Keeping low and slow to both avoid detection and conserve power, Melchior weaves through the tortured landscape's canyons and fissures. Nothing has attacked so far, as the canyons near the volcanic plateau seem devoid of life – at least during the daytime. Tasha notes innumerable caves and caverns opening into the canyons as they pass through. Finally, the AI of Melchior announces, "We are about to leave the recently mapped region. The old charts you acquired may not be accurate, so be prepared for sudden changes in course. Reducing speed in preparation."

"Understood. I am prepared to initiate direct control if needed," Tasha thinks to her AI. The trip has been quiet – but so was that fateful first flight. The slowly building anxiety has made its return, this time helped by the memory of what happened the first time. Despite this, Tasha manages to keep herself calm, turning anxiety in to focus. She has a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree projection open in her mind, with additional micro-windows showing status and pinpoint imagery of approaching geography for additional scanning. One window remains highlighted, despite its seemingly unimportant content of open sky; here is where the UFO is to be tracked, when and if it makes an appearance. Beyond the displays, Tasha has made sure to be prepared for the worst – prepared to fail. Rations and other survival supplies, including plenty of water, have been stored aboard her Titan, in the event that should she survive a crash, she may has a fighting chance of making it back alive.

I can't turn away, Tasha decides as she watches an endless array of blood-red rock soar beneath her, the landscape dotted by an increasingly large amount of volcanic activity. And, somewhere nearby, that portal in to another world lurks concealed, as it is, by the curtain of dimensional walls, and the vault of the sky.

"No EM radiation detected," Melchior reports. "Approaching first spy hopping point." Up ahead along one wall of the canyon is an outcropping large enough for the Gryphon to land on, although there's also a big cave mouth present which did not appear on the old charts.

"The target may ignore low-flying craft. If Raehab and Smith are correct, then it may be aware on some level, allowing its movements to be predicted through a pattern of interest." Tasha shifts her mind's focus to the approaching cave, frowning even as she thinks, "That cave wasn't on the old maps. It may be lava-produced, or it may have been artificially created by local fauna. We will initiate an active scan in to the mouth after landing; scan should be tight to avoid unwanted deflection towards our target."

"Affirmative," the AI responds, and the Gryphon touches down on the outcrop and begins scanning the cave. Displays overlay one another, showing infrared and low-power radar scans. The cave goes straight for some distance before turning, but there aren't any signs of movement.

Tasha lingers the scan, but eventually turns her attention skyward. The shift is slow; part anxiety, part anticipation, she can only wonder at what she may find, lurking up there where few may travel. "Here we go. I'm focusing the lenses on the sky; begin visual sweep for target."

"We will have to rise above the canyon wall," the AI notes, as the jets give a quick, powerful burst to jump the Gryphon up so its sensors can take a quick snapshot of the target area before it drops back to the outcropping. The image appears in Tasha's sky display, and begins cycling through various filters to help bring out any hidden details.

Even though it has no bearing on image quality, Tasha can't help but lean forward and narrow her eyes as she watches the image resolve. What could it be? A life form? An ancient probe? A ship? Something entirely beyond predictability? The target destroyed the Phoenix with nothing more than microwaves! Of Expedition-era technology, only larger ships could have poured that much energy in to what was essentially a communication medium. A maser of the magnitude reported isn't something even her Titan could produce, and she's uncertain the Bellerophon could either.

After minutes of searching, Tasha only turns up clouds. It may be too far away yet, or the angle of the sun isn't right to cause a reflection – after all they were over 10,000 feet up before noticing it before.

The young pilot exhales as nothing comes up, letting her built up tension release in a breath of frustration. "It seems we will have to get closer. Continue us to the next spy hopping waypoint."

The canyon walls stream past as they make their way, occasionally having to backtrack and find a clearer route when thing get too narrow or debris-filled. So far, the charts from the Winged Citadel are accurate about 75% of the time, but the land has shifted. But at least the next lookout point is where it should be; an old landslide forming a fairly stable-looking jumping point. This too has a cave, possibly the source of the landslide material.

