In the newly established Sifran Artifact Chamber aboard the Expedition spacecraft Bellerophon, a ghostly cheetah hovers over her own mortal remains, with one mummified finger plugged into a small tower of glowing, pulsating crystal.

"I do not understand," the specter signs, after being told that 6,000 years have passed, and while some of the original Fenris crew she remembers are still alive, the others are… something other than alive. So far, First Technician's spirit has not displayed any of the flexibility or creative thinking that the PersoCom-based projections have.

Tasha nods slowly; not understanding is a key part of being part of this crew. "Would you like to cover up, do you need a mask?" she Signs in Formal, since it's the only Sign she knows. She then says, "We'd like you to be as comfortable as possible."

"Do you at least believe what we have told you?" Layth signs, albeit a bit poorly. "You, in life, would not have encountered a being such as myself before. Much has changed."

"I am fine," First Technician claims. And being mostly misty and insubstantial as she is, probably wouldn't be able to wear anything anyway. "It only matters that you have survived and returned. I felt so sick and shamed when Fenris vanished.

"We do not blame you," Layth asserts, "Your actions were controlled by your superior. Had you not done it, it is likely you would have been punished and another would have done it in your stead."

"I'm glad you're fine," repeats the Vartan so the others know what's going on. "We were able to recover some things, including the Fenris's artifacts – as you can see – and the data." She forgoes the other question she had considered, asking if First Technician's state offends her – clearly she was willing to go against her beliefs in getting this far and her voiced concerns only solidifies Tasha's suspicion. "Layth does not blame you, but I do. However, that's in the past and I think you've already suffered enough. Now my question is, how do you feel about us? Do you still desire to help the crew of the Fenris?" Despite the relative harshness of her words, Tasha retains her grin from earlier, perhaps showing most of the heat of her blame has faded.

"I am … for-giv-en?" the ghost signs, using the phonetic signing for the Terran word, but then drops her gaze when Tasha mentions blame. "I will serve as best I can." she replies.

"You are forgiven," Layth signs, "Had you not been, I would not have suggested naming you Fallen Star and to take your remains back for a proper burial on a world better than this old moon."

The ghost perks up at this, smiling to the Lapi.

"If you're forgiven or not is not for me to say. I care very deeply for the crew of the Fenris, and I take both their welfare and their mission very seriously. But ultimately, my opinion doesn't matter on this: you must ask the crew." Tasha glances at Nora a moment, knowing the other woman can read her Sign – after all, Tasha's Sign is from Nora's own memories. She wonders what her adopted sister thinks, then looks back to First Technician and Signs, "Layth's opinion is a bit forward, but that's fair enough. My opinion of Silent-Ones is hardly a secret; now, I wanted to know, why did your superior sabotage the Fenris? What did he hope to gain?"

"Master of Artifacts was charged with the protection of the Star Drop," Fallen Star signs. "He did not want it to leave on the Fenris without his presence. So he added instructions for the Mind of Light to do all it could to ensure the safety of the artifacts. He claimed that he had not intended for the Fenris to crash – that would have been counter to his goal of getting the Star Drop back safely."

"So, Master of Artifacts did not desire the Fenris to crash, nor any of MOTHER's … other … actions." The red woman glances at Gabriel this time, her hard smile and suspicion-tinged scent telling him just how imperfect her faith is in that answer. Still, Tasha does keep smiling – which is a far cry from what she might have done in previous months. She doesn't smell especially angry, either. It's more of a scent of dull fury; old anger. "I see. We are on the Bellerophon currently, on Orpheus. Since you've agreed to help us, I'd like to know if there's anything on board you feel is of special interest to us. While I haven't put this idea t the whole crew, I do intend to reform the Joint Expedition and your help could be significant."

"The Joint Expedition has collapsed?" the Silent-One signs, looking confused. "Was there war? What has become of the People?"

Tasha nods her head again. "Yes, the Joint Expedition has collapsed," she repeats. "It has been around six-thousand years since the evacuation of Orpheus and the crash of the Fenris. From what I understand, the factions of the Joint Expedition have all split off and returned to a state of individual government – the Silent-Ones included. Although, they seem to have some connection to the Expedition, which is the Human and Karnor group using that old name. As was explained to me by one of their members, membership in these groups is largely based on species." Hands lifting, Tasha then Signs, "We do not understand the Silent-Ones well. You may be able to help us with that."

"I can try to help," the ghost signs, but looks uncertain. "Much may have changed with the People from what I remember."

