Bowels of the Dainty Mauler
This chamber is filled with dimly glowing spheres of strange fluids, lots of hoses and pipes and a generally muggy atmosphere. It smells of oil and ozone, and things gurgle and hiss in the dark. There's also a very old Titanian woman connected to a rather large life support system, which also covers most of her face and lower body. She's certain immobile.

Old Ma hasn't changed since the last time Tasha saw her. And the ancient woman can't see Tasha at all. "Rustpuppy," she says. "I don't like this place. So your tale had better be worth it," she says.

"No one likes flat space except Shadow-beings," Tasha admits. She looks around for a moment, spotting a device that seems to be doing less hissing and glowing than most, and has a seat on it. "Hi Ma," she adds in afterthought, collecting her thoughts and deciding some pleasantries aren't amiss. Several seconds later she asks, "Do you want the whole story or just what happened out here? Bumper knows the whole story."

"Bumper's not the one in here, and I already hear enough things second hand," Old Ma notes. "But first, tell me what you've built since our last meeting."

Tasha rubs her hands together, stuffing them under her arms as she hunches forward on her chosen piece of mysterious technology. She wonders if she looks like some kind of fae gargoyle, here in the misty dark. "Lots of things," she begins, sounding distant as people who reminisce often do, "It's a little hazy, though. You'll understand why when I cover it all. But, sometimes I don't remember. Or maybe I never did remember. When things are done I put them aside." She sniffs. "After we left you we took up jobs, and during that, we hunted the Ogdru-hem."

"We met people and established a business cover, then we took those jobs. We went many places -- an old moon with giant metal worms, hollowed out. A Silent-Ones outpost. We eventually took a mission to explore an unknown region where we found a system-sized trap, and in the next system, Urgo-hem locked in an age-old war with Berserkers. He chased us off with his Horn, so Horus suggested we visit Thotep for answers. Thotep sent us to recover his servant, Samael, and in return gave us the hilt to the Dagger of Eiban, the ship you call Dark Horse. With it we burned Urgo-hem's soul from reality. On the world we found Sam, we also found T-throgga-hem dormant, as well as the Wizard Fessus. The Wizard, or its master Leviathan, used T'throgga-hem to warp our world-line. With Sam's help we found a way to correct it, but the cost was serving Hastur, which remains true for me. Praxofalopus was destroyed after the deal was made."

"We decided to rest after that and take a long journey to the Halo at the behest of the Seeders, whom we work for now and then, and like. We didn't find their Star Seed in the Halo, but Luk'thu-hem, first among Ogdru-hem and demi-god in power, injured after a battle with a now derelict ancient war fleet. And what's more, there was a Waymaker there, a child, who thought he could finish Luk'thu-hem off, but he was mistaken, and caught."

"I tried to assist him, but Flat Space has already begun to erode my mind, and i was feeling terribly guilty about many things. So I did all I could to save him to make up for the guilt. I died, once, in battle against Luk'thu-hem within Charon."

"And then I woke up again as a Human, and fought again. And we won, finally. We waited in paradise for a time, until Persephone came for her child. She made me anew, and left, and now I am something made of myself, but altogether new. We searched the Fleet for useful things before we left -- and we found some. We found another soul-burning weapon, already loaded. I used it to remove the Fleet from reality, fearing what would happen if the Galactics found it unguarded. This tore a hole through reality, and we were chased by gremlins."

"We took shelter behind a lost planet and Samael came up with a plan to save us, which worked. Then we headed back home to Caltrop, and you found us along the way."

"So, you didn't build anything with your hands, and you let a bunch of gremlins loose?" Old Ma asks. Odd for her to pick those things in particular. "Abyss-God, Trumpet-God and Bitch-God are gone though, that is good. Gremlins and the King in Yellow are not good. And Rushfighter said you were dead, so at least that lines up."

"Yeah," goes Tasha, who isn't quite sure what to make of the assessment. She drops back on the machinery and rubs her eyes, then stretches her hands out where she can see them. She thinks about them and what she's been doing for a while, then says, "I told Atum I'd help Horus complete his task, which is removing the Ogdoad threat. So I've been doing that."

