Despite being wrapped in a protective film, the black and gold surfaces of Melchior gleam as if just polished. The bay has other still-wrapped equipment as well, including a large cylinder with a domed top that stands nearly sixteen feet tall and five wide, with an elaborate control panel. A shiny black-and-gold structure as tall as the Gryphon stands to one side, looking a bit like a gym locker with a handle meant for a giant.

After slowly lowering all she's carrying to the ground, Tasha advances up to the foot of the giant Vartanoid machine. Her muzzle parts in a wordless expression of awe as she gazes up at the gleaming, yet ancient, machine and she reaches out to lay a hand on it – but hesitates. Her hand hovers near, as if Melchior were too sacred to touch. She stands like that for what feels to her like forever, lost in the moment, until she finally breathes, "Look at it, Blammo – this must be Melchior." The machine's name spoken in whisper. "Am … I really seeing this Blammo? Is this real?"

Blasphemously, the Titanian raps his knuckles against the leg, making a dull metallic sound. "Yah! Real enough," Blammo barks and then wags his tail.

"Hey!" Tasha shoots the Titanian a glare, abandoning her stunned and un-Tasha-like near-silence for a more Tasha-like irritation. "You can't jus' … Jus' do that!" She waves her hands vaguely, unable to quite express why he can't touch Melchior. Hands falling, she takes a breath and exhales, glancing up at the face of the machine, "Anyway, we should make sure it still even works. Can you tell if it's intact and what it needs by inspecting the body? I'll look at … ," that Vartan's head scans the area, spotting the odd cylinder, " … that!"

While Blammo tries to peel away the plastic 'shrink wrap' around Melchior, Tasha is faced with a similar task: the big cylinder is also wrapped in the material. There are plaques in several languages scattered about the device, especially near the probable control panel. Through the slight distortion of the plastic Tasha can make out 'Radiation' in Expedition Standard and Vartan script here and there.

Tasha tilts her head, eyeing the radiation sign. She could swear she's heard that word before; Nora's memories implanted in her brain describe particles and emissions she has no frame of reference to understand. "Not Nora, where … " Thinking across all the Karnors and then things related to them, it's the Bellerophon that comes to mind. "Ah! The reactor and the fuel pellets, those cause radiation – and it's … " The memory of Layth in that incredibly baggy suit pops into the woman's mind. "Oi. Dangerous. Blammo!" Turning, the woman waves towards the man, "I think this is a reactor!"

The big wolf lopes over, sniffs the machine a few times, then nods to Tasha. "Yah! Oooooold. Arc-Pump Burst Reactor, Khatta. Old, but okay."

"Arc-Burst … ?" The red woman blinks several times, leaning back, and giving the reactor a puzzled once over, "I'll take your word on it." She eyes the power-core a moment, then says, "If it works like Bellerophon's, it needs fuel. Maybe there's some inside? Help me get to the controls, that'll probably tell us." Tasha steps forward, then aside to allow the big wolf to cut the plastic while she helps.

The big Knife of Many Uses comes out, and Blammo saws through the covering to expose the control panel. It appears to be a matte black surface, except for a few indicator lights and labels.

"I'll read it for you if it's in Vartan," Tasha helpfully provides as she steps forward again and leans into look. "And you know, that knife is really nice – you're very smart, Blammo!" Wagging, the Vartan begins studying the controls.

The lights are labeled, at least. There's one for 'Standby Power' and another for 'Pulse Mode' and a third for 'Discharge' but nothing as clear as 'On' or 'Off'.

Tasha repeats the words, glancing at Blammo. "I'll admit … I'm at a loss 'ere," she says, ears going askew. "And I know this is dangerous – maybe standby power?"

"What man-u-al say?" Blammo asks.

"Wha- oh!" Tasha rushes back to her pile of discoveries, then pulls out the manual for the Melchior, greeting it with, "Hi Khatta lady! We're examining the Melchior – I think it's called a full pre-flight diagnostic? – do you know how we can check the Arc-Pump Burst Reactor?"

"Chapter 27: Priming the Arc-Pump Burst Reactor," the little window Khatta says cheerfully. "First, remove the Seals-All(tm) Protective Cover. This will allow access to the power interface panel to the left of the control panel." A floating diagram of the reactor appears, with a rectangular area to one side flashing orange.

Tasha nods quickly. "Yes, we know that part. Continue." A second later, and the woman even adds, "Please!"

