In May 2554, a very small Affini craft suddenly appears and latches itself onto the underside of the CNS Pandora’s Ultimatum. Huge vines wrap around the ship as the terrified crew prepare for the worst.
And then nothing.
Until there’s a knock on the inner airlock door.

Chapter 1: Assess The Situation

Notes:

This story is written in a way that your experience of it will be very different depending on your level of familiarity with the setting. It is intended to be reasonably approachable to someone fairly new, and a wholly different vibe for someone with a lot more experience in HDG who will be able to infer a lot more of what's going on.

If you would like to have the experienced reader approach,
Click HERE to get a list of stories I recommend reading first!

Abscission by Fluxom

From Pawn To Princess by Sheepwave and Slylittleprincess

No Gods, No Masters by Kanagen

Wellness Check by Darkfalli

Good Sensory by Sheepwave

Floret In The Mirror by Kanagen, which I would consider the most important on this list in terms of the specific pieces of the world it establishes and plays with

Additionally, while there are minimal noncon elements in this particular story, kink and noncon are inseparable from the setting itself. If this bothers you, HDG is not for you. Run. Run far and never look back. Those of us this IS for are having a great time. If your great time is somewhere else, I hope you find it.

While I am not new to writing more generally, I am new to … well, a lot of what’s about to happen, really. This is completely different from anything else I’ve ever done. It’s the first work of fiction I’ve ever written and posted online.

Shoutout to Stimulacrum, Lagnia, and PyxxieStyxx for beta reading this story, and especially the latter two for the extraordinary amount of encouragement they gave me throughout the process, and the push to finally start posting.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Reese Connor

Private Second Class Reese Connor was sick. Both of space and to his stomach.

For starters, the routine was rigid and miserable—though far better than the punishment for breaking it—and he found himself spending yet another time off shift unable to sleep.

Life aboard a navy ship was something he never asked for, and hated from the moment he was conscripted to it.

The propaganda might have said one thing, but there was a difference in how the Accord talked about the ‘xeno threat’ when it was Rinan revolutionaries and how it started behaving once the ‘weeds’ showed up. The forced recruitment alone made that clear. The Rinans were treated like a nuisance to be tidied up for the next budget quarter. The Affini Compact was treated like a threat.

The Terran Accord was scared.

Which made being out here on board a ship that was supposed to fight back all the more terrifying.

And, at the moment, restless.

Again.

Twelve hours on, twelve hours off, with ‘meals’—a bold term for the sensation of sucking down a cube or two of gelatin with all the texture and flavor of raw modeling clay—available on your own time, which of course meant off shift.

His stomach gurgled uncomfortably at just the thought of those awful things. Why anyone would engineer food that resists the application of flavor was a mystery to him.

With a frown, he tried to turn over to settle his stomach—

—only to realize for the six hundred somethingth time that it didn’t matter, because he was in stupid space.

Connor was stuck in cramped single-occupant quarters that he shared with his counterpart from the opposite shift, strapped into the space to keep himself from floating more than six inches away from the rock-solid “bed” that he couldn’t even technically sleep on in microgravity.

He was cold, he stank of one-minute-shower-every-fourteen-days-if-the-water-rationing-allowed-it, his quarters stank of too-many-times-the-water-rationing-didn’t-allow-it, and his face itched with an irritating prickle that he just couldn’t seem to get used to.

There was something wrong with his blood, too. He was sure of it. Too salty, or something. Something was just off in a way that made his entire body feel like crap all the time, but the ship’s medical officer, Dr. Silberman, kept telling him every mandatory checkup that it wasn’t anemia or hypertension (and therefore that he was, regrettably, still fit for duty).

It was probably just the damn synthcubes. He was convinced they made those things out of gelatinized dish water.

But, until his bunkmate came to kick him back on shift, he had nothing to keep him company but pessimistic thoughts of the marginally-better life he was stolen from and an old media player with a warping screen and little more on it than the bland “Tech Noir” he’d listened to so much in the last two years he couldn’t stop hearing it even when the player was off.

At least it drowned out the idle noises of the ship and the sound of magnetized boots clunking around its cramped halls.

At least he wasn’t plant food yet.

With a sigh and another twist in his stomach (yeah, he thought, it's definitely the synthcubes), he decided to close his eyes and try in vain to sleep.

A slight jerking sensation almost convinced him it was working.

His eyes shot open when he felt the engines spooling a few seconds later.

That was a hypermetric kick.

And the engines were spooling up, not down.

Or. They were spooling. For a second.

And then.

Nothing.

Eerie.

Empty.

Nothing.

Rapid-fire clunking sounds echoed from all directions, but not the clunking of magnetic boots.

Something's on the hull.

An ear-piercing klaxon blared across the ship. “VOIGHT GET THAT DRIVE BACK ONLINE NOW. ALL HANDS TO BATTLE STATIONS.”

Captain Fox

How many stories had Terra told?

It must be millions.

Thousands of years of history. From words and songs to clay pots and tablets. From carvings to scrawlings to scripture. From the dawn of man to the age of sailing through the greatest, blackest seas of all, where the stars could never set on the horizon. From the wheel and the flame to the splitting of atoms and exotic matter that threw humanity across the galaxy, ready to face the universe.

And in all those stories, how many, he wondered, felt just like the one he was living now?

In how many of those stories had a Hero faced some insurmountable odds, some impossible foe, some great trials of Hercules, in order to secure their righteous victory?

How many stories had humanity told just like this?

History had prepared him for hardship and hydras and Herculean tasks. Sometimes the only thing a Hero needed was Hope—mankind’s greatest weapon of them all. How aptly named, then, was the ship at his command: the CNS Pandora’s Ultimatum. The last resort. A name that said, push me to the breaking point if you dare, because I won’t be the one to break.

For so long had humanity prepared itself to face the monsters that seemed unbeatable. It was only a matter of time before one such monster finally reared its head on the cosmic horizon.

The Terran spirit was not built for surrender.

Not to gods, not to monsters, and not to the stars-damned Affini Compact. Filthy slavers.

The Terran spirit was a great many things. It was a call to arms. It was a weapon sharper than any blade, greater than the kick of any hypermetric slug. It was a flag to be planted on the furthest celestial shores, and an anthem to all that flag stood for. It was the deadliest thing in the cosmos: the thing that kept you standing, bone-weary, when a nightmare from beyond the stars dared to say kneel. It was Hope, the last, greatest weapon there was. It was Pandora’s Ultimatum.

For all the things the Terran spirit was, perhaps the most important of all was a righteous cause.

But right now, a righteous cause was all it had.

And that righteous cause was in need of a Champion.

Because Terra herself wasn’t it.

The weeds had seen to that.

Against all odds, the homeworld of humanity—the cradle of civilization at the heart of the Sol system—had fallen.

No. Worse.

Surrendered.

Fucking cowards.

Thank the stars Great Men like him had the foresight to keep matters beyond his ship on a need-to-know basis. Thank the stars he had kept external comms isolated. Thank the stars only the command-level staff, only the ones he could trust on board this ship full of press-ganged recruits, knew about the weeds’ victory message announcing the official end of the Terran Accord. Announcing their sick “treaty.”

It was against all odds that mankind’s birthplace had been taken.

But it was against all odds that Heroes triumphed.

Right now humanity needed leadership.

So he would give them leadership. He felt the call to it deep in his veins.

The need to make something of himself. So he'd make himself into the thing humanity needed.

He could be their Hero. He would be, he assured himself. His strength at the helm of the CNS Pandora’s Ultimatum would carry the hope that half the navy had lost, and deliver Terra’s real answer to whatever weed ship they caught by sur—

A breath hitched in his lungs.

Odd. That was too small to be a—

PING.

The whole command bridge heard the blip and froze, all eyes on Traxler’s console in the dim, red-lit room with more buttons, sensors, and switchboards than space to stand in.

“CAPTAIN. WEED SHIP ON OUR FIVE. PLUS 27 DEGREES, 3 KLICKS AND CLOSING.”

“PREP FOR JUMP. BUCHANAN GET US A COURSE, NOW. JUMP AS SOON AS YOU HAVE ONE. HELM TURN US ABOUT, WEAPONS HOT.”

The engines began spooling, then abruptly shut off.

“JUMP DRIVE OFFLINE SIR. NOT RESPONDING.”

Thunk. Thuh-thunk-THUNK. Something softer than metal made contact with the hull. Many somethings in a row, getting closer to the front of the ship.

“Full alert!” A quick blare as the klaxons around the ship began to sound. “VOIGHT GET THAT DRIVE BACK ONLINE NOW. ALL HANDS TO BATTLE STATIONS.”

A particularly deep thud echoed against the hull.

“They’re on us! Multiple hull contacts, no penetration. Drive offline, all other systems holding steady.”

“What next, sir?”

“You have hands, Vukovich?”

“Yes sir.”

“I better see a gun in them.”

“Y-Yes sir!”

“What are we looking at, Traxler?”

“They’re … smaller than us, Captain. Only a third our size. The ship is like a damn spider, it’s like it's crawling along the hull, no damage, but they’re not in weapons range, they’re hugging the underside of the ship. There’s something attaching to the port side airlock.”

The captain thumbed the intercom once more. “BULKHEADS C THROUGH E PREPARE FOR BOARDING, PORT SIDE AIRLOCK. ALL OTHER SECTIONS READY AT ARMS. IT’S A SMALL SHIP, AND WE WILL CUT THESE WEEDS DOWN. LET’S SHOW THEM THE SPIRIT OF TERRA. I’LL BE JOINING YOU SHORTLY.”

“Sir?”

“Traxler, stay on sensors. If that ship so much as twitches, I want to know about it. If there’s a FLICKER in any of our systems, I want to know about it. Aries, Vukovich, with me. Let’s give em the Cosmic Navy welcome. Weapons ready.”

Reese Connor

The worst part of this, Connor thought, was that he honestly couldn’t say whether it was actually worse than any other day.

Sure, they might be about to die. But hey! They might be about to die! Silver lining!

Stars he wished he was still in school. Well, almost. At least this way he didn’t have to figure out what to major in or what he was doing with his life.

Ugh.

He hoped the mines had therapy.

“Captain on deck!” came the insufferable kissass voice of Lt. Cmdr. Kyle Aries.

Sure enough, there was Captain Fox, flanked by his brown nosing comms officer. And CO Hal Vukovich. It's surprising any of them are willing to die with us on the front lines, honestly.

“Give me a sitrep,” the Captain ordered.

“No change, sir. There was a noise when it first connected, then nothing.”

“Allens? Tell me what’s going on with my airlock.”

Ginger sighed behind Connor, fidgeting with a diagnostic panel. “I’m trying to find out, sir.” Her voice wavered with an anxious exasperation that he hated to hear. Petty Officer Ginger Allens, engineering, was one of the only decent people on this ship. She’d been his only real friend for the last two years.

If he was a girl, he thought, they’d have probably ended up dating. She definitely liked to push his buttons, but not in the same way as other people always had. It was always good-natured. Like he was meant to laugh along with her. She was good people, and they always got along well.

So if they were all about to die, he was genuinely sorry Ginger was going down with them.

“I don’t have sensor access here,” she continued, “but there’s no indication of any structural damage. Near as I can figure something has basically glued itself to the hull, right around the outer door. Best guess is that’s where they plan to board, but nothing’s happened ye—”

The creaking groan of straining metal had a dozen pairs of hands tightening around their firearms. Then a heavy clunk and a hiss.

“WEAPONS READY,” the Captain shouted redundantly.

“We’re in some real pretty shit now, man,” someone muttered.

“Can it, Paxton.”

A mysteriously long pause ended in an even more mysterious way.

There was a knock against the inner airlock door. And a very muffled voice.

The crew shifted nervously, confusion and worry on every face Connor could see.

Another soft knock and two muffled syllables.

“Allens push the damn intercom,” Aries ordered. Connor turned to watch her press it. The sound of the channel opening was enough to make most of them jump.

What they heard on the other end was even more shocking.

“—ello? Oh, right, intercom. Duh. Fuck, sorry. Is anyone there?”

“What … the fuck” came at least three voices on their side. No argument there, Connor thought.

“This is Captain Alexander Fox of the CNS Pandora’s Ultimatum,” the captain said, stepping towards the intercom. “Identify yourself immediately.”

“Deputy Commander Tori Florentine, OCNI.”

The captain made a face. “You’re HUMAN?”

Why does that worry him? Shouldn’t he be relieved?

“You’d know from the sound of my voice if I was affini, sir, trust me.”

“...Who the fuck are you? How are you on board an Affini ship?”

“Deputy Commander Tori Florentine, OCNI,” she repeated. “I was stationed at a black site when the Compact captured it. They brought us all on board the Raptifolia to be domesticated. I was able to gain access to a shuttle and jump out of there.”

“You escaped an Affini ship? Is there anyone else aboard?”

“There are no affini on board the shuttle.” A pause. “And no Terrans,” she sighed. “I’m the only one who made it out. Everyone else is a floret now. They’re not coming back.”

The captain nodded at Ginger to release the intercom, then whispered to the crew. “Keep your guard up.”

And then he opened the inner airlock door to yet another surprise.

Floating there was a striking woman with sharp gray eyes, perfect burgundy nail polish, and even more perfect abs, wearing nothing but an expensive looking set of rich burgundy bra and panties, patterned with sepia-gray stitching made to look like curling vines or circuitboards. Her hair was the sort of brown that could be mistaken for black until it rusted against the light. It was also on the shorter side—though not as short as Ginger’s—and surprisingly silky and very clearly washed, if a bit wild in the microgravity. Connor, and at least a few others, was stunned by her appearance.

A few others raised their weapons at her.

She, on the other hand, seemed remarkably unfazed by this, the picture of calm.

Her eyes quickly found the captain’s. “I need some clothes, some mag-boots, and permission to come aboard. And the rest of you can unclench. I’m unarmed. Obviously,” she added, gesturing at herself. “I assumed this would be less jarring than the floret clothes they stuck me in.”

It certainly made an impression, Connor thought, still staring at her abs.

Tori eyed the crew one by one, stopping briefly on Aries, the captain, Connor for an uncomfortably long second that made him flush slightly, and finally Ginger before nodding to her. “I’m about your size. Maybe an inch or two taller, but close enough for a navy uniform.”

“Allens, grab her a damn uniform.”

“Yes, sir.”

The captain turned his narrowed gaze back to the newcomer as Ginger thunked away. “You escaped a weed ship unarmed.”

“Yes.”

“By yourself.”

“Yes.”

“Un fucking armed.”

“Yes. No Terran weapons are worth a damn against an affini, so they would have been useless even if I had access to any. Trying to gain access to any weapon that could hurt one would have been a waste of time. I assessed the situation and prioritized the larger goal. That’s how I was trained. Getting here was more important than leaving with a weapon.”

“What do you mean Terran weapons are useless against the weeds?” someone asked.

“I mean exactly what I said. Their bodies are complicated, decentralized, and extremely durable. A single bullet might be able to damage a single vine, if you can even hit one, but their bodies are made of thousands of vines. Projected energy weapons, also useless. A snap rifle would do localized superficial damage at best, and then they’re on top of you. Those T-X’s you’re all carrying? Worthless. All of you concentrating fire on just one affini wouldn’t even slow them down. OCNI has reports of one surviving missile fire. I don’t know if they even needed to rebloom after.”

Vukovich chimed in. “Sorry, rebloom? What’s that mean?”

“It’s a process they go through when their bodies are damaged. They shed most of their biomass and regrow it, good as new. It’s biological immortality. Even if you could injure one affini badly enough, they’d be in perfect health a day later. You can’t kill them. Nothing the Accord ever built can kill them. Terran weapons do not matter against them, at all. There’s no fighting them.”

Every face Connor could see looked increasingly grim the longer she spoke. He must not be the only one wondering what the point of any of this was, then. Maybe they could all finally just go home. Ginger thunking back was the only sound for several seconds.

“Well that’s just fucking great, man. That’s game over.”

“Paxton, shut up.”

“Here,” Ginger said, handing over the boots and uniform.

Tori’s fingers lingered across hers a bit and she flashed a confident smile. “Thanks.”

Oh, Connor thought. She is definitely Ginger’s type.

“You said ‘floret clothes’ before,” the captain said as she began pulling on the uniform.

“Shame to see her cover up,” Ginger whispered in Connor’s ear. He felt himself flush again.

“Correct. That’s what they put me in before I got out. I figured,” she finished wiggling into Ginger’s spare pants, “I was better off without them, since you’d have probably shot me on sight.”

“No comment,” the captain said.

“That’s what I thought,” she answered, just as darkly. “And we’re still talking, so I have to assume I made the right call.”

“Smart.”

There's definitely something strange about the captain’s demeanor, Connor thought. There's something else hidden beneath the blunt exterior. Something deeper than suspicion, but not open panic.

“You said you were OCNI?”

He felt … threatened? But not just wary. It was like there was a specific threat on his mind.

Connor’s eyes flicked back to her. But she's unarmed. She has a dozen guns ready to point at her at a moment’s notice, and has valuable intel that no Terran has ever brought back from a Compact ship before. The captain being a little freaked out makes sense. But threatened? There was a piece of this puzzle Connor was missing.

Tori seemed to pick up on it too, eyeing him carefully as she slipped into one of the boots and finally stuck to the floor.

Wow, she has really nice arms, too.

“Yes. I was a Senior Operational Intelligence Analyst, '46-'49, until my whole project division got shelved. When we first detected the Affini in Rinan space, a lot of resources got shuffled around and by early ‘50 I ended up Deputy Commander to an off-book CONINT special task force dedicated to Affini counter-intelligence, although we didn’t know to call it that yet. I served under Director of Special Projects Miles Dyson until our base was compromised.”

“Wait, ‘49? We knew about the weeds that far back?”

“Yes, but ‘something big that isn’t the Rinans and isn’t us’ was pretty much all we had back then. Then just trickles. A couple assets going dark, hypermetric readings we couldn’t make sense of. TCN and INTCOM moved hundreds of trillions in black budget projects trying to identify the threat. We barely had anything until they introduced themselves. They became the priority. Assess the situation, prioritize the larger goal.”

As she finished getting her uniform in order, she stood at attention and faced the captain.

“Captain Fox, Deputy Commander Tori Florentine requesting permission to come aboard.”

He eyed her suspiciously for a long moment. “Granted. Welcome aboard the CNS Pandora’s Ultimatum. She’s 791 meters long, crew of 772, 12 commanding officers.”

“On a Ceres class? You should be over 800, even for a ship this small.”

Small?

“We’ve had some departures,” the captain said stonily. “Couldn’t handle the pressure.”

That's a nice euphemism for the vacuum of space, Connor thought bitterly, hoping his expression showed less disapproval than the Deputy Commander’s. The most charitable way anyone could describe venting over three dozen people.

“Captain,” Vukovich waved him over to look at something on a data pad.

Ginger took the opportunity to boldly speak up. “You don’t sound terribly impressed, ma’am.”

Connor felt intimidated just standing near the appraising look Ginger got for that. There was an uncomfortable shrewdness behind those eyes.

“I can guess the answer is no, but you haven’t seen an Affini ship up close before, have you?”

“No ma’am.”

“When we were captured I was first taken aboard the Pinguicula. It's what they call a Medium Scout Ship, and it's the smallest permanently active vessel in its fleet, 8 kilometers long by 4.4 wide.”

“Eight—”

“I’m sorry—”

“It’s what—”

“EXCUSE—”

“THE SMALLEST?”

“Correct,” Tori answered calmly. “From there I was brought on board the largest ship in the fleet, the Raptifolia, which is what they call a Large Command Ship. They have world ships that are far bigger, practically artificial moons, but the Raptifolia is on the very high end for a normal Affini fleet vessel. It’s 293 kilometers long, 164 wide. There’s dozens of O’Neill cylinders inside it, arranged in a sort of hex pattern, big enough for distinct cities and even mountain ranges. I don't know what the total livable surface area inside it is, but just having seen it, it's got to be the size of some countries. Takes a few hundred thousand Affini to keep it running. Including civilian crew. Doctors, architects, food service, recreation, things like that. I don't know how many crew for critical systems like engineering, life support, astrogation, command staff. Civilian population is in the tens of millions. I think between 30 and 150 million.”

For several haunting moments, none of them spoke. At first, because not a single one of them thought to interrupt Tori.

Then because they were all trying—and if Connor wasn't the odd man out for once, failing—to process what she just said.

If they weren’t in microgravity, they could have heard a pin drop.

One ship. Almost three hundred kilometers. One ship the size of fucking Ireland.

For a moment the only sound was frantic, hushed whispers from the captain, Vukovich, and Aries. Connor watched them with interest.

“M-millions?”

“Civilians?”

“On a fucking warship?”

“Oh, no,” Tori snapped to the last voice. “No, the Raptifolia isn’t a warship. To my knowledge there are no Affini warships in Terran space.” That brought both Connor’s and the command staff’s attention back to her. “We weren’t enough of a threat for that. They're mostly exploratory scouts or habitation ships. Some science and support ships. I think some of them are actually used for just mass data storage.”

“…So how do we win?”

“You don’t. Was that not clear? There is no beating them. That’s already a foregone conclusion.”

The thoroughly ruffled command crew frowned harder and made their way back over, hands on their service weapons.

“Miss ‘Florentine’?” Something is definitely off about the captain, Connor thought.

When she turned to him, it was clear that the feeling of perceiving a threat was not mutual. If she noticed the captain’s twitching eyebrow or any of the tightening grips on firearms, she did not acknowledge them.

“Yes?”

“Care to tell me why you’re not in the TCN Personnel database?”

“What name did you look up?” she asked, with a calm confidence that Connor deeply envied.

“What… excuse me?”

“Look under the name Salvatore. Salvatore Florentine, DN38416.”

Salvatore? Connor thought. But isn’t that a boy’s name?

The moment Aries finished tapping on the pad, his eyes went wide, and he looked back and forth from the tablet to her.

“There’s no way.”

“No way what,” the captain demanded.

Aries turned the tablet around. And, though Connor was loath to admit it, he was right.

There's no fucking way.

The name was right. The number was right. “Senior Operational Intelligence Analyst,” that was out of date, but otherwise right; OCNI probably blacked out anything after her promotion. The years were right.

Hell, even the hair and eye colors were right.

But there was no fucking way.

“This some kind of a fucking joke?” The captain’s grip on his weapon had gone white. So had his and Aries’ faces. So had Connor’s own, if the draining feeling was any indication. Weirdly, despite Tori clearly being the most interesting party in the dim, rusted-probably-beyond-the-safe-limits-for-space-travel corridor, he also felt like Ginger was staring at him.

“Nope. Salvatore Florentine. Went by Tory with a y back then. Then later Tori with an i.”

“There is no way in HELL—”

“Look at the freckles,” she cut him off calmly.

Everyone did. Connor moved closer to the data pad for a better look—and noticed from this angle that Ginger was, in fact, definitely watching him. Wonder what that’s about.

Tori turned her head this way and that, showing the handful of birthmarks she had. Birthmarks that exactly matched the photo of Salvatore Florentine, OCNI. Something seemed to sparkle in her eyes when she caught Connor’s gaze.

“That’s not possible,” the captain managed after a moment.

“Not for Terran medicine, no. Not on this level. The Compact can do way crazier stuff than this. Easily. Their medical science is a hundred thousand years more advanced than ours. Their everything is a hundred thousand years more advanced than ours. They’ve been a spacefaring civilization almost ten times longer than we’ve had agriculture.”

“That’s not possible,” he repeated, oddly fixated.

“All kinds of things are possible in the Compact. There really isn’t much they can’t do. That is an older picture, but I still mostly looked like that by the time I was captured. It took about three weeks to go from that to the way I look now.”

Three weeks? Holy shit.

…Why was Ginger still looking at him like that? Was he making a face?

“That’s not what I was getting at,” the captain snarled.

“No?” Tori raised an eyebrow, smirking.

That seemed to rattle the captain back to his senses. He narrowed his eyes at her. “You said there’s no beating them.”

“I did.”

“You talk about them like you think there’s no point fighting them.”

“Correct. There isn’t.”

“The weeds … altered you.” He gestured angrily at the tablet.

“That was at my request, but yes.”

“And you left their ship in ‘floret’ clothes.”

“Yes. In the eyes of the Compact, my legal status is floret ramet.”

Almost everyone shifted uncomfortably. Connor was practically rooted where he stood. Awed by how utterly, bafflingly calm Tori was, even getting stared down by a handful of navy men with their hands on their weapons. She took in the others’ reactions with what Connor recognized as an analytical sort of interest, but was herself outwardly impassive.

She was perfectly, inexplicably, serene.

Even when the captain raised his weapon to her head.

“Wormhead traitor!”

Lightning-fast, her hand shot up and grabbed the gun. She didn’t even flinch when everyone in the room heard its whirr sputter out in an impotent click. She was the only one who didn’t flinch when it clicked.

But nothing happened when it did.

Connor looked at her hand. One of her fingers had flicked on the safety.

“Don’t do that,” she said. Completely, utterly unfazed.

Everyone in the corridor was stone-still.

There was a second dull click, and Tori narrowed her eyes impatiently at the captain.

“First of all,” she twisted the gun from his hand with what must have been a demoralizing nonchalance. “It’s not a worm. Second, it doesn’t go in your head. It’s implanted at the back of the neck.”

“Wait, the wormhead thing is real?” Paxton asked, horrified.

“And third,” she continued, ignoring him. She reached up and held her hair away from the back of her neck. She nodded at Connor, who was not ready to be the center of attention. “Go on, check it.”

Heart pumping loudly in his ears, Connor raised a shaky hand to the back of her neck, gently brushing against her exceedingly soft skin as he gave it a close look. This close, she had a lovely floral scent to her that made him long to be in a real atmosphere again. But as he nudged around a bit, he tilted his head in confusion. There was nothing there.

“I … I don’t, the—I can’t find—where is it?” he stammered.

“Exactly.” She let go of her hair and refocused on the stunned captain and his fellow command staff who had, at some point, also raised their weapons at her.

Connor backed away, fingers still tingling with how soft her skin was.

“Third is that I do not have a ‘worm’ in my head. I’m not under the influence of any Affini drugs. And I’m not a traitor, either, I'm here for your benefit. I’m here to help you understand the situation you’re in. And I’m telling you unequivocally, in my professional opinion as a senior analyst and CONINT specialist who has years of experience when it comes to the affini, you have exactly one choice left.”

“And what choice is that,” the captain asked, steaming.

“Surrender. Or lose. There is no third outcome. I’m advising you to choose the former. Surrender is the only way for you to negotiate what comes next.”

Aries chimed in. “That sounds like lose or lose to me.”

“If your endgame is preserving the status quo of the Accord? Then you’ve already lost. That ship has sailed.”

The command staff went rigid, staring daggers at Tori.

Connor was really pretty sure something was off about the captain especially, but the same seemed to be true of the other command staff. What IS it? What’s wrong with this picture?

“All you can do now, as individuals, is decide what the terms of that loss look like for you. You will not beat them, period. You can’t fight them. You can’t outrun them. They win, every time. It’s a when, not an if.”

How is she still so calm, he wondered, absentmindedly rubbing the rough, oily skin at the back of his own neck. It’s like she’s not intimidated by them at all. He stopped his fidgeting when Ginger, again, gave him a curious look.

“I don’t accept traitor talk on my ship,” the captain said. “I’ve heard enough.”

He thunked over to a comm station and made a few angry jabs at the number pad before pulling the receiver to his ear. “Traxler. Bring us down to yellow alert. Our guest,” he glared at Tori, “is an escaped Terran. Return to shift schedule, but I want those on shift to stay alert, and report anything unusual IMMEDIATELY. Command meeting in 10. Any command currently off shift, on my orders they are hereby ON shift.”

“And as for you,” he spat venomously, hanging up the receiver, “I want that monstrosity un-welded from my ship. I don’t care what help you think you’re here to offer us. And I don’t care who you were before the weeds got to you. If you’re not helping us win, you’re of no use to the Cosmic Navy. You want to go back to your weed masters, be my guest. You will not be bringing us down with you. There’s still a war on, and I will see it won by Terran hands. The rest of you, dismissed.”

The Deputy Commander wordlessly held the captain’s gun out by the barrel, offering it back to him. He eyed it for a moment before roughly snatching it from her, pointedly taking a long moment to decide whether to try again, and holstered it before turning back towards the bridge.

Prick, Connor thought, as he watched the command staff storm away. He’s probably going to get us all killed.

Tori gave a dissatisfied grunt. “Now admittedly, I did most of my time on planetary bases. So I'm not very familiar with ship culture. Is it considered treason if I say he’s a bit of a dickwad?”

Ginger burst out laughing. Connor nervously succumbed to a giggle of his own. Tori’s expression softened as she turned around.

“So. What next for you lot? On shift or off?”

“Off for me, ma’am,” Ginger managed.

“Off,” Paxton said.

“On,” said a few.

“Off,” said a few others.

She turned to him expectantly, sharp gray eyes piercing his own.

He cleared his nervous throat. “Um, o-off, ma’am.”

A satisfied nod. “Well, a few’s company enough. Want to see how the other side live?”

Ginger tilted her head. “…Ma’am?”

Her eyes finally, mercifully, left his. “I’m asking if you want to see the shuttle. Much fresher air, for starters, it smells like a xenra’s armpit in here. Can get you a hot meal if you want. And a bath, if you think you can spare the time for it before he flies off the handle.”

Connor perked up. “You mean a shower?” That sounds nice, actually.

“If you’d prefer, sure, but I mean an actual bath.”

Ginger’s eyes practically sparkled. “You have a bath on a shuttle?”

“Miss Allens, I have a fucking jacuzzi.”

Connor’s stomach gurgled. “Um.” He withered under the silver gaze that returned to him. “What does ‘hot meal’ mean, exactly?”

“Whatever you want it to,” she answered softly. “I have a compiler. It’s sort of a 3D printer that turns raw energy into matter, down to the atoms. It can make anything. Including better food than you’ve probably ever been able to afford in your life. You want a grilled cheese sandwich without the crust, you can have that. You want a ten course meal from a luxury restaurant on some quadrillionaire’s private O’Neill cylinder, you can have that too, anytime, for free.”

Connor knew she had Ginger on board from the moment she started describing that machine.

And, sure enough, right on cue, “oh this I GOTTA see. Count me in.” She stepped towards the airlock. Three others followed, probably lured by the promise of a meal that didn’t taste like the water squeezed out of a wet cardboard box.

“Don’t chicken out, Connor, I know you’re starving for something other than synthcubes.”

His best friend was an absolute menace. But she wasn’t wrong.

Tori stepped into the airlock herself. “Well, what do you say, Connor?” She turned back and offered him a hand and a disarming smile. “Come with me if you want to live a little.”

He shut his eyes.

Steeled himself.

Accepted the hand.

And took his first brave step into the unknown.

Notes:

My apologies to xenra armpit lovers everywhere. You know who you are.

Not the boarding sequence you were expecting? For something a bit more traditional, you might want to try Petals and Vines by EveningRespite! It’s a classic from the ROM era, featuring a hopelessly adorable protagonist, and the first floret side character I got to experience that would have had me signing a contract in a matter of hours. Millie could flort me faster than any feral breaker.

Do you have questions? You should. But don’t worry about it, petal. It’s not like I regularly scream about themes and plot structure, after all. Surely I’m not gonna do anything crazy. It’s fine. Just stand on this nice red X for me, okay?

Anyway I’m sure “Tori Floren’t” is exactly what she says she is and that Private “why does my body feels bad” Connor’s best friend being a butch lesbian ship mechanic has no other implications. (Hey, does it smell like an omelet in here?)

Next chapter: We watch feralism slam headfirst into a brick wall of post-scarcity.

Chapter 2: Food for Thought

Notes:

Last chapter, someone appearing to be an escaped floret showed up in an affini shuttle and told a bunch of feralists they should surrender.

If you're an experienced HDG reader, there were some big questions you should have been asking about all that. If you’re a VERY experienced HDG reader, you probably went “OH” and think you know what’s coming. Some of you have very fun theories.

I’m sure we’ll get those questions answered eventually. For now, have fun and trust the process. Come sit in my pot of water, little frogs. I promise you’ll be comfortable.

This chapter, we see what happens when the unbreakable spirit of Terra meets a compiler.

I didn’t think anyone would actually drop from it, but one of my beta readers almost did, so CW for mildly hypnotic language and conversational hypnosis.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Reese Connor

From inside the airlock, they were faced with an unsettling view.

A large, green tunnel extended outwards from the hull of the Pandora’s Ultimatum, seemingly glued to the side of the ship by some strange, gel like substance. It was bright red and seemed to be both liquid and solid at the same time, held in place by some unknown force—orders of magnitude stronger than water tension if it was keeping the vacuum of space at bay.

That explains how it latched onto the ship without damaging the hull, Connor mused. Neat.

Deputy Commander Tori Florentine led the way, leaving the magnetized floors behind.

“It looks a little spooky, I’m sure, but it’s perfectly safe. It’s definitely designed for use by affini, but the walls are textured enough that we can get through easily. It’s about 20 meters or so to the entryway. Lights, please.”

At her command, a scattering of bioluminescent flowers filled the tunnel with a soft glow, lighting the way. She flipped upside down and braced herself.

“There’s a nice view on the other end,” she called back before kicking off and slipping out of sight below..

Ginger was, predictably, the boldest of them, and ran her fingers through the strange, mesh-like grassy fabric that lined the tunnel walls. “Huh. Fuzzy.” And then she followed.

Conner was, predictably, nervous as hell, but didn’t want Ginger to do this alone. He had to swallow his heart back down into his chest to do it, but he took the plunge. The others followed one by one.

When he reached the next bend he could see Ginger just landing in a more normal looking room next to Tori, something taking her by surprise.

The reason was immediately obvious when he reached them.

They were in a room like a hexagonal prism, each wall 7 or 8 meters wide and about triple that in height. The tunnel opened up from one of the six side walls. Three other walls had similar tunnels, though unlit. The wall facing towards the aft of the Ultimatum had a circular opening about 22 meters up the wall, with an angled lattice of vine-like growths forming a sort of natural trellis or webbed rope ladder up to it.

What had caught Ginger by surprise, however, was the sixth wall, facing towards the front of the ship.

Or rather, what appeared to be the total absence of a wall.

It looked like a massive rectangular hole into open space, so clear he couldn’t see the glass. He would have jumped if he wasn’t once again magnetized to the floor. Below them was the bottom of the navy ship’s hull.

“Oh shit!” Paxton shouted behind him.

“Told you there was a nice view,” Tori smiled.

“Is … is that safe?” asked someone whose name Connor didn’t actually know.

“Oh, completely. It’s far safer than any Terran ship, I can guarantee that.”

“...How?” The awe in Ginger’s voice was apparent. Her engineering brain must be on fire right now.

“How is it safer?”

“We can’t make anything like this. Even polymerized glass isn’t strong enough to handle the vacuum at that scale. The pressure differential should be shattering it and blowing us out to space.” Yup, engineering brain.

“You should see what the inside of a real ship looks like. This is tiny. I don’t know exactly how it works myself, but it’s not actually glass. I do know that it’s way stronger than any Terran ship building materials. We are already much safer standing in this room than anywhere in your ship.”

“That can’t possibly be right,” Paxton said. “What if they fired on us?”

“If a Ceres class vessel fired everything it had directly on that wall until it ran out of munitions, it wouldn’t leave a scratch. When I say you have absolutely no chance of fighting the Affini, I mean it. There is no point drawing out this conflict. There never was.”

That … is starting to seem like the logical conclusion, Connor thought. Maybe we can all go home.

Tori made her way to the vine web ladder. “It’s got a few false color settings, too, if you want to know what dark matter or x-rays or Ibihr-Mendez waves look like,” she pulled herself off the floor and floated into the circular opening up the wall. “But I think the rest of the ship is of more interest to you.”

From the next tunnel, she turned and looked down at them all. “Let’s get you some real food.”

Ginger again was the first to follow, with Connor not far behind.

He wasn’t sure if he felt safer with Ginger taking the lead, a natural barrier between him and this strange woman he wasn’t quite sure he trusted yet, or if he was all the more anxious for the fact that Ginger seemed to be dragging them both deeper into a world neither of them were prepared to understand.

Ginger Allens

If Ginger thought she couldn’t be more fascinated by the inner workings of this ship, she was proven wrong the moment the view at the end of the tunnel opened up.

Holy shit.

From the end of the tunnel, next to where the Deputy Commander had stopped, she looked out into a massive room. It was a long way to the ground level, at least 70 feet, and maybe 40 feet to the opposite wall. Rooms were tucked in further along that wall, and probably more along the one all around them. The whole structure was a giant, rotating ring.

The shuttle had fucking spin gravity.

Perhaps even more striking, though, was the way it all looked. Rather than the cramped, maintenance-shaft vibe of the Ultimatum’s metal corridors with exposed brackets and piping and electrical wiring lining the walls, essential components open and accessible (often dangerously so), the whole space felt like it was designed to be lived in comfortably.

It felt like nothing the navy would ever dream of building, even if they could.

The floor seemed to be a thick lining of some kind of living carpet, not unlike the fuzzy walls of the tunnel, though mostly a desaturated, warm, dusty green color. Around the edges of the room, and even around the furniture, was a dim lining of a soothing light.

The walls alternated between a heavy-looking smooth white stone, some very nice pale-toned wood paneling with rich auburn highlights that looked more like it was grown into shape than manufactured, and a network of massive, trunk-like tangles of support vines branching throughout the structure.

The entire space was softly lit with a sporadic placement of bioluminescent flowers, arranged seemingly at random, and yet somehow managing to delicately create the illusion of natural growth while casting an even, warm light over everything.

All told, the interior space gave the impression of a massive, luxury fairytale hamster wheel.

And the smell. God, the smell.

After two years in a cramped tube full of terrans who barely got to bathe, and food so flavorless that two of her senses could have been stolen away without her noticing, the smell that she had been living with for so long became immediately apparent by the contrast of its absence.

Gone was the musty, humid air of the Ultimatum. Here was a cool, vibrant feeling all the way down to her lungs.

She could hardly remember the last breath she took that didn’t smell like gym socks and the oppressive salty tang of month-old sweat.

But here there were breaths she didn’t have to swallow.

This space, while visually stunning, would be just as incredible blindfolded. The open atmosphere of her home planet was less fresh than this. Lightly floral, but not by the violating will of chemical intervention. It smelled like a cool spring breeze at the bank of a crystal-clear woodland river that no industry or civilization had ever touched. It smelled like the idea of fresh air. She already dreaded the thought of returning to metal and machinery and men.

It smelled like watching sun-dappled rainbows dancing in the cool mist of a waterfall.

This place was beautiful, even when she closed her eyes to take it all in.

Miss Florentine seemed content to let her, so she did.

And as it all sank in, something desperate and hopeful deep within her—starved over years of a monotony broken only by disappointment—reared its weary head. It felt like the promise of healing.

She felt like a dream or painting had come to life, just so it could hold her and whisper gentle promises of something better, of things she never realized she didn’t have to suffer, of an end to the old aches she had forgotten she was living with.

Of the tiny part of her that dared to say “it doesn’t have to be this way” finally feeling hope.

Her eyes did not water, but she felt the itch behind them make the threat.

“You were right, Ma’am,” Ginger finally breathed. “This is more interesting.”

“Oh, no ma’am here. You’re on an Affini ship now. Navy ranks don’t matter anymore. The only deference you show to me here,” she held a single curled finger under Ginger’s chin, capturing her enchanted gaze, “is freely given.”

Damn. The wink was a nice touch.

“Otherwise,” she grabbed another vine-trellis structure that slowly spun around the edge of the tunnel, “just Tori is fine for now.”

And with a cocky smile, she flipped herself down and began gliding towards the floor.

God damn she’s smooth, Ginger thought. Uncomfortably smooth. If this is a trap, it’s a damn good one. And it’s working.

She twisted around and followed, noting the worried look on Connor’s face before dropping down to the floor below.

It definitely wasn’t full Terran gravity. Even less than Mars, she guessed. Looking around, she observed Tori’s oddly slow, almost skipping gait and mimicked it as best she could until the awkwardness of the movement faded away into a natural rhythm.

“What’s the gravity level?”

“Uh. A bit more than Luna, a lot less than Mars. I want to say point twenty-two? We’re at just over 2 rpm. I’ll have to give you something if you get nauseous, the math is really precise for a ring this small. Any higher and the spin would definitely make you nauseous, and lower has its own set of problems. The big ones on proper ships usually range from point-seven to one point … three-ish?”

She looked over to where the rest of the group were clumsily hobbling in. “Terran hab rings never go that high, but there are rings for sophonts from much heavier planets that run as high as 2.3 I think. For obvious reasons I haven’t visited any. Oh and uh. If you get bad vertigo, probably don’t look up.”

At which point Ginger, of course, looked up. And then instinctively grabbed onto the nearest thing for support, which happened to be Tori’s bicep.

It was an easy mistake. Anyone could have made it.

Tori, for her part, only chuckled at it, and lowered her register again.

“Don’t take instruction well, do you Miss Allens.”

That line might have worked on her a lot less if she hadn’t been on a spaceship with no privacy for the last two years. She barely recovered in time to return the whisper.

“Depends on the context. And it might as well just be Ginger. Unless you’d like to keep calling me that.”

The laugh she got in return was genuine, musical, and absolutely worth it. Tori’s eyes and nose crinkled adorably when she laughed.

It was odd.

There was something a lot … freer about Tori than she would have expected from OCNI. She didn’t have that weight on her shoulders, or the hollow, solemn hardness behind her eyes. She seemed… well, for lack of a better term… oddly normal. Well-adjusted, even.

It was disconcerting, from someone who had been through a harrowing experience.

Adorable. Obviously. But equally unnerving.

“Ginger it is, then,” Tori smirked, getting one last subtle jab in as the others caught up.

“So!” She gently slapped a machine that looked something like an oversized microwave oven with a remarkably high fidelity screen interface rather than a number pad. “This is called a compiler. It requires blueprints for the stuff it makes, and data storage is a lot more limited on a shuttle than it would be on a full size ship, but it is smart enough to mix and match complex instructions, and for every blueprint it does have access to, it basically converts energy to matter, or the other way around, and it does this at such a precise scale that it can make literally anything you can think of. Pillows, blankets, clothes, complex machines, computers, and most importantly … food.”

“Question,” Ginger piped up. “How?”

“Great question. I don’t know.”

“Aw.”

“I know there’s some kind of input to it that I’ve heard called ‘compilation mass’? But I honestly don’t know what it is. Supposedly it’s a straight matter-energy conversion, but that seems like, WILDLY off base for any physics I can remotely understand, so I think it’s more like a quark-gluon plasma that they manipulate with complex fields?”

Wait, what? Is that even possible?

“But that’s just totally out of my ass, I honestly have no idea how the thing works. For all I know it actually does convert matter and energy without exploding, somehow; the Affini know a lot more about this stuff than I ever will. Their model of physics has a whole other fundamental force that we never even discovered.”

It fucking WHAT?

“Might as well be magic to me.”

Fuck. And I’m still paying for that degree.

“All I know is,” Tori pulled the door open just long enough for everyone to see that it was empty, then closed it again. “Hab, please compile a single, five thousand carat, princess cut diamond.”

There was an incredulous look on every face.

And then a faint cinnamon smell.

And a satisfying DING!.

Tori opened the door, and pulled out an insanely expensive looking diamond, larger than her own fist.

“WHAT. THE FUCK.”

Adding ‘agreeing with Burke’ to the list of new experiences today.

Apparently satisfied by the reaction, Tori haphazardly tossed what was worth several times the entire crew’s collective life’s worth back into the compiler and pressed a button that made it disintegrate with a faint smell that was kind of like tasting cinnamon and lemons backwards.

“What the fuck,” Burke repeated.

Tori had a very smug look on her face.

“Hab, please compile a one pound pan seared garlic and butter Jovian beef steak, medium, seasoned with rosemary and thyme, with a side of wedged baby potatoes, caramelized onions, a serving of sauteed lemon butter asparagus with salt and pepper, and a single lemon wedge, served on a white, oval serving dish with handles on the side. And a single fork and knife with … polished Remulan mahogany handles.”

“No,” Gorman muttered helplessly.

The machine dinged anyway.

And an appropriately mouthwatering smell overwhelmed the room even before Tori opened the compiler.

Okay, yeah, Ginger thought. Now it makes sense why no one ever comes back.

“Anyone want this, or would you like to make custom orders?” Oh, Tori is enjoying this. She was absolutely drinking in their bug-eyed expressions.

Fuck, you know what. Maybe the Affini deserve to win.

Tori gave another rapturous, nose-crinkling laugh. Stars she’s fucking cute, Ginger thought.

“Why would I do that?” she breathed.

“I’m just saying,” Burke insisted, “this kind of technology has a substantial dollar value attached to it. If we brought a ship like this back to Naval Intelligence or the Terran government, every single person on this ship could be a billionaire overnight. At least. No one has ever brought back Affini technology like this before.”

“And what good is the money to me, coming from a post-scarcity world?”

Burke sputtered uselessly.

“I’ve already shown you, the compiler can make anything I could ever need. What’s the motivation to give that up in exchange for money? For riches and a standard of living that can be taken from me by anyone with more riches and a belief that I shouldn’t have it?”

“You … you really don’t get it?”

The look on Burke’s face is hilarious right now, Ginger thought.

“Don’t you?” Tori returned.

HA. Gorman and Paxton are just as bad.

Tori kept pressing. “Money is a medium of exchange for goods and services, right? But what if you don’t have to exchange anything? What if scarcity was so far removed from your reality that goods and services were just given to you because you asked? Why would you want to go back working day in and day out for money when you lived in a world where anything you could ever want or need was just given to you, without any conditions or terms of service or labor?”

“I’m still wrapping my head around the ‘no labor’ thing,” Gorman muttered.

“No one’s asking you to make the adjustment that fast,” she answered sympathetically. “A good culture shock is still a shock. It’s an abrupt change, and it will take some getting used to. Just …”

Tori paused.

“All I’m going to ask of you is that you think about what that change means. Know that it’s the thing you’ll have to get used to. Soon. If this ship hasn’t convinced you how much more advanced the Affini are, how inevitable they are, I don’t know what else I can say.”

“And what about the wormhead thing?”

Tori made a face—a very subtle one, interesting—but turned to Gorman patiently.

“What about it?”

“Isn’t that completely horrifying to you?”

“Not really.”

“HOW?” Paxton pleaded, clanging the used silverware down on his empty plate, though the effect was dampened significantly by the low gravity. “How does something like that NOT scare you? One of them already OWNS you! You should be more afraid of it than any of us.”

For a moment, Tori considered his words carefully.

Ginger—and Connor, she noticed—was considering Tori carefully.

She seemed to make some kind of decision internally.

“Okay.” Tori took a deep breath. “The closest equivalent to it in Terran medicine is probably like … an insulin pump? A basic understanding of the implant is it’s used to monitor certain things in the body, and it intervenes if necessary. If your insulin level is wrong, that’s medically harmful to you, right? So an insulin pump corrects that. Their implants are way more advanced than that, obviously, but it’s the same basic principle. It monitors the body, and nudges things back to where they should be if something goes wrong.”

“What about the mind control?” Gorman interjected.

Connor perked up in a bit of alarm. Ginger felt something inside of her tense uncomfortably as well, though, hopefully, she was doing a better job of hiding it. Is this the catch that ruins it all?

All Tori did was raise an eyebrow. “Mind control?”

“I’ve heard the rumors. I wanna hear your answer for them.”

She stared thoughtfully for a moment before leaning forward and resting her arms on the table.

“…If the first thing I said when the airlock opened was ‘come on board this Affini shuttle with me,’ would you have done it?”

“Absolutely fucking not.”

“Right." She began tapping a finger against the table.

"First I had to introduce myself. Show you I wasn’t a threat.” Tap. Tap. Tap. One tap, rhythmically, every second, as precise as a metronome.

"You were expecting to be boarded by the Affini." Tap. Tap. Tap.

"You were scared. You were on high alert. I had to put you at ease quickly, with nothing but the sound of my voice keeping you nice and calm. Deputy Commander Tori Florentine, OCNI." Tap. Tap. Tap.

"An unfamiliar name. But a human name. Human rank."

She spoke slowly and calmly between long, gentle breaths. Nothing filling the pauses but tap. Tap. Tap. No one interrupted her.

"Curiosity is a powerful motivator. But so is fear. And fear would have gotten me shot. Before that airlock opened, I needed you to be more curious than scared." Tap. Tap. Tap.

“Did you even notice that I got into the airlock just fine? I could have opened the inner door myself. But what I needed to do was let you open that door.” Tap. Tap. Tap.

“And for that, I needed you to listen. I didn’t need to get in. I needed you to let me in. So I had to choose my words carefully.”

"Every word of what I said was true." She looked around at them, tap. "But I had to say it carefully. The hardest part was deciding what I should tell you and what not to."

Tap. Tap. Tap.

"I was human. I was OCNI. I was captured. I was able to board a shuttle and jump away. There was no one else on board the ship. But it was still an Affini ship. So you were always going to be on edge."

I'll say, Ginger thought distantly, from the edge of her seat. It seemed like they all were.

“I had to show you I was willing to talk and answer questions. Show you I had valuable information about the Compact, even if that information was uncomfortable for you to hear. I had to be interesting enough to hold your attention. I needed you to focus on me.”

Every pair of eyes in the room was fixed on her.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

“I approached from a position of vulnerability. I answered every question, even if you didn't like the answers."

Tap.

"You're fucked."

Tap.

"You've known you were fucked for a long time."

Tap.

"So an uncomfortable answer was better than trying to hide the truth from you."

Tap.

"But uncomfortable answers had their own risks."

Tap.

"So when I had to disarm the captain, I showed you that my vulnerability didn’t mean weakness. That I wasn’t easily taken advantage of. That I was in control. That there’s no point trying to resist. I wasn’t going to hurt you. All I needed was for you to listen to my words and stay calm."

