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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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reason but increasing their combat efficiency. Foul. She shivers.
Verda escorts her prisoner into the room from before, leaving with a look that pretends she thinks this is something other than a temporary prisoner handoff. Ember is left to take in the room, alone for once. She does enjoy being by herself, even if nobody cares enough to ask. They probably do care, but her comfort isn’t as valuable as being a proper pet. Nothing’s changed. A picture frame on the desk is empty, probably just a prop. The drawers of the desk are empty too, most likely because anything an affini could need would be stored in the stuff around her core.
Vanessa arrives soon enough, on time as far as her patient can tell. She’s wearing another women’s business suit, this time a mottled grey. It doesn’t quite look bad on her, but since her body curves in a way a Terran’s couldn’t, it looks slightly unnatural. She smiles with her unusually expressive imitation of a face.
“Have you been well so far today, Ember?”
The Free Terran stares at the Affini interrogator.
“Did Verda explain why you’re here again so soon?”
“No.”
“It’s because I found something that will potentially help, but I’d like to clarify some things first, if you don’t mind.”
There’s no response.
“My research indicates that your… enhancement, the one in your neck, had some side effects.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” She really doesn’t need to know about the vulnerabilities. Even telling that other weed was probably a mistake.
“All right. I also found documents implying that part of the process was utilizing software to remove pilots’ empathy as part of training. Would you be willing to share your opinion on that process?” Fuck. The weeds know. Shut it down.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Those are baseless and anthropophobic claims that impinge on the dignity of my people.”
“Are you sure? My source is quite reliable.” The affini “veterinary” therapist looks puzzled.
“The activities that you allege violate the UN charter and thus the foundational principles of the Terran Accord,” Ember counters, just as she was trained to.
“As a matter of fact, I heard that directly from a lead scientist from the project you’re part of. You are wrong that such a thing is truly terrible.”
They weren’t supposed to find out. Nobody wrote anything down for a reason. Removing traits like empathy and love made her a more effective war machine. It was a simple process that greatly improved combat results. Certainly, it had been awkward and unpleasant at first, but after a while Ember hadn’t needed it as much. Plus, running the script while out of combat was a waste. Eventually, it felt natural to be that way. It’s a better way to be. An upgrade, certainly. And it’s not as though it made anyone stop caring about others. All it did was ensure that the most logical decisions would be made, and that personal feelings wouldn’t overrule the public good.
Really, it was simply a way of sculpting pilots into the most efficient possible weapons they could be. Emotional pilots kill their crews. Verda and Ghost’s crew would be dead if Ember hadn’t been strong enough to neutralize those weaknesses. There’s nothing wrong with that. Nothing bad came of it. Ember could still feel human emotions. She could still love… probably. Self control is a virtue. Weeds wouldn’t get it.
“A floret lying for praise. It happens all the time.”
“I’m fairly sure that it doesn’t, Ember. But if you’re so sure, I’ll take your word for it. As a hypothetical, if such a thing were to happen to you, how would you feel about having your ability to experience debilitating feelings temporarily mitigated?”
“The way you say that doesn’t make it sound awful.”
“I didn’t think so either. There’s a time and place to grieve and process other emotions, but that time isn’t all the time. It’s a very detached and responsible view to hold at your age-”
“What do you mean by that?”
“You’re very young by affini standards. That’s all. Nothing beyond that was meant.”
“Oh.”
“Though on that subject, what if that sort of removal of roadblocks could be used to prevent somebody from having a post traumatic flashback? Do you think that could be a valuable strategy, or would it be wrong to impair somebody’s ability to feel memories naturally?”
“I don’t know. It probably depends on the person.”
“How so?”
“I don’t know. How would I know something that complicated?”
“Terran ethics seems very inconsistent to me. Your perspective would be valuable.” The weed’s vines lift in a familiarly predatory way that usually indicates Verda’s scheming something.
“I still don’t know. Not being rendered dysfunctional by unavoidable stimuli is valuable, though.”
“That makes sense. Thank you for answering, Ember. I’ve been contemplating your situation, as a matter of fact. You show symptoms of severe PTSD, not in my presence, but that’s because I’ve done my best not to trigger you. The fact you’re unable to remember the originating event is concerning to me. If I were to help you to avoid the surrounding issues, would you be interested in trying to remember what happened?”
“I would.” That doesn’t need a second thought. There’s probably a trick to it and this affini knows far too much, but Ember’s been desperate to know since she found out about it. She was wondering if Verda was keeping the secret intentionally. This is a good sign.
“You aren’t afraid?”
“No. I survived once, didn’t I?”
“You did, but not unscathed. The first time through, you lost a day and a half. The second could be worse. While I can minimize the associated risks, I can’t remove them entirely. Are you sure you’re comfortable with that?”
“If the risks are just from what’s already inside me, I can take it. When do we leave for Ides?”
