When the door opens for Tasha, she finds Gabriel at his desk, manually transcribing the dots-and-dashes from the radio link to Abaddon, even though the translation is displayed right there in the translucent screen attached to the desk. "Have fun with Fred?" he asks, smirking a bit.

Tasha pauses, unsure if her mate meant that remark genuinely or as subtle sarcasm. She puts on a somewhat nervous smile, then steps inside fully. "Um, I did. He's easy to get along with. Are you uncomfortable with that, Captain?"

"No, why should I be?" Gabriel asks, a bit casually. "Fred's the Beta specifically because he has the proper personality for it."

"Oh." Stepping forward, Tasha tucks her hands behind her back as she leans forward to see what her Captain is doing. "Well, no reason?" A pause, and she adds, "I guess it's just me feeling guilty about what happened yesterday. We never really had a chance to talk about it."

The screen shows a lot of curved lines and spheres and formula, which seem vaguely familiar to Tasha: a course plot from Sheol to Abaddon. There's also another rectangle full of dots-and-dashes, with symbols beneath them that don't seem to make sense; there are numbers and letters but they don't seem to form recognizable words. "Ah, that," Gabriel says, putting down his pen. "What do you feel you should be doing to assuage that guilt?"

"Uhh," is Tasha's initial response. She leans back, feeling very much put on the spot, and offers, "Well I apologized, and I think I've done my best to be helpful? But I never really addressed what you said to me when we met after I returned, about why I left you, and why I raised my weapon. Its been haunting me." She takes a deep breath, then exhales as she falls back to lean against the wall. "The weapon-thing is easy enough to explain, thanks to Dr. C. Maybe you never had to deal with people turning on you, or having to watch your back, or even jealousy and vengeance – but I have. I was tired, and I was guilty. I feared that's what was happening and so I believed it; Thankfully we all knew better in the end." She folds her arms, looking down. "As for the other part … I can only come up with "I'm sorry." I want a better answer, and I wish I had one, but the others seem like excuses, whatever my reasons were. And I care about you so much, too. It was really stupid."

"You have a lot of passion Tasha, and experience being in a crew – but you're still young," Gabriel notes. "That means you react with passion more than reason still. It will pass, and with leadership training you could be a good captain someday. You'll need it though, to overcome a lifetime of following your gut."

Tasha nods slowly, quietly. After taking a moment to think and let that advice settle in, she says, "Thank you for the compliment; it's nice to feel I can improve after all that's happened. I've always dreamed of being a captain, but after the last few days, that seemed very far away. I suppose it still is, but hearing you say that gives me hope." The woman looks up, asking, "How do you feel as a man, then? Rather than as a captain? As my mate? I want our relationship to work. Can I do anything?"

Gabriel grins. "Well, you could… clean up a bit. I can tell you've been in a suit all day," he points out, then stands up and holds out his hand.

Tasha, who had been listening intently, blinks in surprise when the reply is joking. Evidently she hadn't expected that! "Oh, I do?" She sniffs at herself, but she's so used to being around hard-working, smelly people it just doesn't register to her. "Really?" Sniff, sniff. "I guess your society is cleaner than mine – I never notice this stuff!" When she looks up and spots the hand, she pushes off the wall and reaches out to take it, smiling. "You know, I'm glad you're my boyfriend and my Captain? Even if I'm not sure how to either manage yet."

"It's easier on the air filters if we keep clean," Gabriel claims, and leads Tasha through the sleeping quarters to the bathroom. "Hand me your clothes and I'll run them through the fresher." He says.

"Okay." Tasha shrugs off her jacket, handing that over, followed by her pants, and finally her undersuit. Stretching, she rubs at her back. "Who knew using your brain all day to pilot a machine could be so hard on your back?" She grins, then heads for the fresher.

As Gabriel takes the clothes away, Tasha notes that the fresher here is much bigger than the little cubby in her quarters, which is barely big enough for her and a Lapi to fit into. There's also a transparent wall on a sliding rail that can cut it off from the rest of the bathroom, and very different controls: instead of just a timer, this has a timer and two other dials, labeled temperature and pressure.

"I see you have the complicated fresher," Tasha says from inside as she peers at the controls. "Am I going to need to contact Fred for a manual?" There's a hint of laughter in her voice, and she's starting to smell more relaxed rather than tense.