More instructions are given. Apparently the control panel isn't where you start the machine – a panel to the left of it, invisible through the plastic, is the real point of interest. Blammo works to cut away all of the coating this time, so the entire reactor is reachable. The curved power interface panel is slid open, revealing all sorts of circular hose-like connection points, another bunch of buttons and some plastic pull tabs. After another 20 minutes of pulling tabs and entering sequences of numbers, there's a brief hum and the standby light glows green. The control panel displays the progress of a startup diagnostic, and lists 1000 fuel units in the feeder tank (which turns out to be the dome on top of the cylinder).

With the reactor online and on standby, Tasha steps back and takes a moment to examine their handiwork. "That's my second reactor startup," she tells Blammo proudly and with much wagging. She smiles at the man a moment, then glances to the datapad as she begins walking towards the massive locker-like structure. "How long will 1000 fuel units last, anyway? And what's this big handled locker-like thing?"

"A full load of 1000 fuel units should provide 5,000 hours of operating time, on average, or 3,000 hours if using sustained flight," the pad answers. "The accessory locker is for use by the piloted Gryphon, and contains various tools and utility items."

"That sounds useful." Taking a moment to circle the locker and give it the once-over, Tasha nods, satisfied, and returns to Blammo's side. "How's the reactor looking? If it's fine, we should try and see if Melchior has a diagnostic panel too – unless that won't work without the reactor?" The woman glances at the datapad for confirmation.

"For external data access, and of the power coupling cables will bridge the Gryphon's onboard data systems with the reactor control panel," the manual claims, then displays an image of a long, coffin-like box. Several are stacked near the back of the bay that match, but each is nearly ten feet long and looks like it was put in place with heavy machinery.

Tasha stares at the massive coffin-like boxes, her ears steadily flattening. "I'm strong," she says, "but not that strong!" Thinking, she starts looking around for some way to move the items, then suddenly looks up, searching for a crane system. "I hope they didn't use robots for all for this," she mutters.

Rails in the walls, floor and ceiling lead Tasha's eyes, until she spots one of several robotic-looking arms that seem to use them to move around. There are other devices on the rails as well, including a crane and something that just looks like a cage.

"I'm going to try and use the cranes to move one of those boxes over here, Blammo. Or, maybe you should do it, while I go see about these tattoos?" Casting a look towards her partner, the woman asks, brows raising and a hint of a grin playing across her muzzle, "You don't really want to see it shave and pluck me, do you?"

"Rrrrrr," Blammo growls indecisively. The choice of playing with heavy machinery or seeing Tasha naked may be too much for the man to deal with.

Tasha just pats the man's arm, grinning a bit more. "I'll decide for you and maybe save us both embarrassment if someone comes looking for us – Gabriel might think I'm off looking at other men!" Taking a deep breath, she exhales and then admits, "I hate that I treated you so badly; I was afraid the Titanians would take everything here. And, well, I thought you weren't … very smart." She sighs, then shakes her head. "But I guess I'm the stupid one – you're smart and someone I'd like as a friend. For what it's worth, I'm sorry." Then, she leans over and, on her tip-toes, kisses the Titanian on the bottom of the muzzle.

The big wolf's hands go up to cover his muzzle, and he hunches down and folds his ears, suddenly all shy. "I get long boxes," Blammo says from behind his hands.

Smiling, Tasha pats Blammo's head and nods. "I'll be back soon," she promises. And with that, she goes back and gathers her other datapad and the devices needed to prepare her to try and pilot the Melchior.

The original datapad from the lounge still shows the route to the medical bay on the level below the hangar, while the Melchior one fits back into the case with the implants.

"Cap'n Eyeshine would love these," Tasha murmurs of the datapads as she begins heading off. Pausing, she then glances back at the pile before returning to grab her weapon, as well. Just in case. With everything in handy, she's off following the map's directions.

Back down the elevator for a short trip, and through corridors that are not at all twisty or all alike, since it makes sense to have the medical facilities within quick reach of the hangar. Lights die out behind Tasha as she enters through the sliding glass doors into a room that is all white and chrome surfaces, with pleasant music playing softly in the background. Within a minute of her arrival, another door opens and a Khatta woman in the universal, time-resistant garb of a nurse enters and smiles to Tasha. "Welcome to Medical One! How may we be of service to you?" she purrs in oddly accented Vartan. Purrtan?

"I love Khattan technology," Tasha repeats to herself, smiling as the nurse approaches. Stepping forward, she holds the cybernetic case out and says, "I'm Tasha, of Clan Harbinger, I'm here to have the Magi-link system … installed?" The woman blinks; she's never had mechanical artifacts attached to her body before, or driven into her skull for that matter. She isn't sure what to describe the procedure as. Luckily, a bit of thinking gives her Nora's answer: "Implanted! I'm here to have this implanted, I'm Melchior's pilot."

