The apartments in the Council Complex are mainly converted office spaces – small, but with electric power and interior plumbing at least. There's also a cafeteria in the building, which is mainly used by the support staff but is still decent, since it has to accommodate such a wide range of diets.

It took a surprising amount of time to get settled in, and Tasha was glad she changed out of her armor when she had the chance, since the luggage didn't all arrive and get sorted out for over an hour. She met back up with Dr. Zerachiel in the cafeteria, since he was also staying in a converted office. "I can see why they recommend getting someplace in the city over the rooms here, but I think this cafeteria is pretty decent," the older Karnor tells her with a grin.

Tasha has a seat beside the doctor and smiles at him as she lays her tray on the table. "For me, this is much better than what I normally live in. I'm not used to having quarters, let alone quarters so big – and on the ground no less." The young woman's plate is piled with several slices of meat, three types of rolls, a scant few vegetables, and the obligatory potato with butter. With the small mountain of food out of her hands, she's free to pull out her dataslate and puts that on the table, too. "Work," she adds by way of explanation.

"I wonder if any of these vegetables are original natives to the area or Abaddonian stock?" Zerachiel muses, and glances at Tasha's slate. "Once I have the telemetry equipment set up at the Titan hangar, we can begin calibration testing. For that you should be able to fly a high spiral from the edge to the center of the pit… or from the center to the edge. As long as it's repeatable."

"I know this," Tasha points at one of the two vegetables, " … and this," she points at the other, " … are from Sinai; it's why I picked them. I remember having them as part of a meal here in Elamoore years ago." She tilts her head, glancing at foodstuffs as if in momentary reflection. "How things change, right Doctor?" She shakes her head, then grins as she looks back. "I'd be safest to start outward and work in, as by that time I'll be needing a rest, and should there be any problem with the system I'd rather be closer to base then on the outskirts of the Pit. I don't suppose you've received any updates on flight pattern demands, political or otherwise?"

"I haven't asked," Zerachiel admits. "That's why I figured a high-altitude survey to start wouldn't ruffle any feathers – it's basically just to see if the inertial navigation systems are good enough to use unassisted. Otherwise we'll need to plant some beacons at fixed points."

"Worried the SPF might interfere with the Melchior's or Bellerophon's INU? I had heard most of the … the 'magic energy,' o, what-not, had dissipated, and I didn't see any problems on my flight in. Still, safety first, aye?" Tasha raises her glass of beer in a salute to safety, then winks. "I'm good to head out whenever; night won't be an issue."

"I don't know how the spires here will affect things," Zerachiel admits, and tries some of his coffee. "But without definite accuracy, the survey might not be valuable enough. I suspect we'll need the beacons at lower altitudes anyway, but I want to see how we do without them first. Flying at night might make the natives restless though."

"Up to you, you're the Doc! I just fly things and pretend I'm not in over my head," the young woman insists, followed by a laugh.

"Hmmm, I wonder how much of the city layout has changed from what you remember," Eli says, eying Tasha sideways. "Where did you used to go when you visited?"

Tasha shovels a slice of purple-colored steak in her mouth as she glances towards one of the large cafeteria windows. "Hrrm," she mumurs while chewing, "Moshry the drok n' traverns aroun it, n' to shom shinny shoops n' other buildrings."

"I… almost understood some of that," the older Karnor says with a chuckle. "Dock and taverns, and… shiny shops? What makes a shop shiny?"

Tasha swallows, then turns and blinks at the man like he had just asked what makes her fly. "They're … they're shiny shops," she non-explains. Upon seeing the man's blank reaction, she twists her muzzle, then, ears perking, she grabs a fork and shows it to him. "I forget non-Vartans don't understand shiny shops, but they sell things that are shiny, just like the name implies. Like, this fork would have sold well on Rephidim. I went there to get bits for my tail."

"So… is it to do with Vartan religion, or just as a sort of jewelry?" the scientist asks.

"Wellll, if I had to be honest, I'd say it's a cross between a jewelry shop, a curio shop, and a place of sensory indulgence. That's really what shiny things are to us; they grab our attention in the same way a wonderful scents do for Karnors," Tasha explains.

"So, entering one is like… spending an hour inside a kaleidoscope?" Eli asks, giving Tasha his full attention now. "They put you into an altered state of perception, like… getting drunk does?"