"And have you been thinking in circles because you haven't been making things?" Old Ma asks.

"I've been wondering if I'm doing the right thing or if I'm also a danger to the universe. But, I stopped three Ogdru-hem and saved the Niss, Charon, the Karnor Elite, and others. So I think I must be doing well. The ancients couldn't even save themselves," is Tasha's answer. She lets her hands fall and rests them entwined over her chest. "Sometimes I wonder, though. Persephone thinks I'm trying to do too much myself, so I've taken her advice to split my responsibilities. Become what she calls the Will. The decision maker. Gabriel is the Hand, the doer, and Katie has accepted the role of Heart -- the one who bonds us together. We'll make paramilitary secret society. Thoth and Sam are teaching me magic."

"They're people, to be listened to and respected," is the red woman's answer. "Neither of them have to help me. They're not there for me to swing around. Thoth helps because accepted our mission goals. Samael has to be around, but I don't think he has to like us or help us if he doesn't wish to."

"People can be tools, and tools can be people," Old Ma says. "You learned that the first time we met. Thoth.. that is familiar. Vartan?"

"Second-generation Vril-ya, Knowledge God, Alchemy God, Builder God, made my Titan, taught ancient Terrans alchemy, maybe taught all the ancient Galactics alchemy. Son of Horus and Ahriman," Tasha recites. She sprawls across the machinery like a rug, feeling strangely devoid of energy and a little sad, though she's not exactly sure why and suspects Flat Space.

"Did you ask why he does those things?" Old Ma asks. "I'd like to meet him sometime, in space that isn't so thin."

"He tries to live up to the role made for him, to bring gods and men together. He tries to bridge the gap between the Vril-ya and mortals." Tasha sits up and puts her hands in her lap, pulling her legs up under her. "Kind of like me." She looks over to Ma, and nods. "I'll ask him if he'd like to meet you."

"Be careful of bridges," Old Ma cautions. "I don't know what a Waymaker is. Is it to do with your poems?"

"Thoth is the poem-maker. They're alchemy roads. Alchemy is the use of Vril, and the goal is to create Vril, the energy of the Vril-ya. It is somehow the same, but different, from what the Shadow-beings are made of. If Shadow-beings can be thought of as horror, destruction, and decay, Vril might be the opposite -- beauty, stability, endurance." She looks around for a moment, returning to Old Ma. "Waymakers make the Way, except some of them haven't yet, so the Way I saw is in their future. They might be the pinnacle of organic life. Space-whales with dragon-avatars, who roam all realities and create their own. Godlike in power and scope, they create universes. The Niss called them 'Seraphim', and they call themselves, Stelya'rhyan. I never did ask what it meant. This trip took a lot out of me."

"Have you been to this Way then?" Old Ma asks. "And if so, how was the fishing?"

"I have. No fish. Big tunnel from Beginning to End, roamed by Vril-ya and Stelya'rhyan. Like walking in to adult conversation when you're just a child," Tasha answers. She thinks on that for a moment, then admits, "There are wells to new realities, times, places. I'd like to see them some day." She looks up. "I guess that's the fish? A reality?"

"Can't grill a reality," Old Ma notes. "Would probably be too chewy anyway. How about treasures? Any good junk?"

Tasha holds her hands out, making a ball with her arched fingers. "Library unit, First Ones era. Made of wood. Not sure how it works. Bits and pieces of Luk'thu-hem, for research. And wood, from the same ship the Library came from, for research and carving." Her hands fall. "Got a new body too, if that counts. I can have children now? "You are a individual species," Persephone told me. My sons will be like their father, and my daughters will be me."

"My daughters are all like me, because I made sure it was a matter of life or death," Old Ma claims. "You couldn't have kids before? You told me you lost half of your face and one of your hands. How many are you going to have now? I had nineteen. Not all at once though."

