The return flight from the Eye of Providence was a quiet one. Yue had left with the Terragens, and Gabriel seemed lost in thought, only voicing that he needed to visit the Amaterasu before it left the system.
Dark Horse was also quiet, but there was evidence that someone had been doing something since there was a guitar resting against the couch in the executive lounge once Tasha got there. A quick query was enough locate those on board: Dr. Knight was in the med bay, along with Aaron (the Lapi had mentioned analyzing the drug capsule meant for Khattans that they got at the Fumitor shop). Katherine, Mr. Invention and Miss Necessity were not aboard, but Liza was there to meet Tasha when she arrived on the executive deck.
"Hi Liza," Tasha greets the young Lapi woman, sounding lost in thought herself. She stares off longingly down the corridor, idly thumbing the datapad still in her hand. She had been reviewing things to try and keep her mind of the feeling that nagged at her. "I think I'll be heading back to my quarters. The ship's quiet and I shouldn't be needed."
"Let me take your jacket then," the assistant notes, and helps Tasha out of her jacket, and thus out of her 'diplomat' persona. "Would you like me to bring you anything?"
"I don't know, uh ... " Tasha's gesture is a vague one. "What do Khattan shipowners and agents normally drink? I should get used to that. Um, probably."
"They drink whatever you decide you enjoy," Liza notes. "Perhaps some tea or coffee. You look like you either need something to perk you up or put you to sleep, if you don't mind my saying so. Perhaps a calming tea?"
"I don't mind. Tea sounds nice, thank you." The buzz from her earlier try at Eeee-oriented drinks has worn off, as has whatever tug alcohol had on her. Now Tasha mainly feels the pull of her concerns, and of her conversation with Lacci. She begins to walk towards the elevator located midline the ship. "How have you been..?"
"Just fine, Tasha," Liza says. "I've been reading. I'll go get your tea started and bring it to.." she adds, leading with the latter statement in hopes Tasha will tell her where to find her.
It takes the hybrid a moment to catch on, lost as she is in her own concerns. "Oh, um, my office. Top level, owner's lounge, aft-starboard side. Next to my quarters." She reaches the elevator and waits expectantly until the doors open, then steps inside without another word.
With Liza gone it's just Tasha on the upper level now, so nothing interrupts her trek to her office.
The only item on the desk at the moment is the clear plastic block with a liquid-looking green blob in the center - the Viceroy's 'message' that Tasha needs to bring to the Confederates to presumably cover the cost of a hypership.
It's just one more mysterious object to Tasha right now. She makes her way to her desk only to drop back in to her chair, datapad dropped in her lap. For a long while she just sits there, idly pushing off with her feet, spinning in slow, meaningless circles until she says, "Ship, thirty-precent brightness. Change wall and ceiling display to external view."
For a moment, the display is.. dark and nonsensical. Then it adjusts to show the view outside the fake shell of the John Carter. This puts the towering spire of Outpost Caltrop overhead, and the system's heavily mined planetary nebula to the side.
Tasha isn't at first sure why the view is so comforting, the sense of drifting in the void or at least being part of it. But that isn't right, and deep down she knows her lack of understanding is as much a defense and illusion as her Khattan clothing. A self-shielding lie, but she's dealt with these lies before. With problems, before. And with self-doubt. It all feels familiar in that sense even if the cause this time is very different. Before she had been struggling with being young.
And yet today, as she stares out in the the velvety expanse of the nebula, past a station that is part of a world so far from what she knew, she knows the cause is different. Today, she struggles with feeling old.
Not physically old, but old of mind. Of having seen too much and realizing after making a great effort to the contrary that her attempt to make a friend with a young woman her own age had failed. Failed on so many levels, but the worst of it, as she slowly settles from self-delusion in to acceptance like it were a familiar rountine, is that it seemed mutual. To Lacci, Tasha seemed to be a teen too old, as if she were only wearing a young face. Her position, her knowledge, even her mate are all beyond her years. And to Tasha Lacci felt, if she really had to put a word on it, Obnoxious. Annoying? Grating? As Nora had once remarked of Tasha in what seemed like ages ago, Lacci seemed, ... like a silly little girl. So far beneath Tasha.
And so Tasha wonders if it isn't here she belongs now. Her among the stars, in her chair, directing the world in some small but far reaching way. Amongst ancients, gods and nations.
The introspection is interrupted by the door chiming.
