Things are hectic in the Titan Hangar as cranes and mobile platforms are prepared to carry off weapons and make repairs to the Lawbringers - the ones that have returned already, in any case. Melchior overflew several on their way back from the dam, and Tasha didn't see any of the mounted fighters still on the floodplain but did see several pyres fueled by dead Rotbiters; they'd had plenty of time to finish up and return to the city by the time she and Melchior were finished with the monster carcass. There was plenty of room set aside for the Gryphon though, so that Tasha had a clear path through the bustle to Melchior's place next to the tall shaard locker and the reactor.

"I hope the Lawbringer past the dam was the only casualty," Tasha thinks to her AI as her machine strides past the line of Silent-One Titans and towards it's own dock space. "It seems the Knights Templar were able to succeed without any casualties. We can only hope that is also true of the population. I'm glad we did what we could; protecting people when we can with our technology is also part of the JEF mission, now." The machine proceeds to the monolithic storage device, opening it with a touch before stowing its curious weapon. With nothing left but to disembark, Tasha wills the Melchior to its bay and prepares to exit. "I think we did good today, and I will be back tomorrow to review our work. Thank you for your assistance, Melchior. I know you say you exist to serve me, but … Thank you, anyway."

"You are welcome, Tasha," the AI replies before the neural link disconnects.

Alone in the cockpit, Tasha leans back and stretches her limbs. "What a day," she breathes. "I'm going to be sore a while … " She looks down at herself, and frowns. I need to get out of this armor; who knows how long rotbiter contagion can persist. She pushes herself up and moves to disembark.

Commanding-Hand waits for Tasha at Melchior's feet. "Your armor must be cleaned," he signs. "Have you sustained any injury?"

Tasha takes a moment to regard her armor once again; she didn't have much choice in boarding helmetless, and she had used her wings as a shield several times. "Not that I'm aware of; I feel fine. I did end up fighting two rotbiters, though," she signs back.

"We have cleaned the sword," the crew chief signs, then gestures to where two cheetahs clad in heavy rubber aprons and masks stand next to a large tin washtub.

Tasha eyes the washtub. "Should I get out first, or … ?"

Commanding-Hand shakes his head, and gestures for Tasha to step into the tub, armor and all.

Shrugging, Tasha walks right on over and steps in to the tub with a clank of metal on metal. "Hi," she signs, looking between the two. "I've never done this before."

The two men don't sign back, probably because it would be awkward while wearing the thick rubber gloves. They start washing down Tasha's armor with something that smells strongly of ammonia, which makes her nose and eyes want to water. But they're very thorough, even going over the overlapping feather plates with small rags and brushes.

Meanwhile, Tasha's nose looks like it wants to curl up in a ball, what with the way she wrinkles and twists it to try and keep the ammonia out. Her expression isn't much better, as she quickly goes from curious to ear-flat and eyes shut.

Eventually there is a spray of water to wash away the scent, and a pat on the back to let Tasha know it's safe to open her eyes.

Glad to be done with that, Tasha returns to Commanding-Hand and has to fight the urge to shake herself clear of water. "I'm going to get out of this thing and change, unless there's anything else you need, Commanding-Hand? Oh," she tries to smile, but it comes out a little bleary as the lingering scent makes her squint again, "Thank you for the advice, and the weapon."

"Tonight you will dine with the People," Commanding-Hand signs, then offers Tasha a handkerchief in case she needs to wipe her eyes or blow her nose.

The handkerchief is snatched so quickly the technician might wonder if there was some sort of powered assist involved and it's immediately put to use. The half-Karnor begins snorting in to it, wiping between huffs of breathe, then completes the strange and entirely canine maneuver by shaking her head out. "WHEW!" When she looks up again she rubs her nose, then smiles. "Better!" Offering the kerchief back, she signs, "Now, what did you say? Dining with the People? Did I miss a scheduling in the battles? I don't recall a formal dinner mentioned, but maybe I missed it in the rush?"

"It is tradition," Commanding-Hand signs. "You have had your first combat with the kaiju. There will be a ceremony, and the Archon will attend." A moment later, he adds, "It is a great honor."

"Oh, no doubt it is! I … I should clean myself up! I had meant to see the Archon again, but with all that had been happening, now today … I … " The woman looks at herself, then shakes her head before looking back. "I should prepare. At what time should I meet the People? Is there any special requirements? Clothing choices? Should I bring guests, or not?"

"You may bring a guest if you wish," Commanding-Hand signs, then looks over Tasha's armor. "Wear comfortable clothing. It will not be necessary for the ceremony. Mealtime starts at 1800 hours, so that is when you should be at the Embassy."

Tasha nods to this, then smiles all the more. "I'll be there," she promises before bowing slightly. "The honor would not be possible without the assistance of your crew: thank you."

Commanding-Hand bows, and gestures towards the partitioned-off changing area to let Tasha know he doesn't need to detain her any longer.

Tasha inclines her head, then proceeds behind the curtain and finally sheds her armor. She stretches, then dons her uniform, all the while thinking on how surprising the day – days – have gone. Her mission is nothing like what she expected! Further, her fear seems to be, if not exactly gone, no longer the impediment it was. Perhaps she's simply been in danger so much lately she's started to become used to the fear that comes with it, or maybe thinking of Lyle Cromwell and his loss reminded her of her mission so powerfully she could fight on despite her mental fatigue. Whatever the case may be, she decides it's been for the best.

