*Hsss-haaa* … *Hsss-haaa* … *Hsss-haaa* The ventilation system of the ancient ship breathes in and out repeatedly, giving the eerie impression of something alive, anticipating, and lying in wait.

Two alien intruders work their way through a long and dimly lit corridor, both adorned in leathery wetsuits, backpacks and an assortment of packets and pouches.

One of them resembles a winged humanoid ki'rin, white with golden throat scales, curved horn, finger-claws, mane, tail-tuft and trim on her wings. Upon her head, she wears a crown of glittering crystal that is perfectly fashioned to accommodate her unique head structure and horn, and glows with an irregular luminescence that can't be accounted for as reflected light.

Behind her follows a humanoid vixen, golden with patches of white at her throat, tail-tip, ear hollows and the insides of her arms. (That is, she would be golden, except that her extended time in less-than-sanitary conditions and lack of sunlight has given her fur a dingy tone lacking in luster.)

The vixen carries a heavy-looking metal lantern, spherical in shape, and occasionally pauses to crank on a handle sticking out the side to recharge it – The light it gives off is not terribly bright, but sufficient for peering into the shadows to watch for whatever horrors might be lurking there.

As the two move down the corridor, Envoy keeps an eye open for anymore sigils while holding her staff ready in case anything pops out of the walls or side corridors. "I think we're heading towards the crew and command areas," she tells Maza. "Those were the symbols on the right side, and that's the only way we can go right now. Do you think Arkold and Raneah will be alright?"

What looks like it might be a bit of writing is covered underneath a considerable collection of crud. The air here seems to be getting progressively more humid and warm – uncomfortably so. Maza seems more concerned with watching her step, however. "I suppose Arkold can take care of himself. He's the one with the guns, after all. I'm more worried about us. Though, granted, we haven't run into anything living yet."

Envoy pauses and attempts to scrape away enough crud to make out the writing. "What sort of weapons are you carrying?" she asks the vixen.

Maza seems slightly taken aback by the question for some reason, but then confesses, "Well, I have several daggers hidden about my person, a garrote – though, I tell you, I've never actually used it – and this lantern would make a nice bludgeon in a pinch … but I haven't anything so useful as a gun. I really should have grabbed something large from the nautilus before we came in here … I just wasn't expecting it to be a one-way trip."

The writing, upon further inspection, appears to be Imperial, or a very close relative of it. To the best of Envoy's ability, she is able to translate it into a warning that this is a High Security area, and that proper clearance is required to proceed. Just up ahead is another bulkhead door, with more buttons at the control pad than the other doors, though it is presently open.

"If we can get to the command center, we might be able to access the life support controls and lower the temperature throughout the ship enough to put the reptiles to sleep," Envoy suggests after reading the warning and looking at the open bulkhead. "It might be dangerous to try though… there is a security warning about going forward without proper clearance. The door's open though, and the clearance certainly seems high enough for us to pass through without hitting our heads."

"Clearance?" Maza repeats. "That sounds like a Temple term … or perhaps Kampfzengruppe. I've run into problems with 'security' a few times in my travels. It usually means that you need proper authority to go past. The guards might ask you for identification, for instance. Not that there are any guards here, of course. At least, not any that I would expect to politely ask us for identification, rather than biting our heads off."

Envoy takes a few steps closer to the open door, so she can get a better look at the control panel. "Maybe it doesn't matter anymore, since the door was left open?" she suggests.

"Either that," Maza says, "or it's some sort of trap. When there's technology involved, all sorts of dreadful things can happen. I do hope you're right, though, because I simply haven't the tools or the knowledge to even figure out where to start disarming traps of ancient technology. The only thing I could suggest would be to do simple things like tossing worthless projectiles through the doorway to see if they're shot out of the air by mechanical guns." Toward that end, she picks up a fragment of bone that she'd stepped on a moment ago, and eyeballs the corridor, lining up for a good toss down the hallway.

Envoy steps away from the opening just in case, and watches for the results of the toss. "Sounds like a good plan to me."

Maza gives the bone a good toss, sending it flying down the corridor, though it arcs a bit high and hits the ceiling, then lands on the floor and disappears into the mist. Maza braces herself, ducking, as if expecting things to pop out of the walls and attack … but after a moment of silence (save for the constant *hsss-haaa* of the ventilation system) … it's evident that nothing is happening in obvious response to the projectile.

The vixen shrugs. "Well … no harm checking, at least."

Standing just outside the doorway, Envoy flaps her wings to try and clear the floor-mist enough to reveal any more dead bodies in the corridor beyond.

Sure enough, there are a few bits of bone here and there, but none visible beyond the doorway. However, there is a large amount of ash on the floor, suggesting that there may have been a fire here at some point, though the walls show no sign of damage.

Envoy hmms, reaching her staff through the doorway and waving it around a bit. "Hello! Unauthorized wooden thing here! Come and get it!"