"Come in," Tasha calls out absently. She knows her invitation effectively unlocks the door, and so has no need to get up. She isn't sure she would, right now. The view is mezmerizing in its way, not just beautiful but consuming somehow. With thew window directly in to the hangar nearby, it puts her in mind of the Hall of Souls. She considers speaking with Horus, or even the Niss. There's much she could ask, if she had the mind. It might be what she should do. It might ...
The door opens and Liza is there with a tray, which holds a steaming cup of tea... well a mug, but one with the new Dark Horse logo on it.. along with a small kettle. Behind her looms a very large figure, made more imposing by the contrast: Mr. Invention. He doesn't enter with Liza though, but waits until the Lapi has served Tasha her tea. "Mr. Invention would like to see you if convenient," the doe then relays to Tasha.
Tasha accepts the tea, for the moment resting it in her lap beside her datapad. It feels warm. "Thank you, Liza," she offers, still fixated on the view. She knows that Liza is used to her by now, to her shifting moods and the burden her mission places on her. While she wouldn't say they've settled in to the old rote of master and servant, she has come to expect Liza's presence as if she had as much a right to be there as her hand and wing.
It takes the woman a moment to get to the request; she needs to really think on it. Mr. Invention is a man of purpose and presence. She knows him to not be frivilous, and to never be anything less than perfectly composed and perfectly intimidating. If he wishes to speak to her, she decides it must be important. "Very well, Liza. Show him in." The 'show him in' part is more ritual than necessity; her office isn't that big. But, she knows Liza likes it when she acts more civilized herself. The comportment of the master reflects on the servant.
So Liza goes to the open door and gestures for the man to enter before standing aside. So the big Karnor steps in (wearing a more 'civilian' looking version of the ship uniform), takes the only other seat, and sets a paper-like flexible display on the desk. It has the black-knight logo in the center, with 'DARK HORSE' beneath it and 'KPY-1673' in smaller script centered beneath the name. "I have been to the Port Authority," Mr. I states. "This is the paperwork to officially register Dark Horse at Caltrop. It comes with a transponder code and everything else we need to exist as an official spacecraft. It only needs your review and signature as the owner.. and authorization to pay the associated fees of course."
"Of course." There are always fees, Tasha knows. In civilized space there are civilized fees: Credits, shekels, favors and parties. In less civilized space just as in the mind, the fees are different. She glances over long enough to spot the display, picking it up and bringing it to her rather than turning to face it. She starts to read; the ship's registration is more important than her self-reflection. It begs a question as well. "What model of vessel are we registering as?" She assumes it's in the paperwork, but she'd like to know as early as possible.
"Khattan Private Yacht," Mr. Invention replies. "It was the only class of privately owned interstellar-capable vessel available, and also matched your cover story."
"It's fine." Thinking that too little to say, she adds, "Very fine. Good work. Mr. Invention." She continues to read, feeling a need to scan every detail. It isn't her mood that drives her to it, but a life lived primarily aboard ship where overlooking anything can lead to more than paperwork complications and every effort is for the survival and integrity of the thing which all depends. "I'll see about getting the plans for one so we can change our disguise."
"They tend to be unique," the Karnor notes. "While doing research, I asked Miss Moka to look into a design that could be donned quickly."
Tasha nods slowly. "You have the design-- ... " And there it is, there in the list. "Of course you do." Of course he does. She thinks for a moment the man should have been named Mr. Reliable. She studies the design.
A tap on the design brings up a holographic model. It looks.. pretty much exactly like the undisguised Dark Horse, if it were clad in a shiny white shell with black markings, and the plasma ring 'encased' to resemble a stator ring.
"The White Knight to our Dark Horse," Tasha observes. Despite herself the ghost of a grin crosses her face. She wonders what Layth is doing now, and if he ever remembers her. If he'd believe she's still Tasha, or young. "It will work fine, though we may have to think about that color later." She returns to reading, seeing if any other details demand her attention and making mental notes as she goes.
Most of the document is written in Bureaucratese. But the fee numbers are easy enough to comprehend, and they are huge. They cover the Port Authority fees.. and some that sound official but Tasha recognizes as synonyms for bribe. They're meant to get around the issue of the owner and crew not having backgrounds, the ship's origin being glossed over, and the costs of inserting the information into the Library and galactic registries via not-quite-legal channels.
It's very civilized. Even her quite-nearly-a-pirate-ship vessel is about to become officially suspect rather than the less desirable other variation. Even the bribery is so dense with bureaucratic jargon she actually wonders if it might be too good for her. Nothing is too good for me, she reminds herself, ... I am a Khattan after all. She'll have to continue getting used to that. It's yet another strange turn in her life, another new face in a series until she doesn't recognize herself anymore.