After exiting, Tasha waves to the technicians, then steps out in to the open air. When she doesn't think anyone is watching, she shake-shakes herself out. Few appreciate a good shake out after getting a bath, she thinks as she straightens. Now wha- … Oh! Aaron! The Knight! With that in mind, she takes wing and tries to locate someone who might know what happened with Aaron.

It was never clear where the Knights were garrisoned in the Pit. But Malachite was assigned to Riddle Smith, and she stays at the Terran Embassy. But the Lapi could be anywhere by now, if he wasn't hurt.

High above the city, Tasha begins circling as she thinks. Riddle. She would be the best choice; she may even be with the Silent-One ambassador. Angling off, Tasha begins her descent towards the Expedition Embassy.

The receptionist is a different one from that morning. "How can I help you?" she asks, being a young human woman with blue hair and pink eyes.

Tasha blinks, but smiles. "Hi, I'm Cadet Tasha, of the Joint Expeditionary Force. I've just gotten back from the dam and need to locate my companion who was with me when I was recalled to the hangar. My companion's name is Aaron Lightfoot, and he was hopefully recovered by the Knights Templar. I don't know where their base is in the city, so I was hoping you could ask Miss Smith if she had any word of him."

"Ah, Miss Smith is with Mr. Cromwell right now, but I can send a page with your request if you like," the girl says.

"Please do. I'll just wait here." After smiling again, Tasha lets the woman work and spends the waiting time looking around.

The pneumatic tubes are used once more, and there's a wait while another person asks some questions about some bureaucratic issue. Before that is resolved, a canister comes back through the tube and lands in a basket with a little bell attached. The secretary plucks it out and opens it, then waves to Tasha.

Glancing over from where she had been examining an old Elamoorian work, Tasha's brows raise she she's waved at, and the woman walks over. "Any luck?" she asks.

"This message is addressed to you," the secretary notes, handing over a folded piece of paper with a wax seal, with Tasha's name on it.

Not having expected a message – especially not a sealed one – Tasha picks up the paper and looks at it with an air of wonder before breaking the seal.

Tasha, it reads, in elegant handwriting. The Templars are garrisoned at the north end of the docks in a large white building – just look for the bound Star-and-Anchor on the side. It is also the city's hospital, so if your friend was hurt you will still find him there. It's signed Riddle Smith.

Tasha slides the message in to one of her belt's pockets and looks up. "I got what I needed to know; thanks for your help!" After waving to the secretary, Tasha is off again. Next stop: the Templar garrison!

While the wires crisscrossing the streets make flying in the city carry a certain risk, it's another thing to just bypass the streets altogether. The shipping port has no such wires extending out over the docks, after all, and the Templar building even has its own mooring tower for airships and roof access.

It's here Tasha finds the Sinaian Eeee expression "wires" to be especially apt as she navigates away from the thin implements of winged doom. Once she's in free air and the hospital is before her, she decides to take a liberty, and land on the roof instead of walking in, for once.

The Vartan guards on the room don't seem alarmed when Tasha lands and approaches. "You needs help?" one asks in Standard, since… well, since Tasha has a Karnor head probably.

"I just got back from the dam, and am looking for someone I left in the care of the Templars," Tasha squawks back, grinning. It may be a little petty, but she always enjoys surprising Vartans in speaking perfect Vartan – or as perfect as a Karnor head is ever going to get, anyway.

"Oh, hospital is top floor," the Guard replies, stepping aside so he's not blocking access to the door. Since the building only has two floors though, it shouldn't be hard to find where she's going.

"Thanks!" She gives her usual wave as she heads in, tail wagging behind her. Once inside, she decides to try and locate a person behind a large desk in a central location; those people seem to know everything in this society.

It's clear as soon as she enters the building that it's not a refurbished structure from Old Elamoore, but something built from scratch using steel beams, concrete and glass – a modern Abaddonian structure, even if it is a bit bunker-like. The stairs open up into a central atrium, with glass windows overlooking the harbor and back towards the city on the opposite wall, along with several hallways. There is circular desk in the center, well lit with artificial lights embedded in the ceiling, and surrounded by clusters of couches and chairs. The desk is manned by two humans, a cheetah and a Karnor, of mixed ages.

As a political figure, Tasha has come to realize a life more complicated than she initially imagined. Here, she decides, is one of the problems that comes with a public life: species selection. Her politics demand she strive for equality, which presents something of a problem in situations like this. "Hello," she greets everyone as she lays her hands on the counter, leaning forward. "I'm looking for a man named Aaron Lightfoot, who I asked the Knights to recover when I was summoned to the airfield. He may also have been in possession of a Spitter gun, which I need." She'll let them sort themselves out; a political life may have its difficulties, but it also has its tricks.

The older human male (who is probably the first completely bald human Tasha has seen) checks some papers. "Was your friend with Lancer Malachite?" he asks.

"That's who I asked to find him, yes," Tasha replies, ears perking forward as she awaits the news.

"What is your relation to the patient?" the man asks next.

"He's my friend and comrade. I brought him along during my test session; he wanted to check for any signs of his family who vanished when Elamoore departed Sinai. I entrusted him the Spitter gun, because I could not fly and carry my other weapon," the young woman replies. "He was part of my party when I came to this planet."

"He is in recovery room 13," the man says, and places a clipboard and pen down on the counter. "Please sign in here," he says, pointing to the bottom of a list of names and times.

The woman examines the list, then signs, "Tasha," before writing in the time.

With that bit of bureaucracy out of the way, the man points to one of the halls. "Just down that hall, should be on the right hand side."

"Thank you." The woman smiles, this time nervously, before proceeding down the hall. When she locates the room, she simply heads in. "Aaron?"