The nurse takes the case and opens it on a bare desk. She then removes the data slab and sets it down on the desk, which lights up with a soft blue light. "Medical procedure downloaded," the nurse says, and returns the device to the case. The other elements are transferred to a chrome tray. "Please follow me," she purrs to Tasha, and heads back through the door she came in through, tail swishing the whole way.

Tasha eyes the swishing tail, but then forces herself to look forward. After all, this is an event that is unique in her life, something she knows may change her – in more ways than one. It may even kill her. Whatever happens, she believes she should approach it with a lot more dignity, both for herself and for her ancestors who made this possible. Following along, she asks, "Can you tell me about cybernetics?"

"What would you like to know?" the nurse asks, as she leads Tasha into what seems to be a cozy little parlor. There are piles of cushions and a lounging couch, a small fountain and even some sort of fancy smoking device, like a hookah but with many more options. Two rather beefy male Khattas await there, dressed in harem pants and some jewelry.

Tasha blinks at the two men, and almost leers. With a jerk, she turns her head to stare off at the soothing, water filled, fountain. "I, um," the woman reaches up and rubs her head, feeling a little awkward now, "Well, will this work on me, since I'm half-Vartan? Are cybernetics common in your … I mean, are they common? Are there a lot of them for Vartans?" She almost adds, "I like shiny things," but remembers that a) most species don't appreciate shiny things like her's does, and b) even if they did, it still sounds a little stupid.

"Cybernetic slugs are not species specific," the nurse explains, as the two attendants approach and begin removing the many things attached to Tasha's bodysuit. "They contain fractal nanowires which will unfold and seek out the motor and sensory areas of your brain, based on input from the external muscle sensor network. Through various exercises and stimulants, they will learn where to connect. Such devices are quite commonplace among advanced starfaring civilizations where rapid response times or multiple data feeds are necessary."

Tasha listens with ears perked, attention shifted fully to the nurse as she relates the details of the cybernetic plugs. "That's very interesting," she concludes, and means it. Having never known the technology she feels so drawn to can be included in her own body, cybernetics have opened a whole new realm of technology for her to both obsess and barely understand. "Are there more cybernetics than this suit and and the Magi-interface?" She then glances down as she finds herself being stripped, and shrugs. Maybe my ancestors would have leered? I wish I knew how to do this right, she thinks.

"There are a wide range of cybernetic systems, from simple medical probes to replacement organs and limbs," the nurse says, while the attendants figure out the 'zipper' mode needed to unseal and remove Tasha's suit. "Such prosthetics are usually temporary, until viable biological replacements can be grown."

"Oh." Tasha immediately thinks of Captain Eyeshine's namesake shiny eye, but doubts he'd surrender it for real one – unless it was even more shiny. Chuckling to herself, she shakes her head and asks, "Then non-military cybernetics are these temporary limbs, and military ones are things like the Magi-interface?"

"There is little difference between civilian and military applications, although prosthetics are primarily used by military personnel who have been injured in battle," the nurse explains, as she begins making adjustments to the hookah-device. "You should begin your pre-anesthetic treatment now," she says, and gestures for Tasha to relax on the lounge.

Tasha nods, although she is only vaguely aware of what 'pre-anesthetic' entails. She walks over and turns, flopping backwards into the pillows. "I wasn't expecting surgery to be like this," she admits.

One of the attendants brings Tasha a tube-connected pipe from the fancy hookah, which is also putting on a bit of a light-show now. "Breath normally," he tells her.

Tasha's seen devices like this before, although she's certain that while the hookah looks like something she'd find in a Khattan Emirate den, it surely is much different. "Hokay." Eyeing the now flashing tube, she shrugs again and takes a breath, glad no one's here to make 'tube breathing' jokes.

The gas or whatever it is from the tube begins to make the Vartan light-headed. She can see the two attendants become blurry, as if their features were melting, just before they each split into two smaller female forms.

"Uurr?" Tasha tries to compensate for the swaying world, making her sway as well. "I … " She blinks. "It's … working … ?" She just keeps on breathing in, as instructed.

The four girls swarm over Tasha, combing through her fur with their claws – although the claws seem awfully wide, and leave a coolness where they pass. Even as she gets dopier, Tasha can still realize that the Khattas are shaving paths through her fur.

Blearily, Tasha remembers some joke or another Layth – or maybe it was someone else? – made about being shaved. Her laugh practically sounds drunken. "Joke's on … on … ," she drops her head back, forgetting who she meant, and then the idea entirely.

