Tasha stayed around the Seed Lounge long enough to have a chat with Dassen K'tar, who explained some of the history of the movement. While it did have its origins with the Confederates, the very nature of it soon drew in plenty of others. Chapters sprung up on many worlds.. and with them some confusion. Nobody could decide on an official name. Gardeners, Cultivators, Seed Children, Coalition of Cooperation, and just Seeders had all be suggested, but none had stuck.
"Everyone sees things differently," the Khattan explains. "All of the Seed-related names didn't seem to cover what we actually do. For the most part, we've become a non-denominational, secular movement.. although the Silent-Ones usually claim that it's all the will of the Star, but that's recent - their new government is a bit more open and tolerant and give-peace-a-chance. Personally, I don't care why people join up, so long as they work towards the same goal of Interstellar Amity and exploration-for-all."
"I had thought that maybe the Galactic powers and people would have no interest in peace and ongoing co-operation. That cooperation depended on a mutual gain and fell apart when the gain was lost, or else because of disaster or a change in opinion." Tasha had since changed tables to join the Khattan, deciding to also given Khattans a chance. Her near-miss in destroying Ser Herphel's electronic clone brought her to reconsider Khattans as a whole and while she generally feels ill at ease with them she had once also felt the same way about the Silent-Ones, an opinion that changed with time an exposure. There are stil things she dislikes about Silent-Ones, but then there are also things she dislikes about Vartans.
"That's governments and government-affiliated-groups," Dassen claims. "Basically, if they follow a chain-of-command there will be friction. Individuals however have nothing to gain from conflict. Our little club is privately funded, and we have a few rules about limits and such. We also don't really have any sort of decision-making body, which.. makes for slow going! Most of the member donations go into operating the sanctuaries.. er... the lounges. But Caltrop is our real center of operations, since everyone mingles here, even Titanians!"
"I noticed the Titanians." Indeed Tasha did, having arrived with them. She can't, however, be seens as having any sort of overt connection to them if she's to make her disguise of being a Khattan house mezzode work. Aldara the Mezzode would not approve of Titanians, but she can't quite bring herself to talk badly of them in response casual mention and Dassen is being positive. "Who funds the Lounges? And what are your rules about limits?"
"Well, aside from official members.. who all have real jobs.. we get donations from non-affiliated groups who share similar goals, but aren't as out-in-the-open," the Khattan says, then leans in to whisper, "I suspect they do it to see if we will get shut down, and if we don't, then they can feel freer to be more public. Are only rule about donations is that no single donation can exceed 1% of a donor's net worth. We also have a donation jar at the door."
Tasha inclines her head to this, though she isn't at all sure what her 'net worth' is. How does she measure ostentesibly owning two spacecraft, a number of mixed relics, a modest savings in Abaddonian currency and a ominous pile of stunningly revealing answers? She really has no idea, it makes her life feel even more peculiar than it already did. "What if your net worth isn't know or easily understood because of a difficult position?" She thinks to ask, wondering if she said too much, or perhaps that the question might have reinforced some guesses about her in the mind of any listener.
"Well.. I suppose you'd go with liquid assets in that case," Dassen suggests. "That's what most people use anyway, since it'd be difficult to donate 1% of anything else. It limits our reach, but also limits corruption - I'm pretty sure it was the original tithe back when it was all an actual religion. All of our other assets are donated by the Confederates. I'm pretty sure they're the biggest sponsors, followed by the Terrans and more recently the Vartans."
"Why the Vartans and the Terrans?" Tasha inquires, suspecting she knows the answer but wanting it to hear the answer anyway. Wanting, in particular, to hear how Dassen says it and to further get a feel for Galactic life. "And what of the Houses, the Silent-Ones, and Celestial Empire? Are there sub-organizations of note?"
"Like I mentioned, we get a lot of funding from groups with similar goals, and Interstellar Amity - that is, the overthrow of the traditional Patron-Client contract - is the biggest of those. The Terrans hate it, the Vartans hate it, and the Confederates hate it. For the Terrans, it's also a political issue, since the Celestials in particular do not want them to uplift more home-grown clients. The Vartans want out of their contract, and at the same time can't wait to nurture a client species of their own - so long as they get to do it on their terms. I really do suspect they're harboring the rogue Terran uplift scientist, Dr. Moreau. Anyone can see that having them raise the next ripe Terran client species benefits both the Vartans and the Terragens."
"The Silent-Ones have never been particularly interested in Galactic politics before, and probably don't care at all about Patron-Client contracts, despite having Clients. It's a big deal for the Celestial Empire though, since more Clients equates to more status. And of course every House has their own opinion. We've not managed to acquire any new Clients since things fragmented after the Vartan contract."
"Although some have argued that our artificial intelligences qualify as a Client species of their own," he adds.
"Having met and worked with several artificial intelligences, I feel that is more close to true than false." Tasha's honest opinion, though she wonders if she spoke in too much haste as she let her emotional opinion get the better of her. She wonders at the slip, deciding it must have been the moment of reflection regarding her assets that brought it to the fore. She had never been particularly comfortable having Harmonia nor Melchior serve her and she had told them and others as much, yet here she is and they remain bound to her. She presses on, continuing her intentionally flattened way of speaking, something she also got from AI. "In your opinion, what would make the Houses -- individual or collective -- and the Celestial Empire abandon Clientage? Is there a deciding factor, something more valuable than Clientage? Is it too scattered to make a guess?"
"The Houses have pretty much already abandoned it," Dassen claims, waving a hand. "We don't need living servants. The Vartans filled a very important role: combat. The Articles of War prevent robotic soldiers. Otherwise war would just be a matter of resources. After the Vartans graduate, we'll still be hiring them for protection and mercenary work. Khattans supply so much of their technology, and so many Vartan clans know nothing but mercenary work. The primary difference is in how much they charge us and that they'll be free to work for others. The Khattan Houses that will take the hardest hit are the ones providing colonization packages. Vartans were ideal world-breakers, but it can be done by machines, just more expensively. It'll work out well for the Karnors though. They can finally do what they were meant to do."
"I couldn't predict what would change the Celestial's minds though," the Khattan says, shaking his head. "Their Clients are usually redesigned to serve some niche. When the Celestials aren't reengineering themselves into Client castes."
"You're speaking of the ancient Karnor versus the modern iteration." It strikes Tasha that the combination of her morose brooding with the effort to copy an AI's logical thinking has produced in her a logical, well-spoken version of herself that she's only even seen a glimpse of while alone and in control of the AI's she copied part of it from. Interaction with organic sorts of people has brought her emotional-interpersonal aspects in to play, making her behavior a curiosity even to herself as Nora's linguistic skills come to the fore and she focuses on facts and issues. She wonders if it's being on her own that helps ehr clarity, or siply not having to live up to any expectation; perhaps it's not feeling overshadowed or subservient, even if she's not actually a servant in her actual life. It puzzles her. "I heard Karnor were limited in some fashion over their earlier versions, that they are less capable combatants."
As for Celestials, Tasha squirrels the knowlede away in her mind. Perhaps there's some leverage she might find, or some bribe. perhaps they can be threatened or coerced. Ahriman would have known, but Ahriman probably wouldn't have told her.
"The Houses that specialized in colonization pressured the Terrans into that," Dassen notes. "They did not want the Terragens to start offering competing, cheaper services. They spent a huge amount of effort to derail the Confederate colonization program, and the Celestials never really had one of their own - they contracted out to the Houses."
"So of course the Terrans turn around and use dolphins as world-breakers instead!" the Lynxoid laughs.
Tasha doesn't laugh, though she does think it's amusing. Her too-young yet stoic, almost severely so, expression combined with her usual habit of looking a bit lost (though that unintentionally) hasn't changed much through the conversation. More than amused she's focused. For the first time since coming out to the Galactic expanse she sees a possibility of some sort of cooperation and peace, along with the multitude of ways she might go about that. She has less an idea of how to track down the Ogdru-hem, but victory over the Ogdoad means little if civilization destroys itself. "The dolphins are an interesting choice, but I see the benefits." A pause, then, "I think I've exhausted all my questions about the disposition of the powers regarding cooperation and Clientage."
"Well, there isn't really much to know about it," Dassen says, wiping at his eyes. "Governments have to look after their own, and will always put that ahead of cooperation. Actual civilians are free to handle the cooperation part. It's why we got rid of our government.. for the most part. There was a lot of warfare involved as well, but it always more of a corporate government anyway.."