The familiar scarred torso of Aaron is sitting up in bed, a worn looking and poorly bound book open in his lap. The spitter rifle is on the bed next to him, apparently asleep. "Ah!" the Lapi startles, then blinks and smiles when he sees it's Tasha. "You survived, I see," he notes.

"It was mostly guard duty; I'm fine," Tasha lies, not wanting to worry him while he's recovering. "I just wanted to stop by and see if you're alright, and also to recover the Spitter. How are you?"

"Oh, I'm fine, but that could be the pain-killers they gave me," the buck says, looking a little loopy still. "You know me, can't have an adventure without a new scar for a souvenir. Don't think I'll be showing this one off though."

Tasha looks around, then spots a seat and sits down before asking, "What happened?"

"Oh, just… well… you've ridden a Vykarin, but how about a Drokar?" the buck asks.

"That was a knobby ride and I was a poor girl! Of course not," Tasha replies, chuckling. "Maybe I will soon, though, given how things are going. I can sip now. Can you believe it? Did you fall off?"

"Nooo, because I was holding onto the back of the Templar, and so was riding the horse and his tail, which was armored, by the way," Aaron notes, his ears drooping. "The thing jumped over a log, and I cut myself on the armor when we landed. It was… I doubt there's any really reference for that sort of pain if you aren't a man. I needed stitches but nothing fell out at least. The swelling was impressive."

The young woman recoils when she gets it, eyes widening. "Oh … well … I hope there isn't any permanent damage, at least?"

"I haven't really looked," Aaron admits. "They've got it all numbed up… which is also a bit disturbing… but they said everything will still work. At least I didn't give in to hysterical laughter like the time a demon snipped off my hand and turned it into a balloon."

Tasha also blinks at this description, and decides maybe her friend is still a little too addled. She reaches over and pats the man's hand, smiling. "Well, I just wanted to make sure you're O.K. I need to return the Spitter gun, and I have a ceremony to attend at 1800 at the Silent-One embassy. I'd invite you to join me, but I think you need your rest."

"A Silent-Ones ceremony, eh?" the Lapi asks with a grin. "Sorry to miss it. I think that's when they change my ice-pack though. But I've got my aunt's recipe book to decipher, so it's not like I'll be bored."

"That's good. If you need anything, or have any requests, have the hospital contact PHTO central and have them send your request my way. I'll see you get what you need." After patting the man's hand one more time, Tasha stands, turning to walk over and gently pick up the Spitter. "I guess I'd best get this back, then get ready. It'll be my first major Silent-One event."

"You've been to minor ones already?" Aaron asks.

"In a sense." Cradling the organic gun with her left arm, Tasha turns and smiles. "Take care, now. Remember: contact me if you need anything!"

"Sure thing… uh… " the buck starts to say, then goes blank for a moment. "Tasha!" he finally finishes, as if he knew it all along.

Tasha just chuckles, giving the man a big smile before she heads on out. It's back to the roof now, and to the Confederate Embassy. She can only hope she doesn't get the same reaction she did last time, what with a Spitter in her hands.

Apparently carrying a Spitter into the embassy isn't a big deal, since that's where they're kept in the first place. Tasha is waved through – the receptionist there is the same as that morning's, so recognizes Tasha – to the shooting range.

Proceeding down stairs, Tasha explains to the guard her presence, then heads on in to the armory. Maybe the Colonel will be here, she thinks.

It turns out that Rapatia Talonstrike is there, apparently giving an Eeee pistol-training. After Tasha has turned in the living rifle and the special bullet, the colonel notices her and comes over. "So, did the Spitter work out for you? Heard you may have encountered the Rotbiters," she asks.

"Unfortunately, I wasn't able to use it," Tasha begins as she turns around, then nods in greeting to the older Vartan. "There were Knights downrange, so I decided against risking a miss and left it in the care of a trusted friend. In the end, I ended up having to kill one with the chain-sword before the other was lanced by a rider. And then," the young woman takes a breath, reaching back to run her hand through her hair since her styling efforts already perished as a casualty of the battle, "I was recalled to the airfield and flew interdiction against a giant skedate. That's where I was most of the day, overseeing the rebuilding efforts after we killed the big one."

"Ah, a good day then," Rapatia says, grasping Tasha on the shoulder. "Sounds like you had lots of fun!"

Tasha's hair is dislodged by the hand, causing the young woman to smile up through her locks. "You could say that. I'm apparently to be honored in a Silent-One ceremony tonight, in fact," she admits.

The Vartan's brows go up. "Oh? What sort of ceremony?" Rapatia asks.

"It seems they're honoring me for my first combat with a 'kaiju,' he called it. Really, it was a joint effort, but well … " Tasha gives the other Vartan a shrug and admits, "Politics. And, really, I am honored. It may help the cause, too."

"Be careful if they ask you to pledge anything, or if it's officiated by one of their priests," Rapatia advises. "If it's just the Archon though… he won't trick you into anything."

"Here's hoping. My thought is, if they tell me it's an honor, then I'm not going to argue. I'm not in the habit of publicly patting myself on the back for things I feel need to be done, but if they chose to honor me, then it's my duty to accept and be grateful." The young woman smiles, if lopsidedly. "And who knows, maybe I'll learn something? That said, can I … ," she nods subtly towards the waiting Eeee, " … talk to you alone briefly before I depart?"

Rapatia looks back to see that her student has managed to shoot himself, then nods to one of the other officers to take over for her. "Sure, we can talk in the armory office," the woman says, and guides Tasha to a small room in the back wall, next to the weapon racks.

