Daily practice with the dragons kept Tasha and Sharon busy and exhausted. But other events were unfolding as well. Sasha and Mressa returned from the mountainside, the Karnor now officially(?) a damsel-saving hero. This meant that Gwyndrael had also returned, and discussed Tasha's proposition with the other dragons. A test was definitely needed, and the opportunity for it came within a few days, because it was time for Shojo's troups to start their insertion into Daltoona, which required a trip to Caltrop to get them started on their way (over the course of several days, as they were going by circuitous means under multiple identities).
So, as Dark Horse is prepared for the flight to Caltrop, it has an extra passenger: a small version of Wormwood, about the size of a cat.
Tasha's in her usual spot, doing her usual job on the Bridge. Navigating to Caltrop Station is old hat by now, not that it had ever been a terribly complex affair. The initial course plotting is mostly done by the machines of the ship, leaving her to her actual task: monitoring the surrounding space and watching the dragon sitting on her console to see if he poofs out of her existence. "You might be interested to know that you are the second tiny dragon to sit on this console," the red woman elaborates to miniature Wormwood.
"Who was the first?" the replica-dragon asks.
"The remote avatar of a being known as Charon, himself a vast whale-like entity. And I mean, really vast. You could fit thousands upon thousands of this ship inside him. It was shortly after I died and got put back together like this," Tasha reviews, patting the console fondly for someone who just mentioned their (first?) mortal demise. "We ate chocolate, since I was Human like Sharon -- exactly like Sharon in fact -- and I could eat it. Gabriel still doesn't know how all that chocolate vanished." This she says knowing Gabriel is mere feet away at his own console.
"I don't monitor the chocolate rations," Gabriel notes. "And Charon also ransacked your underwear drawer."
"And who wouldn't? It's great," Tasha counters as she leans back. "Of course you prefer it on me before the ransacking."
"There's something to be said for just spreading them on the bed and rolling around in them too," Gabriel notes, wagging his tail. "Caltrop is in visual range," he announces, and the gaudy ornament of the Sifran space station floats in the holographic space ahead of their stations, in the 'hollow' section of the bridge.
"How are you feeling, Wormwood? Light headed? Bodied? Partially disincorporated? Spatially distorted? Temporarily temporary?" Tasha signals the station of their intention to dock, which is also largely automated. She knows there's one or more people watching all the automation, and real people who some times come to meet them, but most of it is hands-off. The fees, however, are very real. "As for the station, it's a Sifran artifact, like we said. There's some speculation as to what it originally did and what its purpose was, but it at least seems to be made to be inhabited by beings. Probably the current servitor race, back when the Sifra were more active."
"It looks old," the simulacrum notes. "I have not experienced any adverse effects yet."
For once, they're directed to a different pier, as the regular docks seem crowded with smaller ships. There are a few big ones holding off, including a Celestial carrier craft and a few Khattan cargo ships. The rest of the space is full of local tankers, so it must be market day for the gas they've been harvesting.
"A lot more activity than usual. I've never seen some of these vessels-types. The Silent Ones carrier in particular. Silent Ones, as the name suggests, are mute feline-people. Like cheetahs of Terra specifically. Apparently, that's a complete coincidence." Tasha redirects their route to the new docking point, which is also a new experience. "All of these vessels and a great much else is run by machines, complex devices, many of which can think for themselves, some of which have greater minds than the people who made them."
"Sounds dangerous," Chibi-Wormwood says. "Even a slight percentage increase in intelligence can make something unfathomable to others. Non-deity dragons are only about 1% more intelligent than humans, and that is a vast difference."
"Of course, that also depends on what sort of intelligence it is," he adds.
"Well, it certainly is a difference. My Melchior and the Harmonia both feature complex AIs, and they can run circles around me for most things. Of course they have trouble with emotional intelligence and some motivators. I'm not really qualified to compare them to organics, though, that's something for a specialist. And the Melchior is special, because it can create a soul," Tasha explains.
"Sapience is usually the problem," Wormwood says. "It can be a hindrance to intelligence, but also what makes intelligence dangerous. It's not a requirement though. I suspect it is a cultural construct, largely due to language. Your Niss, for instance. Extremely intelligent, but not self-aware. From what I have learned, they do not possess philosophy, art or what we might consider culture."