"Our little 1% rule tends to keep out those that would just buy the movement as well," the man notes. "Lots of autonomy with little oversight."
"But that doesn't stop some people from trying," the Khattan admits with a wink. "The Outsiders supposedly follow the Starseeds, after all."
"I see." Tasha considers what else there is to ask, but she thinks she's heard what she can from Dassen. It's certainly improved her opinion of Khattans, at least. "Having autonomy seems like a significant benefit when the powers are at cross-purposes." She wonders absently if this way of thinking is some leftover of her having merged with the Melchior AI so deeply, that when she tries to sound and act like an AI that the rest of the experience filters in unbidden. She considers pondering it a moment more, but mention of the Starseeds brings up new questions. "I know of the Starseeds, and of the Outsiders, but I know few actual details of either of them. Their appearance, any automation, their kind of life. Do you know these things? You spoke an expedition to follow them."
"Well, the primary goal of the Migration mission is to find out more about them," Dassen explains. "They're the oldest living things we know of. The Outsiders.. well, they're as much myth as anything else. The legend goes that one of the first starfaring civilizations encountered them, and that's how the Galactic Library was created! Or given to them. There's all sorts of spacer stories of some lone astronaut that gets rescued or stumbles across them, and comes back with some fantastic knowledge or technology or treasure. But there have always been tales like that."
"I have heard they are the product of an even older species," Tasha risks, thinking it might be worth trusting this friendly man who is eager to share his passion with another out of place question. "That perhaps time doesn't apply to those beings." Another pause to consider, then, "How do you view the other beings in relationship to those of Galactic civilization? The unassociated, those who may or may not be available for Clientage, and those species who are older and more advanced than we are?"
"Well, I hope that we meet them once the Second Expedition can get underway," the Khattan says with a grin. "Although if we find that they have a Patron-Client tradition as well.. it will be disturbing on one level but exciting on another. So long as they don't try to claim us as Clients. That's actually one of the arguments I've heard against the whole thing; that we'll run into some older, more advanced civilization that will come and conquer us or something."
"Just because it's already happened once," the man says, throwing his arms up. "Once! That's hardly definitive, now is it?"
"It's a distinct possibility." Something Tasha knows all too well. Between working for what appears to be the representatio of an entire universe and fighting against beings from another universe, all terribly godlike, she is uncomfortably aware of how tiny even the Galactic powers can feel. "Once. What are you referring to?" She has many guesses, of course. She might even be right.
"The Berserkers," Dassen notes. "Machine life.. not like artificial intelligence, but actual evolved machine life. They were very hostile. It was the Celestial Empire that fought them off, and some say that is how they lost their homeworld. They tend to exaggerate everything though - but there's plenty of wrecked worlds and star systems full of suspicious rubble. Of course, once they're found.. nobody is allowed to go back to them."
Tasha can't hide her grimace, a startlingly sudden wrinkle of her muzzle that seems on the verge of a growl and the frown the accompanies it. The Berserkers are a sore spot, and unpleasant, yet by all accounts a necessity. Yet she was more wide-eyed then, more willing to think everyone could get along if she just tried hard enough. She still wants to believe that, truth be damned, but having to remember meeting a new species -- new to her -- with genocide is a scar she thinks may never heal. She thinks that perhaps it shouldn't. "I am familiar with the Berserkers." Another ominious topic crosses her mind unbidden: Beware the empty places. She considers saying more, but opts for silence to get ahold of herself.
"It's the Ash Zones that really put the brakes on Galactic exploration," Dassen laments with a sigh. "See enough burnt worlds and major governments decide it isn't worth pushing further. Which is what kept the Terran system isolated for so long, being inside one of the Ash Zones. The Silent-Ones don't care though; they will poke around until they find something. Most would say that's Biting the Titanian - asking for trouble. I think the Titanians defeated the Berserkers, and that's why the Machine Life civilization keeps to its own borders. I heard when the first surveys returned to those battlefield systems, they ran into Titanians 'cleaning up' with antimatter weapons."
That Tasha can absolutely believe. The Titanians are in many ways her closest allies, even if most of them don't know it yet. They both work for the same extra-universal power, each with a different task, and out of all those who worked for the Vril the Titanians seem to have been at it the longest. They continue to try and make safe the old technologies, the leftovers, the trapped elder beings, despite never having been concieved for the role of warrior -- that role belonged to Vartans until Horus released them. Now it belongs to her, though she is aware of what a tremendous drop in power that represents.
But she can't speka about that, not yet. Maybe never. She has to approach things from the point of view of Mezzode Aldara. She already slipped once with Iria, not having been prepared for the intrusion in to her thoughts and mood. "If that's the case, we should be glad for the Titanians, even though they also threaten us. It's a comparatively small price to pay." Cold, not what she'd say normally knowing how many lives have been lost to Tiatnain raids, but it expresses some part of her sentiment. "It is a shame we can't ally succesfully with the Titanians." A little more positive; also a future possibility. "Have you recruited any backers to this Second Expedition? Are you hiring ships?"
"Well, first we need to finance the Migration mission, to decide where the Second Expedition should go," Dassen notes. "It.. hasn't been a great turnout. Interstellar Amity is one thing, sending people on a multigenerational mapping mission is another. We've got the ships for it though. When the colonization Houses sold hyperdrive to the Confederates to derail their own colonization program - the Confederates kept all the obsolete assets. We just need to raise the money to retrofit those giant living ships with hyperdrive systems."
Tasha considers suggesting smaller, faster ships but that would imply she has access to higher forms of pseudo-FTL travel. She does, of course, but whether to recommend it or not is risky and somerthing best left to mission planning and debate with the other members. She isn't even sure her ship or any technology she could forseeably access would make the journey sufficently faster such to make the risk worth it, nor that she could acquire the advanced methos she know would make it faster. "If I learn anything that might be useful to that endeavor, I will consider passing it on." It's all she can offer right now. "I'm sorry I can't be more help."
"Well, you're listening, which is actually pretty helpful," Dassen says and grins. "Tell others about us that you think are interested in greater cooperation or are dissatisfied over the indentured servitude issues of the Patron-Client relationship."
"I have met a number of people who feel that way. I will mention it." She knows of entire planets full of people with the sentiment, in fact. The young woman then inclines her head. "Thank you for speaking with me Dassen K'tar. I found it enlightening." She wonders if she may have hit upon a real gem of an idea with the artificial person slash AI act. In the roughest sense it's not wrong, she is a preplanned being, though the process was very differnet from any other version she's heard about it. More importantly she's noticed people are more at ease with AIs and her looks and youth seem to help put people at ease in other ways. Plus she's short, which always worked for making Hakeber seem harmless. "I should be going, I've stayed longer than I expected to."
"Feel free to drop by again," Dassen says. "The Terragens bring tacos tomorrow."
"I like fish tacos." Tasha gives the man a smile as she rises, then she turns to regard the exit a moment before pushing off. Rather than walking to the exit she finds the Belter woman who first introduced her to the way of things here. "I'll be leaving now, I just wanted to thank you for your help when I arrived, and for talking with me."
"I usually stop by here between runs," Thispe notes. "Usually a lot of good stories, especially when the old Confederates show up."
"The old Confederates?" Tasha asks, making a show to perk her ear. Since she'd been surpressing her emotions and body language she's found it harder to want to express herself at all, especially given her morose moods crave a certain flatness and looking inward rather than out.
"Yeah, old-timers," Thispe says. "They never really retire, they just start going on riskier jaunts. Haven't met one yet that didn't have some weird story about supernatural space-boojums they ran across."
"I'd like to hear those stories," the young woman admits, making a mental note to try and catch yhe old timers next time she's in the system. "If we meet again, please point them out to me." She inclines her head, then. "Time for me to go. Like I said, I plan to come back if I can."
"Take care, Aldara," the space-born Human offers and waves.
Tasha smiles before she turns to head on out. A lot to think about. A lot to think about. She hopes she doesn't look too wooden when by the time she returns to the ship.
Just before she leaves Tasha thinks to pause. She backsteps and turns, fishing out a credit stick and dropping it in to the donation jar before departing.