"Trying is enough at this point," Layth signs, "It is not as if we have any knowledge of your people and at least understanding how they were may help explain how they are now."

"That is more than enough, at least for that. We are all out of place; Layth and I included. We are both from Sinai; Sinai and Abaddon have very different cultures and organizations. The Silent-Ones think I am a Confederate abomination, the Expedition thinks similarly but in a different twist, and Layth is either a cause for confusion or underestimation. We hope to change those opinions with time and work. Anyway … ," Tasha takes a breath, glances at those present, then looks back and lifts her hands again, "What we need to know is if there are any Silent-Ones technologies here you can help us recover or otherwise make use of. Optical technology is the most stable technology within the SPF, from the Expedition era, that we know of. Computers, research equipment, vehicles, hand-held devices – anything."

"There are many crystal data tablets, and tools for maintaining, repairing and programming the Minds of Light," Fallen Star signs. "The sacred artifacts were taken in the evacuation, but technology was not important. There will be armor and weapons as well, but without maintenance they may be useless."

"How long will it remain functional without maintenance?" Layth signs, "And do you have the knowledge to repair broken devices?"

"I know how to maintain most, and repair some of the mechanical systems," the ghost claims. "I can program the tablets and the Minds."

"Some of the technologies on-board have survived, at least. We managed to recover and repair several vehicles, retrieve the data-core, and even locate a working Gauss rifle. We'll make a sweep of that area; the best we can do is a careful search and to try our best," Tasha says, grinning a little more at the end. "My sister and I can both access MOTHER, as well," she adds. "We would appreciate if you help us learn more."

"I will try my best," the girl signs back.

Layth pauses for a moment now to rub his forehead. "We need to get you a better body," the buck then signs. "Would you be willing to allow yourself to be 'recorded' through the PersoCom system … if it is even possible? That would then allow us to feed that back through the crystal artifacts to produce you a new body. Your … spirit will then join with that to create something more than just an apparition."

"I know the interface for the Mind of Light that allows transfer of the PersoCom data," the ghost signs. "I think I can do what you ask, but it will take time. I must focus, and… it is hard to do when you are dead, I find."

Tasha tilts her head, nods, and grins even wider. "Good; that's what I like to hear. Thank you." She then repeats "thank you" in Sign, before continuing. "Yes, Layth's right about the system. However, there's problems with accessing, rr, recovered individuals and their spirits using the computer systems. We don't quite understand how they work together, and our PersoComs are no longer running off their data stores alone. It's something I need to look into soon, as well."

"If you can manage to record yourself through the PersoCom and then funnel that through the system back to the artifacts, it should generate you a new body. One that is solid and easier to think in. You will be limited to the ship, and only parts of it, but it would be a better existence than what you have now. And Tasha is right, we do not understand fully how it works, but it does permit something more than just a simple recording. It is … a blend of technology and spirit, perhaps," Layth signs.

"If it works, she probably won't be compatible with the digital systems like the original PersoComs," Nora notes. "But then that hardly matters, as she doesn't know our systems anyway."

"It is worth trying," Layth notes, "Because having her solid will make it far easier to learn from her and have her help with repairs."

"She may have to stick to MOTHER's systems then," Tasha says, glancing at Nora. "Which is fine, isn't it? Even very useful, since she knows how to program and repair MOTHER."

"I… uh… I might be able to add a translator glove to the simulation," Mariel offers.

Nora nods to Tasha. "Any Silent-Ones technology can be brought to her," she says. "As long as we can carry it."

"That would help others, yes," Layth admits, "My knowledge of sign is limited. I have been lucky to have not made a vulgar sign so far."

Nodding to Mariel, Tasha says, "Maybe we can find one of those while we're out, so you have something to work off, if that will help." Looking back to Nora, the Vartan says, "If there's anything I do know how to do here, it's carry things. That, and look good in your clothes – better in fact!"

The ghost signs, "Only the elite are allowed to use the speaking gloves. But I will accept one to serve you better."

Hearing Layth's self-deprecation, Tasha adds in, "Nora taught me my Sign – I have a partial download of her memories."

"Hah, when I was your age I cut a much more svelte figure," Nora counters.

"With a knife, right?" Tasha then sticks her tongue out at Nora, then smiles. "That reminds me; I need all of you to give me your opinion on a problem involving the PersoCom and recovered memories. There's no way to access another's, so … recording … or … sharing, rr, … is impossible. But the artifacts do seem to heighten spirits, strengthen them, that's correct?"

