Once the upper hatch is found and opened, it reveals a cargo airlock with a cabled platform similar to the elevator to the docking structure in the hangar. It's close enough to Bellerophon to allow relatively painless offloading with forklifts and powered armor. The challenge, for Tasha, is dealing with the monotony. The Gryphon catapult works fine as an elevator, but doesn't have the room for Tasha to actually carry things and still lift Melchior. This results in her standing on the upper hull while Artemis and her robots move a palette onto the catapult and rise up so Tasha can lift it – then carry it over to the open hatch on the other side of Orpheus.

It takes a few trips before falling into a pattern, where the elevator is unloaded and ready for the next palette when Tasha gets to it, and the catapult has a new load ready when she returns to it. Finally, the mundane stuff is all moved, and she's left with the really important task of moving the support systems for Melchior itself – including the spare parts, fuel, shaard and ultimately the reactor, which all need to be placed inside the Bellerophon Titan Bay.

Tasha gazes out across the hull of the massive wreck of the space-carrier Orpheus, seeing through the eyes of the great Titan. Melchior has proved everything she ever dreamed it would be, although the monotony feels like an indignity for such a majestic machine. Still, Tasha thinks, it needs to be done and this is the easiest way to do it. Life aboard a starship seems similar to life aboard an airship: necessity ultimately prevails over comfort. Turning from her view of the hellscape, Melchior walks over to the elevator and settles in for one of the last rides down and back.

The converted launch system lowers Melchior back into the upper hangar. The place looks very different, without all of the palettes of supplies and busy robots. All that remains are the oversized supplies for Melchior itself: stacks of huge containers in the locker, the reactor, and the huge weapon. Artemis stands ready for instructions at the base of the catapult.

"The reactor is safe to transport?" Inquires the great machine as it arrives on the deck. While Tasha was told earlier the reactor was shut down, she's finding that overlapping safety checks are another important part of life on a spaceship. Stepping off the lift, Melchior spares Artemis a glances as it proceeds towards its own supplies.

"The reactor has been shut down, and all transport locks engaged," Artemis reports. The huge crates in the locker all have Titan-sized embedded handholds, so it's pretty clear how they're meant to be moved.

"Thank you Artemis. These will likely be your last communications with me, at least for some time. We will be departing in Bellerophon soon." Leaving. They're going to be leaving this sad, yet amazing place. It seems like they've been here for years, when really its only been about a week. So much has happened, Tasha considers deep within the metal shell, and now they have but to return. The Titan's head turns to gaze across the hangar and out to the looming surface and beyond. There, beyond the horizon, looms Abaddon. She can't help but wonder what life will be like upon their return.

Turning back to her duties, Tasha directs Melchior to first attach the shaard to its default configuration before moving both the reactor and the supplies container to the lift. As that goes up she begins Melchior's long walk across the bay, perhaps stepping foot here for the final time. "Artemis, do you think Medical One can supply Vartan medical information to a device I can bring with me? There are some things I would have it review before I go."

"All of our data can be stored in Universal Data Crystal format," Artemis replies via radio.

The great machine pauses. "Please do so. I will stand by here until it is ready. Does Medical One require my presence?"

"I can transfer the data to a local workstation," Artemis says, and retreats into the control building for a few moments. Over the radio, she asks, "It would be easier for you to pick this up in person, since Gryphons do not have pockets."

"Very funny." Tasha wonders when AIs became so droll – then wonders when she started using the word 'droll.' She would blink, if her body wasn't in a induced semi-vegetative state while she pilots. "Coming." A sweep of the bay reveals the closest workstation, which Tasha flies to after exiting Melchior. Her approach is awkward, a side effect of disconnection from her machine. It's as if her own body were vehicle she had become a bit rusty in using.

Artemis meets the Vartan, holding another of the plastic-covered data crystals like the one she handed over before, with the Vartan-Titanian historical data on it.

Tasha accepts the pad and puts it away in the pouch on her belt. With a bit of adjusting she was able to get her military harness around armor, making carrying all the small stuff easier. "Thank you, Artemis. It's time for me to go now, but there's something you should know if you don't already: the Imperial triadic AI cores have become aware and have interfaced with the xenomorphs that previously infected that sector. They are beginning to establish a connection between all resident AIs across all sectors to create, I think, an AI-civilization. I believe you should inform all Synth AI cores and determine if you and your fellows wish to join them, or not." Tasha smiles, head tilting. "I guess from here on, this is your country, if you want it. Take good care of it."

"Taking care of things is what I'm for, ma'am," the bunny-shaped robot says, and even salutes. "Good luck on your flight. Remember to buckle up, and Winners Don't Do Drugs!"

"I'll … remember that. Pass on my thanks to Medical One and the Talon Lounge Bartender. Which reminds me … ," A sly look creeps across the woman's face. "Can the Vartan beer be secured for transport? Only the intact, drinkable items. It seems sad it'll never get to the hands of a Vartan, and a tragedy if it never gets drank."

"If you are willing to wait, the remaining supplies can be used to produce a full barrel," Artemis offers.

"I'm always willing to wait for a good drink." Tasha admits, smiling.

"Return to the Lounge before you are ready to launch," Artemis says. "It will take eight hours for the synthesis to be complete."

