At some point during Dr. Zerachiel's myriad of memory and comprehension and logic tests, Tasha fell asleep. When she startled awake with a snort, the tests were still going on!

Pulling herself up from where she had slid down to the floor, Tasha pushes her hair out of her face and blinks, blearily. "Wha' … Oi, what happen-" She eyes the assembled people, then her ears perk and a flash of understanding crosses her face. "The tests! I fell asleep!"

The specters and Dr. Zerachiel all turn to look at Tasha. "You didn't miss much," Nora points out. "They're incredibly dull."

After rubbing her eyes a bit, Tasha gives a nod and helps herself to her feet with the aid of a nearby wall. "Sorry about that," she offers, sounding genuinely apologetic. "It needs to be done, doesn't it?" As she begins to try and push her hair in to some semblance of a style, she glances at the doctor and asks, "How is it looking?"

"Promising!" Eli says with a grin. "So far, Nora has made four logic errors but no comprehension ones. The others haven't made any errors yet, which is also very telling!"

"So, my sister is very illogical; that makes perfect sense," Tasha agrees, rubbing her chin – she must have copied that from one of the doctors – and nodding. "I still think she's largely incomprehensible, though. What about PersoCom restrictions? Nora pinched me, but could the other two also do that, or is a connection to the system also restrictive?"

"Oh, the restrictions don't seem to apply at all to the projected personalities," Dr. Zerachiel notes. "Nora also shows some short-term memory faults, but well within the standards for a person that doesn't have computer-assisted recall. She's very normal."

"You don't have to make it sound so… mediocre!" Nora grumbles.

"We both know you're not mediocre, Nora. After all, you look like me!" Tasha barks a laugh.She's finally managed to get all her hair back in her hand, so she can stick it all in a pony tail. "At any rate … ," she goes on, letting her hands fall, " … this is very promising, and I feel much better about this after a nap, too."

"Oh, well, good for you," Nora says a bit sarcastically. "I'm bored. I didn't think being disconnected from the computer system would lead to that… or if it's just the testing. I think it's making me feel a bit testy too."

"Without the computer to regulate your feelings based on your PersoCom data, and maybe normalize you, you may be feeling the full effects of your own emotions and personality," Tasha offers, glancing at Dr. Zerachiel for confirmation.

"That seems to be the case," Dr. Zerachiel notes with a nod. "I plan to try and get her angry next!" he says cheerfully.

"I think the Doc is enjoying this a bit too much," Fred comments.

"That would be, oi, well … That's your risk. Unless you'd rather I do it?" Tasha offers, gesturing at Nora as she looks to the doctor. "It'll be the second fight with a meta-self today. It is today still, isn't it?"

"I think it's morning again," Zerachiel comments, then shrugs. "And best you not be the one to make her angry," he whispers. Nora can hear it of course, and just… glowers.

Tasha steps back and nods, trying very hard not to grin. "You might be right,"she admits before turning to look at the youngest of the projections. "Mariel! Why don't you come over here while they do that? I have a few questions for you."

"I was kind of enjoying the tests," Mariel admits, but comes away to stand next to Tasha.

"I remember you mentioned you enjoy this sort of thing," Tasha says with a nod, moving with Mariel to the back of the room where they, meaning mostly Tasha, won't be nearby to agitate the late Lt. Commander. Dropping her voice, the red half-Vartan whispers, "During the PersoCom personality upload, did you … Were you watching? My memories?"

"I was monitoring, but I didn't actually see them," Mariel says. "I was watching brain activity and other elements, to be sure the system was operating properly."

"Oi," Tasha breathes, sounding relieved. "That's a bit of a relief. You seemed nervous, and I thought … No, never mind. Anyway, did you see anything odd, right before I woke up?" As she inquires, Tasha turns her head back to watch the proceedings, wondering if she's still being glared at.

Nora is glaring at Dr. Zerachiel now. And at Fred too, who has his hands up and a fake innocent smile.

"Nothing weird," Mariel says. "It all looked normal, within reason."

"What a mess we are," Tasha murmurs as she watches the spectacle, head shaking. When she hears nothing odd was going on, she frowns a little, but shakes her head again, as if to clear it. "Well, that's good. How are you feeling, Mariel?"

"Alright," Mariel says, and then gestures back to the others. "I was never worried about any of this: I knew I was real. It's just that my death was a shock to me, since… well, I didn't remember it, not like the others did, since I wasn't conscious for it."

Tasha glances over at Mariel, muzzle creasing in a pained frown as she listens. "I'm so sorry, Mariel; sorry you had to endure that and sorry you have to endure this now. You really deserve better people, better friends, more support, more compassion … What I mean is, I wish I were better at all of this, for your sakes." The red woman releases a breath, looking back at Nora and Zerachiel. "It must sound very hollow. Even I'm getting tired of hearing myself say "I'll do better." Do you resent us? The Captain, for what happened?"

"No, I know it was just a fluke," Mariel says. "Nobody could tell a volcanic eruption would cause such a massive fluctuation in the SPM. Or that MOTHER would be… affected… by the crystals."

"And sabotaged." Tasha purses her muzzle, head tilting. "My … inner self reminded me of matters I've been trying to forget, or dismissing, in the pursuit of my goals. The most important being that Gabriel is suffering in silence. And, I let him. For this." After a gesture as her surroundings, Tasha folds her arms and shakes her head. "I need to see him, but I'm afraid. I'm also afraid that all of this is another product of my goal-chasing. Of … trying to be shiny."

"Uh… maybe you should be talking to Dr. Caravelli about stuff like this," Mariel admits, a bit shyly. "The Captain… that's Alpha stuff. I can't even imagine the stresses involved."