"Given you are the only Silent-One on our crew, that makes you an Elite by default," Layth signs to the ghost to see if it helps any.

"It isn't clear," Zerachiel notes. "We can tell better if Fallen Star is successful. After all, PersoCom data comes from the person deliberately focusing and encoding certain thoughts and memories, so of course that would have a stronger imprint than just pulling them out of the aether, as it were."

"We simply don't know," Layth tells Tasha, "We don't know exactly what is happening. Your guess is as good as anyone else's at this point."

"If Fallen Star is successful, it suggests that we can encode more memories to MOTHER's data crystals," Nora points out. "However, we can't be sure that wouldn't also corrupt the existing data. Fallen Star will be starting from a blank slate, with no pre-recorded data."

"Hmm," Tasha replies to Zerachiel's answer. She casts a glance at Gabriel, looking at him for a long moment, before her eyes shift to Nora – but not without passing by Layth, whom she gives a brief but intent look towards. "Well, my guesses have lead me this far," she agrees, although she sounds a little doubtful. She listen's to Nora's contribution, then nods slowly. Taking a breath, she adds, "We should prepare for our recovery mission in Silent Town, if there isn't any further questions. I want to remain here, there are some things I need to do. Gabriel, Zerachiel, Remiel, Layth, I'd like you to remain briefly."

"I would like to make sure Fallen Star can communicate with us when we reach Silent Town so that we can find out exactly what we're looking at when we come across something new," Layth says and then signs for the ghost's benefit. "And yes, I will stay for a bit."

Nora, Fred and Mariel look curious to be left out, since Dr. Caravelli's phantom is being asked to stay. They don't say anything though, and head off along with the copies of Gabriel and Zerachiel. Fallen Star seems to go to sleep, becoming more ephemeral as she supposedly tries to connect to MOTHER through the artifact.

"Fallen Star can begin her integration work; I can act as interpreter until then," Tasha suggests. The woman pulls out her datapad and seems to begin ticking off items, but Layth is close enough to see the screen isn't on anything that would require that focus. When the others have left, Tasha turns to the remainder and says, "Before we leave, I want to help Nora."

"Are you certain she requires help?" Layth asks.

"I won't know until I try," Tasha replies. "I'm not her sister just to steal her clothes."

"What do you want to help her with?" Caravelli's PC asks. "She has the others to assist her in her work."

"Then what are you planning and what do you feel it will accomplish?" Layth asks next. His tone is completely neutral, no judgment, just a question.

The Vartan turns and stares at PC Caravelli for a long moment, and then frown slightly. She doesn't answer him, but instead asks, "Do you think the artifact can heighten any spirit, including those connected to the living?" She gives him a little smile, though, perhaps to show she isn't enjoying keeping the man in the dark. To Layth, she then says, "Nora and I have a complex history; she's going to remember her death and that she loved Gabriel. On top of that, I share some of her memories. I feel … ," Tasha makes a vague, uncomprehending gesture, " … beholden? That's a word? Maybe guilty is better? There's also another mystery that might link us, but I don't want to speak of it until I know. And beyond all that, I just want to help her. It's something I feel I must do; call it guilt or injustice or whatever you want. As for what … ," Tasha gestures at the device, " … Gabriel said I should meditate when I have a problem. I'm going to try here."

"Perhaps we would all understand better if we completely understood the problem. You believe her problem is that she will remember certain things? Is your goal to prevent it?" Layth asks next.

"My, rr, 'goal' is to help her as best I can. Actually," Tasha takes a breath, but despite it, Layth can hear the subtle rise in her voice that hints the woman is getting steadily more and more frustrated; Gabriel can smell it. "If I had a goal, I would have stopped what happened! Nora didn't deserve this and I didn't deserve … ," by the time she finishes she's almost yelling, Tasha forcing herself to pause, take another breath, then begin pacing as she tries to calm down. "I don't know," she spits out, "I don't know why I'm obsessed with her; all I DO know is that I want to help. Is that right? Maybe I want to suffer!" The woman then curses under her breath; definitely frustrated.

"You need to work through your anger," Gabriel says, putting a hand on Tasha's shoulder. "Don't confuse that with wanting to help Nora. Keep them separate."

"Then are you doing it for her or for yourself?" Layth asks next. "I am not trying to be confrontative on this and I will not stop you in doing whatever you decide to do. I am making sure that you understand what you want to do. Many want to help, the key is knowing how to and if there is actually a need to. If you do something without understanding exactly what you're doing, you could make it worse. I know you don't want that to happen."

