Adult-FanFiction.org : Books

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
- 38
- 39
- 40
The affini tormentor Verda has plans other than letting her property sleep off breakfast. She suddenly stops typing and researching and starts talking. Song really doesn’t feel like listening right now. The pain in its head has been getting worse since it woke up and it thinks it’s going to start seeing radio waves again. It feels a pinch in its docking sensors. There’s nothing there, since it doesn’t have docking sensors due to it not being a spaceship.
“Pet,.were you serious about wanting to explore?”
“I was.” It doesn’t really feel like being especially snarky at this moment. Verda frowns.
“Do I have your word that you won’t try to escape or hurt Evlen while you’re away?”
“...”
“I can’t let you go if you don’t promise that.”
“Fine.”
“You have to say it, darling.”
“I promise not to hurt Hogboy or run away while he’s showing me around.”
“Do you promise to come back when you’re done?”
“Fine.”
“I suppose that’s good enough. If you misbehave, you’ll get him into trouble too, yoo know. Not that you would care about a ‘xeno’s’ wellbeing, but his intentions toward you appear genuine.”
“All right.”
“Do you understand what I’m telling you?”
“Right.”
Verda sighs. Evidently she was expecting something else when she asked her prisoner to have a conversation about how it’s going to be such a good little floret and play nicely with the other floret. It hopes she steps into a fireplace. Meanwhile, it feels a damp touch on its forehead. It’s water, condensed on a small bottle. held by one of Verda’s vines.
“You should drink. You haven’t had anything since last night other than that juice.”
It opens the bottle and takes a sip. No xenodrugs this time, or if they’re there, they’re tasteless. The water wasn’t a bad idea, even if it’s still full from breakfast. It didn’t look like a lot of food but it was. That xeno’s a good cook, and it’s kind of impressive he’s able to make poached eggs for probably a dozen people in a row. Song wonders what abhorrent tricks he’s been pulling to achieve that. None come easily to mind that don’t sound insane and pointless.
The Terran continues to nurse the water, drinking every so often as it sits on its bed. The curtains are wide open, but nobody can see it from the ground. It thinks about looking outside but decides against it. The idea makes it slightly queasy even though it isn’t afraid of heights. Verda’s gone back to reading on her tablet. She scrolls every so often while smiling. Song wonders what sort of story she’s looking at. It must be something good, possibly about how the evil feralist submits to the loving affini and they live happily ever after together, never again wanting to be free. It snorts.
Not long after, there’s a knock on the door. For a change it doesn’t open immediately after. Song thinks about how the convention of knocking before entering is muted when one enters without waiting for a reply. It wonders who that would be. Then it remembers that as the patient, this room technically belongs to it.
“Come in.”
It’s Evlen. He’s still wearing his pirate outfit, this time with a flower in where his collar would be if he were wearing a suit. It’s pink and hemispherical, with lots of radial petals opening at the front. If Song knew more about flowers it’d know what flower that was. It’s really pretty, though.
“Hello, Evlen.”
“Hi- hello, Song. How are you?”
“Better than before. Full. How are you?”
“Great! Um, are you ready to go?”
“Where are my shoes,” it directs to Verda.
“Right here.” She points to a place by the door, where a pair of garishly yellow slippers are sitting. Those aren’t yesterday’s shoes.
“Right.”
Putting the slippers on takes only a few seconds longer than it should because of Song’s shaky hands. Anybody who hadn’t had cybernetic withdrawal probably wouldn’t recognize the pattern, or would mistake it for a minor motor disorder.
“Remember what we discussed, little one,” Verda says. “I’m trusting you both to determine when you should come back. Have fun!” She smiles innocently, but Song knows perfectly well she isn’t being innocent. It wonders what her scheme could be. She’s always concocting them. Those overgrown clumps of nettle always are.
“Goodbye,” Song says.
“Goodbye, Song’s mistress,” Evlen says. “I’ll take care of her.”
“You’d best,” Verda replies as he’s turning to walk out the door. She winks after it’s too late for him to see. Her Terran charge exhales firmly and goes to join its new companion.
“What do you want to see first?” The question greets Song as soon as the door closes behind it.
“I don’t know what’s here. The kitchen I guess? What else is there?”
“There’s a lot. There… is a broom closet on each floor. We have a few waiting rooms. There are some affini you could meet if you felt like it, managing things. There’s what I’m told is called an ice hockey table in the basement that my mistress likes to play with…”
“It’s your tour, you decide.”
“But I… That makes sense. There’s a good view from the other side of this floor. Let’s start there.”
