entire cadre of lower cadets watching, the senior cadet has pushed herself to be at her best and most respectful. Acting confident and being a role model helps her maintain internal confidence through helping others; it's also one way she can apologize to Nora for sobbing all over her with the news she'll vanish in to the tubes shortly after mission completion. Fear in and fear out for the cadet. Every gesture helps keep it at bay.
To say nothing of the mission itself.
The hope is that she'll inspire the cadets but help reasssure them and the others that the mission will go well, which is all the more important when she -- the mission originator -- isn't sure what will happen. None of them are. Tasha is reaching the top of the provebial mountain climb. She can feel it, and too many questions remain.
It isn't until they're free of Abaddon's gravity well that the stator alarm goes off, signalling a change in inertia - and thus relativistic time and mass. For Tasha, it feels ominous due to what they suspect about the stator origins. There's a slight syrupy feel to it all, but it may just be her. After the trainees leave the bridge, Nora says, "We don't know how close we can get to the Progenitor fortress-thing, or how it might react to the Sifran projector-stack. That's why Clemson is here, in case Fred goes 'offline' and why you get my undivided attention and a crash course in gravitational manifolds."
"I have my datapad on record and auto-note, whatever you need me to know I, it, or Mel will know it and be able to spit it back out if needed." The young woman certainly doesn't like hearing that her sister may 'vanish,' especially after the news that she will vanish even if things go well. She expected there to be serious nerves surroudning this mission but as always the source isn't exactly what she anticipated. "I've been running entry and ground simulations with Mel, but I can switch them to repeat these lessons if you want ma'am. I'm positive Engineering Cadet Clemson will be meet your expectations as well."
"I'm hoping this is just paranoia on my part," Nora says, and brings up the map of the Primus System... with a cloudy sphere of probable locations for where Fortunatis might actually be. "It's not just me and Fred I'm worried about. Can't be certain Mother won't be a target too. Our only idea of what might be possible is the whole disruption of Balthasar's systems caused by the Silent-Ones Marker. Unless it was actually Neith doing it. And if that's the case, it would have been Horus piloting Melchior."
"Or one of them did both. From Lord Yama's description of Ahriman, it seems like they were all hyper-competent and capable of tremendous actions all by themselves." Whatever the case, it unsettles Tasha to think that one or more Progenitors had been active around her, though not for any specific reason so much as their mere presence. She doesn't know what they truly want, either, nor what they think of her in the grand scheme of their plans. Taht Nora is also nervous helps her feel less alone in her fear, but Nora displaying any nervousness is also a sign of how complicated and dangerous the situation really is. Tasha peers at the map, then, trying to withdraw from her thoughts and remain in the external world. "We know Adam alone, or Adam with the Progenitors, was able to defeat the Sifra who are the greatest of the Old Ones. We should assume they can detect and defeat any advanced technology, but they also didn't spot the Ogdru-presence until much too late, so they may not be as proficient with da
rk tech."
"I don't know about saying they defeated the Sifras," Nora says, and moves the map ten days into the future, where Arcadia will actually be closer to Abaddon. "The Sifras already carried out their plan by that point, I think."
"Then at leats crippled. Warlok said what exists is nothing compared to what was and K-hem agreed that the Sifra could be gone in coming futures. Everyone agrees they're on the edge, anyway, and strongly suggest that their plans may still fail. No one said they're gone though, so we might see them sooner or later, if all else fails." Another thing to worry about, but not now. Tasha highly doubts the Sifra would appear at this point, except to strike at them or negotiate, and she's seen no suggestion of either. Of the many players on the Galactic stage, the Sifra -- Xilfrim -- have been the most silent. And while many reasons exist for that to be so, she doesn't think it's beyond their ability to speak if they chose to. Perhaps they simply don't speak to her -- or she can't hear them. "But you're right. We're here. The sleection process is probably underway."
"Should be completed," Nora notes. "They've had six millennia to figure it out, if they're just choosing from the ones in system." Then the lessons start. It's not quite the orbital mechanics that Tasha is already familiar with, because time, velocity and mass can be shuffled around as needed to give the right boost at the right time. At least the tutorial seems to cheer Nora up more. Maybe she should have been a teacher.
The idea of Nora as a teacher terrifies Tasha as much as it amuses her. No lover of long lectures and sitting around, the added threat of Nora's unshakeable determination and legendary vengefulness -- literally given one of her incarnations' status as the goddess of the same -- elevates the classroom to a whole new level of terror. The comical fear helps push away the serious, helping her along the lesson as she envisions tests returned with threats of doom and Nora dressed as a Knight Templar scholar glaring at her along side Captain Frane and her other instructors, possibly setting her on fire. Time passes and the ship journies on.
The floor of Fred's cabin is a bit better organized when Tasha visits - at least there's a clear path to follow. Hakeber is on a break, rubbing her writing wrist and looking through the (virtual) window at.. blackness. Yue is sorting things and adding her own little notes to the handwritten pages the Karnor has been churning out. "Tasha," Hakeber says, perking up at the visit. "I am already going stir crazy in anticipation of how long this trip is going to be."
"You'd think with all our bending and twisting of time we'd have come up with something to dealw ith the anxiety of waiting," Tasha agrees, walking over to where Hakeber is sitting and, without warning, picking her up and stealing her seat. Hakeber gets to have Tasha as a chair, at least, ending up in her lap and getting hugged. "Sorry I've been away, Hake-bear. Nora has been cramming astrophysics, orbitals, and many-gravifolds in to my brain. Mel's been doing the same with tactics and ground planning."
"It's really happening," Hakeber says, smiling a bit nervously. "And some of it comes down to how well I could translate a language so dead it may have never been spoken by anyone."
Tasha gives a squeal, hugging Hakeber again in an exagerated fashion. "Eeee! You're in my world now, finally I don't have to deal with being the youngest and most lost -- and maybe most insane! -- one alone." This, at least, earns Hakeber a kiss on her head and then Tasha leans over to grin. "But it's exciting, isn't it? I mean, it's omnious and I might be dead in a few days, but it's exciting. You get used to the dead part and the fear part, kind of, but the excitement and surprise never go away. To think it's all happening just because I asked, "Why is this thing here?" It feels like forever ago."
"And here I thought I'd have a nice dead-end library position after I wrote a book on Teuton symbolism," Hakeber says. "And.. we do having something for dealing with the anxiety of waiting. Booze! Or sex. Or sexy booze. But I'm betting there isn't any sexy booze on board, is there?"
"Uhhhh," goes Tasha as she thinks. There was the old Vartan ales, and she hid a bottle under her bunk for a while until she moved most of ther things to the Dark Horse and her residence in the Pit. "Maybe Gabriel has some? I don't think he'll O.K. me drinking right now, though, and I don't think I can O.K. me doing it either. Or you." The young scholar gets poked in the side. "Anxiety or not, we need to be ready to react at any moment."
"In case I have to translate the writing on an incoming missile?" Hakeber asks with a smirk. "But.. yeah, the less suggestible a state I'm in, the better."
Tasha gives Hakeber a look. "So, really, you're never very on the ball, are you?" Then she sticks her tongue out.
"When I was little, someone messed up a setting on an air regenerator and started putting out breathable alcohol," Yue says. "It.. it wasn't funny at the time.."
"My brain works best with a little lubrication, like any tightly engineered machine," Hakeber claims.
Tasha turns her head to face Yue, laying it on Hakeber's like a pillow. "You spies and your weird stories. I bet you're going to report to Terragen Command about my love of Hake-bears, too. See, new Karnor-Hake-Bears would make great portable assistance and they're very cuddily. Plus they run on alcohol."
"That depends," Yue says, and rubs her thumb and forefinger together. "I'll trade you Hakeber for a bunny. A talking bunny."
"I don't know if the universe is ready for an army of Lizas," Tasha considers, frowning with doubt. "I know she looks cute and is cute, but she has a tiny bunny heart of, um, sapphire or something. Or steel, steel is a better metaphor around here. You can kind of avoid AI because they're not adorable usually, but Liza will control you, make you think she's cute, and guilt trip you in to compliance. And you'll have paid for it."
"You're right.. I'm being silly," Yue claims. "I want an army of talking bunnies! We could conquer the galaxy! Or at least the parts with mammals."
"Those are the best parts anyway," Tasha agrees. Then, with conspiratorial loudness, she urges, "NOT THAT I DON'T LOVE MACHINE AND STONE LIFE PLEASE DON'T DESTROY ME IT WAS A JOKE."
"Wha!" Hakeber yelps at the outburst, and looks around in a panic. "Where? Is it SAINA?"
"Wow, Hake. You are tense," the cadet observes, peering down at her friend. "I'm going to chew on you! Yue, don't watch. Disappear or something."
"Nope, I'm officially invisible anyway," Yue claims, and goes back to deciphering Hakeber's handwriting.
Dropping again to a conspiratorial whisper, Tasha tells Hakeber. "Just watch, she'll take notes and the Council will send attractive Karnor women to seduce me, because it's a total secret I like that sort of thing -- no wait! Katherine! It's too late, I'm doomed. Want to kiss me? I have an hour off and I need a shower anyway."
"Well, the obvious solution is to join you for that shower," Hakeber claims. "I need to stretch a bit too."
"This is why I need you, you're smarter than me and don't fall asleep reading all the books." Tasha stands up and carries Hakeber with her, heading for the shower compartment. "If anyone needs me, I'm debriefing Scholar Hakeber," she tells Yue. "And make sure you send the new Karnors with the white-and-color heads, perky ears and bright eyes. I like those." And with that she slips out of the room.
