A flat white plane stretches out before Tasha, with a slight change in shade to delineate the horizon and separate the ground and sky. The big black-and-gold Vartan next to her says, "Simulation mode engaged. What would you like to do now, Tasha?"

Tasha stands dressed in one of two ways she always appears in this digital world: armored just as the Melchior's AI is, with only her head and her height to indicate they are separate entities. "Melchior, what's your opinion of our last mission? You said we were at 90% efficiency; how could we have improved upon that strategy?"

"We could not have improved further under the circumstances," Melchior notes, golden eyes focused on Tasha. "That is due to the enemy being an unknown element. A second encounter would give the opportunity for improvement only because we are familiar with the foe."

"It's nice to know that we performed as efficiently as possible given the situation," Tasha says, smiling back at the virtual representation of her machine's consciousness. "Given that we did as well as possible, we'll move on. Melchior, tomorrow we will perform a scouting mission in attempt to locate and scan the UFO reported to be hovering near the Forbidden Zone. We can expect to encounter, at the very least, a mazer and, if the Zone has increased, a potentially larger distortion radius. Do you know of any craft or other Expedition technology that could hover in a region for years and deploy directed microwaves in sufficient power to destroy a Garuda?"

"It is unclear if the UFO is permanently hovering," Melchior notes. "However any Expedition ship of corvette class or higher could mount a weapons-grade maser. Bellerophon and Fenris had powerful masers for interplanetary high-bandwidth communication, but they would not deliver enough energy to be considered weapons at anything other than close range. It is possible that a stator may still be operating after so long with proper maintenance."

"Stators can generate microwave beams at that distance? Or, do you mean an attached technology to whatever craft of machine is hovering there?" Tasha asks, ears swiveling forward as she watches the AI. As is often the case, she has to concentrate to not slip in to thinking how beautiful he is, which has sidetracked her in the past.

"A maser is powered by electricity," Melchior explains. "Stators also use electricity, although their power needs are much higher. They do need maintenance from Khattan technicians occasionally, depending on their rate of use, generally around the 10,000 hour mark."

The young woman nods her head. "Your stator, and the Bellerophon's, remained viable even after six-thousand years, but they weren't in constant use. This leads me to a theory, based on Captain Raehab and Ambassador's Smith's observation: we may be dealing with the first sign of Khattan presence in the form of an observation post with, potentially, the purpose of preventing imbalance between the factions via technological superiority, and possibly also to keep them informed of any special discoveries. What do you think?"

"There is insufficient evidence for me to form a hypothesis," Melchior admits, and turns to gaze into the distance. "It is certainly within the realm of possibility. Given our experiences, however, it may also be an unknown living entity or Sifran device. The Expedition used masers for communication, so triggering the effect from the unknown contact and analyzing the beam could tell us if it is an attempt at communication."

Tasha's face splits in to a grin at Melchior's suggestion. "I was just about to suggest that. We may also wish to send our own IFF; as members of both the original and current JEF,  we may be able signal an automated Fleet source to let us approach, or a manned source to betray its nature. However," here the young woman gives him a sidelong look, " … they may also be able to do the same to us. Given you are a Khattan Trade Coalition secret project for a key false flag mission, there is the possibility they know of your existence and will attempt your recovery using remote direction; I would then have to attempt to counter this, and given my expertise level, that seems difficult to bet on. I suspect they would wish capture over destruction, as I am the only known viable pilot. We are an exception the Phoenix did not have: your black box systems and design make you irreplaceable and necessary to a conspiracy that may well have been the Khattan Trade Coalition's primary goal in this system."

"If they initiate communication then, what would be our response?" the AI asks. "I do not know if there are override codes that would let a Khattan system take control of me."

"Then we must keep that avenue of attack in mind, but put it aside as we have no details to counteract it at this time. As for our response … ," Tasha's head tilts, and she turns to resume gazing out in to the distance, as Melchior does, " … I think identifying us as what we are, then requesting an ID and non-aggression stance would be best. There's no need to go in to details immediately; if they're interested they'll ask. What is most likely to draw their attention is that we are the Melchior, and if they recall their original purpose at all, this will make us a unique opportunity they may not wish to put aside. By not formally identifying ourselves – say, leaving that quiet – we can hopefully put aside any concerns over our allegiance for at least a little while."