The fee, however, is decidedly uncivilized. She has to wince, and Mr. Invention can see it. "Mmph," she grunts, suspecting after the fact that physical pain at the loss of money may also be decidedly Khattan. "We're going to be hard off for some time if we pay this, but it has to be done if we ever want to approach a system that isn't a fringe backwater." It's said mostly to convince herself.
"We do have the funds after the Terragens 'bounty' was paid for the alien body recovered at the Abbadon L3 point," Mr. Invention points out. "Mr. Kaa assures that he can take the John Carter to the Alderson transfer point, submerge the ship and swing around to come into the system from a different direction, and even fake the signature of a Khattan hyperdrive emerging into normal space at the gravimetric border of the system."
"I'm sure Crazy Kaa can." If Mr. Inevtnion is reliable in an austere and majordomo sort of way, Tasha knows Kaa to be reliable with piloting, risky manuvers (in all senses of the word), and propositioning people. "Alright. Well, then. Lets get it done, no sense in waiting."
And so Tasha scrolls down the list to the part where her signature is required, puzzling over the nature of it. She suspects it'll involve more than a mere Abaddonian-style repetition of her name. "Mr. I., can you explain this, uh ..?" She gestures to the beuracratic tangle.
"You.. swipe your finger across this line," the man says, leaning over to see where Tasha is at. "It might burn slightly, it's some sort of biometric recorder. Then you press here and speak your name.. then when this circle lights up you stare into it with one eye until you hear a beep. Then you can use a stylus or your claw to actually sign your name on the dotted line at the bottom."
She knew it wasn't going to be as easy as it appeared. "Well, speaking of getting things over with." She reaches over and with some trepidation swipes her finger and winces. It doesn't hurt terribly much, but the thought of having her bizarre genetic code floating around space is salt on the wound of being different, not to mention the risks it potentially entails. It can't be helped. Next she enters he name as, "Aldara "Tasha" Agentine," deciding if she's going to go this far she may as well go all the way. The lack of her original name is hardly going to conceal her with so much else out there. Next it's staring at the circle, her expression going through a mix of perplexed emotions before finally she signs her name using a stylus concealed in her desk.
The tablet is returned and she looks over. "Is that everything, Mr. I?"
"That is enough to get started," the Karnor notes as he takes the tablet. "I'll get this filed. Once the registry is official, we can actually set up a business office here on Caltrop that can serve as a general mail and message drop, rather than allowing potential clients - or others - direct communication with the ship. I believe Captain Akkers is awaiting the registry information as well before approaching the Terragens about something he referred to as a Letter of Marque."
"Very well. It's all good work." Of course it is. But it needs to be said. "Gabriel looked distracted when I last saw him, I hope this 'Letter of Marque' isn't something to be concerned over. If you find anything on it, let me know. I'm still uncertain how far to trusth the TerraGens." That isn't true exactly; the hybrid woman is more concerned with how far she can let her guard down. With so many Terran Clients and Humans aboard, and only a scant few others (not including the Niss and other secretative alien powers), she could have a problem if the Terrans pressured her crew in to action, and she may be one of the very few who can truly resist that call and who can go either way on loyalty to Terra.
"I'm sure he would be willing to explain it to you if you asked," Mr. Invention notes, standing up and slipping the tablet into an inner pocket of his jacket. "Do you have anything else you'd like me to look into for you?"
"If you could prepare for me a list of articles, instructural vids, and other materials related to small vessel trading opportunities, Khattan customs, and anything else you feel is relevant to my role as a Khattan agent and starship owner, I would appreciate it." Tasha lays a hand on her desk and raises her brows. "This isn't a priority task, but I'm sure you've come across these things while educating yourself. If there's anything else you think I need to know or should look at, don't hesitate to notify me."
"I've mostly been looking into how business is conducted here on Caltrop, but building a wider Galactic primer was next on my list, so I will keep you updated with whatever I find useful," the Karnor promises, then executes a short bow before leaving. Once he's gone, Liza asks, "Do you want me to fetch the Captain, or anything else? I know that Miss Katie returned with Mr. Invention as well."
"If either of them would like to see me, tell them that they are welcome to do so." Tasha doesn't need to have Liza deliver the offer of course; it's more or less a standing one. No, it's more to show them she's paying attention andwhile she expects Gabriel will approach her when he's ready, it also shows him she's a bit concerned. "Thank you, Liza."
The doe nods and leaves, closing the door behind and leaving Tasha to her tea and stargazing.. at least for however long it takes her to find the others.