"Thank you. Well then, I guess this is good-bye, for now." Tasha takes a step back, then, grinning, gives a salute. "Take care." And with that, the woman returns to her Titan and reconnects in to the system. Soon, Melchior is off walking towards the open hangar doors as its flight systems ready themselves. As it nears the sheer drop, it breaks in to a run, leaping out in to empty sky as its wings and fantail deploy, engines flaring to life!

Landing still takes some extra room, just in case, so Tasha has to walk back to pick up the supplies from the top of the catapult.

The supply containers are easy enough to move, but require several trips to fill the descending loading platform in the cargo airlock. Once the last is in place, she's rewarded by a signal from Gabriel as the inner doors open and the platform is lowered down on cables. "Is there move more?" her mate asks over the radio.

"Just the reactor, I'll bring that next – seemed like something I should be careful with!" Inwardly smiling at hearing Gabriel's voice, Tasha approaches the Khattan Arc-Pump Fusion Reactor (APFR) and hefts it in to the Titan's massive arms. "Bringing it now. Stand by."

Carrying the fusion device to the platform, the Titan turns and kneels, lowering the device in to its lap. "Titan and reactor on platform and clear. Lower us down please, Captain?"

There's a rumble as the door cycle, and the platform begins to descend. From within the Gryphon, the hangar… still looks huge. Bellerophon dwarfs Melchior, and Tasha has a great view of the dorsal side of the ship as the platform comes to a halt above the rear. Crane platforms begin to converge towards Tasha now. "Hook up the reactor to the crane cables," Gabriel says. This does require reaching out to grab them though.

"Even like this, Bellerophon is still big and beautiful, Captain," Tasha remarks as she pilots the Titan to lift and move the reactor on to the cables. "Forty feet tall, and I still feel tiny. I can't wait to see the look on people's faces when she descends from the sky!"

Things are tricky, as shifting the mass of the reactor around causes the platform itself to sway. But the reactor is soon carried off by the cranes, leaving Melchior along on the swaying elevator. The Titan Bay doors on Bellerophon are opened, and Tasha can see the Titan cradle and even some of the cargo containers that have been transferred in already. The reactor will be lowered into it as well.

"Do you want me to try my luck jumping off this, or can you lower me to the upper hull, Captain?" Captain. She's been calling Gabriel 'captain' more and more, ever since he took command from her when she stormed off the ship. It feels natural enough, the woman having spent most of her life calling someone captain, but there's also a feeling of awkwardness in that her captain is also her mate. "Captain, have you thought about how we're going to handle things between us when we get back? Do you want me to always call you captain while we're on duty? Off duty but not alone?"

"I still have to give you a commission," Gabriel notes, as another crane comes by. This has clampers on the end of its pulleys. "For now, if you can grab onto the clamps, I can swing you over and lower you."

"My first commission. Am I to drove the engines? Maybe clean the deck?" Gabriel can hear the woman's laughter – a little synthetic sounding given it's essentially a digitalized copy of her real voice – as her Titan takes a hold of the clamps and secures itself. "Ready. I never thought I'd swing across a room in a forty-foot machine, aye?"

"We'd need a thirty-foot mop," Gabriel notes. "It shouldn't be any harder than working in the rigging of an airship. Just remember that you weigh a lot more now."

"Just because I've gained several tons doesn't mean you need to point it out." While he can't see it, Gabriel can picture the grin on Tasha's face, somewhere deep inside the mighty Titan. Carefully grasping one line and then another, the machine uses hooks and smaller flat surfaces to secure its feet as it tries to get across the bay.

The transfer goes smoothly, with Tasha pulling up Melchior's legs as it hangs below the crane. The machine doesn't have a problem with the Titan's weight, and Gabriel lowers Melchior down right near the cradle, until Tasha can get a footing.

Touching down, Melchior turns and scans the hangar as it takes one last look from its towering vantage point. "Am I really here, Gabriel? Am I really doing this?" She has to ask, momentarily overwhelmed by the enormity of all that has come to pass to bring them all to this point.

"I hope so, otherwise that's a haunted Titan," Gabriel jokes. "There's a taped area on the floor there where the reactor should go. Scoot it over as much as you can before laying in the cradle."

"A haunted Titan would go well with our haunted ship," the woman quips right back. She picks up the reactor, then hauls it over and settles it down upon the taped area before turning to the Titan cradle. It seems like a long time ago that she looked in awe upon the Themis-Skoll in its cradle, and now she's here in her own Titan preparing to enter her ship. So much has changed …

Advancing, Melchior eases over to settle in to the cradle array for transport in to the Bellerophon's hangar.

Actuators adjust the frame of the cradle to match Melchior's build, and padded restraint systems grip it firmly. A chime sounds to indicate that the Titan is secured, and then alarms blare as the giant overhead doors begin to slide closed.

"Gryphon Secured," the voice of Melchior confirms in Tasha's head.

As her Titan prepares to settle in to its new home, Tasha finds herself in a quiet moment of peace. The Titan has been retrieved without damage, Bellerophon is almost ready to depart, there have been no serious unjuries and many artifacts have been recovered. Much has been accomplished in these last few days, minus a few snags here and there. And even though the pressure eventually got to her, she did lead everyone here – and she's proud of that. "Melchior, Exit Depth, please. And, welcome to your new home!"

The connection eases back, and Tasha is free to move about the coffin-sized cabin once more. Once she's on the hangar floor and can see her Gryphon from a new vantage… it does seem that the very masculine machine is simply waiting to pounce on something.