"Umm, sort of. It's really hard to explain to someone who doesn't have the vision we do. I think Remy explained to me that we're like predatory birds, and that movement and glimmer catches our attention for the same reason it did for birds back on ancient Terra – because it meant food and reward. These days, of course, most shiny things don't lead to that, but they do really get our attention. We also focus them more highly, so it's possible that lens-focused glimmer overloads our neurology, or else triggers dopamine release as a prey-catch incentive," replies Tasha, who then shovels another mouthful of food in her face.

"Ah, so it's not just the glitter… but being able to hold the glitter that is the reward," Zerachiel elaborates. "Do they ever speak to you? The shinies, that is?"

"Well, mostly it's just looking at them," Tasha admits, shrugging. She picks up her fork and holds it far enough away until it catches some of the rays of the setting sun. As she watches it she continues to speak, albeit distractedly. "Having the shiny … that's … that's status and beauty. Vartan … Er, Vartan aesthetics. Speaking … do they … " She blinks. "Speak?" Glancing back at the doctor and raising a brow, the young woman asks, "Like, literally? Or do you mean figuratively, like the souls of ships do?"

"Literally," Zerachiel asks. "Ever since you brought up the notion of a relationship between Vartans and Titanians, I've been searching for any sort of cultural similarity. But all I've been able to figure out is that Vartans are animists, and Titanians are likely totemists – there really hasn't been a dialogue between them and us in the records of my time. I suppose it's possible to just go and ask one now though… "

"My impression of Titanians is that they're idiot savants, in a sense, possessed of a very specialized – and likely pre-programmed – mechanical and electronic ability, or at least potential. I'd definitely agree they seem to be totemists. It may just be the same leaning that drives them towards technology also drives them to think highly of their creations, or maybe they're amazed by their own capacity. I do know the Khattan Trade Coalition was deeply afraid of a Titanian-Vartan dialogue, which suggests they were aware of some level of origin connection. Given there was recorded evidence of a Titanian Origin Marker in their database, I would surmise there is some supporting evidence of that fact. If I had to hazard a guess … ," Tasha twists her muzzle, then tilts her head, "I'd say we're the warriors and the Titanians the maintainers, to whomever created us, if, indeed, anyone did. But I know this: the Khattans believed enough in this to build Melchior over these ideas."

"Oh," Tasha adds, remembering the original question. "No, shiny things don't literally speak to me. I just find them aesthetically pleasing, although … I was able to make contact with the artifact after staring at its glimmer. That may be something."

"But you don't consider shinies to be… entities," Zerachiel confirms. "They don't possess spirits or personality or represent such, and you don't talk to your favorite one or form relationships or other social bonds. They're just… pretty things, and you use them because they are attractive to you and others."

Tasha smiles at that summary. "Yes," she says, nodding. "That's exactly it."

The Karnor contemplates his empty dish. When did he eat all that? "It seems at odds with the notion of them being created races though," he says. "Even my generation of Karnors were genetically… inclined… to obey and feel good about our human creators. Yet Titanians and Vartans have no such programming – they don't even have creation myths that I know of, or deities they'd worship or appease. And assuming their creators just abandoned them, why wouldn't they have filled the loss by creating gods or ancestor spirits? At least, the Vartans don't seem to have any. Can't say for sure about the Titanians."

"It may be we do not comprehend the control methods, or else the methods were so ingrained as to be invisible," Tasha speculates, pointing a fork for emphasis. "For we Vartans, we almost always end up as soldiers or laborers. Titanians gravitate towards machines. There isn't any need to guide us, because we do it automatically. It may even be that when, and if, we were created, there was no need for control, because there was no other master species to provide conflicting orders. That, or … ," she shrugs, "it's been such a long time we evolved away from our original purpose."

"Or the markers don't mean what the cult thinks they do," Eli suggests. "They mark a relationship between certain races. But that relationship could have been anything. And we know that ancient races get to a point where they modify themselves – the Imperials are a fairly recent example of that, and I'm certain the Silent-Ones will be forced to do it for the same reasons before too much longer. Vartans and Titanians could be remnant populations of First Ones."

"It could very well be," Tasha agrees, nodding slowly. While the doctor managed to eat and debate, the young woman seems to have forgotten her food in the pull of speculation and theory. "I do know this, and you may remember from your other, but: the Magi Titans were build to connect with these Markers. It may be you'll have your answer, as I will, when we have the correct Marker in our hands."