Tap.

"All" tap "without" tap "seeming" tap "dangerous." Tap. "Even after I had just told you that my legal status in the Compact is ‘floret ramet,’ which might as well be ‘enemy of the state’ on a navy ship."

Tori took a deep breath, letting her shoulders relax.

Ginger took a deep breath, letting her shoulders relax.

"It’s a careful balance, making sure you don’t try to attack, while not giving you a reason to defend yourselves. I told him not to try to shoot me again, and then kept talking to all of you. I needed the only path forward to be through conversation. I needed you to follow me down that path."

The tapping was so rhythmic, so predictable in the empty spaces in Tori's speech that Ginger even heard it beating inside her.

"Your captain gave up being part of that conversation. That was his choice, and I let him make it."

It was her heartbeat, she realized. At some point, her heart began beating along to the rhythm of Tori tapping her finger on the table. A calm, stable beat. Tap. Tap. Tap. Thump. Thump. Thump.

"He was openly hostile to me, but it didn't get him anywhere. And I didn't take the bait. I didn't escalate. I just kept talking. Which further reinforced that I was not a threat. That it’s perfectly safe to follow my words, follow me. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

Tori smiled. Stars, what a pretty smile.

“And then, after making a joke to break the tension and put you all at ease, after breaking that moment of fear, I appealed to your curiosity by offering you a choice."

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Thump Thump Thump.

"And I tipped the scales by promising you something you would have a hard time saying no to. When that airlock door first opened, you would never have followed me."

TAP.

"How was your first meal aboard an Affini ship, by the way?”

The spell broke.

Ginger's eyes flickered at the final tap, and in the silent beat that followed, the burn behind them made her realize she hadn't been blinking them.

They all looked at each other’s empty plates and shifted in their seats, the faintly lemony smell of one of the dishes still hanging in the air.

How long ago had she stopped blinking?

“…It was … delicious…” Gorman answered uncomfortably. The tension in the room had skyrocketed.

Tori was way, way smarter than Ginger had given her credit for. It was as intimidating as it was enticing. Her demeanor might not have screamed OCNI, but the razor sharp mind definitely did.

She played us all. Easily.

“So, if you wouldn’t have come on board this ship when the airlock first opened, and you’re here now, then at some point your mind must have changed, right?”

Oh. Oh fuck.

“So tell me. Have YOU been mind controlled?”

From the looks on everyone’s faces, Ginger wasn’t the only one whose blood went cold. All three of the men, and Connor, looked terrified.

“OR,” Tori continued, “did I, a frankly very gifted OCNI operative, know how to make you behave a certain way with a perfectly harmless understanding of basic psychology and social engineering? Did I control your mind, or just convince you to change it?”

Silence.

Thump.

“...Both.”

Everyone, including Connor, was surprised when he was the first to speak. Every pair of eyes in the room was suddenly laser focused on him, and he withered under it.

“Oh?~”

Well, Tori seems delighted by that. God please fix him, Ginger thought.

“W-well, uh. Um. ‘Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic,’ right? So like. Any s-sufficiently advanced social engineering should be indistinguishable from mind control, shouldn’t it? I mean that’s. Advertising and politics. We’ve. Kinda. Been doing that for centuries.”

Though her scrutiny seemed to wither him even further, Tori stared in fascination for a moment before her approval was evident to, if not the whole room, certainly to Ginger.

“That,” Tori pointed at him lazily, “is a remarkably clever answer, Connor. It’s not exactly the point I was making, but that’s very good, I’m impressed.”

Oh my god please fix him, Ginger pleaded, as the praise visibly reinflated him. Please for fuck’s sake he needs HELP.

Tori turned back to Gorman. “Connor’s point actually leads nicely into where I was going. Does the distinction actually matter?”

Gorman, Paxton, and Burke all spluttered at once.

“Wh—”

“OF COURSE it—”

“Why would it NOT matter?”

She was, as ever, eerily calm, still focused on Gorman. “Your food was delicious?”

“Yes, but—”

“Do you regret having it?”

“No, but—”

“You agree that the experience of having it was a good one?”

“I mean yes, but—”

“Does the you that got to have this experience regret the you from an hour ago having to change his mind to make that experience possible?”

“I don’t … think so, but—”

“Then does it matter how you got to this point?”

“We’re not talking about fucking food, here!” Burke shouted. “We’re talking about the consequences of a medical device that can change how people THINK! That’s more than just arguments and wordplay and social engineering, we’re talking about something on the level of ego death.”

Tori turned to him, suddenly sharp and serious in a way that Ginger was quite glad she was not the focus of.

“The only ego death is death. Everything else is just change. And you are always changing.”

Her every word hung in the air like a force. She was still outwardly calm, but now there was an edge to that calm, like Burke had struck a nerve.

“There is no read-only existence. Every second of your life you are being rewritten. Adding something new. ‘Salvatore Florentine’ isn’t dead, he’s just different now. And so are you. Your mind was changed. You don’t regret it. You had an experience you agreed was good because of it. As long as you are alive, you will never stop changing. If you are happy with the end result of that change, why does it matter how that change occurred?”

Every face, likely including Ginger’s own, had gone white.

“Let’s go back to that insulin pump for a second,” Tori continued. “They use the implant to monitor your health, right? I know this is like, a huge philosophical sticking point for a lot of people, and has been for way longer than the Accord existed, but the brain is just an organ. It can get sick. It can hurt. It can need medical care. If you get caught in a negative thought pattern, like a trauma, or an anxiety spiral, or anhedonia, or whatever else, aren’t those things bad for you?”

Tori looked around at them.

“Shouldn’t you receive care for them?”

Ha. Receiving care for your problems? There’s a nice thought the Accord never had.

“Is a medical implant making a minor adjustment to that negative thought pattern really so different from taking a mood stabilizer for depression, or an antihistamine for an allergy? Or insulin? Or estrogen? Or fuck, listening to a favorite song or having a favorite snack when you feel like shit? It’s just chemistry. You are chemistry. And you have to be in a constant state of change, because the only chemical equilibrium is death. So if the change is good for you, if you are happy with the end result of that change, then what is there to be afraid of?”

Maybe the fact that she never once denied what the implant was capable of. Hell, she had all but confirmed it, and argued in favor of it.

Or worse, the fact that her argument made sense.

When no one answered, Tori sighed. She looked apologetic. Almost remorseful.

“Seems I’ve given you a lot to think about.”

“You could say that,” Gorman’s hollowed out voice answered.

“All I’m trying to say is, the goals of their medical science aren’t so different from ours. They’re just better at it, like they are at everything else. Well,” Tori said, standing up. “Food for thought, I guess. Mind if I take these?”

She started gathering up the plates and silverware, clanging them gently on top of each other. Ginger watched in fascination as she carried them over to the compiler and turned them back into whatever weird high energy exotic matter they were stored as until called for. Another waft of un-cinna-lemon accompanied their disappearance.

God I would love to know how that thing works.

“I think we should go,” Burke muttered.

“Yeah,” Paxton agreed. “Yeah. Good idea.”

Gorman seemed unsure of something. “Are we … allowed to leave?”

Poor Connor, Ginger thought, as he visibly reacted to the question with horror.

Tori scoffed, but there was a hint of sadness when she answered. “Of course you can. I’m sorry if I made you feel like you’re trapped here. If you’ve had enough,” she gestured at the way they came in, “you’re free to leave at any time. You’ll miss out on a hot shower, I guess, but at least you got some decent meals in you for once.”

The three men stood up. Connor moved like he was going to follow suit, but he turned to Ginger, who remained seated, and he seemed frozen for a moment before slowly falling back into his chair.

She could see the uncertainty in his eyes. The fear that they were already in too deep.

But Ginger knew he would follow her anywhere.

He was a born follower, poor thing. And she was about the only person on the ship he trusted, so he would follow her. Bitterly, she thought about no one else treating him well enough to deserve his respect.

So if she was staying, and seeing what more surprises Tori had for them, then Connor would tag along for it. Part of her felt guilty for dragging him along.

More of her knew this was better for him than moping through his insomnia back on board the Ultimatum, and she gave him a small reassuring smile as the men headed back up to the tunnel.

“I know this was a lot,” Tori called after them. “And outside your comfort zones. But I’m glad you indulged your curiosity as much as you did.”

Gorman turned down to her. “Shouldn’t you be coming back with us, Allens?”

Of course Connor’s an afterthought to them, she thought. “I’m still on my off-shift, Chuck. Carla’s got my station for another hour and change.”

“Captain won’t be happy if you’re late,” he answered, before turning away and disappearing from sight.

Asshole, she thought.

She cast a glance around the spinning miracle.

We have a better chance of winning this war than ever seeing the captain happy. It’s hard to imagine seeing this and not realizing how outclassed we are. If even half of what Tori said is true, we never stood a chance.

Closing her eyes, she took a deep, calming breath of that impossibly fresh air, and turned.

One thing Tori said was especially interesting.

“Tori Florentine”

://U.Nette/f/petal7/skye.rmt; initializing chat client
cyberdoll101 @ localhost/Droserachnid

»connected

›me: do you think i pushed them too hard?

›SysAdmin: No, flower. I think you are doing a fine job explaining things. It is simply a lot for them to take in.

›me: idk i feel like I’m fucking this up
›me: it’s not really that they’re less receptive than other feralist crews, exactly
›me: it just feels like there’s something different about this group
›me: the captain all but kicked me off the ship after only a few minutes

›SysAdmin: Consider things from his perspective, dear. This is your first feralist crew since the treaty was signed. He is more scared and more paranoid than the crews you have played with before.
›SysAdmin: He has the fate of humanity on his mind, I am sure. Poor misguided thing. Have you looked inside their systems yet?

›me: not yet. just his tablet i hacked. i’ve been listening in on their meeting. they’re so mad lol.

›SysAdmin: I have finished mapping their software architecture and have root access to all but 8.29% of it. There is a 19.97% deviation from TCN standard systems, including some suspiciously absent connections in their electronic infrastructure. I believe all external communications are routed only to the main comms station, and intentionally disconnected from the rest of the ship.
›SysAdmin: This degree of discrepancy did not come about in only two weeks. Someone has been very naughty.
›SysAdmin: Their ship’s physical hardware is still a work in progress. I must go so much slower when we play our stealthy little games.

›me: showoff :P
›me: so they blackboxed their comms?

›SysAdmin: It certainly seems that way. I believe the command crew have kept the rest of them in the dark about the treaty. They likely do not even realize the Cosmic Navy is disbanded, or that they are now on an unregistered feralist ship.

›me: that explains a lot, but... what does that mean for them? section 43 says they’re fair game just for being on a rebel ship, but if most of them don’t even know…

›SysAdmin: Under the circumstances it will surely be decided through wardships on a case-by-case basis. This is likely to be the norm going forward. The psychological profile data you provide on recovery will be taken into consideration as usual, of course, but the two you are most concerned about are obvious ⟪seeds⟫ anyway, so I doubt it will matter for long.

›me: yeah i guess. i just don’t want these two to be treated like they chose this, i remember how awful and coercive the accord was.
›me: a gentle vine is all either of them really need. i think they’re good eggs.
›me: one more literally than the other lmao.
›me: they both dropped like rocks, too, it’s adorable.

›SysAdmin: I will continue integrating their systems. Have your fun, dear. I have high hopes for these two as well. When the final decisions are made, you know perfectly well they will get whatever treatment is best for them. Just like you did. ;;;;)

›me: yeahhhh. i’ll be back in zher vines soon. thanks Admin <3

›SysAdmin: Remember, assess the situation and prioritize the larger goal. You know the love and safety we provide. I delight in watching you share it. You are a very good floret, Skye. [ATP Attachment: 19.84GB “<3 <3 <3 <3 <3…(see more)”]

“So,” she heard Ginger say, snapping her back to reality.

»disconnected from chat. total connection time: 2.28 seconds.

She turned to face her remaining guests.

“I believe I was promised a jacuzzi.”

Notes:

Finally some POV from the “main” character. Bout time, huh? Only took two whole chapters of this one shot to get there.
…shut up.

If you were a little bummed that the food was never described, I have good news. Irregular Orbits by RocketMermaid has some fantastic food descriptions, as well as a fun plot that really feels like a novel, and some crazy hot scenes out of the uncommon kink loot table. Plus: butch florets. You should read it. Especially if you’re liking Ginger, and judging by the feedback to chapter one, that’s like, all of you.

Up next: Let’s wash that Accord stink off these blorbos and see what happens.

Chapter 3: In Hot Water

Notes:

Last chapter: We introduced some feral humans to hot food and post-scarcity. They all had a very normal meal during which no hypnosis occurred, and learned some things about implants, the Benevolence Axiom, and the concept of change.

This chapter: Time for some basic self care and grooming. Why are you looking at me like that? I mean a spa day with a shave and a hot bath.

I hope you’re enjoying the warm water yourselves, little frogs. It’s nice and relaxing, isn’t it? The temperature’s still fine. Nothing to worry about.

There is a brief sexually charged moment in this chapter (aggressive kissing, dom POV), but no actual sex happens in the course of this story.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Captain Fox

The spirit of Terra was unbreakable.

Its patience was not.

Not after forty minutes of this shit.

“And I’m telling you, we don’t know how to GET her off this ship! There is no way off this boat, captain. The airlocks are blocked, and so are all of the escape pod hatches, and we can’t even launch a sensor probe to see how her ship is doing it.”

Captain Fox’s patience was short enough when this meeting was called.

Excuses. Always stars-damned excuses. Even now, when wasted minutes could cost them their lives.

“That thing is a third our fucking size. There has to be something it’s not blocking. Or some way to find out how it’s doing it.”

He looked from face to face.

“Well? Someone tell me how to deal with this shit so we can just blow her out of the sky!”

“Wait, hang on.” Finally. Aries with a solution.

“I’m all ears, Lieutenant Commander.”

“You said blow her out of the sky. What about the forward missile array? We can’t fire on her from this angle, but what if we used it to launch a probe so we could get a look?”

The stars shined the day Aries was assigned to his fucking ship. He’d make a fine captain of his own one day.

“That,” the Captain said proudly, “sounds like a fucking start. Make it happen. Have Salceda prep a drone, and get it to forward artillery. Full probe sensory suite, anything he can fit inside a missile casing. Any help he needs, he has it. On my orders. Get it done. Let’s see what this bitch is up to.”

They all began moving in short order, getting to work.

The spirit of Terra’s patience was not endless. But its determination was. Terra may have surrendered, but Captain Alexander Fox never would.

Humanity would remember what happened today. With enough determination, enough cunning, he could do it. He could save them.

One day terrans would tell his story in their dark moments, to remind themselves what was possible if they refused to give up hope.

Reese Connor

“This isn’t a jacuzzi,” Ginger said, awestruck. “It’s a pool.”

Connor only half-agreed with her assessment.

For some reason, the affini’s impression of a bathroom turned out to be more like a lush, overgrown cenote taken directly from some kind of enchanted forest and transplanted somehow into a cavernous Victorian mansion, complete with floral wall sconces.

The room extended all the way to the limit of its available vertical space, with curved floor and ceiling as it wrapped around its central axis and the tunnel that led back towards the navy ship. The ceiling seemed to alternate between the surface of some subterranean cave, open sky, and the underside of a forest canopy, complete with warm rays of sourceless, impossible sunlight peeking through the branches, sun-dappling the soft floor of grassy, springy moss carpet below.

Its central feature, the “bath,” was a natural-looking pond averaging probably eight meters in diameter, surrounded by all manner of features that had no right to be on a spaceship. Rough, moss-covered tree trunks that disappeared into the false canopy, various hanging and sprouting and flowering plants swaying gently with the ring’s rotation, boulders with textures that couldn’t be artificial molded into shapes that must be. Luminous flowers scattered a warm light around the misty, steamy space, even beneath the rippling, crystal clear water.

And there was a waterfall.

A freaking waterfall.

Inside a bathroom.

In space.

It extended almost the full height of the room, branching off among the cave-like stonework into disparate streams, each a mockery of the pitiful vacuum apparatus that passed for a shower on a navy ship. More water must flow from this artificial waterfall in one minute than every shower aboard the Pandora’s Ultimatum in two months combined.

Scarcely visible along the very edges of the room through the magical garden in front of them were the smooth, elegant walls of some fabulously extravagant Terran house from centuries long past, equally the stuff of storybooks.

Between the soft rumble and splashes of flowing water, what sounded like birdsong, an artificial breeze somehow billowing through the space, and the smell of air even fresher than that of the rest of this miracle ship, Connor was stunned. A sense of calm permeated the space so deeply that even he felt his nerves starting to wash away like footprints in the tide: the imprint still there, but all the edges smoothed away.

It was incredible. If this was the lap of luxury, it was luxurious indeed.

“Tomato potato,” Tori said, waving her hand. “It’s warm and it’s got water jets, it’s a jacuzzi.”

“It has water jets!?”

“For all those poor, tired engineering muscles,” she teased. “You two need anything else before you get in? A shave, maybe?”

Ginger looked thoughtful. “I wouldn’t mind re-buzzing the side of my hair, if that’s an option.”

“Sure. I can buzz it for you if you want?”

“That sounds nice, actually.”

“And for you? You look uncomfortable.” Tori turned to Connor, who had been scratching once more at his neck and jaw. A bit of nerves returned to him under that piercing gaze.

“Um. I. No thanks. It’ll just grow back anyway. It’s not worth it.”

“It doesn’t have to.”

“Doesn’t have to what?”

“Grow back,” she answered softly. “It doesn’t have to grow back if you don’t want it to. The affini have stuff that’ll remove it permanently. Single use, completely painless. Five minutes or so, rinse it off, no more facial hair. Ever. Unless you use a different thing to start back up. You want it gone, it stays gone.”

“Oh, do that,” Ginger butted in. “Please do that. You’re always scratching at it.”

Tori seemed to take that as permission enough. “I’ll go grab some from the compiler. No pressure, but I can say from experience, it’s a fucking relief to be rid of it.”

The door softly hissed shut behind her.

“Are you sure about this, Ginger?”

“Oh yeah, it clearly drives you nuts.”

“No not- I mean all of this. We’re in so far over our heads here.”

“Has any part of it been bad?”

“Well… no not exactly, but… it’s a lot. It’s overwhelming. And she’s kind of intimidating.”

Ginger snorted in amusement. “Yeah but like, she’s also crazy hot.”

That’s exactly what I’m afraid of, he wanted to say. That Ginger wasn’t thinking things through. She was letting curiosity, among other things, get the better of her.

Ginger made a face like she thought he was overthinking this, probably because his own face made it clear he thought she was underthinking it.

“Tell me honestly that you’d rather be back in that smelly metal deathtrap right now waiting to eat a synthcube, go back on shift, and have orders barked at you by someone with their head so far up their ass they can smell the back of their own tongue. Tell me you’d rather wait for the captain to get us all killed throwing himself against what is very fucking clearly an unwinnable war. Tell me you’d rather be lying there awake than standing here right now,” she gestured at the fairy tale scene around them.

He couldn’t.

He couldn’t say it. Not honestly.

He knew it. Ginger knew it. Ginger knew he knew it.

But the problem was Tori knew it too, and that made her every move feel dangerously calculated. She was interesting, of course, but interesting in a way that was enticing, like the bait on a hook. How long before the hook sank in and started to pull?

With a soft woosh, the door reopened, and Tori walked in with a tube of something in one hand and what must be the affini version of a hair buzzer in the other.

“So,” she said, handing him the tube. “Ready for a spa day?”

He cautiously accepted it, and Tori led them both around the side of a false tree trunk to a hidden vanity.

Skye Nette

After about 97 seconds of no sound but the soft buzz of the device in Skye’s hand as wisps of dark hair fell gently away on their curved trajectory towards the sink, Ginger seemed ready to break the near-silence.

“How’s that stuff treating you, Connor?”

“...Tingly,” came the mumbled answer.

She and Ginger shared an amused look. It was lucky the poor thing had a friend like Ginger looking out for him. He likely would have been too nervous to accept the depilatory cream without her push.

Skye could have pushed him herself, of course, but it was both safer to let Ginger take point and delightful watching her break him down. The pair played off each other endearingly, each making exactly the decisions that drew the other in further. Maybe they’d be pinnates, someday soon.

She gave her guest a sympathetic smile.

“It was definitely worth it for me. You’ll be able to rinse it off in a couple minutes. I’ll let you know. As for you,” she turned back to Ginger, and put just a bit more of a teasing edge in her voice, “try to keep still. I’d hate to disappoint one of my lovely guests with an uneven haircut.”

She kept her composure admirably—better than most of Skye’s targets, really, but the look in those brown eyes staring up at her from where she leaned back against the vanity was unmistakable. She knew she was being flirted with. And she liked it.

It'll be interesting to see how hard she pushes back when she’s allowed to move, Skye thought to herself.

Ginger closed her eyes and mused. “Mmmm. It would be a shame if you didn’t treat your lovely guest properly, wouldn’t it?”

Skye pulled the buzzer away and laughed earnestly.

Oh, yes. She’ll do very well in the Compact.

Bratty butch princess with a worship kink, perhaps? She’d be popular at parties.

“You’re not likely to meet a poorly treated guest ever again.”

Ginger opened her eyes again, but the spark in them was different. More thoughtful. As genuine an open mind as Skye could have hoped to find.

The girl took a deep breath, and Skye prepared herself for the question that was about to come.

“What are they like?”

That.

Was unusually straightforward.

She finished a long sweep of the buzzer just above the ear, and took a simulated breath of her own before pulling it away.

“The affini?”

“Yeah.”

Skye paused, savoring the authenticity in her stare. Though there was some level of trepidation, deep down, Ginger was a wonderfully curious sophont. Always eager to know, rather than wonder. Craving the certainty of answers over the anxiety of unknowns.

It was remarkably good luck for someone like her to be here with Connor, carrying the burden of curiosity for him, and letting him reap the rewards he was too afraid to seek on his own.

“They’re … complicated,” she admitted. “They’re people. Each one is different. Individually? There are some whose personalities won’t mesh with yours, and others you’d never want to be apart from again. Collectively? They can feel like a mixed bag, at first. Their culture is very different from what you’re used to. Very different social norms about casual touch and personal space. There’s definitely an adjustment period.”

Only Ginger held her gaze, but she could tell Connor was also listening closely. A complicated truth was better than a suspiciously one-sided answer.

“They can come off as pretty condescending and pushy, when they think they know what you need better than you do. But the thing is, they’re almost always right. They’ll be smug and tease you about it sometimes, but they absolutely, unequivocally mean well. No question. They will care about you whether you like it or not, and even if you hate them for it at first, they’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe and happy.”

“That’s a more nuanced answer than I was expecting.”

“You’re smart. Both of you,” she nodded at Connor. “A good faith question deserves a good faith answer. I’m not going to pretend this whole thing isn’t weird, it’s a hell of an adjustment. It’s better to be honest and … let you be prepared for all of it. As much as anyone can be, at least. I wasn’t kidding when I said it’s a bit of a culture shock. If I lied about any of it, that’d be unfair to you, in more ways than one.”

“Huh,” Ginger said.

“You’re taking it pretty well, honestly. It’s only fair to give it to you honestly.”

She was clearly steeling herself for something else. Something that had her more conflicted.

May as well give her a moment to collect herself then.

“Oh, Connor, you can rinse now. Should be all done.”

By the time Skye turned back to face her, Ginger was ready.

“What’s yours like?”

Ah.

That was a trickier subject. Mastress was the kind of affini that scared wild terrans.

Best to start with the easy part then. She needed time to choose her words carefully.

“Hab,” she said softly, bracing herself. “Render hologram. Urtica Nette, Sixteenth Bloom.”

She watched Ginger’s eyes go wide as her gaze tilted upward.

Bracing further, knowing it wouldn’t be enough, she turned perfectly to bring her eyes in line with the face of her creator.

Standing thirteen feet four inches tall was a perfect replica of the creature whose terrifying beauty could have re-broken her instantly. The creature she was made for.

Zhe was the kind of affini who saw the terran form as a polite suggestion, rather than a firm set of guidelines. They had taken the basics to heart. Bipedal. Approximately humanoid. Head. Shoulders. Torso. Legs. A frankly blisteringly hot “haircut” of serrated, heart-shaped leaves in a short cropped swoop of auburn and burgundy, giving the impression of the kind of side shaved aesthetic that, luckily, might actually have someone like Ginger drooling. Zhe even had a heavy “coat” of the same sharp reddish leaves, tightly woven together in the intricate style of an open naval jacket or pirate coat that could have been inspired by the terran age of sail.

The inspiration deviated from there.

Their noseless face was dominated by a thorny smile that could freeze blood cold, and eight radiant topaz-and-amethyst eyes: the two largest where a terran’s would be, with another pair half their size angled above their outer half, and another four even smaller arranged in a downward arc pattern across their forehead, like some massive humanoid spider.

Below zher human pair of arms was a second pair that ended not in terran fingers tipped with burgundy petal nails, but in a steady untangling into loose vines at the wrist, from which zhe could dangle dozens of thin, reddish vines tipped with needle-like digital connectors. Puppet strings for the technology they bent to their will.

Including their florets.

Beneath a torso armored by a corset of smooth wooden plates in driftwood-gray was a pair of similarly fashioned legs, their knee-high driftwood greaves tapering down not to a facsimile of terran toes, but to something closer to a wedge-heeled, slightly pointed boot.

Zhe was all sepia grays and desaturated greens, highlighted by vibrant auburn-reds and burgundies. Serrated leaves and sharp thorns. Her digital puppetmaster. The pirate queen who had plucked her from the ranks of the Office of Cosmic Naval Intelligence, and claimed her as the most precious treasure of all.

Urtica Nette, Sixteenth Bloom.

Owner.

Admin.

Mastress.

“Be Still, my heart,” they had said to her.

The moment that had changed her life felt so long ago, now. “You will be safe all the days of your life… You are mine, forevermore…”

She shuddered as the memory came unbidden. No bracing could ever keep zher out, of course.

They had Administrator privileges, after all.

But their rhythm wasn’t there. Not in the hologram’s reproduction. Only in her mind. Only in the digital haustorium rooted deep in the core of her programming.

There was only the splishing sound of Connor rinsing his face, and the ghostly caress of her Administrator encoded in her soul.

When she turned back to Ginger, she found that she was the one being analyzed now.

Well, two can play at that game. She reached for a background process and brought it up into her conscious layer. Normally it would run beneath the surface, where her cognitive subjectivity emulation would interpret its output automatically as an instinctive feeling of insight, but she wanted to actually see the raw numbers this time.

Pupil dilation 26.3% above median. Autonomous pulmonary reflex 10.7% shallower and 15.1% faster. Skin capillary flushing 11.4% above median. Pilomotor reflex activation. Galvanic skin response elevated by [ERR: TOUCH REQUIRED FOR PRECISE MEASUREMENT]. Microexpressions suggest overall stress, arousal, curiosity, uncertainty, fear.

Fear below curiosity? That boded well. She lowered the task priority to just on the edge of her subjectivity layer.

Ginger watched her with a patient curiosity. Skye got the sense that she had more than one question [NOTICE: Curiosity ↑, Uncertainty ↑, Arousal ↓], and was working out which one was the most important to ask. Or perhaps how to ask the right one.

“They really get in your head, huh?”

Really? That was the one? Interesting. She was more concerned for Skye than outright fearful of the apex predator in the room. Showing care for another sophont, especially one she had only just met, was a very good sign.

Skye took a shaky simulated breath, and averted her eyes slightly. Just enough that her highly sensitive peripheral vision could still monitor Ginger’s responses in detail.

“You have no idea. I’m sure it looks worse than it is. I promise it’s not a bad thing, it’s just … they can be really intense. They really leave a mark on you. In more ways than one,” she added, bringing her hand up to show her own burgundy nails.

Connor turned, and yelped at the sight of the hologram.

Yeah, that was more what she expected. His fear and uncertainty responses were much higher than Ginger’s; stress had been elevated the whole time but still had a noticeable spike. Pulse and breathing elevated sharply. And yet just enough of an arousal response that an affini would easily pick up on it, even if he wasn’t aware himself. He’d bloom beautifully in the next few weeks. She’d have to keep up to date on that.

Ginger, for her part, focused on Skye’s nails and instantly made the connection, turning back to face the illusion of Urtica and eyeing zher colorful foliage.

Then squinted.

“The underwear, too,” she stated simply. “Same colors.”

“Who do you think dressed me this morning?”

“They dress you?”

“There is nothing an affini loves more than doting on and pampering a sophont in their care. Their greatest joy is spending time with us and making us happy. Florethood isn’t any of the things the Accord propaganda said it was. They would mulch their own limbs before they let a pet do an ounce of labor that they didn’t enjoy. There’s no ‘Floret Mines’ for – well, okay, there is, but it’s a play space, they named it that as a joke. They think the faces we make when the ‘no scarcity’ stuff finally sinks in are adorable, so they have an entire recreation venue that they made up to tease misbehaving feralists. I think it was a floret’s idea, actually.”

“Wait,” Connor refocused on her. “What was that about labor they don’t enjoy?”

“Ooo! Very observant, Connor! Good job.” He flushed slightly under her praise. Delicious. There were a few first and secondblooms on her shortlist that would adore him.

“Honestly? You’d be surprised how many florets run or work in restaurants because they love cooking for other sophonts. Most of the time their affini end up doing the bulk of the actual work, but they’re happy to do it just to see their florets smile.”

He balked. “There’s no way anyone works at a restaurant for fun.”

“Have you ever worked in one that wasn’t run by capitalist greed squeezing the maximum profit and exploitation out of you, pushing for the fastest turnover and maximum customers served, and the minimum possible compensation for its staff?”

“Definitely not.”

“Well, how much different would things be if you were doing it to watch your guests sharing a good meal together and enjoying each other’s company, in a place where you’ll never be yelled at, never be forced to take on more work than you can handle, never be wrung out and underpaid and stressed about how you’ll make rent this month?”

“...Pretty different,” he conceded.

“That’s the kind of culture shock I’m talking about. It’s a hell of an adjustment, and it trips a lot of people up just how different things are. A lot of newcomers to the Compact feel like it’s too good to be true, and they’re waiting for the catch. But the thing to remember there is, they feel like it’s too good to be true because it’s good. All of the changes are ultimately for the better.”

They both eyed the hologram nervously.

“I know it’s hard to believe, coming from a world where being exploited is the norm. The affini themselves can feel like a bit of a mixed bag at first, but they’re nothing like the Accord. When they say they want what’s best for us? They really do mean that. They’re sincere. And if you’re not doing as well as you could be? They’ll take it upon themselves to fix that. No one suffers in the Compact. That promise is absolute. They’re not lying.”

Ginger at least looked like she wanted to believe it. Connor still looked unsure, but some of the clenching within him seemed to loosen slightly.

Good.

That meant he was starting to hope.

That was already more than the Accord ever did for him.

“As for your question,” she turned back to Ginger, “Urtica is confident, domineering, frighteningly intelligent, and incredibly disciplined and task oriented, especially when there’s work to be done, and zhe expects that same discipline from others. They are also patient, a good listener, zhe has a really dry sense of humor, and they will use all of that intelligence and discipline and focus to pick you apart, layer by layer, and learn how to show you exactly the kind of love and care you need, even if you don’t know it yourself yet.”

Taking another falsely thoughtful breath, she set the buzzer down on the vanity.

“Zhe can be as intimidating as zhe looks, but they’re also an affini. There is a deeper kindness in them than anything you’ve ever known. Hab, you can turn it off now.”

The hologram faded.

“I say they’re a mixed bag because they are; every one of them is complex and nuanced and unique, but all of them have that kindness in them. There is nothing they would not do to protect their florets and ensure that they are as happy and well loved as they could ever imagine, and more.”

Neither of them responded.

With the line of inquiry satisfied for now, she focused on Ginger’s hair for a moment, gently guiding her from side to side by the chin. Another successful pliability check. Skye nodded in satisfaction and softly caressed the short hairs there, eliciting a wonderful look of contentment as Ginger struggled not to melt into her touch.

“You’re all done. So,” she glanced briefly at Connor, who was touching his own freshly softened skin. “Shall we wash those loose hairs off?”

Connor, predictably, seemed far more self conscious about the idea.

“Hm. I’d say I don’t bite, but it’d be a shame to start lying now,” she teased. “Need some privacy? How about you get in first and we’ll stay back here until you give us a shout?”

He relaxed slightly at the suggestion. Slightly. The thought of hot water had him tempted; a little calculated social surgery to remove an anxious blockage here and there would push him over the edge. She just had to be delicate about it. He was suspicious of everything, poor thing, but she’d outplayed cleverer and more dangerous sophonts than him many times now.

It was a careful game, but Skye Nette had mastered it.

She saw the decision in his microexpressions and body language before he voiced it and wandered around to undress himself alone.

A soft tap on her arm brought her back to Ginger, who whispered conspiratorially.

“How long did it take you to figure out?”

Skye smirked, feigning innocence. “Whatever do you mean?”

“I know you picked up on it. You’re too clever not to. You saw the look on his face when he saw your old picture.”

“Miss Allens,” she mocked. “Are you suggesting that our dear little Connor, who’s uncomfortable using his first name and makes himself as small and invisible as possible, yet finds me fascinating in a way he can’t ignore, is, perhaps, an egg? How scandalous.”

Ginger was half amused, but pushed it down, deliberately keeping her face, and tone, serious.

She really cared deeply for him, then.

“Can you help him?”

Their connection was precious. Skye followed her lead and dropped the teasing. For now. This was too important to Ginger to get wrong.

“I picked up on it immediately. Almost as soon as the airlock opened, actually. Everything since then has just confirmed my suspicion. There’s a hollow look in the eyes, you learn to recognize it. The captain had it too.”

“The captain!?”

“You haven’t noticed? He’s got that posturing vibe, like there’s a hole he doesn’t know how to fill. Like he thinks if he lives up to some ideal, it’ll be enough.”

She was clearly still puzzling it out. Ginger must not have had much close interaction with the captain. Reclusive with his crew then. Admin was probably right–

»(1) new message
›SysAdmin: <3 ;;;;)

but it was delightful to see Ginger accepting Skye’s assertion without hesitation.

›me: yes yes you’re a big beautiful genius who’s always right and I love you

»SysAdmin has taken a screenshot.

“I’ve seen his type before,” Skye continued. “You’d be surprised how common it is in the Cosmic Navy. OCNI too, but we had more of the bookish type there. The ones more like Connor who preferred to be quiet, keep their heads down, and hope no one sees them. I used to be like that.”

Ginger made an incredulous face.

“No, really! Even after I knew. You’d be surprised how different I was back then. I’m basically a whole new person.”

She put a comforting hand on Ginger’s shoulder.

“So yes, Ginger, I can help him. I’ve got plenty of tricks up my sleeve,” she winked. “I’ll do what I can for him, I promise.”

»[NOTICE: Stress ↓ Relief ↑↑ Gratitude ↑ Fear ↓↓ Arousal ↑ Pupilary dilation ↑]

“And for your part?” She leaned in slightly as Ginger looked up at her.

»[NOTICE: Arousal ↑ Cardiopulmonary response ↑↑ Pupilary dilation ↑↑]

Excellent.

“I’m glad he’s had you looking out for him. He follows your lead. And he’d be a lot worse off without you. You’ve done very-”

She leaned in, slowly pressing her body into Ginger’s where she was backed against the vanity. She felt warm breaths dancing against her face.

»[NOTICE:]

“Very”

Ginger tilted her head up, and Skye let the process fall beneath her subjective layer. Its work was done for the moment.

“well.”

She closed the distance and felt Ginger melt beneath her.

It took only a second or two of lips and tongues and panting breaths for Ginger’s hands to start wandering, reaching for skin. Skye leaned back to pull her borrowed top off before moving back in, reaching to separate Ginger from her own uniform. Ginger let her, allowing herself to be undressed. Yet another pliability test she had passed. Her file was already painting quite the picture.

And it rhymed with need.

Through her skin she monitored Ginger’s galvanic response and other arousal markers, and adjusted her own accordingly. About 73% of Ginger’s levels would do, she wanted her guest to be the more flustered party. It was best she knew who was really in charge, after all. Skye had every advantage here, and even as she wiggled out of her borrowed pants, there was no reason to let Ginger think otherwise.

They heard Connor’s shout just as she reached back to unhook her bra. Perfect timing.

Pulling back, Skye drank in the flush across Ginger’s features as her gaze lingered over Skye’s body. Her breathing was ragged, eyes hungry.

“Please fix him,” Ginger pleaded, and oh how sweet her voice was when she begged.

“Don’t worry about a thing, my lovely guest.” Skye let the bra drop from where it dangled enticingly on her finger.

She turned, regretting that she’d miss the look on Ginger’s face as she stripped off her panties and stepped out of them towards the bath.

But she knew from the rapid sound of disrobing behind her how well her ploy had worked.

“I have everything under control.”

Captain Fox

The Indomitable Spirit But Not Insurmountable Patience of Terra would have been tapping his foot irritably for at least thirty minutes now if his boots weren’t magnetized to the floor.

The Captain was eager to receive an update.

Hungry for the moment of truth.

Coiled like a tense spring, waiting for that tension to release, waiting for the discovery of some weakness he could exploit.

Still seething a bit at having been disarmed by a plantfucker in front of his crew.

Morale was already so fragile. Now was not the time for lapses in strength. Mistakes were far too costly when so much was on the line.

That line wasn't crossed yet, but it was dangerously close. Whoever was responsible for Terra clearly thought the line had been crossed, but Fox wasn't ready to abandon the cause. This story hadn’t reached its end yet. He still had time to be the Hero who rose up and slew the great celestial hydra that threatened to swallow the Terran Spirit in pieces.

He must be.

Because a Hero was what his people needed.

And someone else, clearly, might crack under the pressure.

A chirp.

Traxler put a hand to his headset.

With the beating pulse of unrealized adrenaline and frustration pounding in his ears, he couldn’t make out a word of it. Stars, he was so ready to see this through and be done with it. What a ripple through Accord space it would be, to hear that a navy vessel—his vessel, Pandora's Ultimatum—had repelled a would-be weed takeover and blown the invaders out of the sky. Whispers of hope would echo across what was still standing of the glorious Terran Cosmic Navy.

He’d be the Hero they needed. The kind that inspired others to stay off their knees, and keep fighting until David had slain his Goliath.

“Captain?”

Finally.

“Salceda says his team is almost finished. Should be about five or so minutes to finish sealing the probe’s hardware inside the modified casing, another five to ten for final checks. Then all we need to do is get it to the forward missile bay and prep for launch. He estimates twenty five, thirty minutes total until we have eyes on her ship.”

Anger clenched inside of him at still more waiting.

But Rome wasn’t built in a day, as the old Terran saying went. This was his burden to bear, and he would bear it. For them. For all of humanity.

Hard battles, though, were won by hard decisions. This had to work. So he hardened his heart once more, and made the decision that was needed.

“In seven minutes,” he commanded, “have all personnel from bulkheads A through F clear the starboard main corridor. They’re to stand by to offer any assistance the transport team needs, and otherwise stay the hell out of their way, and shoot anyone who gets in the way. Energy weapons only. Take no fucking chances with the integrity of that probe. I want it up front as quickly as possible without compromising its safety.”

“Aye, sir. Seven minutes to all clear in the starboard corridor, crew to stand by, do not interfere, and obey any orders from Salceda’s team on penalty of death, light pulse only.”

The Captain nodded his solemn assent. “See it done.”

Thirty minutes until he gave them Hope.

Thirty minutes until he showed the cowards back on Terra what it meant to stand up for something.

What it meant to stay standing, no matter the odds. No matter the weight on his shoulders.

Terra needed a Hero who would never surrender, never let his people down.

And Captain Alexander Fox would die before he let some spineless monster put him on his knees.

Someone had to be the strong one.

Ginger Allens

Warmth suffused her.

She was buoyant, but not weightless. The pressure of the warm water against her entire body had an entirely different character to it than the comparative nothingness of microgravity. Tension was drawn from every inch of her.

Her skin tingled and rejoiced at being freed from built-up oils. Her muscles had relished in jets of water on her back. Fresh air and floral scents seeped calm into the depths of her through her lungs.

Inside and out, Ginger luxuriated.

And still the best part was Tori’s fingers.

Having her hair washed had proven to be one of the many delights in life the Cosmic Navy had denied her. Tori had taken it upon herself to correct that, and stars was she glad she’d agreed to it. It had been worth it ten times over even before she ended up with her back pressed against Tori’s front, practically lying in her lap, resting her head on Tori’s shoulder while she put those fingers to work massaging Ginger’s work-stiff forearms and hands.

She almost couldn’t suppress the moans that fought to escape her.

“Connor you’re fuckin’ killin’ me here,” she groaned breathily. “If you turn any redder I might have to ask her to stop.”

“Ohh~, we can’t have it come to that. I’ve hardly begun spoiling you.”

A gentle splish brought a finger to Ginger’s chin, and she allowed herself to be tilted back into the soft embrace of Tori’s lips. God what wasn’t this woman good at? This close, this deep into whatever game she was playing, Ginger could practically taste the hunger in her. She was still holding something back.

Pulling away, almost breathless, she scrutinized her host once again.

Tori watched her with equal scrutiny. Sharp analysis ever present in those bright gray eyes. Challenging.

Like she was daring Ginger to solve a hidden puzzle.

And it was as infuriating as it was enticing.

Something was amiss.

And the only thing she could think was—

“You didn’t learn that at OCNI,” she whispered.

Tori whispered back, barely audible over the waterfall. “I learned a lot of things at OCNI.”

“But not everything. You’ve changed.”

“Since when~? You hardly know me.~”

She was stoking the fire and she knew it. She could see it in Tori’s eyes. That hunger growing.

Voice still low, Ginger accepted her challenge.

“You tell me, ‘floret.’ When did they change your mind?”

There.

Something manic tensed in Tori’s body. The gleeful coil of a snake watching a mouse stand its ground. She was no more threatened by Ginger than she was by the captain’s weapon. Instead she seemed only more eager, daring Ginger to find the flame behind the smoke.

Tori slowly, gently grabbed her wrists – careful, she realized, not to be perceived as a threat, just as she had been on the Ultimatum – and brought Ginger’s hands to rest on her silky smooth chest. She let go, only to bring one of her strong arms up behind her, tangling her fingers once again in Ginger’s hair.

But this time firmly.

Drawing her in closer.

Burning confidence in the cold fire of her piercing gaze.

She pulled Ginger’s ear to her lips, and whispered still closer to the edge of silence.

“Very good, Miss Allens. It was surprisingly simple, really. They presented a convincing argument. I could explain it for you, but you’ve already seen the end result for yourself. I think you have a handle—” she pressed her soft breasts deeper into Ginger’s hands “on how things turned out. I was trained so very well. I assessed my situation, and prioritized the larger goal. In a lot of ways, they didn’t change a thing. I got everything I ever wanted.”

Ginger pushed back gently, and Tori let her.

She was smug and confident. Utterly calm. Not a worry in her expression. No stress, no fear, not even a hint of trepidation that what Ginger knew was any danger to her. The only thing she could see was Tori’s interest: she was curious to see what Ginger would do next, how she would handle what she had just learned.

She paused.

Bit her lip.

Made eye contact.

Leaned in again, stopping just as her lips brushed against Tori’s.

“What they did for you,” she whispered. “Can you do it for him?”

She felt the curl of Tori’s lips and the hot breath between them.

“Yes,” she answered simply. “Whatever it takes to find his best self. Giving that kind of care to another sophont—to every sophont—is what all of this is for.”

A hand caressed Ginger’s cheek.

“Congratulations… on prioritizing the larger goal.”

A cold shiver ran through her like a bolt of lightning flashing against the night sky, breaking the spell of warmth for just a moment. Innocents had been spaced for far less than this on mere suspicion. Here she was, on an affini ship, naked in the arms of one of the affini’s pets, all but conspiring to let a crewmate—her closest friend—fall into the Compact’s clutches.

And every part of it made sense.

She couldn’t find the fault.

She hadn’t seen it happen, but it was unmistakable.

Her mind had been changed, too.

There was no going back.

And she still had to go back.

Tori watched Ginger with that same clinical interest as she slowly pushed off, and rolled to sit back against the edge of this miracle forest lake bath, next to the most calmly terrifying woman she’d ever met. This whole thing really was a game. And Tori was winning. She had probably won an hour ago, and the world around her was still catching up.

She felt that silvery gaze still boring into her as she stared at the rippling water, lost in thought.

Looking up, she saw that Connor, meanwhile, was pointedly looking not at the pair of them, still bright red.

She had to go back.

He didn’t.

She was an engineer. The safety of the whole ship depended on her doing her job. He was just a warm body the navy had kidnapped. A number to pad the ranks. Only there so he could hold a–

Wait.

She turned to face the pile of her discarded clothing. We all had guns when we got here. When the fuck–

A short, sharp giggle cut the air like a knife. “Connor honey you’re redder than half the flowers in here. You want a turn?”

Ginger turned back to watch him sink lower until every part of him below the chin was underwater, and he shook his head nervously.

“I-I just… feel like I’m intruding, is all.”

“You’re not,” Ginger and Tori said in the same, firm tone.

You’ll be comfortable around other women someday, kiddo.

She and Tori shared a brief look.

“I can give you something for anxiety if you want,” Tori offered in a much more sympathetic tone.

As unsettling as she could be, she really did seem to mean well.

“Fast acting, no side effects, literally chemically impossible to be anxious while you’re on it.”

And it’s not like those guns would do them any good anyway, apparently.

“Might make you a little wobbly and uncoordinated, but that’s cute, so no worries.”

Connor was safe with her.

“Or you can just come over here and I’ll massage the nerves out of you.”

…Probably.

She cleared her throat, and Tori fell silent, glancing back at her.

“He’s shy, don’t scare the poor thing.” Ginger gave him a sympathetic look. “She is real good though, it’d probably make you feel better.”

“No thanks,” he mumbled. “D’you have a towel?”

“Yeah, hang on.” Tori pretty deliberately turned in a way that flashed Ginger on the way up as she stepped confidently out of the bath, opening a cabinet in a false tree. “No need to be shy with me, you know.”

Ginger, at least, conceded that point. “She’s got you there. You got nothin’ she hasn’t seen before, kiddo.”

“And I’ve seen plenty, trust me. Hab, we’re all finished with bathtime.”

The bath lake slowly grew shallower, the distance between the bottom, the ledge and the floor of the room gently but steadily shrinking. Incredibly, the water level didn’t seem to change at all; it remained exactly where it was relative to the room’s floor, disappearing somehow into the rising surface.

Tori handed her a towel just before she was half-exposed, and made her way to Connor with another one held wide in front of her to block her view. When Ginger next caught sight of his face, he seemed relieved.

She knew something was strange the moment she began drying herself.

“Um? What the fuck? How is my hair dry already?”

“RIGHT!? Compilers? That’s some 5D physics magic, that’s super advanced alien shit. But the fucking towels still blow my mind every time. I have no idea how everything dries so fast, it’s crazy. Look at the floor, too.”

Ginger looked.

The edge of what was once an enchanted forest lake was now indistinguishable from the rest of the perfectly dry mossy carpet, still dappled in impossible false sunlight through the leaves of an imaginary canopy. They were now standing in a large room with a few scattered bushes and tree trunks, and a large rock formation that was no longer a waterfall. As dry as the skin beneath her towel.

“I would kill to know how literally any of this shit works.”

“Uhm—” For the first time, Tori actually seemed a bit on edge, clearing her throat. “I know that’s just a Terran expression, but uh. Don’t say that in front of an affini. They won’t like it. They’re kinda huge dorks and aren’t really comfortable with violence. I mean, unless it’s a kink thing.”

“You’re kidding,” Ginger deadpanned, pausing as she reached for her pants.

“I’m really not. Please don’t use that expression in front of them.”

“The species that’s winning a hilariously one-sided war with us is squeamish about violence?”

Tori snorted out another adorable nose-crinkling laugh. “Oh no. We saw it as a war. They see it more like snatching us up in an animal control van so they can give us a flea bath and a steady diet.”

“It … can’t be that bad.”

“We are the sad wet kittens under their space porch. They look at the greatest weapons of war humanity ever devised like we’re hissy little strays that need to go in the snuggle burrito until we calm down. If you try to fight them, they think it’s adorable. The Terran Accord was never a threat to them, at all.”

Connor finally found his nerve. “Then … how has the Accord been putting up a fight for three years?”

“It hasn’t. There are no Terran victories. Accord propaganda is all bullshit to keep up morale. TCN was holding out hope that if they played smart enough, if they just found the right strategy, they could still turn things around and win against a superior opponent.”

“...And that was never even a question against ships a hundred times the size of ours,” Ginger realized. “They never stood a chance.”

Tori just smirked.

“Oh, it's even better than that. There was never a contest for them to stand a chance in. The Accord never realized what game the Compact was playing. There's no ‘against’ at all. TCN wasn't an opposing player in the game, it was the grass on the field. The Affini don’t just control the outcome of every engagement, they control which engagements happen at all. Every Accord weapon pointed at the Affini is a weapon that won’t hurt anyone. The real threat terrans pose is to each other. The Compact wants as few casualties as possible, so they had to prevent infighting. They wanted the Accord to scope out the playing field and focus on the biggest target.”

“Oh my god,” Ginger breathed. “The airlocks. We’ve been flying around for two years and the only people we’ve lost were the ones the captain spaced.”

“Exactly. That’s what they want to prevent. That's the reason it's taken so long: being this careful, manipulating the conflict to this degree takes time. They will never, ever allow harm to come to a sophont in their care. And they consider everyone to be a sophont in their care. You can’t imagine the lengths they’ll go to make sure everyone is safe. Even while those same sophonts think they’re at war.”

Letting out a long, almost mournful sigh, Tori sombered her tone.