"Simple questions without simple answers. Many have asked for centuries 'what' and 'why'. Few have ever found a good answer to them," Layth adds and even shrugs slightly. "You need to clear your mind of feeling, of anger, and think on what are the facts. Focus on just that aspect perhaps and maybe how you can help her best will reveal itself?"

Tasha stops pacing when the hand lands on her shoulder; instead she takes to staring at a wall. "I don't KNOW," she answers Layth. "I thought this was all over, but now it's back again. There's someone I need to talk to, and I think I can do that here. I … ," taking another breath, the red woman lets her gaze sink to the floor, brow narrowing, "I knew to talk to someone else. That's why I'm here. Honestly I'm not sure why I asked you to stay; maybe so you know? For advice? To tell you in case I really fail, to go look without me?" She reaches up and rubs the bridge of her muzzle, squinting. "High Priestess Nitsa would say I feel there's an injustice, but she'd also would say I may be doing it for myself. And, I know that might be true – PARTLY true. But whatever the reason, I just know that when Nora remembers I should be there – to help her and to take the brunt of it. I owe her that much."

"The first step is being honest to yourself," Layth says and even smiles slightly. "You should take some time to think on it, meditate as you say. Find peace within yourself and then seek the complete question and its answer. And if nothing else … always remember this: I'm just a Lapi who used to fold the undergarments of Khatta. What do I know?" The buck actually grins at the last of his remarks.

Both Zerachiel and Caravelli look lost at this point, unsure of who Tasha means to speak to if not the people she asked to stay. "Meditate and calm yourself, yes," Gabriel says. "No decision made while agitated is as good as one made while clear headed."

The woman listens quietly, ears perked, and when Layth grins she does too, if just a little. "I'm not sure why I felt I had to do this alone," Tasha says as she looks up. "It's not a mystery that Nora and I have a complicated relationship, but that doesn't mean I had to do this alone. Maybe it just seemed like the best way to carry Nora's suffering. I still can't … accept what happened. And then I had another thought, and well … " She glances at the two wolves, sighs, smiling a little tiredly at them. "You two, go relax. I'm sure you've had enough of listening to Tasha's emotional problems. I'll figure this out. Layth," she glances at the buck, "Why don't you have something to eat with the others? And, … Thanks."

"I have to get the steaks growing," Zerachiel notes, tapping himself on the side of the head.

The Karnors take their leave, with Gabriel smiling back at Tasha as he exits.

"I know you will. I'm just here to echo back thoughts so that you think on it before acting. It's better than just arguing with yourself. The insults are more creative that way," Layth says as he continues to grin. "Just be careful and remain calm. I'll go check on Mariel, perhaps. Fred said she needed a friend. Might look in on how Fallen Star is doing later if there is any way to tell if the machine is recording her or not." Now it's the buck's turn to wave and he heads out the exit as well.

Tasha returns the smile, quickly telling Doctor Caravelli she'll explain later and that she's sorry – probably for something she'll explain later. Now that Layth and Tasha are alone, if one doesn't count the ghost, the woman turns to her friend and nods. "Actually, when I talk to myself I find she's a lot wiser than I am. And older," she tells him with a grin. "Take good care of Fred and Mariel!"

With everyone gone, the chamber feels a bit like a tomb, what with the ghost, the mummy and the liquid, kaleidoscopic light show from the artifacts.

Alone now, Tasha takes a moment to scan the room as she takes a few deep breathes in an attempt to center herself. "Well, it's … thematic," she remarks to herself at the room. She then quirks her brow at having used 'thematic,' wondering for a moment why the Expedition needed so many odd words, and when she'll stop saying them out of the blue. Having no answer to those questions either, Tasha walks up to the Sifran artifact tower, and then just plops down on the floor. "Hokay, right. Meditate. Meditate."

It isn't easy without the incense or the tea, especially with the shiny glowing artifact next to her. It's hypnotic in a way that transcends mere Vartan shiny-lust.

"Ummmmmmmmm." Tasha tries closing her eyes, she tries turning and staring at a wall, she tries staring at the corpse and ghost in an effort to block out her shinylust, but she keeps looking back. Finally, she stands up again, walks back to the pillar, then just sits down right in front of it and stares at that.

Staring makes Tasha's eyes start to water, which isn't really immediately noticeable given the liquid look of the light. But eventually Tasha begins to feel a presence nearby.