Evlen starts walking and Song follows. That’s when it notices the pants have a hole in the back for his puffy tail. It looks a little like a rabbit’s.
“That sounds good. Honestly, the longer I’m out of the room the better, even if it’s staring at a wall.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean. Places like this can pick up too much Ehtu energy after a while.”
“What’s Ehtu?”
“Oh, sorry. That’s a planet from my home system. It represents withering and death. It’s kind of a superstition, but medical places seem to have a bit of the same feel everywhere. It’s kind of weird.”
“I haven’t been in enough to know about that, thankfully.”
“Good for you it’s… yeah. Anyway, it’s that sitting area up ahead.”
Evlen points out a nest of comfortable looking chairs and small tables. Most of the tables would be too small to serve as affini footrests, but they’re easily big enough for a Terran to eat dinner at. The window of the room goes from the ceiling to the floor, letting in a lot more light than there was in Song’s room. It feels cheerful, and the terran’s mood lifts a bit. It’s glad it was able to get out and that Verda didn’t sabotage its attempt at finding entertainment.
Outside the window must be the view the hedgehog xeno mentioned. It’s just a wall on the building next to them, but the wall is covered in a mural that stretches at least forty meters from top to bottom. It depicts an affini in high detail holding a planet in one hand, a xeno that doesn’t look like anything from Terra in another, a spaceship in another, and a DNA symbol in yet another. Its vines form a mandala with intricate patterns surrounding the scene. The inhuman face carries an expression somehow instantly recognizable as benevolence. Song might not like the scene, but it’s extremely well done.Every line is crisp. In order to paint that kind of pattern up close, the artist must be very skilled.
“Wow.” What else can be said?
“I know. That was here when my mistress started working here. It’s been there a long time, I’m told. And this is the only place you can see it that well from.”
“It’s impressive. Do you think the artist is still around?”
“Nobody’s taken credit for it, so I don’t know. I’m just glad nobody thought to wash it off either.”
“Does it have a name?”
“It does, in Affini. My mistress translated it as something like ‘Love blooms eternal.’”
“I see.”
They stand together for a while, taking in the painting’s details and thinking about what kind of a name that is. After spending what feels like a really long time examining the intersecting tiling of the exterior vines, Song shifts a bit. Evlen is looking at it too. It tries not to jump in surprise and succeeds. Spontaneous jumping averted.
“Where next?”
“Surgery. There’s some kind of a viewing area. I think it’s weird since I’m not allowed there while they’re operating, but the machines are really interesting looking. One of them looks a bit like an affini.”
“That sounds good to me. Nobody’s going to mind?”
“Probably not. I don’t think they’re doing anything there today, but maybe they are. If they aren’t, nobody’s going to keep us out of the observation place.”
“Then let’s go.”
With that prompting, Evlen starts to run or skip, it’s hard to tell which it is with how oddly his legs bend, back toward Song’s room. Not far from there, they get into an elevator that’s enormous compared to the rest of the building. It could easily fit three affini inside as well as a floret on a bed. The hedgehog pushes the underscore button and they quietly descend amid a series of beeps. It’s much smoother of a ride than the ship’s radial elevator had been. When it stops they exit to the left, in which direction Evlen points with a smile on his face.
“Thank you for the present last night, by the way,” says Song.
“You’re welcome. I figured you could use something to cheer you up. How was it?”
“It was good. I kind of fell asleep right after, but I needed the rest. Sake was just what I was missing.”
“I’m glad. It’s a good thing I didn’t mess anything up with that. I was a little worried after I left that your medical issues would be worse because of it.”
“Not at all. I’m not actually sick. I’m not sure why I’m here.”
“The beeping, maybe?”
“What beeping?”
“When we first met, you…” he turns eggplant purple while he tries to formulate the rest of his sentence. “You beeped at me a few times. Which reminds me. Are… You told me you weren’t a woman. So… what does that mean?”
“Did I really?” Song laughs.
“Yeah, you didn’t like when I referred to you as one.”
“Oh. I don’t know. I don’t think it matters that much. I’m fine I guess.”
Song really doesn’t like that revelation, considering how much pressure Verda’s been putting on it. It doesn’t know how to answer the question either. After all this time being one, it should know if it’s a woman or not.
“But what pronouns would you like me to use?”
“Um…”
Memories start to well up from somewhere Song doesn’t recognize. Things that aren’t real tug at its perception. Something feels very wrong as it starts to feel the missing presence of Verda’s suspicious mind. Affini tricks have to be repelled. Why else would such a question be worth worrying about? Why not just say it was a joke and move on? Well… because it wasn’t a joke. Somehow it knows that.