The dullness of interplanetary travel is broken up with the dullness of emergency drills. Rather than do them virtually (which would mean only a few people at a time could participate) they were acted out live. And Tasha got to be the Titanian invader! The growing candy-colored orb of Arcadia grew larger each day, and things became busy again as the Bellerophon's extensive sensor system was powered up and put to work. Bets were placed on what the ring system was made of.. only to all fizzle when the sensors couldn't detect the ring in anything but visible light, suggesting it was a projection or some exotic, unknown form of matter. The real survey would begin when they made their orbital insertion, and for that Tasha was at the navigation station with Nora backing her up.
Hands behind her back and at rigid attention, it's all Tasha can do to stop herself from bouncing on her hooves. In hours or less they'd have their first glimpse of the surface of Arcadia in detail and with it perhaps the long-sought Progenitor fortress named 'The Hall of Souls.' Already Arcadia looms on the monitor, it's peculiar ring as plain as day.
(Her bet was that it was strands of life suspended in space on stratified rings, like the great sky-sea and home of the Jotoki. She was proud of the guess, wrong as it turned out to be.)
"Orders, Commander Argentine?" She prompts, hoping she hasn't over-prompted too much in the last hour. Standing around and patience were never really her strong suit.
"Start the orbital insertion, Cadet," Nora says. "Use the one that avoids the rings, just in case."
"Avoiding potentially amazing paint job, yes Commander." Tasha goes about her duties as taught, occassionally glancing at her datapad to look something up or running mathmaticals through the ship's systems to confirm her plans. Unlike her sister, she's entirely ordinary despite her outrageous external appearance and doesn't possess the genius-level mental math talent nor exhaustive memory and must make do with aids in times of compressed learning and doing. "Going with approach vector B, avoiding rings. Sending warning of stator change ... Now. Flight plan forwarded to helm control." The Captain does the actual flying, her task is to plan the route. It works as a two-part check, as well.
Even Gabriel keeps his hands off the manual controls for this, which makes the next few hours a matter of sitting in place and watching the great gaudy bauble of a world fill more and more of the view. An alarm announces the end of stator-enhanced maneuvering as the ship eases into a polar orbit that will let is scan the surface most efficiently. It's also less than a full orbit before the target is spotted. Telescopes on the wing-pods go to work, and everyone on the bridge is treated to a three-dimensional view of.. something. It looks a bit like a flower, if a flower's petals counter-rotated at every level. The petals themselves were sometimes clear and sometimes not, but still managed to conceal the base of the structure. And it was moving slowly across the colorful surface. It was also about five kilometers across at the widest, and at least three kilometers tall. Mapping the details of the structure was slow, since it could only be done from the visual data.
"Gods, it's tremendous ... " Tasha breathes. Five kilometers! She thinks it might even be hovering -- they can't make out the lower levels. "Do you think the upper structure is what's generating the mandalla-like pattern? Could that be the EM -- is it even EM? -- of its drive system? A ship maybe? It'd have to be something like a ship, wouldn't it?" Even though she doesn't need to, the young woman leans forward.
The mountain Tasha had been climbing, all the storms she weathered, the fog, the clouds, the endless snow and here ... Here is the mountain top. The glorious mountain top, shining in the sun in scattered, rainbow light.
"Some of the structure is.. disconnected," Eli notes. "It's not held together by anything we can detect. Doing a pattern search.."
"Too big to put in your tail," Nora notes softly.
"Not connected ..? Architecture of that size that doesn't even rely on material connections ... " Even the great ring in space seemed to need material connections, however stupendously advanced the material of the ringworld was. "Maybe I need a better tail ... " Spoken seriously; so awed she doesn't even catch the joke. "Do you think the clear sections are habitation ..?"
"No idea," Eli reports. "Not emitting anything we can detect, not even heat. We'll need to get a low-angle pass on the next orbit, see what's under it."
"If it's invisible to the Sifras, I doubt we'll do better," Gabriel says. "Eli, make sure this is getting stored on Mother's holographic data store."
"Not even heat..?" Complete energy conversion efficency? Or does it even use an energy we can detect? Tasha has no idea, but from all the legends and reports she has heard of the Progenitors and their technology she could believe just about anything. A part of her wonders if the Sufra had beheld the vril-ya in their glory with the same awe, and perhaps much the same primal fear, looking upon their works and seeing magic just as she has looked upon the Sifras' own works.
"Wait! Don't store anything. Not yet. They don't want to be detected -- just recording it may result in something similiar to what happened with K-hem. Passives only?" Tasha suddenly blurts out, recalling what happened with other extra-universals when the Bellerophon dared remember them.
"We won't be able to map it then," Eli notes. "You'd be going in blind."
Tasha bites her lip, chewing on it a second later and looking down. The pros and cons filter through ehr head in rapid succession, but the conclussion was foregone even before she chose to weigh it. She looks up, turning to Gabriel first and then to the entire crew.
"It's fine," she declares, pushing herself with her hands. "I'm, um, I'm probably expected, right? And this way shows we respect their privacy, Besides we can't know what they might do; we'll never understand that ... I don't know what to call it. That ship, no matter how hard we try. It hasn't reacted yet, so lets not tempt it any more. Send me." And so her gaze returns to Gabriel. "This is what I've been working for, I have the keys, and I have the confidence of the ancient one. Better me, than risk the ship!"
"We need to plot an atmospheric entry," Gabriel says. "Let's do a few more orbits first though. I want to see it from the side, even if we aren't recording, and also see if it reacts at all." On the intercom, he says, "Fred, prep for aeronautics and Titan launch." To Tasha, he says, "I'd be a lot happier if you kept the Markers outside of the cockpit. I don't want you having to get out for anything if it can be helped.
"I ... understand," Tasha agrees belatedly, lowering herself back in to the control chair and returning her gaze to the instruments. "I can't do anything about the Marker in Mel, though. With at least one Marker inside I might have two different opinions instead of one, but we don't know what each of them may want so it's still a gamble and I might still have to exit the cockpit." She sweeps her gaze, then begins reviewing the changes that will be needed for the more passive flyby. "Please ask Fred to move my things to ready position beside the Titan in case I need to launch quickly, Captain?"
"You won't be launching quickly," Gabriel says, but relays the request. "Until we're in calm air and as close to that thing as I feel comfortable with.."
"I know, I'm um, thinking of emergencies." Plot entered, Tasha sends it to the helm. There isn't a great deal to it at this point, at least not for the organic side of the equation. "What about SPF, how far down can we go before we start to see failures?" The Cadet knows she doesn't need to repeat what happened to the last ship Gabriel brought in to an atmospheric flyby; she knows that along with her safety it's at the forefront of his thoughts.
"There's no magic on Arcadia," Eli says. "No signs of interference. All the same, I recommend keeping to twenty-thousand meters altitude. If nothing else it'll reduce our fuel use."
"I'll input that then." Tasha does so, leaving her atmospheric insertion complete for now. She sits back, hands gripping the edge of her seat as she stares at the screen, yet the image of the Hall of Souls looms in the corner of her vision ever drawing her attention. After a time she finds herself looking up, staring at it, feeling like it might devour her with its awe alone.
"Coming on low-angle view," Gabriel announces as the alien city-or-ship-or-whatnot is about to come over the horizon. The telescopes get a side-on view, showing what might be 'bowl' shape beneath the moving mandala, with very large insect-like legs. They move in a wave, so that the base is rotating as it moves forward.
"That makes me think of spiders," Hakeber says, and shivers.
Tasha has been watching for some time now, but still she can't make sense of what she's seeing. Oh, the mechanical use of legs is obvious enough, but the presence of such simplistic -- relatively speaking -- limbs on something so otherwise alien serves to make the entire object that much more exotic to the young woman. Thoughts of the refinement to such an old and common place technology race through her head, reminding her of Lord Yama's words. "Like a god, doing only what was needed." The legs make her think of that nature; using only what is needed. No more. The precision of greater minds -- of godlike minds. Of gods. She voices her thought.
"Legs are so simple. You can see what Lord Yama emant when he said, "Only doing as much as necessary." I don't think they're showing off here. I think those legs are only as much as needed, that maybe the vril-ya believe in efficency and refinement above everything else. Or did. Whatever works, as much as is needed to work. And no more."
"As long as it does not trip over a mountain," Shojo offers. The other trainees are quiet, but Digger-of-Ancient's eyes seem to be glowing with interest.
"I think if it did, it was because it was meant to. But they're not infalliable; we know that too." Tasha manages to yank her gaze away long enough to review the approach status; still good. Ominously good. Part of her is suprised the massive structure hasn't reacted yet, that it's so passive. She wonders if it detects the Markers or simply hasn't noticed -- or doesn't care. Other dangers come to mind, dredged up from memory. "Apollyon said 'Adam may not be alone.' We should keep an eye out for other forces, or any time, but possibly their tech or something on that level. That and Khattan and Kamp tech."
"I can see something inside the.. uh.. core," Eli notes, and zooms in. There's distortion from the atmosphere, but it appears to be several free-floating structures at the center of the petals. There's no way to get any more detail than general shape though: tall cylinders.
Tasha frowns. Cylinders? They're not exactly revelatory, but they do get added to the locations she may aim to land on. Getting past the rotating sections will be difficult, she knows, and depend heavily on deeper levels of connection to her Titan and its computer efficency. "Does anywhere look like a place to land? And how many cylinders are there?"
"I can see three of them, each about fifty meters across and maybe three-hundred long. They aren't moving though, unlike the rest of the artifact," Eli replies. "Their tops would be the only stable landing zones."
"Three." Tasha sucks in a breath. Three. To think the whole artifact may not be the Hall of Souls at all, but merely a door. A gate. The mandala -- she remembers that Yue said that they represent the domain of gods. She leans back in her seat, exhaling. "Then that's where I'm going. I think I get it, now."
"Get what?" Hakeber asks, tearing her gaze away from the hypnotic motion of the artifact.