Nothing spectacular happens in the least. Maza looks faintly disappointed.

"Well," Envoy says, turning to Maza, "either the defenses are down, or only react to living things." This time, she removes the pair of "goggles" from one of her water-filled pouches, and tosses it into the corridor.

The jellyfish-like creature wobbles and turns inside out as it hurtles through the air. A buzz and a whirring noise can be heard from somewhere beyond the bulkhead door, but nothing violent happens to the "goggles", save that they make a soft splat then they hit the floor on the other side.

Envoy freezes upon hearing mechanical sounds, and tells Maza, "Okay, I'm going to go in and get my goggles back." Still cautious though, she extends her left wing into the corridor first. Maybe it just wants a bigger target?

Maza puts her hands over her muzzle, as the buzz and whirr can be heard again … but nothing happens. Envoy's wing is unmolested.

Risking a bit more, Envoy places one foot in the corridor and puts some weight on it, in case weight is another trigger.

The floor feels quite solid, and if there is any sort of weight trigger, the floor doesn't move noticeably. Envoy is still in one piece.

Envoy turns to look down the corridor the pair just came through, and perks her ears. "Do you hear anything, Maza? Like … crunching … from the way we came?"

The vixen turns around, and her triangle ears focus on the corridor. "Uhm … why … yes, Envoy … Errr… " She sinks to one side of the corridor, trying to make herself somewhat less visible behind one of the braces, but it's scant cover. She shines her lantern down the corridor from behind her cover … and a threesome of pinpoints of light reflect back, then quickly vanish, joined by a loud hiss and the sounds of shuffling, and more crunching of small bones.

Envoy steps backwards into the security corridor. "Come on, Maza, the defenses aren't working. But maybe we can close the door from this side."

Maza shivers as she looks back to Envoy. "I … oh … " She startles as something moves again down the corridor. It seems that there might be more than one of the creatures. "Well … oh, goodness, I think I'd rather take my chances with a trap than … than those things!" She works her way backwards as well, holding up the lantern as if it were a holy symbol to ward off the undead.

Envoy looks for a control panel on this side for the door. "Let me know if they get too close."

"Too close?" Maza repeats, and comes onto the near side of the door as well. As before, they are both still intact. "I think just being able to see them at all is too close!" Envoy finds a control panel, with various buttons on it, but they seem to be labeled with abbreviations and sigils rather than full words. (Or maybe the Imperials had their own numeric system before they adopted the numeric system used by the Himaat and Rephidim – though, of course, any self-respecting Naga would deny this, claiming that the Nagai Empire was the one that introduced the common numbering system to Sinai.)

"It looks like you need to enter a code," the Aeolun comments as she studies the panel. But would it make sense to enter a code to close the door? She tries pressing the first button.

A hissing noise emanates from the panel. It also emanates from a misshapen creature that is advancing on the bulkhead door. Maza squeaks, "I think we'd better run! Or … or figure out whatever code it wants!" Maza's cry drowns out most of what Envoy can barely heard hissed from the panel, which sounds something about an "error" and some sort of arcane gibberish that sounds like a collection of names of letters from the Imperial alphabet and numbers.

"Running would be good. There should be another door further down the corridor," Envoy says, and goes to recover her goggles before fleeing along the corridor.

Envoy's remarkable memory proves a great benefit, as she is able to precisely pinpoint the location of the jellyfish-like "goggles" (they didn't skid far), and scoop them up as she goes. Maza shrieks and dashes after Envoy, while two or more of the monsters let out very loud hisses and shamble down the passageway – now making no attempt at all at stealth. Up ahead, Envoy can see another bulkhead door immediately opposite an angled six-way intersection. She can also see that the decoration above the door is a bit more fancy than what she's seen before: there is a golden cobra-head above the door, with faintly glowing eyes, and an open mouth that likewise has something glowing in its depths.

*buzz* *whirr* Envoy can faintly make out a hissing voice announcing, "Temporary clearance granted. Temporary clearance granted. Clearance insufficient. Access denied." And just then – there is a flash of light from somewhere beyond Envoy, a scream from Maza, and an unearthly shriek from one of the … things.

Envoy spins around and presses her back up against the closed door, staff raised to a defensive position, and tries to figure out what happened. "Maza?!"

Maza throws herself to the wall alongside Envoy, and as she moves out of the way, Envoy can see that there is a large vaguely Naga-like creature flailing about, alight with green flames. Above the other bulkhead door – the one that wouldn't close – Envoy can see another cobra head, like the one above the door she is pressed against. Its eyes are brightly aglow, and some sort of crackling green energy streams from its mouth, engulfing the creature … and, before Envoy's eyes … reducing it to a charred skeleton, then ashes that quickly fall apart. The other creature, illuminated in the green glow of its now quite dead comrade, hisses, its neck expanding into an asymmetrical hood … and then it retreats, turning back the way it came.

