There isn't exactly a traffic jam at the airlock when Dark Horse finally docks back at Outpost Caltrop. But there IS a line. Stanislav's expedition team has had a few days to pack up their gear, even the stuff that got taken apart and rebuilt to serve different uses, and they all seem the most eager to debark.

The space around the ancient artifact seems empty without any of the big military ships hanging around in ceremonial shows of force, making the biggest things the rather naked looking gas haulers with their clusters of cryogenic spheres.

Falling in to her role of leadership, Tasha places herself in the rear of the line to allow others to go first. This also grants her time to steel herself against the inevitable what-happened-to-you reactions, and to come up with light and fun ways to shrug it off. She's chosen to dress in her uniform as it's one of the few items that still sort-of fit, along with her cloak, which covers up the doesn't-quite-fit part, at least at a distance. And because it's real cloth made from real animals, it looks immensely expensive and therefore would detract attention further from the 'money barrier'. "Are we all set, Gabe?"

"I've got the list of care instructions for the Tadpole," Gabriel replies. "Hakeber is sober, we are dangerously low on supplies, and the Phins are coming with us to stretch their robotic legs. All that's left is to see if everyone we left behind are still the same gender as when we left."

"You never know how that will go," Tasha agrees, nodding solemnly. She tucks her hands behind her back, waiting for the airlock to clear and people to start filing out. "Do you think we'll be met with any reporters or other investigators?"

"I.. would hope not," Gabriel says. "This is Caltrop. It isn't exactly a media hotbed, and it isn't likely our trip is known outside of the Seeder community anyway."

"I hope so." Tasha flicks her tail where she can see it, examines it for a moment, and then nods that all is well. Sometimes it gets in to things, and it wouldn't do to meet the others with a tail covered in stray dust and note stickers. "I can't quite believe we're back, you know?"

"I haven't checked the clocks to see how long we've been gone yet," Gabriel says. "Hopefully civilization hasn't collapsed or war broken out."

The line starts moving, and clicking of the Phin's robot-hammock-suits can be heard.

"Yeah but that always happens. Maybe we'll be on set four of Galactic civilization and they'll be great." Tasha rubs her hands together, remembering her Human-like inner hands. "Mr. I. is going to take one look at me and have a million ideas for clothes."

"I hope the Titanians have been here recently and there's fresh fish-flesh to be had," Hakeber chimes in.

"Did I tell you I gave Bumper a hug and thanked her for worrying about us?" Tasha asks, looking to the two. "She didn't come out and say it, but you know they were very worried."

"Or dead! Really, lots of things," Tasha replies, shrugging. They do run in to so many potential dire fates, after all. "It's also funny because I think I took over a space demon somehow." And so she taps her forehead.

"That was a fun mountain climb," Aaron reminisces, and then they're debarking. Once again, the outside of Dark Horse is disguised to look like an expensive private yacht. But at least that comes with a boarding ramp. Miss Necessity is on the 'pier' waiting for them. She even waves!

"I'm sure it used to be a space demon long ago. We musn't discriminate," Tasha insists primly as she steps off. She turns to look at the 'pier', part of her quietly and intensely amazed that she's returned somehow, and then she catches Miss Necessity's wave and gives a start. Somewhat embarrassedly, she lifts her hand and wiggles her fingers back.

"You made it back!" the human says, and gives the Karnors and Tasha hugs. "You changed your hair," she notes to Tasha, before gushing, "Wasn't Mariel adorable?"

"I sure changed things," Tasha agrees, a bit overwhelmed and hesitant. She does hug back a moment later, out of time. At the thought of Mariel she perks up considerably. "YES," she gushes right back, voice raising several octaves, "I can barely stand it!"

Humans sure can show a lot of teeth when they smile. "I want to just hug her to bits!" She then turns on Liza, and asks, "When do you have your babies?"

"Six spheres.. months," Liza replies, and steps back from the manic look. "You clearly need children of your own."

Tasha wonders for a moment if she was doing that to people. Now that the focus is off her, she wanders aside, taking a moment to look -- really look -- at the structure and people around her.

There's some sort of utility shuttle docked at the same crystal shelf as them, and Hera has gone ahead to secure some transport for the other group - all of whom and checking their personal communication devices at the moment. Beyond the pier is the bright nebula that Caltrop inhabits. Then Miss Necessity is cooing again over Sam, since he's now kid-sized. She'll probably want to hug the Tadpole at some point. Then the words "Mr. Invention" come up.

This makes Tasha's ears immediately perk up. She almost starts looking around, but then remembers she's supposed to be inspiring now and makes a very strong effort to continue to seem interested in their surroundings.

"We can't all fit into the offices," Miss Necessity is explaining.. and clucking a bit over the state of Katie's hair. "So we did reserve some rooms at the Surf-n-Turf since I imagine you aren't keen to stay on the ship right now."

"I'm fine either way," Tasha chimes in, not wanting anyone who feels safer on the ship to feel left out. It really is weird to be back, she decides inwardly. Almost, she thinks, as surreal as being out where she was. She supposes doing anything long and hard enough can make anything else seem strange.

"Well, follow me then!" Miss Necessity says, and leads them towards the weird gravity-shifting tunnel that opens into one of the arms of the outpost.

Tasha stuffs her hands in her cloak pockets, using mental effort to avoid letting her tail become too adventurous or, worse, fidgeting with it. "How have things been back here? Nothing too bad, I hope?"

"There was a minor turf war between some loose merchant groups, a few murders and short-lived craze over some new drug that turned out to be just a very old drug that everyone had forgotten about," Nessie explains, as they emerge into the labyrinthine bazaar. She seems to be heading for the closest tube station though.

"It's almost nostalgic," Tasha reminisces out loud. It reminds her so much of the Bazaar.

There even scary bug monsters roaming around. Nessie gives them a wide berth. "There's been an influx of Tandu," the woman remarks. "I always get the impression they're hunting for something."