Gabriel returns a moment later, and explains, "The captain of Bellerophon was a human. So some things are different. Here, I'll help," he notes, and removes his own clothes, then picks up a bottle and enters the fresher with Tasha. The clear panel is slid closed. "It's a bit odd, but some of the extra settings can be relaxing," he notes, as he fiddles with dials.

"This is my favorite kind of instruction, you know," Tasha admits with a widening grin as a naked Gabriel climbs in to the shower with her. She steps forward and wraps an arm around his back, leaning head is just under his left arm to watch. "I'm going to really have to work on 'Captain' and 'Gabriel.'"

The Karnor chuckles, and pushes a button. A deluge of warm rain assaults from all sides, even from up below! And it's forceful enough to even penetrate to the skin. "Good thing I brought some Abaddonian soap!" Gabriel notes, holding up the bottle.

Gabriel can feel Tasha suddenly jump when the water starts shooting everywhere – she even yelps! Her head bangs in to his armpit, putting her hair in her face. "Oi," she murmurs, laughing. "Technology never ceases to amaze me, or startle me, or try and hurt me!" Peering up through her hair, she eyes the soap. "Would you look at me funny if I told you I always hated soap?"

"I imagine you hated baths in general," Gabriel laughs. "At least, your upper half did." He pours out some soap and starts lathering up Tasha's mop of hair. "But the scrubbing can be fun."

"Our soap smelled like days old fat," the woman complains. "And we shared it, when we had any. Mom says I used to follow the original Captain of The Rake around because he smelled good." Tasha leans in to the sudsing, tail wagging behind her. "It's funny the little differences you see in people. We almost never were clean, but you Karnor Elite always seemed to be. I never thought of tha-" she sneezes some bubbles away as the soap drips on her nose," … That."

"We're more sensitive to scent," Gabriel explains as he works his way down Tasha. "I'm not sure if the modern Karnors are as sensitive though. But back in my day, you couldn't help but broadcast your emotions, interests, and so on with glands and pheromones. Soap went a long way towards masking all of that though – something we picked up from our human creators. Although they were using perfumes before they learned about hygiene – it was deemed safer to cover up the stink than to wash it off."

"Really? Humans are pretty interesting, when you think about it. I never gave them much thought, being all skinny and furless, but it turns out they're behind a lot." Tasha lifts her arms to get them out of Gabriel's way, putting them on his shoulders. "I grew up with Vartans, and from what I know now, we – they – really don't have a very good sense of smell. It does explain why the Jupani I met seemed a little unsettled by me, besides the appearance."

"Vartans have a very rich odor," Gabriel says, as he washes Tasha's equine butt. "An odd blend of horse and chicken. When I first met one, the odor made me incredibly hungry."

"The first one you met was me, wasn't it? You said you'd never met Vartans until you met my crew – well, my old crew. Or, maybe I smell like a Karnor? I never know how it is with me," says Tasha as her behind is scrubbed. She has to lean on her hooves so Gabriel can reach without bending over too much, letting her rest her head on his shoulder. "I remember you thought I was Nora. Do you think of me as a Vartan? Or a Karnor?"

"Well, your Captain Eyeshine was the first full Vartan I met," Gabriel notes. "I think of you as Tasha," he says, and gives a squeeze before checking her short-furred legs.

Tasha jumps a little when squeezed, responding further by smooching Gabriel on the side of his muzzle. "That's good, because that's what I am according to Dr. Caravelli." She grins, then lifts her left leg, looking down on it while being snuggily. "I really need new shoes. My wooden ones are looking bad."

"Shoes?" Gabriel asks, and actually lifts one of Tasha's hooves to check on the shoe.

Sure enough, Tasha's hoof, while looking a bit beat up itself, is attached to an even more beat up wooden horseshoe. There's even what looks like bits of metal embedded here and there. "Aye, shoes! Walking on hard surfaces like the deck or Rephidim's roads can cause problems if you don't have shoes. I'd usually get mine replaced every year on shoreleave, but I've been busy."

"Ugh, you need something better, like… sidewalk rubber," Gabriel notes, letting the hoof back down. "It'll give you better traction too, I imagine. I wonder if we have any in the supplies we got from Artemis."

"Fancy shoes?" Tasha's ears perk. "Captain Eyeshine will think I've gotten foppish!" The woman laughs, then butts her head in to Gabriel's chest. "I love you," she says for no particular reason, other than it's true.

"Spin around for me then… so the jets can rinse you off," Gabriel says suggestively.