"Ahh," Envoy says after calming down a bit, "the security system is still at least partially functional it seems." She turns around to give the door a better look, checking for identifying sigils and whether or not it has a regular control pad or another coded one.

The almost-golden vixen pants – partly from the shock of seeing a creature disintegrated by a green death ray, and partially because the humidity and heat has risen considerably on this side of the bulkhead door. (The mists are nearly waist deep, although they have no clear boundary as such.) Envoy's inspection reveals another control pad, and a set of keys that are likely coded, having the same order of sigils as on the other one.

"We've been given temporary clearance," Envoy tells Maza while she studies the panel, recalling the odd string of gibberish the previous door gave her. Could that be their authorization code? "Can you see anything down those other corridors?"

There doesn't seem to be an easy correlation between the buttons on the panel and the gibberish that was recited. To the best of Envoy's ability, it looks as if the keypad is coded in Base 16, whereas standard Sinaian numbering schemes are generally in Base 10. The Nagai tongue has special words for the numerals from zero to sixteen, which lends credence to this possibility. But whatever the case, in order for that code to mean anything in relation to opening this door, there would need to be sigils corresponding to the Imperial alphabet – and while there are a few that might qualify, they seem more likely to be abbreviations, rather than an exhaustive collection of keys. (For instance, the buttons most likely meant for "Open" and "Close" are labeled with the first characters for the Imperial words for "Open" and "Close".)

Meanwhile, Maza is quiet a moment as she catches her breath and looks down the other corridors. "It's … it's gone away," she says, then remarks, "I think we're in some sort of junction … maybe in the boom that joins the main body of the Sutaranakh to that pod that was sticking out the front. I don't see anyone down any of the corridors. As for … uhm … "

Envoy's finger hovers over the likely 'open' button, but she doesn't press it yet. "As for what?" she asks.

Maza collects her thoughts, then adds, "I think port-aft heads to crew quarters … maybe for the officers? … and starboard-aft heads to … uhm … maybe the mess hall, I'm thinking. Port-fore heads to … uh … there's fangs … and starboard-fore … uhm … I can't tell what that thing is."

A sigil on the door Envoy is standing before seems to correspond to the sigil she earlier inferred might stand for "command", as it shows a stylized Naga head.

Stepping back into the hub, Envoy peers down the corridor Maza couldn't identify.

The mists are especially thick in that direction, and there is a noticeable growth of mosses and mold on the walls, and the lighting fails only a few meters down the corridor, shrouding the passage in darkness.

"It doesn't look very inviting, does it?" Envoy says. "I'm going to try to open the door to Command. You might want to step into one of the side corridors, just in case." She also moves as far as she can to one side of the door, and stretches out her staff to see if she can use it to tap the "open" button – or what she suspects is the "open" button at least.

The button is large enough that Envoy should be able to tap it easily enough with the staff, and Maza catches her meaning and stands to one side. The keypad, unlike the ones Envoy has encountered outside of this area, is free of growths and debris. Indeed, the only sign Envoy has seen of anything resembling dirt or debris in this area has been the presence of the ashes near the bulkhead door, and the mossy growths down the fore-starboard corridor. (Maza, incidentally, does not choose that corridor as her retreat, but rather takes a careful step down the "Fangs" corridor.)

Once Maza is out of the way, Envoy taps the button with the end of her staff and quickly pulls back further from the door … hopefully out of the line of fire of the two sentinels at either end of the main corridor.

The panel hisses, "Incorrect authorization code." No green rays of death come forth, however.

There is a gasp from Maza, as she looks away from the door, and her eyes focus on something just beyond Envoy. Before Envoy has a chance to react, however, she feels a couple of heavy hands fall upon her shoulders, arms brushing against her wings. "Seize the intruder," a sibilant voice hisses, though it would seem from the strength of the grip on her shoulders, Envoy is most certainly already seized, at least in part.

Remembering her Yodhblakat training, Envoy tries to jab her elbows back into her captor's gut.

The winged ki'rin's move seems to catch her would-be captor totally off-guard, as she feels her elbow hit the spot where a Naga's gut ought to be. It's not clear whether that was the captor's gut, but her force is sufficient to prompt her assailant to let out a pained hiss, and to abruptly let go. Envoy sees a shadowy, serpentine form emerge behind Maza, just as she's trying to draw out a dagger – but the large snake quickly grabs her, knocking the dagger to the floor, and getting her in a choke-hold.

Envoy spins once she's free, so that she can bring her staff and centipede armbands up to defend herself. "Who are you!?" she hisses in Imperial, and hopes that Maza has some self-defense experience.

