The First Penitatas - Out of the Pit
#24 of The First Penitatas
Lord Governor Wokun studied the broken child in the cell with cold, dispassionate eyes. It was not that he was cruel by nature, although his upbringing did reward aggressive, confrontational behaviour. In this case his lack of care was personal, born in equal parts from an animalistic desire to see the child suffer, and from his inner struggle to come to terms with his father's death. To his right, hovering just inside the corner of his vision, his sister's reaction was far more emotive. He could feel the disgust radiating from her; disgust for what the child had suffered, and for those who inflicted it with such professional detachment. Wokun turned to the interrogator and asked, "what have you found?"
"Enough," the short-muzzled Dawnsider replied. He was a short, but broad man whose voice seemed to belong to a man far older. "Most of it was vague, just places of meeting and false-names, but I think it was genuinely all she knew. Tathl on the table, I'd say she really just was in the wrong place at the wrong time, a silly little girl lured into a cult who promised to make everything better."
"She could have been coached to mislead us," Wokun said. He could feel his sister's scowl bore into the back of his skull as he spoke.
The interrogator wasn't quite able to hold back his scoff at the idea. He cleared his throat and carefully answered, "Lord Governor, I have taught interrogation-resistance techniques for four years. If this girl was resisting, then she is better at it than any operative I have ever known. You may well be right about her - for all we know she's got some neural wet-ware we can't detect. However, in my professional opinion... the safer bet is she's genuinely ignorant of the wider plot. It's, well, it's how I'd have done it," he finished, cautiously studying his new patron's reaction.
"If she is a victim as you say, what is to be done with her?" Ylari asked as she stepped forward to place herself ahead of her brother in contempt of proper protocol. Neither Wokun nor any of the life-guards protested.
"I... I believe custody of the child defaults to Watch-Captain Haal," the torturer turned toward the cyclopian Enforcer lurking in the corner of the room, and he shuddered as the glowing eye-lens turned toward him.
"The Office of the Watch is responsible for the convicted. I do not see why she would be placed in my care... save, of course, that it appears to be the wish of Corrector-Captain Kadan than I assume personal responsibility for her welfare." Haal's croaking rasp came from the shadows in the corner of the room, where he lurked like some vengeful spirit. The dull glow of his optical lens was enough to unsettle even the hardened interrogator.
"Kadan?" Wokun paused, reflecting on the name. He shrugged off whatever image came to his mind and added, "fine, then do whatever he wishes with her. Sister?"
Without a formal word of farewell, the nobles and their entourage departed the cells. Haal waited patiently in the shadows until he was satisfied no last-minute requests were to be sprung upon him before turning his attention to the girl. "This is Watch-Captain Haal to the motor pool: I require a transport for suspect Samantha Doland. Provide one driver and two armed escorts; I will be personally seeing her return to the City."
Acknowledgements rang through the comm-link as Haal returned to his office to await confirmation all was ready. He had plenty to do in the meantime; the comforting routine of report reviews awaited, which he spiced up with on-the-spot modifications to patrols and convict exercise cycles. This in particular he took pleasure in for two reasons: first, it kept his men on their toes, and second it made sure the day-to-day affairs of Black Pit were not predictable, which encouraged the convicts to behave as they never knew when a Watchman would appear to peer into the cells. He had not the time for every task, but that was of no concern. It would keep.
When the time finally came to depart, Haal stepped out into a bright, clear day and inspected the detail. His eye fell immediately one of the two black-armoured guards stood by the rear of the vehicle. "Watchman Taar, you are not on the duty roster for this assignment. Explain your presence."
The Daysider glanced around, paused, and then saluted. "Watch-Captain. Banat checked himself in to medical. I volunteered to replace him."
Haal considered the answer. "I did not receive notification of his medical leave; Watchman Banat has violated protocol."
The second guard, a Dawnsider, gave his captain an overly familiar smile. "Be fair, sir. Protocol gets a bit sloppy when you're puking your guts up." The man's smile vanished immediately when he saw the flash of heat surge through Haal's face. Either he had embarrassed, or enraged his superior, and his money was on the later. He sharply turned to open the rear hatch and blurted out, "passenger is loaded and secured, Watch-Captain! Would you care to perform an inspection before departure?"
"Kindly keep your thoughts to yourself, Watchman Tadr!" Haal growled. Tadr stepped back as though to move round to the shotgun seat, only to find the door half-open and Taar climbing in. The Dawnsider tried to hide his disappointment as he sat opposite the Watch-Captain, with the unconscious girl between them, and the ground-car began the long drive towards the City.
As they gently rocked along the road, which in truth was little more than a faint hint of a line in the dirt, Watch-Captain Haal studied the child on the stretcher before him. She had clearly suffered a great deal at the hands of her interrogators, not that such a thought troubled him overmuch. Twenty years in Black Pit had numbed him to violence, and any lingering doubts were crushed by his belief in the system. Yes, an innocent had suffered, but it was only through that suffering had her innocence been proven. Hardship built character, as the temples said. As he watched, Sam's eyes opened. They were over-dilated from the drugs used to extract the truth from her, drugs that were clearly still pumping through her system. Compared to her other injuries, however, a truth serum appeared downright merciful. Haal briefly wondered how the girl would react when she was cognisant of her condition, then he cursed himself for such pointless sentimentality; he was far too old for such unproductive thinking.
Out of nowhere, two muffled gunshots rang out in a double-tap, followed by a third a few seconds later. By then the transport was swerving wildly, kicking up a spray of grit and gravel before shuddering to a broken halt. A voice from the front compartment cried out in alarm, muffled by the forward bulkhead. Haal and Tadr had already disembarked out into the wastes, scanning the horizon. Taar ran towards them with his shoulder pressed firm against the side of the armoured car, panting hard and gesturing wildly to the north. "It came from that way! They shot the driver out!"
The announcement took Haal aback. The glass was reinforced, meaning only a high-calibre round could possibly breach it, and even then normally only from close range. The Watch-Captain led the way, his cyclopian implant granting him superior long-range vision than any natural eyes, but even he struggled to find a target. He turned toward the drive cabin and inspected the scene, noting at once, and yet too late that there was no damage to the windscreen. The first gunshot sounded before he could turn back, and he received two hits at point-blank range that knocked him to the ground. His armour was sturdy, but at such short range the armour-piercing rounds made a mockery of it; the door behind him rang like a gong as the bullets buried themselves in the bodywork.
"I've wanted to do that for a long time, Godless monster!" the traitorous Taar growled. He took aim with the pistol, pointing the barrel squarely at Haal's eye-lens. "Any last words?"
A pistol crack echoed across the empty landscape, followed swiftly by a howl of agony as the Daysider fell, his ankle shattered. Haal let him hit the ground and fired again, and again, emptying seven more rounds into the turncoat. Only then did he spit out, "That is a TK1M! S-six round magazine, and you s-shot the d-driver three times!" He let his own emptied weapon drop from his shaking grip and scrabbled for his communicator. It was shot through, forcing him to loot the body of his opponent. "W-watch C-c-captain Haal t-to any receiver! Urgent, re- repeat! Urgent! Transp-port ambushed. All... all hands... lost..."