When Tasha arrives back at the disguised Dark Horse several hours after the Lapis and Shojo, but just after Gabriel's group - who thought to bring back food too. "How'd things go?" the big Karnor asks Tasha when they get together in the galley. Shojo arrives but stays quiet, while Katie is distracted by her data pad, which she used to take pictures of every interesting thing she saw - only back in the safe confines of 'home base' can she act touristy about it all.
Tasha puls her chair back from the table, placing it backwards before dropping down on to it with her arms resting atop the headrest and her head upon her arms. She lets her wings droop, getting comfortable. "I learned a great deal," she answers, but then realizes she's sounding like Mel again, maybe even keeping her expression a bit flat. She tried a number of personalities and demeanors while out and found some mix of flatness with shy, limited expression helped her the most. It put her in mind to watch her behavior, helped her supress her reactions (though not completely) and seemed to help her focus as well. Here, though, she know it'll come off as peculiar. Her friends and family know her too well, and that behavior here is a flag for her being depressed. She can't seem depressed in full view of everyone, it's bad for morale and bad for her leadership.
"Um, I mean, I learned a great deal. A lot." The young woman rubs her nose before elaborating, counting off on her hands. "I think I have a lead on a Confederate ship and a contact to meet, I have a contact with the Vartan forces, I learmed there's so many things to buy and I don't know what any of them do, and I spent three hours in a Seed Lounge learning about Galactic politics, the Seeders, cooperation and division, and other things besides. I have a lot to run by my senior staff and you especially Gabriel."
"A Confederate contact?" Gabriel asks, ears perking. "When do you meet with them? Did you tell them about Mr. Vasterlion's package already?"
"Package?" Had she heard about a package, or did she just forget? Tasha's had a lot on her mind lately, she might have tuned it out by accident -- or on purpose. "Um, no? Her name is Iria, I met her in some sort of Communion Bar Confederates go to. She thinks she might be able to get me a meeting with her captain and I'm to return in seventy-two hours, less now of course. She may have seen more about me than I would have liked, I wasn't prepared for the communion device." And she may have told her more than she'd have liked, too. "How did your trip go?"
"No Confederate contacts, alas," Grabriel notes. "Mainly testing Jonas's 'pheremone fix' so we don't attract mobs, and introducing Katie's group to their extended families. She and Mr. I did get some attention, but it was mixed. Lots of attempts to approach Katie, none successful. Mr. Invention makes for a more imposing bodyguard than I do it seems." Around then, Rock sneaks up behind Gabriel, and steals a rib from his plate before slinking back off on its other four legs.
Tasha blinks at the theft, then barks a laugh. "You're becoming a big softie, Gabriel. But I don't mind." She really doesn't; she knows Gabriel can be dangerous if he wants to be. "I had more luck on my end, especially when I went alone. It was harder to coordinate with Aaron and Liza than I thought it would be, especially considering how little we know. I don't make a convincing entertainer, so I tried to turn that story by saying I'm a duelist, which is easier for me because it's roughly true. A lot of people think I'm a Terran Primest Mezzode for an undisclosed House -- or that I'm escaping a House." Her shoulders roll in a shrug. "I've decided I may try to tip the balance in favor of ending Clientage and that the Seeders are a potential ally. Theres a second Expedition in the works, but we could ire out to them to do some scouting before hand. For money, for the usual reasons. We also need to consider where we're going."
"First priority is getting that hypership for Abaddon," Gabriel notes. "Mainly because it's something we do know we need to do. That little package Vasterlion gave has the specifications and presumably some sort of payment. No idea what it is, really. I've got the crystal with the navigation information on it. I saw Liza looking over clothing options on her pad, but I haven't seen Lightfoot at all. I figured he was with you."
"I asked to part with them after our trip to the Communion Bar," Tasha admits, leaving the reasons unsaid and letting people make their own guesses. "I instructed him to return to the ship, but he wasn't obligated to do so. He must have left again." She then clicks her taloned fingers togetherm thinking a long moment before adding, "His plan was decent, but we have difficulties with the details and I'm not sure I want to or need to go back to relying on him like I used to. He might be feeling down about that. I don't know. But I needed some time alone to find what I was looking for." Though she hadn't known what that was at the time. "I'm sure he's fine and we'll see him soon. If he's not back within a few hours, we can trace his datapad." She then glances across those assembled. "Was there anything else?"
"We need more money if Katherine is going to go shopping," Gabriel claims. "Miss Necessity has been talking her out of it so far - she claims they can pick up the raw materials and she can fashion outfits from those. No way to talk her out of the toys she wants though. Can you do it without.. uh.. buying them yourself?"
"I think so," Tasha says, wincing. Denying Katherine anything is going to be a painful experience. "At least I don't feel like I wnat anything right now. I thought I did, but my head's too full of plans and politics right now and I want to focus on that. I have a lot to think about if I'm ever going to accomplish the political and hunting goals I've chosen."
Tasha does at least sit up, looking to be prepared to deal with the situation immediately at least. "I do think we need a few things but if we don't start getting money coming in soon we'll be looking at the Titanian way of getting things and I'd really prefer to avoid that."
"We need to talk to our Phins then," Gabriel says. "Yue hasn't come back yet, but we've got Dr. Knight. He, Kaa and Moka have been earning money through smuggling."
"Working with the Seeders may provide jobs, but I'm not sure hwo much they can pay considering how the organization runs. We could try approaching the other powers, too, or even the lesser criminal organizations if we must. There must be some meeting place for these jobs, like the bar Bumper took me to." Tasha pushes up out of her chair and looks around. "Do you want to talk to the Phins while I handle Katie?" It strikes her as odd to say she's 'handling' someone older than herself in hindsight, yet ever since she left the Hall of Souls she's felt somwehere beyond her age. Old and young, simultaneously.
"You should have built up more immunity to her by now," Gabriel says and winks. "I'll go see what nefarious deeds your crew has been up to without Eli around to look embarrassed by any of it." He gives Tasha a kiss on the cheek, then gets up and leaves for the bridge.
Tasha makes a show off wagging her tail when kissed, then gives Gabriel's tail a little tug as she too heads on out. Time to find Katherine and hope her 'immunity' is strong enough!
By now the upper deck area is still off-limits while things are reconfigured. But Katie has taken over part of the galley in the meantime. When Tasha approaches, she looks up and smiles. "Do you know what a roboid is, Tasha?" she asks, and holds out her data pad to show a very elaborate looking Titan. It then goes into a series of poses that might be related to some sort of robot martial art, before launching a bunch of flashy holographic weapon attacks (that also each require a special pose or series of poses). "They come in all sorts of colors and designs and you can play fight them against eachother!"
Tasha blinks at this. It does look fun, and flashy, but then she's experienced actual Titan combat which happens to be neither of those things to the pilot. In her experience Titan combat -- real Titan combat -- is a mix of adrenaline, fear, terror, and when she's going all out the emotionless by-the-numbers robot-like mental state of Full Depth. To say her opinions are mixed on the idea of doing it for fun would be an understatement. "Uh, well, Katie, it does look fun but ... " She glances at the screen, bites her lip, then offers as gently as she can, " ... we really need to focus on buying things we need."
"It claims there are fighting leagues were you can earn prize money," the celebrity notes, but with less enthusiasm. "What do we need, besides funds?"
"Clothes, food, weapons, medical supplies, I'd like some ranged firepower for Mel because trying to stab something in space is as difficult as it sounds, we need enough shekels for emergency funds and long term provisioning, we need them for bribes, for all the things we don't expect, there's also shuttle maintenance and parts, and then all the mission specific items like buying fake IDs," Tasha explains, counting off on her fingers several times over. She looks up when finished, head tilting. "I tried to warn you we're out here for a reason, that'd it'd be dangerous. The better prepared and the more money we have the better off we'll be in civilized space, even beyond."
"So, we just have to make money without dealing with people who could exploit us," Katherine says. "Like.. information couriers."
Tasha inclines her head. "Like that. I've mainly left that details to the others who have more training and practive with ship based missions and focused on making contacts, getting deals, and more than anything with the overall plan. But I pay attention." Usually. "So far we've been smuggling, but transfering information would be smuggling with less cargo space taken up. Which is good, because we don't exactly have a dreadnaught here." Her grin is wry. "I'd like to avoid taking on passengers, but we can do it if we have to. I'm also not against piracy against certain elements, especially slavers and others of the worst sorts. But that's risky."
