The returning expedition received quite a reception. The Confederates in particular where cornered by the Vartans hoping to get their support for further outings with their 'immune to disaster' bug-monster transports. Mostly though the scientists that had stayed behind wanted to know what was found in the far off city. The Silent-Ones had a rather terse reply to this, signing, "This place is tainted and should be abandoned." They followed this up by.. leaving, heading straight for the elevator and their ship up on the orbital ring.
Despite the crowd (there weren't enough people to consider it a mob), Samael managed to not draw notice, even standing next to Tasha. She could see their pupils contract and dilate as they looked passed him to her. It was Dr. Ztathas, the Vartan Planetary Governor that asked her, "How dangerous is it out there?"
"Well," begins Tasha, head tilting to the side in a thoughtful manner and she pauses for consideration, " ... the trip is very dangerous, of course. Many Vartan expeditionaries have lost their lives. The journey appears to be harmless if you travel without aid, with minimal change to the land, and if the land knows where you're going. There are some ritual challenges, but beyond the journey itself the city appears to have malfunctioning psionics technologies. There is also some evidence the Wellstone is dangerous. The Silent-Ones aren't exactly wrong, this place is dangerous and abandoning it isn't a bad idea."
"We can't abandon a world with a self-repairing giant city," Dr. Ztathas says. "If we do, someone else will get it! Did you find out if anyone ever lived in the city though?"
"Depends on one's definition of 'live' now, doesn't it," Samael whispers unnoticed into Tasha's ear.
Tasha's expression twitches at the whisper, but she keeps right on smiling. "The city doesn't appear to have been inhabited for eons, but we did find what appeared to be a ritualistic torture device using neural mapping. The, um, devotee was long gone. It's not hard to see why the Silent-Ones feel the city is tainted." The young woman then reaches up and taps the side of her head. "The psionics wre also having an effect, although we're not sure if it's because we're not Stonecutters, because the generators are damaged, or as a security measure." She isn't at all sure what to say about the so-called Wizard Fessus.
'Oh and there was a stack of pyramids with eyes that answer questions.'
'I think there was a soul-eating wizard that asked for sacrifices and letters from daddy.'
'There was a spinning, physics defying pyramidal being that ate souls and floated over a pit of self-rending smoke. It was generally pleasant to talk to compared to the demon beside me.'
No, definitely better to keep quiet about that. She can deal with the world later.
"Ritualistic torture.." the Vartan mutters. "That is certainly.. problematical. So is the city some sort of giant religious installation?"
"It seems that they used it as a kind of afterlife for immortal bodies, but since they're all gone and have been for ages, it was probably a short afterlife." And so smiles a little more, knowing Samael will get the reference. "But religions installation accurate. It seemed to have multiple purposes, all spiritual or quasi-spiritual."
"So.. it was haunted," Dr. Ztathas says. "It was built to be haunted. I.. understand the Silent-Ones now. But.. it was just the surface city, and not the orbital section that was meant to be haunted, wasn't it? We can still use the orbital section."
"Well, that's assuming the mysterious AI-like stone doesn't stop working, feed you excruciating pain, ask you to suffocate or any of the other things we experienced." Tasha's eyes then widen. She leans in. "You do know how it works, don't you? You wouldn't rely on a city made of incomprehensible stone to house countless people?"
"Well.. we've been working on finding out how it works," Ztathas notes, tapping the tips of his talons together. "It's been working for over a million years after all.. we think."
Tasha's eyes widen a little more, but she leans back. "Nothing about the time of calamity, then?" She prompts, ears perking.
"Determining how old something is.. is difficult, especially with First Ones sites," Dr. Ztathas points out. "Doubly-so on planets with no natural anything in systems devoid of.. also anything natural. You really can't even trust stars on this."
"So it could fall apart any generation. That would result in a severe Galactic fine, or, well, a lot of them." Tasha cocks her head to the opposite as earlier. "The inner city showed signs of malfunctioning. I was able to reach the interior of the main temple complex and found some evidence that the pool located beneath the black city was some form of space-time flattening field, generated by unknown methods, and that the planetary system depends heavily on the Wellstone, which may be unstable. Our presence here may be noticed now that we've gone father in, but I can't be sure. Certainly, the temple activated, and the city itself caused unpleasant psionic effects."
"I'll put everyone on watch for psionic effects, certainly," Ztatha says, looking down his beak at a palm device he holds. "And start running evacuation drills. We don't have the authority to quarantine uninhabited worlds though. Was there anything else.. alarming.. that would.. well.. alarm people?"
"Like two spinning pyramids filled with eyes that devoured souls?" Tasha prompts, ears swiveling forward. "That sort of thing?"
"That's just one thing in one place far away from the city," Ztathas notes. "I need something that will scare people from the city itself."
"Oh." Tasha chews her lip a moment, then tries, "There's some evidence that the Wellstone is empowered and maintained by a central authority, that has cycles of wakefulness. If it were to awaken -- or sleep -- the city's functionality may be effected. That would be true of the ring city, too."
"What evidence?" Ztathas asks. "People still live in places prone to natural disasters, and that sounds similar. Well, except for Khattans of course."
Sam leans in again and whispers to Tasha, "Any one of them could have been replaced by a Wellstone puppet. Especially anyone that was off on their own, or may have died in an accident.."
Tasha gives the good doctor a very knowing look, being that she is some sort of faux-Khattan, after all. "Well I don't haaaaav-" Twitch. "Actually, I just remembered that the process of creating an immortal body used a copying method using the Wellstone. You remember T'throgga, the statue? The one that seems to eat people? The statue made of Wellstone? The Wellstone seems to play some part in consuming and replacing individuals with immortals, except we don't think the copy is sound. More like a puppet, really, that seems like the original but is just a simulation. The city's previous population has been lost, so we can't say the risk of being eaten by a wall, walkway, door, statue, what-ever and replaced isn't nothing."
"Now.. /that/ I can work with.." the Governor notes, and makes taps at his palm-tool a bit. "Will need to repurpose the isotope scanners to detect an /absence/ of something../" he mutters. "Until then, we should try to get everyone back up to the ring level."
"I can't wait to return to the bar, or the bar on my ship. One of the two." Tasha inclines to the Vartan doctor-made-official, then turns to her fellows. "Can any of you wait? I can't."
"I'm looking forward to a decent meal," Gabriel notes. "I love the wilderness, but I prefer the ones where you can hunt something edible."
"I don't think this even qualifies as wilderness. It's more like a model. Even our simulated environments have more wild to them than this, ours have simulated style and life." Tasha waves the others to follow in behind her, turning to head for the lifts and from there back to civilization -- or at least as civilized as a planet-spanning ring can be when it has a population of under a thousand.
It's midway up the spoke when Samael notes, "You probably shouldn't insult the Wellstone. It might decide to prove just how creative it can get." After saying it though.. nothing ominous happens. The demon may just be trying to rattle nerves for fun.
"Where are we sticking the jokester once we're back aboard the Horse?" Gabriel asides to Tasha.
The question is met with something between a sigh and a groan. "We can't have him just walking everywhere, can we. My poor crew is under enough stress, and I haven't even gotten to the scary parts yet." And so Tasha's muzzle works, twisting this way and taht as she thinks. At length she decides, "He'll have to stay on the Owner's Deck. He can stay in my office, or maybe Liza won't mind giving up her cabin for a little while. The last thing we need is a female Kaa."
"I don't need to sleep or eat," Samael points out. "Unless I feel like it."
"He's not staying with me and Shojo," Aaron insists. Shojo doesn't react to this, of course, but Hakeber does. "I didn't know you had another cabin to go to.."
"I think we will all feel better if nobody sleeps alone while your guest is with us, Tasha," Liza offers.
"You mean unless I feel like it after you feel like it." Tasha is pretty sure that quip made sense. More importantly, she's glad to be far away from what may be the universe's most boring landscape, and she thought her watches back on Sinai were dull. She then nods to the suggestion. "I don't plan to allow him to leave my section of the ship, but to be safe extra caution is warranted."
"So are you going to be stuck with me then, Tasha?" Samael asks. He's grinning, but then.. he's always grinning like he knows something embarrassing or amusing.
There's that groan again, like a sister who has had far more than enough of a brother. Tasha eyes Samael. "Well I have for the last week haven't I? A few more days won't kill me. Probably." She then glances at Gabriel and adds, "But I do need to sleep some time, so someone will need to take over for me, for a while at least."
"Why me?" Gabriel asks when given the look. "I like sleeping when you do. And.. what do we do if he decides he doesn't want to stay in the VIP deck?"
"I didn't mena you. I need my pillow, but my pillow is also the captain. I'm young an naive, so you'll have to pick someone wise, strong, and able to resist whatever Samael is. Um. Annoyance." Tasha then considers the possibility of a Samael that isn't defeated by doors, be they regular or faux-matter. Se turns to eye the specter. "Is that true? Can you just walk through walls, or teleport, aybe enter hyperspace..?"