"Can't … talk … ," Tasha mumbles-murmurs, sounding far away, "Trying … meditate … "

"Of course," says a soft, hard to place voice. "It will help if you do not think of dancing Kujakus wearing bells, I've found."

"Hur … ?" Tasha begins to wonder why the other knows what she's thinking about, then suddenly snaps to awareness as the realization dawns on her. Aware but sluggish still, she slowly pulls her gaze away from the artifact, saying as she struggles, "Tisi- … -phone, you're here … I … have to … to ask you. I need to ask … you. I need to ask you: how I can help Nora, if my feelings keep getting in the way!" Finally able to pulls away, Tasha almost falls as she turns, catching herself with an arm.

A cloaked and hooded figure sits on the ground next to Tasha, all features hidden. "Tisiphone's purpose is to avenge murder," the figure says. "As her Herald, you were sent to the Fenris Gash. You learned of the murder of Nora Argentine, who was essentially buried alive. You learned at the same time that the Mind of Light known as MOTHER was the murderer. You then deprived MOTHER of her source of life – the artifacts – and allowed her to be buried alive, to slowly wind down until her mind dissolved. Vengeance satisfied. Tisiphone is not here."

"No … ?" Tasha pushes herself up slowly, but not out of shiny-locked sluggishness; she hadn't expected someone else would answer her call and isn't sure what that means. Her eyes widen as she sits straight again, the woman asking, "Then, who … ?" She wonders if it's important to know, but her tepid mind manages to remember another concern. Knowing may be important, yet.

"I'm the one with what you want, assuming you will still want it," the cloaked person says. "Keep in mind that 'May you get everything you want' is often said as a curse. You want to know how to help Nora, so seek out the same suffering so that you may understand what she will need, is that it?"

"Yes, that's it. You were always much better at seeing these things," Tasha agrees, if nervously. The decision to suffer along with Nora wasn't made without doubt or fear; the fate Nora suffered terrifies the Vartan – and that is part of it. "No, wait, that's not all of it. I can't accept what happened, but I know I need to. I'm afraid what happened to Nora will happen to me – and I hate myself for making this about me. But, … I'm still afraid." Taking in another breath, a motion Tasha is very glad she learned how to do, having done it so much today, the red woman adds, "It's not just I should get her life and not suffer for it. And, I want her to see I care, whatever I have of hers. Maybe fate took everything, and I can't give it back – but at least I can show that someone was there. That she wasn't alone." She isn't sure the last part is perfectly right, but at least her feelings feel a little clearer now.

"Do you really think she will appreciate that you tortured yourself to be more like her?" the figure asks. "That you wished to 'share' what is, truly, the most intimate moment any being can experience – where they are completely exposed and laid bare?"

"I … " Tasha stares at the other figure for a moment that feels far long, wondering why she hadn't thought of Nora's feelings. Her muzzle slowly closes as she looks down, working through her thoughts as a deep frown creases her muzzle. It's not that she doesn't care what Nora thinks – the opposite is true – so why didn't she think about this most important feeling? She already knows her answer to the other, but her own question nags at her: why? Because I didn't want her to know, she considers, because I wanted to be there without her needing to ask, I didn't want to burden her, I wanted to suffer on my own without help or influence? No, that's not right … I wanted to understand? I didn't want her to have to face the shame of being asked? I wanted to be closer to her, because then I could … protect her?" Tasha's eyes widen. "She wouldn't want me to suffer," she answers, "but I didn't think of her feelings, because I wanted to carry all of the burden myself, and protect her … because … "

"Because you were afraid that you lacked the strength," the figure finishes. "Your own fear was a wall, and until you got past it you did not see how you could comfort someone about something that terrified you."

Tasha nods her head to that. "The PersoComs all endured this, but I don't know. I'm just a pretender, I've tried to live up to what I'm doing, but I don't know. I just don't know. And, I'm afraid. For her, and for me – for all of us." She drops her hands in her lap and looks at them, rubbing her wrist. "It's always been my way to confront what I was afraid of, to fight what I felt was wrong – and nothing really seemed beyond my fixing. Impossible was something like lifting a mountain, and justice was Rephidim and it's Guard … And now, here's something unjust and impossible, and I can't do anything. Nothing. And even if I do comfort Nora, I won't understand. I'll still be afraid."

"Justice is not an inherent force of nature," the figure points out. "If you could grind the universe to powder, and sift through it for eternity, you would not find a single atom of justice. It is something that people create and believe in, but it has no existence beyond that. It is an ideal. Can you accept that?"