Envoy's living armbands, sensing her distress, move their mandibles faintly, ready to defend their wearer. As Envoy turns around, she sees what looks like a Naga – or something very much like it – adorned in scraps of leather, bits of broken ceramic, sections of bone, and assorted junk, though it's all put together in a surprisingly deliberate and even artistic (perhaps even religious) manner. The Naga, though being larger than Envoy, recoils, clutching the abdomen of its upper torso, its lower serpentine body coiling on the ground. It blinks with translucent eyelids, then hisses, "You speak!"

Maza cries out, flailing against her assailant, but he (?) has a good grip on her, and tightens it about her neck, until she lets out a pained whimper and relents for the time being. Other hisses and shuffling noises hint that there are others lurking in the shadows.

Envoy blinks at the sight of the creature, and hears the others. She lowers her staff, and says, "Please do not hurt my companion. We come from Sinai."

Behind the Naga, another snake – smaller not in overall stature by any means, but rather looking far less muscular – slowly slithers forward. He is likewise adorned in a costume of scavenged bits, though his incorporates a great deal more technology, including what looks like a cybernetic implant in one eye, with external cables running to a ceramic casing that covers one half of his scaled head. He holds a staff made from piping surrounded by spirals of cable, topped with a headpiece fashioned from a misshapen Naga skull covered with plates of metal and ceramic. "Sinai," the elder hisses, making slow and deliberate movements as he pushes forward into the dim light from the moss-slicked corridor. "What brings you to the Temple of Sutaranakh?"

"They tricked the Firebreathers," the serpent holding Maza hisses. "They may have more tricks!"

"Enlightenment and redemption," Envoy says – quite honestly in her case – and bows before the staff-wielding snake. "We did not know that any people remained aboard. Are you descendants of the original crew?"

The elder holds a hand up as if to silence the one who holds Maza, his gaze not passing from Envoy. "It is as you say. You are here because Sutaranakh has called you. May Sutaranakh find you worthy, and not purge the flesh from your bones." This last statement is said in a curious tone of voice, truly like a blessing rather than a threat, despite the implications of it.

Envoy remembers how Dr. Bronson described the Abaddonian Imperials as worshipping their surviving Seed, and assumes these serpents are doing likewise. "The … demons … that roam outside, are they what becomes of those Sutaranakh deems unworthy?" the Aeolun asks. With her second voice, she says in Standard, "Maza, they don't quite trust us but I do not think they mean to harm us either yet."

"You are of two tongues. What is it you say in secret to your companion?" the elder demands, rather than answering Envoy's question.

Envoy explains, "I told her only that you do not trust us yet, but that you likewise mean us no harm." In Khattan, she asks, "Can you understand this tongue, Elder?"

If the Elder understands Khattan, he gives no evidence of it. "The Sutaranakh has spoken clearly enough. You will come with us to be placed in the Throne of Communion." And with that, he shakes his staff and moves his free hand, then slithers past, up to the door. He mutters an arcane phrase under his tongue that sounds like a combination of Imperial numbers, slightly slurred – and with much unnecessary movement of his hand, he ritually presses keys on the control panel. There is a loud mechanical hiss, and the door snaps abruptly open, taking no longer than an eye blink, and even thicker mists pour out from the room beyond.

"I think we're going to be hooked up to a neural interface, like the ones in the Temple on Rephidim," Envoy says to Maza, unsure if the vixen knows what she means. She could be descended from Exile foxes, after all.

Maza lets out a very unhappy squeak at this news, but says nothing.

The muscular Naga that grabbed Envoy earlier gestures meaningfully toward the door, though he makes no immediate move to move her forcibly through it. Maza's captor, however, is far less accommodating, and lifts her off her feet to carry her through.

Envoy steps through the doorway, resting her staff casually against her shoulder. At least now she knows the proper key sequence for the door.

A shriveled corpse sits upon the Communion Throne, and in life it might have once been a Khatta or some other feline humanoid, adorned in a leathery outfit with bits of armor here and there. One of the Nagas roughly extracts the corpse from the throne – in pieces, as it has obviously been there for quite some time. (They must not get many visitors here.)

Seated in the Throne of Communion is a shriveled corpse that likely was once a Khatta, still adorned in a leather wetsuit, partially covered with armor fashioned of shells, and various trinkets and trappings that have the look of scavenged booty rather than carefully chosen ornamentation.

The corpse is shown no respect whatsoever, as one of the large Nagas roughly hauls the body off of the throne and casts it aside. The Naga then goes back and removes the parts that fell off during the initial extraction. It would seem that this body has been here quite some time.

Envoy glances at Maza to see how she reacts, and asks the elder, "I suppose Sutaranakh found that one unworthy? Has she ever deemed an outsider worthy before?"

"The Compatible One has not yet been found. Perhaps you or your companion will be able to commune with Sutaranakh, without being taken to the next Realm," the elder says.

Maza doesn't seem the least bit pleased, and struggles even with the choke-hold, her feet kicking helplessly as the muscular Naga holding her takes her up to the throne and sets her down. There are some restraints that look like additions to the throne not part of the original design specifications, and which two slightly smaller Nagas start to use to strap Maza down.

