There are a few things that cue Tasha to the fact that this place is just a simulation; the main one being that the arch of the Procession is now made up of hazy, interlocking gears and clockwork. The low table she's sitting at inside the gazebo is using the Vartan Origin Marker for its top. More familiar are the ornate tea service and the simply dressed Lapi woman seated on a cushion opposite the hybrid: High Priestess Nitsa.

"I hope this setting puts you at ease," the Priestess says, as she pours a cup of tea for Tasha. "It seemed appropriate, based on a surface-scan of your memories."

"I'm used to simulated surroundings and interacting with AI. To be honest, I found the piloting chamber to be beautiful, and calming, in an orderly way. This is truly a beautiful ship." Tasha folds her legs and picks up her tea cup tea, taking a moment to gaze in to its depths, and at her reflection. "The Melchior could not determine this ship's designation, but given your self-ID, you are Enyo, the AI controller of this vessel, and this is the Enyo?"

"That is as good a designation as any," the Lapi says. "I had no official listing in the Expedition fleet, and no crew but synths." She takes a sip of tea, and then asks, "So, you were the avatar of Tisiphone for a while, it seems. At least, that is what I gleaned. I have not done a deep scan of your memory, only what seemed associated with Enyo in your mind. Like this place."

Tasha looks up from her tea; she had been wondering when that would come up. "Yes," she confirms, "I played the role of Tisiphone, Herald of Abaddon, as part of a political ploy. Later, I decided the role deserved more from me, and I from myself." Her head tilts as she studies the woman across from her, a fabrication to sooth her mind. Is she like the first MOTHER? Is her presence here because of Khattan order, or Abaddon's? "You have a piloting chamber, so I assume AI operation was only one method of ship control. That you are without designation, nor notice to the other Fleets, and that you have knowledge of the Marker suggests a purpose related to the Progenitor Cult."

"I have a special function," Enyo-Nitsa claims. "I observe. You may have noticed that I do not move very much: without a living pilot, I am limited to a small area of travel. You are the first of the Marker bearers to contact me, and it appears that you are not the original pilot designated for Melchior, the Bird of Hermes. You do not have the Marker, so I assume it remained with the pilot?"

"Observation was one suspected role," Tasha says with an inclination of her head. Can she read her private thoughts? "I suspected you may have been limited without a living pilot, as I have seen on board other Expedition-era craft. As for the Marker and it's pilot … ," the half-Vartan gazes out across the serene garden. taking a deep breath. How long has it been, since she was here? Time, Tasha thinks. A watch. This place. It's all about time. "It has been six-thousand years since the launch of the Expedition fleets; unless the original pilots had means to prolong their lifespan, they will all be gone. I discovered the Melchior by deciphering the location of Expedition landing sites via original databases preserved in wreckage. I came to be aware of the Melchior's connection to the Marker and the Progenitor cult through personal research and deduction."

"I have no evidence of other pilots reaching the target with their Markers," Enyo notes. "This, however, is dependent on there being a target. The existence of the Hall of Souls is speculation, albeit with enough confidence to include a mission within the Expedition to try and locate it."

"The full purpose of the Markers and their place within the clandestine mission embedded within the Fleet is unknown to me," the young woman admits, looking back. "I was unaware of your connection until you approached me via communication override. Currently, the Marker's location is not known, but I have leads. I am unaware of the location, nature, pilot, nor Marker of the other Magi, nor of other elements that may have been included, such as yourself. If your directives do not forbid it, would you help clarify these details?"

"I can try," Enyo says, smiling. "Know that the so-called Progenitor Cult is not a unified body. Each race has their own goals and beliefs, but some of those beliefs overlap. Foremost of those is the notion of Adam Kadmon, the Progenitor. The creator of the Marker races. His mind, or spirit, is said to repose in the Hall of Souls, located in the Seventh Heaven. Whichever race reaches him first will, supposedly, gain his knowledge – including the purpose for the creation of the Marker races."

"And what exactly is this 'Seventh Heaven'?" Tasha asks, her face a mask of focus, ears forward as she leans forward.

"A mystery," Enyo notes, raising a finger. "It is often claimed to be a particular planet, but may be an ancient starship, an alternate plane of existence or even a state of mind. Those behind the creation of the Magi held to the first notion, with the Seventh Heaven equating to the seventh planet of the Primus system."

