Clutches

§ 2020-03-14 03:36:14

[03:46] As much as it wounded his pride, Valcen-za had come to appreciate the consequences of his moral failure. Everything was much easier now that Baishar's loyalty was guaranteed, now that Ryrha was no longer a Dynash problem waiting to happen. A tension he hadn't realised he had been carrying in his heart finally relented.

Although he had never hidden anything from his two helpers, it felt as though he could stop pretending. He didn't know what the emotion meant and he didn't care enough to find out.

Valcen-sha was getting his eyes, one by one. For the time being, he was blind on his right, the original orb of flesh gently prised out of his skull and replaced with another copy of the cybernetic implant.

It was strange, in a way – the spherical sensor, surgically connected to nerve-endings meant for the original eye, only to connect to an equally artificial brain. Biology as an interface between machinery.

The Karesejat came and went. Baishar had learnt to be polite to her, to do as she asked, purely to reduce Valcen's stress in mopping up after him – but as much as she continued to terrify him almost to stupor, it was clear she wasn't all too interested in bossing him around. Still, his good behaviour paid off. One day, Valcen offered to copy Baishar into a qidravem.

Unlike with 'sha, they would not incarnate this copy. It would be an inert backup, for resurrection if anything happened to Baishar-prime. They would update it regularly, and Valcen would run regular tests on the circuits to ensure the copy would be functional when implanted into a live host.

It felt like an absurd privilege that the Nayabaru had helped Valcen manufacture a qidravem for Baishar – until Baishar reasoned it through, fully grasped that it meant that if he ever fled, the Nayabaru could resurrect him into captivity, that it meant that there was no risk that he would die even under the most strenuous torture.

Valcen explained that the Nayabaru weren't interested in using the method on their captives at large primarily because the threat of parallel torture was too abstract for most wild kavkema to grasp, and they hadn't thought about eliminating death by old age. It was prudent that neither Baishar nor Valcen ever bump their noses on it.

And then, one day, Valcen came to Baishar to take him along to a demonstration. It was the third demonstration of the Imitorunyema design; the first had been the one to go horrible wrong, the second the one to appease the Nayabaru... and this one was to test the usefulness of the device against a moving target.

The Karesejat was going to be present – the main reason this demonstration had taken so much time to be scheduled in the first place, with its royal guest usually absent from Katal, certainly more often than not.

The infirmary had been turned into an impromptu enclosure. The spectators, both Valcens, and Baishar, took to their 'seats' – loosely assigned portions of the floor of the corridor that wound around the second level of the infirmary. The thick glass had been slid aside in one place; it was usually an entrypoint for maintenance, now temporarily repurposed.

Valcen had brought one Imitorunyema; the Nayabaru had brought a kavkem.

She was some unfortunate Shyilun avinitjemur. A Nayabaru brought her into the room, her spine writhing in a firm but reluctant grip – they would have rather tranquilised her, but the entire point was that she would be free to move around the room as much as she liked, and if they dropped her in the room sedated, everyone would have to wait a small eternity for it to clear up.

Her teeth and claws had not been filed yet – she was new, she still had energy, she would still fight. The end of one of the traditional trident-spear weapons of the Hesha pinned her loosely to the edge of a table, letting the Hesh in question distance herself.

Then swift steps led into the Nayabaru's retreat. A carefully rehearsed moment later, she had left the infirmary, leaving the wild kavkem trapped in the circular confines, alone with her confusion.

Like a clever, symmetric homage to Valcen's unlikely benefactor, the Imitorunyema had eight limbs. They were each a little thicker than a kavkem's finger and about twice as long, segmented more often than the eye could easily count, surface made of sleek, matte black metal.

The black was a finish, not an inherent colour – Valcen had explained it would make the object more difficult to dodge at night. Right now, it made the device a little more apparent – nothing else in the infirmary was painted black, it would be an obvious blemish. But such was the nature of even crude camouflage; it worked in some situations, not in others.

The core of the Imitorunyema was only about twice the size of a kavkem's palm – maybe even about the size of a Nayabaru's palm, come to think of it, which was perhaps fitting.

Valcen-za was holding it in his paws; it was inert at the moment, patiently awaiting activation. Baishar rested beside him, flanked on his other side by Valcen-sha; a little protected enclave, a dual deity body guard.

While the nameless kavkem in the impromptu pit was still assessing her environment – having certainly taken note of her audience, nervously glancing through the equipment around her, alert with whatever adrenaline rush had fueled her squirming earlier – Valcen-za nudged his muzzle gently against Baishar's shoulder. "Would you like the honours?"

§ 2020-03-14 19:31:05

[19:31] It was strange, getting used to the idea of not being a kavkem.

He still felt like one. He still shared his appearance and most of his neural structures with kavkema. He still cared about kavkema, still wanted to minimize their suffering, still felt empathy for them — far more empathy than his master did.

Sometimes that empathy was overwhelming. The Nayabaru still brought victims to Valcen, to be molded into willing servants. It was impossible not to watch, not to feel drawn to it, to see Valcen effortlessly pluck the panic and suffering from their minds and replace it with something else. To yearn for being in their position, at the hands of such a master of thought.

Some evenings he wondered whether the old Baishar would have been happy with what he'd become. It was an impossible question to answer — the old Baishar had been constantly harrowed by his own terror, constantly foiled by his own ineptitude, incapable of following his own goals. All of that was gone now, and he believed — or perhaps just wanted to believe — that even the old Baishar had recognized these as flaws and wanted to be rid of them.

He didn't know what was lost. He couldn't know what was lost. It didn't matter what was lost. Sacrifices had to be made in the pursuit of knowledge, and he had given up much of who he'd been to become who he was now.

