When in port, as now, the tables and benches are left out providing the perfect playground for Tasha's 'Growly Time' now that she can walk on her hooves, but still be short enough to stand under the table. From there, she can snap and rumble at her mother's grabbing talons, as Desdi laughs and chases the girl around. "I gonna getchoo!" the woman squawks, only to be interrupted in her endeavor by the door opening and one of the crew saying, "Desdi, there's a robe to see you."

"Awrk!" Desdi complains as she straightens up. "Okay, send 'im in," she says, leaning on the edge of the table. Tasha has to come up and grab hold of a table leg to keep her balance while looking around her mother's leg, as a strange looking creature enters. It's a Cervani – the antlers are a dead giveaway. It's dressed in the most colorful robe the cub – or chick, depending on who you ask – has ever seen, full of all sorts of colors, but worn over rather normal looking but well-made clothes. "Miss Desdemona?" the man asks. "I am Mage Thorn of the School of Life, and was wondering if I could have your ear for a moment."

"Mage, eh, hmmf," Desdi says, crossing her arms. "What kin I do for a wizard?"

"Well, Miss… it's about your daughter," the deer-man says. "There has never been a recorded instance of a Jupani-Vartan hybrid, and we… that is, the Collegia Esoterica and the School of Life in particular… would like to examine her if possible. She might hold the key to… "

"NO!" Desdi says, standing to her full height, which is nearly even with the tall Cervani. "You no take my girl away!" she shouts.

The Mage steps back, looking shocked. "We… we don't want to take her away, just make sure she doesn't have any issues with… "

"No! No poking and prodding, she a little girl!" Desdi retorts, her neck feathers starting to puff out.

"I'm prepared to offer you some compensation for your time of course," the backpedaling man says. "We'd want you to be there to ensure that no… "

"GET OUT!" the Vartan woman shouts, and raises her right fist. "No' for all the gold in the College! You no touch her!" The Mage gets the hint, and backs out of the door, saying, "If… if you change your mind, the benefits… " He's cut off again by the door slamming. Desdi turns and grabs up Tasha from under the table, a little more roughly than she might otherwise do. "You listen Tasha!" she tells the wide-eyed child. "Mages is all evil! They want to take you away and do horrible 'speriments! Magic is evil, mages are evil, you never do nothin' with them, got it? You do and I'll spank you so hard you butt glow!"

"First anchor established," says a familiar voice that Tasha can't quite identify, other than that it sounds young and female. The world becomes a white void around her as the galley, her mother and her frightened infant self fade away, only to be replaced by something else…

Tasha likes this bar because it attracts the serious drinkers who don't want to just pass out in the street: which means they drink more than those at the stalls to compensate for the veil of security. For a cute girl, it was a place to get free drinks, coins and the occasional shiny – either offered or lifted. And as a bonus she got to hear stories and be flirted with. But tonight it was hard to get anyone's attention since the big green Vartan woman with black wings came in, laughing and bragging and swinging a mug around while leading the whole bar in some shanty. Tasha couldn't help but he drawn in as well, because the airship captain was pretty shiny – and her belt had several bulging purses as well.

But the pretty bird had a good eye, and fast hands. She caught Tasha's wayward fingers, but instead of slapping her or pulling a knife, she shoved a mug into them. And then slid her own talons down the back of Tasha's hand-me-down pants to pinch her!

Unused to having the tables turned on her by another woman, Tasha jumps so much she splashes beer across her muzzle. "Oi, fingers!" She might be inclined to swat the pinching hand away, but this green and black Vartan woman is bigger than she is, not to mention shinier, and Tasha has frequented dives like this long enough to know from the look of the other woman that those sabers on her belt aren't for show. So when force fails, lying assails: "Um … It's no' li' it looks?" She licks her tongue across her now beer stained muzzle, wondering what will happen next – and if she shouldn't be running away by now!

"Oh, looks aren't everything, lassy," the green woman laughs, and the crowd around her (all men) laugh along. "But you got pretty eyes; gold is my favorite color, so this is your lucky day, because Captain Blackwings is taking a shine to you, sparkle-tail. What's yer name, girl?" The hand hasn't left Tasha's backside though, so she can't really escape.

And now that she has a chance to look at her – or rather stare at her in a mix of apprehension and embarrassment – Tasha realizes just how shiny the other woman is – and a Captain, too! "Aye, oi, well … T-tasha, Blackwi- I mean, Captain Blackwings!" While she's had her time with other women, Tasha realizes she never been this outclassed before. She finds, to her surprise, the whole turnabout is rather exciting, and to her further surprise, she feels herself giggle nervously.

"Oi, Tasha eh?" Blackwings says, "Didn't know ol' Desdi's girl could giggle without being tickled!"

Tasha's general redness hides her blush, but her inner ears still show it a little. "I-I didn' know you knew my mum," she stammers, sheepishly. With all the watching eyes, including the deep green ones of the captain who's captured her attention – not to mention behind – Tasha finds some relief in the one escape available: her old friend, alcohol! She throws the mug in her hands back, guzzling it down as she watches the captain watch her.

"I know of her!" Blackwings says with a wink. "You gots her color, looks good on fur. You be nice, I show you some of my special shinies, eh? Maybe even the Plaguebringer I gots."

Tasha's ears swivel forward, fully perked. She's, like everyone else in Rephidim at the time, knows the Plaguebringers, but being the Underside wasn't a high-priority target she had only seen them from a distance. "You 'ave a Plaguebringer, Cap'n? More shinies??" This requires another drink, which Tasha sloshes down while listening intently.

"An my ship; a Babelite marauder!" Blackwings says, and raises her mug. "To the ship, Dagh's Chibix!" she toasted, and the others raised their mugs as well. "Took a lot to capture the ol' bastard, but he's mine to do what I please with now! Hawrk!"

"You gots a ship too, aye? You captured it? From the Babelites?" Tasha lifts her mug as well, then, more intrigued by the second, does what she usually does when interested in someone bigger than herself – plant herself in their lap.

Blackwings, holds Tasha steady with an arm around her waist, and laughs. "You stick wi' me, I polish you up so you shine too… "

That makes Tasha giggle again, this time without the nervousness. She's met a lot of people in the docks, and most were just nobodies with little to give; but this Blackwings, she might be the most interesting person she's ever met. Captain Eyeshine is nothing like her; the dour, honest, hard working captain of The Rake had tales, but they were never this exciting. He didn't win his ship in battle, it was given to him after years of service. It's then that Tasha realizes her chance – if she can get in with Blackwings, then maybe, just maybe, she can be more than a nobody, too. "I'm listenin'!"

