There are many operating modes for the Melchior, with corresponding levels of feedback. At first, Tasha used the mode that made her feel like she was a giant, and the Titan's armor was her skin. This unfortunately made it seem like she was being 'felt up' as the special harness and chest plate were being strapped on – making it hard not to twitch. Dialing things down, Tasha next felt like she was herself, only wearing powered armor. This was comfortable and familiar, but tiring, especially when all she was doing was standing around. Finally, she retreated to the lowest feedback setting, which made her feel more like the pilot of a giant machine instead of a giant herself.

Outside, technicians were crawling over one of the wing pods of the Bellerophon, directed by an armored figure she knew to be Fred Kohler, controlling the armor remotely. The huge pod was opened up, revealing all of the elaborate scanning and surveying arrays, some of which were being partly dismantled and moved to the harness worn by Melchior. At this point, it was still uncertain as to whether any of the scanning data could be fed through to the pilot; the primary focus was on getting the technology to work without having to compromise the hull of the Gryphon.

As dull as it was watching and waiting, at least it kept Tasha out of the ship for the moment while Mage Gessle conducted tests on the less corporeal crew members. Who knows what Caravelli, Zerachiel and Gabriel are up to, since the doctor dragged them out of the ship and into the base for a 'reunion party' as he called it.

All suited up and with nowhere to go – at least not yet. Tasha sedately watches the technicians do their work, finding pre-flight a great deal like pre-flight for airships. In an effort to be productive during this tedious but necessary step, Tasha takes a moment to check her other systems, doing a bit of pre-flight of her own now that she's free of the cradle. "Melchior, you've uploaded the mission data; can we make use of radiowave communication frequencies, or are we limited to the more advanced Expedition-era coms?"

"I can reconfigure the EM screens to allow for carrier-wave analog radio signals," the Titan's AI responds in Tasha's head. "Primary communications will be affected by distance and planetary curvature, unless you wish to override power limits. Multiband can also work with the atmospheric ionization layer for low-bandwidth applications, such as voice-only communication."

"That's fine; modify the EM screens and then open separate channels in multiband and radio. We'll test the system by attempting to contact Tartarus control, Ajax, and Bellerophon. Begin test with radio, message, "Melchior radio test: reply if received." Use the pre-loaded mission channels," Tasha directs, in her head. As she waits for things to happen it strikes her, again, just how alien a thing the Melchior really is. Rather than her being just a pilot, different modes and depths can blur the line between woman and machine. At any time, she could be herself, mostly separate, or Melchior. Her brain is in control now, but could also be but a co-processor to the machine in other modes. Nowhere else in her life has she felt her sense of being to be so fluid as in the Melchior.

"Tartarus flight control, channel 752, reading you, Melchior," comes the first reply. The second is from Ajax, a soft female (and likely human) voice; "This is Ajax, open-comm channel 1200." Bellerophon is actually the last to respond, despite being right next to the Titan. "This is Bellerophon, frequency… I mean channel 1490… I think that's right… " Mariel apparently isn't familiar with the older style of communication.

"In turn: "Thank you Tartarus; radio test successful." "Thank you Ajax; radio test successful. We look forward to boarding." "That's good enough Mariel, thank you. Radio test complete." To previous targets, "Stand-by multiband test." Switch to multiband, broadcast to previous targets, "Melchior multiband test: reply if received."" Tasha wonders, as she goes through these steps, just when she began being so deliberate and careful. A com check would have bored her even a weekago; now, every detailed step is interesting and important in its own right. "Observation: You're right, Melchior; organic beings are a strange lot."

There is a lot of noise that sounds like static, or a swarm of insects mixed in with a various chirping birds. Only Bellerophon replies this time. "AX.25 synced, packet radio connection established," Mariel says, sounding a lot clearer. "Bandwidth test at… 128 Kilobaud… stable, burst at 256. Digital transfer available now." Tasha sees a very blurry image of the Bellerophon bridge, with Mariel's face being a sort of splotch on it. The image sharpens, but tends to break up into colored blocks whenever Mariel actually moves.

"Adding fractal extrapolation," Mariel notes, and the picture cleans up considerably. "How's it going in there?" the Karnor girl asks, without breaking up now.

Bellerophon's youngest ghost is treated to a return image of Tasha staring forward, eyes occasionally darting to follow images only she can see. The cockpit is otherwise dimly lit by blue  strips, and by the glow emanating from Tasha's neural tattoos. When she 'speaks,' her mouth doesn't move. "To Bellerophon, "Multiband distortion is significant but expected. Limited visual and audio. Things are going. I've completed all but one pre-launch test, and the mechanics are making progress on the harness. I'm finding myself a bit at a loss with how to spend my time productively now that everything else is done." "To the other two, via radio, "Communication test complete. Thank you for your assistance."" There's little to do but wait. Active cutting surface tests would be too dangerous with the Karnors on the hull, leaving Tasha the time to lean back and ponder what else there is to do. So, she brings up a surface map of the Pit of Himaar and begins studying it for the fourth time. Her eyes – brain, in reality – settles on the city of Elamoore, which she had visited many times in her youth. "I wonder if anyone will remember me … "

"Oh, I can imagine!" Mariel says. "I'm 'unplugged' right now, and it's a challenge to remember all the manual controls for things. And you have the opposite issue! Do you want some food or anything brought to you? The magical snake guy is creepy, by the way."