Tasha can't help but give the poor Eeee a worried look as she catches sight of the injury, and is still shaking her head by the time they enter. Taking a breath, the young woman says, "I didn't want this to be more than an aside, but I didn't get a chance to say it last time, so … " Her head tilts, and her golden eyes watch the other Vartan carefully, "Rehab asked me to tell you that you were his brightest student, and that he thought highly of you."

"Hmmm," Rapatia replies, crossing her arms over her chest and tapping her talons on her elbow pads. "Not surprising," she finally says. "I am his best student."

That causes Tasha to bark a laugh, releasing the anxiety she had in completely Rehab's request. "Well! It looks like you're modest, too!" She laughs again, then shakes her head. "Don't be too hard on the old bird, Colonel – that one's from me. Anyway," she glances towards the exit, "I'd better head off if I plan to give the Doctor and myself enough time ti get ready."

"I was married to him, I can be as hard as I like on him," Rapatia notes. "Good luck with your ceremony tonight."

Tasha winces. "I'm sorry," she insists, holding her hands up. "I didn't know. I'll just … ," she glances at the door again, " … go. Now."

"I've been married several times, Tasha," Rapatia laughs, and waves the girl out of the office.

"Sorry!" Tasha apologizes again out of reflex as she heads for the door. "Thank you! We'll talk again!" The last thing the Colonel hears before Tasha hurries out is, "I want to know who this 'other' crazy Karnor girl is! Bye!" And then she's gone.

It's still fairly early in the afternoon, and so Tasha finds Dr. Zerachiel eating lunch when she returns to the council building and his room. If not for the food, there'd be no evidence that he'd ever left his seat since that morning.

As if nothing happened, Tasha drops right back in to the seat she had occupied before the day went crazy. "Hi, I'm back," she says unnecessarily, grinning at the man. "So, find anything? I also have a party invitation to you, if you'd like to attend a Silent-One ceremony."

"I've been invited to a party?" Zerachiel asks, blinking and then rubbing his eyes. "Oh… I've found quite a lot of interesting data. Several likely well sites, and decent contamination maps… where's Aaron?"

"He hurt his … pride … during the evacuation from the contaminated area, shortly after I engaged rotbiters," Tasha says, trying to maintain a perfectly neutral smile. "As for the ceremony, I'm doing the inviting, as it's for me. Don't worry; I asked first."

"Oh well… I suppose I should get out a bit," Zerachiel admits. "There are still some data sets that need to be crunched once the computers have the time. But so far it looks like we can remove the sensor pack from your Titan."

"Oh, already? I was sure we'd need another flight or two. That's good news. It looks like our mission's almost done, then, and I'll be on standby duty." Tasha turns her head, pursing her muzzle as she thinks. "Maybe I can finally have that friendly duel with Tomorrow's-Hope, and get some practice time in. I could also consider attempting to get a read on the UFO – that'll take some prep work. Hmm."

"For something long-range like that, you'll need the pack still," Zerachiel notes. "With some adjustments."

"I hope it can withstand concentrated microwaves as well as other potential defenses. Someone I spoke with – and please don't repeat this – explained that another vessel had entered the UFO's range and was subsequently destroyed by concentrated radiation. It may have other defenses. Still, it's an unknown, and that's what we're here for. I can't be afraid if it; best to get it done and out of the way." The woman still smiles, although her gaze seems more distant than it was before she started talking about the unknown shine in the sky. "I'm sure I'll be fine now."

Zerachiel looks at Tasha as if uncertain, then just nods. "So… do we have to dress formal for this party?" he asks. "I hope I won't be expected to dance… "

"They said dress casual. Since this is the Silent-Ones we're talking about, I'm taking casual to mean 'not as formal.' I'll be doing my hair and wearing my uniform. I really need to get some new clothes, come to think of it. Anyway, I'll come get you before we need to go," the young woman answers.

"Hmm, I don't know much about Silent-Ones customs here," Zerachiel admits. "Maybe there's a protocol officer or similar we can ask for advice?"

"Well, given I only have one formal outfit and my ability to style my hair is limited to what Kitty taught me, I'm going to go with what I have in the thought I lack anything else. The Archon doesn't seem like a man to engineer my embarrassment, so I think we'll be fine. Anyway," Tasha rises from her seat, patting the man's shoulder, "If you don't mind, I'm going to take a nap. Wake me half an hour before we go, hokay?"

"Alright… uh… what time would that be again?" the man asks.

"1800 Abaddonian Time," Tasha replies. Instead of going to her room, she just walks over the Zerachiel's bed and just flops down. "I am exhausted!"

---

It really isn't all that surprising to find that the Silent-Ones Embassy used to be the Rephidim Temple embassy with a few minor changes, such as electricity and 'decorative' armor plating in areas. Tasha and Zerachiel are expected and let in by the fully-masked guards after just a cursory check for weapons or explosives. Feather-Tail greets them on the inside, and leads them to what was probably a conference room originally, but is now a cozy banquet hall.

The table is low, so that everyone is sitting cross-legged. Save for Strength-of-Stones at the head of the long table, everyone is dressed exactly alike, so that only their half-masks can really be used to identify them (since Tasha hasn't had a chance to memorize things like spot patterns). Each man wears a non-shiny gold colored tunic and white knee-length shorts. All eyes are on the hybrid and her ancient companion, as Feather-Tail brings them to their floor-cushion seats at the far end of the table opposite the Archon.

Tasha asides to the Doctor as they proceeded inside that her Silent-One ritual knowledge is not only piecemeal, but also several thousand years old. She followed with a nervous chuckle, a chuckle quickly cut off as Feather-Tail moved to open the door.