"They did once, long ago. And then their world came to an end. They needed a cure and that cure changed them in to something else, what they are now, and from there they took to the stars and beyond. Presently they're in what we would call a withdrawal phase, on the verge of becoming something else. And it's not fair to say they don't create; they like to dream. And they can possibly dream of anything within the realm of their influence, shaping their environment and existence as they please." Tasha leans back and stretches. "If anything, they are hyper self aware. Billions, perhaps trillions of minds, all in something like perpetual agreement. They are not a single being. They are a nation. A world. Maybe even a universe."
"A hive mind?" Wormwood suggests, as Gabriel finishes parking the ship.
"We're using the starboard airlock," Gabriel announces through the intercom, then retracts the pilot station and stretches.
"Yeah, but way more functional than my version. A unified hive mind. If what they say seems simple and unaware, it's because it's meant to. They might also find you boring." Tasha then grins and shrugs. "It's okay, they find talking to me boring, too. Why talk to me when they can analyze my every everything, possibly in real time?" She hits the retract button and waits for her arm to withdraw. "We're a lot closer in their eyes than not. Probably a lot closer."
"Because civilizations tremble at our approach," the dragonling suggests. "Now to venture where your demigod fears to tread." It's a bit grandiose. Tia isn't afraid to come here, as she's done it several time already.
"She's more apprehensive and anxious to treat," Tasha corrects, reaching to pick up the tiny dragon and put him on her shoulder. She also has cause to wonder if she's going to grow melodramatic over time, if that's a consequence of draconic living -- and eating. At least she thinks no one will question it, what with all the other strangeness surrounding her. Once the chair's back she climbs out, heading aft. "Out we go. Get ready for a possible discombobulation."
Shojo and his men are already out on the platform when Tasha and Gabriel get there. They don't have any belongings with them, as Mrs. Teatime has already prepared specially curated luggage for them. "I've never seen so many different types of ships," Lacci says. "Especially the Belter types, without any regard to symmetry."
"It's exciting, isn't it? You can come here a thousand times and you'll probably see a new design," Tasha says amiably. She does pause to make sure Wormwood in miniature is still also existent.
"I'm used to clean lines," Lacci says. "The Vartan and Khattan fleets are more.. aesthetic."
The little dragon is still there so far. "Strange that they don't have any sails."
"Well, off to the... office," Gabriel says, but Shojo leads the way. Right into one of the weird tunnels with its own local gravity, so that when it twists to link up to the interior of the spar, it matches up.
"No air in space, nor anything but the solar winds, and those aren't exactly strong. Besides, the space between stars is vast, incredibly vast," Tasha explains as they walk along. "That's why indirect methods are used, such as alternate dimensions, to bridge the gap."
Once she enters the tunnel, Wormwood begins to fade. He doesn't vanish all at once, but does vanish in the end.
Tasha watches this with a contemplating, critical eye. "Well," she says after a moment, "That could be a problem. The Sifra really don't like anything magical that's not their magic." And then she realizes something; her own magic is based on the essence of dragons, which means..
The red woman looks down at herself, reviewing internally if she feels anything off.
She isn't hearing Redfang, and of course her ansible-given abilities are offline.
"Gross, I am diminished," Tasha complains, then she waggles out her hands as if shaking off some Sifran gunk. "Remind me to avoid these places. I'll need counters to this."
"Like a pistol?" Gabriel asks as they make their way into the very busy inner section. There are temporary booths and what might be auction stands set up, and a crowd of aliens. The donut and coffee shop looks swamped.
"Yeah but anyone can have a gun. It's not exactly a secret, special weapon or ability." Tasha sighs melodramatically; at least she can still be draconically melodramatic. "Hey, what's with the crowd?"
"Buyers for the gas and mining harvests, I assume," Gabriel says, as they follow Shojo and the others. "Lots of rare minerals and elements from the miners getting sold at the same time."
"You know I could use a ton or two of gold.. " The reduced conglomeration of forces admits. "Can we afford that?"
"I think Ruthenium and other rare stuff will be up on the auction block," Gabriel says. "Not much call for gold. What would you do with it? Go back to one of the fantasy cities and spend it?"
"That or, you know, sleep on it. Have a gigantic gold cube, it'd look nice in the corner of the apartment. Make a bath with it. There's many uses," Tasha replies, grinning and tail wagging. "Most jewels and precious metals are also acceptable. I like red rubies."
"Since when did you become such a material girl?" Gabriel asks, giving Tasha the side-eye. "Are you falling under bad influences?"
"What's wrong with liking tons of nice things?" The young woman puts a hand on her hip and looks back. "And of course I am."