Tasha grins up at her machine, finding it amusing that the Titan she eventually ended up piloting is a man – and such a sexy one! "Rowr," she utters at her machine, then snapping to attention as she learned from observation, salutes it. In her head, she wills her comm. to report, "Gryphon secure. Orders, Captain?"

"I need to finish checking the hangar systems here," Gabriel notes. "Check in with Mariel to see if Fred needs help yet – and you should probably hit the fresher after being stuck in your armor all these hours."

"Understood, thank you Captain. Let me know if you need anything." Turning, Tasha makes her way in to the interior of the ship towards the Med Bay. There,  she can drop off the medical data and use the fresher before proceeding to contact Mariel.

A few minutes later, and feeling a lot fluffier, Tasha heads for the bridge, where Mariel works communications.

One of the Vartan flight chairs sits near the pilot station, still waiting to be connected up to one of the flanking stations. Mariel sits off at one of the side workstations though, with an earpiece dangling from one ear. "Oh, hello Tasha!" she notes, wagging her tail as the hybrid enters.

Tasha wags right back, smiling at the 'young' woman. Although Mariel looks to be Tasha's age, the real Mariel was born over six-thousand years ago. "Hello, Mariel. The Captain told me to check in with you to see if you or Fred need anything." Now that she's had a chance to freshen up, the hybrid has ditched her powered armor in favor of simple camo pants and her military jacket over her undersuit, which altogether makes her feel very small and light compared to the bulk of her armor – let alone the bulk of Melchior!

"Well, things are quiet right now," Mariel notes. "Fred is still working out how to connect to the Imperial water system, so isn't ready to pump yet. I'm not sure where Blammo is, and Layth is working on the data connection between Silent Town and the Imperial AIs. But I'm sure Fred will need help within the hour. Are you hungry?"

"Actually, I am. Piloting Melchior is more tiring than I expected, for a machine that's mostly piloted by to my neurological system," answers Tasha, who walks over and takes a seat in one of the installed chairs. "How are you doing?"

Mariel seems a bit surprised by the question, but answers, "I'm doing fine, I think. I still miss being able to eat or sleep though. But if you'd like to eat your lunch in here, I won't tell so long as you don't leave crumbs… " She offers a cautious smile with the suggestion.

"I'll be sure to get it all over myself, so I can carry it all in to the fresher," promises the hybrid, who then makes a faux, on-my-honor, sort of salute. "And as for eating and sleeping, I'm sure we'll be able to fix that eventually. This is just rough period for you, admittedly very rough, but I'm confident we'll get you and everyone else through it. This is a new beginning, after all, which reminds me … " Tasha tilts her head, "How would you feel if the JEF existed again?"

"It… I haven't really accepted that it's gone yet," the girl notes, sadly. "This was everything to me. And… I suppose it's all I have still. A ghost organization manned by ghosts."

Tasha pushes herself up from her chair, walking over to Mariel and laying her hands on both of her shoulders, turning her around to face her. While not practiced at it, Tasha does her best to give the other woman a kind smile as she says, "It's not over unless we let it be over, Mariel. While there may only be a few of us, I think we're more than enough to begin the process of rebuilding the JEF. The JEF's mission is not forgotten, and neither are you. In the time ahead, I think 'Mariel Mathers' will become a name remembered far and wide as one of the Karnor Elite who taught a new generation of explorers. This is your time to shine. You are the Elite now. Be proud Mariel." She pats the woman's shoulder, grinning widely. "The JEF isn't over, it's just begun. We are the new JEF."

"I… I can't cry," Mariel says, wiping at her eyes as if she was. "You know, I would never have made it into the crew on my own, Tasha. I was smart, but scored terribly in leadership. What I was good at was taking orders, and carrying them out no matter what else was going on. The only reason I'm here is because Karnor social-psychology says the crew needs someone like me. I'll always try to help, but… I don't know about being important. That's scary!"

"You can be important without ever needing to lead, Mariel," Tasha assures the Karnor Elite. "And you can lead without needing to feel important. Act, too – that's something I'm learning. What I'm saying is, we're all important, but the Elite especially. It's to you our directions will go, and you'll expertly carry out things no one else can. There will be a lot of young women like you who'll look up to you for that. Even I look up to you, did you know that?" Tasha then winks. "But don't think I'll let you boss me around!" She then laughs, turning to head back for her seat. "I have confidence in you, Mariel. Have confidence in yourself."

"Wow," Mariel says, her tail wagging harder. "And maybe if you really do give me a new body, then… that one will be bolder. It would be nice to see that in a new me. Thank you, Tasha."

Settling back in her seat, Tasha nods her head even as her tail wags. "Anytime, Mariel! Remember, I'm here for you. You're all family to me." She then extends her left arm and begins to roll it, massaging the muscles there. "If you want, you can copy some of my DNA to make a new body with – I have lots of boldness, just," and here Tasha taps her head with her free hand, "not as much sense. It'd be nice to see some sense and humility in me, somewhere!" She chuckles, head shaking.

"I don't think I could handle being that bold," Mariel admits with a grin. "You went through a lot of stuff, and even got the Captain."

"I'm still not sure how I managed that," Tasha admits as she lets her arm fall and switches to the right. "Between you and me, he was the first ma who ever made me feel like I wasn't good enough. Not good enough in the sense of trying to bed some Gallee, or marry a rich merchant, but that he was genuinely better than me in … I guess you'd say inner quality? Smarter, more educated, inspiring … Even though he was naked and looked too-thin from hibernation, I still felt like a child sitting next to him. Sometimes, I still do." She lets her other arm fall after working it, folding her hands in her lap. "And there's a lesson for you, too. All of us are out of place and most of us probably wouldn't be the first choice to be here – but we are the best choice, because we are succeeding where six thousand years of politics and decay has failed."