With his final breath spent, Haal collapsed into the dirt. His single, artificial eye stared unblinking at the sun above, gazing into the light until the mercy of unconsciousness took him. Then, in the blink of an eye, the sun was gone. It had been replaced by a luminary strip of cool, off-blue light, bolted to a scaffold of black metal and granite-grey ceiling panels. Somewhere to his left there was a great deal of commotion; voices talking with urgency in a babble of medical non-words. Haal raised his head cautiously, feeling light-headed and floaty, and slowly examined the new surrounds. The voices were coming from behind a yellow medical curtain at his ten o'clock, with the bed to his nine and twelve left empty. A medical bay, it seemed safe to presume, one that was both alien and familiar at the same time. He still couldn't pin down what was wrong until his face began to itch, compelling him to blink. He blinked, blinked again, and then with a rapidity born of surprise he flung his paws up to his face.
Most of the world promptly vanished from sight, and when he lowered his left paw a transparent ghost of a paw remained floating in his vision. He repeated the action with his right paw, and then tried blinking alternate eyes, laughing aloud at the change in vision. "I have eyes!" he squeaked, and the voice that came from his throat caused him to startle yet again. He tilted his head up towards the light and peered at it, closing one eye, then the other, and finally both. The light remained, only now it was a thin red strip floating in the air above him, bleeding into orange, yellow and green. "Heat!" he laughed. "I can sense heat again!"
With a new sense rediscovered, Haal took that moment to examine his body more carefully. Someone had removed his clothes and dressed him in the thin white clothes of a medical patient. The bed he occupied was unusually large, which sent a prickle of suspicion through him. He began to grope his body and found no mane, tail tuft or other growths of pubic fur, prompting a final check of his paws, which revealed silver runes denoting Medicalos status. "Oh," he whispered to himself. "Well, that explains a great deal."
The revelatory stupor was broken by an ear-splitting shriek from his right. Haal snapped around and saw the girl from the transport. She had recovered from her drugged torpor and discovered the cost of her interrogation. Her arms had been removed just above the elbow, and judging by her howling, she had been completely unaware of this until that moment. An orderly appeared at once, a Dawnsider woman who Haal didn't recognise because of the clinical wrap over her muzzle, and tried to soothe the petrified Penitatas, bringing her down from hysterical to quiet whimpering with a few shushed words and tender contact. Then, much to Haal's annoyance, the woman left again without a word.
Rankled by the lack of attention, Haal decided to slip from his bed and approach the girl. Unfortunately, the floor was much further away than he remembered, and his legs far less stable. His pads touched the tiles and he went over, arms and tail splayed out in a desperate attempt to rebalance, but that served only to turn his fall into a prolonged stagger, broken by the bed of his fellow Rejuve. He gave a startled gasp as his shoulder hit the metal rail of the bed's edge and he crumpled onto the ground, teeth chattering from the sudden adrenal spike. His eyes flicked up to find the blonde girl's muzzle pointed down towards him. "Don't say anything," he growled, and pulled himself back to his feet. Pausing to rub at his eyes, he added, "My name is Watch-Captain Haal. I was tasked by Corrector-Captain Kadan to keep you safe."
"Who took my arms?" the girl whimpered in reply, offering the bandaged stumps toward him.
Haal peered at her for some time, eyes squinting as he took in the details of her face. When the Penny leaned away slightly he gave an awkward cough. "My eyes are new," he offered by way of explanation. "You look different to the last time I saw you, Samantha."
"It's just 'Sam'," Sam answered. "Nobody calls me 'Samantha' unless I'm in trouble."
"Well, Sam, your arms were removed because you were implanted with a sophisticated bio-weapon. I believe the weapon is neutralised now, and following your interrogation you have been deemed an innocent party. You are innocent, are you not?" Haal added, unable to resist the opportunity to perform his own interrogation.
Sam became immediately emotional, trembling at the mere suggestion of her guilt. "Of course I am! Brunnel told me I had some sort of Rejuve-radiation poisoning! He pretended to want to help and then he... he did this to me!" she once again showered her severed limbs and began to sob again.
"Stop that at once!" Haal spat, but where as a man his croaking voice had been menacing, as a child it was merely nasal and whiny. "Crying will accomplish nothing!"
"What else am I meant to do?" Sam snapped back. "I know where I am! This is Black Pit! You're going to throw me into a cell and leave me there to rot!"
The shouting brought the attention of the orderly once more, who stepped over to check on Sam and trying to calm her once more. This time, she decided to take a chemical approach, persuading the girl to lie back so a cannula could be applied. A mild sedative was added to the saline, and satisfied this would stop the noise the orderly then turned to Haal. "Good to see you're up and about," she said pleasantly.
The boy stiffened. "Good to see you are up and about Watch-Captain," he corrected with a sharp bark that was utterly ignored.
"Watch-Captain, I'm afraid Tadr requires our attention. His condition is critical, and we're hoping to avoid making a second Medicalos. Please try not to antagonise the girl, and rest yourself as best you can. We'll be with you as soon as Tadr is stable."
"I understand," Haal said, accepting the explanation for the lack of attention given toward him. "What became of the driver... Yalif?"
The orderly's hesitation told him all he needed to know. "She was dead on arrival, Watch-Captain. Shot three times at point-blank range. Excuse me." With that, she once again vanished behind the curtain.
Reluctantly, Haal returned to his bed. This proved more difficult than expected, as even as an adult his foot-paws would not have touched the ground, but with a few false starts he scrabbled back onto the thin, sterile sheets and wriggled under them. The pillow was a cool blue to his thermal-sense, which he savoured having been denied it for so long. Idly, he began to rub his own face, smiling at the feeling of fur beneath his fingertips. He was no-longer a scarred monstrosity, but a healthy, normal child again! The thought made him giddy, yet it wasn't a happy giddy. A tingling sensation crept across Haal's muzzle, and his probing fingers touched around his eyes, coming away damp. "How typical," he whispered bitterly to himself, "I have a new pair of eyes, and they are already malfunctioning." Then he wiped his tears away with the back of his paw and tried to nap.
Watch-Captain Haal could only stand to be in the infirmary for so long. Besides, he reasoned, his mind was unblemished by the ordeal of rejuvenation, and most of his day to day duties were mental ones; studying reports, handling transfer requests, catching up on minutes of meetings and so on. Unfortunately for the Medicalos, the office was not as familiar as he'd hoped. The furniture was now too large for him, and it took several undignified minutes of grunting and scrabbling to reorder his office properly so he could work. After that, he settled down to survey his messages. The backlog was manageable, although reading the report of the betrayal and his own near-death was a disquieting experience. He chose not to dwell on the matter and instead sought the comfort of the "seconded" folder. Protocols - his protocols, he'd implemented them personally - required the station's senior officer be seconded in all official communication, no matter how mundane. Sorting algorithms divided this information into various sub-folders, allowing Haal to view the day's missives by section, type and priority.
