A small mob of journalists stand between Tasha and the road leading into the city proper. Tomorrow's-Hope stands silently behind Tasha to one side as the gaggle of voices asking questions becomes an incomprehensible blur of sound. A human woman, a small Shiga-like Imperial lizard and a smiling Eeee have pushed their way to the front, pens and pads at the ready. It isn't clear if they have their own photographers, or if the ones in the crowd are just freelancers. Nobody wears any identifying badges or other insignia.

"Oi, woah, woah!" Tasha holds up her hands, trying to get the mob of reporters, photographers, and who-knows-what-else to slow down so she can pick out a question. While her eyes and nose are sharp, her hearing is not. "One at a time!" She glances to her temporary escort and, lifting a gauntlet and glancing at him, signs, "What's the main, or most reputable, source of news around here?"

"None of them are particularly reputable," the Silent-One signs back. "Phobos Gazette is the main publication based within the Pit."

"Not easy, is it?" Shaking her head and grinning, she turns back to the crowd and says, "I will accept one reporter from Elamoore, and if there are any present, one from each of the factional sub-cities! Sort yourselves out! Also," she sweeps her gaze across the mob, "anyone here for information who isn't a reporter? Museum investigators? Scientific inquiries?"

"They all left on the Ajax for something," caws a Korv photographer wearing a somewhat squashed looking green felt hat. He aims his camera, says, "Smile for the birdy!" and triggers a small, but very bright, explosion of flash powder.

"I'm from the Gazette!" the human reporter says. "Louise Court, based here in the pit."

"Me too!" chimes in the Eeee. "Ariana Harp of Modern Times!"

"Imperial Newsss, Himar Bureau," hisses the lizard. "Sssylvia Ssslithe."

The Vartan – who's eyes are especially good at focusing light – yelps at the flash, reaches to rub at her eyes with a metal encrusted hand. "Ow. You know about Vartans and flashbulbs, don't you?" She sucks in a breath, restraining her sudden urge to demolish the apparatus, but is still squinting and watery eyed when she starts pointing at people. "You, Miss Court. You're first. Miss Harp, second. Slithe, third. Three questions each. Go."

Smiling triumphantly to the other two reporters, Miss Court asks, "For the record miss, what is your name?"

"Tasha," replies the still bleary Vartan. "My rank is Cadet. Pilot Cadet."

"And are you from an advanced Confederate outpost, or another civilization from the far side of the planet, here to stake a claim to the Pit of Himar?" the human asks next, after the unnerving scratching of pencils and pens on paper ceases.

Tasha blinks a few times as if she were fighting a spot in her vision then suddenly gives the reporter an odd look at such an unexpected question. "Neither," she replies, turning and giving the reporter her full attention. "I am from a civilian organization recently restored by myself and my fellow crew members. As I said, I am Cadet Tasha of the Joint Expeditionary Force. As the name implies, we are a joint venture between species and governments. We are not here to conqueror anyone; I am here to help."

This causes a bit of a stir, and even gets the attention of the two Knights Templar on crowd-control duty. "Are… you here to replace the Knights?" Louise asks next, in as neutral a tone of voice as she can manage.

Tasha glances at the nearest Knight, clearly noticing the reaction as well. "No," she replies when she thinks she has the Knight's eye contact. "We are an exploration and scientific endeavor, not a martial or peacekeeping force. We are not here to 'replace' anyone."

Eager to take her turn, Ariana nudges Louise aside. "Where did you get your technology from?" she asks, almost accusingly. But then, Vartan armor and a Vartan-shaped Titan do imply Confederate origins.

The young woman cocks her head to the side at the rather forceful tone and holds her hands up placatingly. "It is not Confederate, but that doesn't mean we won't employ Confederate technology if necessary and feasible," Tasha explains. Lifting her left arm, she turns the hand around, palm forward, then splits her fingers. "This Gauntlet is Terran. Excuse me, Expedition. This armor is Khattan, produced for Vartans. Each are six thousand years old! The technology of the Joint Expeditionary Force is the technology of the past! We have revived it, as best we are able, for its original purpose: exploration of the Sinai Star System for the sake of knowledge, and to the betterment of us all."