"That does seem to be a little how their society is aligned." Tasha has considered off-and-on again a study of the Tandu. In particular, their obsession with death-dealing and death-as-purity might do much to help her understand her Card of Death. The more she understands, the more she can put in to a Card, and the stronger its connection to reality and to her. They're her focus, after all, and poor focus leads to poor results. Maybe she'll sit and review another of those execution ceremonies some time. "I wonder if they mind their ceremonies being observed?"

"I don't know that anyone has tried to observe one," Nessie notes. "Except maybe as a sacrifice."

"I'll ask. Politely." And maybe at a discreet distance just to be safe, Tasha decides. "It's for a study I'm doing."

"What sort of study?" she asks, as they get into the next available tube car. They can all just barely fit.

"It's for an art projects I'm working on," Tasha answers, deciding that's a safe way to answer the question. "I'm trying to grasp the essential concept -- or soul -- of things and render them in art. It's to help me grow as a person." And as a witch and-or alchemist, she adds internally; much the same thing as it turns out. "For the Tandu, the concept would be death."

"That sounds very deep," Nessie notes. "Will you be working with Kem on any of it?" she asks. It's also about then that Tasha notices Thoth and Shiftless have vanished from their group at some point.

Tasha supposes old gods and their walking sticks are wont to disappear as they will, and so pays it no more mind than when Samael does the same. "No, it's something I have to do by myself. It won't have any meaning if I have someone else work it out for me," she replies. "Although maybe Lacci would enjoy meeting Kem."

"Yes he is, much like myself, except better at it," Tasha replies, then points at the console. "The directions are ... " She goes through what she remembers, then drops her hand. "If you tell him I sent you by he should be a little nice."

The car stops near the outpost hub, and Nessie leads them out. She also points to the inn, and to the art studio. "The offices have moved," she explains, and leads the way towards the hub.

"Closer to the inn, I wonder why that is?" Tasha muses, glancing at the studio as they pass it by. As they approach the inn she remarks, "It feels like a long time ago that we came here together after first meeting, Lacci."

"What a brief lifetime it was," Tasha agrees, nodding to Lacci in what is clearly an in-joke.

They enter Embassy Row, where the various governments maintain offices for whatever purpose, then go past the Library to a wall of frosted white glass (or something similar to glass) with the black Knight chess piece silhouette on it. There's nothing else to hint at what it is, but part of the wall opens up when they approach. There's a nice little waiting area, and a perky Khatta woman says, "Welcome to Dark Horse Solutions, how may we solve your problem? Oh, Miss Necessity! I didn't think you'd be returning so soon!"

Tasha's brows go up at the greeting, then her muzzle curves in a grin for reasons even she isn't certain about. She wonders for a moment if the woman is ProgMat, a holograph, or a real person. Asking would reveal too much about herself, so she simply stays to the side smiling and ears-perk interested.

"Well, arrival times are always variable," Nessie claims. "I'll just be taking these folks to office, unless anyone is already in there Eclaire?"

"Oh no, Miss, the morning appointments have finished," the receptionist says, and gets out from behind the desk (which is also made of the milky, translucent material) and goes to manually open the wooden door for them.

Tasha busies herself by looking around the office. Not like a tourist, but like a person inspecting their surroundings with purposeful interest. This helps her avoid looking too amused at her sudden growth in employees, which she suspects might seem strange. That she has real Khattans working for her now is especially amusing to her for some reason.

There's nothing to hint at what the business does in the waiting room. And through the door is a short hallway with a few doors, but only one set of milky-white ones that silently open. The office behind is also very nondescript, save for a painting of the nebula on the wall behind Mr. Invention's desk. There are several omni-chairs before it and couches against the walls. Dressed in his suit (which is probably the latest fashion), Mr. Invention himself still seems to loom. He stands up and comes around to greet them. "Welcome home," he says, but seems to focus a bit on Katie at first. "I'm sure there's much to discuss now that you're back, unless you want to rest up first."

Yue immediately sinks into one of the couches, and Liza looks over everything with a critical eye. Aaron looks around for something, and seems disappointed.

Mr. Inventions/ presence makes Tasha's /ears flick/ like she were struck by some phantom wind. She wonders how he ever learned to do that to people without being outright /menacing/, which she decides simply adds to the mystery surrounding the man. In many ways he's the perfect face of her business, a pleasant but subtly mysterious and dangerous man, hinting at much more beyond the surface. In what is surely an act of betrayal she remains quiet when Katie is singled out.

Seeing Yue sit, Tasha considers the same but decides movement might gain more attention than she'd like.

"Gabe," Mr. I says and shakes Gabriel's hand, and then turns his attention on Tasha. "Miss Argentine, you've changed for the elegant it seems. Do you need any medical attention?"

Tasha's chuckle is nervous and self-conscious. "Oh, well, no, I think I've received quite enough medical attention as it is." She glances at Kati, then looks to Mr. Invention. Then looks him in the eye, which is very hard. "My situation is steadily resolving itself."

"Mmmm," the big wolf not-grunts. "I would prefer to have a second opinion, no disrespect to Dr. Knight. But if that would raise uncomfortable issues I can refrain from my concern. Does anyone else need medical attention?"

Tasha pulls in a deep breath, exhales, and says, "If you believe it is necessary, I will consent to another medical review." And then she thumbs towards Yue. "Our dear Doctor got a head full of what I will describe in private when we get medical attention. No need to review the details here."

"I'll have Eclaire contact Doctor Fincus," Mr. Invention states. "He's under contract with us and very discreet. He also has access to a very good laboratory. Until then, is there anything of immediate import to deal with, or would you all like to get something to eat?"

"Finally!" Aaron says. "No coffee or pastries anywhere in here. That is no way to run a business."

"I would always like something to eat," Tasha answers, finally taking a load off and dropping down in to one of the chairs. She shrugs off her robe and flicks her tail in to her hands, idly stroking it like she would her cats. "And when we're all up to it, I'd like to speak to you Mr. Invention, to discuss your future role with us."

