Tasha is only a little buzzed from her slushy beverage, and it isn't clear if it's from the alcohol or the sugar. She doesn't have time to walk it off once leaving the Khattan floor-show-bar however, as Mr. Invention pings her and Gabriel soon after. "I've arranged for the medical examination, please return to the office," he requests.
"It's that time again, my favorite place," Tasha remarks merrily, almost certainly due to being slightly tipsy and sugared-up. She snatches up Gabriel's hand again and starts back towards the office.
Eclaire greets them when they arrive, asks Gabriel to wait in the lounge. "Some things are best kept between a woman and her physician," the Khatta girl notes, before leading Tasha back into the office area. "Are you feeling alright?" she asks Tasha before taking her through another door.
"I am full of rainbows; sugary, alcoholic rainbows," Tasha answers, tail wagging in as close to a traditional canine manner as she can manage these days. "I was also watching scantily clad dancing girls." And so she winks aside to Eclaire, then laughs at herself.
"It's much easier to dance when less encumbered," Eclair claims. "That's why my dance instructor always said. The doctor will see you in this office. Just go in and make yourself comfortable." The receptionist slides the door open for Tasha.
"You can dance?" Tasha asks as she walks inside, then she pulls out her datapad and points at it in a give me the information' sort of way before disappearing in to the office.
Once inside, Tasha looks around. It feels to her half of doctor visits start with sitting in an empty room looking around.
The room isn't completely empty: there's a sort of couch-chair thing. It looks vaguely like a Gallisian fainting couch, in that it is roughly long enough to lie on and has a raised bit at one end.
Tasha amuses herself by poking it, testing the softness. Then, finding the softness to her liking, hops up on it and lays back, wings off to either side, hands folded on her lap. Her tail wraps around her right leg and she exhales, comfortable.
"Try not to move," the chair says, and begins to grow various appendages tipped with odd instruments.
"Yes sir Mr. Chair." Tasha wiggles her fingers at the closest instrument, and has to resist the urge to have her tail fight them.
It uses up about half of the chairs mass, but soon various hoops and lights are scanning her, something has wrapped around her arm and something else has drawn some blood.
Tasha does her best to remain still, as she has been told -- repeatedly -- not to squirm or complain during medical tests. Dr. Remiel was the first to drill that in along side 'don't get brain surgery without consulting your physician first.' In her defense, not only are doctors non-existant on her home world, medical professionals of any real quality are highly expensive and were beyond the reach of most people shew grew up with.
It isn't clear yet just how expensive this doctor is. She even feels contact on her interface studs.. but no other sensations. If it's scanning her brain through them she wouldn't be able to tell anyway, since there aren't any receptor nerves in the brain to begin with. But it does do something, either via an injection or some other means, that instantly sobers her up. It's not far to get there, but it's noticeable.
"Booooo," is Tasha's response to being sobered up, something she copied from Hakeber. The brain scan is more actually alarming, as she knows that those studs are capable of far more than just reading her cerebral activity, but can influence it as well. It may even be possible to read her memories and experiences through them with the right interface, an alarming proposition. She reassures herself Mr. Invention (or Ives and people have been calling him) chose this doctor and that she should not show weakness is strangers.
"There are abnormalities in your genetic code," Doctor Chair informs Tasha. "You do not appear to suffer from any existing health risks, however, but show signs of emotional stress in the recent past. Try to avoid prolonged space journeys and get more fresh air and sunlight."
"I'll be sure to do that." Tasha knows not to argue with doctors, they're very stubborn for one, and also, it's just a bad idea. She's defied medical suggestions at her very real peril entirely too much in her short lifetimes, including oen actual death, showing she really ought to listen to safety information more.
"There are abnormalities in your genetic code," the doctor repeats, in exactly the same tone it used the first time. It then repeats everything else it just told her.
Tasha interprets this as a sign she should inquire further. "And what are those?" It's said with polite understanding, because she's feeling the urge to be polite and understanding.
The chair seems to shudder for a moment, and the various instruments begin to withdraw. It also produces something like a printout before saying, "Memory reset is required. There are abnormalities. Abnormalities. Please leave a positive review of your examination experience. Memory reset initiated." Then there is a chime, and the doctor resume being furniture, with only the plastic-like printout to show that anything had happened.
Tasha is mildly concerned that she has exasperated not only living doctors but now robotic and furniture doctors, as well. She really does have an effect on people -- and now objects. Picking up the sheet she holds it at waist level for reading, hardly needing to hold it as close as her Human-self would have.