The last thing Tasha sees before the gas overcomes her awareness is the nurse loading the vial of silver fluid into the needle-gun, and walking towards her.

As Tasha began to come out of her daze, she thought she might be hallucinating a bit. Geometric shapes of various colors were being flashed into her eyes, as were strange random-sounding noises. This kinesthetic kaleidoscope was soon replaced by a smiling Khatta face, as the nurse was leaning over the Vartan and lifting off some sort helmet. "How do you feel?" the cat purrs, as Tasha realizes a lot of her skin is tingling, the back of her head is aching, and she's starting to notice where she was shaved.

"Li' I 'ad one too many," Tasha answers, slowly sitting up. She reaches up to brace her head with and arm, rubbing her face as she looks down at herself. "I'm no' dead, so I'm guessin' it worked?"

"There were no complications, although you must now complete the 'burn in' phase," the nurse explains, still smiling. "Optical and auditory link have been successful, as well as the glucose hydrodynamic power systems."

Tasha squints at the woman before her as memories of shapes and sounds dance in her head. Her ears flick, then she shakes her head. "I'll look tha' up in the manual later," she promises after a moment of bleary-minded thought. Her gaze slips down again, brow furrowing as she spots one of the shaven area. "Wha' do you need me to do now?"

"Physical mapping requires you to perform a set of predetermined movements," the nurse explains, and steps aside to reveal another figure in the room – and the room is different from the one Tasha passed out in. It's bare white, with a door and some sort of robotic chair that Tasha is sitting in. A nearly white Vartan woman in some sort of one-piece costume is also standing patiently. "Your trainer will guide you through each motion."

Tasha's gaze flicks to the near-white Vartan, then to the room at large. She slowly looks around, not remembering coming here, eyes widening. Looking back, she nods, then pushes herself to her feet, straightening. A roll of her shoulders and a flap of her wings later, she steps forward. "I'm ready," she says, confidently.

The nurse bows, and then leaves the room with the helmet. The Vartan trainer says, "Follow my moves." She stands before Tasha and spreads her legs so her hooves are in line with her shoulders, then raises her arms straight out with palms open and keeps her wings folded.

Tasha folds her wings, then spreads her stance and holds her arms out. "Following," she confirms.

There's a tingle across Tasha's skin, and a brief blue glow in her peripheral vision. "Watch this motion," the trainer says next, bringing her right arm forward, then making a fist before bringing it across her chest to rest on her left shoulder. Then she reverses the gesture until her arm is back in the 'ready' position. "Now you try it."

"Following. Am I supposed to see blue light? My eye's being a bit odd," Tasha says as she begins the exercise. She copies the motion if she can, not arguing with the process and making every effort to get it right the first time. While she has little idea of what the movements do beyond somehow helping the system – which she assumes is now part of her – know her, she knows enough not to question the mystifying details of technological instruction. Failure to follow the procedure of Joint Expedition, as she knows well by now, leads to disaster both predictable and arcane.

As if in answer, Tasha can see the pattern of the tattoo glowing blue where the bare skin shows on her arm – as she's moving it. It goes out once she's completed the maneuver.

"Oi, look at that!" Tasha almost wags, then remembers her movements are monitored, and so steadies her tail with effort. Looking back to the white Vartan, she smiles. "Continue?"

The trainer nods, and then leads Tasha through several other movements of her arms and wings, each accompanied by blue glows. She also finds that only three of her fingers are tattooed on each hand – the pinky is ignored, since Vartans only have three fingers normally.

It takes some effort for Tasha not to marvel at the changes wrought on her. Thousands of years ago this might have been perfectly normal, but for her, it's nothing short of a minor miracle. Her obsession with technology had only grown since she left the Fenris, gathering strength in Orpheus as Nora's memories awakened to the technology around her. Now, she is technology.

Each movement is repeated as instructed. The red (and now occasionally blue) woman continues her efforts to do the exercises right. To her, success is more important than understanding and inspection, and failure is too dreadful to even consider.

After the basic motions have been done, the trainer begins some harder (or rather, more complicated) motions, like running in place and throwing punches and wing motions that Tasha remembers practicing as a child before she could fly.

The newer exercises remind the training Vartan of her childhood, all the little games and efforts she made aboard The Rake. It puts her in mind of The Rake itself, and its people – her original family. She wonders if they'd recognize her now; so much has changed. She considers this as she copies the motions, finding herself falling into a 'zone' as she replicates the required gestures.