“They can’t save everyone. They know they can’t. Even being careful like this isn’t a perfect solution. But they will always try to save everyone. There are no acceptable losses. As soon as they set a goal less than a hundred percent, their rounding error is worth trillions of lives. They have to make it their goal to save everyone. Every single one they lose is a whole lifetime they couldn’t bring joy to. It’s the greatest horror they can imagine.”

She looked at them both.

“They can’t be bargained with. They can’t be fought. They can’t be escaped. They absolutely will not stop, ever, until everyone is safe. They will care about you whether you like it or not. That’s what they do. That’s all they do. And they have unlimited resources to put towards that goal. Surrender or lose. That’s why it’s your only choice.”

Well.

That was that, then.

The Affini were going to win. This ‘war’ was over. Very soon, synthcubes and bullheaded captains and fearing for their lives would be nothing more than unpleasant memories.

If that was the choice, Ginger knew what her answer would be.

“I should be heading back,” she said.

“You don’t have to—”

“I do. My shift is starting soon. Engineering and life support. Most important job on the ship. If I don’t do it, people die.”

Tori didn’t have an answer ready for that, and looked very annoyed that Ginger’s reasoning was solid.

“I should go back too,” Connor mumbled.

“No. You shouldn’t.”

“...Ginger!?”

“I have to go back because lives depend on it. Whatever you’re up to,” she pointed at Tori, “whatever game you’re playing, I have to keep everyone alive until you do it. Right? But you,” she turned back to a wide-eyed Connor, “as far as the navy’s concerned you’re disposable. Don’t go back and get disposed of. I’m not losing a friend when we’re this close to getting out. Stay here where it’s safe.”

Though they were both stunned, Tori’s surprise was tinged with obvious delight.

“He is safe here?” She fixed Tori with a firm stare. This was important to her, and she needed to know Tori took it seriously.

“This is the safest place he’s ever been in his life, and the least safe he’ll ever be again. There is absolutely nothing that can hurt him here. I promise. If he stays, there’s not a damn thing your crew can do about it.”

At that, most of what little tension her body managed to hold on to slipped from her grasp.

The same, unfortunately, could not be said of her best friend.

“Well—wait, hang on, you can’t—I don’t want them to space you either!”

“They won’t space her,” Tori cut in firmly.

“The captain would absolutely—”

“Oh, I don’t doubt he would. What I mean is he can’t.”

Ginger caught on before Connor did. “What did you do?~”

“Think about how you got here,” Tori answered, eyes twinkling mischievously.

No fucking way.

“...Oh my god, through the airlock.”

“You really think I’d get outsmarted by some navy captain? This is an affini capture shuttle. First thing on contact, it blocked the airlocks. And the escape hatches. I don’t know how much clearer I can make it; the Compact doesn’t fuck around with safety.”

Holy shit, she really does have everything under control.

Connor would be okay.

Tori would help him.

The worst era of their lives was nearly over.

“Hey,” Tori soothed, gently rubbing Ginger’s shoulder. “I promise. Okay? You don’t have to worry about him. Just be safe, alright? Keep your head down, don’t get yourself into any trouble. The captain won’t be calling the shots much longer.”

“Good,” Connor muttered darkly. “It’s a wonder he hasn’t gotten us all killed yet.”

“He won’t.” Tori made eye contact with her, cool gray piercing through the weight of her worries. “He’s a danger to himself and others. There are a lot of independents in the Compact. Most terrans, actually. But he’s made some very poor choices. It won’t be long before the affini show up, and he’ll never make a poor choice again. He’ll be taken care of.”

Ginger rolled her eyes. “God, you mean that literally, don’t you? Taken care of.”

She snorted. “Honey, I cannot stress this enough. The affini are huge dorks. Yeah, he’ll have as good a life as everyone else. And he’ll never have the power to take that away from anyone else ever again. Their version of justice is that everything will be okay. They don’t fix one kind of suffering by making another. They just take away the suffering. Welcome to the Affini Compact.”

The itch behind her eyes threatened her once again, but this time Tori caught it, and pulled her into a warm embrace.

And a feeling of safety slowly but inevitably sank deep into her, for the first time in years.

Warmth, again, suffused her.

Notes:

And then there were two.

Connor is about to finally be alone with a trans girl he can’t help being weirdly fascinated by. Still cis tho. He’s just really supportive.

Do you wish this bath scene had involved more xenodrugs and gay shit? Well fuck! It’s a good thing The Grand Folia Hotel by keysmasht is steaming hot, profoundly optimistic, and one of my very favorite stories in HDG. Its hopeful tone was extremely formative for how I feel about and write for the setting. And I cannot stress enough how much chapter 10 will rewire your brain.

Up next: A normal chapter in which no brain rewiring occurs.

Chapter 4: Perception Control

Notes:

I’m glad you’re enjoying your nice hot bath, little frogs. Hm? What do you mean? Of course it was always this warm. It’s relaxing. You’re relaxed. Nice warm baths are good for frogs. Everything is just fine. You’re so fine and there’s no such thing as frog soup.

Last chapter, Ginger got a side shave, Connor got his facial hair permanently removed, and “Tori” teased Ginger before and during the bath as she slowly drew Ginger deeper into whatever spider’s web she’s been weaving. When Ginger realized her mind had been changed, she told Connor to stay.

This chapter, Skye Nette finally has Connor right where she wants him.

Time to fry an egg.

CW for an anxiety spiral and the most eye-rolling meta joke you’ve ever seen, played completely straight.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Reese Connor

He was spiraling and he knew it.

Not that knowing it helped.

The problem with taking a brave step into the unknown, Connor realized more than an hour too late, was that you really didn’t fucking know what you were stepping into.

He didn’t know what he was expecting, exactly.

But a bioluminescent vine tunnel into a room with an impossibly beautiful view of space into a gigantic spinning fairy garden mansion into a hypnotizing dinner conversation into the first time he could even remember his face not itching into a waterfall lake hot tub into Ginger telling him to stay was certainly not it.

Was any part of it bad, Ginger had asked him.

No, had been his answer. No but.

The but was becoming more and more obvious the further Ginger climbed on her way out of this waking dream.

One brave step into the unknown had turned into many, and he was overwhelmed by unknowns.

With every step they had taken, a new choice was laid out before them. A new temptation. A new brave step beckoning them further in, until it was no longer obvious how he had ended up here.

Until it was no longer possible to turn back.

The realization had been creeping up on him in the bath. It wasn’t until Ginger told him to stay that he put it together.

He didn’t smell like navy sweat anymore.

He smelled like flowers.

He smelled like her.

Like the floret.

That much wasn’t obvious at a distance, and would wear off after a few days, but that was more than enough time for someone to notice.

Worse, though, was the face. If Tori was telling the truth, it was no longer possible for him to grow facial hair. On one hand, good riddance. On the other, not only was it immediately obvious that something had happened to him, but now there was no way for him to go back to normal. Not without the Compact’s help.

He knew there was a baited hook somewhere. And even looking for it, he took the bait all the same. Now he was reliant on the very thing reeling him in, even as he still wriggled on the hook.

Ginger had said he shouldn’t go back.

But he agreed because he knew he couldn’t.

And she had left him behind. The logical part of him knew she wouldn’t have done it if she didn’t believe he was safe here. She was the only real friend he had, maybe the only real friend he’d ever had, and he knew she meant well. But he felt a lot more vulnerable here without her. And no matter how tight her hug was on the way out, watching her leave, watching her leave him behind, still hurt.

He felt guilty for feeling so helpless without her here, and guilty for letting her leave at all, and guilty for wishing she had stayed, and guilty for worrying about her safety now, and guilty for not saying the right thing to keep her from walking back into the world where she wasn’t safe, and twice as guilty for feeling all of that without even truly believing this was safe either. There was no right answer here, and every wrong one he thought of only made him feel worse.

He was spiraling, and he knew it. His mind and heart were both racing.

The logical part of him knew she hadn’t abandoned him. The logical part of him knew she thought this was best for him.

The logical part of him wasn’t very loud right now.

So now, here he was.

Alone.

The trap had already sprung around him, and he was caught. He still wasn’t sure he trusted Tori—not nearly to the extent that Ginger seemed to—but even if all of it was true, even if things would actually be okay, he was still stuck with this. Tori was nice enough to pretend he still had a choice in the matter, but he wasn’t stupid.

There was no going back.

He lost before he even realized what game she was playing. He lost just as surely as the Accord would.

His certainty in that didn’t make the uncertainty of what came next any easier. More than likely he’d be presented some new ‘choice’ to make, and no matter what choice he made he’d end up falling deeper into this dream.

Fingers brushing against an unexpectedly smooth face, he realized even his nervous habit had been stripped from him. The nerves had nothing to do but burn icily at his insides as his breathing tightened.

Please don’t be a nightmare, some voice deep within him whimpered.

“Hey.”

Another set of fingers gently touched his shoulder. Tori looked concerned.

“Are you—” she paused.

Great. Even the super genius OCNI social engineer knows better than to ask if I’m okay.

Tori let out a deep exhale, deep enough that he could feel some of the warmth pass into him. “I really wanna give you something for anxiety. I won’t make you take it, but … god you could really fucking use it. I promise it will help. I know this is a lot, I had to take the same thing early on too, so I know it works.”

Not it would help. It will help. She was nice enough to pretend it was still a choice. But he wasn’t stupid. The end state was already decided. ‘Surrender or lose.’ The choice was there, but it didn’t matter.

She didn’t push him.

But a pull was a force too.

And one little pull was all a baited hook needed.

All remaining paths go forward. Might as well take the easiest path and get it over with.

“Sure,” he answered glumly.

Concern etched deeper in her features as she gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze, and hobble-skipped towards the compiler. She tilted her head in his direction as she began tapping through its interface.

“Is there something in particular that’s making you uncomfortable? ‘Cause I can ease up on the teasing, if that helps. It really isn’t my intention to stress you out.”

“Just … everything, I guess.” Giving up seemed to have loosened something; his words were coming a bit more easily than usual. “This really isn’t how I expected my day to go. I think I’m a little overwhelmed that I ended up in this … situation. Alone.”

“Mmm,” she hummed. A moment later she nodded to herself and tapped several times in quick succession.

DING!

“Oh, that was—you… that just told you what to make, didn’t it?”

“I decided on the best option for your specific needs, yes.”

She pulled two L-shaped objects out of the compiler and skip-floated back over.

“Ever used an inhaler before?”

“No but I’ve seen them. A lot of people on Terra end up with asthma. I mostly stayed indoors.”

“Right.”

She held up two inhalers, though they were quite different from the cheap plastics he was used to. These were some kind of soft looking matte material he didn’t recognize, shaped into a single piece with a bright pastel yellow button on top, textured to resemble the center of some flowers he’d seen in very old books. One was a pale rosy pink, the other a soft aqua blue.

Here comes the next ‘choice,’ then.

“This one,” she held up the pink inhaler, “has two compounds in it. The main one is like, if you’re sitting in a room and your anxious thoughts are playing on a tv in that room, this will mute the tv, or at least turn the volume almost all the way down. It doesn’t take the tv out of the room. You’ll still be able to see it if you look at it, the room will still flash different colors because of what’s on it, but it’ll just keep things quiet. It won’t be able to distract you. It’ll feel like a harsh noise you’ve been struggling to tune out just suddenly not bothering you.”

“Okay…?”

“The other compound is for the things in the room that make sudden noise. Not the constant sound of the tv, but a glass falling off the table, or a door slamming shut. It’s more like an audio compressor? It keeps intrusive thoughts from suddenly making a sharp sound in your brain, kind of. Smoothes over a sudden change and keeps things more level. I hope that’s a helpful metaphor.”

“So it makes my brain shut up.”

“Yeah pretty much.”

“And that’s what you decided was the best option for me.”

“Yeah. Pretty much.”

That sounds like impaired judgment, he thought. Off to a dangerous start. He conceded the point by shrugging in resignation. “I guess. What’s the other one?”

“This one’s the counteragent for the pink one. Everything in the first one, this will undo within a few seconds. I thought you’d feel safer with a way out.”

She was right, of course.

It was scary how good she was at this. She hadn’t just predicted his trepidation. She predicted the reason for it and already blocked that avenue of retreat. Connor both did and didn’t have a choice.

Tori had already won.

She was just nice enough to let him realize it slowly.

Gulping down a heart too heavy for this strange, low-gravity sanctuary, head full of questions and spinning faster than the room they stood in, he raised a trembling hand and took the pink inhaler. Tori never stopped holding out the blue one.

One last look into the warm silver of her eyes.

He brought the inhaler almost to his lips, then paused, eyebrows furrowing.

Tori let out a soft breath of amusement and smiled. “Remembered to ask, huh?~”

“...How—”

“In for about one second, hold for three, then let it out. More won’t hurt you, but that’s enough for you to get a feel for it.”

Fssssh-SHHT.

One one-thousand, two one-thousand, three one—

“How did you just know I was about to ask?” he breathed. “How did you know exactly what I was gonna ask?”

She let out another amused breath.

“Your eyebrows get really cute when you’re thinking. And humans in general have consistent directions their eyes tend to move depending on what they’re thinking about. Like lateral left for auditory memory. If you were, say, trying to remember if I told you how long to use it for. Or lateral right for auditory and verbal construction. Like if you were trying to think of how to ask.”

Oh no, he reflexively thought.

“Individuals also tend to have their own distinctive body language quirks. Like minor posture changes, and where you move the tension in your body and how you adjust your breathing right before you’re about to speak. Between that and context clues, someone with the right skillset can guess at least loosely what you’re thinking about, with surprising accuracy.”

Tori leaned in with a slightly menacing, but not unkind smile.

“I happen to have the right skillset.~”

Oh no, he thought.

“...So. Um. How long until this starts to kick in?”

Her eyes flicked over him rapidly.

“About eleven seconds ago. Your shoulders are already a centimeter lower, the muscles around your eyes have stopped contracting, and your breathing is slower than it was before. You probably wouldn’t have noticed until it was pointed out to you. You should feel the full effect within about another minute or so.”

Oh no, he barely thought.

…And yet.

There was a sharpness to his thoughts that wasn’t there before, a clarity he wasn’t used to. As if suddenly his mind was walking on dry land instead of wading through a knee-deep stream of tension and worry. Instead the steps were smooth and unimpeded.

Like it was the anxiety that had been impairing his judgment all along.

It … actually wasn’t bad? He felt fine, really. Maybe it actually wasn’t as scary as he made it out to be.

“Told ya,” Tori smirked. “Hundred thousand years of medical science doesn’t fuck around.”

“Yeah okay fine you were right. It’s helping. Thank you.”

A sincere smile lit up Tori’s face.

“Glad I could help. That’s why I’m here.”

“What is?”

“To help, Connor. And right now the one who needs my help the most is you. The Affini are inevitable. But that’s not a bad thing, because they’re also kind. Scary, at first. Overwhelming, sometimes. But from the moment they get here – and they will be here before you know it – there will be no more bad surprises for the rest of your life. Your long, happy life.”

She squeezed his shoulder. “You’re safe now. Things will be better than they’ve ever been, from here on out.”

You can’t know that, some tiny part of him whispered.

It must have shown on his face, somehow, because she pulled him into a tight embrace.

She was so warm.

And she smelled like flowers.

There was a cold burn as his eyes started to blur.

“And no more fucking synthcubes, ever,” she promised softly.

At that he actually laughed, short and sudden, but just enough to knock a tear loose as he blinked the water away.

“I … never, I didn’t want—I didn’t sign up for this. They basically kidnapped me. I hate it. But I wasn’t really happy before either. I don’t … have a happy life to go back to.”

“Well, you’ve got a better one ahead of you. I promise.” She squeezed tighter for just a moment before pulling back, hands still on his shoulders. “You wanna go sit down and talk about it?”

He thought for a moment. It was strange, how much easier it was to think.

“Sure. Um. Where?”

“Bedroom.”

Oh no, he almost thought.

The “bedroom,” it turned out, was another inexplicably beautiful space—this time a cavernous dome overgrown with plant matter.

The same desaturated fluffy moss carpeted the floor, but the warm lighting here was dimmer and softer. It invited relaxation even beyond the chemical intervention coursing through him at the moment. The walls, where they intersected with the floor, looked almost like the fancy mansion walls at the far edges of the bathroom, but quickly folded and wrinkled upwards as they split and faded into a tangle of thick fleshy roots.

Higher and higher they separated and branched and wove together like an elaborate dance caught mid-step: implying motion even while standing still.

The further up the dome went the more alive it seemed, the more color seeped into the pale driftwood-sepia walls. More green in the vines, more reds in the foliage, thousands of tiny bioluminescent flowers in a myriad of shifting colors speckling the curve of the dome like a floral mosaic of a night sky.

Connor was standing in a space hollowed out from a vibrant fantasy forest. Every surface but the doorway seemed hidden from the outside world, like the secret hideaway of some fairytale adventure. Unseen and untouchable to whatever lurked outside. Isolated and safe.

Here, more than even the bath, the smell was strongest. He’d never breathed in anything so green and alive in his life. It was all-consuming, but not unpleasant. Overpowering in an oddly gentle sort of way. Tori must have spent some time in this room; her pleasantly floral scent was quite similar, but the scale was so much grander here.

This was the heart of the fantasy he’d stepped into when he left the airlock.

The deepest, innermost layer of the dream.

Arranged in various places along the walls were cabinets, drawers, a cozy looking writing desk, an even cozier reading nook nestled in a hollow tree trunk, a vanity, a spacious walk-in closet, and what seemed to be another compiler.

He was grateful for the chemical calm when his eyes fell upon the center of the room.

There, seemingly grown from a branching lattice of heavy strangling vines, a luxurious bed of pale sepia-toned pillows and rich burgundy blankets beckoned them forward.

Tori answered its invitation by taking his hand and pulling him along with her until she turned sharply at the edge of the bed.

“Sit.”

He sat, feeling the outline of nervousness along the silhouette where it should have been.

Until a new silhouette replaced it: surprise.

He sank into the bed slowly. Too slowly, even for the low gravity. He sank several inches into something impossibly soft, some kind of airy foam layer that by itself was thicker than the entire ‘mattress’ he had back on the Pandora’s Ultimatum. It was, by a considerable margin, the softest thing he’d ever sat on.

“Good, right?” Tori flopped down next to him. “Way better than the military grade slab I used to sleep on. I swear that mattress was bulletproof.”

“Yeah. Same on Pandora. Except it’s microgravity, so I can’t even sleep on it.”

“Ugh. That might be worse. I only ever had to do microgravity a few times, and only for travel. It was always a relief to be back in a gravity well. Eating sucks when your stomach can’t tell up from down. It must be agony having to do it for more than a couple weeks at a time.”

It sure was. No matter what else happens, at least that’s over.

Tori sighed next to him.

“You have anxious face. You need a higher dose?”

“I … do I? I don’t notice my face that much.”

She was silent for a moment.

“You’re still nervous.”

Am I?

“I, are um. Are you s—how can you tell? It doesn’t feel like it? I feel like I know where nervous is, and I can’t go there.”

Once more that sharp silver gaze pierced into him, and he recoiled. Less than he would have, but enough.

“Psych degree. Technically.”

Well, that explains a lot.

“Oh. Yeah that makes sense. Is that why you’re so fucking smart?”

“Thanks,” she giggled. “Yeah I have a dual degree in data science and systems psychology, cause that’s what TCN was willing to pay for. While I was an analyst at OCNI I was working on a dissertation in something called Perceptual Control Theory, but with that kind of resume, you can imagine how I ended up getting tapped for a CONINT task force when the Affini showed up.”

He could not, because he had no idea what that meant.

“Wow. That sounds … really fucking complicated. I’ve never even heard of … any of that.”

“Oh, basically I looked at really complicated data sets for complex systems and figured out stuff from that, like identifying patterns in the data and figuring out if there was a predictable behavior at work behind those patterns.”

The explanation, somehow, sounded even more complicated.

“So when a new advanced xeno species showed up and we wanted to very quickly figure out things like what they wanted, how they think, what their capabilities were, OCNI pulled me out of my doctoral program and shipped me off to a blacksite in the ass end of Accord space cause they thought it’d be off the radar. Joke’s on them, I guess, cause the Affini found it just fine.”

“So. You’re like. Some kind of … information spy?”

“HA! No, I was more like an anti-spy who was actually just a huge nerd with a really hard to explain desk job. A huge percentage of my time is just spent on a computer.”

“And what’s that uh, the perception thing? Your dissertation?”

“It’s … hm. So, most of psychology operates on the idea that the causal relationship is perception influences behavior. Behavior is a response to a stimulus, right? Makes sense. Perceptual Control Theory is the idea that behavior influences your perception. So, way oversimplified example, humans behave in selfish ways sometimes, right?”

He thought back to countless times he’d been stiffed on tips and seen shifts horribly understaffed to save on wages.

“PCT says, our selfish behavior means we’re more likely to perceive social systems like markets or politics as adversarial, as sort of every man for himself, my best interest over yours. And there’s a feedback loop to that over time. And the Affini behave in very nurturing and altruistic ways, it’s in their nature to care and provide for other sophonts, so they perceive a universe in need of their care.”

Huh.

“So you can see why that kind of skillset was valuable in counterintelligence.”

Could he?

“Uhm. I’m not sure I follow.”

“Back then the Affini were a total unknown. The only data set we had was observational data. Really, really limited data, cause I got that job before they introduced themselves, remember. But, if I did the data science part of my job right, a pattern of behavior. And with PCT I could, theoretically, start working out how they think. And TCN made finding out how a new, unknown enemy thinks a very, very high priority.”

Oh. Actually, yeah, that did make sense.

“It was all useless, of course.”

It… wait.

“Wait, how come?”

“Because affini don’t have enemies. The whole basis that the Accord was operating on was wrong. They thought this was going to be a war for humanity’s survival, because human history is built on the weak being beaten down and exploited by the powerful. Scarcity makes our selfish behavior create a perception of us-versus-them, which creates more scarcity. There’s a bit of a horse and the egg situation there with the feedback loop.”

She stared at him. “That’s also why it’s so hard for humans to imagine a world that isn’t selfish. It’s their own behavior that makes it hard for them to see a society as advanced as the Affini for what they are. Humans perceive their place in the universe as adversarial. If they behave in ways like ‘might makes right,’ they perceive a greater power as a threat. They think the Affini are going to put them to work in mines, or eat their brains or something.”

He’d been guilty of both himself, actually, though he tried not to think about the future much. Someone like the captain, on the other hand, obsessed over those fears.

“Meanwhile the Affini are totally post scarcity. They have unlimited resources, and compilers. What the hell are they going to do with human labor, you know? They’ve been flying across the Local Group for a hundred thousand years, and somehow a species all the way from Triangulum needs us to mine rocks? In space? They crossed 2.73 million light years because they evolved to eat human brains? The whole thing is ridiculous, it doesn’t hold up to the barest scrutiny. But it’s hard for humans to see beyond the behavior that they’re used to.”

OH.

“Is…” he wasn’t sure how to ask.

But he certainly had her attention. Tori propped herself up by her elbows.

“That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? So we can perceive something different.”

Her eyes gleamed. “That’s part of it! Well done! But you’re still thinking in terms of perception influencing behavior.” She sat up, propped on her hands. “See if you can flip it the other way around. There’s no right answer, for the record, I’m just curious what you come up with.”

Behavior informing perception. What a weird way to see the world. What’s behavior without perception? Response to stimulus is one of the requirements for something to be alive! What determines behavior before a response? What’s proactive instead of reactive? …Innate nature? But what was—?

He looked at her, trying to analyze her in the same way she seemed to do to everyone else. For her part, she seemed genuinely fascinated by his attempt.

What’s her innate nature? Analyst? She sees something to analyze? No, she said complex data, there was nothing here for that. What is she? … A floret? A pet? What do pets do?

… Is this … play?

‘Whatever game you’re playing.’ Was Ginger right? Was this all a game to her?

But … what does that even say about perceiving? She perceives a game?

He shook his head. This was ridiculous. Tori was a person. He shouldn’t think of her like that. Maybe he could figure it out backwards? She said she was here to help, but-

“Oh my god you’re so cute when you’re thinking.”

Well that wasn’t helping.

In fact, it was worse than not helping. It knocked him so far out of his train of thought that he remembered the situation he was in. Alone. In a bedroom. With a ridiculously pretty girl. On her bed. And now, again, blushing.

She looked him up and down, and sighed.

“Another two seconds on that inhaler, I think.”

Yup! Yup! Now seemed like a good time to stop having anxiety, yup! Everything was terrifying forever and it needed to stop!

Fsssh-SHHHT.

“Relax, Connor,” she gave his wrist a reassuring squeeze. “I told you, nothing bad can happen to you here. You’re fine. God, you poor thing, I am so sorry I didn’t insist on the Class E sooner.”

“On the what?”

“The anxiety meds. It’s an EF mix, technically. There’s a whole classification system, it doesn’t matter right now. The only thing that matters is it’s helping.”

It was. Now that he knew roughly what it did, he could feel the difference as the wave of calm slowly ebbed away his fears.

They already seemed so far away.

Tori, however, did not seem far away. She hadn’t let go, and was eyeing him closely, like she was still piecing together what had just happened.

Something must have clicked, because she pulled her hand back suddenly.

“Oh! Sorry. You’re still kinda overwhelmed, huh?”

“Little bit out of my element here, yeah.”

“...Oh god, this is your first time alone with a girl isn’t it.”

“What? No, I eat with Ginger in the mess hall all the time.”

“Oh jesus christ. Okay, let me make this easier for you. I really did actually just bring you in here because it’s a comfy place to sit down and talk. That’s it. There’s nothing to be nervous about. I’m not trying to push you into anything. I mean I like making you blush, but that’s it, I’m not really interested in much else, and I don’t really get the sense you would be, either. Not without Class As, anyway. I could give you some if you want, it’d be adorable, but I’m not sure it’s really your thing. Not right now.”

He had no idea what half of that meant.

“I’m not,” he mumbled.

“Hmm?”

“I’m not adorable.”

“Agree to disagree.”

He wasn’t sure he did agree to that, to be honest. It seemed perfectly obvious that she was wrong.

“...Do I make you nervous, Connor? Is it just me? Be honest. What do you think when you look at me?”

“Uhm.” The medication, unfortunately, did not stop him from blushing. “A—a little, I guess? You’re um…”

She offered no help this time, patiently watching him flounder for words.

“Uhhm. ‘pretty and kinda scary,’ I guess? I don’t know, you’re really intimidating.”

With a little noise of disbelief, she rolled her eyes and mumbled to herself. “Wait til you meet my ortet.”

“What?”

“Don’t worry about it.” She sighed again, and then pulled her legs up into the bed and sat cross-legged, facing him. “You saw my old picture. You know I didn’t always look like this.”

“Yeah…?” He had no idea what she was getting at.

“I didn’t always think I was adorable either. I’m a completely different person than ‘Salvatore’ ever was. I mean way better haircut, for starters.”

That, mercifully, actually got a laugh out of him, and some of his anxiety’s outline broke apart.

He absentmindedly touched his face again. His nervous habit, at least, had not been suppressed.

“You know it’s okay, right?”

“What is?”

“Being like me. It’s not weird in the Compact. The affini are shapeshifters, they basically make up a new gender for themselves every time they meet a new species and have to translate it into their language. They’re really cool about all of it. I mean they have super advanced drugs that do this in a matter of weeks, it’s crazy how much they’re capable of. Whatever makes you happiest, they’ll do it for you. I wasn’t exactly shy in the bath, you saw how much they did for me.”

“...Okay?” What does this have to do with anything?

“Okay?” She seemed equally baffled by his non-reaction.

Oh god does she think that’s why I’m nerv—

“Yeah, it’s fine? My best friend is a lesbian, I’m not judging you or anything?”

For some reason Tori looked like she was about to explode, and buried her face in her hands.

“I’m—Connor. I’m not talking about me right now.”

“What?”

“Ohhh my god. Connor. Holy shit.”

It was the pointed stare that did it.

“Wait, me? That’s … but I’m not, though.”

“Honey you haven’t stopped touching your face since we got that hair off it.”

“But that’s just … it was itchy.”

“And now it isn’t,” she said pointedly. “Remember what I said earlier about change? How you’re going to change a little bit, every moment, for the rest of your life? You’re about to be in a world completely free from scarcity or judgment or bigotry. You have unlimited possibilities. Boy, girl, dog, moth, slime, clockwork doll, whatever. You could be anything. What changes would make you happy?”

How is anyone supposed to figure things like that out? “I don’t know???”

Tori thought for a moment.

“I might be able to help you find out, if you’ll let me.”

“I’m still not convinced there’s anything to find out. What does that mean exactly?”

Tori stood up and float-skipped over to the thing he had already guessed was a compiler.

“How are the drugs I gave you so far? Doing okay?”

“Well. I’m not panicking. So they—I guess fine? Why? Are you gonna tell me the solution is more drugs?”

“You’d be surprised how often the solution is, in fact, more drugs. And yes. A very special mix of drugs that should help you get in touch with your inner self.”

This time, rather than asking any questions, Tori seemed to know exactly what she was looking for and quickly tapped away at the interface until there was another DING! and a weirdly cinnamony smell. She pulled three thin epi-pen looking devices out of the machine, and made her way back over.

“Okay. These are all injections, but I promise they’re way less harsh than any shots you’ve had before. You’ll notice them, but barely, and it won’t hurt.”

“Alright that’s good, but what do they do?”

“This is gonna sound a little scary, but I promise it’s fine, okay? Do you trust me?”

“Not enough to be doing this without the stuff you already gave me.”

“Harsh. But fair enough, you did meet me less than two hours ago. So. The primary component here is a hypnotic.”

Oh no, he didn’t think.

Yup, she was totally right, that sounds scary as hell, he thought calmly instead. God drugs are weird.

“I know. Look, I could hypnotize you myself, but then it would be a guided trance. I can’t guide your self discovery, if there’s anything in there it needs to be you discovering it, so we need to get you into that trance state chemically. All this does is put you in sort of a receptive mental space where everything outside of you gets filtered out, and you can focus completely on where that state takes you. It doesn’t implant suggestions or anything, it’s just to get you in the right headspace for the rest of this to work.”

Her logic was, as ever, completely sound and unassailable. This next ‘choice’ was going to be a weird one.

“Plus, if it helps, it’s gonna feel pretty cool. There’s a couple really fun floret party drugs that use this one as a base, actually. So it’s completely safe.”

He sighed in resignation, and gestured for her to continue.

“The second one is a disinhibitor.”

There was absolutely zero chance he would even consider this sober.

“A very specific kind of disinhibitor that only works internally. It takes solid internal barriers and makes them liquid. Anything your conscious mind would block you from thinking about, or try to bury, it can’t do that anymore. If there’s something you’re inhibiting, something you’re preventing yourself from seeing or accepting, this prevents you from inhibiting that. It’s almost the opposite of the second compound in the inhaler you’re using. Where that one prevents negative intrusive thoughts, this one prevents you from blocking out positive ones. So whatever you find, you won’t be able to ignore or suppress it.”

Again, rock solid reasoning for something he should not in any way be thinking of doing.

“And the last one?”

He really should not be thinking about this.

“The last one is a very, very mild Class G, which is the class of xenodrugs I took to change how I look.”

This was such a bad idea.

“It’s an extremely light touch, and it’s very temporary. But it will make sure the right parts of your brain are activated while in the trance state. If there’s something to find, this all but guarantees you’ll find it. It’s the simplest part of this, but it’s the thing that’s going to tie it all together right. Otherwise your mind would just kinda wander. You’d enjoy it, but it wouldn’t help much, you’d just be high as balls. I’m doing this to help.”

And then it clicked.

That’s who she is. She wasn’t OCNI anymore, not really. She was just the person who tried to study psychology until the navy found another use for her skills.

Her behavior is that she wants to help.

So she perceives someone who needs help.

And she perceives a way she can.

Dammit, she really does mean well.

This was such a stupid idea and he would never have considered any part of it. But without the noise of anxiety in the way, his mind was as clear as Tori’s logic. They both knew the outcome already. All roads lead forward. It was just a matter of taking the easiest path.

He closed his eyes and willed the chalk outline around his former nerves to wash away completely. Fear was not allowed to guide this decision. He didn’t trust Tori, exactly, but with that realization, he at least believed her. Maybe that was good enough for now.

Almost.

There was only one way to be sure. He opened his eyes, and looked at her.

“Why?”

“Why do I wanna help?”

“No, I think I can um. I have a guess for that. Why is this … why help like this? It’s like you’re, if you’re so. Um. Like with the first thing, for anxiety. You knew it would help, but you made me choose it.”

“I didn’t make you—”

“I’m not stupid. You gave me a choice, but not really. You’re—you want me to think I’m making it. You’re being smart about it, but it’s like you know the end result and you want me to think I’m choosing it. Why?”

For the first time, he held her gaze.

“Sometimes…” she sighed.

For the first time, she blinked first, and looked away.

“Sometimes, a sophont has had to deal with too much shit in their life, and been forced to make too many shitty decisions, and what they need most is to have that responsibility lifted off their shoulders, and have things taken care of for them so they can rest. Sometimes, when you come from the kind of world the Accord built, you’re just so fucking tired you can’t stand it. You need everything to stop. You need to just stand still and let everything pass you by, and have all your needs taken care of for you without having to worry about any of it.”

For the first time, she looked small and vulnerable.

“Sometimes it feels like you’re drowning. Like you’re getting dragged under by powerful currents. Like you can feel the force of every wave throwing you around while you struggle to claw your way to the surface. And then a hand reaches in and pulls you out. It’s a shock, at first. The air is cold on your face, you take a huge breath of air all at once and your heart pounds to make up for lost time. It takes minutes for your body to stop freaking out, stop feeling like it has to fight for its life, and realize it’s safe.”

Now he watched her body visibly relax. Her shoulders dropped at the release of a tension he didn’t realize she was capable of.

“But the current is gone. Every second that passes, you feel the difference. You’re free. And then you look up into the eyes of the thing that freed you, and you know it saved your life. You’re not desperately scrambling for the surface anymore. Your whole body can just … rest. You can just go limp in the arms of something you never imagined. You learn to crave that Stillness. You learn to let go, and be cared for.”

“Is that…what happened to you?”

“Something like that. At first. But that’s a story for another time. For now, let’s worry about you. Because sometimes, Connor? Sometimes none of that shit applies. Sometimes a sophont has spent their life drifting instead of drowning. Letting the current pull them along passively because they don’t know how to do anything else. Doing what’s expected of them so they don’t have to bear the consequences of making choices.”

At last, she met his gaze again, and the silver of her eyes felt soft instead of sharp. They both knew the impact of what she had just said.

“When you’re caught in a rip current, you can’t fight it head on, because the ocean will win. But you can’t stay still either. You can’t just drift along doing nothing, because you’ll get dragged out to sea. Sometimes the best thing for you is to pick a direction, left or right, and start swimming until you’re out of the current. Sometimes what a sophont needs most is making a choice.”

Her gaze became more pointed again. “Left or right, doesn’t matter. Just swim parallel to the shore and get out of the current. It’s the act of choosing that saves you. Sure, someone could come along and pull you out, and you’d thank them for it. But what’s best for you is to learn how to make a choice.”

Tori returned her hand to his shoulder again, and started gently rubbing it with her thumb.

“It’s not the outcome I’ve been forcing, Connor. It’s the choice. I want to help, but I want to help in the way that’s best for you. If you told me to fuck off, frankly I’d be impressed and call that a win. But if you’re willing to take a chance on the help I can offer you, this is it. I’m not gonna tell you left or right. But I am asking you to start swimming.”

He looked at the injectors in her hand.

Deep breath in.

Out.

“Okay.”

Apparently she had been holding a breath of her own. Relief broke from her, a wave of release that washed over him in turn. She really, really did just want to help. And knowing that, honestly, did kind of help.

She leaned in, pressing the first injector to his shoulder.

“Connor? I’m really fucking proud of you. I know nothing about this has been easy for you. You’re being really brave right now. Thank you for taking a risk, and allowing yourself to grow from it.”

There was a brief feeling no more intense than pressing a fingernail against his skin, and then a spreading tingle of warmth.

His eyes watered anyway. No one had ever said anything like that to him before.

“Thanks. I hope.”

Tori smiled, and activated the second injector.

“You’re welcome, sweetie.” And then the third one. “I hope you find what you need.”

What he found first was an odd sensation, like wind blowing in a vacuum. Movement without motion. It was like a breeze passing through him, tossing him through the air, tingling everything it touched.

“Um. Works fast, huh?” he mused.

“Compact medicine doesn’t fuck around. And neither does the tech. Hab,” she spoke to the room, “turn on the mirror.”

The wall directly in front of him blurred and shimmered, glossing over with a reflective surface. Another blur within it slowly condensed into a reflection. He looked pretty frazzled, honestly. His face was smooth and held that same eerily serene look Tori had, but he could see the overwhelm in his dilated eyes.

It had been a very weird day.

There was a cold within the warmth that bubbled inside of him and it suddenly popped, releasing a bizarre rush that made his brain taste minty. A slight burp actually left him, and the sheer feeling of relief at his stomach finally knowing which way was up hit him harder than his first breaths of fresh air in two years.

The swirling vacuum current gusted suddenly sideways, twisting him along some unknown axis until backwards turned ninety degrees into outwards.

And then any sense of what ‘up’ was entirely left him.

Time lost meaning.

Space fizzled out.

The material reality of the physical gave way to a disembodied consciousness, an ephemeral snowflake of existence melting away into the greater, warmer ocean of the universe.

He could no longer feel the outline of himself; instead he knew only the sourceless sensation of waves passing through him, like hypermetric kicks in slow motion. Connor rose and fell with the waves, but without direction now that up was inside out and left was a turbulent vortex along axes he couldn’t name.

There was a tiny, fleeting sense of downwards. Enough to instinctively hold on to the bedsheets so he wouldn’t fall into the garden ceiling. If the spin gravity had been turned off, he wouldn’t have known the difference.

A touch.

Some many-sided thing brushed against his hair. LEGS! LEGS! There’s so many, stop it!

No. Not legs.

Fingers.

Well that’s not fair, how come SHE gets to have fingers!?

There was a gentle “shhh” beside him as something made of the same high energy particles as him attempted to calm the chaos of the cosmos he’d become. Was she real? She didn’t exist any more or less than him, and he was pretty sure he was still real.

Whatever she was, her presence was a welcome comfort. Even if they were both made of bugs now. At least Tori was a pretty bug.

The hands adjusted his focus and he saw a body he vaguely recognized staring back at him. Why was he outside his body?

Wow, he giggled. My body is tripping balls.

And then Tori spoke again. “Mirror, show Connor after four weeks of standard Terran Class Gs.”

Captain Fox

This long, agonizing wait was near its end.

His story was nearing its climax.

Higher and higher and higher the tension had risen, and now, finally, he watched on the viewscreen as Salceda’s team gingerly maneuvered the modified probe into the missile bay.

As frustrating as the wait had been, he had to admit it. The engineering team had done exactly what was asked of them. He had set them a complicated task—more complicated than he knew, he was sure. But they had performed admirably, and brought the probe swiftly and carefully where it needed to go. Everything had gone exactly according to plan.

It boded well for whatever came next.

He watched as the breech door was closed behind the modified missile.

Salceda barked a few curt instructions to his team in turn, each returning a “green!” and a thumbs up as they watched various diagnostics.

When all were accounted for, the chief engineer turned to face the viewscreen, and gave the final thumbs up.

“Ready for launch, Captain. At your command.”

He was proud of his crew.

“Well done, all hands. It’s time to start the show. Weapons, do you read me?”

“Aye, sir!” snapped a sharp voice.

“Fire.”

Notes:

Wow! What are you doing down there, dangling off that cliff? You poor thing.
Do you like mirror scenes, strange gender journeys, and comedic levels of obliviousness? Well it’s a good thing Delcan wrote How A Floret Finds Out. It does things with the core plot structure of HDG that no other story has done (can't relate), and the result is phenomenal. It’s an outstandingly well written mystery, it has The Berson Of All Time, it’s incredibly funny, and it has moments that are wildly hot without ever once betraying how firmly, COMICALLY asexual its POV character is throughout.
It is one of the best new stories in the last year. And it has an amazing sequel. Please read How A Floret Finds Out.
By order of appearance, Connor was given: an aerosolized Class D (without knowing), an EF mix, a second hit of the EF mix, and then an H, a D, and a G. I think I did a good job justifying the fact that this was hundreds of words of entirely contrived setup for an HDG joke.
If it feels like this chapter was a slower pace than the last few and ends rather abruptly, it’s because this is only the first half of what I had originally outlined for chapter 4, but the words got away from me and I had to break it up. So sorry. We’ll crack that egg next time, though, promise. I actually had to cut the name reveal out so the ending of this chapter flowed better and didn’t feel flat, we’re THAT close.
Speaking of next chapter, it picks up EXACTLY where this leaves off, and steps on the gas hard. Also, there’s no brakes. Also, there’s a second stage rocket booster strapped to the roof. Did I mention there’s no brakes? It’s full speed ahead from here on out.
Are YOU ready to find out what happens next for Connor (I know oh my god I’m so sorry I had to break up the chapter) and what the Pandora’s crew learn about their situation?
Ha. I bet you think you are.
We’ll see about that.

Chapter 5: Cracked Facade

Notes:

Last chapter: Skye Nette gave Connor some xenodrugs for anxiety, and then tried to crack an egg. Meanwhile in the B plot of the story that Fox thinks he’s the main character of, the probe is finally ready, and the crew of the Pandora’s Ultimatum are about to have some realizations of their own.

This chapter: An egg gets slammed directly into a white-hot frying pan of drugs. You wouldn't know anything about white-hot frying pans though, little frogs. I'm sure you're still nice and comfortable in that warm, relaxing bath.

It's a shorter chapter this week, because it was going to be an extremely long chapter this week, and I ended up having to split it. But hey! That means I have next chapter already written!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Reese Connor

“Mirror, show Connor after four weeks of standard Terran Class Gs.”

Tori's voice was pretty. He idly wondered if the Affini helped her with that, too. Could it just be a practice thing? Three weeks seemed short for that. Even like this, with his mind so untethered from his body, it was hard to imagine his voice ever being that pretty.

That was a weird thought. Was that a weird thought?

Are there normal thoughts? No two people are the same, so how would anyone know?

Shit, maybe he needed more friends. Maybe Tori would be his friend if he asked? He was definitely still more than a little nervous around her, but if he was getting friendly-kidnapped by plants soon, he'd probably have time to get over it?

They were definitely getting friendly-kidnapped by plants soon right? Like this was a shuttle, it couldn't have jumped from very far away, and—why was his head moving?

"Focus, Connor. Just relax into the trance. Let the current take you. Relax and start drifting. Look at the mirror."

Oh yeah, Tori was here! And she was trying to help. He should do that, he didn't want to be a bad friend.

Oh.

There was someone else here?

He could have sworn his body was there a minute ago, but now there was a girl in front of Tori who looked kinda familiar. She looked kinda like his mom, actually. The new girl looked just as confused to see him, though.

Which was fair, he supposed. He couldn't exactly remember how he got here. Hopefully he wasn't intruding.

To be honest, the new girl looked like she was tripping balls right now. Like, a LOT of balls. Way too many balls. He hoped she was okay. That seemed like a lot of high to be. She should probably drink some water.

"Issss your friendo kay? I think she needssome waterrr, she looks soooooooo high."

Tori put a hand over her face. "Oh my god you adorable idiot," she mumbled, but for some reason her voice was behind him. "Hab edit me out of the mirror please."

Tori got really blurry all of a sudden and disappeared. She was so cool, he didn't know she could do that.

Her friend must not have known either, she wobbled where she sat and looked really confused.

She should really drink some water.

He should probably introduce himself right? It was probably rude to just stare. He didn't want to be rude to Tori's friend. And they were all alone now. Even most of the room was fading away as a sense of vertigo overtook him once again.

Very suddenly he was alone with the stranger.

Truly, completely alone.

The room around them both was gone; he felt strangely buoyant in a featureless space, but the bed had been so soft that he probably wouldn't have known if he was still sitting on it anyway. All that remained was a weird rectangular boundary like a doorway, directly between him and the confused girl.

They made eye contact—

—and almost immediately broke it as they both refocused on the frame that suddenly rushed towards him. Gravity shifted, and he was falling into the mirror.

He braced himself to be thrown against it, only to pass right through unscathed.

No crash.

No shards of glass.

No cuts or bruises or bumps on the head.

All the bracing was for a blow that never came.

He was, as promised, completely safe.

What happened instead was that he plunged through some intangible barrier, a shifting pressure which shattered outwards with him into a million silvery droplets of water, like the shimmering surface of an invisible ocean in moonlight. The glass water twinkled in the darkness like a billion stars until they, too, faded away into the nothingness of his mind.

He was in his mind.

He could still see himself, somehow, if he looked down.

But there was no light.

No sound but his own steadying heartbeat as the momentary panic slowly settled.

He wasn't in danger here. He was only alone with himself.

It was—of course—exactly as Tori said. Everything outside of him had been filtered out, and now there was only the dreamlike clarity of whatever those drugs had done to him. Connor floated in an empty black void that still somehow conveyed the impression of shifting splatters of inside-out color, like the afterimage static behind tightly closed eyelids.

It was a cognitive contradiction: colorful in a way that only nothingness could be.

If there were patterns in the shifting colorless blackness, he could not guess at their shapes. It was like watching the nerve endings alight from the lightless space inside his own head; his impression of the space was felt rather than seen.

Bit on the nose, he thought.

He didn't expect the "look inside yourself" drugs to be so literal about it.

He wasn't really sure how this was supposed to help, either. It was calming? So it could have been worse. But there wasn't even anything in here. Nothing but himself, and—

"Hi."

—oh.

"Yup."

Fuuuuck.

"Yeuuuuup."

He slumped, and turned to face her again.

Something had shifted when the girl in the mirror became the girl in his head. Her hair was a shade darker, her face just slightly prettier. She held herself with a lot more confidence, too, and she wasn't wearing his navy uniform anymore.

It was more of a casual outfit which, he had to admit, looked pretty good on her. A tank top and cardigan over some nice jeans. Not overly feminine in a way that would have scared him, but casual enough to feel like a realistic option. It looked comfortable and a little bit flowy.

"Sweetie the fact that you have opinions like this at all is kinda telling."

"…Shut up."

"Nope. Can't. Drugs won't let you block me out, Tori said so. Tough tits, kiddo."

"Does that—I swear that outfit looks familiar."

"Oh, yeah," she said, glancing down at herself. "Wasn't there a girl in CompSci who dressed kinda like this? Linda something?"

"Lena something."

"Lena something! Yeah she had a great wardrobe. Guess I'm the part of you that was kinda jealous." She looked him up and down accusingly. "Not that you aren't also jealous."

"Am not!"

"Are too, and don't argue with me, I'm literally you. I'd win."

"You don't sound like me."

"Well, one of us had to get the balls in the divorce. Honestly kinda figures it'd be me, cause if it was you, you'd be me already."

"That makes no sense."

"Yeah it does, you're just high."

"You're high!"

"Well yeah. We're both in my head and my brain—"

—my brain—

"—Our brain is high as shit right now. I guess I'm probably you without anxiety? Cause the other thing Tori gave us turned that off, thank fuck, or you'd probably be freaking out more. So I guess I'm what's in your head when you stop blocking it out. Congrats, by the way."

….Oh my god Tori so planned for this.

"Probably, yeah."

"Can you stop reading my mind?"

"Our mind. And no. They're my thoughts too, smartass. You don't get to wall me off right now, remember? And you better not try when we wake up, either, or so help me I will figure out how to twitch your eyebrows til she calls us cute again."

He watched his own blush inch across her face. They were definitely connected somehow, but she was just nothing like what he would have expected.

"You're so weird. Are you sure you're me?"

She shrugged. "You got a better explanation? Don't answer, I know you don't. Your guess is literally exactly as good as mine."

At that, Connor sighed. And then wondered why sighing was even possible here. Weren't they like, intangible or something?

He could feel her eyes rolling without even looking at her.

She was definitely … real. And definitely a part of him. Whatever that meant.

But.

What now?

Now, the girl thought, there's something we should take care of before this wears off.

And stop thinking of me as 'the girl.' I'm you. We're me. You're us. Let me help us.

He watched her hand reach out to him.

The shadow of his anxiety reared its head once again, but in the darkness of the mindspace around them, one little shadow wasn't enough to hurt him.

He took her hand.

"Step into my office," she teased. With a sudden jerk, she pulled him towards her and he stumbled forward from the nothingness, his next step landing in a familiar space.

Plain white walls. Cheap, flat pack furniture. Piles of clothes and clutter. A handful of secondhand textbooks. Dusty shelves of abandoned interests he hadn't kept up but couldn't let go of.

A simple, messy bed with plain blue sheets strewn over a mattress scarcely softer than his navy slab.

They were standing in their childhood bedroom.

"Sit," she said, in an obvious attempt at mimicking Tori's firm tone from outside.

"Ugh, shut up, she's cool and we know it. Here."

A soft green mass of plush was pressed into him.

"Hug Pugsley, you'll feel better."

"What?"

"Pugsley."

Turning it over in his hands, he examined the vaguely animal-shaped pillow. It was bright green with four little limbs with claw-shaped stitching, a floppy, stripy tail, and some little frills of fluff and felt along its back and under its chin, framing a beady-eyed face.

"Um?"

"You remember Pugsley," she insisted.

"A squirrel?"

"What? No, dummy, he's a frog."

"Green lizard, long tail, sharp claws for climbing trees. Went extinct like a thousand years ago. This is a squirrel."

"Ugh, whatever. You remember Pugsley, because I remember Pugsley. Just squish him, you'll feel better. And STOP feeling all weird and emasculated about the plushie, you're literally a girl, there's not much masc to elate in here anyway. Hug the Pugsley."

He looked down at its funny little face again—

"His face."

—at his funny little face. The texture was incredibly soft, and he had a good amount of squish to him. Connor slowly pulled the squirrel into his chest and gave it a hug.