The doctor seems lost in thought for a bit while Tasha eats. "It's ominous," he finally says. "It suggests the First Ones had to hide themselves by engineering their children to abandon civilization for simpler existences. Only a risk of extinction would drive them to something like that, surely. A powerful, aggressive race out to neutralize the competition, maybe."

"The Sifrans?" Tasha offers.

"Possibly," Zerachiel admits. "There was a lot of arguments against the Expedition. Don't poke the hornets' nest was a popular cry on that side. We never found out what happened to the First Ones civilizations from their ruins."

"There're ruin locations in the databases?" Tasha asks, eyes widening. "That's worth exploring. And frankly," Tasha glances towards the window again, this time with a nervous cast, " … the more I learn about these worlds of ours, the more intimidating they seem. I now know that these planets are nothing like those in the rest of the galaxy. If ever their controllers returned, the sheer ability of the SPF field would be unstoppable by any technology I am aware of. Even … magic … seems but a flicker of what's possible. And, then there's the torus ring – a ring around an entire sun! And the SPF levels! As an energy source – as a weapon, it would be unstoppable!"

"Well, most of the ruins we found were on dead worlds outside of Sifran Space," Zerachiel admits. "And yes, the fact that the Sifras could somehow alter space itself scared a lot of people. It also opened up new avenues of advanced mathematics and research though, to try and figure out how it was done. We had a good idea of what was being done, but the energy requirements and means were way beyond us."

Tasha eyes widen even as she leans forward. "You … you actually know how they do all this? I mean before, when I was … , "she waggles a hand vaguely, " … I had no idea, but now, knowing what little I do, it seems so far beyond any science I've been educated in as to seem like an ant attempting to build a space ship. Which does remind me – there's apparently a functional space station 'just' outside Sifran space."

"Caltrop," Zerachiel nods. "It was something of the impetus behind the Joint Expedition… since otherwise there might have been a war over possession of it."

"It appears to still be in use, although by whom I didn't get – at least, not beyond Titanians. There is the means to reach it, but I don't think any of us are ready for the answers we may find there," Tasha notes.

"I'm more interested in what these worlds have to offer," Zerachiel says with a grin. "This is the heart of it all… unless it's an elaborate tar-baby. And right now I intend to explore the coffee bar some more and maybe even the dessert tray. Try to get some sleep tonight too, if you plan on visiting old haunts or anything."

"Will do, Doc!" Tasha snaps off a mock-salute and grins before returning to her plate. For the first time in her life she blinks at a now-cooling platter full of food, having never forgotten to eat, and eat rapidly, when the chance presented itself. I really am changing, she thinks as she stares down at her meal a moment, then shrugging and having at it. Tomorrow will be a long day, and she'd best not be starved during it.

---

Flying five times higher than any airship (or known sky island), Melchior is effectively invisible from the ground. But from her vantage, Tasha can see almost the entire Pit. Details are lost in geometry and color; here a patchwork of farmland, there the broken-circle of the city. The rim-hugging life domes might as well be chunks of melting ice, glittering more than the river and aqueduct that bridges the canal whose course was interrupted by the alien landscape. There's no way to ever think of the Pit as a natural part of Abaddon, with it's perfectly circular cliff edge.

"I always wanted to fly so high I could touch the sun, the stars, and the Procession; higher and higher, to the roof of the world, even beyond … ," Tasha muses as the direct feed maps out the world so very far below her. It's here that she'll begin her spiral mapping passes. But, it's also here that she's so very, very far away. A stark sense of loneliness accompanies the silent, beautiful world below; a stillness and isolation that feels a little sad. "Alright, Melchior. We'll begin our spiral descent now; sync internal and pod scanning, mapping, and primary and support clocks."

Outside, the Melchior's engine flare begins to dim, the great black machine slowing until it loses its upward movement altogether. As it begins to fall, its wings spread to catch the thin air as it proceeds in to a spiral descent.

The ground below crawls, while virtual displays show a starker, false-color version of it from the LIDAR scan – the basis of the calibration tests. The detailed scan makes the landscape look surreal compared to the hazy, real-world view. Once the course is locked in, there's little input needed from Tasha, but she does have all of Melchior's built-in sensors at her disposal, including the telescopic eyes.

With nothing else to do but passively monitor the situation, Tasha takes this chance to get a look at where her life has taken her using the powerful array of equipment at her disposal. "Let's see … All that talk about shinies and artifacts still has me wondering … " Activating Melchior's internal scanners and telescopic equipment, Tasha shifts her view to the strange arches. "I don't suppose you see a pattern in any of these arches, Melchior?"