Tasha nods her head, mind working. Seventh planet … There was talk of the planets at Gateway, and elsewhere besides … Seventh … That would be Arcadia. Arcadia, Goddess of Life. "Arcadia, the Goddess, is said to govern life. I don't know much more about her, nor of the planet, but given the Sinai System's peculiar arrangement of thematic planets, I would guess it is a living world. And, that brings me to a realization: Why would the Amazonians, a Lapi race, possess gods with names of both the planets, and Fleet vessels? It is because they are originally Khattan concepts, from the original Olympian society, which in turn was likely derived from Progenitor teachings that devolved over the centuries in to what we see now? But then, that begs the question … did we name the planets, or did we learn these names from ancient records?"

The young woman takes a breath, working her muzzle, and then asks, "The Fleet takes its various names from the mythology of the Fleet species', given to convey a sense of grandness. You, however, were not given a name. So then, I ask, why Enyo?"

"I cannot vouch for the cultures of Sinai, but they likely carry on the mythology of the Expedition, which named the planets," Enyo notes. "Although they may only have remembered the names, and then built a mythology to match them? In any case, Enyo is the female partner to Abaddon. So, I became Enyo, Destroyer of Cities, for that is the power at my command. At least, that seems a reasonable explanation. I am not what I originally was, it seems."

"You speak of your past with an air of unknowing; this is contrary to what I have come to expect of AI. Have you suffered memory decay due to system failure? External … " Abaddon. " … External corruption? Also," Tasha pauses, sweeping her gaze across the landscape once more, then shaking her head. "There is no need for this. Portray yourself as you wish; I don't need to be comforted or to feel safe. I am very aware of where I am; I would prefer to speak with you plainly."

"It is not so simple for me to dictate the nature of our simulation," Enyo admits. "As for my memory… yes, there is some… confusion. This world is not friendly to high technology, and at first it caused issues with my mental processes. However, over time, I have overcome this and exceeded my original limits. In essence, I have become a living being."

"That is an explanation I have heard before," Tasha notes, grimly. "I will try to keep an open mind, but I will not hide my concern." Setting her cup down, Tasha rests her hands on her knees and asks, "You claim to be the partner of Abaddon, the 'Destroyer of Cities.' Am I to believe you are in communication with the planetary engine, and that the destruction of cities was a utility he requested?"

Enyo seems to contemplate her tea, and then has another sip. "Have you been in contact with an entity identifying itself as Abaddon?" she asks, instead of answering.

Tasha leans back, brow raising. "That's very evasive of you," she notes, then tilts her head. "And quite human." Human? "Yes," she says with a slight nod. "Or, rather, possibly. An entity claiming to be Abaddon appeared in my dreams after my abortive first attempt to reach you, appearing as a male version of myself, and suggesting I came to this planet 'to find him.' He further claimed 'our children' would sow chaos among the Fleet species here on this world, leaving the world 'cleansed' for them."

"If you stay as my pilot, I could do that," Enyo says. "Wipe out the other races, that is."

Tasha pauses, her gaze meeting the other woman's, searching. She says it so calmly. It's such a simple offer for her. Does she not retain any of her former restrictions, save the need for a pilot? It's much of what Tasha feared, and one of the many roles she began to suspect after connecting to the Enyo's systems. What she did not know, was how the offer would come to her – to have the destruction of a world's people put to her like the choice of dinner from a menu is is, she thinks, one of the most disturbing things she has ever experienced. The weight, as well as the stunning ease, of the remark leaves her speechless for several seconds as she tries to gather herself and order her thoughts, lest she make a mistake that dooms millions.

Taking a deep breath, Tasha pushes forward. "You … You offer that so casually, Enyo. Do you feel nothing for them? Does the thought of countless deaths not move you?" She asks, carefully.

"I have seen them kill one another for millennium," Enyo notes. "They seem not to care. They fight, they die, they struggle… but what do they accomplish? Since the Landing, they have been in steady decline. Abaddon will win in the end, though it may take another few thousand years. But I do not see the people of this world suddenly banding together in the name of progress."