"The pattern of volcanism in this region may have been effected by the opening of the gateway. In particular, the plateau we observed below the plate-like creation is not present on the map. I wonder if that creature was brought here, or, more concerning, had remained dormant under the surface and was awakened by the rift's atmospheric and geothermal activity," the young woman speculates at her AI as they approach the landing point. "Repeat previous scan in to this new cavern; we can't be too careful this far from support."

The scan begins as soon as they land… but this time there's definitely something in the cave, and it's moving towards them – and it's big!

Tasha's ears shoot up and her eyes widen – not too careful at all! "Withdraw us before anticipated contact! Keep scanning!" She orders, then brings up a spectral analysis and derived visual windows to see just what almost snuck up on them.

The readings are… fuzzy. It's hard for the sensors to get a clear image, but once Melchior takes to the air and moves back, the creature exits the cave. It's like a crab, sort of… but the back of the shell is covered in alien crystal growths. It isn't clear if it has eyes or a face, but the claws come out, and the thing floats into the air! It must be one of those flying creatures that were swarming around the island-monster in the forbidden zone vortex!

"Stator! Full depth!" As Tasha merges her mind with her machine, the world slows, leaving time for analysis in a space outside of mortal time, and safely beyond the mortal heart. "Initiating aerial evasion; scan for viable ground combat area. Aerial combat may be required; options?"

"This may be a territorial response," the AI suggests. "First option: retreat back the way we came. There may more creatures further ahead in this canyon spur." It's odd to hear the words during the transition; but before Melchior finishes, Tasha finds herself floating in the air as the crystal-crab monster approaches with pincers spread.

The Melchior begins to turn away, even as the pilot's system-integrated mind review their options, "Combat with the creature may allow time for detailed analysis and recovery of exotic matter, at the cost of energy and safety. Immediate recovery not required; further missions may be assigned for recovery and analysis; on board data will allow for analysis useful to future combat and recovery." There's a pause only a computer would notice, then, "We will retreat."

In mortal time, the Melchior completes its turn and begins back the way it came, all while its pilot observes the strange crab-like thing and its fascinating shell.

Radar and other senses continue to scan the creature, but the lidar gives the clearest data – or at least the most interesting data. Spectroscopic analysis of the scattered beam can't tell precisely what the crystals are made of – the spectrum doesn't seem to exist in Melchior's database. The crab gives pursuit, but isn't quite as fast, and gives up after about a mile. It turns and heads back to its hole.

Another window displays 'indirect' information – the reaction of the stators own inertial field to proximity with the crab. "Gravitational interactions are similar to those between two stators with different phases," the AI reports.

As it becomes clear the Titan is no longer in immediate danger, its pilot gives the order, "Surface depth, disable stator." Once back in normal time Tasha exhales in relief, running her hand back through her hair, not caring if her hair gets messed up in the face of such discoveries. "Once again, a creature with a crystalline shell – and the crystal is outside Expedition-era databases. Khattan Expedition-era databases no less! And its effects! What we may be seeing is a native Sifran lifeform in its most untouched state, or at the very least a non-sentient species that has evolved to make use of Sifran crystalline deposits. Dr. Zerachiel will be amazed by this – I'm amazed by this! A naturally occurring stator! This data may allow for the creation of our own stator drives! Ah, … I have to focus. One thing at a time." The woman's head shakes, then she brushes her hair out of her face and instructs, "We will proceed via alternative routes to the spy hopping waypoints."

Despite her previous remark, Tasha continues to exclaim over this potentially groundbreaking discovery, "Sifran crystal embedded in sky islands upon Sinai are in significant greater quantity than what we see here and I've never heard of lesser deposits displaying mass-modification abilities. The possibilities are exciting: perhaps we are seeing a new type of crystal, or a new means of interacting with the same type. Oh!" Tasha's eyes widen. "Stators of different phase? Could it be, what we're seeing is the heart, or at least foundation, of the Khattan stator unit?"