Various views of the pinnacles and arches appear. Some look almost natural rock formations, but a few stand out due to their oddness. The Glitter Tree is one, looking like an unnaturally symmetrical cone-shaped tree reaching up over a hundred feet high, with ever-thinning and splitting branches. The Serpent is a series of arches that happen to be where the new river flows, so it might be like a giant sea serpent. Other structures appear, but they aren't labeled yet. Domes of various sizes that would pass for hills if they weren't so barren. Areas of twisted terrain where it isn't certain if there are actual structures visible, or if the effect was caused by something hidden below.

There are lots of glittering things though, and they do naturally attract attention. Spots where the stone has sloughed off to reveal crystal, the reflections from the rivers and life domes and other bits of technology spread out across the pit. And even something… out of the corner of her 'eye', as it were.

"It's all beautiful from here, isn't it? It's hard to imagine that down there it's a tense mess of new and old factions all vying for the scant resources of the Pit – and me, right in it all. I wonder what the old Himaarians think of my choice of alliances." Shifting her machine's sensors, Tasha sweeps her artificial gaze across the brown fields and green trees, taking it all in. It's just as she rolls her sight past a hill that the nagging feeling she can't quite see something takes her, altering her casual sweep to a more determined search. While getting the feeling she can't quite see something far away is common for someone of such intense vision, that she can't quite see it in Melchior is much more perplexing.

A flash, so brief that it barely registers… but from the edge of the field of vision again, instead of on the ground. It seems to appear when the optics are moving instead of when they're focused.

Growing more and more vexed, not to mention a little concerned, Tasha tries to force the image by moving the optics in a steady back and forth pattern. "Melchior, I'm getting some sort of optical distortion while moving the head camera and sensor suite, are you reading any problems with the system?" Just as she inquires, an idea hits her:: instead of moving the camera she disengages the auto focus and tries unfocusing the camera by grades, manually.

"All systems working within operational specifications," the Titan's voice replies. "Testing for internal reflections." The testing, whatever it is, involves each eye separately, moving one through automatic focusing while the other remains in Tasha's control. It's then that she sees the flash again, although it isn't the same for both eyes, as they aren't in sync.

"There it is again – it seems to occur when the lenses aren't focused, at a specific focus level. Melchior, match focus for both lenses when I react to the image's presence during your BIT – we'll catch it that way," commands the young Titan pilot.

It takes a few more tries, but eventually Tasha 'captures' the flash. It's brighter in the right view… and seems independent of the blurred landscape.

"Extrapolating," the AI says. "Incident reflection on optics from aerial source most likely."

"Incident reflection? Are we watching a moving aircraft and why didn't it show up normally?" Pondering the situation, the young woman decides it could just be an aircraft of some sort and her inexperience is making it seem more than it should be, but as she can't be sure, she decides, "Can you extrapolate its course and location and lock the camera on to it?"

"Searching," Melchior confirms, the view shifting away from the ground and into the clouds. Rain is fairly unheard of on Abaddon – the clouds are general stratospheric and full of ice crystals. But nothing is glittering above, or immediately below… it's only when the camera scans the same altitude as the Gryphon that a flash shows up. A reflection or glint, but far off.

"That can't be right, no one can fly this high except us and Bellerophon, can I can't imagine that ship would approach without notification. We're going to intercept; cancel the spiral pattern and plot course to bring us along side … whatever that is," Tasha directs. Just in case, she readies a host of readouts – including those used in the event of combat. "I swear, it's making my feathers itch. It's like we're being watched."

"Dr. Zerachiel will be upset," the AI warns, while various course plot information streams past Tasha's sensory field, even as the engines begin to sing once more.

"He loves a good mystery as much as I do – and something at our altitude is a real mystery. The Council will want to be warned if there's any sort of high-altitude aircraft circling near the Pit, as well." While her eyes are of no use in the cockpit, there is a definite sense of having her gaze locked on the distant, mysterious glint. The closer she comes, the more she thinks an unease wash over her. What could be up here? What could be up here? And … "When did you start worrying about what Doctor Zerachiel thinks??"

"He programmed the mission. We will need to re-run it again," the AI notes. The Pit edge passes below, as Melchior flies off to the south… away from all of the known lifedomes. "Do you want to initiate active sensors, which could betray our position?"