It was worth it. The qidravem was within his reach now. He'd been overjoyed when the Nayabaru had allowed it. The reasons for that allowance were horrifying, as was everything the Nayabaru did. It didn't matter. He was immortal now — or at least, Baishar-sha would replace him if anything happened. Now he would serve Valcen forever, even after his original body failed.

*

Watching the scene unfold in the infirmary, it was hard to divorce himself from the idea of being a kavkem.

It was far brighter in this part of the Pens than it was in the small part Valcen had carved out for himself. He was almost surrounded by Nayabaru, with only Valcen-za on one side to serve as an emotional anchor. The Karesejat was here, watching and waiting with her infinite patience, as she always did. And below, a lone kavkem — a Shyilungadech, still nearly untouched by the Hesha — was looking around in confusion, trying to understand the situation she'd been thrust into.

You won't understand. Not until it's too late.

At Valcen's offer, Baishar stared at the Imitorunyema, wrestling with his conflicting emotions. It was not an order; it was not even a request — merely an offer. Do you want to be the one to send this after a kavkem's mind, or will I? It was an honor to be offered the chance. And yet, he still found the Imitorunyema deeply disconcerting.

It didn't matter what he chose. If he refused, Valcen or some Nayabaru would do it instead. It was a sacrifice. That it was necessary did not make it any more palatable. He reached for it, hesitated. Do I really want to be the one to do this? He closed his eyes, exhaled, then gave his muzzle a light jerk upwards. "I'd rather not," he whispered back, fingers curling in on themselves.

[20:18] 'sha was shifting, perhaps prompted by the audible unease in Baishar's tone, shuffling quietly from 'za's side past the two kavkema to settle instead against Baishar, gently sandwiching him between the two incarnations of the same deity. Objectively, it gave Baishar less wiggle room if he wanted to flee; subjectively, he felt much safer this way.

Valcen-za barely took notice of the rearrangement, though the additional freedom of movement was of undeniable benefit now that he'd been left with his own task. He ran a tongue along his teeth, looking at Baishar as though to gauge whether his protégé meant what he said, then swerved his muzzle in a lazy acknowledgement. "All right."

Said, he picked himself up from his sit, into a stand, holding the Imitorunyema in his left palm. "The idea of the Imitorunyema," he explained to Terenyira. "Is to execute some simple but effective changes that should be universally applicable to all kavkema.

"As usual, I can't guarantee no fatalities – such is the nature of the mind, after all – but it has functioned well on static targets and I expect no added complications switching to moving ones."

He sunk a claw into a conveniently claw-sized indentation in the upper centre of the device, and a barely perceptible light came on, glowing from a particular place between the segments, its particular position denoting a mode of operation opaque to anyone but the project author.

The captive below had understood enough of the soft conversation to hiss in a misguided threat display – and to retreat into the far reaches of the infirmary, not quite walled in at all sides by purportedly protective cover, but certainly doing a good job of minimising how much area of kavkem was left visible.

The Imitorunyema would almost certainly miss even if Valcen's aim was perfect – but if she didn't jolt into the precisely right direction, it was moot.

Valcen had switched his grip on the Imitorunyema by now as it came to life. The limbs of the device writhed in a momentary status check, then slackened slightly into something looking more organic, still alive with an alien energy, like tendrils trying to feel for something.

Valcen-za grimaced lightly, aware that this device could affect him and Baishar-za just the same if it decided to misidentify its target – then anchored his attention firmly on the fleck of Shyilungadech visible below, casting his invention into the room with an underhand throw.

The light device clattered audibly against the cupboard beside the wild kavkem. The movements were too fast to fully comprehend – between the moment of first impact and full connection with the surface, the device was already twisting its limbs to orient itself. Its intended victim had already bounded aside, slipping behind one of the pillars of the room.

The Imitorunyema fell to the ground, its tentacles like many-jointed spidery legs, keeping its central core off the floor. In principle, it had a heat-sensor, but it had a low range – not because there was no better sensor to be gotten, but because it was not meant for running long distances, and it was additionally best if it did not mistake its master for prey.

In an abrupt motion, it scuttled to one side, paused briefly, then scuttled to the other, giving the appearance of a tiny prowling predator, or a confused animal trying to reorient itself.

"...and that didn't work," Valcen commented, with a soft sigh. "But that's good as well – this lets you see how it returns. If you throw one of these, even if you're not a kavkem, you want to stay put in case you miss. It knows how it fell, so it can backtr— ah, see?"

And indeed, the device crawled across the floor – at the pace of a sprinting spider, rapidly closing the distance between its point of impact and the ground immediately under the edge Valcen was peering down from. Then it began climbing.

"It goes without saying that you shouldn't throw these across chasms unless you have plenty to spare," Valcen was commenting – presumably the path-finding logic only involved attempting to return in as straight a line as possible and made no allowances for insurmountable obstacles that would destroy it.

Terenyira was listening in silence, as were the Hesha of the audience, evidently content to be patient for the demonstration.

'sha reached down past Baishar, scooping up the device before it fully reached its goal. It squirmed a little, wrapping three tentacles around his left arm to steady itself, pushing the remaining arms against his individual fingers. He growled softly; but shortly before he might have lost the fight against the Imitorunyema's steady power, sunk a claw into the slot, disabling it.

Then 'sha pulled the inert device off his arm, shaking the arm a bit as though to dispel some imagined lingering effect, inspected it for damage, and, finding none, began to prepare another throw.

[21:00] Baishar was clearly relieved at 'sha's shifting position, and the gentle promise of protection it offered. He watched 'za give his explanation, pressing his flank lightly against 'sha's as he did so. There was a sharp inhale as the Imitorunyema sprang to life, writhing arms seeking a victim, before quietly going limp. His eyes followed its motions — and then he winced slightly as it missed its target.