It has a general readout and a 'score' even: 90%. There is also gibberish in places, as if the doctors AI was having a seizure. It also guessed her age to be 20, as her brain is 'post-adolescent' but 'pre-adult' according to its examination.
At least she isn't a couple of weeks old, that was going to be hard to explain to people and would have made her relationship with Gabriel even more Spring-Winter than it already was. Plus, people would tease her. "I hope this isn't all of the inspection?" Tasha asks of the room, assuming she's being monitored because of course Mr. Invention would be paying full attention. She isn't sure Mr. I. ever isn't paying full attention.
The door slides open and Mr. Invention enters. "Did the doctor erase its memory like it was supposed to?" he asks.
"It sure did. Or, at least it said it did. It seemed to be having, um, problems." Tasha holds up the sheet and turns it around, her tail pointing at the lines of gibberish. "Unless I'm made of nonsense," she adds; perfectly possible. The spore in her brain isn't even of this universe.
Mr. Invention looks over the gibberish intently. "I cannot say that I am surprised," he says. "There is something in your new genome that prevents machines from reading it, and probably means it cannot be replicated by normal technological means. It is likely similar to how Hakeber cannot be manipulated by shadow beings, if I am interpreting the encounter with Urgo-hem correctly."
"A kind of genetic or Shadow encryption?" Tasha considers this, but then shakes her head. "No, something like an active defense. Living encryption, a living organic or shadow defensive virus. Something adaptable and difficult to compare to standard technology, but most similiar to electronic countermeasure systems."
"Your goddess doesn't want the secret to her miracle getting out, perhaps," Mr. Invention suggests.
"So I'm copyrighted?" Tasha knows she's artificial, and was before, but it's strange to think she's the intellectual property of a pan-universal space whale. It could have been a lot worse, she decides. "Well that's fine with me, I'm not exactly eager to be copied by half the Galactics nor do I want to deal with the fallout of that catastrophe. It does suggest that sooner or later someone will notice I'm an 'encrypted being' and that will raise eyebrows -- or ridges, depending who is raising."
"Actually, it is relatively simple to spoof a different genetic signature," Mr. Invention says. "Biometric encryption like this is used by those who can afford it, so it fits into your cover story."
"Oh." A little shrug. "Well that save me from having to consider petitioning for special status from the Galactics." Tasha then looks around a moment and asks, "Is Doctor Chair the only doctor?"
"It is the most discreet, since it will erase its memory of the examination," Mr. Invention notes. "The rental fee is worth the security."
"It also told me to perform fewer deep space travels and to get more air and sunlight. Speaking of air and sunlight," Tasha sits up, hands in her lap and tail doing a little vertical spin. "When we do we leave for Ymir?"
"First Katherine needs to have her examination," Mr. Invention notes. "I will then be able to make the necessary arrangements. There is also the fifth security team member. Have you spotted them yet?"
"Is it one of the Eees that have been at the nearby tables? I don't think it's the Silent-One, he was a little too obvious," Tasha ventures as she slides off the chair. Straightening her outfit, she adds, "Oh and there was something else I wanted you to look in to. We'll review all these things on thr trip to Ymir with the full Council, but I'd like you to get started on this now. It's not priority, but it is important: I am looking for devices known as Apocalypse Titans, they are Titans created by Thoth housing Shadow-beings, and are likely to be on strange design, unusual power, and lacking in a maker's mark."
"The stuff of spacer bar tall tales, basically," Mr. Invention suggests. "I'll begin inquiries. And I am not giving you any hints about the person shadowing you if you do not have a definite identification. Eeee are as common an any other Galactic on Caltrop."
"Then I have no idea, unles it's Eclaire." And so Tasha shrugs again. "I did wnat to try to relax and unwind for once. Dinner and a show with Gabriel was very nice."
"Where did you go?" Mr. Invention asks. "I should take Miss Necessity out soon."
"A Khattan restaurant and the dance hall nearby. I'll transfer the information to your datapad." And so Tasha does, punching it in and sending it over with a gesture. "Was there anything else? I may just relax until it's time to go, stations are too much like giant ships to my mind."
"You should renew any networking contacts you have here," Mr. Invention advises. "But try not to tell the Seeders anything dangerous if you meet with them."
Tasha exhales; no rest for the weary or the wicked. "Very well. I may handle it remotely, in my office aboard ship."
"That is fine, you don't have to go around shaking hands," Mr. Invention says. "If you have a list of people to keep tabs on, I can handle that as well for you."