"Not yet. If it begins any strange movements, go ahead, and be prepared to engage full depth and evasive maneuvers. I don't expect anything of this era could even detect active scanning, but then, nothing I know of could be up here, either." While most of her interaction with her machine are via mind and nerve, Tasha can't help but feel her body tense. It reminds her far too much of walking in to a dark alley and feeling something isn't quite right.

Miles have gone past… but the target is still just a sporadic glimmer in the distance. "It does not appear to be moving, however I can not determine the target's distance," the AI reports.

"Do you have any records of what this could be? Is it matching our speed and trying to keep away?" Tasha inquires, staring off at that mysterious shine. Nothing in her recent education suggest what it could be, save the improbable. And, should it be the improbable, finding it is worth the side trip. "Dr. Zerachiel is going to lecture me on chasing shiny things if I don't find out what this is . We must find an answer."

"Relative velocity cannot be determined," Melchior replies. "Possibilities include; a high altitude balloon, unusual ice cloud or weather phenomenon, biological entity, mechanical entity, illusion or unknown phenomenon. Of known technologies extant on this world, likelihood high for Titanian machine if mechanical in origin."

"The Dainty Mauler, perhaps. Well, we don't seem to be gaining and I can't chase an illusion forever; engage active sensors. Let's see if it's even real." Despite not being able to get any closer though the motion, Tasha does find herself leaning forward a little. After all, this whole side trip means an extra hour in the cockpit at least and a lecture by the doctor if she's just chased ice crystals. She can only hope her gut hasn't lead her in to wasting time.

More data appears as active probing engages. The object is over 600 miles away, and stationary. It's still too far away for a size estimate, but it appears to be highly radar-reflective at least. And then it vanishes!

"What! Tell me it didn't just vanish – weather balloons do not just vanish! Any ideas? You're recording this I hope?" Determined now, Tasha continues on towards the flash's last known position. "And, keep scanning – it can't have gotten too far. Let's see … " As she races towards the unknown the young woman reviews the scan data for size and composition.

The data is inconclusive, given the spread of the beam over that distance and the amount of reflection, at least for the few seconds it was able to read anything. "The object has likely engaged stealth measures, which may include radar absorption or deflection and refractive camouflage. At this distance, such countermeasures would not require technology more advanced than that of the Expedition."

"So you think, whatever it is, is actually aware of us and is actively evading? They must be here to spy on us. Keep going, we're going to find that thing and get some answers. Stealth or not, it can't make itself invisible. Cut the active sensors, passively search for it. We may even have to enter cloud cover if they're watching us, and try and sneak up on them." Throwing caution and her previous mission goals to the wind, Tasha decides something that reacts that fast and can hide itself is more of a concern. "Let's see if their technology can beat a plasma jet engine."

The minutes crawl by. Even at full thrust, it will be at least another forty minutes before Melchior reaches the last general position of the glimmer. "We will be beyond encoded maps in five minutes," the computer voice notes.

"As long as we have power enough to return with some give, we'll continue pursuit. We may as well map the area as we go – prioritize the aerial search, however. I want that thing found." Taking a breath, Tasha settles back in to her command bench, wondering if she's doing the right thing. Well aware of how reckless this is, the young woman can only depend on her gut to back her headlong flight after an unknown, stealthy, object. She can just hear the lectures now, but at least she can be sure of one thing: it's too late to turn back and avoid all that anyway. "Just to be sure, Melchior, you agree with my assessment that their immediate reaction is telling?"

"Following established models, the target appeared to stealth itself after being hit with our radar," the AI replies. "Given the unknown nature of the target, I weight this likelihood at 67% probable. Radar reflection strength is consistent with a solid object denser than ice."

"And its reaction means either active crew reaction, or AI … " Tasha's head shakes. "They may not have been watching us, but they were watching something. And, given our very obvious arrival, my best bet is that we're the target. The Council militaries may be the culprit, but they could scan us from much closer far more easily. That leaves Titanians, … and the Group."

The landscape below is rough, rising into jagged mountains that look like huge sections of the surface simply buckled up under pressure. There are deep, dark fissures appearing as well, not at all like the canals.

"Titanians are not known for random exploration," Melchior claims. "They follow others."

"Abort mapping, split scanning between aerial search and fissure scan. This looks like an excellent place for an ambush. If necessary, I am giving permission to force me in to CV mode if our defense requires it." If she could sweat, the young woman would be wiping her forehead by now. So very far away, in to this foreboding, desolate landscape to chase a phantom … "They also aren't very subtle; I'll be surprised if it's them."