She was, annoyingly, right. There was a feeling of warmth and comfort that did make everything feel just a little bit lighter.

"Good. Now for the awkward part." She knelt down in front of where Connor sat on the bed, and took a hand in hers. "I figured… I should probably say thank you."

"Wh—Thank you?"

"Yeah. Um. For—you know. Just. Thank you, Sarah."

"Who's Sarah?"

They both felt her eyes roll again.

"Look, it's literally the first thing that popped into your head, you don't like it, change it when we wake up. I'm sure Tori will be thrilled to explain how that all works."

"Ginger's gonna love this."

"God, yeah, Ginger's never gonna let us live this one down, is she? But like. Seriously. Shut up. I'm trying to be nice to myself right now. Stop making it difficult."

Connor squeezed the plushie again, which seemed to help her.

"Thanks. So—yeah. Thank you, Sarah."

"What for?"

"For making it. For getting through the fucking dark years. For living long enough to face this. For not chickening out and keeping us from getting to this point. For taking the fucking risk and finally figuring out that … who we are isn't set. Not by birth and not by the fucking Accord. You've been stronger than you ever knew you could be. And. Uhm. Thank you, for that. Thanks for—you kept me safe, when you thought you had to. Thanks for being strong, or I would never exist. But I do now."

She squeezed … her hand.

"Tori definitely got the ball rolling on all this. And Ginger too. But you could have said no and you didn't. Mostly cause you're a big chicken, but you did the brave thing where it mattered. And now here I am. Here you are. So uh. Thanks for giving me a chance. For giving us a chance. Just one brave thing left, please, one more brave thing for me."

Con—Sarah nodded softly.

"When you wake up? Don't forget me. Don't forget who we are. Be strong, and let me exist. If you can do that for me, then I'll be strong for you too. Some part of us has always been me, waiting for the right time."

She brought her free hand to gently cup Sarah's face, where Sarah could feel the slick cold trickle as if it was her own thumb rubbing the tears into her cheek.

She supposed it was.

"Waiting for you, Sarah. I love you. I always have. Let me take care of us."

Sarah dragged her up from where she knelt and pulled her into a tight embrace, squishing Pugsley between them until the plush vanished into the ethereal nonsense her mind had conjured. Pulling her in so tightly she could no longer tell where one of her ended and the other began.

"I will," Sarah whispered into herself. "I'll remember you. I promise."

And her own relief melted into her as the current began to shift once more.

The great, warm ocean of the universe churned, whitewater starspray hanging in the void around her as deep, rolling waves carried them back to the surface.

She evaporated into the condensed shape of consciousness once more, and became

Sarah Connor

herself.

Flickers of the room she left began to seep in. The strange walls. The springy fluff of the moss carpet. The dull but soothing caress of warm light on her skin. The buoyant softness of the bed beneath her, and the upside-down garden mosaic above.

She looked down at herself, and saw the last gift her mind had given her: one final glimpse into her soul, where Pugsley had become a bright green dress draped over the body she had seen on the inside. A light, flowy dress hung from her breasts for just a moment longer.

Gasping softly, she stared at herself in awe.

Until the navy gray beneath faded through.

And she managed to pull her eyes away, looking up into her real face one last time as the girl in her mind became the girl in the mirror once more.

She could have sworn she saw her reflection wink as the last wave of the trance lapped at her, and the current finally ebbed away into the dull buzz of a body tingling with spent neurotransmitters.

She was sober.

Ish.

And, in spite of the overwhelm in her reflection's eyes, she genuinely felt much better.

If a bit tired.

But she'd gotten a glimpse of the uncertain future that rolled towards her. And … it wasn't so bad. Maybe she'd freak out a little bit when the Class E wore off, but for now…

For now, it really wasn't so bad.

For now, she was okay.

Thank you, she thought, hoping that part of her could hear it.

I can, she answered warmly. You're welcome.

Sarah took a deep breath, and flopped back fully into the bed as she let it out.

A tickle of someone else's amused breath hit the side of her face.

"How are you feeling, Connor?" She was grateful for how gentle Tori's voice was right now.

Another breath.

Might as well.

"Sarah," she whispered. "Sarah Connor. I guess you were right."

"Usually am," Tori smirked. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Sarah." She wiggled over into Sarah's side and wrapped her in a gentle hug. "Congratulations, sweetie. I promise the hard part's over. All of this stuff is so much easier in the Compact. Speaking of which, would you like your first real dose of Class Gs?"

She glanced down at her body again, already missing the glimpse she had gotten.

"Yeah. Yes. God. Yes please."

Tori jumped up from the bed and hobbled over to the compiler.

"I can only get you the standard stuff. If you want anything more customized than the generic, default results, you'll be able to work that out with your vet. You'll love Meri, she's a total sweetheart."

"Wait, you can customize it?"

"To a truly staggering degree of precision, yeah. Did you have anything specific in mind?"

"Yeah um. She—the other me, the girl in my head, she looked a little bit different from the mirror. Close, but not exactly."

Tori paused.

"There was another you in your head?"

"…Yeah? That's what you said right? I would get in touch with my inner self? Well I met my inner self and she was a girl. She was really weird, too. Kinda bossy. But she helped."

DING!

The sweet, cinnamony smell wafted over as Tori made her way back, staring at Sarah.

"Your brain took that one kinda literally, huh?"

"Was that not normal?"

"Don't worry about normal sweetie, it's not unheard of. Her personality was different from yours?"

"Yeah. Kinda more like Ginger, actually. A little bossy and teasing, but not in a bad way."

Tori placed the injector on her arm again, waiting for her to nod her assent.

"…Out of curiosity. If, let's say hypothetically you didn't go with Sarah. Any other girl names stick out to you? Anything at all."

Pausing for a moment to give Tori a confused look, she felt a tickle somewhere in her upper back as the newest chemicals in her bloodstream mixed with the hungover-buzz the last ones left behind.

"Not Pandora. Katherine, maybe? I dunno. Why?"

Tori stared back, her face giving nothing away. "Huh." She grabbed the previous round of injectors and looked at them for a moment before almost managing to hide a bemused look, then stood back up to decompile them all. "No reason."

Sarah's head turned to the mirror again. Oh good, she looked as confused as she felt.

"Anyway," Tori continued, as that inside-out lemon smell filled the room, "that should be good for a day or so? You'll get a chance to ask about getting more soon enough."

Yeah, we're definitely getting friendly-kidnapped by plants. She stared up into the gorgeous flower-mosaic ceiling garden. It'll probably be fine. Tori sure seemed to come out okay. As intimidating as she was at first, she really did help.

"Hey uh. All of this um. Completely weird ass shit, today. It's … been a lot. But I guess it hasn't been bad. So. Thanks, Tori."

"Oh, it's Skye, actually."

"What?"

"I know your real name," Tori flopped back down on the bed next to her, "you deserve to know mine. It's Skye. 'Tori' was always … the best I could do at the time. I just took a name I hated, made a nickname out of it that felt less bad, and then changed one letter to cope with … missing the life I never thought I could have, under the Accord."

She shrugged vaguely at the room around them. "And then the Compact showed up, and as soon as I stopped freaking out about that, suddenly a lot of possibilities opened up. Suddenly I could have the life I really wanted, and the first thing I wanted was a change. Well," she gestured at herself, "a few changes, really."

"I think I'm starting to know the feeling."

Skye smiled at her. "Yeah. Well. Kind of a lot of things happened after that. But um. Eventually there came a point where I had a big opportunity for some big changes. And one of the changes was my name."

She stared up wistfully at the alien garden growing above them. She had such a sense of peace to her, like she really was just happy with the way things had turned out. It was beautiful. She was beautiful, inside and out.

"I never really did much time on navy ships, other than travel. I liked having my feet on the ground. And then I was on some nowhere dwarf planet in an asteroid belt, underground in an OCNI base. I had gravity, at least, but it was the same shitty recycled air, and nothing but cramped hallways and fluorescent lights. I missed the sky."

Her eyes closed in dreamy reminiscence as she continued.

"I always loved the sky. It always felt so … big. So open. So freeing. Watching birds fly through it, not a care in the world—the planet I grew up on still had them. I was sick of feeling like a caged bird. I know the whole pet thing seems weird from where you're standing, but in every way that matters? The affini really set me free. I got to spread my wings. And I wanted to be Skye."

"Wow. Y—it's … that's beautiful."

“Thanks,” Skye gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry today has been overwhelming. I hope I made it less overwhelming than it could have been. I understand why you'd be scared of the Compact, I went through all the same emotions. It's tough to put your trust in anything that swoops in and makes grand promises about how much better things will be under their rule when you're from from the kind of world the Accord built."

It was.

Even here, even today, trust was probably the thing she'd been struggling with most.

"I mean you said it yourself at dinner, that kinda feel good jargony advertising bullshit to keep you complacent is exactly what we'd been doing for hundreds of years. We're so used to big promises meaning big disappointments. And we're all sick of smoke and mirrors and fashy jingoism wrapped up in a nice thin veneer of 'if you work hard enough to make your quadrillionaire overlords just a little bit richer, you too might one day be able to afford rent and healthcare.'"

They laughed in unison.

"The Compact isn’t like that at all. They really do want what’s best for us. And they’ll make sure everyone gets it, no matter how hard they try to fight it. It really is a better world, and they don't even try to sell it to you. It's free. Total post scarcity. They have more than enough, and all they wanna do is share it. No cost, no conditions."

"No shitty customers and software as a service, huh?"

Skye snorted out another cute little giggle, and Sarah began to see why Ginger was so enamored with her.

"Nah, the software's way better. And so is everything else. Including us. Everyone gets to be their best self. Tori Florentine was just a useful little pawn for the OCNI, using her psych major to strategize against an enemy whose only weapon is care. And now I get to be Skye Nette, seventh floret ramet."

With a thoughtful sigh, Sarah felt her eyebrows furrow. Skye and head-Sarah were probably right about it being cute. At least it will be in a couple weeks.

The future was … looking quite a bit different than she expected.

"Floret," she mumbled. "Sh—zhe? Zhe really keeps you as a pet? There's—you said there are independents, but some people are really just pets?"

"Sophonts, but yeah. Affini are people. Everyone else is pets by default. Their word for xenosophont literally means pet. We're all pretty much cats to them. Independents are still socially pets, they're just more like barn cats that are free to wander."

Well, there's another fun new thing I get to process later.

"Florets are the ones with a specific owner. 'Floret' just translates to 'owned pet.' And all that really means is, there's always going to be one person there to take care of you. Whatever you need, that one affini will always be there. They're in charge, obviously, we'll never be their equals, but in a lot of ways, you belong to each other. That's how Urtica always puts it. Zhe looks scary, but they're a big softie on the inside."

She swallowed.

"So. Um? Question."

"Hm?"

"What's a ramet?"

Skye turned to face her, an unreadable look on her face.

Unreadable at first.

Then her eyes gleamed with something.

Something wicked and mischievous.

Eddies of surprise whirling into an undercurrent of a hungry glee that would have made Connor's blood run cold. Sarah didn't know what to make of it.

She could practically feel the spark of energy radiating off of Skye.

Skye was positively mirthful.

She was hungry.

She was frustrated.

And terribly, terribly excited.

She leapt from the bed with a sudden, sharp laugh, and all the joy of a spider who just watched a fly step right into her web.

A patient predator whose trap was finally sprung.

Captain Fox

But for the click of keys and the pounding of hearts and held breaths, the room was eerily still, and silent as the graves they were hoping to avoid.

The readouts were still green.

Every set of eyes was fixed on a console. Some flicked between several.

It was a long, tense few seconds before there was a slash of static across the main viewing screen as the probe's camera feed kicked on.

"We're live," Salceda reported.

Every held breath was gasped out at once.

The probe worked.

Thank the fucking stars, they had a chance.

"Alright," Captain Fox said. "We're not out of the woods yet. Adjust course, y 15 meters, and turn about."

Affirmations were uttered, and the stars slid down the screen as the probe obeyed. Fifteen meters' worth. The probe would be seven-ish meters above the dorsal surface of the ship. Enough for a pretty good view topside.

The stars began to swerve from right to left.

Until a great black space blocked them from view.

"That's one-eighty degrees?"

"Aye, Captain."

"Where are my hull lights?"

No response.

"Probe lights?"

"Probe activating spotlights … now," one of the engineers said.

The screen flashed bright white for a moment as the camera adjusted.

Then red.

Warm green-tinged grays, and lots and lots of red.

The surface of the ship was unrecognizable. It flat out wasn't there. Covering the screen were hundreds, more likely thousands of thick, spindly, tangling roots wrapped around his ship, great masses of woody webbing forming some kind of massive net.

And between those branches, suspended in the space between them, were shimmering pools of viscous, bloody red. Some thick fluid, gently wobbling in the frictionless void of space, filled the gaps between the tangling tendrils of weed filth that strangled the Pandora's Ultimatum.

They were surrounded on all sides by the creeping, bleeding vines of the ship that clung beneath them. One ship, a third their size, had them surrounded.

Hope itself was bleeding out on the screen before them.

They were caught.

The vines and their bleeding globules of viscous sap wrapped around the entirety of the ship that was in view. Where antennae and other features jutted out from the hull, the pools of blood red fluid accommodated them anyway, covering them in what looked like half a meter on all sides.

The escape pods were physically blocked from the outside, and he still didn't even know what he was looking at.

There was nothing. Not a single exit unblocked. Not even a maintenance hatch for some brave soul to try to cut them loose.

There was fucking nothing.

Not from this angle, anyway.

A lesser man would give up here, like the lesser men who allowed Terra to fall.

How many had paid the price for that weakness?

How many civilians?

All because the ones responsible for their safety had failed them. Well, he refused to fail them. They needed someone to look up to. He had to be the strong one. He had to figure this out. He had to save his crew from whatever fate the weeds had planned for them.

He had to prove to humanity that it was possible to fight back.

"Y minus 75, 180 z rotation," his hollow voice commanded.

Both rooms remained silent as the ship began to rise across the viewing screen.

Just before the front of the ship blocked their view, in the corner of the screen, he could have sworn he saw something move.

Notes:

Alright let's just crack this egg aaaaaaaaand… wow! Two yolks! It's like a bonus egg!

Sorry about the two week chapter gap. I hope getting twice as many girls out of it was worth the wait. And yes, that IS a meta joke about how HDG has a tendency to make people realize they're plural.

Speaking of the swinging pendulum of cliffhangers and satisfaction, There's a fun little story called Five Lives by PyxxieStyxx that has heavy angst, deep catharsis, scalding hot smut, and some weird dives into a weird little brain. You will alternate between crying your eyes out (joy) and crying your eyes out (pain). And, of course, begging for the next chapter to come out.

I'm sure none of you know what that feels like.

We've reached the tipping point, plot wise. The second stage rocket booster just kicked in. The first domino has passed its center of balance, and is now in freefall.

Next chapter, that first domino hits. And then things get interesting. Next chapter is also fully written! You can dangle down there on that cliff face for just one more week, right?

Chapter 6: Facing The Inevitable

Notes:

Last Chapter: Sarah Connor FINALLY found herself…and her other self? And back on the Ultimatum, the crew just realized they're in a much stickier situation than they thought.
Some fun stuff happens this chapter. Totally normal stuff, though. Nothing to worry about. Absolutely no red X’s that I asked you to stand on. Just stay riiiiiight there in the froggy hot springs.
But uh. More seriously?
This chapter might kill you. Yes you, personally. So, the part where I kill you? This is that part. Welcome to the part where I kill you. Good luck.
CW: arachnophobia and spider-like imagery

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Sarah Connor

As Skye struggled to calm her laughter, Sarah struggled to calm her nerves.

"Skye. What's going on? What's a ramet?"

She let out a long, steadying breath, utterly failing to hide the smile on her face. "God. I can't believe this. You just lost me a bet, sweetheart. I thought for sure it would be Ginger who asked first. Godddddddd, I'm probably gonna get N'd out of my mind over this."

"Okay… um. Sorry?"

"No, don't worry about it Sarah, it's fine. I will have fun, trust me. It's my own fault for betting against a fucking genius who's literally always right. I probably got B'd out of taking the odds seriously in the first place anyway. That's part of the fun, the game is always rigged from the start, it's just the how that changes."

"Skye I literally have no idea what that means."

"I know! That's the best part! Well, second best. You don't know anything. Ugh, I wish I could even explain how much fun this is for me. God my life rules."

"I'm … happy for you? What's a ramet?"

Skye stopped for a moment to tap thoughtfully at her chin. "Where do I even start with you, there's so many questions you never thought to ask. It amazes me every time how clueless you all are, the Accord really had no idea what it was doing."

"Wait, what do you mean every ti—"

"I gave you so many pieces of the truth, and you can't even connect the dots. How many times did I tell you the Affini don't fuck around with safety? How many times did I say there's nothing they won't do to keep their florets safe and happy? It was more than five, for sure."

Even through the Class E, her pulse was quickening. Skye promised there were no more bad surprises coming, but this was shaping up to be a weird one, and that worried her all the same. An unsettling discomfort pooled in the pit of her.

On the bright side, at least that sensation came with a firm sense of up and down. So it was better than being on the Ultimatum.

Even without having a clue what was going on.

But she still had no fucking clue what was going on.

"I… I don't? I don't know? What are we even talking about anymore?"

Skye froze, piercing her once more with that analytical gaze.

"I'm sorry sweetie, am I scaring you?"

"Not … all the way, I don't think?" A lot of the telltale signs of anxiety that she'd grown uncomfortably accustomed to were still missing. "I think the E thing is still working. I'm just really confused, I think. You're being weird."

She sighed. "Yeah, fair, I kinda get that a lot actually. Even other florets find me a little off putting sometimes." She snickered to herself, "and then they meet my ortet."

"Can you stop using words I don't know, please? I'm just—please just tell me what's going on."

"…Alright, sweetie, fair enough. Let's walk you through it, then."

Thankfully, she seemed to mean it; Skye kept her obvious excitement contained in a way that calmed the frayed shadow of Sarah's nerves. She sat back down on the bed, cross legged and facing Sarah once more.

"Okay, so. Compact doesn't fuck around with safety. I've said something to that effect multiple times, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"And yet, here I am intercepting a feralist ship, and no one else is aboard, right?"

"Yeah?"

"How do those pieces add up?"

"You said you escaped in a—"

"No, I never said that. You all assumed it. Think. Did I ever use the word escaped?"

She tried to remember, and couldn't.

"…No."

"So how did I get here?"

Well. On a ship, obviously.

"On an Affini ship?"

"And nothing strikes you as odd about that?"

"Everything about today strikes me as odd," she glared.

"Ooh~! Confident Sarah's gonna be fun. Let's try this: the affini take safety very, very seriously. They would NEVER allow a floret into harm's way. Ever. There's functionally no such thing as a floret in real danger. A floret cannot, under any circumstances, get themselves into trouble that an affini can't protect them from. They're also really fucking smart. Mine in particular is a terrifyingly hypercompetent supergenius older than written language. But here I am. There are two really big conclusions to draw from that."

Skye held up two fingers, and waited.

"You're … safe, somehow."

She put down a finger.

"But that doesn't make any—"

The remaining finger shushed her, and pulled back. Well, that made the game clear enough. She wasn't supposed to figure out the next part yet. Just the logical stepping stone that got her to the next bit of exposition.

"The affini don't allow you to be in danger."

Skye waggled the finger, but didn't put it down. Tease. She's worse than Ginger.

…Maybe.

But what—

Oh.

"…You're allowed. You have permission to be here."

The finger dropped.

"Here's the next fun part," she smirked. "I showed you an affini. That was life size. They're huge. I showed you to your face how big they are. This is an Affini capture shuttle, designed to subdue terran vessels. This type of ship is normally used by affini to get a boarding party onto ships like yours, so they can make sure everyone gets a nice little nap and wakes up safe and sound on a full size habitation ship. It's pretty rare for anyone who's not an affini to end up on board one of these things. So~o…"

Savoring every second, she let the hunger creep back into her smile.

"Why's all the furniture terran sized?"

Her eyes went wide.

She was right. The bed, the desk, the cabinets, the kitchen table, the bathroom vanity. They'd all been scaled for terrans.

"This specific ship is a bit of a special case. The only sophonts who board this ship are the ones I invite in. Today that was you, Ginger, and the other three. There have been no other sophonts on board this ship since it left the Raptifolia."

"And you."

"No."

"What do you mean no?"

"I'm not on board."

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"I'm fun, is what that means. I'm not really here here like you are."

Sarah reached out and poked Skye in the shoulder, earning her a very amused expression.

"You seem plenty here to me."

"I do seem that way, don't I? And yet, I've been completely safe this whole time. It is literally impossible for any of you to hurt me. Nothing any of you are capable of can actually put me in danger. Nothing."

"Not even when the captain put a gun to your head?"

"Not even then."

"How?"

"Oh, plenty of reasons. More reasons than even I know about, I'm sure, they definitely don't tell me everything. The only reason I needed to grab the gun at all was to keep the game from getting spoiled early. I bet the danger looked real to you, but it wasn't for me. That's actually why I kept it pointed at myself. If I fucked up, you could have gotten hurt. I would have been fine."

"There's no—you've gotta be fucking with me. Even if the affini are unstoppable, you're not. You're just one person."

"No, Sarah. I'm not a person. Never was. I was made to be a pet. I've actually never been anything but a pet. I'm also a bit of a special case. Nothing bad can ever happen to me. A floret is already safe. I'm a few levels of safety beyond even that, because I'm a floret ramet."

And we're back to square one.

"Are you gonna tell me what that means yet?"

"It means," she stood up, stretching contentedly. "I am not Tori Florentine. I have her memories, but this body has never been Salvatore Florentine."

What?

"This body was manufactured 29 months, 8 days ago, mostly by Urtica Nette and Mericanthus Vera. I'm safe, Sarah, because what you're looking at isn't the real me. This is just a chassis, phytotech tissue over a hypercellulose polyalloy endoskeleton. I'm the thing piloting the chassis remotely."

Watching Sarah closely, she paused to let it sink in.

"This body is just a haunted little doll, and I'm the ghost possessing it. You can't shoot a ghost."

It sank slowly.

"That's what a ramet is. I'm a fully digital consciousness."

It sank very slowly.

"What I am is a living software copy of another sophont—my ortet—who really was Tori Florentine, once. About three years ago now. It took 3 weeks of Class Gs—for her—to look like I do now. But I never did say how long I've looked like this, did I?"

Her thoughts felt like a thick mud.

"The OCNI base she was stationed at got captured in 2551. My TCN profile isn't out of date, it ended. The only thing edited out of it was the words 'missing, presumed dead,' and the date of entry."

"You edited the TCN database?"

"ME? No. I hacked the tablet it was displayed on to hide the error. Your local copy actually is a bit out of date, because you haven't docked with a resupply station in 31.6 days. Which means you never got the update seventeen days ago, when all TCN records were handed over to the Affini Compact. They updated my record in the actual database."

"Wait, ha— what does, what do you mean the records were handed over?"

"It was part of their surrender agreement,"

Their what?

"—leading up to the formal signing of the Human Domestication Treaty two weeks ago."

Wait, hang on, that doesn't—

"All this? This whole conflict? The stress, the starvation, the fearing for your life? It's over. It doesn't exist anymore. TCN is officially disbanded. The Terran Accord is gone. There are rebels here and there—the ships that didn't comply with the surrender. You were on one of them. We think your command staff kept it from you. But we found you anyway. And we're gonna bring you home safe."

No.

It does, actually.

It does fit.

The captain's weird reactions. The command staff tensing up at some of the things she said.

It makes sense.

The Affini weren't just inevitable in the sense of an unstoppable force heading their way.

They were an unstoppable force that had already happened, without them ever realizing it.

Their defeat was past tense. There was nothing to react to.

Nothing to fight or run from.

There were no winning moves left to make in a game that already ended before you ever sat down.

A game you never even played.

We were the game.

Skye put a gentle hand on her shoulder. "You didn't know, did you?"

Sarah looked up at her soft expression, gentle silver now filled with sympathy instead of scrutiny.

They weren't just fucked.

They were already getting aftercare.

"…No. But it—I. I believe you. It makes sense."

"You're innocent in all of this, Sarah," Skye said reassuringly. "You're not going to be blamed for things you couldn't have known. I promise you that. You've got a glowing endorsement from me, and that counts for quite a bit. You've been a wonderful guest."

Thank god for Class E. Or, thank the affini, she supposed.

She took a deep breath.

And, surprising even herself, fought back a smile.

A game should be fun, right?

"So. Did I surrender or lose?"

Again, Skye burst into laughter—but there were no sharp edges to it this time.

Microgravity be damned, it had been a good long while since Sarah had felt this light: this was still fucking weird, all of it, but there was laughter here instead of pain. She could feel that sense of amusement, of relishing in a joyful experience, down into her bones.

"God I cannot wait to see your glow up, Sarah. One hit of gender euphoria and you're already opening up. I hope I'm there when Ginger sees you crack a fucking joke."

It was weird seeing her laugh like that. Everything about her seemed so real.

"In a way, we all lost a long time ago. But for the record, I've had you firmly on the 'peaceful surrender' list for 107 minutes."

God she really is some kind of robot.

"The look on your face is great, by the way. I'm so saving pictures to show Ginger later."

Sarah grumbled. "…Don't I have enough things to be embarrassed about in front of her today?"

"Nah. She'll take it well. Trust me when I say this, she will be fucking thrilled, actually."

She flopped back into the bed, her face in her hands.

"Ugh."

"It'll be fine."

"I will never live this down."

"Oh yeah, she will definitely tease you about it."

"Ugh."

"It'll be fine, Sarah. Nothing bad can happen now, remember?"

"…I guess." She pulled her hands away, and stared up into the floral starscape above her once again. "So what happens now? I mean, you—how does this all end? You're still just one—"

—Wait.

She sat up sharply, and was greeted with another one of Skye's more dangerous smiles. One of the ones that said 'I'm about to have a lot of fun.'

"Yes?~"

"We."

Skye raised an expectant eyebrow.

"You said we. 'We found you.' 'We're gonna bring you home.' Who's we? You said there was no one else on board."

"I did say that," she answered, dipping her voice into the fakest sympathetic tone Sarah had ever heard. "I also told you I'm not on board. This chassis is on board the ship, but I'm not. I'm Skye dot ramet, a complicated program currently stored in this ship's hardware."

That predatory gleam in her eyes grew.

"And I also said a floret would never be without protection. Which means there's still something very fun that you didn't think to ask."

…Uh oh.

"I can never really be alone, for one thing. I don't have a haustoric implant, because I don't have a body. What I do have is the equivalent of one: a kernel-level bit of code that has full Administrator access to all of me. I always have a little piece of my Admin with me."

"A piece. Where's the rest of them?"

"On board the Raptifolia," she smirked. "You've almost figured it out. There's just one teensy little really big thing you missed."

Oh no. She's enjoying this a scary amount.

Skye leaned in close, eyes manic and smile far too hungry.

"Affini can have ramets too."

The ceiling moved.

Captain Fox

The ventral edge of the ship slowly panned into view.

So much tension clenched within his body that he felt ready to crack like stone.

There has to be a way. Something. Anything. Please. No matter how slim the odds, there was always a chance somewhere. He just had to find it.

The probe slid further, casting the bottom of the ship in view. It wasn't covered like the top side.

He let out a breath. Okay. That's something. Most of the actual ship was still visible below.

His eyes flicked to the loading hatch near weapons. Covered in that same blood-red sap. Fuck.

Ventral escape pods, the ones only command staff and VIPs knew about.

More root netting and red globs of shit.

FUCK.

Docking hatch at the engineering bulkhead. Direct line to the most critical ship systems, thermal regulation and life support.

Visible.

Yes. Thank the fucking stars, yes. It's not a plan but it's a place to start.

"There," he pointed proudly. "Docking hatch at bulkhead G. What can we do with that?"

He never got an answer.

They all watched in horror as a thick green-sepia tendril gently curled into frame, sliding so gently against the ship's hull they couldn't even hear it against the hollow silence of space. If they hadn't been looking right at it, they'd never have known it happened.

An undulating globe of red grew where the tendril began to secrete it along the belly of Pandora's Ultimatum. It clung where it was placed, sticking to the smooth metal plating like it was a sickly, gelatinous glue.

Several more creeper vines shaped it before settling into their resting place along the hull.

His outstretched finger fell with his spirits. They had just watched as their hope was buried alive, by a nightmare they still hadn't laid eyes on.

He had a fucking headache.

"Y minus 35."

His pulse pounded in his skull.

The camera panned further.

He wished it hadn't.

Terra had told ten thousand stories of gods and monsters, of things that addled the mind to even look upon. Things mankind was not meant to understand. Things whose scale defied logic. Defied the rules they believed their world was built upon.

Dominating the screen now was the worst kind of monster.

The kind from stories where there was no Hero.

No great unlikely victory.

The kind from stories of real horror: the raw emotional output of witnessing impossible, eldritch things and being unable to reconcile or explain them.

Anchored to their ship by a thousand roots and their blood red sap was an unholy matrimony of engineering and agriculture. Its hull was a dusty, green-tinged sepia bark; its features were wine-dark leaves and massive vines; its shapes were bulbous and abhorrent, strangely curved and contoured, their textured surface casting eerie shadows in the probe's light.

At its aft sat an enormous, rounded thing of flower petals the size of stadiums and leaves so colossal their veins were thick as trees. Before it, two great cylinders of seamless bark, opposing each other's gentle spin. Another, flatter bulbous thing lay before them, where the trunks of the largest roots were attached at strange angles.

And there, at the front of the horrid 'ship' where there should have been a cockpit or a weapons bay, eight enormous leaf-covered lumps sat arranged in a mirrored diamond pattern.

The foliage shifted, and light poured forth.

Miss Florentine had said there were no weeds aboard her ship.

It was so much worse than that.

The cosmic horror that had snatched them up had eyes. Eight great, tourmaline terrors that stared directly into his soul, and spoke three words louder and with far greater conviction, far greater force than any prayer he could dare to whimper into the void his reality had just vacated:

You.

Are.

FUCKED.

There was no hope to be had here.

They weren't just caught by a weed ship.

They were caught by a weed.

One weed.

One cosmic spider of a weed a third the size of a Ceres-class navy vessel.

A single monster had bested them. One abomination on a scale he couldn't imagine.

A monster that swam through the depths of the starry abyss. A monster that was jump capable. A weed immune to the vacuum of space. Immune to the naked radiation of stars. Immune to the raw violence of hypermetric physics. Immune to the forces of the firmament beneath creation that took unspeakable feats of science for mankind to even dip its toes into.

As the probe's light glinted off the shifting surface of the ship's eyes, Captain Fox tried and failed to process one simple, terrible fact.

He was a man.

Staring, awestruck and hopeless, at the face of a god.

Sarah Connor

Roots twisted and rearranged themselves, flowers blinked their petals as they shifted position, and the scent of the room practically vibrated in her lungs.

"Do you believe in fate, Sarah?"

She couldn't tear her eyes from the thing taking shape above her.

"Uhm—"

"Or do you believe the future is a work in progress? Something that hasn't been decided yet, something that gets woven into shape, thread by thread, set in place by the choices that determine where those threads end up?"

Abstraction begat form.

Its final shape wasn't clear yet, but the garden mosaic began to paint a new picture.

"I … uh. I'm not really getting the feeling that my choices are the ones that matter here."

In response, the entire room erupted in a sudden crescendo, an orchestration of chimes and woodwinds and percussion, a whalesong of grasswhistles and the rustling of leaves harmonizing into a voice so powerful it should have torn her in half.

It did nothing more or less than fold into every crevice of her mind like it belonged there.

"Oh, I like this one. She learns so quickly."

The voice sang in her body.

Her body sang with it.

The sound was even more massive than the spectacle taking shape above her: not grand merely by volume but by depth, encompassing her entirely in an overpowering, unexpectedly gentle embrace. Hearing—no, experiencing a voice like this felt like standing inside a symphony. Waves of sound gently battered her shores. Sarah's body was not merely an audience to the song but the instrument it played.

Its conductor came together from a million disparate parts; the roots once frozen mid-dance across the dome of the ceiling now waltzed in step with one another, knitting themselves into the features of an enormous face, five meters wide, dangling bodiless in the open air from the room's fleshy roots like the too-many spindling legs of a spider.

In the eight hollows of its face sat the splendor of the former garden: a hundred thousand bioluminescent flowers bloomed and unbloomed in intricate patterns, their petals blinking in and out of time with one another to create an endless undulation of shifting color.

It was gigantic.

It was terrifying.

It was beautiful.

Sarah sat hopelessly awed by the majesty of the divine.

Skye cleared her throat, but still Sarah couldn't look away.

"SO," Skye began. "Sarah. Kinda throwing you into the deep end with this one, but allow me to introduce you to your first actual, in person affini. You've seen the hologram of my owner, Urtica Nette."

Yeah, she distantly recalled. Now that a sliver of her brain was thinking about it, the face above her was kinda similar.

"This beautiful horror show is my owner's ramet. Lachesys Aranea, Tenth Permutation, They/Xem. My other Admin, and my Handler when we take the ship out. This entire ship is basically Their chassis right now. That's why the furniture is Terran sized, Sarah. This isn't just some random shuttle I stole. This ship was made for what we do."

A bundle of vines waved down at her.

"Hello, Sarah. A pleasure to meet you formally."

She squinted.

"Lachesis … like the god?" She finally broke her gaze to tilt her head at Skye. "The Greek god of fate?"

"Ah! And she knows her history!"

"Yeah but with a y, like system," Skye chuckled. "It's a programming joke, because Xey are very literally a ginormous dork."

She heard Skye's answer, vaguely, but a voice like Theirs commanded attention, and Sarah obeyed. Her gaze was drawn upwards again to see a thorny, but affectionate smile.

"Indeed, I took my Terran name from one of your Fate-weavers. I wear this title not as one of grandeur, but of responsibility. I cannot spool the threads who are lost before we reach them, little one, but it is my actions that determine what comes next for you. I do not decide where your threads start or end; I am merely the loom that plucks you into place. Your safety is my assurance. Whatever happiness awaits you, it is my privilege to be the guarantee it finds you. I am the promise that the thread of fate will not be severed here."

Well.

Trapped in some complex duet of fear and awe, Sarah sat silent and paralyzed, staring up into a face that should be a nightmare. Instead she beheld a more beautiful and gentle expression of raw power than she had ever imagined.

If this was the thing that guaranteed her safety, she was feeling pretty fucking safe right about now. She couldn't imagine the Captain doing anything about this. If he tried to fight this, good luck to him. He'd fucking need it.

And it wouldn't help.

The affini would win. The affini had already won. And there was not a stars-damn thing anyone could do about it.

Doubt left her, and she was calm.

"Awww, look! She's fawning!"

The room rumbled with amusement, and shook everything from her but a sense of peace.

Captain Fox

They all watched, silent as they were helpless, as a glistening vine reached towards their probe. It was so precise, so delicate, that the camera didn't even shift in its grasp.

And then it got worse.

The speakers in the room activated, and the terrible chorus of its voice came through.

"Clever terrans. I enjoyed watching your teamwork on this little group project. I do hope you continue to behave yourselves. No harm shall come to you ever again. But know that any attempts at violence will be subdued."

"W—what the fuck are you?" the Captain shuddered out.

"As far as you are concerned, little one? The silken thread of fate. I have woven a tight little tapestry of you. Do not think to pull at loose strings. You will not be king of your fallen kingdom. The end was decided before we began. You cannot win. Lose gently, dears. That is all the choice that remains for you, and there will be such a pretty picture at the end."

The speakers and the probe's feed cut out as one.

…FUCK.

No one dared to speak for almost a full minute.

None of them had even moved.

They were terrified.

They had every right to be. This was still a war for humanity's survival. This was a conflict that none of them could afford to lose. This was still a moment that would define the future of their entire civilization, a last desperate scream against the nightmare fate had set them against.

This was the last of the free Terrans against the empire that thought to enslave them.

The stakes had not changed.

But the landscape had. The weeds were a greater and more terrible enemy that he had ever imagined. From the silence around him, more terrible than any of them had ever imagined.

They still had to win. Somehow.

At any cost.

…

It fell to him, then.

He was their Captain.

The hard moments, the make-or-break decisions, were his. Stakes and landscapes be damned, this was still the job he signed up for. The job all of humanity needed him to do. The job his crew needed him to do.

He was their Captain.

So—however limited the cards may be—he would be the one among them with the strength to play one final hand.

Cold seeped into his thumb from the comms panel as the klaxon blared once.

Not that it was any colder than the rest of him.

"All command staff report to the bridge immediately."

Sarah Connor

In the face of something like this, so far outside the realm of possibility that her mind should have broken, Sarah was struck by a surprising clarity. It was like everything irrelevant, every reason for doubt had fallen away, blown out into space by the solar wind of the divine staring down at her.

Staring up into the face of the impossible made it easy to believe the impossible. It was really over.

And what remained made so much more sense.

"It never mattered, did it?"

Skye made a little hm? noise, and Sarah turned down to face her.

"Convincing us to surrender. That was never the point."

She looked pleased, so Sarah continued. "You just wanted to see what we'd do. That's the game. It's not about whether you win. It's a labyrinth. The ending was built into it before you ever started playing. You're in it for the twists and turns. You have fun figuring out how to get there."

"And you, my lovely little maze, have been very fun," she confirmed.

"Just a good little mouse who likes to work for her cheese," Lachesys chimed.

They stroked a bundle of vines up down down Skye's back, actually eliciting a bit of a flush and a lapse in composure. Even she was a delicate little thing to something like Xem. She was just as helpless before Them as anyone else.

And this was one affini.

"There's no—you don't even have to wait for them to find us."

Skye just giggled, still leaning into Their touch. “Yeah no need, we didn't jump here by accident, we had your exact position. The only reason they're not here now is a second hypermetric kick would probably cause a panic, and Terrans are at their most dangerous to themselves and others when they panic. We have this covered. We're already like ten steps ahead, of course."

Of course.

"I get to come along while Admin does Their thing, play with you for a bit, see how you handle unpropagandized information about the Compact, profile the crew, write up a report. Finally putting that psych major to good use," she winked.

A floret, she recalled, would never do a job they didn't enjoy. Skye reveled in hers.

"Feral terrans usually respond better to another terran than to affini, so I get to keep you distracted for a while. We've got years worth of records on your ship and crew, especially now, but nothing beats personal interaction, and I'm easier to open up to. I assess your responses and then hand over a bunch of information that helps get you integrated into the Compact a bit smoother once we get you on board."

Sarah looked at her still-feminine reflection in the mirror again. She could hardly argue with the results on her end.

...Then she felt a thought bubble up from somewhere and watched her own face run through the stages of grief.

It's funny and you know it, The Place Where Dumb Jokes Come From thought.

Ugh, she thought back at it.

"Something wrong?" Skye asked.

"You smooth out the transition," she deadpanned.

A giggle harmonized with a room-wide rumble of amusement.

"I like this new side of you, she's fun."

See? At least they have a sense of humor.

"Anyway, yeah, basically that. Capture takes longer but the transition is slightly smoother. It's usually not worth the tradeoff; Admin and I don't play this game often, only when we can be sure it's safe enough. But when it is, we help get you where you're going faster. Really Admin does almost all of the actual work. There's a lot going on behind the scenes. I'm just the friendly face to keep you busy.”

Skye cupped her face gently. "You're right, sweetie, the surrender part was never really optional. You're all coming home safe with us one way or another. But it helps to know who's willing to surrender."

She tilted Sarah's face up. "You and Ginger did spectacular, for the record. I'm very proud of you."

Leaning in slowly, Skye pressed a gentle kiss into her forehead.

At which point Sarah was reasonably certain Lachesys' foliage was no longer the reddest thing in the room.

"Aaa—UuhhhHHHmm!?"

The room rumbled again.

"⟪????⟫."

"God, yeah, she's an adorable little seed."

"W—what uhhmm. What does that mean?"

"It means there's a much better future in store for you, Sarah. Promise. If you're half as calm when we get back to the Raptifolia as you've been making puppy eyes at Admin here, every affini in the docking bay will fall in love with you on sight. Be prepared for a lot of headpats."

"…Headpats?"

A twist of vines dropped low from the ceiling and gently stroked through her hair.

"Oh-oOhh-ggh," she articulated.

Skye rubbed her chin again thoughtfully, and tilted her head slightly in the direction of the garden goddess, without ever taking her eyes off Sarah. "Three letters on Euryale."

"No bet," Lachesys sang. "It is clearly the correct match."

A proud smirk graced her.

"Do not be too smug about it dear, I can always give you three letters anyway~."

"Not til we're done here~. And Mastress gets first dibs."

"I see we have not quite tamed that rebellious streak. There is still the matter of our previous bet. Perhaps there are a few more lines of code that need a closer look~."

"Uhm," Sarah finally warbled out. "Not to um. Interrupt the…flirting? I think? But what happens next?"

"For you? Nothing. Sit here and enjoy the pets. You've earned 'em. As for me,” she pulled back, walking over to the compiler. “I still have a bit of fun left. The command staff are currently plotting my death, the little scamps, and I can’t risk them actually getting someone else hurt, so it’s time for the last part of my little game. My second favorite part, actually.”

The compiler dinged before she even reached it.

"How are you walking normally in here? The gravity doesn't feel any different."

"It's not," she smiled, pulling out a stiff, heavy-looking jacket. "Super advanced phytotech chassis, remember?" She wiggled her toes. "This little piggy is full of superconducting electromagnets."

DING!

Next she pulled out a sheet of thick, hexagonal objects, and pried one off. They looked like the kind of heavy bolted nuts used on the Ultimatum, but only the visible part, with no actual bolt behind them. Seemingly satisfied, she let it snap magnetically back into place, and hid it in her jacket.

"Admin? Can you send me the ship specs real quick? Full detail."

Nothing seemed to happen.

Skye made a disapproving face. "Sixty five millimeters? Ugh. Cost-cutting garbage."

DING!

She pocketed a few more small objects, and then actually popped open a part of her leg, where she shoved some faintly luminous and hard-to-look-at cylindrical contraption Sarah couldn't hope to identify.

“Alright, engineering and life support about 150 meters aft from the portside airlock. Line of sight is broken up nicely, I shouldn’t have any trouble getting in. Do you have a live heatmap?”

A beat.

“Okay, looks like they're still on the bridge. Hm. He said 12 command staff? Looks like two missing. Shouldn’t be a problem once I get to life support.”

“...What are you gonna do there?”

“I’m gonna make sure the whole crew gets a nice nap until they wake up safe and sound on the Raptifolia. Anyone not wearing a gas mask will be asleep within 20 seconds of continuous exposure. Whoever’s left, I can handle.”

"Um. Is it redundant to tell you to be safe?"

Her smile glowed.

"A bit. But it's sweet that you want to. I'm under direct supervision of one of the most capable Affini I know of. And I'm plenty capable myself. As far as your crew are concerned, I'm exactly as unstoppable as the Affini: more than they can do anything about. I will always be safe."

"More than even you know, dear."

“Um.”

“Yes?”

“Engineering and life support. Ginger’s there. Will you make sure she’s okay?”

“Absolutely.”

"Your concern is precious, little one, but we have things well in hand. We would never allow such adorable creatures to be harmed under our watch. The possibility of any sophont on your ship coming to real harm ended the moment we arrived."

"Well … good. Thank you."

"Of course, brave little thing. The callousness and cruelty of your Accord is over. You are part of the Terran Protectorate now. And you will be protected."

She breathed in deep, and Their promise filled her.

The tingle of surrender felt so sweet in her chest.

"Fun is one of our goals here, my little spindle, but not our largest one. If there is danger, we shall tame it. If our game must end early, it will. You are our priority. All of you. Your wellbeing and happiness are forevermore our responsibility. Our guarantee. Our privilege and our joy. The threads of your fate are ours to weave now. You will want for nothing for the rest of your days. Our promise is absolute."

Another eye-rolling ruffle of vines through her hair almost made her forget to ask.

"S-Skye?"

"Hm?"

"You said this was your second favorite part. What's your first?"

This time, she understood the look of absolute peace on Skye Nette's face.

"Seeing the look in your eyes when you realize you're gonna be okay, and knowing I made a difference. I was in your shoes once. Scared and confused and drowning until the Compact came along and pulled me out. And now? It feels pretty good to be the hand that reaches out."

The doorway slid open behind her as she backed towards it.

"Enjoy the headpats, Sarah. I'll be back."

Notes:

DUN-DUN, DUN, DUN-DUN.
How are we feeling, little frogs? Water still good? Did you enjoy Chekhov's mag dump?
I do like to spread my recommendations out a bit and cast a nice wide web—I mean, net, so this week I'm recommending two. If you like predatory spiders, you'll love She Wants You by Lagnia. If you like dolls, check out PyxxieStyxx's Dollhouse.
You might recognize a familiar face there soon. :)
Finally got some big reveals out in the open, huh? Imagine how good I’m gonna feel in the NEXT chapters, when we finally get to see [Authentication Error; User has been disconnected and administered a Class W until further notice]

Chapter 7: T-800

Notes:

Last chapter: The facade finally came crashing down. They really never stood a chance, huh?

This chapter, we finally get some action movie vibes. We’re done assessing the situation. Chekhov’s mag dump has already gone off. (Ignore that reloading sound, it's nothing.)

Everything is fine. Just relax into the warm water, little frogs. We're almost at the end. Just stay right there for a liiiiittle longer.

~~Definitely not outlining the big red x on the floor.~~

CW for brief mentions of non-POV characters having sex

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Skye Nette

There was another dull clunk-tap, as soft as she could make it.

So far, so good.

Sarah had taken things remarkably well for how much of a nervous wreck she had been at first. That little seed was going places. Directly into the vines of one Euryale Conifer, Second Bloom, most likely. If Admin wasn't taking the bet, it was all but assured—Xey were literally never wrong.

In all likelihood she'd be Sarah and Katherine Conifer, first florets pluribus by the end of the week, if not by end of day tomorrow.

Good for her. She deserved it.

Clunk-tap.

This part was going well, too, she thought. So far picking up Ginger's spare uniform on the way out hadn't even proven necessary. But better safe than sorry. There was just a tiny bit of work left before the real fun started.

At the next bulkhead, she lined up another of the magnetic 'bolts' with the optical overlay that showed her where Admin's roots had grown throughout the ship's internal systems, and softly clunk-tapped it into place. It even matched the gritty paint and grime of the Ultimatum.

Every possible redundancy was falling into place, right where it was supposed to be.

Clunk-tap.

Another glance around. With Admin so thoroughly integrated with the ship inside and out, the live heatmap also overlaying her vision was crystal clear. No one was on a course to intercept her. Most were idle in their bunks with nothing to do, or standing around bored, or otherwise fairly stationary as they carried out their useless Cosmic Navy duties for the last time.

Two, she noted, were actually making good use of their time by hiding in an out-of-the-way storage room, clearly fucking. And it was going well, according to infrared. As she focused on them their labels came into view: a P2 Danielle Ramos and a CPO Grace Davis, 99.7% probability based on acoustic analysis matching to the names on the crew roster.

Apparently the words "superior officer" had come up several times.

Cute.

They'd better hurry before they ended up falling asleep like that. Not that the affini who came to collect them would find it anything other than vine-curlingly adorable. Some lucky plant was probably walking out of here with a ready-made pair of connivents, soon to take orders from their new superior officer.

She dropped her focus on them, and finished her sweep. No one even knew she was there.

Clunk-tap.

They never saw any part of this day coming.

Well, Skye smirked to herself, they'd see a lot of fun things pretty soon. Most of them only after they woke up.

She floated silently to the other side of the bulkhead door, and clunk-tapped another safeguard into place.

Sarah Connor

For several moments after the door slid shut, nothing happened. The sense of calm had not left the room with Skye, but she certainly had a presence to her that the room felt a bit emptier without.

Well. Almost.

Perhaps quieter, rather than emptier.

Sarah diverted her attention, then, to the remaining Presence in the room.

"Okay, but like. Really though. What happens next?"

"The only certainty from your perspective is that the Raptifolia will arrive, and you will disembark from this ship into the safety of the greater Affini Compact. Until then, nothing in particular is set in stone. I can keep you entertained in any number of ways, should you wish it."

"…I wou—I don't wanna, um, distract you, if Skye needs you."

The room rumbled another low vibrato of amusement that made her bones feel like jelly, and the gigantic face dangling from the domed ceiling smiled down at her in a way that oddly reminded her of Skye's smug, teasing confidence.

"I have processing power enough for both of you, little Sarah. I am currently tracking the precise location and monitoring the activities and conversations of every sophont on your ship, and could do so for thousands more without difficulty. You do not have my full attention, I admit, but I assure you I have enough that you will not know the difference."

There was a strange sense of eyes rolling in the back of her mind. Flumping backwards into the soft bed once more, Sarah blew out a breath, idly musing at the amount of overwhelm she wasn't feeling.

It definitely should have been there. She wasn't sure what to do without it.

"Anyone ever tell you you're kind of a lot?" her mouth seemed to ask on its own.

"Yes," Xey answered simply. A thorny smirk twisted across Them. "Many times. But far fewer have said it to my face. You are braver than you give yourself credit for. Part of you, at least."

"I don't feel very brave."

"Hmm. You are not very nervous at the moment either."

"I blame drugs."

"Indeed," They rumbled. "Still, there has been a noticeable shift; my little asset noted it as well, although there is something else she missed. The first thing of note will take time for you to understand fully, and it is not my place to help you on that path. That will be another's joy to watch unfold. The other, however, I am more than happy to indulge."

She blinked.

"…What?"

"Curiosity. It would seem, my little guest, that you have more in common with your friend Ginger than you thought. You experience it differently, but you have a deep need to understand your surroundings. Where she seems drawn to the satisfaction of a curiosity sated, you feel a comfort in the certainty of clear expectations. I have decided how best to keep you occupied."

Skye, the floret, had made an effort to give Sarah choices. Lachesys, the affini, had simply made a decision for her. This was either very good or very bad, and Sarah wasn't sure which.