Tasha steps back, holding up a finger. "Please be aware of wing position during rotation," she advises in her attempt to mimic the Khattan help program. She then twirls, making a clip-clop on the floor and swinging a lot of wing around!

The timer pings, and then jets of hot air replace those of water, while a sucking sound comes from hidden drains in the floor. At least this feels a bit more like a regular sonic fresher.

"I feel like I'm an air filter," the woman admits, still turning. "How did I do in Melchior, by the way? You know, I asked him if he did anything to me. He says no, but apparently he can upload memories if they're pre-arranged, like the tube system."

"You didn't drop anything, or fall over, or try any fancy tricks, so I'd say you did well," Gabriel says, helping to fluff out Tasha's hair.

Tasha shakes her head against the fluffing, helping out. "That's an answer I don't hear often," she admits, grinning. "So what do you think we'll do, when we return? I guess I can't hang on your arm, or smooch you in public. Nothing makes me feel less sexy than responsibility."

"Well… I don't know!" Gabriel admits. "We've been given landing coordinates to a secret base, apparently where the radio beacon is."

"Ooo, a secret base." Tasha straightens then pushes her hair back. "And what do you mean you don't know! You're supposed to tell me, "It'll all be handled Tasha," or something! Do I have to take leadership back?" She puts a hand on her hip, and makes her best mock-stern face. "This is my pretending to be an alpha face!" She confirms.

Gabriel grins and musses up most-stern Tasha's hair, making it fluffier. "That's for getting us back. Once we are back… well, that's up in the air. There'll be negotiating with the Powers That Be and such. Negotiation isn't really one of my strengths."

"That must be why you tried to get me to do it," Tasha accuses, grinning as her hair is mussed. "But you saw how I handled myself yesterday, so I think it's safe to say I'm not good at it either. But, I know who is!" She reaches over and, cupping her hands, makes bunny ears. "Let's get Layth to do it!"

"Hmmm," Gabriel notes, as the driers shut down. "No side can claim bias, then, since a Lapi has no ties to any faction. You'll have to tell him what to get out of the others though."

"We both can, when we brief him," Tasha agrees. "He has the personality for it. I know he's had a rough life, but even so, he's as calm as still water. But, it's not that he's really a calm person. My thought is that, just like I became loud and forceful, and um, … other things … He became controlled. It's his way to show he had control of something, when all he could control was himself. And besides, he deserves a chance to do more than use his muscles. He's really smart, and it makes me jealous some times. But really, well, I'm not so petty now as to deny him a spotlight if it helps our cause and him as well." The woman then pauses. "Spotlight?" She shakes her head. "These random words will never end, will they?"

"They'll just cease to be random in time, I suppose," Gabriel says. "Now that you're nice and clean and fluffy, feel like shopping for shoes?"

"Absolutely." Tasha grabs Gabriel's arm and follows him out of the shower. "You know what I like doing? Doing." She brushes heads towards where her clothes and being cleaned and bends over to dig them out. "And I mean, not talking. Exploring, piloting, working on machines – that sort of thing."

"Oh, right, doing… " Gabriel says, getting his mind out of the gutter, and looking anywhere but at Tasha's rear right now… at least until he gets his own clothes back on. "We can check the manifests for Vartan shoes."

Tasha, oblivious, puts on her clothes and slips on her jacket. "I have to say, we do have the best clothes. I'll have to ask Fred if he can make my armor work on Sinai, because I need to show it to mom and the Captain." As she stowed all her gear, Tasha has none to equip. "Ready when you are, Captain. Gabriel? Captain Gabriel Karnor Elite boyfriend." She even salutes!

Akkers salutes back automatically, and then marches… into the office to bring up the digital manifest of the stuff Tasha was lugging over from the Khattan Zone. "Aha, there are some Vartan clothes, it looks like," he says. "Including… boots. Boots? Well, I suppose they're more practical… "

"Vartan boots?" Tasha peers at the manifest, blinking as if unsure she heard/read correctly. "I've … heard of Vartan boots, but I've never seen any. They'd be expensive. And foppish."

"Foppish? Boots can be foppish?" Gabriel asks.

"You never did meet the Gallees, did you? Or a Kujaku?" Tasha grins. "Of course, we airship crews saw anything that wasn't practical as foppish – but that wasn't necessarily bad. Captain Eyeshine is a bit of one, and Captain Blackwings was in her own way. It's common among captains, but I think only they can really get away with it." She then turns and eyes Gabriel, thoughtfully. "You'd look good in a cape," she suggests.