"Caravelli?" Tasha's tilts her head, then her ears perk as she realizes something. "That's right, the original Dr. Caravelli is still on Tartarus. Thank you, Mariel, that helps a lot. I'm sorry to ramble at you, too; I just don't know anymore." After patting Mariel's arm, Tasha adds, "I'm still your friend, though, whatever happens. I'll be back in a while."

"Oh, okay," Mariel says, wagging her tail. "Stay out of trouble."

"That sounded almost assertive," Tasha says with a smile. "We'll see." Turning, Tasha heads for the hatch, telling the assembled group, "I'm headed in to to Tartarus, there's some things I need to do. Let me know if you need anything?"

"A roast beef on rye, with chips and gherkins," Fred requests.

"Purple meat and … I have no idea what the rest of that is; you got it!" Tasha waves from the door, and then she's off down the corridors and in to the base. First stop: the manufactory.

It does occur along the way that Fred can't actually eat anything in his current state. There are the racks of hard-hats and ear protection outside the factory bay, as usual, and a horrible din coming from inside. Maybe it's morning, but Tartarus has three shifts and never sleeps.

Tasha barks out a laugh when she remembers Fred can't eat, startling some soldiers as she walks past them and collect her hat and ear protection. Then, it's in to the cacophony to find the chief engineer. As she moves amidst the machines and noise, she's comforted at how busy this place always is; It's never quiet, and there's always someone awake to talk to. She doesn't think she could stand a lonely room right now.

Something big is being built out of steel beams, with showers of sparks cascading down as men on scaffolds weld the joints. Gizmo is nearby, looking over the scene with fists on hips and his back to Tasha.

"What metal monstrosity are you building there, Gizmo?" Tasha asks, raising her voice to carry over the din. People say she's loud on a regular basis, but sometimes being loud comes in handy!

"Huh?" the engineer says as her turns. He's wearing dark filters over his safety goggles, which he flips up. "Oh, it's the sensor cradle for the Gryphon to carry," he points out.

"Is that what that is?" Tasha turns again, shielding her eyes as she tries to get a better look without blinding herself. "I guess I'll be familiar with it soon enough! Probably won't be so big, when you're big, aye? Ha!" She pats the man a bit roughly on the shoulder, asking, "Any luck on what I requested?"

"Oh, your shield weapon?" Gizmo asks, then waves for Tasha to follow him as he heads for a work table.

"I hate to ask about it, given all you're doing," Tasha explains as she walks along. "But you did tell me to be here, and here I am."

On the table are several pieces that should fit together to become a small shaard. There are locking mechanisms, the various inner and outer panels of the shields, and the two automatic shotguns. "We're running a little behind, but it should be ready to test by tonight. Then it's just sharpening the edges and buff and paint and polish… "

"It looks good," Tasha remarks appreciatively; And, to her laymen eyes, it does. Time will tell if it works right, she decides. "I'm looking forward to seeing it complete. Probably best it's not ready yet anyway, since I need to head by the galley and find someone; the Sergent might give me the eye if I walk around with this on my shoulder!" She laughs again; at least here, the loud noise fits right in.

"Yeah, he'd want to play with them," Gizmo says and nods knowingly.

"I hadn't even thought of that – good point. Not that I mind, as long as I'm first!" She laughs again, finding all the laughter a nice balm on her nerves as she faces seriously social issues. "Well, I better ship out; I'll be back tonight!"

Gizmo waves, and then heads back to supervising the welding.

As Tasha makes her way through the manufacturing bay floor she thinks on what she's seen and all that it means. Despite her mistakes, or maybe because of them, people are working hard and changing the course of their lives to accommodate what she's hoped to build, even as she wonders at her own honesty with herself in pushing for the JEF to be again. What did she say? Mistakes are a gift? Get up again, the young woman considers, deciding that her double, or inner-self, is wiser than her inner self as a right to be, and right as well.

The protection is returned to its rack, leaving Tasha free as she walks through the halls towards the galley. Cookie might have seen Caravelli, if not, someone should know where he is in there.

The galley/rec-room is busy, since it's breakfast for one of the shifts. There's yellow stuff, and brown stuff called sausage that doesn't look like any sausage Tasha has seen before, and diced stuff that's fried and of course pancakes. A few platters of more upscale entrees are being prepared for the VIPs.

Tasha gets something for herself,but decides Gabriel deserves better and so takes her laden plate with her as she heads for the chefs preparing the VIP meals. "Ahoy there! Looking tasty, aye. Mind if I put in a request for the Captain?"

"Steak and eggs, or steak and bacon?" the chef on duty asks. He's got a mushroom shaped hat stuck to his head.

"Bacon, he likes bacon," Tasha replies, smiling and wagging her tail in memory of the bacon-laden kiss. "I'll just eat what everyone is having."

"Rare?" the chef asks next, writing things down.

"Medium-rare, I think. Can't get my wolf sick!" Tasha answers, before trying a bit of the 'sausage.'

It tastes okay, but it's not like a proper sausage. "It'll be a few minutes," the chef notes. "Got others ahead that are a bit more involved." There are at least plenty of places to sit, although one table is something of an island, with just two aliens at it: Aaron and a Rath'ani in an odd robe.

"Thanks, you're the best!" Tasha gives the chef a smile then scans the room, spotting the aliens among the sea of Karnor (along with several 'islands' of ambassadorial attaches). She decides Aaron's the best bet, even if she isn't in a rush to be around a mage.

Closer up, the raccoon is wearing a robe covered in differently colored arrows, all pointing in different directions… on a field of pink. The female's hair is also dyed pink on top, with black roots showing, and she seems to have crammed a generous sampling of everything available from the buffet between two layers of pancakes, making for an impressive, if unstable, sandwich. And yet it isn't falling apart. "Hey Tasha, sleep okay?" Aaron asks in greeting. He's been eating pancakes and hash-browns, and there are also the remains of a muffin. Maybe he got the last one.