"Kem the Artist and his mate, because I've associated with them and another, uh, ... Well I should just tell you this now." Tasha holds out her hands making a rough circle with her fingers together. "Aboard the Dark Horse are the Niss, a Old Ones civilization who acts as our ship's main computer, but they're actually a civilization of billions, a kind of consensual quantum unified mind." She exhales again, gives a little 'life is full of mysteries, what can you do' shrug with her hands and continues with, "The Niss and I have associated with those two and may be the target of inquiry or pressure. There's a Confederate vessel that frequents this area and is the mother of our Tadppole; I'd like to speak to her. Watch the Seeders for anything unusual, annnd oh, please keep tabs on the Fleet Lacci is from so is alerted when they may be in port. Also, anyone who wants to remain here for their vacation may do so, minus key personnel and Council members."
"Caltrop Station has some nice views, but is only considered a vacation spot by gas and asteroid miners," Mr. Invention notes. "I will make sure the artist is not being watched or harassed. Most Vartan exiles will band together against any perceived threat, however, even if they do not socialize with each other."
"Very good. Speaking of Lacci, she may have problems with the locales, but I don't think she'll have as much of one as before." Tasha looks around again, then asks, "Was there anything else, Mr. I- ... Ives?"
"I'll meet you with you at the inn later, after other duties have been dealt with," Mr. Invention says. "So try to relax until then."
"That's two suggestions if 'take a nap,' so that's what I'm going to do. Wake me up when you're ready for me." And so Tasha smiles, nods, and then starts for the door -- but then pauses. She turns around and walks over to give Mr. Invention a hug. "Welcome to the team, by the way."
The wolf raises hie eyebrows fractionally. "I like to think I was always on the team," he says, gives Tasha a pat on the head.
"Consider this the official greeting then." And so tasha lets go and steps back. "I'll also want you to consider training, for me and probably Katie and whomever else might benefit from it. I'd like to keep busy -- busier than I was on the trip out and back -- and rotate between my studies with Thoth, Sam, and yourself. I think that will cover most bases."
"You may be too old to properly train now," Mr. Invention warns. "I will see how much of the Templar training you retain, and how much needs to be un-learned."
"That's all I ask," Tasha insists, then she gives a little wave. "ee you later Mr. Fellow Ex-Human."
Naps are wonderful. Especially in a comfy bed. They usually don't involve crumbs though. Definitely not crumbs that keep hitting your nose at just the right rate to be noticeable without fully waking you up. But eventually, you do wake up, as Tasha is discovering.
Awake, Tasha pulls her wings, legs amd tail inward clamshelling against the world who dares disturb her nap. This is followed by grumbling.
Now she can make out sounds of chewing. Then a slurp. Then more chewing. It's coming from the bed's nightstand, right next to her.
"Who dares awake me, I, slayer of gods and men," Tasha intones, meanwhile a hand emerges and paws around, trying to find either the snack owner, or the snack, or both.
Miraculously, she never seems to make contact with her tormentor. It must be a demon! It also slurps again. And has a squeaky voice. "You sure sleep hard," it says, sounding suspiciously like a Kavi.
"Like the dead," Tasha replies, then unfolds her wings to sit up, brows arching as she faces whomever has decided to torment ehr today.
It's Reeka, of course, her dark beady eyes watching from her masked face.. and from under the hood of the garment she's wearing. Hooded shirts aren't common on space stations where it doesn't rain. It's an electric pink hood with a light up rim. It apparently has pockets too, as the Kavi pulls a fresh donut from one and goes about eating it, her drink held in her other hand. "Been 'sploring. Big place. Followed you around a bit. Wasn't the only one."
Tasha studies this super-pink version of Reeka, but decides it works and so further decides not to speak against it. "Hello Reeka," she greets the woman, with a hint of suspicion. At leasts she hasn't been jumped, stabbed, or otherwise harassed more soundly, which she takes as a vote of Reeka's approval of her. "You spotted someone else?"
"Yeff," the Kavi replies with a spray of crumbs. Then she swallows. "You know they just let you take whatever you want here? Was a woman following you. Changed her look a few times though. Hard to notice unless you're mebbe also trying to not be noticed."
"A woman ... " Tasha didn't exactly notice anyone, she was more concerned with noticing and enjoying Gabriel than with being on guard. With her small army of competent friends, family, and personnel, she figured she could let go for a change. "That woman is probably a future employee, someone we'll be hiring for stealth operation and the like. That hooded outfit is cute by the way." She then tries to reach out and pat the hooded head.
