It didn't take long for Tasha to get here thanks to the interior tram system. It also doesn't take long before her motion-sensitive eyes pick out the predatory-looking Silent-Ones shuttle as it approaches, supposedly with Aaron aboard.
Uncertain of what to bring and, in fact, uncertain of what she's supposed to do about Aaron's situation in the first place Tasha hovers near the cordon line having brought nothing but her usual self. On Outpost Caltrop, her usual self being her ancient Vartan armor, sword, a the persona of one Aldara, expensive custom person. A 'mezzode'; a kind of personal, sentient pet that isn't really a pet. She leans against a nearby wall, arms folded, frowning over the uncertainty of it all. Frowning over the looks she gets. Frowning, additionally, over other things as well.
The shuttle is not dissuaded by the frown, and lands silently. The airlock opens, steps fold out, and a tall (they're all tall) Silent-One with a golden uniform and cap steps out. The Galactic Silent-Ones 'fashion' is for fairly open masks, more like ornate wire sculptures. The name symbols compensate by.. not really glowing but always being visible somehow. The Silent-One is thusly identified as Stone-Cleaver. A familiar Lapi follows behind, hopping past the steps altogether.
The young woman pushes off and approaches. In keeping with her disguise, she affects the usual air of expectant and unaware superiority by approaching directly and doing her best to look neither concerned nor especially cognizant of the military forces that surround her. She heads directly for the shuttle, still frowning.
"Well, I'm here." Vartan-blunt. She can be Vartan-blunt, she is still a Vartan after all, it's even part of her disguise.
The Silent-One officer reaches into his tunic and withdraws a crystal tablet, which he offers to Tasha.
The tabelet is accepted and like everything else gets frowned at. It's then lowered as Tasha looks it over, expecting to find some explaination in sign.
Instead there is a picture displayed. It's the cover of 'Winged-Gift vs. Lightning-Dragon' in fact. "How accurate is this account of battle?" the man's glove speaks - even after thousands of years, the Silent-Ones still make the things speak in a generic monotone.
It takes a great deal of effort for Tasha not to react in surprise, a great deal. She ends up twitching a little, her frown vanishing in to a very neutral expression. "For truth, seek the Star's light," she replies, an uncommon saying amongst Abaddonian's Silent-Ones. Roughly translated it means, "who knows," or more accurately, "who can say, but god?" She then looks up; it's nearly as great an effort not to slip in to one of Nora's cocky grins.
"I assumed you could elaborate," the officer's glove replies. "Your friend would not confirm or deny anything. But he is not a 'mezzode'. Our detection systems would have told us. We are quite vigilant about such things now. I would like Winged-Gift to judge the upcoming Titan combat exercise."
"Winged-Gift appears to be a sort of fiction," Tasha remarks of the tablet, wobbiling it at the man as she speaks. "An angel, bringing light and hope and limited clothing." She then peers at the man's face cocking her head to the side. "Is that what you're looking for?"
"I am looking for the Honorary Titan Warrior," Stone-Cleaver's glove replies. "From Hell." Well, 'Hell' is another translation of Abbadon anyway.
Tasha snorts a laugh, not quite able to keep it in any longer. She looks around a moment, not quite frowning, not quite pensive, muzzle working as she thinks a moment and then she nods. "Well you found her." She thumbs back towards the shuttle. "And she's not doing anything. Lets go, we can go over things once we're not standing in the open."
The tablet is put away, and the cheetah stands aside and makes a 'ladies first' gesture towards the gangway of the shuttle.
Tasha bods her head in respectful acknowledgement as she passes, only to toss her arm around Aaron's neck when she nears him and drag him along as she heads for a seat in the shuttle. "I remember you being more competent," she remarks, head shaking in exagerated disappointment. "You're ruining my memories of my kind and intelligent mentor figure."
"I just wanted a good run, and figured I'd take the measure of these Silent-Ones," the Lapi claims. "They still didn't catch me! I just don't have as full a grasp of Formal Sign as I do Common Sign.."
The shuttle is empty, save for two rows of padded seats that face each other across the midsection. There aren't any flight restraints, probably as a testament to the Silent-Ones own control of inertia.
"Frown a lot and try to sound as superior as possible," Tasha advises before dropping in to a seat and taking Aaron down along with her. She uses him as a headrest, pulling her arm back and folding it together with the other one. "You really do need to study the limits of technology in regards to detection. There is a lot to cover and you can't just dismiss it as 'magic', you know!"
"They tricked me with alcohol and pats on the back," Aaron claims. The airlock closes, and Stone-Cleaver sits across from Tasha.
"We will not be overheard now," the man signs as his glove translates. "The existence of the Hell and Paradise colonies is still a state secret, but I was told to watch for your arrival."
"We expected you might be watching," Tasha notes, turning her attentionto the feline in the golden uniform. "In fact we'd been considering making contact, but it seems my bunny friend decided to expidite that." She unfolds her hands just long enough to tug one of Aarons' ears. "Annnyway, I'm surprised to see that comic is out here! It hasn't circulated across the Galactic, has it? Do you know how hard it is for me to find a good disguise?" She pauses, head tilting as she remembers the earlier question. "Oh, and it's mostly true. I did help fight the ... 'Lightning Dragon'. I am an Honorary Titan Pilot."
"It was part of the intelligence package sent from Star City," the officer explains, while Aaron squirms. "You are here to procure a hyperdrive ship for Hell's planetary defense group. The Silent-Ones cannot officially aid you in this."
"We appreciate that you considered it officially," Tasha offers diplomatically, inclining her head again, "And since we don't exist as an official entity out her I can't officially thank you. Now that being official is out of the way, if you can help we'd appreciate it, but it's not necesary. I've already made a contact among the Wyvern-ship's crew and she'll put me in contact with someone higher up. We'll get it, one way or another."
"That is best. We do not officially possess ships with the necessary specifications," Stone-Cleaver notes - despite Tasha knowing that they did send a ship to the Primus system to take control of the hyperspace relay over the City of Hands back from the Khattans. "At the moment, I am hoping you would be willing to help us. Your Titan has an advanced artificial mind, does it not? One that could keep track of everything happening during a wide-ranging battle?"