The Surf-n-Turf
The largest eating and drinking establishment on Outpost Caltrop is big for a reason: the dining areas are small islands connected by bridges over a giant salt-water pool. Rope netting hangs down from the ceiling as well, which is how the Pan wait staff get around, swinging by hand and foot. Phins occupy the pool, and the drier platforms have tall stools and tables to accommodate a variety of forms, along with more traditionally Terran booths against the walls.

The private room of the inn is seldom used, save for large parties, and is the sort of place that you would expect to be reserved in advance, but Mr. Invention leads the Dark Horse crew straight to it. The Phins ditch their support suits for the central pool, which the long table arcs around. All of the seats face inward, rather than letting any two people face one another directly (unless one of them is a dolphin).

Mr. Invention offers Tasha the central seat that has a clear view of both arcs of the table.

Tasha plops herself right down in it, having steadily grown used to a certain degree of ceremony in things, of pomp and circumstance. Leading, she's come to realize, can be as much about appearing to be something as actually being it. "Thank you, Mr. Invention." She doffs her long white hooded cloak, but keeps it nearby, having found a strange and growing attachment to it.

The others tend to array themselves more or less by which seating they find most comfortable. This arrays Katie and Hakeber to Tasha's left, and then Necessity, Yue and Lapis making use of the taller chairs beyond. To her right are the big and tall people: Gabriel, Mr. Invention, Shojo, Lacci and Dr. Knight.

"Are we safe to talk here?" Is Tasha's first concern. She decides she already knows the answer, but also decides having it for all to hear should help the crew relax.

"This room is normally used for business meetings, and I've verified the security," Mr. Invention assures. "It also has the prettiest wait staff."

"You did think of everything." Tasha is, however, not surprised. She wonders what life must be like for someone of whom perfection is not only anticipated, but expected. "Not that I am at all surprised." She takes the opportunity to relax and be seen relaxing.

"I suggest we order our meals before getting down to business," Mr. Invention advises, as menu holograms appear at each place. It looks like they have fresh 'star fish' on the menu, along with things Tasha does not have a reference for. But 'steak' is certainly a familiar term.

Having eaten compressed 'food' meal bars, Tasha busies herself with ordering whatever happens to look good to her. This means two drinks, two steaks of kinds she neither recognizes not considers recognition a bar to eating them, and a plate of stacked fish in 'a cream sauce'. There's also a 'Bloody Mary' she orders handling her claok made her think about Gabriel's remark that white reminded him of blood, and a tall ice cream smoothie made of layered syrups and ice creams designed to occupy different strata. That should be enough.

Hakeber is trying to argue with her menu, making hand gestures to try and get across 'as big as my head' while Katie takes her time. The Vartans consult each other, and Gabriel says, "I'll have whatever you're having, Mr. I." He sounds like he's pronouncing it 'Mistery' instead of 'Mister I'. Ordering is dealt with fairly quickly though, all things considered.

Mr. Invention makes a gesture and there's a 'bong' sound. "The room is secure," he announces.

"Oh thank the--" Tasha has to consider for a second just whom to thank. The stars? They broke at least one star. The gods? Those are a mixed bag. The heavens? As it turns out there's not a lot up there. "The winds." Yes, she decides, the wind seems safe -- for now.

"Well, welcome back to Caltrop everyone. We made it, and we are more or less intact -- some more than others I'll admit -- but given what we were up against I think we did very well. I'm sure the ancients, had they been around to say so, would agree." The speech isn't entirely comfortable, but she suspects she'll get there some day.

"The least intact of us didn't come along," Katie points out. Sam is notably absent from the group. Or else he's literally lurking in someone's shadow, which would be difficult given the indirect lighting of the room.

"But we're still here, and we'll recover," Tasha emphasizes, dropping her balled right hand in to the palm of her left. "And the scientists are all here. And now we'll have steak and presumably things that are not-steak but I know nothing about those, and that's what matters."

"My stomach yearns for challenge," Tasha insists, sitting up. "If I must suffer injury due to too much steak and ice cream, that is a risk I'm willing to take for self-betterment."

"Dark Horse Enterprises has not been sitting idle while you've been gone," Mr. Invention notes. "We are now one of the premier arbitration and contract review firms in Caltrop. We've also been gathering things that have been requested by Doctors Zerachiel and Caravelli."

Tasha blinks at that. "I certainly wasn't expecting us to expand in to that area of business," she notes, leaning forward and looking over. "How did that happen? Os it an area of business you all were already acquainted with? And what did Z&C Industries want?"

"Caltrop does not have a governing body, which means there is no public law enforcement," Mr. Invention notes. "This means that disputes are handled by arbitration. Reputation is an important currency here, and the better your reputation the more people will wish to do business with you. Miss Necessity and I are very experienced with both contract negotiation and reputation maintenance. We also do public relations and marketing to a lesser extent. Most of what the Doctors want are obsolete technology components and certain compounds that can have medical uses beyond what was salvaged from Orpheus."

"Oh." It's a bit to digest, but she supposes it all makes sense. Tasha has interacted with a number of cultures that deal in reputation, from pirates to deities, so she can understand this alternate currency situation from firsthand experience even if the complexities are beyond her. The rest is expected, after all helping Abaddon has many benefits beyond simply aiding the JEF. "Very good Mr. I. I see you Miss Necessity were indeed the right choice to run things here, not that anyone had any doubt about that."

"We also have a hand in several businesses that would likely be considered criminal on a proper world," Mr. Invention notes. "Nothing which would go against our own morals or ethics, however."

"Caltrop is a popular place for various spy agencies to interact," the big wolf replies.

Tasha shrugs her shoulders to this. "Eh, It's fine; the Galactics are happy to do the same when it suits them," It's hardly the first time Tasha has been involved with shady activities or people. "What about survey information and the Library, or other parties?"

"We have not delved into the Library yet," Mr. Invention notes. "It's information is, after all, of unknown veracity. We prefer brokering information from other sources. Being a neutral go-between is something all spy agencies respect, and are willing to help us with certain inquiries, so long as we keep them subtle. Primarily, we have be been collecting cultural mythologies."