Tasha's muzzle works, shew chews her lip a moment and then answers, "I don't think it's a ship like we know of them. That there's an inside, I think maybe that object is just the door and the Hall is somewhere else. Somewhere where you can't reach it except if you have the keys. When I go through, I think we're going to lose all contact." Her ears cant back and she frowns. "Another space. Like what Loligar use, maybe like another dimension or reality. Maybe farther than that. More ... away from our reality. A place our reality can't touch. It's just a guess, but wouldn't you build your home in a place you're comfortable and safe? For Adam, that might not be here. Our reality. That's why He has emmissaries."
"We can't get resolution on the surfaces of the cylinders," Gabriel notes. "So until you're on top of them, we really won't know what to expect."
"Then we just have to hope I'm right." That I'm right about a lot of things. While Lord Yama approved of her, there has been no other direct approval. It's far more than anyone else seems to have, Tasha knows from the observations and records of others, but it's not exactly an invitation either. That the Markers activated in her presence suggestions the Progenitors themselves -- or a subset of them -- approve or at least need or want her for tehir plans, but she isn't sure what Adam thinks of His children by the point and their approval may be worse than nothing. Ultimately all she can do is stand before the gate and try the key, hoping for the best. To reassure herself as well as the others she adds, "I made sure to pack for long term loss of communication. If I have to, I can probably reach the Gateway. I'll head there if anything goes wrong."
"We've still got the shuttle too," Gabriel points out. The Gateway is on the other side of the planet!
"At least it'll be a beautiful walk ..," Tasha admits. She can fly, of course, but she's never tried flying across a whole planet with packs full of rations. It pushes her to consider the unpleasant next step: What if she doesn't return. "And, um, if I don't come back -- if it looks bad -- you should take the ship and go."
"If you don't come out I'll be going in after you, one way or another," Gabriel tells Tasha. Then the big wolf takes a deep breath, and announces, "Secure yourselves for re-entry. Gryphon launch will be twenty klicks up and fifty out, unless we encounter any instabilities."
Tasha smiles at that, but hopesit's just bravado. As much as she'd want Gabriel to be there with her in the end, she doesn't want it to happen at the cost of the lives of everyone on the ship. The ship is more than its mission now, more than the Elite, even more than the JEF itself -- and destruction of the ship and its crew would be the end of the JEF -- its a family. Her family. Some prices are too high, but she also knows it isn't her place to tell Gabriel what to do for someone he lones -- she learned the error of that mindset twice over now. "I've checked and rechecked insertion. Should I remain at this post, or head for the Titan bay to make a few last checks?"
"Wait until we get to the launch point," Gabriel says. "I want everyone strapped in in case our approach triggers anything."
"That's a good idea. I mena, um, of course it's a good idea," Tasha stumbles, not having meant to sound condescending so much as tripping over the emotion of the event and having to tell the man she loves not to come for her if she's in danger. She clears her throat and fixes on her console, trying not to look at the monolithic alien structure or anyone else for that matter. "I'll just, um, just recheck things here then."
Re-entry means losing sight of the artifact. It's a rough ride, but they stay out of the thicker air, leveling out at Melchior's maximum operating ceiling. Using the stators, Gabriel brings Bellerophon to an actual stop, facing the massive moving structure. After five minutes of nothing reacting and Nora not going crazy or any other ill portents, he says, "Alright, you're go for launch, Tasha." He's got very good control of his scent right now, betraying nothing. "Signal when you're ready for pickup, and we'll meet you right here again."
Tasha doesn't rise immediately, distinctly aware everyone is looking at her. Aware of everything, as if the whole ship had shifted in to stark and blinding resolution. The expression on everyone's face, Gabriel's familiar yet muted scent, the touch of the control chair, the distortion of the armest as her hands clench around it. Every curve, every little feature, like a snapshot pushed in to her mind. The subconcious reaction to what she's about to do; the realization on a primal level she may never see this place again. The first step upon threshold, the approach to the point of no return. It hits her in clear reality; she feels it like a punch in the gut.
The young woman sucks in a breath, gripping the edge of her seat and following Gabriel's silent lead, stiffles her own emotions masking her feelings behind an expression of focused calm and moving in deliberate motions. "Alright," she breathes. "Time to get going." Say something funny, be disarming; her mind leads her throat the steps. "Don't eat all the good stuff before I'm back, okay? I'll try and bring souvineers."
Rise. Stand straight.
Smile.
Salute.
"Good luck back here. I don't envy your boredom; you've got the hardest part really!" A good quip. Helps the crew feel they carry the biggest part of things and her risk is small. "Well, here goes!" Turn, wave. Say something encouraging. "I'm proud of you all, you know!" Leave without looking back.
There's a squeeze on Tasha's shoulder as she heads off the bridge. Nora, of course. And in the corridor is Liza, patiently waiting for any instructions. The door to Fred's cabin is open as well, so Dr. Sen is likely watching through the opening.
Tasha stops before Liza and reaches to touch her shoulder, passing on the reassurance to help them both. "Liza," she greets her assistant and attendant, voice gentle and low, so unlike her usual tone. "It's time for me to get going. With luck I'll be back in a few hours, maybe a day at most, but if I'm not I want you to continue to help out the crew as best you can. And if I don't come back, help Gabriel and Nora." She pats the shoulder, awkard now that she's removed half her mask. "I want you to know you've exceeded my expecattions and I made the right choice about you. You are every bit the success you wanted to be. Be proud of yourself."
"I expect a glowing letter of recommendation if you do not return," the Lapi says, and smiles.
Tasha smiles too. She always loved Liza's gentle viciousness and mercenary nature, but has never figured out if it's an act or her real nature. "I'm sure you'll get that too. One more thing: If anyone asks, please tell them I'm proud of everyone on this ship and that I don't regret going. We're explorers, it's always dangerous work, and that they shouldn't give up or feel the need to change course. They should keep going. I wouldn't want it any other way."
Tasha pauses, letting that sink in, and then adds, "And tell Hakeber she's my best friend, even if we fought now again. I'm jealous of how smart she is, but I know she'll do the right thing, even if it takes her a while. And remember, she was right in the end. For my other friend, tell her she doesn't need to stay. I respect her help and she's free to move on if she wants. It was an honor to know her, even if she's a strange little monkey. The rest of what I have to say is recorded, if anyone wants to be bored listening to me talk. Now," she checks her datapad, " ... I've talked to long. Time to go."
Liza bows to Tasha. There aren't any other obstacles or people to interrupt her. At the far end of the corridor are the Titan Bay doors, which feel like they are miles away.
The farther she walks, the farther the doors feel. She remembers reading accounts of other pilots through the centuries, through the generations, who spoke of the long mile before a mission. That quiet walk as they approached their vehicle in quiet reflection. That time seeemd to slow down as the future loomed and it seemed like they'd never get where they were going, only for it to arrive too-fast. She's felt the sensation before, nodding along to the accounts, but never quite like today. Or, perhaps, it always feels like the greatest time and she forgets the feeling once the moment is over. At length she decides it must be a bit of both, for this truly may be the greatest thing she ever does in her life.
By the time she realizes that, she's standing before the doors and watching them slowly open. "I am the Bird of Hermes, eating my feathers to make me tame," she recites. "I ride upon the stead of Bellerophon that I not fear the unknown, in knowing the tale or otherwise."
Fred is there, with Tasha's armor ready and waiting. And Melchior. There's an air of expectancy about the Gryphon.
"Hi Fred," Tasha says in a voice of almost airy calm. While she's clearly trying to hide her anxiety, Fred has known her long enough to see how far away her gaze really is. Almost glassy. "Everything all polished and ready to go?" She asks, knowing the answer and stepping forward to remove her uniform so that only the undersuit remains. The armor has little room for standard clothing and where she's going she won't need a uniform.
"Fresh coat of wax, wiper fluid topped off, and rims detailed," Fred says, and helps the somewhat distracted pilot into her armor. "I expect you bring him back in the same condition. I've attached the Marker cases to the shaard-mount points on the forearms. Didn't think you'd be going in armed, after all."
"I hope that's not a mistake," Tasha admits, a chink in her armor forming as she frowns. "Apollyon said Adam may not be alone, but maybe a shaard alone wouldn't be much good anyway, right?" She offers a smile, but her eyes are still glassy. Her gaze slides past him then, to the pile of duffle bags she's brough along. Rations, a heating stove, medical supplies that Remiel taught her to use, everything they thought she migth need in as minimum a package as could be managed. A week's worth of food and water, if she rations it. "I'll try not to enjoy my camping trip too much." She knows teh Karnor would get the refence; he once forced Nora to camp out alone, for the better.
"If there's going to be a fight, you'll need to use your wits," Fred says. "They're the only thing that might be sharp enough to cut the Marker-Matter."
"You know me, wittiest person on this ship!" The smile at last looks genuine, but so does the nervousness that slips through. Her gaze lingers on the man for a long moment and, knowing no one else is in this part of the ship, she can risk letting it slip a little more. She steps forward and gives him a hug, armor and all. "I'm glad we were able to make up. I'd have hated to leave without saying what I said. Look out for Mariel for me, okay? I left her a few things; messages, some actual things. I couldn't tell her, I didn't want her to worry. But you're like me, you understand, don't you??"
"Just come back," Fred says after the hug. "I don't want to think about little black boxes. I never got to prep mine. Figured I was immortal after all!" The Karnor salutes, then grins. "Of course, turned out I was right didn't it?"
"Of course you were right! You're too nice to die, Fred, and Nora is too stubborn. Mariel is too cute -- you can tell her I said that." Tasha grins, then salutes. "I'm off, sir. Anyway, everything's in the computer if you need it. No more grim and no more mush, now. Time to get going." She steps back, then turns to look up at the Melchior.