"Don't even get me started on Mages, I have enough to worry about as it is!" Tasha laughs, but like the rest of the communication, it's entirely synthesized from her head. It makes watching her video and listening to her audio a disjointed affair as she seems to talk without moving her lips, and watch what only she can see. "It's good you're unplugged, too. Honestly Mariel, I think it's for the best. Remaining connected to the system seems to have limited your ability to act as a person, instead you were regulated by a machine. If the disconnected state looks hopeful, I'm considering suggesting you all return to active duty. I just hope it's not too unpleasant for you, being disconnected? And thank you – I'd love some food."

"It certainly makes me feel… mortal," Mariel admits. "Snake-mage doesn't know what to make of us, I think," she notes, leaning in towards the pickup to whisper. "Listen for a knock in a few minutes," the Karnor says, then switches channels, leaving the last frame of video frozen in Tasha's view.

"Mariel?" Tasha blinks, which is at least a visual cue that she isn't out of sync with her words. "Oi, well. It's good to see her feeling mortal anyway. And that reminds me: Melchior, what's your opinion of our integration? Do you feel were are synchronizing well? Anything I can do to improve stamina or link quality?"

"All parameters are optimal," the AI replies. "There are mental and physical exercises you can employ that may improve stamina and signal ratio in simulation mode."

"I might as well try some and make the best use of our time waiting, unless you feel they will put too much of a strain upon me to risk, what with a mission pending in twenty or so?" Speaking with her AI, Tasha's brought back to when they first met – and she remembers him to be quite the kisser. Even thought it was just a method of entering her emotional center, devoid of real feeling, that was one of the best kisses of her life. Later, she discovered Melchior isn't normally what one would call "social," but she's still fond of him. He's her big, dark, shadow in her big, black, machine; the system that cradles her brain and thus an extension of herself. The boundaries between her and her AI are thin, indeed.

"We will use a short exercise to begin with," the masculine voice says… and then Tasha is standing naked at the edge of a cliff. Before her is a canyon, filled with bizarre stone columns that look natural but are still strange to see. The bottom of the canyon is thick with greenery and the sparkle of moving water. A breeze ruffles her fur, and then something white and shiny flies past and turns to hover in front of her. It's a bird, all glowing white, with two extra-long tail feathers that end in fans. It's got a high crest on its head, black eyes and a red beak and talons. "Catch the reenix," Melchior says, a gold and black male Vartan standing next to Tasha.

Tasha takes a moment to absorb her new surroundings, but after weeks of simulated training blurring the line between herself and her machine, not to mention the various visions, dreams, and other disturbances in her inner reality, she finds herself accepting her new situation without question or much surprise. "Very well!" Her tail wags as she turns to eye the bird, then she makes a snatch at it as she yells, "Notify me of any communications or contact with the external hatch!"

The white bird dodges back, then flips over and dives into the canyon! "I will notify you of such, have no concern," Melchior says… and then pats Tasha on the butt in a 'go get it' sort of gesture.

Tasha's already beginning to step forward to launch herself in to the sky when the pat lands, which causes her to stumble and nearly pitch in to the cliff! After catching herself with a reverse beat of her wings, she her AI manifestation a moment before diving off the cliff! "C'mere you!"

The reenix is a very nimble creature, and keeps zipping between and around the stone pillars, especially whenever Tasha seems to be catching up to it. And then… it disappears after zipping behind one of the pillars!

The young woman eyes that pillar, having a distinct feeling it may be lurking behind it. As fliers go, Tasha wouldn't consider herself exactly nimble; she's a heavy lifter and a big lot of mass to be matching the likes of Aquilians and Korvs. Still, she's learned a trick or two about changing direction quickly, such as slowing when approaching a wall, turning herself to catch it with her legs, and pushing off to change direction. This is exactly what she does, guessing that the reenix will dart out suddenly from its perched position, which would have mad her last direction a liability as she would otherwise have zoomed past it…

There's a surprised squawk when Tasha pushes off from the rock – she nearly set her hoof on the reenix's head! The blood-red beak stands out, and it launches itself into the air. It's feathers are now mottled shades of brown and gray to match the rock.

Tasha braces her feet and launches after the reenix, expecting something just like this! "Oi you're a tricky one, aren't you! But I got you!" She strains a hand out, aiming for the legs and not the tail feathers,which she assumes will just pull loose! "A little … closer … !"

One of the long trailing feathers slips right between Tasha's fingers as the bird dives for speed. It changes to green, but is still visible as it moves against the background.

Tucking wing, Tasha dives right after it. She feels big and heavy compared to the reenix and begins to understand the exercise's intent: learn to maneuver a bulky aircraft in pursuit of a smaller, more nimble one. Grass bends away as she cuts through the air, wondering if she'll ever set foot on the planet where the reenix lives.

This close to the ground, in an open area, Tasha has a power advantage – she may not be as nimble, but she can accelerate and fly faster than her prey. And then it starts to flash in multiple colors and patterns; patterns that move, making the bird appear to be pulling away… or slowing down… or dodging right or left in a confusing manner.

