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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 last surviving ship of the Free Terran Navy powers on as its hull sensors register debris. It’s not actually debris, but the sensors say that by default because there’s not much out in space but debris, at least counting things that aren’t far more likely to destroy a ship than sneak up on it. The texture of the approaching phenomenon is soft and rough, like cloth. The ship forcibly initializes its EM sensors and identifies the source of the input: an affini.
That’s Verda, and the ship is in a bed. She’s mostly on one side of it, but her vines have sprawled out onto the rest. Disgusting. It’s strange for a ship to be the size of a xeno, lying in a bed, inside a house built inside a larger ship. That’s the sort of data one doesn’t record every day. This set of readings will be recorded every day, forever. Error!
Its beeping stirs the alien beside it to action. She turns over and looks at it. It can tell even though she’s in an EM sensor blind spot. It knows she’s looking and watching, seeing if she wants to fix anything. It doesn’t want her help.
“Good morning, darling. Did you sleep well?”
“Beep.”
“That’s not the response I hoped for. Could you try again?”
“Why am I here?”
“Because I moved you there last night.”
“Why?”
“Because I wanted to be close to you.”
“Beep!”
“Also, because I didn’t want you to hurt yourself trying to run away, and I wanted to be close in case you had issues.”
“?”
“You remember the malfunctions you had at the hospital, don’t you? I’d rather not risk not being able to reach you promptly should any similar issues appear.’
“Beep.”
“I’m glad you understand. Are you ready to give me a systems report?”
“Everything’s fine.”
“Is it? You’re comfortable with the form you have?”
“...”
“I didn’t think so. How about your senses?”
“Most sensors are still offline.”
“That doesn’t qualify as ‘fine,’ from my perspective, pet. Is it more or less severe than yesterday at this time?”
“More.”
By now, Verda is sitting up, if a tangle of vines can be said to sit. She frowns at her prize and sighs. “Then we’ll need to check your memory. Where were we this time yesterday?”
“The hospital.”
“How did we get here?”
“We walked and took transports.”
“What about yesterday of yesterday?”
“Evlen took me on a tour that you claim was a date, when it wasn’t.”
She smiles. “I’m glad that you remember where you are. Aside from what we’ve discussed, how do you feel?”
“Fine. There are no issues.”
It finally turns to face the affini, only to be agitated by proximity to her. It vaguely hears the fluids sloshing inside her, symptomatic of organic construction. Seeing the weakness of flesh makes it beep.
“Then this should be the last day you need the xenodrugs your vet recommended. I’m going to inject you now.” She did just that and it didn’t hurt as much as it did last time.
It scowls at her disregard for its feelings on the matter.
“I know, pet. If you don’t have more of the issues you had before you can remember, you won’t need those particular xenodrugs again. Are you ready for breakfast?”
“Beep.”
“Then oatmeal and fruit will be waiting for you at the table. Even if you’re not hungry, it’s time for you to get up. It’s daytime and there are things to do.”
“Things?”
“Do you remember what we’re doing this afternoon?”
“I’m sick of your tests, w-”
“So you don’t? That’s a shame. I thought you’d be looking forward to it.”
“To what?”
“To the thing you didn’t think was that important, evidently.”
“The virtual reality?”
“That’s it. Hopefully that outing will be productive.”
“But that isn’t until afternoon.”
“True, but we aren’t going to be idling in bed until then, even if some plants would do just that with a fresh floret… Move along.”
Once Verda gets out of bed it becomes evident how much effort she was going to to stay on her half. She’s much bigger than her prisoner had thought. Of course it knew that, but she looked smaller when she was compressed. Clothes are carefully placed on top of it as the compiler starts to hum. It guesses she was serious about starting the day.
There’s about to be food to eat and there’s nothing keeping it in bed, so it removes the clothes from its top, gets up, and changes into them. The hint of shame at not hesitating to put on Affini slave gear fades in the knowledge there isn’t another option than wearing nothing (or pajamas, which might be worse). Not that Verda would likely raise objections to that, but it doesn’t want to show itself to her more than it must, on principle.