As Tasha walks in, she takes a moment to sweep the room with her gaze, then steps forward to bow in the fashion she remembers is appropriate for a foreigner meeting an Archon, hoping it's still accurate. She then signs, "Thank you for seeing me Archon Strength-of-Stones, all; I know this is a great honor. I must admit that while I have studied Silent-One ritual and politics, that knowledge is six thousand years old, and I may need guidance in this matter. My associate, the Doctor, will observe, but does not know sign; I would ask permission to translate when it is appropriate to do so."

The Archon nods with a grin, and gestures for them both to sit.

Tasha bows again to the Archon, whispers to the doctor, then moves and takes a seat cross-legged. Kneeling on knees just doesn't work with a jack-legged stance. She's crisp in her uniform, hair done as best she knows how, and she maintains a serious neutrality to her expression; all based on her six thousand year old knowledge.

Feather-Tail leaves the room, and most of the men seem to relax subtly. There isn't any 'chit-chat' signing however. The Archon does sign, though. "Please tell me of your encounter with the daikaiju today," he asks. Although Tasha isn't familiar with the odd sign he's asking about, she should be figure out from context that he means the monster at the dam.

The young woman inclines her head, then whispers the translation before starting her reply. Daikaiju is a new sign, but thanks to Nora, learning sign has been easier than she expected. "In the course of my combined weapons training and hunting action, I came to spot and and then intercept a group of Knights Templar battling rotbiters, which I then engaged with the chain-sword lent to me by Commanding-Hand, who is ever useful. I managed to kill one before Lancer Malachite fell the second; he had come to locate me and request I return to the hangar bay, which I did. After acquiring our weapon, we then sortied and interdicted the daikaiju at the shore of the dam.Upon arrival we noted its position, the silence of the dam guns, and analyzed the situation before landing. After gauging motion, we place ourself in the path of the swinging tail, severing it by way of its force and our active cutting. We then observed until we had the daikaiju's attention, and proceeded to relocate ourself near a canyon wall, predicted impact, then engaged rapid ascent causing the daikaiju to ram the cliff wall and partially bury itself in the ensuring landslide. We watched the guns fire incendiary rounds, and, after determining the creature was likely dead, remained on-site until repairs were completed." As she signs, she whispers the translation and she even whispers the odd change in self reference; "we" instead of "I," etc. In sign, it's not the high gesture of the leaders of the Silent-Ones; she doesn't even knows those. No, it's definitely the "we" of a composite entity.

"But how did you feel?" Strength-of-Stones signs. "Was this not your first combat?"

"It was. Due to the complexities of my machine, I did not feel much, if anything; when we are of the same mind, emotion becomes counter to our purpose. However, prior to this state, I would say I felt a mix conviction, necessity, protective instinct, and what fear remained in me," Tasha signs in reply.

This brings on a bit of head bobbing from the crowd. "Combat has sometimes been described to me as an altered state of awareness," Strength-of-Stones notes. "Fighting the rotbiters on the ground must have felt different then?"

"It was the memory of Miss Cromwell that drove me to fight," Tasha signs back, still translating in whisper. "The Terran," a pause, then, "Excuse me Archon, Expedition Ambassador, reminds me of someone who is dear to me. In turn, his tragedy drove me to fight and disregard the dangers and the fear that lingered from my near-destruction upon detecting the rift. I did not want there to be another Lyle Cromwell; I did not want anyone to die. It is something worth doing, even were I alone, and without duty or obligation. And in doing this thing, it became easier. In the end, I did not fear. I have faced death many times; I have seen what it is like to die. I have found there is no answer in dwelling on death; the answer to death resides with life, and how it is lived. For me, that means people, even those I don't know yet. It is part of why the JEF exists."

The door opens just as Strengh-of-Stones seems about to sign, and he pauses. A train of Silent-Ones enters, each carrying a covered tray, which are set before the seated men. From the way some of them subtly interact, it may be that some of them are actually the wives of the men. Feather-Tail serves the Archon, while two younger, unmasked girls serve Tasha and Zerachiel. They all then file out as silently as they entered.

A large pitcher of water is also passed around, so that everyone can fill their cup.

Tasha offers the serving girl who attends her a smile, if a somewhat distant one. The look in her eyes is enough to show she isn't quite in the same space of mind as plates and servants; she's somewhere else, where duty, life, Archons and conviction reside. When the serving is done, Tasha rests her hands and awaits the Archon, eyes on him.

After the last attendant has left, the Archon signs, "We thank the Star for these blessings of food and for the love and duty that went into its preparation." There's a sense that this isn't exactly a traditional prayer, but perhaps is a more private one. Once the Archon has signed, the men remove the lids from their trays. While several of the meals seem customized, they are for the most part the same: a glazed, roasted animal (four legs, but of course no head, and very small for a complete animal), several vegetables and a few slices of different kinds of bread. Some of the men have small bowls of soup instead of vegetables.

Tasha bows her head, but does not offer a sign. In truth, she's somewhat uncertain who to offer prayers to at this point, and further, if offering prayers to the God of Conflict is really wise given present company. Abaddon doesn't need prayers, anyway, she reminds herself. She's sure that battle was prayer enough, unless Abaddon really is that … being. A shiver runs down Tasha's spine, which she tries to hide by taking an interest in her meal.

Both her and Zerachiel were served the same thing; small roasted animal, steamed vegetables and bread, although there are also different spreads on each piece of bread now that she can see them up close. Tomorrow's-Hope, seating nearest to Tasha, pulls the haunch away from his animal and sort of salutes Tasha with it before he starts to eat.