The big Vartan nods, and sweeps his arm towards the horizon. In it's wake, the landscape of Abaddon appears in miniature as if seen from a great height. The pit is beneath their hooves, and their previous course is marked by a glowing green line in the air. The Forbidden Zone is a hazy cylinder, where mapping data was uncertain – and further beyond that is a red star indicating the likely position of the unknown contact. "How do you wish to approach, assuming our target's territory is relatively constant?" he asks.

Tasha steps forward and points to the green travel line, "Originally, we proceeded at an altitude designed for efficiency. The Phoenix, traveling at similar altitude for other reasons, was shot down on approach. Given that the target is evasive of detection by both radar and direct approach, and that it uses directed energy that is reduced by atmospheric concentration, my thought is that we should approach at a very low altitude." Tasha points to the Pit, and a new flight line is formed, moving to the outer rim, then following the terrain. It angles away from the Forbidden Zone, as well. "We'll give the Forbidden Zone a wide berth," she suggests, showing the path angling away as it nears the target, "and follow the canyon interiors as is reasonably safe to further mask our presence. This should at least give us a visual before detection."

"If we're detected early, we will abandon the stealth approach and ascend to maneuvering or efficient height, or however communications suggest, if they are successful. Also, let's give the Forbidden Zone a name, to differentiate it from others: lets call it 'Avernus'," Tasha finishes.

"Name noted," Melchior says, and expands the area around the Forbidden Zone to highlight the cracked surface of the ground and help plot a course through the canyons. The area beneath the target, however, is less detailed – as if seen from a great distance. "I would suggest finding a shielded vantage point from which to better observe the target using passive means as well, and for a potential location to retreat to."

Tasha pauses as the area is enhanced, and the system can feel the anxiety that runs through her. She stares at it for a few seconds, then clears her throat and pushes to continue. "That is a excellent idea. Given the relative lack of terrain detail, let's select here, here, and here," she points to recorded spots of potential defensibility that were detected during the first flight, " … then scan for additional defensible points as we near the suspected contact location. In this way, we'll have a series of shielded points to leapfrog from as an escape, or approach from if we wish to press any advantage."

"The more we can obscure our approach the better," Melchior agrees. "The area may be riddled through with tunnels formed by flowing magma as well." An overlay of density changes in the ground appears, but doesn't have much detail – they were too high up for the ground-penetrating radar to record much detail.

"Those would make excellent approach paths, but I'm concerned with the geographic stability of the area. Active volcanism was detected at the center crater of Avernus, and may extend through the area. We'll use active scanning to ensure we don't approach on material that may be about to erupt, or is merely a thin layer over subsurface lava." It's no coincidence Tasha knows a little about the style of lava – she made a point of researching it during her off hours aboard the Bellerophon in a somewhat vain attempt to fight her fears and stop a similar disaster to the Fenris from reoccurring. "It seems unlikely those creatures will leave Avernus, so I'm not too concerned about them. As long as we remain outside the field, we should be safe. They may not even be in sync with our reality at that distance, and I'm in no hurry to end up in theirs."

"The large snail creature did not seem capable of surviving in the atmosphere of Abaddon," Melchior notes. "If the larger creature is present, it will be easy to spot." And then he conjures up the floating island monster where they saw it near the center of the dimensional vortex, along with the smaller, titan-sized attendants.

There's another pause with Tasha, and she grits here teeth before pressing on. "They seem interested in devouring the smaller snail-like creatures, and while the large one may deem us too small a target, the 'attendants' may seek us out if we get too close. All the more reason to avoid entering Avernus." The woman glances to her AI, and says, "It's peculiar that a system supposedly based on Behemoth is channeling resources from this dimension, if its residents cannot survive in ours. Perhaps it's a pan-dimensional portal, or a improper one, and what we're seeing is the system not quite in tune. Which brings up the target: it may also be a creature. We will handle a living entity by monitoring it at range so as not to provoke it, and make contact if it appears sentient."