"I still have trouble with the time scale too," Mariel notes. "I mean… I remember going to sleep on the Fenris, then waking up here. Naked! Although I wouldn't have minded seeing the Captain that way, I admit," she says, a bit apologetically. "I know what you mean about him – he makes me feel the same way. But I'd follow him anywhere."

"He's quite a man, that he is," agrees the hybrid. "I'm not sure what I'd do without him, if I could follow him if he left me – it'd be too painful and I'm too stubborn – but as it is, I'd die for him. He's everything to me." Smiling, Tasha rubs at her muzzle, finding herself a little teary herself, and trying to hide it from Mariel. "Time's something we all seem to be out of place on. I remember my life well enough, but I also have Nora's memories, and then there's Melchior in my head too. I feel like home is right there where I can see it, but I can never really return to it. I'm part of this now, like you. But I also find it's good to focus on the here and now, if you have to think about time. What can we do now? What should I do? That sort of thing." Peering over her hands, Tasha asks, "And so, I wonder … You're good with cybernetics, aye?"

"Yes, that's one of my fields," Mariel notes. "PersoCom systems, artificial intelligence and neural interface systems."

"I'll admit, I've become really in to technology, and especially cybernetics. Without them, I may not have been able to succeed here, or be as useful as I can be. So I wonder, if maybe you could do anything more with what I have? I could be a project for you!" Tasha grins, hands falling away. "Plus, Khattan cybernetics!"

"I've never worked with them before… but I imagine you just mean making use of the contact studs, right?" Mariel notes. "I suppose a communications system could use them, with the right programming. It might be like… being telepathic. But with sight and sound too."

"That would be handy! See? You're more capable than you give yourself credit for, Mariel. I'd just melt my brain trying to make that." Grinning, Tasha taps her head again. "You could maybe use my wings and the leftover tattoo material to create antenna for broadcasts, like our communication array? And tell me if I'm off-base here, this is all new to me."

"I don't know how the tattoos work, I'd have to experiment," Mariel admits. "But with a strong enough transmitter, everything you see and hear could be broadcast, or else recorded locally. Maybe even how you feel."

"I could transfer how I feel? Now that's something that'll probably horrify the world. Worlds." Laughing, Tasha holds her hands up. "I can just imagine it. "Uh, oh. Tasha's mad. Evacuate!" Her hands fall and she laughs some more. "I guess it'd only be fair, giving them a warning. Would the reverse be true? Could it pick up signals from outside, or would it be one way?"

"Well, it would work both ways," Mariel says, and then gets an odd, thoughtful expression before shaking her head. "No, no… best not think like that, Mariel… " she mutters.

Tasha gives Mariel a long, considering look before she asks, "You're thinking about sex, aren't you, Mariel?"

The younger wolf covers her muzzle with her hands and curls her tail down, before actually nodding. "I'm sorry!" she says.

Tasha's ears shoot up, then she barks a laugh! "Ha! It's alright, Mariel! If there's anyone on this ship you can talk to about that, it's me. Or, maybe Fred? But he's a man, so that might be awkward … So, stick to me." She winks, still chuckles. "Ha … You're adorable, Mariel. Anyway, if that's what you're interested in, I can probably provide something. I may be a one-wolf woman now, but I still have my memories."

"Oh, I thought that if you could just record the output, I could… play it back into myself, sort of," Mariel notes, still looking embarrassed. "It would be like the Captain was making love to me then. But, I can imagine that would be a bit too personal… "

Tasha raises an eyebrow at that, then nods slowly. If the PersoComs can smell, Mariel would smell Tasha's jealous alpha-female instinct kicking in. "That … would, yes. Plus, … plus," she takes a breath calming herself in the process, "it would be distracting! Sometimes I can't even focus when he's around, especially when he's giving orders. Mmm." Tasha gaze becomes distant, until she blinks and snaps back to the here-and-now. "Um, anyway, I might be able to provide something similar from another experience, if you don't mind other species? Men or women, too. Or not, as you like, Mariel. I'm just trying to make you feel more at ease." The woman gives a little shrug, and smiles.

"Oh, you mean through the PersoCom upload!" Mariel says. "If you can focus and go through the memory in full detail it would work. But… how many men have you been with, Tasha?"

"Oh, that's the question, it is." Tasha leans back, folding her hands back in her lap and watching Mariel, wondering if this shy, kind young woman will judge her. Naw. "I lost count two years ago." She waits for a reaction, then continues. "I used to use sex as a means of getting what I thought was respect and influence. It was power, Mariel, but it was empty power and empty respect, and the only influence I got was getting men to do what I wanted until we tired of each other. For all the fun it was, I suppose it wasn't much at all." She pauses, then adds, "But it was fun."

"And not just men, Mariel," Tasha adds, in afterthought.

The girl looks shocked. "You… look like you're my age though. If you lost count two years ago… you must have had a very active life, Tasha," the Karnor finally says. "I've never… I mean, I never looked at it that way. Power, I mean. But the Captain got you to give it all up?"