The Gryphon reduces speed slightly, in order to be ready to take evasive maneuvers. The stomach-tingling sensation of the stator also penetrates Tasha's senses; it will allow much faster action, at the cost of mission time, due to it's power requirements. Below, the mountains give way to an elevated plateau, itself riddled with fissures. Glowing clouds of sulfur and other gasses fill them, hinting at active volcanism. The fissures seem to be radiating out from a single point in the distance.

"A volcano … " The sight of an active volcano makes a cold shiver run down Tasha's spine; it is the very thing that heralded the destruction of the Fenris; Nora's grave … "The … the Group makes extensive use of volcanic activity for its power; we may be approaching one of their bases." Inwardly, that nagging feeling grows ever stronger …

If it's a volcano, it's an unusual one. There's no cone, for one thing. The plateau looks more like a pane of glass that was struck by a hammer than anything natural. The mists obscure more of the ground as well, the closer they get to the center, although the Melchior's course doesn't take them through it.

Inwardly, Tasha can't help but be relieved it isn't a volcano; at least not one she recognizes as such. Chasing the unknown towards the very doom of her forebearers is far too ominous, but she still can't completely rule out that prospect. "What is that? Some sort of lava fissure? Can you make out anything in our around the source of those emissions?" At this point Tasha's gut instinct is less of a vague feeling than a constant alarm, as real as any mind-fed input. Now, even the land is a threatening shadow.

"Altering course to investigate," the AI says, as the Melchior turns towards the center of the feature slightly and drops altitude, to get a closer look into one of the fissures. When the clouds of vapor part, a glimpse of glowing molten rock is seen, but then the view sweeps away suddenly, as the Titan locks on to something else on the surface, revealed when a cloud of mist dissipates.

Tasha leans forward such to push her restraints, teeth gritted as the cloud seems to pass in an impossibly long second. "Come on … !"

Once, when Tasha was a child, her mother took her to a Shiny Shoppe and showed her a marvel: A round stone, split in half. The inside was full of purple crystals. She remembers it being called a geode. What she sees now is similar, if a geode were turned inside out. It's a shell, made of stone but covered in the same sort of crystals. It looks like a giant snail, except instead of a slug, what stretches out is a mass of leathery looking tentacles. The creature does not move, and the readout shows it to be over 300 feet long, with the shell being almost 80 feet high!

"My gods … what is that! Melchior, scan it! I want this thing recorded! Just, keep an eye out, this may not be what drew us here … " All around her, displays appear sectioning the great crystalline monstrosity in all its bizarre detail as Tasha's mind struggles to take it all in. This, at least, should silence the Doctor – but was this really what brought her here? Could this have been watching her?

"Active scanning initiated," the AI reports, as it probes the… carcass? Even as information comes in, an alert sounds! "Aerial Contact!" A window appears showing another of the giant geode-snails… but this one is suspended from the ends of several tentacles, which rise up to something huge. Another geode-monster, this one like a pancake with the crystals on top, and uncountable tentacles hanging below. At the center is a multi-sectioned conical beak made of glittering metal. What's more disturbing, though, is the vertical band of distortion that passes across it, where clear sky shows through.

Tasha's eyes shoot wide even as her jaw drops, and for a second she can only gaze in horror at the monstrosity that devours her view of the sky. "Wha- what are these things?? How is- … Full depth!" As she begins the plunge that will merge her mind with her Titan's, she feels what she has never felt before in the seat of her great, iron giant: small.

Suddenly, it's as if Tasha herself is flying through the air. The hovering island-monster is some distance away, near the center of the plateau… seeming to be half in and half out of phase with reality. Confusion turns to recognition, however, when the storm suddenly appears, right where the monster seems to be. A dark column of clouds and turbulence that wasn't there a moment ago… until Tasha got just close enough. She feels her stomach twist, just before she hears the alarm. "Stator field collapse! Spatial turbulence detected! Emergency acceleration compensation engaged." There's a distant feeling of pressure, disconnected from her current senses. But it doesn't matter, because she knows exactly what she's seeing now:

Forbidden Zone.

"A Forbidden Zone!! Oh gods … here?!" Even enhanced as it is, Tasha's mind goes blank before the stark terror that engulfs her. Before her is the doom of airships, the end of the Fenris, and she is alone as the world collapses in to chaos around her. All she can do is stare out across that horrific chaos as the massive, alien thing looms ever closer, trying with all her might to pull herself together.