As Tasha reaches out, she finds the disorienting colors and patterns to be quite effective, much to her annoyance! As first she can't quite track the bird as her keen avian eyes try and follow every movement making her gaze jerk and flight wobble, but then she begins to try and tune out what she sees, aiming for the center of it all, where the bird must be behind all that amazing camoflauge. Aiming again, she accelerates and tries to make a grasp at it.

"Squawrk!" the reenix cries as Tasha grabs one of its legs. It's wings beat wildly and its colors and patterns flash in a nauseating fashion… but it's certainly caught!

"Oh gods, my stomach … ," Tasha complains, laughing. She quickly pulls the bird against her chest, wrapping one hand around its legs and another over its wings. After a sharp climb, she twists, dives, and heads back towards the Melchior's AI avatar.

The big Vartan is waiting atop the cliff, and steps back so Tasha can land. "Very good. You can release it now," he says.

After landing, Tasha does just that. She turns and holds the bird up to the sky, then gives it a little helping boost before releasing it. Smiling, she turns back to Melchior and asks, "What now?"

The male presses a taloned hand to the center of Tasha's chest. "Heartrate and breathing elevated," he says. "Do you feel tired, or exhilarated?"

Tasha looks down and manages to fight the urge not to squirm, but fails at not blushing. "Exhilarated. Nothing like a good air chase … haha … ha."

She's then pulled in against Melchior's chest, and he looks down at her with dilated eyes… almost like he's about to kiss her again! "There is something else… " he says deeply, so that she can actually feel the words through her chest.

Completely unprepared for this turn of events, Tasha finds herself gape-mouthed! She stammers something incomprehensible as she looks up in to those infinitely blue eyes, which just turns in to a nervous giggle.

Melchior's beak parts as if he's going to kiss her… then he says, "A Colonel Talonstrike wishes entry."

"Ahhh … uuhhh?" is Tasha's initial response, followed by several non-comprehending blinks.

"She is at the main hatch," Melchior says. "She has beer."

Several more blinks later, Tasha seems to be processing normally again, because she says, "Ah … Oh. Oh? Oh! Well … I should, um … I should let her in … um … , " staring up at those endlessly blue eyes, Tasha has to glance away to manage, "I'd better let her in. Ah … Oh … Surface depth, open airlock?"

The alien world fades away, and Tasha finds her saddle-seat rotating around to face the airlock, even as it starts to reconfigure itself into a more upright version. Light pours in as the hatch opens, blocked by the silhouette of a very large bird. "Ah, thought you were asleep!" Rapatia says in Vartan, as she slides down the short access way into the cockpit bubble. "Heard you were bored," she says, looking around the blank, curved walls, up to the armature that connects to the back of Tasha's skull. "Can't see why!" she laughs, and holds out a basket before setting on the opposite end of the pilot couch. "Brought some grub! Was bored too."

Tasha squints as the light pours in, given all she's 'seen' are virtual projections that only exist in her head. She glances at her rearranged and redirected seat, not having realized it could do that. Looking up, sheexplains, "I was … elsewhere. Sorry, Colonel. Please come in." Tasha gestures to the space before her. "You'll find the cockpit a bit drab, as all visuals are rendered in my mind, via the neural link." After a gesture to the armature connected to her head, she adds, "And thank you for stopping by, I was not exactly bored … But I was very limited in productive activities. Anyway! Welcome to us: Melchior."

A tabletop helpfully unfolds from the wall, which Rapatia just takes in stride as she starts setting out the food. "So… you don't feel me inside you or anything like that right now, right?" she asks.

"I was notified by our AI that you were present at our airlock; in a sense I am aware of you both before my person, but also inside our hull. How strong my point of view is depends on which set of interface variables I'm using. When connected to Melchior, it's accurate to say there's always a overlap between us. That is why I use "we" and "us" and not "me," unless I'm specifically referring to my identity as Tasha." Scooting forward, the young woman in the golden chair eyes the food. "And right now, I am hungry!"

"Ah, thought you might be using the Royal We which would be weird," Rapatia says, and hands Tasha… a bit drumstick? It's from sort of avian, probably. "Mogu-bird! I brought some with me on Ajax," the Vartan explains. "Marinated for six days in ale and honey, then cooked lightly. Shouldn't be any bits of shell left either."

"Oh, no. I'm definitely using the combined entity form of "we,"" Tasha assures the older Vartan. Reaching down she picks up the drumsticks and gives it a sniff, smiling as the aroma of ale and honey waft in. "Mmm. Mogu-bird is it? No shell? Whatever it is, it looks and smells delicious!" And with that, Tasha takes a big bite.

"The marinating leaches out almost all the poisons," Rapatia notes as she eats her own drumstick. "Some are left, but they make your tongue tingle and then everything tastes better somehow."

"I've had some alcohols that worked that way too," Tasha agrees as she eats. Abaddonian food may be odd looking – and often laced with metal and poison! – but at least it tastes good, she decides. "So, I'll be boarding in a bit, and you will too I take it? Anyone staying behind?"

"I dunno," Rapatia notes. "I think everyone is going. Will be nice to be back where guys will ogle my butt again. These Karnors are too timid."

Tasha barks a laugh, head shaking. "Haw, they looked at mine enough! I guess I seem more approachable? Maybe it's the Karnor bits; biggest bunch of Karnors to ever look at me. Most of it died down when they realized I was with the Captain and 'just another soldier,' though." After another bite, followed by a sip of beer, the cyborg asks, "So, there's still a lot of Vartans in Elamoore? Were you from Elamoore, or have you always lived on Abaddon?"