“Don’t worry about it. Really.”
“I can’t not worry about it.”
“Please? I’m not in a good mental place for that.” That’s sounds much better than the pilot expected it would.
“All right, Song.Understood. And you’re still cu- look, that’s the sign saying we’re here.”
“Do we have to whisper? I’ve never been wherever this is before.”
“No, I don’t think so. I’ve never heard of anyone watching the actual surgery, so there probably won’t be anyone. I’ve never even run into anyone when I’ve used it as a shortcut.”
“Interesting. How often is there surgery?”
“Not that often, since random vets on the other decks can do a lot. I think that this hospital is just for when florets get really sick or need to stay over.”
“That makes sense.”
As they pass through the heavy swinging door to the observation area, it feels as though they’ve stepped onto the set of a medical drama from Terra. The ugly greenish carpet and the plastic wall really sell the ambiance. Looking down at the floor below, there’s an operating table equipped with straps and buttons to tilt it. Everything is clinical and white and chrome, rather than the usual Affini palette. The machines are clunky and boxy, though even from up here it’s obvious their contents are alien. One is the exception, standing on one side of the room with a sprawling network of filaments and cables. The walls are covered in black screens as well as what appears to be an Affini clock, which Song can’t read.
“What time is it?”
“Why,” Evlen asks. He sounds a little nervous.
“There’s a clock. I was wondering if you could read it.”
“Oh. No, I can’t. I’ve never needed to worry about the time. My schedule’s always been taken care of for me.”
“Even when you’re baking?”
“I don’t bake.”
“Oh.”
“It’s too mechanical for my tastes. I like to feel the ingredients I’m working with, so it’s more like art.”
“I never had enough money to think about cooking that way. Making yourself dinner is… different from what you do.”
Evlen turns to look at the Terran beside him, curiosity evident on his face. His quills flick outward for a moment. He stands there looking at it until it turns and looks back, then he turns away and stares at the operating table. Song takes a bit before speaking, waiting to see if Evlen was going to reply.
“Do you know who the surgeon is?”
“I don’t think there’s just one surgeon. With so many species…”
“True. I kind of got the sense there was only one from the layout, but I don’t know.”
“How do you know?”
“Look at the screens by the head of the table. They’re oriented to one place. And most of them don’t seem to have easy pivots, which suggests they don’t rotate or aren’t expected to rotate.”
“Interesting. I hadn’t noticed that. There’s a lot to take in, actually. For example, sometimes that thing in the corner starts beeping when I’m in here. Nothing happens. It… beeps.”
“That’s weird.”
“Very- Not that anything’s wrong or bad about beeping.”
He waits a bit before speaking again. “Are you done looking around or do you want to stay a while?”
“I’m fine with leaving.” It’s very happy to get out of the room. Something about the place unsettles it and the dim lighting of the part of the room they have access to doesn’t make it less spooky.
After another trip downward in the elevator, Song is guided to the kitchen. The decorations look Affini, but not quite. There are too many angles and hard lines in the counters and walls. And most jarringly, it doesn’t smell of flowers like everywhere else on Ruby Trunk. Various appliances sit on the counters, some with obvious uses and some without. A stack of three large boxes from floor to ceiling takes up a prime location next to the sink. Each box has an independent door that swings to the side, equipped with a little handle slightly too small for Terran hands. Most of the fixtures are wood, and bright lights hang over everything, apparently not worth turning off.
“Here we are, in my domain,” says Evlen proudly. He’s only puffed up a little, but it’s enough to take up a notable amount of space. His baggy shirt manages to control his expansion.
“You cook here?”
“Yeah. It’s really convenient. The compiler over there replicates things I’ve made. I think I mentioned that. It saves having to keep ingredients on hand too.”
“That’s a compiler? I thought they’d be microwave size.”
The middle box is probably a cubic meter inside with a large number of buttons with characters that don’t look Affini. Like the things above and below it, it’s a matte rose. Unlike them, it doesn’t have a window in the door.
“I’m making things in bulk, remember? A hundred eggs take up more room than you’d think. Um, what’s a microwave, though?”
“It’s like an oven but it heats small things quickly.”
“Oh. Sounds useful.”
“Very. It’s never as good as fresh.”
“So it’s for leftovers? I haven’t had those since Sfpl’fth started getting shipments of compilers. That brings back so many memories… of the most boring, unremarkable stuff possible, because it’s just food. Heh.”
