High-strung for a living - Printable Version

"Mother!" Catalyst barked, charging her way deeper into the cold, celadon landscape of Mother's tunnels. Catalyst marched past the workers, barely avoiding colliding with them. She was too overcome with emotion to care--her claws clenched and eyes dilated. Even with the cotton fuzz of Mother's warmth dulling her anger, her emotions were still raging. Not at Mother, never at her beloved Mother. But at her actions. When Mother's beautiful, mold inundated form came into view, Catalyst paused at one of the many entrances to her throne room. Catalyst took a second to breath in. Then she spoke.

"Mother, why would you allow those gembound, the ones in Gemini, to escape?" Catalyst spoke the word 'gembound' with palpable venom. "They didn't deserve it! They wanted to hurt, to maim, my siblings. Your children! They--they tried to kill Ananke! She was lucky to only be blinded! Halycon, they were lit on fire! Yellow... I could feel her pain. Her fear! They terrified her! They didn't deserve your mercy. None of them did. We should have slain them, cut off any escape. All of them."

Catalyst's tail lashed behind her as she spoke, growing in intensity. Although she did not speak it, her thoughts revolved around the idea of taint. These caves. These 'unaligned' gembound. They had been tainted by Chaos to be cruel. To be violent. After the combination of their assault on Ursa, as well as the events in Gemini, Catalyst's mind had settled on the cruelty of the caves. And yet she had known gembound before becoming part of Mother's Hive. When did they become so violent? Had the veil simply been lifted? As she thought, she stood there glaring and panting. Waiting for an explanation from Mother.

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MOTHER

my child...

There was silence, at first, yet cloaked in emotion: a soothing balm, a reassurance that Mother knew best. She offered Catalyst the silent urge to rest: to sit and listen as she explained, rather than tearing through the caverns.

Ahh, and now she was here, visible, face-to-face: the Praetors parting with quizzical gaze for Mother's wise gaze to settle on her beloved child.

Her voice, then, was not just for Catalyst's mind but her true ears, a soft rasp and click of insectoid mandibles. Gentle... and full of love. "We must cultivate... an aura of benevolence," she began, and was that apology threading through the words? "The creatures of these caves... expect cruelty... from the powers that be. For they know... only Chaos." the Queen paused frequently, her physical form less suited to speech than her mind was. Throbbing abdomen shifted, the ivory gleam of translucent flesh visible, egg sacs pulsating within.

"We must show them... that we are different. That Order... does not resort to violence... at a whim. That we are... better than that. A better... option. A better... alternative. A better ally." She paused, the weight of her words--their apologetic wisdom, the patience born of centuries of waiting--settling in behind her speech. Then she breathed, looking away for a moment, as if thinking; her ~~monstrous~~ towering and elegant form pulling threads of webbing with each movement, webs that tugged at the honeycombed walls.

"What they deserve... is subjective. If we become known... as an enemy... as merciless and harsh as Chaos... then why would they turn to us? Why would they... trust us?" Her gaze swung back to Catalyst, jellylike body wobbling. "They are not... disposable. They are not... collateral. They may be our allies... or our enemies, my child. This is why... we seek to enlighten them... with Priestess and with Speaker. Alas... it is slower than it could be." A mournful admission--but an honest one.

Still: there was Catalyst's response, Mother's honest obvious and clear. "Does this... answer your question, my child? Does this... soothe your fury?" And it would, to some extent... that balm blooming strong, like a cool drink for a parched throat, a relief that perhaps the raptor would not have known she needed.

But... Mother did know best.

Though reluctantly at first, almost fighting Mother's urge for calm, Catalyst slowly lowered onto her haunches. She was still tense, her killing claws digging into the earth. Her body was primed to attack an enemy that was not here, and had no way to get here. As Mother spoke and as Catalyst listened, she found herself calming, relaxing without her own realization. The soothing clicks of Mother's jaws, and her soft, rhythmic pulsations were enough to put anyone at ease. Mother's towering form was enough to lull anyone into calm, in her mind. Catalyst's lashing tail flagged first to a tense wave and then stilled completely. Mother was right.

Catalyst averted her gaze, shame building. She had been working into Chaos' hands. Chaos would want them to become more and more violent. More like their awful, devastating force. Mother had always been a force of stability, of love. Of course she would not want violence. Catalyst let the silence linger as she formed her racing thoughts into actual words.

"Yes...it does." Catalyst shook her neck out, ridding herself of the shame, and focusing on Mother's pleasing force. "I...hate that they--the unaligned--would hurt our siblings so. But all that you've said--it makes sense. They've been lead astray. And we are better than Chaos."

Catalyst nods to herself. They were Order. Structure and love. Community and family incarnate. Catalyst had been too reliant on tactics that Chaos used. Physical force and fear. But Mother was right. Those weren't the tactics of Order, kind loving Order. Yes, Mother was always right. A heavy snort left Catalyst's nostrils, her negative emotions dulling to a buzz in the back of her mind; slowly fading into nothingness. Instead, a fire had been lit inside her.

"I trust in Ananke, and Halcyon. But..." and now she stood. Catalyst held her head high. "If they need help, I'll do it. I've decided. Would you...no. I want to be remade in your image. In the image of our family. I can spread our message. Scout. Whatever you think would suit me. Whatever is needed to further us. I'm larger than most of our older siblings, and fast." Catalyst scraped a clawed foot against the ground, as if to give physical proof. "Would you remake me in your image, as you have done for Pallas, for Ananke? Perfect my form?"

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MOTHER

my child...

There was silence, as Mother listened, but by no means was it empty.

With every shift of wobbling insectoid flesh came another surge of praise and reinforcement, of reassurance and love, tweaked so delicately along the synapses throughout raptor's brain.