"Stick him in a bottle," Aaron suggests.
"I can use doors," Samael admits.
"I've gotten lost in bottles before, it wears off," Hakeber notes.
"Like a wine bottle?" Tasha looks between the two, then settles on Samael. "I can lock doors. Will you then unlock the door? Go through it? Use some other dimension?"
"Perhaps Mr. Samael would be satisfied with catching up on Galactic history," Shojo suggests. "He can be his own keeper that way."
"Wait.. does that mean I have to chick-sit him?" Lacci asks.
"I can let him access it all from my office, which also has a ncie view and a nice chair." Tasha then blinks, quite obviously, and spins around to face Lacci. "You? You want to watch over the ancient imp? I might let you, but, um, why?"
"No!" Lacci says, putting her armored hands up. "I don't wanna do it! But I'm the historian, is all."
"That soooounds suspiciously like volunteering, though," Tasha notes in a low murmur. She rubs her chin as she studies Lacci, then decides, "I'm sure you'll be fine if you both stay in my office. You can use my Vartan chair. If he tries anything weird -- teleportng, transforming in to a horror, exhibiting any weird colors that don't exist in our reality, tries to tempt you, tries to be you -- you can notify us! I'll have the ship's AI help you."
"Orrrr.. I could write up a syllabus of suggested study topics for him.." Lacci counter-offers.
"What about all the stuff that's not in the history.. uh.. books?" Aaron asks. "Like.. any of the stuff you've done, Tasha."
" ... which you can do in my office! Very good, Lacci. I appreciate crew members who work hard to be useful to the ship, and that is your speciality. Lacci it is." Tasha turns to nod to Gabriel, decisively. "So, want to go share a drink?" She then blinks, turning back to Aaron. "Someone should be writting all this down, shouldn't they? Well, um, I will handle that myself when I'm watching him."
"Be sure to make clear how awesome Lapi are when you do," Aaron tells Tasha. "So he knows not to mess with us."
"Oh I'm sure we'll have handed him back to daddy by then, and then dady can give me what he owes me and we can forget all about black citadels with creepy decorations ... Until the next time, anyway." Tasha shrugs, hands out, as if such things are just a part of life.
After warning the rest of the crew about their guest, and what to do if they see him wandering around, the Dark Horse leaves port to just orbit Praxafallopus until it's time to return to the Forbidden Zone - that is, the Acheron Ash Zone where Tasha is supposed to drop off Samael.
"When do I get to meet Tatha-hem?" Samael asks as he sprawls on the couch in the Captain's Deck Lounge, while Lacci and Katherine look at him with suspicion.
For her own part Tasha also sprawls, except on a different couch than Samael. He maybe have sprawled first, but she isn't going to be denied sprawling on her own ship just because her male duplicate did it first. "Why do you want to meet Tatha-hem? Didn't you already meet Tatha-hem? And the Tnuctipin? Did you copy them too? Aren't their females cattle?" She is assited in her lpunging efforts by Blaze, who currently warms her chest while she plays with his paws.
"I'm not that old, in terms of subjective linear time," Samael claims. "Not even in random-access time. I'm like that thing vibrating on your chest, just wiser and probably less evil."
Liza brings Tasha some sort of mixed drink. It doesn't have fruit in it, so is probably mostly liquor of some kind.
"My heart?" Tasha then leans in and nuzzles her tiny little evil mascot, who does the same back. "Don't let the evil imp talk bad about you, he's just jealous because you're more evil than he is." The cat gets a kiss on the forehead, then the young woman leans back and accepts the drink. "Thank you Liza," she offers, taking a sip and then glancing towards Samael. "Is there some reason you want to see Tatha-hem? The last time we tried to talk to her she sent us a memory of taco spices. Is that, um, a metaphor? Does that mean something in dark-language? Do the Ogdoad really like tacos?"
"I think there may have been a translation issue," Samael says. "But the obvious reason is to learn what it is truly capable of. After all, did my father offer you the knowledge of how to properly use it? Or.. and I'm just guessing here.. the knowledge of how to use it for a singular, specific purpose, after which you'd need to ask him again for the next purpose and thus have to perform another favor."
Tasha considers this for a moment, then turns to her cat and admits, "Probably the latter. He's big and old, and I'm tiny and not. These things happen," she explains the the feline, then she takes another long sip of her drink and eyes Samael. "And so, you might offer that information for, what, free? Won't His Supreme Goatness curse me for a million years or something? You have seen his walls, haven't you?"
"Yeah, the thing is.. did you ever hear about him before you met him?" Samael asks. "I mean.. he couldn't come get me himself, so I see that as meaning he can't do much of anything on his own right now. Or he's just messing with you to see if you'll do things for him."
"But the real take-away from this is: wouldn't you like a second opinion?" the self-proclaimed demon asks.
"That does sound like most of the godlike beings I know. And some of the people I know." Tasha sips, considers, then admits, "I would like a second opinion. Fine, very well, we can go visit Tatha-hem. I assume you want to go now, when I'm comfortable?"
"No, not now," Samael says. "Not while we are out in space and utterly dependent on Tatha-hem not panicking or something."
"He's being suspiciously reasonable," Katherine notes to Tasha.
"Sooo it would be better if you looked while we were in The Maelstrom, that swiling water-like boarder world 'next' to the vortex of inter-dimensional doom and destruction?" Tasha inquires, using the bottom of her muzzle to rub Blaze's head. "That does and does not sound reasonable. You want us to dock, perhaps?"
"Yes, the docking thing," Samael says. "Preferably at a nice planet. With trees. They still have trees these days, right? But not the kind with big nuts. They compel me to wear hats, and I don't like hats. Or trees dictating my fashion. Screw trees. So.. it doesn't have to be a planet with trees. Bushes will do. But not the kind that move or sing or quote poetry."
"Poetry bushes are just the worst," Hakeber says. "They never want to buy you drinks."
"Your adventures have been strange and involve too much singing." Tasha's head shakes, but she reaches over and taps her datapad, then asks, "Gabey-Gabe, is there habitable planet between us and the old goat? Preferably uninhabited?"
"Habitable planets are always inhabited," Gabriel claims. "Or do you just mean 'not inhabited by people with weapons' or 'habitable but not particularly comfortable'?"
"Somewhere we can land and let the imp inspect Tatha-hem so if Tatha-hem reacts like everyone normally does to Samael we won't end floating in oxywater surrounded by all out stuff," the hybrid woman explains at her datapad. "He wishes to offer a 'second opinion'."
"If that's the case, you really do want an inhabited planet or station because they are harder to be stranded on," Gabriel points out. "I'll see what colony worlds are on the way. Good mix of safety and privacy, generally."
"Thank you, love you." Gabriel can hear a smooching noise, then Tasha cuts out. She returns to her drink and her cat, sipping the former and petting the latter. "There, you might get your look. Is there anything else your impishness is interested in?"
"I'm hardly an imp. But... you should show me how to access your historical archives," Samael requests. "And I'm also curious how you operate this vessel."
"Lacci will show you later, when I'm asleep. I don't think I'll show you how to operate the ship just yet." Tasha swivels her head to the two others with her, asking them, "Do you have any questions for our travel imp? He's a little modest as alien-aliens go, but he is an actual outsider from another universe. Normally they're less comprehensible, except when they're not."
"And he's going to be locked up with you during nightshift?" Katherine asks. "Probably shouldn't be in the Maelstrom for that, just in case."
"We do have to take it some time, we can't just use real space if we expect to get there within a reasonable amount of time. He won't be the first alien-alien I've seen, and I've seen them in closer to their natural forms. Right now he's ... " Tasha waggles her drink at Samael, " ... condescending a little, I think. Not much, but a little. It might be Memetic, but maybe not."
"I think you are all far too paranoid," Samael says. "Unless it's because of how I look?"
"No," Katie says. "Yes," Hakeber says at the same time.
Tasha's look is dubious. She peers over her drink, which rests atop her cat's head. "Are you implying I make people nervous or suspicious?"
Tasha then further eyes both Hakeber and Katherine, brows raised. Dubiously.
"You don't make me nervous or suspicious Tasha," Katie claims with a smile. "My training does."
"Your training makes you nervous of people who look like me?" Tasha then has to asks, brows and ears going up.
Hakeber shrugs, and notes, "It's not about nerves, it's that's he's you with a sausage. So.. eh.. hmmm."
"No, it has nothing to do with how he looks," Katie says, rolling her eyes. "I'm professionally suspicious."
Tasha's gaze swivels to Hakeber. She then considers that particular observation, glances at Samael, then takes another long sip of her mixed drink -- followed by one more. At length she notes, "I guess that makes Hakeber perpetually ... what did Lacci say? Horny. Horny for my copy-sausage."
"No I'm not," Hakeber insists. "I've got Aaron for that stuff, and.. sometimes Gabriel, when you're feeling in a similar mood.."