"Well enough," Tasha replies, a bit evasively. She doesn't sit just yet, preferring to stand and eat her breakfast while looking anywhere but the mage's direction. "I was hoping you'd know where Dr. Caravelli is?"

"Yup, of course I know," Aaron says with a grin. "So does Felicity here," he points out, gesturing to the mage.

"Oh hi!" the Rath'ani says, after swallowing. "You can call be Pouches though, everyone else does," she says, her grin full of bits of egg.

Tasha eyes Aaron suspiciously when he doesn't just come out and say it, but instead gestures at a mage. She stuffs her muzzle full of faux sausage a moment and chews, staring ahead as the mage speaks until politeness forces her to glance down and nod in greeting. "Ahoy, there. I'm Cadet Tasha Argentine, of the JEF. You where Doctor Remiel Caravelli is, do you?"

"Yup!" the girl says, and takes another bite of her sandwich. Then she talks with her mouth full, saying, "E's on da Jax."

"The Ajax? Alright, well … " The half-Vartan glances between the two, rather uncomfortably, " … ah, thank you. I'll just be going that way, then … Ah … " The robes; nagging like a insect that won't quite leave her alone, the memory of the strange Cervani from her childhood prods at her until, after looking down at the mage for a long moment, Tasha asks, "You wouldn't happen to know a Mage Thorn, would you?"

The masked face looks up at Tasha, and purple (yes, purple, not violet) eyes blink at the half-Vartan. "Don't think so… are they in Chaos? Or some other Sphere? I'm in Chaos if you can't tell!"

"I'm trying no-" Tasha cuts herself off before she can fully express that thought, along with another about just how unlikely it is for a Vartan to know about magical schools. Instead, she just tries to make herself smile politely, and clarifies, "Life. I remember he said he was 'of Life.' He'll be in his middle years."

"Oh, couldn't say," Pouches comments. "I still haven't met all of the Life Mages on the expedition. Or maybe I have and just keep forgetting them. I remember Latania though!"

"Oh, she's quote unforgettable," Tasha agrees, finding at least one thing she can agree on without hesitation. "But anyway," she glances at Aaron, then back, "I'll just be headed to the Ajax now. Enjoy your breakfast, and thank you for attending our maiden landing."

"Wait, aren't you gonna ask me… The Question?" the Chaos Mage asks, making it sound ominous.

There's a heavy silence as Tasha fixes her gaze on the mage, then, in a voice that's clearly trying very hard not to sound strained, she asks, "I hadn't thought of it; what is 'the question'?"

Puffing out her cheeks, Felicity says, "You're supposed to be asking me how I got the nickname Pouches."

"I really need to be going … I'm very busy," Tasha insists, rubbing at her head with her fork-holding hand. "Can you make it quick?"

"You have to ask," the mage insists. "Go on, ask me!"

Tasha's eyes squeeze shut, and she looks like she might be having an anurisim. "Why are you called Pouches?"

"That's the name I pulled out of the hat!" the coon girl says, and then bursts into laughter. "Anyway, I'll take you to see Remy! I gotta get back to him anyway." She stuffs the rest of her sandwich into her cheek pouches and gets up.

Tasha's ears flick at the mention of 'taking her there,' but at least she opens her eyes. As she watches the Rath'ani mage with a flat, very neutral expression, she forks her meal as if the stabbing of it were helping her hold on.

"You seem kind of tense, Tasha," Aaron notes. "Sleep okay?"

"I just have … a lot on my mind," Tasha replies, but managing to at least slow her eating and force herself to look a little less stressed out. "You know I have a lot on my shoulders right now, and … " she nods to the girl, " … I'm not prepared for JEF-Magi relations. Not right now."

"What sort of relations?" Pouches asks, giving Tasha a suspicious look. "I don't know what rumors you've heard about Chaos Mages but… they're probably at least one third exaggeration."

"Felicity is hardly an emissary, Tasha," Aaron notes with a snicker.

"Diplomatic," Tasha insists, rather quickly. "We'd better get going."

"Seeya later," the raccoon tells Aaron, and then heads for the door. "Ever been on an Abaddonian airship… uh… Tasha, right?" she asks.

"Everyone is an emissary of their group; we always reflect on what we call ourselves a part of," Tasha adds, rather sternly. She seems to regret it though, because her face falls and she admits, "But, I know, Aaron. I'm sorry; I'll see you later." Turning, she follows after the mage and answers, "Yes, Tasha. And no, I haven't. From what I can tell, they're mechanically superior to Sinaian airships, due to both existent technological legacy, and the ability to produce said technology with lesser SPF interference. The Ajax is very impressive."

"Wow, I guess 'Cadet' means student right?" Felicity asks, heading for the lifts. "You sound like you're reading from a book, or writing one! I'm an Apprentice, so… I'm still learning, but mostly practicing now. What did you think of the stuff they called sausage? I'm pretty sure there was only one sort of meat in it, and it didn't have a skin or proper crunchy bits or blobs of fat in it. How weird is that? What's your favorite kind of sausage back on Sinai?"