He paused, studying the folder for a time, and allowed his mind to return once more to the unpleasant topic of his close call with death. "Compose message. Recipient: All Senior Staff. Subject: Security Protocol Update. Body Text: Watch-Captain Haal to all senior officers and personnel. In light of our recent betrayal, I suggest immediate updating of communication protocols. All communication, internal or external, should hereafter be seconded to no less than two senior personnel and / or dedicated cyber-security units. Compose and prepare suggestions for best implementation for review by zero-nine-zero-zero tomorrow morning. End message." The voice-recognition software compiled and sent off his communication to the intended parties, and the Medicalos took a moment to enjoy the simple satisfaction of a task undertaken. A weakness had been exposed and would be sealed. The Watch would grow stronger from his misfortune.
He'd barely had time to read through the shift-change notifications when a knock on his door demanded attention. In stepped the broad, aging figure of Okad, his second in command. "Good to see you're up, Haal, but you are supposed to be in medical."
"I gave myself permission to leave, and that is 'Watch-Captain Haal', Station-Commander!" Haal replied, his fur bristling at the insult delivered by the improper greeting.
The old Dawnsider sighed. It was a heavy sound, one he'd clearly grown accustomed to making. "I knew you'd be difficult, Haal. You're such a stickler for rules and regulations, but you were never going to follow a rule that took away a sliver of your authority."
An icy dagger of fear plunged itself into Haal's gut, and he couldn't help but gasp in shock. "You're part of the conspiracy against me! You're one of the traitors!"
The accusation was a slap across Okad's face. "What? Gods, no! Haal, you're suspended on medical grounds! You should be dead; you bled out on the operating table, and it was only because of that emergency rejuvenator that you're here at all! Given the mess they made of taking out your implants, it's a bloody miracle you're not brain damaged."
"I do not recognise your authority to suspend me," Haal growled in reply, visibly shaking from the emotional overload as his mind lurched from fear to anger and back.
Okad gave another impatient grunt. "Any personnel subject to extreme physical or psychological trauma shall be immediately subject to suspension of rank and authority, pending evaluation by a senior medical officer-"
"-which shall be cosigned by the Watch-Captain, their Station-Commander or, if neither is available, a Station-Commander of another station of the Office of the Watch, or an equivalent officer or more senior officer from an alternative sub-office of the Guild of Enforcers, or from the Guild of Enforcers' primary command structure." Haal finished the quotation. "I'm well-aware of the rule, Station-Commander Okad. I composed it myself."
"Well, it's good to see your memory is still top-notch," Okad chuckled. "Does this mean that you accept your suspension? Please, Haal, go back to medical."
Haal sniffled and rubbed at his eyes, cursing the tears he found there. "My eyes won't stop itching... very well, Station-Commander, I shall return to the infirmary on one condition: I want you to send a request to the Guilds chief surgeon and the Guildmaster herself challenging your refusal to reinstate me. Once I receive confirmation of this correspondence, I will do as you ask."
"May I use your terminal?" Okad stepped forward behind the desk, switched user accounts and filled out the official request, doing so absolutely to the letter and with an exhaustive attention to unnecessary detail, just to make sure it was exactly as Haal wished it. Then he allowed the former Watch-Captain to check he had received his own copies. "There. I've done my part, now will you come along?"
Sulking, Haal obeyed. He was thankful that Okad didn't escort him the whole way, allowing the Medicalos to pretend that he was returning to his hospital bed of his own volition. He hopped onto the clean sheets and rubbed at his eyes again, fighting the need to whimper like a cub. His chest was tight, his stomach in knots, and his head was pounding. Worst of all, he knew he was being stupid; he should never have made Okad issue the challenge! But in the moment, he'd felt so certain he would win. He laughed out loud at the childish stupidity - the very act of crying foul was proof he was unfit for work!
"What's so funny?" Sam asked, catching Haal's attention. The girl looked utterly miserable, and there was a hunger for attention in her eyes.
Haal shook away the question. "I'm just starting to realise how big a change being a Medicalos truly is. It seems I won't be going back to work for a while after all."
"What about me? Will I be going home soon?" the girl's voice trembled at the question. Haal looked away in the hope his face wouldn't betray the answer.
"We want to get you out of here as soon as possible," he said carefully. "However, these things take time. I have to ask you to be patient."
Sam nodded, accepting the answer even if she disliked it. "You're staying here a while, aren't you? I don't like being left on my own."
"I haven't been given much choice," Haal sighed as he lay back and stared up at the ceiling. He was restless now, and that was an unfamiliar sensation; for twenty years he'd succeeded in filling his life with activity and purpose, and now he had nothing to occupy the body or the mind. Nothing, that is, save the criminal he'd been charged with protecting, and who was now responsible in part for his current predicament. He paused, snarling at the thought that had come unbidden to his mind, and huffed angrily once more at how childish he had become. The charge had not been the one to blame, and the guilty party - or at least, their agent - was now dead. Why blame the girl? He may as well blame Corrector-Captain Kadan for issuing the request, or himself for accepting it.
"Are you okay?" Sam asked cautiously. Haal paused. He turned towards her puzzled, and the girl explained, "you were squirming and muttering to yourself."
"Oh. I didn't realise," Haal answered, unable to hide his embarrassment. "Being a rejuve is all new to me."
Sam gave Haal an unhappy sigh and nodded, "I know, and I'm sorry. It does get easier though. Well, it doesn't for me, but for everyone else they seem to get their lives back in order quickly enough. For me, everything just goes from bad to worse..."
The boy turned away, stewing in his thoughts. 'From bad to worse'. The words stuck in his mind like a shard of glass; it so neatly summed up his present situation, lurching from near-death to antagonising his colleagues. Suddenly, his confidence left him, and he was self-aware enough to know that something was deeply wrong with him. His older self was never this flappable!
While the pair of rejuves wrestled with their personal thoughts they were joined by the base's surgeon, a thin and world-weary Dawnsider known by the Watch - but not Haal - as "Yet Another" Ban, a nickname earned from being the third Ban to join the Watch in the space of a year when he was first posted to the facility four years ago. He had a pleasant smile and a kindly manner about him, which seemed to Sam to be out of place in an organisation like the Watch. "Glad to see you looking well, sir. I hope you won't take offense if I tend to the girl first?"
"Of course not, Surgeon Ban," Haal replied, correct and proper as ever, and quietly pleased with being called 'sir'.
Accepting the permission, Ban turned to Sam and gave her a friendly grin. "Let's start with the good news, yes? You appear to be in fine health, and I am hoping to get you discharged back to the custody of your mother as soon as the Guild is satisfied your home is safe for your return. I hear tell you have friends in high places, so I doubt it will be much longer."