"No! Please! You're making a terrible mistake!" Maza cries out once she's free of the choke-hold.

The Aeolun decides to keep her crown on, at that point. It helped her commune before, after all.

"I should be the one to go first," Envoy says as Maza is being strapped in. "Sutaranakh guided me here, but not my companion."

"Then why is she here?" the elder asks of Envoy, while the Nagas continue to strap in Maza, and one of them starts to lower the golden helmet over her head. "Is she your servant?" Several of the holographic images glow more brightly, and a vulpine-looking skull materializes amidst several sigils and scripts in Imperial that seem to indicate some sort of arcane jargon.

"She helped me reach this far," Envoy says. "I could not have made the journey without her. She is a friend, but she does not feel the song of Sutaranakh as I do."

As the helmet is lowered down over Maza's head, she screams, "ENVOY! DO SOMETHING! PLEASE!"

Envoy starts to sing the Song, as she did during the descent into the submarine trench.

The song echoes through the room, and several of the holographic images – including that of the vulpine skull – blink out immediately. The Nagas turn to look toward Envoy … then to look about, as her song is echoed throughout the room, joined in by other voices, it seems.

The elder's head draws back, as he flicks his tongue, looking as impressed as a Naga ever does. "Take out the hairy one. This one communes with Sutaranakh even outside the Throne of Communion!" Several of the snakes bow their heads in veneration – but those at the Throne quickly move to lift the helmet back up, and release Maza's bonds, even as she faintly whispers a mantra of "Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou… "

Envoy tries not to become lost in the Song again, once she sees the effect it is having. She stops singing once Maza is released, and hands over her staff and backpack to the Naga that first tried to seize her.

The large Naga is somewhat hesitant to touch the items at first, but takes them nonetheless.

Once Maza is free, she staggers out of the chair, panting. "I … I think … I'm going to faint … I … ungh." She does not, however, actually faint, but instead goes over to a wall and leans heavily against it, panting. The Nagas do not seize her again, but keep a respectful distance now.

Taking a deep breath and then releasing it, Envoy steps up and sits on the Throne of Communion, trying to get her wings into the least awkward position she can.

The Throne of Communion, not surprisingly, is not ideally designed for the form of a winged humanoid. In fact, it's not necessarily the best design for any sort of humanoid, evidently made for use by the Nagai. The helmet is very similar to the "learning helmet" from the Temple, though its design looks distinctly Nagai, and it doesn't have quite the "patchwork" look to it that most items touched by the Technopriesthood do. There's something about the styling now that Envoy is able to place as very Imperial, certainly … and perhaps the Nagai were actually responsible for inventing the technology used behind the "Happy Helmet" in the first place.

The Nagai do not bother strapping Envoy down, though they do lower the helmet. Envoy cannot see it clearly, but she can tell from the ambient light that her crown is glittering even more so than it has during the entirety of her journey through the Sutaranakh.

Maza gives Envoy a "What are you doing?" look, and calls out, "But … wait … you can't … she'll die! Somebody, stop this, please!" She rushes forward, but one of the muscular Nagai interferes, grabbing her and restraining her easily. "Envoy!"

Turning to the elder once she's in a passably comfortable position, Envoy asks, "What message would you have me relay to Sutaranakh if Communion is successful?" To Maza, she says, "Don't worry Maza, this is what I came here for … pretty much. I need to fix a broken part of my mind, and the Sutaranakh is part of the treatment."

Whatever answer Envoy is given is lost as the helmet lowers over her head, and reality shuts itself off from her. The luminescence of the crown fades away, as does Envoy's perception of the material world … only to be replaced with a new "reality" – one that seems even more like a dream than the Dream Realms ever did, for it is a reality formed by concepts and sensations with context more so than actual input from Envoy's senses.

If it were to be translated into a visual image, into a more familiar understanding of space, Envoy wound find herself floating within a reality defined in mosaics inlaid upon the stone walls of a temple. The world is defined in stylized fashion, labeled in hieroglyphic predecessors to Imperial script, and not entirely three dimensional.

The sky is dark, and spread with images that the constellations are said to portray, if only one knows how to connect the points properly. There is no Procession, but there is a glowing orb that is the moon, and that is also the silvery Moon Serpent of Sutaranakh, the Sun's Offspring, engaged in eternal dance about its circumference.

Studying the icons, Envoy tries to divine their functions. In particular, she searches for one conveying the idea of "state of being" in order to determine the overall health of the ship. "Sutaranakh, can you hear me?" she asks the moon-image.

An image appears, a mosaic of the outline of the ship, different tiles colored or missing entirely, describing the condition of the craft. Sutaranakh the ship is badly damaged, and incapable of flight, though the Seed still powers it, and life support systems still function in most areas of the ship.