"Mmmhmmmmm ... " Tasha continues to sound as dubious as she looks. She then looks between the two and asks, "Well, any ideas? Opinions? Questions, for our guest? Are his hooves better than mine? Anything?"
"What about his hooves?" Katie asks. "They're.. broken?"
"I never noticed.." Hakeber admits.
"Cloven, apparently." Tasha taps her drink with a nail, a resounding clack-clack-clack filling the lounge as she thinks. "Nothing important, then? Alright." Her attention shifts back to Samael and she asks, "What do you want, Samael? Why don't you want to return to Thotep?"
Samael wiggles his two toes. "If I can't have a forked tongue, I should at least get to have forked hooves," he claims. "But that's only because of the close similarity to the traditional hooves of my lineage."
"Because I just woke from being dead so long that every species I'd familiarized myself with is gone," Samael answers Tasha. "Plus, it seems there are only a handful of you now, so it shouldn't take that long to learn about you all."
"The Sifra have a unfortunate habit of killing everyone so they can have the universe all to themselves," Tasha laments, head flopping back down on her pillow. "It is a problem, but not my problem. Well. Assuming you can provide what Thotep can't, I'll think about it. Also assuming you don't cause serious problems."
"Are you ready to get some rest then, Tasha?" Liza asks. "You look a bit worn."
"I don't think I can even get up. I have been awake for days."" Despite her protestation, Tasha picks up Blaze, picks up her drink, then hauls herself to her feet. "Well, I'm going to retire, then. Katherine, you're welcome to join me. Liza, please ready my pillow annnd my bursh, I think." The teenager then yawns copiously, hiding her muzzle with her drink, before adding, "Well, have a nice ... " She glances at the datapad." Evening. Lacci, please take Samael to my office and show him how to access the news archieves. I am going to sleep for days."
Maybe it's been days, maybe it hasn't. Sasha does feel well rested, certainly. The reason may be the older woman lying next to him though. Gabrielle is still handsome - and her presence bumps her up to beautiful to the young hybrid. It's rare that he's awake first though. It seems.. off, somehow.
Sasha sits up, careful not to awaken the captain -- his mate. With this rare opportunity to watch her dream, he thinks back on how he came to be here. It seems so remarkable that everything worked out like this, that they ended up together after all they'd been through. Despite what they'd been through; because of it. Almost fantastic, really, but hasn't everything ended up fantastic? Fantastic as in fantasy, even a bit of the other kind, too. Like Gabrielle. The woman from the stars, so sad, yet unlike anyone he'd ever known before. Indomitable, even in misery. He doesn't care that she's older, she's been good to him, and he to her. It was worth the jokes and the jeers, the days spent in jail after he belted that Abaddonian officer for trying to tae her away. Not that she'd go -- a man like him could never have won Gabrielle. No man can win Gabrielle, and that's another reason why he loves her.
The young man shakes his head, sliding out of bed. There'd been others before her, too many if he'd been as thoughtful back then as he is today. How much of it had been bravado, to his his weakness? Did it ever mean anything, like how Gabrielle means something? And then there were the men: Blackwings, lithe and strong, so charming an cruel. Someone who understood him, at least so he thought. Others. He doesn't group the dalliances with his friends in this group, nor his boyfriend, Kane, the startlingly handsome singer and song writer. When he looks at it all, he can only shake his head.
How did I get here?
There's a light knock at the door. It must be Leon, with the morning coffee already.
Sasha's grin is cocky, though not out of any personal need to feel the emotion. No, he's come to think the crew expect it from him, and he has to put on his face in the morning as surely as Gabrille does. There's a trick to being a leader, a masculine charm and and self-assuredness to maintain, whatever else he feels. It's something he even thinks is pretty amusing. After all, he'd rather cook his own breakfasts. Cooking is something that's always calmed him down, ever since he took over the position on The Rake.
"Shh," Sasha whispers, tip-toeing on feet without toes so as not to wake his mate. He sidles up to the door, then slides it, upen, hand snaking through to make 'gimme' gestures with the fingers of his Karnor hand.
Leon waits there primly, his long ears folded back and one eyebrow raised. He holds the small platter with the mugs of coffee forward. "Pardon me if I woke you, sir," the buck says quietly. "But you're late. Actually, it seems the entire crew has overslept." Behind him, Sasha can see the bulky form of Lacsis slumped across his desk, where he was supposed to be showing Samael.. history?
The hybrid man angles his head over, tilting it to peer behind Leon, his muzzle quirking at first in amusement, then surprise, and finally concern. "Huh," he goes, leaning back and scratching his head, "I guess Lacsis isn't as reliable as I'd've though. You'd think anyone who could teach kids could watch an imp for a few hours." His head shakes and he feels like he'll be doing that a lot today. Well, better get at it then, he decides. "Right, well, do your thing Leon. I'm all yours. And please, someone find that demon?"
"The demon is in the lounge," Leon notes, and first fetches Sasha.. some pants. Then the uniform tunic, and then the comb and brush to deal with the unruly blonde bed-head. "The captain appears to be exhausted," the buck notes. "I am glad I slept through most of that journey."
"Yeah, well, it's a big artificial planet full of big artificial boring. Maybe it's meditative? Whatever it is, we both hate it. I really hope we don't have to go back." The young man moves as directed, settling down on a nearby couch and straightening for the obligatory grooming session. He'd still not quite used to having another man do his hair, especially to the point of what he'd have called foppish a year ago -- and if he'd known wnat 'foppish' meant. It's nice, and he likes the style, but he always feels so self-concious. Like everyone's watching him. It's hard not to blush.
"Any other news? Cats attacking the otehr cats, new Terran client is a singing bush? Oh and make Gabby some eggs and bacon, would you? She'll appreciate it after a long sleep." Taking care of Gabrielle, whether carrying her down a mountain or just making sure she gets her breakfast just the way she likes it is his honor and pleasure, something he's learned to do indirectly, subtly, and with quiet affection.He doesn't ever want her to compare him to those days back on Old Terra, where her life was decided, down to how many kids she'd have.
"Of course sir, just promise me you won't ever try to wear your hair in a mullet again," the buck says. "Most of the rest of the crew was in the Galley when I left, waiting for the next batch of coffee. I don't know if anyone has tried to prepare breakfast yet. Kane didn't seem to be shooing people out, so may not be doing it himself today.
Sasha begins to shrug, stops when he realizes it'll screw up his manservant's effort, and so shrugs with his hands instead. "Eh, who knows with that lot of jokers, right? They're funny, but at least they can handle themselves. Uh, well, except Lacsis. Man, that was a bit disappointing." He straightens again, ramrod, letting his hair be done in the new style. While he used to wear his hair hacked short to keep it out of the way, these days he's shifted towards the inclusion of a short pony tail, while the mess of wayward hairs is intentional now. It makes him look a bit rough, but intentionally so, and the pony tail adds a degree of intentional control.
Wit that out of the way the young man stands, tilting his neck left and right, popping it. "Alright, I'm heading down. When Gabrielle wakes up, tell her I love her, right?" And then he's off for the lift.
Of course, the lounge isn't empty when Sasha strides through. A cloven-hoofed leg is visible, bobbing up and down over the back of one of the couches. "Sleep well?" the oddly familiar-but-feminine voice asks.
"Hey, why wouldn't I?" Sasha shrug is broad and his grin is confident. He waltzes over to stand behind Samael, planting his hands on the couch rest behind her and leaning over to grin at her upside down. "Why, hoped to ruin it? Haunt my dreams, maybe?"
The female version of Sasha is.. disturbing in some way, besides the all black motif and red eyes. It could definitely due with more clothing too. "Haunt your dreams? Does that mean you think I'm cute Sashy-washy?" Samael teases. "I'm making polite small talk. That's still a thing, isn't it? Gives people a chance to get comfortable before they pull out their hidden knives and such. You just seemed so very out of sorts the other night. Well, it was two nights ago, I think. It's hard to tell on a ship. How long are your days? Lacsis didn't last more than.. twelve hours.. into the history lesson."
"All women are cute, it's just none of them are as cute as Gabrielle," Sasha insists without missing a beat. "Besides you look like my sister, and I've got enough problems with my brother." He leans back up, looking down, arms folded. "Well can't fault the coddled Galactic for a lack of, uhhh, stamina I guess." This induces a dubious look in the male hybrid, and a frown, as he suspects he'd been tricked in to saying that somehow. "A-anyway, staying awake for says on end will put anyone out. Uh, right, well, you'd better just come with me. And maybe put on a shirt?"
"A shirt? Is this because of how Ekard was looking at me?" Samael says and stands up. After some readjustment, the golden toga garment covers everything appropriately again. "I assumed it was my lack of scars.." the demon claims.