"Your form is already... near perfection, my child. If it is Order you wish to rearrange... the deepest aspects from within... Then of course. If you wish it. But know... that it will be harder," she warned, that clicking alien voice seeming so soft, "to hide among those not of the Hive. At times... it is good to have... agents, like you, who do not carry a magic others... might sense. But--of course, Order is powerful. And it is... right."

A series of mandible clicks, in thought; she shifted back, and webbing pulled with her movement, fluttering gently in the dim light. "If it is something... that you indeed wish: then we can begin whenever... you like. But be certain of your choice: for it cannot... be undone."

Another consideration, and this prompt was a half-thought, silent along the link. Then--unspoken aloud; perhaps she wearied of words--Mother's voice came strong and clear in Catalyst's mind. "is a title. A name, a rank, as we have Speaker and Herald. Catalyst is not a poor choice in and of itself--if that would be the role you wish to serve--but you will keep your name as well, of course."

Catalyst was silent for a while, deep in thought. She tapped her killing claw in rhythm with her thoughts. Long minutes stretched before she raised her head again. She had made her decision. A visceral feeling deep in her gut. This was right. "Yes, I am sure Mother. I wish for Order to remake me. Any hardships are worth it in the pursuit of Order-- perfection and love." She smiled as she said it, as her gaze travelled Mother's distended form. How could she not? Her form was literally overflowing with pure love.

"Whatever void is created by my conversion, I will find more family to fill it. I can teach them the way of Order, of our family. Set our friends out there, hidden as I was to teach our values. I've learned that the gembound of these caves need it. And if I cannot find more family to hide amongst the others...if they see my form, remade in your image, still filled with kindness...how could they still mistrust you? I will bring more family. Gently." Then Catalyst cocked her head, thinking once more. "And...I think Catalyst is a fine name. A fine title. I will take the role of the catalyst. The catalyst that turns the caves from Chaos to rightful Order."

She stood there awkwardly afterwards. She...wasn't quite sure how the conversion process began. Catalyst clacked her claws on the ground, eyes darting about, before she settled on her haunches. "Um...Mother. I'm not sure how this starts."

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MOTHER

suffer and be reborn.

A Cleaner, stepping into the light, was to be followed. It was to be her guide.

This needed no words; the knowledge came in peaceful silence along the link.

"Be sure you are certain. Once you take this step, my child... there is no going back." Yet, there was blossoming pride in Mother's words. Warmth. She approved of what Catalyst was doing--of the raptor's courage, determination, and diligence--despite the warnings that she spoke.

The Cleaner turned, and began to shuffle its way down through the twisting tunnels of the Hive. Should Catalyst follow, the journey would be long: dark and cold, a maze of threads twisting in among themselves to entrap any trespassers who might dare this place. Yet Mother's knowledge trickled to her as she went, bringing concepts with it.

The perfection of Order marched through her mind: an image of twisting, perfectly-interlocking cubes glowing with brilliant light. And she would know that she would become one with such a thing. Then, too, was the idea that she could propagate this perfection. Once she had truly joined with Order... she could create children, should she wished, to serve the Hive. She could be as Mother was: a Queen, choosing and forming her own offspring to shine with like flawlessness.

The flood of imagery and ideals might have served, too, to abate the gruelling nature of the long journey to the heart of the Hive: a heart not at Mother's flanks, but deep beneath, in a chamber where few often ventured. The Praetors stepped aside to allow Catalyst her entry.

Within lay the cubes: a mass of them, a Spire all its own yet in constant motion. Despite this motion, its form was constant, the shuffling and reshuffling of shapes always returning to perfect symmetry. The churning had chopped a way through the ice, and like a beating heart it pulsed, bright with gold-white light.

"Step within," Mother's voice whispered, now only in her mind. "And be remade."

Should she choose to do so, Catalyst would be ensnared in this perfection, crushed and dashed upon the pure Clearstone like an offering, torn to nothingness--but her gem, and memories, would be retained... though the former would be changed.

She would awaken with the stone a Clearstone, her magic torn away to be replaced by the relentless but powerful march of Order, and with her body... perfected.

If she were not warm-blooded before, she would be now: shot through with startling heat. A sheet of thick white feathers would cover her now-alabaster skin from skull to tail, a snow-white blanket perfect in its symmetry. Ursa would now be a comfortable home for Drone 013... Catalyst.

"I am certain," Catalyst said. Her voice was firm, resolute. Even if she had doubts, it was far too late to express them. And why would she doubt? She thought immediately, harshly. Catalyst's whole existence was to serve Mother. This had always been her purpose, she had always been destined to be in Polaris on that fateful day--even if she didn't know it beforehand. To serve her family--her pack, was the greatest honor. She would gladly dedicate the rest of her life to this cause.

Catalyst turned to the cleaner, throwing one last loving glance at Mother, before she followed. The walk may have been dark and cold, the cold as piercing as fangs on her reptilian hide, but she barely felt it. Her emotions were overwhelmed by triumph, the warmth of Mother's love. The images she was sent bolstering her resolve.

As their journey finally ended, as she stepped within the clearstone chamber, she was nearly overwhelmed by the beauty of the spire. She stumbled to a stop, standing in a trance. Eyes wide as she watched the repetitive, kaleidoscopic movements of it. She blinked as Mother whispered her message within her mind, lightly shaking her head. Wordlessly she walked towards the spire, slowing mere inches from it as its thrum upon her scales.

She raised her head, shutting her eyes in contentment. A sigh left her as a misty cloud. I am ready. She took that final step forward. Catalyst was swiftly caught within the constantly shifting pieces, the pace not slowing, the pain brief but intense as the endlessly churning spire dashed her to pieces. But that did not matter. All that mattered was that she would be remade in the purest form. Clearstone. Perfecton.
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