And so tasha turns her mind to other things. She considers reviewing the matter of Lacci, but after dealing with ship and crew matters finds herself feeling elevated beyond it. She doesn't need to worry about a 'silly little girl', she is the owner of the Dark Horse, speaker to gods, agent of Atum himself. And as a faux-Khattan -- however long that will go on -- feeling superior is something she thinks is fully within character.
Yet with ship and crew seen to, there isn't much else for her to do but gaze -- navel or otherwise. There is room for questions, though, and she knows on ship she's never really alone. They are always listening, even if she doubts they're often interested. Much like herself and Lacci, herself and the Niss have a mile-wide gap, and they are actually old while Tasha simply feels mentally so. Still, they've never turned her down before. She likes to think they think well of her, and she likes them, too. She wonders why ... Well, why not ask?
"Niss, how are you?"
"We are fine," the odd hive-mind replies, and as typical Tasha isn't quite sure if she's hearing the voice or if it's being beamed into her head - even though she's not in physical contact with the Niss at the moment. But then she's not quite sure how any of the voice broadcasting in the ship works. She hasn't really seen anything like the speakers and microphones that she encountered on Abaddon.
Yet another mystery in her life. "Is there anything you require, have you made any progress with the ship?" Tasha isn't sure why she's opting for small talk. In hindsight, it feels like a bad choice, but after dealing with parties, politics and beuracracy she supposes she must be falling into rote. It isn't what she intended to ask, but maybe she needs a build up too.
"We are still exploring the potentialities of the new body," the Niss reply. "We require consensus on our current temporal facet. There are still uncertainties to define regarding the status of the other galaxies within the gyre."
"I'm not sure I underatand," Tasha admits, leaning forward to rest her head on her hands, elbows on the desk top. "I follow that you're getting a feel for the ship as a body, as for the other part ... Do you mean you're not certain you want to remain in this time? I know it's possible to travel through time and outside of it. And what do you mean by galaxies, are you concerned with the state of other Old Ones empires?"
"Galaxies Two and Five appear to have entered their senescent phase," the Niss explains. "New star formation in them has ceased. They are entering their death phases. We must reconcile this with our perceived passage of time."
The Niss feels out of place, out of time. Of course. Could it be they have something in common then? "You feel out of place after returning to this universe." She pauses, then hesitantly adds, "I've been feeling that way as well." No, that's not quite right, and the Niss are alien enough to take her words literally. "I mean, I've been feeling like my inner sense of time and how old I am no longer match. That I'm more comfortable talking to beings like you than a Vartan girl my own age. I know I can't know what you feel. I was just, um, noting the similiarities. If that makes sense."
"Time is how we choose to perceive it," the Niss replies. "Experience is not the same thing. You speak of the rate of experience, not the passage of time. We are uncertain if the collapse of the gyre which once connected the Five Galaxies has let to the premature exhaustion of hydrogen observed in two of them or if we lack information on other causes, such as dark matter depletion, anti-matter incursion or dark energy or hyperspatial storms."
"So you're saying I'm young and don't understand anything." Tasha realizes it's actually kind of reassuring. She supposes nothing makes a being feel inwardly young than speaking to ancients. "I guess I'm just too unsophisticated to really understand what you're saying. I understand the gist of it, but I don't comprehend the details. Maybe I can't, not like you do. Physical limitations and the limitation on how much knowledge I can accumulate."
"The more experience you gain, the more you realize that you do not understand," the Niss explains. "Young beings therefore tend to believe that they do understand everything in their world, rather than realizing their world is actually very small."
"But I know it isn't, so ... I guess I'm not as young anymore?" Tasha perks her ears, brows lifting. "I even interact with beings from in and outside time for a multiversal goal, even if it's just a 'local' I know it's local."
"That does not matter," the Niss claims. "The scope of experience is irrelevant. Only the rate of experience. You have had a greater rate of experience which distances you from those with a lesser rate, even if they have experienced the same amount of time."
"I see ... " Tasha realizes the Niss's words actually make a lot of sense, and she considers that and what was said for several seconds before asking, "So if I continue down the path I'm going, I'm going to distance myself further? And, well, will I become like you, or something else?"
"No. There is still an upper limit to the rate of experience you can achieve. Once this is reached, you will only be able to increase knowledge," the Niss explains. "You can expect to reach the same level as your peer, the Gabriel."
"I see." Tasha rubs her chin, it doesn't sound too bad -- but is it enough? She loves 'the Gabriel,' but she also knows that sheer poor luck nearly ruined him, and her own future looks increasingly ominous. "What if I wanted to go farther? Isn't that what you did, go farther?"