Tasha nods to her machine as well, the Melchior. Tech Level 2, Magi Class. One of three; now one of only two. Modeled in the image of Horus, Progenitor of Vartans. Created by the Khattans, the Order of Mafdet. Original Pilot Apollyon Stormbreaker. Melee specialized, atmospheric only. Direct neural interface control type, full AI support. Her Titan. Her friend. Today they will complete the mission -- what is now their mission, free of all bonds and attachments. "Alright, Mel! Lets show them what we've got!"
Soon enough, the supplies are secured to the pilot seat and the interface arm makes contact. "Are we where we are meant to be?" the AI asks, as Tasha sees the hangar displayed around her. Fred is gone, the doors are sealed, and the bay doors begin to open above them.
"We are," Tasha replies in thought, settling in to the command chair and getting as comfortable as she might. "What appears to be the Hall of Souls is directly off the bow of the ship. You'll start recieving what passive sensors feeds ... Probably already actually. We'll have direct passives on it when we're raised for launch. It's amazing, Mel."
It isn't long before the Gryphon is standing on the back of Bellerophon. The air is too thin to provide much in the way of wind, but there's enough for the aerospike engines to work with. It didn't seem that long ago when Tasha and Melchior encountered Harmonia. This time no demonic visage projects from the giant alien mechanism in the distance. "Is it beautiful?" Melchior asks Tasha.
"It is, Mel. Beautiful and alien, it's a mystery and a bauble under a shining rainbow sky. I think they must understand beauty, if they put this here. Maybe their sense of beauty is ours?" Tasha stares at the image displayed in her mind, slowly letting increasing numbers of sensors become part of the experience until she can feel the slight stir of air, the height, the distance. The sheer immensity of the object, so close to a planet and with sensory data flooding in, hits her with a sense of scale and awe all over again. When she realizes she's drifted mentally, Tasha shakes her head and blinks away the haze of appreciation. "Well, we're here to do more than look at it. Our target landing point is one of teh internal pillars which appear to be stable. Threats unknown. Nature of structure unknown, but I think it may be a kind of gate. We'll proceed directly to the pillars, that seems wisest and like what they might expect of a returning Progenitor."
"I advise flying high and avoiding the moving sections, and attempt to descend directly to the cylinders," the AI suggests, and the necessary flight plan is projected over Tasha's view.
"That's a good idea. being a collision threat to what may be drive or gate systems might inspire the Hall to remove the threat. Either way, I'd prefer not to take more risks than we need to. We'll go wit your plan." Tasha confirms the plan mentally, returning to surface depth to allow the AI to execute the flight plan while she takes stock of the developing situation. This allows her to study the alien device and whatever threats or concerns in may pose with her full attention rather than focusing on flying, which the AI is better suited for. "I have a feeling each pillar will have a place for a Marker."
The flight over is short, barely ten minutes until they are descending towards the center of the animated structure. Up close it's a bit more disturbing, given how big those slabs are.. assuming they even actually exist. The cylinders are below, each one forming a corner of an equilateral triangle. They also appear to make of the same substance as the Markers, at least on first glance. "Does it matter which we land on?" Melchior asks.
Tasha studies teh increasingly bizarre surroundings she finds herself in, wondring now if the Hall of Souls even truly exists in this reality or if they simple percieve some translated version of it, a phantom image cast in to reality, or perhaps the tip of some greater thing too immense to fit in their universe. She doesn't know; may never know, but the questions and what little she may see chill her heart and soul, the point when awe begins to burn cold. "Not unless you see differences in their surface design. We should be prepared to move between them. "Knit them as the trinity." A triangle."
Something about the local gravity lets Melchior actually hover in place above and between the cylinders. At the very centers of their upper surfaces are depressions.. but the shapes keep changing. The only think consistent is that they are Marker sized.
Tasha frowns, leaning forward and again not really needing to. "Well, they're changing," she states, obviously and in bemusement. "We sort of expected this, that there'd be a number of placements and and order. But now we have to decide, is it normal one-two-three order, or reverse order since we're basically putting them back. What do you think, can you catalogue all the shapes, how many and if any shapes are missing in that progression?"
"The cylinders are all in sync," Melchior reports. "The progression is simple at first." In Tasha's vision, 52 shapes appear. The first is a circle, followed by a half-circle, then a triangle, square, pentagon and so on to an octagon. After that the geometries become more complex, mixing curves and straights and sacrificing symmetry. The most sides any of them has is 12.
Tasha sweeps her gaze through the panopoly of external sensors, taking in the entirety of the interior of the alien device once again. A part of her mind remains in a perpetual state of disbelief; After so long she's here. Finally here. But can she really be here? Is she dreaming, is any of this real?
The interior of the artifact is more beautiful than she ever imagined it would be, to say nothing of its exotic appearance that mixes simplicity and familiarity with the unknowable -- much like Progenitors themselves. Perhaps that is why they draw her so, call to her, are closer to heart. She has stood before the alien and the foreign many other times, but here, with them, it's always been different. Closer to heart. Familiar, perhaps. A thread of understanding almost lost in the myriad strands of complexity, age, incomprehensibility.
Tasha thinks of this as she studies the shapes. 12. Symmetry and asymmetry. "I think it's a simple puzzle. Since only certain beings can see the Markers and, um, I assume see these three pillars, only they can hold the keys and the lock. To the Sifra, this whole structure, or just this central part, probably doesn't exist." She draws in a breath, once again caught by the sight around her. It takes immense effort not to stare, wide-eyed, at it all. To get lost in it. "That there are only twelve sides may mean only twelve Progenitors, or there may be the entire fifty-two. But, but our Markers are symmetrical. That suggests symmetry is important. Maybe it's symbolic? Perfection? And no shapes are missing, which makes me think either none of them have been returned or the lock always shows them." She taps her nose in thought. "And the question about order. Do we return them one, two, three, or three, two, one?"
"Ascending order would be logical," Melchior suggests. "There are no other features suggesting that the cylinders need to be selected in any particular order."
"I think you're right," Tasha agrees after a moment, settling back both to physically and mentally brace herself for what may be about to happen. The unlock sequence is the last step, the point of no return she had been heading for. For a few seconds more, she can reflect, review, but time marches on and a decision must be made. She sucks in a breath, glad she can think her words rather than speak them. "The sequence is in ascending order, which supports your idea. It's also what I came up with, so we're decided. Lets, um ... Lets begin unpacking the Markers. Annnnnd ... " Her head rolls, turning to 'face' projections that only exist in her mind. "How's communication with Belle?"
"We have line of sight only. There is a dampening field in effect for anything other than visual communication," Melchior reports.
"Visible light then," the Cadet notes, tapping the side of her muzzle as she thinks. "I'm not sure I want to risk laser communication; any concentrated energy that looks like a weapon or exists away from us is risky and we don't need to say much. Use the external lights and Expedition Fleet blink code: "Warning, using keys on gate, recommend alert status."" Tasha knows from her training that Expedition blink code, some ages removed evolution of ancient blink codes, was specialized specifically for inter-fleet operations in emergency or covert operations, using both 0-1 binary or set message texts, with prefixes for identifying which is which. Especially useful on Abaddon, where technological problems abound. She's used it before.
The message is sent. A reply is also recieved: Don't Drop Keys.
"Very funny." Outside the Titan moves, its massive right hand forming in to a ball, then raising a thumb in the classic 'thumbs up' gesture. She chuckles; the levity helping ease her nerves, if only for the moment.
"Right, then, well ... Well." Deep breath, exhales, deep breath, exhale. Relax, recline. "Lets get to it then. Intermediate depth, release oxywater. We don't know how jarring this will be; it's meant for energy beings in stone bodies, not for 'squishy meat' like me." Thanks, SAINA. "Brace yourself, too, Mel."
The hand outside lowers and the left rises, reaching for the container that holds the Markers.
Once the acceleration fluid is deployed and Tasha no longer feels it because she's operating as a flying giant, it's just a matter of choosing a cylinder and carefully using those giant talons to maneuver the now-tiny Markers into place.
"Mel, help me not drop these things. We'll be starting with the Naga Marker at three sides. Next will be the Silent-Ones Marker at four and the Vartan one will be the last. We can't do anything about the Khattan one, so we'll exclude it -- not that it doesn't worry me but it's not something we can realistically do anything about." Using microbursts from the engines, Tasha manuvers the Titan towards the triangle that feels like it's at the right side. Not that it is on the top, it's all a matter of perspective in and out, but it feels right. A clockwise path is planned, ending at the 'top' in her mind. The top of the triangle; the top of the mountain.
The machine drifts ever closer to the first platform.
The surface is.. exactly as expected. The Titan has to use gyroscopes to keep stable on the not-quite-there material. At least one thing helps: once the marker is lowered to within a meter of the slot, it stops cycling through the different shapes and settles on the triangle. Once the Marker is placed, it seems to merge seamlessly with the surface, but the 'turn to normal stone' effect spreads out from it. "No energy reactions detected," Melchior notes.
The head of the Titan nods slowly, approvingly. "I'm not surprised, but look, it's reacting. It accepted the Marker and the pillar has shifted, just like the others do when placed together. I think it's a good sign. Lets ... " The head turns, shifting to stare at the next pillar in their flight plan. "Lets move on to the next, then." And with that the great machine touches off.
There aren't any surprise from the next two, but as soon as the third cylinder transmutes, the three begin to come together towards the center of the triad.
The Titan shifts, turning to watch as the pillars come together. "Okay ... Coming together, stone material and probably vril. Um, we shouldn't stand here ... Lets, um, lets relocate-- There." The Titan again pushes off, but this time it pivots as it drifts to keep the merging pillars infront of itself, rising and moving towards the central position where it had been hovering to observe the three, seperate pillars. The position allows it to observe teh merging, and presents an escape vector with engines already aligned for rapid departure. "Signal Belle! Keys in, lock reacting. Stand by."