“After a year of protein enriched nutrient paste it’s hard to say something’s ‘just food,’ but I know what you mean. Thinking back…”
It passes a hand over the junction in the back of its neck, fingering the end of the port. The connector is tiny, but Song knows every atom of it and how the other connector pushes against it when Song is jostled a little too much… Song misses those days, even though it was under a lot of stress. It kind of wishes it still had its crew inside it, even if they were a little unreliable and meaty…
“A whole year? That must have been horrible!”
“Not really. I barely remember anything from when I was- What I mean is… It’s a long story, and at the time I didn’t really notice the taste. Have you ever been on a small ship?”
“No, my mistress has only taken me on the bigger ships like this one. Well, if you don’t count the shuttle.” Oh.
“I was one- was on one for a long time, before I met Verda.” The hedgehog winces as though Song had just used a slur. “No artificial gravity, no compilers…”
“How did you live like that?”
“It was easy. Take one bite after the next, pull one wall handle after the next, sleep at night and wake up every morning. Not much different from everyone else.” It shrugs.
“But isn’t that dangerous? Being out of gravity for years?”
“Oh. I guess so. But we’re barely in any gravity at all right now.”
“Really? It feels about right to me.”
Song jumps as high as it can. It barely reaches the elevated ceiling and starts to panic as it starts drifting toward one of the walls. It’ll have to remember to be careful of the fact it’s on a spinning ship in the future. It lands a bit more roughly than it expected, but no damage is done.
“Wow.”
“We can’t do that on Terra.”
“That makes a lot more sense. On Sfpl’fth, it doesn’t feel much different from here.”
“Do you have to take anything for the muscle loss? I guess even with some gravity it would still happen.”
“I honestly don’t know anything about that. My owner does all the medical thinking for me.”
“Oh. Right.”
“Right.”
“So… does that mean you can flip pancakes really high here?”
“Flip pancakes?”
“You take a pancake, and you flick it.” Song demonstrates with its arm, making a pancake flipping gesture. The alien looks confused for a moment until he understands.
“So you throw the whole pancake in the air? Isn’t that dangerous?”
“Why?”
“What if you miss?”
“Then you weren’t very good and should be sad.”
“Oh.”
“I think it’s a cool trick. It’s the sort of thing every chef should know.”
“I’ll have to try that some time when my mistress isn’t watching.”
“She watches you cook?”
“She likes to. Apparently the way I slice meat is… anyway.”
“Don’t you ever feel confined, being watched all the time?”
“I’m not being watched right now. Actually… your mistress told me to watch you.”
“Are you going to listen to her?”
“Um… As opposed to what?”
“Taking advantage of not being watched.” This could be a chance for them to get out of here. He could make money cooking and Song could… do something useful. It could be a pilot. Not that it would need him any more once they left Affini space.
“Oh.” The little (despite being taller than Song) xeno perks the ears on the sides of his head. “I suppose we could, now that I think of it.” Wait, really?
“I didn’t think you had that in you.”
He turns slightly purple again and averts his eyes. “I’m… surprising. I guess.”
“You don’t have to be. Nothing’s stopping you from running back to your ‘mistress.’”
“No. No way.” He bristles at the implication, literally. “I’ve got somewhere else I want to show you, back through the elevator. Just give me a few seconds here, please.”
“And you’re letting me walk to it by myself?”
“Why not?”
“All right…”
Song doesn’t actually run away at that point. It feels that would be a little rude, in addition to getting Hogboy into trouble before he even helped it escape properly. Besides, it wants him to prove there’s more to him than just another vacant headed floret. It doesn’t know why. Maybe because he was willing to talk to it and treat it like a regular person instead of a pet.
After a shorter time than expected, Evlen’s back, and he’s carrying a basket of something and badly trying to hide it. Song chooses not to say anything, but suspects that since they were just in the kitchen it might be food. There’s no obvious smell from here.
On the way up, Evlen’s eyes flit about idly. He keeps shifting his feet, (or are they rear paws?) and generally acting anxious. That’s fine. Breaking free of Affini domination takes guts. The fact he’s started to take up an appreciably large portion of the elevator isn’t as fine. It’s not bad since it’s an elevator meant for multiple affini, but still.
With a final beep, the door opens onto a large open area. They’re on the roof, under Ruby Trunk’s artificial sky, or one of them anyway. This one is almost precisely the shade of Evlen’s eyes. A cloud passes overhead. There are various chairs scattered around the roof, as well as a couple of umbrellas. It seems other people have thought this was a nice place to be too. A healthy ridge lines the building, either to discourage or encourage jumping. It’s hard for Song to tell which. The roof itself is made of something sort of similar to concrete, as are the surrounding buildings, most of which tower over them. From counting the buttons on the wall of the elevator, Song knows there are six floors plus the roof.