"Your brain is still only 80% mature," the Niss point out. "No experience will accelerate your emotional or cognitive development beyond what you are biologically capable of at the time. You feel distant from your peers because of experience, but not because of maturity. This is no different than trying to relate to someone of your species separated by culture or education. You can relate perfectly well at an emotional and cognitive level, for the most part."
"Oh." Tasha reaches down and rubs her nose, nodding slowly. "I don't know why I don't talk to you more often. You're one of the few ancient beings that actually tell me it straight, and I think you must like me, so I'm less worried about you being in league with a universe consuming alien entity. I like you." She then pauses, considers the nature of the Niss more deeply and then adds, "Although as a collective I guess there are parts of you that don't like me, even as there are parts of me that are a little scared of you."
"Fear is a natural and justified reaction," the Niss claim. "As an infant, you fear the adult creatures whose actions and motivations your mind is not yet equipped to comprehend, yet which you are dependant on for your survival. Once you have learned to walk, you can no longer comprehend what it meant to crawl. A child cannot understand the nuances of adult relationships, yet once ready for them loses the ability to see them as when one was a child. Life is a series of stages, with different abilities being gained while older, simpler modes are lost. You have emotional and cognitive conflicts trying to deal with experiences that you are not yet capable of comprehending. But later, you will look back and wonder why you had trouble with them."
"But at all stages, you will try to interpret your experience according to what you are currently capable of comprehending," the Niss notes.
"You're so wise. It all makes perfect sense now ... " It's said in awe, without constraint. Even if she had the mind to conceal her emotions, Tasha would have little reason to believe the Niss would either concern itself with it or if it did be able to see right through it. She suspects the Niss have mathmatical models and simulations of her by now. "And I guess you're struggling with your own version of that."
"We are less able to hold simultaneous contradictory thoughts as your kind," the Niss admits. "Our general advice to you is to not focus too much on trying to comprehend what you are not able to. Maturity and knowledge will eventually rectify the issue. If you feel overwhelmed, however, keep in mind that the actions of tiny burrowing insects can eventually bring down the mightiest of fortresses if they go unnoticed."
"So, 'Don't think too hard, focus on action, be like a bug.'" Tasha decides to put that on the wall of her quarters, perhaps as a mockup of one of the posters she had back on Abaddon that seemed to be fond of including sayings -- and Katherine Vesuvius. "Well, thanks Niss. I feel better now. Oh, um, since we're talking, just to see what your opinion is, but, you know, I asked another ancient collective and I wondered if I'd been, uh, rude in not asking in hindsight, but well I kind of work for them and you know I was entwined with quantum-things and uh ... Well, you know about Clients right? And uplifting, making new species? I sort of asked another ancient intelligence, but ... Is that something you're interested in?"
"By current Galactic rating systems, we would be considered either Retired or Transcendent," the Niss replies. "In that sense we have no interest in participating in Galactic society or their hierarchy system. We are not suitable as Patrons, nor have the interactive abilities needed to raise up an organic species to sapience."
"Our only attempt at Uplift occurred at the cellular level, after all," the Niss conclude.
"Welllll, I was mostly meaning me. I mean, as a species. Of me. Like how there are Vartans and Karnor and such, but more ... Well, like me. Karnor-Vartans," Tasha explains. She isn't sure why, but she can't help but feel a little embarassed. It's not quite like asking for a loan after all, or even something of mixed nature, like a habited planet. It's very personal for one, and touches on her insecurities for another. She also thinks she feels a little bad for not thinking to ask the Niss first.
"We cannot create life as you know it," the Niss explains. "We can only alter your outward expression of existing genetics in a retro-temporal fashion."
"I rememebr that. Well," Tasha pushes off, leaning back in to her chair and spearding her hands, " ... I asked, and I'm glad I did. I hope it wasn't too much of a bother? And are you apraised of the situation with the Ogdoad and my basic alliance with the beings known as Vril-ya?"
"Not the finer details," the Niss claim. "We are aware of the Ogdoad and their servitors, and the speculations of Dr. Zerachiel as to how the original purpose of this body may have been related. We have no information on the Vril-ya in our memory."