Maps show up, as alternate routes are plotted. They're further out from the vortex, along the rim of the plateau… which is also possible vermax territory. "All that is known about Khattan stators is that they use exotic matter of unknown origin. It is possible that it may be a variant of Sifran crystal, however it is very unstable. This may be deliberate, to prevent other races from discovering the secret of the stator. There are no records of a stator being successfully examined or reverse-engineered by non-Khattan technologies."

"Ominous. My knowledge of technology is just introductory by Expedition standards, and yet even I know how impressive keeping one technology a secret then must have been. And, we certainly don't have spare stators to experiment with – not that I expect that would be safe by any means." Tasha examines the displayed routes, and confirms them. Vermaxes, though terrifying to a lone woman on the ground, are not something the Melchior need be concerned over. Certainly not in comparison to floating crystal-shelled crabs the size of buildings! "We will HAVE to return and collect fragments. Understanding how these creatures interact with the structures on their shells is a mystery that needs solving. What's more, the old tales of creatures living outside the canals appears to be true; more disturbing, evidence is growing that they are native rather than extradimensional, or at least extraplanetary."

Melchior replots its course, and makes calculations. A red spot appears on the charts, a long distance off. "This marks our theoretical maximum range, based on a stealth return."

"Not that extradimensional life forms are not fascinating in themselves, but practicality suggests if these creatures are local and able to live on the surface near geothermal activity, then ongoing planetary modification by the Sifran Planetary Engine may cause them to migrate – and that means they may near cities. Further-" The young woman pauses at the interruption, then frowns. Even though it's just a mark on a virtual map, that red dot carries with it the boundary between making it home or not. Perhaps, even surviving. "We will forgo stealth in returning. If we believe the entity to be hostile and prone to pursuit, we will either engage it, or, failing that, attempt to hide ourself and wait out its departure. At all costs, we mustn't let it follow us to the Pit. If we have to, we will send a distress signal to Tartarus, report the pursuit, and attempt to remain hidden as long as possible."

"For now, we will continue the mission," Tasha concludes. The weight of these decisions sit heavy on her shoulders, and she finds herself rethinking them. Am I too desperate to locate this entity? But, we've come all the way, and if we can't locate it now, then it's unlikely we will again. The more we approach it, the more likely it will be to notice our pattern. Eventually, discovery may be impossible, or it may begin to trace us. No, we must find it now."

The red dot expands into a hazy circle, increasing the area available for exploration. The Gryphon turns and flies down a side canyon, moving further from the likely area of infestation. Nothing surprising happens until they reach the edge of the plateau. "Do you wish to perform a spy hop before heading into the lowlands?" the AI asks.

At least, we must try hard, she corrects herself. Finding it at all costs would be foolish, but so would casually abandoning the mission. She runs her hands through her hair again, frowning. Is this what Gabriel faced, returning to command? Doubt gnawing at each decision? The woman shakes her head, letting her hands fall. Focus. Be brave. Keep together, Tasha. "That would be wise; proceed."

Once more, the Gryphon pops over the edge of the plateau to take a snapshot of the target area. This time the analysis shows something unexpected though: at the far left edge of the image, towards the vortex, is a large, flat object. It appears that the sky-island creature did leave the vortex, and may be heading towards the Phantom's territory as well.

"What?" Tasha zooms in on the object, then opens the image in different spectrum to make sure she's seeing what she's seeing. "It can't be! Can it? That creature is leaving the vortex? I suppose it makes sense, but, … I don't know. We didn't expect this; we thought it was limited to this region. If it can leave this far, then others can leave, or … " The young woman sucks in a breath, then grits her teeth, "Or, the vortex is moving with it! We'll need to proceed with caution, things may just have gotten even more dangerous. For now, continue with the flight plan."

The creature is out of view as Tasha's craft drops towards the plain, using the side of the plateau itself for concealment until it's necessary to dip down into the canyons. There are steam geysers in the canyon floors, and some reddish foliage – but not the jungle-like density of the canals. There aren't rivers here, just pools of boiling water.