There's no reply before the cylinders touch... and just keep merging towards the center. They don't become one larger cylinder, though - the one that will be left at the center will be the same size as the individual ones where. The Markers themselves eventually touch at the center however. In the end there's just one cylinder with the three Markers at the center.. waiting.
The Titan regards the merged object and deep within it, Tasha stares. Thou must part him in three, and knit him as the Trinity. And make them all but one. And lo here is ... "The philosopher's stone ... Mel ... It's the ... " ... the invitation. The Titan begins to move center, though Tasha couldn't really ever say when she chose to move. Only that she did. "Signal ... Um ... Approaching center ... Stand by ... " Her eyes never leave the center. The world could be aflame, and she'd have missed it.
As Melchior sets foot on the stone, the Markers fall through it, leaving a hole in their shape of their combined outline. This expands, becoming a circle, until it's ten meters across.
No turning back now ... Tasha finds herself beyond the threshhold before ever realizing she stepped over it. The moment is, in itself, entirely mezmerizing. Powers beyond her ken move, brought together by her hand, seeming to beckon her though she knows that, too, may be an illusion brought on by a lack of understanding. Al the rest of the world seems to fall away, lost in the mystery and the tantilizing lure of the Seeking and the Answer.
No outline was present for this moment; no instruction save that, perhaps, it is a recipe. But no one ever truly knew and no certainties were ever provided. Best guesses, supositions. Hopes and dreams -- and fears. All that is left now is to touch the Answer and reap its message, whatever it may be. A kind of faith in the seeking. Tasha moves the Titan closer, bringing up every sensor she has and not expecting much from them. "Mel ... If you go on to exists without me ... I hope you remember me. I'm sorry for all the ways I may have failed you, did fail you. And I forgive you too. I am ... I am afraid of losing you. I just wanted you to know that ... in case ... "
There's darkness beyond the opening.. something that isn't an absence of light, but more palpable, like a barrier. The closer the Titan gets to the edge, the more gravity changes. It's very slight at the edge, but still 'down' at least.
"I do not think that I can exist without you," Melchior replies.
"A gate ... So I was right?" Being 'right' at this moment is more alien than wrong Tasha realizes. She shouldn't be so clever, it isn't how she is. When did that happen? When did she get here, and why? Questions spin around her like the disk of a black hole, unable to escape now, no more than she could walk away. She directs the machine ever closer to the hole in ... spacetime? Reality? She doesn't know and the sensors offer nothing. All that is left is go beyond and know. "Ooookay, um, I'm glad ... I'm really glad ... I hope you don't resent me, for wanting to stay with you ... We're ... We're going in, Mel. Are you ... are you ready?"
"Flight systems are primed," Melchior reports. "External lights at full brightness. Stator spinning at standby. If there is no air for the engines, we may not be able to rise back out of the anomaly."
"I ... I, um, never really did think ... that we would run away." Unable to quite express the feeling behind the draw, the lure, and the Vartan-souled sense how things would be, Tasha spares a second to return to her body, patting the armrest in an old gesture of commisseration and comfort. "I felt it ... I knew ... I knew ... I always knew. Can't be afraid anymore; we're here. Lets do ... what we came to do." One last light flash, its arrival not expected: We are going in.
And then all is darkness.
The lights do penetrate. As Melchior slowly falls in the weak gravity, his lights reflect off many figures: Titans, suspended in space near the walls of the cylinder. No two are alike, each representing some different species. And they go on and on, as the Gryphon descends past row upon row, and none of them are recognizable. Gravity is also playing other tricks, since while they are falling, they are not accelerating. But it's soon clear that the inside of the cylinder is much deeper than the outside.
Could she feel ehr body, Tasha knows she would be shaking. Past the door. Beyond, beyond. In to ... " ... is this a hangar ..?" In her mind her voice feels like barely a whisper, and even that feels like a blasphemy in this sacred place. Her existence, too, even the Melchior itself. Lesser existences; two chimerical beings, put together by younger species, that somehow in their wandering found their way here. "Or is it ... a graveyard ..? Oh gods Mel ... gods ... there are ... there are so many ... so many ... a hundred? A thousand? How long has this gone on?" The sense of forever continues to build, each lit face reflecting a species, each species a people, a culture, countless lifetimes, centuries, millenia ... On and on through time they fall.
"The Hall of Souls," Melchior says, without any inflection of surprise. "The Vril-ya have visited before, and were familiar with the previous generation of civilizations. To interact with them, a physical form would be required. Supposition: this is a wardrobe closet, and these were the forms of the First Ones."
"That must be. It must be ... But to see them ... I think I'd be crying right now if I was controlling my body! I can barely stand it, seeing every one of them, knowing they're gone, knowing ... " And then Tasha drops from intermediate depth back in to her body, taking a moment to back away from enternity to run her face and ground herself in the familiar confines of the Melchior. Despite her word she finds that she had been crying, she simply couldn't feel it, blobs of salty water drifting from her face in to the oxywater, vanishing in to fluid, lost to time.
The young woman swallows, choking down emotions. Grief, the overwhemling sense of time, the knowledge she's finally here. It's caught up, but she doesn't have time for it now. She wipes her face; brushes her hair away. She sits up. She pushes herself back in to intermediate depth. They fall farther.
There doesn't seem to be an end to the Titans. If Yue was right and the previous civilization spanned multiple galaxies, there could be thousands of the suits. But there is an end, as they drop past the last ring of figures, the darkness begins to brighten.. and Melchior begins to pitch forward into a head-first position.
In time the endless figures brings Tasha to silence. Though her Titan spoke of a wardrobe Tasha knows that each one of these beings must have had an idenity, a self. Just as each species was a people, so too the Progenitor was a person, though she cannot say whether that personhood had the same sense of individuality as the current generation seems to have, she knows they must have been at least individual angels of a greater being. And now they are gone, just as their people are gone. A wardrobe, a hangar, a graveyard. She has no words; is stunned in to silence.
It comes as a shock when it all ends. Tasha may well ahve found herself locked in to staring at an eternity of loss, but even loss ends. The light and its suddeneness makes her reach up to shield the Titan's eyes, though it's not necessary. A reflexive in surprise, the stirring of the young woman from eternity back in to now.
The Gryphon falls further into the light.. and then the falling stops. Melchior stands atop a small rise in an impossible landscape. A well, effectively. The world the pair find themselves in is reminiscent of the Star Sea, in that it seems to be a tube stretching infinitely far ahead and behind, but instead of water there is landscape, albeit patchy landscape with vast sections of bare, bluish-pink veiny material. Melchior's instruments claim that the opposite side of the curved world is just over two-hundred kilometers away.
It's several minutes before Tasha can even bring herself to say a word. The Titan doesn't even move for a good many seconds, frozen like an insect when great beings move. The awe is overwhemling; all-encompassing. First the artifact, then the bodies, and now a ring world. Or is it? What is it? How?
"Two hundred kilometers ... What is this, Mel? Where are we? Is this a ring world? But we can actually measure it, it must be physical in some way. Um ... " The Titan looks down, then kneels in its peculiar way, reaching for the ground to see if what they really stand on is dirt at all or something else.
"We appear to be in a tube," Melchior says. "One that extends forever, possibly. Physical laws exist that allow my sensors to work, however. The exposed sections of the structural material are made of... are made of..." There is a pause which is worryingly long for a supercomputer. "Geometry."
The delay hits Tasha right in the gut, but at least it's a familiar feeling. Her brain has been doing much the same since they got her. "Don't feel bad, Mel, we ... We're really beyond our ... our ... " The Titan stands again, turning to sweep its gaze across forever, an actual forver, not metaphorical at all. " ... our everything, aren't we? We're really ... We really did it this time ... We're ... " She can't find the words, so simply lets the idea go. Instead she urges herself to think, to act even in this place so very far from home. "Do the engines work? Can we fly? Mel, we must be ... I don't know, at least in another dimension. Maybe entirely outside our reality, outside time."
"There is sufficient air pressure for the engines to operate," Melchior replies, then a warning impinges on the view. "Something is approaching at high speed."
Something. Even guessing in this place feels a bit absurb, but Tasha must now formulate tactics against the unknowable in a place that is made of the improbable. Lacking nearly all reference, she opts for the standard and treats the encounter like the approach of a potentially hostile unknown. "Adam may not be alone," Apollyon's voice rings in her head -- but not alone with what? "We're getting airborne, I don't want to be on the ground, just in case. At least we can try to evade there and it won't be a hostile move, just cautious." At least she hopes it won't appear hostile; there are no guarantees here. Not even the old ones.
The aerospikes ignite, raising the Titan upwards. Gravity is still a bit variable, being strongest on the ground but diminishing with height. More information comes in from the long range senses - just numbers so far. The speed of the approaching object is roughly one-thousand miles an hour. Visually, at this range, it's just a dark spot.. but one that is very, very wide. It's traveling along the center of the cylinder, and is still a few minutes off.
"Lets ... What is that? ... Um, lets observe it for now. It might be what we came here for ... Or ... It may not be connected at all? Automation? This place would need automation, won't it..?" Tasha's thoughts sound full of doubt even to her own reflection. "Observe, gather information. We can evade or match speed with it if that seems ... good. Good." The motion is willed, the Titan begins a circle around the rim, keeping sensors on the object, waiting for some indication as to its nature and intent.
Whatever it is is pushing a large pressure wave before it, causing more distortion - Melchior hasn't used radar or lidar in case active scanning is seen as a threat. Numbers revise themselves as it gets closer. When it is just two minutes out, one number stabilizes: the width of the silhouette, which is 27 kilometers across.