There's more drinking, and singing, and Tasha vaguely remembers staggering along with the party to the docks sometime later, where Dagh's Chibix is moored. It's a scarred, evil looking thing, made more so by the flickering lamps that lit it. And the Plaguebringer was… dead. It was really just the shell, cut up and reassembled to become the Captain's bed. The overhanging shell had all sorts of shiny beads and shaped glass and other ornaments too big to wear hanging from zolk threads. And Tasha soon discovered that Blackwings had shinies – real, actually gems – attached to her private areas, where they couldn't be stolen (but could still be admired under the proper circumstances). "There two kind o' people, Tasha," the woman says as she undresses the younger woman. "Shiny people an' dull people. Dull people, they like stones in dirt – they get walked on by the people going places. And those people are the shiny ones! Shiny people get whatever they want from the dull ones!" And then she began Tasha's education on how to be 'shiny' – and in Tasha's daze, it's quite possible that she was passed around the crew a bit, but she still ended up in the shiny chitin bed.

Foreign smells waft against Tasha's nose as her mind slowly returns to her, a hangover and soreness she can't quite place greeting her along with flickering lamplight lamplight. "Wha- … " As her eyes widen and her mind sorts out her scent memories a hazy recollection of the night before comes to her, causing her to wince inwardly as she sits up. It's hardly the first time she's woken up from drinking without knowing quite how she got where she is, but rarely were things as different, or intense, as this time. It all makes her feel dirty, now that the fun is over – but it always does. There is also the fear of knowing she could be anywhere; even trapped. And so she calls out, "Cap'n?"

"Ah, you up!" Blackwings says, leaning into the bed to give Tasha a peck on the cheek. "Time to go! You gots work, I gots work," the big Vartan says… and then she holds out shiny green bit of cut glass. "I tie in your tail first though. People see it, they know you a friend of mine!"

Tasha, still not quite 'here,' blinks blearily at the woman above her and smiles a numb smile when pecked. "Oh," she breathes, not really quite sure what all the rush is until she thinks about it a second later, as she eyes her tail. The fuzzy, hybrid appendage flops on to her lap, then she holds it forward – then she realizes what Blackwing's comment really means. "I can' go wit' you?"

The big bird squawks in laughter, then leans down and ties the bauble into Tasha's tail. "You need more polishin' yet, Tasha," she says. "Plus, this a working airship – can't just take a cabin-girl or boy whenever I finds one! Be no room left for cargo. I know you 'pprenticed to Old Scarwing on the Rake. Mebbe when you full Ptera-master, you come look for a spot on the Chibix. 'Til then, I be around! Look me up when we both in port."

"H-hokay," Tasha says, a little stunned but lacking both the self-confidence and wherewithal to question someone like Blackwings. She gazes down at the shiny, even as a part of what the other woman said nags at her: " … can't just take a cabin-girl or boy whenever I finds one … be no room left for cargo … " But, still bleary and in front of the one woman who seems like she might let her escape her mundane world, Tasha chooses not to believe what those words imply. She'll see Blackwings again, and try and be 'shiny;' then she'll be on this ship, and everything will be better.

"Second anchor established," interrupts the strange voice, and Tasha's world goes white again!

As the world brightens around her and the voice rings in her ears a jarring sense disconnectedness hits the young woman, building as her last memory fades. Is she here? There? Is that memory now, or then? If it was then, where is now? And if she's not there, then where is she? Who is this woman that whispers from nowhere, and what do her words mean? With her mind offering no answers, Tasha calls out, "Who's there? Who are you!"

"You're still a bit unstable from the memory enhancers," the voice says, sounding more real. The void separates, becoming ground and sky – though both still white, but somehow distinct. And Tasha is also there, standing on the blank field, wearing a white garment that leaves her forearms and most of her legs bare but covers everything else up to her neck. Another figure forms, or steps out of the background; a small Jupani – no, a Karnor – wearing the same outfit, but in pink. "Try not to worry about the confusion," Mariel says, smiling – although a bit nervously. "Memory disorientation during the initial personality mapping is normal."

Tasha's gaze sweeps across the world as it changes, then shifts to look down at her hand, being as it is, here – wherever here may be. She listens to the unfamiliar voice as she flexes that hand, wondering if it's real, but at least glad to see something she's familiar with in an alien world.

As the words conclude and Mariel steps out of nowhere, her gaze rises, and she frowns. A nagging sense of deep resentment washes over her, with more emotions following: shame, regret, betrayal, discomfort, disappointment … They swirl around Mariel's arrival like a thick fog. When Tasha's darkening expression settles, she says, "I see. Then why am I here? And, … why are you here?"

"Hmmm, your short-term memory must be suppressed still," the young woman notes. "We're preparing your PersoCom, Tasha," Mariel explains. "Your mind… well, your subconscious… is guiding you through key moments that helped make you who you are. It's an important first step before skills reinforcement training."

The young, red, woman does recall something about PersoCom training. And before that, something unpleasant, different than the emotions that surround Mariel. As she works to try and figure it out, she remembers there was a series of emotional events, all hazy, and they all lead up to something that deeply bothers her. Something about Mariel, PersoComs, and whatever happened recently. As she struggles to regain her memories, Tasha asks, "Then what next? And why do I feel like … " Tasha's head tilts, she can almost grasp it … " … like I … " she narrows her eyes, " … like you … " her muzzle pulls back, thinning her, revealing her teeth as her ears flatten and the emotion comes to her, " … like I hate you."

Mariel's eyes go wide, and she says, "I'm sure that's… some sort of emotional feedback? You shouldn't think too hard on anything, since this process isn't really driven by your conscious mind, but your subconscious one. It's what chooses the sequence… " Whatever else the girl is trying to say is washed out in white, as Tasha finds herself younger, and… yes… filled with hate. Not towards the Karnor she doesn't remember now, but at her instructor, Scarwing. The back of her head isn't bruised anymore, but she remembers the whistling practice, and getting hit with a switch whenever she got the timbre or some other minor thing wrong. Even worse… and most unforgivable… the old Eeee never fell for her flirts, charms or tricks when she wanted to get out of a lesson, or slack off from cleaning the ptera pens, or just got tired of his nonsense, like insisting that she learn how to tell the beasts' moods by their smell. And now she's in the Rake's stable again, shoveling waste from the leathery monsters and trying not to get bitten by them.

For all the aggression the young Tasha's putting in to her efforts the shovel may as well be a weapon, and the waste an army that exists solely to make her life miserable. Most of it gets hurled in to a wheelbarrow with enough force to shake the thing, all while the girl mutters under her breath. "Dagh taken Scarwings an' 'is Dagh taken lessons, I could shovel 'im, tha'd show 'im!"

"Tasha!" the familiar raspy, high-pitched voice snaps, as Scarwings drops down through the hatch. "I told you, don't get upset around the pteras; they can pick up on a drover's mood! But that hardly matters anymore," the bat says, crossing his arms. "I've spoken with the captain. I'm through with you – hand over your training whip."

