[ sometime after this ]

"He touched your face." The Thark warlord has to stoop to get through the doorway and his growl fills the long room. "You let him touch your face."

( Read more... )

This is the part of the project she enjoys the most.  The design phase, where ideas start to take form and the project takes on a certain life of its own.  She has compiled all the research she needs.  She's relatively certain she's aware of all the issues that must be addressed in the final design.  Now it's time to synthesize these ideas and put her pens to paper.  As form follows function, and evolution has handled refining the design, all she needs to do is adapt the technology to the original biological schematics.  Layers upon layers, she builds up the image, from structure to power, sensors to servos.  She can't help but put her own aesthetic into the work, and in sketching, she decides that she'll have to fabricate several of the parts by hand.

Woola found his way back and was snoozing in front of the fire.  She'd been up since the wee hours of the morning.  The rats had brought her morning meal without her even having to ask.  Now, she sat at her drawing board, her long hair pinned back from her face, speared through with a quill.  At her elbow, a growing stack of dirty tea cups that would have to be addressed sooner or later.

But not right now.  She wanted to get the last few pieces of the external forearm onto the vellum, just as she'd imagined it.

Dejah had thought, by returning to work on the Project, she could forget about her other concerns for a little while. It was only ever the Project in her mind. It had been the Project since those very first days after they'd realized, the Thern threat had been dealt with, once and for all. The War was over. The Project began. Terraforming a planet was no small undertaking. It had been over a century in the works already, and looked to be at least three more in the making. By that time, she expected there would be no way to conceal their presence from Jasoom any longer, and they had to be prepared for that eventuality as well. So, the first iteration of atmospheric generators had been brought online, and the second and third iterations had entered development and testing. Subterranean pump houses were already supplementing what little surface water they had, and they were a long way from open air reservoirs on the surface. Right now, subterranean reservoirs would have to do. And there was so much more to consider on the surface. Topography and geological surveys to be completed. Small scale test environments to be built, merely proof of concepts at this point, but they were no small endeavor in and of themselves.

She'd been back for three days, working straight through, and her people none the wiser that she'd been gone for more than a month through a secret door between universes. She looked over the plans as they stood, and found everything to be on target, just as they'd been when she'd left. So why wasn't the tension behind her eyes relieved?

She knew why. She'd been avoiding thinking about it. About him. She stepped away from her drafting tables and for the first time, thought to herself, Who do I know that could counsel me on this issue? The first question really was, what was it she needed counselling on? There was no one here in the city who could even begin to understand what it was that Curtis had been through. But she thought perhaps, she knew someone who might.

"Sola, I want to go and visit your father."

"Yes, my Jeddak. He should be back in the Old City by the end of next month."

"I want to go visit him now."

"But… My Jeddak, he is on the path now. There was good hunting to be had in the southern reaches this season. He will be with his hunting parties, out in the Warhoon."

"Well, send a flyer to locate him and we shall ride out."

"My Jeddak… Dejah… That is at least five days on thoat back. Might we take a flyer instead?"

"Sola, my friend. I need some time away from the city. I need the desert now. Surely you understand?"

Sola regarded her Jeddak and dear friend with a knowing look. "Are you going into seclusion again? As you did before, when…?" She could not say it, but they both knew what she meant. Dejah had ridden out to the Temple of Iss after John's passing. A journey that should have only taken a week ended up lasting six months.

"No, no not at all." Dejah put a hand on Sola's shoulder. "I merely need to speak with your father. I require his counsel. And the ride will clear my head before we get there."

Sola closed her eyes and dipped her chin, a smile of relief touching her lips. "As you will. I will have the flyer sent out immediately. Mounts to be ready by morning?"

"Let's leave tonight."

"As you will. I will let them know."

Dejah quietly thanked her, and turned back to the room. She hadn't been in the field in far too long. Suddenly, she was actually looking forward to it.

~~~

The flyers located the Thark hunting band eight days ride south of the city of Helium, and Dejah's small caravan of guards and attendants set out to intercept them a few days out from the Old City. She'd had them bring water, enough for a traditional peace offering, along with other gifts of food and wine. She would not be seen to be a burden on the Thark's already limited resources. But not too many gifts. He had his pride as well.

Woola was acting as point, and kept them on target despite the shifting sands and usual dust storms. All she had to do was tell him, "Find Tars Tarkas." And the calot had done the rest. He was his usual grumpy self, as the thoats did not move with near enough alacrity for his taste, but he also seemed to be enjoying the wide open space. He'd adapted as best he could to city life, but he was a calot and as such, belonged in the empty expanse of Barsoom's red desert.

When they caught up with Tars Tarkas and his men, she made sure it was at a leisurely pace, giving them enough time to spot the dust of their trail and send out riders to meet them. It was an hour before sunset when they were escorted to meet the Thark Jeddak and longtime family friend.

Dejah closes the sketchbook and pushes back from the simple workbench she keeps in her room, the surface of which is currently buried under stacks of books and diagrams and multiple iterations of drawings.  The research phase is as complete as it can be, short of actually acquiring a flesh and blood human arm to dissect, and she is an engineer not a doctor.  So that option is right out.  

She thinks about leaving a note at the bar for him, but decides against it.  Best just to see if he's available.  She needs something to eat anyway.  A few minutes later, she settles at the bar, waiting for her lunch to be packaged up so she can take it back to the room.

 She finishes her coffee and turns to Shephard.

"Would you mind if Woola joins us?  He enjoys exploring almost as much as I do."