"The area it inhabits or protects is unknown," Melchior says. "Are there any local maps of it created by the locals?"

"I'll check today, during the tour of the Winged Citadel," Tasha promises. She smiles a little, albeit nervously. "It should be a grand discovery, whatever happens. Maybe if we can, and we're lucky enough to locate a snail outside Avernus space, we can sheer off a piece of its shell for comparison with known crystalline structures, which may help identify both their original and use as materials. The shell is of particular interest due to its crystalline nature, which reminds me a great deal of Sifran crystal and may be similar to the Sifran crystal structures which appear on the sky islands of Sinai."

"Will we be carrying our shaard then as well?" Melchior asks.

"That may be wise, as a extra precaution against non-energy based attacks, and as a tool. We don't know what to expect, so we should prepare for anything with the tools we have. I will also be bringing aboard survival supplies, just in case," the half-Vartan answers.

"Do you plan to leave the cockpit again this time?" Melchior asks, focusing his gaze on Tasha.

"Not if I can help it," Tasha replies with a wry grin. "It may be necessary, but it's not planned upon. If I do or not will be dependent on what happens. And, in a worst case scenario that does not involve my death, I will need enough supplies to return alive."

"Remember that I cannot protect you if you leave the cockpit," Melchior notes, almost sounding upset. "You were almost eaten last time."

"I know," the young woman insists, and her machine can sense the guilt and shame beyond her words. She steps forward and lays her hand on her AI's shoulder, doing her best to smile. "I'm sorry for that; I went a little crazy. It won't happen again. I've learned my lesson and I'm stronger for it; I've learned to expect the worst and also failure, and to prepare for them. When we return, even should we meet our end, I will not let you down. I promise."

Melchior smiles, and hugs Tasha! "That is good. It is good that we help and trust one another. We are a team," he recites.

Tasha's eyebrows shoot up at the sudden and completely unexpected show of affection by her machine. She laughs, hugging and patting her AI on the back. "Yes, Melchior, we are. No, we're more than a team – no team shares what we do. I wish I had a word to describe us, but there isn't one in my or Nora's memory. Maybe we should pity society, for not knowing the strength of such interpersonal unity. We … We are; together."

"Yes, we are connected," Melchior says, finally letting Tasha go. "That is important to our efficiency; we don't want to see the other fail or sustain damage."

Tasha is still smiling when she steps back. "No, we don't. Your loss would make me an incomplete system, forever with parts of my mind and body devoid of fulfillment of purpose. More importantly, I would miss you. I think of you and this place as many things: a world where I belong, a world I share with another, an extension of self, and also a subversion of self." She draws in a breath, then exhales, watching Melchior's face. "Tomorrow's-Hope said it's my femininity that allows me to subvert myself, did I tell you that? The entity Tisiphone says I become closer to my true self here, when freed from my earthly constraints. I guess they're right, although I'm uncertain precisely what Tisiphone meant."

The big Vartan cocks his head to the side, in imitation of thoughtfulness. "While you are here, do you worry over the concerns of your life outside?" he asks. "Do you alter your behavior in hopes of making a good impression on me?"

"The world outside seems more distant here, which is ironic given that I'm usually here to address a concern of the outside world. In fact, given few questions arise here, you could say external questions are part of my basis for separation of self." The young woman suddenly blinks, taken by surprise by her own insight. It's not something she's used to hearing from herself, nor was it present a year ago. When she brings her thoughts back to the fore, she says, "Yes, I often try to act in a way that is in concordance with what I think you expect or appreciate, even as I must guide and direct."

"You should not restrain yourself here," the virtual Vartan says. "Let yourself expand and fill the space. There is nothing in you which will sour our relationship, but it is best if I understand what you fear or desire."