"Oh dear, have you outgrown big loud guns then?" Gabriel asks, as they exit the crowd and make it into one of the commercial avenues. Some of the hawkers greet them by name now. Which may just be a clever Khattan sales tactic.
"I still like those -- I can also burn a hole in a boulder by pointing at it! I just want.. more." Tasha pats Gabriel's side; it will be alright. As they approach the hawkers, she's momentarily startled by the naming, but then even if it's not a Khattan sales tactics she looks both unique and expensive, which has long made for an enticing sales target. The rest of their crew isn't much better. "I assume, um, grandma handled this, right?" She eyes the sales people warily.
"We're both noticeable is all," Gabriel says. He's got on his special 'cologne' that suppresses the pheromones that make modern Karnors (and a few humans, Khattans and Silent-Ones) want to follow him around. "It'd be worse if Katie were here."
"And how. I still can't match that level of Kaboom." Tasha probably should have brought a gun; well, next time. If there is one. "Anything we need, or can we just head right on over?"
"Mrs. Teatime may have some things for us to take back," Gabriel says. "I assume Shojo and Lacci are coming back with us, but I didn't ask."
"Lacci can single handledly do everything, just watch." Tasha eyes the wares, but she's saving her shopping -- and her budget -- for Daltoona Station. She'll need to be spendy for her cover, after all, why else would a young woman come and sell her magical services to the wealthy if not for wealth? And wealth means things, status, people, and power, and none of these are things she's against having. Hopefully she'll even be able to escape with some.
Besides, the stuff on sale here is cheap. It's more for tourists and miners (gas or otherwise). The first time she came though, it was all really amazing.. but wouldn't of worked when she brought it back home. And she didn't have any money. And was with Titanians hauling space fish. Things are still a bit crowded once they get to the hospitality zone, with the hotels and restaurants, but thin out a bit in the commercial zone, where the office blocks are. Including the offices of Dark Horse Ltd.
"Ahh, home away from home away from home," Tasha says of the office. Despite being ostensibly her business for which she might be listed as the highest authority she doesn't stop by often. Every time she comes here it feels like she's entering someone else's space, a professional business that she has dubious reason to be in, and maybe she should just leave so real clients can fill her space. It doesn't help very few members of the staff know her personally, nor her relationship to the business. To most, she's an expensive looking Mezzode that shows up now and then.
Of course, the 'staff' is just the receptionist. Mr. Invention and Miss Necessity handle everything else. The receptionist is new this time, a Pan woman. "Mr. Yves is expecting you," she says once they're all there, and the doors to the hallway are opened.
Tasha smiles enigmatically. She wonders where all these people come from, how they got to become receptionist, and what they really do. Whatever the case is, she heads inside.
The men head into the big office to get their marching orders.. but Miss Necessity gestures to Tasha from one of the other offices along the way.
Tasha immediately wonders if she's in trouble. She hides it, or thinks she does, her ears going up as she points to herself. After a moment's pause she heads that way. "Yes, ma'am?"
"They've already got their stuff planned," the woman says. "Let's talk about the stuff that hasn't been planned."
"Alright." Tasha follows the older woman, still feeling a bit like she might be in trouble. Somehow. "You don't need the others for this?"
"Gabriel you mean?" Necessity asks, as she leads Tasha into the office. This one has a table with chairs around it, more like a conference room. And seated at it is Mrs. Teatime, and.. well, tea and cookies. "Have a seat dear, tell me how things are going," the old cat invites.
"I mean Gabriel," Tasha didn't, but Gabriel alone makes sense. She also hasn't been spending as much time as she could be with Katherine, she realizes, and now feels like she might be even more in trouble. She isn't, she assures herself, but she often feels guilty for things with and beyond her control. After taking her seat, Tasha settles in, and then she's staring at the cooking. "Can you be more specific, ma'am?"
"What's new? It's been awhile since I've gotten an update, and you're usually at the center of anything interesting," the old woman says as she pours tea. "My granddaughter hasn't been eaten or anything, has she?"