Of course, it was a possibility Valcen had planned for. Even failures contained opportunities for learning; perhaps it was even fortunate that it failed. There was a brief moment of alarm as the device closed around 'sha's arm and fought against him, but he was able to quickly disable it. Given how it worked much like the Torunyema, he wasn't eager to find out what happened if it attached itself to an arm. Or to one of the two neurological-kavkema present.

In a fit of curiosity, Baishar brought a claw up to his right eye and cycled it to neutrino vision, watching the Imitorunyema in both worlds.

[22:11] Out of the corner of his eye, Baishar became aware of a strange lack of stars he had previously never observed. For a moment of confused misattribution, it seemed to be Valcen-za – although he'd seen Valcen-za in neutrino vision before and there had been nothing at all – but then, as his attention was tugged to the side...

It was Terenyira.

Terenyira, the god-eater, the havnateh, loomed beside them with a radial set of limbs complementing those of her baryonic appearance. Somehow, her otherworldly limbs seemed even more spindly and emaciated, hovering amongst the stars; a whip-like tail, curved behind her like that of a scorpion. Something that looked like a spine-ringed maw sat in her centre.

...in Baishar's mind's eye, unbidden, those limbs closed around the Threadwielder Valcen like a fist. He only knew in the roughest terms what a Threadwielder looked like, but the size difference was clear to him, and Terenyira's dark matter limbs looked like an intimidating prison.

The Imitorunyema, by contrast, was a delicate collection of wires currently curled up in its core, a less-dense version of the Torunyema, a different fundamental design, more flexible, less precise, perhaps, but more automatable. There was a partial dark matter skeleton to its limbs as well, no doubt for the more delicate mechanics to brace against.

Oblivious to Baishar's discovery, focussed on the Imitorunyema, 'sha rose to make room to swing his arm for another aimed throw. "It is going to find you eventually," he called down, matter-of-factly. In a calm, almost soothing tone, he continued: "You should let it; it won't hurt, and the fear will stop."

Not that it had ever worked on kavkema. Not that it worked on this particular Shyilungadech – nor should have, for that matter, as this was a demonstration on a moving target, and a suddenly willing victim was far less interesting to see the technology subdue.

She was tense, moving from the cover of one obstacle to the next restlessly, with an energy she no doubt didn't have. "You're going to have to aim better," she called up, the mocking phrase strung taut and brittle across her fear.

What would happen? 'The fear will stop'? She had no understanding of what that meant – fear only stopped in death, but as they were in Katal, and nothing that was born of Katal could possibly be so kind to grant her death, that was clearly not the promise. So it would take away her fear, likely along with anything else that was inconvenient to her captors.

Her heart hammered in her chest as she tried to gauge where the device would next be thrown – she didn't mistake her lucky flight from its previous point of impact as anything but chance. It felt alive, like a form of kiikam she had never seen before. It would hunt her, find her, and devour her soul.

[00:31] The Imitorunyema seemed to some extent much simpler than its older sibling, the telltale strands much less dense — though apparently designed to retract into its 'shell', perhaps to avoid damage. It made sense — it needed to do much less, its task was difficult for orthogonal reasons.

The strange shape in the corner of his vision tugged at his attention; he turned his head to—

Baishar froze.

In one eye, he saw Terenyira, the Karesejat, the havnateh, as all others saw her — an enormous spider delicately balanced on eight sharpened points, a being optimized for striking terror into the hearts of kavkema. In the other... there were no easy words to describe it. A dozen spindly limbs arrayed in radial symmetry around what could only be a spiked maw; a long, scorpion-like tail curled up behind her; if there were eyes, he could not identify them. It was like a nightmare had come to life and attached itself to something that was already nightmarish.

It took every ounce of willpower to remain silent and still, not wanting to bring any attention to himself. Upsetting the Karesejat was never a good idea; calling attention to oneself in her presence was never a good idea. With effort, he dragged his gaze away, focusing on the Imitorunyema instead, trying to forget the mental image of her trapping and devouring Valcen. Nice, wholesome Imitorunyema. So much less horrifying.

[01:55] Terenyira was thankfully oblivious to Baishar's inner state, her attention almost entirely on the demonstration. A bit of a flutter in a kavkem's heartbeat at the edge of her vision was to be expected, after all, and marked nothing out of the ordinary.

Meanwhile, 'sha was taking aim.

'sha was, of course, not the best person to throw the device the second time. The benefit was that he couldn't be mistaken for its prey, what with the qidravem in his skull; the downside was that his stereoscopic vision was not quite available. But he knew the proportions of the room and it was only important to reach the general vicinity of the captive.

It was that very captive that did something unexpected. In a split second's decision, she shot out from behind a pillar, leapt onto a table, used its surface for two broad steps propelling her forward, jumped to scramble against an overhanging device – a sturdy lamp, no doubt, though it was hard to see from this angle – and only then, as it swayed from her attention, lost her grip.

Instead of letting herself drop, she clung to the object as though for dear life, hissing in exertion. Then she kicked at the structure, trying to hoist herself to its side, and twisted her spine in a commendable feat of acrobatics to crawl past the edge while hanging from it. Her right arm anchored itself against the top of the sturdy lamp—

She didn't manage to pull herself up. A frustrated, terrified squeal emitted from her dangling body, about two thirds visible from where the audience sat. She was dangerously close to them, perhaps having hoped to scramble up the rest of the way to do some damage to their little circus act, but now doubly vulnerable for it.

As though hoping to discourage 'sha from another deployment of the mysterious weapon, she hissed, her feathers bristling, her muzzle open and lips drawn back from her sharp teeth, death glinting in her eyes.

'sha had instinctively stepped back from the edge as her sprinting jump and climb had happened, swift as it had been. Now he eased back into a more casual posture, frowning lightly. "I'm sorry that didn't work out the way you wanted it to," he said, mildly, with a bewildering sincerity.

