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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
- 73
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- 75
“Pet.”
It’s not a pet.
“Olivia?”
It doesn’t care.
“Wake up, Ember.”
It’s awake.
“Are we going to have to do this again? It’s time for breakfast.”
Oh. Ember sits up and opens its eyes, taking in… Verda’s bedroom. Stupid evil plant. No, Ember agreed to this. It knew what was going to happen in advance. Wasn’t it on the couch though?
“How did I get here?” it asks the voice to its right.
“You fell asleep on the couch and I decided you needed the rest. When you didn’t wake up by midnight, I carried you here.”
“That long?”
“Yes, pet. It’s five thirty right now. Are you still tired?”
“No.”
“Good. I thought we could take a walk before breakfast. Would you like that?”
“Fine.”
“We have a busy day scheduled, so we should start right away. I don’t think you need to change. Put your shoes on and we’ll go.”
Ember seems to be wearing the same thing as yesterday. The rumpled green shirt creases weirdly on its chest, not looking good at all. Oh well. It dislodges itself from the covers which it seems to have tangled itself in during the night. At least now, Verda seems to be keeping to her half of the bed and permitting her “floret” some personal space. She’s sitting too, smiling over the mangled sheets.
With a leap that wouldn’t be possible on Terra, Ember springs most of the way to the door. The floor is cool on her bare feet, and that’s unpleasant for some reason. She finds her shoes by the door and puts them on, but Verda doesn’t seem to be ready yet. She’s anxiously typing on her computer, occasionally glancing over. If Affini is typed in a Terran way, she can’t be doing less than a hundred words per minute. Probably not much more, but at least that.
The affini eventually finishes and sighs, putting away her electronics and moving toward the front door. In a single motion, she grabs a leash from a hook somewhere and attaches it to her prisoner’s neck, gently indicating that it’s now time for a walk. Woof.
The faintest light of dawn is starting to fade into the artificial night, blotting out the diffuse bulbs that emulate stars. Ember is familiar enough with their position in space to know that the sky isn’t accurate. That’s a shame. Surely the weeds must have enough processing power to replicate that. They turn left instead of moving into the park, going in an unfamiliar direction.
“Why isn’t the night sky accurate?”
“What do you mean?”
“That isn’t how it looks through the hull.”
“It isn’t?”
Verda looks around her skeptically, probably trying to judge whether that’s true.
“No. It looks random.”
“It wouldn’t be accurate, darling. We’re spinning, if you recall. I imagine a lot of florets would be disoriented quickly if the sky were to spin too.”
“Oh.” That makes sense. It’s gotten used to the outward force already. It’s much stronger than anything it had experienced on a Terran ship.
“Though that’s a good idea, and one I’ll have to suggest the next time a vote comes up. We could model a planet’s night sky very easily.”
“You really have votes?”
“Really. I’ve told you about that before.”
“You did, but I don’t believe you.”
Verda sighs, looking into the distance to where the ceiling meets the ground. “I know,” she says, leading her charge through an alley and turning onto a quiet street. “You’ll be eligible for the next vote, and you’ll have no choice but to believe it when the ballot is in front of you.”
“You let florets vote?”
“Yes, pet. You live here just as much as we do.”
“Then the votes don’t mean anything.”
“But they do. Every time you look up at night you could see the result. Not everything can be decided by ballot, of course.”
“See?”
“Would you allow your crew to decide your maneuvers during a fight?”
“Of course not, but that’s the military. But- this is the military too. Do you have anywhere that isn’t geared toward conquest?”
“Nothing I say will satisfy you. We have too many florets to protect to leave anywhere completely undefended.”
“See?”
“I see that we’re here.”
They arrived outside a small building, the windows of which shone in the early light without glare. Tables and chairs sized for affini fill a room that takes up most of the building’s floor area. A tiled wooden floor carries scuffs from long use. The weeds probably think that looks rustic. A double door leads into what’s probably the kitchen of the restaurant, which a Terran floret exits, dressed as a waiter. Almost all of the seats are empty and most of the customers look like they’ve been up all night. It seems affini aren’t generally early risers.