"Then I will henceforth be completely open, as I have come to trust you and see you as part of myself, as I am part of you," the young woman promises. She then tilts her own head, taps her chin, and says, "To be honest, when I leave here after an intensive action, I often feel lonely, reduced. Most people exist as individuals throughout their lives, and some don't even merge with their society, or other social groups. Here, we are as close as we may be without becoming one entity, so exiting can leave me with a profound sense of loneliness for a while. I am also concerned about the true purpose of your black box systems, and am not wholly sure of the 'Bird of Hermes' poem in my head. I worry a subsystem of yours may take control of you and change who you are to fulfill your original purpose, and possibly control me, as well. And … I think you're very attractive, and sometimes that confuses me."

"Valid concerns," Melchior admits. "What confuses you? Should I alter my appearance?"

"No, that would just be avoiding the feeling rather than facing it. The confusion stems from both physical and mental attraction; in many ways you are the perfect man – perhaps even more perfect than any flesh and blood man may be. But, I am also in a relationship with Gabriel, and you are a machine. There are strong reasons that prevent me from needing to contemplate advancing our relationship, which, I think, is good. But, the thought always lingers. Besides, I have come to identify your appearance with you, even if it is merely one of an almost infinite possible appearances," answers the young woman.

"I can offer no clear solution to this conundrum," Melchior admits. "Neither of us are physically present when we interact, after all, but I am programmed to respond to fantasies or to initiate rewards for successful missions. These all presume a male pilot and the female version of my avatar. However, the wiring exists to create euphoric sensations for you if you wish."

Tasha chuckles, holding her hands up. "Oh no, let's not even consider that! The last thing I need to do is to become addicted to you like some sort of drug, and a potentially intimate one at that!" Her head shakes at the very idea, and she says, "Gabriel would also be hurt, and it's not a conversation I want to need to have with him. For now, I'm comfortable as we are. We'd better move on, before I get any ideas. Lets, um … Let's practice some canyon flights, and a few sorties against possible target machines with randomized scenarios. Interrupt me when the time listed on my datapad for the Citadel tour arrives; we'll call it a day then."

---

The wastelands stream past outside the armored, steam-powered vehicle. Zerachiel practically has his head stuck out of his window (which has a slitted hatch that can be drawn over it). The seats are not very comfortable, and clearly added in as an afterthought to the Imperial vehicle – especially apparent when it hits a bump or dip in the 'road' and bounces. Malachite takes up the center aisle of the machine, stretched out as he drives. Riddle Smith smiles apologetically to Tasha after a nasty bump, saying, "You get used to it eventually. But we should be to the elevator soon."

"Oh, don't worry about me," Tasha insists as she watches Zerachiel's enthusiasm with a smile, "I'm used to bumpy rides." She glances back, and asks, "I told you I grew up on an airship, didn't I? They're usually fairly sedate, except in storms, rough winds, and air pockets. I tried riding a ptera once – that was bumpy and painful."

"Yes, Tasha's rear end has taken a lot of abuse," Eli notes, sounding perfectly serious. "Vartans are built tough, after all."

Tasha leans forward to mock-whisper "He needs a girlfriend," to Riddle Smith, then drops back in her seat and laughs until a rough bump puts an end to it.

Riddle tries not to smirk. Instead, she points through the windshield ahead, where the base of the dam is visible. A skeletal structure of girders runs up the side of the cliffs next to it. "Almost there!"

The half-Vartan leans forward to get a look, keen eyes darting here and there as she takes in details only a raptor could spot. "I managed to get a distant look while I was stationed on the dam waiting for the repair teams to organize; a grounded spacecraft of Silent-Ones origin. I wonder if it crash landed here during the large scale planet fall, or, like the Fenris arrived here later."

As the vehicle slows and is guided onto a platform, it becomes clear just how big the elevator is: capable of hauling heavy machinery – even Titans – up and down the cliff wall. While the car secured, Riddle says, "Yes, it's a Silent-One's ship from the Expedition, although it's been gutted of most of the old technology by the Knights, in order to launch a mission to Sinai centuries ago."