"It's technically the rank of a non-commissioned military officer in training, but also applies to personnel-in-training for certain fields that require significant training, such as space travel. Or did, anyway." As she talks, and the mage rambles back at her, Tasha actually finds herself beginning to relax. While she doesn't like mages, she has tried to get along with them, and the easy going, low-ranking apprentice beside reminds her a bit of Mariel, if with quite a lot of strange mixed in. Whatever 'Pouches' has it's not an intimidating combination, and her good cheer seems to be infectious as Tasha begins to warm up to it. "But yes, 'student' is very accurate. Due to our current very low numbers, many of us were required to take positions we'd prefer to be much better qualified for. Cadet reflects my actual level of experience, while second-in-command is my temporary position. It's not from a book, either … I've just been tutored heavily. And, quickly." Smiling a little at it all, Tasha answers, "Bromthen sausage, from the southern Ai region is my favorite. This stuff, I think it's insectoid."

"Ewww, bug sausage? But that should be extra crunchy then!" Felicity complains, as they reach the lower corridor and head towards the hangar opposite Bellerophon's, where the Ajax is moored. Some sort of mechanical gantry has been deployed, so a smaller elevator can be used to ferry people too and from the airship without having to lower the huge cargo platform. "Hey, did you know the funny colors on the humans here are natural? I was really proud of my hair coloring before I got here! I mean, it's like… " she looks at Tasha, and continues, "having big boobs! And then going someplace where everyone has big boobs, even the men! Okay, maybe that's a bad analogy… " The guards at the base of the elevator roll their eyes when they see the mage approaching.

"My breasts are also natural, but I think I understand," Tasha points out and has to laugh; she remembers having almost exactly the same feeling in Amazonia. "As for the bugs, most, if not all, the fauna within the ravines possess significant metallic mass derived from, as far as I can tell, Abaddon's landmass. It may be also derived from the plants, who have roots in that mass. I'm not sure; science isn't really my department." As she approaches the guards, she steps forward to identify herself. "Cadet Tasha Argentine, JEF second-in-command. Permission to come aboard?"

"Tashly is a friend of Dr. Caramel," Felicity offers helpfully. The guards just nod, and open the gate to the elevator. "You'll have to sign in once you get up top," one of them explains.

"Of course." Tasha steps on to the elevator, standing straighter than she otherwise would; after all, she's boarding one of the finest airships in two worlds! "This is actually very exciting for me," she admits to the mage beside her. "I was born on an airship and lived on one most of my life, back before the series of events which lead me and my team to discover an Expedition-era spacecraft. The Bellerophon is beautiful, but I can't claim to understand most of it. This, this I can understand."

"I'm afraid of heights," Felicity notes as the elevator begins its ascent. "So I'm closing my eyes. Please tell me when we get to the top, because if we stop halfway up for some reason and I think we're at the end and I open my eyes, I'll have to get another breakfast."

"Understood." She isn't quite sure why she says, maybe because the mage reminds her a little of Mariel, and perhaps Aaron too, but she adds, "You're very unlikely to fall in any event, because I'm here."

"Well, that and we're in a big metal cage," the mage notes as the elevator rattles its way upward, even past the doors of the hangar. The roof of the base is overshadowed, literally, by the bulk of the airship. The cage comes to a stop, and another guard opens the gate. A sturdy catwalk leads into the Ajax itself.

"Ahoy there!" Tasha beams a smile at the guard, happy to see someone who works on an airship. Technically, several of the people on the ground do, too, but Tasha can't see it down there. "I've been wanting to see this ship since it arrived." She steps on to the gangway, her stress seeming to vanish in the face of a wonder so familiar.

The Karnor guard isn't quite sure how to reply, so simply says, "Ahoy… yourself… there." Felicity stares straight ahead and scurries across the gangway into the ship, where she waits for Tasha.

Tasha barks a laugh at the guard's reply, patting him on the shoulder as she strides past him. "Not quite like home, but close enough," she tells Pouches as she steps off the gangway and in to the ship proper. "A shame I didn't bring my camera, but given it's military, I'd probably need clearance."

The main entry doesn't seem very military. The walls are paneled in real wood, and the floor appears to be tiled in white marble, with a red carpet along the center. Photographs of the Ajax being constructed line the walls as well, and the light fixtures look like domes of polished horn. The hall is short though, leading to an intersection with a directory on one wall containing arrows pointing to staterooms, observation deck, dining hall, and bridge access. It may be that the civilian and military parts of the ship are completely separate!

Tasha makes a point of examining each and every picture as she passes them, tail wagging all the way. "This is great," she insists. "Look at the floor! Marble! It must weigh a ton! The lift capacity of the balloon must be enormous. And look here, at the propeller construction – far in advance of Sinai! The wood is beautiful, too! And look at the dock they built it in – massive!" Her review makes the short corridor rather a bit longer, but eventually Tasha gets to the end. "I'm supposed to sign in somewhere?"

There's a big open book on a pedestal, just around the corner. A guard is next to it, although he's dressed a bit more formally than a soldier. "Yes Miss, please sign in as a guest," he says, offering Tasha a quill pen.

Tasha takes the pen, and scans to see how others signed before signing in herself. "There we are. To think, a year ago this would have been a problem."

"How so?" Felicity asks. "Because of the feather?"

"Because I could barely read and write," Tasha replies, smiling a little sadly. She returns the quill, smiles a little brighter at the guard, and asks her guide, "Where to?"

"Dr. Caravan's room is this way, Tassle!" Felicity claims, and waving Tasha on as she heads towards the staterooms.

"Tassle?" The red woman follows along, albeit rather slowly, since she insists on examining every new details and commenting on them.

There are more photos, including some of Ajax flying in formation with a small fleet of other airships and aircraft. Eventually they come before a white stateroom door, numbered 14, before which Felicity stops, spins around and holds her hand up in a 'stop' gesture to Tasha. "We can't go in yet, Ghastly is still doing his ritual."

"I'm not about to enter in on magic when I don't have to," Tasha admits, far too reflexively to catch. Her ears flick, then she laughs quietly, adding in a slightly sheepish tone, "Hi, I'm a Vartan."