"Oh that makes sense." Tasha immediately feels out of her league, in a way completely different from fighting a god with what amounts to spitballs and determination. She presses on. "That sounds very useful. What have you found so far?"

"The location of Dr. Moreau," Mr. Invention notes. "The names of people that deal in 'exotic' ancient artworks, a bit of Vartan oral history, obscure myths about the First Ones, whatever we could learn about Titanian activity over the past few millennia and the behind-the-scenes movements of a certain Khattan House."

"Lets review them in that order then. Were you able to find anything on the mysterious rogue Uplifter?" Tasha perks her ears, wondering what such a man would make of such as her.

"The Vartans are sheltering him on the world of Kara'roon'calla," Mr. Invention relates, "along with a large group of gorillas. Likely in one of the ancient ruins of that world."

"Not too unexpected, and in line with what we suspected, though I imagine getting near him would be the real challenge -- especially without tipping out hand," Tasha observes. She reaches up and fluffs her mane a moment, feeling as that it needed a good fluff and using it as a distraction while she thinks. "Is there any indication he's in distress or would otherwise need our presence?"

"Our informant was relating second-hand information as it was," Mr. Invention explains. "He had been part of a group investigating the Khattan investigation into Dr. Moreau. The Khattans are very keen on not letting more Terran uplifts be created."

"What worries them, specifically?" Tasha has heard various reasons why, but Mr. I should be able to dilute the truth of things better than she can. As she recalls, it comes down to prestige, predicted Galactic expansion, cultural influence, and the cultural ramifications of a Non-Library species exceeding the accomplishments of Library raised ones resulting in what could be significant society wide upset -- to say the least.

"They fear the Vartans, Terrans and Confederates forming a larger alliance," Mr. Invention explains. "They long term plan has been to keep the Vartans in their employ by still being the best supplier of technology to them. That is jeopardized if Vartans immediately become Patrons to gorillas. That would create a 'familial' bond between Vartans and the Terragens: one of the most successful fighting forces in the galaxy married to the one with most experience in warfare and 'fighting dirty' as it were. The Confederates largely unknown capabilities have always been a bogeyman to the Khattans, and their attempt to control them via selling them hyperdrives has largely backfired."

"I see." Tasha taps the side of her muzzle, then remembers she had an insight here, and notes, "I've considered the Confederates and believe Galactic assumption may be shielding them from correct inquiry; that is, once again we see Library-raised species being unable to properly estimate the Non-Library ones. Specifically, I suspect the Confederates were not raised by the Library, nor did they Uplift on their own, but that it is their ships that are their real patrons, and that they may predate the current Galactic cycle. No Vril-ya I know of takes credit for them and their development is very different from Library-raised civilizations, yet they show clear bias for a unusual technology -- almost a dependency -- similar to Library dependence."

"There are certain myths and ancient ramblings claiming an extra-galactic origin for them, although that usually devolves into speculation about all manner of unlikely conspiracies," Mr. Invention notes, which causes Aaron's ears to perk at the opposite end of the table.

"Well, I'd like to ask them directly. Can you secure an interview between myself and one of their older spacecraft?" Tasha folds her hands together. "A vessel with extensive history and, preferably, a position of influence within the Fleets."

"You already have a relationship with the Bakumaru," Mr. Invention notes. "I can try to find out where her next port of call will be."

"No rush on it, it's not like it's a pressing concern, but I figure if it's true they're going to have a lot more information between them than they can safely let on. They may have been looking for an answer all this time, so there's every possibility they'll welcome the investigation -- once their fear is put to rest anyway." And so Tasha nods; that's handled. "Anything interesting regarding the art, cultural artifacts, and traditions?"

"Art is truly subjective," Mr. Invention notes. "Mr. Kem produces art that I can relate to. But there are pieces of art - and collectors thereof - that go beyond the normal senses, at least to some. Psychic art, in a sense. Alien objects that have unusual effects on the viewer. Most of these seem to end up the collection of one person eventually. A Terragens Belter who goes by the name Pharaoh, or Mr. Pharaoh."

"I couldn't say, as people that have seen the collection are hard to come by," Mr. Invention notes. "Although we happened to have met one of them, before realizing it: Miss Inconspicuous."

"Is that another name for Dr. Amuntaton?" Tasha looked in to the man's name, finding connections to ancient Egypt which seems to be the last time the Vril'ya stopped by Terra. 'Pharaohs' were some sort of mortal leader, but there seemed to be suggestions that they were also immortal, perhaps descended from deities. "Because 'Pharaoh and 'Amuntaton' are from the same language and Terran historical region -- a region that seems to have been influenced by the Vril-ya. This man may be a a Vril-ya, or one of their experiments. or, maybe he just likes the name and it's all coincidence." And so she shrugs.

And so Tasha blinks at the new information. "Her name comes from the same cultural background, which I thought was strange. She's also a living recorder of experience -- something someone with psionic technology might value highly."

"She's also very broken," Yue notes. "She may have been viewing the art in order to sell the experience, or it may have been what made her start shaving away her identity."

"Both the Vril-ya and the Shadow convert experience in to memory-as-space-time. I don't pretend to understand it fully, but I know it is both what they know and what they are. Shadows render other beings in to memories with which they expand themselves; Vril-ya do not need to render down other entities, but seem to have a much harder time generating their substance, suggesting a high state of consciousness or some other rare quality." The vixen-like woman purses her muzzle, then spreads a hand. "Both would value the ability to draw forth memories and psionic energies, for experimentation or direct feeding if possible."

"Also anything that can absorb or destroy memories at their conceptual, memetic level would be a potential weapon against either," Tasha adds.

"I take it then that you wish to pursue this thread?" Mr. Invention asks. "Mr. Pharaoh is hard to locate, until he actually shows up somewhere. Then he is hard to miss."

"That does sound a lot like like Dr. Amuntaton. I suspect they are aware of each other; please speak to him about Mr. Pharaoh. We could be dealing with an ally or and enemy, but either could be ancient immortals of unknown powers and influence," Tasha doesn't add 'be careful' so as not to inadvertently insult Mr. I., she simply nods. "The Shadow can take infinite forms, including that of spirits and mortals. We can't ignore that this man."