"A… cape?" the man asks, one eyebrow raised as he writes down the crate number. "Only people in comic books wore capes when I was growing up."

"Well, people where I come from do all the time! Especially important people, and you'll be important. Hmmmm." Tilting her head this way and that, Tasha observes Gabriel until she snaps her fingers. "I know! A long, thick cape. Something that says, "I'm the Captain." The colors should be manly and work with your uniform, and the cape broad but not in the way. Oh, and maybe a sword."

Gabriel turns in his chair to face Tasha, and asks, "And shiny boots? Maybe a crest on my chest?"

"They wouldn't hurt!" Tasha grins widely. "I know I plan to wear a crest on my clothes. Maybe my own cape! I remember that Titan pilots dressed to match their Titans, and that they were like knights in some cultures."

"You have wings!" Gabriel points out. "How could a cape work? I'd think you'd go for giant shoulder-pads instead."

"Then I'd look like a guy," Tasha complains. "I was thinking a cape that hung low, you know, like a tabard or something? I'm sure I saw Captain Blackwings wear one once."

"That sounds foppish!" Gabriel declares, and holds up a strip of paper. "Shall we see what sort of underwear Vartans use?"

"I know what kind I use," Tasha says with a grin. She takes Gabriel's arm again, and with him heads for the cargo bay.

It takes some doing to find the crate, which is large, and open it up. There are lots of different things in it, all sealed in the same transparent protective wrap as the environment suits and Melchior were. And everything is black! "These look like boots," Gabriel declares as he gets something out.

"I can't tell, it's all black! I didn't know we were this grim," Tasha says as she pulls out a plastic wrapped something, staring at it. "This could be a jacket … Or a helmet." She leans over and looks past it to see what Gabriel found.

They have boot-like treads on the bottom, at least, and are sized to fit Vartan (or maybe even Rhian) hooves, with long sleeves making up the rest, at least long enough to reach past the ankle.

"I'm learning something new about my ancestors every day." Shaking her head, Tasha sits down and holds her hands out. "Well, let's see if they fit. Don't tell Fred we're not using the manual!"

"Think it's safe to try them on with those wooden shoes attached?" Gabriel says, handing over the booties.

The woman eyes her wooden shoes, then frowns. "No… But I haven't taken my own off in a while. Usually there's a tool involved, kind of like a crowbar." She then shrugs and grins at Gabriel. "Can you find the crowbar?"

"We have the Mech Lab, there's bound to be a prying tool there," Gabriel notes, and goes to look! He eventually returns with something that looks like a crowbar at one end, but has a thick padded handle at the other.

"Lucky for us, this doesn't hurt. I can't feel anything in my hooves unless they split badly. It's why we have shoes in the first place." Tasha accepts the tool, then wedges it under her shoe and begins trying to pry it off. "It must be strange, being able to feel what's under your feet. Like having hands for feet." She gives her mate something of a pitying look while she violently tries to jerk her shoe off.

"Here," Gabriel says, and flips a switch on the side of the tool. A motor whirs, and the pry-tip splits into jaws that spread inexorably to pull the shoe and nails out.

Tasha's ears shoot up, and she grins! "See, I'm wasted on diplomacy – it's technology I love." She finally gets her shoe off, then the other, before trying to wiggle the boots on.

The boot goes on like a stocking, and the bottom pad has a raised part in the center to fit inside the toe, adding some extra cushion. It may be one-size-fits all, because it seems to adjust itself after it's on to fit more snugly.

Tasha eyes her leg, wiggling her foot. She purses her muzzle, undecided, then after a moment more declares, "I think I like it."

"There's more," Gabriel says, fishing out what look like leather leg braces. They have shiny buckles.

"This is fun," Tasha admits, tail wagging. She stands up in order to test her new boots, looking very dark from the ankle down. "They make me look so official. I never wore much black before." Looking up from her inspection, she nods and takes the braces, trying to get them on. "I still want to see you in your uniform!"

Gabriel distracts Tasha by buckling the bracers around her lower legs, to complete the 'boot'. The buckles are silver, and while it looks and feels like leather… it could be anything.

"My legs have never looked more intimidating," Tasha admits, twisting herself to get a good look at the entirety of her boots. "My ancestors had good taste, although I may end up looking … mercenary?"