Sam's face lit up at the news. "Really? Thank you!"
The doctor raised a paw for calm. "Now there is one other matter, and it concerns your amputations. I don't know how familiar you are with rejuvenation, but the process could be used to restore your lost limbs. However, this would also revert you to a child of three years old, which would naturally place even more limitations on your physical, and likely mental abilities as well. There is also another concern; namely, you would then be too young to undergo any further rejuvenation procedures until you had aged back to six. There are some findings that suggest rejuvenation to two from age five is possible, but it is ill-advised. In short, we want to keep the option for emergency rejuvenation open in the event of an emergency, and so we have decided not to use the procedure to treat your condition."
The rejuve girl nodded shyly. The idea of being three again certainly had no appeal. "Then... what will happen to me?"
"I would recommend investigating a surgical option. There are-" the doctor began, only to be cut short by a tantrum.
"No! I don't want surgery again!" Sam cried, clearly distraught at the suggestion. The doctor quickly raised his paw once more for calm.
"Alright, calm down. I'm just providing options, not arranging procedures. This is all something you should speak to your parent about." Satisfied the girl wasn't going to give another outburst, Ban turned his attention at last to the former Watch-Captain. "Now, sir, we should consider your position. You may not feel much different than you were a few days ago, but our understanding of the impact of Rejuvenation is still developing. Our concerns come from the rapid deterioration of other Medicalos within the Guild; frequent issues with discipline, emotional instability, even outright dereliction at times. Some cope better than others, but none so far have emerged from the process unscathed, and a wider study of the populace seems to agree with that assessment."
"Then I have the singular honour of being the exception," Haal replied, setting himself as though he were an officer inspecting his men. Yet the façade clearly didn't convince the surgeon, whose skepticism was writ clear on his expression.
"With respect, sir, did you not make a rather extreme challenge upon being relieved? There's also the matter of your crying."
Haal's fur bristled at the statement. "I do not cry! I'm simply unused to these eyes, and they itch and water at inconvenient times!"
"Such as when you aren't getting your own way? Your body is more honest than you are, I think. Under the skin, you know what I'm saying is true."
To his shame, Haal actively tried to hide his muzzle. He paused, paws raised, and snarled at himself for the stupidity of the act. Worst of all, his eyes began to itch again. "I... I am merely concerned about the future of the Watch. We had a traitor in our midst, and I have been unseated at the very instant that my leadership is needed! I fear the coming catastrophe this will bring, that is all."
The doctor gave a warm smile, and act that made Haal's fur bristle with anger. "Isn't it a little arrogant to assume the Watch cannot survive without you? Given your age, your prior age that is, did you not think preparations had been made for your... departure? You were forty-eight, Haal. Frankly, it was a miracle you were as physically and mentally capable as you were, but we all knew the decline was due."
"Yes..." Haal said in a barely-heard whisper. That single word was all he could muster when confronted by his impending mortality. In truth, it was a subject he'd never given much thought to. He confessed as much, and found himself taken aback by the apparent blindspot in his own thoughts.
"We have a lot to talk about," Ban said kindly. "Perhaps we should speak in private?"
"I'm not squeamish, nor am I embarrassed by my record," Haal insisted, even as his paws wrung and his tail fell flat. "Just say your peace and leave us be so I can... so I can focus on something important!"
"Alright, I will give you the bluntness you give everyone else. You are likely to experience significant personality shifts now that you've been rejuvenated. We'll need to get you to a hospital and run thorough tests to be certain, but based on cases I've read the rejuvenation will have fixed your neurological damage."
"I know that already. My thermal sense has been restored," Haal answered, but the doctor shook his head in response.
"The implant you were given was chosen for a reason. You lost your eyes and thermocular tissues, but you also lost key areas of the brain required to process visual stimuli. The surgeons had to repurpose one sense to restore the other. Honestly, it was a miracle of medicine that you recovered as well as you did. Now I'm sure you can imagine the extent of the damage you must have suffered if such a process was used-"
"I've heard quite enough!" Haal snapped, physically shaking with anger at the calm pronouncements of the doctor. "I lived through all that once, and I have nothing to gain in going through it all again!"
Ban shot back firmly, "That's where you're wrong. Now, at last, you actually have the means to process your trauma! You were damaged, Haal! In some ways, the damage made you perfectly suited to the duties required of you, but it took far more than you ever acknowledged. I think it took away your ability to feel. Now, you're feeling all the time, like everyone else, and that's why you keep crying."
"I keep crying because I'm as much a prisoner as the convicts!" Haal responded, barking out his words loud enough that the on-duty nurse paused to watch. "You forced this upon me! You turned me into a child and you robbed me of my position, my life's work! Everything I've ever done is now stripped away and I am forced to endure, to stand by and witness all I have ever dreamed of fall to ruin at the hands of lesser men! You inflicted a living death upon me and you mock me for weeping? I know which of us is damaged, doctor! I know who is truly the monster here! Get out!"
The final words echoed through the room as Haal's jaw convulsed and his body spasmed. Silent tears streaked his fur, but the intensity of his anger and pain was such that it choked his cries of anguish before they could be made. Ban briefly wondered if, true to his old self, Haal was simply throttling his own weakness through sheer force of will. "I'll trespass no more," he said quietly, and swiftly backed away to allow the Medicalos to deal with his thoughts as he wished to. With the doctor's back turned, Haal staggered like a drunk against the bedside cabinet in which Sam's meagre belongings had been stored and slid onto the hard floor, gasping and panting as body and mind fought one another for supremacy. It took a long time for the red-faced, tearful child's panting and shaking to subside, and Sam watched mutely though every second of it.
At long last, Haal's muzzle twitched toward the Penitatas girl, and his reddened eyes flinched with shame at seeing her staring. "I guess being a Medicalos isn't so different from being a Penitatas, in some ways," she said awkwardly.
"Apparently not," Haal grumbled as he picked himself up and struggled into his cot. "I am tired," he added, rolling onto his side so she wouldn't see his face, and pulled the covers up tight to try and conceal his weeping.
It was a clear day, warm for the season and growing warmer by the hour. Haal stood under the harsh sun with his eyes squinted, cursing that he could no-longer adjust his sensitivity to light by thought alone. Beside him, with a Nightsider of the Watch right behind her, Sam seemed to be actively enjoying the unwelcome glare, going as far as to smile. A short distance away, Corrector-Captain Kadan stood by an armoured grav-car painted in the livery of the Banking Guild, who somehow always managed to obtain the most secure airborne vehicles. "Protocol requires a ground vehicle. Even a reinforced grav-car is far more easily disabled. With two officers aboard, this is an unacceptable slip in standards!"
"Who are you talking to, Haal?" Okad asked, appearing at the child's right side.