With a tilt of her head, Verda encourages her prisoner to enter. The waiter, a tall dark haired man in a white blazer and an apron, greets them with a wide xenodrug induced smile.
“Hello! Welcome to Li’s. One seat or one and a half?” he asks Verda, not acknowledging Ember after making brief smiling eye contact.
“One and a half, please.” Verda smiles at the slave, almost certainly exulting in her power over somebody innocent.
“Then follow me.”
The waiter spins in place and starts walking seemingly at random. After two circuits around the room, they end up next to a wall of windows that faces a park. This one has almost no trees and is mostly grass on artificial hills. It would be a good place to go sledding, if they even had snow there (which they wouldn’t, because that would be silly). Verda’s chair matches her size and Ember’s matches its. It has to climb in order to sit there, but then it’s at a good height to reach the table. While Ember’s captor still towers above it, she’s much closer to eye level than usual.
Several minutes later, after discharging other duties around the restaurant, the waiter returns with two glasses of water, both Terran size. He brings a menu as well, which he hands to Verda before wordlessly leaving. She stares at it for a while, vines swishing.
“Pet, if I were to order pancakes for you, would you be willing to eat them neatly, without using your hands?”
“I would.” So Verda remembers that incident. At least Ember hasn’t been forced to let her feed it in a while. It shudders.
Verda smiles. “Then it’s settled.”
As soon as she sets down the menu, the waiter reappears.
“We will have the ruby stack, please.”
“Right away.”
He barely has time to grab the menu before running off to the kitchen. Outside, it’s now inarguably day. A little dew is visible on the grass like a bunch of diamonds mined by the Affini Compacts slaves. Ember wonders what its life would’ve become if Verda hadn’t decided she ought to kidnap it. Maybe it would be harvesting resources instead of serving as an exotic pet for an alien aristocrat. Maybe, Ginger and Olivia would’ve lived together with Artemis, lounging around and being worthless playthings.
Breakfast arrives with a gentle woosh. The floret is moving so quickly he almost spills the contents of the plate onto the table. Fortunately, Verda is there to stop him from smacking into the edge of the table, even if that means her vines are squeezed between the waiter’s shoulders and the table. She doesn’t look hurt but she probably is. Ember would’ve expected that. It would’ve also expected for the food to crash into the window, but that didn’t happen. Ember was paying attention too, and managed to catch it in mid flight. It sets down the plate between its arms, where the waiter probably intended to place it.
What? Ember’s vines withdraw, allowing it to start its meal. It has vines? It didn’t notice the backpack this morning. It really must’ve been tired. After flexing them to make sure they’re really obeying it, they’re tucked away somewhere mostly out of Ember’s field of view.
“Sorry, Miss. Sorry, friend.”
“It’s quite all right, Joe.” That’s what the nametag says, now that Ember checks. “Your dedication to feeding us efficiently is very cute.”
Joe flushes at the praise, smiling even more than before. He thanks Verda and carefully walks back to the kitchen, leaving her with her prisoner and its food. Evidently she didn’t want anything, which surprises Ember only a little. She probably had a big midnight snack. Speaking of which… Ember didn’t have dinner last night. It’s starving.
Before it stands a stack of at least a dozen small pancakes, covered in a thin layer of red jelly. The ones on the top and bottom are narrower, sculpted into a more streamlined shape. Sausage patties decorate the top, along with a bunch of strawberries. The middle of the top pancake is cut out, revealing a reservoir of whipped cream.
“It’s Ruby Trunk.”
“It is, darling,” Verda replies with a smile. It’s Li’s specialty.”
“You aren’t having one?”
“I’m not hungry.”
Taking the fork and knife that Joe succeeded in delivering, Ember cuts into its breakfast. It’s probably just because it’s so hungry, but everything on the plate is delicious. Despite just how much there is, it’s able to finish all of it. Verda watches patiently, not bothering to check her messages or order more executions or whichever thing she’s usually doing. Her vines rest calmly around her, smelling the various scents of the restaurant.
