Planet Zar: Nexus

⦿ Rhakunara lays across her throne, dripping in golden adornments that fall over the heavy swell of her egg-laden belly. She will be clutching soon, and Joroch has had to sit through vicious arguments between Kjarror and Ludovicianusz about whether or not the weak should be eaten.

⦿ Joroch cannot voice his opinion, nevermind that he's the weakest a beast could possibly be and is still invaluable to Cassimir. Invaluable to Rhakunara, at least.

⦿ "You're an anomaly," says Rhakunara, lifting one of her gilded heads to give Joroch a pitying look. "Not all the basic beasts will be like you. We'll be overrun if they're not eaten."

⦿ Those that aren't eaten will be fodder for the war. Soldiers sent out to kill as much as they can before they're stricken dead. They won't matter.

⦿ Joroch only matters because he's clever. Because he's proven he can survive. Because he's loyal to those who protect him.

⦿ "Perhaps one will bond me," Joroch replies, curling up against his sister's side to listen to the eggs. So many nieces and nephews. Hundreds if they're lucky.

⦿ There is no reply.

⦿ No verbal response, anyway. Joroch notes Rhakunara's subtle tensing, the ripple of disgust that shudders through her.

⦿ Joroch is good enough to be a servant, a pet, a spy.

⦿ He is not good enough to stand at Rhakunara's clutch. He's not good enough to be a sibling. A basic, limbless, single-headed creature. A worm.

⦿ A thunderous crash erupts from outside the throne room. Heat blazes, walls shake.

⦿ Joroch extracts himself from Rhakunara's side. "I'll distract Kjarror's temper before he brings the temple down."

⦿ Rhakunara hums approval and returns all her heads to gold-laced satin pillows. A dismissal.

The electric hum of a space station made Joroch bristle. The Destiny was a far cry from the odd pulse of magical wrongness that thrummed through the Fate, but Joroch was far happier with solid ground beneath his belly. He'd never seen the ship before, which had made getting here a tricky task, but Joroch was exceedingly good at sorting out tricky tasks. A few carefully worded phrases here, a visit to other places in Nexus space, and a handful of spacefaring trips near Tris'Hath where Joroch was put to work dealing with unsavory problems - and here he was, slithering through corridors trying to figure out where he was supposed to be.

There was no point in sneaking. That would be an excellent way to get himself killed or blasted out an airlock and forced to teleport away. Joroch wouldn't rely on the infinitesimally small possibility that he wouldn't be recognized as a creature from the Fate.

He so hated making a spectacle of himself.

Yautjadragons marched around looking serious and intimidating. A subtle stink of supernal carried in the air.

Ah, he thought, spotting the sleek black-gold mass of a xenodragon mutt. He might have better luck with her.

He slithered silently away from the wall. "Excuse me?"

The xenodragon paused and turned, flashing a very odd set of jaws toward him. She had no eyes but Joroch got the distinct sense he was being glared at.

:: You're not part of this hive :: she said, her mind-voice sharp and acrid.

"No," Joroch replied. "I'm here to stand as a candidate."

The xenodragon hissed and stomped toward him. :: Candidates belong in the hangar bays only. ::

"I teleported, I don't-"

She grabbed for him. Joroch darted below her claws and swung his tail up - and immediately down, safely curled against his side. This was the Destiny, no one here would cause him any harm if he wasn't violent.

Probably.

Claws wrapped around one of Joroch's head spikes and Joroch found himself being bodily dragged through the corridors like a petulant hatchling. He made himself as pliant and cooperative as possible.

This was far from his first experience being manhandled.

He was deposited several moments later in front of a door. The xenodragon shoved a claw at him and snarled :: Wait here. ::

"Of course." Joroch attempted a smile, trying to appear small and harmless.

The xenodragon stared at the door for a long moment. Joroch assumed some manner of telepathic conversation was occurring between her and the room's occupant. He took the moment to take in his surroundings. Hallways not properly sized for dragons, humanoid style doorways, a smooth, warm scent wafting from beneath the door, the muffled sound of barking.

The door whooshed open, revealing the most pleasant, unassuming human Joroch had ever seen. And behind him, a tall, dark-furred, well armed, anthromorphic dragon.

:: He's a candidate :: snorted the xenomutt. :: Can I go? ::

"Not far, Zsatephess," said the man. His warm gaze turned icy and suspicious when it landed on Joroch. "Come in, please."

Dr. Schroeder's office was obscenely comforting, with warm tones and a paisley carpet that Rhakunara would have set on fire immediately. Joroch found it garishly charming. It was much easier to stare at than the Doctor's eyes.

"You're from the Fate?"

The question was for politeness' sake, the man already knew the answer. Joroch could hear it in the Doctor's tone.

"Yes. I was Purged." Perhaps that might earn him some sympathy.

"And you've been runebranded against telepathy."

Among other things.

"It helps me serve my Lady and keeps us both safe."

It makes you difficult to trust.

Joroch squirmed. (Purposeful, calculated, showing weakness was practical here.)

"I had hoped to stand at the hydra clutch," said Joroch. "Was I mistaken in believing the clutch mother herself requested interviews with all potential candidates?"

"That is quite correct, but we very rarely receive visitors from the Fate. We needed to make sure you weren't here with ill-intentions."

Joroch wanted to glower, to gnash his teeth, to lash his tail. Instead, he lowered his head and studied the carpet.

"I have no loyalty to the Twisted Fate, and it certainly has no love for me. I was meant to be eaten at my own hatching and when I was found to have survived, I was discarded. I returned to stand at my brother's clutch, but all his offspring outranked me. I was not worthy enough to bond.

"I have been a pet and a plaything all my life, and while I am loyal to my Lady, I have no stakes in her cause beyond my own survival."

Brutal honesty dragged like hooks across his tongue. He wanted desperately to peer over his shoulder and make certain neither Rhakunara or any of Cassimir's people were here, watching, listening.

But Joroch was their best spy.

He sucked in a deep breath and continued.

"I want to forge my own path to personhood and I want a bond who feels the same."

With a hydra Joroch might gain some prestige of his own. He could imagine Kjarror's face as Joroch returned to Lomeelas with a beast of 40 heads, taller, stronger, outranking him in every way. To feel Rhakunara's awe. To see Haenuth and Jokiras hiss and spit.

To see pride, respect, camaraderie in Sumati's eyes.

But more than that - a trembling, hopeful desire for a real friendship. One not built on Joroch's usefulness or sniveling capabilities. Someone who looked at Joroch as an equal, without machinations or scorn.

"I will not do nice things in my life," Joroch continued. "But my bond will never be subject to servitude or experimentation. I have my Lady's word on this."

Schroeder remained quiet for several long minutes before rising to his feet. "I think we can arrange a meeting with Nairyg."