The trainer finally stops, and the nurse returns with the Melchior data pad. It has some sort of cable connected to it, which ends in four leads. "We will now check and finalize the neural connections, and if they are properly calibrated the programming nodes will be destroyed to prevent any mind-hacking."

Tasha lowers her arms and turns towards the approaching nurse, brows shooting up. "M-mind hacking?!" Although Nora's memories suggest hacking has something to do with computer systems and machines, the woman's first thought is much cruder: large bladed weapons against her skull.

"Before the practice of disabling the neural plugs' ability to learn new pathways and grow new connections, it was possible for a hacker to send signals to them that would extend the artificial neurons into areas of the brain that control emotions and memories, and use those to kill the subject," the nurse reports happily, as she connects the ends of the leads to the little metal studs Tasha realizes are projecting from the back of her head now.

"Ahhh!" Tasha cries, reaching up and clutching at her head. "Nora didn't mention that! But I guess I'm also a … machine? … now, so I need to think about what can … hurt one?" Her head tilts, hand sliding to feel at the shaved areas, "Is … that right?"

"You are not a machine," the nurse claims, and Tasha can feel the connections clicking into place through the vibration of her skull. "You have cybernetic implants to allow you to communicate with machines. They are not replacing any biological systems." It still doesn't keep Tasha from imagining that the wires in her head are making her brain glow now.

"Ho- … Hokay," Tasha agrees, although she doesn't sound entirely convinced. She makes a distinct note to talk to Remiel about this matter later – assuming she's still allowed on the Bellerophon. "Ugh," she utters, remembering the events that lead to this whole mini-adventure. Shaking her head, she tries to focus on the here and now, asking, "So machines plug into my head?"

"Try not to move your head during the scan," the nurse replies. "The Magi Artificial Intelligence Control System can interface with your neural plugs. They are very specialized, and unlikely to work with other systems."

"That's too bad," Tasha admits in a nervous, conversational tone as glancing back, unable to see the action going on behind her. She keeps her head very still. 'Brain-hacking' is still a little too alive in her mind for her to risk any sort of potential mind-scrambling! "What will it be … like? Connecting to the Magi system?"

"I do not know," the nurse admits. "I'm only a synth controlled by a computer mind." There is a pleasant tone from the data pad, and the nurse pleasantly says, "It appears that the connections are all valid and properly configured. Do you want me to initiate the fixation process to prevent the neural plugs from changing configuration?"

Tasha's eyes flick, the woman looking around from the other side – having things plugged into her head is a sensation she may never get used to! She begins fidgeting with her hands to distracted herself, getting enough focus to ask, "Is changing the configuration bad? I don't know much about the cybernetic system."

"By fixing the current configuration, you are preventing future growth or movement of the connections into other areas of your brain," the nurse explains. "By leaving them unfixed, it may be possible for another agency, such as Melchior's artificial intelligence, to rewire them to access areas and functions that are not needed for piloting."

Tasha's eyes, already wide, become saucers at the idea her own vehicle may start delving into her brain. Still, she doesn't feel qualified to make this choice – she decides she really needs Remiel's advice before she makes guess decisions on systems she barely understands. Just doing this has been a major risk, and she isn't willing to extend that risk to her brain. Except, … "I, … I'd better talk to Doctor Remiel Caravelli first," she replies, nervously. "Can I … remove your data core to the Bellerophon? Orpheus is being evacuated, and we do not have Vartan medical help. I may need you later, too?"

"Our systems are not compatible with Expedition hardware," the nurse says apologetically. "The data slate has the ability to fix the neural network, however, so that is all you need unless you plan on removing the neural plugs. Which, by the way, can only be done before the fixing process. Once the network is frozen, it cannot be removed."

"And the … network? … becomes frozen if you do that procedure you just mentioned? Can I look back now?" Tasha's eyes flick the other way again; not being able to see what's going on behind her is driving her nuts!

"Would you like to see the back of your head?" the nurse asks, trying to intuit what Tasha really wants.

"Yes! Please!" Tasha smiles, finally having some relief to her dire curiosity. "And the rest of me, if you can!"

The trainer steps forward, and changes into Tasha as she goes. Feathers are smoothed out into pale skin, and fur then pushes out, including the longer hair on the figure's head. It's nude, like Tasha, so the Vartan can see the areas where she's been shaved: inch-wide paths going down her arms, sides and legs and over her shoulders, as seen from the front, with the silvery trace of circuitry just below the exposed skin. When it turns around, she can see how the lines meet up to her shaved spine, where the tattoos are much thicker and wider, until it disappears under her hair. The duplicate pulls its hair out of the way then to show how the spinal line branches as it goes up either side of the back of the skull, where four shiny silver studs extend a quarter-inch outwards to form the corners of a square. There are tattoos visible on the palm-pads of its hands as well as the back of the fingers.