"Conceivably." Aaron is saved from his fate of being a cushion as Tasha sits up, she even unfolds her arms and reaches over to absently try and straighten out his clothing. Since she's not actually looking it all ends up being rather haphazard. "We haven't engaged in large scale batters where monitoring the situation was our role as we've mainly performed strikes, interdiction, scouting and exploration roles, the former two in combat of course. We've participated in a large scale operation. Hrrm." Her nose wrinkles and her muzzle with it, then she nodsa a little. "It should be possible."
Aaron doesn't complain - after all, he once used Tasha as a backrest in Abu-Dhabi.
"Then you would be an excellent choice for judge," Stone-Cleaver claims. "You are an unaligned third party. And while we and the Vartans can keep track of things, we cannot award style points."
"I'm not sure Mel understands style, but I do. Katie certainly does." The young woman perks her ears. "In fact Katie understands style way more than I do. I should bring her. I--" She pauses then, mouth closing as she leand forward and squints a bit. "Wait. You want me to risk my cover, bring out my Titan and be seen associating with both sides all to judge a contest? Not fight a battle, or save planet, not a giant monster or for my knowledge, but a ... contest."
The young woman leans closer, eyes become squintier. "This sounds very much like a flimsy excuse to meet me, but you couldn't think up anything official. Maybe meet Katie, too, and the rest of the 'people from Hell'. Do your officers know about this? Do the Vartans?"
"I assume the Vartans are also trying to recruit a judge," the officer notes. "Without a third party, we would have to engage in one-on-one contests only, and neither of our Titan classes are rated for duels. A full-scale mock battle is something both sides would like to try. I am sure you can understand how crazy pilots can be. Is there a problem with exposing your Titan? From the booklet, it is Vartan styled, so the Vartans would not object to it."
"Ask him what happens after the judging," Aaron whispers to Tasha.
"It all seems very ... flimsy," Tasha notes with uncertainty, her ears waggling in an attempt to turn the Silent-One laugh in to a gesture of confusion. After listening to Aaron she nods, asking, "What does happen after the judging?"
"The winning team hosts a party for the opposing team," Stone-Cleaver relates. His expression is as monotone as his translator. "In either case there is likely to be a lot of drinking and games."
"Alright." And so Tasha leans back. "Well, some good will won't hurt us at all and we need all the friends we can get. I'll chalk this up to politics and public relations work. My Titan is on board the John Carter. I'll have to think about how to get it in place without attracting too much attention to the Belter ship. Where should I meet you?"
"This platform has a commanding view of the battle space," Stone-Cleaver claims. "If you need assistance in transporting your Titan, one Titan from each side can be used as escort." He takes out the crystalline Silent-Ones tablet again. "We can contact you through this with scheduling or other details, once we have liaised with the Vartans and worked out the teams and loadouts."
Tasha reaches over and accepts the tablet, tucking it away. "Then I'd better drag my bunny home and get ready. I have some other things to do before we start and I'd like to talk it over with Katherine, see if we can come up with a way to have her look at style." She then begins to rise, reaching over and pulling Aaron up by the back of his coat as she does. "Maybe I can transmit the data to her and she and the others can watch? That'd work."
"By style I refer to flare and skill in combat," Stone-Cleaver remarks. "We do not adorn the Titans in clothing."
"Oh." Tasha cocks her head to tthe side again. "Well. I can do that." She doesn't mention her combat experience is limited, but if they had wanted a grizzled veteran rather than a flashy and bigger-than-life person such as herself, they'd would have had a lot of people to chose from. She reasons they wanted her and her Titan and she still isn't totally convinced it's all not just a pretense. "I'll see you then, I guess."
For whatever reason, Tasha and Katherine each have their own chaperone for a 'simple' shopping trip. Katie has Miss Necessity, and Tasha has Liza. It seems unlikely at first glance that the two personal assistants could hold any sway over their charges, however. They do dress quite a bit alike though.
"They're going to make us get practical stuff," Katie laments to Tasha.
"I told them we'd be fine!" Tasha insists in a bit higher tone of voice than she might have liked. She doesn't add that she assured Gabriel she could handle it, knowing from some experience with politics what an unholy disaster that would be. "Fine!"
Experience navigating the Rephidim Bazaar helps, since nothing is in any sort of logical order. There's not Clothing District in Caltrop. But Miss Necessity has a guide book, with reviews. "There should be a uniform supply boutique just past this.. beauty salon coming up on the left," the woman notes, a bit of dread creeping into her voice at the mention of 'beauty salon'. The term does make Katie's ears and tail perk a bit.
Tasha doesn't perk up, she's learned from hard experience that whenever she steps in to a place dedicated to high fashion or art she's generally going to be met with disapproving frowns. She isn't quite sure what the percentage chance is, were she to bet on it, bt she's positive it's well above a fifty percent posibility. On the other hand, she has been learning quite a bit about not looking like the poor and unsophisticated woman she once was, so she mollifies herself internally by noting how much she's improved her looks.
Though with her injury, the improvements have mainly been in other areas than body asthetics.
"I hope I can convince people I met you two on the concourse," she murmurs, saving her internal dialogue for the internal.
"You have Liza to deal with anyone you don't have to deal with," Katie points out. As predicted, she pauses at the salon to look at the video display. It shows people being 'transformed' - blemishes and scars removed, being made to look younger (quite a feat for species with furred faces) and other 'basic' things like changing eye colors, special dermal effects that include actual displays and computers tattooed onto bare skin, and more artistic things, such as a human woman with feathers for hair.
At first Tasha merely scans the displays, still too caught up in other worries to pay much attention as well as wondering why she needs a chaperone. Yet as the images flicker, as she sweeps her gaze across increasingly more exotic and (to someone from a 'backwater' world) impossible changes she finds herself increasingly caught up in them. "You know I could use dermal display. I bet it'd work really well with my neural wires. And maybe I should get a fur dye pattern?" A pause while she musters up the effort to admit her insecurity before she adds, " ... and I have thought about getting my hand and face healed."
"I thought they already were healed?" Katie asks, and looks instantly worried. "Are the grafts being rejected?" she asks with alarm.