Tasha listens, ears forward and looking up. It takes her a moment to process this answer, but she nods shortly. "Yes," she says with a degree of force, "yes, that's why I wanted to intercede!" She almost blinks at the word 'intercede,' but presses on – she has more important concerns than uncontrolled vocabulary skills. "If I could just be there, DO something, it might be more just – because only we can make a difference! And in this, in what happened, I thought … I thought maybe if I was there, maybe … "

"You can't change the past," the figure notes. "Nor should you. To change what happened to someone is to change who they are. While there may be things in your past that you would like to undo or forget, would you want someone else to choose for you?"

"No," answers the Vartan, "and maybe I can't change the past, but maybe this would change the future? Is what I want entirely wrong, am I just deluding-" the Vartan twitches, " … deluding myself, thinking nothing but selfish thoughts when I'm trying to help and understand? Am I really that bad?"

"It is easy to backslide into being a god," the figure notes. "Especially when one is feeling overwhelmed. So many decisions, so much responsibility – it is tempting to simply focus on your own desires for a moment."

"Ugh," Tasha breathes as she slumps against the artifact behind her. She looks about to growl something, but swallows it, head shaking. A moment later she murmurs, "Then I don't know. Layth's the one who's good at helping people. I've tried to be there for Nora. I want to understand; I guess I want it all, don't I?" Her ears wilt, and she shakes her head again. "Even in helping I serve myself. How disgusting."

"You are very much alike," the stranger notes. "You both wish to carry all of the burden, and not be seen to need help. Nora is likely no different. She may have already remembered, and simply not shown it."

"What?!" Tasha blinks, head lifting suddenly. "Do you think so? Then, what I'm doing is just … " Shaking her head, the woman sits up again. "It's how alike we are that makes it hard to ignore what happened to her, who she is, what happened – everything. I look up to Gabriel in the same way, but we settled our problems sooner. It's Nora I can't figure out, even if she probably understands me." Her head tilts, and she even grins a little. "You're right – because I still want to do my dumb plan, even thought I know it's dumb now. It's hard to give up and let go."

"You still have your fear," the figure says. "And… well… if Nora may have gotten past it, I imagine you would only be that much more determined yourself, correct?"

"Layth would call it stupidity, but yes," Tasha answers, grinning a little more. She studies the figure across from her, mind working.

"Women are very competitive by nature, and I understand sisters can be even more so," the figure says. "Now… are you certain about this? I have the dying moments of 32,375 people in my memory, all from the Boomer that fell on Babel. I can share one of those with you."

"I thi- … Wait, how is that possible?" If Tasha had seemed wide-eyed earlier, she looks like her eyes might fall out of her head now. "That … Wait, that … " Finding herself too stunned to speak, she just stares.

"It is a long story," the figure says, and then reaches up to pull back its hood. A golden glow is added to the room from the creature's horn, making its golden eyes shine too. Tasha easily recognizes Envoy. "You look a bit confused," she notes.

"Yes, yes I am," Tasha admits, leaning back. She looks suddenly weary now; definitely not what she suspected. The weariness steadily darkens, too. The woman's eyes narrow, and she nearly growls, "I don't appreciate other people spying on my mind. We might be allies of a kind, but this?! Are you really Envoy? I thought you might be Nora – or the Themis-Skoll!"

"I'm a copy, sort of," Envoy claims. "The artifact remembers, or is able to access spirits it has before, it seems. And regardless of who you wanted, it seems I was the best fit for what you actually needed. Nobody else can offer you what I just have."

"I … I see." Tasha's glare remains, but she takes slow, deliberate breathes until her anger begins to dim. A last sidelong glance at her sidearm hints at a course abandoned. "I see," she breathes, nodding. With one last exhale, she nods, then reaches to rub her head. "I had been thinking on why Tisiphone looked like me, but she doesn't look like me – she looks like the Themis-Skoll. The valley was named for a ship that was buried, so who? And I, … well … I see I was wrong about that. It would have explained a lot." Tasha squints as she rubs her head, leaning into her hand.

"I notice your burst of anger," Envoy notes. "Imagine how Nora might have reacted similar now to having you try to share her death?"

"That's different!" Tasha's voice to a growl again, the woman pointing a finger. "We're not strangers! Envoy is an Exile I met – Nora is a part of my mind, my sister! I've risked my life following her wishes!"

"I am not real, you know," Envoy points out. "Nothing that happens here can be learned by the real Envoy. And I am just as much a mirror on your mind as Tisiphone was. You are generating all of this, Tasha. It is only the face that has changed."