Tasha steps forward to examine the life-like copy of herself, looking between it and the tracts of her own body where the circuity has been tattooed. She runs her hand across her left leg, following the shaved line up, to her back, then, very carefully, she touches at the plugs indicated there. When she taps one, she gives a start; Even with prior warning finding metal embedded in her head still shocks her. "Oi, well … Well … " She stumbles on the words, not quite sure how to express her mix of awe, appreciation, and a disturbed feeling she hadn't predicted. "Well, I … I think I like it?" And she does, but with reservations. A part of her wonders if she was too fast in pursuing this, but she quickly stifles it. With a surge of annoyance at her own balking, she insists in a near-bark, "I like it!" her hands drop, and she smiles, turning. "Does it not glow anymore?"

"The system will glow when active," the nurse says. "As you are not connected to the Magi system and it has already gone through its learning phase, it is not active."

"That makes sense." Worried she may be losing her momentum along with her nerve, not having expected a level of body-horror, Tasha decides it's time to proceed. She isn't about to shame her ancestors by being a coward, and besides, Blammo is waiting. "Does this mean I'm ready to head for the hangar? Melchior has waited long enough." To Tasha's mind, it must have been a long, sad wait for the Titan. Abandoned to the slow decay of time, waiting for a pilot that is long dead – until she just happened to stumble into the hangar. She knows she's hardly the ace the machine was promised to, but she means to be someday. A nagging thought crops up as Tasha considers the Melchior, – what did the Khattan projection say? Something about … "Oi wait, before you answer tha'. you said it has … artificial intelligence? Melchior is alive?"

"Well, it is likely not programmed for subtle interactions, like my system," the nurse explains. "And of course there is some risk connecting to the Magi system with a still-programmable neural implant."

"Nnn, I'll take my chances," Tasha says, with somewhat forced bravado. She hadn't expected an assault on her brain would be part of the bargain, but she believes Melchior is worth the risk – and the gesture of trust. "It's waited this long, an' so have I. I guess if there's a sacrifice, it's no great burden." The red woman smiles, then reaches out to take the projection's hand. "Thank you for helping me. I wish you could come with us. Is there anything I can do for you, before I head for the hangar?"

"Please recommend our facilities to your friends," the nurse requests, feeling very solid. "We have an excellent gymnasium, spa and entertainment center."

"I … I'll do that," Tasha says, smile wavering. She knows the projection is just a machine, but it's hard for her to dismiss it so easily – especially when the truth is so sad. She knows the next visitor may not be for years, possibly centuries. Or perhaps never. Stepping forward, the Vartan hugs the projection. "You're a good hospital. Thank you for everything." Letting go, Tasha makes a deliberate turn and walk towards the exit. She'd rather not cry, not now – there's still too much left to do.

"Please, you forgot this," the nurse says, holding out the Melchior manual.

Tasha looks back, sucking in a breath. "Oh," she breathes, nodding. She walks over, takes the datapad in hand, then gives the projection one last, lingering look before she hurries on.

It isn't so easy to just walk out of the medical center, as one of the orderlies is just outside in the hall to guide Tasha to where her belongings are, including the case for holding the Melchior manual and tattooing gun.

"Oh, righ' … Clothes," Tasha remarks quietly as she looks down at her belongings. First she secures the precious datapad, that link to her cybernetics and the sleeping Titan. Next, she begins the peculiar process of slipping into her undersuit, hoping her Khattan-made cybernetics don't interfere with it. And, finally, she hefts her gun up. "I'll be in the 'angar if you need me," she tells the orderly, forcing herself to smile. "If any of the Fenris or Bellerophon crew come 'ere, tell 'em where I am. Oh, an' the same goes for a humanoid bunny." She ducks her head, then she's off again.

It takes a few minutes before another nurse shows up to actually lead Tasha out to the lobby before she becomes hopelessly lost. It also gives her back her original data pad with the map in it, and wishes her a pleasant day. By the time Tasha makes it back to the Gryphon bay, she sees that Blammo has unpacked the long boxes. Two are open and showing thick cables and shiny black tool cases. The other two are empty, since the cables are already snaking from the reactor to connection points near Melchior's ankles, where the tool cases are opened to reveal some odd looking, wrench-like devices. The Titanian is staring at the reactor control panel and wagging his tail, one finger poised to jab at something…

"Ahoy, Blammo!" Tasha yells from the airlock entryway as she spots the Titanian from afar, surgery having done nothing to reduce her keen vision. "Looks like I'm jus' in time to watch you jab somethin'?" Not wanting to miss the jabbing, the Vartan breaks into a run and hurries towards the Titanian.