"Well, they were that," Gabriel says, rummaging through the crate. "Looks like there are matching forearm gauntlets with… holsters or something. Maybe for small weapons or blades or… beer holders… "

"I never seem to be able to hold enough beer," Tasha considers aloud. She waggles her hands for the gloves and bracers wanting to try them on. "Might as well see how I look! Oh, and that reminds me – I have a beer barrel to pick up before we depart."

The gloves are finger-tip-less, since Vartans have talons, and also seem to have built-in brass knuckles. The bracers have shiny buckles, and various loops and pocket for accessories.

Tasha flexes her hand in the gloves, and decides, "I'm keeping these. They make me look like a pirate." She then taps her knuckles, blinking at the reinforcement. "I think there's metal here? I'd hate to get punched by these. I guess that's the point?" Smiling and having a good time, Tasha asks her mate, "Anything else? I don't think I have enough black outfits."

"Belts, bandoleers, vests… something that looks like a dominatrix corset… " Gabriel recites as he goes through the shrink-packed items. "Shorts, pants, skirts… skirts?. I think this a purse… "

"I should transfer all this to my room. It's bound to be sturdier than the clothes provided by the Terrans, being Khattan made. Plus, it looks good!" The woman peers at the selections, then picks up the presumed skirt and tries to wiggle it on over her pants. "I have to try it on," she admits, apologetically.

It has the same elastic qualities as the booties, adjusting to fit (and hug) her hips. "That makes you look dangerous," Gabriel notes.

The woman poses, grinning. "I'll keep this." Tasha leaves it on for now, then holds her hand out while pointing at the so-called dominatrix top. "Hand me the domy-tricks one, I don't think the memories I have of that word are accurate."

"Uh, it probably won't be comfortable," Gabriel warns, handing over a corset that has a collar for the neck, D-Rings that connect it via straps to the bustier – which itself has lots of buckles, and straps that close it in back beneath the wings. "I swear, this can't be their regular clothes… it's some sort of costume-party in a box."

"Are you sure? Did we find the wrong box? You could ask Artemis, she would know." As she talks, the woman tries to figure out the corset-like thing. She has to shed her jacket, then gets it around part of her but seems stymied there. "I think I do need a manual!"

"I imagine all of the regular clothing was sent to the Ark along with the Vartans," Gabriel notes. "This… well, maybe it all belonged to one Vartan and she decided to leave it… "

"So I'm wearing someone's discarded party clothes??" Tasha pauses in her zip-and-buckle puzzle, looking back at Gabriel. "Should I take this off, now I feel dirty!" As she reaches to try and take the top off, she admits, "It's just like the Melchior. I hadn't had a chance to tell you, but there's something very suspicious about the Melchior being on board. It's listed as a scout, but who needs a melee Titan of TL2 to scout?" Tasha fiddles with a buckle, having a hard time of it. "And Fred thinks there may be evidence of a Progenitor Cult on board."

Gabriel lifts something out of the crate that appears to be… a miniature horse saddle. He slowly lowers it back. "Well… I don't know much about Vartan beliefs. But I wouldn't think a Progenitor Cult would go to the expense of getting a Gryphon. On the other hand… who knows what the Khattas were really up to?" he says.

After pulling the top off, Tasha kicks the skirt off as well, glaring at them. "Well that was weird," she declares. She picks up the garment and tosses it in the box, followed by the corset. Still eyeing the box balefully, she says, "Well, why is it still here? An extremely expensive Vartan craft for a mission that makes no sense as far as I can tell, when there aren't even Vartans on board because they were moved before launch. Wouldn't they have moved the Titan, too? And where are the other two?"

"There are two more?" Gabriel asks, waiting just in case Tasha tosses more clothing at him, but figuring she'll keep the gloves and footwear. "There might be something buried in the Orpheus records, but it could take awhile to find."

The man's understanding of his mate proves to be accurate yet again, because Tasha doesn't even glance at the gloves and boots, let alone move to take them off. "I'll ask Nora if she can find that later, or maybe Mariel – she's the cybernetics expert." Looking around, Tasha nods slowly. "Let's see what the others hold. If they're all like this we can probably save some weight and leave them behind."

"This is the only one listed as having clothing, but it's still pretty deep," Gabriel notes. "We could just spread it all out on the floor and hope neither Fred nor Nora show up."

"We can hope – but I don't think either of us are that lucky. Well, here goes!" With a deep breath, Tasha begins to dig in to the box. As she and her mate remove and line up clothing, the woman inquires, "Have you decided what to do about Nora? I think I have an answer, as to why what she did what she did, if that would be of any help. I don't want her to suffer."