"Ummmmm," goes Tasha at the size of the approaching object and it's pressure wave. Whatever it is is less like a ship or Titan and more like being approached by a large meteor -- a meteor hurtling down a hallway. One that Tasha and Mel happen to be standing in. "Oookay, um, um, that pressure wave worries me greatly, lets head away from it and try to match speed, we can then slowly ease up and approach it later once we figure out how to deal with that wave and make sure it's not here to get rid of us." And so the Titan redirects its path, heading away and accelerating.
Since the approaching object is using the center, where the air density is far less due to the skewed gravity, it has a distinct advantage. Melchior needs air for its engines, which means more air resistance. "What is our energy cutoff point?" the machine asks while accelerating. "High-speed maneuvers will significantly reduce our operating time."
"Is it even slowing down?" Tasha asks, her view split between forward observation and rear tracking of the object.
"No, it is maintaining it's current velocity," Melchior reports, and a countdown starts: less than one minute before it will overtake them.
"Then we can't keep this up and trying is just going to waste resources. Can we survive impact from the pressure wave? On the ground?" Is Tasha's next question. "If the answer is no, um, um, well ... Well. Well, we'll just have to signal it and hope it stops!"
"If we kneel down we should be able to handle it, but we cannot decelerate and land in time," Melchior reports.
"Then ... here we go. Signal it. Use the standard greeting suite, but start with vril-ya pictography. Start basic, see if they respond. Tell them we're friendly!" Tasha urges. The timer spins ever downward, much like her hopes. Beyond the timer is the greater clock of onboard energy, the Melchior's power supply. Without her Titan she would be left to explore on foot and wing, moving through this eternal tunnel by herself. Alone.
Melchior does dive towards the thicker atmosphere while the communication system lights up. And then the thing is overtaking them. The stator activates to alter the Titan's inertia, so that the passage of the object seems slowed down slightly. The surface is rough and dark, in blacks and greens with whisker-like projections and other less recognizable structures. And then time really does stop for Tasha, and she's someplace else - floating motionless in a dark sea, next to a whale goddess. It's the eye. It must be well over a mile across, and pale blue, with a ring of smaller (but still huge) eyes ringing around it. Tasha knows that it sees her then, for a frozen moment. And then it's past, the body continuing another 112 kilometers. There are fins, bulges and exposed organic looking spaces and organs. And then it's gone, without jostling the Titan at all.
"Wha-- wha- what was ... " Tasha's thoughts come as a babble to her AI but she's coherent enough to take control seconds after time seems to stop, directing sensors to track the behemoth and zomming in on its flank as she struggles to make sense of what she's seen. "It can't-- ... Can it? Was ... Was that Nukapai?! Something like her? It saw me ... It saw me. But why doesn't it stop ..?"
"It altered the force envelope to divert the shock waves away from us," Melchior notes. "I cannot speculate on its further goals, but clearly it must be going somewhere that matters to it."
A moment later, the AI adds, "It did not reply to our hails otherwise."
"I guess so ... " Tasha watches as the behemoth moves on, too bemused to really do much else. She hadn't anticipated there might be others in this place; she had assumed it would be Adam and maybe whatever was hurting Adam -- but then she hadn't expected to be standing in an eternal tube in what may well be another reality entirely either. "Too small to talk to, maybe. I wonder what it's doing, where it's going and why it's here. Does it live here, or did it find this place like we did..? I don't think it's a Progenitor and I really doubt it's Adam. I thought it was Nukapai, but maybe it's another whale-god. But I thought they lived in dreams ... In the dream world. Reality. Unless this is ... " The Titan's sensors scan the tube all over again, but find nothing more to tell Tasha wheer she might be. Or even when. Perhaps, too, if when even matters anymore, anymore than where. "But it is ... going. That must be important. The going. Maybe ... Maybe there are other exits? Or maybe there is so
methign that way? But I'm not sure we'd be able to reach it. We need to get going somewhere, though."
"Tasha," Melchior says, and there is inflection this time - a tone of concern. "We are moving, but not under our own power." The landscape is clearly moving past as if they were being drawn backwards.
Tasha brings up the relevant displays; she'd frown if her body wasn't the Melchior at the moment. "We are. Are we being pulled by the creature's wake, Mel?"
"No environmental forces are detected, but we are paralyzed," Melchior reports. "Should I shut down the flight and stator systems to conserve power?"
"Paralyzed? Well, um, this may be good. Maybe the whale-god, um, maybe it sent word for us? I know -- I know -- it saw me. It knows we're here. Maybe ... Maybe this is good ... " But she doesn't know, any more than she knows where the whale-god is going, or what the walls are made of. She can, as so often happens, go along with the ride -- not that she has a choice. "Right, um, shut it down, but be ready to start it up again in case we lose this ... Whatever this is!"
Powering down the various systems does nothing to affect their backwards movement. Since the head can't turn at the moment, there's no visual to the rear, only instrument readings - which don't tell anything other than the inertial navigation readout. That at least shows they are returning to the well they entered through.
With little else to do but wait and speculate, Tasha offers, "Do you think they don't want us here? In this place? I mean, you saw that being Mel. We don't know how far this places goes, or to where, or ... Well, I mean, where. This could be the realm of much higher life forms than we are, we don't really know where anything goes or does. Maybe they're kicking us out?" In truth as much as Tasha is overawed -- even fears -- this place the though of leaving feels worse. A glimpse of eternity and of wonderous infinity, leading ever on, to who knows where. Full of secrets, full of all the promise of eternity. It reminds her of what Nora showed her the universe, first pushed it in to her mind. In that moment Tasha realizes she'd always been chasing after it; she could never again be truly content with her mortal life. It droves her in to the stars and has driven her here, here to ... Where ever. Whenever.
"We should find out soon," Melchior offers. The navigation display shows them getting closer.. and then finally stopping above the well. The paralysis continues though, as the Gryphon is rotated around so it can see again. A figure is crouching down. It's skin looks the same as the Marker material, but it is engraved. Swirling patterns and mandalas covers it, seeming to move and crawl. It's humanoid, with long slender limbs and very sharp shoulders. The elbows rest on the tops of the thighs as it hunches. In the center of its chest is.. an organ. It glows with golden light, and looks decidedly female in nature. The head is without any facial features however. No nose, no mouth, ears or eyes. Instead there are six holes, in two columns at the center. Golden fire or plasma churns behind them. Four structures rise from its back, like wings.. but also like fish fins - narrow, curved spines with a slightly glowing membrane or field between them.
It is at least one hundred times taller than Melchior.
"Oh gods Mel ... Gods it's..!"
As the reality washes over the Cadet it rolls over her like an unstoppable wave pushing away all other thought. Though they had come to meet Him it had always been akin to a dream, something to strive for, like reaching for the stars. The stars you could never touch because they'd burn you. And that is how it feels to the young woman, like burning, like the light of everything going right through her -- and she is certain the being before her can see through her. Can burn away her lies, whether they are her intention or her mistake. It's mere aura, it's presence would have felt overhwemling if she didn't know in her heart who she was faced with. Faced with. It knows she is here. It sees her. She can feel it in her heart as much as the knowledge that this is Atum, that it sees through her.
The feeling is the Answer, burning.
She can't bring herself to speak.
Something moves in Tasha's chest.. although really it is Melchior's chest. A golden light emerges from it, the glowing five-sided Khattan Origin Marker. It joins the other three that spin and float before the Titan. And then Tasha is standing in the upturned palm of the giant, along with.. herselves. The Karnor girl stands next to the Vartan. To either side are others: Blackwings, the Empress and Tisiphone to the left, and Melchior, Ser Heraphel and a shadowy, barely-there churning mass. Before this line appear the glowing, golden figures of a lynx-like Khattan woman, a male Vartan, a dragon-serpent Celestial, and finally a Silent-Ones woman. And behind them, those six deep wells into a storm of energy. Who speaks for you? The question appears in Tasha's mind.. or minds. Her senses of self are strongest with the Vartan and Karnor.
It is the Karnor woman who steps forward first, hesitantly but with rapidly feigned self assurance even though she churns with anxiety and fear. This is, after all, what she trained for. What others worked hard to see happen. If none of the others will speak, then she will speak. God or no, she came here for a reason -- and she can just manage enough to go about it. "I do," she saysm quiet at first, but repeats in a louder and firmer, "I do." It wouldn't do to insult Atum with hesitance or uncertainty, though she cannot truly know.
But she isn't alone. "I do. Do too." The Vartan woman joins her, putting a hand on her shoulder. The avian, though terrfied and overawed, can't and won't let the Karnor go alone. She'll be there for her, they have always been close. If they're to speak, they speak together. "I do."
"We do," the Karnor woman repeats, reassured by not having to face Atum alone. "We do," the Vartan girl confirms, comforted in the knowledge she was there for the other when it mattered.
The thought that comes next is: What did you come to say?
"We came to meet you! To see with our own eyes what lay beyond, to know you and all your kin!" Goes the Karnor woman, standing taller as she is able to declare her intent with pride.
"Ah, yah," agrees the Vartan woman, who glances at the Karnor a moment before adding, "And we were worried. Worried 'Bout you, worried 'bout ... " She hesitates, turning to gaze upon the glowing golden figures before the burning eyes of God. She looks between them as the Karnor woman pats her shoulder, urging her on when she stares at the figure of the Vartan male. Makes recognition. "Um, aye, yah. 'Bout all of you. 'Bout us, too. Our world. Where we came from. Things are ... "
"Falling apart," the Karnor finishes, turning to nod to Warlok.
"But maybe there is misunderstanding," the Vartan goes on. "Father and children, and children and their children. 'Bout being person; 'bout being free."
"And we wanted to help," the Karnor confirms. "To see, and to help."
"It's why we here."
"It is."
My children, the voiceless Atum says. They are.. ashamed. This is new. Very different. Curious. Did the Waybuilder contact you when it stepped aside to avoid crushing you?