Tasha's eyes narrow when her instructor arrives, the shovel getting thumped spade-down in the dirt as her free hand goes to her hip. "Oi, through with me? Is tha' 'ow i' is?" She eyes the whip at her side, thinking of a few other uses for it right now, but of her strange attachment to the thing. She grasps the long, cheaply made, training device and turns it over in her hands, a surge of betrayal welling up in inside as she assumes the worst. With a growl, she hurls the coiled length at the old Eeee, barking, "Fine! I didn' wan' it anyway! Or you!" in a tone that sounds as hurt as it does angry, however much she tried to hold her grief back.

Scarwing catches it in one hand, and with his other unhooks the heavy leather whip that he uses from his belt, and tosses that to Tasha. "You're Second Drover now, until Blakavar takes on an apprentice of his own. You'll start with long-distance, while he handles fine maneuvers. Congratulations, your training is done – now it's time for you really learn how to do the job, by doing it." And with that, the Eeee turns and climbs the ladder to the deck above.

The large, finely made droving whip thumps against Tasha's chest before it falls in to her hands, the girl too stunned to make the catch. For all she stares at it in gape-mouthed disbelief, a person might think she had caught a bag of golden shekels. By the time she looks up again,her mentor is gone, along with her one chance to speak what she had never offered before: gratitude.

Something new kindles in Tasha's chest – a sense of accomplishment. Every other job on the ship that she's done – cleaning, hauling, lookout – never required much effort, but always earned her a little praise nonetheless. But this… this is the first thing she actually earned, through (often begrudging) effort!

As Tasha begins walking towards the ladder, eager to report to her ship as Second Drover Tasha, she basks in the boost in her self-confidence. She also forgets to run after her mentor, taken with the wash of excitement and meaning the instrument in her hands carries. Her position is important now, she earned it! The feeling of genuine success, undiminished by ease, unassailable by doubt, is the first time she ever really believed in herself. It was a moment she never forgot, even as she forgot those that helped her get there, in the wash of glory.

The white fog washes through Tasha's brain again, as more elements are relived. Being taken shopping by Blackwings, and thus getting her first real pieces of underwear, and a lot of her fashion sense as the Captain dressed her up how she thought Tasha should look. That one argument with her mother, when she swore to move topside and become a dancer – or a prostitute. And the fights! There were some good ones. The odd sense she felt meeting Calligenia for the first time – a bit like when she met Blackwings, but this time thinking she could fill the dominant role – but at least the girl had been polite and nonjudgmental in turning down Tasha. Coming back from the Vartan party in Elysium, and getting cleaned up by Layth, who treated her more like a real person than any other man she'd known up to then. Events in Dianus, which brought back the crushing loneliness of her childhood. Making love in the bower, instead of just having sex. The temple of Abaddon…

The dim cell still smells of incense, as the figure seated across from Tasha pulls back its hood to reveal… an older-looking version of Tasha herself! But this time it's different, because Tasha can sense that it's happened before, that it's a memory… that she's hooked into a machine and her own mind is making her go through all of this again.

None of the surprise crosses Tasha's face this time, although she still feels that hint of sacredness. This event and those that preceded to its existence were her first real contacts with religion, leading to the creation of an odd link with the divine. While most have faith that the gods exist, Tasha has spoken with them, and they're as real as the sky and the earth.

"Tisiphone," Tasha greets her older self, bowing her head and wondering if she needs to repeat the words she spoke in the past, and wondering if she even can now that she's aware.

"You feel angry, Aldara," the older visage states. "Do you feel that you need guidance?"

Tasha pauses. While her recollection of her past isn't exact, or even mostly accurate, she's sure that isn't what Tisiphone said when she revealed herself. Testing this theory, she asks, "We're not repeating the past, are we? Yes, I'm angry, but I wasn't then, and that isn't what you said. Are we really in my memories?"

"Mind and memory are not separate things," Tisiphone claims. "We are our memories, for they define us. And through memories, we can learn what we are."

"Does that mean I'm redefining myself, by redefining my memory? Or, perhaps creating a new one… ?" Tasha head tilts, then she simple shakes it. "I suppose it doesn't matter. You said we can learn from our memories, and you asked me if I'm angry. Yes, I'm angry. And, it all seems to come from something that happened before I ended up here, connected to a machine. I can't help but feel I was betrayed, I now question why I even came to this device, and waking seems unpalatable. When I looked at Mariel, all I could feel was … loathing. I know I used to care about her, but now all I wanted was for her to go away. The system is making it hard to remember."

"Come sit next to me," Tisiphone says. "There is something you should see, from my perspective, that you cannot get sitting where you are."

Tasha opens her mouth to confirm she heard what she thinks she heard, and more so, what she thinks it means, but thinks a second and then closes it. Instead, she simply gets up and walks over to Tisiphone and settles down beside her.

From the new location, Tasha can see that the wall that she was previously sitting against is covered by a complex mural. A mural that seems to show her entire life, as the same series of events she's been reliving. At the very start, in the upper left, is Desdemona clutching Tasha as an infant in a rather desperate way, while a figure in colorful robes walks away. Tisiphone points to that one, and asks Tasha, "What does that memory tell you?"

Leaning forward, Tasha blinks at the memory. "It's … ? Is that a mage? When did … ?" It was such a long time ago, she had forgotten it. But here it is, and there it was, and Tasha can only surmise this means that while she had forgotten it in the conscious world, it was still here, deep in her mind, effecting her. As disturbing is the contents of the memory, including, as it does, a mage of all people, she also wonders what it all meant. "It's my mother … and … and a mage? Mother … " The young woman's eyes squint as she tries to recall. "Mom was approached by a mage, a mage who wanted to see me. But, she refused. She was terrified they would do something to me, that they were evil. She forbade me from ever associating with them, something I have since gone against."

"Why did she do it though?" Tisiphone asks. "Why did she never say yes to Eyeshine's many proposals? Can you tell me?"

"We Vartans all loathe magic and assume the worst of it, even me, despite what I did in the past. Mom wanted to protect me from something she knew was dangerous, because she loves me, and because she didn't want to lose me. It's not unlike the reason I used magic to save the Karnor Elite, because I didn't want to lose them. As for the Captain … ," Tasha takes a breath, head shaking. "Captain Eyeshine never believed in my mother, for all he said he wanted her. Her decisions were never good enough for him, he disliked her choice of partners, he thought her life was better off with him. So, I think the answer to what you're asking is, mother didn't accept these offers because she knew they didn't care about her, or me for that matter, but simply wanted what they saw was valuable. Both offered wealth, but neither understood mother's desires. Neither considered how mother might feel about their actions, only what they wanted."

Tasha then pauses, glancing at the woman beside her, and asks, "I'm starting to remember; you feel I acted the same way, don't you?"

"You have much in common with your mother, including her great flaw," Tisiphone notes. "It all stems, I'd say, from your father. Have you thought of what it was like, for your mother? A dashing noble, who momentarily exposes her to a world she could never earn no matter how hard she tried. A world that could only be given to her, by someone who already dwelt there and chose to lift her up. It would be like a dream – and you, Tasha, were her only proof that it wasn't a dream. Eyeshine wasn't her only suitor, but I imagine it wouldn't matter. She was always waiting for her noble to come pull her up to Heaven."