"As for your Dr. Amuntaton, I could not find what he was a doctor of, only that he is a patron of the Seeders. There are few references to him that I could find. His donations come from the 'Foundation of Wisdom' which goes back some ways, but I could not discover its world of origin. It is likely a front for various secretive groups."

"He did suggest you can exploit the naiveté and beliefs of people to make a lot of money," Tasha notes, chuckling. "That there are groups who will shower us in gold if we only help them reinforce what they decided is truth, and suggested we do the same."

"How long is the doctor staying on Caltrop, assuming he is not leaving with the rest of the university group?" Mr. Invention asks. "At this point you more about him than I do. I only met him briefly."

"I have recruited him in to our confidence," Tasha replies, spreading her hands. "We have a number of overlapping interests and his knowledge in certain areas is second-to-none. He is also the deity called 'Thoth,' of Terra."

"I see no reason to disbelieve him and his father has confirmed as such," Tasha answers, having another one of those when-did-I-start-getting-cozy-with-gods moments, which she internally hushes.

"There is clearly much that I need to be caught up on, including whether or not your mission was successful," Mr. Invention notes. This followed by a chiming, and he notes, "That will be our meals," and disables the privacy setting. The doors open and a few carts laden with food are brought in by waitresses in bikinis. They're human, Karnor and.. Pan. One of the humans is male, sporting an impressive mustache, but also wearing a bikini.

This makes Tasha perk up and briefly grin like an idiot, until she realizes it and forces herself to resume looking what she hopes is pleasantly authoritative and friendly. "Don't worry, I need to speak to you later anyway, so we can cover things then." And so she sits up in age-old anticipation of being fed.

There's a lot of food to dole out. Gabriel and Mr. Invention have identical dishes of course, but the steaks are impressively thick. Tasha's come on separate plates, because each has a different set of sides. The milkshake comes in a self-chilling, fanciful looking tall glass. Next to her, Katie has opted for skewers of different kinds of meat with vegetables in between the cubes, and a variety of dipping sauces. Hakeber's sides have to be separate too, since she opted for a single 'big as her head' steak. And also a pizza. The Vartans (and the Phins) opt for seafood, although for the Vartans it isn't obviously seafood since it has some sort of armor plating and lots of a armored legs. Yue has something that starts as a steak on one end and ends as a fish on the other. There are some very odd things that look more like chemistry experiments that Jonas gets. The Lapi have some very large stuffed.. potatoes? Potatoes large enough to serve as salad bowls, anyway. Miss Necessity, like Jonas, opts for dishes that don't even look like food.

Tasha only barely notices these other details, because like any good Karnor -- or Karnor derived who-knows-what-now -- she is mainly interested in her own food. She gives her Bloody Mary a sniff, deciding it does indeed taste like blood somehow, and wondering why Terran made a drink about a wounded Human woman, but then decides having a headache over Terrans would just ruin her meal -- and she can't have that. It takes her a moment to arrange things, but ultimately she creates a kind of triadic food plate arrangement of small-to-big items, which she then promptly starts eating as if starving.

"I knooowww," goes Tasha, revealing she is still a teenager despite her trials and despite possibly being weeks old. "But it's real food."

Katie and Hakeber seem to be pacing themselves, although using pizza slices to make a steak sandwich probably isn't advisable to anyone who doesn't have Hakeber's iron stomach.

Tasha does slow down -- eventually -- working through each main course and finding sides she things compliment it more to her tastes, picking and choosing from everything offered in what she refuses to acknowledge as a 'hybrid' method. Steak leads to mashed potatoes leads to fish leads to a hot side and then ice cream.

It's very satisfying and decadent. More decadent even than the food on New Calafia had been. There isn't much conversation among the carnivores during the meal. There's no mention of dessert, but there is coffee and small baked goods and brandies (including, somehow, a fish brandy for the Phins).

Tasha accepts a brandy, having since pulled her legs up and mantled her wings, looking like a cross between a woman lounging painting and angerl or devil on break. She lurks somewhere settled in to her clam shelled wings. "Sooo good," she murmurs.

There are no cigars, alas. But only Hakeber dares to burp. "I'm so stuffed I should be mounted on the wall of a hunting lodge," she claims. Her burp is very cheesy as well.

This gets Hakeber a large wing blowing the smell away from Tasha. "Welllll, now that that's done, would everyone just like to relax and I can speak to Mr. I privately?"

"There are rooms available for those who wish to retire," Mr. Invention notes. "Katherine, you will go with Miss Necessity. You need proper grooming." Katie does not protest.

Tasha wonders briefly if she is going to start getting told who to go with for grooming, and suspects it is so if Mr. I. accepts. "Shall we head back to the office or speak here?"

"I'll get us one of the room here," Gabriel says. "Different walls to look at for at least one night will be nice."

And so Tasha rises, slowly and deliberately, unfolding like a flower and with as much urgency. Once up she drinks the last of her brandy and places the glass side, taking a moment to stretch ehr wings and arms above her head. "Hhh-okay," she breathes, then she begins for the exit.

Mr. I stays to her side as he escorts her back to the office. Eclaire is still behind the desk. Caltrop doesn't have a day-night cycle, so things work on more individual schedules. "Welcome back," the Khatta girl says cheerfully. "Can you get you anything?"

"Privay," Mr. Invention requests, and the receptionist nods before opening the doors to the office suites for them.

"I think I've had too much something already," Tasha remarks, deciding if Mr. Invention hasn't decided to introduce her he must have his reasons, and so choses to go with it. It does work to her advantage in some ways, after all. Without further ado, she heads deeper in to the officer.

Rather than the big office, Mr. Invention takes her to a side one. This one has a smaller desk, but is clearly better suited for research and interviews. There is an actual filing cabinet in the corner. He must have had it custom built.