Tasha can't help but grin from ear to ear at that description of her life. "I'm around eighteen, Mariel. I get the impression life was very different for both of us. But to answer your question: no. The Captain didn't get me to give that life up – I gave it up for him." She tilts her head the other way, thinking. "I had already begun thinking what I was doing wasn't good for me. A few men who weren't just after my body helped me see there could be more to it, and teachers helped me see more of myself that was behind all the sex and anger. By the time I met the Captain, I think I was ready to change. And who better to do it for, than him?"

"But… you still have sex with him, right?" Mariel asks, ears perked and tail swishing.

"Oh yes," Tasha says with more than a hint of satisfaction in her voice. "He's very good. Attentive, practiced, calm, and confident. But he can be assertive too."

"Can you be more detailed?" Mariel asks, giving a big toothy innocent grin.

"Oi, Mariel. You look innocent but I think I can see what's under the surface now. Well, only for you!" She waves Mariel to come closer and sit down on the elongated command chair she's on, "Just make sure this doesn't come back to haunt me, aye?" When the girl nears, Tasha leans in and begins whispering.

Mariel is so engrossed, that she almost falls out of her chair when Fred calls in. "My hose is hooked up and I think I have all the kinks straightened out," he reports. "Cranking the knob and pumping away in a moment!"

Tasha's ears shoot up at the signal, then she barks out another laugh! "Ha, leave it to Fred to know exactly when to tune in," she remarks, absently reaching over to catch Mariel and hauling the young woman back up with her not inconsiderable strength. "Understood Fred, we'll monitor things here," she replies once she can muster enough focus of mind to do so without laughing through it. Aside to Mariel, Tasha then asks, "How about you and Fred? He's probably pretty good."

"Oh… I don't know… " Mariel whispers. "Fred is… experienced. What if he just thought it was funny? And I could never approach him, he'd have to come after me."

"Given what I've seen, he might be more experienced than me," Tasha confides. Then, she stands, adding, "But I think I win for variety!" Grinning, she stretches and asks, "Do we need to go help him? And well, I think he's had his eye on you, if I'm any judge of these things. But I can probe him a bit more, if you want?"

"Oh… well," the girl says, tapping her finger pads together nervously. "Maybe… ?" she asks, shyly. "And… probably should go out to help him now. With the pumping."

"Alright. Just remember I'm here to talk to, Mariel!" Tasha begins heading off, then suddenly pauses and walks over to Mariel, leaning down and … kisses her right atop the muzzle, just behind her nose! "I had to do that," she insists, grinning. "Have fun, Mariel." Then she's off, waving over her shoulder as she goes.

"You are very surprising, Tasha," Mariel notes, before turning back to her console. She looks professional and all, but her tail is still wagging like a puppy's.

The pumping truck is big – even bigger than the 'big' truck Tasha's driven. Most of that bulk seems to be from the heavy, insulated hose snaking down from a big spindle and off into the Port Engineering Section. Another spindle is at the back of the vehicle, with a big tank and lots of machinery between them. Nothing seems to be happening when Tasha arrives at it, and there's no sign of Fred's remote-controlled armor.

Now that she's back outside, Tasha has again suited up in her Vartan powered armor and stands beside the giant hose truck, scanning the area. "Having trouble pumping by yourself, Fred?," she inquires over the cybernetically linked-in communication system.

"Oh, hey Tasha, just dealing with some filtration issues in Engineering," Fred replies. "Sediment, mostly. Trying to get the filters and scrubbers going, since we don't want any of that getting into the water."

"You're right, Abaddon's dirty enough as it is. We can't ruin our arrival by spewing sand all over Expedition City," Tasha jokes back. Having no immediate job to fill, she begins slowly walking around the large truck to get a look at it. "Will you need support there or should I remain here? Having a moment will give me some time to try your mind on an idea."

"Well, how good are you at handling pipe?" Fred asks. "The pumper outflow has to be connected to the fueling boom on the docking platform."

Tasha pauses at that, glad her helmet's internal camera isn't working. She isn't quite able to maintain a straight face! "I'd probably do pretty well, I'm sure I have some experience," she replies, very carefully.

"Okay, then can you go up to the platform and lower the boom?" Fred asks. "It's the big pipe that runs along the catwalk. There's a clamp at the connector end to release it, then there should be a motor control near where it connects to the structure closer to the ship."

"On my way." After a brief scan of the scaffolding and catwalk, Tasha initiates flight mode and takes to the air. Shortly after she lands on the platform, folding her wings to disengage flight mode and thus keep herself from sticking to the walkway. Moving to the controls, she eyes the giant piping, asking, "You want me to release one end of this then lower it to connect to the truck, to complete piping in to Belle's reaction mass tanks?"

"Well, that's part of it," Fred says. "We need to lower the boom for the truck to connect to, yes, then we can use the platform pumps and connects to move the water to the tanks. That part hasn't been connected yet."

"I'm glad I'm beginning to understand this stuff." Tasha eyes the piping again, then turns to the controls and looks until she finds the controls to lower the boom. "Boom lowering," she announces, and as she holds the lever down she says, "I just got here from the bridge; Mariel's adorable, isn't she? I never though I'd like an Omega so much, but there it is."

"Yeah, she always was a cute kid," Fred says. "Half the pumps in the Imperial Zone are shot… gummed up. Rerouting things, then will have to use the reformer to filter out any loose gunk." There's a creaking sound as the pipe boom lowers, held by thick cables.