"Probably both. Gabrielle says scars give me charcter, and Ekard was probably thinking of giving you. uhh, something else." The young man shrugs, but his muzzke twicthes and ears flick at the whole idea. "Which means ... Y-you know what? Lets just not think about that too hard." He certainly doens't need another 'you'd make someone a great wife' jokes thrown his way, directly or by proxy. "Come on, we're headed to the galley."
Most of the crew is gathered in the galley, except for the Phins.. who, if they're also sleepy, would still be in their cabin water-tank. There's certainly some tension in here though. Possibly because Ariel has commandeered the coffee pot, and nobody seems up to challenging the scarred Amazonian for it. Ekard looks rough, while Wing looks.. like Wing always looks: human and inscrutable. Kane is lounging in his a too-tight jumpsuit. He always looks like he's lounging against something though. His hair is a lot longer and shinier than Sasha's as well. Shaya and Joanne are both in the kitchen area, preparing food for the breakfast bar. Shaya is making quiche, since she's the only one with the patience for it, and ability not to shake the pan.
"Where's Lacsis and Gabby?" Ekard asks. He doesn't look bruised, at least, so probably isn't tired from being with Ariel all night.
"Moring crew," Sasha greets his sundry bunch of outcasts and outsiders before turning to Ekard. "Captain Akkers is enjoying her well-earned beauty rest and we shall not wake her unless we have to." He spins one of the chairs around, then drops in to it, arms resting on the back rest and wings free. "Speaking of sleep, I guess we needed it. Everyone, it looks like. I guess that planet takes a lot more out of people than we thought."
"You all look positively sideways," Samael notes. Then tilts her head. "Maybe negatively sideways, which would be counter-widdershins of charmed."
"I'm not tired," Ariel claims. But then, she has the coffee. "Not sure what happened to Ekard though.. he's usually up for something."
"I don't feel.. more hungover than usual," the young scholar notes, and runs his fingers through his mussy mop of a mane. "I.. think."
"I feel fine," Kane claims, and smiles.
"You all feel a bit off to me," Wing claims.
Sasha thumbs behind himself, indicating Samael with a wry look. "And here's our demon, in the flesh. My flesh." The hand falls and so the young man turns to eye the coffee longingly. He could pull rank, or summon the mysterious ammenities-acquiring force of Leon, but he decdies that's probably risk a mutiny. Instead he turns his attention to Kane and grins. "Hey Kane, I don't feel fine. Want to help me?"
"I wouldn't want to step on Leon's toes," Kane notes with a grin. "They're so big after all. But what do you need hon?"
"My chair's less comfortable without you in it." One of the great freedoms of Galactic life has been to allow Sasha to express his interets in other men openly, for his retaltionship with Kane to be more than skuling in shadows, or acting as Kane's friend and part-time mentee. Accoridng to Gabrille, this is how it's been for longer than the Expedition itself, making him wonder how things changed. The difference was no joy for Gabrielle either as she found her competence, if not questioned, then doubted. After he struck that officer, they had to find backing from sources other than the Expedition or the Silent-Ones. "But I'll behave. I have to my little sister here, after all."
"Little sister?" Samael asks. "I'm older than your respective origin species. And.. you still look sideways to me, you know. You notice these things when you have multiple time dimensions. Because I'm almost certain you didn't have a ponytail before."
Kane comes over to sit with Sasha, and tells her, "You could probably get the coffee pot back if you'd bedded Ariel back in Amazonia. Now you've got no hold over her."
"Coffee still wins," Ariel claims, and sips from the pot.
"So, are we heading straight for Acheron?" Wing Sen asks.
Sasha intentionally ignores the complaint part, at least. He's going to call the demon 'little sister' because it annoys her, it feels like a small advantage, and he thinks it's damn cute. "Huh?" He asks instead, scootching his chair enough so he can look behind himself, though Kane's arrival causes him to adjust once again, this time so he can be near the wonder that is Kane, and thus lean his his head on Kane's chest. "You know I don't talk about Ariel and I. We're just friends." To escape the line of thought he shifts his head to eye Samael, asking, "Before what? I know I let my hair down during the trip, but I don't think I did when we reached the temple. It kind of gets annoying, you know?"
"Yeah, I don't know what you did before you got to the temple, I was dead, remember?" Samael says, rubbing her chin. "We came back, scared people, left before the panic set in.. hey, who's flying this thing?"
"Same things that always fly it," Sasha answers vaguely, reaching up and rapping his knuckles on Kane's chest to catch his reaction to the run around, grinning. "Are you sure you've got your tentacles attached right, Samael? You sound like you're having a hard time being here."
"Whatever is twisted here is not my tentacles," Samael insists. "Please take me to wherever your control and navigation is, I need to see where we've been."
"I guess you'll keep asking until I'll do it." Sasha pats Kane's arm, then pushes himself up to sitting, kicking his legs out for the fulcrum weight shift. "Alright! It sounds like you mean it. I guess I'm going to the bridge. Leon, you'll bring me my breakfast, won't you?" The young man's butler-slash-personal assistant gets a winning smile and a bat of the eyelashes, and then he stands. "This way, demon sister."
The bridge looks empty when they arrive, but that's because the pilot and navigator are in their tanks below. "You know, I thought the Tnuctipin would have a different design aesthetic," Samael notes as she looks around. "Oh.. there it is." She finally looks over the edge into the 'bowl' that holds the original control system for the ship, and notices the dolphins. "What are those?" she asks.
"Squeaky Terran fish, AKA Phins, AKA neo-dolphins, AKA one of the best trades I've ever made, and finally, A-K-A my friends and crew: Kia and Maki. Watch Kia, she's frisky." A pause, then. "That's the female. Uhh ... " He searches a moment, then points over the rail. "That one. The pilot. Maki handles information and the like. Oh, and the interior is simulated faux-matter."
"They don't look like fish, they've got big nostrils in the tops of their heads," Samael points out, just before Kia sprays water from her blowhole. "We aren't fish, just a bit fish-centric-k-k," the pilot claims. "Why do you look like Sasha's hot twin sister?"
"Convenience," Samael claims. "Can you show me where we are?"
"Hey did you just say I'm not hot," Sasha asks, leaning over the rail such that he teeters. "She might be pretty but she doesn't have my style. I guess she's as pushy, though: Do it, Kia."
Maki whistles up the big holographic field, showing their parking-orbit around Praxafallopus. The faux-Vartan-Karnor-hybrid narrows her eyes as she studies it. "Where there any anomalous events detected when the ship passed over the Temple City?"
"She means other than the creepy tomb-fortress, the soul eating twin pyramid, the landscape devoid of life, the city devoid of life, the city devoid of style. You know, abnormal." Sasha pushes off and lands on his hooves, reaching back to scratch at the side of his head. Aside he whispers, "What are you looking for, anyway? It's only been a few hours and we haven't gone anywhere."
"You're plenty hot-t Sasha, but you really should see how long you can hold your breath before I can really be sure!" the Greatest Pilot in the Universe teases. More information is brought up, showing the transit over the city that Sasha picked up Samael in. "I'm looking for.. that!" Samael claims, pointing toward some floating readout. "Orbital correction!"
"That was an automatic correction," Maki reports. "It doesn't show up on our previous orbits though."
"You know the Captain would glare at you for that -- and me, even though it's not my fault!" And so Sasha turns back to Samael and spreads his hands. "It's not, I swear." He then works his muzzle a moment, nose twitching, before turning to take a look at the display again. "So, an orbital correction? Why isn't it logged?"
"It is logged, it was just so minor that it didn't raise any flags," Maki says, using a Terran-ism that Sasha recognizes but has no idea of its origin. "Checking for causes. No other traffic or gravitational wakes that I can find.."
"Fessus," Samael grumbles. "All those eons.. must have figured out how to influence T'thogga-hem.."
"Uh, flags. Right. So we didn't raise flags, and changed course. For no reason?" Sasha head cocks to the side, brows furrowing. It's hardly the most noteworthy oddity he's ever seen, certainly. He's about to say so when Samael makes his observation. "So, uh, Fessus moved us ... slightly? How ... should I ... go with devious, I guess? Maybe petty? Was he bored, or something?"
"You must have annoyed the bastard somehow," Samael says. "Or Leviathan is trying to play a joke on Thotep. Or.. Fessus is trying to get us killed, or to do something it wants. You do know that each of the Ogdru-hem have a different.. uh.. quality to them, right?"
Sasha holds up his hands. "All I did was deliver the old goat's message and, you know, said hi. The usual god stuff, right? Hi I'm Sasha, here's your message, nice pyramids, et-cetera. I mena I didn't sacrifice anyone, but I wasn't going to do that however mad Fessus got, and I wans't there for information anyway." The hands fall, the young man turning to walk several steps before dropping in to the boom-extended Navigation station, reaching over to punch a few commands, his legs hanging out to the side. "And I didn't piss off a Leviathan. Or met one. Unless I did; this job's tricky, you know?" He shrugs; what can a mere mortal do? "As for quality, you mean nature? Like this one's an earth-spirit, this one's physical, that other one's made out of time and friendship, that sort of thing? And some are spirits and some are flesh-and-darkness?"