Tasha watches the water with interest; the nations of Abaddon would fight a war over this much water, and somehow finding a way to get it to them would secure the JEF a place in their favor. Currently it's just a dream, but some day this water may fill the mouths of millions. Maybe, even, that of her own children. "Fear and wonder are in equal parts here, are they not, Melchior?"

"I will have to take your word for that, Tasha," the AI says. While it might sometimes display a bit of imagination, it isn't big on emotion. "We will need to fly higher when spy hopping now. Do you want to set an upper limit on altitude?"

"Let's try to remain under 10,000 feet, more if possible. Keep me informed on energy usage; if it comes down to it, we'll forgo stealth altogether." The half-Vartan shifts her head; so many questions and so few answers, even in basic approach strategy. It's all an unknown, with no clear answer, just phantoms and guesses in the dark. I should reuse that for a JEF poster: Join the JEF, Phantoms and Guesses in the Dark! She chuckles, the sound rank with anxiety.

The next checkpoint arrives; an overhang of rock that may have once formed a natural bridge across the canyon. Melchior launches upwards, gathering more information as they reach 2000 feet before dropping back. This time they have multiple angles of imagery, which allows for interferometric analysis. The results are better: there is slight anomaly at the predicted altitude that might be the Phantom. The city-sized monster is also in view long enough to determine its speed at nearly 100 miles per hour.

"Just think of the energy behind that creature, to move so fast. The potential energy is a little daunting," Tasha asides to her AI as they continue on. She begins reviewing the data in earnest as they proceed, trying to extract something she can use. The detection of the Phantom is welcome news; their approach may yet yield results on the UFO. Of more immediate importance, the anomaly that is likely the Phantom can now act as reference, giving a final destination to their outbound flight. "I wonder what the crystal-to-mass ratio is?" She knows she's rambling out of anxiety, but at least she can claim they're valid scientific inquiries and observations.

Another hour passes, with the occasional hop to keep an eye on the progress of the alien creature. The Phantom still hasn't moved, and from the distances Melchior triangulates the likely location of the Phantom and places it on the map. Their estimated course will bring them within 100 miles of it! And then, during the next hop, the cameras go blank for moment! They clear up a second later, showing the sky-island monster falling – in several burning chunks – from the sky. "Brace for shockwa-" the AI begins to warn, just as Melchior gets tossed through the suddenly turbulent air like a leaf in a hurricane!

"God-" Tasha doesn't even have time to call for full depth as the shockwave hits, and she shrinks in to her seat as her machine – and the view its cameras show her – spin wildly. She can feel her heart race as she struggles to regain control and align the Titan's flight before it crashes!

Several seconds in, and, "Melchior, status! Full depth!"

Even as Tasha suddenly finds herself being tossed about, the stator is activated to dampen the buffeting. "We have not sustained damage," the AI reports. "However… zzeraijdaerk… " The link devolves into static, as the distant Phantom suddenly lights up like a searchlight to Tasha's senses. Could it be the maser?

The Melchior raises its shaard to attempt to deflect the beam away from vital areas, even as its pilots initiates directed energy active defenses. With her AI disrupted, but her mind still accelerated to computer-speeds, she takes additional control and begins initiating some of these herself, in case her AI cannot respond. Externally, she begins a series of jinking maneuvers in an attempt to lose the Phantom's lock, while descending in an effort to break the target's line of sight completely. "Damage report."

"Communications override… override… over… " the AI stammers. Then a female voice asks, "Are you here to challenge me, Bird of Hermes?"

"Query vague; please elaborate. Identification requested. Cease hostilities requested," Tasha's emotionless, monotone voice responds without missing a beat. Now that the Melchior has been revealed, it ceases to attempt stealth, and instead continues its evasion maneuvers.

The voice shifts, coming not over the link, but apparently right next to Tasha. "I am Enyo: Destroyer of Cities," it says, coming now from a flying figure that matches Tasha's moves. As with the vision of Abaddon, Enyo appears very similar to Tasha – except that her armor is made of liquid blood, and what fur is exposed is also matted with blood. "I am His favorite. Do you challenge me for the position?"