"I'm Abaddon born," Rapatia notes. "The Elamoore Vartans… don't really seem that interested in leaving Elamoore, frankly."

"I can imagine. I know how much of a shock it is to suddenly find your world changed, and I had people there to explain it most of it to me. Given the general environmental hostility of this planet, as well as the advanced technologies, leaving their only piece of Sinai must seem very daunting." Tasha shakes her head; she doesn't need to imagine what it was like; she experienced a Boomer 'first hand' in the memory of death provided to her. A shudder runs through her. After taking a deep sip of alcohol followd by a deep breath, she admits, "I've been to Elamoore before, several times. The airship I was born on would travel there at least once a year until Elamoore was 'destroyed.''"

"That seems so strange," Rapatia notes, as she drinks some of her own beer. "It was hard enough for me to accept the Pit for what it was… but I never really thought of the survivors there as being from another world, really. And you're an alien too. I tend to forget unless it's pointed out to me, I suppose."

"It's hard for me as well, although I have a different set of problems in that regard. For me, everyone outside the Bellerophon crew feels … off, and a sense of 'alienness' pervades almost everything I do. My whole life. I feel both here and there; now and part of the Expedition-era. I'm machine and woman, too. In a way, it helps that everything is almost uniformly alien; it makes it all feel somehow comfortable. Nothing, as it happens, is ever wholly familiar and there's a certain stability to that." Tasha smiles despite the sober words. She's learned to appreciate her world as it is now, no longer quite feeling as out of place as she once did. "I know, too, we all have the same origin with Clan Harbinger. It's amazing to see the cultural changes six thousand plus years have wrought. We're no longer a clan, but a mass of varied Vartan communities."

"Well, you Sinai Vartans maybe," Rapatia chuckles. "Probably different origin on Abaddon. 6,000 years isn't that long. We're stubborn race, after all. Slow to change!"

"We sure are!" Tasha leans forward to toast to stubbornness, grinning. "So how long until I get to scare everyone boarding?"

"I think they gotta move your 'luggage' first, with the flatbeds," Rapatia notes. "That bikini top they got on you might help with the fear part too."

"Why is it always something embarrassing? I bet Fred is behind that." Tasha sighs, head shaking. "A Titan should have dignity; I'm not happy with how that thing looks."

"They're smaller than your real ones," Rapatia points out. "Proportionally, anyway."

"I mean, Melchior is a masculine machine. I'm never happy when something crops up to damage his dignity, be it my mistakes or outside influences. As part of this machine and its pilot, I've learned to have a certain code of conduct." Tasha makes a face, then bites her bird leg and shakes her head. "The mission comes first, though."

"Oh, I didn't know this was a male Titan!" Rapatia notes… then cocks her head and asks, "How do you tell?"

"It's not obvious?" Tasha blinks; she had always gotten a sense of masculinity from Melchior and assumed everyone else did, too. "Well," she begins to explain, gesturing with her drumstick, " … his virtual avatar is definitely male. His hull, of course, isn't fully male – that would be ridiculous – but his avatar is masculine in body and voice. And, let me tell you, he's gorgeous."

"Oooooo," Rapatia goes. "To most non-Vartans, even I look masculine. From behind anyway. But I didn't know this hunk had a mind too." She looks around the blank sphere, as if expecting the avatar to show up. "All black and gold I suppose?"

"With eyes bluer than any sky," Tasha agrees, smiling and looking a little wistful. "The color is all symbolic, of course. It's the same color I'm glowing now due to the interface. Oh, and yes, a mind. An artificial intelligence – an AI. You won't encounter it, not outside external diagnostics, but for me, Melchior is always here with my own mind, and we are convergent so long as I am linked in. In certain modes, my brain becomes a co-processor to Melchior's mind, using a sped up simulation of my brain as a guideline and my own thoughts as maps for refernce when dealing ith complex choices. You could say my brain is just an important data storage device at that level."

"Hmmm, can't say I was that close to my former husband," Rapatia notes. "But it sounds very… warm. Like being hugged all the time?"

"Uhh, well, it's … hard to explain," the younger Vartan stumbles, holding her hands out, drumstick included. "It's like having a very fluid sense of self, and being together with another entity. We are one, but two. We exchange control as best fits our objective. We always have a sense of the other, and of both our bodies. It … " Tasha blinks, then smiles a little. "It is warm, in a sense. You lose a bit of your sense of self as a separate being, but you gain a great deal, too."

"Ooooo, that sounds familiar," Rapatia says, nodding her head before picking over the bone from her drumstick. "Friend in school gave me a pill once that was like that. Made me think I was the whole world for a bit, sort of."

Tasha raises a brow at that. "That's … That's not exactly what I meant, but … Close enough." She shakes her head a little, smiling, then asks, "So, you were in the military a long time? Lots of husbands?"

"Oh, born into it, you could say," Rapatia notes with a Vartan grin. "Only a few husbands though. I don't go for soldiers, so… they tend to wear out. But at least I know the kids are in good hands!"