"Welll, there was some concern about cancer but that's only a worry if I'm back, uh, home too long. So it's good I'm not, right?" Tasha reaches up, but resists the urge to scratch her head. "I was just thinking a look a little, just a little, a little ... uh, piecemeal. Hodge-podge? Cludgy?" Her nose wrinkles and she admits in a much more quiet tone, "I look like a Nohbahkim."
"What's a Nohbahkim?" Katie asks. "I'm sure making your orbitals match up can be a cosmetic fix.. according to the advertising here. If you want a 'dermal overlay' though you probably need the bare areas of your Vartan hand for them."
"Bonework would probably mean I couldn't use my hand for a while, too, I guess." Tasha shifts her hand and instead scratches her nose, even if it isn't itching. She needs something to expend the nervous energy on. "Maybe I could get custom talons, too? Oh, or have my whole hand have a screen! Or make part of it metallic. I'll just do my face like it used to be."
"Metal is usually toxic, isn't it?" Katie asks. After all, she comes from a world where metal and toxicity go hand in hand. "So back to just fur on your face?"
Tasha rolls her eyes. "I have wires in my brain, of course it's not all toxic. Haven't you ever heard of cybernetic augmentation? It was big pre-Expedition era, back on Terra before organic replacements and genefixing became common. Metal parts, metal limbs, metal-in-your-brain, metal everywhere." She then nods. "But, right, back to how it was. Everyone seemed to like it and I'm not sure I'm clever enough with asthetics to come up with something better. Besides, I need to maintain my disguises and not scare people."
"I keep forgetting about the disguise thing," Katie says, shaking her head. "I always think that's to hide your identity because you're known, not just recognizable. We should find out what's involved as far as time and money for this.." She then looks to the assistants.
Liza shrugs. "I can't recommend anything until you get a price quote," she says. "But even then, it wouldn't hurt to see what similar salons charge. We might be able to bring the price down."
"Well I'm known /and/ recognizable/.!" Tasha turns to regard Liza and Miss Necessity in turn, arms folded in a boss-like manner. "Well, I think what she's saying is that we should go inside and ask. And get more /ideas/."
"Try to not look desperate or wealthy," Liza advises. Then she holds the door open for Tasha. How retro!
"But I always look desperate! You've been part of my life, you should know this," Tasha insists as she begins to walk in. Then she stops and gestures Katherine and Miss Necessity to go first. "After you, poor Junior Civilization Members. I look like I'm made of money. Literally made of money."
"Or that you have valuable body parts," Miss Necessity offers with a quick smile, as she heads in after Katie. There is one other customer whose entire head is covered by some sort of cylindrical device, but is clearly Khattan. The person at the counter is also Khattan. "Welcome to Styles by Alheed! I am Zeffos, the owner. How may I make your life more fabulous?"
Tasha waits a good minute or so until the Khattas are focused on the two TerraGen apparents, then she waves Liza to open the door for her again before stepping on through. Once inside she steps aside to begin looking at the offerings displayed on the wall, switching to her affectation of self-important indifference. Robot-like.
This being a Khattan establishment.. there are no prices listed. Every procedure is unique to the customer! the display promises. Including the prices apparently.
"I was intrigued by the hair-into-feathers style on your display," Katie says, being charming. "But I was wondering how difficult it is to reverse?"
"Such implants are simple, lovely miss," the Khattan claims. "You could change your look every day! We have a wide selection of feather and fur choices. Fresh out of scales though," he adds with a wink.
Khattans ... laments Tasha, who despite her long time reservations about the species as a whole finds she's slowly warming up to them. She wonders, absently, if this is how the Khattan-Vartan relationship developed. First a general discomfort followed by charm and the promise of many exciting and shiny technologies, and she had to admit they are very shiny technologies.
I could have had scales. Scales. As Tasha continues to browse she can't help but consider herself with all the many colors and variations of creation, from scales to Eeee-style wings to horns and stranger things. She recalls that unfortunate painting of herself with the Zedra couple and all the liberties the painter took with her body style and snorts a laugh, though she highly doubts Gabriel would mind it. At all. It's then she gets an idea, remembering another selection of artwork she's featured in. One that seems to have escaped her home worlds.
"It is also a shame to restrict yourself to just one hair color," the stylist pitches. "And I don't just mean adding streaks or tips! Why, I mean changing colors with our new nano-lenticular hair treatment! Green-red gradients and blends, white-red, orange-yellow and even blue-gold!"
It all sounds like so much candy to Tasha, all delicious things she wants but are probably bad for her -- and her purse strings. Things that will cause Gabriel to lower his opinion of how adult she is, but they're so shiny. Good thing I have a plan. She even thinks it's a relatively good plan, one she can spin -- the word is spin -- to greater advantage in the future. She even has a cover story she just thought up!
Turning and stepping forward, she intones in her best and subtlest tone of condensation, "Personally I'm not sure of the quality. Here I am, not but several feet away, and not a single remark, approach, or even an offer of refreshments. You might want to reconsider, Terran."
"Ah, forgive me madame, but you are clearly a woman familiar with the use of exotic styling!" the feline says to Tasha. "I was merely trying to introduce this curious young lady to the options available!" He then produces, from beneath his counter, a try of tiny cups full of steaming brown liquid. "Finest Terran coffee, straight from Brazilia!"
Tasha inclines her head, deciding that being too heavy handed only seems to end up getting people angry. She's thought that maybe adding graciousness in to the mix will do better, as she's seen others do. "Thank you." After approaching the counter she accepts a cup, then asks Katherine in a conversational tone, "Is this your first time? I normally have my modifications planned out for me by my handlers, my House of course, so this is the first time I've visited a salon in person like this. And in the fringe, too! It's so novel!"
"I've been curious, and I'm sure my parents would disapprove," Katie says, and grins. "But this is my vacation. I like the asymmetric look you have going.. is that your House fashion?" She also picks up one of the small cups and has a sip, hiding her reaction to the stuff. Tasha can already tell from the thickness of liquid that it's probably closer to Mateh than coffee.