She couldn't bring herself to let go – there was a small chance she might fracture a bone if she did and her instincts were unwilling to risk it. And so she hung from the piece of equipment like an ornament, panting in distress, when 'sha crouched across the edge and gave the Imitorunyema a gentle nudge.

It hit the top of the equipment just beside her arm, brushing it in the process of righting itself. That was the prompt she'd needed – with a cry of terror, her arm snapped back from its hold, wrist slamming down against the edge as gravity yanked her down.

Then the second was over and she lay on the ground immediately under the lamp, screaming in pain at her damaged wrist, trying to think over the agony caused by that inopportune motion, buffeted by the more minor bruising of the fall itself, trying to twist up from a writhing motion on the ground with the aim to find shelter—

The Imitorunyema curled itself past the edge of the lamp and dropped down, landing on her back just under her left shoulder. Despite the pain blinding her, her damaged right arm shot to cross her shoulder and she threw herself onto her back, trying to get it off, uttering a high-pitched sound of desperate terror.

But it was far too quick for her. By the time her battered hand was raking claws through her feathers where it had landed, it was halfway up the side of her neck. Her left hand was grasping for it now, this time correctly extrapolating its path, locking fingers around one of the segmented tentacles – but it was too late to stop it.

Two limbs wrapped around the back of her neck, one lashing against the underside of her jaw, and the rest of the metallic tendrils rolled across her skull, pulling itself into place. As the split second came to an end, the other tendrils clutched against her skull, wrapping around it, tips of its arms digging into her throat and the underside of her jaw.

[01:56] And then her back arched as though she'd been struck; she howled, but whatever was happening to her mind had locked her into a tense paralysis, her fingers near the device curled as though to scratch and tear at it, but unable to follow any guided motion.

It was no less harrowing as that tension gradually subsided, leaving her positioned lying on her back, her barely visible eyes glassy and distant, her breath slowing from its frantic pant.

The details of what was happening were almost impossible to see in neutrino vision – but there was certainly something squirming where her skull should be, flickering against the backdrop of stars.

"It can keep her in this state indefinitely," Valcen-za commented, glancing down at the display of his own engineering power with a sliver of satisfaction. "Until you have time to pick her up. And when you remove the Imitorunyema, she should be a lot more... pliant, in the one or other way, depending on what precise mode you chose initially."

§ 2020-03-21 21:35:11

[21:35] The captive's initial motions caught Baishar's gaze, and before he was even consciously aware of it he'd lept to his feet, heart racing, and stood defensively in front of Valcen-sha, baring filed teeth and blunted claws. In that moment, it didn't matter that there were many Nayabaru around; it didn't matter that the Karesejat was watching; it didn't even matter that, in the event she'd succeeded, she couldn't truly kill Valcen-sha — indeed, Baishar himself was much more vulnerable than he was. All that mattered was Valcen's safety. You will not harm him.

Thankfully, the gesture was unnecessary — she'd lost her momentum, her attack stalled before it had even begun. And now she was stuck — an easy target. Baishar shuddered lightly, his feathers slowly starting to settle into a less aggressive state as 'sha spoke. Not much longer now. He stepped aside, settling back into a nervous sit next to 'sha, and watched.

And indeed, it wasn't much longer. The initial fall was perhaps the most painful to watch; Baishar winced at the sound, his left hand grasping his right wrist. Then the Imitorunyema was upon her, having found its prey. It was too fast to escape, its tentacles too strong to fight. In a matter of seconds, it had pulled itself into place, closing around the kavkem's skull, and then—

Stillness.

He couldn't tell exactly what the device was doing — certainly not from this distance. But the insubstantial strands were inside her head now, the device drinking its fill of her soul. Something much like envy squirmed in Baishar's gut, the same irresistable longing he felt when watching Valcen do his work. He closed his eyes to all but the Imitorunyema's innards; his breath was slow and deliberate, trying not to make any vocalizations for fear of embarrassing himself.

Valcen-za's voice flowed through his synapses like honey, the hint of pride in his voice contagious. Softly, curiously, Baishar asked: "...What mode did you choose?"

[22:33] Valcen-za thought about Baishar's question for a moment. They had a lot of shared vocabulary, but they weren't the only ones in the room, and this was, first and foremost, still a demonstration; getting too technical about the details was not going to help the Nayabaru or even the Karesejat, who, while highly intelligent, had simply not been around enough to absorb all terminology.

"The first; it dials down aggression, erodes the loyalty to the kavkem's social group and fosters a basic but strong submission. As the Imitorunyema follows a generalised approach, one should not expect these changes to be quite as stable and long-lasting as the things I do with the Torunyema prototype in individual sessions.

"But the benefit to an Imitorunyema over your traditional tools of the hunt is that you can use it more than once, and if you play your cards right, you can use your new convert to deploy it for you, possibly better reaching high-value targets that are otherwise better skilled at evading you."

Valcen-za was glancing down at the still form. "I'm currently working on changes that will let the Imitorunyema automatically redeploy if a different kavkem attempts to remove it.

"For somewhat obvious reasons, this requires some caution – even ignoring for a moment that my own form is regrettably kavkem-bound, you wouldn't want the Imitorunyema wasting its time on those already suitably altered. Much of the development time has been in letting the Imitorunyema choose the proper targets."

Terenyira cut across something a Hesh was about to say – strategically, perhaps, guessing that it wasn't about to be flattering: "If this is use in the field, how long do you anticipate the effect to last?"

"That depends on the way the subjects are treated," Valcen-za mused. "Even an altered mind will still have its own interests in mind, and the more you threaten those interests, the less cooperative it will become. But I would expect even brash treatment of an especially volatile personality to yield several hours of beneficial cooperation from the subject."