The view that does exist points toward a park, which Song promptly turns away from. Something about it feels more troubling than it’s worth. To the opposite side is a gap between buildings and a busy street. Not many people are passing the hospital, but the plaza beyond seems full. It’s too far away to tell much about the people or places over there.
“The architect responsible for laying out the ship got too excited about the rest of the deck and didn’t have much room for the vetspal.”
“What’s a vetspal?”
“Veterinary hospital. Isn’t that what you call it?”
“I’m fairly sure we don’t…”
“Oh. I guess I misheard.”
“I’ve never heard that in my existence, Evlen. Is that really what happened?”
“No idea, but it’s a funny story, isn’t it?”
“I guess it is. This place looks like it belongs in a movie.”
“Really?”
“The aesthetic is very Terran. Except the kitchen, actually.”
“Ha, that makes sense- but speaking of kitchens.”
He proudly holds up the basket, showing off a large amount of something poking out from inside it. Launching forward, Evlen puts a hand lightly on Song’s arm, dragging it with him. He isn’t being forceful, just eager. It can’t help finding his enthusiasm adorable, in a highly inferior xeno way. He’s practically running now., quills flexing in waves as he goes.
Allowing his hand to drift off his companion’s arm, Evlen moves over to a group of chairs somewhere toward the middle and starts taking things out. There’s a bottle, a container, and a plate of crackers, and a knife too.
It wonders what Verda would think of it having a knife. It could… stab Evlen with it. But it doesn’t think that would be a useful thing to do. It could steal the knife and use it against some affini and escape. They’re in a hospital so it’s realistically not going to accomplish anything with that, even if it could get out somewhere, and especially not without hurting this floret. There’s… dropping the knife on an innocent bystander? What could possibly go right with that plan? Even if it took out an important Affini, there are a million more here willing to take her place. It sighs.
“Song, are you all right?”
“What? Oh.”
It realizes that it’s stopped completely, standing in the middle of the roof staring at nothing, since Evlen had moved himself and the knife since Song had noticed it. He’s sitting by a cloth square with two glasses of a pink liquid. The way his legs bend makes it feel a little sick but it reminds itself he isn’t human and thus doesn’t have human limbs. The alien looks at the Terran expectantly.
“What’s this,” it asks.
“Prosecco rosé and caviar. If you’re hungry. I knew you’ve eaten just a bit ago so I thought if I brought something light… and it shouldn’t be too much, especially since Terrans apparently don’t eat much of this, but that’s from when it was rare and you couldn’t just compile some. I hope this is all right-”
“That’s really fancy, especially with the picnic basket. Unexpected too. This is the second time in two days you’ve given me alcohol, Evlen.” It starts walking toward him and the spread.
“Oh! You’re right. I’m sorry if it looks like-”
“Don’t worry. You’re fine. I’ve never had either of the things you brought, so this is kind of exciting.”
Song sits down opposite the floret chef, next to the glass he set out for it. It takes a sip. Since it doesn’t know anything about that kind of stuff, it’s just bubbly pink wine, but without most of the disgusting flavors it associates with wine. It’s not bad.
It swirls the glass gently, watching the liquid inside churn and leave a faint residue on the sides. That’s wine all right.
“I’m detecting hints of grape, and… allspice. Very Italian.” That sounded good! He probably thinks Song knows about wine.
“Oh, wow.”
Evlen tries some himself, thoughtfully savoring the aftertaste and copying the careful swirling of the fluid. He frowns and nods cautiously.
“It’s certainly a change from my cooking wines. I see why people on Terra drink this instead of that.”
‘I’m not sure how many people actually drink this… It’s probably more of a keeping it in your basement as a way to launder money thing.”
“Oh. Did you launder money?”
It has to laugh.
“No, not at all. It’s… complicated. I guess you don’t have to worry about money, right? No need to worry about that. It’s… all in the past,” Song realizes sadly.
Song takes a thoughtful sip in memory of Terran freedom.
“Right… So do you want to try the eggs? The extranet says they come from a giant fish called a whale.”
“Whales are extinct, so these probably didn’t… But I’m excited to see how they taste.”
The clean yet buttery cracker is delicious, and it crunches nicely as Song bites into it. The gently rolling texture seems to make it even better. They’re a dangerous snack. The caviar is very salty. Since it doesn’t have to pretend to like the stuff because it’s so expensive, it’s not that impressed.