The Medicalos huffed. "Myself, apparently, for all the difference it makes. You'd no-doubt ignore me if I pointed out-"
"-that security protocols of the Watch require the use of a more heavily armoured transport? I'm fully aware, Haal, but under the circumstances speed will provide greater security. A decoy vehicle will depart in three minutes and there are security arrangements along the route. If a move is made against us, we will counter-move before your transport touches soil, and we will turn the waste to glass in the process."
Haal glanced up at the man and smiled. "I..." he quickly wiped the smirk away and stood to attention. "Your proposal is satisfactory, Acting Watch-Captain Okad."
Okad chuckled, "the first thing to go around here is your overly formal method of address. We're going to call each other by name without acknowledging rank in every conversation. I bet you'll wake up screaming at the thought."
"The Watch was my life," Haal replied quietly without taking his eyes of the waiting car. "I refused to be defined by my injuries. I refused to be some hideous monster consigned to the Black Pit with the rest of society's dross. I demanded history define me by my achievements, by the Office of the Watch. I was Watch-Captain; the first, and sometimes I feared I would be the last. Whatever came after I was gone, I wanted that to be my legacy - the Office made flesh. Watch-Captain Haal, defined by and defining a station that was created as a way to cast out the Guild's unworthy, and forged into the paragon of what the Guild should be."
Okad rapped Haal on the shoulder to get his attention, then took four long strides backwards, came to attention and threw a salute so sharp it could have cut steel. "Watch-Captain Haal, pursuant to article fourteen, section one, sub-section six of the operational codes of the Office of the Watch, operational sub-division of the Guild of the Lord Governor's Agents of Enforcement, fully ratified and in true and proper service of the First House, and the duly appointed Lord Governor of Taviksaad: I, Station-Commander Okad, son of Lineman First-Rate: Lieutenant-posthumous Harnr, son of Vaanat, do hereby assert that, through due process of extraordinary circumstance, Watch-Captain Haal is to be honourably discharged from his station and the Office of the Watch, and all official records shall confirm the honourable discharge and shall permanently affix the honourary rank of Watch-Captain to the aforementioned records, and should the consent of Watch-Captain Haal be given, I shall, pending approval of the Guildmaster or an equivalent authority of the Guild, adopt the rank and station of Watch-Captain of the Office of the Watch, and all duties, responsibilities and privileges of that rank, which I shall carry out to the best of my ability until death or discharge, voluntarily, honourable or dishonourable, is undertaken or forced upon me via due processes detailed within the operational codes of the Office of the Watch."
A pause followed the announcement, filled only with the soft chatter of Haal's teeth as he wept. Then, to his own surprise as much as anyone's he blurted out a short laugh before shocking himself back to silence. With precise care, he came to attention and returned Okad's salute. "I, Watch-Captain Haal, being of sound mind and judgement, do hereby consent to the actions of Station-Commander Okad and acknowledge, as my last act as Watch-Captain, his authority and duty to execute this transition of authority. Let the record be amended accordingly. Carry on, Watch-Captain Okad!" Then followed a final exchange of salutes, and it seemed as though a weight fell from Haal's shoulders as he sagged, gasping and panting. Formality forgotten, Okad put a kind paw upon the back of his head and led the boy towards Kadan and the car, with Sam and her escort close behind. The Corrector-Captain opened his muzzle to pass comment, then seemingly thought better of it and merely stood back to allow his rejuve passengers to board.
"Skal isn't here," he added as he followed them in and took his seat, seeing the disappointment on Sam's face. "We've got a lot of changes going on at home and you're going to be a part of them. The good news is you'll be seeing a lot more of Skal. The bad news is you won't be allowed to stay with your mother. It's not safe enough."
Sam nodded slowly in reply. "I... I get it. I can still see her, right?" she asked, her voice etched with concern for her adoptive parent.
"Of course she can visit. You'll be moving into a new home, a secure one within pissing distance of the Hall of Corrections, so if anyone tries to come after you they'll be met with blood and fury. It might not be as fancy as your old home, especially not at first, but I'm sure you'll settle in just-"
Kadan was cut short by a shriek from Haal, who had gone deathly pale and clung tightly to his restraint harness. "W-was it supposed to jolt like that?" the Medicalos asked.
"What? It's take-off, Haal! You've flown before!" the captain barked, realising too late the cause of the rejuve's fear. "Gods... I'm sorry, Haal. Stupid of me not to think. Okad told you about the security measures, right? You are safer than the Lord-Governor right now."
"The last one was assassinated none too recently!" Haal protested in reply. Sam winced as if struck at his comment.
"Alright, let's take your mind off it. Tell me about the future, Haal. What are you going to do now?"
The boy opened one eye, which swiveled towards Sam. "That depends on whether Sam is still under my care or not. Are you relieving me of her responsibility? For what it's worth, I would prefer to retain this duty. Certain things may have revealed certain things in Sam's presence that I would rather not share, but... I might wish to discuss them later. I also find myself concerned for her welfare."
Kadan gave a low chuckle, "Blood and Iron! Haal, have you somehow made a friend? This is a day of miracles! Alright, I think we can come to an arrangement there. How does 'Corrector Haal' sound to you?"
"Like a demotion," Haal muttered.
"You're supposed to say 'thank you' when someone's nice to you!" Sam scolded to the surprise of both her traveling companions. "Kadan is making sure you get to be part of the Enforcers still, like you wanted!"
The Medicalos blushed at the scolding. "I... thank you, Corrector-Captain Kadan."
Kadan huffed out another chuckle, "Oh we are going to have to do something about that bloody formality of yours. Alright, Haal, let me get you up to speed..."
The Office of Correctors was now an actual office. The Guild had acquired the old, walled-off building that had once been the headquarters of the Housing Co-operative, although the building was of too high a quality to have been built by them. It was tall and narrow, with artistic stylings and a black-slate roof that suggested it had been meant as a townhouse before being walled in on its own tiny plot of land. Old, thick cables ran from the the building the city dome to link to a private communications antenna, and the black plastic cables had somehow acquired a pair of dirty white running shoes that dangled by their bootlaces four floors up. The proud title "OFFICE OF CORRECTORS" gleamed in fresh paint above the main door, but the older name was still carved into the capstones that flanked the entrance gate.
Kadan led the Medicalos into the entrance way, and the first thing that struck them was how vertical the building was. Travel up and down seemed to be done primarily via the stairs on the right of the building, but on the floors above reaching them required walking all the way around the landings that overlooked the main room to ascend. It was only the presence of an elevator on the opposite side that promised to cut the journey time down to something sensible, but the displays were unpowered. Kadan gestured upwards and said, "The building was divided in two back when it belonged to the Co-op. Ground, first and floor was for office space; second, third and loft were for living in. Long term, we're likely to try and recreate that, unless we get swamped with people actively wanting to live here. No plans for cells mind, that's all staying down the road. Head on up to the third."