Tisiphone points to another part of the mural, showing Tasha trying to talk Tyche into giving her an airship. And then another, later one - Tasha surrendering herself to a black-and-gold deity: Melchior.

Tasha lowers her head, gazing at the floor as she listens to her mother's weakness reviewed in such stark terms. Not only her mother's, but her's as well. A sober nod follows the review, and when Tasha follows the movement of Tisiphone's hand to the mural and gazes at it, her expression is grim. "It's how the world works, isn't it? Could my mother have really raised herself up? Could I have? Much that I am now, I was given by what I found. The finding was mine, but the power and ability was always theirs. I could no more be a Titan than I could be a noble, save, perhaps, luck and work. But, many people work, and many people wish for better, and it never comes to them … No matter how hard they want it. Is what we do so unforgivable?"

"What is unforgivable, is to fail to see those who are not part of the dream, or even to force them into it," Tisiphone comments, and points to other pieces of Tasha's past. One shows her holding Gabriel, in an odd echo of the very first image of her mother holding her infant self. "Gabriel is to you like you were to your mother: proof that there is a better, greater world that you've touched. You love him, but… sometimes, maybe you don't see him, because your dream gets in the way. Ask yourself: He let you lead him, up until you failed as a leader. Does he seem happy now? Didn't he once express that he'd be happy to travel Sinai, with you by him. To explore the world he gave up his family to see?"

Tasha winces when Gabriel is pointed out, and finds herself rubbing at her eyes as the man she loves is discussed – and how she has failed him. She's wondered a number of times if Gabriel is really happy with her. And, she knows she's caused him a cascade of problems ever since she broke down when she spoke with Nora that fateful day. The day Nora crushed her ego, by pointing out how she failed.

"I really don't know anymore," Tasha admits, squeezing her eyes shut as she steadies herself against the unpleasant realization. "He seemed happy just to be with me, before, even if I didn't believe him then. Now, half the time it seems like he's wearing that cold face, the same face Captain Eyeshine would wear when I disappointed him, or caused problems. I don't know how to approach him half the time; even now I don't want to go to him because I know I'd just burden him again. I thought he'd like the JEF, because he would have his dream back, and that his crew would be remembered – that they all would be remembered. But, I feel like I'm dealing with two men I don't understand! And I fear it's all my fault. As hard as I try, even when I think I'm doing things right, I find out I'm not doing them right at all. That, I just lead people in to my own delusions. Even now, with the PersoComs, and my … my family that never existed. And there Gabriel was, watching me do it, knowing the truth as I clung to phantoms he saw as only sad fragments of people he knew … "

The older woman puts an arm around Tasha's shoulder, and quietly asks her, "Tasha, do you know what the greatest gift the world can bestow upon us is?"

"I'm afraid to answer, if the answer isn't life," the young woman replies, leaning her head against the arm. "I always think I know the answer, and I'm rarely right."

Tisiphone grins and leans to whisper into Tasha's ear, as if imparting a great secret, "Failure. Failure is the greatest gift life can give us."

Tasha barks a bitter laugh, then throws her uncovered hand in the air. "Then I am the most gifted person in the world! Oh, no, three worlds!"

A new panel in the mural is pointed out: Tasha receiving the whip from Scarwing. "Your greatest personal achievement Tasha, and how did you make it there? By failing, over and over again. And trying, over and over again, until you did not fail. Failure is how we learn, how we improve, how we build our lives. Every failure is a step, so long as we are willing to take it, and keep trying, instead of burying it. Only through failure and the struggle to overcome it do we achieve wisdom."

"It is something to embrace and hold close, not to fear and forget," the Virtue notes.

Tasha reaches for her side where her whip is, just as it was then. She strokes the braided coils, nodding slowly. "I've never been very good at failure," she admits, finding the sight of her greatest possession and most comforting keepsake soothing. "You could say it's because of my father, like you said before. That I want to be greater than I am, but more, I'm afraid of being worthless. Dr. Caravelli told me I've spent most of my life trying to prove I'm good enough to exist, to a father that never really did. You say failure is valuable, but all it ever makes me feel is … Is worthless."

"You have to get up when it knocks you down," Tisiphone says. "That applies to everyone, Tasha. Failure hurts. And being reminded of it, when you never really got past it… that hurts the most. It's hurting Gabriel right now, if you think about it. He can't see the PersoComs as being… real. It would force him to face his failure to save them, to protect them, as was his responsibility as Captain. Hasn't he carried that from ages past? It hurt him so badly, made him so weak, that he let Nora take over. And that cost her her life. He is not so different from you. He makes mistakes, he lashes out at the things that make him feel weak – just as your mother lashed out at the mages."

The half-Vartan woman is silent for several seconds after this revelation, eyes flicking along her whip as she mulls over, and endures, what she has been told. The idea of Gabriel, all alone, having carried such a burden for so long … The realization she never really noticed his pain in this, struggling as she was to create approval anywhere she could, to chase her dreams … The way she rushed to the defense of a phantom family, painting him the one to hide them, even as he suffered over them … Even as she didn't understand … And even now, how she has abandoned him, because she fears his disapproval but never sees his weakness … Most of the time, she can't see his weakness, because she chooses to believe him invincible. Tasha closes her eyes, and heaves a sigh.

"I'm so blind," she says, head shaking, dislodging a tear from her left eye, "I couldn't see he was suffering, I couldn't see my family for what it was, and even now, seeing half the truth, I still didn't see. I've created a phantom family to approve of me, never realizing they could do nothing but. I never realized Nora let me take her name because she had to. That Gabriel watched me seek comfort in them more than him, undoubtedly compounding his guilt. He must hate me for that, for heartlessly ignoring his pain, for never seeing how he saw them. And even now, as I resent him for not saying a word, I feel sorry for myself."

"But you did see, Tasha, you just didn't know it," Tisiphone says. "Blackwings taught you to suppress that part of you, and so you did – because you saw her and thought it was the way to be like her. And just because Gabriel tells you what he wants to believe, doesn't mean it's true."

"Are you saying Gabriel believes something other? That, well, maybe he's actually becoming attached to them, like I have? Maybe even … having a hard time seeing them as machines?" Tasha takes a breath, then shakes her head again. "Not that I seem to think of them as anything but, now. I resent them, even if it's not their fault. I used them and then blamed them for that and my willful ignorance. But, as for Blackwings … ," her eyes open, and she looks over at the mural, where she stands before the great black and green Vartan, " … what she said made sense. And, in my heart, I still feel it does, like I can't let it go. I always fear being betrayed, or a failure, or … so many things. I even fear losing Gabriel, and a part of me is just waiting for the words. To be bigger than others, shinier, to take what you want … It's harder to hurt, when you live that way."