"Yes, that sort of thing," Samael confirms. "And Leviathan is Fessus' father in the same sense that Thotep is my father. They're.. uh.. brothers.. I guess. Figuratively. Except Leviathan decided to go with Order. Anyway, it doesn't matter. T'thogga-hem has the quality of.. weaving."
"I'm guess you mean other than baskets, like the land and such. Time. Or, maybe something like hyperspaces?" Sasha confirms the course change through other logs, frowning at what such a simple but inexplicable deviation could mean. Maybe the creepy stack of shapes botched it? He wonders.
Samael waves her hands around as if trying to pluck the proper term from the air. "The world. No.. worldlines.." she decides. "K'Thogga-hem as rewoven your worldline."
Sasha's ears flick; he's heard the word somewhere. Or, perhaps Norris heard it somewhere. Either way, it has that ominous-yet-undefined quality, a sense of seriousness without any actual detail. "Hey Kia, what's a worldline? It sounds serious."
"It's sort of your.. or anything's path through space-time," the Phin explains. "If you plotted it, it would look like a line running from birth to death, with every moment a point in space and time."
"Serious indeed." Sasha sits up once again, arms resting on either side of the console chair, man leaning forward. "Sooo, old T'thogga changed our path through our lives. Our soul, isn't that right? The data that makes us, us. Except we're still almost where we were, and nothing else has changed." He grits his teeth a moment, then grudgingly orders, "Well this sounds bad, Phins. Go ahead and wake the queen."
"Alerting the captain now," Maki notes. "What was changed though?"
"Beats me." The hybrid man turns to Samael and arches his brows. "Any idea, sister sinister?"
"It'll be something to isolate you from your allies," Samael suggests. "Possibly so that they wouldn't recognize you at all. We'll have to go through the twist to fix it."
"But which allies, and why? Maybe the stack of shapes realizes we're planning to attack the world, which admittedly would kind of make me mad if I lived there, but it's not like there's much else going on down there. Maybe it's afraid to lose T'throgga?" Sasha's head shakes. In between all the big arcane concerns, he'd overlooked the most obvious of threat he poses: a direct one. Rarely ahs he even posed a direct threat to any of the great beings, so when it happened he'd completely overlooked the potential backlash. "So, uh, just go through the twist. That sounds simple. It's not simple, is it?"
"Of course it's not simple," Samael notes, and points to the hologram. "Those big holes? The scary ones? Those are the entries into the twist. We'll need the one opposite the Temple of Fessus," she explains. "Once through.. uh.. then it gets tricky.."
"What gets tricky?" Gabrielle asks as she strides onto the bridge in her uniform, clutching her mug of coffee in one hand. "What exploded?"
She looks directly at Sasha when she asks about explosions though.
"Nothing exploded!" Sasha insists, waving his hands in a emphatic gesture in the negative. "And I didn't do it! Uh, probably!" He kicks off the command chair, walking up to Gabrielle, looking up, and up. "It's Samael. He said we were off, right? Twisted. Well she wanted to come to the bridge, and I figured she probably wasn't playing a game, right? And she said, "Bring up the logs." Turns out we made a course correction -- and the T-Throgga probably did it. Except, we're not just off course, we're off worldlines. It's some kind of attack, messing with our lives. We're working out how to fix it now."
There's a long sip of coffee, and then Gabrielle asks, "And Sami is the only one who noticed? Any other evidence that she's not just making it up for whatever reason?" And after a pause, and in a softer voice, she asks, "What does the Niss have to say about it?"
"I can't say for sure if she is. She could be." The young man then pauses to eye Samael dubiously. "But, Kia and Maki confirmed the course change, so that at least is true. I'll talk to the elders at Nav." He makes a semi-genuine salute, frowning up at Gabrielle with something other than generalized worry and anxiety. He still remembers her stricken, doubled over in pain from their journey through the Temple below. It's haunted him since they left, the sense that everyone he loves is here -- and how fragile they are. Especially now, so deep in the mysteries and dangers of godlike beings. His gaze lingers, but with effort he forces himself away, hopping back in to the control station.
"Hey Niss," he whispers, grabbing one of the headsets and holding it to his ear. "I think we've got an emergency, maybe. Do you all detect anything wrong? Off? Worldline-wise."
"The ship has been shifted from its original probability line," the Niss report. "Current worldline is in accordance with non-local potential timeline Sigma-Chi-7."
Sasha grimaces at the news. He looks up and over, and though his expression says it all, he addsa thumbs down. "It's true. The ... Library and the specials say we're off worldline. 'Current worldline is in accordance with non-local potential timeline Sigma-Chi-7.'"
"Well.. that's not telling us much," Gabrielle notes, but does look worried. "No need to get into the details though. What's to be done about it?"
For the details Sasha points to Samael. "She says we need to make planetfall. Got to dive in to one of those soul-flattening holes, the one on the opposite side from the Temple. That's where things 'get tricky'."
"Tricky," Gabrielle says, looking to Samael. "You're just a fount of technical jargon, aren't you? Details, please."
For his part Sasha lays his ears back, turning back to the console where his mates displeasure will hopefully not be aimed at him. Wanting to make himself useful in the interm, he whispers, "Niss, we need to fix this. Our guest says we need to dive the well opposite the temple down below and enter something she calls 'the twist'. Will that work, or do you think it's a trap?" A pause to think, then something else occurs to Sasha to ask. "Is your collective okay? Do you know what changed?"
"Ah.. well.. this ship traverses the Maelstrom, I understand," the demon notes. "So, that will be the primary means of approach and entry, since doing so in normal space would be fatal, and such an maneuver in hyperspace would also just shift the ship into another dimension, namely a sub-quantum tangled one that isn't amenable to matter or energy." Samael pauses, a moment as if collecting her thoughts before saying, "Once on the other side, we'll be in a different reality which may or may not be.. uh.. real. The twist is home to several worlds, which also may or may not be real, you see. They back out will depend on which world we encounter, but leaving the twist again should restore our original timelines."
As he awaits a reply, Sasha leans back and risks asking, "Captain, do you want me to go ahead set emergency conditions? This sounds like something worse than what we've been through so far, we should probably think about space suits, too." He can't quite get his ears up, but at least he can try and be useful.
"Not much point in asking Kia if she can do this, since she'll always say yes," Gabrielle says, and stares at the navigation display for a moment. "Yeah, inform the crew Sasha. Make sure everything is secure, because this is sure to be bumpy. That includes Melchior and the shuttles, the workshop, and the Jotoki and kittens. Have Joanne prep the medbay too."
"Yes ma'am." Sasha punches through control windows until he's got internal communications up, then he slides the headset to properly cover his head and straightens. "All hands, this is Sasha. We have an emergency condition: Red alert. I repeat, red alert." The young man isn't sure why Terrans view red as the color of danger and rancor. Perhaps, as he suspects, it has to do with the color of their blood, which is as red as a Vartan's. Still, he can't quite avoid taking it a little personally, even if he'd have to admit it's accurate in that way, as well. "All crew, we'll be doing a lockdown sweep of the ship. Leave nothing unsecured. Once your sector has been locked down proceed to don your vacuum suit and report to your station. If crew, you know what to do. Non-crew personnel should move to their quarters. If you have any problems report them immediately. Bridge out." He sucks in a deep breath after. It's never easy, but saying the words somehow makes it seem real in a way mere speculation and planni
ng doesn't.
"The rabbits will want to know what's going on, and Wing," Gabrielle notes, and stares at her now empty coffee mug. "Right.. let's get ready to not-die then!"
With his part taken care of, it's time for Sasha to head to his own station. While technically not actual crew, his role tends to float, yet there are more competent people to take over bridge roles than he. "I'll ask Wing to come to the bridge and explain the situation once I'm done with my sweep." No, the best place he can be in a situation like this is in the Melchior where the combined might of his mortal mind and heart paired with the vast processing power and insight of the machine's AI can do the most good, be in the most places. With a link to the ship, he can function as a backup command center, second bridge, and more. And should the worst happen, he'll be on hand with heavy machinery to try and make things right. "Alright, I'm off Gabby."
Being inside Melchior and networked with the ship's system gave Sasha a sort of omnipresence, especially while 'boosted' by integrating with the Titan's AI. It also provided a much more detailed 'view' of what was happening. Kia, of course, was flying on manual control - the Neo-dolphin pilot's intuition was better than any predictive algorithm, especially within the fluid, fractal dimensionality of the Maelstrom. The turbulence did vanish once they were on close approach to the 'twist' entrance, like flying into the eye of a storm. The collision alarms sounded, and the Dark Horse penetrated K'Thogga-hem's event horizon - and the universe seemed to invert. And that's how Sasha found himself standing on a cracked, desolate plain beneath a white sky spotted with black stars - including two dark suns. Samael was standing next to him, and between them hung a shimmering image of the Dark Horse itself.