"Ah, so you've worked with a Spirit Mage before?" Felicity asks in a lowered voice. "They're all a bit… creepy… aren't they? Especially the cold-blooded ones. But Mage Necessity is nice. She's a Jupani. I think maybe there's something going on between her and Calamari, but it could just be because she's a Dream Mage so sleeping with him is part of her magic… "

"Oh," is all Tasha can manage at first, blinking in bemusement at the revelation Dr. Caravelli is sleeping with a mage. She has to wonder if that is why he never came back, which would mean it's because of her. As she stammers to try and say something coherent, she also tries to assure herself the reasons are far more complicated, and she should stop being so conceited. "I-I … I wasn't … aware. Of that. Aware, of … that. And no! I mean, no. I don't work with mages. Unless I must. I'm trying to! It's just … It's just hard. Complicated."

"Oh, they're done!" Felicity announces suddenly, and throws the door open. "Hey Ghastly, Necessity," she calls into the room. "I brought Remy's friend… uh… Tushy Argument… to see him!"

Several candles dimly light the inside of the room, and Tasha can see the carpet rolled up against one wall and chalk diagrams scrawled across the floor. Two rather surprised mages turn to look at her. One is a green Shiga in white robes and sporting a crest of scarlet frills, while the other is a pretty Jupani woman in gray robes, with tan fur and brown hair. Rising up from the bed is Dr. Caravelli. "Ugh, that must be Pouches… " he mutters.

Tasha's eyes go wide as the door flies open, and wider still at the introduction. She blinks outside the door, and, upon realizing they must be waiting for 'Tushy Argument,' takes a moment to compose herself before heading in. "Dr. Caravelli, Mages. I'm sorry for the intrusion; we could have waited until you were completely finished."

"We were finished," Ghastly says. "I am Mage Gessle, and this is my colleague, Mage Neesa. And I presume Felicity has mangled your name as well?"

"Tushy… heh," Caravelli chuckles.

"Ah, yes but it's quite … endearing … " Tasha replies, her gaze shifting to fall upon the bedridden doctor. A look of concern washes over her face and she doesn't look away, even as she introduces herself properly. "I'm Cadet Tasha Argentine, acting Joint Expeditionary Force second-in-command. It's a pleasure to meet you both … "

"Tasha, how does your abdomen feel?" Caravelli asks, swinging his legs out of the bed. "Any lingering soreness still?"

Both of the mages watch Tasha intently for her reply.

Tasha begins to open her mouth, then suddenly pauses, giving the man a particularly odd look. A second later, she ventures, "More than a dream, Doctor? I'm fine; it's a small price for what it offers. My skull and body are fine, too." As she offers the second part, she watches the Karnor's face carefully, looking for signs of recognition.

"Heh, so I'm not going crazy then," the ancient Karnor says with a grin.

"The link was very strong," Gessle claims. "Proximity does make a difference." "And it was all so… vivid," Neesa adds.

"There was this… thing," the Jupani mage says, gesturing with her hands. "It was white, and had multiple arms, but wasn't alive… and its fingers were surgical tools… and… " She just gives up at that point.

"No, and I think I understand what's happening. However, it's something I can't discuss with non-JEF personnel, especially those outside formal negotiations." Tasha's gaze shifts to the Karnor woman, brow raising. "You've seen these dreams too, Mage? Let me guess: he started having them several days ago, and they got worse after we landed, and even more so once the Ajax arrived?"

"And that was a medibot," Tasha adds. "Expedition-era robotic medical assistant. It's been sticking me with needles for days."

"Yes, Tasha," Caravelli confirms. "And I think I'm caught up now. Although I think you probably like the other me's bedside manner more."

"Spirit Duplication is not sanctioned by the Collegia," Gessle claims. "It is seen as a violation of privacy, akin to mind reading."

"I'll get used to it," Remiel claims. "I see now how Eli figured out a way to lessen or eliminate the catch-up effect."

"I like that he's happy," Tasha replies, sounding a little sad. "It's what I hope to see in you again, some day, Doctor. That doesn't mean I like him better." At Gessee's claim, Tasha glances over and, with a touch of sternness, replies, "JEF authority pre-dates the establishment of the Collegia Esoterica by hundreds if not thousands of years. But to put your mind at rest, it is not a matter that will see any further duplication, and remains a point of study and concern. We are aware of the implications."

"So long as no Spirit Mage is involved in causing this… dynamic… then Caroban will have no issue with it," Mage Gessle assures.

"We do not currently possess any personnel capable of manipulation of the Sifran Probablity Matrix, no. The idea has come up for future debate, as such specialists will undoubtedly be … needed for exploration and study of the Sinai System," Tasha answers.

"What?" Felicity asks Tasha. "You said a lot of words, and I have no idea what you meant."

"She said that her organization will look into hiring mages when the time is right," Caravelli notes, and asks, "Where are my pants? I swear one of you keeps hiding them… "

Tasha glances over at the apprentice and explains, holding out her hands for use as aids, "We, are here:" Tasha makes a fist, then another one, "this is Primus, the sun," she holds that fist away, then makes other fists in turn, each space, "This is a rough example of this system, and its planetary rotations. What is important, however, is that this system exists within Sifran Space. Magic, as you know it, does not exist outside the planets of this system. It is a byproduct of the technology inherent to these worlds." The red woman then nods to the doctor. "Dr. Caravelli is also correct, but that is a matter for formal negotiations."

"They're under your pillow, doc," Felicity notes, giving Tasha a weird look. "I know what the planets are, Tasty," she points out.