The pair did as they were told, marching round and round the building until they emerged onto the target floor. They stepped out onto course rubber sheeting; the zig-zag patterned carpet that sullied the lower floors had been expunged here, leaving the support boards and their many upward pointing exposed. "We're sorting that, just watch your step," Kadan said as he picked a room halfway round the circuit. "This will be your room. I know we have no shortage of space, but I want you doubled up. Skal will be with me on the floor below."
"Skal's going to live here too?" Sam asked as she was ushered into the painfully bleak bedroom. The walls had been painted recently enough that the scent had yet to fade, despite the efforts of the wall vent. Sam's eyes took in the grey carpet, the cream walls and the plain white bedding on both military-grade cots. There was one wardrobe was made of transparent plastic with child-safe coat hangars inside, and on the opposite wall was more storage made of sturdy, but lightly-dented metal. The worst aspect was the window; there were bars on the inside.
"Yes he is. This is our new home, cheery as it is. There's a lot of work to do, so I hope you enjoy decorating. There's one other thing, Sam. Look here." Kadan tapped the doorframe to bring her attention to a short, black line in the frame at shoulder height for an adult man. "In an hour, the Guild is sending a doctor to get you chipped. Monitor bars like this are set through the building so your movements can be tracked. If you are somewhere you are not supposed to be, we will know and there will be consequences. This is coming from the highest office, demanded as a condition of you being brought back to the City at all. Try to think of it as being for your own protection, so we know nobody can take you without our knowledge."
"Yes sir," Sam mumbled, staring at the inconspicuous little strip of metal as though it were a gallows noose.
"I'll get a control unit for you, Haal, so you can escort her around as needed. Now, let me show you somewhere that you are allowed to be, at least some of the time."
From the dreary room, Kadan took the pair upstairs to a place that couldn't have been more different. Boxes of various sizes were stacked haphazardly about, with some open and unpacked. Sam immediately recognised one of her mother's suitcases, which someone had turned into a table for a board game. Judging by the arrangement of the pieces, it had been abandoned toward the end of play. There were bean-bags and old duvets used to make a sitting area in the corner beneath a bare lightbulb, with a well-used datapad charging on a power pad next to it. "Welcome to 'the den', or the start of it. It seemed a smart idea to put the play area as far from everything else as possible, seeing how bloody annoying you children can be. There's a latrine through that door at the back, but headroom's an issue. The kitchen is tiny, but good enough for lunches I suppose. This is where you can have fun, but it's also where you'll face discipline; when you get spanked, your crying won't disturb the rest of the building so much. Bad Pennys get to watch their friends have fun while their backside burns. Understand?"
"I do, sir!" Sam answered, quietly cursing how a room that had looked so promising had suddenly become a place of dread. As he spoke, Kadan had gestured behind her, and lurking in the shadows was one of the damned pointy stools invented for no other purpose than making a Penitatas as sore and sorry as possible.
This anxiety clearly wasn't missed by Kadan, who turned to Haal and grinned, "Alright, Corrector Haal, your first duty is up! Keep her entertained until Skal gets home. She's not to leave the attic, but that's the only rule I'm giving you. Try to have some fun yourself; Gods know you've been miserable enough the past twenty years!"
Haal watched his superior descend, then turned awkwardly to face Sam. "I must confess, I'm not an expert on having fun. What should we do first?"
Sam blushed, "I need your help with something first, before we play." Haal noted how she subtly squirmed, and blushed in turn. He took her by the arm towards the latrine where, without speaking or making eye contact, he helped remove her pants and stood just outside, watching through the open door and looking extremely uncomfortable about it as the Penny girl squatted down. "Could you close the door?"
Haal glanced at the lock and seemed unhappy with what he found. "This door can be locked from the inside. Regulations do not permit this in a convict's latrine. The door has to stay open."
Resigned to her fate, Sam at least took comfort in seeing Haal was as unhappy with the arrangement as she was. The girl recalled similar comments from her own mother, reminding her that as a Penitatas she wasn't allowed to lock doors for privacy anymore. Once finished, Sam stood up and stepped toward the tiny sink, only to remember washing her hands was no-longer something she had to do. She turned instead to Haal, who understood the request in her dampening eyes and made her decent once more. "I'm sorry about this," Sam sighed. "I can't imagine you want to be feeding me or cleaning me up."
"I am not one to complain about my duties," Haal replied in the tone of someone who dearly wished to. "Now, unless there's something seriously wrong with you I imagine we have time to play a game of some sort? I think I remember how to play Eight Man Hunt."
"Actually, could I have some of my regular clothes? Or at least my underwear?" Sam looked down at her Penny-issue paper clothes for emphasis, and with a brief nod and a bit of direction Haal found an outfit in the suitcase; pink girls panties with a button on the back for a tail, which he held up and studied with some confusion before adding them to the pile; a white cotton shirt with spring flower pattern; and a pair of black shorts. He helped her change without showing any interest in her anatomy beyond ensuring the clothes fit and fastened correctly, and even took a moment to smooth out some errant fur before standing back to admire his handiwork.
"I can say from experience you no-longer look like a convict of any stripe. I still think Penitatas should have a uniform of sorts, but my input was never important to the Corrector-Captain."
"Then why did he want you to look after me?" Sam asked in reply to the unprompted comment.
Haal shrugged, "I suppose it was my reputation. I do my duty, Saman- pardon. I do my duty, Sam, and I have always expected excellence of everyone, myself included. Even an assassin with a two-shot advantage cannot stop me from completing my task."
Sam's eyes flicked away at the comment. She bit her lip awkwardly before glancing back. "You took a bullet for me?"
"Two," Haal grimaced. He cleared his throat more loudly than necessary and hastily added, "but I don't know for certain he was after you! It could well be that I was-" the explanation was cut short as Sam stepped forward and, to Haal's horror, kissed him on the nose.
"Thank you," she whispered. "I... I want to repay you for saving me."
"T-that would be difficult, given your lack of assets," Haal stammered, his face turning bright crimson at the unexpected affection.
Sam glanced downward, biting her lip once more. "We're alone for an hour, right? You could... I can offer you my... my body."
"That would be in violation of a number of op-perational codes of-of the Office of the Watch... which don't apply here... b-but it also-" he trailed off as Sam looked up into his eyes, trembling and as ashamed as he was flustered.
"I won't tell anyone if you won't," she said quietly, shifting so her legs were slightly wider apart. "I-if you're scared the doctor will notice something, I broke my hymen during the Revelry last year."
"P-p-penitatas Samantha! This is not acceptable behaviour! You will desist immediately o-or I... I will be forced to apply d-discipline!" Haal squeaked, staggering back as if struck. His footpaw struck the suitcase and he tumbled over, hitting the floor hard and cradling his head as Sam hurried over, bleating out apologies. "Stop! I'm fine!" he barked as he struggled upright again.
"I'm sorry!" the Penny girl answered. "I don't know why I did that! I felt like I owed you something and... and I know it was stupid, but... but it's all I could think of!"