"Except your ship isn't armed," Katherine points out. "Fighting anyone will make enemies, however, and I don't think that's your goal. So, I would suggest avoiding missions that make enemies, and looking for ones that give you more allies.. especially ones that can hook you up with more allies. There's a reason they're called spy 'networks' after all." She then grins again, and says, "But.. we could spare some funds for lingerie, can't we? You wouldn't believe the stuff they have here!"
"Uhhhhh-" Goes Tasha, who by the time she recovers herself realizes she must have sounded like a machine intelligence suffering an error. She licks her lips and looking somewhere decidedly not Katherine-ward. "Welllll, probably?" She risks. A chew of the lip, then, "I really have to think about the crew and the ship." Nevermind she's quite certain what most of the crew would say about the two of them and lingerie. "We do need clothes, even, um, lounge clothing. R-recreation."
What was she talking about again?
Oh. Not spending things.
"Ummm, it might be okay," she conceeds, rubbing the back of her head. "If we don't go overboard." There was something else. More to it. What was it. "Oh. Missions. We're not armed but we can just put people on any ship and ignore all their weapons if they don't notice we're there. Having a, uh, Titan show up on your bridge would probably lead to a quick surrender. Or a bomb next to your antimatter. We can be creative." Bad choice of words -- she tries to think of something else. "But yes um, probably we should not make enemies unless they'd already be our enemies or we hate them anyway and don't mind if they explode."
"That sounds like actual piracy though," Katherine says, "Or we could show up wearing this one!" She shows Tasha something that has to be a holographic projection, since it's just a naked Karnor woman with some sort of light field that preserves modesty. "It says this one doesn't work that well in sunlight, but I've been asking around and since the indoors environments in lots of places are so controlled, clothing isn't even needed at all! Can you imagine? The Terran tavern here also has an 'open mike night', which I think means anyone can sign up to perform something."
Tasha has done a great many things she's not proud of, and more than a few included immodestry. There was a time when she might not have though twice about wearing so little infront of so many -- and drunk as she could be not remebered it if she had thought about it -- but she realizes that time may well be behind her. Much to her own surprise and amazement she feels a sense of mortification at the thought.
It only applies to herself though.
"I ... I think that'd be, um, okay. For you but ... " How does she explain she can't do it without feeling a bit or a lot ashamed bust doesn't mind if Katherine does it? She knows it's Katie's job to lure people by pure sexual appeal and not her's, but it still feels hypocritical and self serving. So, lacking a good internal arguement, she just decides to say it flat out. "I'm, um, I'm really not comfortable with doing that. Uh, anymore. I've guess I've changed but ... It's not for me but ... If you want to I don't mind and I don't think badly about it." Hypocritial, self-serving and badly put, the hybrid winces at herself.
"You don't feel inadequate around me, do you Tasha?" Katie asks with a concerned tone. "I wouldn't want you to feel embarrassed or anything."
Tasha winces, though they're not the words she had feared they do hurt in another way. "Um, it's not that. Okay it is that a little, but everyone I know feels inadequate around you and everyone I know more or less acknowledges it. Besides, I mean, I'm scarred and I was already pretty strange looking to begin with. But, uh ... " More lip chewing. "No, it's not really that. See, um, well ... I used to be different, right? A lot different. I know it surprised you when you found out I know a lot about, uh, you know, like I'd had a lot of practice and I had had a lot of practice, but I don't think I ever told you about how or why. And it's the why and how that bothers me. I don't like doing it anymore, because all I can think of is back then and I just feel dirty."
"Well.. our past selves are always idiots doing stupid things to embarrass us now," Katie says, and smiles. "I used to get into fistfights all the time when I was a teenager."
"Me, too," Tasha admits, giving a little shrug and a lopsided grin as if to say, "I know, big surprise." She then spreads her hands and adds, "But I also used to desperate and poor and all I thought I had was sex to get anyone to pay attention to me and to like me. I was mean, I was rude, and I was desperate and lonely. Besides," here her hands fall and her shoulders sink as she shifts her gaze towards the ceiling, " ... the woman I used to do most of that for is dead. I just don't think I can do it anymore."
"Wow, I didn't think your life had been that.. dangerous," Katie admits. "It must feel a long way away now."
"Not as much as you'd think," Tasha admits, head lowering to turn and meet Katherine's gaze. "In a lot of ways it's more dangerous than it ever has been. Old Blackwings was a cruel and dangerous person, but she would have only gutted me if I disrespected her. And she could have. Had. I'd heard enough stories -- I saw them in the end." Her head shakes. "But I was safe enough on The Rake. It's these days I end up close to dying, but unlike back then I do it because I want to and I'm proud of it. Because it needs to be done, and better me than someone else."
Just then, Tasha's data pad beeps - an incoming call.
Again Tasha's brought to blink, not having expected to be interupted during her heartfelt life story. Then again, she hadn't expected to share it either. She steps aside and puts her back to the wall so only her face and the wall are visible and answers the call.
There's no picture, but a whispery voice asks, "Is that you Tasha? I can't see you."
"Yue?" Tasha leans in, uncertain why she can't be seen between the lighting and the wall. "Is something wrong?" Flat voice, she reminds herself. She shifts aside to make herself more visible.
"Me? No.. Aaron," the whisper replies. "I'm with a dozen naked Silent-Ones in some sort of big bath, and I need you to bring ten-dozen donuts to their ship. The big one with the sword."
"Oh, and coffee. I.. don't know how much a liter is. They want 10 liters of coffee too," the Lapi adds.
"I'll get right on it," Tasha replies, nonplused. She glances at Katherine with a, "Did you hear that?" expression, then returns her attention to her datapad. "We were worried about you. I'll, um, I'll dispatch ... " Who to send? She isn't sure who the best choice would be; she doubts it's her given her stated Khattan association and how Silent-Ones feel about creative genetics. She's been called an abomination once, and once was enough. "The Karnors maybe? Katie, do you want to deliver donust to a bunch of naked Silent-Ones, to one of their ships?"
"Do I get to wear a uniform and a little cap?" Katie asks.
"They haven't actually asked what I am, so I don't know what assumptions they've made," Aaron whispers. "Also, so you know, Savanites are faster than Abaddonian Silent-Ones in obstacle-rich environments. These guys aren't quite as fast as Abaddonians, but a little better with obstacles. They're slightly taller though."
"Maybe?" Cost numbers filter through Tasha's mind and she wonders if she's turning in to her mother. "I'll see what we can do." Lookinga back she tells Aaron, "I'll get Katie and a few others to do it. No, wait, you've got my disguise. I can't do it unless I act like it's awkward." The hybrid woman scratches her head. "Sorry I'm kind of off at the moment. I'll leave it to you: Do you wnat me to do the delivery or the Katie?"
"I have no idea how to get here," Aaron notes. "Which one of you can fly a.. shuttle? Or.. hold on." There's silence (or Silence) for a minute. "Oh, they can send a Titan to pick it up. They've already seen you though, at the donut shop. They're all pilots. Do not offer to arm-wrestle any of them though. Did you need to talk to them about anything?"
"Just ask them if they mind me delivering them since I'm armed and armored, even if just to impress people with how historically accurate I am." Tasha glances at Katherine again and shrugs. "I guess I'm off," she admits apologetically, thinking about how Mel might handle being asked to deliver donuts. "Tell them I don't usually handle deliveries and ask where I'm supposed to meet them."
"Alright, let me.. hold on.. I think I'm missing what.." There's silence again, but very faintly the monotone of a translator glove can be heard. "Alright.. uh, I got this mixed up. The donuts and coffee are the prize. You present it to the winning team. Titan team. They've got some sort of match set up with the Vartans. Hold on." Another pause. "Oh.. that was judge? Yeah, they want judges. The losing team pays for the.. right. They'll pay the judges too. Does any of that make sense?"
"Nooo, but you get used to that feeling after a while." Often it happens Tasha will hear something new: A new saying, a local custom, some historical fact everyone seems to know and quote, a new way of dressing or a particular way to act. And, just as often, she goes along with them with nary a question -- but not because she understands. Partly, or at all. No, she goes along because to question every new thing would take her forever and she's become used to going with the flow of being a weird outsider. "I'll just get the donuts and stare at anyone who doesn't pay me for them. I'll inform the others annnd ... I'll be there soon."