"I'm duelist, but I'm also a form of entertainer. I'm also on vacation -- I was injured during training proving my loyalty to my House -- and while they're pleased they needed some time to arrange things and thought I could use some 'real world' experience -- so here I am." Tasha gestures around her with her free hand as she sips, actually sips, her coffee. "And I've been given some leeway. They can always fix anything they don't like, they're very good of course, but I've been thinking maybe I should try my own hand at improving my look and working towards the goals they've set for me. Show I can domore than follow orders, but anticipate them!" She leans in. "They have this plan, you see, a kind of theme where I'm portrayed as a kind of media person. A fighter, in a Titan of course. My House is very cross with Khomen for their inept manuvering, and they though, well, the Silent-Ones like TerraGens rather well, so ... "
"So you are being groomed as a celebrity ambassador?" Katie asks. "Very bold. What are you thinking of having done here?"
"It's a secret, well, not a complete secret but they've been circulating trial materials and of course as you can see my asthetic theme is historical. Expedition-era genetics, very rare." The hybrid glances at the Khatatn behind the counter, conspiratorial-like, and then scoots a bit closer to him and Katherine. "I'm all original. My House supports a Terra Primest philosopy, so, they thought with the decline of relations due to Khomen's bumbling, well, they have me! Aside from embarassing other Houses and their duelists, I could capitalize on my looks and history to create a spirit of cooperation. We have this ... it's called a comic. An old, old Terran media. They thought it'd appeal to Terran nostalgia, but then they tried it with the Silent-Ones and you know some of them really like it? There's this whole story about me being from a far off world -- I'm not even sure it ever existed? -- but there it is. Anyway, some of the locals know about it and asked me to judge for them, a pu
blicity thing, and I'm thinking I could enhance the experience by trying to look more like the media."
"Ah.. and of course garnering good will for any future Vartan-Terragens alliance," Zeffos adds with a wink. "A wise House knows how to plan ahead."
"A wise House does," Tasha agrees, nodding enthusiastically to Zeffos. She then pauses, a frown forming. "You know, I don't think I've ever had to pay for anything myself before? Not something like this, I don't know if they'll approve exactly. I have these credit sticks, but I don't think they're enough?" She glances at Katherine with mock-confusion at it all. "Well, if it did work out, and if the proceeds are good, I'm sure this man could recoup some sort of costs and have me to highlight his work? Do you have any idea how expensive I am, and rare? My handlers might be very upset I allowed it to happen, but they can fix it -- they complain so much! -- but they can. And if it works, well, they'll have to agree I did well. That this establishment has done well."
Zeffos perks up. He isn't likely associated with a House - most if not all of the Khattan merchants on Caltrop would likely be independent. "Well.. what is it you were interested in having done, milady?" he purrs.
"Oh!" Tasha turns to Zeffos and blinks at him. "Of course, the work. You'll need to see it -- I forget you don't already know. Like I said, they do it." The young woman fishes out her equally ancient datapad, manipulates it, then shows him an image taken directly from one of the comics showing Winged-Gift in full. "Like this, but, well, more so. It wouldn't detract from what I am -- that would terrible of course -- but improve upon it. Maybe lights? This version of Winged-Gift -- the translation of my ancient name -- is described as an Angel of the Star. I'm not sure about that, but it's not my place to complain. Sooo ... more angelic. But not too much. You know what I mean. Lights, perhaps. Silent-Ones really like their visual effects. Their lights. And Vartans, of course I'll have to be shiny. Lights work well there too. Maybe you have ideas?" her ears perk forward.
The feline looks from the drawing to Tasha and back again. "Well, I would replace the feathers with your fur, of course," Zeffos says. "Your hair.. something subtle, perhaps. Not glaring, not immediately noticeable except subconsciously. Perhaps some latent-light fiber weave. Or we could cut it longer... if you don't need to wear a helmet."
The other three women simultaneously blink at the 'cut it longer' remark.
"Couldn't I just ball it up? Or is it much longer?" Tasha leans in as she inquires, pushing herself to not notice the reactions and stick to her persona. If she succeeds heer she'll have managed a small coup that could lead to larger ones. "But I am on board so far."
"Just a moment," Zeffos says, as he produces a clear rectangular frame a few inches across. He holds it up between himself and Tasha and pushes a stud on the frame. "Matching colors," he notes after tapping a few spots on his side of the rectangle. "I can have the fur grafts ready in an hour. The optic particles for your hair will need a little longer to color match and program. Say, two hours from now, and I can have you done after another hour. I.. have to charge for materials, of course.. but that is a paltry 100 Shekels, or 110 Credits at the current exchange. Hardly more than a decent lunch!"
"Oh, of course. Don't even think on it." Tasha makes a dismissive wave of her hand, as if the matter were beneath consideration. "I will busy myself until then and return. The timing is excellent. My appearance won't be for a few hours. If you life or feel you need to make alterations during, I can see about having you attend me. It should get you exposure, I think that's the word? Exposure." She then steps aside. "Now I will step aside so this lovely TerraGens woman can enjoy her first time."
Katie nods politely to Tasha, and then asks Zeffos, "Is the dichromic iris procedure painful?"
Tasha steps aside to where Liza is, gesturing Liza to walk with her as they make a show of examining the other work. This gives katherine time to shop without interference from her and lest the hybrid listen in on how procedures work. All in all it went better than she expected, even if she feels like a huge liar and will undoubtedly feel dirty about it later. Dirty, and a little confused, as the desire to be open conflicts with the part of her that wants to be cunning and sly. She wonders if the two sides will ever agree, but at least today they managed to get along well enough to see her plans once again set in to motion.
If all goes well she'll not only have covered her origins, appearance and backstory behind a the guise of extraordinary fiction, but naybe even manage to spread that fiction beyond the system. The agent of a mysterious and quiet House, opposed to Khomen, pro-Terragens and pro-unity. Against Clientage, yet too secretive to act openly. If she can keep it up her reality will become part of the fiction, making even real facts about her easily dismissed as tale and artifice -- and should she ever have to come out in the open having that fiction become reality ought to grab everyone's attention. If she hadn't known Katherine, hadn't been exposed to the rich and poor, politics and subterfuge she doubts she'd have ever thought of it. But she did, and it will become one element of her overall plan -- even her ship. Maybe even the others. If it works.