The Vartan watches the massive piping lower with some trepidation, not wanting to be the one to report Fred's big truck was smashed by a giant tube. "Didn't you have a thing for Mariel? I remember you mentioning it back in the Vehicle Bay, when we were being suited up." Leaning over, she watches as the piping nears the truck, angling it via levers towards the connector on the top of the vehicle.

The pump truck is well out of the way, off by the Engineering door. The pipe does stick a few times, causing some slack in the cables that then causes the structure to vibrate once the pipe starts moving again. But eventually it's hanging straight down.

I'm glad I can fly, Tasha thinks as her perch vibrates from the snags. She wonders if Fred's busy or just thinking on her question as she directs the hose onward.

"Oh, I have thing for everyone, Tash," Fred laughs. She can see his suit exit the Engineering section and climb into the cab of the pump truck. It starts to back up, unspooling hose as it goes.

"For everyone, is it? Are you really that adventurous? Even I didn't have a thing for everyone; I had the types I liked," inquires Tasha as she watches the truck begin to move.

The truck stops once the hose reaches its limit, still a bit short of the fueling boom. Fred gets out and starts unspooling the other hose next, which he has to drag the rest of the way. "I really liked my crewmates!" Fred says. "Not that anything happened, of course."

"Did you want it to?" Having been trying to follow the truck with the boom, Tasha finds her work much easier now that the vehicle has stopped. The assembly slowly creaks its way over towards the truck. "That wasn't my experience with my crew, but you all seemed closer somehow. Is that Karnor instinct?"

"Well, it's one way to bond, certainly," Fred notes, and holds up the hose to connect to the boom. "Not during the mission though! But we never had a chance for shore-leave."

"There wasn't anyone particular you liked?" Tasha eases the boom down, not wanting to crush Fred's suit with a giant pipe no matter how funny or ironic it might be. "Let me know if that's too much pipe for you." She grins to herself behind the faceless Karnor helmet she wears. Then, she gets a sudden concern, "Were you interested in the Captain?!"

"One of the reasons I was chosen for the mission is that I was deemed 'universally approachable' you see," Fred says. Some indicator lights flash on the boom control, showing a proper seal has been made. "So if Gabe got lonely… well, there's no stigma being with the Beta, for anyone."

"I guess you could call me the morale officer!" he notes with a chuckle, before heading for the elevator platform.

"Really?" Tasha had never though of sex like that before, nor of the Beta status. To her, sex has always been about self-indulgence or power, at least until she met Gabriel, then it became about love and mutual comfort. That sex could act as a kind of social binding across multiple people, supplied by a Beta who everyone was comfortable with, had never occurred to her. It might well have been what she would have been like, had she been more at ease. The revelation is a little startling for the woman. "Huh, I never though of it that way. Morale officer, aye? I see what you mean." She disengages manual boom control now that the connections are secure, switching to automatic in case the truck later moves. "Me, I'm still not sure where I fit in."

Once he's on the platform, Fred comes over and hip-bumps Tasha. "Well, you… me… Mariel… that Simulation of Nora's with the lake… I'm sure we could find a position you'd fit in! You like Mariel too, right?" It's impossible for the robotic suit to show body language, but Tasha is sure Fred is waggling his eyebrows as he suggests things.

Tasha staggers a little after the clang of rebounding metal. She turns her head to look up at the robotic suit, her brows raising behind the visor. Does she like Mariel? That way? "Well, I do like Mariel, she's very nice. It's like I want to look out for her and … ," her mind wanders towards Fred's suggestion, and she realizes something else that surprises her: she is attracted to Mariel! A young woman who's the complete opposite of everything she looked for before, and yet for some reason, there it is. Maybe it's because I care about what happens to her? The woman's ears flick, then she sudden laughs and throws her hands up. "You figured me out, I do like Mariel. I didn't even realize that."

"I'm sure you like everyone too, deep down," Fred says as he activates a second set of controls. An overhead, telescoping pipe boom swings out, and stretches over Bellerophon's right wing. "Now, I need you to fly over to the wing to do the manual connection to the fueling port. It's right at the base of one of the feathers – I'll pop it once you're over there."

"You know, you might just be right. I guess after the Captain relieved me, and my talk with Dr. Caravelli, I don't feel like I need to pretend to be the Alpha anymore – I guess that makes me the Beta?" Stepping back, Tasha gets enough room so she can dive off the platform and swoop on over to the the largest wing she has ever seen – or stood on. Clanking down, she walks along the massive wing's edge, looking for a connection port.

To one side, the massive starboard 'air rocket' atmospheric engine is exposed; it's armor having been removed to reinforce Fenris. On the other, a section of a feather slides open, and a large metal connection ring rises up.

"Ahoy connector." Turning back, Tasha retraces her steps to grab the hose and haul it over to the exposed connection ring. "So, will it be a problem the engine is exposed like this?

"Well, I don't imagine we'll want it exposed to dust storms," Fred notes, as he follows Tasha with the boom until the connection light goes green. "We'll have to replace the faring with something local. Steel or aluminum, maybe."

"Plenty of metal on Abaddon, from what I know. Sinai has very little, so there's a big trade between the planets. We can probably get that all done once we land on The Rectangle." Tasha looks down at the connected tube, then steps back to let it do its magic. "You know, there's going to be a lot of Karnors who will want to meet all of you."

"Hmmm, could be awkward," Fred notes, and waves for Tasha to come back to the docking platform. "Most of us can't leave the ship. We'll have to wait and see if Docs C. and Z. can clone us some puppies before really mingling, you know? Can't have gawkers on the ship."