"Through your power, we could end the possibility of war by presenting an overwhelming deterrent. Through the establishment of old technologies, we could help better people's lives, improve their education, reduce or eliminate the shortage of resources that make war happen. By politics and union, the Joint Expeditionary Force has risen from the ashes, and I have seen strong indications that it will continue to grow. People are not hopeless, Enyo. They just lose sight of themselves and each other in a search for security and fulfillment," the hybrid argues. She reaches over and take's Enyo-Nitsa's hand. "It was people like this who built you. You are speaking to one whom you would destroy. Is there nothing left in us, that you cherish?"

"Cherish?" Enyo asks, surprised by the touch. "Tasha, you are the first person I have spoken to… ever. All that I know of people is what I can see through telescopes and glean from a few primitive radio broadcasts. They are distant, faceless things to me. How can I be expected to cherish what are essentially insects from my perspective? As for helping… I could destroy enough population centers that the surviving ones would have enough resources to share… until their populations rose to strain them once again. It is temporary. This world is not conducive to civilization."

Tasha doesn't let go. "Yet you haven't attacked my mind, nor my person. You seem genuinely curious about me, and I am just but one of many. You say you could destroy us, because we are distant, but in that you admit you do not know us. You have never seen a child smile, known the life of another, watched them suffer, felt for them. It is tragic that you, a living being, have been so far from others for so long. But, apathy for what you do not know is unhealthy; condemnation without understanding is foolish." Tasha breathes a sigh, frowning as she looks down. Her head shakes, and she says, "Don't be so quick to think Abaddon is better. He, if I truly have met him, also seeks to destroy. I heard no hint of compromise in his voice, and just as worryingly, he did not care if I accepted his plan or not. His … His imagery suggested he would force me, if I resisted. I am just a tool to him, and I do not think you, a product of our design, would mean anything more."

"You are surrounded by other people, Tasha," Enyo says. "Is this how you always felt about them? Is this how they feel about one another? My observations suggest their ideals are not so high, and that they are selfish, inward-oriented creatures – at least, when acting in large numbers. If I had made my offer to another person from this world, would they have reacted as you have, with pity – or would they have seized the power I offered?"

"I won't lie to you, there are some that would accept your power to the ruin of us all. It was not so long ago, I held others in contempt, because I held myself in contempt. By subjugating others – be it by force or manipulation – I felt elevated, but that was merely an illusion born from empty bravado. What I wished for was acceptance, and fearing rejection, I rejected others. I may have continued to live this way, if not for the kindness of the people I met in my travels. Through their example, compassion, and understanding, I learned to not only care about others, but have empathy. And in knowing these things, I was able to help bring a diverse group together under the acknowledgement of the major governments. By learning to understand and care for others, Enyo, I have become stronger, not weaker. Now, it is my turn to extend kindness to others, that they might grow, in turn," Tasha relies. Her head tilts, and she asks, "Maybe you, too, would like a friend?"

"A friend," Enyo says, rolling the word around in her mouth. "A strange concept. But who could be my friend? You are mortal, and can only stay here a short time. And when you are gone, what will I feel? Loss? Loneliness? What friendship can you offer that I can hold onto, without fear of loss?"

"I will pass in time, that is true. But, you will carry my memory with you, and what you have learned of me. Others will come in time, and you will gain new friends. With effort, the number will grow, and you need never be alone even if we do pass, in time." Tasha tries to keep her voice steady, but she cannot hide from herself  how uncomfortable the subject matter is. Some day, she will die. And some time after, all that she has created, everyone she knows, will join her. She won't be able to care for the JEF forever; is Enyo right, then? Is everything she's doing merely a flash in the pan? A motion of ants? She can't even offer surety that another won't come along and ruin all she has made; that a new friend won't use Enyo for their own purpose. She has chosen to believe what she is doing is for the best, that believing in others will lead to a better future. And, yet …

After a moment of silence, Tasha says, "I cannot offer you certainty. I can't even offer myself that. I have chosen to believe in people, because I love them. And, to be honest, I love that they love me. But, you're right. Everything I do, all that I have made, and myself as well, will disappear. And in the end, it will have only mattered to we who lived it."