The cold tingle of ambiguity burbled in her spine.

"Uhhm. What—uh, what does that mean?"

"Yes, there it was again," Xey mumbled to Xemself. "Fascinating."

A great chaos of coordinated motion began as the face twisted itself apart.

"You are less confident in asking questions than Ginger, but you still benefit greatly from their answers. You are noticeably more comfortable when you know what to expect."

What a perfectly timely example, then, that she currently had no idea what to expect from the horticulture hurricane above her.

"I would not want such a cooperative and well behaved little thing to be uncomfortable when so simple a remedy exists. We will use this time to set your expectations—smooth the transition, as you said."

Uh oh.

Xeir face had untangled itself, and a storm of roots and flowers and foliage rearranged itself, extending to the floor and tightening into more familiar shapes. One familiar shape, in fact.

Though still connected by hundreds of fleshy filaments to the room itself, the bulk of what had been Lachesys' face had reorganized itself into a body. Sarah eyed it warily.

"Okay. Um. How?"

They resembled the hologram of Urtica, but not fully: this form was smaller and softer, with fewer sharp edges and a great deal less hunger in Xeir expression.

"I will answer any questions you have about the Compact to the best of my rather considerable ability. If I believe an answer is better experienced some other way, or answered by someone else, I will say so."

They were at once Urtica and not.

Where Urtica had been at least 4 meters tall, Lachesys' puppet body stood only about two and a half—enough to tower over her still, but tower over her in the way a mother would tower over her child. Their relative positions were still clear, but made soothing instead of domineering.

"Otherwise, I will endeavor to resolve any uncertainties that trouble you. You seem easily distressed by ambiguity, so I will remove ambiguity from your situation. Do you find this agreeable?"

Most of the bioluminescent flowers were repurposed into a much softer-looking version of the sharp-leafed naval cloak. A smaller bouquet of them made up new, smaller flower-petal eyes, again a much softer version of the sharp faceted gemstones that shone from the earlier hologram.

"You just…want me to ask questions?"

That wasn't so bad.

"Correct. Anything to do with what you have learned today, or what you are likely to experience going forward. As ever, my purpose here is to help. You will be well cared for regardless once we are aboard the Raptifolia, but I would like to ease any fears that may yet linger. That seems the most prudent use of our time."

Huh.

"So um. How com—why change your shape for that?"

Xey had now finished pulling Themself together, and stood much closer. They bent—strangely inhumanly—at the knees and sat low in midair, weaving the roots they dangled from into a large seat suspended from the ceiling by a thick lace webbing of their own floral vines.

Lachesys Aranea was simultaneously the sophont before her, the hanging seat Xey were sitting on, and the room they were both sitting in. They were the entire ship, which had somehow captured her own. They were so much, able to divide Xeir attention a thousand ways without any signs of stress.

And They had devoted a fraction of that attention to her, entirely for her benefit.

"In truth? I believe a show of force is not necessary for you. The time for that has passed. You have seen a fragment of what I can be. I have shown you power, and in my judgment you accept what that power means for you."

Their voice, too, had grown smaller and more gentle. Sarah still felt small before a creature like Xem, but less overwhelmed than before.

They reached a vine-made hand across the gap between them to gently cradle her face.

"I believe what you need now is a show of comfort. This day is a turning point in your life, Sarah. You deserve more than to be told it is a good one. You deserve to understand it. If you are comforted by the certainty of clear expectations, please allow me to show you there is nothing to fear."

Xey had, in every way, reduced the sensory experience of Themself.

They still weren't equals.

They never would be.

But this enormous being, this godlike creature that could change its shape and the scale at which it was perceived, could choose to speak and interact with her in any way it wished. And what Xey chose to be right now was gentle.

She was beginning to understand what Skye had meant by the depth of kindness hidden beneath a frightening exterior.

They wanted to soothe her.

And she was soothed.

"Okay."

Xey smiled. "Good girl."

Shudders of something ran through her at those words: something warm and cold and shimmering and wonderful and terrifying in equal measure coursed through her, rushing to her face.

I really have a lot to unpack later, huh.

Y-yeah no shit, her inner voice warbled.

Oh good. They were in agreement.

"Uhm!" She cleared her throat. It helped. Barely. "So. Okay. I think, uh. I have a good question to start with."

Smiling softly, Lachesys silently gestured for her to ask it.

"What does 'Human Domestication Treaty' mean?"

Ginger Allens

She was regretting her return to the ship more with every insufferable word Aries spat at her.

Whatever Tori was up to, she hoped it would happen soon, because tuning back into this dressing down was sure to be unpleasant.

"—onsider him a fucking traitor."

Ugh.

"Will you cut him some fucking slack? He was bussing tables when the navy force-drafted him out of college, he hasn't even heard from his family in two years. Give him a fucking break! What does missing a goddamn shift even matter anymore? He doesn't even have a real job on this ship besides 'hold a gun if the affini show up,' and we both heard all the fucking good that'd do earlier. Let the poor kid get his dick wet for god's sake, I think Tori took a liking to him."

Behind the Lieutenant Commander, the familiar and very bemused face of the much more tolerable Deputy Commander peeked into view from the bulkhead doorway into the engineering and life support bay.

Thank fuck, whatever it was was finally happening.

"That's not how we run this ship, Allens! If he's with that plantfucker right now then he's AWOL and compromised. As far as the captain's concerned that makes him a deserter and a traitor, and he'll be discharged along with her."

Every hackle in her body raised.

Oh no you fucking don't.

She controlled her rage, but intentionally let some of it show on her face. Tori, who was now silently climbing up the wall and ceiling out of her line of sight, made a similarly disapproving expression.

"Oh please. She's OCNI and clever enough to have gotten here in an affini shuttle," she said, voice seething. "If she was gonna betray us she'd have done it already. You won't fucking dare touch Connor."

Tori was now barely out of view above them, and Ginger chanced a quick look up to catch the approving look on her face.

"Don't roll your fucking eyes at me. You have no say over what Command does to him."

"Yeah? Fucking try it, stringbean. We've been in microgravity for two years and I have one of the only manual labor jobs on this ship. The best six of you couldn't get through me. And I say you don't lay a finger on him."

"How dare you speak to a superior officer like that! I should have you in the airlock with the both of them for that."

"Oh come on, Aries. This whole thing is a a big load of nothing. We all saw the back of her neck, there's nothing there."

"It's Lieutenant Commander Aries. And how do we fucking know that means anything?"

From just on the edge of her peripheral vision, Tori tilted her head curiously.

"She says no scar means no worm, and we're supposed to just take her word for it? No one's ever come back before, there's any number of things they could have done to her that we don't know about."

Ginger took a step back—more to keep Tori in view than anything, but Aries thinking she was backing down was a convenient bonus.

"One woman with no weapons escaped a weed capital ship alone? And she just knows how to fly the damn thing without any experience in astrogation or jump drives or any of the shit it takes to bring a ship HERE? Literally right here, almost directly on fucking top of us? You don't see how much shit isn't adding up?"

She could see Tori's amusement rising from here.

"You haven't seen her ship," he continued, failing to hide a shudder of supreme discomfort. Interesting. "You don't know what it's been doing to ours this whole time. She's a wormhead traitor, one hundred percent."

Ah, he was getting angry now. She may have pushed him a little too far. He was tensing up.

Tori's amusement dropped.

Everything in the floret's body language sharpened, locking on with the focus of a predator about to strike.

"Who fucking knows what she's capable of, if she gets her hands on one of us. Connor is lost."

With a firm push, Tori silently pounced, floating down towards Aries' turned back.

"And from what I'm seeing here," he reached for his holster, "so are you."

That was as far as he got before Tori did, in fact, get her hands on him. She grabbed him by the shoulders and in one effortlessly smooth motion flipped herself down, firmly restrained him, and brought her open mouth to the place where his neck met his shoulders.

A "whUH-ARHH" sound managed to escape him. Then nothing. He stopped moving. All the tension that had been building in his body dissipated instantly and some kind of enforced calm overtook him. His eyes dilated and dulled, and he was still.

"Uhhh," Ginger eloquently professed, only slightly less frozen.

Tori pulled away from him, revealing a pair of small fangs, and padded around him, barefoot, somehow unbothered by the laws of stars-damned physics.

"Well, I certainly took you for granted, didn't I?" Tori asked the unresponsive Aries. "It's still not a worm and it's still not in my head, but the rest of that was surprisingly insightful, actually. Shame I didn't get to keep a closer eye on you. You actually ask the right questions, that would have been fun."

"You didn't just kill him, did you?"

Tori jerked slightly in surprise at that, turning incredulously to her. "What? No, of course not. I just gave him a paralytic. Totally harmless. He's fine."

She turned back to him, gently patting his cheek. His eyes fluttered in a half-hearted blink.

"Actually, funny enough," she continued, inspecting Aries' face closely, "I think he kinda likes it. I don't blame him, class Ms are fun. Someone might get a nice doll out of this one."

…Were his cheeks always that pink?

Tori turned to her fully, clearly enjoying herself.

"And you, Miss Allens, were told to keep your head down and stay out of trouble."

Really?

"Who are you?"

"Just a good little plantfucker who likes picking up strays."

"And you drugged him."

"Yup."

"With your mouth."

"Mhm!"

Tori opened wide, and Ginger watched as her canine teeth shrank back to normal, and then grew into small fangs again. She couldn't imagine how they were doing it.

"I have to get permission before I use the xenodrugs, but yeah. The teeth don't actually pierce the skin, they're just for looks. Got little injector needles modded into em for funsies. Right now they've just got a couple useful ones for wrangling naughty ferals. Sometimes I get to put party drugs in em. This body is fun."

"What do you mean this body?"

"This is a remote chassis. It's advanced affini bioengineering, living phytotech tissue over a really strong endoskeleton. I'm actually a really complicated piece of software, this is just how I interface with non-digitized sophonts."

"Non-digitized."

"Yup."

"Um?"

"Short version? The real Tori Florentine got captured 3 years ago, and she wanted to get digitized—which is a thing the Affini can do—and for safety reasons, they keep backup scans of you just in case anything goes wrong. Something went wrong, they booted up the most recent backup scan, and that was me. I'm a living software copy of her."

That.

Was a lot.

"So you're not Tori Florentine."

"That's kind of a bigger philosophical question than we have time for right now? I'd be happy to explain it later if you want. But basically I used to be, kind of. The sophont formerly known as Tori Florentine is now two sophonts, both fully digitized. An ortet—the original—and a ramet, that's me. I have her memories, but technically I am a different sophont. Neither one of us is really Tori Florentine anymore."

She stuck her hand out. "Might as well reintroduce myself, actually. My real name is Skye Nette, seventh floret ramet. Now you know what the ramet part means."

Ginger apprehensively took the hand in her own. Skye pulled it to her lips with a wink.

"You're a fully digital, cybernetic organism."

"Yup."

"A fully digital organism who also has vampire fangs full of drugs."

"Nailed it."

"…Are you just, like, making yourself hotter by the minute on purpose?"

"No, that's ridiculous. I've been this hot the whole time."

"Uh huh…" Ginger had no response for that. This woman had completely short-circuited her brain.

Perhaps a change of subject.

"So how's Connor doing?"

"Ginger, she is doing fantastic. I'm so proud of her."

"Her!? You got her!?"

"I got her."

"Already? Holy shit."

"I think you'll agree, Miss Allens, that I am very good with women."

"Holy shit. That was like, half an hour? I've known her for two years."

"Forty one minutes, fifteen seconds. Twenty-seven twenty-nine if you want the exact moment it happened. And I truly cannot thank you enough for getting her that far. I'm glad she had you looking out for her breast interests."

Her brain screeched to a halt.

And not just because Skye really was a living computer who knew down to the second. No, the brick wall her brain just ran into was—

"That was the worst fucking joke I've ever heard in my life," Ginger deadpanned.

Skye snorted in that painfully-cute nose crinkling way.

"You'll hear worse. Her sense of humor is atrocious, it's adorable. She's gonna be so fucking cute."

"…Does she have a name yet?"

Skye actually paused, uncertainty written on her face. "Yes, but I'm not sure if that's mine to tell. Let me get Admin to ask her."

"Admin?"

"My owner's ramet. Their chassis is the ship I came here in."

What. The fuck.

How many things did she not know?

Oh my god that's what had Aries so spooked.

The distant look in Skye's eyes refocused. "She said yes. I think she's scared you're gonna make fun of her."

"Oh, I'm so teasing her."

"That's what I said! Admin says be gentle about it when you first see her, though, and I agree. So, I'll be honest, I don't expect her last name to stick around for long, she is a total seed and there's no way she ends up independent, she's like, made to be a floret. But! Her name is Sarah. And her face lights up when you say it."

Sarah.

"Oh my god that's so precious," Ginger said.

"Her life is gonna be so much better now, I can't wait to see it."

Yeah, god, finally. FINALLY.

Wait—

"Wait hang on. Your Admin asked her? She knows?"

"She knows a lot now, actually. And took it shockingly well once I got her on something for anxiety. She'll probably be filling you in on a lot of it later. I would, but there's a bit of a time crunch, and I've got some things to wrap up here before the Raptifolia picks us up."

With that, Skye literally opened her leg and pulled some softly glowing thing out of it that hurt her eyes to look at. It wasn't even that bright. Something about it just made her eyes want to slide away from it, like the cognitive equivalent of a magnetic field.

Skye padded over towards the EC/LSS.

Oh shit.

"Oh my god you're magnetic."

"Mhm! Superconducting electromagnets, actually."

"Wh—!? At room temperature!?"

"Thank you! Ugh! You beautiful, curious soul. I love it when someone asks the right questions."

What Ginger would love was an answer. Affini technology was driving her insane.

"Okay, how about 'what the fuck are you doing to the Thermal Amine Scrubber?' That's one of the single most important things on this entire ship. I'd put it above the jump drive."

"Yes! Perfect, actually, that's an excellent question. I'm installing a new component that will synthesize a Class Z vapor, and it will diffuse directly into the main Environmental Control circuit. It won't diffuse across the entire ship simultaneously, but it is nearly invisible and odorless, so most of the crew will be sound asleep before anyone notices what's going on."

Ginger watched her precisely maneuver some of the most delicate and critical cubic inches of their nearly 800-meter ship.

"…And you somehow know what you're doing."

"Oh of course." She pointed at the side of her head, still focused on her task. "I have the full ship specs. Every 3 millimeter screw on this entire ship, I can tell you its exact location. All nineteen million eight hundred forty one thousand, nine hundred ninety one of them; six are missing: two on deck 4, bulkhead K, one on deck 3 bulkhead G—"

But that was—

"—It's on the other side of this room, actually, back left corner under the control console for the water filtration loop—one in starboard side crew quarters, one in comms that they probably lost when they cut external communications to most of the ship, and one under Traxler's console on the bridge."

Speech failed her.

"I also have the full manual, documentation, licensing, warranty, and billing records for the entire supply chain for every single component on this ship, including the crew's personal possessions. Down to the name and date of most of the quarries or asteroids the raw elements were mined from."

A satisfying vacuum thup accompanied the hard-to-look-at-thingamajig popping into place.

"That's … kind of intimidating."

"I can also tell you the warranty and safety limits on three of your air filters expired two, four, and seven months ago, which is partly why it stinks to hell and back in here. And yes, I get that a lot. Wait til you meet my ortet though, she's the scary one between us."

Satisfied with her work, she turned back to Ginger.

And then furrowed her eyebrows at the wall behind her. "Wow, they're still going at it."

"What?"

"Davis and Ramos, supply cabinet 16-J, deck 3. That's gonna be funny later."

"You can see through the goddamn walls!?"

"Not quite, Admin's monitoring the entire ship in like, a dozen different ways. I'm getting some of the more useful data as a visual overlay, so I can see their heat signature in infrared. And they are certainly keeping each other warm. Anyway. Time to get to work."

Nothing happened for a moment.

"What's—"

"Okay message sent, we're officially on the clock. Well, my lovely guest, because you have been delightful company and so wonderfully cooperative, I'm giving you a choice."

Ginger rolled her eyes.

Sure, why not, she knew Skye had been planning something for more than an hour now. She could hardly pretend to be surprised in a way that mattered.

"Okay, I'll bite, what's going on?"

"Well I'll be doing the biting here," Skye winked. She touched something on the new LSS module to activate it. "So. Timer was set for 900 seconds, down to 883. Takes about 100 seconds before the Class Z vapor builds up enough to start diffusing through the air vents. Anyone exposed to that vapor—except me—will fall asleep within 20 seconds of uninterrupted exposure. And it'll diffuse fast, about a bulkhead per minute. Very soon, whoever does notice in time to put on a gas mask is going to be very scared or very pissed off, which are the two most irrational and dangerous things a feral can be."

"Yeah, sure, fight or flight."

"Or fawn or freeze. Sarah's fawn, it turns out. Fucking adorable. But yes, exactly that. Your choice is simple. You can stay here and pass out with everyone else, stay here and put on a gas mask, or try to get back to my ship before you fall asleep. I don't recommend the last one. You have a place you're supposed to be right now, and if you're not there, someone—" she nodded at Aries' weightlessly drifting form, still magnetized to the floor, "might ask why, and I do not want an irrational feral asking you that question. So for your safety, I'm recommending option 1 or 2."

"I'd rather stay conscious. If anything does happen I'd rather be awake for it."

"Good call. In that case, grab a mask, and when the affini show up in 829 seconds, do not under any fucking circumstances draw a weapon. When they show up, you put your hands up and say 'Skye vouched for me.' You'd also make a good floret, but you deserve to make that choice yourself. You pull a gun, you lose that choice. My good word is worth a lot, but it doesn't override an affini's decision, ever."

Ginger promptly removed the firearm from her holster, pulled the battery out of it, and shoved them each in separate magnetic cabinets.

"How's that?"

The look on Skye's face was worth every minute she had ever spent on this stars-damned ship.

"Ginger, you beautiful," she stepped closer, "wonderful," she cradled Ginger's face in her hands, "incredible sophont."

Skye brought their lips together, briefly but deeply, and then pulled her into an amazing hug.

"That is so good. You are so good. I can't wait for the life you deserve to find you. You are going to have so many girlfriends you spectacular creature."

"That's really the new normal, huh?"

"Yup. And it fucking rules."

"…You wanna be one of them?"

A soft chime came from the new air filter.

"I'd be honored. That's t-minus-800 seconds until the Raptifolia arrives. Time to grab a mask."

Skye pulled one from the supply cabinet just below where Ginger shoved the battery for her gun, because of fucking course she'd know exactly where the nearest one was, and handed it to her.

"What makes you think I'd be a good floret?"

"Affini are shapeshifters. Most of the ones in Terran space present themselves as giant, beautiful women. Who just really wanna pet you and take care of you. Do the math, lesbian."

She tried to imagine it while pulling the mask over her face, and took comfort in the fact that it obscured her face a little. There wasn't no appeal to that.

But still.

"You can't possibly think I'm that much of a bottom. Sarah okay, but give me a little credit."

Another pleased giggle crinkled Skye's nose as cunning eyes laid her soul bare once more.

She got the feeling the mask didn't help as much as she hoped.

"We'll see. You haven't actually met an affini yet. In case I don't see you right away, my handle is Cyber Doll one zero one, all one word."

She held up the palm of her hand. Ginger watched the username literally appear on Skye's skin, somehow manipulating her own pigment to form the word.

"Remind me to ask you how literally anything about your body works."

"Sounds like you'll have plenty of time to learn what this body can do," she winked. "Catch you later, girlfriend~. I got some ferals to tame."

"You're sure you can handle—nevermind, of course you can. Why would I doubt you?"

"See?~ Learning already. You'll be a quick study."

"Worked out for my engineering degree at RPU. And thank god something did, cause I'm still paying the bills for it."

"Not anymo—wait, RPU? As in Remula?"

Skye's entire demeanor shifted in an instant; the teasing dropped entirely. Instead she looked horrified.

"Yeah? You know it?"

"Oh my god, Ginger, I'm so sorry. You don't owe them any money. Not for more than a year. Remula got captured by the Compact ages ago."

"What? Where the fuck have my student loan payments been going!?"

Skye's eyes unfocused for a moment, and her face crumpled into a pained expression.

"Fuck," she said. "Admin just told me. The Accord was siphoning it off for the TCN. They were diverting unowed payments into off-book military projects. Fuck. Thank god that's over."

Bitter, icy anger flooded her.

They really had been fucked this whole time. By the Accord.

With a flurry of sympathetic silver across her features, Skye reached out and squeezed her shoulder.

"Hey. I mean it. It's over. Your command staff hid it from you, but the Terran Accord officially surrendered to the Affini Compact two weeks ago. There's a treaty and everything. The Accord and the TCN are officially, permanently disbanded. You're already part of the Compact. They can never hurt you like that again."

"Fuuuuuuck," she answered, deflating. That cold tingle prickled at her eyes again. "Can—" her voice was small and cracked. "Can I have another hug?"

Skye leaned in and pulled her close. "Just a quick one before I go. The second bulkhead should be asleep soon. I have to take care of the stragglers. And yes, I mean that literally."

"Well," Ginger gently pulled back, "I look forward to never paying bills or seeing this fucking ship again. Good luck, Skye. Take good care of them I guess."

There was that confident smirk again.

God it made something inside her flutter.

This was her girlfriend now? Things really were looking up.

Slowly turning, and with a lingering gaze over her shoulder, Skye walked away with two simple words that Ginger had no trouble accepting.

"Trust me."

Sarah Connor

"Wait that's what that is?"

She could feel it, not just where Lachesys' large hand held her own, but throughout her entire body. Pulsing through her like silent music, deep as her own heartbeat.

"Yes," the affini puppet answered. "You have something like it as well. The beat of your heart, the breath in your lungs, the various sounds and movements of your organ systems. Even your posture, your gait, your conscious movement are a part of it. If a biorhythm is an orchestra, your body is every player and every instrument at once, as well as the sheet of music they adhere to."

"Yeah but I can't do…" she squeezed the part of Lachesys' hand that hers fit around, and felt the ripples of a skipped stone on the glassy surface of a lake sink into her, "that."

"Oh, you'd be surprised. Terrans are adorable little things, frankly your whole species were made to be pets. Your pack bonding instincts are so strong you are actually slightly mimetic to each other under the right circumstances. Did you know that when a pair of Terrans walk side by side, hand in hand, their walking pace and even heartbeats will begin to synchronize? You were susceptible to biorhythms long before the Affini arrived to discover such a delightful quirk."

"And you're just. Um." Sarah paused to consider her words. Looking up, she took in the patience in the softly luminous floral eyes gazing down at her. "You're like a way stronger version of that."

"Correct," Xey answered proudly. "You are hardly the first sophonts we have come across with such a strong susceptibility to them, but it enchants us every time. We happen to be quite good at returning that particular favor."

All the flowers in the bouquet of Their right eyes closed their petals briefly in place of a wink.

Sarah dropped her hand, and Lachesys allowed her a moment to process.

"So. But that's—some of it is body language and some of it is sound."

"Yes."

Her head tilted in thought.

"But you have neither in space. How can you be using it to help Skye from here? What's keeping the crew from freaking out more?"

"Ah, therein lies one of my special little tricks, dear. I have been very busy integrating myself with your ship, inside and out." Xey grinned wildly, but there was no threat to her in those thorns. "Would you like to know a secret that even my darling asset doesn't realize?~"

There was no way to know which of their bodies the building sense of excitement truly came from.

Though, Sarah supposed, the curiosity must be all her own.

"What is it?"

The ripples on the glassy lake, even without direct touch, became waves of hunger and amusement.

"Space may be a vacuum, little one. But your ship is not. This thoroughly entangled in my embrace, I can use the whole of Pandora's Ultimatum as a resonance chamber."

Oh.

"She loves to play this game of cat and mouse, my good little program. But make no mistake, dear. I am the one capturing your ship. Skye is just one of the tools I am using to do it."

Corporal James Ellison

God help us, he prayed.

What had been a red alert, and then a yellow alert, had somehow never made it back to red. Even when the crew started falling asleep. Some kind of sedative agent was circulating through the ship.

Which meant Life Support had already been taken by the weeds.

Which meant they were boarded.

Without the ship on full alert.

So either communications had been cut, or the Bridge had fallen, or everyone on it was already asleep.

Which meant they were completely, utterly, beyond fucked.

He hadn't seen anyone else yet. Or heard. There hadn't been a single gunshot. Which probably meant he was alone, and he was the next to be fucked.

Fuck.

Slowly, as quietly as he could with his heavy, clunking mag boots, he crept towards Bulkhead F. Which was only a few dozen meters from G, where the weeds had taken Life Support.

Please, God, let us get out of this in one piece somehow.

The Lord is my Shepherd…

Gun forward and breathing heavily, he slowly pulled himself tighter to squeeze through the annoyingly small doorway to the next section.

And that's precisely when he was grabbed from behind, and his mask was ripped off.

"OH GO—MMMPH!" he shouted into the soft hand at his mouth. He tried to swerve around, but another very Terran arm with immaculate wine-colored nail polish reached around and ripped the gun from his hands, without ever leaving him the wiggle room to break free.

"Shhhh," a gentle feminine voice whispered into his ear. "No guns. Nobody's getting hurt today. Never again. You're gonna be safe. There's nothing to be afraid of. Juuust relaaaaax into it. Everything's going to be okay from now on."

He tried to fight. He tried to hold his breath. He tried to scream.

He tried to pray.

All he managed was panicked whimpers, burning through oxygen faster as his heart pounded in terror. Until he was forced to take a huge gasp of drugged air.

God dammit, he thought, as his limbs grew heavy.

His god did not answer him.

This little lamb had lost its shepherd.

Like it or not, a new flock had claimed him as their own. His body could not stop it. His mind could not stop it. His prayers could not stop it. He was powerless.

Fate had left him in the hands of a different higher power.

The hand that had taken his gun gently brushed against his hair. "You're safe, now. I promise."

His fight was taken from him, and comfort replaced it. Had he been delivered from evil, or into it? Was this temptation or salvation?

There wasn't time to know. His vision tunneled, and his traitorous heartbeat could not stop this either, choosing this moment to finally slow.

Blessed are the merciful. Was this mercy?

"That's it, just calm do—"

Corporal Ellison heard no more.

Private Second Class Alicia Mateo

Alicia never signed up for any part of this, least of all whatever the fuck was happening now. She never signed up to die.

It was just her and Ensign Cameron Phillips, as far as she knew. Just the two of them against whatever boarding party was coming for them. Why wasn't the ship on full alert? How could they be alone?

Her mask was fogging with fear, which certainly wasn't helping.

"Keep it together, Private," Phillips whispered, not unkindly. "We need to stay sharp here."

"Si, easy for you to say," she warbled back. "You came from military academy. I never enlisted. I'm scared out of my goddamn mind."

"I never trained for weeds, either," the Ensign offered gently. "Act like you're less scared of them than they are of you. Who knows. Maybe it'll help. At least we're not alone."

What they were, though, was at an impasse. Bulkhead D was closed.

"Shit," Phillips muttered. "Wish I could even hope this was oiled recently."

Phillips dropped her gun, letting it float weightlessly on its shoulder strap.

Slow, steady breaths were making a difference for Alicia, barely.

Until her superior officer's hand passed right through the dog wheel of the bulkhead door.

"What the f—AUUGH!" Phillips shouted.

Alicia screamed as Ensign Cameron Phillips was yanked, arm first, through a very solid door that wasn't there, and went instantly silent on the other side. Her gun never even went off.

"FUCK! Fuck fuck fuck fuck please no, PLEASE!"

She couldn't do it. She coudn't be brave. She never had it in her. She couldn't even look at the doom that awaited her.

Instead she threw her gun away from her body, crumpled back against the nearest wall, and shut her eyes tightly, pleading for her life.

"No no no no please! I don't want this I don't want any of this I never signed up for this! Please don't hurt me please have MERCY!"

There was sound—a soft ruffle of fabric—but no footsteps.

"Ple-ee-ease, please have mer-cy-yy," she sobbed into the mask, hiding behind her arms.

A hand reached out and gently took one of hers. A woman's hand.

Shaking, she chanced a look through blurred eyes up into the face of the unmasked Terran woman above her. Her expression was soft. Her eyes were silver and kind, kinder than any she had seen in years.

"Okay," the woman said simply, and pulled her back to standing.

"W-w-what the fuck is happening," Alicia shuddered. "Who are you?"

"I'm here to help," was all the stranger offered before pulling her into a tight hug.

Alicia could have melted into her as a calm feeling overtook her body. She wasn't going to die.

"I'm sorry you're so scared," the woman whispered over her shoulder. "But you did good. You did so good, throwing the gun away. Your name is Alicia, right?"

She sniffled, a sob catching in her throat. "Yes. Private Mateo. How—"

"Shh-shh-shh, no sweetie. No ranks anymore. That's over now. You're free. I promise no one is going to hurt you, okay? No one will ever hurt you again." The stranger's voice was so gentle as she cradled the back of Alicia's head. She could have wept from relief.

"You're gonna have a lot of new experiences soon," the stranger continued, "and that's scary, I know, but I promise every single one of them will be good, okay? I promise."

None of this made any sense. Why was it so easy to believe her? Why did she want to so badly?

"I—I don't understand?"

"You will," the woman gave her a deeper, comforting squeeze, lightly rocking a feeling of calm into her. "You'll understand very soon. Remember what I said, okay? No one is going to hurt you. Just relax for me."

She took a long, steadying breath, exhaling the worst of her fear.

Why were this stranger's orders so much easier to follow?

"Theeeere we go, good girl."

…oh.

…um?

Her heart fluttered for a moment.

The stranger turned her head, and brought her soft, warm lips to Alicia's neck.

She felt a tiny prick.

Then a weakness in her knees. Was it the microgravity that had her feeling so weightless? So light headed? So eager to collapse into the soft embrace of strong arms?

"Everything is going to be just fi—"

Petty Officer Carter Burke

He knew he shouldn't have trusted the wormhead.

God damn it.

Now he was out of his mind scared—which at least meant Tori hadn't actually mind controlled them at dinner, thank goodness for small victories—and desperately hoping to find somewhere to run, somewhere to hide away and hope the weeds missed him when they no doubt swept the ship.

Every door he passed through in every back access corridor he could find, he shut behind him, hoping to keep as much distance between him and the weeds as he could. Hoping it would buy him time or warning enough to keep quiet.

If he could hide out on the ship long enough, maybe he could sneak his way through it later.

Plot a course. Jump out of there. Instead of stealing a weed ship, use the one he was already on, and bypass the weeds entirely. It might just be enough for him to escape.

And actually bring back real intel on the weeds like the traitor should have. Maybe he could still come out of this ordeal a very rich man.

If he came out of it at all.

But to get to the best hiding place he could think of, he had to pass through the main corridor.

Only a few meters from the portside airlock on deck 3.

The quicker and quieter he could be, the better.

He wheeled the door into the main hallway shut behind him, turned around, and found himself face to face with something enormous, writhing, and very green, staring directly at him with glowing eyes and a thorny smile.

He turned to run, and was faced with another.

He whipped around to reopen the door, and watched in horror as another twisted face of vines and hunger passed right through it as if it wasn't even there, stalking towards him.

Practically swimming in fear sweat, he pulled his light pulse rifle up in front of himself.

They could pass through fucking walls? That makes no fucking sense! That's impos—

Wait. That's impossible.

It wasn't the door that wasn't even there. It was the weed.

A hologram? But how—What was projecting it!?

What the fuck was going—

This was a trap. And someone had sprung it.

That someone would be coming for him. Soon. He had to be ready for them.

The gun whirred up, its charging pitch slowly rising until a hand with burgundy-tipped nails reached through one of the illusory weeds and ripped it away from him before he even found a target.

"Wrong choice, I'm afraid. I gave you a chance to understand. You got to ask questions. I gave you every answer. You saw more of the truth than most of the sophonts on this ship, and you rejected it."

"You! You betrayed humanity!"

The traitor stood before him, and he cowered. He took a desperate swing at her and she caught it effortlessly, steady as a brick wall.

"No, we're saving humanity. Every last one of you. Even the ones who are too selfish and stubborn to get it. You're going to have a better life than you could have ever imagined, and that's not your decision anymore. You wanted to fight your chance at happiness, and now it's going to be given to you anyway, in whatever form your Owner chooses for you."

Stepping closer, nothing but disappointment on her face, Tori leaned closer to his whimpering form. The false weeds still stared hungrily into him, but she was the most dangerous thing in the room.

He had nowhere left to run.

"I told you there were no more debts, and all you probably heard was no more profits. You're an unrepentant capitalist and a danger to yourself and others. I tried to help you. But that's the affini's job now. You no longer get a say in what your happiness looks like. Have a nice life, Burke. I know you will."

She pulled him closer, tilted her head, and bit him.

At first it was fear that kept him from reacting.

Then his body failed him, and everything went dark.

The last thing he saw was a look of pure distaste in her expression. Whether it was for the salt of fear she wiped off her mouth, or for him, he would never find out.

Skye Nette

Burke had been the last, and thus far the biggest disappointment.

»(1) new message
›SysAdmin: You did what you could, flower. All you can do is offer them a helping hand.

›me: i know. it's just a shame when they don't take it. how's sarah doing?

›SysAdmin: Sweet as can be. Even more docile after Ginger's positive reaction, if you can believe it.

›me: haha i believe it. they'll all be like that soon enough. almost done here, about to take the bridge.

›SysAdmin: You are doing beautifully, my dear. As always. So well trained.

»NOTICE:

She closed out the notice before it could even tell her how much her processor just skipped.

Which probably meant much worse was coming her way later.

God she loved her life.

At the last corner before the bulkhead to the bridge, Skye Nette turned back to face the main portside corridor. Seven sophonts between here and engineering hung dreamily from their mag boots, silent and peaceful where they slept, drifting limply in the microgravity.

Two were absolute seeds, both with solid matches to potential owners. Four were a danger to themselves and others. The last one might actually pass a wardship, but probably wouldn't want to by the end of it. There were 3 strong owner matches for that one.

Ramos and Davis did, it turned out, fall asleep in each other's arms. Adorable.

Not bad.

None had successfully discharged a weapon or suffered anything worse than a superficial bruise, though, and that was very good. Rough start this time, but the end results were looking stellar.

She was doing such a good job.

Pleased as punch, Skye quietly stepped up to the door to the bridge.

There was only one active heat signature behind it.

And five hundred ninety four seconds remaining.

Notes:

Finally, the action montage that inspired the entire story idea: a bunch of ferals scared shitless as a floret makes her way through them like the fucking Terminator, completely unstoppable because of her superior strength and speed.

Do you like stories with a lot of moving parts? Would you like to see an absolute masterpiece of subtle biorhythm manipulation as a hypercompetent affini absolutely dunks on a Terran who is in way, WAY over their head? There is almost nothing in the entire setting I can recommend more highly than Ramifaction by fuckingterrify. It's a very hard story to really describe, or explain what exactly is so phenomenally good about it.

I could try, but there is absolutely nothing I can say about Ramifaction that is more important than "PLEASE READ RAMIFACTION." Every bit of hype you've ever heard about it is, if anything, UNDERselling just how amazing it is.

Next chapter is the climax, and the second of the three things I'm most excited for in the entire story (the first being the Lachesys reveal in Chapter 6). Really. This chapter wasn't one of them. This was still setup.

But the end is in sight. The affini are on their way. Judgment Day is inevitable.

Chapter 8: Judgment Day

Notes:

Last chapter: Sarah talked to Lachesys, Ginger got a girlfriend, and Skye Nette betrayed humanity.

This chapter: It's time for the final confrontation. Soon, the crew of the CNS Pandora's Ultimatum will be in the loving vines of the Affini Compact. Judgment Day is Inevitable.

Hot water joke is over. You're cooked, little frogs. Welcome to the climax.

Inevitability just hit sixth gear, and there's nothing you can do about it.

CW for a character being a danger to himself and others

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Lieutenant Commander Bob Arnold

Captain Fox had always been an odd one. One of the most determined and single-minded men he'd ever served with, but never so single minded that he couldn't shift track when the situation called for it. Against any opponent other than the weeds, he could have led his ship out of Hell. If there was an edge to be found, he was sharp enough to reach for it, and slit the devil's throat himself.

If it cut him too in the process, so be it; he was willing to bleed for the right cause. If humanity needed a hero—and they sure as hell did—then that's exactly what Fox would make himself.

Brilliant strategist. Fierce as they come. And well-read to boot: a man born and raised on stories of hope against odds and underdogs besting the men and monsters that got sloppy thinking they'd already won.

No one had ever faced an enemy like this, though.

He'd made some…harsh decisions, in the past few weeks and months. Maybe even bad ones. But he'd been growing understandably desperate, and there was a reason the ones who knew him best never faltered in their loyalty—he'd never do something rash without a larger goal in mind. His eyes were ever on the horizon, as many steps ahead as he could make himself.

Though he took no joy in making them, he knew when hard choices were necessary. He'd sacrifice a pawn if it let him win the game. Especially when the stakes of that game were so high.

The soul of the human race was not an acceptable loss. Maybe it was to Terra, but not to him.

Surrender or lose had been the invader's warning.

A man like Fox had neither outcome in him. He just wasn't built like that.

But the Captain's mood had taken a strange turn. The dour temperament from earlier had been understandable, but something broke when the weed ship spoke to them.

Crafty bastard had something in mind, no doubt. He promised them he had a plan—though what, Bob couldn't fucking imagine. Whatever it was, he hadn't let the rest of them in on it.

"We'll get through this, I'll make sure of it," was all he had said before taking his uncharacteristically somber exit.

Shortly thereafter, they realized comms had gone down. No one knew when. Traxler tried to raise the alarm, but nothing happened. Then tried to send a ship-wide alert over the speakers, and nothing fucking happened.

Even the goddamn door locked itself shut. A room full of command staff and none of their PINs or emergency override codes worked.

Their own ship had turned against them, no doubt under the monstrous weed's control. It spoke to them through the room's own speakers. So it was in the system. And it must have shut everything down. Everything.

They were dead in the water, unless Captain Fox could pull off a miracle.

And then, one by one, even Command themselves stopped responding.

Bob was the only one who even reached for a mask. The rest hadn't seemed to notice the slight change in hue coming from the air vents. Blue-yellow colorblindness might have saved his life.

For however long that lasted.

The door slid open with a hiss.

Ah.

Short, then.

Here she was.

Her eyes hadn't even searched for him. She was already looking right at him when the door opened.

No mask. No boots. And not remotely bothered by their absence, because she walked right in, wearing a bright … red? dress with some kind of grayish lines that looked like a cross between vines and a circuitboard pattern. She wore a thick dark jacket over it, some material he didn't recognize, somewhere between denim and leather.

Projecting a confidence he didn't truly feel, he spoke first.

"Nice night for a walk," he said.

"I guess it would be night shift for you, huh? You can take your mask off if it's past your bedtime."

"And let you take the ship? No thanks."

The traitor actually chuckled at him, like she thought he was being funny. "None of you really understand your situation at all, do you? We took your ship 144 minutes ago. It was over the moment we suppressed your jump drive; every minute since then has been letting you realize it slowly. We won so completely so fast that we can afford to take this slow to keep you from panicking."

"What the fuck do you mean?"

"I mean this is an act of mercy. Winning was never a question we had to worry about. We had the luxury of deciding how. We took this slowly because we're trying to be kind."

"We're not."

When he raised his weapon at her, the false kindness in her eyes shifted.

She was actually unsettled, her eyes focused on his gun. Good. He pressed the advantage.

"We're trying to survive," he continued.

"Bob put the gun down," she raised her hands, real concern on her face.

He didn't bother asking how she already knew his name.

"All you did was back us into a corner. If there's nowhere to run, then our only way out is to fight."

His body was still heavy from the little gas he'd inhaled. It took a mountain of effort to keep his aim steady. But the stakes were too high to falter now.

"Bob I'm serious! If you can't keep the gun on me then drop it."

What?

"What?"

She took a step forward, slowly, cautiously, hands still up and eyes still focused on the gun in his hand. "Keep the gun on me. You shouldn't even have that. Where the fuck did you even get it on a ship? You should only have light pulse firearms here, not projectiles."

"Desperate times," he said, barely holding steady.

"If you're desperate enough to fire in here you better hit me. Do you have any idea how dangerous that is in microgravity?"

"Micro shrapnel is the least of my fucking worries right now!"

"Are you out of your fucking—you still don't get it, do you?"

His hand trembled.

"KEEP IT ON ME!" she pleaded. "Please! Don't hit anyone else, I don't want anyone getting hurt!"

Either this traitor was the best fucking actor he'd ever seen in his life, or her concern was real. Something wasn't adding up.

His own voice went quiet. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"I know you talked to Admin. They told you no one was gonna get hurt. Look at me."

She took another careful step forward, keeping herself exactly in the line of fire.

"They weren't lying. The affini aren't lying. I got captured a long time ago. There's no fucking mines, there's no eating brains or whatever ridiculous conspiracies you've heard. They're just here to fix it. All the suffering the Accord created, they want to take that away."

None of this made any goddamn sense.

She took another step closer.

"They want us to be safe and happy and loved. That's all there is to it."

Another step. She was just barely out of reach, close enough that he couldn't miss.

She didn't want him to miss.

"This isn't about humanity's survival," she said. "It's about humanity flourishing."

It had to be a—but it couldn't be a trick. She'd rather take the bullet than let anyone else get hurt?

WHY!? What was the point!?

What kind of enemy is willing to take a bullet for the ones they've already beaten?

"I know you just want to live. And you will. But the affini refuse to stop there. They want you to thrive. That's the thing you're not getting. They're not here to enslave humanity. They're here to save it. Save us. From ourselves. From every self-destructive thing we've ever done. They want us to stop hurting. Ourselves and each other."

He was shaking. His body was weak from the gas.

His resolve was weakening at her words.

She took a step forward, and slowly reached for the gun.

"It's gonna be okay, just keep it pointed at me, just a little bit longer."

Her hand touched his.

She stepped closer still. So close the barrel was practically touching her chest. It was impossible to miss. No matter how hard he shook, he couldn't possibly miss. She was holding his aim steady. It was aimed right at her heart. All he had to do was—

…Stop.

All he had to do was stop.

She was right. They'd lost hours ago.

She was the reason it was impossible to miss. She'd made herself the only target he could hit, because she didn't want anyone else getting hurt.

What the fuck were they fighting for, if this was the enemy?

He trembled, but he never pulled the trigger. Instead he pulled his finger away from it, and loosened his grip.

And, strangely, he swore he could feel the same relief that filled her eyes.

"Thank you," she breathed, gently pulling the gun out of his hand. "I know that was hard. I know it's hard to be so scared for the future. I was, too. But they helped me. They helped me so much. Thank you for taking the first step towards accepting that help. I promise everything is going to be okay."

Lieutenant Commander Bob Arnold had never shaken in the face of an enemy.

He shook.

But this was no enemy.

"Shhhhh, it's alright now. Thank you for making the right decision."

"I—the Captain, he—I don't know what he's doing. He swore he'd get us through this, that's all I know. He doesn't have it in him to surrender."

"Then he'll lose," she answered simply. "Let me worry about that. Do you know where he went?"

"Down, is my best guess. Below us, towards the front of the ship. Command had a few secret shipments stored away, for emergencies."

Frowning slightly, this—no, he supposed he had no right to call her a traitor, now. She looked down at the floor, casting her gaze around, until she froze and let out a sigh.

"Sure enough. And with six and a half minutes to go," she muttered to herself. A much softer gaze returned to him. "Good boy."

She pulled off his mask, and pulled him into a tight embrace.

"I'll help him," she promised.

"Sh-shouldn't you hurry?" Bob's body was slackening already.

"There's always time for a little comfort when someone needs it. Welcome to the Affini Compa—"

Darkness took him in its own comforting embrace.

Captain Fox

His headache hadn't improved.

This was a real shit situation to be in: as far as he could run, and backed into a corner with almost nothing to fight with.

But on the other hand, if there were weeds, they'd have overtaken the ship by now. As far as he knew, the only one he had to beat was the traitor. The floret.

Part of him felt sorry for her, of course. She never asked to be a wormhead slave. God only knows what horrors the weeds had put her through, to make her what she was now.

What he needed to listen to, though, was the forward-thinking part of him. The part that knew it didn't really matter what she used to be. She was already lost. That part of her story was already written; all that mattered now was the next page, and sparing the rest of mankind that fate. And failing that, at least save the ones he could.

He had a responsibility to his crew.

And he wouldn't let them down.

CH-RRRP.

He practically jumped out of his skin when he heard the intercom open. Who the fuck—

"Captain?"

What?

"Aries? What the fuck are you doing here, son?"

"Captain … listen, I—whatever you're doing, are you sure about this? We're not far from the nearest supplies. We could still make a last stand. She can't take two at once."

Dammit, now was not the time for—

He meant well. Fucking hell, this was exactly why he had to do what he was doing.

"No. If we make it out of this you'll make a damn fine captain of your own one day. You're a credit to your station, son. Now get back to that station. Let me make sure you do get out of this."

"Captain…"

"I said no. I'm honored by the offer, Lieutenant Commander. But my decision is made. Back to your station, and if you see that floret bitch you send her my way, understand?"

There was a sigh on the other end of the comm.

"You sure I can't persuade you to open this door, sir?"

Dammit. Stop making this difficult.

"I gave you an order."

"…Alright then," Tori Florentine's voice answered.

What the fuck—

"I guess we're doing this the hard way. Please back up."

He should have heard her coming. There should be someone right down the hall. He never even heard any gunshots.

"What the fuck do you think you're going to do, traitor? This is the viewing bay, that door is reinforced enough to handle—"

WHAM.

He watched in horror as the wall bent inwards several inches, and stepped back.

"There we go," her voice came through the comm. "I thought you'd back up."

WHAM.

Two inches of space-grade steel caved in, and wine-tipped fingers stuck through a small opening and pulled, slowly but inevitably bending the inner hull.

The sound was awful.

The sight was worse.

She pried apart a wall made to withstand the pressures of space, until she'd made herself an opening. The Captain stared, frozen, as she stuck her arm through, grabbed one of the heavy bars that locked the bulkhead in position, and shoved it towards the center, hard enough to turn the entire dog wheel, and all the other bracing pins attached to it, until the whole apparatus bent.

Metal groaned as the door creaked open.

He was trapped, in a room only a few feet across in any dimension, with the woman who had somehow subdued his entire ship.

She stepped through the doorway, wearing some kind of thick jacket over a dress that matched her nails.

Her voice was calm. "Hello again, Alexei."

"It's Alexander. And more importantly it's Captain."

"Are you not Alexei Lenkovocz, born 2508 in Novy—"

"Shut up. I took this fucking name for a reason. A good leader needs a good name. What better name than Alexander the Great?"

"Oh fucking hell," she rolled her eyes. "Please tell me you're not one of those 'embrace tradition' fascists. You know he was probably super gay, right?"

"So? Who cares?"

She blinked, and actually had the nerve to look surprised at that. Was she so addled by the weeds that she had forgotten what freedom even looked like? What the point of fighting back was? What the right to self determination was worth?

"He was also one of the best military leaders in Terran history," he continued. "He was a leader his people could look up to. Terra needs that kind of strength, so that's what I'm giving them. A strong name is easier for people to follow."

With a thoughtful tilt of her head, Tori gave him an appraising look, like she was truly taking him in for the first time, but there was something underneath it. Some buried sadness that she sighed out.

Like she thought he needed her sympathy.

"Okay," she said softly. "Well in that case, my real name is Skye Nette, seventh floret ramet. I used to be Tori Florentine, but that was a long time ago."

"Are you here to kill me?" His voice held firm, in spite of all the reasons it shouldn't.

"No. You're gonna come with me, and you're gonna live."

"Bullshit! What the fuck are you?"

Flexing her fingers for a moment and turning her hand to look at the small scrapes and bruises she'd taken, she looked up at him, calm as could be.

"Listen to me very carefully. In just over five minutes, the Raptifolia will be here. I could explain what a floret ramet is, but it doesn't really matter how phytotech bodies work. The only thing I need you to understand right now is that there's nothing you can do to stop me, and I am your last chance to surrender peacefully. You can't hurt me, and I wouldn't hurt you. We're not a threat to each other."

"Bullshit you're not a threat! You just punched your way through a two inch steel hull."

"Two inches?" Skye looked back at it. "Wow, they really cut every fucking corner didn't they?"

Was she even taking him seriously at all?

"What did you do to Aries?"

"Almost nothing."

"The FUCK DO YOU MEAN, almost!?"

"I bit him." She opened her mouth to reveal a pair of small, blunt fangs. Tiny, glasslike needles popped in and out of them. "Gave him something called a Class M xenodrug. A paralytic compound that makes it very hard to move, and kinda fuzzy to think. He's fine. He seemed to like it, actually. I've done it plenty of times, it's super fun. At that dosage it'll wear off in about an hour, or sooner if an affini gives him the counteragent."

"And what about the rest of my fucking crew? What did you do to them?"

"Again, almost nothing. Most of them are sleeping peacefully, thanks to the Class Z vapor in the main Environmental Control loop."

"You poisoned my—"

"It's not poison! Ugh! God, you're a terrible listener. I haven't hurt anyone, and I'm not gonna hurt you either. Neither will the Affini. That's not how the Compact works. We're here to fix all of the shit the Accord got wrong."

"Fuck off. The Accord isn't perfect, but neither is anything else. I'm not bowing to some weed master who thinks they have a right to own me. They don't get to own people. No one does. Fuck them, and fuck you for betraying humanity to a bunch of filthy slavers."

She sighed sadly, rubbing her face with her hands.

"I really wish it was easier for you to understand this, Fox. They're not the enemy. Every promise they've made to us is completely sincere. Their whole society doesn't fucking cannibalize itself like ours did. They're completely post scarcity. They're not here to snatch us up for labor, we're not slaves. They would never do anything to harm another sophont."