"Sometimes what we think we want isn't what's best for us," Tisiphone says. "You've seen how it can change the way you perceive the world, and other people. I've watched you struggle with it all of your life, even back when I was still an active part of your mind. But life is never that simple, no matter how powerful or shiny you are. It's just as complicated, because people are still people, regardless of their circumstance. Blackwings had a lot of things, but can you honestly say she was a better person than Layth, or Fallen-Star, or anyone else? You once hated Aisha because you thought she'd been handed everything – not because she was undeserving, but because it wasn't you in her position."

"You … You make a good point," Tasha agrees, nodding her head a little. "The truth is, I really don't like Blackwings anymore. Once I realized what sort of person she really was, I resented her, and I can't be the only one. I've heard she's a privateer, even a pirate. For all the things she has, she also must have many enemies. And, I think, she doesn't have anyone close to her, because when you get close, you begin to see what kind of person she really is. I don't know if what she has makes up for that, for her, but I don't envy her anymore. I don't envy Aisha, either." Turning her gaze farther down the mural, Tasha regards their discovery of the Orpheus, their landing upon Tartarus, and the depictions of the Council members she met, personally. "Aaron, Layth, the Karnor Elite, Gabriel, all those who lost their lives … They seemed more … More genuine. You wanted to be better, around them. Not stronger, or richer, just … a better person. I want to be a better person."

"Well, I can help you with that, if you'll have me back, Tasha," Tisiphone says. "Although I will always be there for you, if you really seek me out."

Tasha's gaze shifts back to Tisiphone's face, eyes widening. "I thought you had left me, when I fulfilled your purpose. To be honest, I'm surprised you're even here, I just didn't want to say so, because it sounded rude at the time, and to be even more honest, I really needed someone to talk to. It's not that I don't appreciate the help – I really do – I'm just surprised you returned to me, and wonder, why now? Isn't this very … " The young woman gestures vaguely at the other, " … inconvenient for a deity?"

The other woman laughs, and puts a hand to Tasha's cheek. "Oh, I'm no deity, Tasha. Tisiphone is just what you chose to call me," she says with a sparkle in her eye. "I'm you. Your conscience, your soul perhaps. I'm just the part you are sometimes afraid of, or that you come close to touching when Melchior frees you from your physical limits."

"My inner self is very wise – and that makes me suspicious! Are you sure you're me?" Tasha eyes the other woman in a expression of mock-suspicion, brows raising, head tilted. "Because, I'm fairly sure I'm not actually this wise on any level, except, perhaps, with Melchior."

"But, then, I have no emotions," Tasha adds, in afterthought. "Maybe that's the key!" She barks a laugh.

"Personality Matrix Complete," Mariel announces, while Tasha seems to be laughing at empty space. Her double stands in front of her, dressed in black, next to Mariel. "It looks good," the younger Karnor announces. PC Tasha doesn't seem particularly responsive though.

Tasha cackles until she realizes she's now laughing at empty white space, her laughter and amusement fading to a pang of regret. She never got to accept her other self's offer, and there was so much more she wanted to talk about. As her gaze shifts to Mariel and her double, she finds herself forced to deal with the here-and-now, and the regrets that entails. "It … It does?" Her head tilts and she studies her other self even as she thinks on how to explain earlier. With luck, Mariel will just process it as a reaction to an old memory, and her selfish grief need never see the light it might have. "It … she? … is far too quiet to be me!"

"Well, it's only a PersoCom," Mariel notes. "You can give it instructions and tasks, and reinforce skills by 'exercising' with it, sort of. But it's just a computer simulation, and Bellerophon's brain isn't the same thing as the Sifran artifact. This Tasha can't think."

"I'm not sure the real one can, either," Tasha mutters, loud enough to hear. Despite the put-down, she can't help but laugh at her own joke and decides she must be feeling a lot better. There's still a lot that needs to be addressed, but at least the misery has been replaced with optimism, hope, and a clear direction. Walking forward, Tasha stops just in front of her double and leans over to peer at it. "Now I can have two complicated lives to ruin; I'll be twice as blessed and learn twice as much!" The original red woman grins. "So, she only exists within the computer world?"

"Yes," Mariel notes. "We could probably transfer her to a holographic crystal that MOTHER can access, and that would give the artifact access to it then… and that, I think, is alive somehow. But then there would be two of you, just like there're two Gabriels and two Dr. Zerachiels and Caravellis." She looks at Tasha, and admits, "I'm not sure you'd do so well having a duplicate around, really. I doubt Nora would be able to deal with a duplicate of herself either."

"You're probably right," Tasha agrees. "And besides that, there's a lot of research and other computer-based tasks I need accomplished that I can't do, because I'm usually talking to people, or making a disaster of things. I think research will be what my PC will need to learn, and she should be able to share my knowledge of Vartan and Sinai with the general PC database, right?" While these are all important facts and questions, Tasha knows, deep down, she's actually stalling. She'll need to bring up the matter of the incarnate PersoComs, before she loses her momentum.

"Well, try asking it something?" Mariel suggests. "The more you interact with it, the better it will become at modeling your problem solving skills."

Tasha looks dubious at that. "Maybe you should talk to it and I should not talk to it, ever."

Mariel tilts her head at Tasha, then turns to the virtual Vartan and says, "Hello, Tasha. Ummm… please do something?"

PC Tasha blinks, smiles to Mariel, and then… steps up to Tasha and throws a punch at her face!

Tasha, who had just begun to fold her arms and perk her ears as she watched with interest, gets clocked right on the nose and ends up sprawled out on the floor simulated floor! "Oi, ow!" She blinks away the simulated stars before propping herself up and rubbing her face. "Well, it sure acts like me. I think I may have deserved that … Somehow."

"No no no!" Mariel cries in a panic. "That is not how you reinforce a skill!"

PC Tasha grins down at Tasha, and holds out a hand to help her back up. "Self hate," it says. "Should we beat it out of ourself?"

Tasha begins pulling herself back to her feet with the help of … herself, now having an excellent idea what her own strength is like from the other side. "Should I have punched her back?" She asks, at exactly the same time her double makes the same suggestion.

"Uh… uh… " Mariel stalls, looking lost. "You… If you want to reinforce your fighting skills, then… yes?"

"Melchior would appreciate that," the real Tasha admits, making sure she has her hands free and a reasonable distance between herself and her double. "But, he might feel a little put-out, if he could feel put-out. We do have that weapon being made, though, so it might be good to have a partner I can't injure!" She eyes herself, then cocks her head, "But, we – well you – should know more than that, because I need to investigate things in the databases I don't normally have time for."

"I barely passed combat training," Mariel notes, giving the pair plenty of room. As for not being able to injure – it certainly seems that PC Tasha can take the punishment, but real Tasha feels the blows, even though in the beginning her digital double is fairly clumsy. But it improves very quickly.

