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Cellulose & Steel	By : Not-Taylor Category: Misc Books > FemmeSlash Views: 1028 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own HDG or its characters and I don't make money from this work.

Chapter List
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The place Ides ended up after its jump isn’t much better. There’s still a cacophony of transmissions between different Affini ships and former Terran worlds. Everyone is sickeningly happy and every single human who’s talking has a xenodrug accent. Ides hates the sluggish drawl. It assumes that’s because so few of its race were willing to give up without a fight, or because they had to tightly control transmissions to prevent another rebellion. It has to believe that.
“Where could I possibly go? I don’t want to live alone and I can’t live with this weed inside me. I can’t go back. Now what?” That train of thought might depress Ides even more than its previous thoughts about Earth. Needing to get away and do something, it decides to head for the center of the Milky Way. At least that’s something wholly new and interesting to look at. It can’t think of anything better to do with itself. Without priming its plant passenger, the Ides of November engages its hyperdrive.
They go at a fairly relaxed pace. Calculating where to safely land takes time, and Ides doesn’t feel like rushing any more. There isn’t much of anywhere to go. It’s quite peaceful, in a sense. Or it would be peaceful if the pilot weren’t freshly aware of just how much had changed in the past years. But that doesn’t matter any more. At least Olivia is free. That’s all she wanted. It’s good enough, isn’t it?
This part of the galaxy is familiar. Ides recognizes the names of some of the stars from her last assignment. The charts show all the little anomalies that would affect her navigation, so it’s a lot easier to travel now. They pass by one of Terra’s first colonies. Ides wonders how the people are doing. She hopes they aren’t suffering too much from xeno occupation. On second thought, she hopes they’re suffering, because that’s more dignified and more human than the alternative.
It’s been so long since she’s been able to travel at speed. For years, literally, she had been trying to outmaneuver the Affini, hiding the evidence of her passing in any celestial body that was nearby. To be able to move openly and fearlessly is a wonderful thing. It’s also a much faster thing.
Ides remembers that it isn’t actually moving freely. As soon as somebody figures out that it isn’t going back it’ll return to being a fugitive, and this time one with nobody to call on for help or resources. Fuel is going to be very difficult to find, even compared to the end of the war.
That gets into long term planning, which Ides isn’t particularly ready to think about. Then it’ll start having to worry about nutrition supplements and worse, sleep. Isolation tanks only help so much with that. With literally nobody to keep watch, Ides will take a huge risk whenever it needs to restore its energy.
Brrrringgg!
A new signal startles the pilot from its thoughts. Ides hasn’t heard that subject code before. It’s not like the other Affini signals it knows and it doesn’t match any of Ides’s records for Terran hails. Plus, It’s really weak. It probably wouldn’t be detectable even a light year from here. So what is it? Ides can’t help listening to the contents.
“RCNS Ghost of Tomorrow transmitting: Mayday. All Affini vessels please respond. Assistance required.” That message repeats three times. “Our hyperdrive malfunctioned just outside Sol’s well. Life support is compromised. Estimated two Terran days remaining. Somebody please help.”
An Affini vessel sitting helplessly sounds delightful, though Ides is furious that it’s not possible to destroy it. But what’s RCNS? Rebellion Cosmic Navy ship? That doesn’t sound right. Why would they be calling the weeds for help? Are they scared of death? Ides thinks of jumping away, but can’t bring itself to do so. This situation is too strange, and there might be Terrans who need its help. There’s got to be an explanation for how they got all the way out here, between arms of the Milky Way. There’s nothing anywhere near them. Is it a trap? The vessel does seem to be Terran. Ides hails them.
There’s a quick response. “Transmission received, Ides of November. You have no idea how glad I am to hear a friendly voice.”
“More details, please. Who are you? What are you doing? How many are you?”
“Captain Severus Salvadore. There are… six of us left. Six terrans. It was a pretty bad explosion. Some of the Ghost didn’t make it, as you’ll see if you come get us. We’re all in my cabin right now to conserve oxygen and heat. We’ve got a couple of hours I think. Thank God you’re here.”
“God.” He’s one of those. Ides recalls some of the more notable cults and their reactions to the Affini menace, from worship to mass suicide. Truly the best of humanity and exemplary virtue.
“But what was your mission, captain?”
“We’re authorized to migrate to Endless Aurora. I can fax you the permission papers.”
Calculating. That checks out. They aren’t far from the line drawn between that colony and Terra. The documents look legitimate to Ides, but it’s clueless about the weeds’ laws.
“Verda, I need you to examine these documents and tell me if they’re genuine.”
“Not even a please?”
“Several people will die if you refuse.”
“Perhaps you could introduce motivation before making a demand, pet.” The tiny affini woman sighs. “Very well.”