"Well, time to fix that. You're as much a part of our crew as anyone, and you haven't mind-controlled me or otherwise been anything but helpful and pleasant, so I have as much reason to trust you as most ancinets or nations. More so, since I didn't help save them and we share a lot of risk." And so Tasha sits straight, figuring a briefing like this demands proper posture. "The Vril-ya are extra-universal travelers from a universe known as Vril, which is composed of a kind of sentient energy and doesn't seem to have matter as we know it. Their universal laws seem very different from ours but not entirely incompatible and they appear to me as beings of burning fire and light, usually inhabiting stonelike bodies. They cannot be percieved by many beings in this universe, mainly only their Uplifted children which include countless species including Humans, Naga, Vartans, Khattans, Silent-Ones and possibly other modern sentients. They are a kind of composite being made of what they know, controlling what the
y know, and being what they know. They were active during the time of the First Ones and possibly before that. They are not limited to one universe or any stretch of time, but seem to enter and exit out reality by a corridor that exists outside of our reality, maintained by beings known as 'Waymakers', who hold 'The Null' as some form of god. I have met and allied myself with their corridor-stationed leader, Atum, who is the source and destination of the smaller 'Progenitor' beings as they seperate from Atum and become distinct until they return. Atum, the Progenitors, and the Waymakers opposed the Ogdoad."
"We are aware of other universes, and have attempted to visit them," the Niss reply. "The presence of the Vril-ya in this universe appears to have taken place during the Second and Third Epochs, after our time in this reality. The Civilization of Five Galaxies was still in nascent form during our time in the First Epoch."
"I wish I could have seen it. Five galaxies! And spread across all of them. This current version is just a small part of the one, and to see s many advanced beings together. I suppose I'd feel even smaller and like I have nothing to offer them, but it would ahve been nice to see." And it would have; whatever else Tasha may be doing she's still an explorer. The urge to jump down the wells of the Way remain. "I think I'd like to visit Vril some day. Um, day in the figurative sense, that is. Maybe the Waymakers will let me exit to other realities? Or, even see the height of the Five Galaxies era? It might help me understand the Xilfrim, or the Ogdoad. I could visit where they had been."
"The Ogdoad and Ogdru-hem are not out of reach," the Niss claim.
"What do you mean? I know they're here, well, sort of. As here as they ever can be," Tasha asks, ears swiveling forward even if she's still not sure the voice isn't in her head.
"I mean just that," the Niss claim. "Their locations are known."
Tasha says, "Tasha blinks at this, then leans forward. "Are ... you saying you know where they are? All of them?" "
"No," the Niss say. "That information will be in the Main Branch of the Galactic Library."
"I'm not as familoar with the Library as some of the others. Is that branch accessible to us now? Is it just a subsection of the vritual directories, or an actual place?" The hybrid leans in even more, having to brace herself against the desk top to keep from topping off her chair.
"It was a world converted to data storage," the Niss reply. "I could not find the location in the local branch however. It seems to have been lost, or the information removed." Didn't Horus claim that the Cill had found it though?
"Horus said the Cill seemed to have located it. I think it may have been what drove them all mad," the ship owner notes, leaning back and running a hand back through her hair. "If we could find its location we'd be a lot closer to being able to do something about the Ogdru-hem. I could approach the Titanians and have them deal with some of them, for one. And just think of all the other information it must contain! Ship specifications, technologies ... We wouldn't even need to rely on the Galactic powers. We could use it to create our own little faction. So many possibilities. We could maybe find the Jotoki's homeworld!"
"The Jotoki are part of the current Epoch, so it unlikely information on them would be found in the Library," the Niss point out. "However the Starseed migration routes should be available, which should correspond to the most likely locations of organic life bearing worlds."
"It's good to know they're not regressed memebrs of an older Era, at least. That narrows things down." Tasha taps her chin, resting her head back on her hands. "Well, if we can find the Cill's records we might find the world. The probelm is, the Cill fell apart shortly after their discovery and 'departed with Marduk in to the void.' Except we're not really sure what the 'void' is, or if they just destroyed themselves like Eve did. I know being subject to depair would have weakened or destroyed Marduk. There may only be wreckage and ruins. If we could find the Cill's own worlds, we could potentially start there, though."
"One of their contemporaries may have that information," the Niss suggests. And then the door chimes.
"Hrrm," goes tasha just before the door chimes. She lifts her head and swivels her ears towards the door. "Looks like I have company. We'll talk later, Niss. Thank you for your help and support."
"Yes, we will have," the Niss replies cryptically.
Tasha shakes her head, ancient and godlike beings and their sense of time. She tries not to think about how she, too, is beginning to see time differently as she calls out, "I'm free now. Come in."
The door opens and Gabriel walks in, mug in hand. He's also taken off his coat and hat, so that he looks a bit less Captainy at the moment. "What's up? I saw Invention leaving, so I assume we're going to be 'official' soon and a bit lighter in the wallet."