Given her body and tolerances are simulated here, Tasha, the real Tasha, finds herself panting and more than a little bruised after several minutes of mirrored violence. "This … this is fun," she admits, grinning a little even though her lip is bleeding. "Now I don't need liquor, or tobacco, or the rest when I want to hurt myself. I can just do it here!" She laughs, even as she ducks a blow by herself, and replies with a cross, before getting punched in the stomach. A cough, and she wheezes, "I'll … I'll have to see if … if Melchior can download and upload combat … combat data. We'll be murdering ourself … may as well … As well make it count!"

"That's just wrong," Mariel claims from the sidelines, looking a bit queasy at the carnage. "Why would you want to do this? Is it a Vartan ritual or something?"

PC Tasha's expression really hasn't changed much, but she is beginning to reflect real Tasha's sense of fatigue.

Tasha begins to answer, but gets hit so hard in the side of the face during the distraction she ends up staggering several steps and dropping to a knee. A second later, she holds up a paw to indicate to her double she's had enough for now, and needs to speak. "Haaa, haa, eh, ow … what did you? … Oh, … why … " Dropping on to her butt, the real Tasha nurses her jaw as she explains, "My double is … is right, but not … not all of it. Said, I mean. When you're mad at … at others … you can hurt them … But what do you do … when you're mad at yourself?" She waggles her free hand at her black-enrobed other, waving her over to sit beside herself. "I'm not as … as … " She sucks in a breath, then spits a tooth on to the pure white floor, " … Like you. This is my way of solving … problems … before I learned better. I hurt … hurt myself, and I feel better … "

"So… it's like eating a bucket of ice cream after your blind date leaves you sitting in the restaurant while he escapes?" Mariel asks.

The Tasha in white blinks at Mariel, looking bemused, where she doesn't look abused.

"You look really messed up," Mariel notes, wincing a bit. "Like… you need an icepack for your whole face… "

"I feel like I need a … a doctor, but I know it'll evaporate once I disconnect. But, I need to say something, to you and the others, while I can manag- … hurk!" Real Tasha begins coughing violently, then hacks out another tooth, almost having choked on it. She picks it up and peers at it; a canine. "Ugh, don't show this to Gabriel. Not the real one anyway … ugh, … where was I? Oh, I need to talk to you. All of you."

"Oh… I can try to get the others here, sure," Mariel says, "but they'll want to know why, you see. It's not that hard to be Virtual and… out there… at the same time, but it still depends on if you're doing anything important. I mean… Dr. Caravelli is doing stuff to you right now, I think… unless he's using the robot. Or did you just mean… us single instancers?"

"Oh … " Tasha points at Mariel and nods in confirmation, seeming to find the method that doesn't require talking through her beat up face easier. "That, do that. You can tell the others … later." She eyes herself a moment, before shifting to lean against her double and looking like it's the only thing holding her up. "I always wanted … Sister … "

PC Tasha is also making a 'put a bag over your face' expression.

Mariel vanishes, leaving Tasha with her double (daughter? twin?) for a few moments.

"Don' gimme that, we've look worse … !" Real Tasha begins coughing again, but no tooth comes out when she spits. Instead she wipes her face, and a lot of blood, on her double's unitard. When her head slides down, her body goes with it, so now Tasha's head is in her own lap. She heaves a sigh as she adjusts her head, spending the rest of her waiting moments studying her double's face.

"I don't want to kiss you now," PC Tasha notes. "If that's what you were thinking."

"I was jus' wondering," real Tasha replies, rather defensively. "I'm more worried abou' wha' I'm goin' to shay in a momen'."

Mariel reappears, along with Nora and Fred – who is holding a mug of beer in one hand? "Ouch, Mariel… you didn't say she was going to be this roughed up," Nora notes.

"Why is it you girls never do mud wrestling instead?" Fred complains. To Tasha he says, "I couldn't conjure up a steak to put over your swelling, but… I have this beer, instead."

"Where's mine?" PC Tasha asks, making a passable pout at Fred.

"Ish all virt- … virtu- … virtu-el," the white-dressed Tasha insists as she claws her way up her other self and back to sitting upright, and reaches for the mug like she were drowing and it was the sole life raft in all the world. "Greeeat! Sheet down, I 'ave somethin' to shay. Shay. S-ay." She feels at her face with another hand, and the gap in her teeth where her canine was a moment ago. "Dumb toof!"

"This is silly," Nora says and goes up to Tasha, where she rubs the swelling down to… normal. It still hurts though!

"Ack, ow!" Tasha complains, flailing at Nora until her face looks like a canid's and less like a beaten up fleshy asteroid. She rubs at it sorely, even as she nurses her virtual beer and begins to explain. "Hokay, here's the- ow! … The situation. I've treated you all the wrong way, and it needs to stop, so I'd like you to help me understand how I should treat you. It was … ," the young woman's ears fall, her pained expression taking on a sad cast, frowning, " … wrong of me to trick you, and wrong of me to treat you like family. I know you've all just been humoring me because you have to humor Tasha's delusions. It's ending today."

The three resurrected Karnors look at one another, and then Fred asks, "Just how hard did you hit yourself in the head, Tasha? What the heck are you babbling about?"

"Really hard," Tasha replies, rubbing at her face again for the mention of it, "but that's not why I'm saying this. You're PersoComs, whatever the Sifran artifact does, right? You're required to aid the crew, and to go along with what we say, aye? When I've tried to be your friend, or your sister, or perk you up, it was just … Just you all doing what you're programmed to do, isn't it? And my sentimentality, it's just in the way. I mistook your reactions for approval and affection, so I thought I had begun to build a kind of family. But, I know now it was all in my head. Even my last name, Nora," she nods at her once-sister, "just gave it to me because I asked, because you had to, right Nora?"

"Are you seriously comparing us to… that?" Nora asks, pointing to PC Tasha. "We help the crew because we are the crew," the like-colored Karnor points out. "Our PersoComs just let us interact directly with the computer system – but we don't exist in it like they do."

Tasha exchanges glances with herself, who looks offended at being called a 'that.' "Don't punch her! I know, just don't," she insists to her double, before looking to the three phantoms. "But, you're limited to PersoCom laws, aren't you? You don't really like me, you're just simulating like. In the same way the Khattan AI bartender was just simulating a friendly bartender? You're not people, right? I really just made a fool of myself in front of the PHTO Council for my misguided belief you were, in fact."

"Tasha," Fred says, "The AI 'laws' are the same as those for people: don't hurt anyone, help others, defend yourself. And really, they're more like guidelines. Real PersoComs can't do much, but we're just called that now because there's no better term. We aren't computer programs though… not in any way that we'd recognize, at least. We've got free will – some of us more than others."

"Mariel here has always followed orders," Nora says, looking to the Omega. "The duplicates are pretty passive – well, except for Caravelli, but I suspect it's just because his original isn't around to make him feel awkward. Dr. Z… well, I can't tell him apart from the original half the time."

"You might be confused by the JEF regulations that say an AI can't give orders," Mariel says, a bit shyly. "Or really, that those orders aren't valid ones that have to be followed."