Tasha looks up at the motion, then smiles widely. A simple gesture, but enough to break her concentration and turn her mind away from the uncertainty of religion. She inclines her head right back, and, seeing the man's started, begins in herself. "You're free to eat now, Doctor," she whispers after her first bite, realizing she's very hungry after all that running and fighting.

Zerachiel eats in silence, using his fingers like the Silent-Ones seem to do. "You don't suppose signing with food in your hand is considered talking with your mouth full?" he whispers very quietly to Tasha.

The meat is unlike anything Tasha's tasted before, but it's definitely tasty, especially with whatever sort of spiced glaze it was roasted in.

"That seems reasonable," Tasha whispers back. Like Zerachiel, she eats with her fingers. Unlike the ancient Karnor, this is actually how she's accustomed to eating – eating utensils more specialized than a common knife didn't come in to the picture until much later in her life.

After a few bites in, Tasha nods in approval. "I like this," she tells the doctor. Then, after wiping her hands clean, signs to the Archon, "This is very good; I've had nothing like it before. You have excellent cooks, Archon."

"It is a simple dish, but hearty," the Archon replies – talking with his mouth full, as only a cheetah can. "The meat is very common though."

Tasha follows the Archon's example by signing while eating; she does, however, wipe her hands off before signing, though. "Common things can be quite good. I have come to taste many exotic dishes in my travels, and yet there are some that are simple that I found better. Rare or common: these things do not measure quality alone. Just as with people, I think."

"A very wise observation," Strength-of-Stones replies. "I shall pass that along to the kitchen."

It occurs to the Vartan that, while tasting different, there was still something familiar about the texture of the meat. Then she realizes - Blammo is just not a very good cook, roasting things over an open flame. Or perhaps the diet of the local rabbits is richer than that available to the ones running wild on the Orpheus. It's probably a good thing that Aaron couldn't accompany her after all.

Tasha pauses in her meal, thinking back to that cave with the hanging rabbits. She grits her teeth a moment, but the scent is very alluring, and the meat before her doesn't look at all like what was in the cave. A VERY good thing, she decides as she slowly resumes eating; she's too hungry, and it's nothing she hasn't had before, after all.

The men eat like… well, like soldiers. Nearly everyone finishes their meal at the same time, and there are a few instances of several of them raising and drinking from their cups at the same time (which luckily doesn't happen with men slurping their soup). It all reinforces the sense of everyone being somehow identical except for their mask.

Tasha, being as far from identical as anyone can be, isn't exactly in-step, but she's no stranger to the need to eat quickly. She tempers her speed, not wanting to show a lack control, and aims to finish shortly after the first few soldiers do, as seems polite. After wiping her hands again, she settles back and observes the Archon.

The covers go back onto the trays when everyone has finished, and the train of servers enters again to collect them. A few extras begin placing bowls of water and linen napkins down, which are apparently used for washing ones hands. Strength-of-Stones remains silent, in the figurative sense that he's washing his hands and not signing with them. As before, it seems that there's no conversation while the attendants are present.

The half-Vartan notes the behavior as she washes her hands along with the others. Do women have a lesser place in Silent-One society? Is this new, as with the Terrans? When did it happen that women were so poorly thought of? And yet, here I am … Tasha tries not to think that her presence may be helped by thoughts she's 'manly,' and focuses on her hands.

Since some of the servants are maskless boys (at least, probably are… it's hard to tell with the younger cheetahs) it may be something other than gender-related. Aside from the Archon and Zerachiel, the dinner guests are all Titan pilots or in positions related to Titans. They're also big and muscular – which would make sense, from what Tasha remembers of how the Reaper was controlled.

Once the attendants have all left again, the Archon stands, and gestures for Tasha to rise up as well.

Perhaps this is the Silent-One class system in action, then, Tasha decides. She recalls Fallen-Star's situation, barely acknowledged and nearly lost in that alien unity. While Tasha desires unity, unity of that degree, and that system, is something she can only politely observe and never truly be comfortable with. She thinks on this until indicated, then stands as bidden.

The other men all stand and turn to face Tasha. Zerachiel takes a moment to brush down his uniform as he's the last to stand. "We here, we alone, have piloted Titans in combat," Strength-of-Stones signs, although he's obviously not including Zerachiel – but he's also implying he's done it himself. "We have fought to protect this unique land. We have fought the creatures of Hell. It binds us together."

Uncertain if she should 'speak up' at this time, Tasha simply stands, watches, and tries to, if not exactly copy, take on the same formality she observes.

"May the newest member of our fraternity step forward and be recognized," the Archon signs with one hand, and beckons Tasha with the other. Apparently she's supposed to just walk across the top of the table.

Tasha pauses a moment, seeming uncertainty that she's supposed to tread across the table, but having seen just how odd some customs can be, can't say this is the strangest thing she's ever been asked to do. After ascertaining her course, she proceeds. Her hooves speak for her, clip-clopping as she walks.

As she passes each man, he turns to keep her in sight. When she finally reaches the other end, the Archon signs, simply, "Kneel."

The young woman kneels, one nee to the table, the other bent to support and balance her. She watches curiously, and wonders at the meaning behind the actions.

There is movement behind Tasha, as the men on either side of the table do something. It becomes clearer when the ones in Tasha's peripheral vision do it though; they're passing two ornate looking boxes hand-to-hand. The ones at the end, to either side of the Archon, open the lids and hold the boxes out to Strength-of-Stones – but from her lower vantage Tasha can't see what's in them yet.