"Are you expecting us to be nice to terrorists?" one of the Hesha snorted, clearly faster than the Karesejat thought to prevent.

"I am expecting you to do whatever is in your own interest at the time, obviously," Valcen-za said, diplomatically. "If what you want to optimise for is a longer cooperation, then—"

"What he means, Hesh Denan," the Karesejat kindly interjected. "Is that after the device has done its job, your prisoner no longer thinks like a terrorist. It is really quite safe to handle them differently, much as we are all trained to instinctively think otherwise."

Valcen-za lingered on the orthogonal explanation for a moment, on what Terenyira had just packed into a few sentences. Then: "Right." He let his gaze drop down. "In fact, we can easily demonstrate that." He glanced to the side, dipping his muzzle slightly, then prompted: "'sha, Baishar – please go down and remove the device and return it to us."

[00:24] Throughout Valcen's explanation, Baishar's eyes never left the immobilized kakvem below. Submission. That was certainly an easy thing to imagine being instilled in his mind. To imagine being strapped, not into the Torunyema, but into his own body, immobilized by the very thing rearranging him.

Of course, it wasn't quite the same as with the Torunyema — while in some sense Valcen was modifying the kavkem's mind, it was without any feedback, without even seeing it first. That sent a jitter of exhilaration down Baishar's spine — Valcen has such mastery that he can modify a kavkem's mind blindfolded. It was remarkably elegant, managing so much in such a small mechanism.

At the sound of his name, his gaze veered up to Valcen-za — trying to ignore the dual-vision of the Karesejat in the background — and his heart skipped a beat. Go down and remove it. See what Valcen has done. "Yes, master," he replied, lowering his head in a submissive bow, before proceeding down the corridor towards the entrance to the room, glancing over his shoulder to ensure 'sha was following.

[00:35] The way down led them past the borderline disapproving, sceptical gazes of two Hesha, but there was no interference. Ever since Baishar had last been under Valcen's care the Nayabaru had been more willing to leave him alone – he rarely had to justify his freedom of movement; it was accepted nearly to the degree it was accepted that Valcen had those freedoms.

Even Nayabaru were capable of learning.

The way down to the lower level was over a stairway branched off one of the corridors that fed into the circular path around the infirmary at this level. It followed a tight spiral down, spilling Baishar and Valcen-sha out into the corresponding corridor below. A few steps brought them into the circular area around the infirmary, more generous here – where kavkema were moved in and out of the room and might be in a fighting spirit – than in the upper level.

Then they reached the entrance and Valcen-sha straightened himself up, tugging a key card out of its hold from around his neck and stretching an arm up to swipe it for entrance. The door opened almost as if it shared its builders' reluctance to let a kavkem in by their own choice, but open it did.

The scent of the infirmary was a little more obvious here at its ground level. It encoded nothing in particular so much as kavkem fear, something that was perhaps a faint touch of bile, urine and other bodily secretions that had been carefully scrubbed away by chemicals, over a span of decades or more.

It wasn't a pleasant smell, but it was subtle enough that it was easy to ignore.

[00:36] The Shyilun avinitjemur was still where they had last seen her, of course, still perfectly still but for her breathing and the softest motions. There was a different scent to her, slightly intoxicating and seductive, inconveniently mingling with Baishar's pleasure at what was being done to her mind.

It was very familiar; in his empathy, he remembered why. He'd felt the underlying sensation before.

So that was what had kept her still.

'sha gave his mane a little shake as though afflicted by the same distraction and discarding it with a simple gesture. Then he approached her from the side, nearing her left shoulder, his body language expressing curiosity. One hand slid under her jaw, the other rested a palm against the core of the Imitorunyema as though to caress the many-limbed machine approvingly.

"If for some reason she tries to attack me when I take this off," Valcen-sha said softly, his attention on the kavkem, assessing her body language on the one hand, claws of his left forepaw tracing across the furrows of the Imitorunyema. "I expect you to be ready to stop her."

[01:13] As they approached the avinitjemur, it was much easier to see the Imitorunyema's strands in the neutrino-light, gently pulsing through the kavkem's skull. He had a vague understanding of how the various parts of the brain mapped to the structures the Torunyema projected; he could make some guesses about which parts were doing what, but without the projection it was much harder to say for sure.

Once the scent hit him, Baishar let out a soft whimper of arousal, its prevalence blending with his own memories of being in the Torunyema's grasp — an all too intoxicating memory. For a moment it threatened to overwhelm him, to render him into the same state of immobilized bliss as the Imitorunyema's victim.

No. Now was not the time. Valcen had given him a task; his own needs would have to wait. At 'sha's question, Baishar gave a light shake of his muzzle in acknowledgement, then hesitated for a moment. Focus. Do as Valcen says. After a sharp intake of breath, he replied: "Of course. Just a moment." He lifted a claw to his eye, cycled it back to normal vision, and stepped to the other side of the kavkem. One hand grasped her left wrist, the other, after a moment's hesitation, the right arm just above the elbow. Just in case. "Ready," he said, swerving his muzzle slightly in acknowledgement.

[02:12] In a gesture so subtle and minute that it was easy to miss, Valcen-sha's claw slipped into the indentation that housed the on/off mechanism. On cue, the Imitorunyema spasmed as its grip abruptly relaxed – the kavkem in its grasp gave a soft gasp, as though coming up for air, eyes rapidly snapping back into focus.

What she didn't do was try to pull her arms out of Baishar's grip to claw or prise at 'sha's grip of her jaw. Instead, she held almost perfectly still as he eased the Imitorunyema off her skull, its narrow limbs whispering through her feathers.

Hesitantly, her gaze crept to 'sha with wide eyes that couldn't quite decide whether they were fearful or expectant. Her muzzle opened slightly, her tongue folding in on itself within its confines. 'sha's expression warmed from its prior, meticulously enforced distance. "<I won't hurt you,>" he said, though he kept a loose hold on her, perhaps simply to gauge whether she would object.