Tasha mentally chews on it being a matter of life or death, but is still unable to swallow the information. Her ears go askew. "I couldn't before. I was made by an old ghost to solve a problem, thrown together from Karnor and Vartans. The Galactics would say I was artificially created, but I have a mother and father." She looks at her hands again, running her right thumb along the length of her pointer finger. "I lost half my face and my hand to a test. I lost all of my body but not my soul to Luk'thu-hem, and was remade." Her brows narrow at the question of children, because it's hard to think of herself with a lot of them, but contradictorily, she expects she'll have a lot. "I don't know yet. Now that I can, i think I'm scared of it."

"You mean that now that you can you have to think about it?" Old Ma says, the visible part of her jaw forming a grin. "So, that's probably a good treasure then. When do the gremlins arrive?"

"The Gremlins are gone. Sam's plan destroyed them," Tasha notes, sounding distant as she mulls over the treasure of children. She hadn't expected it'd end up being so complicated, except it is. "So that's taken care of. The old Fleet is in a jar that's in itself now, so also gone. It's all been cleaned up, I just scrubbed too hard and chipped the deck doing it."

"A good layer of grime makes a barrier," Old Ma claims. "So you need ride back to Abed anytime soon?"

"Oh." Tasha nods to this; it's been a while since she heard the Titanian name for Abaddon. "There are people aboard ship that would like to return home. We can have them board the Dainty Mauler now. That will help supplies."

"And how would you explain them not coming back when you get to Caltrop?" Old Ma points out. "No, we will meet up on Caltrop again before that, if you have people that need a ride. But only for going back, not for new people going to Primus."

"Even if they go as luggage," the old woman adds, referring to Yue's method of travel.

"Hokay," Tasha concedes, nodding slowly. She looks at her hands again for what feels like the hundredth time, and then asks, "Should I make something with my hands? I thouhgt maybe with Thoth, Sam, and Hake, maybe I could learn alchemy? Or work on my Titan? Magic-tech, like the old Silent Empire tried to make." She then touches her forhead, glancing over. "The spore the Source gave me stayed with me, and will be copied to my daughters. I can see the Shadow-things, their energy that isn't. Memetic disturbances. The unreal. The domain of beings made from Shadow, and other things."

"Would those be truly your own creations?" Old Ma asks. "Do they involve touching, imbuing something with purpose and making it a thing that exists on its own without you?"

"They're tools so we can succeed. So we can survive. What I make with them will exist without me." But Tasha isn't so sure. "I think." Her hands fall and she leans back, arms and hands behind her, looking up. "I don't know. It's hard to think out here when I feel guilty or down. I'm not sure how to make anything. Or not anymore. I made the JEF. It exists without me. I saved Charon and the Niss, they can exist without me, too. It's hard enough just being the Will."

"But have you created," Old Ma specifies. "Not re-created. You made a tool while you were with us, without thinking too hard about it. Creativity isn't always about thinking. Sometimes the tool creates itself through the maker. Out here, where higher thought seems to bleed away while the lower ones bubble up unfettered, such activities are useful."

Tasha isn't certain about just what she'd create in the mindset she's in now, but she supposes it's worth a try. "I'll do it. I want to see what can be made with the new tools I have. Maybe there's a use for the Shadow that's more than just destruction. Or something else. Not painting. Just ... Something else." She waves her hands; something.

"You have a workshop, don't you?" Old Ma asks. "A space ship has to have a workshop for making and fixing things."

"It's a little ad-hoc but it works. We have the Grunt in there now, and tools." Tasha glances towards the exit. "Katie and the others have been working there now and then, but I don't want to work along side Lacci right now. She needs her space and so do I. I thought of building a sub-deck on the ship for our Cabal, a place to do our work. Maybe I could design that? Others would use it besides me."

"I watch holovids too, you know." Tasha is familiar with the genre, even if she doesn't know what genre it is nor, for that matter, has ever used the word 'genre' in her life. "But I will. Something elegant and tasteful. Tier of railed sections. Places to sit. Circles and circles around the core."

"Hmmmm, those aren't tools," Old Ma says. "Magic and ritual need ritual items. Focuses, aids, tools. Bell, book and candle. Wands, staves, crucibles.. weird stuff. Alchemy uses tools. Make tools you will need and use."