"Hai!" Blammo barks, looking proud. The control panel shows that two power-and-data channels are connected, and is displaying a schematic of the Gryphon, showing alternate connection ports. The options shown are 'Diagnostics and Startup' and 'Power Cell Charge'. Another figure shows the Titan's internal batteries at 0% charge.

Putting her things down again, Tasha opens up the Melchior case and removes the datapad, the contents of the other side notably reduced. "Hi Khatta lady, Blammo an' I are preparing to power Melchior from the Arc-Pump Pulse Reactor, an' we see diagnostics and power cell charge. What should we do? Oh, an' the pilot is prepared now," she inquires of the device.

"Select 'Diagnostics and Startup' from the control panel to begin initialization of the Melchior and Magi systems," the help-avatar suggests.

"You heard the lady!" Tasha grins at Blammo, then turns to watch the Melchior, wanting to get a look as the startup begins. "Go ahead an' do it, Blammo!"

"Huh?" the Titanian asks. Apparently he doesn't know what the Khatta said, since it was speaking Vartan. The control panel is also set for Vartan.

"Wha-?" Tasha looks back, blinking at the Titanian until it dawns on her: Vartan. "Or, righ' – been hearin' Vartan so much I got into my ol' habits. The Khatta lady said start the diagnostics – this one." The woman leans up and points at the button, not wanting to deprive the man of his button pushing fun.

"Yah!" the big wolf barks, and pushes the virtual button. The reactor starts to hum, and then there is a mechanical noise from the Titan itself – a brief, electronic whine and various clicks, as if a hundred locking-bolts were all opened at once. It settles into a deep hum that can be felt in Tasha's hooves.

Blammo howls happily in response.

Tasha howls as well, just as happy. As the heartbeat-hum of the Titan courses through her body, it brings her a level of peace and hope. Turning, she gazes up at the Titan again. "Diagnostic initiated, Khatta lady. Melchior powering up. We're ready to continue," she says in Vartan, then decides to translate what she said and hears for her partner's benefit.

"Please wait for diagnostic to complete," the Khatta head says. The progress is shown on the control panel, as various system names flash by and parts of the schematic turn green.

"Hokay." Turning from the Magi-Class Titan – or Gryphon as the Khattans and Vartans call them – Tasha observes the diagnostic panel. While she doesn't understand most of it, her time in the Bellerophon and in the Themis-Skoll at least make a few systems seem familiar. "Lookin' good, Blammo?"

"Green!" the Titanian says, nodding. "Green good!" He pats the side of the humming reactor.

"It sure is, Blammo," Tasha agrees, smiling. She settles into watch and wait, letting the steady hum of the machines ease her tension as the process seems to take a eternity.

The humm is almost like a lullaby. It looks there are literally a million things to test! And sometimes it pauses and redoes a check until it gets the result it wants, so maybe some systems are somehow self-repairing.

Blammo wanders back to the waldo controls and figures out how to get one of the baskets-on-an-arm to reach to what is probably the access hatch on the back of the Melchior so he can cut away the protective cover there.

The Vartan can't help but wonder if the Melchior has more systems than the Bellerophon, despite their vast difference in size. As Blammo walks off, Tasha watches him curiously until he gets to where he needs to be, then "ahhs," before joining him. Taking a few steps back, the Vartan takes to the air so she can land on top of the cage.

"Hai!" Blammo barks, and peals away the plastic-like covering to reveal a bulge between the wings and flight engines. It looks like it's made of overlapping sections instead of a standard hatch.

"That's an odd panel, isn't it Blammo?" The women peers down at the Titanian under her, perched like some kind of lupine gargoyle. "What do you think's in there?"

"Pilot hole!" Blammo suggests, and knocks on the apparent hatch. There aren't any external panels or obvious controls, however.

"Really?" Tasha leans down more, to get a closer look. "There's two, isn't there? The Themis-Skoll had two. But here, let me try." Standing first, Tasha lowers herself from the top of the cage to hang from the side, then swings herself into the interior, turning to approach the panel. She reaches out to touch the panel, and after brief hesitation and a deep breath, makes contact. "I'm here, Melchior," the woman murmurs, her tone gentle and with a hint of apprehension.