"Uhh," goes Sasha, who looks around for a long moment -- his gaze apssing right through and past Samael -- before he frowns with decided gravity.
"Mel?" The hybrid man queries, getting that sinking feeling all over again. The feeling he's been in situations like this before, where everything that had seemed stable and predictable not only ceased to be, it then did a one-eighty, a three-sixty, and several far more complicated turns before sense and logic gave up completely, leaving him somewhere. Where, well, that's always the trick.
As he awaits a reply, he increasingly suspects one might not come. At length his eyes fix on Samael, but he doesn't speak yet.
"Well.. crap," Samael says, looking around. "Pretty sure this is the plain of Ib, which means we're going to Carcosa. At least we have wings though! Pretty sure it doesn't matter which way we head. I think the ship will follow us? It's just a placeholder though. None of this may be physical. But.. if you're here I suppose you're used to this sort of thing?"
Ssha throws his hands out in a shrug, while also indicating the place -- or not place -- they happen to be in. "Are you kidding? I feel like a spend half my life these days in places like this. Where am I now? Time-traveling. What about today? Harrower's doorstep. Tomorrow, maybe it'll be a sea between stars, or maybe some god's bad dream." The hands fall and with no answer to be heard from his AI he decides he must be on his own. Well, on his own with a demon. It doesn't feel like much of an improvement. "But yeah, this happens. A. Lot. It's like my job."
And so Sasha shakes his head, planting a hand on his thigh and cocking his head to the side. "I'd say this one's new, but they all tend to be new. We're inside the twist though, right? So why am I out here and the ship is over there?" He points.
"Well, inside the even horizon of black hole, time and space swap - time becomes space-like and space becomes time-like," Samael notes. "Inside K'Thogga-hem, it's more that space becomes mind-like, and time.. becomes more like a sick cat."
"So the Dark Horse is probably frozen in hairball-time right now," the demon concludes.
Sasha has had that experience, which typically involves vomit on his favorite chair, clothes, or desk. "So where we are becomes a matter of our thoughts, their thoughts, Fessus's thoughts, and T'throgga's thoughts? And time is ... a scramble." It's the least disgusting and most polite way to say it. He inhales, arches a brows, and then simply nods. "Well, right. Mind-places and time-scrambles. But we're not frozen, right? Right?"
"If we were frozen, I don't think we'd be having a conversation about it," Samael reasons. "But as for whose mind matters here.. it's mostly His. The Outer God whose realm this is. We just have to look for the color yellow."
"Hey I had a conversation in a stasis field once, it's just we had another form of time to talk in." But he conceeds the point with another nod. Then, turning, he starts searching the landscape for yellow. With his loved ones a crew stuck in time, he'd rather be moving towards an answer than standing about discussing extra-dimensional historical details. "So. Yellow. And an Outter God. Not the Ogdoad, I guess, and not Thotep. Not Leviathan either?"
"No, but I really don't want to say His name," Samael says, and spreads her wings. "Let's see if flying works here, shall we?"
"Ah, one of those names." He shrugs, then spreads his wings as well. He turns to examine the small ship, frowning anxiously, but Samael did think it'd follow. He can only hope that's true, and if it's not, he'll come back -- if he can. "Lets get going then."
Flying works, even though there's no wind to help with takeoff. And the shiny image of the Dark Horse does stick close to Sasha. Once in the air, the horizon suddenly seems a lot closer than it did on the ground, and dark spires can be seen in the distance. But the perspective is variable, as the objects seem to approach far faster than they should.. but then it becomes clear just how big they are, reminding Sasha of the 'spokes' connecting the orbital ring of Praxafallopus to the ground. But in this case there's a forest of them, and they're all a lot thicker. Black mountains squeezed into the shapes of monoliths.
"So these monoliths, they're big," Sasha notes as the fly along, feeling suddenly small in a universe that may not only lack a sense of scale, but not even have space as he knows it. Or time, for that matter. Which brings him to ask, "They're conceptual, aren't they? Thoughts. The God's thoughts, and how I percieve them?" And then one idea comes to his young mind: Irony. "So what I said about tomorrow being in a god's bad dream ... that's..?"
"Try not to think about it too much," Samael advises. Once they're within the forest, things get weirder. There's clearly a city here - there are causeways and bridges and domes and other shapes, but the dark suns cast twin shadows - and the shadows are bright and white, while the sunlit areas are dark. But every so often, there's a streak of yellow exposed by bright shadow.
It's hard not to think about a world this strange. Despite the reluctance, and the occassional complaint, Sasha has come to many of these places willingly. He is, after all, an explorer at heart and this is somewhere new. Not just new, strange. Strange even compared to some of the other places he's been, like a Harrower's doorstep to some power of bizarre. At least The Way and the doorstep had a certain sense of reality, they were bridges. This place not be any sort of bridge; never intended for mortals to wander in, and through.
Thinking and trying not to think about these things, Sasha catches the yellow, which he points out. "There, in the light -- the dark? Light-shado-- The white patch."
Samael changes direction to where Sasha points. "That's part of the Yellow Sign, we'll need to follow it. Watch out for movement when we fly over it. The Hungerer might be lurking on the big spires."
"The Hungerer? It sounds like a cheesy monster from a bad holovid." In fact Sasha is pretty sure he saw something like that in That Show the Titanians liked to watch. The first time he saw it he laughed, then had a startling moment of concern when he had to really think if he'd met anything like it, would, or if maybe he was offending the Progenitors (as he hadn't yet known what they looked like) by laughing at it. Then he laughed harder, because it all felt just too rediculous. Maybe this place is made up of coincidental ironies. Still, he does keep watch. Especially so, least coicidence and revenge be his doom.
"Especially look for talon-tipped tentacles flying at your head," Samael continues. "It likes to impale skulls to suck out the brains." They pass between two of the monolithic structures, to see the yellow more clearly across on of the causeways. It looks very liquid. "Scribe the Sign, and the King in Yellow will be at the center," the demon quotes.
Norris would have made a joke about how I'd be totally safe from a brain-sucking monster, Sasha thinks, suddenly terribly missing his brother, who feels so invicible. Invincibility could go a long way in this strange place just short of incomprehensibility. "Right, don't get brain sucked out, dodge tentacle-talons." He's at least glad the attack is relatively straightforward.
"Do ... we actually need to scribe the sign? And he's a king and a god? Or the king of outter gods?" Sasha inquires, still keeping an eye out for attacks from the dark, or light, or whatever it is while glancing back now and then to make sure he's on course for yellow.
"He's the King in Yellow because that's a safe name," Samael claims. "He is the Magnum Innominandum - He Who Must Not Be Named. The Unspeakable One, and a lot of other names. That's a theme with these sort of entities. I don't use my real name, after all, and I'm.. harmless."
"Harmless, right." Sasha would shake his head, but he fears The Hungerer would get him. "So, no actual names. It sounds like knowing their names makes them appear, or, I guess, summons them. Or you to them. Like a bridge. Now taht I see this place, that makes a lot more sense to me. They're not like me at all. Their nature is more, somehow, and their name must be more, too. Like, they somehow live a little in their name, and if you say it, they live within you. Or where you are. Like when someone speaks a thought, and you hear it, and it's in your head and in the place."
The city seems much more ruined the further they get.. and even one of the giant spires is knocked over, crushing a huge swath of other structures. "The Yellow Sign is something like that. If you behold it fully, then He can influence you." So far there hasn't been any sound beyond what they themselves make, but Sasha thinks he hears a brief scraping sound along the path they're following.
"That sounds like a little of what I know of Outter beings. When I made a deal with the Source, it did something to me. Changed my soul. It's what Tatha-hem sensed when we met the first time, what let me talk to her. The names are maybe like deals, and you seal them by speaking the name, I guess." The young man then lifts his taloned hand and points. "I think I hear something ahead, but why all the ruins? Or, uh, is this an expression of the being we're approaching? Outter beings like you, Thotep, and the others, they're beings of Chaos normally, right? So all these ruins are the God's form of chaos?"
"No, I think Carcosa was a real city originally," Samael says. The scenery keeps changing, with what appear to be giant tree roots visible in some of the rubble.. and then one of the roots shifts slightly, causing another scraping sound, and an avalanche of dark rubble. "And we've found Him.. follow the tentacle."
"On it." Sasha angles off, realizing this is yet another moment when he's winging straight towards beings most would rightly call terrifying, mind-bendingly dangerous monstrocities. Tentacled horrors, of a kind that seem to exist in the darkest mythologies of countless races, species, and civilizations. As he gazes upon this inverted world, so alien, yet once perhaps a real place, he understands why. Here is the horror that looms behind all the tales, the end of the road upon which a traveler might walk in to the heart of mythology. The truth at the end of abstraction, what all before him have feared. Yet he keeps going, because he can't abandon his family and friends.