"Nora's the navigator, so she'll go over my calculations, then you will go over them, since you're taking her chair when we launch," Gabriel notes, setting a series of mesh shirts (at least these aren't all black). "I honestly don't know what will happen to the projected versions once we launch. I'm just assuming they'll stay the way they are when we reach Abaddon – if I don't crash us, anyway."

Tasha listens with her ears perked and focused, her muzzle taking a serious cast as she lays clothing after clothing out. "Will my going over them even help? I can navigate an airship, but a spaceship is well beyond me at this point." She pauses to eye what she's taken out, then resumes, saying, "You probably know this, but I've become very attached to Fred, Mariel, and Nora. I know they're dead, but I can't bring myself to think of them that way. To me, they're just people going through a very rough time. To call them 'dead,' or treat them like machines, … I just can't do it. They've suffered enough. I guess … I guess you should know where I stand, as Captain."

"You have Nora's PersoCom skillset, and that should include navigation, but I'll put you through the training anyway," Gabriel says, laying down the last piece of utilitarian underpants. "But… the others still don't seem to exhibit true free will, despite being creative and picking up all the other quirks the original crew had. And technically they are simulations, and simulations can't make command decisions or be left in charge of critical functions. For the purposes of flying this ship, there are only four people – and a bunch of advisers."

Tasha just shakes her head slowly, taking it all in. "Well," she breathes, "I'll do my best." Glancing over, she asks Gabriel, "Am I really just including simulations in to my family? Is this another … Melchior? Something I want to be more than it is? I talked to Mariel, and I don't see a simulation. I see someone I want to help, to make happy. I want to protect her. It's so sad."

"They're officers of the Terran Fleet," Gabriel says. "They won't let themselves be put in positions where they could cause damage – something I guess I should have made clearer to you before your talk with Nora. So it doesn't matter what you or I feel, they will follow the regulations."

"Then, I guess I must try and remember that. They've always seemed professional and tied to their duties, even if they show other interests. I guess, not knowing how they would act, I was right about requiring Nora to disconnect? It's what you made me do, not that I didn't end up folding under Nora staring at me!" Tasha groans at that particular failure; it was about when she began to realize she wasn't the Alpha she thought she was.

"Nora could not have hurt the ship," Gabriel explains. "No matter what she might have felt, she couldn't cause damage."

"But she could let me hurt myself? I guess I don't need help with that," Tasha says with a little laugh. She pulls out the last of the clothing, setting it down before stepping back to see what they've got. "But I know she was jealous, and I know they feel pain, inside and out. It wasn't like I was making her feel better, whatever I thought I was doing. I was offering comfort to comfort myself." She shakes her head.

"So, in end… do you think she helped you by lashing out?" Gabriel asks, coming over to join her. The clothing laid out looks a bit more standard – pants, more boot options, shirts – of a sort, underpants and some sort of X-shaped bit of apparel that was likely meant to be a top for women. The shirts are otherwise mesh, and seem to serve less as clothing than as something to put pockets on. Regular shirts just don't go well with feathers.

Tasha, arms folded, studies the clothing selection as she thinks. "I think she just caused something inevitable to happen sooner," she decides after a moment. "If it was her, someone else, or just me, I think what happened would have happened eventually. I don't think she meant to help me, she wanted me to suffer just as I had wanted other women to. But, I think it was better that it happened now rather than later. I'm glad it happened, and more so that no one really ended up hurt except me. I can see the world a little more clearly now. I just regret I had to hurt Nora to learn it."

"You should probably tell her that if you haven't already," Gabriel says. "You could wear the corset to show you've really beaten yourself up over it too… " he then adds with a boyish smirk.

"Fred isn't the only one with a interesting mind," Tasha says, glancing at her mate. She smiles, and nods. "I will, when I get the chance. I said some part of it already, but we didn't have much time before you and Layth arrived. And, well … I think Nora knew I never meant it. I didn't tell you what happened with the artifacts, did I? When I meditated?"

"No, I didn't want to pry," Gabriel admits. "I always considered religion to be something private."

"It was more than religion, and as Captain you should know the truth. I understand now you were right when you revoked my access; we can't let our feelings endanger people or hinder our mission, right?" Taking a deep breath, Tasha turns to face Gabriel and looks him in the eye. "I made contact with the artifact. It spoke to me, and me to it, a little like Melchior does now. It seemed to respond to what I was seeking, and told me it knew the memories of anyone who had ever touched it. I wanted to know what it was like to die, to understand the crew's pain – and my own fear. And, it answered me."