Logfile from Amelia. (OOC) Log start: d:\logs\fenris\2016-12-01_thejudge.htmlIt didn't take long for Tasha to get here thanks to the interior tram system. It also doesn't take long before her motion-sensitive eyes pick out the predatory-looking Silent-Ones shuttle as it approaches, supposedly with Aaron aboard.
Uncertain of what to bring and, in fact, uncertain of what she's supposed to do about Aaron's situation in the first place Tasha hovers near the cordon line having brought nothing but her usual self. On Outpost Caltrop, her usual self being her ancient Vartan armor, sword, a the persona of one Aldara, expensive custom person. A 'mezzode'; a kind of personal, sentient pet that isn't really a pet. She leans against a nearby wall, arms folded, frowning over the uncertainty of it all. Frowning over the looks she gets. Frowning, additionally, over other things as well.
The shuttle is not dissuaded by the frown, and lands silently. The airlock opens, steps fold out, and a tall (they're all tall) Silent-One with a golden uniform and cap steps out. The Galactic Silent-Ones 'fashion' is for fairly open masks, more like ornate wire sculptures. The name symbols compensate by.. not really glowing but always being visible somehow. The Silent-One is thusly identified as Stone-Cleaver. A familiar Lapi follows behind, hopping past the steps altogether.
The young woman pushes off and approaches. In keeping with her disguise, she affects the usual air of expectant and unaware superiority by approaching directly and doing her best to look neither concerned nor especially cognizant of the military forces that surround her. She heads directly for the shuttle, still frowning.
"Well, I'm here." Vartan-blunt. She can be Vartan-blunt, she is still a Vartan after all, it's even part of her disguise.
The Silent-One officer reaches into his tunic and withdraws a crystal tablet, which he offers to Tasha.
The tabelet is accepted and like everything else gets frowned at. It's then lowered as Tasha looks it over, expecting to find some explaination in sign.
Instead there is a picture displayed. It's the cover of 'Winged-Gift vs. Lightning-Dragon' in fact. "How accurate is this account of battle?" the man's glove speaks - even after thousands of years, the Silent-Ones still make the things speak in a generic monotone.
It takes a great deal of effort for Tasha not to react in surprise, a great deal. She ends up twitching a little, her frown vanishing in to a very neutral expression. "For truth, seek the Star's light," she replies, an uncommon saying amongst Abaddonian's Silent-Ones. Roughly translated it means, "who knows," or more accurately, "who can say, but god?" She then looks up; it's nearly as great an effort not to slip in to one of Nora's cocky grins.
"I assumed you could elaborate," the officer's glove replies. "Your friend would not confirm or deny anything. But he is not a 'mezzode'. Our detection systems would have told us. We are quite vigilant about such things now. I would like Winged-Gift to judge the upcoming Titan combat exercise."
"Winged-Gift appears to be a sort of fiction," Tasha remarks of the tablet, wobbiling it at the man as she speaks. "An angel, bringing light and hope and limited clothing." She then peers at the man's face cocking her head to the side. "Is that what you're looking for?"
"I am looking for the Honorary Titan Warrior," Stone-Cleaver's glove replies. "From Hell." Well, 'Hell' is another translation of Abbadon anyway.
Tasha snorts a laugh, not quite able to keep it in any longer. She looks around a moment, not quite frowning, not quite pensive, muzzle working as she thinks a moment and then she nods. "Well you found her." She thumbs back towards the shuttle. "And she's not doing anything. Lets go, we can go over things once we're not standing in the open."
The tablet is put away, and the cheetah stands aside and makes a 'ladies first' gesture towards the gangway of the shuttle.
Tasha bods her head in respectful acknowledgement as she passes, only to toss her arm around Aaron's neck when she nears him and drag him along as she heads for a seat in the shuttle. "I remember you being more competent," she remarks, head shaking in exagerated disappointment. "You're ruining my memories of my kind and intelligent mentor figure."
"I just wanted a good run, and figured I'd take the measure of these Silent-Ones," the Lapi claims. "They still didn't catch me! I just don't have as full a grasp of Formal Sign as I do Common Sign.."
The shuttle is empty, save for two rows of padded seats that face each other across the midsection. There aren't any flight restraints, probably as a testament to the Silent-Ones own control of inertia.
"Frown a lot and try to sound as superior as possible," Tasha advises before dropping in to a seat and taking Aaron down along with her. She uses him as a headrest, pulling her arm back and folding it together with the other one. "You really do need to study the limits of technology in regards to detection. There is a lot to cover and you can't just dismiss it as 'magic', you know!"
"They tricked me with alcohol and pats on the back," Aaron claims. The airlock closes, and Stone-Cleaver sits across from Tasha.
"We will not be overheard now," the man signs as his glove translates. "The existence of the Hell and Paradise colonies is still a state secret, but I was told to watch for your arrival."
"We expected you might be watching," Tasha notes, turning her attentionto the feline in the golden uniform. "In fact we'd been considering making contact, but it seems my bunny friend decided to expidite that." She unfolds her hands just long enough to tug one of Aarons' ears. "Annnyway, I'm surprised to see that comic is out here! It hasn't circulated across the Galactic, has it? Do you know how hard it is for me to find a good disguise?" She pauses, head tilting as she remembers the earlier question. "Oh, and it's mostly true. I did help fight the ... 'Lightning Dragon'. I am an Honorary Titan Pilot."
"It was part of the intelligence package sent from Star City," the officer explains, while Aaron squirms. "You are here to procure a hyperdrive ship for Hell's planetary defense group. The Silent-Ones cannot officially aid you in this."
"We appreciate that you considered it officially," Tasha offers diplomatically, inclining her head again, "And since we don't exist as an official entity out her I can't officially thank you. Now that being official is out of the way, if you can help we'd appreciate it, but it's not necesary. I've already made a contact among the Wyvern-ship's crew and she'll put me in contact with someone higher up. We'll get it, one way or another."
"That is best. We do not officially possess ships with the necessary specifications," Stone-Cleaver notes - despite Tasha knowing that they did send a ship to the Primus system to take control of the hyperspace relay over the City of Hands back from the Khattans. "At the moment, I am hoping you would be willing to help us. Your Titan has an advanced artificial mind, does it not? One that could keep track of everything happening during a wide-ranging battle?"