"<...I don't understand what happened,>" she said, very softly, maintaining her confused body language.

'sha rested the tip of his muzzle against hers for a moment, as if in a fleeting gesture of affection, then let go of her muzzle and stepped back. "What happened," he said in Naya, clearly. "Is that we've removed a few misconceptions you had." He gestured up at the audience, making sure that they weren't forgotten. "You remember?"

"...I— yes," she said, although she was clearly bewildered. "I'm sorry for the— the thing that I did. I don't mean to cause any trouble."

'sha had by now shouldered the Imitorunyema, some of its inert tentacles sinking into his mane. He gestured up at the Nayabaru as though to mime 'see what I mean?'. But she had spoke fairly softly, and so he added: "Would you like her to do anything to earn her keep?"

With the Karesejat in the room, the Hesha were all decidedly quiet – she was the one that decided in Hesh matters, after all, as the highest-ranking of those present. That was perhaps for the best; they could learn how it was done intelligently from the Karesejat.

"It's a bit hard to see from up here," the Karesejat remarked, referring less to her own vision and more that of the Hesha, for whom three-dimensional obstacles were considerably more absolute. "Would you kindly get onto that table for us?"

'sha gestured at Baishar with his muzzle, asking him to let her go.

Now was a critical moment, of course; in theory, if she was very clever, she could have been pretending to be cooperative while partly pinned. But as Baishar let go, that concern evaporated.

With a submissive posture, she slunk to the table she'd used on her upward sprint earlier, then clambered up its side. Her motions were a little awkward, hampered by a clear concern that she might damage something on the way.

[02:13] And then she had perched herself on the smooth surface, peering up to the onlookers expectantly.

"Wonderful, thank you," the Karesejat observed. "Would you do us a favour? The two kavkema beside you are known as Valcen-sha and Baishar. They will leave the device that had attached itself to you with you. Will you take good care of it for a moment, while we bring them back out?"

Valcen-sha bristled very slightly in surprise, not having expected even the Karesejat to be as bold as she was evidently planning to be in this first trial. But it stood to reason that it was a good test – see if their newly obedient recruit would turn against her former allies.

Guided by the implicit order, he padded over to the table and reached the Imitorunyema up to the kavkem. She took it, hesitantly letting her gaze swerve between 'sha and the Karesejat, clearly terrified by latter, but not to the point of wishing to disobey.

"I don't need to tell you this," Valcen-sha commented. "But this device is what we used to change your mind. You can turn it on and off here," he said, stretching an arm to gesture at the indentation. "Should you ever need to. It won't attach to its initial holder, but you'll want to hold still if you throw it."

§ 2020-04-04 18:31:44

[18:31] And just like that, the Imitorunyema's work was done.

It was hard to isolate the feelings roiling around in Baishar's gut as the captive spoke. Awe at Valcen's power, able to turn a Shyilungadech into a willing pawn of the Nayabaru. Horror at the results — it was impossible not to be a little horrified when faced with what a Havnateh could do to a person. And of course the neverending yearning, that implanted desire to be in her position. The knowledge that it had been put there by Valcen did nothing to lessen its strength, nor to make it feel any less like it belonged.

He was dutifully obedient, of course, releasing his grip upon 'sha's unspoken request. He backed away slowly, watching her — still concerned for Valcen's safety — but it was an unnecessary caution. You belong to the Nayabaru now.

Baishar realized what the Karesejat was implying just a moment after Valcen did, and squirmed. It could be you, his yearning whispered. You could be its next victim. He looked up at the Karesejat, his mind imposing her invisible body on her already horrifying visage. Then he took a step closer to 'sha, briefly nuzzling his mane. "Master?" he whispered, tone strained between submissive and pleading. "Would you... allow me to be the next subject?" There was obvious fear in his voice, though the source was not the most obvious one. "...Or is the risk that I'd become useless to you too great?"

[19:03] There was no immediate, visible reaction to Baishar's request – it was almost as though 'sha hadn't so much as heard the submissive plea. That said, as the long seconds passed, his right hand slipped to grasp at Baishar's left wrist and gave it a firm, borderline punishing squeeze, the only acknowledgement anything had been said at all.

"If you will," 'sha addressed the Karesejat. "I have a slightly different proposal."

Said, there was a moment hollow of everything – sound, motion, to subjective impression even the beat of any one heart.

Then the silence snapped like a twig and Valcen-sha pressed Baishar against the table, his body weight pushing Baishar's chest against one of its legs, his left arm looped about his arms, his right gripping the feathers at the back of his neck near his skull, pushing his jaw across the table's edge.

Terenyira had stirred a little at the abrupt motion and was now regarding the display in a silence of her own. Finally, needing no verbal translation of Valcen's 'proposal', she said: "I'll permit it."

[19:32] The long silence gave Baishar pause, a second fear winding around the original one. I've upset you. I've crossed a line. I'm sorry. For a brief moment, it even seemed as if Valcen hadn't heard him at all — but the tight grip on his wrist quickly suggested otherwise.

There was a grunt as Valcen shoved him against the table, a brief moment of instinctive squirming in fear of punishment before he held himself very still, panting slightly from the sudden spike of adrenaline. There was a slight whimper, his eyes locking onto the Imitorunyema in the captive's hand. Then it dawned on him: Valcen was willing to grant his request.

Upon hearing the Karesejat's words, Baishar closed his eyes, letting out a papery exhale. I will obey. He relished the thought. Valcen will ensure it. "Th— thank you, Master," he whispered. He ran his tongue along his teeth, quivering with anticipation for what would come next.