The tattoos on the back of Tasha's hand glow blue, and the hatch splits open like a flat beak, showing a dark tunnel beyond.

"I'm going in now, Blammo." Tasha stands, then begins for the pilot hole, placing her hands along the rim and glancing back, "If something happens, I want you to get away, okay? Find Gabriel and the others, and if it's really bad … Keep running. Tell them to launch without me." She smiles, reassuringly. "I'll be okay." Her tail wags twice, and then she's lowering herself into the interior of the great machine.

The tunnel runs fairly straight into giant machine, ending in an egg-shaped chamber with blue light strips illuminating it. It's all black otherwise, except for a golden, padded bench that is contoured for a Vartan to lie chest down on. There are stirrups for hooves and handles of a sort for hands, but nothing for wings.

It all feels a little like climbing into a giant living thing, Tasha thinks. The Themis-Skoll had a definite mechanical feeling, full of systems that, while processing things unknown, were at least types of devices she had seen before. The interior of the Melchior is nearly alien to the red woman's mind. "Here we go," Tasha breathes as she finds herself within the egg-shaped chamber. Her gaze is fixed upon the bench, the seat of the pilot. She can feel the weight of the moment like a palpable thing, a heaviness all around her, with the bench like a manifestation of fate itself. She's dreamed of this day ever since she found the Themis-Skoll, and now here it is … just a step away.

It strikes the woman that such a moment needs words, even though she isn't very good with them. Taking a breath, she says in Vartan, "I am Tasha, Tasha Argentine, Tasha Stormbreaker – and I am your pilot. I've never been good with words, so I'll just say this: I'll never abandon you, I'll will always work to be the best pilot I can be, and you always have a place with me and my family." She takes another breath, then steps forward, placing a knee on the bench as she lowers herself on to it. "I hope you will accept me, Melchior." And then, closing her eyes, she eases in completely.

The couch adjusts itself until Tasha is most comfortable, and once she puts her hooves and hands where they need to be a curved metal arc wraps around her midsection and inflates some padding to keep her in place. From the top of the egg, and arm descends with four fingers extending from it, which click in place on the studs extending from Tasha's skull. There's a moment when her tattoos light up and she feels warm – and then everything goes blank, as if she's been completely disconnected from her own body. It's brief, however, and Tasha then finds herself standing nude in a field of white that stretches on forever into a completely blank world.

Tasha watches the devices come to life, suppressing her fear as best she is able. She forces her head forward, then down, easing it in as she's secured in place. And to show she means what she said, that her fear is less than her willingness, she lifts the back of her head towards the fingers as they reach for her, meeting them …

Tasha could say she she didn't expect the blank, empty world that followed. But the truth is, she wasn't sure what would happen. Her best guess was that she would end up 'being' the Melchior, as she was when she connected to the Themis-Skoll. But this is not the hangar, and she is alone … "Hello?" She calls out. "Melchior? I'm here, … I've come?"

"Yes," rumbles a deep Vartan voice from behind Tasha, which seems to reach down to her hooves like the hum of the ship itself. A Vartan walks into view – and if Vartans had gods, they'd probably look like this. Melchior's avatar is a golden Vartan in glossy black armor, who reaches out and puts a hand on Tasha's shoulder. He's much taller, and has glowing blue eyes like gems. "I am Melchior, Tasha."

"Oh, wow," Tasha breathes as Melchior steps before her, and though she is not one to show difference easily, she does now. She bows her head in greeting and respect, and when the machine reaches to touch her, she sucks in a breath, looking up through her hair. "You're beautiful, Melchior. I … I'm sorry I took so long. That, that we all took so long." She flicks her gaze to the hand on her shoulder, then, hesitantly, reaches to place her hand on Melchior's, looking back. "But, for what it's worth, I'm here, now."

Surprisingly, the avatar reaches down and scoops Tasha up in his arms. "I'm just awakened," Melchior says. "So no time has passed for me. Do you wish to complete the neural link with me?"

To her further surprise, Tasha finds herself blushing when lifted up – something that is usually concealed by her fur. Not so, in her current condition. She gazes up into Melchior's eyes, finding herself a little lost. It's so much like when she met Gabriel, and yet so different, the unknowable gulf between the two of them frightening and exhilarating her to the very core of her being. She thinks she might even be shaking. She considers saying how happy she is Melchior hasn't suffered, but all she can do is breathe, "Yes," feeling adrift in this empty space, lost in dreams made manifest, somewhere in the shining blue.

Melchior lifts Tasha's head, and kisses her… and soon it seems like the white glowing world condenses around her like a cocoon, and it feels… good…

Really good.