More muttering. "So, you are claiming that you salvaged your technology from… somewhere… and did not steal it from one or more factions or produce it in a clandestine weapons development program?" Ariana asks for clarification.

"Yes. As far as I'm aware, the Confederacy does not – and did not – have the infrastructure or technological bent to produce machines of this type. instead, relying on highly modified, tailored organisms in conjunction with other bio sciences to fabricate a large portion of its technology. Even so, nothing I possess is Confederate. I am not Confederate, either; I am from Sinai," Tasha replies.

"Alien?" someone in the crowd says, causing another stir. Ariana looks thoughtful, and then asks, "Where on Sinai are you from?"

Tasha almost says 'The Rake,' but quickly decides she'd rather not bring down a horde of alien reporters on her old captain's head. Instead, she answers, "Rephidim. I was an airship hand, before my life took a turn for the interesting and I discovered an ancient, buried spaceship. While much of the details of that endeavor and following ones remain classified at this time, I can tell you that its discovery lead my party and I to the technology I possess, and to the decision to refound the Joint Expeditionary Force. And, before suspicions get the better of anyone, let me volunteer that we are allied with the PHTO Council, and by their request, I am here."

"Council is up to something again," is a common mutter in the crowd, amidst the scribbling of pencils. "My turn," Sssylvia notes, stepping forward. If she wasn't wearing a skirt, it would be impossible to tell the reptile's gender. "Exsssactly how iss a flying combat Titan to be used to 'help' the people of the Pit?" she asks.

"That's a good question," Tasha says, smiling and happier now that the inquiries have moved away from sensitive personal and classified topics. "My Titan, the Melchior, has been specially equipped with advanced scanning equipment that will be able to penetrate the ground, locating well water and natural resources."

After the scribbling dies down, Sssylvia asks, "And who will be given the rightsss to exploit any dissscovered resourcess?"

"That will be for the Council and my superior to decide," the Cadet replies, sweeping her gaze across the crowd to try and gauge their mood. "However, be reassured it will be provided to all factions allied with the Council."

There's more muttering about the Council, along with the writing. Sssylvia seems to measure Tasha with her gaze, and then asks, "Finally; what role, if any, did your organization play in the recent… ressstructuring… of the Imperial Life Dome?" This causes the muttering to come to an abrupt stop.

"None," Tasha replies without hesitation. "Our organization did not exist in its present form during those events, and its previous form had been defunct for several thousand years. I actually know very little about what happened, save that there appeared to be an eruption of organic growth from within the dome, and this organic matter appears to be infectious. Our technology may be of some help, but we are in a restructuring and rebuilding stage and our resources are limited."

The other reporters try to get in questions as well, even though the agreed upon number has been met. It's a babble of noise once again (save for the single Silent-Ones reporter, who has so far only written things down.)

Tasha, once again faced with a cacophony of questions, finds the one point of silence to be, ironically, the 'loudest' of all. Lifting a hand, she signs at the Silent-One, "I see you, alone, for Silent-One representation. If you represent a Silent-One news body, I will answer your three questions, as well."

The cheetah's ears show surprise at him being singled out. The signs on his mask identify him as Chronicler-of-History. He signs, "My first question regards your organization. You say it is open to all races, like the Knights Templar, but is still young. What is the current size and racial makeup of the Joint Expeditionary Force?"

It takes a moment for the other journalists to catch the signed conversation, and there's a scrambling and jostling as the those who know Sign struggle to the front to watch the conversation.

Noticing the confusion, Tasha repeats the question aloud and then signs as well as speaks her answer. "We are currently four, including myself, the Captain, our chief scientist, and our engineering cadet. We are supported by a single ancient vessel and its considerable onboard AI. Preparations are underway to begin recruiting. Details of our vessel, the name of the crew besides my own, and our other technology remain classified at this time. However, we are two Karnor, one Lapi, and one half-Vartan."

The half-Vartan comment causes another stir, as people look more closely at Tasha – perhaps they'd thought the wings were just part of the armor and she was, in fact, a Karnor.

"How does your group intend to support itself?" Chronicler signs next.