Reeka allows this. "I am the cutest Bane of Pantries in the universe," she replies. Maybe she's been hanging out with Kaa. "Also the woman was poisonous I think."
"A Naga? Or very pretty?" Tasha sits up, brushing crumbs from her body with her wings and tail. She resists the urge to reach over and hug Reeka; she doesn't have the good-will yet to accomplish it she suspects. "Or in a edible sort of way?"
"Not a snaky, just slinky," Reeka says, after finishing her donut. Her hand that rummages through her clothes as if it had a mind of its own, and turns up some sort of fried dumpling. "But poison like.. it makes you dead. Poison poison." Then she's biting into the dumpling.
"Poison poison." Tasha doesn't remember anything like that, and the only slinky people besides Naga she remembers are the feline. She'd be surprised if Mr. Invention hired more than one of the same species, which leaves her at a loss for who it might be. "I really wasn't paying attention, you know?"
"She was squeaky flappy one, you know," Reeka says, one of her cheeks puffed out with dumpling. "A crunchy bird."
"Oh, an Aquilian?" Tasha rubs her nose, she really wasn't paying attention. "I'm sorry, I only noticed maybe four people. I wanted to relax after everything that happened." As doctors have also told her, you can't be on guard forever, and if you try, there are consequences.
"Nono, not a munchy bird, a crunchy bird!" Reeka insists. "Crunch crunchy, nuttin' but scrawn and twigs an' leather. And she wore big extra eyes on her face at the cat food place."
Tasha has no idea, and says as much, "When I said 'I wasn't paying attention' what I mean is 'I have no idea I wasn't even looking very hard.' I don't know, Reeka. Watching for spies is supposed to be someone else's job."
"Yesh, I watch for spies," Reeka says. "Found murder person instead. Sharp teeth, claws, squeak squeak squeak. You had some on ship. The squeak people."
Tasha blinks at this. "You mean the person is a Lapi? or a Phin? There's much squinting; she's almost tempted to reject the application purely to end people interrupting her rest to play games of hide-and-seek."
"Bird!" Reeka insists. "Crunchy squeaky bird. How are you not dead?"
"A Vartan?" Tasha think someone is going to be dead if they keep tormenting her. "And I was dead. Now I'm not. Think about that."
Reeka sputters for a moment, then pats through her poncho and produces.. a small rectangle. It has a picture of an Eeee on it, holding a pair of glasses and wearing ill-fitting clothes.
"That's not a bird Reeka," Tasha admonishes. "And I think I had guessed it was one of the two Eeee, but that was too vague for Mr. I." At least he was close; she assumed an Eee, assumed Mr. I. would not duplicate species, and correctly guessed it was the further group. Even not paying attention she managed something.
"Got wings, that means bird," Reeka says reasonably. "Lots of bones in 'em. Crunchy. Crunchy Bird. Not like munchy bird or horse bird."
Tasha decides not to challenge this logic, citing an a pre-existing obsession with staring in to enough insanities. "So a secret Eeee. Not out of character for Eeee, and not obvious. I suppose I'll be meeting her soon."
"Poison," Reeka reminds. "Poi-oi-oi-son," she then repeats for good measure. "Don't let her touch you! Or share a drink! Kissing is right out. If you get me a snippy rifle I can get her first if she lunges at you."
Tasha frowns at this. "I believe she's a candidate going for a test Reeka, she's not going to poison me." But then she thinks a moment, picks her her datapad and sends Mr. I., "Reeka spotted Eeee tailing me, mentioned poisoned touch, suspect employee candidate but passing on just in case." Then, she looks up, "There, I warned Mr. I, just in case."
"Scary man," Reeka says. "I didn't even try to pick his pocket. But you don't need money here anyway."
"They use wireless credit transfers Reeka, monitored by computers. Be careful, they'll decide you're a thief or make us pay for it all. If you want money, talk to Mr. I. and ask for a salery." Tasha sits up and stretches, then yawns. "Do you want to nap with me? Because if there's nothing else I am going back to bed."
"Okay, salary is okay with peanut butter," Reeka says, then downs the last of her coffee and burrows under the covers with Tasha.
Tasha wraps her arms around the Kavi. They may be thieving, annoying, and get in to everything, but they are cute, and Tasha appreciates cute thing -- all kinds of cute things. She cuddles up, and then it's back to dreamland.