At that, Tasha cackles. It all sounds a lot like something her mother would have said. As the laughter dies down, she wheezes, "I- … I see! You sound almost like my mother, talking like that, you do. Me," she glances to the left, Tartarus-wards, " … it looks like I like soldiers. Older men, too. I didn't expect that. Haven't been married, though!"

"Ah, marriage is for having kids," Rapatia claims, waving a talon. "I almost joined a group marriage… but it seemed like a lot of investment, and I was going on lots of missions back then, since we were fighting… uh… I think the Empire. Or else the Silent-Ones… maybe both at once!"

"A group marriage? Really?" Tasha leans forward, ears perked … and then she realizes she almost joined one as well! It seems like a lifetime ago when she considered marrying with, she thinks it was … Calligenia maybe. "I almost did that too! Can you imagine? I'm glad I didn't; what a disaster that would have been. And, turns out I can have children, even being a mule, so maybe I'll get married if my big wolf ever decides to ask me. So, you fought in a lot off battles, did you? Colonel's a high rank, from what I read."

"Oh yeah, twenty years of combat experience!" Rapatia claims, then lifts and flexes her arms. "Even drove a Titan a few times. Still remember washing off the goo afterwards! Fought everything that would fight back, pretty much! And it's a decent rank, yeah – I can get a squad and sit in on the planning and drink the good stuff now."

"It sounds like you've have a very interesting life, and it's heartening to hear of another Vartan who's managed to reach a high position in society. I used to think we Vartans just never accomplished anything important, that we were only good for lifting or hitting things – brawn not brain. To be very honest, I was ashamed of that, and after I awoke the Karnor Elite, I tried to emphasize my Karnor side, thinking that would allow me to excel and be recognized in a way my Vartan side wouldn't. I know better now, at least." Tasha grins, point the drumstick at the older woman across from her. "And meeting Vartans like you really make me proud. We were the best of our kind back then, did you know? The best mercenaries in the known universe. It looks like we still have it, although I'd like to see us in more fields outside the martial and labor domains."

Rapatia tells Tasha of all the Vartans in administrative, science and medical roles in the Pit – it does give the hybrid a list of interesting people to meet with, at the very least. After some more small-talk, Fred interrupts to say that the final piece of scanning equipment is hooked up. "It's time for a wireless connection and power up test, Tash," his virtual face notes. Tasha's chnaging expression, far away gaze, and the sudden ceasation of noise outsid seem to notify the Colonel of what's happening, because she says, "I take that for my cue to leave you to your work," ash she begins collecting the garbage from lunch and preparing to exit.

Tasha gives Fred her thanks and notifies him she'll be ready momentarily, all through the silent communication of her neural interface. At almost the same time, she says, "Thank you for coming to visit us, Colonel. And, thank you for helping to remind me that I am still Vartan at heart, no matter how much I may have – or will – change. I'm proud to be your friend, if you don't mind me thinking of you as such." Another communications also goes out: "Mariel, I have a special favor to ask you: Take care of SAINA. He needs to meet people, to watch us work, and most of all he needs our care and love. After all, he's only a child."

As new data from the external sensors begins to come in, Mariel replies with, "Shouldn't someone who can actually grab hold of him do that? Then again, I probably can't be blamed if he breaks something out of my range though… hmmm."

Over the comm, Dr. Zerachiel (one or the other, it's hard to tell by voice alone) says, "Fred, the deep-radar is showing calibration errors." "Hang tight," Fred responds. "I want to know all the glitches first… "

"You can always use the maid body, it would be very appropriate," Tasha suggests to Mariel, in a teasing albeit computer generated and not-quite-right, voice. "Fred, Zerachiel, let me know if you need anything from me. Be advised the Colonel is exiting." While she waits, Tasha remembers one other thing she had been thinking about, and decides now is as good a time as any. She also wonders at how she can still feel a little intimidated talking to Nora, even though she's in a forty foot metal giant. "Nora, have a moment?"

"What do you need, Tasha?" Nora replies, although not immediately. "I forgot that I have to use the bloody comm button now… " she complains.

"If it wasn't for having that collar on my neck, I'd be reaching for it myself," Tasha sympathizes. "Anyway, I've been thinking, after the whole fiasco about your existence yesterday, that maybe it's still inappropriate for me to use your surname. I originally feared I had forced it from you, because of PersoCom compliance rules, but that's no longer an issue. What is an issue, is that I have attempting to emulate you, and I believe the Terran saying – if your memory is correct – is 'ride your coat tails.' Or, at least try and wear them. Dr. Caravelli suggested I need to see what I can do on my own without living up to, or trying to be, anyone else. This is as good a time as any; what do you think?"

"Well, you're going to be off on your own… well, except for Dr. Z… for a few weeks or whatever," Nora notes. "I'm sure you can find some clothes that fit you, and… whatever else you need to be yourself. Oh, and I will find a way to make you pay for my having to put up with the magic snake guy! He actually gave me a headache! A headache! To see if I could get one, because spirits aren't supposed to get headaches, you know."

"By your attempt to get revenge on me, I'm assuming you still want to be sisters?" Tasha's laugh is an almost-perfect replication; everything seems right, but it's just not quite there. It's also ended a little too promptly, the precision of a mind-computer interface with no need of lungs. "I did warn you about magic. Putting up with 'magic snake guys' is all part of the JEF role. Isn't this what you came here for? Just think of him as a physics defying wielder of alien technology – I know I will try not to think of him at all." There's a pause, then, "It's good to hear you talking about headaches, Nora."