"It's what you think," Tasha speaks up regarding the looks. "Wings, hooves, digigrade legs, flash-sensitive eyes … " She chuckles at all the focus, but soon turns to reply. "Via mutual benefit through alliance with the PHTO Council, and possibly other organizations, if that should prove to be feasible for all. We also maintain a level of self-sufficiency."

"So will your resource scanning technology be available for hire to other governments or individuals if it proves successful here?" the Silent-One asks for his final question.

"We are not 'for hire.' Our alliances depend on mutual benefit and must fit within the confines of our ethics and mission. Supporting the people of the Sinai System with increased resources is well within that mission. As I said, we are an exploratory organization, based upon the mission of the origin Joint Expeditionary Force, which was the mission of the fleet that brought our ancestors to these worlds. We exist to explore this system, and if able, use our discoveries and technology to better its people. Although … ," Tasha's head cocks to the side and she looks a bit distant, staring off in to the sky, "I guess there are quite a few more species about than there used to be and we no longer quite represent Terra, Zion, and the other space fairing nations, if they even exist anymore. No, in a sense we serve all people, should they be peaceful and desire to understand the secrets of these worlds." Dropping her gaze, Tasha adds, "We are not unlike the Knights Templar, but our mission is one of exploration and science, rather than peacekeeping."

"Thank you for your time," Chronicler signs, before giving Tasha a slight bow of his head.

"It's the Ajax!" someone in the crowd yells (it sounded like a Korv voice though) and then the press turn their attention back to the airfield, and growing shape of the giant airship. Vartan ground crew appear from one of the buildings, and hurry onto the field with huge loops of cable needed for mooring the massive airship.

The bow is returned. "You're quite welcome." Now that she's answered everything she plans to answer, she shifts her gaze to look beyond the reporters, to the civilians. Angling her head in a rather birdlike way, she tries to see who else has come, and maybe if there are any children.

A few children are seen, sitting on their parents' shoulders to get a better view. There are cheers when the Ajax is spotted. Apparently having the airship come into the Pit itself is a big deal. Tomorrow's-Hope taps lightly on Tasha's shoulder to get her attention.

Tasha, who looked like she was considering going out to meet the parents and children, gives a distracted, "Hmm?" at the tap before stepping back. "What is it, Tomorrow's-Hope?" she asks as she tries to look between him and the now approaching airship.

"I must help with the mooring," the Silent-One signs, and then gestures back towards the Titan hangar. "Will you be waiting for the Council to disembark?"

Turning more fully so she can sign, Tasha replies, "It seems I'd better, since there's no one to meet me at present. I'll take wing and head for the disembarkation point. Thank you for your assistance."

As the cheetah lopes back towards the hangar, Tasha can see several vehicles moving out onto the field, belching steam from their engines. One of them has a rather ornate looking stairway rising up from it's back.

"I guess that's my ride," Tasha remarks to no one in particular. She pauses long enough to wave to the crowd and bid anyone still watching her farewell, then breaks in to a run and is off in to the air.

Several of the Vartans pause in their work to glance at the odd creature flying towards them, but not for long enough to actually slow things down. Tasha can see the person driving the gangway vehicle is a Karnor… wearing a straw hat.

Tasha angles for approach, then comes down to land on a clear side of the vehicle with a clank of metal encased hooves. "Ahoy there," she breathes as she lands, straightening and smiling. "I'm to meet the delegates, they're probably expecting me!"

"Ahh!" the driver yelps, and the vehicles swerves a bit before coming to a stop. The Karnor raises the brim of his hat and looks at Tasha. "I ain't drunk so… you're a flying Karnor?" he asks.

Tasha leans over the vehicle and grins down at the man. "I sure am," she replies the tail of her suit wagging, albeit slowly. "Half-Vartan. Don't let me stop you!"

"Which half?" the man asks, before blinking and looking up towards the descending airship. "Got some time yet… "

"Oh, my mother's half," Tasha replies, grinning all the more. She vaults up and over to sit herself at the top of the stairs, feet dangling off. "Wings, hooves, funny tail, eyes. That sort of thing."

"And you're a girl too?" the driver asks, just to be sure. The armor isn't that form-fitting, after all.

"I'm pretty sure … " Tasha looks down at herself, then mumbles all too loudly, "Breasts … no penis … big hips … Yep, I'm a girl! My mate says so, too." She then barks a laugh, and winks.