"Conceivably." Aaron is saved from his fate of being a cushion as Tasha sits up, she even unfolds her arms and reaches over to absently try and straighten out his clothing. Since she's not actually looking it all ends up being rather haphazard. "We haven't engaged in large scale batters where monitoring the situation was our role as we've mainly performed strikes, interdiction, scouting and exploration roles, the former two in combat of course. We've participated in a large scale operation. Hrrm." Her nose wrinkles and her muzzle with it, then she nodsa a little. "It should be possible."
Aaron doesn't complain - after all, he once used Tasha as a backrest in Abu-Dhabi.
"Then you would be an excellent choice for judge," Stone-Cleaver claims. "You are an unaligned third party. And while we and the Vartans can keep track of things, we cannot award style points."
"I'm not sure Mel understands style, but I do. Katie certainly does." The young woman perks her ears. "In fact Katie understands style way more than I do. I should bring her. I--" She pauses then, mouth closing as she leand forward and squints a bit. "Wait. You want me to risk my cover, bring out my Titan and be seen associating with both sides all to judge a contest? Not fight a battle, or save planet, not a giant monster or for my knowledge, but a ... contest."
The young woman leans closer, eyes become squintier. "This sounds very much like a flimsy excuse to meet me, but you couldn't think up anything official. Maybe meet Katie, too, and the rest of the 'people from Hell'. Do your officers know about this? Do the Vartans?"
"I assume the Vartans are also trying to recruit a judge," the officer notes. "Without a third party, we would have to engage in one-on-one contests only, and neither of our Titan classes are rated for duels. A full-scale mock battle is something both sides would like to try. I am sure you can understand how crazy pilots can be. Is there a problem with exposing your Titan? From the booklet, it is Vartan styled, so the Vartans would not object to it."
"Ask him what happens after the judging," Aaron whispers to Tasha.
"It all seems very ... flimsy," Tasha notes with uncertainty, her ears waggling in an attempt to turn the Silent-One laugh in to a gesture of confusion. After listening to Aaron she nods, asking, "What does happen after the judging?"
"The winning team hosts a party for the opposing team," Stone-Cleaver relates. His expression is as monotone as his translator. "In either case there is likely to be a lot of drinking and games."
"Alright." And so Tasha leans back. "Well, some good will won't hurt us at all and we need all the friends we can get. I'll chalk this up to politics and public relations work. My Titan is on board the John Carter. I'll have to think about how to get it in place without attracting too much attention to the Belter ship. Where should I meet you?"
"This platform has a commanding view of the battle space," Stone-Cleaver claims. "If you need assistance in transporting your Titan, one Titan from each side can be used as escort." He takes out the crystalline Silent-Ones tablet again. "We can contact you through this with scheduling or other details, once we have liaised with the Vartans and worked out the teams and loadouts."
Tasha reaches over and accepts the tablet, tucking it away. "Then I'd better drag my bunny home and get ready. I have some other things to do before we start and I'd like to talk it over with Katherine, see if we can come up with a way to have her look at style." She then begins to rise, reaching over and pulling Aaron up by the back of his coat as she does. "Maybe I can transmit the data to her and she and the others can watch? That'd work."
"By style I refer to flare and skill in combat," Stone-Cleaver remarks. "We do not adorn the Titans in clothing."
"Oh." Tasha cocks her head to tthe side again. "Well. I can do that." She doesn't mention her combat experience is limited, but if they had wanted a grizzled veteran rather than a flashy and bigger-than-life person such as herself, they'd would have had a lot of people to chose from. She reasons they wanted her and her Titan and she still isn't totally convinced it's all not just a pretense. "I'll see you then, I guess."
For whatever reason, Tasha and Katherine each have their own chaperone for a 'simple' shopping trip. Katie has Miss Necessity, and Tasha has Liza. It seems unlikely at first glance that the two personal assistants could hold any sway over their charges, however. They do dress quite a bit alike though.
"They're going to make us get practical stuff," Katie laments to Tasha.
"I told them we'd be fine!" Tasha insists in a bit higher tone of voice than she might have liked. She doesn't add that she assured Gabriel she could handle it, knowing from some experience with politics what an unholy disaster that would be. "Fine!"
Experience navigating the Rephidim Bazaar helps, since nothing is in any sort of logical order. There's not Clothing District in Caltrop. But Miss Necessity has a guide book, with reviews. "There should be a uniform supply boutique just past this.. beauty salon coming up on the left," the woman notes, a bit of dread creeping into her voice at the mention of 'beauty salon'. The term does make Katie's ears and tail perk a bit.
Tasha doesn't perk up, she's learned from hard experience that whenever she steps in to a place dedicated to high fashion or art she's generally going to be met with disapproving frowns. She isn't quite sure what the percentage chance is, were she to bet on it, bt she's positive it's well above a fifty percent posibility. On the other hand, she has been learning quite a bit about not looking like the poor and unsophisticated woman she once was, so she mollifies herself internally by noting how much she's improved her looks.
Though with her injury, the improvements have mainly been in other areas than body asthetics.
"I hope I can convince people I met you two on the concourse," she murmurs, saving her internal dialogue for the internal.
"You have Liza to deal with anyone you don't have to deal with," Katie points out. As predicted, she pauses at the salon to look at the video display. It shows people being 'transformed' - blemishes and scars removed, being made to look younger (quite a feat for species with furred faces) and other 'basic' things like changing eye colors, special dermal effects that include actual displays and computers tattooed onto bare skin, and more artistic things, such as a human woman with feathers for hair.
At first Tasha merely scans the displays, still too caught up in other worries to pay much attention as well as wondering why she needs a chaperone. Yet as the images flicker, as she sweeps her gaze across increasingly more exotic and (to someone from a 'backwater' world) impossible changes she finds herself increasingly caught up in them. "You know I could use dermal display. I bet it'd work really well with my neural wires. And maybe I should get a fur dye pattern?" A pause while she musters up the effort to admit her insecurity before she adds, " ... and I have thought about getting my hand and face healed."
"I thought they already were healed?" Katie asks, and looks instantly worried. "Are the grafts being rejected?" she asks with alarm.