The food is good enough to finish, but it doesn’t think much about what it’s eating. Its head is a little foggy for some reason. It knows it isn’t tired, so what could that be about? Sensor dysphoria? That would be new, and new symptoms are always a bad sign. For a change, Verda isn’t messing around with technology. She’s focused entirely on the individual in front of her. She doesn’t say anything, and it’s happier with her that way. The bright natural lighting in the room is making it feel better than it was a few minutes ago. Verda finally says something when the meal is finished.
“Did you enjoy that?”
“It was fine.”
“I asked a yes or not question.”
“Then no, since you want an answer.”
Verda clearly knows to be upset about the response, but clearly doesn’t know what it means. The ship will keep its secret.
“You could’ve asked for something else.”
“I didn’t care enough to. As I said, it was fine.”
“‘Fine.’ Perhaps you remember something else we talked about yesterday. Evlen gave you his messaging code.”
“He did.”
“Would you like to be able to talk to him?”
“I would.” It regulates its breathing to hide its reaction to the idea.
“Do you promise to be well behaved in your messages with others?”
“Of course.” It doesn’t really mean that, but it knows better than to refuse, especially since it doesn’t have any plans that would get in trouble for the time being.
“Good. In that case, I won’t uninstall the messaging system. Here’s Evlen’s paper. I rescued it from under the couch and I thought you might like to have it back. The only thing left is for you to come up with a username for yourself.”
“...”
“How is the system supposed to route messages if you don’t have one, darling?”
That’s a good point. It hadn’t thought of that. What should it pick? There are a thousand different names that could work, and probably billions of strings from unicode alone. Adding in typecodes from every alien society the Affini had conquered… the number of possibilities must be close to infinite. Equating break characters with spaces, it’s still a whole lot more than any computer could even run through. It doesn’t have any idea what to pick.
“Beep?”
“Unfortunately, that one is taken. I believe in your ability to come up with something.”
Verda hands over the tablet and opens her computer to work on one of her projects, leaving her prisoner at liberty to figure something out. It doesn’t know what it’s figuring. It doesn’t know where to begin in picking a username. It was never good at that, even if it’s chosen dozens in its time. The prisoner could just pick something, but then it would be stuck with that, and Evlen would see it, and Verda would make fun of it. It doesn’t like to contemplate how he’d react to some of its earlier attempts.
The Terran corvette taxis to the couch, where it flops dramatically to begin its deliberations. The picking of a username is something that must be done in great comfort if it’s to be done well. It flinches as its chest smacks into the cushion. The changes brought about by the xenodrugs in just a couple of weeks would have been noticeable without having to be told. It’s not sure how to feel about that. Obviously, it’s a good thing, but considering some other things… It doesn’t want to think about that. It has an important job right now. It looks at the screen.
[user]> Registration: Enter name for new user: |
The cursor blinks menacingly, daring it to type something. A touchpad keyboard waits on the screen, displaying familiar characters. This is a big moment. It’d better not pick something stupid. The username should probably have numbers in it to be unique, but not so many it’s silly. It should be easy to spell, but not so easy it has no personality. The name should reflect it somehow, but it shouldn’t be something it’d expect to be called IRL. It shouldn’t contain a proper name if it doesn’t want to end up being called that by online friends.
It spends at least ten minutes staring at the tablet and not even trying to type anything. It rotates and stares some more, still not putting anything on the screen. It looks over to Verda, who’s clearly busy. She only looks over when it looks too intently at her. That’s an experience it doesn’t want to repeat.
“free_terra_fighter” is the best it can come up with, but the system returns an error. Apparently it’s not allowed to be called that because it “might upset other florets.” The weeds shouldn’t blame it for their other prisoners’ weak mindedness! It’s hurt because it feels that was a really clever name. It stares dejectedly at the screen for another twenty minutes alternately fuming and trying to decide what to choose instead.
“Have you picked something yet?”
The weed is mocking it. It snorts and rotates to avoid making eye contact. She isn’t happy about that, but she should’ve known better. It’ll pick something. It just needs more time to figure this out. Why is choosing so hard? Verda retreats and leaves it alone for a little longer before returning. This time she sits down across from it.