"That does explain how the Knights reached Sinai. I didn't see the starship they used, but presumably the remains would be known to Rephidim Temple," the young cadet remarks. She turns her gaze out a side window, watching the rocky surface of the world shrink below. "Speaking of missions, I remember you expressed concern over my first flight and urged me to be careful, but I've come to the decision that to fulfill the duty set forth by  the JEF and myself, and given that I am currently on standby without an immediate task, I have decided to continue that recon. Barring denial by the Council, which I'll inform after we leave here, I will depart tomorrow morning."

"You're chasing after the Phantom again?" Riddle asks, eyebrows raised. "I'd thought meeting Raehab would… well… dissuade you a bit more."

Tasha turns back, facing the Ambassador. "Normally it would, but I am an explorer, and it is my duty and interest to explore the Sinai System. It is, by nature, a dangerous mission, but to balk at it now would only do disservice to the people of the JEF who came before me, and allow my fear to interfere with future missions," she explains calmly.

"We are not concerned with energy weaponry," Tasha adds, more gently, "The Melchior was at the height of that era's technology; it is well shielded against weapons of all types, including makeshift masers."

"That may not be the only weapon though," Riddle notes. "After all, it could have used that because it was just enough to disable the Phoenix." The elevator rattles and slows as it reaches the top of the cliffs. Zerachiel yawns to pop his ears.

"I have consulted with my AI and we have put forth a number of scenarios and weapons, and we possess a database of Expedition-era craft. We will proceed with all due caution, but we will proceed," says with a hint of finality. The young pilot inclines her head to Riddle for her concern, then smiles a little. "I've been through dangerous missions before, and have been nearly killed several times already. Please, don't worry. I intend to bring extra survival supplies, just in case. I just wanted to tell you first, so at least you'd know why, even if you don't agree. Now, let's focus on what's in front of us – I believe you have a fascinating ruin for us to explore?"

"The Winged Citadel is not a ruin," the human ambassador notes as the car drives off of the elevator and approaches the Citadel. Giant statues line the wall, reminiscent of those flanking the hangar doors of Orpheus, before the vehicle enters the building. The hall it travels through is arched and ornate, until it turns off into a large staging area that might have once been the main hangar.

Tasha holds up her hands and flattens her ears, wincing. "I'm sorry, Ambassador. I meant 'ruin' only in jest, as a reference to the typical interest of the archetypal explorer. It may be I'm speaking six-thousand years out of the linguistic context in which the archetype and connection would be amusing," she insists, gently. Riddle Smith just rolls her eyes and chuckles.

As the vehicle travels in to the interior, Tasha finds her gaze being pulled to the side windows. "An hull design of the Expedition-era, definitely. I've seen similar in records and elsewhere. The original JEF's flagship, the Ark, possesses similar design, albeit on a far larger scale." Malachite parks the vehicle next to a long row of identical ones, and the door-ramp folds down in back. "Lasst sTop," he hisses. The hangar is full of activity; vehicles and weapons being worked on, armored troops practicing in formation… and that's just on the floor. Flyers race through a suspended obstacle course higher up.

Tasha cranes her neck as she exits, looking at first skyward (as one might expected of a flyer), then to the floor. "This is extremely impressive," she remarks as she takes in the view. "It really is. A large scale group effort for a mutual cause; we have a lot to learn here, aye, Doctor?"

"Well, it seems similar to what we saw on Sinai, in terms of mixed race cooperation," Zerachiel notes, head craning to and fro. "I'm afraid most of the military significance is lost on me, though."

"We have a lot of historical information as well, in the library," Riddle Smith explains. "There are even librarian-monks devoted to maintaining and copying the records."

"Sinai's unity is a mix of long term cohabitation and non-species aligned social interests," Tasha explains to her fellow, before turning to perk her ears and listen to Riddle. "Is that so?" Her ears shoot up, and eyes widen a bit. "Technopriests? I was certain that practice was a peculiarity of my planet alone, born, perhaps, from the technological retardation caused by the SPF and the rapid decline of a scientific education among the populace after landing. That they're also present on this world suggests either a convergent emergence based on similar situation, or else an influence."

"Or… well, everyone needs librarians," Riddle points out with a grin. "Would you like to visit the archives then?"