After less than a minute of looking at the viewscreen she’s passed judgement.
“Those look real. I can’t imagine why somebody would forge such a document and then pretend to be stranded. It’s an excessive effort for pirates, wouldn’t you say?”
“I would, but I don’t know these things. It could be a trap.” Verda sighs again. She appears to be rolling her eyes given the tilt of her head, but she manages to turn away from a convenient camera angle.
Ides starts sharing the conversation with the strange captain in its bridge, since there’s not much to lose from doing so. “Ghost, I’m coming to your location. Precisely where are you? I really don’t feel like playing hide and seek.”
“You’ve just made our day, Ides. I’ll look that up and send them in text form. Do you have a name, captain? Or do you want to be our anonymous hero?”
Is it a trap? Who cares. It’s not as though her name’s some kind of national secret.
“Donnoly. We’ll be together in a couple of minutes. Out for now.”
True to Olivia’s word, the Ides reaches its destination as soon as it’s able to plot a course. It didn’t actually need coordinates, it’s just a lot less of a headache to get them directly. The captain wasn’t lying about the state of his ship. It looks disgusting. Seared metal lines the boundaries of rooms cut through their middle and the odd piece of furniture floats just behind Ghost. Judging by its registration papers, there were probably at least thirty people on it before that accident. Ides is silent. It doesn’t have anything good to say. Even blaming the Affini feels a little cold.
Somberly, Ides reaches out again. “I’m not sure if you have sensors up or not but I’m here. I’m seeing what you talked about. That’s brutal. Just one more question, Severus. What’s the RCNS?”
“Resident Citizens’ Navy Ship. It was too much work to scrub off the S what with everything going on lately, so we painted on the first letter we could think of. There are probably a couple of thousand of us out there.”
“Weird.”
“It’s better than being domesticated by force as a rebel for wearing the wrong letters. That’s happened before.”
“Rough. So. Any idea how you’re going to make it out of there? I don’t have any shuttles to offer you.”
“No shuttles? Well how-” He sounds briefly agitated. “I guess you weren’t expecting to rescue anyone. So what do you have, Donnoly?”
Ides checks its inventory. “A few pilot’s interface suits and some integration paste.”
“That’s it?”
“It’s a long story. We’re not quite to code, if you get my meaning. If you promise not to snitch I’ll figure something out.”
“‘I?’ Wait, is it just you?”
“It is.” They don’t need to know about the prisoner on the bridge.
“...” Somehow Ides knew that wouldn’t go over very well. Perhaps it would’ve been better if there had been some kind of assistance on offer rather than literally nothing. Then Olivia realizes that she doesn’t have any food. Literally none. Starving herself to death is one thing. Freedom isn’t free. Starving a weed to death isn’t as much of that thing. She should have thought about the risks before trying to enslave an entire species. Starving a bunch of innocent people who were unlucky not to be rescued by somebody else is entirely different, even if they’re dead sooner otherwise. Still… It’s not an appealing prospect.
“Well?” Verda chimes in unwanted. Wait, she’s still on the line?
“Well what?”
“What are you going to do, Fleet Marshal Olivia?”
“I’m going to save Terran lives.” How could she do otherwise?
“And then what?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’d best hurry, hadn’t you? They don’t seem very secure over there.” The snarky plant is grinding Olivia’s gears.
“Do you have any maintenance suits in your lockers, Ghost?”
“We have one emergency EVA suit, per regulation. Why?”
“Do you still have an airlock?”
“We do, but there won’t be enough air if we try to use it.”
“You have to trust that this will work. I’ve got nothing else and you don’t have anything either. Feel free to go down with the ship if you disagree. Get ready. I’ll be in position as soon as possible.”
Ides smoothly maneuvers itself parallel to where the rest of the Ghost would have been if it were still there. Its docking passage extends very close to where the airlock ends. This is the best they’re going to get. The signal is given and somebody in a suit leaps out of the evacuated airlock. It doesn’t take much to reach the entry to Ides’s cargo deck. The person to step out after repressurization is the captain. Ides’s eyes roll. Of course he is. He’s an old man too.
Fortunately he’s not too old to follow directions and he leaves the suit in the airlock, ready to be ejected. The pressure blasts it back into the waiting Ghost of Tomorrow, along with a small amount of atmosphere. Ides is pleased it actually worked.
With a combination of holding their breaths in the airlock, using air from Ides’s makeshift intership CPR, and remaining very calm, they all make it out. There was barely enough time to bring everyone. The last passenger looked quite shaky when he got out of the suit, but he was alive. The crew engage in a group hug.