"No, no.. Gwyndrael did kidnap her but that was just for fun. Well, dragon fun, which is often a more strenuous form of fun than most, but fun none-the-less. Sasha, my other self, went to rescue her. Hopefully they all gained something from the experience. As for me, I've been training, magically speaking and otherwise. I'm pretty sure I can melt a military-grade bulkhead by pointing at it, and I suspect anything thermally-oriented won't work on me. As for the rest.. " Tasha taps the side of her head, which tilts. "We came to the conclusion most approaches run in to too many problems in their attempt to breach in to the core, and escape, if we're detected, will be difficult. We're also concerned with artifacts that could disrupt our unique abilities. Aside from that, we've considered using the cover of entities come to House Khomen to offer very rare services: that is, magical services. The dragons have largely agreed, as have I. I don't believe Tia will, so that leaves four agents to distribute among the princes, in the hopes they'll take the bait and we can use that to leverage ourselves further in to the interior. Look for political weaknesses. Acquire local authority and access."
"So you'll need three new identities for them," Mrs. Teatime says. "Unless they always look like dragons? I'll need some pictures."
"They can look like draconic humanoids. I'm not sure what you'll do for me, either, but it might be suspicious if I approach without a back story for being there. I don't know how much House Khomen knows about me, I may show up from earlier records regarding the Magi Project." Tasha scratches her chin, ears flicking. "I'm also the least magically able of the four of us, but I know the most about this universe, which isn't a lot mind you. I'll leave it to you if the four of us are working together, antagonistic, or unaligned, and if I should approach openly or as part of some reuse, like a fallout."
At the same time Tasha pulls out her datapad and begins madly sketching out the dragons; it will take some time.
"I'll need to know what they're capable of," Mrs. Teatime says. "Nobody know what the First Ones looked like, but almost every culture has dragons. That could be an advantage."
"Dragons," Miss Necessity says, a bit wistfully. "Do they let you ride on them?"
"You'll need to talk to them yourself, or if you cannot, prepare a list of questions for me. Just be warned they're majestic, powerful beings that have lived for thousands of years. They're also a bit melodramatic and prone to grand gestures. I think they're a bit bored, to be honest. They enjoy novelty and unique experiences, something that comes from being nigh-immortal. We also learned they're highly vulnerable to Sifran artifacts and cannot survive on Caltrop Station. Likewise, my own dragon-empowered magic does not work here." Tasha tilts her head back and forth, thinking, then she grins at Miss Necessity. "Maybe. If you're nice. Or exciting." For some reason she winks.
Necessity grins at the wink. Mrs. Teatime sips her tea contemplatively at the idea of going out to interview dragons. "Outpost Caltrop is unique among Sifran artifacts, as far as we know," she says. "Other known pieces of Sifran crystal are quite small, with the biggest being about as large as your skull. I doubt those will have a strong effect, but we can't test that."
"I can't say for certain either, size may play no role in their power, nor what they can do. They could all be networked for all we know. We just know it's a strong counter to beings like the dragons and to entities like Tia, and to a lesser extent, myself. If you wish to interview them, I can set up the meeting. I'm sure you'll find them each very interesting," Tasha relates, nodding.
"Do they drink tea?" the Khatta asks.
"Yes, they can eat all kinds of things. They're not limited to their larger forms, nor are they limited in many other ways. Each is different and has their preferences. Gwyndrael likes novelty and adventure, for example." The young woman takes in a deep breath, and exhales. "I msotly work with Gwyndrael and Wormwood, Sharon can help you with Thermoriax. They are silver, bone, and red respectively."
"How did you meet them?" Mrs. Teatime asks. "Did they just show up?"
"I recruited Gwyndrael to our cause through an associate of ours. I also, uh, well, you know. We're a bit closer than with the other two. The other dragons are Gwyndrael's friends and allies, they are each looking for a cause to fight for, demons to slay." Tasha finds it particularly difficult to admit to Miss Teatime she had a romantic encounter or two with a dragon; the older woman seems to demand a different level of interaction than most.
"So they are in for personal reasons, and not expecting to be monetarily compensated?" Mrs. Teatime asks.
"That's the gist of it, yes. They may want what they want as we go along, however. Covetousness is a standard dragon virtue, they're just more restrained than most. They may expect a certain level of luxury." Tasha bites her lip, then admits, "And so do I, ever since I ate the dragon's heart. Nothing's free, right?"
"Ate a dragon's heart?" Mrs. Teatime prompts.