Spotting Gabriel's mug reminds Tasha that she too has a mug, which has been resting in her lap and keeping her belly warm for the last half hour. She reaches down and picks it up along with her datapad, which she puts on the desk top as she turns to face Gabriel more fully. "A lot lighter in wallet," she replies, grinning a bit lopsidely. "I gave him my approval and signed the paperwork, so we are soon to be officially suspicious rather than the other, less cvilized kind. And by that I am now officially a Khattan." She holds up her hands in a 'how did this happen' sort of shrug, then leans in. "I hear you're getting mysterious letters from Terra."
The tea is still hot. The wonders of modern mug technology! "Mysterious letters?" Gabriel asks as he sits down across from Tasha.
Tasha sips at her tea. She thinks she drinks tea now more than any alcohol, which she decides is probably for the best since she still hasn't gauged her own alcohol tolerance after her liver was repaired and rejuvenated. "A 'Letter of Marque'," she explains, arching an eyebrow. "You haven't sold me out for a fabulous and considerably more relaxing cushy job with Terra have you?" It's said with decidely mock seriousness.
Gabriel blinks and then laughs! "Ah.. no, I haven't. It's not that sort of letter, and we have to apply for it. And it's not like it was in the old days of sailing.. which of course doesn't mean anything to you, does it, because you don't know what a Letter of Marque is.. But.. you know what pirates are! Do you know what a privateer is?"
"I know what sailing is too. Remember, my world is a paradise. I chose to live on dusty unpleasant hell pits," the young woman replies, grinning again. With her coat off, in her new clothes, in that so-very-business-like-chair, she does look like some sort of Khattan at least. "And I know what pirates are. I remember fleeing from them when I was ... uh ... maybe around seven?" She then makes a face, as if she smelled something unfortunate. "Blackwings was a privateer. Or so she said. Maybe she was, but not for everyone and I think she took liberties."
"The difference between a pirate and a privateer is that the latter had a get-out-of-jail-free card from the government that issued them a Letter of Marque - so long as they limited their piracy to ships of that government's official enemies," Gabriel explains. "Today it means something very different. It would give us license to freely travel within the territory of the issuing government on.. less than legal business, so long as we also provided the same service to them. Such as smuggling supplies to the Ningyo. Or to, for instance, Dr. Moreau. Things that the Terragens cannot officially do."
"And once we get one Galactic government to sign off on it, it should be easier to get the others as well," Gabriel teases before taking a sip from his mug.
"If I knew being a criminal could be so legal my earlier life might have been very different," the young woman remarks, brows raising. "And so civilized. Does this mean we also have to be flamboyant and obnoxious, or was that just all the pirates on Sinai?" She then leans back, taking a deep sip as she thinks for a long moment. "Well, we'll be doing those things wether we're approved of or not, so we might as well do them in a way that also says, "Hey, pay us and we'll do them for you too," because after becoming official we're going to be on hard tack and water for a while."
"It's not a position that would work for any ship other than this one," Gabriel points out. "No government could own and use this ship without it being considered an act of war. But everyone has a use for what we can do. So.. easier to get in on the action than kill the goose that lays the golden eggs. Especially since we have limits on what we can smuggle." He also taps the package from Vasterlion. "And whatever this is will get you in with the Confederates. Now, they're the only other ones that can come close to what Dark Horse can do. We have no idea what Vasterlion put in this package though, only what he wants in return for it."
Tasha scrunches her muzzle up. "I'm disturbed by how much of what we are and know ends in, " ... of war," but I like the sound of everything else. As for the Mystery Cube ... " Tasha turns her gaze to the peculiar square and frowns contemplatively, then reaches over and taps it with her taloned hand, mug switched to her main hand. "Well, we'll see won't we? My mock-Khattan status should also make anyone think twice about bother us too much, because who knows what House or other power is backing me. How did I get such a powerful ship, and what am I really up to? Just the guesses are scary enough. And speaking of scary information, the Niss says the old Library knows where all the Ogdru-hem and the Ogdoad are. All of them. We just need to find the Main Branch. A planet."
"Which is either lost, destroyed or hidden," Gabriel says. But then he grins. "Proper pirates quest after buried treasure though. Arrrr."
"Arrr," agrees Tasha, which works very well with a growling species. "The Niss doesn't think it's gone, though. Just hidden. The Cill knew wheer it was, and if we can find a Progenitor that knows where the Cill worlds are, we can probably find the Library. That's Eve or Vulcan right now, or Mardul but if we find Marduk the records will probably be nearby anyway." She then tilts her head to the side. "As for the Letter, you have my permission to pursue it."
Gabriel salutes, and 'arrrs' again. He also notes, "I have an idea of where to start looking for lost planets, too."