"I see. Not everyone does; I certainly didn't until recently." Tasha folds her arms, trying her best to keep her expression neutral. Being questioned by mages, and their odd looks, is beginning to rankle her good mood. Even the Ajax might not be able to keep her calm forever.

"And you don't know that magic won't work somewhere else," Felicity claims. "I mean, it didn't work on Abaddon a year ago, and now it does! So, stuff changes. That's Chaos!"

"Felicity, come clean up the circles would you?" Neesa asks, getting the raccoon's attention. With a sigh, the Chaos Apprentice gets a bucket and mop from the bathroom, while Caravelli gets dressed.

"According to what I was told, and the records I've seen, 'magic' appears to be a product of Sifran technology. It also is largely incomprehensible, given how far advanced their creations are when compared to Terran, or even Khattan, creations. It's possible such fields could be produced elsewhere; they simply weren't found. But if the Sifrans decided they should be there, I see no reason they couldn't be – nor anything that could stop them," Tasha insists, ears canting.

While the mages clean up, Caravelli comes over and puts an arm around Tasha's shoulders. "Ease up," he whispers. "I don't know what your issue is with mages, but they're aren't stupid. They know more than I do, after all. They've had 6000 years to learn what they have, and that's a lot more than the Expedition had going in."

Tasha glowers when told to ease up. "They just get on my nerves," the young woman admits in a low voice, head shaking. "I was trying to educate them a bit, and I'm sure they know all about the SPF, and … I … guess I was enjoying belittling them a bit." She glances at the doctor, pursing her muzzle before admitting, "Honestly, I was beginning to like Pouches, then that Naga had to try and bring up Collegia Authority. With a Vartan. I guess I'm not the only one who misses the obvious when irritated … "

"He wanted to make sure there wasn't another Spirit Mage behind it all, and didn't want to come right out and ask," Remiel explains. "They're a bit sensitive about Rogue Mages on Abaddon right now. They don't deserve to be talked down to, any more than you do, either. I thought by now you'd have lost that chip on your shoulder."

"I'm finding out a lot of things about me refuse to change," Tasha replies, looking sour now. "Here I'm trying to re-create the JEF, and I have my issues, and a hundred different groups and types of people. It seems like I'm doing well with one, then it's another that has a problem. I think I'm helping the PersoComs, and it turns out I'm just endangering them. I think I understand Gabriel, and it turns out I have no idea. Even the JEF may just be my desire for status, it turns out. I can at least claim to be making improvements; I haven't decided to leave like last time." Her head shakes again. "And here I was hoping this would be a nice reunion!"

"What's not nice about it?" Caravelli asks with a grin and a shoulder-squeeze. "All you have to keep in mind, Tasha, is that other people are still people, and they're different from you. And also that the goal of bettering yourself isn't to look down on others… because the better person doesn't do that. Right?"

"If anything, this should put to rest your worries that Nora somehow overwrote who you are," he adds.

"I suppose," Tasha answers, rather petulantly. She breathes a sigh then nods, a bit more acceptably. "No, you're right. I'm just under a great deal of stress, and I'm quite clearly not qualified for the position I have. Half the time, it seems like I'm making mistakes due to some character flaw I don't even realize. Then it's this again. If I didn't have people like you, I'd have become a pirate." She can't help but chuckle as she considers the man's last few words, even if it's a bit bitter. "Sometimes I wish she had. She was qualified. Instead I have her resenting me – never mind I did what she asked of me."

"Ah, there are no overnight transformations, Tasha," Remiel notes. "You can't go into a cocoon and wake up a new person. It takes time. And there's nothing wrong with that – nobody expects you to suddenly be anyone but who you are because of a mental download. You're still young, and the only way to really learn anything is to screw up a lot. So, you're off to a good start, if you really think about it!"

At that, Tasha barks a laugh. "So I've been told! But it's not just me anymore; it's me and the JEF. The mistakes I make now hurt others. If I could, I'd hand off responsibility to someone better suited so I could learn without also having to live up to being a leader, but this is my creation. Gabriel leads because I asked him to, and now I'm even doubting if that was wise. Which … is also why I came here, actually. Can we sit somewhere? Do you have any alcohol?"

"There's a bar on the observation deck," Remiel notes, and tells the others, "I'm going to give Tasha the tour. You guys will be okay on your own for a bit, right?"

The mages nod, saying, "Go catch up, we'll watch Pouches."

Tasha glances over at the mages, then, after a taking a deep breath, offers, "I … apologize for my words. For … belittling you. I'm … I'm not very good with dealing … working with mages. I'm trying. I'm sorry."

"You are from Sinai though, aren't you?" Gessle asks. "We were told you used to work on an airship. That means you must have done business with mages before."

"I am, yes," Tasha replies, turning to face the mage more fully so she isn't glancing at them from under Caravelli's arm. "My captain is a Vartan. Most of my crew were Vartans. You know what most of us think of mages, so it shouldn't surprise you we largely avoided them. The only mage I remember is a Mage Thorn, who scared my mother so much she told me, if I ever worked with you, I would … regret it."

The two Mages look at one another, and it's Neesa who asks, "Hon… where do you think the hydrogen and helium gasses for airships come from? Your captain bought it from an Air Mage."

Tasha makes a face, and the doctor can feel her tense under his shoulder. "I never thought about i- … No. I knew. Some things you have to do because you have to. We won't starve ourselves if mages made all the food, but we won't like it! I … " And then the doctor can feel Tasha's hand grab on to him, shaking, as she breaks off her increasingly agitated reply to breath, obviously trying to calm herself. She averts her gaze to the floor, and shakes her head, eyes wide. "I … I won't get over this today … maybe not tomorrow … maybe never. But, but I … I don't know. I have to … I … I can only promise I will never let my feelings on this interfere with Magi participation in the JEF. That's … that's all I can handle right now."