"I … I want to believe that, but its been explained to me that my want is what's causing all this confusion. So, so … " Tasha sweeps her gaze over the three, biting her lip as she seems to come to a decision. "I'm sorry, but this must end, for all out sake's." After taking a deep breath, the young woman orders in a clear, loud voice, "I, Tasha, second-in-command of the Joint Expeditionary Force, second founding, and the JEF Bellerophon order you, PCs Nora, Fred, and Mariel, to hereby cease any lies and simulations intended to present a facade such as to follow my apparent desires, to tell the absolute truth regardless of any emotion impact upon my person. There." An exhaled breath, and Tasha scans over the three again. "Please, now, answer: are you simulating being people, did your programming require you to behave in such a way as to reinforce my expectations, do you have feelings, are you truly capable of free will?"

"Are you?" Nora replies.

"You … you have to answer the question," Tasha points out in a stammer. "I do have authority here."

"I still don't get what you're after," Fred says, shaking his head.

"You're just a Cadet, technically," Mariel points out. "Even I outrank you, if… my rank counts for anything… "

"Then I'll have to ask the Captain," Tasha says rubbing her face, then realizing that was a bad idea as she winces. "This wasn't supposed to be this hard. Are PersoComs really this stubborn?"

"There's no way we could answer that question, you realize," Nora points out. "If we were simulations, we wouldn't know it. And there's absolutely no way to prove we weren't. Not even you could really prove that you are a conscious being with free will, and not just a simulation running on a biological computer."

"I'd say my feelings are as genuine as anyone's," Fred claims. "Which isn't to say I'm 100% honest about them all the time – but then who is?"

Tasha snorts at that, which makes her wince even more, and rub her nose. "Oh, how I've wondered that. Am I a simulation? How much of me is me, and not Nora? Did Melchior reprogram my mind? Isn't it odd that I'm replicating Nora's life, speaking with her vocabulary, and dreaming about Fred setting up a machine to utilize the stators to save the Fenris?"

Mariel just sits down and sighs. "I hate meta-philosophy," she says. "I always preferred: if it looks like a duck and acts like a duck, give it the benefit of the doubt that it's a duck."

"Oh yeah, I did try that," Fred notes. "But more to the point – you were dreaming about me?" He even waggles his eyebrows.

"I just … I just want to end this. I can't take this, not knowing if you're people! I put so much energy in to this ship and you, who I wanted to believe in, the Captain tells me I'm deluding myself. I just … I can't live on this ship caring about people who don't exist beyond some program. I've been told time and time again not to become attached to Melchior, because he's an AI, but here you are … and Gabriel said and … " Tasha's hand goes to her forehead, rubbing, no matter how much it hurts, " … I need to know. Sometimes it feels like I barely exist at all, and now my family is made of phantoms … and I think I may be losing my mind."

"Tasha, just go pull one our cards from MOTHER," Fred says. "If that person vanishes, well there's your AI support. If they don't though… well, what will you believe? I feel real, to myself. Not as real as I used to, but I can do things that no AI could. The truth is that we just don't know – but I will personally be hurt if you start treating me like a robot."

"An AI would have no reason to pretend to be anything else," Nora adds. "Frankly, it couldn't. Even the Khattan stuff had limits – it just couldn't be creative or feel emotions or… make mistakes, quite honestly."

Tasha emits a painfully frustrated noise, pushing her hand past her forehead and clutching at her ears with both. "I just don't know. Gabriel says one thing, you say another, … " She squints an eye open just enough to peer at Nora. "MOTHER 1 showed emotions. I offered to take the artifacts to a Silent-One, explaining they would never escape otherwise. It then decided I needed to die. I don't know if that's a vote for or against your being real, but it's something. Mariel," she glances at the young woman, "wake me up. I'm going to the Artifact Bay."

"Don't do anything rash, Tasha," Mariel says. But the world fades to white, and Tasha blinks. She still hurts, but not in her face, as she wakes up on one of the medical beds with her life collar connected up. She's naked, and her abdomen is sore. Dr. Caravelli and the medical robot are working in the lab area.

Tasha squints against the sterile white light, raising a hand to shield against it. Her other travels to her stomach, where she wonders if she didn't somehow punch herself in the gut. "Doctor, help me up," she croaks, waggling the shielding hand towards here he sounds to be, "I need to do something."

Caravelli hurries over, and checks Tasha's pupils first, before he begins the disconnection sequence. "You might still be a bit groggy from the sedatives," the doctor explains as he gets Tasha's clothes ready. "And a bit sore. But we did get six viable eggs!" he reports with a hint of pride.

"Less sore than in there," Tasha assures the doctor as she rubs at her neck. When she's free, she wobbles to sitting up. Seconds later, she suddenly turns her head and blinks at him, as if she had just heard his remark. "Eggs?"

"Yes, your eggs… well, they're just stem cells at this point," Caravelli notes. "But we might be able to get them to develop, and then… well, the possibility of artificial insemination is open, along with created host eggs for the clones."

Tasha listens to this explanation with the same expression she wore when Fred first tried to explain that time and space are the same thing: blank. "Can … you explain that another way?"

"We might be able to get you pregnant," the doctor simplifies. "Or use your eggs to grow the clones with. They would have some of your genetic material, but not the kind that builds their bodies. It's from Mitochondria, which are the power generators of the cell."

Tasha's expression goes through a small degree of acrobatics at this explanation, ending up on wide-eyed. "Baby batteries?" She ventures.

"Well… sure, why not," Caravelli says with a grin. "They'll be in every cell of their bodies, keeping them alive their whole lives."

"My parts usually get me hurt half the time," Tasha insists, but her tail's begun to wag, and she smiles. "But, that's nice to know, Doctor. Um, well … Thank you." She beams at him for a moment, before she suddenly blinks. "I woke up to do something … Oh! That's right. I'm supposed to disconnect Nora's PersoCom wafer from the PersoCom system!"

"Is there a problem with it?" Caravelli asks, sounding concerned. "Some issue with MOTHER?"

Tasha, tail still wagging and looking happy from the news of having children, explains in an oddly upbeat tone, "I need to prove she, and thus all, of the incarnate PersoComs are autonomous and possessed of free will, so I can prove I'm not delusional after all!"

"O-kay," Remiel says slowly, giving Tasha a psychiatrist smile. "What other delusions do you think you have?"

"The Captain told me that my defense of the crew's identity as people, and exposure to outsiders, was wrong because the incarnate PersoComs aren't capable of independent thought, of resisting influence from a living person, and are basically just very complex simulations. I realized this also meant that whatever faith and affection I placed to them would only have been returned with the same simulation, but Nora, Fred, and Mariel are resisting my attempts to confirm this by insisting they're what I thought they were! And, I'm not sure if this is the truth, which would mean the Captain is wrong, a lie to comfort me, or something else, and I can't live here without knowing," Tasha explains.

Caravelli blinks at this. "I hadn't realized we presented such a conundrum," he admits. "All the same, don't unplug me until I've finished stabilizing your cell culture, if you don't mind."