"So, you from Elamoore then?" the man asks, then immediately shakes his head. "Forget that… you'd just be a toddler if that was the case."

"I've been to Elamoore several times, but that was before it was teleported off my home world," the young woman replies, legs swaying. "I was about twelve back then."

The Lawbringers exit the hangar, and take up positions near some winches on the ground, while the Vartans fly up to connect links from them to mooring points on the undercarriage of the giant dirigible.

Tasha's eyes follow the Vartans, her hand shielding against he dull glare of Primus. "Ahh, mooring duty. That brings back memories."

It takes several minutes before the lines are all connected and the winches turned on, literally dragging the Ajax down into specific position. Vartans man the top of the main mooring mast, which rises a hundred feet into the air to accommodate even the largest dirigible (and something the old wooden ones on Sinai wouldn't be able to handle). "Don't often get airships in," the driver comments.

As Tasha settles in to watch the Ajax land, she nods. "Elamoore used to see a lot more air traffic, I suppose. It's a bit odd to me, to watch a ship I just traveled on moor without my help. And to think, I was just a passenger!" her head shakes in amazement, chuckling. "At least I got to land my own vessel, to keep from feeling completely useless!"

"Oh, the giant Vartan was you?" the driver asks. He squints at Tasha, as if trying to see if her armor was the Titan and he just got his perspective wrong.

"We look alike, don't we? We even have matching armor … and sometimes share the same mind!" Again she laughs, albeit at a joke the poor man probably doesn't follow. "Yes, that was me. The Titan, Melchior, is mine."

"Don't tell my daughter," the driver requests. "She already wants a motorcycle for her 16th birthday."

An air-horn sounds, signaling that the Ajax is moored and stable. The Karnor starts the gangway moving again.

"Oooh," the young woman purrs, leaning down, ears perking. "You still have motorcycles? I mean, … " She blinks at herself, having another bout of feeling out of place and time, wincing. "Sorry, lost track of when I was. It makes sense yo do – they're workable with current technology levels. Can you buy one around here? I'm looking for … a … " She pauses to look up as the horn blares, watches the ship approach a moment, then finishes, "Gift. A gift! My sister would like it."

"Buy one?" the driver asks, as he edges forward towards the main entry door of the airship. "The ones 'round here are cobbled together from spare parts, mostly."

"She'd like that too; it was something she did as a child." Eying the approaching undercarriage, Tasha decides it's time to move before she gets squashed. "Looks like I have to go," she calls out, pulling herself to her feet and hurrying down the stairs towards the ground. "Nice meeting you!"

"Flying Karnor girls… " the driver mutters. "I wonder if they wear skirts?" Then the gangway extends up another meter to connect with the hatchway. The steam engine is shut down, and the Ajax opens up. The first head to pop out, aside from the uniformed soldier manning the hatch, is not of the potato variety; it's Aaron. "No girls in grass skirts with necklaces of flowers?" he asks the attendant, clearly disappointed.

Tasha awaits at the bottom of the stairs, having rushed to stand to the side and at attention. "You sound like Gabriel," she calls out, glancing towards the opening. "Better scoot before they run you over, bunny!"

"They're still in the lounge," Aaron notes, hurrying down with his travel-pack on his back. "How'd your landing go?"

"The landing was stress free and interesting, it was the reporters with their rabid eyes, blinding flashes, and cacophony of questions that were the real trial," the young woman replies, grinning. She pats her left leg, indicating Aaron should come and join her. "I need to wait for my bosses, are you going to head out on your own?"

The Lapi stands next to Tasha, and says, "I need to arrange a place to stay, so I can wait with… what's that?" Aaron points to something approaching the stairs. It's low to the ground and sleek looking, long and belching smoke and steam.

Tasha listens with ears perked and is about to make a comment when Aaron points. Turning her head, the Lapi can see the woman blink. "That's … That's … I know this … Come on, Nora … It's … It's … " Her face a mask of concentration, she focuses on the approaching machine until suddenly her eyes widen and she declares, "A car! A motor vehicle, I think that's a limousine!"