"Welll, there was some concern about cancer but that's only a worry if I'm back, uh, home too long. So it's good I'm not, right?" Tasha reaches up, but resists the urge to scratch her head. "I was just thinking a look a little, just a little, a little ... uh, piecemeal. Hodge-podge? Cludgy?" Her nose wrinkles and she admits in a much more quiet tone, "I look like a Nohbahkim."
"What's a Nohbahkim?" Katie asks. "I'm sure making your orbitals match up can be a cosmetic fix.. according to the advertising here. If you want a 'dermal overlay' though you probably need the bare areas of your Vartan hand for them."
"Bonework would probably mean I couldn't use my hand for a while, too, I guess." Tasha shifts her hand and instead scratches her nose, even if it isn't itching. She needs something to expend the nervous energy on. "Maybe I could get custom talons, too? Oh, or have my whole hand have a screen! Or make part of it metallic. I'll just do my face like it used to be."
"Metal is usually toxic, isn't it?" Katie asks. After all, she comes from a world where metal and toxicity go hand in hand. "So back to just fur on your face?"
Tasha rolls her eyes. "I have wires in my brain, of course it's not all toxic. Haven't you ever heard of cybernetic augmentation? It was big pre-Expedition era, back on Terra before organic replacements and genefixing became common. Metal parts, metal limbs, metal-in-your-brain, metal everywhere." She then nods. "But, right, back to how it was. Everyone seemed to like it and I'm not sure I'm clever enough with asthetics to come up with something better. Besides, I need to maintain my disguises and not scare people."
"I keep forgetting about the disguise thing," Katie says, shaking her head. "I always think that's to hide your identity because you're known, not just recognizable. We should find out what's involved as far as time and money for this.." She then looks to the assistants.
Liza shrugs. "I can't recommend anything until you get a price quote," she says. "But even then, it wouldn't hurt to see what similar salons charge. We might be able to bring the price down."
"Well I'm known /and/ recognizable/.!" Tasha turns to regard Liza and Miss Necessity in turn, arms folded in a boss-like manner. "Well, I think what she's saying is that we should go inside and ask. And get more /ideas/."
"Try to not look desperate or wealthy," Liza advises. Then she holds the door open for Tasha. How retro!
"But I always look desperate! You've been part of my life, you should know this," Tasha insists as she begins to walk in. Then she stops and gestures Katherine and Miss Necessity to go first. "After you, poor Junior Civilization Members. I look like I'm made of money. Literally made of money."
"Or that you have valuable body parts," Miss Necessity offers with a quick smile, as she heads in after Katie. There is one other customer whose entire head is covered by some sort of cylindrical device, but is clearly Khattan. The person at the counter is also Khattan. "Welcome to Styles by Alheed! I am Zeffos, the owner. How may I make your life more fabulous?"
Tasha waits a good minute or so until the Khattas are focused on the two TerraGen apparents, then she waves Liza to open the door for her again before stepping on through. Once inside she steps aside to begin looking at the offerings displayed on the wall, switching to her affectation of self-important indifference. Robot-like.
This being a Khattan establishment.. there are no prices listed. Every procedure is unique to the customer! the display promises. Including the prices apparently.
"I was intrigued by the hair-into-feathers style on your display," Katie says, being charming. "But I was wondering how difficult it is to reverse?"
"Such implants are simple, lovely miss," the Khattan claims. "You could change your look every day! We have a wide selection of feather and fur choices. Fresh out of scales though," he adds with a wink.
Khattans ... laments Tasha, who despite her long time reservations about the species as a whole finds she's slowly warming up to them. She wonders, absently, if this is how the Khattan-Vartan relationship developed. First a general discomfort followed by charm and the promise of many exciting and shiny technologies, and she had to admit they are very shiny technologies.
I could have had scales. Scales. As Tasha continues to browse she can't help but consider herself with all the many colors and variations of creation, from scales to Eeee-style wings to horns and stranger things. She recalls that unfortunate painting of herself with the Zedra couple and all the liberties the painter took with her body style and snorts a laugh, though she highly doubts Gabriel would mind it. At all. It's then she gets an idea, remembering another selection of artwork she's featured in. One that seems to have escaped her home worlds.
"It is also a shame to restrict yourself to just one hair color," the stylist pitches. "And I don't just mean adding streaks or tips! Why, I mean changing colors with our new nano-lenticular hair treatment! Green-red gradients and blends, white-red, orange-yellow and even blue-gold!"
It all sounds like so much candy to Tasha, all delicious things she wants but are probably bad for her -- and her purse strings. Things that will cause Gabriel to lower his opinion of how adult she is, but they're so shiny. Good thing I have a plan. She even thinks it's a relatively good plan, one she can spin -- the word is spin -- to greater advantage in the future. She even has a cover story she just thought up!
Turning and stepping forward, she intones in her best and subtlest tone of condensation, "Personally I'm not sure of the quality. Here I am, not but several feet away, and not a single remark, approach, or even an offer of refreshments. You might want to reconsider, Terran."
"Ah, forgive me madame, but you are clearly a woman familiar with the use of exotic styling!" the feline says to Tasha. "I was merely trying to introduce this curious young lady to the options available!" He then produces, from beneath his counter, a try of tiny cups full of steaming brown liquid. "Finest Terran coffee, straight from Brazilia!"
Tasha inclines her head, deciding that being too heavy handed only seems to end up getting people angry. She's thought that maybe adding graciousness in to the mix will do better, as she's seen others do. "Thank you." After approaching the counter she accepts a cup, then asks Katherine in a conversational tone, "Is this your first time? I normally have my modifications planned out for me by my handlers, my House of course, so this is the first time I've visited a salon in person like this. And in the fringe, too! It's so novel!"
"I've been curious, and I'm sure my parents would disapprove," Katie says, and grins. "But this is my vacation. I like the asymmetric look you have going.. is that your House fashion?" She also picks up one of the small cups and has a sip, hiding her reaction to the stuff. Tasha can already tell from the thickness of liquid that it's probably closer to Mateh than coffee.