"How nostalgic," Tasha says of the filing cabinet, the remark and in-joke that only people who have seen rapid and significant increases in the technology available to them could fully enjoy. She seats herself across from the main chair, showing she doesn't need to claim his personal space in order to 'be the boss' or puff herself up. Once down, she has to resist the urge to return to her feathery cocoon and doze. "I'll review what transpired, then we can move to what I want to discuss with you, personally."

"Paper files cannot be easily copied or altered in this age," Mr. Invention notes. "Low-tech is far more secure than the more convenient methods available now." He then puts sits back a bit and focuses his attention fully on Tasha. "I'm assuming that this is not to be recorded in any way?"

"This may require a lot of paper," Tasha admits, sinking a little lower in to her chair. "It was quite an adventure." And with a deep breath, Tasha begins.

As it turns out it was quite an adventure, the kind best left to secrecy and security. A journey in to insanity, with a demi-god and a godling at its core. Death and destruction, then more besides, with narrow recovery and narrow escapes. It's ultimately what all the 'regular' crew already know: items not restricted the the Council, the new inner circle, and does not include anything about the practice of magic which is further restricted to the groups engaging in it.

"I don't see how any normal person would believe any of this," Mt. Invention admits. "But I can see how some would not just believe it, but passionately need to believe it. The Seeders are not people who should be exposed to this, certainly. What is the next move for our Knight?" He's probably referring to the chess-piece mascot that represents their business now.

"We must content ourselves with the problems before us, of most immediate import being that of Daltoona Station. I have been directed by Mr. Yellow to attend myself to duties there, which, more importantly, also happens to be Hakeber's programmed target. An Ogdru-hem resides there, it's blood used to create stators. We are both directed to deal with it." Tasha exhales a sigh, head shaking. "There will probably be mortal fallout and we'll be risking Galactic and House inquiry at the very least, but it must be done, and soon. We don't know how much longer Hake can bear the information, and my own, um, patron has been more insistent that you would expect of a timeless being, lately."

"That will definitely require some back-channel planning," Mr. Invention notes, steepling his fingers atop the desk. "Is this why you wanted me to look into security personnel?"

"Yes, among other reasons. It has become abundantly apparent we need more warm bodies, as we currently must hurl key personnel at every danger, every conflict, with a portion our crew unsuited to the task and another better suited to something else. I have personally learned my lesson in trying to do everything myself, at cost." The young woman reaches to pick at her mane, indicatively. "I will no longer be standing at the tip of our spear and am aiming for a mid placement in these things. I may rely on my Titan more, and certainly our personnel, and I'm ill-suited to physical conflict now. That is why we need people to fight, to protect us, to protect the people who can do the other things without using half our staff doing it."

"I have a list of operatives I have vetted, and who could be available for interview on short notice," Mr. Invention says.

"Good. Before we proceed, there's another matter the acceptance or denial of which will impact how things flow." Tasha is surprised by her own directness, especially given it's Mr. Invention she's speaking to, but just as the man intimidates with his competency he also pulls and tugs on other people's, seeming to redirect her focus towards getting things done, and efficiently. She supposes she is also too full of food and liquor to really mind to much of anything, which helps. "I'll just state it directly: I am offering your permanent, high-level position with us, doing much of what you already do, but with more access and more reach -- and -- a say at the table. It is sad for me to say, but in many ways you are more suited to describe this position than I am, so I will simply state it is very highly placed, you will be in charge of your own area, you will be at the table when we decide policy and action, and that it will all require secrecy and dedication of a higher level than even this."

"Of course," Mr. Invention says, and seems to swell up a bit. "I would very much like to spread my wings, so to speak. Caltrop is a good spot to spin one's web from, but those lines must grow very long to catch the best prey. I am here to advise you and look after those things that depend on being easily reachable." He also grins. It's the first time Tasha has seen him do that. It's the sort of thing that would make the Lapis run away. Probably several humans as well.

Tasha tilts her head warily. "You know, Samael has the same sort of grin." The young woman then raises her eyebrows, eyes wider. "And I was just about to say I'd like to know more about you before we continue. Gabriel's pun on your name isn't so far from the truth, you are a mystery to most -- if not all -- of us. If we're to allow you in to our confidence further, we'd greatly appreciate the same in return." And, to be extra safe, Tasha takes a moment to fixate her third eye on Mr. Invention. "They can take many forms," she can hear herself say as she does.

There's nothing especially bright about Mr. Invention's darkness - which is to say he comes by it naturally and not supernaturally. "I'm just a soldier bred for a war that never came," he claims. "The sort of war that involves no armies or battlefields. I've been leashed and held back for a very long time."

"That sounds extremely frustrating," Tasha admits, with sympathy. "I myself was created for a purpose originally, the who-knows-what-numbered iteration of a lingering desire to accomplish something. It is likely a part of why I keep at tasks and missions, even if I could retire to comfort." She sits up a little, hands folded in her lap. "I've always sympathized with other such beings -- my Titan, AI, so in that you have my support, if you ever need to talk to someone. That said, I believe you." She spreads her hands. "There's clearly a darkness in you, but then there is in many of us, and not the supernatural kind -- though I suppose I have that as well now. You will likely be asked to hone that darkness in some of us as part of your duties, primarily Shojo and I, but there will be others. Is that acceptable?"

"People have always been better weapons than guns or bombs," Mr. Invention claims. "If you want me to help you become such, I will do so, for better or for worst," he says. "And I can sympathize with you in one other way as well," he claims, and leans forward to whisper, "I was human once as well."

This makes Tasha lean back in pure surprise. "Really?" She certainly didn't see that coming. Mr. Invention had seemed very Human for a Karnor, but then so does Gabriel, Remiel, and Eli. She considers asking more, but decides to let the man tell his own story at his own pace.

"I suppose Hakeber would be the one fill you in on the old myths," Mr. Invention says, leaning back. "But I'm not supernatural. Just the result of some old research by a mad doctor that the Expedition uncovered. I'm a man that became a wolf and stayed that way. A were-wolf, you could say."