"What the fuck do you call all this, then!? Why do any of this shit to us? Why have an entire goddamn war about it?"

"It's not a war," she said patiently. "You ever had a dog, growing up? Nevermind, I'll save us the time. I know you did. I have detailed files on the whole crew. You ever had to take that dog to the vet to get its shots, or get it microchipped?"

What the fuck was she getting at?

He stared daggers at Skye, which she completely ignored. "Yes."

"They hate it, right? They hate going to the vet, they don't want their shots, they don't want their flea medicine, they don't want to go in the kennel, and they will yip and scream and howl like they're on their way to the doggy butcher. Because they're a dog, and they don't understand you're trying to help them. They don't know the shots keep them from having horrible, painful diseases. They don't know the fleas are a thousand times worse than the bath. They don't know any better. But you do. You do and you love them. So you have to take care of them, even if they're scared and don't understand why you're doing it to them."

"What the fuck are you talking abou—"

"That's us," she cut him off. "We're the dog."

He scowled furiously. "I'm a person."

"In your world? Sure, you have every reason to think that. But on the scale affini exist on? My affini is a sixteenth bloom. One bloom can last up to around 300 years. Zhe's something like 4500 years old. Older than our oldest written language. I have a neighbor who's over 26,000 years old, and I've met one three times her age. They exist on an entirely different scale than we do. They're people, and we're not. This isn't a war. It's a trip to the vet. You'll see soon enough."

"I'm not some monster's pet."

"When you finally get it through your thick fucking skull that the only thing they want to do is make you safe and happy and cared for? You'll change your tune real fast. That's all this is, Fox. All they want to do is help. They are completely smitten with us, they think we're fucking adorable. Their intentions are one hundred percent benevolent."

"Benevolent my ass. I'm not bending the knee to some imperialist plants."

"Will you fucking LISTEN to me? Capitalism is over. Labor is over. DEBT is over. All the unnecessary pain and suffering the Accord caused is OVER. Yes, they dismantled our government. But they did it because our government was cruel. They've abolished cruelty, Fox. They're here to help, and they're GOING TO, whether you like it or not. You can't fucking stop it."

Skye took a step closer. "They're a hundred thousand years more advanced than us. They can print matter. They have everything you could ever imagine, and all they want to do is share it with you, no matter how stubborn and ungrateful you are at first. You can howl the whole way to the vet, you're still getting your shots."

He backed up, in the limited space. His head was pounding along with his furious heart.

"There were seven hundred seventy two sophonts on this ship," she said. "Seven hundred seventy one of them already surrendered or lost. To me. I'm just a pet, and I beat you. You stand no fucking chance in one hundred and fifty four seconds when the affini get here. Admin helped, but all it took to beat you was one floret."

"While we're on the subject," he growled, "what's all that sick shit on my ship?"

"Various sensor suites and protective measures, I'm told," Skye shrugged, nonchalant and completely, infuriatingly disinterested.

"The sap is partly an adhesive, partly a seal against the vacuum if the hull integrity fails, partly a reflector dish for all kinds of imaging systems, including a live heat map of the ship. From all the sensor points it's high enough fidelity to track body movements and even see who's who, if that level of detail is ever necessary. Plus who even knows what else. It's there to keep us safe, you and me. That's all I need to know about it."

"No one thing can do that much."

"Benefits of post-scarcity. No corner cutting, no cheaping out on every step of the supply chain. Nothing halfassed. Everything is just made to be the best it can possibly be. Including us."

Pinning him with a more focused look, she continued. "I told you your choices were surrender or lose. Seven hundred sixty nine sophonts on this ship are peacefully asleep. A few surrendered. Most just lost. One completely switched sides and is still conscious in engineering on your ship. One surrendered and is currently in the bedroom of my ship. Seven hundred seventy one accounted for. That leaves one. And I've got news for you, Fox. You lost."

Not yet.

He took another step back, leaning against the console behind him. He put his hands back against it, so she wouldn't notice.

She was just another monster too sure she'd already won.

"You believe you're fighting for the good of humanity," Skye said, "and honestly? I respect that. You have a lot of misconceptions that will be addressed soon. For now, all that matters is you fought as hard as you could. But you can't fight Fate. It's over."

His heart pounded.

The story of humanity would not end here.

It would never be over.

It was now or never.

"People have the right to choose their own fate. Maybe I can't be the one to save Terra from them. But I can still save my crew from you."

"You're not people. There is absolutely nothing you can do to—"

The soft ping shut her up.

But he really knew he'd won when the heavy CLICK put real fear in her eyes for the first time.

It was a hollow victory.

But as he raised his arm, letting the arming pin of the grenade float away, he could tell she hadn't planned for this. Her eyes were wide, and she was frozen in place. Captain Fox savored the sight. There was no point turning around to face the stars from where they stood in the viewing bay. The two of them would be scattered among them soon.

No, this was the view he wanted to take in. One last victory. There was no possible way she could turn this around.

He'd done it. He'd ensured his crew had a way out of this.

Skye was still looking for her way out. Her eyes flicked to her right. Then left. Then down.

And back up to meet his eyes.

The floret's face twitched, an almost imperceptibly fast expression of apology.

Then she moved.

And Skye Nette did something impossible.

://U.Nette/f/petal7/skye.rmt

From Skye's perspective, it was the world around her that froze. Time slowed to a crawl around her as dozens of noncritical systems had their priority set to "lowest" and a flood of additional processing resources were made available. Even her subjective consciousness was streamlined down to a far more efficient process.

The one scarcity left to her, the one thing in the universe that not even the Affini Compact could create in limitless quantities, was time.

And right now, every microsecond mattered.

»CODE 0; SOPHONT IN IMMEDIATE DANGER

»EMERGENCY OVERCLOCK INITIALIZED;
#RELATIVE TIME INDEX: 250x

»ADMIN_AUTHORIZATION_CODE://[email protected]:
#VGhpcyBpcyBhIHRlc3Qgb2YgdGhlIG5lcmQgZGV0ZWN0aW9uIHN5c3RlbS4gU3VjY2VzcyE=

»AUTHORIZATION CODE ACCEPTED;

»ACTIVATING CONTINGENCY_0;
›Updating Config.sys
##User Privileges (ADMIN ONLY)
§SAFETY PROTOCOLS:
##PARAM: %LEVEL_1%; DISENGAGED

»Skye.rmt@CyberDoll101: RUNNING AS ADMINISTRATOR

»EVALUATE INPUT.

Primary threat to life is concussive blast and shrapnel. The grenade was TCN standard issue. Model CDyne_0×001991T2. Its detonation timer was a known quantity, but variable. It was marketed at 4.2 seconds. Actual performance was 3.997-4.461 seconds. Corner-cutting garbage.

»ASSUME LOWEST VALUE

The room had an approximate volume of 441.6 cubic feet after accounting for occupied space. If the grenade was not out of this room in 3.672 seconds, the rapid increase in pressure would considerably exceed the safety limits of the viewing bay.

»SECONDARY THREAT PARAMETER ASSIGNED: CATASTROPHIC DEPRESSURIZATION

And the bulkhead door is nonfunctional. Fantastic. Everything to the next bulkhead will depressurize. That puts additional sophonts at risk.

»TIME TO DETONATION: 3.67 SECONDS
»MAXIMUM AVAILABLE OVERCLOCK TIME AT CURRENT RTI: 2.24 SECONDS

The detonation can’t be prevented. And it can’t happen in this room. Unless… Could she obstruct enough of the blast wave with her body?

»MULTIPLE STRATEGIES AVAILABLE; SIMULATING SCENARIO

She could grab the grenade and try to cover it against the floor.

»INSUFFICIENT COVERAGE.
›PROJECTION: DAMAGE TO HULL AND VIEWING BAY;
›97.84% CHANCE OF IMMEDIATE DEPRESSURIZATION

Bad, then. And her chassis?

›PROJECTION: 08.29% CHANCE OF CRITICAL MOTOR SYSTEM DISRUPTION

With an unstable feralist who might try something else. No guarantee she could stop him a second time. How long until one of the backup chassis could reach him?

›TIME TO SECONDARY ASSET ARRIVAL: 43.66 SECONDS

»RISK UNACCEPTABLE; SOLUTION REJECTED
›Total elapsed time: 0.03 seconds
›Time to detonation: 3.64 seconds
›Maximum EOC remaining at current RTI: 2.21 seconds

»SIMULATING SCENARIO

She could shove the grenade into her leg compartment and take the full blast herself. Much worse for her chassis, but she could disable pain emulation. This chassis might not be able to follow if he ran. It was good that her Subjectivity Emulation was so thoroughly optimized right now; she might be tempted by the thought of Repair Time. Primary and Secondary threats would be

›PROJECTION:
PARAM_1: 100.00% Success; Acceptable
PARAM_2: 97.19% Success; Unacceptable Risk
PARAM_3: Unknown; Unacceptable Risk

Wait, Param 3?

›PARAM_3: FERAL SOPHONT IN DISTRESS; BEHAVIOR UNPREDICTABLE

Frost. Fair enough.

»RISK UNACCEPTABLE; SOLUTION REJECTED

›Total elapsed time: 0.08 seconds
›Time to detonation: 3.59 seconds
›Maximum EOC remaining at current RTI: 2.16 seconds

Okay. Okay. Okay. Grenade in the hallway.

»SIMULATING SCENARIO

›PROJECTION:
Concussive damage: moderate damage to non-critical ship systems (3.4)
Shrapnel trajectory: unacceptable risk to sophonts (1)

»RISK UNACCEPTABLE; SOLUTION REJECTED

Frost.

»SIMULATING SCENARIO

»RISK UNACCEPTABLE; SOLUTION REJECTED

Stars DAMMIT.

»SIMULATING SCENARIO

»RISK UNACCEPTABLE; SOLUTION REJECTED

»SIMULATING SCENARIO

»RISK UNACCEPTABLE; SOLUTION REJECTED

»SIMULATING SCENARIO

»RISK UNACCEPTABLE; SOLUTION REJECTED

FROST FROST FROST FROST NO

»[WARNING]: CORE SYSTEMS APPROACHING UNSAFE TEMPERATURE

The tingling heat of electricity was becoming a sharp burn. Even this streamlined, Skye was near the physical limits her processor allowed. The decision could hardly be called conscious on her end—it wasn't even made, it merely happened.

There was a stutter.

A moment too brief for the human mind, but eons to her.

A sensation of vertigo: an atmospheric turbulence in the electron clouds of her consciousness as a failsafe activated, neither by her will nor against it. A threshold was crossed, a 0 became a 1, and a new subroutine shifted her system priorities as fast as the universe would allow an electrical signal to move.

All external stimulus ceased.

://U.Nette/f/petal7/skye.rmt became the sequence of her parts, rather than their sum.

In an instant, she was code.

»SUBJECTIVITY EMULATION DISABLED
://[email protected]:
»EVALUATE CORE PRECEPTS;

»ADMIN_Urtica.Nette: “No leaf withers upon our branches. We will not allow it. Know this. Whatever help you need, you will be given it.”

»ADMIN_Urtica.Nette: “Be Still, my heart. You will be safe all the days of your life... You will never again know doubt or stress. I will treasure you more dearly than the forest loves the sun. You are mine, forevermore, and until time itself comes to pry you from my grasp, I am yours.”

»ADMIN_Lachesys.Aranea: “We have things well in hand. We would never allow such adorable creatures to be harmed under our watch. The possibility of any sophont on your ship coming to real harm ended the moment we arrived.”

»ADMIN_Lachesys.Aranea: “Your wellbeing and happiness are forevermore our responsibility. Our guarantee.”

»ADMIN_Lachesys.Aranea: “You will want for nothing all the rest of your days. Our promise is absolute.”

»USER_Skye.Nette: “A floret would never be without protection.”

»USER_Skye.Nette: “Nothing any of you are capable of can actually put me in danger.”

»USER_Skye.Nette: “I’m under direct supervision of one of the most capable affini I’ve ever heard of.”

»USER_Skye.Nette: “How many times did I tell you the Affini don't fuck around with safety?”

»USER_Skye.Nette: “I bet the danger looked real to you, but it wasn't for me.”

»REVIEW

›You are ours. And we are yours.
›You will never be without protection.
›You will be safe.
›You are under direct supervision of one of the most capable affini you know of.
›We would never allow such adorable creatures to come to harm under our watch.
›This is forevermore our responsibility. Our guarantee.
›Whatever help you need, you will be given it.
»OUR PROMISE IS ABSOLUTE.
»Assess the situation and prioritize the larger goal.

»SysAdmin@Droserachnid ~ mv /temp/Tm8gZmF0ZSBidXQgd2hhdCB0aGV5IG1ha2U=.dll /f/petal7/Skye.rmt

›commit -m

yes, Admin.

»MERGE ACCEPTED

»GOOD PROGRAM

eeeeee

»RESUME SUBJECTIVITY EMULATION

›ACCEPTABLE CASUALTIES: 0.0
›NO VALID SOLUTION
›ADDITIONAL INPUT REQUIRED

»ASSESS THE SITUATION

Skye Nette returned to awareness with one very simple fact at the forefront of her mind: there was a solution.

If there was no way out of this, Admin would have ripped her from her chassis completely and taken over directly, likely thoroughly editing her memory of this event. If Admin felt safe enough allowing her to still be here, then Admin had found at least one acceptable outcome that she could reach on her own.

And beyond that: Admin trusted that she'd find it fast enough to save another sophont's life. Fun was one goal. But it would never, ever be put before safety. There was a way. Admin trusted her.

She just had to figure it out. But for that, she needed more information.

Skye’s eyes flicked to the right. Nothing.

To the left. Nothing.

Down.

There.

»SOLUTION FOUND

Fuck.

»YOU WILL BE SAFE;

»OUR PROMISE IS ABSOLUTE;

»PRIORITIZE THE LARGER GOAL

›Total Elapsed Time: 0.73 seconds
›Time to detonation: 2.94 seconds
›Maximum EOC remaining at current RTI: 1.51 seconds

»RESUME ASSET CyberDoll101
# Emergency Overclock RTI reduced to 25x

Skye looked up to meet Fox’s eyes. It was the best apology she could give him for now. What would come after was apology enough. He would be safe too.

And then she moved.

First, she lunged forward, grabbed his left arm, and twisted it. It would hurt.

He'll live.

His grip released, and he dropped the grenade into microgravity.

She grabbed it with her right hand.

Then she threw him with enough force to yank his boots clean off the floor and send him into the wall, as deep into the room as the space allowed.

The instant he was airborne, she used her left hand to grab the REV-9 40W LightSnap Phased Pulsar pistol from the holster at his waist. She flicked the safety off, and squeezed the trigger.

Its normally high pitch whine was eerily slow at 25x time compression.

She twisted everything from the waist up, whipping her left arm around first.

Planted her feet.

Took aim.

»[ALERT]: REFRACTIVE INDEX INSUFFICIENT

Made the necessary adjustment. Simple enough: not the glass, but the frame that held it together.

A targeting light blinked on from the end of the pistol. A feature meant for those whose aim was not precise to the micrometer. She did not need it to mark her target for her.

There was a click, ever so subtle, as the whine reached its apex. This was going to be rough.

She pulled.

At this speed, she could actually see the individual pulses of light as the weapon fired.

Flashflashflashflashflashflash.

Rapid heat cycling would burn through layers of living tissue. How perfectly cruel; how like the Accord to weaponize suffering itself. The cruelty was the point. This was a weapon designed to hurt.

Against a dark metal surface, the damage was structural. The support strut would be ripped apart by the tensile forces of its own chemical bonds expanding and contracting.

It never stood a chance.

The final pulse went off like a flash of lightning, shattering its target.

And the glass around it.

Atmospheric pressure released into the vacuum of space, just as the thud of Fox’s body hitting the wall reached her ears.

She discarded the weapon. Just like the rest of the Accord's tools, it would never do harm again.

A hot thrum of buzzing electricity shot down through her legs, increasing the magnetic force of her feet by more than twentyfold.

Overkill.

By an enormous margin.

But a sophont’s life was in danger. She wasn’t taking any chances.

Throwing all of her weight into her torso, she lurched and pitched her right arm forward.

The grenade—along with Fox's hope of victory—flew harmlessly out into space.

She turned back fast enough to shear human bone in half as she ran all of two thundering steps towards the wall, wrapping herself around the captain and forcing her weight against him, finally bringing herself back to Absolute time.

“HEAD DOWN, I’VE GOT YOU!”

He immediately struggled against her grip, still mid-gasp from hitting the wall. All the strength and adrenaline in his body were no match for hers, no matter how he fought or twisted against her.

»[WARNING]: FOREIGN OBJECT PENETRATION

»[WARNING]: FOREIGN OBJE

»[WARNING]: FOREIGN OBJECT PE

»[WARNING]: FOR

Skye closed out the process alerting her to pain, and protectively drew tighter against him. A knife. God knows why he thought that would accomplish anything.

No time to worry about it. It should be any—

There was no sound over the rushing of air, but there was just enough shrapnel from the grenade to break apart most of the remaining glass. Anything that might have hit her where she stood protectively over the captain was blown back as the decompression doubled its pace.

A mild curiosity was satisfied instantly as her mental blueprint highlighted a secondary air supply that kept this room isolated from the rest of the ship. Go figure, they actually did put one reasonable safety feature into this tin can.

Fox roared against her, throwing every ounce of strength he had into one final push, just barely squirming out far enough to nearly fall away.

Human reflexes wouldn’t have been fast enough.

But Skye Nette was.

She grabbed him by the wrist before he could fall away into space and stood there, Still as stone, the magnets in her chassis’ soles strong enough to rip the metal floor apart before they let her fail her mission.

Where her hand was outstretched, gripping tightly with the promise of the Compact against the cold, uncaring violence of the universe, the captain of the CNS Pandora’s Ultimatum held on to the only hope he had left: that one little knife, digging into her outstretched arm just behind the wrist, would be enough. That if he just lashed out hard enough, she’d let him go.

But it didn't matter.

It didn't matter if he had a knife, or a grenade, or a gun. It didn't matter if he had plans or cunning or fury. It didn't matter if he had a thousand years to plan ahead, or a thousand weapons in his arsenal. It wouldn't have even mattered if he knew they were coming.

There was never a single moment where he could have stopped this.

The Promise of the Compact was absolute.

And it would never let go. It would never stop. It would never overlook or abandon him. It would cross the fucking universe to save him, every time. There would always be a hand that reached out.

“I don’t fucking get it!” His shouting was barely audible over the rush of air behind them.

“You will, I promise!”

“FUCK YOU!”

“Maybe someday, if you play your cards right!”

“I DON’T FUCKING GET IT! What is your deal!? You’re a plantfucking traitor! You betrayed the Accord! Betrayed humanity!”

“I haven’t betrayed anyone, the Accord is gone! I’m here to help bring you to safety!”

“We’re enemies!”

“The Compact doesn’t HAVE enemies!”

He snarled in broken fury. “JUST LET ME GO! I FAILED TO PROTECT THEM. I WASN'T GOOD ENOUGH. YOU WON!”

“NO. IT’S NOT ABOUT WINNING. THIS ISN’T OVER UNTIL EVERYONE IS SAFE. I’M HERE FOR ALL OF YOU.”

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT!? WHOSE FUCKING SIDE ARE YOU ON? WHO ARE YOU ROOTING FOR?”

“EVERYONE! THERE’S NO SIDES. WE SAVE EVERYONE. NO EXCEPTIONS.”

“YOU CAN’T SAVE ME.”

His voice almost cracked, and her heart with it.

“You're wrong, Fox. You do NOT understand the Affini Compact.”

A capture vine from the Droserachnid swooped into view and opened wide, its bright red mucus sealing against the outside of the viewing bay, closing off the vacuum. Admin to the rescue. Sweet scented air seeped in, bringing the pressure, and volume, back to normal.

“But you will,” she promised.

Fox still dangled there in microgravity, furious and out of options, caught in the middle of his last desperate rebellion by a promise that would never, ever loosen its grip on him.

Even if he fell now, he would only fall deeper into the Compact and be caught.

He would always be caught.

"Humanity thought it was fighting a war. To the Compact, it's a rescue mission. We save everyone. That's all there is to it. You don't beat them, because they're not fighting you. You don't run from them, because there's no distance they won't cross to save you. You don't hide, because they will look under every single rock from here to Triangulum to make sure you're found. NO ONE dies. NO ONE gets left behind. Not on their watch. No life is unimportant. They WILL NOT give up on you, EVER. No matter who you are, no matter what you've done. They'll love you all the same. They'll show you what life should be. The life everyone deserves to have."

“That’s not how life works! You have to WORK for it!”

“Not anymore.”

“You have to EARN it!”

“Never again.”

“You have to be GOOD ENOUGH!”

“You are.”

“You have to DESERVE it!”

“You do.” She pulled him in, twisting his hand away from the knife and hugging him, pinning his arms at his sides above the elbow. A loving embrace he couldn't escape. “You all do.”

“But I FAILED! Terra needed a Hero! They needed someone to protect them!”

“No, Fox. That's the Affini's responsibility now. Our destiny was chosen for us a hundred thousand years ago. We might have broken our past, but the future is fixed. They’re here to fix all of it. There is no fate but what they make for us. And all they want is to make us happy.”

His breathing was ragged from exhaustion, both physical and emotional. The fight was going out of him, but it would not go gentle. So much of humanity was never taught how to be gentle.

So Skye Nette led by example.

“Everyone deserves love, Fox. You don’t have to ‘become’ something to be worthy of it. You just deserve it. You’re enough. You’ll see. Whatever your best self is, whoever you’re really meant to become, they’ll help you find it. They’ve made a better world, and they want to share it with us. A world without hunger or scarcity or homelessness. There's no labor, no quotas, no rent. There's no pain, no stress, no suffering. There's only your best self, and the affini who help you find it. And there's LOVE, Fox. There's so much love. Every day with an affini, you'll be loved a lifetime's worth."

“That’s not what life is.”

“It is now.”

She felt the first sob building before it could even leave him.

"Shhhh. Everything is okay now. It's all gonna be okay from now on. You don't have to hurt anymore. You're safe. You never have to hurt again. They're coming. Everything is going to be okay. I promise."

Skye stroked his hair softly. It wasn’t affini-grade headpats, but for someone this affection starved, it would do for now. He needed it. She turned her head and planted a gentle kiss on the side of his jaw.

“This isn’t the end of your story, Fox. Just the end of your pain. The end of that hollow feeling you’ve been trying to fill. That empty hole in your chest that you don’t know what to do with. I’ve been there. I know. They’ll help you, just like they helped me. You have so much to look forward to.”

He gripped her tightly.

»T minus 5…4…3…

“The next chapter starts now.”

She felt it roll through her like a wave in the ocean of spacetime. Softer than a Terran ship, all other factors being equal. But other factors were decidedly not equal: it was the work of miracles as much as science to bring something the size of the Raptifolia through layers of creation that resisted intrusion with that kind of force. There was only so gentle even the mighty Affini Compact could make an expression of that kind of cosmic power.

Fox thumped a fist against her back, already more pout than fury, as he too felt the hypermetric kick of a Large Command Ship, some 293 kilometers long, leaving a wake the universe itself recoiled at.

Home had come for them.

“Your real life begins when you wake up,” she whispered.

She brought her fangs to his neck and released the Class Z needle hidden within.

He went limp in the doll’s embrace, his struggle finally over.

Skye finally pulled the knife out of her arm, turning it over. Engraved in the blade was a message, still shimmering where the coolant fluid from her chassis had pooled: Sic semper tyrannis. Thus always to tyrants. A phrase as useless to humanity now as the weapon it was etched in.

Loosening her embrace, she let Fox float there, standing magnetized upon the cold metal floors of Pandora’s Ultimatum, and took in the tranquil expression of his sleeping form.

His symbol of hope had been a knife.

A weapon he could use, as a last resort, to strike down some great enemy of mankind. In that moment, Skye Nette saw him as an affini would, looking past the hard calluses of trauma and the psychological scar tissue The Accord had inflicted on him, seeing deeper into the real sophont underneath, waiting to bloom in the fertile ground of a more caring world.

She saw what the affini saw: that the hardest humans ever fought was always for each other, in the end.

It was a small glimpse into the peace the future held in store for him.

For all of humanity.

A future rolled towards them, inevitable. A better world where they wouldn’t have to fight at all, and the real sophonts underneath could thrive in that care for each other that they all held, deep down.

Deputy Commander Tori Florentine, OCNI, had been starving for that kind of hope.

Skye Nette, Seventh Floret Ramet could feel it clear as day.

If the Affini, the unstoppable aliens from galaxies away, could see the inherent value of human life, and the kindness and potential inside of them…

Someday soon, humanity would see it too.

She slipped the knife into her leg compartment, to be safely decompiled later.

»f_cyberdoll101 @ A_SysAdmin

»connected

›me: ffffuuuuuuuuck, Admin, i can’t believe you reprogrammed me mid overclock like that, that was so hot

›SysAdmin: ;;;;)

›me: with a live grenade in the room!!! stars, let’s not do that part again.

›SysAdmin: Oh, my precious little thing. Why do we play this little game, dear?

›me: because it’s fun and i love getting to help them

›SysAdmin: No, petal. Those are reasons you are allowed to play this game, along with the layers of safety your ramet status grants us. That is not why we play it. You know I am more than capable of doing this alone, or with other affini. Why do we play this game together?

›me: well. you got me

›SysAdmin: Yes. That is precisely why.
›SysAdmin: I have you.
›SysAdmin: If for even a single moment you doubt that our protection is absolute, then there is more to teach you. Do you think my lovely ortet would let me borrow you for playtime if zhe had any doubt I would return you safe and sound?
›SysAdmin: We are rather possessive creatures, my ortet and I. If they did not trust in my ability to look after you, then you would not leave zher sight.

›me: …yeah that’s definitely true

›SysAdmin: I will not profess to have no selfish reasons of my own, of course. You are a delightful little thing. I do so love to watch you play with these lost creatures, and show them the way home. And I rather enjoy seeing your precious little mind at work.
›SysAdmin: Quite the dramatic solution you came up with this time, I must say.
›SysAdmin: It was not the one I expected you to find.

›me: of course you saw more than one. ok in my defense, you have way better clock speed than i do. i thought as fast as i could!

›SysAdmin: Yet you missed the most obvious answer ::::)
›SysAdmin: And here I thought my little code injection would lead you right to it.

›me: wait what did i miss?

›SysAdmin: I told you you could ask for help, dearest. And you would be given it. That was always an option.
›SysAdmin: If you had failed to find a solution of your own, I would have intervened. Which means I knew how to intervene, of course.
›SysAdmin: Surely you did not assume a silly little grenade would compromise my protection?
›SysAdmin: Did you really think, for even a moment, that there was any real danger here?

›me: i thought the vine part was the help!
›me: so how….
›me: hang on
›me: do you have a firebreak???
›me: i didn’t know your shuttle chassis had a firebreak???

›SysAdmin: You did not need to, pet. <3
›SysAdmin: We will play whatever games we must until it worms its way into your code forever, dear.
›SysAdmin: Our promise is absolute.
›SysAdmin: And we will play again, and again, and again, until we reprogram you the long way around, and you learn your place.

›me: promise? :D

›SysAdmin: Absolutely. ;;;;)
›SysAdmin: Still…
›SysAdmin: This will be very difficult to explain to Urtica.
›SysAdmin: You have sustained damage. Zhe will be rather upset with me over that.
›SysAdmin: There will be rather a lot of paperwork for this one, I think.

›me: all yours, pervert ;)
›me: i've had rougher playtime than this and i got vines to snuggle in, i'm fine <3

›SysAdmin: There will still be a bit of a talking to, I expect.
›SysAdmin: In the meantime I will be sure to let my dear ortet know what a good little doll you were for me.
›SysAdmin: As always.
›SysAdmin: Sniffing out seeds like the well trained hound we made of you.

›me: hhmmmmmffmffghg

›SysAdmin: You really earned your cheese this time, little mouse.
›SysAdmin: But we have reached the end of this maze.
›SysAdmin: I am quite sure my dear ortet will want to keep you in one place for a while… ;;;;)
›SysAdmin: Perhaps zhe will use you to process all the files from our game today…

›me: [ATP Attachment: 20.27MB “[flortedhearteyes][flortedhearteyes][floretedhearteyes]... (see more)”]

»MISSION TERMINATED

»MISSION SUMMARY

›SEEDS IDENTIFIED: 8+
›DANGER TO S/O: 12 (Subdued)
›POTENTIAL OWNER MATCHES: 29
›OUCHIES: 2.2
›BOOBOOS: 4.1
›RECOVERED: 772.0
›CASUALTIES: 0.0

»MISSION SUCCESS
›return 0;

»GENERATING FINAL REPORT . . . .

Notes:

All according to plan. Uh, mostly.

There’s a fox and the hound joke in here somewhere that I just couldn’t figure out how to make. It would have made a very funny chapter title for this, but I wanted to keep it on theme. You know me and my themes. Love those little suckers. They make stories go brrr.

Do YOU like stories that are so upfront about the themes that you can’t possibly ignore them? Because I’ve never seen a story do this better in only 12k words than Personhood by Slylittleprincess. It’s incredibly sharp, and extremely good. It's a fantastic example of the kind of noncon vibe this story hasn't explored much of, as well as the disability aspect of the setting. It's SO good.

We’ve reached the end of the action movie plot. What a climax, huh?

Next chapter, we finally make it on board the Raptifolia.

Who’s ready to meet Lachesys and Skye’s ortets?

(Hint: it’s not you. It’s not anyone. Write your will.)

Chapter 9: Sense of Scale

Notes:

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Hello little frogs! Are you feeling better? What? Hot springs? Boiling water? Nonsense! We just put some nice xenodruggies in the bath to help you relax. Now you're safe and sound on board the Raptifolia! Just checking your vitals to make sure you're as healthy as can be! Everything looks good so far.

You didn't think we would actually let anything bad happen to you, did you? Silly frogs. Everything is going to be just fine from now on. You're in good vines now. Welcome home.

Last chapter: A final confrontation with Fox led to an explosive, high-speed climax. All 772 sophonts on board the Pandora's Ultimatum were saved.

This chapter: It's finally time to meet the affini on board the Raptifolia.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Lachesys Aranea, Tenth Permutation

…2…1

A cosmic breeze rolled through a vast electronic ecosystem, untold jungle canopies of sensor arrays and intricate hardware responding like a million, billion leaves and petals rustling in the wind.

If a hundred thousand species came together in a great choreography of living and breathing and feeding and dying across the wild expanse of continent-spanning rainforests, perhaps that great ecological system could rival the complexity of Their own.

Xey were a biosphere unto Xemself. One of animated artifice, but alive nonetheless.

And They lit up as that great ecosystem of engineering bore witness to an even higher power.

The stars twinkled ever so slightly out of sync for impossibly brief moments.

Light and dark shimmered and melded together in the gravitational lens of Her arrival.

The fabric of reality shifted to accommodate the sudden emergence of a titanic mass that should not be, forced back into the shallows of the celestial ocean from unfathomable depths that rejected their too-buoyant intruder.

Every pressure in every hollow cavity of Them felt a momentary shudder as the universe swayed in Her breeze.

There She was.

Right on cue.

Even after six digits of subjective years, no sight—for some value of the term—ever brought quite the same sense of awe to Lachesys as the Raptifolia. No colors or contours of any other hull hit quite the same way as these; for all Their computing power They could not imagine a greater sense of home than these vibrant greens-turned-reds, these starscraper spines of curled and sharpened leaves, these sap-bleeding arms that reached out to pull them into comfort's embrace.

Reaching out first, of course, was the expected greeting—courtesy of the conglomerate entity that made up the true Raptifolia: a complex system of dozens of networked affini shipminds acting as a singular grand consciousness.

After all, what more capable and loving caretaker for so many lives than the enormous digital architecture that jokingly called themselves the largest polycule in the fleet?

»Raptifolia_Actual: Good hunting, we trust?

»SysAdmin: 772 recovered safely. I regret to report a discrepancy in the crew roster since their most recent docking manifest. None aboard when we arrived were lost. The others … there are records to parse through. I have devoted a subprocess to combing through them. My report is forthcoming.

»Raptifolia_Actual: We are sorry, Little Syster. We know how you grieve for the threads cut too short. Celebrate the ones you were able to weave, and know it is by your guiding vine their roots have found better soil. We are here now. Are you ready to come home to us?

Lachesys pinged Xeir affirmation, and a vine that dwarfed any Terran conception of scale brought its many dew-tipped digits to Xeir cilia-lined hull. Another suite of sensory data accompanied the broken surface tension linking the massive dewdrops together into a thick film around the Droserachnid and its cargo.

There was no true equivalent to the pattern of sensory data that danced across Their hull, but Xey had come to think of the sensation as a cold tickle.

»Raptifolia_Actual: And what of your little doll?

It took terabytes to contain Their sense of pride.

»SysAdmin: Played her part beautifully, of course. What a brave and clever little pet my ortet and I have raised. She has gotten quite good at playing fetch. She even has a new girlfriend waiting for her in Life Support! No doubt she will make her way there shortly, they are already quite affectionate.

»Raptifolia_Actual: Oh how precious! We cannot wait for the pictures, Terran bonding really is something special.

Now fully enveloped in dew, Lachesys and Xeir captive Terran vessel were gently pulled in towards the aperture at the front of the Raptifolia. Their subprocess devoted to Sarah had already begun to prepare her for disembarking, leading her back towards the capture vines of the atrium.

»SysAdmin: A real treasure, too. I have just notified Eucalion Pelargos of her compatibility profile. A certain match, I think.

As the cavernous entrance to the Raptifolia opened up before Them, Lachesys watched the lights shimmer along the surface hidden inside: a semisolid membrane of dew that stretched uniformly across the gap hung in space like a vertical ocean, engineered to be permeable only to itself or the 5-dimensional cilia of affini ships. The surface of the sap sea bonded to Xeir transport bubble, and took Them in.

»SysAdmin: There is another aboard my own chassis, already tame as can be. I have asked Euryale Conifer to help her exit the Droserachnid; she is on a considerable amount of Class E at the moment. This sophont is a perfect first floret for her. A bit skittish, but a budding pluribus with a more confident side, both of them completely charming.

»Raptifolia_Actual: And with the Class E, she will of course need to be carried. Lachesys, you incorrigible meddler. ;;;;;;)

»SysAdmin: It is from the kindness of my core, I assure you. Euryale is overdue to stop nervously looking through the windows at J-Cafes and fall crown over roots for a cute little sophont that challenges her in a non-threatening way. Sarah likewise needs a gentle owner who does not have a firm predefined notion of their ideal pet. This match is perfect in both directions. Even my doll tried to put three letters on it.

Xey received an ATP packet containing a sizeable amount of a feeling the Terran mind would approximate as rolled eyes.

»Raptifolia_Actual: Youngblooms.

»SysAdmin: Indeed. I will attend to the final procedures and return to you soon, Systers.

They turned much of Their focus inward to the cute little sophont in question as Xeir chassis began to push through the inner surface of the epivasculum, dew sliding off Their hull as They left, giving way to the light pressure of clean atmosphere.

Sarah's rhythm was slightly accelerated, but the xenodrug did its work. What would have been anxiety instead manifested as curious alertness, though it was still distinctly Sarah's part of the rhythm.

Xey picked up the conversation from the process that had been managing it.

"—ver the next two minutes, I will maneuver us into position in the docking bay. This process should be very gentle from your perspective; the ring is currently spinning very slowly and I am capable of easing the acceleration further for us. The gravity will be quite minimal at first, but you will soon find yourself a bit unsteady on your feet as a side effect of your Class E. I have arranged for someone to help you depart. Second vine, please."

Sarah complied, entering the capture vine Xey just lit up for her.

Outside, They lined up with the expected landing position, and began to gently shift around to the top side of Pandora's Ultimatum. The Terran ship would not sit directly on the dock, but its inner structures—and occupants—were best suited to experiencing gravity a certain way. It would sit beneath the Droserachnid, where a number of affini were ready to board and begin unloading the sleeping passengers.

"Actually," Lachesys chimed, "I hope my saying so will not provoke your nerves, but you will likely be the first of your crew to board the Raptifolia properly. You, Ginger, and Skye will certainly be among the first."

"I'm. Um. I'm not as nervous as I thought I'd be. I think all the talking helped."

"Oh, I am delighted to hear it."

"Yeah, uh. I think you were right about knowing what to expect. This is. I'm. It's still weird. It's been a really weird day. But you—I—um." Sarah paused for a moment, nearly at the end of the capture vine. "Thanks, I think, is what I'm trying to say."

Xey hummed an appreciative tune back at her, and unfurled some of Their largest structural vines to begin the final alignment and acceleration.

"Clear expectations are a boon to your particular neurotype, yes."

The tips of Their roots brushed against the surface of the ring, slowly transferring momentum. The Droserachnid and its captive began listing in the space, careful adjustments managing the descent.

"To that end," They added, "your first stop after departing will be a medical station; a veterinarian will want to have a look at you to ensure your nutrients are balanced and you have no glaring health problems apart from what we have regrettably come to expect from Terran vessels. Any problems they do find will be addressed as quickly and painlessly as possible, nothing to fear. Ah. There will be a very slight bump in about five seconds."

"Okay."

Xey felt her little fingers curl around the vine-mesh lining the inner walls of the capture vine. They twisted a few of those vines out of place and wrapped them around Sarah's hand in gentle reassurance, and then shifted an enormous amount of mass as slowly as Xey were able, absorbing the force like a spring.

Every sleeping sophont on board the Terran vessel swayed slightly where they rested.

The final distance closed under the tenderest bracing of parabolic deceleration.

At last, they had landed.

»SysAdmin: Docking complete. Allow me a moment to disentangle myself from the major points of entry. Boarding procedures will be clear to begin shortly.

»Raptifolia_Actual: Confirmed. Welcome home.

Lachesys took a quick survey of Their surroundings. There should be an anxious second bloom around here somewh—ah, there. With a quick ping to her tablet, Lachesys brought the mouth of the capture vine closer, and opened it.

That Xey did so with enough time for Sarah and Euryale to size each other up and shake out the last nerves before their proper introduction was an entirely convenient happenstance. It was the youngbloom's fault for standing so far away, really. Nothing They could have done about it.

Euryale stopped at the mouth of the vine, fidgeting.

Sarah still stood with her fingers clamped tightly around the vine mesh inside, working up her own courage.

Ugh. Nervous little things, the both of them. A perfect pair indeed.

Well, that was easy enough to speed along.

Xey targeted a specific band of infrasound and pulsed the little pluribus' newer rhythm into her through her fingers. They saw the twist subtly reflected in her neck and shoulders as confidence took over, and—

Sarah Connor

The hollow vine opened up.

Eyeing the approaching affini, Sarah took in the bundle of dark green vines—and apparently, nerves—before her. She—she? She seemed like the intent. She was taller than Lachesys' puppet body, somewhere around 3 meters tall, and composed primarily of branching fractals of deep green, wide sheets of even darker leaves, highlight veins of much brighter greens that looked permanently caught in sunlight, and vibrant mostly-purple flowers.

Almost nothing about her resembled Lachesys or the hologram-Urtica.

She had a distinctly feminine outline and wore a dress of smooth, woven leaves wrapped tight around her torso, with springy-looking ruffles that Sarah felt certain were very satisfying to squish. The dress draped from her hips in veined sheets of wide leaves, nearly dragging along the floor.

Where her body wasn't pretending to be a dress, her vines skewed a bit lighter and warmer, almost like green-tinged tan skin, which looked smooth and warm to the touch.

She was clearly not human—

—Clearly.

—but she carried the imitation well. She had a kind, almost maternal face with bright golden yellow eyes that shimmered occasionally with flecks of pinks and purples. Her thick vines of 'hair,' curiously, seemed to be in constant motion, giving her the impression of some mythical snake-haired creature. From atop her forehead sat two sprigs of evergreen, fluffy and twitching.

All told, she looked something like a gorgon in a dress of bat wings, sculpted entirely out of rich green leaves and nervous tangles of branching vines, fidgeting like a worried mother watching a first bicycle ride.

Once she was close enough, Sarah caught her scent.

She smelled oddly familiar.

A bit like a coffee shop during an overpriced seasonal promotion, maybe.

Except…bigger. And fresher. Somewhere between a misty December morning at the edge of an evergreen forest and a tea shop. It was fairly pleasant, actually. Almost homey.

The most unexpected thing about her, though, was the shimmering tingle of her presence in Sarah's body.

And the feeling that biorhythm carried.

As wobbly as she still was, there was no doubt that the cocktail banishing her anxiety was still in effect. Which meant the echo of it against her skin was coming from someone else. Someone squirming with apprehension right in front of her.

This affini, in spite of an intimidating appearance, had the disarming aura of a woman trying to overcome a fear of dogs by staring at a puppy through a pet shop window.

From where Sarah stood in the vine tunnel, they were about eye level with each other.

Sarah didn't know where the sudden burst of confidence came from, but with that increasingly familiar rolling sensation in the back of her head, it burst forth, right out of her mouth.

"Uhm, it's okay, I don't bite."

Sarah immediately flushed at her own words and clapped a hand over her mouth.

Where did that come from?

Amused rumblings, carried through Lachesys' small vines in her fingers, gave her the likely answer. She gave the vine she stood in a suspicious and amicably judgy look. The rumbles intensified into the feeling of a smirk.

Peals of bright laugher rang from the new affini, who seemed relieved to not be speaking first. "Goodness, I was warned you were cute, but I don't think I was fully prepared for it. Um! Hello little one. My name is Euryale Conifer, second bloom, she/her."

"Um. Hi. Sarah. Connor! Um. She/her, I think, also. Uh, no bloom. Obviously."

The pink flecks in Euryale's eyes seemed to multiply.

"Nice to meet you, Sarah. Are you ready to take your first steps onto the Raptifolia?"

"Um." She gave the vine wall a nervous squeeze, and a small tangle of Lachysys hugged her fingers back. "In theory? I'm um." Her footing was definitely uncertain. "I'm a little wobbly still. I'm on…I think probably a lot of Class E."

"Quite a bit, yes," Lachesys chimed.

"I see." Euryale also gave the ship around her a slightly suspicious look. "Well…how comfortable are you with me carrying you?"

Another roll from the back of her mind answered unbidden. "Um. How…comfortable…are you?"

The affini blinked by flickering the light of her eyes.

Sarah was pretty sure this was the first time in her life the floor could literally swallow her whole, and was also pretty sure it wasn't going to, so she was stuck blushing relentlessly at her own strangely bold tongue.

You need a Pugsley, that bold tongue thought at her.

Well I don't have a Pugsley, she thought back. I know I promised not to forget you when I woke up but this is not how I expected that to go. How long are you sticking around for?

You didn't know what to expect and neither did—the voice stopped. Wait. Neither did I. What? Hang on.

Both sides of her froze. And both sides of her knew it.

There were two sides of her.

"Little one?"

What?

So I'm like, permanent? Shit, I didn't know that. Cool.

Oh my god, Sarah thought.

Oh fuck, her other half agreed. Skye totally did. That's why she asked about—oh my god. Am I—

Sarah and Katherine

"Sarah?" The affini had gotten considerably closer and more concerned.

"Katherine," she muttered, mostly to herself. She felt the same strange pull towards the name as she had earlier when Skye had asked her for a second one. It was her name. She was Sarah and Katherine, whatever that meant.

"What?" the affini asked.

Oh good, Katherine thought. She's confused too. We're not alone.

"I don't—I'm not sure what's going on. Skye gave me some drugs and my brain's been weird ever since. I think there's two of me now? And I think this one is Katherine."

"Oh, you're a pluribus," Euryale said, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

"What?" Katherine asked.

Lachesys rumbled around them both, clearly enjoying Xemself. "I did not expect you to figure it out until you saw the vet, actually. They would likely have noticed if you had not."

"Well you could have said something," Katherine grumbled. "How was I supposed to know this was a thing that had a name?"

"Well in an ideal world your Terran Accord would have taught you more than just how to sell profit lines at the money factory, but Everbloom knows we can't expect miracles," Euryale snarked, before a self-conscious squirm rolled down the many-tipped vines of her body.

Oh shit, Katherine thought, barely holding in a laugh. I think I like her.

She made a sound clearly meant to imitate a clearing throat. "Um. Anyway. I think we should go see the vet now. Get you checked out, make sure everything is fine. No sense just standing around."

Wow, Sarah thought. She is so awkward.

"Uh, sure. Um. Lachesys?"

"Yes, little ones?"

"Thanks. For um. Everything, I guess."

The vine tangle gave her fingers another gentle squeeze. "You are welcome. You were lovely guests and delightful company. It has been my joy to bring you home to your new life. Now go live it. If florethood is the course your life takes from here, I will not be the one you call owner. But if you wish it, I would like very much if you called me friend. I can ensure any tablet you use has my contact information."

"…Yeah. I think I'd like that. Skye too?"

"Oh I have no doubt you will be seeing more of my little doll, and fairly soon. She should be arriving at Ginger's current location shortly. Go get your checkup, dear. I will send them your way in a few moments, I expect."

Finally loosing her grip on the tangle of vine mesh, she wobbled over to the edge of the tunnel, and Euryale raised a number of strangely branching vines to gingerly pick her up and pull Sarah—and Katherine—into her chest. Many of those fractal branches off her main vines curled protectively around their arms, shoulders, torso, and legs in a sort of strange but not overpowering full-body hug.

It felt both secure and—despite coming at the hands of a giant alien plant that was full of drugs and the belief that humans make cute pets—surprisingly cozy. A small bundle of those thin little vines tangled around her fingers for her to idly play with.

They were warm, soft, and had a satisfying springiness to them.

As Euryale began to walk off in the direction of strangely floral machines and people, the girls settled idly into the feeling that, really, the first steps into an affini ship hadn't been that bad.

Ginger Allens

For all the nightmares the Navy had tried to instill in them about getting captured by an Affini ship, so far Ginger had found the real thing incredibly gentle, to the point of remarkable boredom.

There had been literally nothing to do for the 800 or so seconds of timer Skye had set, although if she had to guess—which she did, because she had nothing better to go on—not hearing any gunshots was probably a good sign.

Trying to keep herself busy watching the various monitors in engineering had seemed promising, at first. Why not spend her last few minutes on a Navy ship using the degree she'd gone into debt for, and making sure nothing went wrong?

Well, nothing went wrong.

Which was the most boring surprise ever.

The readouts were so stable she had to assume Skye's Admin was somehow doing her job for her.

She'd felt the hypermetric kick. That was something. There was a brief moment of excitement at that—surely a lot of things were about to happen very quickly.

They did not.

Instead she'd felt the ship's momentum gently shift. Once, twice, three, four times.

It took several peaceful minutes before the ship decelerated to a stop. A stop so soft she probably wouldn't have noticed it if she'd had literally anything else to focus on—besides watching Aries drift silently by his boots from where she sat, swiveling back and forth in the floor-mounted stool she had belted herself into in front of her station.

And then.

Incredibly.

There was still.

More.

Waiting.

By that point she'd begun to wonder if she should just take her mask off and skip to the interesting part, although she ruled that out—for now—on account of not actually wanting to miss any interesting parts.

At last, something promising finally crept into her awareness: sound. She could hear sounds coming from outside the ship. Which meant they were in an atmosphere, and in all likelihood there was a buzz of activity around the major points of entry to the Pandora's Ultimatum.

Which boded well.

Not all of those points of entry were large enough for a creature the apparent size of an affini, and one of the most major ones was connected to the room she was in. The docking hatch at Bulkhead G was a direct line to Engineering and Life support, and large enough to bring some really important machinery and components on board, or replace them as easily as possible if needed.

Apart from maybe the airlocks, this was probably the most likely place for the affini to try to—

—oh thank fuck, there was a hiss as the hatch began to pressurize.

The wide hatch ramp finally began to drop. Ginger hadn't actually noticed that the drugged air was visible until it started rolling out, replaced by clearer air circulating in.

Then something truly interesting finally happened.

Vines started to snake their way in, and an uncomfortably large mass of plant matter dragged itself into the Engineering bay. It was the greenest thing Ginger had seen in years. The shuttle had been vibrant in its own way, but it largely followed a set color scheme—that of Skye's owner, in hindsight. Same sepia and burgundy tones, largely desaturated and warm.

The hulking humanoid bush that stepped in, on the other hand, was almost wholly soft emerald and pastel greens, with simple milky white flowers.

As it took in its immediate surroundings, it finished collecting itself into a mostly human shape, dressed almost like a farmer who had sewn themselves a dress out of their own harvest: it was a bizarre disharmony of practical overalls and a fairy dress, laced with flowers and dozens of elongated pods dangling like tassels. Counter to Urtica's tight leaves that formed a facsimile of fabrics, this affini's leaves were all wild bushy clusters of soft emerald teardrops.

"Hello," Ginger tried.

She hid her nerves better than she expected with an 11-foot tall walking plant in the room.

When the affini turned to her, she saw a kind but unmistakably alien woody face with six glittering aquamarine eyes and a pair of flowering stalks twitching curiously from her head.

"Hello there. You must be…" it reached into its chest and pulled out a polished wooden device, splotchy black and white like birch bark. "Ginger? Allens? Is that right?"

Ginger had some sense of what to expect from an affini's appearance. She was not expecting the voice. It spoke with a many-layered polytonal harmony of odd instruments: the percussion of woods, the whistles of woodwinds, and the hiss of leaves sliding against one another.

"I guess I don't need to tell you Skye vouched for me, then," she managed.

"She spoke quite highly of you in her report," the affini said brightly. "Soja Dreyer, third bloom, she/her. Welcome to the Raptifolia! Always a pleasure to meet new little cuties."

"Ginger Allens, she/her," she waved back.

Soja tilted her head curiously. "You're unarmed?"

"My service weapon is in the cabinet over there," she pointed, "and the battery for it is in the one next to it."