"Nukapai's species are the Waybuilders?" The Karnor woman remarks in astonishment. The two young woman turn to each other, an exchange without words, then the Vartan shakes her head and the Karnor mirrors it seconds after. "No, it can't be. Nukapai is an Old One. Unless the Old Ones built ... " Her brows raise. "The Way. This is The Way then. But if the whales built The Way, it would have been completed in the time of the Old Ones, before the First and the ones that are now."
"Could be," the Vartan muses. "Depends how built, where and when. Kind of over our heads."
"It ... It is," the Karnor agrees reluctantly. "But it could be."
"Could be," goes the Vartan.
They both turn to Atum. It takes them a moment to speak again, the Karnor straightening and Vartan swallowing. "Our apologies, we weren't sure." "'Bout Waybuilder, thought we met them before. "But we don't know. Nukapai, an Old One. The Waybuilder reminds us of her." "Aye, it does." "And it saw us."
"Yes, it saw us."
"We are sure."
"We are."
The Way is old, and young, Atum claims. Created in the future. It is a road that runs from the Beginning until the End, and touches upon all of Time and Reality. There are an infinite number of these wells, each leading to a different universe. The Waybuilder did not want you to be frightened, it seems. They are difficult to understand at times. The ones from the past are easier to converse with.
"Then we were right?" Goes the Karnor, glancing to the Vartan in astonishment.
"Hah, guess so. Maybe miracle in itself."
"Don't be rude," the other urges, biting her lip and canting her ears back slightly.
"Not being rude, just surprising. Why we be rude to Atum?"
"And Horus maybe be watching, you know."
"Ah yah, trying not to think about it too much."
The two eye each other a moment, then turn back. Again, it takes them a moment and subtle they inch a little closer to the other. "If it was created beyond time, then there's no reason to apply a when to it, except perhaps as an origin," the Karnor speculates, hoping she isn't sounding belittling by even discussing the matter with Atum. "An origin within one place or many places within a single timeline or time-thread. But, we're surprised we guessed it's nature. We didn't expect that."
"Not at all," goes the Vartan.
"Not at all."
Why does this surprise you? Atum queries. The Waybuilders are closer to you than to the Vril in origin. Living beings of flesh and blood, the Water of the Earth, the Earth of the Air, and Air of the Fire and Fire of the Earth. But you are also touched by the Black Sea, the Black Luna and the Black Sol.
"Atum is speaking of poem," the Vartan girl tells the other.
"I know," the Karnor confirms, nodding. "Thoguh we never could understand it all. Not even the o-- " And both girls pause. Others. It is too much right now, to think of others. They are already so many. For a moment their sense of self wavers, pulled back by avoiding the path. The Karnor shakes her head out; the Vartan flicks her ears.
"Our apologies."
"Yah, sorry."
"It surprises us because we are used to being so much smaller than the beings we meet. Not all of them, but many. Even our other self," she nods to the Melchior, " ... is sometimes difficult for we to grasp. We are used to being mistaken, or wrong. Being correct on this scale and magnitude is unusual. Ah ... "
"Very different. Surprising," the Varatn finishes, using Atum's own words.
"That. We don't know how or when it was made, anyway. We definitely couldn't do it ourselves. But we digress: You speak of the mission peom, which we think may not be original to the mission. It referred to the way to this place, but seemed to also be a recipe. A refinement. many other things, besides. As for the Black Sea, from context we understand you mean the Ogdru-hem and other beings originating from the Ogdoad. Beings ... ah ... "
"She mean like you, but not want to offend by telling you you like something you not," the Vartan informs Atum, patting the others' shoulder. Her tone is almost conversational, unlike the stiffness of the other's.
"Um, yes that," the Karnor agrees, eyeing the other. "Like ... you. I don't know if a title is appropriate or required, and I'm sorry if we've made a mistake. But the Black Sea. Yes, we were touched by one of their kind, and their blood flows through our veins."
"Little nibble," the Vartan confides.
"But to what end and if it is to be trusted, we don't know. Another of their kind may be our enemy, though we would rather that not be."
"Rather free it, better to have friend than enemy. Better living than dead, yah?"
"We are reluctant to kill again. But we don't know what it all ultimately means."
"We don't know."
"We don't."
Ogdoad, the source of the.. shame, Atum replies. The Vril are not like them. We are also from the Light, like you are. Mafdet, Ahriman and Neith all turn to glare at Horus then. The golden Vartan crosses his arms across his chest in a stubborn gesture. Conflict. Desire? Unforseen, how I change when separated for too long.
"We have heard you are many-and-one, that you seperate to create ... smaller? ... beings akin to yourself, and very literally so. You then task them with various, ah, for lack of a better term missions which they are assigned to complete. But something went wrong, or ... " The Karnor pauses.
The Vartan girl steps up to fill the silence. "Went different," she tries.
"Went different," the Karnor agrees, liking the sound of it. "The Cill discovered the complex interplay between the Sifra or Xilfrim, the hidden Ogdoad elements, the war between the Sifra and the Old and First Ones, and appearing later the way in which their children -- ah, us, part of us -- became deeply caught in that web of complexity. The Cill couldn't endure the realization nor could Marduk, and the others ... " The young woman hesitates, but then lifts her hand to gesture to the four figures of light, " ... they reacted as they did. Refusal to return, and what seemed to be--"
But the Vartan interupts then, stepping forward, surprising the other, "They want to protect their children, maybe not die. Maybe like being seperate. Just not sure how to fix problem, maybe. Is big mess now."
"It is a 'big mess,'" the Karnor agrees, albiet reluctantly. "Very ... 'big'. And we don't believe they have an answer, at least not one we are aware of. But, even though they made a mistake, we don't really blame them. We know very well how easy it is to make a mistake when confronted with the complexities of eternity, though by know means do we--"
"She mean we know how it goes, but not want to say you same as us. Want to commisserate but not sure how. But we care, she do, I do. get mad sometimes but we do."
"We do."
"Maybe we desire same thing?"
"Maybe we do?"
Mafdet steps forward then, walking up to Ser Heraphel, who has certainly gone past the 15 seconds he supposedly had left, but this isn't exactly a normal situation. The old cat kneels down before his goddess, who reaches down to scratch his head with affection. The old Khatta.. changes. He starts to get younger. First a man, then an adolescent, and finally a kitten that Mafdet cradles in her arms. As she turns to return to her spot, Neith and Ahriman grab Horus by the shoulders and start pushing him towards the spot vacated by Heraphel.
Desire. Strange, Atum comments. This one must try again to accomplish what he was supposed to, but refused. One piece sticks, and the rest of the system falls apart. I may have to experiment further.
While the Karnor watches the figures of light with clear and unrestrained bemusement, the Vartan pats her shoulder and then starts to follow after Mafdet. "Ah, Mafdet ... " She begins, reaching out but hesitating. "He happy now? We almost ... We almost ... "
"We are sorry," the Karnor pipes up, not looking away, but also shifting her gaze to not quite meet the gaze of the other beings present. "We thought ... Perhaps a plot ... "
"We afraid. Too many lies. You people lies, too. But we still sorry," the Vartan insists.
"We are. Very sorry. If only we were wiser. It was so close."
"So close," the Varatn agrees.
They exchanges glances with each other, neither seeming to wish to budge, but it is the Karnor that relents while the Vartan remains beside Mafdet. The young woman steps toward Atum, clearly martialling her courage now that she stands momentarily divided. "We would like to help. We haven't come to beg for answers, and though we are ... are very impressed by you, we don't believe you desire our worship, but you have our respect and our fascination. That we cannot refuse, because we cannot take back what is given from ... from ... " She turns to the other.
"From heart, kind of busy!" Goes the Vartan.
"From the heart," the Karnor accepts, turning back to Atum. "We have always thought we would be here even if we didn't believe it on some level. We cannot really go back without yearning, anyway. But as I said, we didn't come here to beg help, we also came to offer it. As much as we can do so. We know now that we ... " She gestures above herself, to this place, " ... somewhat belong here even if we don't. I'm not sure how to express it."
You want to be an adult, but are not certain what that means? Atum asks. You are the Bird of Hermes. Tame Horus. He must do his duty. The Archon of the Waybuilders.. the younger Waybuilders.. is in place. The catalyst. It is the Archon's place to deal with the Sifra. It is Horus's place to deal with the Ogdoad and their servitors.
"Then that is what we'll do," the Karnor agrees, risking a glance back towards Horus and the others before turning back. "Is there anything else you need of us? May we ... " She looks up, then, at the curved sky, and then off to the endless path, " ... may we return here?"
If you come across more of my children, you may return them to me here, Atum claims. They are likely only embers now, like these four. But they are the keys.
"We understand." The Karnor woman looks around again, taking it all in, and then turns to Atum and for the first time choses to really see Him. To take Him in, drawing in a deep breath as she does so. It is almost too much, but their conversations has eased her spirit, and so she is able to do it. Staring in to the light reminds her of questions asked, of what she needs to do, the light of duty unrelenting. "The dark part of us. If we are touched by the darkness, must Horus deal with us as well?"
You do not serve the Ogdoad, for you are not their creation, Atum explains. The Waybuilder spared you. That should mean that their god will spare you as well. It only seeks the Ogdoad anyway.
"Do we know this god? Have we met?" The Karnor asks, then she glances towards the Vartan girl and waves her closer in a muted 'come here,' waving of her fingers, her hand held close to her side. "We have heard of the location of the prison of the Ogdoad, a world called Erebus, located near the galactic core and perhaps within the disk or even within the supermassive black hole there. Yet, which universe Erebus exists in, we don't know. Perhaps the Titanians do."
They are held in your universe, Atum claims, And in others. The god of the Waybuilders is the Null, the Darkness that Shines Bright. You would not want to meet it.