"Huh," goes Tasha, before she can quite stop herself. She hadn't expected it would be possible to perform such a think on Abaddon; Uplift alone was considered very difficult, but taking one thing and making it another seems twice as her to her. "I didn't think there was a sufficient technology base. I mean, I was remade by Class IV civilization. Karnors are wolves with Human added, I suppose the reverse makes sense, but it seems difficult. It would require extensive resources, like those of a government?" She raises her brows all over again.

"I come from a world of monsters," Mr. Invention points out. "A world of war. Everyone has tried to make a super-soldier at some point. One man stole all of that research. Celestial, Confederate, Silent-Ones. Add in some human madness, and at the right time and place you can twist nature to your will. But.. I've never had to test my strength. My creators were afraid to let me find my limits, so put me to other uses. But it's all there in my name. I am an invention."

"I had always suspected that was the cae, but I had no proof." Being from a world apart from Mr. Invention's own, the urge to take everything literally remained with Tasha a while. Thus she had originally thought the man's name was just that: literal, until she became sophisticated enough to understand that it could be spin or artistry. "For what it's worth, knowing your history, what you are, endears you more to me as an ally, but also someone many of us are close to. I have a lot of difficulty understanding people without a 'darkness' in them, which is why Lacci has been such a challenge for me. I suppose I find your darkness reassuring." And so she smiles, though her own fox-smile is as pleasant as it does hint at something more somehow. "Well, welcome to another world of monsters and ordinary people; you may decide who which, though I find it has little bearing on whether they're dear or not. I hope that reassures you, too."

"This world's monsters are harder to see," Mr. Invention notes. "But they are there all the same. Some of them will be here tomorrow for the interview. I know Shojo needs to be there, but is there anyone else? I'd suggest Dr. Sen but I'm not certain as to her condition."

Tasha smiles at this for reasons even she isn't entirely sure of. Maybe it's the obvious joy of realizing she found so many things in common with Mr. Invention, but she suspects it's more than that, something deeper and else obvious. She's never had anyone to talk to about her darker side, let alone someone who seemed to understand it with few words and even less interaction. She knows full well most would have balked at that smile, but for her, there's something exciting in it, something not unlike when she found her Titan, or picked up the gauss rifle for the first time, when she shot up the shooting gallery. Something in her that scared the others; something she thinks Mr. Invention would understand.

She never quite believed anyone would understand, or if they did, they certainly wouldn't be anyone she'd want to be around. Blackwings understood, but Blackwings was made of the stuff, a thin surface of civility at the best of times. For someone like her, it has to be buried deeper, and for good reasonshe thinks. Yet here, now, is someone who can speak openly of it.

Yes, Tasha wasn't expecting this at all. Not the common ground, nor the backstory, nor this strange shared darkness that never should be allowed in to the light.

And so she smiles on. "I know some of the types," Tasha admits, giving a little, innocent, shrug. "They exist on Sinai , too. I wouldn't recommend Dr. Sen at the moment, she really does need to rest and find someone to treat her. We're working on that. Gabriel might appreciate being present as a military man, and ... I wonder how Lacci would deal with it. Badly, I suppose."

"She's a Clan Vartan," Mr. Invention says, nodding. "She likely has a very dim view of mercenaries. Are she and Shojo in a relationship?"

"So it seems, although Lacci is so new to all of it that it's hard to know how it will go or what her expectations are." Or how embarrassing it all is, Tasha adds inwardly. She still gets a little chortle over having -- quite innocently -- forgotten to tell Lacci she probably shouldn't point Shojo at herself when exploring his newfound functionality. "Of the two. Shojo is the more mature by far. I think he can steady her if he even realizes he can."

"Best that she stays out of the interview then," Mr. Invention says. "She hasn't seen Shojo operate as a soldier yet, I assume."

"Nor have I, not against other persons, at least. He is as stoic in all things as his appearance suggests, but I've long felt there's an anger behind his eyes that he keeps deep down inside. Part of that is certainly his illness and his mistreatment, but I think there's something more complicated besides. It's something you may need to help him work out, to use or overcome, and it might be a weakness. Something to look out for," Tasha answers.

"He moves not just deliberately, but like someone afraid he's going to break everything around him," Mr. Invention says. "I'll contact you when I have the interviews set up. Things work on a 30-hour schedule here."

"Maybe he did. Break everything around him," Tasha remarks, thoughtfully. She taps the side of her muzzle with a finger. "Or someone. That might have been when he left." But her head shakes. "Well, no way to know until he tells us or something happens." And so she nods. "I have no problems with a bit of R&R. I know everyone is eager to get to doing very little at all here in habited space." But then she moves from muzzle tapping to finger pointing. "Should I take this as an acceptance of the offer?"

"As it does not involve any real change in how I've already been operating, I accept," Mr. Invention says. "Don't tell Katie about my past though, please."

"I was just going to ask about that." Tasha tilts her head, brows going up. "I should note that Katherine is on the Council. It may be difficult to conceal personal information from the others forever. I'm willing to allow a grace period as people acclimate -- and I'm certainly not going to insist we tell each other absolutely everything -- but there will be a degree of expectancy of openness and truth between us all." More muzzle tapping, then Tasha adds, "I am the Soul of the Council. Katherine is the Voice, and Gabriel the Body. Samael, Dr. Amuntaton, and Hakeber, are the Wisdom. Cunning and Knowledge of the Council. There is one other, but you will meet them in due course. For you ... " And even more tapping. "The Hand. The Hand of the Council. Hands can help, they can hurt, and they can deliver."

"They get things done, in other words," Mr. Invention says. "And the right one doesn't always need to know what the left one is doing. That suits me fine. I do confide in Miss Necessity of course, but only personal things."

Tasha nods to this, she has a similar relationship with others. "Any questions, then? Recommendations? /Complaints?" She leans back and squints. "I /suspect/ I'll be ordered to have wardrobes and hair styling on a regular basis?"

"I would never order such things," Mr. Invention says. "Only provide constructive criticism. Sometimes strongly. You definitely need a new wardrobe though, and new styling to bring out certain features."