"I curse you to have a huge hangover during your mission, sister," Nora replies. "Why is it good to hear me talking about headaches, pray tell?"

"I'm sure between the interface exhausting every fiber of my being and my incessant drinking problems, I will," Tasha insists with another one of those not-quite-right laughs. "As for why … " The young cyborg pauses; maybe she's thinking, or just being dramatic. " … it's because it's a very mortal thing to feel, Nora. I'm glad for you."

"I'll try to record all my miseries for you to download when you get back," Nora offers cheerily. "And I want you to keep Gabriel in mind when you're out debauching."

"Oh, he's always in mind. Most likely, I'll spend most of my evenings eating, then sleeping. I'm sure it will be very boring. Which reminds me, do you want anything? Books? Souvineers? Shiny things?" As she converses, Tasha opens several more virtual view screens in her mind, watching the Colonel depart, the last adjustments be made, and various areas of the Bellerophon so she can remember it all. It is, after all, the first time she'll be off on her own, in the whole of her life.

One view shows the seismic sensor readouts… and they're registering a growing vibration. The cause is apparent as the hangar drops into shadow: the Ajax is maneuvering overhead. Cranes and other gantries are retracted towards the walls to clear the way for eventual cargo cabling. "If you see something you think I'll like, go ahead and grab it," Nora says.

"You really can't ask me to grab the implements of my destruction, can you?" Tasha does seem to laugh a lot; perhaps an ominous trait for the pilot of a giant war machine. "I'll see what I can do! And, turn your view overhead; it looks like the Ajax is here. I'm still amazed they managed to build an airship that large. Just look at it!"

"I wonder how big a volume it really is," Nora comments. "I think we have the adjustments finished, Tasha. Just sit tight," Fred communicates. Overhead, the cargo bay of the airship opens up… and not just big doors on the underside; the whole section splits open and extends to the sides, walls and all. Inside is a forest of cranes and catwalks – and beyond those is more open space, going right up into the superstructure of the dirigible. Anchors are dropped and secured around the rim of the hangar, and then the crane structures begin to descend.

Melchior's head begins to move, tilting back as Tasha's mind erupts with images of what's taking place overhead. More than a need for awareness, Tasha grew up on an airship and she can't resist the opportunity to take in such a magnificent view of the largest airship she's ever seen. "I can just imagine the gas requirements," she agrees with Nora, " … and the bridge must be enormous. Apparently, its seen action multiple times, as well … " To Fred, she replies, "Standing by, Fred. We see the cables."

For now, the long arms of Ajax are ignore Melchior and dipping into Bellerophon – specifically into the Titan Bay. Ever so slowly and carefully, Melchior's luggage is lifted up into the belly of the airship: first the reactor, then the 'locker' with the shaard and replacement parts. There are enough cranes and gantries available that the locker is hooked up for lifting even as the reactor is over half-way to the ship.

"This is by far the largest collection of personal items I have ever loaded on to an airship," Tasha asides to Nora as the Melchior's lenses track the movement of the objects. "And I don't even have to carry them, this time. Incidentally, is Gabriel going to come back so I can say good-bye? If he didn't make any indication, I'll just leave him to his relaxing. He's definitely earned it." Another send to Fred, this time, "How's it looking Fred?" And to Melchior, "Melchior, I never did ask about this: how well can we analyze objects, such as ships and other Titans, using our own sensor suite?"

"Non-destructive structural and materials analysis is available," the voice of the Titan replies. "You aren't leaving right away, Tash," Nora points out. "This is just the loading up phase. Ajax doesn't formally launch until the morning." Fred chimes in with, "Prepare for groping by steel tentacles! We're about to start connecting up the crane hooks."

"Thank you, Melchior. Why don't we test that out, by scanning the Ajax?" "Well, I'm definitely leaving the hangar shortly," Tasha then insists to her adopted sister. "I'll need to concentrate for this, so this will be good-bye for the moment. Take care of yourself if I don't talk to you again before launch!" And to Fred, "You always put things in an 'interesting' way, Fred. Entering full depth." The communications go out in the span of seconds, followed by the mental 'dive' command.

The cockpit melts away, and Tasha becomes… Big Tasha! She towers over the people scrambling over her body like industrious vermites, and can feel the sensor harness now. Despite Rapatia's comment, it not exactly bra-like, more of a single band across her chest with two mismatched clusters of equipment, all covered in a translucent plastic shell to protect them from the elements – but even that is uneven and lumpy, to use a little material as possible.

"I hope you're not working too hard," the giant machine rumbles in Tasha's voice. "But if you are or not, thank you for the time and effort of Tartarus." Inwardly, Tasha must resist the urge to swat or scratch, either of which would cost lives. "Melchior, how's the scan of the Ajax going?"

"Non-optimally," the AI replies. "We do not have proper aspect with regard to target." Apparently standing still with the airship directly overhead instead being in front of the sensors is a handicap. "Tasha, how does the balance feel?" Fred interrupts. "Mass should be evenly distributed across the harness."

"That's interesting to know; sometimes you learn by doing something wrong, right Melchior?" Out loud, Tasha replies through her machine, "So far, so good. I'll return to intermediate or surface depth if I detect an instability I cannot correct via full interface."