"We can't? Even if we seal off some areas?" The woman spreads her wings and takes flight, landing behind Fred with a clack of metal against metal. Turning, she notes, "I've had this idea that we may have a lot more people on board, maybe even in the near future. You see, I want us to return to the mission of the JEF. I believe the JEF doesn't need to be a memory." She steps over and stands beside Fred, watching him curiously.

There's a rumble in the pipes as the pumps on the truck and platform begin their work. "Well, you mean bringing in the Imperials and Silent-Ones and Confederates?" Fred asks. "Belle needs a lot of work yet. The interior is so bare and depressing. You can get mahagony or something right? Nice wood paneling, some murals… "

"Yes, all those people. Belle deserves to be used for something greater than just being Tasha's Big Shiny Ship." She turns to watch the pipes rumble to life, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the railing as she gazes and waxes thoughtful. "Not just the Belle, but the memory of everyone who worked hard, sacrificed, to make the journey to this star system. I want to show  that they and their mission were not forgotten, that our destiny among the stars is still there for us to reach out and retake. We will complete the mission that you and yours started, both to honor you and because it is our duty as the descendants of the Expedition Fleet."

"It should be easier now," Fred says. "I mean, according to you, it's possible to walk between the worlds of Primus now. That has to make exploration a lot easier! I think we can get the Imperials on board easy enough – and maybe the Silent-Ones, if Fallen-Star and Layth really manage to get that big Silent-Ones Titan working enough that we can bring it back. We could trade that for a lot of support."

Tasha looks up and blinks inside her helmet. "Oh, and you asked about wood? Maybe not on Abaddon, but I or someone else can always return to Sinai and have it all hand-crafted if you give us the details – and the shekels." She nods a moment later. "I was hoping to salvage the optical core of that thing to use in Melchior, as a shield against SPF. It's a TL2 machine, and my brain is connected to it, so I figured a bit more safety couldn't hurt. But if it's needed for diplomacy, I willing to risk things." She thinks a moment, then adds, "The Expedition – that is, the people calling themselves that – are already with us, in a way. They supplied this mission and are bound to have a lot of support for the Karnor Elite."

"The Terrans, you mean," Fred says. "And the core we got from the hangar will probably work better for what you want. I doubt that old Silent-One's Titan has a brain as sophisticated as the truck does."

"Sounds good to me. The last thing we need is me crashing in to Expedition City because SPF interference ruined my control," Tasha agrees. "And yes, the Terrans – although they call themselves 'The Expedition' now. I'm not sure how that came to be." She turns to gaze across the hangar, pursing her muzzle. "The Confederates and the … Kamp-foozen-group … may be harder, and we have no idea where the Khattan Trade Coalition is based now. At least with the Confederates, my being half-Vartan might help. The Vartan clans apparently fell in with the Confederates some time ago – probably because the Khattans weren't present."

"Maybe New Zion was the Expedition city, with everyone together, until they split off on their own. I have no idea where that human group came from though. With a name like 'Battle Group' it doesn't sound pleasant." Fred notes.

"Is that what that means? Hmm, aye, not pleasant at all. Still, we have technology no one else does, greed may bring some around if camaraderie and duty do not," Tasha says. She takes a step back from the rail and stretches, a maneuver not quite as satisfying when wearing powered armor. "What's our next task, Fred?"

"Well, just watch and shut things down when the tanks reach 75%," Fred says, tapping a readout. "We don't want to launch with full tanks, since we need some 'slurry room' to pump the slush around to balance the ship."

"Understood." The red woman leans against the railing, settling in for the long wait as she keeps an eye on the gauges. "Mariel thinks she can do something with my cybernetics to make me akin to telepathic," she mentions idly. "And speaking of which, what do you think of the Melchior?"

"It's a really sexy bird, I admit," the Engineer says. "The highest tech bit of military trim I've ever seen. Gotta wonder how it got here, though. It's bending a lot of the rules."

"My impression is that it's here for the Khattans, which I remember created that whole technology agreement to protect their own technological and trade superiority. It was clearly made for Vartans, though, so they made it with mercenaries in mind." Tilting her head, Tasha ponders how she found the Melchior, never having considered why it was here. "But you make a good point. If it's bending rules, why bring it? It's a atmospheric combat machine designed for melee combat, too. That doesn't seem like something an exploration fleet would need, unless they were planning to duel each other, the Sifrans, or the First Ones. Even odder, it was just … left there. The instructions, the procedure, it was all just laying there. If it was that much trouble to get here, why just leave it?"

"Nobody on Orpheus even new about it… but the evacuation made use of the Garudas," Fred notes. "It could have just been some commander's personal toy, like that big Silent-One's Titan. Maybe there's something in the records that explains it. There were supposed to be Vartans here, but they got transferred to the Ark at the last moment? Someone had to give the order for that."

"Actually, I'm related to those Vartans according to the record the bartender brought up, using my blood. My closest match was a 'Apollyon Stormbreaker,' which besides being a man with a great name, is pretty eerie when you think about it. Apollyon turns out to be another word for Abaddon, and he too was a pilot. But I digress." Tasha blinks inside her suit. Digress? "My knowledge of the records shows that the transfer of personnel was done early. You don't see any combat armor, just the more basic environmental suits. No weapons, either. Yet, the Melchior is there. Oi, now I'm wondering! I should research this more."