"I'll just try Nora, at first. I may want to know, but I'm not about to destabilize the ship. But, I'd want to know eventually." Tasha then pushes herself off the bed, wobbling a moment before she steadies herself. "Well, here I go. Maybe I should bring the bucket … " Her head shakes as she makes her way out, but she pauses in the hatchway, calling without looking back, "I want to believe in you!" And then, she's off.

"Ah… clothes!" Caravelli calls after the wobbly Vartan.

"Oh, right!" Tasha staggers right back inside, and begins dressing once the doctor hands her clothes off. "Well, it's not like anyone's missed this show, at this point," she asides to him, head shaking. "Squeak, squeak."

"Ah, well… you could catch a chill," Caravelli notes, then smiles and shrugs.

"You're so nice. To think, I actually hated you for a little while," the young woman remarks, sounding sad as she wiggles in to her uniform.

"Ah… well, we can discuss that later if you like," the doctor says, then points to the lab. "I'm just going to get back to work, unless you need any help?"

"We probably should. And, maybe we should talk to the Captain together, too. But, one thing at a time." Tasha glances at the lab, momentarily struggling with her desire to go look versus her desire to know the truth. The truth wins out, albeit barely. "Gah, I'll come look later," she insists, and then she's hurrying out the door, waving as she goes!

It's a long walk to the access ramp, which takes Tasha down right next to her destination: the Crystal Bay and the Avionics Bay next to it, leading to MOTHER.

It's during this walk that Tasha realizes she's really worked herself over today, physically and emotionally. The frantic early morning cleaning, the tour and all its emotional stress, the revelation to the Council, her two meetings with Gabriel, the subsequent punishment and its labors, and now PersoCom training followed by a dash through the halls. The exhaustion pulls at her body, slowing her down. But at least she has things to do on the way, "Tasha to Nora, please meet me in the Artifact Bay." So much to do, and she fears she may not have the strength for all of it. She'll at least get her answer, before she's through.

"Okay, here I am," Nora says, standing in the door to the Crystal Bay. Fred and Mariel are there as well, although Mariel looks nervous as usual.

Tasha looks tired, and a little pained, but she's smiling for reasons the three projections aren't yet aware. "Great! I have news, but lets get this over with so I can tell you, then sleep." Turning, the young half-Vartan raises her hands and meets MOTHER's challenge, opening the door. "Nora, you're the most head strong, will you volunteer?"

"Sure, if it'll help you accept my actions as being genuine," Nora says, and follows behind Tasha.

"It may not just be me," Tasha murmurs as she enters the crystalline enclosure. For a moment, she's stunned by the circulating light and the sheer glossiness of the shiny system, but she shakes her head violently and then shields her eyes. "Focus, focus," she reminds herself. "MOTHER, open PC Nora's PersoCom wafer chamber. Oh, and record what we're doing to memory, as well as PC Nora's physical and digital status."

One of the drawers slides out of the wall, where all of the PersoCom crystals brought from the Fenris reside. "I should be the third or fourth one," Nora offers, although MOTHER has already highlighted which one it is.

Just to be perfectly sure, Tasha leans down and checks them to make sure Nora's portrait is clearly visible within. "This is it," she confirms, standing again. After taking a deep breath, she nods, exhales, and says, "Here we go," before plucking the wafer free.

Nora staggers and clutches at her throat, before falling to the floor with her tongue hanging out the side of her mouth. Outside, Mariel yelps!

Tasha's eyes widen and she moves to take a step, but then she suddenly stops and frowns. "Oh, get up!"

Nora opens her eyes, then repositions her tongue so it's sticking out at Tasha. She pulls herself back up, and notes, "Alright, that does feel odd, I admit. I don't know what time it is anymore, or… " She gets an odd look, and stares off into space. "I can still remember things, but… not as instantly. I never realized how much I took the computer link and PersoCom system for granted."

The half-Vartan's brow raises at the tongue, but she laughs, albeit nervously, a moment later. "Um, should I put it back in?" Tasha asks, holding the wafer between her fingers and waggling it. "I feel like I'm holding your brain, or something! Maybe we should try a few tests?"

"What sort of tests?" Nora says, and reaches with a finger to poke Tasha in the chest – proof that she's still 'physical'.

Tasha looks down at her chest, feeling her undersuit stiffen at the sudden impact. "Well, you seem physical." She reaches over and places a hand on Nora's chest, then pushes on it as she thinks. "What we really need is proof that you're not beholden to our dictates, and capable of free will. I can't ask Gabriel, so … Eli! I'll ask Eli to issue you a direct order?"

"I don't take orders from Zerachiel though," Nora points out. "He's a civilian!"

"Well, I'm just a cadet. But I am also second-in-command, so maybe. Let's ask MOTHER." Tasha turns and after placing the wafer in her pocket, signs, "MOTHER, do I have command authority over all PersoComs in this room?"

"Query is not understood," MOTHER replies. "PersoComs are operated by their owners or active command crew."

"She'll only know about the normal PersoComs," Nora explains. "Like the one you just made."

"Am I considered active command crew?" Tasha glances over her shoulder, and twists her muzzle. "That makes this complicated. The Captain assumes you're the same thing, essentially. You've told me differently, and my own opinion is that I don't know anymore. I guess the only other option is to have you do something a PersoCom would never be permitted to do, orders or not."

"Oh, like this?" Nora asks, just before she pinches Tasha's ear.

Tasha barks in pain, then rubs at her ear sorely. "Something like that, although didn't you do something similar in letting me leave the ship?"

"Tasha Argentine is the Active Navigator of Bellerophon," MOTHER signs back.

The motion behind her causes Tasha to glance back again, and she nods. "Thank you MOTHER."

"Maybe," Nora says, not willing to admit to anything just yet. "You could try standing naked in front of Fred again, and commanding him not to grab you," she suggests, which earns a 'Hah!' from down the hall where Fred stands.

"Very funny. I'm glad my discomfort and personal struggle is amusing you," Tasha replies, folding her arms. "Do you know, what I'll say was an hour ago, I didn't want to speak to any of you again? Do you know how uncomfortable this ship would become for me, knowing all we've been through was nothing more than AI simulated response? While this may be fun for you, this is something I need to answer, and answer for, if I was mistaken."

"Well, if you're going to do this right, you need to include Fred or Mariel as a control," Nora explains. "We have to perform the same tasks, to see how I react versus someone still connected to the PersoCom system does."

"Good idea, I think. Maybe we should call in Dr. Zerachiel, given he's a scientist and studies this effect?" Tasha suggests.

"Well, he could give a second opinion, but Mariel and I are the actual experts on AI," Nora points out. "Luckily I've already got a possible test procedure in mind, since I was thinking on this since I was put off duty after you ran away… "

"Well, let's begin. The faster we sort this out, the sooner we can all rest and get this past us. I'll summon the Doctor, and you sort yourselves out for testing." And with that, Tasha begins making her call, glad to finally be about to set this matter to rest!