"Bribing a member - oh forget it, it's not like you care. Sam, I... the illegality aside, it has been a long time since a female has offered herself to me. In truth, I haven't felt any interest in women, or men for that matter, in as long as I can remember. Not since I was injured, not even when the damned Revelry turned everyone else into sex-crazed animals."
"You mean you lost your ability to... become aroused?" Sam asked, making Haal blush even more.
"I suppose I did. I never gave it any thought. Blood and Iron! I haven't felt the slightest stirring in twenty years and I didn't even notice! I remember I used to be popular with women, so much so that... well, suffice to say I had an above-average number of partners, not that I mean to brag." Haal stopped as Sam once more drew uncomfortably close.
The girl gave another shy smile and a playful bite of her lower lip. "Then... let me say 'thank you' by helping you find that part of yourself again. I... I'll let you do whatever it takes for you to feel like a man again."
The manner in which Haal paused told Sam he was at least considering the offer. She lowered herself to the floor and spread her legs, showing off her crotch in a wordless invitation. Haal, trembling, knelt down and slowly eased down the shorts and panties he'd helped put on just minutes ago, this time paying careful attention to what he'd previously ignored to save her modesty. For a time he simply stared at the pink slit, framed by the unusual sight of blonde fur as opposed to the more normal brown or grey, watching as Sam's feminine parts twitched with embarrassment under his gaze and grew hot to his thermal sense. He leaned in close, accidentally brushing his nose against her clitoris, and breathed. Instantly, sparks flared inside his head, triggering parts of his mind that had been lost or damaged beyond repair, now restored by Rejuvenation. "This... this feels exciting," he whispered as he took another sniff of her feminine scent. The awkward comment made Sam smile, and that in turn made his heart beat a little faster.
"You can do more than sniff, if you like?" Sam offered as her legs twitched in time with the boy's huffing breaths against her intimate area. To her surprise, Haal pulled away rather than plunge on. His eyes lingered on her body, his focus fixed on a single, guilty droplet of moist excitement that snuck from her labia and ran down toward her tailhole. The expression he made was one of hunger, and his tongue poked from his lips just a fraction as if he planned to plunge in and feast, but instead he turned aside.
"I-I think we've done quite enough," he told the wall, covering his mouth with a paw as he blushed all the more. "I'm not a fool, Sam; I don't need to ask who relieved you of your virginity. Whilst a certain promiscuity might be accepted during the Revelry, I do not wish to make things difficult. We are both going to have to share a house with Prospect Skal and Corrector-Captain Kadan, and... and if there is to be any... physicality..." he paused his flailing attempt at an explanation and, at last, looked Sam in the eyes once more. "Truth be told, the mind is more willing than the body at the moment. But rest assured, the mind was absolutely willing. Thank you for that, at least.
"My pleasure," Sam chuckled, closing her legs to finally end their exchange of intimacy, which seemed to relieve Haal no end. With only a slight hesitation, he made the girl decent once more and helped her to her feet, looking and acting far more like an excitable child than before as he once more asked how they should play together. They quickly lost themselves in Eight Man's Hunt, a game which Sam could play by verbal instruction, and were both happily laughing away when Kadan came to fetch her. The doctor's visit involved nothing worse than a brief, if painful injection of a tracker into the base of the neck, and then the doctor was gone.
"Sam, listen carefully," Kadan said to her, making it clear from his tone he meant business, "from now on, you are monitored. You may not leave the building without permission, and you'll do so under escort. I'm having a timetable set up to allow or restrict access to rooms based on time of day, but unless told otherwise you are to stay on the top two floors and the attic only. You are at no point to have access to anyone's bedroom but your own, and past lights out you are forbidden from leaving your room. These rules apply from now on. If you trespass at any point, then you will be confined to your room - chained to the bed if needs be - and you will lose any right to visits from friends or your mother. I've also made it clear to Skal that if he ever sets food in your room he's getting a chip of his own. You may have been found innocent, but you have still made some extremely powerful enemies, Sam; you can forget having anything resembling freedom for a long, long time."
In reply, the little Kyyreni girl merely whimpered, brought to the edge of tears by Kadan's words. Satisfied the message was received, he added, "Alright. Skal is downstairs. I've explained what's happened to him as best I can. Haal, if they want some privacy, give it to them. No argument." Without bothering to receive confirmation, Kadan turned back to the stairs and called down, "Skal! Come on up!"
The boy emerged slowly, and the sight of Sam made him stop cold. The look of horror on the boy's face was more than enough to break the girl, who sobbed openly, prompting Skal to dart forward and embrace her. "Sam! I was so worried! I'm so glad you're okay!" he said, clinging to her as if he never planned to let go. Kadan quietly left without comment, leaving the three rejuves alone.
The two took wordless comfort from one another, happy to cry until they were both spent and silent. Haal merely sat back on the bean-bag and watched in silence, his mind fixed firmly on the earlier intimacy he'd shared with the girl, and how obviously others competed for her attention. He missed whatever was exchanged between them, seeing movement of the lips but reading no meaning and hearing no utterance. He could tell, as the nature of their embrace subtly shifted, that Sam was making some offer of physicality. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, the pair broke apart.
Skal came over to the quiet Medicalos, squatting in front of him in the reading nook beneath the heavily sloped roof. "Sam told me you almost died protecting her. I couldn't bear to lose her. I... I'll never be able to thank you enough."
"I was merely doing my duty," Haal replied as his gaze flicked to Sam. "Without wishing to cast judgement on your character, or hers, Sam has made it clear she has feelings for you. Corrector-Captain Kadan has also made it clear about your sharing of bedrooms. However, you are apparently free to play together here, and he did not explicitly forbid sexual relations..."
Skal paused, surprised by the comments. He glanced back towards Sam, who was blushing and biting her lip in a way that made his groin tingle. "Thank you," he said to Haal before hurrying over to Sam once more and holding her tightly yet again. This time, their embrace was punctuated by kissing and nipping at one another, as well as his paws being far more adventurous.
There was a brief pause in their affection. Skal had his back to Haal, and so the Medicalos missed whatever the boy said. However, he saw clearly Sam's reply as the girl was looking right at him when she spoke; "he's earned the right to watch."
Lights Out was imminent, and the fact that the lights were allowed to stay on ground against Haal's soul like broken glass. It was exactly the kind of sloppy labelling that the Watch would never have suffered! Still, he mused as he lay in his cot, being allowed to lie awake and read a little was not unpleasant, and he had a great many new rules and regulations to learn.
With less than a minute to spare, the bedroom door opened and Sam walked in wrapped in a towel. She gave Skal a goodnight kiss and ducked sharply back into the room. The boy, grinning ear to ear, stepped in to give another kiss and close the door behind him. The clock struck, a buzzer on the desk beside Haal's bed buzzed to confirm the change in Sam's restrictions, and the girl was locked in for the night. "You must be exhausted," Haal said a judgmental tone.
"Well, at least you didn't have to wash me, or help me with the latrine," Sam said.
