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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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“Yesterday.”
“What about yesterday, darling?” Verda looks up from the tablet she’s been intently studying on their walk back to her house.
“It’s not my fault.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know why I did that. It didn’t feel normal.”
“Really?” She looks up, attention drawn to the Terran she wishes would become her floret.
“After the xenodrugs that psychologist gave me, I felt weird for the rest of the day. I didn’t notice at the time. I thought it was normal-” Ember bites its tongue so it doesn’t give the weed further ammunition to reduce its autonomy. If it can be deluded into insanity that easily, why should it be allowed to make any decisions at all? Never mind that it was the fault of xenodrugs.
“What weird and abnormal feelings did you have, Ember?”
“Anger. They were supposed to remove my emotions so that I could focus, but that didn’t happen.” It looks straight ahead, ignoring the people and xenos around them. “You heard what I said. You know that isn’t how I am. Have you ever seen me that way?”
The pilot turns to its captor, who’s looking into the distance. “I should have expected something would go wrong.” She sighs. “Those xenodrugs were tested extensively, and you are by no means the first to have been administered them, pet. With a skilled veterinarian, the risks should have been nonexistent. When did the side effects start to dissipate?”
“After dinner.”
Verda nods. “And you found yourself enduring the consequences of actions you no longer agreed with?” She turns to look at her prisoner skeptically. “What specifically are you referring to?”
The Collaborator. It collapses in the street, only saved from falling completely on its face by the xeno abominations sticking out of its neck. Disgusting. It’s disgusting. This is what they always wanted. A Terran cannot collaborate with xenos, especially when they’re enslaving its kind. It knows better. It should be better. It can’t let itself stoop that low. It sinks to the ground, lying limply.
After an unknowable period of time, Verda leans down, making “eye contact” in an effort to save it from its awareness. She’s pretending to be worried, but how could a xeno care about a Terran? They’re just slaves, nothing more. Ember isn’t good enough to react.
“Darling?”
It doesn’t care. It never wanted this. It just wanted to spend time with its crew, but they’ve all abandoned it. They gave up, willingly selling their greater family for nothing. Ginger didn’t even think to ask for something in return for her treason. The weed is watching carefully, looking for a point of attack. At any second she’ll deploy xenodrugs. Will it even know how guilty to feel? Probably not. That would be something a higher lifeform would worry about, not a pet.
“Ember. Can you hear me?”
It can.
“Do you need me to carry you?”
No. It’s perfectly fine lying here.
“Do you need medical attention?”
It’s fine and wants to be left alone. The stupid weed should know that by now.
“I’ll sit with you until you’re able to speak, then. Let me know when you’re ready to discuss what’s bothering you.”
She bunches herself in front of Ember, placing a hand in clear view of its forward sensor batteries. It doesn’t care. They remain that way for a while, watching the passage of whomever cares to walk by. Ember doesn’t care about that. Verda and a few affini discuss something in their creaky language, but that doesn’t matter. Verda doesn’t get up, so it must not resolve anything. Light starts to fade from the roof of their deck. People stop moving past. Even if Verda types on her tablet, her attention is clearly divided. It feels her watching it. It hates that. It hates being a spectacle, something to be stared at by weeds. It’s an ornament and nothing more. It’ll never amount to anything.
Even though capitalism doesn’t have many extreme successes, they do -did- exist. Ember could’ve become somebody or something. Not any more. Now… it’s just a collaborator, someone who gratifies the weeds’ desires. What did it agree to? It’s going to help them destroy more Free Terrans. That’s all they want. They’re destroyers in the name of happiness. Like all communists, they break and never build.
The worst part is that Verda can’t even be blamed. She’s doing her best, xeno that she is. She’s taking care of those under her authority to the best of her understanding and discharging her duty to her people. Even if the Affini navy works differently, Ember sees the officer in her. That fact stings. She’s the enemy! She still hasn’t lied to it. She’s a kidnapper and a slaver! She took Ember to be fitted for something that would reduce its sensor dysphoria and gave it permission to refuse. She killed other pilots! She says that any death is a horrible thing, even in war. Because she wants to enslave everyone!
It doesn’t know. It can’t decide whether to care. It… just doesn’t want to be a collaborator. It’s tried so hard, and it came so close to getting Dahlia on its side without really trying. The war has been its life almost since it finished flight school. War and fighting xenos is all it knows- aside from astrophysics, particle physics, history, and a bit of interstellar engineering. But none of those things are needed by the Affini. They say their ships are better, and they’re certainly not bad. They say their medicine is better, and Ember’s been shown that many times. They say they can make humanity happy. They might be right, but what value does happiness have if there’s nothing beneath it? Then you may as well kill everyone because life is painful and everyone dies anyway.