"So… it gave the experience of someone else dying, or of Nora dying?" Gabriel asks, looking shocked.

Tasha begins to look away, but taking a breath, steadies her gaze and meets Gabriel's eyes again. "It told me asking for Nora's memories of death would be an intrusion on one of the most private moments of her life, and, feeling like a fool for not realizing that, I conceded. What I saw … No," the woman's face contorts in a wince, that horrible memory threatening to come back, with all its pain and sorrow. She reaches up and rubs her eyes, doing her best to maintain her gaze. "No. I felt. I was there. It was Babel, Gabriel. The city of Babel on Sinai, when a weapon called a 'Boomer' teleported it in to space. I was a young woman who was wishing her mate well before he left, just as she was pulled in to space." In a now wavering voice, she tries to add in a tone of broken levity, "At least I learned the dangers of a vacuum." She tries to smile, but it ends up mask-like and hollow.

Gabriel responds by pulling Tasha into a hug, and asking her, "Why would you do that? You don't have to understand another person's pain to help them get through it. Wasn't anyone there for you when you went through pain or trauma?"

Being hugged makes Tasha lose her resolve, because she suddenly hiccups a sob. "I wanted to know," she chokes out, swallowing hard after. "I thought it … it would help. I … I didn't want to be afraid of it!" She sniffles, then narrows her eyes at her eyes, glaring at her own instability. "I don't understand people, Gabriel. Dr. C showed me that, I just understand being aggressive! I thought I could fight memories, it was … so stupid!" She wipes her face a bit roughly, pushing the tears from her eyes. "I grew up on a ship Gabriel, no one shared their feelings! No one wanted to be vulnerable! It was like … asking to be hurt!"

The Karnor actually begins rocking Tasha a bit, not giving up on his hug. "I guess you thought you could just download the missing parts of your life from someone else, after what you went through on the Fenris," he says gently. "But you really just have to live them. I didn't realize how alone you must have been growing up."

Tasha eventually surrenders her glare, ears flattening and face contorting in a look of grief. She wraps her arms around the man and holds on to him, tightly. "I tried not to believe I was alone," she tells him, as if her situation demanded an apology. "I knew people, I had a ship, I belong somewhere, but it was never enough, was it? It was never … " She sucks in a breath, catching herself before a sob could interrupt her. She wipes her eyes again and says, "I guess … I was alone. I looked for friends, but we always had to leave. Or fight. I could never trust them … We all used each other. That's what Blackwings taught me. That's … why I raised my gun."

"Who was Blackwings, your fist captain?" Gabriel asks.

Tasha gives a bitter laugh at the question, head shaking. "My first captain was a Gallee man I don't even remember the name of. I remember him only vaguely, as this tall, regal looking white canine who always smelled good. Mom said … No, it's not important." She takes a breathe, head shaking. "Captain Blackwings is a Vartan privateer captain. I looked up to her. She used me. I wanted her to take me with her. She laughed, and I got mad. Then she brought me something shiny and it all happened again." Sounding more and more bitter, Tasha, still crying, spits out, "Gods, I hate her," before looking up and asking Gabriel in a pleading voice, "I just wanted her to like me and she treated me like a whore, was I that desperate?"

"You got away from her though, didn't you?" Gabriel asks… but it's more of a statement. "Captain Eyeshine seemed… protective of you."

"No, I never did!" Tasha thumps her fist against Gabriel's chest, frustrated. "I left, but only chance brought me here. Otherwise I'd still see her! She was the most exciting person I knew, I dreamed of going with her! And, she … " Growling, Tasha pushes her muzzle in to the man, clinging to him. "Captain Eyeshine couldn't do anything. He couldn't and wouldn't interfere. Captain Blackwings has three times our crew, she was dangerous, and she brought money and information. Mom needed her money! Ugh, I hate how I used to be!"

Rubbing the back of Tasha's head, Gabriel says, "It was a problem in my time too, mostly for humans. The ones who were poor would see the successful types and do anything to be like them, even though they were criminals that used others to get where they were. But they just couldn't see any other way, from where they were starting from. What would you do if you saw Blackwings now, Tasha? Show off? Rub your success in her face? Or… feel sorry for her?"