Envoy searches next for "healing", hoping to gain access to the maintenance and self-repair systems status.

"Yes," answers the moon, in the voice of a young female Naga. A great serpent encircles the moon, Sutaranakh herself, similar in form to the Nagai, but different. Whereas the Nagai have more or less happened to correspond in appearance to various Terran species of serpent, this creature seems more alien in its features – There are many spines about its head and body that suggest a semi-draconic aspect, and its eyes are widely set apart and very small compared to the overall size of its head.

Relieved at getting an interactive response, Envoy asks, "How much longer can you maintain life support for the descendants of the crew?"

And as Envoy looks for the icons of healing, she finds them: Self-repair systems have engaged wherever they might, but a considerable portion of the ship's automated functions are no longer operable, and there are no trained personnel alive in the ship's crew roster.

"Continuing at the present state of deterioration, and assuming no assistance from the Celestial Emperor," Sutaranakh responds, "two thousand, three hundred and forty-two years." In this case, "years" are translated as Envoy would understand them as a measurement of time. The actual measurement in "Imperial Standard Years" is somewhat different.

No rush to evacuate them or bring about contact with the rest of the world then, Envoy thinks. "Can you provide training to them so that they can attend to maintenance and repair of your failing systems?"

"Yes," Sutaranakh answers, "but I require access to your long-term memory." At this, a little Creen – or, that is, an entity that looks very much like one – materializes, and flies up to Envoy, orbiting her head.

Envoy considers this request. "Have you successfully performed such access before?" she asks, watching the Creen.

"Negative," Sutaranakh answers. The little dragon-creen (for that is the best attempt at an analogy for its appearance) chirrups, "98% probability of compatible interface," in a cheery voice.

Numeric values orbit the Creen, providing a more detailed testament to its analysis. From what Envoy can somehow absorb from them at a glance, she can tell that the Creen's assessment is an over-simplification of the data. Given the lack of other instances of success in performing such an interface to compare against, the estimate of probability is of dubious utility.

"I wish to perform a limited test of this process," Envoy decides. Tapping into her memory, she prepares the information she has on the Nagai Empire as if she were going to send it through her ansible. "Please attempt to encode the data that will be coming through my broadcast port."

A glittering stream of lights issue forth from Envoy's mouth, as she finds herself singing in representation of the transmission of data. Little Creens hover about, intercepting the motes of light, and ferry them up to Sutaranakh. Many of the motes of light are accidentally dropped along the way, or melt away before they reach their destination. The first Creen continues to orbit Envoy, and chirrups, "Corrected probability of 95%."

"Repeat transfer," Envoy says. "Focus on acquiring previously lost information."

This time, the Creens go to work, and do a much more commendable job of transmitting the stream of data to Sutaranakh, who dances sinuously in the sky in time with Envoy's song.

"Recalculate efficiency with error correction taken into account," Envoy requests of the computer.

The little calculating Creen chirrups happily as it flies around Envoy's head. "Calibration successful," it announces. "Chance of negative feedback less than one tenth of one percent."

Envoy considers the new odds. "Begin long term memory access with error correction, but reduce bandwidth on negative feedback incidents to avoid stress on my system. If feedback approaches dangerous levels, discontinue access until I have recovered."

A silvery glow descends from the Naga moon goddess, bathing Envoy, and reflecting off of her, so that Envoy is surrounded by a glittering halo. The simulated reality is filled with a chorus of voices, as Envoy finds herself singing in time with the movements of Sutaranakh … and on a more technical level, her memories are accessed and cataloged by the ship's artificial intelligence, at a bewildering pace.

There's a certain sense of contentment in Envoy, as she is finally able to download her information to somebody who can make use of it.

It is uncertain how much time passes, but when it is over with … the song fades away, and Envoy floats in place, while Sutaranakh seems somewhat more solid than before. "I thank you, Mage Envoy of Lothrhyn and of Sinai," Sutaranakh says. "Your data has helped me to repair my own damaged neural net. I ask your forgiveness for the physical and mental risk you and your companions have been subjected to."

Little dragon-creens flit about, chirruping happy reports in computerese jargon that, roughly translated, seem to indicate that Sutaranakh's artificial intelligence is in much better shape than before.

"We knew the risks when we came here," Envoy says, accepting the apology. "Can you do anything about the mutated life forms beyond the crew areas, or know what their origins are? Can you sense Arkold and Raneah?"

"I am using an idea from your own short-term memory," Sutaranakh announces. The life support display shows temperatures dropping in several sections of the ship – though it stays noticeably warm in the forward areas, and around areas marked off as hydroponics and engineering.

On the mosaic, tiles change colors, showing the location of Raneah and Arkold. It would seem that they have moved around a great deal since Envoy parted ways with them.