There is a split second pause, then, "Enyo. Reference: Amazonia, war goddess, Abaddonian faith. Mind-machine interface: system hacking; mind hacking. Similarities: dream, Abaddon. Disengaging full depth." A second later, just as the Melchior aborts its evasion maneuvers and turns to face the unknown entity, an increasingly alarmed Tasha thinks in reply, "Enyo?" Tasha turns in the cockpit, trying to keep an eye on the woman beside her while maintaining level flight; a very wide eye! "Brainwave analysis does not suggest hallucination, but I may be hallucinating that, as well. Are you Khattan? A Sifran planetary native? Why would you think I seek to challenge you?" At the same time, the machine begins to land. Evasion, it seems, would be pointless – if it can destroy that creature, Tasha thinks, it could likely annihilate her just as easily. First contact procedures are in order, and may be her best chance. "How are you able to breach the firewalls and communicate with me?"

"You are the Bird of Hermes," Enyo replies. "We are all part of the same Pantheon." From standard control mode, Enyo appears to be outside and of equal size to Melchior, although the sensors Tasha can access don't register a physical presence of any kind. Once she's manually landed the Gryphon, Tasha has a bit more attention to spare at least.

Am I seeing things? Did we crash, and is this a dream? Tasha opens up windows and begins active scanning, trying to get even the smallest grasp of what she might have encountered – if she has encountered anything. And most importantly, she keeps talking – it may be all that saves her in the end. "Then you're aware of the Magi? How do the Magi-class Titans fall in to the Pantheon? Or, do you mean me, specifically? Is this a different Pantheon from that of Amazonian beliefs?"

"Amazonian?" Enyo asks, cocking her head. "The Magi are the vessels of Hermes. You are the Bird. How is it you do not know your purpose?"

"I have only recently discovered the Magi, and have but pieces. Please, if you can explain to me what all this means, then I ask you do!" Release from full depth has brought back her emotional intelligence as well as emotional memory, but has removed the shield as well. Steadily, fear comes back to Tasha, and she finds herself gritting her teeth, her heart racing once again. "Are you suggesting the dream I had of Abaddon is real?"

Enyo seems surprised by the reply, and leans forward… until her head passes through Melchior's chest and enters part-way into the cabin. Tasha is faced with Enyo's eye, it's iris made of flames that burn outward from the black pupil. "What is your name?" the creature – real, virtual or hallucination – demands. Tasha can smell the blood in its fur. "Where is the Gift?"

The Melchior begins to back away, unable to prevent the breach of its cabin space. When the eye enters the cabin, it's the half-Vartan's turn to back away. And, unlike her machine, her expression can change. "T-Tasha," she stammers aloud, nose twitching as the massive eye seems to stare right through her. "The Gift? We couldn't- I couldn't figure! It out, I couldn't figure it out! There isn't the data; if you mean the Marker I think it's on Sinai!"

Enyo pulls back silently, standing separate once more. "This is unexpected," the godlike figure says. "I would hear more. Will you join me? I promise to refuel the Magi so that you can return afterwards."

Tasha heaves a breath in the cockpit, grasping her forehead and gathering herself before she returns to command of the Melchior. She almost states it's her duty to contact alien life, but she chokes that down; she fears endangering the JEF – Gabriel – more than risking her own life. Realizing this gives her a measure of strength, at least enough to press on. "O-of course. This is … This is all very interesting. I … I would like to talk more; I have many questions. Many questions, as well." Almost imperceptibly, the Gryphon inclines its head for the figure to proceed.

"You know where to find me," Enyo says, and then… vanishes. "… ride detected," the voice of Melchior says in Tasha's head.

"Melchior." Tasha's voice is barely above silent in the patterning her mind gives it, just as she would have spoken it. "I have made contact. We have an invitation. Set course for the Phantom. No need for stealth." The young woman leans back in her seat, knowing, now, that nothing will assault her. In her heart, she's sure of it. The fear remains, but more subtle, and deeper. Everything she had finally dismissed as but a dream has returned, real, before her. And again, she has been approached by a double. That sinking suspicion that she has stumbled in to something far larger than herself, larger even than her work with the nations, has made itself real, at last.