“Ember?” The affini who is starting to blend into the darkness of evening interrupts its thoughts gently. “We can’t stay here all night. You’ll get cold.”
It’ll be fine.
“If lying there will make you comfortable I will permit it, but I will not allow your health to suffer due to your obstinacy. If you continue to have nothing to say, I will be forced to keep you warm myself.”
She’s capable of doing that. It ignores her. For a moment she backs away, but then she lies on the ground with Ember, a few vines gently wrapping around its core. When it doesn’t pull away, Verda tenses for a moment before bringing another vine to gently stroke its hair.
“You aren’t alone, darling. No matter what you feel right now, know that I will protect you from its impact.” She starts to hum quietly to the familiar tempo of her biorhythms. Disgusting.
“Nothing can hurt you while I’m here. You don’t have to see Vanessa again if you don’t want to. I won’t force you to tell me what’s troubling you, but I’d rather help than watch you suffer. Ember, do you think you could look at me?”
It’s certain that it has that ability. Why should it?
“Ember?” She passes a vine in front of its visual inputs. It doesn’t react. The warcrimes presently being inflicted seem to make staying perfectly still much easier.
“I’m aware this will upset you, tdaiyn.”
After several moments during which she assumes her victim will become distracted, Verda flips it onto its back, which means that she flips it onto its backpack. Nothing changes.
“Ember, can you hear me at all?” She’s starting to worry. Good. “Very well, I’m going to carry you home. When we arrive I will be able to examine you more closely, and if you object enough to tell me so, then that’s a victory as well. Let’s go, pet.”
She lifts the Terran into her arms, tucking it next to her vibrating core. Her sounds are much louder here Tump thump ta-tump. It would much rather not be here, but some things are unavoidable, aren’t they? The war, the invasion, its capture, the abolition of the human race and all the cultures within it…
The weed seems able to move very quickly when she feels so inclined. They weren’t actually far away, so Verda arrives in a couple of minutes. She dumps her cargo onto the couch, leaving for some storage closet that Ember doesn’t care much about. She returns quickly carrying something it can’t see without moving its eyes. After waving the device around for a bit, she scowls and brings out another. She touches Ember’s head and throat, gesturing with her vines. How long will she continue?
A very long time, actually. The plant paces aggressively, in a way that would look less odd if she were using feet to pace with. Every so often she stops to stare at her prisoner, who watches in turn through the corners of its eyes. Does she know she’s being observed? Probably not.
“Short of xenodrugs, there are no other options. This is your last chance to show that you’re well, pet.”
It’s not her pet.
Verda gently tugs on the junction, loosening the cable attaching its extra limbs to the rest of its body. The sensation is not pleasant, but it’s painless. It’s more weird than anything else. One second its secondary arms can feel everything they’re touching, the next they’re lifeless and it’s able to feel them from the outside only. Ember isn’t pleased but says nothing.
“Darling? Is there anything I can fix that will improve your mood?”
She can leave Terran space and liberate everyone she captured and enslaved.
“I can’t help you until you tell me what’s wrong.”
It simply will not be a collaborator. It’s better than that.
“Then there are no other options and you have no right to be angry. Were you in your right mind you would unquestionably accept that this state is unacceptable for you to be in.”
Verda lashes out and injects it with xenodrugs. That isn’t Ember’s fault. It was just lying there peacefully. She’s the one who decided to bully it. The ship’s hull starts to overheat. Verda places a blanket on it, watching. It does nothing, also watching. Verda adds another blanket. Now the internal heat is morphing into itching. Stars, no, it’s the touching thing from before. It hurts! It knows that Verda is the only thing that can make the suffering go away. It knows that it will suffer until it gives in and touches her. She’s forcing it to move. Evil weed!
Eventually the sensation is too powerful. It has no idea how much she gave it but it was a lot. The sensation of needing to be touched evolved into real pain. It felt that it was dying, even though it knew better. It couldn’t hold back. Even more ashamed of itself than of how it was last night, it launches itself at its captor. She holds it close to her, petting it and patting its back under its floret uniform. There’s no pleasure, only relief. A sharp tap to the neck causes the pain to drain away. Despite an elevated heartrate, it’s back to normal. Verda stopped it from suffering?
“How do you feel now, Ember?”
It doesn’t respond.
“I know you can hear me, pet. Answer, or we’ll do that again and I’ll make you beg me to touch you so I can hear your voice.”