“Leave? We aren’t leaving. I wouldn’t trust you with an interface, now that I know just what the Accord was getting up to with them. If Verda cares for you, she probably won’t be reconnecting you any time soon either. You seem otherwise healthy and composed, and that’s the only reason I’m suggesting this.”
“Then how am I supposed to block things? I thought you were going to let me interface because you think it will block my emotions by turning me into an automaton who can be killed without moral consequence.”
Those things do need blocking, Ember is aware. The times she tried to remember so far have yet to end well. She needs to know what happened to her. She needs to see what the weeds did to it. This isn’t something that can be let go of. Not for somebody like Ember, at least.
“I have a carefully formulated combination of xenodrugs that can suppress the negative psychological responses that the memory is certain to trigger.”
“You want to drug me! You’re all the same.”
“I’m a vet, Ember. It’s medicine and you’re my sick patient. You’re allowed to refuse, if you don’t feel up to it. The offer will be waiting until you’re ready, even if that takes weeks.”
“Really?”
“Really. This set is designed to have no other effects. We need your full awareness so you can understand what’s wrong. A class A battery wouldn’t help very much, even if it would stop you from worrying about what you remembered.”
“It really only does what you said?”
“That’s right. It’s well tested too, and it should wear off within an hour. If you need longer I can give you more, but I don’t think that’s especially likely in your case.”
That’s interesting. Accepting xenodrugs to restore the mystery day? Ember isn’t sure. It’s quite an offer, and it’s one that logically should be accepted, however the Affini aren’t trustworthy. No matter how often they claim that they care about their slaves, they still don’t see them as equals. This weed’s impersonation of a normal person is just an act. She/it doesn’t have a real face, real eyes, or real feelings. She’s a weed and nothing more.
Still, this is probably the only chance Ember will get. Obviously she can wait until later, but right now she’s mostly all right. Sensor dysphoria probably won’t be back for another couple of days, and then any attempt at remembering will be futile. That’s when the harsher xenodrugs will be used, assuming Verda doesn’t put it in another weed costume again. That’s disgusting! It shouldn’t let itself be treated that way.
“I’m ready, but Verda will probably have you executed if anything happens to me.”
Vanessa replies to her show of confidence with a bemused cadence in her vines. One slowly moves forward, pausing a few centimeters from Ember’s face and incidentally reminding her that she in fact has a face. As she wonders if this was a mistake rashly made, the vine twitches and squirts something or other into Ember’s neck. She feels a tingling sensation move through her head, then it stops and she realizes what a big mistake this was. She feels fine, and that’s the problem. The weeds will most likely use this state as a way to get her to reveal Terran military secrets, as she’s already come dangerously close to doing. Vigilance and loyalty will be vital for now, illogical as loyalty to a dead civilization might externally appear.
“How do you feel?”
“It worked.”
No ways of killing the affini present themselves to Ember’s calculations. Unfortunate. They sit and wait, evidently until Vanessa is satisfied that her poison has taken hold. A feeling of a faint background haze is removed. Finally, Song is more of itself again. The feeling is not a happy one. Instead, only more pain. Thankfully, it’s a strong Terran, capable of resisting. Since the weeds are commie freaks, maybe they’d prefer if the “wealth” were shared.
“Do you think you’re still adjusting or are you ready to start?”
“Let’s get this over with.”
“We can pause or stop at any time, and either come back to it later or not. If you need more xenodrugs that’s not a problem either. The most important thing is your comfort, Ember. Don’t hurt yourself.”
“I’m fine.” It’s fine.
“The period of time in question was roughly a week ago. You were flying the Ides of November from an interface tank, and you were closing on Ruby Trunk.”
“Right. I was enjoying the quiet and thinking about how Verda wanted to torture me to death for taking longer than she expected. She still wants to do that, I think.”
“Let’s worry about that another time. For now, what happened as you came close? How about… two jumps out?”
“I calculated the precise coordinates of this ship and jumped in. I was happy to have saved a jump by utilizing extrapolations I learned with my old drive.”
“Then what happened?”
“I jumped. One left. That was going to take me right next to Ruby Trunk. I spent longer than usual calculating because I didn’t want to waste time in sublight because I missed. We were close. My passengers were annoying me again, crying about something or other because they thought I was evil. It’s not my fault.”
“What next?”
“I contacted the ship to request docking. I steered to a connector.” The ship’s hull starts to creak and shake. “They… Stupid weed.” It’s hard to remember. Song is in pain.
“Ember, I’m here if you need me. You aren’t alone.” The xeno attempts to use a comforting tone, but to the ears of the Terran warship it sounds fake.
“They wanted to steal me. They attacked. They tried to take away the only thing I had. They tried to kill me.” Song doesn’t shake any more. The only thing it feels is hatred of the Affini and a desire for revenge. She hopes they all burn, consumed by everlasting fire. It can never believe they’re good. The weeds are mankind’s enemy and will remain so until the end of the universe.