Since Melchior doesn't sport convenient hardpoints for connecting the crane hooks too, and Ajax doesn't sport the electromagnets of Orpheus's system, intermediate straps are the solution. These are wrapped around ankle and hip and shoulder for the cranes to hook on to.

"It is the proven way for learning how to do something wrong, yes," the AI agrees.

"You have a dry wit, Melchior," Tasha accuses her Titan. Their interface lacks facial expression, but it is richer in many ways. Unlike conversations with separate individuals, Melchior understands Tasha's intent, even if she doesn't always understand his. It is an intimate connection between minds, and one the young woman has come to appreciate. "It's very surprising, as was that pat in the simulation."

"It may be that modern Vartans have a different demeanor," the AI explains. "My creators clearly found their humor to be a bit dry, but that impression is common when facial expression is limited."

"Luckily you have me to learn from, with expressive face and all," Tasha points out. "Do you remember your creators? Your creation?"

"I have no experiential memories from before you activated me, only recorded information," the AI replies. "Is is likely that I was aware for part of my installation and testing, but those experiences would have been erased."

"I've discovered several items regarding your purpose – and possibly our purpose, given we are now linked – that you may be interested in, if you're curious. These would be your original purpose, different from your current. I also have a poem that you might be able to shed some light on." Inwardly, Tasha finds it's hard not to relate to Melchior, and that may well be part of his design. Bonding between pilot and machine seems conductive to their shared operational efficiency; how deeply, and in what form is appropriate, Tasha is still feeling out. Her machine is surely sentient on a level, but he is unlike any other sentient being she has ever met. His existence is conditional upon her, for her, and integrated with her. It is why she often refers to him as her "shadow."

"We are being lifted, so attention towards the docking procedure should be given priority at this time," the Titan remarks. Tasha can feel the cockpit rotating slightly, as the cranes of Ajax begin to lift Melchior. Once they've cleared the height of Bellerophon, rising stops as the cables shift to move the Gryphon into a belly-down aspect before hauling it the rest of the way into the ship's hold.

Tasha heeds Melchior's advice and drops the conversation in favor of full concentration. It is not unlike her work with rigging, except she's the one being rigged. One of her favorite spots to relax, nap, and watch the sky was up on The Rake's envelope with her arms and legs tangled in so she wouldn't slide off if she fell asleep. It's not nearly as relaxing, but the bindings remind her of it. Steady focus on her position is crucial. "Melchior, inform me if I'm shifting too much, and I will turn over control to you and drop from full."

"I can initiate parking mode, which will paralyze all involuntary movement signals if you wish," the AI offers. No fully face down, Tasha can't see the cargo bay above her, only the people in the hangar looking up at her.

"That might be best, I think I'll try to and show I've learned from my mistakes now. Go ahead." Tasha' view, which is that of Melchior itself, has several faces pop up in windows as she watches the men below her. She wonders how common place things like this were for Fred, and what the modern Karnors are thinking. And in a way, she envies their talents. While she knows how to use, they know how to build.

It's very odd, as Tasha suddenly feels immobile and… bound. The urge to move actually increases as a result.

"I'm dropping to intermediate mode, Melchior," Tasha relents. She decides it's all just the learning process; some day she'll know this all instinctively.

The timing is good, since Tasha probably didn't want to feel the big steel clamps locking around her. Even in intermediate mode, she can feel the connection, followed by the hiss of inflating bladders to make the grip form-fitting. A retinue of uniformed men once against clamber over Melchior to make sure everything is secure and move a catwalk into position between the wings so Tasha has something to step on to when she exits. The view downward still shows activity, as the Titan Bay on Bellerophon closes, the Ajax anchors are retracted, and the huge airship begins to move again – if only returning to the other hangar, where it will be easier for boarding actual people again. The sound of the cargo bay closing up is bone-rattling – probably why everyone is wearing ear protection and they decided to do this part before having the passengers back aboard.

Despite the noise and discomfort, Tasha finds the whole experience fascinating. Seeing the Ajax in action is a real treat, and more so being a central part of it. It feels like The Rake could be swallowed up in the hold, with room to spare! And so, she enjoys the experience, waiting for the call for her to secure and disembark.

The only indication of an 'all clear' signal is when someone knocks on the hatch – and this Tasha is only aware of because the AI mentions it, not because she can hear it. "Ready for standby mode," Melchior tells her. "It will allow for flight-readiness in 30 seconds, instead of waiting for a full warm-up from power down."

"Do you think we'll need it? I can't imagine we'll need to engage … But, it would be a good idea in case something were to happen to the Ajax, gods forbid! Very well; enter standby mode. I am going to disconnect and disembark. Release me when you are ready, Melchior." While she waits, Tasha opens a view of the cockpit hatch, wondering who they sent to gather her.

It appears to be… just some human in a hardhat, ear-muffs and an orange jumpsuit – although it is impressively oil stained. Other little details, like a customized tool belt, hint that he's probably the Ajax's version of Fred.

Once Melchior enters in to standby, Tasha finds herself staring at the deep black walls of her cockpit, illuminated only by the soft blue strips that encircle it. She pulls herself out of her golden control chair, and, after retrieving her helmet, makes her way to the airlock. In short order, the human-Fred is face to face with a powered armor wearing half-Vartan with a smile on her face. "Ahoy, there," she greets, raising her voice she she can be heard.