"Thank you," Envoy says, once she sees the information. With the AI in control again, meeting up with Arkold and the Siren shouldn't be difficult. "Clearly, I cannot remove the Seed as I originally intended. Is there any way that a smaller version can be reproduced for my needs? Also, the Imperials and other Expedition survivors on Abaddon would no doubt benefit from any post-landing records you have, if they can be encoded in a portable format for them to access."

The image of Sutaranakh nods. "Removal of the Seed would compromise my existence, and that of those remaining here. I realize that this is the object of your quest. I am performing diagnostics, and will determine whether your request can be accommodated. My data has been corrupted in many banks, but I will still attempt to provide to you what knowledge I can, out of gratitude for your assistance."

Envoy smiles, at least virtually. "If you have schematics for your external communications system, please include them. The Abaddonians may be able to provide replacement parts that will let you contact the surface or Abaddon. Are you now able to communicate with the crew without requiring a direct interface?"

"I have the means to do so, though my problem-solving processes were sufficiently damaged so that I was not making creative use of my resources," Sutaranakh replies. "I have many means of communication at my disposal, but the most direct methods were rendered inoperable."

"Is it still dangerous for others to use this remaining link?" the Aeolun asks, wanting to make sure before anyone else tries the helmet.

"Yes," Sutaranakh replies. "Your unique mental structure and the ansible interface made this communication possible, but the same cannot be said for non-engineered organics. The interface's ability to calibrate to users has been greatly compromised."

"I'm sure the crew will be able to learn through your audio and visual systems alone," Envoy says. "If there are more complex tasks that you require which cannot be taught through indirect means, then you can download them to me and I will try to carry them out."

"So noted," Sutaranakh says. "You have come far on your quest, and I wish to make recompense. Do you have any questions for me, that I might attempt to answer, or favors you might ask of me? I cannot be certain that I can provide the Seed you require of your quest."

Envoy thinks about this. "I believe that I failed in my quest on Abaddon. Do you have information on phenomena there that may relate to what I seek, or on any of the other worlds of the Primus system? If you have any nonessential cargo that my companions could use to repair their ship or otherwise find useful, I would be grateful as well. They dream of riches, and although I have found at least half of what I came for, they probably do not feel quite as successful yet."

"I may be able to help in that regard," Sutaranakh answers. A mosaic of the ship grows and expands, showing a cargo bay filled with various materials. "I am obliged to protect the sanctity of the mortal remains and possessions of the original crew of this ship, for this is their tomb, but I can provide many expendable items that should qualify as 'riches' to your companions."

The virtual image of a mythic night changes, representing a stylized landscape of Abaddon, and the mechanical dragon known as the Leviathan. "I believe that the machine that you found on Abaddon might meet the requirements of the dream-quest you were given by the Oracle. The machine is lacking in a source of power, and requires components that may exist on the worlds of Behemoth and Sinai, based on the information I have drawn from your memory, and survey data still stored within my memory banks."

Smiling, Envoy says, "Thank you again. If necessary, I can do without a Seed, as there are other means by which I can recover my ability to use magic. Being able to help you and the people here and on this world is worth far more, and now you have given me a practical goal to my quest as well."

"I would note that in both cases that you have found artifacts that might correspond to the requirements for your quest," Sutaranakh says, now coiled beside Envoy and adorned in silvery-white raiment, rather than hovering in the sky, "it would seem that you are expected to take it from the possession of another."

"Would this be in keeping with the nature of the goddess that this Oracle serves?" Sutaranakh asks, focusing pearl-like eyes on Envoy.

"Barada is covetous by nature, I would imagine," Envoy admits. "All of the Babelite deities are like that. I see no reason to steal what I need though, as that would defeat the purpose of redeeming myself in my own eyes. Whatever I do acquire will eventually have to be returned, I'm sure."

Envoy realizes something, and asks, "Can the Seed on Abaddon be restored to life? That would certainly solve many problems."

"From what I know of your own observations," Sutaranakh answers, "the 'Seed' on Abaddon is most assuredly dead, but it may be that there is a true seed within it, from which might be formed its replacement."

The Aeolun perks up considerably at this possibility. "I will send a request to New Zion then. If there is a seed, then the Earth magic available on Sinai might make it bloom."

Sutaranakh nods. "That may well be possible." She then looks to Envoy. "You may accomplish many things by doing so, but I feel obliged to submit to you that I have formed some of my own theories as to the nature of your quest, though I cannot know what the entity Morpheus had in mind and felt he should not reveal to you."

Envoy nods. "I would like to hear your theories. Morpheus simply realized that for a quest to be worthwhile, it needs to be difficult. He didn't want to diminish whatever I might accomplish by giving me too much help."

The silvery dragon-serpent nods. "It is my supposition that the core of this quest involves your mind, not the collection of artifacts – though the very act of questing for those artifacts may provide a means to the end, through your experiences on this adventure. You have long known the nature of 'magic' on Sinai, and the art of 'casting spells'. I submit to you that the other worlds of Primus have their own forms of 'magic' as well, though not in such overt form – and that your exposure to this is part of your recovery."