"Let's get on with that tour, shall we?" Caravelli says, guiding Tasha out into the hallway, then down towards the big intersection.

"Thank you," Tasha whispers with a nod, following along without resistance. Once they're outside, she admits, "This is going to be a hard flight."

"Something else you need to think about, Tasha: not everyone in a particular group will hold the same beliefs and prejudices," Remiel notes, as he brings Tasha to a large room full of couches and a panoramic curved window looking forward. The bridge of the Ajax can be seen ahead… or at least the bottom of it. "You may learn things about your people that will shock you."

"Mmm," is all Tasha seems to be able to manage as she walks towards the table, the canted eared, strained expression would be enough for anyone to tell she's stressed, but the doctor can smell her, too. Once they reach a bench, she drops herself down on to it, and, exhaling a breath that seems to take much of her stress with it, settles in. She gazes out across the sky, her expression softening for the sight. "I'm sure you're right, Doctor. I learned Gabriel couldn't accept what happened to his ship, after all, and put Nora in charge. Then she died."

Remiel sits next to the young woman. "Gabriel gave up a lot to get the position he had, and… well… the crash broke his spirit. We all knew we were never going to wake up again, in our hearts. I can't tell you how often I question whether any of this is real, or just a dream," he says quietly.

"I've dreamed I was Nora," Tasha murmurs, staring out across the cold, dark sky. "It wasn't exact, but I knew and saw … And I see it in their eyes … I see it every day. I used to be so scared of ending up like her, I … I would do things. You've seen. And after, I couldn't tell who I was anymore … I think I'm scared. Scared of losing everything I was, even the bad parts. I never hated mages this badly, and they saved you, didn't they? It's like … I want to hate them, to prove I'm still me. Because I don't know how to do any of this. This world is alien to me, and so is the one I came from, now." She takes a moment to ponder the doctor's further words, and nods. "I never imagined reality could be so easily questioned."

"Well, you could try being excited instead," Remiel suggests with a grin and waggle of his ears. "It's all new. Everything is going to be an adventure, if you want it to be. In other words, stop trying so hard, and let things happen," the wolf says.

"Oh, I am," Tasha admits, although she doesn't look very excited. "Or was. Now I worry about Gabriel, about dealing with the mages, what to do about the projections … Should I just stop? Stop participating in leadership? Just follow orders, and not try and give them? Direct things? Isn't that my responsibility? Otherwise, I'll just be burdening Gabriel with all of it, with the task of building the ghost of his past, to sate my future … " She exhales, dropping her gaze to rub her face. "Organizations don't just happen, do they? Won't he resent me if I stop trying, have fun while he works?"

"You'd be surprised at what just happens," Remiel says warmly. "Things do self-organize, you see, and when they do… it's usually in the optimal pattern. That's nature. Things that are adaptable and flexible do best in the long run, even organizations. Leave it to those who've done it successfully before. Gabe doesn't have to do it all, wasn't that the point of bringing in the Pit of Himar folks? They made something work that by all the laws of politics should have collapsed immediately."

"That's … That's an interesting take on things. If I understand, you're saying if I just stop trying so hard to make it work, to try and handle every little detail either myself, or through Gabriel – even through policies – it will just … work itself out? That sounds familiar; I think Gabriel was trying to tell me that. He told me once, "We're mates, that's a bond stronger than antiquated pack instinct." As if, like you, he was trying to say, "Tasha, don't be so formal, you don't have to follow every rule or fit a stereotype." As if I could just be, just love him, and put aside rank, and pack, and … and it would all just work out." Lowering her hands, Tasha glances over, head tilting. "Is that what you mean? I don't … don't have to do everything? I can just … be?"

"Being is what everyone is secretly good at," Remiel says. "When I was your age… well, I was a wreck. I planned out everything to the minute. How long to groom, when to eat and what to eat, planned out a week in advance, all to accommodate a class schedule meant for two people, studying medicine and psychology at the same time. It was too much. I'd fly off the handle if any one little thing wasn't perfect. I couldn't cope, there just wasn't any room for it in my schedule. And finally it killed me. Well, nearly killed me."

"Speaking of which, I'm glad you're okay. Outburst and mage belittling aside, I've really been worried about you," Tasha confides, making an effort to smile. "And, I think I know what you mean about that kind of stress. It feels like if I make any mistake at all, I'll hurt someone, or embarrass Gabriel, or the JEF will fail, and … how could I live with myself then?"

"I can sympathize," Remiel says. "It was Nora who saved me, ironically. I mean, she was a really ambitious one – sort of like you. But she had a secret. After my breakdown, I woke up in this little cabin on a lake out in the middle of nowhere. All alone, with no way to contact anyone and nothing but a knife and a fishing pole, and note saying, If you're still alive in two weeks, you'll thank me. If not, I'll owe you an apology. But I survived. It was the best two weeks of my life, looking back. I had to really learn who I was, and what I could do."

"Those are the accomplishments that really matter, Tasha," Remiel says. "The ones where you grow, and do things you couldn't imagine – and there's nobody else to know. Just you."

"Wow," Tasha breathes as she leans back and ears perk, clearly impressed. "She did that? It does sound like her, but these days she's so … " The young woman winces, remembering the irritated, trapped woman back on the ship. A flash of pain crosses Tasha's eyes, and she looks away. "I hate thinking about her like she is, but … " Her head shakes. "There's little I … we can do. And you know, she showed us that cabin? Made a little cake, let us ride motorcycles. It was a good memory … " Looking back, she asks, "Well, then, does that mean I should … go away for a while? I am slated for a mission in two days, to go and scan the Pit with Melchior. You know about Melchior, right?"