"I don't know," Tasha admits, whimpering a little. She rubs at her eyes again. There's a long stretch of silence before she adds, "When did I start crying so much?" And then she exhales, head shaking against the man's chest. "I can't feel sorry for her. She enjoys her life, she's told me that. She lives with her own morals, which don't have a place for other people's feelings. I'd say, "I want to bury her beak in the deck of that ship of hers," but she'd probably just end up laughing as I was bleeding on the ground." She peeks up through her eye with an eye, asking, "What do you do to people you can't hurt, Gabriel?"

"Forget them, I suppose," Gabriel suggests. "Or take heart that those who live like that eventually run into someone bigger and meaner than themselves. Maybe Dr. Caravelli could say something more useful; I just fly spaceships, for the most part."

"Mmm," Tasha murmurs vaguely. She holds on to Gabriel until, with sniff, seems to have pulled herself together to lean back and smile. "I … I sure cry a lot, don't I? I must be the most weepy Titan pilot in the history of Titans." But, at least she smiles.

"Although, for you, I could try to seduce her and then dump her… or do you think Blammo would be better?" Gabriel asks. "This Blackwings sounds like she'd go for the big and dumb-looking sort… err… of men, I mean."

"You'd both fail, she only likes woman as far as I know. Young, pretty women. I guess I should be flattered for at least that part – she could afford better." The woman's smile goes lopsided. "I guess maybe we were alike, in thinking we could out-man men by being better at it than they are, but I think she's just that way." She shakes her head a little. "I'm sorry, I need to get a hold of myself. It's like when I tell you anything, it just all rolls out and I either end up crying or in bed with you. Are you sure you want to date me?"

"I have to date you now too?" Gabriel asks, looking mock-aghast. "So long as you can put up with my poor circumstances… "

"We're not dating?" The woman's eyes widen in alarm, but if she was worried, she hides it by playing along. "Well, you do have a shiny ship, you're easier to talk to than Blammo, have more personality than the Melchior, lecture me less than Layth and are less life-challenged than Fred, so I'm stuck with you." She pauses, then tilts her head, "Of course there's Mariel … " And then glances at him, grinning.

"Hmm, I guess I am pretty amazing," Gabriel admits. Then he gets an odd look on his face. "Mariel? Are you sure you've put Blackwings' influence behind you?"

"You are. Don't let it go to your head though – Melchior is a better kisser." The woman winks, then chuckles over her mate's question. "Yes," she confirms. "I'm attracted to Mariel because I want her to be happy – Captain Blackwings never cared about my happiness except to get me in bed."

"Hmm, you know… if I were an evil person," Gabriel suggests, one eyebrow raised, "I'd think about setting up Blackwings with someone like… Calligenia. But I'm not evil."

"Oi, I want her to suffer, not assassinate her!" Tasha laughs. She gently swats Gabriel's muzzle, then kisses it. "And, you know what? I don't even really want her to suffer. I guess I got carried away, what with thinking about what happened. She was never that bad. I describe her like a pirating villain, but she helped us a few times, and me, too. I just hated I was never important to her – I think I hated that more than being used."

"Well, you're important to me," Gabriel says. "And I'm a captain. An archaic one, but I can still shout really well."

"The best captain," Tasha assures Gabriel, smiling at him. "Dr. Caravelli told me that I didn't need to prove myself for your love, that it was something given. I think, after all of this, I understand now."

"I don't think it'd be love if you had to prove yourself for it," Gabriel notes, and looks over the clothes. "So, anything you want to keep? I get the impression that Vartans like to be bare-chested, and the women wear hammocks around their chests… "

"That's probably not a uniform look I can use, is it?" Tasha asks as she eyes the 'hammock-top.' "I do like the pants and shorts though, and the gloves, boots, and that see-though top. I can wear it over something." Her ears suddenly shoot up, and eyes widen. "Oh, I knew I forgot something – do you mind if I go around later and get some pictures for the Expedition, and to show my mother? I also want to talk to Blammo and ask if he'd like to join the JEF."

"We have the camera, and… " Gabriel says, nodding and then just seems to run out of breath when Tasha mentions inviting the Titanian!

"I'll take that as a maybe." Tasha leans up and kisses her mate's muzzle again, then reaches up and puts a finger on Gabriel's nose. "I'd better get to taking pictures, before I decide I need to distract you further. Once we get back to Abaddon and settled, we should spend some time together. You've earned a lot of Tasha time." She grins, then steps back and gazes at her clothes. "But first, I'd better move all this … " Her eyes stray to the dominatrix top, and her head just shakes. " … This."