[20:39] There was a certain risk to this change of plan, of course. Not so much to Baishar, who could be easily fixed from the state of mind the Imitorunyema would leave him in, and whose neural structures had to large part been responsible for shaping the device's heuristics, thus likely compatible to it.

'sha's imperviousness, however, had never been tested and his neural structures were guaranteed to be incompatible. If their submissive guest was not so submissive at all, the Imitorunyema latched onto him and the device did not automatically pause as intended, 'sha's body would quickly die and even his qidravem might be badly damaged.

She seemed taken aback by the turn of events, having visibly jolted as Baishar was shoved into position, now glancing at the two kavkema with a bewildered, wide-eyed gaze.

[20:40] Valcen-sha growled at Baishar. "<If you mess up this demonstration, there will be hell to pay,>" he hissed at Baishar, less concerned about his own ambiguous words being heard by the captive than he was about her correctly interpreting what Baishar had just said.

He chose a mouth full of feathers to make his point and sank his teeth around Baishar's mane, pressing unblemished teeth against his throat threateningly. It wasn't a convenient gesture, but unmistakable nonetheless.

"As it would seem Valcen's assistant is being uncooperative," the Karesejat intoned, with the calm of someone wholly unconcerned by what she was observing. "Please be so kind to place the device on his head and activate it."

The Shyilungadech baulked, clutching at the Imitorunyema in visible distress. She might be visibly submissive, but she still knew enough not to enjoy what she had been tasked with – which, of course, was what made it a good demonstration in the first place. Hesitantly, she eyed the device, then Baishar's gentle squirming.

The Karesejat spoke across the pause: "Don't worry about an accurate placement, it will right itself."

The captive glanced up with a brief, pleading expression, then hurriedly dropped her gaze as she became acutely aware of the impatient glares of the Nayabaru flanking the Karesejat. "Yes, Karesejat," she said, her voice a nervous tremble, her gaze finding Baishar and anchoring there against her will.

Whether she had understood Baishar's request or not, it was clearly beyond her to empathise with it. To her instincts, this was a kavkem whom she was to inflict upon what had been done to her – something she still had vivid memories of, something which was strange more than horrifying, but clearly a power she didn't want to wield, with consequences she could barely fathom.

But her masters had demanded it and they had been friendly so far. The chaos was in these two kavkema. The strife was here, not with the Nayabaru.

Then she turned on the device as Valcen-sha had shown her, nearly dropping it out of misplaced reflex as it began to squirm, having to battle obsolete instincts that told her this was a parasite that would harm her if she let it.

Without further prompting, she leant forward, pressed the palm of her right hand against the tip of Baishar's muzzle, pinning his mouth shut and head to the table's surface, and set the Imitorunyema down against his skull.

It snapped shut like a spring trap even before she'd consciously chosen to let go, three of its limbs coiling around Baishar's throat, the others weaseling with an alien ease under his pinned jaw, tips almost cutting at his skin.

Not even a moment passed between the grip's establishment and its effect: A familiar, almost painfully intense pleasure seared through Baishar's thoughts, effortlessly splitting his consciousness and whiting out the world around him.

The captive had given a soft sound of alarm and jerked back from the effects of her actions, now lightly cowered at the end of the table, staring at what she had done, trying somehow to comprehend what was happening.

Valcen-sha kept his grip on Baishar even as his body was locked by tension. Only his right arm slipped away from the back of his minion's neck, down past his shoulder, reaching to grasp lightly at the shorter feathers of his belly.

§ 2020-04-11 19:11:21

[19:11] Baishar emitted a short yelp of distress as Valcen's teeth pressed against his throat. Confusion blended into his fear, a sudden uncertainty of what was actually happening. Have I done something wrong? He held himself still, trembling slightly with the strain of the unnatural posture.

It was the Karesejat's words, of all things, that finally made the connection. This was a ruse. Intended not only for the Nayabaru, but also for the captive. Valcen's actions were part of it, a performance. Relief washed over him, but he did his best to show no outward sign of it. Baishar had a role to play as well, the 'uncooperative' kavkem assistant.

But he couldn't quite muster 'uncooperative'. The very thought of it felt impossibly alien. How could he pretend to be uncooperative? Perhaps it wasn't necessary. Perhaps all he needed to do was not mess up. He dug into his fear, dragged it to the surface — it was perhaps the closest he could get.

He was in the heart of Katal; a Havnateh was pressing him against a table in a Nayabaru infirmary; a brainwashed kavkem was being ordered to place the Imitorunyema on his head; above, the Karesejat lurked, watching as always. And Valcen had promised suffering upon him if he failed. There was plenty to be terrified of.

Not that it mattered much. The Imitorunyema had done its job properly; she was obedient. Baishar let out a soft whimper as the device sprang to life, squirming in Valcen's grip, before she set the device on him. Within moments it was clinging to him, and then—

A searing line of raw pleasure struck through him, a familiar warmth spreading through his body, carving easily through his thoughts. There were no straps holding him in place, and yet the prospect of moving seemed impossible. There was tension and yearning and impossible desire. The world fell to a hazy mist beyond his immediate surroundings — the pressure of Valcen's grip, the gentle motion of the hand towards his underbelly. He was dimly aware of the kavkem in front of him, but she might as well be in another world.

[20:28] Had it been this intense the last time he'd been at Valcen's mercy? It felt as though he were burning up in it, as though some divine force were reaching into his mind to gradually peel away every other sensation in strips, leaving not even so much as a sense of his own body's existence.

Occasionally, other impressions flashed through the overwhelming sensory glare – fragments of thoughts some other version of him might have had in some distant past, uprooted and gathered like the debris of past destruction:

A brief spike of dread, as though the collection of his earlier observations had formed themselves into a single drop and fallen and broken against his synapses, like a metaphysical cry for help from his subconscious mind.