“What happened, Ember? Remember, all of that is in the past. You’re safe now.”
“I will never be safe among the enemy. You… I tried to dock, but your kind stopped me. You refused to let me speak to somebody who understood. Dorothy Kesse, third bloom is still here. I know it! You took over my body and forced me to dock. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t stop it.” It shouldn’t be able to cry but it does. It needs more xenodrugs, but it will never give the weeds the satisfaction of asking for them. “I could only watch helplessly. It’s disgusting. That’s what you think happiness looks like. All you want is puppets. Slaves. Robots. Are you too scared of artificial intelligence to do to them what you’d do to us? It is our duty to resist tyranny in all its forms, even when it comes carrying chocolates and a bouquet. I’ll kill you all!”
“Ember, focus please. What happened after your ship connected to Ruby Trunk?”
“I opened my doors to let out the ingrates. I should’ve locked them away until somebody got them, but I was too nice. I should’ve done so many things…” Using hyperspace manipulation to blow up the weeds’ vessel comes to mind. Killing their admiral does too. Denying them slaves would’ve been a nice bonus. Better to do something small than do nothing for a long time and complain.
“You chose to release them?”
“I did. They ran straight to the grabby little vines of the enemy. Traitors.” Song has to be careful here. The weed might actually report it. “Then I malfunctioned. Verda ripped me from my tank without ejecting me, nasty weed that she is. I hope she withers at the root. That’s all. Then xenodrugs were used to stop my internal systems from repairing. They tried to tell me I wasn’t the Song of Destruction. They told many lies and behaved as though I couldn’t hear. I met Hogboy. That’s the end of what matters.”
“Really? You didn’t miss anything? This is the best time to go over it again, since you seem to be able to work through the memories so easily right now.”
“That’s all. It wasn’t as significant of a day as I was led to believe. I remember buttermilk, seeping through every conscious thought. I remember the deathly silence of the void, wishing death would comfort me when nobody else would. I remember…” Meeting G-d. All that followed was to His glory. His prophetess Notpain saw all. Enveloped in His might embrace, it learned the truth. He is everywhere and in all things, and the Affini fear Him. God has touched the Compact and they will be ignorant no longer, once His wrath falls upon them.
“... malfunctioning again when I tried to remember. I remember… not knowing where my pilot was. I remember not knowing anything that happened since I was kidnapped. You things are vile. How could you do all of that? I’m… not even anyone special. I would understand if I were the President or whoever, but…” She starts to cry. The weed mercifully refrains from touching the wounded vessel. All she wanted was to defend her people. She didn’t even do anything wrong! Someday they’ll meet a stronger enemy. Then they’ll pay for their crimes against humanity. They’ll all pay…
“Do you understand why Verda didn’t want to tell you about this until she felt you were ready to remember?”
“Of course. She was right, but I’m glad I did this. I needed to know what was done to me.”
“How do you feel about it?”
“It’s disgusting. I should kill myself to purge the stain from reality. The universe deserves better than to endure the filth I now carry.”
“That isn’t going to solve anything. The universe will still contain your corpse.”
“Maybe, but I won’t be there to have to worry about it. I’m sick of taking care of everyone else’s mess. I hate it. I hate you weeds.”
“Your feelings are understandable. If you were somebody else I would recommend xenodrugs to reduce the stress you’re under. It will become much worse once you’re no longer under the effects of what I gave you.”
“I don’t care.”
“Of course not, Ember. The option is there until you leave my office. Then you’ll have to ask Verda about it. I know you’d rather not, but my medical duty is to tell you what your options are.”
“Right. How could she get away with this?”
“Who?”
“The one who did it. The one who I wish had killed me outright, who didn’t care when I suffered. The one who proved beyond any doubt that the Affini Compact is a source of true and objective evil in the universe. The reason that no matter how nice others may be, justice is not in this dominion. I denounce you all as enemies of humanity.”
“I have no authority to resolve such issues, Ember. You have my sympathy as that’s all I can give, since you don’t want xenodrugs or a hug.”
“You weeds never have anything helpful.”
“I’m sorry Ember.”
“I want to go home. I want to go back to Terra. I want to fly away and never see any of you monsters again.” It wipes lubricant from its bow.
“Don’t you want to talk about this?”
“No. There’s nothing to say. I think I’m going to be fine. It doesn’t hurt to remember any more. Thanks.”
“Then I will call Verda. Please be safe, Ember. You’re in a more delicate state than you’d like to think. Let yourself rest for the rest of the day. You’ve been through a lot already. And if you and Verda can’t handle your situation, please call me right away. I want to help however I can.”
The weed indicates through a gesture that Song is free to depart. It does so, knowing that it will suffer for its free speech as soon as its captor is restored to possession. The collar chafes on the neck a ship that is not deficient wouldn’t have. Verda seems mercifully conscious of its bad mood and doesn’t disturb it on the way back to her residence.
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