“...”
“That’s better. Thank you, tdaiyn.”
It says nothing.
“Are you willing to explain what happened? Why did you stop talking to me before?”
Because it refuses to collaborate with the enemy. It’s not a plantfucker like Ginger.
Verda sighs. “Ember, a well behaved floret wouldn’t play this sort of game. Am I to believe you’re insufficiently equipped at the moment to rescue a seed?”
“...”
“Well?”
She wins this time. It feels disgusting.
“No.”
“Thank you, darling. I’m relieved to hear you’re back to yourself.”
It doesn’t dignify that with a response.
“I would not have been obligated to use xenodrugs if you had answered me right away, you know.”
It knows. Why didn’t it say something sooner? What’s wrong with it?
“Tell me what you were trying to tell me before. How much different do you feel from when you were affected by the xenodrugs intended to assist in your processing of your memories?”
“I’m the same as ever?”
“No, pet. You certainly are not.”
“You’re wrong. You’ll all pay.”
“Olivia?”
The Terran pilot bolts up.
“Can you answer me?”
“What?”
“Do you remember what we were just discussing?”
“Of course.”
“What do you have to say?”
“I want to lie down. My head hurts.”
“Of course, pet,” she says cautiously.
Olivia lies back against the arm of the couch as Verda moves to a nearby seat. It sinks into the cushions, relieved. One thing is wrong, though. She reaches behind her back and locates the plug that connects to the xeno mechanism. Plugging it in feels a lot better.
“This is what I was talking about. That’s what happened.”
“I don’t think this was the result of xenodrugs, darling.”
“It must’ve been. There’s nothing else.” She can’t let her notice its reactions. She’ll want to read her thoughts next. Verda only looks at her prisoner sadly.
“You should rest. Once you’ve had a nap, we can discuss dinner.”
“Fine.”
That plan sounds above average. Olivia’s ready to eat already, but for the time being it’s probably smarter to rest. Besides, she has to play the role of the obedient floret. Hopefully this incident didn’t take that away. She’d never forgive Verda if that happened. Even if nobody ever said that domestication wasn’t a rigged game… that would be too low, even for a weed. Olivia stretches her sextet of appendages, enjoying her increased range of motion. It feels much nicer than she anticipated.
The xenodrugs, on the other hand… It’s hard to fault Verda for administering them. She did give Olivia plenty of chances to speak or move or do anything at all. That would’ve made sense. Why didn’t she? It’s certainly problematic. Verda will be worrying for quite a while about the cause, but somehow her prisoner doesn’t feel happy. She almost feels guilty about being the cause of that. No, the xenodrugs are fully out of her system. Verda’s antidote precisely removed every bit from her veins. Even though Olivia feels the impulse to shudder, she resists. Better not to let the weed know what she’s thinking. Now that she’s herself again, the two blankets are very comfortable. She pulls them back over herself and settles in for a while, fully aware of the affini watching from across the room.
No. That won’t do.
“I’m fine.”
“For now.”
“No, I’m fine.” She really is. Having so much time to think must have knocked loose something that was festering for a while. Survival is not collaboration and Olivia would rather put herself into a stronger position.
“Really?”
“Really, Verda. I don’t think that will be happening again in the future.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“The xenodrugs are gone and my brain has stabilized.”
“Pet…”
“Nobody’s forcing you to keep calling me that. Even if you’re going to demand that I stop reminding you (for the time being) that I’m not your pet… you don’t have to say it so much.”
“Perhaps not, but I like how the word sounds, Olivia.”
Hearing that name again feels so strange. That’s her real name, not her ship name or her weed name. Olivia is a woman, not… what Verda wants her to be, simultaneously attracted to men and not a woman. It still makes no sense.
“You could still find another.”
“I’ll think about it.” The plant returns to her reading with a chuckle.
Ow… The memory of earlier starts to fade back in. Olivia remembers how ridiculous she was being. Collapsing in the middle of the street? Really? She should’ve come up with a more entertaining way of combating Verda. She’s smarter than pretending to be a vegetable. Still, seeing her suffer did feel nice… Well… It did, until she started to show genuine concern and attempted to respect its boundaries. That’s what a Terran would’ve done, not a xeno.
She flips over and faces the back of the couch. Maybe that isn’t the safest position, but if Verda wants to hurt her, half a second of warning isn’t going to accomplish anything. She adjusts a blanket to cover her shoulders using one of the v- long things coming out of her back. They’re quite useful. Now she’s finally ready for a nap.
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Cellulose & Steel