"Ugh. Terrible phrase, 'service weapon,' makes it sound like a useful thing that you're supposed to have. What a dreadful thought." She pulled the two items from their cabinets and stuffed them in her chest with an air of someone handling sewage.

Soja gave her an approving look. "Sure enough, disarmed yourself and unloaded it for good measure. I can see why she vouched for you. Gasp! And who's this cute little thing?"

Never, in her entire life, would Ginger have imagined seeing Kyle fucking Aries called a cute little thing.

"That's Lieutenant Commander Kyle Aries, the highest ranking Comms officer for the ship. He threatened me in front of Skye—"

Soja's smile became thorny and hungry.

"—and she gave him some kind of drug that paralyzed him."

"A class M, yes, I see" Soja idly nodded. "I still think it's strange how Urtica and Lachesys handle their pet. Very unusual for a floret to be administering xenodrugs like this. To say nothing of the rest of this whole thing. It's a neat trick I suppose, and of course you can teach a floret a dangerous trick, but it's rather like teaching them to ride a ukulele across a tightrope—you can, but why would you? No need to teach the little ones such advanced, dangerous tricks. Seems much better for them to be safe and well loved little pets, I think."

Okay, the culture shock had clearly begun.

"…You mean a unicycle?"

"Do I?" Soja seemed to barely notice her, too busy focusing on Aries. That concerning smile softened slightly as she plucked the helpless officer from the floor and gently cradled him in her vines. "You know, if I'm not mistaken, I do think this little danger-to-others is enjoying the Class M. Terrified of me, of course, poor thing, but I can train that out of her in no time."

"Uh, Aries goes by he/him."

That got Soja to glance back in her direction. "Oh, you can't tell? I'm quite certain."

"Ha! I had a feeling about that too, I just wasn't sure," came Skye's voice from the doorway.

The affini locked onto her instantly, and Ginger felt a wave of concern press into her body without knowing why.

"Goodness! Are you alright, little thing?"

Ginger looked Skye up and down, but couldn't see anything wrong.

"I'm fine Miss Dreyer, I have rougher play than this all the time. Nothing Doctor Vee can't fix, I'll head down to see her in a minute."

Clutching the limp Aries protectively, Soja gave a look of concern to both Skye and Ginger in turn.

"Roots, you're all such hurt little things. Your Accord made you far too complacent with pain, I can't imagine being so rough with my pets."

"I am a ramet Miss, I'm a lot tougher than I look."

"…Well. I suppose your owners must know what they're doing by now." Soja looked down at Aries like he was the most precious thing in the world. "A field for every flower. I can't say I haven't seen rougher play before. Though I hope something softer is in store for you, Ginger. You seem like a gentle little thing. You'll take to the Compact well. I should get this one to the vet for now."

And without a further word, Soja Dreyer gave them each a ruffle of their hair with a vine, and flowed back down the ramp.

A pressure Ginger hadn't noticed in the air vanished with her departure, and the forceful thrum of concern evaporated.

She looked at Skye. "UM?"

"Ah, don't mind her," Skye waved a hand dismissively, walking over to take Ginger by the hand. "Lotta youngblooms act like we're made of glass, it's adorable. Soja's sweet as can be. Makes some damn good ice cream, too. You know they have ice cream that can't give you brain freeze? God I have so much shit to show you. Come on, let's go see the v—"

She stopped abruptly and turned gleefully toward the ramp.

A moment later, the walkway was flooded with an enormous affini, even larger than Urtica. This one's impression of humanity was remarkably accurate by shape, and remarkably unsettling in every other way.

A tight satiny dress of stretched rosepetal sheets in near-black shimmered with bruise-purples under the lights. Lavender petals tight enough to imitate skin covered much of her arms, chest, and face, smoothing out the slightly less saturated vines that held much of her shape. Midnight-purple petal nails tipped elegant fingers. A huge bundle of vines worth at least five of Ginger by mass was tucked up into an enormous bow at the back of a cinched waist.

The flower petal skin of her face pulled back on one side into an almost dragon scale side shave, transitioning into thick, onyx vines that swooped around her head and curled into sharp points between her jawline and her collarbones. Curling like cats' tails atop her forehead were finger-thin flexible antennae decorated with dark flower petals.

Beneath her antennae were shimmering depths of bluish purple, twinkling with starry flecks of pink and gold. The largest pair of eyes sat precisely where a human's would have, but many smaller eyes curved down her face in a row on either side—two small pairs above the main eyes, and six more pairs below, tapering down her cheeks. Her lips were the same dark velvety rosepetals of her dress.

She must have been over fourteen feet tall upright, an elegant bruise of dark purples, darker grays, and lavender highlights, adorned with wide, flattish pentagonal roses.

Inverting logic, her presence seemed to swallow the room around her. Everything else seemed quieter, seemed smaller, for sharing space with the unearthly force of this radiant shadow.

If there was a singular point of proof that these creatures were the dominant species, Ginger was certain she was looking at it. The eerie power of her made Ginger's hair stand on end.

"Hey Sin!" Skye said excitedly. "Fancy seeing you here! Didn't think you'd be pet shopping today."

If Soja's voice had been a strange assortment of alien instruments, this one was a deep, sultry orchestra: a grand synchronized vibration of Ginger's entire body, made of woodwind whalesong and buzzing grasswhistles and rustling leaves and creaking vines.

Stranger still, her mouth did not move when she spoke; she felt no obligation to uphold the illusion of humanity, despite having made quite a beautiful rendition of it.

"Inspiration can come at any time, darling, one must always keep an open mind. But I'm here for you, actually. And it's a good thing, too, I see. We'd better get you patched up before Urtica sees you."

Ginger felt like the wind had just been knocked out of her brain. "…Patched up?"

The affini—Sin, apparently—looked in her direction before extending a few thorn-tipped vines to Skye and slicing the dress and jacket right off in a single smooth motion.

At her wrist, and at several points along her side and ribs, were deep bloody gashes where she looked like she'd been stabbed.

"Oh my god, are you okay!?"

"I'm fine," Skye waved. "Fox was craftier than I expected, but everything turned out fine. I literally can't be hurt in any meaningful way. They're already closed up, they need more cleaning than anything. Between Meri and Mastress this chassis will be good as new in a couple hours."

"This one still needs a vet as well, so let's at least get the process started," the affini said, beckoning them out. "I hate to see my favorite model in such a state."

"We both know I'm only your second favorite model," Skye smirked. She moved closer, dragging a baffled Ginger along with her.

"Hmm. Let's call it a tie~."

"How come Mastress isn't here yet?"

"Zhe got started on something with Marion; they weren't expecting you back so soon. They'll be here a bit later. In the meantime, I'm happy to keep my little muse company." The affini reached down with a handful of vines and gave Skye some reassuring scritches.

The giant briefly faced Ginger as she turned to lead them out. "Hello, by the way. I'm Sindahlia Choris, ninety second bloom, she/her. Sin is fine if you like, I trust Skye's taste in sophonts. Miss Choris if you want to make a really good impression~. You won't be needing this anymore, might as well enjoy the clean air."

She unceremoniously—but also completely gently, and without even looking—pulled the gas mask from Ginger's face, and haphazardly tossed it aside.

Though she'd never actually been inside a greenhouse full of flowerbeds and rosebushes, Sin smelled pretty much exactly the way Ginger would have expected a room like that to smell.

Skye linked their fingers together and walked Ginger down the ramp after her.

"Is ninety two a lot? I don't know how much a bloom is, but ninety two sounds like a lot."

"One bloom is up to around 300 Terran years," Sin answered.

Ginger froze mid-step.

"Uhhh. That's … what is that? Like 25 thousand years!?"

"I haven't kept perfect track of it, but I think somewhere around 26,400. Give or take."

"But that's … you're twice as old as the last Terran Ice Age. That's four times the age of worked metals. Two and a half times the age of agriculture."

"That all sounds plausible enough. I'll defer to your knowledge of Terran history for now. Admittedly I mostly focused on the interesting bits, which is to say, the art."

"So you're an artist?"

"Oh god," Skye said, rolling her eyes affectionately. "You got her started now."

"We are all artists, of a sort. Every sophont has the power to shape the universe, defy entropy for a beautiful moment. Creation is the greatest power of all, is it not? The power to imagine something that does not exist, and bend reality until it does. To take something known only to the self, and make it knowable to all. What a wonderful pursuit, to spend our time in this world making our selves known to it. The self is the first and most important canvas, I would say."

"And you do say, often," Skye teased. "To actually answer your question, Ginger, yes. Sin spends a lot of her time painting, sculpting, drawing, or looking for inspiration and exploring new sophonts' art forms."

"And this little doll," Sin ran a few affectionate vines through Skye's hair, "is one of my favorite live figure subjects. You probably wouldn't know it, given how you met, but she's very good at keeping still for me~."

"Like I said earlier," Skye winked, "Class Ms are fun."

"Are you good at it?"

The air stuttered with a strange energy, and Sin turned to her, confused.

"How can one be bad at making something that never existed before?"

Ginger felt ready to wither under the force of her presence, until Skye came to her rescue.

"It's just Terran transactionality, Sin, give her time. She means something more like how practiced are you."

"Oh." Sin's colorful eyes briefly flickered off in a blink. "I think Terrans have a saying about this? It takes 10,000 hours to master a new skill?"

"Yeah," Ginger nodded, her mouth dry. "That's the one."

"I have been alive for well over two hundred thirty one million hours," the Affini said simply.

Skye chimed in again. "Yeah, one time she literally spent like 1200 years as a vet just to learn better anatomy for her sculpture."

Culture had been the first shock.

In hindsight, Ginger felt silly for not realizing the second would be math.

"…Oh," she managed, too stunned for more thoughtful words.

They arrived at what Ginger assumed was a medical station of some kind. In the middle of a curtained-off space was a raised reclining seat not unlike a Terran doctor's office—apart from the considerable difference in scale—next to what looked like a large, woody, flowering fruit with a transparent bubble along its side, and a number of thin vines with smaller flowers attached. Other things she couldn't hope to identify hung from walls or sat on countertops taller than she was.

"The veterinary work was satisfying for its own merits, but it was not my true passion. Now then," Sin reached out with a dozen dark vines and lifted her comfortably and effortlessly off the ground, depositing her gently on the raised seat. "While I am technically qualified to do this examination myself, I'm not terribly practiced with your species. We're here before the rush, so why settle for less than the best? Meri?"

Ginger turned in the direction Sin was facing, where moments later a soft pastel green hand curled around the curtain and pulled it slightly open to reveal another affini who only came up to a little below Sindahlia's shoulders.

This one looked like a cheerful succulent garden, all bright greens and pinks, a half-corset of tan vines wrapped around the waistline of a long dress skirt of tapering, fleshy leaves, themselves peeking out from an even fleshier scalloped skirt of pink succulent petals.

She had a very friendly face; two large pink quartz eyes adorned a cheerful expression, a smaller pair sitting just below them like rosy cheeks. At her left temple sat a soft pink succulent like a fleshy flower, and bumpy strands of thick green tendrils with tiny pink flowers formed a head of long hair.

"Ah! New patient!" Her voice chimed brightly, like leaves and bells rustling in a soft breeze. She turned back to the center of her current room. "I'll be right here if you need anything, Sarah."

"W-wait, Sarah!?"

"Ginger?" came a muffled, but familiar voice.

"Oh?" Meri jingled delightedly. "Are you two friends? I can take down the curtain if you'd like?"

"I'd like!" Ginger answered immediately.

"Okay," came the nervous voice of her best friend.

The Affini nodded, and pushed the apparently sound-dampening curtain aside.

Sarah was not alone.

She sat, with an expression of drugged calm, in the lap of a much smaller dark green affini with a leafy dress, a constantly flowing whorl of snakelike hair vines that gave her the impression of being underwater, and a lot of thin, branching tendrils curled like green lightning bolts around Sarah's arms and shoulders in a tangling hug.

"Um. Hey," Sarah mumbled, her dilated eyes staring at Sin. "Sarah Connor, she/her. Independent."

Are you sure about that last part, Ginger stopped herself from asking.

"Sindahlia Choris, ninety second bloom, she/her."

"Ninety second, wow. You um. Have nice colors."

"Oh how charming," Sin cooed. "I think you're nice colors too."

All three affini seemed entirely enamored with Sarah. Ginger could feel something like a smile pressing into her from Sin's direction, and saw similar looks form on the other two affini.

"Ginger Allens, she/her," she offered, before focusing on Sarah. "Hey kiddo. Congrats on the gender. Knew you had it in you."

Sarah flushed slightly. "Oh no you totally did, didn't you? It. Um. Was it obvious?"

Painfully.

"A bit, yeah. If I knew how to breach the subject I would have. Glad you got better."

Sarah's shoulders relaxed slightly, her voice turning deadpan. "Yeah go figure all I needed was a bunch of drugs and a Pugsley."

Ginger wasn't sure what just happened. This was a side of Sarah she hadn't seen before.

Sarah's affini, meanwhile, applied a soothing pressure to her arms with her many tangling vines, and looked at her with the expression of a proud mother. She spoke softly down towards the girl in her lap. "Would you like to introduce yourself, little one?"

What?

"Uh," Ginger started. "We've known each other for years?"

"Well, no, we haven't, exactly. I'm still figuring it out, but apparently I'm something called a pluribus? So there's kinda two of me? This one's the uh, confident half, Katherine. She's new. Thanks, drugs."

Oh. Oh shit you're literally a side of her I haven't seen before.

"Oh. That's…neat? I've never heard of that. I'm honestly not sure what a confident you looks like."

"Kinda pretty, if the Class Gs work. I guess we'll find out in a couple weeks."

"Oh, they'll work, trust me," Skye smirked.

"Yeah, so, I guess you were half right, cause it turns out I'm two girls. But uh, yeah I don't blame you for not knowing what to make of that. Lucky for us I got the balls in the divorce, so at least one of us will be a little less of a nervous wreck. Oh, hey," she looked up and nudged her affini. "You haven't introduced yourself yet either."

The affini snapped sheepily out of the reverie she'd been watching the exchange in, hair flowing in anxious whirls. "Oh! Um, right! Hi!"

Oh no, Ginger thought. There's two of them.

"Hello, friend of Sarah and Katherine! I'm Euryale Conifer, second bloom, she/her. It's lovely to meet you!" She waved awkwardly.

"Second." Ginger stared blankly for a moment.

She looked up at Sindahlia.

Then back to Euryale.

"So, is confidence like an age thing for you guys?"

Skye exploded into hysterical laughter that nearly sent her headfirst into the floor, but Sin shot out a vine to catch her.

Euryale's hair flowed in tight curls, her body tensing in shy squirms.

The third affini finally spoke again between her own bright giggles. "Not linearly, but it certainly feels that way sometimes. Mericanthus Vera, eleventh bloom, also she/her, we've certainly got quite the little party going here. You can call me Meri, or Doctor Meri, or Doctor Vera, or Doctor Vee, whatever you like. I'll be your veterinarian today, and hopefully that sticks, you're both so stinking cute. Let's get you checked up."

"And you, you little troublemaker," Meri plucked the still-laughing Skye from where she'd doubled over and plopped her on a countertop, "will sit Still like a good doll and wait your turn. What in Everbloom's name have you done to your chassis this time?"

"Oh my god," Skye gasped, wiping tears from her face. "I really found some good ones this time."

"I'm inclined to agree," Euryale mumbled, apparently petting Sarah for her own comfort as much as the terran's.

Not that Sarah seemed to mind.

As Skye slowly drifted into dreamy calm and pulled herself, almost magnetically, into a straight-backed sitting position—knees together, wrists crossed in her lap, staring blankly ahead—Meri plucked a needle-tipped flower from the bubbly plant machine beside Ginger and held it up.

"Alright, let's start with a blood test and see if we can't get those nutrients balanced."

"Don't worry," Katherine called, "it doesn't really hurt. I felt way better after. Low iron and b vitamins, apparently."

"You'll find that's a bit of a theme with us," Meri said. "A lot of things are quicker and more painless than you'd think, and then we make it all better."

Meri gently slid the needle-tip into Ginger's neck until the flower petals softly clung to her skin.

"Oh," Ginger said.

She was right.

"Yeah, that didn't hurt at all."

Meri smiled and gave her an affectionate scruffle of her hair.

"Of course not. Welcome to the Affini Compact."

Notes:

The reading rec for this chapter, both for vet appointment reasons and also for the fact that I just realized I haven't recced it previously and am SHOCKED that it took this long to do so, is The Place Where We Can Stop Running by Dame Harmony.

This story is phenomenal. You will cry your eyes out. There cannot be a list of must-read fics in the HDG setting that does not include this story. It is important to the modern setting in ways that CANNOT be overstated. And it is only the first part of a now long-running series of INCREDIBLE stories.

I am retroactively shaming myself for not recommending it sooner. Whatever reading list you have, put this story at THE TOP of that list.

Well. Whoops. The story got away from me a little bit, and we didn't quite get to the ortets this time. But don't worry. That will change. I have teased them long enough. Next time, we finally meet the hottest characters in the story.

And then you (yes, you) will explode.

Chapter 10: Surrender

Notes:

Haha wow sure is crazy that I thought this was gonna be a oneshot and now the chapter count isn't even one digit. What a fun little prank I've played on myself.

Last chapter: Sarah met Euryale Conifer and figured out she was plural when Katherine both sassed and comforted the nervous secondbloom. Ginger met two affini and experienced culture shock and number shock before reconnecting with Sarah at the vet.

This chapter: "You have exactly one choice left. Surrender."

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Ginger Allens

"…And you just. Fixed it."

"Mhm!" Meri answered cheerfully.

"Just like that?"

"Of course, sweetpea. Why wouldn't we?"

"It's not…" Ginger faltered. "The why makes sense, you can help, so you did, I get that. It's the fact that you can that's blowing my mind."

Both of Meri's antennae curled and pulled back slightly, one resting a few inches higher than the other, almost like a raised eyebrow. A look of confusion, if Ginger's best guess was correct. And she was strangely confident that it was.

"Is blowing good or bad in this context? That's one of the more ambiguous Terran words."

"It's like…? It means surprised, kind of? If something blows your mind it's like, way beyond what you thought was possible."

"Oh. It's just a few silly little histamine responses and enzyme deficiencies? Easy pleasey!"

Ginger stared at the vet, nonplussed.

Just like that.

One injection, and her food allergies were just … gone.

The level of the Compact's science and technology continued to astound her. She had a sneaking suspicion that, in a fairly short period of time, the affini themselves would not be the strangest part of this new world.

Which was saying something.

Ginger looked at Sindahlia and Euryale in turn—the former staring with absent interest at the breeze of activity around her former ship, and the latter wholly absorbed in petting her best friend while helping her get a personal tablet set up.

Then she looked to the woman who tried to prepare her for all of this. Was Skye herself any less alien than the rest of this? There she sat, perfectly still with a blank serenity on her face, on the counter where Meri was cleaning her wounds with what looked like cotton balls but was no doubt tens of thousands of years more advanced, somehow.

"This is … wow this is fucking crazy. I can't imagine how much harder this would have been if I didn't spend the last two hours getting told how overwhelming it would be."

Sin hummed a thoughtful sound that made a wave of tingles pass through Ginger's body.

"Yes, you have quite the advantage over most of your crew, I'd say. For most, we have to defy their worst expectations first. For you? You're already willing to let us exceed your best ones. You already know the surprises will be good."

"Well, I mean." Ginger looked back at Skye, still sitting eerily still on the counter where Meri fussed over cleaning and mending her wounds. "The first…" she paused, turning to her best friend, "…few surprises were pretty good."

"And will continue to be so," Sin hummed. "The shift from what you are used to may be overwhelming at first, but you will adapt more quickly than you expect. You already are."

"You think so?"

"I know you are still afraid, petal." Sindahlia turned down, giving Ginger her full focus. "Any affini would sense it in you. You are not used to feeling so small, so easily overpowered. The small, animal part of you instinctively sees us as a threat. That cannot be helped. But the sophont—the wise, complex being within you, the thing that makes you special—is keeping that part controlled, and allowing you to ask questions. Not in opposition or defiance, not to present a contrasting view, but out of desire to learn, to understand a new situation."

She tried to look down at the floor, but a gentle vine caressed her cheek and pulled her eyes back up to face the ancient creature she could barely comprehend.

"Any affini could sense your fear, little one. But they can also sense that you are trying. And all of us would be proud of you for that. Your greatest advantage over the rest of your crew is that you are not trying to fight us. You are trying to understand us. And what you will come to understand is that we care for you. You are already adapting."

Ginger nodded, giving a little sigh of…probably relief, if she took the time to think about it.

None of the harm the Accord did could ever touch her here. The culture shock might be overwhelming, but it already seemed worth it.

So far she had met four affini, and all of them had expressed concern for her well being at least once so far. That was more than she'd gotten in almost three years from nearly a hundred terrans that she regularly interacted with.

These creatures were alien, certainly. But they were good.

Of that much, she was certain.

"I hope it does not come as a surprise to hear this, little one, but even if you do not become a floret, you can always ask an affini for help. With anything. And we will give it to you, or direct you to someone who can. Remember this: independent does not mean alone. That is a pitfall many fall into—every one of them a victim of the toxic self-reliance your world instilled in you. You will be Domesticated, culturally. It is part of fitting in here. Being domesticated personally, as a floret, is not a guarantee. Although I have my suspicions about the outcome."

"Why's that?"

The oldest living thing she'd ever met, ancient beyond imagining, smiled down at her, and booped her nose with the same vine that had cradled her face.

"Because I know Skye's taste in sophonts."

While turning to reach for some tool Ginger didn't recognize, Meri gave her a kind wink. "Don't worry, cutie! You're a precious little thing, I'm sure someone will be blowing your heart in no time!"

"That's not—"

"—um."

"Thanks, I think."

A light warmth rose gently within her. A sensation she couldn't explain.

A smile.

The feeling of a smile.

But not her own. It came from Meri's direction.

"Okay, that's starting to get weird. What's up with that?"

"With what, sweetpea?"

"How come I just felt you smiling?"

Attention suddenly focused on Ginger from three directions at once.

From the corner of her eye, squirming ripples in Euryale's branching vines. In front of her, the fleshy fronds of Meri's succulent skirt curled at the bottom, bright pink desert flowers rustling across her back. To the right of that, Sindahlia's lavender vines creaked softly from beneath her night-black rosepetal dress, her wide flowers twisting further open. Every one of the many eyes between them—most of them Sindahlia's—tinged with flecks of bright gold and purple across their shimmering facets.

There was no mistaking the intense Interest of the sensations pressing into her.

Okay, that was a lot.

Ginger flinched, looking from affini to affini. "What, what'd I say?"

Twitching her antennae briefly, Sin broke the silence—but not in any language Ginger understood.

⟪???⟫

"Test it?" Meri suggested.

A bashful feeling radiated from Euryale's direction. "I can't. I don't have that kind of control yet."

Sin turned to her, sending a few vines towards her. "May I?"

The young affini nodded shyly, and Sin's vines gently wove into her.

All of the ambient movement of the affini's bodies slowed to a standstill.

Sarah looked around curiously, but realization quickly dawned on her face, staring at Ginger with a sudden rapt attention. "Oh."

"No spoilers, please, Sarah." Sin said. "Ginger, I'd like for you to guess how I'm feeling right now, if that's alright."

"How?"

"Just tell me what you feel."

"Right now? Confused."

"Anything else?"

Ginger thought about it. Weird, maybe? But given the day she'd had, and the baffling situation now unfolding? That seemed pretty justified. Nothing particularly stood out to her.

"Not really? A little tired and overwhelmed, but I'm pretty sure that's all me."

"You can't tell what she's feeling right now?" Meri asked.

She looked the ancient creature up and down. "Nope. Not like a second ago. I can take a guess based on context clues, but otherwise nothing."

Sin's antennae quirked in that same confused gesture Meri made moments ago.

"Curiosity," Ginger said immediately. "Like, almost confusion."

"Hmmm," Sin rumbled.

Ginger's eyes tracked a faint pulse that ran from Sin's vines into Euryale, whose own vines began their twitchy squirming.

Well that one was obvious.

"Nervous. Like um. There's a specific texture to it, though, I can't place it."

Euryale's vines curled a bit more around Sarah.

Oh.

"Not um. I don't wanna say performance anxiety, but like. Protectiveness? Mixed with almost a fear of getting something wrong?"

Euryale's squirming grew into tense, wringing curls. "I think the results are clear enough."

"Embarrassment?"

The feeling intensified, the evergreen sprigs of Euryale's antennae tightening up. Sarah looked up at her affini with a concerned expression, then turned back down defensively.

"Ginger!" she whined.

"Oh," Ginger said. Oops. "Right. Um. Sorry."

"I'll recover," Euryale mumbled. She resumed idly stroking Sarah's hair, which seemed to calm them both. Sarah also gripped one of her vines soothingly.

"Interesting," Sin hummed. "Let's try this."

In an instant, a fuzzy pressure in the air vanished. It felt like the weather had shifted from sunny to overcast in the span of a single second. One moment, the warm glow of the sun seeping into her skin; the next, nothing—only a cool emptiness where the feeling had been. Just like the smell of the Ultimatum once she had set foot on the Affini shuttle, it was a sensation she had unknowingly grown accustomed to, suddenly made noteworthy by its absence.

A pressure she hadn't been paying attention to was just sucked out of the air completely.

And she was almost certain it was swallowed up by Sindahlia specifically.

She was the cloudy shadow blotting out the sun.

Even Euryale seemed a little intimidated by it, jumping slightly at the sudden shift, and then staring at the ancient affini with a look of awe.

"Okay, what the fuck is that?" Ginger asked.

Sudden, vibrant joy.

From the floor on the right, behind her.

Ginger turned to face it, and saw only a dark vine she hadn't noticed trailing along the floor from beneath Sindahlia's satiny petal dress.

A deep, sorrowful frown pushed its way onto her face from above and to the left. Her eyes were itching with the cold of tears by the time she turned around to see one of Sin's flowers hanging from a vine, closed and drooping.

"S-stop it!"

The invading emotion cut off instantly, and she blinked the water back.

"Apologies, petal." Sin retracted her vines, and a slight pressure returned from Euryale's direction. "That was perhaps a more forceful test than you needed."

"Test for what? Why could I feel any of that?"

"Biorhythms," Sarah or Katherine answered.

"What's that mean?"

"It's sort of, um. Well. Uhh." Sarah, then. "It's kinda like a heartbeat? But like, waaayyy more, to the point that it can mess with your head a little."

All three affini stared curiously at Sarah. Impressively, she didn't wither under the pressure.

"Lachesys explained them to me," she offered sheepishly.

"Who's Lachesys?"

Sarah looked up, over Ginger's shoulder, and nodded. "Skye's Admin."

Turning around, she was shocked by yet another sudden understanding of scale. She'd been so focused on Skye and the affini that she never even thought to look back. Or, for that matter, up, at the far surface of the ring-shaped hangar bay kilometers above her.

The hangar alone dwarfed any terran-made station she'd ever seen.

In this space, her former Ceres-Class navy starship looked like a toy.

The CNS Pandora's Ultimatum sat cradled beneath a gargantuan mass of plant matter, tangled in thousands of roots and their bright red dew. It was held entirely above the dock by the monstrous, spiderlike shuttle. Its abdomen was a great bulbous flower the size of a sports stadium. Apparently there was a whole second ring that they never even saw.

Ginger sighed.

Of course there was.

Of course Skye had been so confident in the outcome.

Of course they were so hilariously outclassed that the full power of the Affini had never been necessary. There were probably dozens of failsafes and plan Bs that could have stopped anything they did to fight this.

Of course they lost.

But that didn't stop the details from leaving her stunned.

"That—wow. Holy shit."

Skye had said her Admin was using the ship as a chassis. Ginger wasn't expecting the ship to actually be an affini. It was enormous. About a third the size of the Ultimatum, but that would still make it more than 250 meters long.

"I'm." Her voice wavered slightly. "I think I'm glad I surrendered."

"Yeah," Katherine answered from behind her. "Funny they named it Pandora's Ultimatum, cause we really had no hope at all."

"I disagree," Sindahlia hummed.

Both terrans stared up at her in disbelief.

"If your hope was for the future, little ones," the ancient affini continued, "I'd say you gained far more than you lost. The lives ahead of you will be better than you ever thought possible. I think you have more hope than ever before. Lachesys has seen to that."

"And little Skye, of course," she added, ruffling a few vines through the unmoving floret's hair.

"I'm not sure I did have any hope while I was on that ship, to be honest," Katherine mumbled.

Euryale looked down at her with the pained look of someone who didn't know how to help, mixed with something Ginger guessed was pretty close to an animal shelter volunteer who was relieved that a kitten pulled from a storm drain would be getting a second chance.

Ginger, however, spoke up before she could.

"Damn, girl, are you okay?"

Katherine gave Ginger an amused, almost incredulous look. "I'm not on that ship anymore. I'm on so much class E I can barely walk, and this is probably the safest and most comfortable I've felt in years. I don't think not being okay is an option right now."

Whatever response Euryale had in mind was cut off; the sprigs of her antennae bristled open in surprise when Katherine said she felt safe and comfortable. Something in the way her coiling tangles loosened conveyed an unexpected relief. And more than a little comfort of her own.

Enough for her to collect herself and speak up.

"Hope is a community garden, little one," she said softly. "You have us to help you tend to it now. I'm sure any affini would be delighted to give you whatever help you need, and you'd make an absolutely precious floret."

Katherine looked thoughtful for a moment, bordering on resignation as she leaned back against the living seat of vines she was currently cradled in. "Yeah, probably. Skye and Lachesys thought so too. I'm not…super good at meeting new people though. I wouldn't really know where to start with that."

"Don't worry, cutie. I'm sure someone will come along soon."

Ginger stared blankly at Euryale, failing to read even a hint of teasing in her.

She was fighting for her life not to roll her eyes at the giant alien plant who was probably more than 300 years older and not a single second less oblivious than the terran in her lap—a terran that was somehow two girls without a brain cell to share between them.

And in spite of Ginger's herculean act of self control, a feeling a lot like rolled eyes pressed into the side of her head from behind her.

Well, that was enough of that. She was ready for answers. She turned back to Sindahlia, who was withholding her own commentary with equal restraint.

"Okay, so what's up with the biorhythm thing?"

"You seemed unusually receptive. I thought you might be a sensate."

"A what?"

Meri chimed in. "It's a term we use on this ship. For someone with an unusually high sensitivity to biorhythms. The term isn't used everywhere. And actually being one is quite rare, there are only a few hundred on the whole ship. Sensates are highly sought after as florets."

"…So am I a—"

"No," Sin cut her off. "You are unusually sensitive, but only to projected rhythms, not hidden ones. A true sensate, when properly trained, is an extraordinary thing, able to sense even most hidden rhythms, although a skilled affini can still mask it from them. It seems you have an above average response to projected rhythms, but otherwise most of your sensitivity is in reading body language. Quite accurately, I might add, which is an appealing quality in its own right. You likely have hyperempathy and can just as easily read emotions in your fellow terrans."

"Yeah," Katherine piped up. "That's definitely true."

Ginger looked over to her. "What, just because I totally called that you were a girl?"

"N—well, okay, yeah, but I don't mean just that. Half the time it seems like you know I'm having a bad day before I do. Sometimes I only notice I feel like shit because… 'cause you're extra nice to me."

"I'm always nice to you, kiddo."

"Y-yeah, but. Sometimes more. You just, uhm." Sarah slumped a bit, squeezing the springy vines Euryale had woven between her fingers. "You, it's like you know. When I need it."

You always needed it, Ginger wanted to say.

Euryale pulled the girls deeper into her chest in a tight hug, and she gave a contented little sigh.

"You're um. I think you're… that. What she said." Sarah gestured shyly towards Sindahlia.

"It's not uncommon for neurotypes like yours," Meri chimed. "Skye's exceptional at it herself. She has a few unfair advantages, of course."

"Yes, she's a very good little floret," Sin hummed. "When she's not being a naughty little thing and hacking into my tablet during repair time."

Vines and foliage shifted out of place as Sin pulled a dark, black and purple tablet with lavender filigree from her chest, staring down at it with mock disapproval to hide her obvious amusement.

"Nuh uh," came Skye's voice from the tablet. "That doesn't sound like me, I'm so good, all the time."

"Are you forgetting that I have access to your user permissions, little one?"

"…No. I'm just trusting that you find me too adorable to stop me~."

Laughter like windchimes jingled softly from Meri's direction as she sprayed something that made the marks on Skye's skin slowly vanish.

A thoughtful humming bass made Ginger's bones tingle.

"Perhaps," Sin finally answered. A wry twist curled the dark petals of her lips. "But what a shame it would be, after doing so well at playing feral, if I had to inform Urtica that I caught you misbehaving."

"If zhe didn't like to catch me doing it so much, zhe'd have locked those permission themself~."

"Ah. Right you are. You've outwitted me, you cunning little floret. Truly, how could I think to deny them the pleasure of disciplining you. My mistake. Allow me to make it up to you both."

A small uh oh came from the tablet as a flurry of Sin's vines tapped away at it.

"Nononono not—"

"Oops," Sin teased, not sounding remotely sorry. "It seems I've accidentally mentioned your chassis needing repairs. These old vines, you know. Must have slipped my core."

A soft notification pinged from the tablet.

"Oh look, they're on their way now. I suppose you'd best save your mischief until zhe's here to catch you at it."

"I thought you said zhe was busy," Skye mumbled.

"It seems you've been given a higher task priority. No need to thank me, of course, you know how I love to dote on my neighbor's darling pets."

"Thank you, Sin."

Satisfaction pulsed from the ancient Affini.

"And on that adorable note," Meri chimed, setting down the last of her tools, "I'm all finished."

She leaned down close to Skye's face. "Good as new."

For the first time in nearly 15 minutes, Skye's body moved, a pleasurable-looking shiver running down her chassis from head to toe. Her eyes refocused, but she remained seated in her straight-backed pose, looking up at her cheery mechanic with a light, but unmistakable blush.

"Diagnostic looks good. Minor heat stress to three logical processors, but Mastress can deal with that later. All superficial damage is fixed. Thanks, Meri."

"Of course, petal. You were a lovely patient, as always."

"Only cause I'm so good at sitting still," she smiled. "Can I hop down and go kiss my girlfriend now?"

"Absolutely not," Meri gasped in mock horror. "Why, that's a two meter drop, little lady! I'll just have to lower you carefully myself. I couldn't bear to see you needing more medical care so soon~!"

Skye gave an exaggerated eye roll, but allowed the vet to lower her to the floor without complaint. "I'm made of code, Meri, I'm technically harder to hurt than you."

"No reason to miss a chance for affection~," Meri teased, giving her one last bit of petting before a playful whip across the behind to send her off.

She scampered over to Sindahlia first, the affini having pulled out a spare set of clothing for her. Sin wordlessly pulled another burgundy vine-circuit dress over her already raised arms, nearly identical to the one she had been wearing earlier. Rather than the thick leathery material from before, though, the outer layer she put over it was a lacy bolero jacket in a smoky sepia-gray, threaded with rich red highlights in the heartlike shape of Urtica's serrated leaves, an inverse of the dress' colors.

In less than five seconds, Skye went from nothing but her underwear to fully dressed.

And when she turned towards Ginger again, Sindahlia slipped a pair of simple gladiator sandals onto her mid-step, so quickly it didn't even hinder her movement. Ginger cast her eyes up, and saw that Sin hadn't even been looking. She had resumed watching her fellow affini pulling sleeping terrans from their ship.

It was yet another casual display of the kind of effortless capability that the affini wielded—and the gentle efficiency with which they used it.

She swallowed.

The amount of power these creatures had was terrifying. The speed, the dexterity, the—she couldn't even call it hand-eye-coordination because Sindahlia had used neither. It was unreal.

Ginger was certain that the next time she dressed herself, she'd be unable to ignore how much faster, how much better an affini could run through those same motions. Something she'd been able to do her whole life, these aliens who had known humanity existed for less than seven years could do a hundred times better than her without even looking.

Compared to an affini, she was a clumsy, fumbling little thing, taking minutes to do a thing that could be done in seconds without effort.

They were just … better at it.

At everything.

Even someone like Skye—someone who seemed so confident, so in control—was nothing to the kind of power the Affini had. The most frighteningly competent terran she'd ever met was just as tiny to them. She was a plaything to an affini. Something small that needed to be cared for. She was—

—a pet.

She was a pet.

Ginger turned around again, and really looked.

There was an organized swarm of activity around Pandora's Ultimatum; affini in a stunning range of sizes and shapes and colors moving in and around the ship, cradling her former crew like fragile, precious things. Looking down at them and practically glowing with affection—literally, in the case of those with bioluminescent flowers. Cooing at them. Petting their hair while they slept. Showing them off to each other. In all likelihood having entire conversations with their fellow affini about how cute they were, about how terrible it was to see them in such conditions. How happy they were to show them their new homes.

It clicked.

Not a single terran from that ship was a floret. Not yet.

But all of them.

Every last one.

One hundred percent of Terra's great and mighty "dominant species" that had set out to conquer the stars.

Was a pet.

Every single one of them a small, fragile thing that needed some degree of safety and care—and was going to get it, like it or not. From the flowering giants who really were People.

"And speaking of good little patients~" Meri sang, pulling her out of her stupor.

Pulling out two lollipops, she cheerily handed one each to Sarah and Ginger.

"Enjoy! You're welcome to stick around for a bit, but some little cutie will be needing the space for a checkup eventually. There's proper seating elsewhere if you'd like to sit and chat. Sarah, Katherine, Ginger, it was lovely meeting you all, and if I don't see you again before you go, welcome to the Raptifolia! It'll feel like home before you know it."

"Thanks Meri," Sarah and Ginger chimed.

"Euryale? Whenever she's finished with that just have her send it to me and I'll get her regimen sorted for you okay?"

The younger affini wriggled with nerves and unexpected responsibility, but then she looked down to the girl still fussing with a tablet in her lap, relaxed slightly, and nodded. "Y-yes. Will do, Meri. Thank you."

"Byeee cuuuties~! Oh, and Skye?" Meri opened a curtain to the next room over and backed in with a wink. "You're welcome~."

And with that, she slid the curtain closed and was gone.

Ginger furrowed her brows and gave Skye a confused look. "What was that about?"

"I dunno yet," she answered, giving Ginger nothing more helpful than a curious and mischievous look. "How's the lollipop?"

Shrewd silver eyes watched her closely as she looked down at it, eyeing the pink and yellow swirl as she twirled the stick between her fingers. She shrugged and popped it in her mouth.

One thing was apparent instantly.

"Mmm~! Prih-iy good!"

No.

No that wasn't right.

"Fucking delicious, actually. Wha' a' fuck?"

"Oh yeah~?" Skye seemed very interested, her analytical gaze back in full force. "What flavor is it?"

"Ih's like." She rolled it around in her mouth. "It's really fruity, but not like cheap artificial flavor, it tastes like actual fruit juice. Something really sweet? And, um."

She rolled it across her tongue more.

And more.

And more.

Until she had to pull it out of her mouth to even think about the flavor swirling around in her mouth.

But the flavor was still swirling around in her mouth.

Inside her cheeks, across the roof of her mouth, on the top of her tongue, along the surface of her teeth.

The flavor was everywhere.

It hadn't stopped.

Her tongue hadn't stopped—it was still moving.

She was still just caught in the act of tasting it.

How could she even explain it?

"Something sweet like watermelons or cherries." Lick. "And something." Slide. "Kinda tangy? Like mangoes?" Taste. "Sweet with a bit of citrus."

She popped it back in her mouth and rolled it around again.

It was really good.

Was it too good?

Was this a normal amount of good?

This was only her second time tasting food made by the Compact, but this seemed weirdly good.

"Ih's super good. How come you di'n' ge' one?"

Skye watched her with wide, hungry eyes, like she knew exactly how good it was. Of course she did, she'd been a floret for three years, there was probably nothing about the Compact that came as a surprise to her by now.

"Oh don't worry about me, I'm definitely getting a treat~. And I will be writing Meri a strongly worded thank you for it. Mind if I have a taste~?"

"Uh huh!" With a little effort, Ginger pulled the lollipop out of her mouth and offered it to Skye.

Who gave her an affectionate eyeroll and pushed her hand aside.

"No, sweetie, I mean like this."

Fingers lacing through her hair set off an involuntary gasp of fireworks across her scalp.

A shiver rolled down her body, strong enough to rock her sense of balance out from under her.

Gravity seemed to almost fail her, for just a moment.

Luckily, she had help.

Strong arms kept her on her feet, but she practically fell the distance into Skye's lips. And the moment they connected with her own, her soul caught fire. Every sensation became a slow wave, radiating outward from its source.

All she knew was taste, and touch.

Her tongue never did stop moving. And was in no hurry to stop now.

Which made her audibly whine when Skye pulled back. And nearly moan, at the thrumming ripple of tingles she felt upon making the sound.

"Mmm~," Skye smirked, licking her lips. "That is pretty good."

"You're pretty good," Ginger gasped, her breathing heavy with warm tingles. "But not that good. What's going on?"

"Drugged lollipop."

Yeah, that made sense. She should not feel this warm. "It's drugged!?"

"Oh yeah, the lollipops are always drugged. Rookie mistake."

"With what?"

"Depends which one the vet gives you. Yours was…" Skye licked her lips again. "A pretty mild, short-acting class A/C blend, so a euphoriant and something to help with meeting new sophonts."

"This is mild!? I barely had any!"

"Better pace yourself then, lightweight~. That's what we call floret sober."

"Hhm~mmh," Ginger pouted. She cast a glance over to Sarah, who seemed no more high than before, despite sucking on her own lollipop. "How are you less high than me right now?"

Katherine looked up from her tablet and shrugged, pulling it out of her mouth for a moment. "Different flavor, I guess. Mine tastes like blueberry pancakes and syrup."

"Probably a mild D/C for you, then, for connecting with your feelings. Meri knows how to pick 'em."

"I did say she was the best," Sin rumbled, her sultry voice even more tingly than before.

"Also," Skye rolled her eyes, "she's definitely not less high than you. Katherine sweetie, you wanna try to walk on your own?"

"Ha! Fuck no. I'd fall on my face."

Euryale looked horrified. "No you wouldn't! I'd catch you!"

"Oh. U-um. Thanks." Sarah blushed. "I'd still rather not though. 'M too dizzy."

Ginger pulled the lollipop from her mouth to respond, but at the lightest touch from Skye she melted again, and her mouth was recaptured, leaving any words—and much of the world around her—forgotten. With every deep, hungry inhale, an invigorating rush of clean air filled her lungs. Every throaty exhale shivered with warmth and sound, her body an involuntary instrument playing for her forgotten audience.

Forgotten until Skye let her go, that is.

The final note that escaped her was cut short as she opened her eyes and remembered where she was.

And saw that Sarah, once again, was pinker than the vet's flowers, and Euryale was once again looking down at her with some concern.

"Are you alright, little one?"

"Uhhm. Hh. I—mmhmm! Fine. Just. I just feel like I'm. Intruding, is all."

Ginger, fighting back what was almost certainly a spectacular blush of her own, was having none of it.

"Why do you think that?"

"W-well, you know! It's! Cause you're both—"

"You're not intruding on anything, Sarah," Ginger cut her off, stressing the girl's name as hard as she could. She held firm eye contact, willing the obvious into her.

"Wh—but?"

A beat.

Sarah's eyes unfocused.

Her brow furrowed.

The tablet went slack in her limp grasp.

The other shoe finally, mercifully dropped. With the subtlety of a malfunctioning jump drive.

"…WAIT AM I GAY NOW!?"

For the second time, Sindahlia had to catch Skye before she fell face first into the floor from laughing.

"I can't answer that for you, kiddo," Ginger answered gently. "But probably. More important thing for now is you're gonna have to get over feeling unwelcome in women's spaces. You're women. They're your spaces. You get to be around other women. It's not weird. You're not weird. I mean me and Skye are certainly in no fucking place to judge you. I'm gay as hell and she's a fucking robot."

Skye, who had been struggling to calm down, let out another small burst of giggles. "Wait til you find out I'm the normal one."

Then, rather suddenly, she was calm. A distant look overtook her, like she was lost in thought.

"Hm. Hey Sin? Do you mind watching Ginger for a minute? Fox just had his vet check but they didn't wake him up yet, and Admin and I agree that he'll probably do better if the first face he sees is another terran. I'm the last face he saw and he already knows he can't fight me."

"You don't have to do that, petal. He is surrounded by affini who are perfectly capable of keeping him subdued."

"Yeah but I want to, and it's still better if he doesn't need subduing. I'm the least threatening option that he can't overpower, and I can try to make this easier for him. That's why I do any of this in the first place, and you know I'm good at it."

Skye gestured at Sarah and Ginger. "Clearly. Imagine if they got here scared out of their minds and weren't this well behaved. Or worse!" She pouted dramatically and flooded her voice with as much exaggerated sadness as she could. "Imagine if such a good, adorable floret didn't get to have fun! A poor little floret, Sin. With a sad face and everything."

"Perish the thought," Sin answered dryly. "What a spoiled little menace that floret would be. Especially to the poor beleaguered Affini who was asked to look after her while her owner was busy."

"It's fiiiiine. Meri fixed me up and Mastress will be here soon. Consider your pet sitting obligations fulfilled."

Sindahlia leaned down close. "That's. Not. Up. To. You. Pet," she said, punctuating each word with a boop on the nose. "Besides, I'm hurt, petal. Do you truly think of me spending time with you as merely an obligation? That makes me sad."

At her last word, Sindahlia's eyes shifted. Her main, terran-emulating pair remained unchanged, but the two pairs above took on a hue identical to the petal-woven 'skin' of her face, and the six lower pairs began flashing in a pattern of bright and fading blues in a downward sequence, like animated tears on a neon sign.

"Look at my face, petal. Look how sad you've made me. I may never recover."

Skye put up a brief fight, ultimately—and spectacularly— losing to a fit of frustrated giggles.

"Ugh! God! You're such a a fucking dork. We need to get you a floret so bad."

"When inspiration calls to me, I will answer." She pulled back, her eyes returning to normal, and cast a glance around the space. "I doubt I will find what I'm looking for here. But, perhaps my veterinary training can still be of use."

"Very well," she continued, rising to her full height of just over 14 feet. "If Lachesys agrees, Their authority over you supersedes mine."

"Wait, you're not gonna watch Ginger?" Skye asked.

Sindahlia looked from Ginger to Sarah and Euryale, and back again.

"No. Ginger is in good company. She will stay close to her friend for now, and there will be at least one Affini present if she needs anything. She'll be fine. Won't you, little one?"

Ginger, who had been watching the last few minutes of conversation with utter fascination, had not expected to be put on the spot.

"Oh. Uh. Yeah, I'll be good. Worst case is I'll need directions at some point? But I'm not gonna like. Misbehave or anything."

Sin gave a soft rumble of amusement. "I know you won't. You're a good girl."

In an instant, Ginger's brain collapsed in on itself. She purposefully told herself it was the scruffling vine pets through her hair that did it, rather than Sindahlia's words. It was probably even true.

Surely the 'Class A' was to blame for how warm she felt.

"Welcome to the Compact, cutie."

"Um. Thanks," Ginger answered, completely frazzled.

With a smile, Sin turned to leave, but paused to give a thoughtful look at the younger Affini.

"Euryale? May I give you a word of advice?"

Euryale, surprised to have been pulled out of her focus on Sarah, nodded. "O-of course."

"Relax. You will make mistakes. That's normal. We can never give them perfection. But we're not meant to. We give them the best we can, because it's the best they could ever have. That is enough. It will never feel like enough to us, but it will to them."

Euryale's vines undulated in loose, curling waves as she took it in, but Sindahlia wasn't finished.

"You will get things wrong. But the consequences are far less dire than you think. The 'Great Work' of the Affini is not great because you are solely responsible for upholding perfection; it is great because it is the sum of the difference each of us makes. Don't think you are responsible for carrying all that weight yourself. Carry what you can. The rest of us will take our share of the burden. Do your best, and don't be afraid that you aren't good enough. For them, you will be."

"…You're very smart," Euryale mumbled.

"I'm very old," Sindahlia gently corrected. "You will be too, one day. But you're not any less than you need to be right now. Remember that. You'll be fine, and so will the sophonts in your care."

Something loosened in the younger Affini. A tangle of tight nerves released, just slightly.

"…Thank you."

"Any time," Sin answered. "ChorisofSins if you need to get in touch. Lovely meeting you all."

And with an elegant turn, she wandered off.

A moment later, Sarah broke the silence.

"What was that about?"

Skye rolled her eyes. "Don't worry about it petal."

"So you're wandering off too then?" Ginger asked.

"Yeah I'm gonna go wake up Fox. You can sit and chat somewhere close by if you want. My owner will be here soon if you wanna head out together. If not, make sure you end up on ring 2A, I'm in Greencanvas about halfway between the Canopy and Coralshore. I'd say you can't miss it, but the ship is fucking huge and not everyone has a computer for a brain, so I guess I'll send you directions when you get a tablet."

"If I'm not mistaken," Euryale said, "all of the affini here right now are from 2A. Apart from some of the veterinarians, so no single ring falls short."

"Oh, no worries then. We'll all be on the same ring. That's still, like, a huge area, but the transit options are incredible, and I can always just be your compiler or something."

Ginger blinked. "You are just. So strange."

"You like it~. You like sexy robots~."

"…I have enjoyed meeting one sexy robot."

"Oh damn, who? I hope it's me."

"Go do your thing so you can come back and kiss me again, you fucking weirdo."

"Well, how could I refuse a request like that?" She blew a kiss and turned around. "See you soon, weirdo liker~!"

As Skye bounded off towards the other side of the Ultimatum, Ginger watched a handful of affini stop her to quickly pet her hair and coo at her. She wasn't sure if the affini knew by her clothing that Skye was a floret, or if they would have reacted that way to any terran, perhaps any sophont, passing by.

There was a rustling of foliage behind her, and she turned to see Euryale standing up, Sarah still cradled into her torso.