“Wow, I could eat these all day.” That doesn’t mean they’re that much better than chips.
“I’m glad you’re liking them!”
Evlen has one himself, spreading the eggs uniformly over the surface of the cracker. The quills on each side of his head and neck alternate elevation by side. He’s probably underwhelmed too.
“Good, but I kind of wish I were having something from home. Some… fried fruit and nuts, maybe.”
“That sounds good.”
“I could go get some if you’d like.”
“It’s fine, this is good enough. Thank you for the effort.”
He turns purple at the praise and his quills become almost flush with his skin. The thick coat had made his shoulders look narrower than they are. The faint grey of his fur almost blends with his shirt, making the way his vest sits against him more obvious.
“By the way, Evlen. You… seem more alert than a lot of florets. I hope it’s not rude to ask why.”
“Why, how?”
“Why you’re able to speak without slurring most of your words, and apparently learn another language too.”
“Oh. My mistress likes when I make jokes and cook for her. Learning about new places and people is half the fun of travel, isn’t it? I could spend the next decade doing nothing but trying out Terran recipes…” He smiles at the prospect. “And I agreed to be domesticated. That’s probably part of it.”
“What! Why would you want that? How could you betray your people?”
“There wasn’t much betraying to do by that point. I just showed up at the office with a filled out form and they took care of me. It fixed all the problems I couldn’t fix myself. You probably wouldn’t recognize who I was before that.”
“Wow.”
“Really. How did having a rebellion work? I can’t imagine wanting to fight against the Affini, especially with all they did for us.”
“Imagine they had come to you saying your entire culture was fundamentally evil and based on hurting others. Imagine that when you tried to fight back, the prisoners of war that they took were shown to you in videos, not like you are, cooking things and seeing the universe, but as zombies, so far out of their minds on xenodrugs they’re no longer recognizable as people. They tell you they’re happy, but then your government shows you videos of those same people from just weeks earlier in videos they’d recorded for their families in case something happened to them (which it did). Imagine a man who changed from saying he loved his wife more than anything to not even mentioning her in a speech that’s just ten minutes of rambling about how happy he is now.”
“How irregular.”
“Isn’t it? That’s why not one ship surrendered when they demanded it. And that’s why they waged war to domesticate us.”
Evlen’s quills shift nervously. “And… you fought in that war?”
“I did. I fought from the first day of the War to the last day of the Rebellion.” It pours itself another glass of wine, banging the bottle against the rim a few times in the attempt. “It hurt a lot, watching everyone around me give up and stop caring about the things they used to believe in. Every day I’d receive transmission about happy little slaves who regretted their decision to resist. Even Verda admits that was a stupid idea.”
“B- I… Ou- Your call your mistress by her name?!”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“It isn’t done! She’s your mistress!”
“After fighting so long to be free, knowing that every day could be my last and if I were taken I’d be stripped of everything I cared for in my life, why should I care if she legally owns me? I didn’t write that law, and I certainly didn’t get to vote on it.”
“Vote?”
“You don’t know what voting is?”
“No…”
“It’s where a bunch of people get together to decide an issue and the majority get their choice.”
“I think most people in the Compact would choose to stay here.”
“Terra wouldn’t have chosen that. It’s just… so different from everything. I don’t know.”
“Our king decided that we would become a protectorate and we did. He still gives addresses occasionally.”
“They let you have a king? Isn’t that ‘exploitative’ or something?”
“How could that be? His duty is to provide for us and he determined that submitting to the Affini was the right decision. He was right.”
“But they let him keep ruling?”
“Why not? I think our military might’ve wanted to fight if they had removed him. At least, that’s what history seems to say.”
“That makes sense, I think.”
Evlen nods. They sit together for a while, looking at the changing shadows as the artificial light source moves across the sky very slowly. The quiet urban sounds of the ship and the occasional mechanical noiseare soothing in the warm light. Song wonders if this is what it was like in the old days, before life moved online and the weather got bad permanently.
“You don’t seem very sick.”
“I’m not.” It is, but it would rather not admit it. Pretending it’s just getting used to gravity again is so much easier.
“So nothing contagious?”
“That’s right.”
Evlen’s ears rise in response to that information.
“Oh. I see.”
“And you don’t catch anything by going around the ‘petspal’ without a mask on?” He smiles and Song smiles back..
“No. I never thought of that. The vets tell me if there’s any danger from visiting a room and the floret’s owner gets the food from me.”
“That makes sense.”