Haal scoffed, "Was it even possible to scrub away the boy's scent?"
The Penny girl giggled at the comment. "Come over and find out?"
There was a pause as Haal stared unseeing at his pad. Then whatever thought had stalled him shifted and he quickly sat up. "Apologies, you'll need me to dress you and help you into bed." He got up, only to pause when he saw Sam biting her lip.
"Skal and I talked. He knows I love him, and I know he loves me. We're both a little possessive, but everyone fools around, right? Besides, we both owe you; You're a hero to us for saving my life, and heroes deserve a reward." Sam approached her roommate, her face lit with a strange mix of shyness and anticipation. "I know some guys, like Skal, are really into being dominant. You can dominate me, if you want to. After all, I'm a helpless little girl and you're a big, strong man who can force me to do whatever he wants..."
"No," Haal answered in a voice that was quiet, yet unshakably firm. "I'm not interested in conquests, Samantha. Nor do I want pity, nor am I a plaything. What we did before felt genuine to me, and... that is what I want. Something genuine."
Sam knelt against Haal's chest and made what sounded like a sigh of relief. "I was scared when I offered myself to you before. I didn't really want it, but I felt like I owed it to you. Then, when you opened up to me, when all you wanted to do was look and sniff... it was absolutely terrifying to be that vulnerable, but you made me feel safe. Now you've made me feel safe again." She nuzzled against his neck and added, "share a bed with me? I need to feel someone else against me. We... we can sleep nude, and if something happens, something we both want, then everyone's okay with that. Right?"
Haal closed his eyes and breathed deeply, taking in the flowery scent of the soap Skal had used to scrub her with. To be so potent he must have used far more than was strictly necessary, but the image of the two Penny's rutting like teens in heat came back to mind, and he decided overdoing it was probably required. Without a word, he untucked the towel and let it drop to the floor. Haal took a moment to admire the armless girl before him, enjoying how calmly she stood before him and how welcoming her stance was, with hips subtly thrust forward. He undressed in kind, choosing to throw his clothes on the floor instead of properly folding them as was proper, and then eased Sam into his bed.
The lights were turned off, and the pair snuggled together, warm under the thin sheets and comforted by the sight and touch of body heat. Sam lay facing him, muzzle resting on his neck and crotch pressed firmly to his. "This feels as though we're doing something wrong, something we shouldn't," he whispered. Sam replied with a subtle grinding against his sheath.
"We're Rejuves; the rules are still being written," she whispered back. "And you're still finding yourself again, right? So... ask for what you want. If it's something I want too, then we're both happy. Right?"
"I want to feel what I did before. I want... I want to breathe in your scent." Haal answered, and with a soft giggle Sam wriggled aside. Realising what she had planned, Haal helped shuffle her into place, with her muzzle over his sheath and her girlhood hovering in front of him. He wrapped his arms around her and pressed his nose to her slit, breathing deep. No amount of soap could hide the faint, yet unmistakable fragrance of a Kyyreni female. He sniffed deep again and startled as Sam's tongue caressed his boyhood, seeking to coax the tip free of its hiding place. "No, don't do that," he hissed, "I just want you to keep still... and let me explore."
Sam nodded and shifted position to rest her muzzle against him, her slow breathing tickling his sac but offering no active stimulation. Oddly contented at his partners passiveness, Haal returned his attention to her intimate area, savouring the strange, quiet fantasy he was able to indulge. The warmth and scent of a female filled him, her intimate fragrance soaking into his brain, growing more potent with each passing moment as he became more familiar with it. He touched his nose against her folds and felt a subtle wetness born of arousal, and at the same time felt Sam begin to nuzzle his thighs.
With his muzzle still pressed into her slit he asked, "when you offered to let me dominate you, is that because you enjoy being treated that way?" The girl gave a soft murring and rubbed her slit against his muzzle in reply. Haal smiled to himself. "Then I order you to keep still. If the Penitatas does not keep completely still then... how serious a punishment am I supposed to threaten you with?"
Sam nuzzled his thigh a little more, sensing his uncertainty. "If Skal wants me to misbehave, it'll be something to do with pee. He's into that stuff. He'd threaten to tie me up and force me to piss myself."
Haal softly nuzzled against Sam's slit, noting how she twitched with excitement at describing the 'punishment' Skal might inflict. "I know this sounds strange, but I really just want this. I don't want you to pleasure me. I just... I want to lose myself in this."
"Okay, then you lose yourself," she answered, and settled down to let Haal explore. He used his paw to gently part her folds and tease the pinkness inside with his nose, his tongue making slow, teasing laps of her clitoris on occasion to encourage her to twitch. He let his eyes slide closed as his mind lost focus and his mind became nothing but a haze of Sam's scent, and the blissful warmth his muzzle pressed against. The warmth spread through him, coursing down his chest, stomach and groin. He began to lap at her again, more forcefully and faster, encouraged by the subtle moaning from by his crotch and the tantalising way her crotch wiggled beneath his tongue. Sam's breathing became more urgent, her hot breath once more washing over his sac as she arced her back and tucked her muzzle against his groin. As she curled, the sensation rose from a pleasant tickle to an electric jolt as she found his swelling member. Her huffing on his hardening length spurred him on, and his blind lapping slowly fell into step with her clenching, the pair moving in sync as Sam's moans grew shamelessly loud.
He felt the girl tense sharply. Her girlhood tightened as if trying to swallow his muzzle, and with a gasp a small jet of fluid squirted into Haal's mouth. Sam buried her head against the mattress and moaned into it as her body shook from the orgasm, which Haal encouraged with gentle, circular licking of her clitoris until the sensation became so intense Sam tried to pull away. Instead, he pulled her closer, forcing the tip of his nose inside and stilling his tongue so he could bask in the hot, shameful scent of her climax while letting her ease back down to calm.
"Do you want me to pleasure you now?" Sam panted, giving a playful lick to the boy's length. It was quite hard, but his knot hadn't yet formed.
Haal forced Sam onto her side, snuggling against her with his muzzle still pressed between her legs. "The Penitatas will be silent," he purred.
"You really don't want a turn?" she asked, and Haal gave her a tight squeeze in reply.
"The Penitatas will be silent. The Penitatas will go to sleep now... or she will be forbidden from having sex with her lover for a month."
Sam giggled at the threat, "Yes sir. I'll keep still and go to sleep now, sir."
To Haal's surprise, the girl actually did as she was told, making herself as comfortable as she could and, it seemed, settling to sleep. The Medicalos basked in the warmth of her body next to his, savouring the distinctive scent of her climax that, with his head between her legs, was inescapable. The girl whose heart belonged to someone else. The girl who was his charge, with whom any kind of sexual activity broke any number of regulations. The girl who was almost helpless, and whose only real freedom was whether to consent, or not, to whatever treatment he or any other man chose to inflict upon her... and she had consented to this.
He began to lap at her slit once more; his little Penny prisoner wasn't going to get much sleep tonight.