"How can I be generating people wiser and smarter than me? I always though I was the face of Tisiphone, who might have been the face of the Themis-Skoll; I had this all thought out, you know!" Tasha stands, needing to move suddenly. "And lets say that's true, that means I think you know about this? Or is the artifact answering me, and if so, was it answering me back then, too? Does it answer everyone?"

"I don't know," Envoy says, and shrugs. "Maybe we seem wiser because you believe we are, or need us to be? Belief is very powerful, after all – especially when magic is involved."

"I … I guess so," Tasha agrees, turning where she stands to look down at the Envoy-clone. "It seems like that mystery will have to wait again, but at least now I'm closer to an answer. And, isn't that what we're supposed to be about? Answers and questions?" The woman takes a deep breath, then releases it, nodding slowly afterward. "Well, I'm a little riled, but I can calm down. And, there's what we were talking about. An answer to a question." She cocks her head to the side, canine-like, studying the image before her. "Before I answer, what do you – Envoy? me? – think of my reasoning on this? You've heard what I have to say, growling and all."

"Mortals are fascinated by death," Envoy claims. "They claim to fear it, but really they do not. They fear dying. There is a difference. A dying person welcomes death when they are suffering or in pain."

"And doing this will just make me want to die?" Tasha's brows raise.

"No, it will like make you feel anxiety in certain situations," Envoy claims. "I have experienced dying many thousands of times through these memories, but it has not been particularly enlightening to me. Pain is pain, regardless of the outcome. But your fixation seemed to be on unjust, unforgivable death involving helplessness and terror."

"It's the fear too, I think – and the not knowing. Gabriel once told me leadership can mean making life or death decisions, that's part of it too." Tasha glances at the artifact, pleased and disturbed it holds little fascination after so much stress. "So then, will this help me at all? Even facing it as a challenge?"

"Help you?" Envoy asks, cocking her head. "Do answers always help? I can't say what it will do. That is up to you."

"That's … That's probably the most comforting answer I've heard after all this: I don't know. It's up to me." Tasha stares at the artifact, almost fixated again, but her gaze is farther and her mind elsewhere. What it's like to die, will it really help her? Will it help her understand Nora and her suffering? Fred? Mariel? Will it make her a better leader, or just make her more afraid? "And you said, it's up to me. You're a reflection of me. What would I do?" Tasha reaches up to her chest, tilting the button towards her face, saying, "What do you think, Razzy Cat? Is it me to hesitate and play it safe, or it me to charge into the fight and follow my questions? Yeah, I don't know why I even ask." A grin creases Tasha's muzzle, her head turning towards Envoy. "You know my answer."

"Okay, you asked for it," the alien says, then leans forward and… puckers her lips, as if expecting a kiss.

Tasha leans back, raising an eyebrow. "What is that supposed to be a reflection of? Oh gods, never mind!" Taking a very deep breath, the red woman steels herself. She glances at the artifact, thinking there's still time to back out, but then shakes her head. "And I thought I had mixed feelings about Nora. Hokay, hokay, let's … Let's go." She turns her head back and steps forward, kneeling down and bracing her hands against the floor. "I only kiss Gabriel like that," she insists, "but I won't let me think I'm afraid, so … " Then the woman reaches over and snatches the image by the hand, pulling her forward and kissing her on the side of the cheek with enough force to move her head.

Syra breaks the kiss reluctantly, pulling away from Beros. "I have to get dressed," she tells the other Eeee. "I am on kitchen duty, and much has to be done to prepare for breakfast later."

She gets up and stretches her wings briefly, going to the narrow window to look out on Babel. The view is cluttered from this low down, but if she leans and tilts her head just right, she can see the lights of the palace. "It's nearly midnight," Beros complains from the bed. "Time to be going to sleep, not waking up to work!"

"You should be worried about getting enough sleep before… " Syra starts to chide, until the sky suddenly… goes crazy! It turns from night to day, but a day with a green sky and pink clouds, and then to one that seems to be on fire, and then to night again – but without the procession!

She tries to warn Beros, but can't hear or be heard over the sudden roaring wind! In the next moment, she realizes she's been pulled right out the narrow window and is only vaguely aware that her wings have been broken. All around she sees people and debris thrown around by the winds, and even spots her mother and younger brother! She tries to call, but her breath is yanked away and she can't draw another! Instead, her stomach and bowels release their contents, and she feels her ears start to bleed.