Tasha pulls in a breath, rolling her shoulders. "I needed a spark to ignite my power over Red -- Creation and Destruction in one -- because I'm not naturally a magical being, I just had a strong affinity. Enough of an affinity. And I read a book-that-was-certainly-not-a-book in a back alley store in a creepy city floating in 'The Astral Sea', which is like space but with air and a lot more nebulae. Anyway, Kai suggested I challange and defeat a dragon at my own level, and Gwyndrael arranged it. I won the single combat and then I ate his heart. Not literally -- I tried -- but more of an absorption. There have been effects, not the least of which has been a sharp upturn in my magical ability and to a much lesser extent, my endurance. Also the remains of its soul manifest as a small dragon only I can see and urge me to do things, you know, dragon things. Burn stuff. Possess treasure."
"Well, amassing wealth is a normal drive," the Khattan claims. "Do you have any other draconic personality changes of note?"
"I really like setting things on fire and general violent mayhem, but I'm not sure if that's an old or new trait. Maybe a bit of both," Tasha admits, shrugging her shoulder as if to say, what can you do? "Otherwise nothing too drastic, and much I already had some interest in anyway. I did think ahead before eating the heart. Oh, and I have a vampiric magic sword that likes to eat dragons, now. Supposedly if it can kill enough it can transfer that vitality to me, and therefore let me keep fighting for.. Well, I guess as long as there's something to fuel the transfer. Maybe not useful for the operation but you never know. It's also a bit sinister."
"If the goal is present yourselves to different factions, than saying you can kill dragons while others are courting dragons is significant," Mrs. Teatime says. "Being able to deny a rival power is nearly as good as having power over that rival."
"That's true, although being asked to actually do it presents a problem. I'm fairly good at killing a wide selection of things, so that could be my sell. I may not be as powerful as the others, magically speaking, but I can counter them and other entities," the red woman agrees, nodding. "And it may come as a shock, since most people I meet underestimate me."
"It is something to consider," Mrs. Teatime says. "The major question is whether their presence will be detected by the Ogdru-hem or not. With Tia, it is known that they can detect elements within her, if the report from the old battleground is accurate."
At "old battleground" Tasha's brows raise and ears go up; she hasn't heard of a mention of an old battleground. "Can you tell me more? I also possess a power related to Tia's, but much reduced, along side my other powers. I can also detect the Ogdru-hem, if vaguely, by line of sight and I don't mean with my eyes. I possess a bit of Loilgor nature, and it allows me to see with their sight many things. Unfortunately it's hard to gauge distance, just direction."
"Your expedition to the extragalactic plane," Mrs. Teatime explains. "The encounter with Luk'thu-Hem and Charon. It was trying to reach his 'time stone' power core, correct?"
"Ahh yes, that. Then maybe. Tia is related, but she's of a different design branch than the Waymakers. I'm also of 'Tia's Branch'. I possess some power from across beings, including magic, dragons, a servant demon race, and Tia's kind," Tasha answers.
"Do you contain physical elements from either of them? The dragon heart for instance?" Mrs. Teatime asks.
"I absorbed the essence of the heart and I possess elements from both Tia's technology and the Loilgor. They may not be physical objects, but they may be detectable," is the broadly empowered being's answer.
"Hmm, perhaps it doesn't amount to enough to trigger detection," Mrs. Teatime says. "Unless triggering such becomes the goal."
"We honestly don't know. My own essence is smaller than any of the beings wholly reliant on each power, so maybe I'm harder to detect, and have a harder time detecting in turn." The blond scratches her nose. "The one Ogdru-hem we can talk to isn't exactly forthcoming, or more accurately, aware. We are of a different state of existence than it is."
"So long as they don't have a reflexive reaction, we have leeway," Mrs. Teatime says. "We'll need to create a plan based on the capabilities we can bring to the table and the information we get from our agents on site."
"Then I'll ready everyone who is willing to go to expect a formal analysis of their powers. That includes me, but I can do my own writeup. And some of my powers are not fully understood. I'll detail the ones Tia bestowed upon me as well." Tasha claps her hands together lightly. "And that should lead to progress."
"I'll want to interview Kai as well," Mrs. Teatime says. "Do you think she will be willing to sit for that?"
"That I don't know. I can't even give you a guess about that. Just ask politely, be clear about why you want to speak to her and your intention, and then accept her answer. Don't press, but she may change her mind later. But don't count on it," is Tasha's answer.
"Like talking to a cat then," the old Khattan says. "I'll be sure to bring treats. And you haven't touched your tea and cookies. I baked them myself, using unhealthy amounts of butter."
"I've been resisting to be polite and get the information stuff out of the way." And then Tasha picks up the plate and a cup of tea. "I'll just eat these then unless someone wants one. Maybe two. I can eat them in the hallway while I work on reports."