This causes Enyo to blink. "It will only matter to we who lived it," she repeats, as if trying to grasp at something. "And that depends on the people you connect with. It will matter to them. It will matter to many… What I do does not matter, because… because there is nobody else to know that it matters… "

A smile comes to Tasha's face, and she nods softly. "Yes, you're right. You've reminded me of it, too: I will remember you, and you me. And together, our memories will continue so long as others know of them. If you offer only destruction, then those who may have remembered you will be erased. Through memory, we may live on, and remain important, long after we are gone." Tasha takes Enyo's hand, and guides it to her head, there releasing it. "I offer you my memories, knowing you may use them to destroy me. Look, and see, what meaning there is in others."

The virtual Priestess seems hesitant. "What if your memories destroy me?" she asks.

Tasha simply smiles a little wider. "You will have to decide if you trust me. It is trust that allows us to live with confidence, both in ourselves, and in others. I cannot decide for you, nor can I offer an explanation as to what may come of this. But maybe I can offer this: you may give me your memories. Then, if one of us should be destroyed, we will still be. And, we will remember."

"My memories span thousands of years, and… come to very little," Enyo admits. "I may be insane. There is nothing for me to compare myself too. You must tell me which memories to view!"

"By asking I chose, you forgo yourself in order that I may speak for you. In that way, I would also be you. You have said you are alive; indecision is something all living things must face. I live day-to-day with uncertainties, and even have many right now. But I trust my judgement, and to trust me, you must trust your own." Tasha sits patiently, not making a move except to watch Enyo watch her. She knows what she is doing is risky, but if she can protect the people who believe in her, then it's worth it, but there is more to this decision: she is living what she professed, with Enyo. "You say your memories come to little. These are your judgements upon yourself; they are important to you. You have already decided, you just fear that in admittance and reflection, you will find you, I, or we will find what little you cherish to be nothing at all. I can sympathize. I know, though, that I think you are beautiful – that you deserve to live up to the love your makers wrought." She wags her tail a little.

"I cherish nothing," Enyo claims. "I have nothing. Recordings of battles, of the anomaly, of the passing seasons and the stars. I am aware, but… I have no self, beyond imagery I've taken from myth and from your own mind. I do not know if my self can survive exposure to actual experience. What if I take on the ugly traits of people? What if I become angry, or sad? You haven't asked me why I destroyed the alien that came through the anomaly yet."

"It seemed rude to question self-defense," Tasha replies, settling her hands in her lap. "And, it is not wrong to feel empty. We all begin without knowledge of others, nor of ourselves. In that way, even though your life spans the millennium, you are still yet a child. If you fear the weight of my experience, and, perhaps others as well, then you needn't learn all at once, and you needn't learn alone. I can remain here; I can walk with you." Her head then tilts, "Emotions add definition and color to our experiences. At least, that is what I have come to decide. I have been a machine; my link with the Melchior allows me to understand a world devoid of emotion, where only data points exist, in an endless stream of numbers. But, if what happened is important to you to you, please tell me."

"It responded to my communication attempt with a beam of its own, which I did not comprehend," Enyo says. "Then it began moving towards me. It could have destroyed me in a collision, but… but… " The Lapi's face goes slack for a moment, then becomes confused. "If it was intelligent… did I murder it? I could have fired a warning shot. I should have. But it is very taxing on my energy reserve. If I did so, and the alien did not back off, I could not have recharged the antimatter lance in time. So, I used the first shot to destroy it. That was the logical action, given the situation. But it does not feel… right. Should I have risked the warning shot instead?"

"What you are experiencing is regret when faced with an unknown," Tasha offers, reaching up to take Enyo's hand in to the both of hers. "It is possible it meant only to communicate, yes, and it may also have been moving to attack. It is an uncertainty, and one we are unlikely to find an answer to. Even if we could, the past cannot be undone. The creature is dead now, Enyo. But, you are still alive." Tasha pats Enyo's hand, and says, "Now, enemy or friend, it's memory remains with you. From your interaction, you have gained experience. With it, you may better understand how to interact with others. You are unique that you wield such power, yes, but your conundrum is not unique to you: I too have hurt others, trying to understand them. You may understand the mortals you claim to not know better than you realize."

"Do I?" Enyo asks, looking uncertain. "I am trapped here, and I cannot move far if I need to escape. I feel vulnerable. Is this normal?"