"Historical librarians normally lacked an ascetic devotion, except among the Silent-Ones and certain subcultures," Tasha posits right back, smiling at the exchange. "Absolutely! The good Doctor may have other interests, however. Doctor?"

"It seems like a good place to start," Zerachiel notes. "Especially if there is survey day from before the boomer event."

"The Citadel of Fire was there before the Pit appeared," Riddle explains. "You'll probably want to see how the Templars live I imagine?"

"Yes, that would be wonderful. It's unanimous, then." Tasha nods her head for the Ambassador to lead on. "I also have some personal interests I'd like to research."

After negotiating several busy corridors, the group arrives at the Library, which sprawls across several levels and chambers. Bookshelves are everywhere – more books in one place than Tasha has ever seen! There are also classrooms and lecture halls attached to the space for convenience. "Things are organized by topic, for the most part," Riddle explains. Robed Silent-Ones, humans and Karnors roam the stacks, replacing books or taking down new ones to put on their rolling carts.

"I've never seen so many books," Tasha admits with a hint of awe. "Databases may be larger in total data volume, but there's nothing like seeing knowledge incarnate to drive home the sense of history and learning. With permission, I think I may return here once my immediate tasks are complete."

"Of course," Riddle says. "It's good that you're eager to learn! Was there something specific you wanted to research?"

"I love to learn! And let me tell you, it's been non-stop since we discovered the Fenris – even before, actually." Tasha smiles, then answers, "I believe the Doctor would like to investigate geographical information. Actually, that reminds me: I'm also to look for maps of the terrain of the Avernus – excuse me, the Forbidden Zone I located – to assist my flight. There's a personal interest too – a private research goal – I'm also interested in, but I'd prefer that research keep a low profile due to potentially political or religious conflicts."

"Well, one of the librarians can help, and they are of course discreet," Riddle promises, then leads them to another room. This one has lots of tables and hundreds of cabinets with shallow drawers – a map room! "There should be charts from before the boomer that cover that area," she says.

"Doctor, why don't you look for the Pit information and I'll look for maps concerning my flight path?" The young woman pats her fellow on the shoulder, then heads for the nearest monk. "Excuse me, sir. I'm looking for maps of this region," even as she says it the half-Vartan is reaching to pull out her datapad, pausing to bring up area she needs, " … and I'm also looking for information regarding Expedition-era storage movements, especially this," there's more page flicking, until there's an imagine of the Origin Marker, " … item or those like it."

The Eeee monk begins pulling charts from various drawers, and says, "I don't know if records that far back exist for fleet disbursements, but you might find something about that stone in the religion archive." He lays out the survey maps, including one that shows Avernus as… just a plateau, with a few mineral pools marked. The area of the Phantom is still off the map, however – but the monk has a second one ready.

Tasha does something with her datapad, and then begins slowly running it over the map at a height of about a foot. She pauses mid way, purses her lips, then restarts the sweep inches back until she's satisfied, and resumes until she appears finished. "There," she says with a smile, gesturing for the next map, "thank you, that will be very helpful. Let's head for the section covering religion after I get this next map scanned in."

The monk seems a bit surprised by the use of the pads, as even Zerachiel is using one to scan his map. The Eeee obligingly spreads out the next map. It depicts a mountainous area, but lacks details like height of the mountains. The legend also notes that this map was copied (by hand) from ancient orbital surveys and is the 173rd copy. The disclaimer adds that it may not be entirely accurate as result.

"The one hundred and seventy third copy … ," Tasha breathes as she takes in the map. "It never ceases to unsettle me at just how much time has passed since the fleets left their worlds. And we, ghosts of that past, come again." Her head shakes and she resumes scanning, looking over as she slowly passes the scanner, "These are Expedition-era datapads, original artifacts from that time. We have a considerable store of data from that era and are still processing it, but we would be happy to cross-reference with you to restore lost or incomplete files, or otherwise aid in the keeping of knowledge. As the Knights are an independent volunteer group much like our own, these things will be provided freely in the hopes we can be of mutual assistance."