Tasha swallows her curiosity and does her best to remain where she is, save the flicker of an eye. It strikes her that just a year ago she'd have blurted something rude out around this point, if indeed anyone had taken her seriously enough to honor at all. Now, she's kneeling before a high official to be honored. So much has changed; herself most of all. She fought to be something more, and here and now, she realizes she ha succeeded. Inwardly, she smiles.

From the box on the right, Strength-of-Stone lifts out a mask. It's black, and semi-translucent – some sort of epoxy maybe – and is trimmed in gold. He places this on Tasha's face. The muzzle-guard is longer than on a Silent-One's mask, but leaves Tasha's nose uncovered.

With his hands free, the Archon signs, "Choose how you will be known among the People."

Now this is a curiosity; Tasha had never imagined she'd wear a mask of her own. She'd consider the oddity more, but the question posed to her takes up all her focus: a name? She didn't expect this! While Sinaian Vartans tend to rename themselves, as a matter of unspoken tradition, during major life changes, Tasha had since put aside the practice as she tried to find her place in things. Even Nora's name, which had been her's for a while, was put aside, all for a sense of honesty. Now faced with the question again, she looks surprised, and finds herself unprepared.

Realizing she should sign something, she admits, "I had put aside self-naming in order to find a self that spoke a name of it's own. It is also an unsigned tradition among my people to rename oneself, but I have held off, in order to find a name that signs to me. In the past I have been called Aldara, a name given to me by the people of a xenophobic land. It means "Winged Gift" or "Winged Sacrifice." If it was enough for them to give freely, then it is enough now: Winged-Gift will do as my name among the People."

From the other box, Strength-of-Stones lifts a primitive-looking clay pot, and a fine tipped brush. He dips the brush, coating the tip in gold, and then begins to scribe the signs for Tasha's name on the mask with a very steady hand.

So this is how it's done! I wonder if there is a similar ceremony for all the classes as they come in to their own. While she thinks, Tasha makes certain to remain as still as possible.

With both signs done, Strength-of-Stones steps back and tilts his head, as if critiquing his own calligraphy, then he smiles and sets the implements back into their box. "You may rise now, Winged-Gift," he signs to Tasha.

The woman rises, letting her wings flap gently, then settle. She watches the Archon watch her, wondering if any of this is was what worried Rapatia. Even if it were, she can't help but feel proud; to think, she's come this far! And not only in deed; she changed her prejudices, meeting another demand she made of herself.

The Archon nods, and then removes his own mask. This move is repeated by the other men as well. "We honor and welcome you, Winged-Gift," he signs.

"You honor me with your welcome; I thank the People for their generosity and for their continued effort here, in this city torn from my home world." The young woman then inclines her head to the Archon and, by extension, the People.

The Archon then leans forward and kisses Tasha on the lips, lightly, before stepping aside. One of the box bearers is next… and it looks like everyone intends to kiss her! And without their masks she can't tell who is who.

Tasha can't help but smile a little; it's all very touching and intimate! When the Silent-Ones let their mask down, they can be a very tender people, she thinks. I hope Gabriel isn't jealous, she realizes in amusement as she awaits the next in line.

The kissing does seem a bit ceremonial… even though Tasha can't tell for certain if anyone snuck back into line for seconds. Finally though, everyone is back in the places, and the masks go back on.

While everyone sorted themselves out, Tasha took a moment to fill the Doctor in. After explaining what occurred, she finishes with, "I am to be known as Winged-Gift among the People."

"Appropriate, and hopefully it won't mean they ask you pose perched on top of statues," Zerachiel says, and then gives Tasha a quick kiss just so as not to be left out! "I wondered why they didn't want the servers around, but when they all took off their masks it made sense."

Tasha chokes a laugh at the kiss, then just shakes her head. "It does, doesn't it?"

Now that the ceremony is over with, a more casual air presides. The Archon heads for the door, signing, "Now we can meet up with the women for ice-cream."

"I will be extremely grateful if my man is also included," Tasha signs back to the Archon, and she even wiggles her ears.

Strength-of-Stones pauses and stares at Dr. Zerachiel for a moment, as if trying to place him. "Commander Akkers?" he signs questioningly to Tasha, having to spell out the name.

"Captain Akkers," Tasha signs back; her tail even wags a little just mentioning his name. "This is Doctor Zerachiel, ship's lead scientist and researcher. You met the Captain at negotiations."

"And he is your current mate?" the Archon signs next. It's probably for the best that Zerachiel can't read Silent Sign just yet.

The young woman has to cough down another laugh, but manages to do so without making too much noise, patting Eli's shoulder as she straightens. "Doctor Zerachiel is my friend," she corrects to the Archon, "I have been with the Captain and only the Captain since I awoke him on Sinai."

"Forgive my confusion," Strength-of-Stones apologizes, and gives a little bow. "Your use of the possessive led me to believe there was more to your relationship."

"What am I missing?" Eli whispers to Tasha.

"I meant that Gabriel is far away from me, and would be grateful if you had somehow brought him; that is all. It is my mistaken; I took liberties with assuming you knew who I meant. My apologizes, Archon." Tasha bows her head in reply, and when she lifts it she whispers, "My poor word choice lead the Archon to mistake you for my mate. I corrected the matter."

"I understand," Eli says, bowing back. "That's how I usually got dates anyway," he asides to Tasha. Meanwhile the men are filing out, since apparently ice-cream isn't served in the conference room.

Tasha pats Eli's leg and rises. "Come. There's apparently going to be something called 'ice cream'. Nora's memor- … explanation is a bit peculiar, so I'm uncertain what it is, save that it's cold and we eat it." She then joins the others to see what this 'ice cream' is all about.