"We may not have enough energy for the return trip," the AI notes, as screens display the progress of various self-diagnostic routines. "Are you certain you want to do this?"

"It's fine, Melchior. Everything will be fine." Tasha wishes she could believe that, uncertain if she said it for her AI, or for herself. She shifts the formation of her chair, allowing her to lean back and stare up at the ceiling. Up, towards the sky, where the world had once been simple. "Proceed."

The engines begin thrusting, and the Gryphon takes to the sky again, heading towards a distant smudge in the sky. Along the way, it passes close to the burning, melting remains of the sky-island monster, still sending up billows of acrid smoke. The impact area is cratered, and some of those craters are filled with purple, glowing liquid. Probably whatever passes for blood for the monster.

Tasha watches the display with a detached, almost disinterested expression, while inside her emotions twist and her mind works. Several minutes after crossing the carcase, Tasha inquires, "What sort of weapon could do this, Melchior?"

"Decay particles and residual radiation suggest a neutral anti-particle beam," the AI replies.

"How common were those in the Expedition-era?" Tasha can't help but feel she already knows the answer.

"None of the Expedition factions were known to use antimatter," the machine says. "This does not preclude the possibility that they could have, however, as a weapon of last resort."

"Thank you, Melchior." The young woman takes a deep breath, and exhales. Last resort. "You know, she spoke of you. It is aware of the Magi." Tasha closes the other screens, now, and sets sensors to actively scan the creature instead. The only screen she watches now if the one before her, and the Phantom within.

"What did it have to say about me?" the Gryphon asks. The Phantom appears glittery now, the closer they get.

Tasha's gaze doesn't waver. She watches it approach like an inevitability, like the lockstep of time itself. "It is aware of the purpose of the Magi, of the Marker, and recognizes us or you as the 'Bird of Hermes,' which coincides with the poem written to my brain. It expected certain knowledge of me, and was surprised that I lacked it. We may be seeing the end result of the Magi project, or something greater in which it was a small part." A pause, and then, "This contact suggests my dream may have been another contact point."

As the Phantom grows and becomes clearer, Tasha suddenly recalls an event from her childhood. She must have only been around four years old, and an important Vartan was visiting The Rake. He wore fancy vest, and fancy pants and probably had a hat, but what Tasha remembers most clearly was the Chronotopian pocket-watch that hung from a golden chain at his waist. The watch was gold, and covered in intricately engraved patterns that dragged the eye along their arches and whorls. And ahead of her now was something like that, on a much grander scale. Golden and covered in fanciful patterns, the Phantom was shaped like a pocket-watch seen edge on – there was even a seam. But it was far more ornate, with lacy, filigreed structures of metal extending out and around it, like a framework holding the main body. The structures ended in needle-like points impaling series of rings. There were other ring-like torus structures on the outside of the shell, more becoming visible the closer they got: stators.

"It's beautiful, Melchior." To find a piece of familiar technology is a small comfort, at least. That she may have stumbled across the final product of the Magi Titans – perhaps even the Progenitor Cult itself – is a shock, even if one dulled by stress and the weight of the approaching meeting. There are answers here, even if the question may be several thousand years too late. And somewhere in all these questions and answer is Tasha. "Do you recognize it, Melchior?"

"It is a frigate of the Khattan Trade Coalition," the AI claims. "Designation unknown." As they get closer, Tasha can even see what appear to be gears turning within the seam between the upper and lower hull. "The docking hatch will be on the upper pole."

Tasha can't help but chuckle; she was right after all. Her guess, which seemed like only a wild theory, was right. The sound is wry, and a little choked. Even her expectation such a contact would override the Melchior was correct, yet, for all that, she feels as surprised as if she hadn't thought of it at all. Her laugh is wry, indeed. "Set course for the docking hatch, then. Prepare to land. Oh," her head tilts, "And welcome home."