"There's already a request in to New Zion for access to the Disc of Eras information," Riddle notes. "It may even contain the original map - there's just so much information to go through that it's taking time to release any of it."

"We can sympathize with that situation," Tasha admits as she lifts her datapad and looks over the results. She pauses again, this time doimg some sort of fast movement with her thumbs, then smiles. "Got it. Thank you," she tells the monk, turning to Riddle while he collects the ancient maps. "Even with our computers working around the clock, we still have years of information to process in to stores and filter for useful data, and that will need to be processed further as we seek out specific items, secure others, and otherwise process it for circulation and use. More personnel should speed that up, but it will be a while." When the monk is done, Tasha gestures for them to follow before she proceeds.

The religious archives are surprisingly large, with hundreds of books (although some must be multiple copies of the same work). Organization is done by date and faction, with the oldest books being on the bottom and the most recent ones higher up. "Can you tell me anything more about that stone?" the monk asks.

Tasha pauses, quickly considering if describing the stone might color her, but she decides that avoidance is impossible if she's to collect the best information. "It's the Origin Marker of Vartans. I also have the speculated Origin Marker of Titanians recorded," she admits. "Also, any records as to belief or how they should be used, carriers, or a figure they are to carry them to, would be wonderful," the young woman adds as it comes to her.

"Origin Markers," the Eeee mutters, moving past the faction based stacks to a smaller, narrower bookcase. He returns with a volume labeled The Progenitors. "This may be what you want," he reports.

Tasha accepts the book and lays it down on a nearby table, pulling seat meant for winged patrons and sitting down before flipping the book open. "Let's see," she murmurs, turning pages as she reads. "Did you know, the religion of the Progenitors existed even in the Expedition-era? It's quite mysterious."

"I'm not familiar with it," Riddle admits, while Eli says, "Well… it's less of a religion and more of a mystery cult."

"Mystery cult?" Tasha inquires as she reaches what she thinks might be an index and begins referencing various pages for viewing.

There is a chapter on the Origin Markers near the front, but it contains sketches instead of photos – unavoidable when books have to be hand copied from display screens or readers.

"Basically, you had to be initiated into the cult in order to learn about it," Zerachiel notes. "So in a sense, every member was also part of the clergy."

"The Progentior Cult was a body of varied beliefs surrounding the so-called Progenitors – also known as First Ones – who are said to have created one or more of the current existing sentient species; naturally, this doesn't include 'third tier' creations such as Karnor like Eli and myself, nor does it usually ascribe any focus to modern-day progenitors like Humans,' explains Tasha. She then begins scanning the photos in even as she starts reading the next page, pausing here and there to comment. "I didn't know that, Eli. My discovery of the Cult was purely by accident; it seems to have been deeply tied to the mission of the Fleet itself."

There are discrepancies in the order of the markers – which in the book depict all of the space-faring races. The number of sides doesn't match what Tasha has already seen in photos of the Vartan and Titanian markers. It seems the author either didn't actually see all of the markers, and is showing a racial bias: the Naga marker, for instance, is a circle and ranked as the 'supreme scion', suggesting that the Nagai were the first and most important race created, and thus the heirs of the Progenitors.

Looking over Tasha's shoulder, Eli comments, "I suspect this was written by an Imperial originally."

Tasha makes a distinctly disapproving, "mmmmm," noise upon reading the Marker list, and nods to Eli's observation. "No doubt. Everyone seems to want to be the most important, yet, ironically little appreciation is directed towards modern day creation," she remarks, gesturing to the page. "And, it lists the Markers as conflicting with my own data, and given the facts I've discovered, strongly suggests the book is, at the very least, partially inaccurate. Let's see what it says about the role of the Marker bearers and the figure they're supposed to deliver or grant them too, this 'messiah.'" Tasha pauses, then corrects herself with, "Excuse me, Expedition-age creation, not modern day," before resuming her search.