An emotional impression of kavkemkind caught in a planet-wide net, drawn closer to Terenyira's otherwordly maw, disconnecting like a dislodged barb he had only noticed in the process of its removal, screaming that it belonged.

A memory of mixed emotions as Ryrha was wiped away, come and gone like a phantom in the fire that consumed him.

But only one thing remained a steady companion to the searing pleasure – Valcen's presence beside him, his physical contact, his guidance and his intensity, in obvious pursuit of goals with the precision of a scalpel.

Oblivious to what was happening in Baishar's head, the captive was only slowly beginning to thaw out of her initial terror. Of course she had gone through the process herself, but she had never seen what it looked like, she had no conception of what happened beyond the subjective sensation of the device's claws raking through her mind.

Now she was seeing it done to someone else, and the memory of her own transformation let her imagine what was causing his tension and what results it would yield: Meek, malleable, obedient. That she knew it made it no less true. That she knew it made it no less mortifying.

Valcen-sha seemed content in keeping Baishar caught in the state he was in, minutes smearing into timeless eternity.

How long did an Imitorunyema need to work its magic? Valcen had never specified, although everything he had implied about the process suggested it was startlingly quick.

Most of its work was no doubt in maintaining the state of paralysis – a one-time tweak would hardly work, the body was too interested in a sensory status quo. Maintaining this state took constant work, an uphill battle against a mental machinery that was optimised to get used to any environment.

Finally, he began to loosen his grip on Baishar until he could step back from the paralysed kavkem, then glanced at the Shyilungadech – former Shyilungadech, more accurately, perhaps? – and dipped his muzzle in a respectful, silent request.

[20:29] She was clearly reluctant to approach, distressed by the scene. Her gaze fled up to the Nayabaru, as if asking for permission. The Karesejat confirmed Valcen's gesture with a pleasant tone: "Thank you. That's enough."

Her paws gently set down on the Imitorunyema – the pressure prickled through Baishar's senses as another source of pleasure, in his impression of them quite disconnected from the real world – before her claw sought the indentation that Valcen had showed her and the Imitorunyema's vice-grip yielded quite abruptly.

The sea of sensation receded like a tide, draining out of Baishar slowly, palpably, but steadily.

[22:18] It was so easy to lose himself in the haze, to let it consume and reshape him. There was no other option, really — trying to resist it was like trying to resist gravity, at best one might buy a second or two, at worst one might hurt oneself more. He didn't even want to resist it — Valcen knew what he was doing. All other things faded away — the captive, the Karesejat, Katal, Ryrha... until only the pleasure and Valcen remained.

He couldn't guess how long he was in his state. He couldn't guess how long it was before Valcen's touch receded, before there was nothing but the overwhelming, burning pleasure to keep him company. There was the faint sound of language, its terms unparsed, and a firm but gentle pressure on his skull—

Baishar gasped, as if coming up for air after being submerged for so long. The waves of transcendent joy crashed against his mind, slowly receding into the background. Slowly, the world rumbled back into focus, still hazy around the edges. He closed his eyes, soaking in the receding pleasure, taking in as much as he could while it still lasted. As it faded, he held himself still, silent, awaiting instructions.

[22:48] But Valcen-sha was turning his attention to their audience. "I hope this lays your questions to rest," he commented, then brought his muzzle down as if in a bow.

The Karesejat's body language was opaque as usual, more so given the angle she was visible at from down here. After what must have been a moment's consideration, she said: "Thank you, Lekchel Valcen."

It visibly rippled through Valcen-sha. The Karesejat had just done something quite remarkable – she had given him a title. By definition, it had to be a subset of the Hesha, as she had no authority for anything else, but he had been formally adopted into the hierarchies of Katal. It both harrowed him and brought him a deep relief.

Perhaps his future interactions with the Nayabaru would be less like trying to draw blood from a stone.

"Should it suit you, Karesejat, Baishar and I would like to retire. My progenitor will, of course, remain here with you and the Hesha as long as you require," 'sha continued.

"That will be quite all right, Lekchel," the Karesejat commented. "You may leave whenever it pleases you."

Finally, 'sha attention turned to Baishar, whose mind was suddenly, sharply reminded of its own existence, and the subservience it had pledged to its master. The wide focus that had laid upon the room and the Nayabaru onlookers narrowed onto Valcen's body language, reading every detail in it.

It spoke of relief, of the pleasure of success, of the cerebral ecstasy of belonging, but also of the bitter details that had made it possible. But the dominant expression was one of stern concern for Baishar. It said follow me without even a single word spoken.

He brushed close to Baishar's shoulder, adding a physical cue to the unspoken command, then began to lead him out of the infirmary. It seemed clear where they would be going – down into the basement, to undo whatever the Imitorunyema had done that did not suit what the Lekchel Valcen wanted of his minion's mind.

Baishar didn't feel different. But had he ever really consciously felt different after Valcen had meddled with him? He had perhaps recognised the error of his ways, but he had always felt like Baishar. The current burning urge to do whatever Valcen asked of him, even if he were to ask Baishar to tear out his own feathers, felt like it had always been there.

[00:41] No explicit orders were necessary — Lekchel Valcen-sha wanted him to follow, that much was clear. Baishar peeled himself from the table and turned to follow without as much as a second look at the former Shyilungadech, his mind too preoccupied with the desire to obey.

It was not hard to guess what would happen next. Valcen-sha would bring him to the Lair, would strap him into the Torunyema, and make whatever edits he saw fit. It was only good and natural that he would do this — the Imitorunyema was an incredible tool, but it only had so much finesse. Valcen would have much better control over what happened to Baishar's mind there than via the Imitorunyema.

There was a certain pride in knowing that Valcen had earned a title for himself — the relief he felt sparked an empathic emotion in Baishar. My master is happy, so I am happy. Valcen would protect him. Valcen would fix him. Valcen would make him useful.