The alien shifts closer to the Terran and they sit longer. Song’s breath becomes uneven as a wave of illness sets in. Its hands would shake if it weren’t using its skeletal structure to ensure they were good braces against its weight. The reclining pose would look natural to anyone unfamiliar with its habits.
The alien shifts closer to the Terran and they sit longer. Song’s breath becomes uneven as a wave of illness sets in. Its hands would shake if it weren’t using its skeletal structure to ensure they were good braces against its weight. The reclining pose would look natural to anyone unfamiliar with its habits.
It’s clearly not sick or unwell. It knows it’s fine. If it could just get out of here, out to an interface tank inside Song or Ides or anywhere… Maybe it could be a carrier. Maybe, if it were clever, it could find a way to take over an Affini ship. It struggles to hide the disgust that mental images causes. It’s not Hogboy’s fault. He doesn’t need to know its troubles.
The fake sunlight shifts between the higher buildings around them, bathing Song just a little more. That feels so nice… Stars, it’s been a long time since it got to just sit and enjoy the warmth of being outside. A gentle breeze ruffles its hair and Evlen’s quills. He doesn’t seem to be enjoying the weather quite as much, even if he doesn’t look uncomfortable with the temperature.
It wonders if affini enjoy warm summery days in their giant space greenhouses. Do they ever gather in groups and stand outside to feed? Verda mentioned eating fruit once, didn’t she? Do affini actually eat? What would happen if it gave her a large quantity of compiled alcohol? That’s good for killing plants on Terra, maybe it’ll work here. Too bad it’s impossible to poison the water supply. That would hurt innocent florets too, unfortunately.
It glances at Evlen. He’s done nothing wrong. In fact, he’s only here because he’s been treating it like an actual person instead of some sort of ornament. It’s nice, and the little ways his exterior morphs with his mood is kind of endearing… for a xeno.
“How long have you been on Ruby Trunk?”
“A long time. I’ve given up on using long form calendars because they don’t do much for me. Apparently every Affini ship has a calendar measuring time since its construction, so it gets weird. But I think… probably twenty of my years, if I had to guess.”
“Wow. That’s an extremely long time.”
“It is, but my mistress likes it here. She likes everyone who’s been staying here, and then we got caught up in Terran Pacification and haven’t had a chance to leave. She’s been talking about that lately. I don’t know how I feel about it.”
“I was So-”
Evlen’s eyes widen, as though he’s trying to pick up every detail of something fascinating. That’s enough to get Song to start over, very carefully, just in case it’s about to say something wrong.
“I was the pilot of Song of Destruction for more than five years of our time. That was… interesting. I want to say it wasn’t long enough, but it was kind of too long too. Lately I’ve been realizing just how much of my life was tied up on that ship.”
“If you know what you like to do, is there really a need to change anything?”
“There’s always a need to change, as long as it’s not in a destructive way. Nothing can be static, that’s delusional. The ocean has tides, a river flows, a star is born and dies… Eventually everything has to move on.”
“That’s profound. I was told terrans didn’t engage in much philosophy.”
“Some don’t, others can’t help themselves. It happens when we notice how many things there are that you don’t understand.”
He nods thoughtfully. Clearly he considers himself a philosopher.
“Leaving home has been one of the best things I ever did. Everyone seems to have a new perspective to learn from. The humans I’ve met are very different from my old friends. You’re especially interesting, Song.” The purple starts to fade. “I mean… in a- No, you’re interesting.”
“I’ve found talking with you interesting as well. So few florets seem up to learning a new language and cooking new food.”
For the first time, he looks directly at her from closer than across the room. Song notices that he’s been avoiding eye contact the entire time they’ve been on the roof. The mouth on the end of his short snout looks surprisingly Terran, as does the rest of his face. The most jarring difference is the pure blue of his eyes, which are looking deeply into the former pilot. It wonders what they see, and if they see it the same way it sees him.
Despite being easy to read before now, Evlen’s expression goes blank. Song doesn’t know what he’s thinking, but he seems closer than he was. It engages a scanning pattern across its sensor battery. When it returns to center, data collected, the xeno’s face is closer still. Odd. It feels the warmth of his breath against its face and… oh. That’s what’s happening. It genuinely does not know how to react to that. The Song of Destruction’s internal use manual has no information on this topic. It doesn’t understand males as its propulsion crew were always women. This situation is puzzling.