Things get odder as Tasha delves into the more religious aspects of the cult, as detailed in the book. There is a description of the universe in the shape of a humanoid, with the markers arrayed in specific areas to associate those races with bodily, spiritual or mental functions - which sort of goes against the Naga-centric premise. The universe reflects the shape of the Progenitor, which in turns follows the form of the universe. He is the first being to emerge with the creation of the cosmos. It is the essence of all beings, and all beings are parts of its soul. The primordial Progenitor is the embodiment of knowledge and perfect intellect, a sort of god that is somehow tied to the physical world. There are bits about other divine beings called Archons which mated with the Progenitor to found the various sentient races.

"This seems a bit too religious," Eli comments. "You want something more rooted in… archaeology."

"Now this is … unexpected," Tasha admits as she sits back after reading. "Here we see a humanoid formation, which seems very … She nods to Eli's assessment. "Yes. Yes, that would be best. It's going to be difficult to understand what the original Cult in the Fleet believed without their own texts, which was likely encoded or secured, especially the deepest teachings. I'll have to hope we can locate it, or parts of it, and see if archaeology can offer more down-to-Earth clues."

"'Earth,'" Tasha mutters, head shaking. "I'm completely out of time-frame and homeworld today." She glances to the monk, and asks, "Do you have anything like what we described?"

"It sounds like you are looking for encoded information," the monk notes. "It was common for symbolism to be used to hide information," he notes, and returns to the isolated shelf. "I think I recall something similar to what the book mentions, but the marker stones had a different name; sefirot." He brings out a larger book, this one not looking like a copy since the materials have a more durable appearance – and it has color illustrations. He opens it and leafs through to a large diagram, labeled 'Adam Kadmon and the Tree of Life', showing an interlocking diagram of symbols over a human body – ten in all. It seems just as mystical as the other text, but with a lot more geometry and sub-figures involved showing relationships between the 'worlds' of the tree, the figure, and the universe itself.

"This seems equally religious to me. I don't think I see the symbolism, and I feel confident an uninitiated laymen such as myself won't be able to crack the code by observation alone. Can you help me understand the symbolism here?" Tasha asks, tilting her head and eying the diagrams like one of Fred's more complex blueprints. She then remarks to Eli that the man, "Looks rather friendly," while the monk works.

"I will have to ask one of the scholars," the monk says. "This appears to be something that crosses several mythologies and religions, and you are seeking the universal connection between them, yes?"

"Or … something, yes. I want to know what the Fleet-era Progenitor Cultists believed, as well as locate related data and materials," the young woman answers, looking up.

"We certainly don't have all of the books that might cover that," the monk notes. "The Silent-Ones, Confederates and others could have their own studies, or if this cult still operates the relevant information could be held in secret. I will see if any of our itinerant scholars have collected such information."

"Looking at this reminds me of a simple generator," the woman remarks as she studies the diagram again. She looks up and nods. "Please do. It's hardly pressing, but I feel like I can't put this down, and it has a great deal of personal relevance."

The man bows, and says, "When I have located the scholar, I will send word through Ambassador Smith. Is there anything else I can help you find?"

"No, this probably enough to work on right now. I'll be departing tomorrow, so I shouldn't engage in anything that might distract me more than I have currently. Eli?" Tasha glances at her friend, seeing if he has more questions.

"I'm curious to see what you've done to maintain the old technology," Zerachiel notes. "Especially any industries you've had to recreate from scratch."

"Do you mind if I bring this book with me? I have to admit, the more I study it, the more I want to keep reading," Tasha asks as she stands. "I'll bring it with me as we join Eli, if that's alright?"

"Please do not take it beyond the Citadel," the monk says, looking uncertain. "Or you can return here to read it, whenever you like."

"I just mean take it with me as we walk around this area; I'd never remove a book without permission. I just don't want to make everyone wait here while I scan these pages," the cadet clarifies.

"Alright then," the monk agrees, as he leads them towards the History wing.

Tasha follows along, muzzle deep in the book as she walks. As they proceed from one area to the next seeking Eli's information, she comments here and there about what she finds, with occasional, if distracted, remark about whatever current topic is going on. It's an entirely scholarly version of Tasha that seems to have been born on the spot, with the woman too engrossed to notice that she's become the very image of the people she feared would look down on her.