“Li is a floret, Ember. She likes to make dishes like this while her mistress is busy.”
Ember didn’t ask.
“Dahlia likes to eat here, according to her owner.”
“Her ‘mistress’ is weird.”
“Pet, I know you remember what I told you about that.”
“What is it this time?”
“You’re not to misgender people. It’s very unfloretlike.”
“And you’re still going to hold me to that, after… all of that?”
“Yes, I am, darling. I still want to see what you can achieve, and it would be a productive way for you to work out your urges. Besides, there will be safeguards to ensure that nothing goes truly wrong.”
“Such as?”
“Accidentally goading the floret into self harm, or being found out and triggering a conflict with others. There isn’t that much you can actually do to mess things up, pet.”
It’s not her pet. “So…”
“So, you’re not being punished for anything. Drink some more water to dilute all of that sugar that’s entering your digestion so you don’t get dehydrated.”
“...”
“Very well, Ember. You can show your resistance to the wicked Affini by denying your physical needs. I won’t force you to drink. You’ll be ready for it eventually,” she says with a grin.
“You don’t have to sound menacing, you know.”
“Perhaps, but the idea of you debating whether to fight me by doing things that you know are self destructive is adorable.”
She ruffles her helpless and stuffed prisoner’s hair and taps the leash where it rests on the table, indicating that it’s time to go. Ember takes a sip of water and they leave.
“We really don’t have to clean the table?”
“We don’t. We have machines to take care of mundane tasks. I know it’s hard to get used to, but I know you will.”
She smiles and adds slack to the Terran’s line as they go somewhere. She doesn’t actually say where they’re going at any point. Morning continues to grow uniformly across the sky as more passengers start to wake up and move around the pair. Occasionally a Terran floret will wave excitedly and Ember will wave back, while Verda simply walks and enjoys the scenery, assuming xenos are capable of enjoying scenery. They pass through a part of the deck that’s full of tall buildings with barely enough space to walk at the same time as an affini from the opposite direction. It reminds Ember of Terra’s cities. Even if it’s day, the light down here is dim, tending toward the color of the lighting rather than the artificial sunlight.
“Maybe this isn’t so bad,” the pilot starts to think. It wonders whether Verda would’ve been this nice from the start if it had been less antagonistic. Of course this is bad. She’s the enemy, the leader of a force created to destroy Ember’s people, to demolish their architecture and empty their museums. Who knows how much they’ve plundered and burned? Will they permit the continued existence of medical research they find objectionable? Probably not… Not that that means much, but humanity will need to recover somehow once the weeds leave. Just as with other invaders, they’ll be sure to prevent Terra from catching up. That’s what invaders usually do. Not like Rome, where they actually built things… The Affini do nothing but destroy. Their sham “democracy” is just as false as their compassion. Ember is certain there’s some trick to it. Voting can’t mean anything if the ballots are rigged. If it’s electronic, how can anyone prove the numbers aren’t accurate? Verda could make up any result she wanted and that would become law. Who’s going to stop her? Her fellow weeds? They’re too busy fawning over their slaves and pumping them full of drugs.
At least Ember’s mind is clear. Verda’s weakness will destroy her evil race forever. She doesn’t know it yet, but she’s been making a fatal series of mistakes. It would’ve been better for her to domesticate the normal way. Perhaps she would’ve had a chance to suppress Ember’s nature. Now… That’s never going to happen. No matter how hard she fights, the prey will become the hunter.
Soon enough they pass through to somewhere that Ember recognizes. Verda’s house is in the distance, visible down the street. They pause to stop for a tram to pass by, and continue the rest of the way back. After a large and enjoyable breakfast eaten mostly without weed trickery, the Terran is in a good mood. The day has officially gotten off to a good start. Then it remembers that Verda promised it a bath when they got back and its mood sours. Since there’s no chance of escape, Ember has no choice but to walk back politely with its captor, as a good floret would.
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Cellulose & Steel