Logfile from Amelia. (OOC) Log start: d:\logs\fenris\2016-11-23_walkabout.htmlTasha stayed around the Seed Lounge long enough to have a chat with Dassen K'tar, who explained some of the history of the movement. While it did have its origins with the Confederates, the very nature of it soon drew in plenty of others. Chapters sprung up on many worlds.. and with them some confusion. Nobody could decide on an official name. Gardeners, Cultivators, Seed Children, Coalition of Cooperation, and just Seeders had all be suggested, but none had stuck.
"Everyone sees things differently," the Khattan explains. "All of the Seed-related names didn't seem to cover what we actually do. For the most part, we've become a non-denominational, secular movement.. although the Silent-Ones usually claim that it's all the will of the Star, but that's recent - their new government is a bit more open and tolerant and give-peace-a-chance. Personally, I don't care why people join up, so long as they work towards the same goal of Interstellar Amity and exploration-for-all."
"I had thought that maybe the Galactic powers and people would have no interest in peace and ongoing co-operation. That cooperation depended on a mutual gain and fell apart when the gain was lost, or else because of disaster or a change in opinion." Tasha had since changed tables to join the Khattan, deciding to also given Khattans a chance. Her near-miss in destroying Ser Herphel's electronic clone brought her to reconsider Khattans as a whole and while she generally feels ill at ease with them she had once also felt the same way about the Silent-Ones, an opinion that changed with time an exposure. There are stil things she dislikes about Silent-Ones, but then there are also things she dislikes about Vartans.
"That's governments and government-affiliated-groups," Dassen claims. "Basically, if they follow a chain-of-command there will be friction. Individuals however have nothing to gain from conflict. Our little club is privately funded, and we have a few rules about limits and such. We also don't really have any sort of decision-making body, which.. makes for slow going! Most of the member donations go into operating the sanctuaries.. er... the lounges. But Caltrop is our real center of operations, since everyone mingles here, even Titanians!"
"I noticed the Titanians." Indeed Tasha did, having arrived with them. She can't, however, be seens as having any sort of overt connection to them if she's to make her disguise of being a Khattan house mezzode work. Aldara the Mezzode would not approve of Titanians, but she can't quite bring herself to talk badly of them in response casual mention and Dassen is being positive. "Who funds the Lounges? And what are your rules about limits?"
"Well, aside from official members.. who all have real jobs.. we get donations from non-affiliated groups who share similar goals, but aren't as out-in-the-open," the Khattan says, then leans in to whisper, "I suspect they do it to see if we will get shut down, and if we don't, then they can feel freer to be more public. Are only rule about donations is that no single donation can exceed 1% of a donor's net worth. We also have a donation jar at the door."
Tasha inclines her head to this, though she isn't at all sure what her 'net worth' is. How does she measure ostentesibly owning two spacecraft, a number of mixed relics, a modest savings in Abaddonian currency and a ominous pile of stunningly revealing answers? She really has no idea, it makes her life feel even more peculiar than it already did. "What if your net worth isn't know or easily understood because of a difficult position?" She thinks to ask, wondering if she said too much, or perhaps that the question might have reinforced some guesses about her in the mind of any listener.
"Well.. I suppose you'd go with liquid assets in that case," Dassen suggests. "That's what most people use anyway, since it'd be difficult to donate 1% of anything else. It limits our reach, but also limits corruption - I'm pretty sure it was the original tithe back when it was all an actual religion. All of our other assets are donated by the Confederates. I'm pretty sure they're the biggest sponsors, followed by the Terrans and more recently the Vartans."
"Why the Vartans and the Terrans?" Tasha inquires, suspecting she knows the answer but wanting it to hear the answer anyway. Wanting, in particular, to hear how Dassen says it and to further get a feel for Galactic life. "And what of the Houses, the Silent-Ones, and Celestial Empire? Are there sub-organizations of note?"
"Like I mentioned, we get a lot of funding from groups with similar goals, and Interstellar Amity - that is, the overthrow of the traditional Patron-Client contract - is the biggest of those. The Terrans hate it, the Vartans hate it, and the Confederates hate it. For the Terrans, it's also a political issue, since the Celestials in particular do not want them to uplift more home-grown clients. The Vartans want out of their contract, and at the same time can't wait to nurture a client species of their own - so long as they get to do it on their terms. I really do suspect they're harboring the rogue Terran uplift scientist, Dr. Moreau. Anyone can see that having them raise the next ripe Terran client species benefits both the Vartans and the Terragens."
"The Silent-Ones have never been particularly interested in Galactic politics before, and probably don't care at all about Patron-Client contracts, despite having Clients. It's a big deal for the Celestial Empire though, since more Clients equates to more status. And of course every House has their own opinion. We've not managed to acquire any new Clients since things fragmented after the Vartan contract."
"Although some have argued that our artificial intelligences qualify as a Client species of their own," he adds.
"Having met and worked with several artificial intelligences, I feel that is more close to true than false." Tasha's honest opinion, though she wonders if she spoke in too much haste as she let her emotional opinion get the better of her. She wonders at the slip, deciding it must have been the moment of reflection regarding her assets that brought it to the fore. She had never been particularly comfortable having Harmonia nor Melchior serve her and she had told them and others as much, yet here she is and they remain bound to her. She presses on, continuing her intentionally flattened way of speaking, something she also got from AI. "In your opinion, what would make the Houses -- individual or collective -- and the Celestial Empire abandon Clientage? Is there a deciding factor, something more valuable than Clientage? Is it too scattered to make a guess?"
"The Houses have pretty much already abandoned it," Dassen claims, waving a hand. "We don't need living servants. The Vartans filled a very important role: combat. The Articles of War prevent robotic soldiers. Otherwise war would just be a matter of resources. After the Vartans graduate, we'll still be hiring them for protection and mercenary work. Khattans supply so much of their technology, and so many Vartan clans know nothing but mercenary work. The primary difference is in how much they charge us and that they'll be free to work for others. The Khattan Houses that will take the hardest hit are the ones providing colonization packages. Vartans were ideal world-breakers, but it can be done by machines, just more expensively. It'll work out well for the Karnors though. They can finally do what they were meant to do."
"I couldn't predict what would change the Celestial's minds though," the Khattan says, shaking his head. "Their Clients are usually redesigned to serve some niche. When the Celestials aren't reengineering themselves into Client castes."
"You're speaking of the ancient Karnor versus the modern iteration." It strikes Tasha that the combination of her morose brooding with the effort to copy an AI's logical thinking has produced in her a logical, well-spoken version of herself that she's only even seen a glimpse of while alone and in control of the AI's she copied part of it from. Interaction with organic sorts of people has brought her emotional-interpersonal aspects in to play, making her behavior a curiosity even to herself as Nora's linguistic skills come to the fore and she focuses on facts and issues. She wonders if it's being on her own that helps ehr clarity, or siply not having to live up to any expectation; perhaps it's not feeling overshadowed or subservient, even if she's not actually a servant in her actual life. It puzzles her. "I heard Karnor were limited in some fashion over their earlier versions, that they are less capable combatants."
As for Celestials, Tasha squirrels the knowlede away in her mind. Perhaps there's some leverage she might find, or some bribe. perhaps they can be threatened or coerced. Ahriman would have known, but Ahriman probably wouldn't have told her.
"The Houses that specialized in colonization pressured the Terrans into that," Dassen notes. "They did not want the Terragens to start offering competing, cheaper services. They spent a huge amount of effort to derail the Confederate colonization program, and the Celestials never really had one of their own - they contracted out to the Houses."
"So of course the Terrans turn around and use dolphins as world-breakers instead!" the Lynxoid laughs.
Tasha doesn't laugh, though she does think it's amusing. Her too-young yet stoic, almost severely so, expression combined with her usual habit of looking a bit lost (though that unintentionally) hasn't changed much through the conversation. More than amused she's focused. For the first time since coming out to the Galactic expanse she sees a possibility of some sort of cooperation and peace, along with the multitude of ways she might go about that. She has less an idea of how to track down the Ogdru-hem, but victory over the Ogdoad means little if civilization destroys itself. "The dolphins are an interesting choice, but I see the benefits." A pause, then, "I think I've exhausted all my questions about the disposition of the powers regarding cooperation and Clientage."