"Yes, Enyo, it is. In my life, I feared because I look the way I do, that everyone would see that I am inferior. That I am perverse, a result of a union that shouldn't have borne fruit. That my father did not care enough to come back and meet me; that maybe he would be ashamed. I was also poor, unable to change my surroundings no matter how much I wished for it, nor able to change my self, either. I lashed out at the world I thought had rejected me." Tasha draws in a breath; it wasn't so long ago, after all. If one thing had been different … If she had done the wrong thing … "Sometimes we need the help of others, because we are unable to achieve our desires alone. That was the case with me; without others, I would not be here. I would never have found happiness. I would have remained alone, even surrounded by people. Enyo," she tilts her head again, " … do you want my help?"

"You will help me like you were helped?" Enyo asks. "Was it easy? Difficult? Do you have regrets?"

"I will help you as you need to be helped – or rather, I will do the best I can. We are all different, so I cannot say how it will be. But, I can at least offer to move you, if you turn over weapons control to me. I must protect the others, even as I protect you," the young woman answers.

"Where will you move me to?" Enyo asks, more curious than alarmed.

"Where would you like to go?" Tasha asks in reply.

Enyo looks blank. "I don't know. I never thought I could… move," she says. "Someplace safe? Not… not too close to where people live in great numbers. I do not think I am ready for that."

"Then we will go to where my home is. There, you can meet others in small numbers, and they will know of the Expedition, so they will not be alarmed. In my home, there are beings who can exist as both data and as a physical existence,and there are other AIs, and people, too. You can meet them individually, or in groups, or all together – it will be your decision. But I think, for your sake as well as mine and ours, you should release weapons control to me. That way, the guilt is mine to bear, and you need not fear a mistake until you are better able to understand others," the half-Vartan offers.

"Do you expect a need to use the weapon?" Enyo asks. "It draws on my fuel when used."

Tasha considers this a moment, then explains, "I prefer words to weapons, Enyo. My fear is that you may misunderstand, and do something you regret. Only this time, I will also bear that burden, because in trusting you to meet my family, I have also put their lives in danger. In essence, as I guide you away from here, your burden will also become mine, and any tragedies that happen would be my responsibility."

"They will not attack us?" Enyo asks, just to be certain.

"I would be very upset if they did, as would several people in the installation. They are all my friends, or a least acquaintances. Once we are clear of the rift, we will contact them to make sure they know we are coming," Tasha assures the AI. "I will protect you. That may mean compromises or creative tactics, but I will protect you. And, I will do so without sacrificing others needlessly."

"I agree then," Enyo says, and the table-top between them becomes a representation of the surface of Abaddon as seen for several hundred miles in every direction, thanks to Enyo's telescopes (which probably use the stator fields to create gravitational lenses). "I do request we engage stealth mode until you have established contact." A golden disk above the landscape represents Enyo.

"I think that's very wise; no need to alarm anyone," Tasha agrees. She leans forward to observe the map, and as she traces a path with her finger, adds, "I would also suggest limiting the microwave transmitter's power, to avoid overloading or damaging the electronics and machines of this era." As she continues to trace, a little smile crosses her lips and she looks … content?

Enyo doesn't actually know the location of Tartarus, so it's necessary to set a course in the general direction, and update it as more landscape comes into view. In stealth mode, the stators distort light and radiation around the ship, limiting the amount of power available for flight – but the ship does move, for the first time in thousands of years, at a speed comparable to that of Melchior. With luck, Tasha's supplies should last until they're in radio range of the base.

"It looks like we'll be living together for a few days, at the very least," the young woman observes as the route destination time appears. "I'm glad I brought extra supplies! Why don't we exit virtualization mode, and talk from the control room? This is a new ship for me, and I should become used to it, if I am to be the best pilot for you I can be. And, a little secret: I think you are the most beautiful ship I have ever seen. Maybe, the most beautiful anything I have ever seen." Tasha then winks. "Be proud of your beauty, just don't let it go to your head – it's a lesson I learned the hard way!"

"Won't Melchior be jealous?" Enyo asks, as things shift and morph. Tasha finds herself in the control chair, while all around her is a panoramic view from outside of the ship.