"I'm duelist, but I'm also a form of entertainer. I'm also on vacation -- I was injured during training proving my loyalty to my House -- and while they're pleased they needed some time to arrange things and thought I could use some 'real world' experience -- so here I am." Tasha gestures around her with her free hand as she sips, actually sips, her coffee. "And I've been given some leeway. They can always fix anything they don't like, they're very good of course, but I've been thinking maybe I should try my own hand at improving my look and working towards the goals they've set for me. Show I can domore than follow orders, but anticipate them!" She leans in. "They have this plan, you see, a kind of theme where I'm portrayed as a kind of media person. A fighter, in a Titan of course. My House is very cross with Khomen for their inept manuvering, and they though, well, the Silent-Ones like TerraGens rather well, so ... "
"So you are being groomed as a celebrity ambassador?" Katie asks. "Very bold. What are you thinking of having done here?"
"It's a secret, well, not a complete secret but they've been circulating trial materials and of course as you can see my asthetic theme is historical. Expedition-era genetics, very rare." The hybrid glances at the Khatatn behind the counter, conspiratorial-like, and then scoots a bit closer to him and Katherine. "I'm all original. My House supports a Terra Primest philosopy, so, they thought with the decline of relations due to Khomen's bumbling, well, they have me! Aside from embarassing other Houses and their duelists, I could capitalize on my looks and history to create a spirit of cooperation. We have this ... it's called a comic. An old, old Terran media. They thought it'd appeal to Terran nostalgia, but then they tried it with the Silent-Ones and you know some of them really like it? There's this whole story about me being from a far off world -- I'm not even sure it ever existed? -- but there it is. Anyway, some of the locals know about it and asked me to judge for them, a pu
blicity thing, and I'm thinking I could enhance the experience by trying to look more like the media."
"Ah.. and of course garnering good will for any future Vartan-Terragens alliance," Zeffos adds with a wink. "A wise House knows how to plan ahead."
"A wise House does," Tasha agrees, nodding enthusiastically to Zeffos. She then pauses, a frown forming. "You know, I don't think I've ever had to pay for anything myself before? Not something like this, I don't know if they'll approve exactly. I have these credit sticks, but I don't think they're enough?" She glances at Katherine with mock-confusion at it all. "Well, if it did work out, and if the proceeds are good, I'm sure this man could recoup some sort of costs and have me to highlight his work? Do you have any idea how expensive I am, and rare? My handlers might be very upset I allowed it to happen, but they can fix it -- they complain so much! -- but they can. And if it works, well, they'll have to agree I did well. That this establishment has done well."
Zeffos perks up. He isn't likely associated with a House - most if not all of the Khattan merchants on Caltrop would likely be independent. "Well.. what is it you were interested in having done, milady?" he purrs.
"Oh!" Tasha turns to Zeffos and blinks at him. "Of course, the work. You'll need to see it -- I forget you don't already know. Like I said, they do it." The young woman fishes out her equally ancient datapad, manipulates it, then shows him an image taken directly from one of the comics showing Winged-Gift in full. "Like this, but, well, more so. It wouldn't detract from what I am -- that would terrible of course -- but improve upon it. Maybe lights? This version of Winged-Gift -- the translation of my ancient name -- is described as an Angel of the Star. I'm not sure about that, but it's not my place to complain. Sooo ... more angelic. But not too much. You know what I mean. Lights, perhaps. Silent-Ones really like their visual effects. Their lights. And Vartans, of course I'll have to be shiny. Lights work well there too. Maybe you have ideas?" her ears perk forward.
The feline looks from the drawing to Tasha and back again. "Well, I would replace the feathers with your fur, of course," Zeffos says. "Your hair.. something subtle, perhaps. Not glaring, not immediately noticeable except subconsciously. Perhaps some latent-light fiber weave. Or we could cut it longer... if you don't need to wear a helmet."
The other three women simultaneously blink at the 'cut it longer' remark.
"Couldn't I just ball it up? Or is it much longer?" Tasha leans in as she inquires, pushing herself to not notice the reactions and stick to her persona. If she succeeds heer she'll have managed a small coup that could lead to larger ones. "But I am on board so far."
"Just a moment," Zeffos says, as he produces a clear rectangular frame a few inches across. He holds it up between himself and Tasha and pushes a stud on the frame. "Matching colors," he notes after tapping a few spots on his side of the rectangle. "I can have the fur grafts ready in an hour. The optic particles for your hair will need a little longer to color match and program. Say, two hours from now, and I can have you done after another hour. I.. have to charge for materials, of course.. but that is a paltry 100 Shekels, or 110 Credits at the current exchange. Hardly more than a decent lunch!"
"Oh, of course. Don't even think on it." Tasha makes a dismissive wave of her hand, as if the matter were beneath consideration. "I will busy myself until then and return. The timing is excellent. My appearance won't be for a few hours. If you life or feel you need to make alterations during, I can see about having you attend me. It should get you exposure, I think that's the word? Exposure." She then steps aside. "Now I will step aside so this lovely TerraGens woman can enjoy her first time."
Katie nods politely to Tasha, and then asks Zeffos, "Is the dichromic iris procedure painful?"
Tasha steps aside to where Liza is, gesturing Liza to walk with her as they make a show of examining the other work. This gives katherine time to shop without interference from her and lest the hybrid listen in on how procedures work. All in all it went better than she expected, even if she feels like a huge liar and will undoubtedly feel dirty about it later. Dirty, and a little confused, as the desire to be open conflicts with the part of her that wants to be cunning and sly. She wonders if the two sides will ever agree, but at least today they managed to get along well enough to see her plans once again set in to motion.
If all goes well she'll not only have covered her origins, appearance and backstory behind a the guise of extraordinary fiction, but naybe even manage to spread that fiction beyond the system. The agent of a mysterious and quiet House, opposed to Khomen, pro-Terragens and pro-unity. Against Clientage, yet too secretive to act openly. If she can keep it up her reality will become part of the fiction, making even real facts about her easily dismissed as tale and artifice -- and should she ever have to come out in the open having that fiction become reality ought to grab everyone's attention. If she hadn't known Katherine, hadn't been exposed to the rich and poor, politics and subterfuge she doubts she'd have ever thought of it. But she did, and it will become one element of her overall plan -- even her ship. Maybe even the others. If it works.