And were they not here? If there was no reason to continue on?
He knows he's still be he here, he'd keep going.
If maybe not why.
It isn't long before they enter a much more cleared (or flattened) area. The base of a spire rises up until it is sheared away, providing a platform of sorts that faces the King in Yellow. The multitude of giant tentacles merge and twist together into a rising trunk, the top of which is covered by a hooded yellow cloak. There's only blackness within the hood, but the cloak is big enough that Atum could wear it. Samael heads for the broken spire.
With nothing left to do, Sasha follows along. The figure that looms in the distant like a mountain has a kind of crawling presence, as if even when not looking at it Sasha can feel its presence radiating like a dark sun upon his skin. He thinks he'd be aware of it even if he never caught a glimpse, wondering if it's his imagination or some real fey sense. In this world where space is thought he suspects it could be both, and more besides. Soon he's landed upon the spire, walking up to stand beside Samael and look out upon the lord of this strange world.
The King in Yellow clearly notices then, it's attention like oil creeping through one's mind. And when he speaks, each syllable is spoken by a different voice, but all of them feel very wet and fleshy, as if coming from open wounds or bursting boils within the dark hood. "Pharol Xexanoth the Servitor," the voices whisper and echo. "The Dagger of Eibon. And the Bird of Hermes." At the speaking of the first name, Samael goes stiff, and seems to be forced down onto one knee.
"Lord H'aaztre," the demon says, her head bowed.
This takes Sasha by surprise, who then looks down at his stricken companion with raised brows before remembering he ought to give a god -- perhaps a real god -- his full and undivided attention. He turns back, stiffening, standing straighter. It may well be that rudeness or irreverance caused Fessus's attack on their lives, a mistake he isn't about to repeat if he can help it. "Your lordship," the young man offers respectfully, not having used that form of address in some time. Not sure if he should bow or not -- not having been forced down -- he finds himself at a loss as to whether he should, managing an awkward but respectful inclination of his head.
"Few come to Carcosa of their own volition," The Unspeakable One notes. "And the Bird does not speak the name his kind would know me by. What did you hope to accomplish by seeking me out, Bird of Hermes, wielder of the Dagger of Eibon?"
Sasha's voice catches in his throat, but he quickly clears it and presses on hoping his words don't come out as too great a sputter. "Y-your lordship, my ship and I -- and Samael, Pharol Xexanoth -- have been diverted from our worldine by T'thogga-hem, servant of the Ogdoad, probably by Fessus child of Leviathan for, uh, r-reasons we have speculated on but do not fully know. We have entered T'thogga's 'twist' to correct our worldline, and ended up here. Samael suggested we seek your lordship out." He isn't sure of what to make of his ship's title, but that's a mystery for when he's not answering a god.
"You have successfully sought me out," H'aaztre notes, but doesn't prompt further. Samael didn't mention what was supposed to happen once they found the King in Yellow.
Feeling Samael should be speaking up about now, Sasha waits, and waits further, until propriety and the threat of messy dissolution and worse gnaw at his patience and he speaks once again. "W-we're looking for the right way out," he explains, gesturing vaguely behind himself. "The way out and to our correct worldline. I think Samael believed you'd have some, uh, well insight in to that." That might have been it, if he hadn't remembered The Unspeakable One hadn't been forthcoming after the initial explaination, so he adds, "And would be w-willing to share that information."
Off in the distance, one of the King's tentacles crushes another spire, causing it to destroy more of the city as it falls. "And what would you do if returned to your proper reality?" the horrible voices ask.
Sasha's teeth grind. He doesn't think he'll ever get the voice out of his head, even after long after he's gone. "C-continue what we had been doing. Return to Thotep, complete the deal, then turn the Dagger on the Ogdru-hem, or cast them out. Break the Ogdoad's hold on our reality, so they are unable to consume it." He licks his lips, wanting to look around, but both fixated and unwilling to look away. "Thotep promised the lesson of the Dagger, but Samael thinks he will use it to ensnare me." Which is a gamble to admit, but in the politics of gods, he can always use a second or third opinion. A being of Thotep's calibre might have thoughts, or even rivalries.
The spire beneath Sasha vibrates slightly. Is one of those massive tentacles even now coiling along it towards the top? "Thotep, and the Ogdru-hem. Fessus and Leviathan. T'thogga-hem the Weaver. The Ogdoad, and so the Xilphrim and the Null as well. Perhaps the Vril-ya and the Stelya-rhian. So many influences. A chaos of them. Which to follow? For my aid, you will accept my influence as well."
Sasha's fingers wiggle at his side in anxious fear. Another influence, from yet another unknowable, indescribable being beyond space and time. One he hadn't sought intentionally; a life raft in a sea. Yet the sea is like blood, and the raft scarcely better. Or is it the other way around? But is there another option? Samael remains quiet, and he is quite alone here, with only the Dagger beside him. A weapon, his only option. Even the thought feels chillingly dangerous -- an attack on the King with unknown effects. A weapon he doesn't understand. It is too risky, too risky to even consider, and in its way ungracious. The King has not, after all, brought them harm. It's his realm, and they are desperate.
The answer becomes obvious, if no less pleasant. "Tell me what you want of me."
The spire further shakes and rumbles, with cracks appearing around the edges. And then the tip of a tentacle reaches over the top. It splits open into thirteen parts, opening like a mouth studded with teeth. But held within is something foreign and familiar. The thirteen sides are irregular and asymmetrical, and within the black surface floats a twisted yellow symbol. But for the blackness of it, it is still clearly a Marker. The apparent depth of the material, the shape.. only the symbol doesn't seem to represent a species - unless the Sign in Yellow does represent whatever H'aaztre is. "Take this to Thotep. You will have one rotation of Praxafallopus to evacuate, should you wish to."
The young man's steps are hesitant at first, not quite certain of what he's seeing as he is, and unwilling to walk towards that gaping maw without trepedition. He may have approached Fessus with something of a cavalier attitude, but he'd met many such lower gods before, and he was both warn and angered by his journey. Besides, he was there to deliver a message, and he was tired. Not so, now. There is a difference in power here, one he might have heeded more had he not been so put off balance by Horus's words, when he met Thotep. A lack of caution he continues to regret, perhaps an intentional sabotauge by the prodigal godling.
As he approaches the strange black marker, he reaches out with both hands, ears back. The artifact -- of that is what it is -- is really unlike any of the others. A key, and a soul within? Could a Vril'ya really dwell in this abyssal relic? He doesn't know, and whether it does or does not, whether it is a doom of any kind, he would still take it. He has made his choice. Stepping back he holds the Marker to his chest, nodding. "Take the Marker to Thotep. One rotation to evacuate," he repeats in confirmation.
Tasha wakes slowly, with a sense of exhaustion not in keeping with getting sleep. She feels Gabriel's arm around her, where he's pressed against her back (and awkwardly squashing her wings). The dream - or nightmare - she wakes from is hard to shake off. But it must have been a dream, surely! That is, until she opens her eyes and sees the black Marker resting on the pillow in front of her nose.
Tasha goes from groggy-tired to, if no less tired, wide awake in an instant. She jerks up and clotheslines herself with Gabriel's grasp quite before she can get ahold of herself, choking and dropping right back down, eyes wide. There she lays, staring at the ceiling, her gaze filled with a wild focus.
At length she croaks, " ... Gabrille ..? ... Gabriel?"
A Karnor nose rubs the back of Tasha's ear, as Gabriel shifts and wakes. "Hmmm?" he mutters.
Tasha wiggles at the touch, still panicked but not quite able to resist the nuzzling, even so. The mixed urges confuse her, and so she squeezes her eyes shut and shakes her head with a rough intensity. That done her eyes snap open again and she rolls to turn and look her mate eye to eye. She squints a moment, and then her eyes open wide. "Gabriel!"
The hug comes like an avalanche.
"Ooof!" Gabriel exhales. If he's going to say anything, he's interrupted by an alarm klaxon playing over the intercom. It's followed by a Katie's voice: "Senior crew to the bridge. Immediately, please." It's the first time Tasha's heard an edge of panic in the Karnor's voice.
In fits and sputters, the memory comes back in full. Tasha lets go immediately, sliding off to the side for Gabriel can get to his feet. "The world!" She cries, looking around at a room both familiar and new. She doesn't know where she left her clothes, or even how she got here. "One rotation, we have one rotation!"
Gabriel pulls his pants on, and leaves it at that as he heads for the door. On the way he grabs Tasha's bathrobe and tosses it to her. Through the open door, Lacci's voice asks, "What's going on? I fell asleep.."
Tasha pulls the bathrobe on and hurries after. As she passes the doorway she reaches over and hits the button with her closed fist. "Kaa! Ready us to get out of here, something's going to happen to Praxx and if we don't leave in one rotation, that's it." She leaves it at that, joining Gabriel for a trip to the bridge as she rushes to catch up.