"Well, there isn't really much to know about it," Dassen says, wiping at his eyes. "Governments have to look after their own, and will always put that ahead of cooperation. Actual civilians are free to handle the cooperation part. It's why we got rid of our government.. for the most part. There was a lot of warfare involved as well, but it always more of a corporate government anyway.."
"Our little 1% rule tends to keep out those that would just buy the movement as well," the man notes. "Lots of autonomy with little oversight."
"But that doesn't stop some people from trying," the Khattan admits with a wink. "The Outsiders supposedly follow the Starseeds, after all."
"I see." Tasha considers what else there is to ask, but she thinks she's heard what she can from Dassen. It's certainly improved her opinion of Khattans, at least. "Having autonomy seems like a significant benefit when the powers are at cross-purposes." She wonders absently if this way of thinking is some leftover of her having merged with the Melchior AI so deeply, that when she tries to sound and act like an AI that the rest of the experience filters in unbidden. She considers pondering it a moment more, but mention of the Starseeds brings up new questions. "I know of the Starseeds, and of the Outsiders, but I know few actual details of either of them. Their appearance, any automation, their kind of life. Do you know these things? You spoke an expedition to follow them."
"Well, the primary goal of the Migration mission is to find out more about them," Dassen explains. "They're the oldest living things we know of. The Outsiders.. well, they're as much myth as anything else. The legend goes that one of the first starfaring civilizations encountered them, and that's how the Galactic Library was created! Or given to them. There's all sorts of spacer stories of some lone astronaut that gets rescued or stumbles across them, and comes back with some fantastic knowledge or technology or treasure. But there have always been tales like that."
"I have heard they are the product of an even older species," Tasha risks, thinking it might be worth trusting this friendly man who is eager to share his passion with another out of place question. "That perhaps time doesn't apply to those beings." Another pause to consider, then, "How do you view the other beings in relationship to those of Galactic civilization? The unassociated, those who may or may not be available for Clientage, and those species who are older and more advanced than we are?"
"Well, I hope that we meet them once the Second Expedition can get underway," the Khattan says with a grin. "Although if we find that they have a Patron-Client tradition as well.. it will be disturbing on one level but exciting on another. So long as they don't try to claim us as Clients. That's actually one of the arguments I've heard against the whole thing; that we'll run into some older, more advanced civilization that will come and conquer us or something."
"Just because it's already happened once," the man says, throwing his arms up. "Once! That's hardly definitive, now is it?"
"It's a distinct possibility." Something Tasha knows all too well. Between working for what appears to be the representatio of an entire universe and fighting against beings from another universe, all terribly godlike, she is uncomfortably aware of how tiny even the Galactic powers can feel. "Once. What are you referring to?" She has many guesses, of course. She might even be right.
"The Berserkers," Dassen notes. "Machine life.. not like artificial intelligence, but actual evolved machine life. They were very hostile. It was the Celestial Empire that fought them off, and some say that is how they lost their homeworld. They tend to exaggerate everything though - but there's plenty of wrecked worlds and star systems full of suspicious rubble. Of course, once they're found.. nobody is allowed to go back to them."
Tasha can't hide her grimace, a startlingly sudden wrinkle of her muzzle that seems on the verge of a growl and the frown the accompanies it. The Berserkers are a sore spot, and unpleasant, yet by all accounts a necessity. Yet she was more wide-eyed then, more willing to think everyone could get along if she just tried hard enough. She still wants to believe that, truth be damned, but having to remember meeting a new species -- new to her -- with genocide is a scar she thinks may never heal. She thinks that perhaps it shouldn't. "I am familiar with the Berserkers." Another ominious topic crosses her mind unbidden: Beware the empty places. She considers saying more, but opts for silence to get ahold of herself.
"It's the Ash Zones that really put the brakes on Galactic exploration," Dassen laments with a sigh. "See enough burnt worlds and major governments decide it isn't worth pushing further. Which is what kept the Terran system isolated for so long, being inside one of the Ash Zones. The Silent-Ones don't care though; they will poke around until they find something. Most would say that's Biting the Titanian - asking for trouble. I think the Titanians defeated the Berserkers, and that's why the Machine Life civilization keeps to its own borders. I heard when the first surveys returned to those battlefield systems, they ran into Titanians 'cleaning up' with antimatter weapons."
That Tasha can absolutely believe. The Titanians are in many ways her closest allies, even if most of them don't know it yet. They both work for the same extra-universal power, each with a different task, and out of all those who worked for the Vril the Titanians seem to have been at it the longest. They continue to try and make safe the old technologies, the leftovers, the trapped elder beings, despite never having been concieved for the role of warrior -- that role belonged to Vartans until Horus released them. Now it belongs to her, though she is aware of what a tremendous drop in power that represents.
But she can't speka about that, not yet. Maybe never. She has to approach things from the point of view of Mezzode Aldara. She already slipped once with Iria, not having been prepared for the intrusion in to her thoughts and mood. "If that's the case, we should be glad for the Titanians, even though they also threaten us. It's a comparatively small price to pay." Cold, not what she'd say normally knowing how many lives have been lost to Tiatnain raids, but it expresses some part of her sentiment. "It is a shame we can't ally succesfully with the Titanians." A little more positive; also a future possibility. "Have you recruited any backers to this Second Expedition? Are you hiring ships?"
"Well, first we need to finance the Migration mission, to decide where the Second Expedition should go," Dassen notes. "It.. hasn't been a great turnout. Interstellar Amity is one thing, sending people on a multigenerational mapping mission is another. We've got the ships for it though. When the colonization Houses sold hyperdrive to the Confederates to derail their own colonization program - the Confederates kept all the obsolete assets. We just need to raise the money to retrofit those giant living ships with hyperdrive systems."
Tasha considers suggesting smaller, faster ships but that would imply she has access to higher forms of pseudo-FTL travel. She does, of course, but whether to recommend it or not is risky and somerthing best left to mission planning and debate with the other members. She isn't even sure her ship or any technology she could forseeably access would make the journey sufficently faster such to make the risk worth it, nor that she could acquire the advanced methos she know would make it faster. "If I learn anything that might be useful to that endeavor, I will consider passing it on." It's all she can offer right now. "I'm sorry I can't be more help."
"Well, you're listening, which is actually pretty helpful," Dassen says and grins. "Tell others about us that you think are interested in greater cooperation or are dissatisfied over the indentured servitude issues of the Patron-Client relationship."
"I have met a number of people who feel that way. I will mention it." She knows of entire planets full of people with the sentiment, in fact. The young woman then inclines her head. "Thank you for speaking with me Dassen K'tar. I found it enlightening." She wonders if she may have hit upon a real gem of an idea with the artificial person slash AI act. In the roughest sense it's not wrong, she is a preplanned being, though the process was very differnet from any other version she's heard about it. More importantly she's noticed people are more at ease with AIs and her looks and youth seem to help put people at ease in other ways. Plus she's short, which always worked for making Hakeber seem harmless. "I should be going, I've stayed longer than I expected to."
"Feel free to drop by again," Dassen says. "The Terragens bring tacos tomorrow."
"I like fish tacos." Tasha gives the man a smile as she rises, then she turns to regard the exit a moment before pushing off. Rather than walking to the exit she finds the Belter woman who first introduced her to the way of things here. "I'll be leaving now, I just wanted to thank you for your help when I arrived, and for talking with me."
"I usually stop by here between runs," Thispe notes. "Usually a lot of good stories, especially when the old Confederates show up."
"The old Confederates?" Tasha asks, making a show to perk her ear. Since she'd been surpressing her emotions and body language she's found it harder to want to express herself at all, especially given her morose moods crave a certain flatness and looking inward rather than out.
"Yeah, old-timers," Thispe says. "They never really retire, they just start going on riskier jaunts. Haven't met one yet that didn't have some weird story about supernatural space-boojums they ran across."
"I'd like to hear those stories," the young woman admits, making a mental note to try and catch yhe old timers next time she's in the system. "If we meet again, please point them out to me." She inclines her head, then. "Time for me to go. Like I said, I plan to come back if I can."
"Take care, Aldara," the space-born Human offers and waves.
Tasha smiles before she turns to head on out. A lot to think about. A lot to think about. She hopes she doesn't look too wooden when by the time she returns to the ship.
Just before she leaves Tasha thinks to pause. She backsteps and turns, fishing out a credit stick and dropping it in to the donation jar before departing.