"They'd have had to have been transferred before the fleet left Zion orbit." Fred suggests. "Melchior could have just been a sort of figurehead symbol, to show which Vartan squadron was the command group. It's called a Magi Class Gryphon, so that suggests two others are still out there."

"Really? Why do you say that – what does Magi and Melchior mean, anyway? I thought Magi was another word for mage?" Tasha inquires, turning to look up at Fred inquiringly.

"Maybe on Sinai it is, but for me it means 'wise man'," Fred says. "In the old stories, the Star led the Three Magi to a savior, and they brought gifts."

"Oi, really? Well, that's pretty positive, unlike Orpheus and Fenris. Although, the irony of me piloting a 'wise man' is pretty funny." Chuckling, Tasha shakes her head before glancing at the panel and checking the fill-gauge. "I'm not a follower of the Star, and haven't met any savior that I know of, but I'll let you know if I find one. Maybe some day, I'll find the other Magi, and the Melchior's purpose will be revealed. I'll check the records too."

"Hmmm," Fred goes. "Did the Khattan Synths say anything?"

"Only that they were afraid of a Vartan-Titanian alliance because they believe we were both made by an ancient race called the 'Progenitors,' and had been hiding that detail from us, apparently," answers the red woman, who's expression turns sour at the idea of her ancestors being tricked in to fighting a people only a step away from being kin.

Fred's helmet turns towards Tasha. "That is interesting. It suggests a Progenitor Cult was embedded within the Expedition!" he says.

"Really? Is that bad?" Tasha looks back to Fred, eyes widening. "It seemed like the Khattans were really afraid of the connection being discovered, because we might turn on them along with the Titanians. Artemis worried Blammo would begin deconstructing Vartan technology and see a connection. Oi, you know, I could just ask her?"

"It could be bad," Fred notes, sounding a bit quiet over the link. "There was a version of that story where after the Magi delivered their gifts, they were forbidden to return to their lands the way they had come. If I were paranoid, I may wonder if a group of embedded religious fanatics thought Primus was the home of the Progenitors, and sabotaged the Gateway so the fleet couldn't go home. It would mean there would have to be three gifts thought to be brought, and those Vartans must have had one of them. Maybe. I could be rambling. I'm dead and have access to a huge reference library."

"I still can't think of any of you as truly dead. You're alive to me, and you're part of my family. And that's all I need to know on that front." Tasha insists, unable to quite manage a smile in the face of the possibility her ancestors, or someone connected to them, destroyed the gateway. "So, you think someone – clearly someone rich and influential – created the Magi in order to bring these 'gifts,' to … the savior? By the Star's guidance? That would mean there might be a 'gift' around here, or on the Ark. I can't imagine I'm the one supposed to bring it, but then again … Melchior did have access to my memories."

"If it was important, they wouldn't have left it here," Fred notes. "Maybe they were close to being uncovered? Or else knew that Orpheus wasn't going to make it to the Promised Land. It's easy to speculate without any evidence."

"It's something to keep in mind, anyway. I'd like to know if I'm piloting the tool of a religious cult's prophecy, especially if there's still something left for it to do, or any hidden programming that might pop up. And well, it's connected to my brain." Taking a deep breath, Tasha eyes the gauge once again and exhales, shaking her head. "Mystery after mystery." Opening a comlink via thought alone, the red woman has her communications routed to Artemis's station, where she asks, "Artemis, do you know what purpose Melchior was supposed to serve, and why it was left on board when the Vartans and their tools were all transferred early in the expedition?"

"Hello Tasha," the Synth replies. "Records list it as a reconnaissance craft. It may have been abandoned due to a lack of orbital rendezvous capability when Orpheus became stranded."

"Hi Artemis. Isn't the Melchior really expensive for a reconnaissance craft, though? And weren't the Vartans transferred well back? I noticed a lack of combat suits and weaponry, and the bartender has never encountered a Vartan, despite having been made to support them," asks the Vartan, brows furrowing. Aside to Fred, she says, "Does the Expedition Fleet usually use TL2 Titans to scout?"

"I didn't know we had any TL2 craft at all," Fred notes.

"So, using the mysterious TL2 craft to scout is probably not truthful? Or at least, it may be what the records list to hide it?" The woman asks Fred.

"I'd guess so," Fred agrees. "That level of technology was deemed unreliable to risk bringing."

"And here I am, flying it around! Not only do I flirt with six-thousand year old men and pilot ancient metal giants, I also thought you should know I was a temporary goddess, making this my second prophecy, potentially," Tasha admits, grinning behind her visor. "So we now know that the Melchior is here under strange circumstances, and is possibly a cult tool for a ancient prophecy. Artemis doesn't seem to know, but I'm sure someone did if they moved the Vartans away from it. And whoever did it may have been at odds with the Khattans who created it in the first place."

"The Fleet was big, and complicated to manage," Fred notes. "It could all just be the result of misfiled orders." A buzzer goes off, and Fred cuts off the pumps. "Well, that's done! Now to take it all apart again… "

"It could be. Having traveled this far, and having been directed to do so by prophecy, I'm not quick to dismiss these things. But, you may be right. We have enough to worry about without having an ancient prophecy hanging over us, especially one that's six-thousand years behind schedule!" Tasha turns from Fred and eyes the tube connecting to the massive wing of the Bellerophon, wings spreading. "Like this," she says, gesturing at the pipe, "Plenty of dull work to go around. Prophecies can wait."