"Sounds like a fruit drink," Aaron comments, as the black motor coach stops nearby. The driver is exposed, behind a windshield, while the rest of the carriage is a metal box with smoked windows and hatch-like doors. Two attendants (one human, one Karnor) leave the driver's bench (the driver appears to be a Silent-One) and go to open the double-doors in preparation, showing a leather-clad interior.

"I wonder if I'll be riding in that; might be a tough fit with me in my armor. I suppose I could fly after it, but I don't want to seem like I'm chasing the Council's heels like some sort of pet," Tasha murmurs very quietly, knowing Aaron can hear her. "At the very least," she says, louder, "I need to figure out where they want me to stay, or not stay, and see about my escort."

"Maybe there's a seat near the engine in back, like on a noble's carriage?" Aaron suggests, looking over Tasha's armored wings. "I don't know that leather seats can survive your armor. What are you wearing underneath, your regular made-of-soft-scales body suit?"

"You got it," Tasha replies, swinging her gaze from the vehicle to the Ajax. "You can't wear much else in here, the armor is pretty thick."

"Well, I'm sure they'll tell you when they get here," Aaron says, just as the first the PHTO Council start their way down the stairs. It's Strength-of-Stones, his servant, and Scholar-to-Aliens, with the bright scales of Sssistho-Sephra behind them.

"And here they are," Tasha murmurs even as she straightens. She doesn't salute this time, but does tuck her hands behind herself, standing at attention.

Strength-of-Stones nods cordially to Tasha as the Silent-Ones pass by and enter the limousine. Sssistho seems a bit preoccupied (or possibly drunk), and trailing him are the Expedition representatives, Cromwell and Altieri. It's Cromwell who tells Tasha, "If you'd like to ride with us, you still have time to return to your quarters and change into civilian garb; we have to wait for the Senator, who will be coming down with the elevator."

"I think I would, thank you Mr. Cromwell." Tasha smiles and inclines her head, then waits for the two Expedition representatives to pass on before telling Aaron, "I'm going to go change, maybe drop my armor off where they can lower it down more easily. What will you do?"

"I'll wait here I suppose, unless there's something you want me to hold onto for you?" the buck asks. "I can always get a ride and directions from the ground crew."

"Nothing I don't need on me – sorry to cut this reunion short! I'm a busy girl; my life is always busy these days!" Tasha reaches over and rubs the top of Aaron's head fondly, if unintentionally roughly given she's wearing powered armor. "If I don't see you, I'll be around town – maybe!" And with that, she hurries up the stairs!

The corridors are busy, with crew pushing trolleys covered in luggage or supplies along the halls. But they haven't gotten to Tasha's cabin yet, at least, so all of her stuff should still be there.

Hurrying as best a armor-clad, winged woman can in narrow halls, Tasha finally arrives at her room. Most of her belongs are neatly contained in a single duffel bag, with her uniform hanging out in case she needed it. After grabbing her uniform, she  hurries on towards the cargo bay to stow her suit near the reactor and change, leaving her duffel for the porters.

Things are very busy in the main bay. The belly doors are open and the sides of the bay extended, so that certain corridors are blocked, but the central one remains open. Tasha sees the crews already prepping the reactor and weapons-locker for lowering, while a large flatbed truck maneuvers into position below. The crew chief notices Tasha and waves to her. "Come to watch us lower your stuff?" he shouts.

"I actually came to change and drop my armor off," Tasha admits as she walks over, raising her voice above the noise. "Given how much this suit weighs, it seemed like a rude idea to leave it in my quarters for the porter crew to haul out. Think I could get a little privacy? Or … I could change inside the locker," she suggests, eying the monolithic storage device and pointing at it.

"Hold on," the chief says, and waves to one of the crane operators. Soon enough, the locker is swung over to where Tasha can access it from the catwalk.

"Thanks!" Tasha punches the crew chief lightly in the arm, then, after several steps, leaps in to the air! Shortly after, she lands on the catwalk beside her Titan's storage bay. At least all the noise will mask some of the sound; this will be the most dramatic clothes change I've ever had. After a moment's hesitation, she reaches over and lays a hand on the massive door.

Something in the system recognizes her, and instead of opening the full, Titan-sized door it opens a smaller pilot-sized one, probably sensing that it isn't in its usual orientation.