"Hello indeed," the man says loudly, and offers Tasha a pair of Karnor ear protectors, as the cargo area is still very noisy.

The ear protectors are accepted and promptly placed over Tasha's ears. After a bit of adjusting, she nods the man to continue.

The man then offers a hand – either to shake or to actually help Tasha up from the hatch and onto the catwalk. "I'm Mr. Scotch, Chief Engineer," he says by way of introduction. "And you must be Cadet Argentine, right?"

Tasha nods her head as she reaches out and takes the hand, shaking it, but leaving her grip in case he intends to help her off. "That's right, although I'm thinking of going back to just being Cadet Tasha. It's nice to meet you; thank you for welcoming me aboard your wonderful ship."

Mr. Scotch does help pull Tasha up, even if she doesn't need it – he probably just doesn't know that she already has her airship 'sea legs' from growing up on one. "Welcome to Ajax. If you'll follow me, I'll show how to get to the passenger section from here," he says.

"Thank you," Tasha replies, smiling more. She waits for the man to proceed then follows after, tucking her helmet under her arm. The gantry shakes with her footsteps; power armor weight. "If you don't mind, please feel free to take the long route, or to move through the interior maintenance sections. I'm very interested in this ship and its inner workings, and have some electrical and mechanical training. I also grew up on an airship, The Rake."

"I'm not familiar with that one – merchant class?" Mr. Scotch asks over his shoulder. As for the long route… there may not be a 'short' route. It's a bit like traversing a tangled knot, moving from catwalk to platform to catwalk. Even more such scaffolding is secured to the walls, ready to be deployed on short notice.

Tasha tries to make a mental map of the path in case she needs to board alone and in a great hurry. She figures she could just fly from gantry to gantry, at least. "That's right, it's a small ptera driven airship, which is why I'm carrying my old droving whip; sentimental value, aye? The Rake mainly flew routes from its home port of Rephidim Sky Island, on Planet Sinai."

"Ooooh," the Engineer says in realization, before finally reaching an outer-wall catwalk that can take them to the forward section of the airship. "Never seen one of those. But… you can power an airship with terror did you say?"

"Terror?" Tasha pauses, hoping Nora's memory will help her here. But, ending up with nothing, she shakes her head. "That must be a use of the word I'm not familiar with. The pteras I'm referring to are large winged reptiles. Bitey when annoyed, but they can be affectionate, too, if you don't mind being knocked over. We used three." As she walks, Tasha swings her gaze back and forth, trying to take it all in. "Do you think I could see the bridge?"

"Oh, a bird!" the man says, laughing. "The headphones make it hard to hear things clearly at times. I'm sure they still let visitors on the bridge when there's no combat. Don't get up that far very often myself." The end of the walk is in view: a heavy, oversized airlock-style door. The design is misleading though – the two doors are required when the bay is open, and this one is opening out into empty space.

Tasha laughs as well. "Yes, a bird. Or well, close enough!" She shakes her head, then realizes it reminds her a little too much of how Nora would act and stops. "Good, I can't wait to see it. Probably best I change out of this suit, too. The armor makes people nervous." She then nods at the apparent airlock. "Interesting door you have there."

"When the bay is wide open, we have swing-down catwalks," Mr. Scotch explains, as he opens the door. The first one moves aside on an arm, while the second just swings open into the corridor beyond. He also pauses to close both doors behind them before continuing on. The passage is still within the superstructure of the envelope, so there are some steep stairs yet to negotiate.

Tasha listens with ears perked as the man explains, nodding here and there. When she faces the stairs, she pauses, then just grins as she clomp-clomps up the metal steps. "This is the largest airship I've ever encountered, including the Intimidator. It's really something to be inside the superstructure, rather than beneath it. We never entered our balloon, given the relatively primitive state of our technology, safety, and airship designs."

"Well, we've learned that big and modular is the way to go," Mr. Scotch says, and actually points out odd structures they pass as modular mounting struts: if needed, entire sections of the 'gondola' can be swapped out. Some, like the forward landing platform, can be lowered entirely on cranes. "Think of Ajax like a long rail," he says. "We can attach whatever we need to the rail – or even extend and shorten it, but that isn't as simple a matter."

The young woman glances at the structures pointed out, nodding appreciatively. "That's really very clever of you. Even our own Bellerophon doesn't have that versatility. Most airships I'm aware of on Sinai don't, either. And, it's certainly intimidating." When she looks back, she adds, "Some modularity is present in our own ship, of course, but interior space is at a premium. Compared to your own vessel, interior space is minimal."

"Being mostly empty space does help make us lighter than we look," Mr. Scotch points out. A turn down, another bulkhead door and… suddenly they are in a carpeted anteroom that Tasha recognizes (or at least recognizes the style of). They've reached the passenger area. "Now, from here… uh… " Mr. Scotch says, then looks uncertain. "You know, I've never actually been in this section since they swapped out the cannon deck for it… "

Tasha chuckles, then pats the man's arm with a metal-encrusted hand. "It's all right. If I can find my way through ancient ruins and spacecraft, I can probably find my room." She gives the man a lopsided grin, and adds, "If you're ever around our ship, ask to meet a man named Fred Kohler. I think you two would have a lot to talk about."