Tasha waves this off. "I am known for being, what did Captain Frane call me? Irreverent?" But she smiles again. "If you were anyone else I'd have said 'I thought you knew that,' but I think you're just cementing operations with me. That's fine." And she nods; it is fine. "I agree about both of these things, though you can't have my cloak. My Human is apparently fond of it."

"I will let Miss Necessity handle things in that regard," Mr. Invention promises. "You'll have to explain your new figure yourself however."

"She said I changed my hair. I suppose that is true." Tasha's smile flickers, just for a moment. "Well, is there anything else? We can set up for training when we're both ready. Incidentally, now that you are on the Council, our next target is most likely Daltoona Station, so information and planning on it will be a priority in the coming days."

"Wonderful. I'm certain that will help a great deal." Tasha looks around for a moment, as if searching for something she'd lost. "Is there anything else? Anything at all? This is a bit faster than the other offers, but being who you are, I came in to this expecting a great deal of foreknowledge. That said, I don't want leave you out." She then looks back and asks, "Are you reporting to The Expedition, or anyone else back home? Not that I mind, several of us report to others, and Samael has his master."

"I do keep them updated on certain things," Mr. Invention notes. "They mostly want news and other information about the Galactics. They are still committed to remaining independent of the greater galaxy after all."

"I know Dr. Sen does much the same thing. Samael, too. I haven't the heart to ask Gabriel." Tasha twists her muzzle, disking the distrust leadership and secrets can bring. "And to Katherine's father too, perhaps? He always seemed like a specter that would leap out at me some day. You see Katie as more than just an assignment, that much is plain. he was the one, wasn't he?"

"That assigned me to her?" Mr. Invention asks. "General Vesuvius oversaw a lot of decommissioned, esoteric projects. And also dealt with cleaning them up. So yes, he thought it would be a good use of my talents, after I requested it."

"So in a sense you assigned yourself. That's interesting." Tasha says it with the tone of mild surprise, as if it were trivia to a personal hobby. "And yes. He seemed like the sort. I've assumed for some time he'd been a lot more aware of us than we are of him, for good or ill. I have nothing against him of course, but I did wonder for a while if he would interfere with things. And, well, I suppose big father-figures fascinate me?" Her laugh is musical, amused, and self-disparaging all at once.

"He has other things demanding his attention still," Mr. Invention confides. "There is always something to cover up since magic started up on Abbadon."

"I suspect 'things to cover up never ending' is something we have in common, along side loving Katherine." Tasha smiles again at that. "Speaking of Katherine, she isn't quite as tough or as well trained as she wants everyone to believe, is she? I only say this because given the danger we're all in, I would like to address her problems of self-confidence and her difficulty with autonomy. I've thought she would benefit a lot from spending some time with the Titanians."

One of Mr. Invention's eyebrows rises up slightly. "Katie is an intelligence officer. For toughness she had me and Miss Necessity. After all, she wasn't supposed to look like a military officer."

Tasha holds up her hands. "It's not that she isn't tough, it's that during the trip there was something there, some self-doubt or uncertainty, a lack of direction or something else. I'm not speaking of her specifically on that either -- we were all facing our demons and I don't just mean the quasi-physical kind -- but I focus on her now because you have trained her and known her longer. I just don't want anyone to suffer because I was too afraid to bring up concerns or ask questions, because I didn't want to know or I was afraid of the answer." And then she pokes a finger to her chest. "Or couldn't deal with it."

"Ah, the effects of the so-called 'Void Demons' of intergalactic space perhaps?" Mr. Invention asks. "Katherine has always had a bit of Imposter Syndrome, but she pushes it down. It isn't not uncommon in Karnors. Some R-and-R should help, so long as she keeps active."

"Impostor Syndrome ... I see. It does make sense. High level Karnors have always had many layers of expectations placed on them." As Tasha well remembers from speaking to the remaining crew of the Fenris. "I'll try not to over think it." And then Tasha stretches, doing little to deflect cat comparisons. " That was a good meal. Did I mention it's good to be back? Because it is."

"Do you intent to take your relaxation here or someplace with a real sky and trees?" Mr. Invention asks. "After being stuck together in a spaceship for weeks, I wouldn't think a space station would be much of a respite."

"Anything inhabited is a respite after that. But yes, of course you're right, a planet would be better." Tasha thumbs back towards the door. "Liza has already chosen Ymir as our destination. Giant trees, giant waters, giant Galactic cliques."

"I'll see if there are any business leads for you to look into while there," Mr. Invention suggests. "It will be a good environment for wilderness training as well."

"I haven't even tried flying yet. I wonder if I still can? I hope I still can." Tasha finishes her stretches and slides back in her chair. "Well, I think that's enough for now. It wouldn't do for me as a leader to fall asleep in your office , after all."

"I could move you to one of the torture rooms, but you'll probably be more comfortable with Gabriel," Mr. Invention says, with a very straight face.

"We'll save that for another time then," Tasha replies without missing a beat. She stands, shrugging her cloak to a more proper position on her shoulders, then awaits Mr. Invention's escort out.

The big wolf leads her back out, and tells the receptionist, "You can go home now, Eclaire. The auto-sec can take over."

Tasha gives the -- her -- receptionist a cheery little wave. It still surprises her on what may well an eternal, disbelieving level of her mind that she has a secretary, and what's more, an actual business. Not wanting to spoil any of these, she decides not to say anything.

"Will you be visiting Mr. Kem during your stay?" Mr. 'Ives' asks Tasha once they're outside and the way back to the inn.

"Oh, perhaps if there's time? There's so much to do ... and not do." Tasha sounds very world-weary indeed. "Right now I think I'll be visiting my quarters, maybe seeing what the world of Galactic news and entertainment can blather at me while I cuddle up to Gabriel, Katie, Hake, or some combination of the same."

"Please let me know of any unused rooms then, so that I can secure a refund," Mr. Invention says.

"Always helpful." Tasha does not pat Mr. Invention; she's been chummy enough with the man, and doesn't want to push any further for now. "Keep me informed of any developments, and if you have questions, you know who to talk to now."