When Tasha arrives back at the disguised Dark Horse several hours after the Lapis and Shojo, but just after Gabriel's group - who thought to bring back food too. "How'd things go?" the big Karnor asks Tasha when they get together in the galley. Shojo arrives but stays quiet, while Katie is distracted by her data pad, which she used to take pictures of every interesting thing she saw - only back in the safe confines of 'home base' can she act touristy about it all.
Tasha puls her chair back from the table, placing it backwards before dropping down on to it with her arms resting atop the headrest and her head upon her arms. She lets her wings droop, getting comfortable. "I learned a great deal," she answers, but then realizes she's sounding like Mel again, maybe even keeping her expression a bit flat. She tried a number of personalities and demeanors while out and found some mix of flatness with shy, limited expression helped her the most. It put her in mind to watch her behavior, helped her supress her reactions (though not completely) and seemed to help her focus as well. Here, though, she know it'll come off as peculiar. Her friends and family know her too well, and that behavior here is a flag for her being depressed. She can't seem depressed in full view of everyone, it's bad for morale and bad for her leadership.
"Um, I mean, I learned a great deal. A lot." The young woman rubs her nose before elaborating, counting off on her hands. "I think I have a lead on a Confederate ship and a contact to meet, I have a contact with the Vartan forces, I learmed there's so many things to buy and I don't know what any of them do, and I spent three hours in a Seed Lounge learning about Galactic politics, the Seeders, cooperation and division, and other things besides. I have a lot to run by my senior staff and you especially Gabriel."
"A Confederate contact?" Gabriel asks, ears perking. "When do you meet with them? Did you tell them about Mr. Vasterlion's package already?"
"Package?" Had she heard about a package, or did she just forget? Tasha's had a lot on her mind lately, she might have tuned it out by accident -- or on purpose. "Um, no? Her name is Iria, I met her in some sort of Communion Bar Confederates go to. She thinks she might be able to get me a meeting with her captain and I'm to return in seventy-two hours, less now of course. She may have seen more about me than I would have liked, I wasn't prepared for the communion device." And she may have told her more than she'd have liked, too. "How did your trip go?"
"No Confederate contacts, alas," Grabriel notes. "Mainly testing Jonas's 'pheremone fix' so we don't attract mobs, and introducing Katie's group to their extended families. She and Mr. I did get some attention, but it was mixed. Lots of attempts to approach Katie, none successful. Mr. Invention makes for a more imposing bodyguard than I do it seems." Around then, Rock sneaks up behind Gabriel, and steals a rib from his plate before slinking back off on its other four legs.
Tasha blinks at the theft, then barks a laugh. "You're becoming a big softie, Gabriel. But I don't mind." She really doesn't; she knows Gabriel can be dangerous if he wants to be. "I had more luck on my end, especially when I went alone. It was harder to coordinate with Aaron and Liza than I thought it would be, especially considering how little we know. I don't make a convincing entertainer, so I tried to turn that story by saying I'm a duelist, which is easier for me because it's roughly true. A lot of people think I'm a Terran Primest Mezzode for an undisclosed House -- or that I'm escaping a House." Her shoulders roll in a shrug. "I've decided I may try to tip the balance in favor of ending Clientage and that the Seeders are a potential ally. Theres a second Expedition in the works, but we could ire out to them to do some scouting before hand. For money, for the usual reasons. We also need to consider where we're going."
"First priority is getting that hypership for Abaddon," Gabriel notes. "Mainly because it's something we do know we need to do. That little package Vasterlion gave has the specifications and presumably some sort of payment. No idea what it is, really. I've got the crystal with the navigation information on it. I saw Liza looking over clothing options on her pad, but I haven't seen Lightfoot at all. I figured he was with you."
"I asked to part with them after our trip to the Communion Bar," Tasha admits, leaving the reasons unsaid and letting people make their own guesses. "I instructed him to return to the ship, but he wasn't obligated to do so. He must have left again." She then clicks her taloned fingers togetherm thinking a long moment before adding, "His plan was decent, but we have difficulties with the details and I'm not sure I want to or need to go back to relying on him like I used to. He might be feeling down about that. I don't know. But I needed some time alone to find what I was looking for." Though she hadn't known what that was at the time. "I'm sure he's fine and we'll see him soon. If he's not back within a few hours, we can trace his datapad." She then glances across those assembled. "Was there anything else?"
"We need more money if Katherine is going to go shopping," Gabriel claims. "Miss Necessity has been talking her out of it so far - she claims they can pick up the raw materials and she can fashion outfits from those. No way to talk her out of the toys she wants though. Can you do it without.. uh.. buying them yourself?"
"I think so," Tasha says, wincing. Denying Katherine anything is going to be a painful experience. "At least I don't feel like I wnat anything right now. I thought I did, but my head's too full of plans and politics right now and I want to focus on that. I have a lot to think about if I'm ever going to accomplish the political and hunting goals I've chosen."
Tasha does at least sit up, looking to be prepared to deal with the situation immediately at least. "I do think we need a few things but if we don't start getting money coming in soon we'll be looking at the Titanian way of getting things and I'd really prefer to avoid that."
"We need to talk to our Phins then," Gabriel says. "Yue hasn't come back yet, but we've got Dr. Knight. He, Kaa and Moka have been earning money through smuggling."
"Working with the Seeders may provide jobs, but I'm not sure hwo much they can pay considering how the organization runs. We could try approaching the other powers, too, or even the lesser criminal organizations if we must. There must be some meeting place for these jobs, like the bar Bumper took me to." Tasha pushes up out of her chair and looks around. "Do you want to talk to the Phins while I handle Katie?" It strikes her as odd to say she's 'handling' someone older than herself in hindsight, yet ever since she left the Hall of Souls she's felt somwehere beyond her age. Old and young, simultaneously.
"You should have built up more immunity to her by now," Gabriel says and winks. "I'll go see what nefarious deeds your crew has been up to without Eli around to look embarrassed by any of it." He gives Tasha a kiss on the cheek, then gets up and leaves for the bridge.
Tasha makes a show off wagging her tail when kissed, then gives Gabriel's tail a little tug as she too heads on out. Time to find Katherine and hope her 'immunity' is strong enough!
By now the upper deck area is still off-limits while things are reconfigured. But Katie has taken over part of the galley in the meantime. When Tasha approaches, she looks up and smiles. "Do you know what a roboid is, Tasha?" she asks, and holds out her data pad to show a very elaborate looking Titan. It then goes into a series of poses that might be related to some sort of robot martial art, before launching a bunch of flashy holographic weapon attacks (that also each require a special pose or series of poses). "They come in all sorts of colors and designs and you can play fight them against eachother!"
Tasha blinks at this. It does look fun, and flashy, but then she's experienced actual Titan combat which happens to be neither of those things to the pilot. In her experience Titan combat -- real Titan combat -- is a mix of adrenaline, fear, terror, and when she's going all out the emotionless by-the-numbers robot-like mental state of Full Depth. To say her opinions are mixed on the idea of doing it for fun would be an understatement. "Uh, well, Katie, it does look fun but ... " She glances at the screen, bites her lip, then offers as gently as she can, " ... we really need to focus on buying things we need."
"It claims there are fighting leagues were you can earn prize money," the celebrity notes, but with less enthusiasm. "What do we need, besides funds?"
"Clothes, food, weapons, medical supplies, I'd like some ranged firepower for Mel because trying to stab something in space is as difficult as it sounds, we need enough shekels for emergency funds and long term provisioning, we need them for bribes, for all the things we don't expect, there's also shuttle maintenance and parts, and then all the mission specific items like buying fake IDs," Tasha explains, counting off on her fingers several times over. She looks up when finished, head tilting. "I tried to warn you we're out here for a reason, that'd it'd be dangerous. The better prepared and the more money we have the better off we'll be in civilized space, even beyond."
"So, we just have to make money without dealing with people who could exploit us," Katherine says. "Like.. information couriers."
Tasha inclines her head. "Like that. I've mainly left that details to the others who have more training and practive with ship based missions and focused on making contacts, getting deals, and more than anything with the overall plan. But I pay attention." Usually. "So far we've been smuggling, but transfering information would be smuggling with less cargo space taken up. Which is good, because we don't exactly have a dreadnaught here." Her grin is wry. "I'd like to avoid taking on passengers, but we can do it if we have to. I'm also not against piracy against certain elements, especially slavers and others of the worst sorts. But that's risky."