"It is the end of the world!" the Eeee girl thinks, as her vision turns red from her eyes filling with blood. She tries to close them, but is blinded as the sun hits from behind a tower that is crumbling and drifting away. It burns! She tries to turn, but her wings won't respond. Her back is freezing, and she feels she will snap in half at any moment…

And then there is relief, and darkness.

If Tasha could focus, she would understand that Envoy – the phantom Envoy – was right. Dying is agony, and with the agony the crushing, inescapable knowledge that your life is almost gone, those you love are falling away from you as your life sand fall in to oblivion. Last seconds, no different than any other seconds, become more precious than gold – more precious than anything – as they're ripped with compassionless indifference. There were memories, too; people she loved falling away with the sands of the hourglass, she no more able to keep them than her own flickering life. And, she has never hurt so much in any other seconds, bloody sands falling and falling, the flame of her life guttering … and gone.

In that place without time, relief without existence came. Comfort without a self to know and others to reflect her feelings. The wellness possessed by nothing. And so she rests …

… at least, for a little while.

When the light show from the crystal artifact finally begins to intrude on the darkness, Tasha finds herself reluctantly regaining consciousness… enough to feel herself flat on her back with her lungs burning from exertion.

As she awakens to the real world, Tasha sucks in air a like a drowning woman – which isn't so very far from the truth. Once she has filled her lungs she finds herself screaming as she scrambles to her feet – only to vomit a second later. Hacking and coughing, she feels across her body in a desperate search for injuries that aren't there, although new, real ones make themselves known from the exertion. She finds one hand of nails sore, and probably cracked from grasping the floor, while the other hand remains intact – except she's sure her chest must be bleeding in spots from where she clawed and clutched it. Her wings are sore, from falling on them. Her whole body aches, and smells. And she doesn't even care.

She's alive.

The barely visible ghost of Fallen Star bobs and ripples next to her corpse, but otherwise Tasha is alone in the chamber. Of course, a tap on her communications collar will bring whatever aid she wants.

The Vartan isn't sure how long she has been out, or even how long its taken her to recover. For a long while she just sits there and aches, glad to ache, glad to just be alive. Nothing more was needed than to just feel her heart beat, to see the hourglass fill. But eventually she does pull herself to her feet, limping – she must have strained her legs – towards the door. Then, she pauses, and limps back to MOTHER's controls and Signs, slowly, "Access Orpheus core."

"Access Unavailable From This Terminal," the disembodied hands sign back. "Digital Access Is Available From The Bridge."

"Bridge," Tasha breathes. She Signs a thank you to MOTHER – her joy at living even extending to the computer – and then limps out. First she heads for her room, to change. The bridge will be next. As she staggers out of the door, she taps her collar. "Gabriel," she whispers hoarsely, accessing his connection. "I love you so … so much. Tell Eli … Caravelli … I love them, too."

"Tasha, what's wrong?" Gabriel replies. "You sound out of breath!" The sound of padding feet can be heard coming down the access ramp at almost the same time.

While glad to be alive, the awareness that comes with life is gradually returning to the Vartan – enough that embarrassment begins to creep back in. She pulls her wings around her, and limps on. "I just … love you." It's the best answer she has; maybe the best answer there is for anything, she thinks.

Gabriel just scoops Tasha up like a child. "I love you too, but that smell has got to go. We'll use the fresher in Med Bay, then the doc can look you over," the man says. "Your eyes are bloodshot! Did you meditate or drink yourself silly?"

"I'm drunk on … life," Tasha replies, sounding shaken and looking sick. She had heard that saying before, 'drunk on life.' The woman had always thought it sounded ridiculous, how could mere life – as boring and constant as it was to her – compete with alcohol? Life was just there, always, to be taken for granted. Now she knows; she wonders how alcohol could have ever completed with life itself. "I wish we … we had alcohol."

Within twenty minutes, Tasha has been stripped and scrubbed down by Gabriel and looked over by Remiel's PC, who didn't do much but give her some eye-drops and suggest she get a massage.

Sitting on the examination table in her skivvies, a towel around her shoulders and Gabriel right beside her holding her hand, Tasha reaches up to her neck and taps her collar. "This is Tasha Argentine to all crew members not currently engaged in vital tasks: there will be a party on the bridge in twenty minutes. I'm cooking, come: Eat drink and be merry – and have fun. All of that is mandatory." There's a pause, then Tasha adds, "I want you to know, you're all wonderful people, and I count myself lucky to spend every second here. That is all." She taps her collar again, then leans back against Gabriel -- and smiles.