"I love technology," Tasha tells the air as she steps inside her little piece of the world.

It's a tight fit, having to squeeze between packed and sealed containers of spare parts, but there's enough room to at least store the armor.

After escaping her armor, Tasha wiggles in to her uniform and turns to make sure her armor is oriented right so as not to be damaged in transition. Satisfied, she exits, reseals the door, and steps on to the catwalk. Eying the ground far below the Ajax, she points downward until the crew chief sees her, then simply leaps off the edge.

By the time she makes it back to the limousine, Tasha sees one of the modular sections lower down on cables, just as it had when the Council arrived at Tartarus. The walls fold down and the support staff, porters and the Confederate councilors disembark. Rapatia pushes along Cornelius's wheelchair, and the elderly Eeee looks particularly bright-eyed. He even waves to Tasha.

Tasha barks a laugh at the chipper reaction and waves back with a smile. "He looks better today; I'm glad," she remarks to those beside her.

"He drank a pint of rum," Altieri whispers. "Don't turn your back to him… he likes to pinch Vartan girls on the rear."

That makes Tasha's brows go up. "I bet he does." Barking a laugh loud enough to carry over the noisy airport, she then admits, "He seemed like the type; it's probably worse with the alcohol." Smiling and amused, she then asks, "What about you? Have anyone you pinch on the rear, sir?"

"Only Mrs. Altieri puts up with that sort of nonsense from me," the old Karnor notes. "But I can't do it in front of the grandkids or I get yelled at."

The woman chuckles all over again, albeit much more sedately this time. "It's good to hear you have a nice family life. What about Mr. Cromwell? You know, he sometimes reminds me of Gabrie- … The Captain."

The human councilor is already in the vehicle, but Altieri explains, "Widower. Wife fell to a Rotbiter after they came here."

"Oh … " Tasha shifts her gaze to glance at the old human, trying to do so discreetly. "I'm so sorry for him! That's awful." Her ears lay back, and head shakes. While usually boisterous, she falls silent before the tragic realization.

"He's made sure there haven't been any other incursions from the canals," the Karnor notes. "He goes and hunts them with the Knights at times."

"I think if I can, I'll join him some time," Tasha says in whisper, turning her head to face forward, staring somewhere far away as she blinks several times.

The wheelchair arrives, and Rapatia loads it into the limo and secures it. "Well, we may as well go in," Altieri notes, gesturing for Tasha to enter first.

"I'm sorry for being nosy, Mr. Altieri," Tasha murmurs, sounding much subdued. She ducks her head, then slides in where ever seems to have enough room for her and her wings – and isn't where Senator Cornelius can pinch her.

The seats are cushy, and she gets one next to Strength-of-Stones… who reaches around her and actually hooks up her seat belt for her. Once everyone is settled, the doors are closed and the vehicle rumbles to life, carrying them into Elamoore.

Tasha blinks down at the buckling but has to smile seeing that the Archon is looking out for her. "Thank you," she signs aside to the man. "This is my first time in a car."

"There are bumpy spots," the man signs back. Sure enough, the cobbled streets of Old Elamoore jostle things a bit. This seems to delight Cornelius, since it makes Rapatia jiggle.

The limo pulls into the carriage house of the old court building, which has been converted over to the PHTO's use, and now sports lots of electrical cables and telegraph lines. The ride is short, compared to the wait to get into the car in the first place!

Despite herself, Tasha is unable to quite suppress her grin when Cornelius reacts as he does. Instead, she looks very deliberately out the window in the Archon's direction. "I'll be staying at the PHTO Council building, yes, Archon?"

"It would be convenient, but you may wish to seek out better accommodations," the cheetah signs.

"I would prefer to stay in a politically appropriate location, given I am the face of the JEF and must conduct myself so." Tasha signs with some emphasis, trying to demonstrate her dedication to her cause in her signs. "I may tour the city later, when it seems appropriate, and to see if anyone I remember has survived. Besides, I am not sure what financial resources I have available, which would limit my options. There is also a matter of an escort, which I believe may be necessary – just in case."

"Council housing it is then," the Archon signs, with a humorous waggle of his ears. "I'll ask the clerk to arrange it."