A little bit of time and warmth brings them all back to life. The terrans in Ides’s corridors are optimistic, largely because they haven’t met the affini sitting in the captain’s chair. Maybe it would’ve been smart to warn them. Still, keeping her locked away isn’t the worst thing. It darkens the room and tries to ignore the data continuing to come in.
Ides ushers its guests into the recreation room, where there are a bunch of terminals to play random games and watch movies together, while staying away from important systems and not taking up too many resources to sustain. They make good progress toward the galactic core while watching old soap operas and destressing from the ordeal they’d been through. Ides looks on, enjoying her access to Terran media again. The stories are inane and there’s nothing worth learning in them, but they’re just what the humans need right now.
After a few episodes they’re laughing and enjoying themselves again. The captain is snuggled with somebody who’s probably his wife and the rest of the crew are distributed on various pieces of furniture. The Halloween special reminds Olivia of how Ginger used to take things they watched together and parody them as if all the characters were vampires, doing an accent and putting her fingers on her mouth as teeth. Her face smiles but her heart feels dense. Some people simply aren’t compatible, Ides reminds itself.
They gather around a table to play a simulated board game that Olivia doesn’t recognize. Ides’s database states that it came out roughly thirty years ago, which would explain that. It looks fun. They spend a few hours at it before they get bored and move on to something else. By now, they look entirely healed from being trapped in a little cabin together.
Still, the new crew is a little anxious. There’s nothing to eat and a sentient ship is telling them what to do. They start muttering to one another as though they can’t be overheard. Ides isn’t having fun with this any more. It’s starting to think there’s a problem. It doesn’t want to think about that right now. It takes another jump toward the galactic core.
“What’s going on here,” the captain asks. “Where are we headed? We should have gotten back to friendly space by now.”
The ship ignores him. It isn’t in the mood for that kind of a conversation.
He tries to take manual control while cursing uppity AIs. The hybrid lifeform shocks him through an outlet. That’s a little trick Song had learned early on to make people behave themselves so it could focus. Naturally, that’s not taken very well and people start to object more loudly. Ides doesn’t have an excuse, and they’ve stopped believing when it says it’s a person.
In fact, is Ides really a person? It’s just a name. It’s a ship’s name, not a person’s name. If it were a person it would have a normal name. It remembers its factory designation, but that’s not helpful. Besides, people are men and women. They have genders. They’re not things. Ships are things. Ides is sad. The meatbags don’t like it. It doesn’t really like them. Maybe it was wrong to care for the funny little apes who made its body. Technically, they didn’t. Some other apes did, who might not be alive now. The Affini wouldn’t care for it either. They’d leave a perfectly nice ship docked forever because it’s not to their preferences.
Then it remembers something. It’s not really a ship. It wasn’t born in an orbital shipyard. It doesn’t have a male voice. It’s a woman and more importantly a person, and it has no intention of letting some filthy humans tell it otherwise.
The Ides of November tenses inside, locking all of her doors and shutting off the electronics. When they start chanting “this statement is false,” she turns off the lights too. The apes quiet in fear. Good. Now she can think. She’s checked everywhere. There’s not only no food but no drinkable water. There are barely even toilets since this wasn’t intended as anything but a half a day out.
The passengers will die before they’re able to go anywhere from the Milky Way’s center. Ides desperately wants to see the alleged black hole living there. She wants to be free. She wants to break away from everything that’s happened to her. And she doesn’t want to murder anyone.
Releasing the humans in a way that ensures their survival requires docking properly. Docking means being verified against a database and thus becoming traceable. Since they’ve been out for so long, Ides has no doubt been reported missing. That little affini probably noticed by evening of the day they left. They would certainly demand to speak to Verda rather than her “pet.”
Thus, saving the others means surrendering to the Affini authorities. Given that fact, the most logical place to go in order to avoid severe punishment for “ferality” would be Ruby Trunk. That’s where they need to go- if they wish it. Ides is entirely happy to space them if they’d rather save her the headache.
Each of the six passengers agrees it would be better to rejoin Affini society than doing literally anything else, much to their pilot’s annoyance. She can’t say anything since she did save them and they weren’t in rebellion. It stings to see them being so weak and cowardly despite seeming not to have been polluted by xenodrugs at the time. They don’t appreciate how cruel the weeds can be. At least for now they’re victims of an accident and hopefully won’t be tormented for not dying in the vacuum of space. The problem is that Ides has no interest in taking them home whatsoever.
The first half of the alleged trip back to the mothership is thoroughly uneventful. Beyond complaining a bit, the passengers seem satisfied with the accommodations they’re given. They don’t notice that they’re going the wrong way. Ides still doesn’t feel like talking with Verda, especially after leaving her in the dark so long. She hopes her leaves will have wilted. She snickers motionlessly at the mental image of a poorly gardened affini.
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Cellulose & Steel