"Yes, it is known that exposure to magic has a profound affect on one's ability to use it," Envoy agrees. "It was not until my experience with the Sifran demiurge on Fortunatis that I was able to develop the talent. I have seen enough on Abaddon to theorize that magic there works best to animate things which at least mimic living things. Here on Ashtoreth, I have seen the odd melding of life forms that the Mariners do, and how the pearl-engined clam ships also seem to benefit from resembling living things."

Sutaranakh nods. "They have their own rules and ways of working – The uninitiated cannot simply put together unrelated parts into the shape of what only vaguely looks like a machine or creature, and expect it to work … but there are forces put in place by the Sifras that interfere and assist in such things. Consider the fact that I was able to receive data from your ansible. You are from an entirely alien universe. The odds that we would have compatible transfer protocols are incalculable. Yet nonetheless we were able to communicate on a basic level."

"I am an artificial intelligence," Sutaranakh says, "but I have evolved far beyond my original potential in several respects. I have become alive. This is 'magic', though it lacks rituals and arcane gestures and secret words in the way that a 'mage' might understand it."

"We are both very alike in that regard," Envoy says. "Perhaps that is the common ground enabling us to communicate? If possible, I would like to expose myself to your living Seed to … feel it. Maybe even sing with it a bit more. I felt it kindle something inside me during our approach to the ship."

Sutaranakh nods. "I will light the path there, and keep the mutants away from you. They are the failed results of the crew of this ship to further modify their own genetic code, in the tradition of the children of the Celestial Emperor to modify their own progeny to better adapt to replacements of their dead home world."

"Some of them surpassed the animal urges that plague them," Sutaranakh says, "and I allowed them into my inner sanctuary. Thus, there are those who led you here to the 'Throne of Communion'."

"The other people of this world view you as the source of demons," Envoy says. "Now that you are once more in control of yourself, I can assure them that they need not fear you anymore. Perhaps you can talk to the Nessians as well now."

"Yes," Sutaranakh says. "I may be able to communicate them by modulating the output of the auxiliary generators, generating harmonic resonances in the hull of the ship, and … 'singing' to the Nessians. I have long monitored their communications to each other, but I was not sufficiently creative to communicate to them myself."

Envoy smiles again. "That's good to know. They seemed a bit antisocial when we encountered them." She pets the draco-serpent's head, and asks, "Is there anything more I can do for you while we are linked?"

"I have no request of you. You have already provided all that I need," Sutaranakh answers. "You will always be welcome here, should you return again, and I will use my resources to see that you are able to return to the outside world safely."

"I thank you then, for your aid and the opportunity you have given me to redeem myself," Envoy says happily. "I should probably return to the mundane world now though, to let everyone know I'm alright and that you'll be talking to them if you haven't already."

Sutaranakh nods. "Certainly." The surroundings fade to a stylized representation of the room around Envoy. It seems as if everyone is frozen in place, and that they have not moved very much at all since Envoy put the helmet on. Sutaranakh looks Envoy full in the eyes, and reaches out, touching her temples with her long-fingered, scaled hands. "I am only a representation of a goddess of my people, of course – and, indeed, it can be said that my people no longer live – but you go with what blessings are mine to offer, Mage Envoy of Lothrhyn. May you find that which you are questing for." The artificial reality about Envoy begins to fade away.

Envoy tries to blink her eyes and bring the real world into focus again.

The helmet rises from Envoy's head, and the room comes into view. A ghostly holographic projection of Sutaranakh stands in front of the throne, and speaks in sibilant tones to the gathered mutant Nagai – who lie on the floor, prostrate, save for the elder, who keeps his head bowed low, and is as close to kneeling as a semi-humanoid snake could manage.

Taking care as she stands up again, the Aeolun looks around for Maza, hoping she didn't just run off when the Nagai saw their goddess and forgot about her.

To Maza's credit, she hasn't run off and abandoned Envoy. Rather, she rushes up once the helmet rises from Envoy's head. "Envoy! You're alive! Let's … let's get out of here while they're distracted," she adds in a loud whisper.

"There's no need to run, Maza," Envoy assures the vixen. "Sutaranakh is awake now and back in control of the ship. The creatures outside are being neutralized, so it'll be pretty cold out there for awhile. I'm going to go visit the power room later, and then we have to meet up with Arkold and Raneah, repair your ship, and load up some treasure that Sutaranakh is setting aside for you."

*BING!* "Treasure?" Maza gasps, her eyes lighting up.

Envoy nods, and looks to the elder and other Nagai. "You're going to be famous too, for helping put an end to the demons the Mariners talk about. But the real winners are these people, whose world is about to become a lot bigger and brighter than they ever dreamed."