Once Tasha's at Gabriel's side she waves Lacci to follow, she may as well see what's about to happen. A record by a Galactic may help their case, should the blame fall on them, and surely some blame is her's. "Come on, this may be the last time we see Praxx."
Two minutes later, everyone is crammed into the bridge.. well, mostly in the 'wardroom' section. Just about everyone is still in their sleeping clothes (or something thrown on). Katie is at the communications station, wearing a clingy nightgown, and there is splashing as the Phins take their stations below. Samael is also there, standing off to one side with his arms crossed and expression stony. "The channels are going nuts," Katie explains. "Something's happening to the temple city, Dr. Ztathas is calling an evacuation, the Vartan Command Ship is scrambling fighters." The planet appears in the holofield then. "We'll be passing over the site in a few minutes," Katie warns.
"One rotation. We have one rotation." Tasha warns, but she could warn further. She could tell the population below, but to do so would raise immediate suspicion and be recorded in the Library, should anyone surive to tell the tale. Yet, she can't just abandon the people below to almost certain destruction, and possibly much worse if they are drawn in to that other realm. A realm she's sure exists. A glance towards Samael only confirms he belief, as did the Marker. She turns towards Katie.
"Contact the Command Ship and Dr. Ztathas, tell them they have one rotation of the planet before whatever happens, happens. Tell them to get away from the planet, leave the system if they can." She turns to eye the display, trying to assess the state of the evacuation. "Can they even get out in that time?"
"He was already getting things in place when we left," Gabriel notes, getting into his chair. "One rotation is a day.. 30 hours," he notes. Something happens to the display - the 'distortion' that hides surface details suddenly goes away. "One minute until the city comes over the horizon," Katie announces.
Tasha hesitates, thinking on where she'd be of the most use. With everyone here, she opts for the Navigation Station and rushes forward to vault the back of the unit and in to the chair. There she punches buttons, bringing the console to life before turning towards the screen. "A day, that's right. A day." More memories clarify, and so she keeps talking. "The wells may be destabilizing, T'thogga may be falling apart. The realm within, the weaving, the Twist."
The huge 'pit' that the temple city is suspended over is now a pool of bright white light. There enormous tentacles rises out of the white abyss and are wrapped around the city - each must be two kilometers thick where they emerge. As the Dark Horse continues its orbit, the city is slowly crushed and dragged down into the light. It'll still be going down by the time it's passed behind the horizon again.
"What are you babbling about?" Aaron asks, standing back with Liza. She's in a nightgown and he's in his shorts.
"11 hours to full evacuation," Katie reports. "The Silent-Ones have already launched. Confederates will leave within the hour."
"Widening our orbit-t," Kaa announces, and the image of Praxafallopus shrinks, then grows as the telescope zooms to compensate.
Tasha opens her mouth to comment, but hesitates. To speak His name or even hint at feels like a horrible curse, a stain upon the souls of all around her that do not know it. And so she closes her mouth, leaning back and forcing herself to calm down. when Aaron approaches. "We have one rotation," she insists, this time with a forced evenness to her voice. "Something happened here. We were attacked." She pauses, wondering what more to add. "I did what I could," she offers, leaving it at that before turning to Katie. "Keep us informed of the evacuation. We may need to supply assistance."
Beyond the temple city being dragged down by monster tentacles, nothing else seems to be happening. People leave and return fully dressed, Liza brings around coffee, and Shojo even prepares some simple breakfast sandwiches. Samael doesn't leave his spot or comment on anything. Katie also stays where she is, sorting through the communication lines to report the progress of the evacuation and other things that are happening. The Celestial and Terran missions eventually launch as well. Nobody has left the system yet, but they've taken up positions that can no longer be considered to be orbiting the planet, being nearly a million kilometers further out.
During the waiting period, Tasha found herself blacking in to a dreamless but fitful sleep, waking up minutes later. She's tired, as if she'd been awake for a day or two before this, and perhaps she had. She doesn't know how that other reality, or other weave effected her, but thusfar she seems to be the only one that remembers it. Perhaps, she considers, for the same reason she made free in the strange time of that white-on-black world. Though she tries to hide her slips, she can't deflect the lapses. Blinking in an effort to remaina wake once more, she eyes the collapsing world. "I wonder where it's going." Yet, she already knows.
"Maybe you should tell us what's going on, Tasha," Gabriel says, as Liza bring Tasha yet another strong mug of coffee. "You know the deadline, so what else do you know?"
Tasha accepts the mug gratefully, giving Liza a tired smile. Good ol' Liza, even when she's Leon, somewhere out there. She stares in to the dark reflection in the coffee's surface, watching her reflection waver. She considers concealing the truth further but doubts her crew will let it go at that. They're explorers, the same as she. A mystery will only draw them on, especially one she so obviously knows the answer to.
"We were attacked," she begins again, nodding slowly. "Shortly after we left, in orbit around the world we were thrown from our worldlines. We think it was Fessus, who may have hated or feared us, using T'throgga's power to Weave timelines within itself, within the Tangle beyond the wells. We ... " She looks up again, remembering familiar faces in other shapes. She wonders if those people still exist somewhere, some time, or if they had always been a shadow. Part of her misses them, the part of her that remembers being Sasha. "We were changed. So we wouldn't be recognized by our allies. We dove in to the well to fix it. Samael and I found a way."
"So this another event like when you entered the Way," Gabriel says. "Something happened that's leading to the destruction of Praxafallopus?"
"A higher power is intervening, but I don't know if it's because of our escape or just a ... Um, a moment of opportunity." Tasha chews her lip a moment. "But staying behind would be a very bad idea. Beyond that sea of white light is another place entirely. Even The Way made more sense, was more familiar."
"So.. Thotep-level or Progenitor or Sifra or.. uglier?" Hakeber asks.
"Thotep-level. It may have needed to remove the source of our rewoven worldlines, which means it went after the crypt-city first to destroy--" Or worse ... "Fessus. The wells are the boundaries of T'throgga, beyond which is part of him. That the white space is escaping from them may mean T'throgga is gone, or will be soon if the world is drawn inside." She draws in a breath, exhales and continues. "Fessus, son of Leviathan, of Order. T'throgga, Ogdru-hem."
"So, this new one is a Chaos god then?" Hakeber asks.
"Yes," is all Tasha says to that.
"Mmmm," Hakeber replies. "What was the other worldline like?" she then asks, just as Katie announces the final evacuation of the Vartan personnel that were spread through the surface city.
"At least that's done ..," whispers Tasha, glad their freedom and return didn't doom others to death or something far worse, cast beyond time and space. As for the other world, she tilts her head and a little grin plays on her muzzle, growing steadily. "I'll paint you a picture of it, some time. You really don't remember?" She then looks up and around, eyes widening. "No one does, except Samael and I?"
"Well, that's not surprising," Gabriel comments. "And since we have a timeframe, I'm going to take a shower. Tasha, you should take a nap."
In response to the direction, Tasha just holds her arms out for Gabriel to carry her. She's exhausted, her mind is full of another self's memories, and most ominous of all the weight of a deal made in desperation in a world beyond. It will all come to head sooner or later, but she thinks she has some time yet. Time to rest, now that everyone is safe -- or as safe as they might be.
The end came with the pits of Praxafallopus turning white. A single enormous tentacle emerged from each, stretching straight out for over a thousand kilometers before splitting into thirteen branches that fell back to the surface. The orbital ring was smashed first, and once they hit the surface the tentacles further branched and grew until they eventually met at the tips. The white abyss spread between them, and then they contracted.. until the planet and the tentacles simply vanished.
The communication channels were quiet. The Silent-Ones spread their gate-ring and vanished, followed by the Confederates. The Celestials warped away, and the Terrans vanished through the local Aldersen point. During the final collapse, the Dark Horse was submerged for safety, with just the periscopes raised.
The Vartans left last, not realizing Tasha's ship was still around.
Tasha watched the end of the world from her bed, having been woken up for the occassion after a long and restful sleep. As the final ship vanished in to hyperspace she lay back, considering it all. She wonders at the thoughts of those who fled, what will they tell the universe? Or will they, do they even remember why they left? She wonders, too, what it all meant, and will mean. Although Praxafallopus has met its end -- or perhaps found a dark new beginning -- the the legacy of this place continues in her.
The object had rested undisturbed since she climbed back in to bed. Noticed, but allowed to slide from though again and again. now she finally turns her mind back to it. Abyssal and thirteen, with the yellow mark hovering within. A black Marker, a here-to-unknown variation of the light-filled artifacts. She wonders what it means for an artifact filled with smokeless fire of the soul to be black, for the two uplifted beings to be replaced with a symbol, alone. It sits like a living slice of space, or something blacker than space. A metaphor, and yet also somehow worse by being more than abstraction.
She doesn't know what it any of it means.
But she will.
Soon.