"I'll consult Thoth. He'll know. So will Sam and Hake." Tasha nods, and again wuth more vigor. "Memetic impartation, projection of will in to the material. You can't just use any tool. Things made for the unreal must be made with the unreal, expressions of the personal domain, of the soul." It's this moment Tasha realizes, perhaps, just why some Titanian devices work when they otherwise shouldn't. Vulcan was their Progenitor, and he is a maker. Could have have taught some unique style of alchemy to the Titanians? her eyes widen in potential understanding.

"Don't forget paint and stuff too," Old Ma reminds. "Glue is your friend. Don't use it for your teeth."

"Incorporate something personal," she also suggests. "Even if it's just a toothbrush."

"Personal," Tasha muses, head cocking to the side and eyes wandering upward. "Feathers, hair, blood, ... Something orderly and something chaotic. We;re supposed to be the Cabal of the Rose, with the Order of the Rose being, well, about order and alchemy and the Coven of the Rose being about chaos and sorcery. I'll be part of both. What I make should reflect each one, and them together."

"Tricky," Old Ma admits. "One should be a thing though, something you have used. Did you bring your paintbrush this time?"

"I did. I keep my paint set and paints in a little wooden box that fits everything. I thought it'd be easier to carry with me," Tasha answers, glances at the exit and remembering where the set happens to be at the moment. "My halitool was lost when I fled with Charon's remote, but maybe he'll keep it and remember me? What else do I have that's mine. I have some of my old clothes, from back on Sinai. Some souvenirs. Shiny rocks, other bits. The leftovers of Luk'thu-hem are probably mine too, since she doesn't need them anymore and it was something I was able to accomplish."

"Brush would be best," Old Ma says. "You have channeled yourself through it. It will help you channel yourself to this new art form."

"Then I'll need a new set of brushes." Tasha looks back and shrugs; it can't be helped. "Alright, I'll use my brushes. Maybe I can use my paints, I mixed a few of them myself. Red, mostly. It's very easy to make red on Abaddon, but it's rare on Sinai."

"Neither does Blue or Yellow," Tasha returns, head tilting back and forth. "Even the material colors are things made by our inner universe, our soul. But you mean something else." And so tasha perks her ears.

"Pink is a paradox as well," Old Ma says. "Eh? No, I mean blue pigment does not exist. Pink is not a color. No part of the visible spectrum of light is pink."

"Then what's blue?" The young woman then realizes something, brows knitting and muzzle pursing. "Sam said Pink is the most dangerous Color of all, but he never said why."

"Pink is a trick," Old Ma says. "But nothing in nature is blue in color. All blue is from meta-materials. In feathers, bug shells, plants. No blue roses. You can see pink though. But pink is not a color of light."

"So pink is tricky, and blue is made from complex orderly design." Tasha rubs the thumb of her right hand against her left hand, thinking. "Persephone is Blue. Her Marker is Blue. But blue only exists as a consequence of some complex form. Does that mean Persephone values order and beauty created from complex forms?"

"Persephone is very calm. Katherine heard logic in Blue, some maybe logic calms Katie." That's good to know, Tasha decides. She is completely unsurprised Titanians don't use blue. Out of curiosity, she asks, "What color am I?"

"Red and yellow, with some black and pink," Tasha answers, but then she tilts head. "But I thought we were talking about something more than sight."

"Maybe pink, because you're not sure of your own reality it seems," Old Ma says.

"Might give you indigestion or get you sick, but delicious," Tasha agrees with a nod and the faint glimmer of a smile. "The choice of people who can decide one way or the other in life."

"I have many uses," Tasha agrees, though she rubs her arm in a subconscious reaction to the idea of being chewed and tenderized. Not wanting to dwell on that more, she asks, "Was there anything else you wanted to know? And is that other ship realy waiting to see if we pass the test?"

"Kaa said he saw two ships. A small one and a larger, more dangerous one." Tasha frowns at this, however. "Unless he was just making Terranisims I don't understand. Nora's memories don't cover everything Terran."