“How are you doing?”
It doesn’t want to answer that.
“Would you like help?”
It scowls. That made her leave it alone before.
“You must be having fun talking to Evlen, then?”
“...”
“If you aren’t too involved, perhaps you could take a break for your next lesson in Affini. This is going to be the best time for it today.”
It stares at her.
“So, clearly you’re not in the middle of a pressing discussion. Then we can begin. Since you seem to be doing well with sounds, today I’ll be teaching you some more words.”
“But I’m still figuring out a username! You’re distracting me.”
“How much progress have you made?”
It doesn’t want to answer that question.
“You’ve been staring at the screen for an hour and you haven’t made any progress. Don’t you think it’s time to move on to something else for a little? I’m not going to bar you from online interactions, you know. I just don’t think it’s productive to stare angrily at the screen when you’re accomplishing nothing. Put that down. You’ll feel more efficient this way.”
Verda’s right for once, even if it’s skeptical of her claim that it’s wasted the last hour doing nothing whatsoever. It reluctantly puts down its tablet and listens to her naming various things in the room. Some things she compiles in order to have one to show. There are a lot of delicate distinctions and some words are irritatingly similar, relying on distinctions between sounds that it can barely detect. The entire time, Verda maintains her calm and positive demeanor. If she’s displeased, she’s hiding it well. Eventually, she stops and takes a most likely unnecessary breath.
“That should be enough for today. You’re making good progress, tdaiyn. We’ll have lunch in a little while before heading to the virtual reality center. I suggest you relax a bit before then, since you seem to find our trips stressful, and you won’t be very relaxed later.”
“Why are you taking me?”
“I told you, to test for possible solutions to your sensor dysphoria.”
“Beyond that. You know the treatment.”
“I know that you reacted to that treatment by trying to kill me, darling. My patience for your feralist tendencies has limits.”
“But-”
“Do you have any actual objections, or are you trying to combat the ‘xeno menace’ again?”
It frowns. She found out its plot. Defeated (for now), it returns to its tablet, which seems to have gone into sleep mode. It turns it on to find the username page is closed. Verda hasn’t moved and now she’s pretending to not be watching, but it knows better. For lack of a better idea, and in order to avoid relaxing, which would show weakness, it opens the videos tab again.
“Greetings, newfriends. I’m Ann Sticks, first floret of Trip Sticks, tenth bloom. This is going to be hard to talk about. There isn’t a good way to introduce the subject so I’ll just get started. A few months ago I was being domesticated after my capture from a Cosmic Navy ship. We had been disabled in a battle and were sitting there helplessly until the Affini found us and took us onto the Buttercup. That’s where I met my mistress, who I didn’t get along with. I know a lot of you probably won’t be getting along with your mistresses either, which shouldn’t be surprising, but Affini do get confused about that.
“This was a couple of weeks after my capture, but I hadn’t gotten my implant yet. My mistress had to leave on business somewhere that day. It only took a couple of hours, but while she was gone, I found an injection kit with a huge needle and a vial of a scary dark liquid. I ran away because I didn’t want to have that inside my body. I was starting to think she was on my side and everything I had been told was wrong, because she was so nice and was taking good care of me, better than my family did, or my boss. To be betrayed that way, that she was going to drug me or poison me, to take advantage of me… It hurt. I cried so much the whole time.
“I ran as far as I could, and I hid somewhere I knew nobody would think to look. Nobody did look there for a while. Then affini started calling for me everywhere on the ship. They told me to come home, that everything would be fine. I knew that wasn’t true. If it were, why would they sound so suspicious, like they had weapons behind their backs? One did find me and tried to sedate me. How could I not run from that? By then I was hungry and even more scared. It… I’ve never felt more alone (she pauses, remembering the feeling).
“Eventually my mistress found me, hiding in a corner of the library. I was trying to be invisible in the dark but she saw me anyway. When she came up to me I tried to run away again, but she was too fast. There was nowhere to go and I was against a wall, facing a ton of stabby things from her. She looked angry, so I pulled the lever next to me. I had no idea what it did, but I wanted something to happen. There was no other way I could see to escape her. The lever I pulled was an Affini fire alarm.