"In the Lost Planets Nebula?" Tasha inquires, leaning in and wiggling her ears.
"Close!" Gabriel says, and brings up his datapad.. and commandeers the wall display. Soon the galaxy is displayed, then the view zooms in to just the outer spiral arm that corresponds to Known Space. With a bit of manipulation, some regions are highlighted in blue and red. "These are the known Ash Zones," Gabriel explains. "The red ones are those that appear to be under Titanian quarantine.. or at least, ships that go in don't come back out." He highlights one of the blue zones. "This one used to be red. It's the one that Terra was hidden in, which is why humans didn't end up as Celestial or Khattan Clients. An actively hidden world. If there are other hidden worlds in Known Space, they'll be in the Ash Zones."
"That is, not counting the hidden world we've already found," Gabriel says. "If you consider the Smoke Ring a world."
"Home seems to count a little too." Tasha taps the side of her muzzle with her free hand, having roatted her chair to studythe map. "The Titanians know where we at all times. If we approach or enter the zones, they'll know immediately and we won't be able to hide our location. If they're doing the hiding, they might come and investigate. But, they think we're one of them right now, on a special mission. Maybe they won't. We should be ready." She studies the map a moment longer, then notes, "The Library is really from a the era of the Five Galaxies, so it may be in another galaxy. I don't think so, though, because the Cill are modern era and they found it and I don't think the new Progenitors spread out that far -- universally speaking I mean. But they might have."
Gabriel puts up a new image. It's taken from space, and in what looks like a binary star system. It zooms in on a dark planet with a blue smear across its equator. "Just as an example of an Ash Zone world, this is Alpha Centauri A-5, Canyon. The first Terran extrasolar colony, in the star system next to it." There's more zooming, and the planet in question is clearly airless and barren, save for that one zone near the equator. As the planet is rotated, it becomes a bit clearer just what Tasha is seeing: it's a cut. Something took a notch out of the surface of the planet, one deep enough that it could hold an atmosphere. And apparently perfectly straight at the edges.
"So we should be on the lookout for giant spacecraft with really big knives." Tasha could see a Titanian ship somewhere trying that, albiet not at this scale. Her words hide her anxiety, though. Seeing an entire world carved up like a wedge of cheese does not put the mind to comfort. "Do you have any idewa what caused this? I was warned to 'beware the empty places', and that looks like soemthing to beware of."
"Frankly, there are endless speculations, but most run afoul of being things that would destroy the entire planet," Gabriel says. "Most popular one was that it got clipped by a 120-kilometer wide gamma-ray laser burst carrying the energy of a supernova explosion. But the walls of the canyon weren't melted, and there was no evidence of elemental transmutation that radiation like that should have cause. Another is that it's from a giant disintegrator beam - something that suppressed the charge on the electrons holding matter together. Another was that the planet itself was artificial to begin with. But.. you remember the junkyard the Titanians had Dark Horse parked in. The old Galactics seemed capable of anything."
Tasha nods slowly, with widening eyes. "That certainly seems to be the case. Anything related to this universe, anyway." She stares at the gouge for a long moment, then sits up and shakes her head out. "Scary. Well, maybe the central branch is gone. We still need to look for it, or at least the data we need. And if we do find the Central Branch, we'll need to think about keeping it from the others. At least until we understand the risk revealing it would pose. The Titanians may help, or we could consider doing it."
"Well.. one problem at time," Gabriel says, and looks into his mug. "For instance, I am out of coffee. But that is a quest I can handle.. I think. The fate of the galaxy may depend on it. Arrr! Then it's back to working on my proposal for a legal pirate licence. Did you need me for anything else?"
"Lacci accused me of being old and hinted strongly you were old enought o be my father. I think she belives I'm actually a lot older than I look, and other people said so. So ... " Tasha leans back, takes a sip of tea, and then asks, "Want to beat them up?" Her grin is wide and her ears wiggle.
"I'm far too old for that sort of thing," Gabriel says, and makes a show of rubbing his lower back when he stands up. "You should do it. Or send Liza to glare if you want to really humiliate them."
"It was just a thought. Besides, I'm busy and important and Lacci isn't! She can go talk to Hake-bear, maybe they'll be friends? Hake could use a friend that isn't so busy, and I can just suggest to you later Lacci could use some 'character building' work." The young woman puts her tea down to rub her hands together. "Like ... polishing the starship! Or filling in a 'minor hole' in a certain planet." She winks, tehn waves her hands in a shooing motion. "Save some time for me later. I don't feel like anything strenuous, but there are vids I want to watch."