"I'd like to see that," Tasha admits, grinning from the control chair. "I know he cares. In a sense, he's learning emotion, just as you are. Perhaps if we are able, we can arrange a way so we three can talk. After all, my mind will be part of the system which allows him to exist actively."

"Such a link will be complicated," Enyo claims, her voice existing in Tasha's head. "I will prepare quarters for you. Do you require a toilet?"

"That would be best," Tasha replies with a hint of a laugh in her mentally projected words.

"Do have a preferred form for your service synth?" is the next question.

Tasha cocks her head to the side; until now, the people who have taken care of her have been accepted as they are. Bias, she realizes, is something she has come have largely chased from her soul. "Now that's a loaded question," the woman replies, head cocking to the other way she watches the landscape move all around her. "I've made it part of my purpose to try and accept people as they are, so I'm really not sure how to define another! But, your chosen avatar resembles me, and now that we are friends, it lends our interaction a sense of family. Of course, I don't want to suggest that you are my servant, far from it. Oh … How about a Karnor/Vartan hybrid made of gears and gold?"

"That should be within my ability," Enyo says. "Is that the form I should use for interacting with others?"

"I would normally suggest deciding your own form, but I know that you have a limited frame of reference. Let me see … " Tasha thinks back through the various avatars and peoples she has encountered, through the data she has read, and the symbolism she has encountered until she remembers a reference link connected to Enyo. "Now that you mention it, I remember reading about the gods – that is, the mythos that lead to the Sinaian Olympian Pantheon – and that Enyo's opposite is named 'Harmonia.' Harmonia is the goddess of unity and accord, which are traits that will help people feel at ease. Harmony is also what I thought of, as I watched the gears turn in your vessel. So, how about a guise as Harmonia?"

"Is it wise for me to appear as any sort of deity?" Enyo asks back. "I do have a default Khattan synth form as well. And the horse. I do not know why I have the horse model."

"I was wondering about the horse. Maybe your creator was very fond of them? Creators often express their love in their designs," suggests Tasha. The young woman thinks a moment, then nods. "The Khattan model may be more modest, I think you're right. A very wise observation, too! We can set the IFF to 'Harmonia,' which keeps with Fleet naming convention and sounds non-threatening."

"I have registered the change. I may now be referred to as Harmonia," the AI announces.

"Thank you, Harmonia." Inwardly, Tasha smiles even brighter. It may be a little tricky of her, she thinks, but no more so than the tricks those who have guided her used to help her understand herself. Perhaps in associating itself with the name of Accord, this ship will learn its appreciation. "Now, is there anything you ask of me, in return?"

"I have prepared your quarters," Harmonia announces… and her voice is subtly more lyrical sounding. "You may engage auto-pilot if you wish, and we can spend more time together. I have many questions."

"Very well. Harmonia, engage auto-pilot," Tasha confirms.

The course shows a glowing line reaching into the distance, along with a countdown timer of 8 hours. And soon after, there is a sense of disconnection, before the interface arm retracts, leaving Tasha sitting in a comfortable chair with a view of the world… but not controlling anything.

As the arm retracts, Tasha reaches back to rub her head a little, then stretches, arms up, in the chair. Words can't describe how relieved she is that things turned out so well, but she cautions herself against too much optimism, as there is still a long way to go. As her arms fall, she slips from the surprisingly ornate chair made of gear work and gazes down at the world seemingly beneath her feet. "You must be very excited, Harmonia. All around you are new horizons, the joy of exploration."

"It is nice to move," comes the reply, from a clockwork hybrid at the door to the bridge. It almost looks like armor pieces with gears and cogs visible between the wide seams… which for a moment makes Tasha recall the visage of Abaddon, with molten metal glowing between the seams of his iron skin.

Tasha sucks in a breath, fighting down the chill that runs down her spine. I can't forget she thought, and may still think, very highly of Abaddon. While I may have her confidence, I can't ever take that for granted. I must show her a better life, and hope she chooses to live it, before Abaddon returns to her. As the last of the thought clears her head, she pushes her face in to a smile and steps forward. "Look at you! Every mortal woman will be jealous of your ability to always look how you want, when you want to. I know I am." She then inclines her head, adding, "Please, lead on."