"Except your ship isn't armed," Katherine points out. "Fighting anyone will make enemies, however, and I don't think that's your goal. So, I would suggest avoiding missions that make enemies, and looking for ones that give you more allies.. especially ones that can hook you up with more allies. There's a reason they're called spy 'networks' after all." She then grins again, and says, "But.. we could spare some funds for lingerie, can't we? You wouldn't believe the stuff they have here!"
"Uhhhhh-" Goes Tasha, who by the time she recovers herself realizes she must have sounded like a machine intelligence suffering an error. She licks her lips and looking somewhere decidedly not Katherine-ward. "Welllll, probably?" She risks. A chew of the lip, then, "I really have to think about the crew and the ship." Nevermind she's quite certain what most of the crew would say about the two of them and lingerie. "We do need clothes, even, um, lounge clothing. R-recreation."
What was she talking about again?
Oh. Not spending things.
"Ummm, it might be okay," she conceeds, rubbing the back of her head. "If we don't go overboard." There was something else. More to it. What was it. "Oh. Missions. We're not armed but we can just put people on any ship and ignore all their weapons if they don't notice we're there. Having a, uh, Titan show up on your bridge would probably lead to a quick surrender. Or a bomb next to your antimatter. We can be creative." Bad choice of words -- she tries to think of something else. "But yes um, probably we should not make enemies unless they'd already be our enemies or we hate them anyway and don't mind if they explode."
"That sounds like actual piracy though," Katherine says, "Or we could show up wearing this one!" She shows Tasha something that has to be a holographic projection, since it's just a naked Karnor woman with some sort of light field that preserves modesty. "It says this one doesn't work that well in sunlight, but I've been asking around and since the indoors environments in lots of places are so controlled, clothing isn't even needed at all! Can you imagine? The Terran tavern here also has an 'open mike night', which I think means anyone can sign up to perform something."
Tasha has done a great many things she's not proud of, and more than a few included immodestry. There was a time when she might not have though twice about wearing so little infront of so many -- and drunk as she could be not remebered it if she had thought about it -- but she realizes that time may well be behind her. Much to her own surprise and amazement she feels a sense of mortification at the thought.
It only applies to herself though.
"I ... I think that'd be, um, okay. For you but ... " How does she explain she can't do it without feeling a bit or a lot ashamed bust doesn't mind if Katherine does it? She knows it's Katie's job to lure people by pure sexual appeal and not her's, but it still feels hypocritical and self serving. So, lacking a good internal arguement, she just decides to say it flat out. "I'm, um, I'm really not comfortable with doing that. Uh, anymore. I've guess I've changed but ... It's not for me but ... If you want to I don't mind and I don't think badly about it." Hypocritial, self-serving and badly put, the hybrid winces at herself.
"You don't feel inadequate around me, do you Tasha?" Katie asks with a concerned tone. "I wouldn't want you to feel embarrassed or anything."
Tasha winces, though they're not the words she had feared they do hurt in another way. "Um, it's not that. Okay it is that a little, but everyone I know feels inadequate around you and everyone I know more or less acknowledges it. Besides, I mean, I'm scarred and I was already pretty strange looking to begin with. But, uh ... " More lip chewing. "No, it's not really that. See, um, well ... I used to be different, right? A lot different. I know it surprised you when you found out I know a lot about, uh, you know, like I'd had a lot of practice and I had had a lot of practice, but I don't think I ever told you about how or why. And it's the why and how that bothers me. I don't like doing it anymore, because all I can think of is back then and I just feel dirty."
"Well.. our past selves are always idiots doing stupid things to embarrass us now," Katie says, and smiles. "I used to get into fistfights all the time when I was a teenager."
"Me, too," Tasha admits, giving a little shrug and a lopsided grin as if to say, "I know, big surprise." She then spreads her hands and adds, "But I also used to desperate and poor and all I thought I had was sex to get anyone to pay attention to me and to like me. I was mean, I was rude, and I was desperate and lonely. Besides," here her hands fall and her shoulders sink as she shifts her gaze towards the ceiling, " ... the woman I used to do most of that for is dead. I just don't think I can do it anymore."
"Wow, I didn't think your life had been that.. dangerous," Katie admits. "It must feel a long way away now."
"Not as much as you'd think," Tasha admits, head lowering to turn and meet Katherine's gaze. "In a lot of ways it's more dangerous than it ever has been. Old Blackwings was a cruel and dangerous person, but she would have only gutted me if I disrespected her. And she could have. Had. I'd heard enough stories -- I saw them in the end." Her head shakes. "But I was safe enough on The Rake. It's these days I end up close to dying, but unlike back then I do it because I want to and I'm proud of it. Because it needs to be done, and better me than someone else."
Just then, Tasha's data pad beeps - an incoming call.
Again Tasha's brought to blink, not having expected to be interupted during her heartfelt life story. Then again, she hadn't expected to share it either. She steps aside and puts her back to the wall so only her face and the wall are visible and answers the call.
There's no picture, but a whispery voice asks, "Is that you Tasha? I can't see you."
"Yue?" Tasha leans in, uncertain why she can't be seen between the lighting and the wall. "Is something wrong?" Flat voice, she reminds herself. She shifts aside to make herself more visible.
"Me? No.. Aaron," the whisper replies. "I'm with a dozen naked Silent-Ones in some sort of big bath, and I need you to bring ten-dozen donuts to their ship. The big one with the sword."
"Oh, and coffee. I.. don't know how much a liter is. They want 10 liters of coffee too," the Lapi adds.
"I'll get right on it," Tasha replies, nonplused. She glances at Katherine with a, "Did you hear that?" expression, then returns her attention to her datapad. "We were worried about you. I'll, um, I'll dispatch ... " Who to send? She isn't sure who the best choice would be; she doubts it's her given her stated Khattan association and how Silent-Ones feel about creative genetics. She's been called an abomination once, and once was enough. "The Karnors maybe? Katie, do you want to deliver donust to a bunch of naked Silent-Ones, to one of their ships?"
"Do I get to wear a uniform and a little cap?" Katie asks.
"They haven't actually asked what I am, so I don't know what assumptions they've made," Aaron whispers. "Also, so you know, Savanites are faster than Abaddonian Silent-Ones in obstacle-rich environments. These guys aren't quite as fast as Abaddonians, but a little better with obstacles. They're slightly taller though."
"Maybe?" Cost numbers filter through Tasha's mind and she wonders if she's turning in to her mother. "I'll see what we can do." Lookinga back she tells Aaron, "I'll get Katie and a few others to do it. No, wait, you've got my disguise. I can't do it unless I act like it's awkward." The hybrid woman scratches her head. "Sorry I'm kind of off at the moment. I'll leave it to you: Do you wnat me to do the delivery or the Katie?"
"I have no idea how to get here," Aaron notes. "Which one of you can fly a.. shuttle? Or.. hold on." There's silence (or Silence) for a minute. "Oh, they can send a Titan to pick it up. They've already seen you though, at the donut shop. They're all pilots. Do not offer to arm-wrestle any of them though. Did you need to talk to them about anything?"
"Just ask them if they mind me delivering them since I'm armed and armored, even if just to impress people with how historically accurate I am." Tasha glances at Katherine again and shrugs. "I guess I'm off," she admits apologetically, thinking about how Mel might handle being asked to deliver donuts. "Tell them I don't usually handle deliveries and ask where I'm supposed to meet them."
"Alright, let me.. hold on.. I think I'm missing what.." There's silence again, but very faintly the monotone of a translator glove can be heard. "Alright.. uh, I got this mixed up. The donuts and coffee are the prize. You present it to the winning team. Titan team. They've got some sort of match set up with the Vartans. Hold on." Another pause. "Oh.. that was judge? Yeah, they want judges. The losing team pays for the.. right. They'll pay the judges too. Does any of that make sense?"
"Nooo, but you get used to that feeling after a while." Often it happens Tasha will hear something new: A new saying, a local custom, some historical fact everyone seems to know and quote, a new way of dressing or a particular way to act. And, just as often, she goes along with them with nary a question -- but not because she understands. Partly, or at all. No, she goes along because to question every new thing would take her forever and she's become used to going with the flow of being a weird outsider. "I'll just get the donuts and stare at anyone who doesn't pay me for them. I'll inform the others annnd ... I'll be there soon."