As the Gryphon flies across the face of the Phantom, Tasha guesses it must be at least a thousand feet across – making it nearly as big as Tartarus Base. The very top is a dimpled dome which irises open to allow Melchior to enter the empty hangar. The gold and filigree motif continues here, along with a few gear-like structures that may or may not be simply decorative. The hangar is otherwise empty of vehicles or crew. "Are you going to leave the cockpit, Tasha?" the AI asks.

The young woman still isn't sure she's dreaming; something like this could easily have occupied a favorite space in her resting mind. It's all beautiful; all of it. And yet, somewhere deep inside, is Enyo, and within her, answers. Answers Tasha isn't sure she's ready for; answers she fears to hear. It is a strange dichotomy, she thinks, to find so much beauty astride so great a fear.

"Yes, Melchior. The invitation was for me to meet with someone aboard this ship. There's no use in turning back now, so I'll be departing when we land." Tasha reaches her right hand over to run her fingers, encrusted in her suit as they are, down the cockpit wall. "I'm sorry, Melchior. Enyo is waiting."

"Be careful, Tasha," the Gryphon replies, and brief burst of air from the ventilation system ruffles the fur of her cheek. "This place does not appear similar to environments the Khatta have created for interaction with other races."

"I'm not sure why; I know I'm impressed," Tasha admits. Impressed doesn't even begin to describe her feelings. Resting her hands on her knees, she takes a deep breath and gathers her courage. She may not return the same; she may not return at all. Forward, she tells herself as she exhales. Keep moving forward. Her head lifts, and, "Commence standby; disengage pilot."

The neural-connection arm comes free from the studs on the back of Tasha's skull, and the chair rotates to face the hatch.

Tasha gathers her helmet and pulls herself to standing, staring at the hatch as if it lead straight in to the abyss. Her courage begins to waver, but she begins forward and out, in to the light.

Once she's down on the floor of the hangar, every sound echoes back to her; especially those of her hooves. The floor produces ripples of light whenever her boot makes contact.

Loneliness in a beautiful place; it pairs well, she decides, with the loneliness of a horrible place she encountered during her last flight out here. She had believed – truly believed – she would discover something relatively mundane, a relatively simple answer to allay her fears and return her attention back to politics and organization building.

Instead, she is here. Here, in this hall of light and gold, like a heaven wrought of metal and science. Here, where a god awaits her. It is not where she expected to be – not by the breadth of a galaxy close.

"I'm here!" Tasha calls out across the empty hangar, only to hear her voice echo back at her, reminding her all the more her double awaits within. She can't help but wonder where all the people are; are they watching her? Is there anyone left at all, save Enyo, and the turning of a six thousand year old machine?

The reply to her call comes as an echoing clip-clop of hooves. The acoustics make it impossible to tell which of the corridors radiating from the hangar it comes from, but it grows steadily closer.

In her anxiety and effort to spot who approaches her, Tasha turns in place, ears flicking. The golden hangar is a while around her, turning her sounds and those of the unknown back at her in a dizzying cascade.

Clip-clop, clip-clop. From a corridor to Tasha's left, a white horse trots into the hanger. It's dressed in golden barding, and even has a partial helmet with a big red feathery plume sticking out. It pulls a two-wheeled golden chariot – like something from an Olympian museum. It cross in front of the Vartan, and stops when the chariot is in front of her. The horse turns its head slightly to watch Tasha with a big brown eye.

At this point, Tasha gives up trying to decide in what state her reality is; it just … is. All she can do is follow it, and accept what she sees as being there before her. She could guess at all kinds of possibilities, likely and unlikely, but she realizes it's all a moot effort to try and convince herself she's safe and sane. In the end, as she shifts her gaze between the carriage and it's equally improbable horse, she decides that, too, is an illusion.

Forward. She walks towards the carriage, assuming she's supposed to enter it. All the while she watches the strange horse watch her, until, at last, she climbs in. "This is very nice," she remarks out loud, half because it's true, and half to keep her sanity company.