“The ship ejected the entire library with us inside. We spent a very long time alone together, drifting along in the middle of nowhere until somebody remembered to come back for us. I don’t know why that took so long (she looks at somebody to the side who must be talking). They were doing fire safety tests on the rest of the ship. My mistress didn’t inject me with anything then. She just held me and told me how much she missed me and how happy she was that I was safe. She might’ve been crying. I couldn’t see. I was crying because I thought she was going to hurt me, but then because I was happy to see her. I missed her too. She held me tightly until we were picked up, and that made me feel much better.
“The xenodrugs I found were just to cure my ADHD, which wasn’t possible with human medicine. My mistress was just taking care of me, and I made her worry by running away and hiding from her. That taught me that I should have just asked what it was instead of being afraid. It would’ve been better. If I had, I wouldn’t have been so upset, my mistress wouldn’t have been worried, and everyone else’s time wouldn’t have been wasted because of me. Even though I thought I would be punished, I wasn’t, because when my mistress found me I was ready to go home. It might have been different if I had fought her, but I didn’t want to.
“I regret trying to run away. Instead of letting my fears take control, I should have trusted my mistress and believed she knew what was best for me, because she did and does. Trusting your owner will make everything that happens much smoother. Thank you for listening to my story.”
Verda nods appreciatively from her chair. It refrains from reminding her that she doesn’t have to comment on everything that goes on on its screen. Nobody asked her unsurprising opinion. After that, her attention quickly returns to what she was doing.
The weeds would never admit that a slave would want to run, or that she could even try to run, to fresh meat (emphasis on meat). It must be getting to the part where they assume their florets are tamed enough not to read the undertones of the lectures. In this case, it turns out that libraries and other places aren’t well patrolled, and that it should be possible to jettison oneself and escape. That’s a good lesson. It might even be possible to make a weed go through a vacuum explosion…
Despite being written to talk Terrans into submitting, the plot was highly reminiscent of certain episodes of children’s shows it remembers from when it was freshly christened. Could this have been a simulated story, or to put it another way, fake news? That doesn’t matter, since if it happened a single time that would be enough to “prove” the “benefits” of subjugation of the Terran will.
The bastion of the Accord’s honor thinks more about the name it wants for itself when people over the Affini Compact speak to it. No ideas come. Why is this hard? It should be able to think of something, shouldn’t it? Some of the more obvious choices are taken. Who in the galaxy is calling itself “vroom-machine”? Or 2.718281828? The first twenty permutations of that sequence were used up, and that’s the length cap. Stars, why? Is everyone else this uncreative?
Maybe something that signals its intent to abolish Affiniism would be better. The problem is that anti_planti is both taken and prohibited. Even invertedpentagram is in use. This is useless. It snorts and clicks on another video to cool off. The floret in this video looks familiar…
“Hi, guys, gals, and thuys! I hope you and your Master or Mistress have been spending some quality time together. Spending time together is important for them too. My name is Turtle of Ebony (they/them), first floret of Bel of Ebony, second bloom. My Master rescued me and gave me a new life during the early stages of integration. I owe him my life and he’s a big part of why it continues to be worth living.”
That’s right, it’s the one talking about being rescued from herself and how she was a terrible person who kicked kittens or something until the Affini made her stop. Imagine needing to be rescued, when the only thing that caused a need for rescuing was the weeds themselves. Well… and the occasional loser who couldn’t make it in Terran society. But that’s what makes capitalist societies strong, survival of the fittest. Not that this ship was the fittest or fastest… but it’s certainly good enough, and those repulsive weeds would never be able to appreciate its true worth. They’d just turn it into the moral equivalent of a trophy wife. Bah!
Now that it thinks of it, why has it never seen a male affini? Where are they all? These florets talk about having masters, but they’re nowhere to be seen. It wonders if the Compact is some kind of matriarchy. That would go against a lot of their inane ideology, but xenos lie. That question is much more interesting than the cookie cutter story of being saved from being free. Ugh. Perhaps a different video would be more interesting.
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Cellulose & Steel