There are smaller things moving in the storm. Glimpses of crystal monsters closer in size to Melchior perhaps. Island-monster larva? Parasites? So far they seem to stay in the storm. Alarms still rage in Tasha's brain, along with an insistent voice. It seems to be calling out numbers to her? It's all lost in the distraction and chaos.

"Must … must do … m-m-must … " Barely able to think, let alone act, Tasha's mind desperately claws at a strategy, something, until she remembers that lifeline against the crushing effect of emotion: CV mode – but will it even work, here? "Melchior, we, we must … must escape! Is CV mode ready?? What are those numbers!!" Her thoughts are a cry in the wind, but even having some plan helps steady her mind, if just enough to regain some control …

At last, the black intruder to this forbidden place begins to shift from its trajectory, attempting to turn.

"… gency acceleration in one second," the voice says, now that Tasha is focused on it. And then… scramble of sensation. Vibration, pressure, darkness… protection. For a moment, Tasha feels as if she's returned to the womb… and then she opens her eyes and realizes she has. Disconnected from the Titan's interface, she's in the cockpit again – drowning in heavy pink fluid! It's in her nose, her throat and her lungs, and her limbs are restrained by the pilot saddle as well.

Tasha's brief control of her fear, however tenuous, collapses as the interface abandons her to the coffin-like blackness of the cockpit. "M-melchior?! What happened?! Where are you, don't leave me alone!! Come back!!!" Confusion only compounds her fear as she struggles against the fluid that threatens to engulf her, all the while screaming in her head for her AI to come back. When she can struggle no further, her terrified calls unanswered, she breathes one last, silent scream against the coming of the end …

"Please remain calm," comes a soothing, female voice through the fluid. "Acceleration gel is kept at three times atmospheric pressure. Relax to breath in. Exhale slowly to avoid strain on your diaphragm and allow full aeration."

Never has Tasha been so relieved to hear someone's voice, AI or no. Her mind, barely more than a stammering mess, clings to the words that echo in her head, and obeys. It isn't easy, but she manages to open her lungs and, shaking, eyes squeezed shut, waits for the inevitable.

It's hard to breath, but… she's not drowning! Still it seems to go on for far too long. Finally, virtual displays begin to appear in Tasha's field of vision once more; Melchior has made it to the edge of the plateau on its own, in only a few minutes. There's a horrible gurgling sound as air is pumped back into the cockpit to displace the draining fluid. This also results in a bout of coughing and vomiting to clear the lungs and stomach of the goo.

This may be the first time Tasha has felt so glad to heave her guts out; it means she's alive. A nervous, almost unhinged laughter sputters in to the cockpit as Tasha hacks and coughs the strange pink fluid out on to her control bench. When she dry heaves her last, she rests, eyes wide and body hunched over, still trying to unclench her hands even as her mind picks up the fragments. "You came back … " a giddy, shaky thought escapes from the pilot's mind. " … Aha … You came back … oh gods … we're alive … "

"Diagnostics are running," the AI notes. "I'm sorry, Tasha. You seemed frozen, and… and… and… I do not know what was happening. Emergency procedures were activated."

There is a long silence from the pilot; inside, she stares at the floor before her, black, featureless, not seeing the displays in front of her, only the end she narrowly avoided. The end that would have come, because of her weakness, if not for Melchior. "Thank you," Tasha wheezes, aloud and in her mind. "Thank you for saving my life, Melchior. I am … I … I need … " Unable to articulate her failure nor her condition, she continues to stare at nothing at all.

"Energy reserves are low. Return to home base will be at reduced speed to compensate," the machine reports. "Estimated flight time will be four hours. If you wish to sleep, I can continue on autopilot until landing. Diagnostics will be complete in two hours."

Tasha's head bobs a little. She doesn't seem inclined to make a decision either way, seemingly unable to do much more than rest and watch whatever monsters are still with her. It's nigh upon an hour when she speaks up again. "Melchior, I'd like to land. I need to … I don't know … I'd just like to land. If we can?"

The machine obliges, coming down in a relatively flat area, far from any fissures. When the cockpit finally opens, the cold air of Abaddon chills whatever moisture remains in Tasha's exposed fur.

As Tasha rises to meet the chill, she mantles her wings against the cold and steps outside. Soon she is on the ground, her powered armor abandoned as its owner sits huddled not far away, staring across the desolate, lonely waste.