As Atum speaks the Vartan girl makes her way back beside the Karnor, ducking her head apologetically for being away due to sentimentality and regret, leaving the other to speak alone. The Karnor each out to take her hand, though her expression never changes. "We have a habit of meeting extraordinary beings, but we will try to be careful. What we mean is, we cannot be sure that we won't, especially not accidentally."
"We still really impressed we got here. Plus there was Source and Katha-hem and He-Who-Moves and ... " But the Vartan is cut off.
"There were many," the Karnor concludes with finality. "We haven't the foresight some may possess, but we do our best. Is there anything else you would need of us?"
"Anything at all?"
"Anything at all."
The other three Archons begin to lose their shape before rising up and being absorbed by the glowing organ in Atum's chest - Ser Heraphel included, since Mafdet was still holding him. Be understanding with any of my Archons you encounter, Atum requests. Because I may not be able to understand them myself.
"We do our best, we pretty understanding. Even feel bad for evil pirate lady," the Vartan insists, then waggles a hand towards the figure of Blackwings. "Life not always easy, not always fair." Then she reaches over and pats the Karnor girl's shoulder. "Now she wants ask question, but afraid to. Not supposed to ask for things, that what she think. But we get along, yah? You not destroy us, Waybuilder not destroy us, all friendly even though we different. So she asking."
"I don't think that's wi--" Begins the Karnor but she's interupted and nudged forward.
"Hah, like if we wise we get here. Sometimes fool does better. Not much reason to smite us now," the Vartan insists.
"Don't be so su--" Another nudge forward.
"She get nervous sometimes. Doubt, that kind of thing," the avian girl explains. "Go on."
"Yes, well." The Karnor girl sucks in a breath, straightening and tugging down her uniform, then she places her hands behind her back and sways a little on her tip-toes. "What she means is, that is, we ... We would like to ... To ... " The Vartan girl rolls her eyes behind her. " ... to ask for help in return. Nothing big! You, um, you probably know we don't want to ... to conqueor the world ... system ... galaxy ... universe, yes? yes, of course you do." She stabs a finger towards the Empress, frowning gravely. "We don't like to talk about her, because frankly she horrifies us. But we would still like to ask for help."
What help do you think that I can provide? Atum asks.
"We understand if you'ld prefer no--" The Karnor startles when poked in the back. "Oh." Then poked again. "You didn't decline out of hand, that is ... I'm not sure what that is. Good. Yes. That is good."
"She grateful, word is grateful," the Vartan explains, head shaking.
"Grateful, yes," the Karnor agrees. "Very grateful. Now then, what we would ask ... And mind you we aren't aware of your limits and are very sorry if we cross them or ask for what we shouldn't ... What we first would want applies to the mission. Any material help belived necessary would be very useful. We have a ship, a dark-being ship. We have crew, and basic supplies and funding, but we may not be aware of all the dangers or needs. Second, there are beings who could help us but are ... living ... problematic."
"They very dead. Some undead. Ghosts, and such," the Vartan elaborates.
"Yes, like that. They would be of immense help if they weren't constrained by being ... dead. A woman named Nora Argentine, a man named Fred Kholer, both Karnors and near the outter vicinity of the artifact that acts as gateway to this place. And ... " She glances at the Vartan, whose neck feathers puff up and arms fold. They stare at each other a moment, the Karnor frowning gravely but the Vartan standing firm, and so the Karnor adds, " ... and perhaps the 'evil pirate lady,' though gods know wh-- Ah, excuse me, I mean in a more polite way: I'm still not sure why. But her. The last request resolves around us specifically, but one thing at a time."
I am not a god, Atum states. Horus had what was needed. It likely still exists. But I cannot resurrect the dead. I cannot affect anything at all in your universe.
The Vartan woman's expression sinks immediately, deflating and shaking her head. "We tried, that's all we can do," the Karnor woman tells her consolingly, turning to pull her over and put her arm around her shoulders. "It was always a long shot, always a risk. We shouldn't feel bad for being wrong. Hope isn't lost, at least ... " Her gaze trails back, to Blackwings. "Not for all of them." And then it returns to Atum.
"We're sorry, it's difficult for us to know. We're sorry we asked too much, but we also knew that you are not omnipotent and omnipresent beings, especially the Archons but you yourself as well. As for being a god, we have thought that's a matter of perspective: What one society, culture or being believes is a god is different from that of another, and so we -- I -- think that perhaps a being a god is about respect. An honorific, a title bestowed by other beings upon that which they look up to. The Titanians belive in many gods; the Star worshippers only one. And who is to say they are wrong. It seems to me, perhaps, that godhood exists in the heart of those who believe and may not be a state possessed, regardless of power or knowledge. But as we said before, we don't really know. But I think perhaps I am not wrong, at least."
And so the Karnor inclines her head. "And that brings us to our lst request: There are two things we think you can do for us, if you wish, we think are in your power. We are tired of being alone and singular. We were created by a god-like being to complete a task, and now we do it again, though whether because we chose to do so or that is how we are from out making, we don't know. But it is a reoccuring theme. And yet we are the only one and may always be. But we know you have created life; perhaps if you value us, you will see life that should continue. Or not." And the Karnor inclines her head.
"As for the last part, as we said, we are very impressed with you. You claimed to not be a god, but neither in that sense was Tisiphone," she nods to the figure, " ... and yet she was. If god doesn't suit your sense of self, then would mentor do? We would like it if you spoke to us again. We would like it if you were our ... mentor. If that is okay."
"We think you pretty neat," the Vartan adds, though she's still in the process of recovering, wiping her face. "Bigger tahn us anyway, could do worse. Lots of work to find you."
"Yes. We have always had a place in our heart for this task, and we chose to believe that means something."
"It mean something."
"It does."
Your form of existence is always surprising, Atum notes. But there is one who would suit you better, one who is not a first generation Archon like Horus. And also one that I have no direct knowledge of, but who must be closer to your existence than I. Seek out Thoth.
The Vartan's face brightens even as the Karnor inclines her head -- and then reaches her hand to pull down the Vartan's head as well. "Then that is what we'll do. Thank you very much for humoring us. The path here said we shouldn't ask for too much, be we think we're beyond that now. What I mean is that we don't think it was disrespectful, just honest. People, ah ... "
"People helping people, like sign in office building say," the Vartan inserts helpfully.
"Like that," the Karnor agrees, this time without irritation. "Even if those people are ... "
"Kind of different. Maybe gods, maybe little mortals."
"Yes, like that."
The difference between god and mortal may be smaller than you imagine, Atum says. Are you ready to return to your reality?
The two rise. "If I believe my own words, then perhaps I may not be so far from imagining it."
The Vartan arches a brow. "Now who being kind of flippant?"
"I was being honest! It's a logical inference!" The Karnor insists, eyeing the other before turning back and clearing her throat. "Yes, no matter how much we'd like to stay for ... For a while. We suppose a while has little meaning here, though. Ah," she gazes off, longingly, to the infinite horizon, " ... all of eternity. It's still ... "
"Pretty shiny. Very shiny. But others worry about us," the Vartan explains.
"Yes, they worry. And I worry if we start walking, we won't be coming back. It's a hard call to resist. Maybe ... Maybe you know how it is," the Karnor admits, turning back to Atum. "But Mel will run down and we will starve, so eternity isn't as close as we'd like to believe, I think." Sje then reaches up and gestures to the figure of the Titan. "Our other self has remained silent."
Melchior's avatar doesn't even look like he's aware of anything happening. Blackwings does look a bit puffed up though after hearing Tasha ask to have her brought back to life.
Next to Melchior, Horus is also silent, but looks a bit sour.
"He seems to be enduring, at least. That's good. Flying out by wing would be daunting," the Karnor admits, and is shortly elbowed in the ribs.
"Plus we miss him! Not complete without Mel," the Vartan scrawks.
"I thought that was implied and assumed by the context of our words," the Karnor retorts. She shakes her head pulls the Vartan to stand beside her, so they're both shoulder to shoulder, facing Atum. "That said, I believe we're ready. We should withdraw before we change our mind and decide to stay, as absurd as that would be it remains hard to resist." And so the two incline their head. "We are glad to have met you, Atum. Even if there was no mission nor any other reason to be here, the meeting and the answer were reason enough."
"It all we hope for. More, even. Not expect big fancy eternal-tunnel."
"Nor the Waymaker, we knew little of them."
"We come back some time, talk more."
"And we will take care of Horus in the mean time."
"It time to go. Bye, Atum."
"Good bye, Atum. Be well, in whatever that means to you."
And then Melchior is back above the cylinders. They complete merging, then continue on through each other to return to their original positions, just without the Origin Markers on them. "The Markers have vanished," Melchior points out. "How long should we wait for something to happen?"
The answer comes when tasha drops out of intermediate depth, returning the Titan's control to AI automation. Reaching through the fluidic murk she rubs her face, the sensation and the memories having never left her even if she couldn't explain them if she tried. Not precisely, certainly, and even vagueness and metaphor would seem sloppy, never to encompass the fullness of what had happened. But she know it did, as sure as she sits where she is. As sure as she is Aldera Tasha Argentine.
"Our mission here is complete, Mel. Plot a course to return to Bellerophon. You have control, I need a moment to ... To sit here and think." Though it feels like a part of her remains in that place, she isn't sad. Perhaps she'll see it again, some day. It is always there, as is Atum and the Waymakers. Beyond time and space, in a sense they are everywhere, and she knows the keys to everywhere. Knows why the otherscouldn't be allowed to enter; why they had to be stopped. Why they would have been anyway, had they suceeded. Still, it will be good to be home.
As the fluid drains out of the cockpit during the flight back, Tasha notices the Vartan Origin Marker resting in its holder.