"Yes, I know about your mission," Caravelli says. "It'll be good for you to get out and do something on your own, that only you can do. Take the time to get to know yourself. Don't worry about Gabriel – I'll take care of him. And Nora… well, she thrives on adversity. She'll master her situation. And trust me, she'll resent it if you worry about her, or think she can't help herself."

"Now that definitely sounds like her. You … Well you remember the first time I did that!" Tasha barks a laugh, head shaking. "We ended up in a fight, I decked her, she let me storm off the ship … And, oh! That's when I found the Melchior! I did that all by myself; Blammo wasn't judgmental at all. And I was proud of it, even if not exactly because of how I left. I mean, I got Melchior to work! I managed surgery! Melchior was mine, and while I was too attached to him, he's still … mine. When I'm stressed out, or worried, I like to sleep just under his head, listening to the rumble of the batteries … It feels like I can always fly away. He's my own little world." Tasha smiles at that, head tilting. "I've been looking forward to launch. Really excited, even. It'll be our first chance to really fly. I was told, deep inside that PersoCom program, that I come closer to being who I could be with him. Does that make sense? I think you really have something!"

"Okay, so you don't feel weird about Melchior's AI then?" Caravelli asks, just to be sure.

"Define … weird," Tasha replies, raising a eyebrow.

"As in… you don't think you are an AI, and that his is your soulmate or something?" the doctor asks.

Tasha blink at that, then shakes her head. "I got over thinking I'm an AI pretty quickly; not that it would matter if I was, given we're both AI because we're Karnor. But I think you mean a specific, distinctly robotic kind of AI. And no, nothing like that." Lifting a hand up, Tasha taps her muzzle as she tries to explain. "I see Melchior as my shadow; my big, black, shadow. We're connected: I'm a component of his system, and he's my Titan. But, more than that, he's a part of me, now, just as I am a part of him. He's not a person, but he does think; that's why I call him my shadow. He's a part of me, but he doesn't exist without me; doesn't think, doesn't worry, doesn't love me. But a person without a shadow isn't complete, just like Melchior; the true Melchior, isn't complete without both of us. He's also my refuge, a place only I can go, and something only I can use. I've been trying to live up to the dignity of a Titan pilot, too, but given what we've talked about, I may take that much more slowly."

"Titan pilots had dignity?" Remiel asks, smirking again. "How many have you ever met, Tasha?"

"It was explained to me Titans were duelists for their nations, which means they had to carry the honor and dignity of their nations. I know they also had big egos, because Titans are vehicles that must represent the ego of a nation. Titans weren't even effective fighting machines – as much as I hate admitting that – or even very practical; they and their pilots were proud warriors who fought and died for who they represented. A Titan pilot without pride would be … It would represent their people poorly. Right? And besides that, I just couldn't stand to shame myself and my Titan by being incapable of piloting well. I want to live up to its potential, and say, "I am equal to my machine." I want to be worthy of it, not just have it because I found it. That's the agreement I made with it, when we linked. I doubt he cares, but I do," Tasha adds.

"Titan pilots were jerks, for the most part," Remiel notes. "Sort of like… well… they believed their own hype. It was more than a big ego, it was being treated special, given privileges, and standing apart from everyone else. Like demigods. But they were just people, really. They hardly ever remembered that they were though."

Tasha listens to this, quite intently – then she suddenly bursts out laughing! "Ha … haha! Really? They sound exactly like me, I don't know why … but that's the funniest thing … Ha, hahaha!" She laughs for several seconds more until it seems like she's run out of steam, leaving her to wipe her face and shake her head. "I would have loved that life; you know, don't you? That would have been me, if I could have had it. I thought Titan pilots would be big of ego, but also maybe noble, … proud, competent … but it turns out, I was already just the type! Ha. Oh, my sides hurt … "

"Ah, it's good to hear you laugh at least," Remiel says. "Themis-Skoll was Nora's refuge – but she wasn't the pilot. Omeara was, and she never once climbed into the cockpit. She felt above the need to practice in it, or record her personality."

"It is good to laugh, thank you." Tasha reaches over and pats the man's hand, smiling. "I had heard Omeara and Nora were the pilots, but not who was the main pilot. I know it has two seats, as well; who was the second? Nora? Didn't Omeara just hate the collars? I remember something about also being an … observer?"

"I guess I can claim one up on her, too, as a pilot: I have recorded my personality. Not that that went well, but I did," Tasha adds.

"Nobody was the designated spotter for Themis-Skoll since it was never expected to see combat," Remiel says. "So, still need that drink?"

"I never turn down a drink," Tasha insists, smiling a little more. "You could say Melchior itself is my spotter; he's certainly very helpful. And there's just something about being connected to that machine. It isn't being big – or maybe it is – but I've never wanted to push anyone around in it. I just feel … safer. And, somehow, a step away from being Tasha. In Melchior, provided I'm not doing anything stressful, I feel a little apart from the world, and it's nice. There's even CV mode, if I ever need to just think, and not feel."

"I think I'd like to try something new, too," Tasha insists, leaning forward and eying a wine list. "I've seen ambassadors drinking things I could never afford before. Wine, aye? I'd like to try that."

"Okay, the bartender isn't on duty… but I've known how to pick the lock on a liquor cabinet since I was twelve," the doctor notes with a wink, and gets up to walk to the bar.

Tasha gives the doctor a gape-mouthed look as he admits to thievery, then she realizes he was right again: people really do surprise you. And if he's right there, as he has been in the past, why not just go with his advice? And so, Tasha reclines in to their booth, just happy to be where she is, something she hasn't felt since she talked to his double. She'll just sit and drink, talk, and try and just try and let things happen.