The horse heads back for the corridor it arrived through, while Tasha stands in the chariot (as there is no seating). There are no bridle straps to control the horse, of course. The corridor is also ornate, the walls covered with both raised and engraved patterns – none with straight lines though. Even the corridor curves gently to the left. There are archways in the walls every so often, but they are closed off by what appear to be draping curtains made of metal instead of cloth. Finally, the horse stops in front of one of these portals, which opens up as if the curtains were being drawn aside.

Tasha eyes the opening a moment, before stepping forward. She begins to walk, then pauses, offering a, "Thank you," to the fantastical horse before proceeding. Helmet in hand, she forces one foot in front of the other, one step at a time. "Enyo?"

The curtains close behind Tasha, leaving her momentarily in the dark before the floor comes to life, appearing to turn from a solid to a flowing golden liquid… which carries Tasha forward along the curving corridor as well as providing light, which reflects off the walls in much the way real water would. Another curtained portal lies ahead, hopefully waiting until Tasha is close enough to open – otherwise the floor is going to drag her right up against it.

While not exactly having thought about it in the face of other pressing concerns – survival, sanity, core life questions – Tasha realizes she didn't think she could be more impressed, and yet here she is. She watches the soothing flow of the gold floor, and finds herself thankful for it. It's peaceful. She may be far away from everything she's ever known, walking straight in to the unknown, but at least she can take comfort at the beauty in this place. Even having seen the Orpheus, she would have placed something like this as firmly within the realm of fantasy. She so certain of this place's beauty and artistry, she doesn't move to evade a possible collision – she finds herself doubting such a place would even allow such a mar on its perfection.

The curtains open in time, and Tasha is carried through into a spherical chamber that causes a bit of a sensory overload. The floor continues as a ribbon of molten gold connecting to a disk-shaped platform in the center, also with a surface of glowing gold liquid. What could only be a pilot's chair is set at the very center of the platform, made of sections of black padding supported by ornate clockwork, and including a fanciful version of the interface arm in Melchior. Above the chair is a kinetic sculpture of nested rings, all spinning around different axes connecting them to the next larger ring in the nesting sequence. The central rings are spinning so fast as to appear almost solid. But the walls grab the Vartan's attention, because they are alive with gears and clockwork that seems to extend to impossible depths, with lights behind them. They seem to move and migrate around the sphere as they turn, crawling over and around the single entry. The light from the liquid floor scatters and flashes and makes it all seem more like the heart of a golden kaleidoscope than that of a clock.

It's so beautiful, were she not scared, she would cry. Deep in her heart, the young woman knows it's true; she has never seen anything more beautiful in her life, not even in her dreams. Turning slowly and staring with her mouth agape, she doesn't think to be concerned with how she must look. The woman even starts when her hand touches her muzzle as she covers it, forgetting that she had raised it. It's all too stunning, leaving the rest of the world a dreary, pale road behind her. She isn't even sure how long she's been staring. Minutes? Hours? And likely many more, if her gaze hadn't inevitably fallen upon the pilot's chair, the one part of this impossible perfection that is imperfect – it is missing its pilot.

Walking forward, Tasha can't help but think she doesn't belong in the seat – no one she can think of, save perhaps the virtual form of Melchior, would fit. Still, she has been brought here, and the chair is the only lock missing a key. With trepidation, even awe, she climbs those steps, and takes her seat.

The chair shifts, moving on cams and levers to adjust perfectly to Tasha's body. The arm connects its fingers to her interface studs, and she feels a tingle travel along the circuitry tattooed along her limbs. If not for her armor, she'd probably see them glowing. "Now we can talk face to face," the voice of Enyo says, echoing throughout the chamber.

"Yes." It becomes easier to talk here, making life seem smaller, more beautiful, and easier to process. As a Vartan, shiny things are attractive and soothing, and to be in the center of sensory perfection is every Vartan's secret wish. Here, now, is the realization of Tasha's. "Here I am. Let's begin, Enyo."