There is apparently a proper dining hall, where most of the staff are eating. It has a buffet for hot dishes… and a separate one for desserts, apparently. The latter is where the Titaneers go, where there are several tubs of frozen confection along with syrups and toppings – which include fish-flakes and small pieces of meat as well as fruits and cookie bits. The tubs are labeled plain, sweet cream, tuna and rabbit.

Tasha stands before the tubs, eying them in the same way a scholar might eye a curious artifact. "It's frozen meat," she states to Eli after a moment, then shakes her head in the style of one amazed. "Ground up, paste-like, frozen meat. And … sweet cream that has also been rendered in to cold paste. Plain must be the common variety. You had this on Terra?"

"We had more flavors," the Karnor notes. "Usually the meat variety was more 'meat flavored' and still mostly cream. Of course it also came in tiny little pebbles… and other forms," he explains. "I'd suggest the sweet cream with some fruit or cookie bits mixed in."

"I'll try that. I think I'll have a bit of each. We're the JEF after all: we must explore strange new things. Today, that's ice cream." Smiling, Tasha helps herself and takes the Doctor's advice in to account. She ends up with the Doctor's suggestion, one tuna scoop with fish bits, one rabbit scoop with meat bits, and one plain with, well, nothing. She then seats herself at the groups table, spoon in hand.

The tables are round, making it easier to talk when you need to be seen clearly, and the pilots and others are mixed together with the servers from earlier (who do seem to have familial relationships with the men). Even the Archon and Feather-Tail sit together. The former Savanite slave eats from her cup of ice-cream with small scoops of her spoon, which she then licks off. The others aren't quite as delicate.

Not needing to be formal, Tasha eats as she usually does: fast. It's an old habit from when she lived back on The Rake and had to fight to get equal portions against men twice her size, not to mention the short time she usually had to eat. She takes s spoonful of tuna and tries it. "I like this this; it's savory and the bits add a certain crunch. Fish wasn't common fair back home unless were were in a seaside port, and I never could get enough of it." She stakes another scoop and enjoys it before signing, "How fairs the dam, anyway? Are such huge creatures common those close to the Pit?"

"There has not be a flood alarm, so I assume the dam is doing well," Strength-of-Stones signs. "The daikaiju are rare, thank the Star. But at least they are bigger targets than the more annoying creatures."

"I found the rotbiters to be very agile for their size and build, and unexpectedly long ranged. If I had realized what I was fighting, I would have had been less quick to use my wing as a shield." Tasha's ears wiggle as she tries a bit of rabbit ice cream, hoping to whatever god still cares for her that Aaron never comes to know how much she likes it. "Prior to arriving here I had a weapon in the works, and during the flight I had wondered if the request was a needless one. After today, I regret I did not push it more!"

"A custom weapon for you?" Tomorrow's-Hope signs, breaking into the conversation. "A cutting shield like your machine wields?"

"You are very astute, Tomorrow's-Hope. Yes, that, if not anywhere so advanced in its machinery. Originally it was created to take advantage of my Titan weapon's training, but now I see how useful it would be to anyone fighting these monstrosities. The version under works – I call it a 'microshaard' as the original is a 'shaard' – features a large shielding and cutting surface, the ability to be combined in to one large weapon, with embedded shotguns usable while the weapon is split. Perhaps our Captain will be able to bring the completed product by; I would be happy to share its design schematics with the Knights and other defenders," Tasha signs in reply, taking time out from her ice cream exploration.

"A gun-shield to compete with the gun-blades of the Templars?" Strength-of-Stones asks, his ears wiggling in humor. Feather-Tail rolls her eyes a bit.

"I don't know about compete," Tasha insists, wiggling her ears back. "It is not a light weapon, and is very specialized. It's primarily meant for defensive roles."

"That reminds me – I owe you a duel," the half-Vartan suddenly points out.

Tomorrow's-Hope smiles at that. "Yes, that will be enjoyable. I will have the advantage of experience," he signs.

"I hope your experience will be an education; I haven't had the time to train in combat as much as other roles. We did not anticipating my needing to fight so soon, especially not so many times. Getting some practice in will be for the good of everyone." Tasha salutes with her spoon, takes another scoop, then signs, "Do you wish to fight the full strength of my machine, or only as much of myself as I may separate as pilot?"

The cheetah flexes his arm to show his muscles, and signs, "Whichever setting lets us pit our physical reflexes and strength best."

"First one, then the other, I think. My physical strength does not usually apply; I pilot via my mind, often in cooperation with my AI. The Melchior is one of the finest machines of its era, crafted by that era's finest technicians. I owe much to it, and hope to some day live up to its potential. It is good to be among those who understand that desire," Tasha signs, smiling.

"We could also spar in the gym instead, as warm up," the Silent-Ones pilot suggests.

"That is a good idea. I am free the rest of the day and am still worked up; I should be able to manage despite being a bit sore," the young woman agrees.

"Meet me in an hour, after our meals have settled?" the man suggests.

"I will. That reminds me," Tasha turns to the Archon, "Archon, this mask I have been gifted, what is the proper us of it? I would hate to wear it improperly after such a high honor."

"It is ceremonial, as you are not a Silent-One and therefore are not required to wear it in public – only for special functions," the Archon signs one-handed, while licking his ice-cream bowl.

Tasha inclines her head. "I will store it safely and treasure it always. Thank you, Archon. Now, I think I will also enjoy this gift of ice cream as well as my pride before I lose it when I am inevitably, soundly beaten." Her ears wiggle, and she leans back to finish up her icy treat.