How should it react to the xeno? He’s sitting there, menacing it with impurity. There’s no going back from that. Its user interface fails to print its feelings about the memory of affini vines across its hull. Song is troubled by those memories almost as badly as by its missing time. How did Hogboy factor into that time? Did he bear secret responsibility? Was he a vampire planning to overtake the Affini Compact? It doesn’t know
Evlen wrinkles his nose and blinks. The lack of reaction is becoming noticeable. Song’s visual sensors shift in place and his ears tilt in response. He almost looks like a puppy. The ship’s intake multiport contorts and its eyes catch Evlen’s. Its primary joint bends approximately six degrees.
His lips are surprisingly terran. In fact, with closed eyes, Song would barely know anything was off. The faint smell of floret grade shampoo (maple?) aside, and the slightly incorrect angles aside, she probably wouldn’t have been able to tell. Well, and the masculinity aside. Song’s a little surprised that doesn’t bother her. She thought she was gay before. Maybe she is and she’s been dosed with too many xenodrugs to notice, or to notice the xenodrugs. That’s the Affini way.
What she notices most is that it doesn’t feel wrong. She isn’t queasy upon dwelling on the sensations the way she’s become when thinking of Ginger. Possibly because of the incident when she last visited her… ex? The lack of wrongness is nice and unexpected. She didn’t think he’d actually make a move today. Oh well.
Song breaks off despite Evlen’s momentary attempt at resistance. He’s much puffier and purpler than he was before they started. Look at that! He extends his hand onto Song’s, which is bracing her against the roof beneath them. He’s very warm. His quills go flat against him and then bounce back a couple of times while he smiles. She didn’t think a randomly selected xeno would have humanlike facial expressions… or engage in kissing. Isn’t that a primate thing?
The excited floret tries to form a comment and fails more than once. Song basks in the attention just a little before rescuing him.
“That was unexpected.” Her legendary diplomatic skills manifest once again, but he doesn’t seem impressed.
”Yeah… I…”
She waits for him to formulate something that could be construed as conversation. Watching him be flustered occupies Song’s full attention.
“I’m surprised you- Your mistress will be pissed.”
“Not if I don’t say anything. And why would she be? Isn’t that…”
“She probably didn’t want me to use the tour to show you… that. I don’t know. She seems strict.”
“She’s fine, and she’s not even my mistress. She doesn’t have the right to control me.”
“But she can control me. My mistress probably wouldn’t like it if I made yours mad.”
“As I said, nobody has to know.”
“Right…”
“Trust me on this one. I won’t say anything if you don’t.”
He smiles. “Fine. But it’s your idea not to say anything if anyone asks.”
“Of course, Evlen.”
“Well… We- I should go.”
“Now?”
“Now. I’ve sort of been ignoring messages for a bit and I don’t know who they’re from and I really shouldn’t…”
“Oh.”
“But I- it-” He looks around for something or other.
“Should I walk you back to your room?”
“I’d rather you did. Or if you’d rather stay up here forever…”
That calms him down. He starts laughing and gathers most of the picnic, with Song passing the things further from his reach. They make their way back to the third floor, or at least that’s what she thinks it is. It’s her floor either way. They step out of the elevator in peaceful and not at all awkward silence and come close to Song’s room. They stop just short of the door.
“So here we are. I hope you enjoyed the tour and found our veterinary hospital hospitable.” Song giggles briefly at the phrasing as Evlen figures out what he said and joins in.
“I did. Thanks for showing me around. It’s nice.” His quills perk up afresh.
“I’m glad.”
“Thanks for letting me show you and giving me somebody to talk to.”
“Any time.” That was a reflexive reply but it goes over well.
Song turns to look at her door. Nobody seems to be listening and nobody’s coming from behind her. Looking back toward Evlen, nobody’s coming from that way either. He seems to have noticed that as well. They quickly kiss again, because why not? That’s what all the people in movies do so it can’t be that bad of an idea.
“I… What’s your username?”
“Username?”
“For messaging. In case I… so we can talk after you leave.”
“Oh. I don’t have one.”
“Oh. Really?”
“Really. Is that weird?”
“I’ve literally never met anyone who didn’t, so…”
“Oh…”
“What if I gave you mine later, written down? Then when you get an account…”
“That’s fine. I’ll expect you to. Goodbye.”
“Goodbye, Song.”
With that the Terran rebel girl turns to open the door to the plant of horrors who will have unfettered and unmonitored access to her as soon as she shuts the door. She doesn’t turn away to look at Evlen as he leaves, knowing that he’s leaving but will be back at some later point. With food. She could use some dinner now. What’s it going to be? Tump thump ta-tump. Verda’s noises greet her before she sees her alleged mistress. Song grits her teeth and shuts the door behind her.
- 38
- 39
- 40
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Cellulose & Steel