"Well, are we the little fish or the big fish?" Old Ma has to ask. "And which is the 'one that got away'?"

"I don't know. I didn't have time to investigate, but most Titanian vessels are large. The Dainty Mauler is a medium sized Titanian vessel? I've never seen smaller Titanian vessels. So I had thought another Titanian clanship had come to investigate. Something large, like the Rock." The red woman wrinkles her nose. "That we'd gotten a lot more attention than I had hoped."

"But maybe there are other powers in the universe who would be curious by what happened here. Anything from the Galaxy. When I think about it that way I wonder why we haven't seen more response," Tasha then admits.

"How did you even know to come out here?" Old Ma asks. "No records of First Ones battle, or of Bitch-God."

"Seeders traced Star Seed travel pattern. This was where one was expected to be, a nest, or something like it." Tasha's left ear flicks. "But Shadow-beings made life, so it's not a big surprise that tracing early life forms would lead to them."

"Hmmm, that doesn't sound right to me," Old Ma says. "Starseeds stay inside galactic disc. But Seeders charter you. Maybe detected something else. You have people from big hyperspace observatory with you. So maybe something recent. Hear your Waymaker maybe? But no reason for anyone else to come out here. Because nobody else can come out here. Hyperdrive, overdrive.. hard to use out in the abyssal planes of space."

Tasha frowns at this, leaning back slightly. "I don't like that they may have lied to us about their reasons/ I like it even less if they /knew/ a Waymaker had arrived inside of our reality. A being like Charon represents many things, and some of those things are /very/ dangerous."

Tasha tries to think back. It was a hectic time and pre her death. "The Human man did. The Doctor. I don't remember if the other Humans did. The Confederates never seemed surprised by anything. Thoth wasn't surprised either, until we detected the Waymaker. Then he slapped Sam in to a statue. I'm not sure if he expected what he saw, but he expected something." She rubs her nose. "He's the most likely cause, and for good reason. He tries to protect the Waymakers, they're the Vril-ya's gods, even if he might not believe that. I'll have to ask about the others." And so Tasha does just that, punching in a message in to her new datapad asking Gabriel and Katherine if any of the Seeders seemed surprised by what they found in the Halo.

"You would need to ask the captain if there is another Titanian ship out here," Old Ma notes. "He would be the one to know. I'm only active for the transitions into and out of the Star Sea."

"Why is that?" Tasha asks, leaning forward. "Who made the Star Sea and the drive system needed to reach it?"

"Star Sea just is, maybe not made," Old Ma says. "Or maybe made by God Fish. Why does hyperspace need a living person to watch the mass detector?"

"Maybe hyperspace is lonely?" Tasha arches a brow, grinning a little. "Sam, or maybe it was Thoth, said the Maelstrom is alive. A God. Vortex God. One of the Fundamentals."

"Yah, that sound right," Old Ma agrees. There's a message beep on Tasha's datapad, along with a 'weak signal' notice.

Tasha looks down and frowns. "Weak signal. Not surprised." And then up. "I'm going to go check with the captains and see if there's a plot going on, whether it's this ghost ship or on my ship. Was there anything else, Ma?"

"Oh.. bridges," Old Ma says. "Be wary of them. Sometimes the connect things that weren't meant to be connected, so sometimes they have to be demolished."

"At least I seem to be getting good at demolishing things," Tasha admits, her oddly feline -- or is it simian? -- tail wags, albeit stiffly. "Have to keep the riff-raff out. I'll remember to do that." She rises, puts her datapad away, and bows to Old Ma. "Thanks for having me, Ma."

"Don't make me look like a fool by going and destroying civilization," Old Ma says, in a sort of 'have fun at the playground' grandma tone.

"Yeah but who is going to complain if everything is destroyed? Ghost people?" Tasha spreads her hands at the self-and-Nora-aimed joke. "And when have Titanians ever answered to civilization before?" She thumbs her nose, then starts walking out in that odd gait of her's. "See you next time, Ma!" And so she waves over her shoulder.