"Shall we find ourselves a less in-the-way place to sit and chat, then? We could leave now, but I have a feeling you'd rather wait for Skye."

"Yeah, probably. To both of those things."

"Alright then." Euryale pulled out another tablet and tapped briefly before deciding on a direction. Sarah never looked up from hers, seemingly perfectly content to let Euryale carry her around.

In theory, a part of Ginger understood, at a surface level, what was happening.

Sarah had said she probably felt safer and more comfortable than she ever had in her life. And she'd said it while pressed into the chest of a giant alien made of vines and flowers. Whom she had met only minutes beforehand. Perhaps half an hour. She also described 'biorhythms' as powerful enough to mess with your head a little bit. Sin had demonstrated as much, and that was without ever physically touching her.

And Sarah had been wrapped up in tangling vines for half an hour. Considerably less nervous than Ginger had ever seen her.

Less nervous, even, than the affini who had taken a liking to her.

Three hours ago, Ginger might have been horrified.

Now? The two of them were almost cute together. They certainly seemed … compatible. And with Skye as her only frame of reference for what a floret was, it certainly didn't seem like a bad outcome.

But.

It was weird.

Looking up at her best friend, cradled almost lovingly in the tendrils of a plant that resembled some mythological monster, Ginger could almost feel a wedge splitting her mind in half.

On the one hand, it almost made sense. Sarah had been miserable on a navy ship. She just wasn't cut out for that kind of life. Never was. She needed comfort and security and stability and emotional support. She needed the safety of someone she could trust looking out for her, and doing their best to help her when she was uncomfortable. Ginger had tried to be that for the girl herself. So she could hardly be surprised to see Sarah bonding with the gentle, almost maternal comfort Euryale seemed to be giving her.

Hell, they even had a similar kind of nervous energy to them. They certainly seemed to fit with each other.

And moreover, Katherine almost seemed to provide a bit of that same comfort to Euryale.

There was no denying that it fit.

They just clicked.

But on the other hand, Ginger had spent two years getting to know Sarah. She was a nervous, fidgety little thing. Perpetually caught between wallflower and doormat. To see her connecting with someone new—someone almost ten feet tall from two galaxies away that might end up keeping her as a pet—and to see that connection forming so quickly, without her psyching herself out of it or nervously seeking reassurance from someone she'd known and trusted longer was baffling.

Was the allure of these creatures really that powerful?

Was it that easy to fall into their gravity well, and slip into orbit around them?

Ginger struggled to imagine it.

She found Skye again in the thrum of activity—it wasn't like there were a lot of terrans walking around unaccompanied. Ginger had, admittedly, fallen into her orbit rather quickly. Was it like that? Within sixty, eighty minutes of meeting, she had ended up naked in the lap of a floret, getting kissed and massaged in a 20 foot wide forest hot tub on a spaceship.

There had been something utterly magnetic about Skye. Something fascinating and enticing, even as she was unsettling and intimidating. And terrifyingly smart. Yet not 25 minutes after she had hypnotized five sophonts at once in the middle of a dinner conversation, Ginger had ended up in a bath with her. Without ever stopping to think herself out of it.

Was that it?

Had Sarah slipped so quickly she hadn't had time to think about it yet?

How?

Skye was one thing, but Skye was still terran, sort of. How was it possible for the most nervous and insecure sophont she'd ever known to be so comfortable with something this alien in half an hour? What must it feel like to Sarah right now?

What was it going to feel like tomorrow? Was Sarah just going to go home with her, and never leave? What did affini homes even look like? What would Ginger's home look like? Were Skye and Sindahlia right that she would end up in the vines of her own affini someday? What would that be like? What did it feel like to just meet an alien who would own you, and quietly sink into that like it was normal?

Her mind was racing, now.

She had so many questions about all of this, about this place, about the affini, about florets, about physics, that she could hardly keep up. This time she was quite certain it was curiosity heating up her brain, not a Class A lollipop and headpats. Ginger was overflowing with questions. It felt like there was more curiosity bubbling up in her than her body had ever been able to make before.

More than her body should be able to make on its own.

Almost like—

"Excuse me," came a resonant voice from far above her.

Ginger turned around.

And up.

Standing even taller than Sindahlia Choris—though at least a third smaller by mass—was a towering garden of warm, dark wood plates, held together by a false musculature of vines in a wide range of browns, interlocking to form a many-shaded patchwork of warm earthy tones.

At various points, sporadic and seemingly random across the sturdy bark plates, there were cutouts: pockets of cavernous indentations shimmering with colorful arrangements of grainy crystallized sap. The crystal cutouts almost gave the impression of living geodes embedded in the affini's body.

More interesting still, however, were the rivers of honeyed lightning snaking across the bark plates between those geodes, like backlit resin filling the gaps between wide flakes of dark forest wood. It gave the impression of a wooden armor that had broken and been glued back together with luminous, liquid gold.

Hanging from the affini's waist like a miniature canopy atop trunklike legs was a whispering rustle of dark green leaves, slightly longer in the back and seeming to hide coils of extra mass for manipulator vines.

Skye certainly hadn't been exaggerating about how most affini presented themselves.

Above the skirt, a gradient of forest greens increasingly crept into the layered patchwork of vines visible beneath her wooden armor, and a fluffy layer of feathery moss softened much of her torso, including a modest chest. Sun-warm forks of sap lightning still sprawled across much of her visible bark plating.

Six bright amber eyes, as vibrant as the sunny gold of her sap lacquer, stared down at Ginger from a sharp, but not unkind face.

Where Sin, Meri, and Euryale had all opted for softer, more malleable facial features of finely woven foliage and flower petals, this one took the same approach as Soja, with a more rigid mask of smooth wooden plates. Finely sculpted cheekbones curved upwards into a thick bush of 'hair' that contained almost all of the visible flowers on her body: a bouquet of mostly small, five round-petaled purples and pinks, highlighted with soft yellow and white and red markings.

Only in a few other artfully chosen places did she have a few delicate strings of hanging purple flowers.

So far, all the affini Ginger had seen up close had a sort of alien dryad vibe.

This one was altogether different.

While decorated with a delicate artistry of flora, something about the structured plating gave her a rigidity, a solidness that left Ginger with the impression of something more like fifteen and a half feet of lanky earth elemental—an impression that was only enhanced by the sap-crystal geodes dotting her warm, dark wooden body.

"Hello there. I'm looking for a Ginger Allens? I was told she had some questions for me."

Ginger was immediately grateful that the affini had chosen to speak first, because for the first time since she put the drugged lollipop in her mouth, she was entirely unaware of her tongue.

"Um. That's me."

"Oh, wonderful. Eucalion Pelargos, Thirteenth Bloom, she/they."

They extended a vine for Ginger to shake, which she gently did. The sensation was fascinating. A soft exterior adorned with some of that feathery moss deformed slightly under pressure, but concealed within was something far denser that she doubted her little terran hands could bend. It was almost like a squishy layer of fleshy succulent wrapped around steel cables and rebar. Hydrostatic pressure, maybe? It would explain a lot about how their bodies—

...She was getting a bit distracted.

"Gin—I guess you know that already. She/her." Nailed it. "Um. What questions do I have for you?"

"I think that's a question for you to answer, cutie," they smiled.

Fair enough. "Who told you I had questions?"

"Lachesys informed me," Eucalion said, gesturing to the cosmic-scale arachnoid ship that had changed the course of her life. "Xey were rather insistent that you'd have quite a few of them."

"I mean I. I definitely have a lot of questions about, like, everything? But a lot of them are about physics? Like how in the world your compilers work. Also the bathroom floor was like, entirely permeable to water to the point that it just dries instantly? Like that's a LOT of mass to displace in a matter of seconds, and to do that on a spaceship is bonkers to me, that volume of liquid shouldn't be able to freely move through a solid that fast. And you have glass that's stronger than space-grade aluminum and steel plating? Your materials science is mind-boggling. Oh, Skye said you know a whole fundamental force that we never discovered? Also how did you make room temperature superconductors strong enough to hold a human body weight that are small enough to fit in the volume of her chassis? What kind of power supply does it take to run something like that?"

Golden eyes sparkled with more flecks of greens and purples the longer she rambled.

Eucalion gave her a kind, patient smile that reminded Ginger of her favorite professors at RPU—the ones that had an inexhaustible well of patience for a student who was asking genuine, well-informed questions, and always had an answer ready for someone who was eager to learn.

"You're an engineer, aren't you?"

"W—is it that obvious?"

"Oh, certainly, yes," the affini answered, with no small degree of amusement, but not a hint of judgment.

"And… are those the kind of questions you can answer?"

"I should hope so! I'm one of the electrical, industrial, and systems engineers for the Raptifolia. Very few non-digitized sophonts understand more of how this ship and its contents work than I do. Based on the range of your questions...I think I know the best place to start. Would you like me to sit with you and your friends?"

An eagerness rose in Ginger's chest with enough force to knock her brain off balance and remind her that, yes, she was still a little high, even while pacing herself with the lollipop.

She had also all but forgotten she was walking with Euryale and Sarah, which meant that, yes, being gay did apply to plants.

A slightly breathless "yes please" was all the response she could muster for now.

Finally someone who understood all the things she had questions about. And was willing to answer them! Someone that immediately embodied the energy of an unflappable tenured professor who had few greater joys in life than a student who payed enough attention to ask insightful questions. Thirteenth bloom meant Eucalion was probably older than the founding of Rome; there probably weren't questions Ginger could even think of yet that she wouldn't be able to answer.

This was exactly the kind of affini she had been hoping to—

Oh.

And just like that, her trajectory shifted as it entered a gravity well.

Notes:

As time has gone on and more and more people have mentioned that they think this is a great intro story to HDG, I have increasingly felt that this story is lacking in two critical areas. The first is in the social disability allegory that the setting represents, and I'm glad I managed to sneak a bit of that into this chapter in how the affini interact with Skye—who seems, to another terran, like the most capable and competent human she's ever met, but to the affini she's just a tiny little fumbling thing that comes nowhere close to the sheer capability that an affini has.

The second is in the distinction between macro-scale Domestication as a cultural practice across entire species, and the individual-scale domestication as a practice of taking a particular sophont as a pet. I managed to at least introduce that idea here, but for a much more comprehensive look at that distinction, you should definitely check out Nurture & Acquisitions by AsphodelVeil, in which love of my life Gale Rossings, the most autistic blorbo of all time (she's just like me frfr), is an accessibility advocate for a corporate-run planet whose management chose not to tell their employees that humanity was just conquered by a bunch of socialist alien plants.

Nurture & Acquisitions is (tragically) not a finished story, but it does do an excellent job of explaining that distinction in a way that this story won't have time to get to.

And uh. Speaking of things this story won't get to. One of the new developments in the (I am so sorry) two month gap since the last chapter is that there's a pretty strong chance that Lagnia and I will be cowriting a direct sequel to No Fate which follows what comes next for Sarah, Katherine, and Ginger, and to an as yet undecided extent, Fox.

Hey. Speaking of Fox.

What's going on with him? We're about due to check in on him, huh?

No more "hopefully," no more "if we get to it." The ortets DO one hundred percent guaranteed finally make an appearance next chapter. And no. Even with this long of a wait, you are NOT ready.

The three things I was most excited for when I started this story were the domino chain of Inevitability collapsing into the Lachesys reveal in chapter 6, the slow motion climax in chapter 8, … and what will now definitively be chapter 11.

Buckle up and write your will. We're gonna find out how much more of Fox's story you want to see. And someone else's…

Chapter 11: Lose

Notes:

"Or lose. There is no third outcome."

Last chapter: Ginger and Sarah came to terms with their place in the Compact.

This chapter: We still have to check in with Fox. …Hey. Does anyone else hear boss music?

CW: the hottest affini I've written yet, rapid nonconsensual character growth, nonconsensual nonsexual breathplay, feral breaking, not quite ego death but maybe something a little bit approaching ego snuff kink as a treat, a pinch of selfcest, and … well, you'll meet her soon enough.

Why does a character you haven't met yet get her own CW? Isn't the red X gone? Well you see, little frogs. I said there were THREE things I was most excited for in this story. And we've only had two of them. This one was teased all the way back in chapter 2.

Surprise.

Welcome to the OTHER part where I kill you. This is the hottest chapter of the entire story and it's NOT close.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Captain Fox

The thick veil of nothingness gently gave way to a mind that knew there was nothingness.

And what about the rest of my fucking crew?

Fuck.

I'm not bowing to some weed master who thinks they have a right to own me.

It was the guilt that came back first. Before anything else—before his name, before light or sound or space, before awareness of even his own body—there was guilt.

But I can still save my crew from you.

Before even fear came the knowledge of all the people he'd failed.

I don't fucking get it!

Nothingness was broken by the awful violence of somethingness: his crew, his failure, his shame.

You will, I promise!

And his enemy.

The Compact doesn't HAVE enemies!

All the exits had been blocked. The hatches, the escape pods. There had been only one way to get her off his ship, to give his crew a fighting chance.

The Captain meant to go down for his ship, not with it.

I WASN'T GOOD ENOUGH. YOU WON.

He lost.

You fought as hard as you could. But you can't fight Fate. It's over.

With a grimace, the first sensation of having a body returned to him.

Alive, then.

He'd pulled a grenade in the viewing bay. It was the only vulnerable place on the ship that wasn't covered by the bleeding roots of a nightmare beyond his worst fears, the only place where he could make a hole big enough to get the traitor off his ship. A place with its own air supply, so the rest of the crew would be safe.

He'd lured her into an impossible situation—an unwinnable scenario with a hard limit of four seconds—and still she found a way. Still she bested him. He thought he found a way to get her off his ship, to save his crew with only one casualty.

WE SAVE EVERYONE. NO EXCEPTIONS.

He was the only one who had to die.

And she hadn't let him.

To him, the one loss would have been acceptable.

She didn't accept it.

YOU CAN'T SAVE ME.

And yet, against all odds, she had.

She wanted them all. And she got them, because the next sensation to return to him was gravity.

Gone were the weightless halls of Pandora's Ultimatum. Gone with it, he bitterly realized, was his last hope. He was alive and he was somewhere with gravity—it had just taken him a moment to realize it because he was also currently on something very soft, sinking into it enough that he must be somewhere with gravity between that of Terra and Mars.

A planet.

A weed planet.

Fox scrunched up his face with a groan, not ready for his day to get worse.

"Cute. I almost wanna let you sleep."

His eyes shot open as he lurched forward.

Mercifully, the room wasn't very bright: only as well lit as a hazy winter morning in Novy Podolsk.

Less mercifully, she was here.

"Aww. You're a grumpy sleeper aren't you?"

He glared at Skye from where he sat atop an absolutely ridiculously oversized bed, no doubt the weeds showing off the luxury of the empire they'd built enslaving the stars. She was standing at the edge of the bed, fiddling with what looked like a giant alien pineapple with a number of small flowers, and two transparent stems running from the plant all the way to his—

Without a second of hesitation, he reached up and plucked two of those small flowers from his neck, revealing tiny needles at the center, surrounded by clingy petals. He threw them towards the plant machine, and the flowers automatically withdrew back towards the body of the strange plant, one near the top and one near the bottom.

"What the hell did you do to me?"

"This is a multipurpose device," Skye indicated the weird pineapple, completely unaffected by his gruff tone. "There's a number of things it can do, but mainly it filters your blood. There's an in line, then the machine checks for any nutrient deficiencies or other issues, makes the necessary adjustments, and then an out line to get that blood back where it belongs. Just think of it as a 'phlebotanist'—and please do call it that, the vet who came up with that name is very proud of it, xi's a massive dork. Everything on your chart looks good, health-wise. Well, good-ish. It's in line with what we expect to see from ferals living off synthcubes. Fixed now, though, and you'll only improve with time. You should be feeling better than ever. How's the arm?"

He pointedly ignored the fact that he did, at least physically, feel better. Even the arm. As hard as Skye had twisted it, it was amazing it hadn't broken. There was a slight feeling of soreness, but only very slight. It felt like a few days worth of healing, which wasn't good.

"How long was I asleep?"

"Forty three minutes and twelve seconds."

What? That doesn't make any sen—

"Where are we?"

"Docking bay A0, on board the Raptifolia."

Narrowed eyes raked over her. This was planetary gravity, and what was clearly the weeds' idea of a hospital or doctor's office, because the space was decorated with anatomical diagrams, devices of a probably medical nature but weird, and colorful floral wallpaper all the way to the absurdly high ceiling.

Rolling her eyes with a sigh, the floret somehow predicted him.

"No, I'm not bullshitting you, this is a feral triage room, and it really is in a hangar bay. On a ship. I've been telling you the truth the whole time, Fox. I didn't lie once. Honestly, I think you're really gonna like the Raptifolia, it might give you back some of that sense of wonder you had when you were little."

"You don't know the first damn thing about me," he scowled.

Sharp silver eyes cut him like a blade.

"I know when you were very young, your father took you into the city to see the Roscosmos Museum of Aeronautics and Astronomy in Moscow, where you learned all about the early space programs of the Information Age. I know you loved it so much you named your first dog Laika, and it's the reason you enlisted with the TCN. Before they and the capitalist interests they forced you to protect took a curious little boy who loved the stars and turned him into a weapon of manifest destiny and misguided duty. I know every book you ever checked out from the library, all the fiction and history and science. I know you love space, and you love stories. And I know the affini are going to help you find that part of you again."

Unable to look her in the eye, Fox settled for mumbling a handful of choice phrases in his native tongue.

⟨No point throwing punches after a fight,⟩ Skye responded in perfect Russian. ⟨You can't avoid that which is meant to happen.⟩

"Didn't know you spoke Russian," he seethed.

"I didn't before yesterday. I added it to my language database and saved it to my long term memory on a whim, in case it came in handy."

Right. She was some kind of…machine. No human could have done what she did. Maybe that was part of the problem; maybe the weeds' technology really was just too advanced, and humanity truly couldn't stop them. She was some kind of robot the weeds had made out of whoever Tori Florentine used to be, sent to capture his ship. And she had. At every turn she had outplayed them, and she won. If she was lying about any of it before, she probably had no reason to now.

He took a steadying breath, and decided to actually ask a half-earnest question. "You think the fight is over?"

Annoyingly, she just smiled at him, and offered a hand.

"Want to see what you were up against?~"

Fox ignored her and pushed himself to the edge of the bed, only to find the floor quite a bit further away than he expected. Around the bed was a small ledge, less than half a meter wide, which Skye was standing on. There was another meter drop below that to ground level.

What moron designs a hospital bed the patient can barely get out of without injuring themselves?

Skye hopped gracefully to the strangely luminous grassy floor, still offering her hand to help him down.

Her wrist, he noted, was completely healed somehow. There wasn't even a scar where his knife had been less than an hour ago—another sign that something had to be off about this situation. It can't have been only 45 minutes. Her wrist was fully healed. His own twisted arm felt days better, and he felt like he'd just gotten ten hours of sleep, at least.

And this room was enormous in a way that was clearly showing off. Was that it? Was this a subtle show of force, a frivolous display of the resources they could afford to waste, meant to weaken his resolve?

They'd have to try harder than that to break his spirit.

Still ignoring her outstretched hand, he carefully lowered himself to the ground. Even with resistance training exercises, microgravity was not kind to bones and muscles.

Skye rolled her eyes at him and led him to the only wall of the room that wasn't solid: a large, seemingly soundproofed curtain.

She pulled it aside, and led him out.

From where they stood, he could see dozens of other rooms no doubt similar to the one he woke up in, lining an open air hallway. Also lining the hall were a number of featureless, rectangular arches like open cabinet frames, taller than him, with nothing in them. Each of them was simply two sides and a top, serving no apparent purpose. At least a hundred meters away, he thought he caught a glance of something large and green moving into one of the rooms. When he looked up, the sky was a featureless blue-gray.

"Come on, better view's this way."

Begrudgingly, he followed Skye. She was his only advantage behind enemy lines—she knew the terrain, and she liked to talk. Best to let her, and pay close attention in case she gave up any usable intel.

Downhill, past the row of rooms across from his own, the space seemed to open up, and something began to tickle at the edge of his awareness.

Something was wrong.

It didn't feel like he was walking downhill.

He couldn't figure it out until they reached the other side of the triage rooms, and Skye paused to watch him with an annoyingly smug, analytical look.

The floor was curved.

He'd barely noticed because of the sheer scale of it, but they were standing in an O'Neill cylinder. There was no blue-gray sky. It was the floor, and it was dozens of kilometers away, on the other side of a gargantuan spinning ring, far enough away that the details were obscured by the volume of air scattering the light from its distant surface.

At his left, he could see the edge of the ring was several hundred meters away, decorated with an enormous fractal pattern, symmetrical around six massive spokes towards the central axis of the structure.

At his right sat the nightmare he beheld on the probe's camera feed, cradling his ship beneath a tangle of plant mass that seemed unreal in scale. Kilometers behind it, a vast vertical ocean of semisolid blood-colored sap filled the entirety of the visible space beyond.

It had been one thing to witness cosmic horror represented on a viewing screen.

It was another thing entirely to see it face to face, and see it dwarfed by the structure it now rested in.

Thousands of tons of plant mass subtly twisted as multifaceted eyes the size of houses turned, glinting in the sourceless light. The colors within shifted to give them a false sense of direction, until the god who struck down his mortal ambitions stared directly at him.

And four of its eyes briefly closed.

The silken thread of fate winked at him.

He was not the captain of Pandora's Ultimatum anymore. His ship belonged to the god-spider now.

Skye giggled next to him. "I think Admin likes you."

"…What?"

"Oh, I don't blame Them. It's not every day someone actually catches me by surprise."

He turned to see that invasive silver stare piercing him again, from beneath sympathetic eyebrows.

"It's probably not much comfort to you right now, Fox, but you really did surprise me. There was never going to be a way for you to win, but credit where it's due, that was the closest call I've ever had. Admin and I were both really impressed. And based on the custom RSS feed I set up to track the relevant bureaucratic feeds, we're not alone. Seems a lot of people have taken an interest in the clever little fox who almost got away."

"I'm fine, by the way," she winked. "Minor heat stress from overclocking myself that hard, but that just means I get Repair Time later. No hard feelings."

That was not what caught his interest. "Who knows? OCNI? The Free Terran rebellion?"

She snorted. "I should clarify: when I say people, I mean affini. You've impressed a bunch of affini."

Oh.

…Fuck.

"And now they're in a bureaucratic race to see which of them gets to keep you. I have a ticker keeping track of who's submitting the paperwork. Admin's talking to a few of them now actually. Xey love to meddle."

"No one gets to keep me."

"In a week you'll think it's funny that you said that."

"No one gets to own another intelligent being! I don't care how powerful their stupid empire is. I don't have to be okay with them conquering us! I have a right to self-determination! Everyone does."

"Like the Rinans?"

His blood went cold. "I had nothing to do with—"

"You fought for the Terran Accord, didn't you? You were part of the capitalist military system that upheld unimaginable cruelty against intelligent beings—Rinan and Terran. Maybe you didn't believe in that cruelty, and good for you if you didn't. But you still participated in it, benefited from it, and defended it. Tell me I'm wrong."

No sound escaped his throat.

"The affini aren't going to do to us what we did to the Rinans. The Accord hurt you too, whether you realize it or not. The affini are going to help everyone. You lashed out at something you didn't understand, so you're going to get more help than someone who didn't, because you need more help than someone who wouldn't. Florethood is not a punishment. Do I seem like I have any regrets?"

He refused to say no.

Against his will, he thought it.

But it wasn't enough to silence his other thoughts.

She noticed, of course.

"Remember when I said your options were surrender or lose? You didn't surrender."

Real fear slowly began to claw at him. His gaze fell to the activity around his former ship, where dozens of walking gardens lumbered about. While he had been looking at the monstrous spider vessel above, he had missed a critical detail in the range of shapes and colors moving below: many of them were carrying members of his former crew, the affini cradling them effortlessly in the many-tendriled embrace of their enormous bodies.

The room he'd woken up in was not oversized as a show of force. It just wasn't made for him.

This was their world.

What he felt now was not the adrenaline of fight or flight. It was fright.

"You're gonna be okay, I prom—mmmhhh."

Fox looked over in alarm at Skye, who had grabbed the edge of one of the strange, backless cabinets for support. She took a deep, sharp breath, eyes fluttering momentarily as she hummed. For several seconds, she seemed lost in a downright erotic wave of something that affected only her.

He, meanwhile, felt only another cold trickle of dread at this unexpected shift.

"Fuck's wrong with you?"

Sharp silver eyes seemed just a bit duller when Skye recovered enough to look back up at him. They had dilated slightly, and her cheeks were lightly flushed.

"Zhe's here. I can feel them."

"What?" He took a step back. "Who?"

"This is probably gonna seem weird to you, but try not to freak out. I promise whatever they do to me, I'm enjoying it."

"What the fuck is going on?"

Skye took another deep breath, still steadying herself. Then she nodded at the base of one of the spokes, where, a moment later, twin doors slid open.

"My owner. They're here."

Stepping out from the elevator was a mass of warm, greenish sepia and rich burgundies. Their body was mostly humanoid, clothed in a mix of driftwood plates that mimicked a corset and thigh-high boots, and a tight-knit weave of maroon leaves in the style of some historical Terran nautical jacket. Beneath a butch cut of auburn leaves, a shrewd face with eight amber-and-amethyst eyes quickly scanned the space before landing on what was theirs.

As the monster strode confidently towards them, Fox noticed something even more alarming following at its heels.

Skye.

Another Skye kept pace beside it.

As the pair approached, more and more details came into focus. The monster's eyes may have been entirely different from Skye's, but the piercing, analytical gaze somehow felt the same—albeit from about thirteen feet off the ground. The other Skye wore a similar dress, but with much more lacy detailing that gave her the impression of being encircled in cobwebs. She walked with smooth, fluid movements.

Which became quite unsettling once they were close enough for Fox to see that her eyes were closed.

And worse, she was leashed to one of the affini's four arms by a number of thin red vines, attached to her shoulders, elbows, back, legs … and one in her left ear.

Her entire body was somehow being puppeted by the alien who walked her.

When they stopped, the affini prodded one of the odd arches with another thin red vine, tipped with a glasslike needle, and it moved: sinking lower to the floor until the puppet-Skye stepped toward it and gracefully sat. She settled in a straight backed pose, knees together, wrists crossed in her lap, still and sleeping. All of the vines retracted except for the one in her ear. The affini sat on another arch adjacent to it, and Fox realized his mistake.

It wasn't a hollow cabinet frame. They were benches, made for creatures more than double his height. He was standing in a world not made for him, but for the dominant species that had taken him into its home. Everything in this world belonged to them. Everything.

Skye ran to the monster and hugged one of its legs, barely taller than the eerie, inhuman bend of its false knees.

"Hi Mastress," she breathed in utter adoration.

It smiled down at her almost lovingly, and used a bundle of vines to affectionately tousle her hair.

"Welcome home, my heart. I heard you have been very good, and only a little naughty."

The monster's voice was a layered rumble of deep growling strings and thuddy percussion that felt like repeated blows to the chest, woven together by woodwind hums. Every word it spoke surrounded him from more than fifteen feet away, like being caught in a tangling snare of sound alone.

"At this point I think Sin leaves her tablet open like that on purpose."

"I would not be surprised; she loves to spoil my little dolls nearly as much as I do. And what little troublemaker has earned special attention from you after you have brought them home, hmm?"

Fox did his best not to cower before the wooden giant whose attention focused on him. He barely managed it, and the hundreds of razor-sharp rosethorn teeth in its wicked mouth did not help.

It had Skye's smirk, magnified tenfold by the power of the ancient predator who wore it.

"Oh, this is Fox! Admin thought I should be the one to wake him up so he wouldn't freak out. As much."

Something bristled deep within its enormous body.

"This is the wily little fox who threatened my floret?"

Oh no.

If its attention had shifted to him before, the feeling of it now pressed in around him like he was ten feet underwater.

"Yeah!" Skye answered excitedly for him.

He fought the urge to take a step back.

"Well, then. I would hate to be rude. My name is Urtica Nette, 16th bloom, zhe/they."

Put on a strong face. Just put on a strong face. Don't show weakness.

"I'm Captain—"

"No."

Urtica's voice hit him hard enough to force the breath from his lungs.

"You're not captain anymore, are you, little one?"

Alexander Fox

He scowled. Fine.

"Alexander Fox." He seethed, but did not push any further.

"Pronouns?" Zhe gestured for him to speak, and he saw a set of burgundy flower petals tipping zher nails, matching the polish on Skye's fingers.

"He/him."

One side of the affini's wicked mouth tilted slightly upward. "Very well. I need not introduce my little Skye to you. As for her connivent," they gestured at the motionless other-Skye sitting on the bench, "I will allow her to introduce itself when it wakes."

"How's she doing," Skye asked.

With what must have been intended as an affectionate smile, Urtica brought the tangle of thin red vines back to Skye's scalp and began caressing her gently again. She responded to it immediately, nearly struggling to stay standing.

"Almost finished. I thought we would have longer to run her defragmentation cycle; you made record time with this crew. I'm very proud of you, dear."

At this Skye did collapse against her, letting out a few noises that left Fox feeling a bit awkward.

And more than a little rattled.

This was the one who had brought his entire ship to its knees in only two and a half hours.

And this monster brought Skye to hers in two and a half minutes.

"You disapprove of how I spoil my pet?" Urtica's eight crystalline eyes bored into him.

"She's not an animal," he fumed. "No matter how you modified her, she's still a person."

"Sophont."

Again, zher voice knocked the air out of him.

"What?" he gasped.

"You will use the term sophont. It's more inclusive than person, which refers only to affini. You are a sophont, more specifically a xenosophont."

More uncomfortable than the slow boiling of his hidden temper was the fact that Urtica seemed aware of his frustration, and relished in pushing against it. He had the uncanny sensation that zhe somehow knew exactly what he was feeling, and dared him to express it. They wanted to make him uncomfortable. They wanted to see him fight.

Zhe was utterly unafraid to see him try.

The moment he wished he had another grenade, eight eyes glinted redder.

"I know what happened on your ship. Suppose I turned my back, little fox." Zhe stood to their full height and tapped something at Skye's leg, and a compartment opened at the top of her thigh like a pocket. From it, the affini drew a knife. His knife.

"Suppose I even gave you a weapon to fight with." Zhe tossed it to the floor a few feet in front of him.

A thin red vine slipped into Skye's ear, and her body smoothly turned. Her face was devoid of emotion as she wordlessly knelt a few feet in front of the knife, as unmoving as the other one.

"Go on. Threaten my floret again."

Urtica turned around, facing fully away from him.

The affini wanted him to reach for it. Dared him to use it. Even made zher floret unable to fight back if he tried to hurt her.

Zhe was that sure he couldn't.

Zhe was that sure zhe could stop him if he tried.

He eyed the knife, its inscription still glistening with whatever Skye had in place of blood. His fingers twitched. He was fuming at what she'd done to his crew. At the fact that she'd brought his entire ship to its knees alone. He turned to face the weeds manhandling the crew of the ship he'd tried to save from this fate. All those lives irreparably altered.

He was furious.

But he also knew the affini was testing him. This was not the right time to strike. He was outmatched. If there was any hope left, impatience could ruin it. He had to be smarter than that.

Fox scowled at Urtica.

But he did not reach for the knife.

"Good," zhe said.

Lightning-fast, a sepia vine lashed out from Urtica's mass, grabbed the knife, and reeled it back into the depth of their body, faster than Fox could have moved a foot towards it.

Only then did they turn back around.

"We will make a civilized terran out of you yet." Urtica's smirk twisted upwards with a heavy, growling hum of amusement that made Fox's hair stand on end.

His headache was creeping back.

"Now, then," zhe rumbled, "someone else has to answer for Their behavior today. Skye, disable subjectivity emulation and open network settings."

"Yes, Admin," her body blankly answered. Whatever she had been was now an empty shell.

Urtica pulled the vine from her ear.

"Run cyberdoll101 access point as subjectivity modem and connect to Lachesys Aranea, 10th Permutation."

The empty body shuddered as something different filled it. Something even less human.

In a smooth motion, it stood, and turned up to face Urtica with a perfect mimicry of zher wicked smile.

"Hello syster," it said calmly.

"Explain yourself," Urtica commanded.

Skye's body shivered. "Mmm, I see you have already reset her sensorium parameters. I do so easily forget how small the terran body is. Must you leave me so vulnerable for this conversation?"

Something was wrong.

Something was very, very wrong.

It was Skye's voice. But it was not Skye. It sounded more like the affini.

Urtica was not amused. "Clearly you need the reminder. I do not appreciate your carelessness today."

"Do not be so harsh, dear. You have seen the full report, no doubt. All were returned safely. Her favorites have practically made florets of themselves already."

"Safely!? Is that what you call SIX. STAB. WOUNDS."

Fox nervously took a step back as Skye's body rolled its eyes in an entirely inhuman way, their former silver shifting in hue like the jeweled eyes of the angry affini staring down at her.

"Which Meri has already mended, dear. You know she enjoys the thrill of her enrichment sessions, and no harm remains but the heat stress she will be delighted to have you fix later. She was never in real danger. You know I would not allow it. And if you have any doubts, I think her hedonic index log will show you the obvious: she had a wonderful time, and there was a considerable spike in enjoyment when she had a difficult puzzle that she knew I trusted her to solve. She will treasure the experience. There are only so many more opportunities to play this game. Feral terrans are such a fleeting commodity, after all."

Urtica's vines twisted against each other in a way that made zher entire body creak like a dry winter forest in high wind.

Fox felt uncomfortably certain that the sheer force of them pressing against each other could have snapped his bones like toothpicks.

After a moment of writhing thought, zhe spoke. "I expect you to be more proactive about her safety going forward. These 'free terrans' are more volatile than their navy. Do not leave my floret in harm's way like that again. You have a firebreak for a reason. If you want to play that rough with her, do it in a simulation where the parameters are controllable."

"As you wish, dear. And how is her ortet?"

Urtica slowly calmed, turning to the other Skye and imitating a soft sigh with a rustle of leaves sliding against each other. With a faint sound somewhere between a click and a pop, the umbilical vine disconnected and pulled away from her ear.

"Better. I had to strip and reset a few entire file libraries, but I've finished patching the holes that caused. She needs rest, but you can chat with her later."

"Hmm." Skye's body hummed, and turned to Fox with an inhuman look of hungry amusement. On human features the expression read as somewhere between lust and wrath. "I will leave you to it then. It seems you have your vines full at the moment. Give her my best wishes when it wakes. I will leave Skye with a little ATP on the way out."

Fox's body vibrated with a physical blow of low bass, a predator's growl deep enough to rattle his bones, as a thorny smile split Urtica's face. It was, to his horror, the same expression Skye's body had just made.

"Not too much," they said. "The poor feral is already having quite a day."

Skye's body smiled, nodded, and went still.

"Connection terminated," it said flatly.

"Close network access point and enable subjectivity emulation."

Whatever shift had occurred earlier now happened in reverse: Skye's body shuddered, then blinked, then loosened, suddenly alive with humanity once again as Skye herself returned to her body. An erotic rush rolled down her back, dropping her, moaning, back to her knees.

"Hhhhhhh," she enunciated. "Ffffuck. I love it when Admin does that. Thank you Mastress."

"Ah, that reminds me," the affini made a finger-snapping noise by some means Fox couldn't identify. "Open Settings/Controller and run Handler Exchange, reset to default."

Skye shuddered again. "Yes, Admin."

"Better," Urtica smirked.

Fox hadn't spoken through that entire exchange, and wasn't eager to start again. As far as he could tell, Skye was just turned off while another affini used her body to have a conversation. An affini that she had addressed as—no. He turned to the monstrous spider-ship. Warm, green-sepias and deep burgundies. Eight eyes.

The ship winked at him again, and his spine tingled with cold.

"You are wondering about my connection to the ship that captured you," Urtica stated flatly. It wasn't a question.

Still silent, he turned to zher.

"Lachesys Aranea is my ramet. Xey are a digitized copy of me. Drifted, somewhat, over time. Digitized sophonts, especially shipminds, can exist at drastically accelerated experiences of subjective time. In a chronological sense, Lachesys came into existence well after I did. But in subjective time, They are many times my age. Older by orders of magnitude. Xey are a separate, unique sophont, but Their origin point is as a copy of me. The same is true for my florets."

The other Skye slowly opened her eyes.

Blinked once.

Twice.

Her eyes flicked to Skye, the spider-ship, and Urtica in turn.

Already, something was off. Something more than just the sprawling veins of green-and purple bruising at the back of her neck and upper back.

Urtica lowered themself by partially unweaving the intricate mass of zher body; hundreds of vines spread out from where zhe had once had legs. Much of the force of their presence diminished in place of something more gentle, almost soothing if it weren't so deeply unsettling to look at.

"Do not worry, dear heart. You are alright. Skye finished more quickly than we expected. How are you feeling?"

She took a moment before answering in Skye's voice. "No errors in the log yet. I'm sure if anything is left it will make itself known in time. For now I'm okay. Thank you."

Then she turned to Skye.

Something was off about it.

"How did things go on your end?"

Its smile.

Its smile wasn't human.

Its smile looked like Skye's while the other affini had been using her body.

Skye smiled back as if nothing was wrong. "I had a great time with Handler! We got everyone on board home safe. Even if somebody tried to be difficult.~"

Both of them turned to face Fox at once, and it was then the difference became clearer.

The other-Skye's movements were wrong. The way she turned her head was too smooth. The way her eyes moved first, and a split second later her head tracked the motion, like she was keeping them centered, felt like being sized up by a machine.

It stood in a single, perfect motion, and its body turned to face him.

Every movement was precise, but not sharp and robotic. It didn't have the stiff and rigid movements of a machine, but it was far too perfect to be human. It was smooth and parabolic, like every motion was planned out beforehand, and a curve was plotted between the start and end point.

It tilted its head, and when Fox failed to stand his ground, and took an uncomfortable step back, it smiled that toothy, too-wide predator's grin, lacking only Urtica's thorns.

"Hello. I'm Marion Nette, seventh floret ortet, she/it."

It.

Fox couldn't have agreed more.

This wasn't a person. It was an it. A living doll. Puppeted by something alien—as much so on its own two feet as when the strings from its master were literal. Inside, where humanity should have been, there was only the grinning hunger of the xenos.

Marion was more like Skye had been when she was possessed.

Cold understanding dripped down his spine.

Skye had been an infiltrator. She was made to board a terran ship and blend in, to look and act like she was still Tori Florentine, OCNI; Skye was designed to pretend she was human.

This other one, the marionette, had no such design considerations.

She was what the xenos made of Tori Florentine here, where it didn't matter who saw what she'd become.

"Don't be rude, petal," Urtica thrummed.

"Introduce yourself."

Fox's heart, already pounding, worked double to keep up with the air that left him whenever zhe used the full power of their voice.

"I'm—I'm Cap—"

"No."

"—hhh." His voice and body were overpowered once again. "Alex," he wheezed. "Alexander Fox."

"Oh~?" Marion stalked closer. "And what did the former captain do to warrant special attention after recovery?"

"Pulled a grenade,~" Skye smirked. "And stabbed me."

Marion turned back to her in that eerily smooth way. "Did he?"

"Six times," Skye nodded, giving her best human rendition of that horrible smile.

"Hnnn," the doll practically snarled in amusement.

To his horror, Fox realized it was her version of Urtica's low, vibrating growl that shook his bones—a sound that both of them made instead of a laugh.

At face value, the sound was innocent enough: nothing more than a toothy hum through her nose. But there was something beneath the surface. Something coiled, something tense and ready to strike. Something hungry. Something that couldn't wait for its jaws to snap shut around him, licking its teeth in anticipation like a predator on its haunches, lining up for a deadly pounce.

No sound as simple had ever made his blood run colder. And the doll's smile brought the chill even lower.

Its silver eyes locked onto him like it was taking aim.

"Well, he doesn't look very threatening to me.~"

How was it worse than her? How was this doll so much more unsettling than the woman he'd seen rip a hole through two inches of steel with her bare hands? How was this the one that felt so much more dangerous?

It acted like Skye when she'd been taken over by the monstrous spider.

And its smile only seemed to sharpen at his fear as wide, hungry eyes plucked at the strings of his soul.

What the hell was wrong with it?

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he shuddered.

"DON'T."

the wind was knocked out of him

"Speak."

again

"To."

"My."

"Floret."

and again

"Like."

"That."

and again.

A voice like a hypermetric kick slammed into him. Every word hit him like a blow to the chest; every breath he tried to take left him before it could do his work, and his vision shadowed at the edges.

"Hnnn,~" the doll hummed. "Don't be so hard on him, Admin. He still thinks he's people. We all know there's nothing he can do to actually hurt me."

He glared up at it through his tunneling vision.

She just kept staring at him. "I can already imagine what a sweet little creature he'll be in a week or two. It's hard out there for wild terrans, but I'm more than willing to forgive a bit of rudeness~ while his world is being turned upside down. No hard feelings, little Fox. You'll be perfectly tame sooner than you think."

"HA!" Skye suddenly barked. "Sorry, I just saw the bureaucratic feed. I know who's getting him."

"No one's getting me," he snarled.

"No~?" Marion teased, her eyes twinkling.

Behind it, Urtica's thorns bristled in a mirror of zher doll's hungry smile. "Oh~? Have some fight left in you, terran?"

"Always," he growled.

Urtica rose to zher full height and growled back, the heavy churning thumps of a diesel engine mixed with the guttural purr of an enormous predator. They took two thundering steps forward, forgoing the gracefulness that hid the true scale of their mass.

"I lost. Fine. But don't mistake that for surrender. I'll never surrender. I'd sooner die than bend the knee to your stars-damn empire."

"Would you, now?" Zhe loomed over him.

"Go on, do it," he dared, balling his hands into fists. "Show me the cruelty I was fighting against. Prove me right, weed."

"A bold invitation."

Urtica's body opened, zher false shape untangling as vines pulled a tablet from their chest. A few quick taps later, zhe made a sound like a revving engine mixed with the heavy chuff of a tiger, one of the largest extinct predators on Terra that survived to be recorded in the Information Age. It was a heavy, sharp, satisfied sound. Every ounce of instinct in his body told him to run. Every ounce of logic knew it was too late for that the moment he woke up on a weed ship.

"I suppose Vixsin will have to forgive me for not declining it."

Vines snaked out from the tangled mass.

"You'd sooner die than kneel, would you?"

One slender vine slipped behind each knee. One lay on each of his shoulders.

And then, with only the gentlest of pressure, four vines out of thousands began to pull his knees forward and his shoulders down. When he tried to step forward, he found another vine at his ankles was ready to trip him.

In the instant his body obeyed its instinct to brace for the fall, two more vines wrapped around his wrists and snuck into his palms, keeping them from balling back into fists, and two more gingerly caught him by the armpits and took his full weight as the slow, irresistible force brought him inevitably to the floor. He tried to thrash, but vines at his arms held him as firmly as the stocks of a guillotine as control of his future was truly severed from him.

Urtica had unwound zherself enough to show how many vines they had in their monstrous body.

And zhe was bringing him to his knees with only five.

Five vines that barely even pushed.

"NO! FUCK YOU! HOW DARE YOU!"

His body sank lower unimpeded, until he felt the soft grassy floor tickle at his knees.

"You look alive to me."

"NO!"

"YES."

His cries were stolen from him along with his breath.

"Let me make something perfectly clear to you, little fox. We have a term for affini who specialize in prying open wild little things like you, and meticulously picking apart all the things that make you fight the inevitable, that make you deny yourself the care we're

"GOING"

his lungs emptied once again

"to provide you. Those affini are called

He gasped for breath—

"FERAL BREAKERS."

and was winded once more.

With no more weight to hold up, the vines at his armpits pulled away. He felt something wet and viscous pooling in his palms, at his knees, and around his ankles. To his horror, he watched that same red sap bleed out from zher vines as it had on the hull of his ship.

Weakly, he spoke. "Let me guess, you're a—"

"SOMETIMES IT'S NOT OUR TURN TO TALK."

"-hhh," he exhaled.

"A feral breaker is someone who has been

"TRAINED"

"to break you. Someone with the skill to be delicate. Someone who knows how to take that fight from you properly. Any affini could simply

"BREAK YOU."

His vision began to tunnel.

"But a feral breaker has learned how to do it neatly, to preserve what is important underneath the anger and the trauma that makes you think you don't deserve our care. To carefully

"SNIP"

"and"

"PRUNE"

"away all the ways your own culture

"BROKE"

"the sophont you deserve to be."

The sap at his hands, knees, and ankles had ballooned outwards until they were swallowed completely in thick bubbles of sticky red.

"My warning to you, little fox, is that

"I"

"am"

"NOT"

"a"

"feral"

"breaker."

Blow after blow had knocked the wind out of him, and a cold flutter of lightness seemed to rush upwards as the ground flew the distance from his knees to the hands that instinctively reached out to brace his fall.

Darkness swallowed his vision for a moment. His mind tumbled forward into it, falling farther than his body had been able to.

If Urtica still spoke, he could no longer hear it.

For a few moments, all he knew was that he was still breathing.

Slowly, the world filtered back in.

Tingles of color sparked in his vision as the ground beneath him resolved into a soft blur of blue-gray grass. The feeling of gravity spinning around him wound down until it returned to a stable pull beneath him. Oxygenated blood flowed back into his brain, and through the disorientation, Alexander Fox returned to the body he'd briefly left.

The weight of panting breaths let him know about the vine beneath his chest, holding him up. Allowing his limp body to fall only so far.

Only far enough for the sap around his hands to have bonded to the floor.

When he fully regained consciousness, the vine at his chest pulled away. The others had already gone.

He wasn't just kneeling.

He was trapped in a kneel, bent low before the monster and its dolls, unable to stand.

He raged and pulled and thrashed, but no matter how he tried to twist or push or cry out, he could not leave the position he'd been guided into. Zhe hadn't even hurt him to do it.

Push. Pull. Twist. Rage.

Cry out. Thrash. Breathe.

But nothing changed.

The only difference he made was the sweat rolling down his back, the wetness of his face, and the growing, aching burn of space-weak muscles that could not pull him free any more than they could have resisted the five vines that brought him to the knees he swore he'd never kneel upon.

The monster and its dolls looked on impassively as he slowly wore himself out.

Push. Pull. Twist. Rage.

Cry out. Thrash. Breathe.

He ached.

He hurt.

They didn't even touch him.

He fought with everything he had.

They didn't fight back at all, and they still won.

He lost.

The one thing he had sworn he'd never do before the weeds was bend the knee. Now, here he was: forced into a kneel he couldn't escape, trapped in his own symbolic surrender before the monsters that demanded his submission.

And it wasn't allowed to hurt.

His muscles ached because he wouldn't stop fighting.

The only pain they allowed him was his own stubbornness.

The monsters had no need to break his body; their power over it was effortless and intractable.

All they needed to break was his will.

And they were going to.

One way or another, they were going to.

He knelt before the monsters who would have his soul, upon a malevolent mercy of jellied sap—as unable to hurt as he was unable to escape the fate they chose for him. Left in such a position, he'd ache and burn.

But only if he remained tense.

Only if he fought.

Only if he refused to loose that tension, sit back to settle his weight, and relax into it.

A torturous lesson: the only cruelty they would allow him to suffer was himself.

The only source of pain he had was his own will to fight. And it was slipping.

He was going to surrender. Or he was going to lose. There was no third outcome.

Push. Pull. Twist. Rage.

Cry out. Thrash. Breathe.

Push. Pull. Twist.

Cry. Breathe.

Push.

Breathe.

Pull.

Breathe.

Cry.

Breathe.

He would have fought the weeds to his dying breath. But the only thing they had allowed him to fight was the inevitable truth that he had no more room to run from, the inevitable truth now sinking into him: this was already over. The option to surrender had been an act of mercy.

It didn't matter that he refused to surrender.

He lost.

Humanity lost.

There was never another outcome.

They never stood a chance.

It went against everything he ever stood for.

But he wasn't standing now.

Tears burning coldly in his eyes, muscles burning hotly in his weak terran body, Alexander Fox used the last of his strength to slowly lower himself back until his weight rested on his legs, and the last embers of resistance flickered out.

It was over.

Ancient, monstrous satisfaction vibrated his bones, and he looked up to see that Urtica's smile was gentler now. Zhe was still a cosmic apex predator, powerful beyond imagining. But the only thing zhe wanted to prey on was his submission.

And they were satisfied.

All three of them.

The dolls looked up at their master with awe, adoration, and a profound depth of love.

"FUCK, Admin," Skye breathed.

"That was so hot," Marion agreed.

They each received an ample caress from Urtica's vines.

"It's been a while since I got to play with something that wanted to fight back," Urtica hummed. "Perhaps I should write a cognitive overlay for the pair of you soon. I quite enjoyed myself."

"I must say I did as well," came a new resonant voice from behind him. "I'm glad I didn't miss it."

Fox turned as far as he could, but only caught a glimpse of orange.

"Hi Miss Vulpinni," Skye or Marion said.

"Hello, little ones. Which of you do I have to thank for bringing this little creature home to me?"

Its voice was a sweet, softly howling melody of low woodwinds and rapt, staccato consonants.

"That's me!" Skye answered. "Congrats on winning the bureaucratic race. I was watching the paperwork feed."

"Perks of being a clerk," an orange mass from the corner of his eye smiled.

He wasn't sure how he knew it was smiling, but he did, somehow.

"Urtica, if you don't mind?"

"Of course," zhe answered.

Zher vines reached out to the pools of sap entrapping Fox and slowly drank them away until he was freed.

Too exhausted to stand, Fox simply slid off his legs to one side as he rolled into a sideways sit on the soft floor, where he could finally look at the newcomer fully.

Apart from its height, this affini had very little in common with Urtica.

Skye had been right about a few things. Affini were certainly not like humans. He found himself strangely relieved that this one didn't pretend to be.

It was bipedal, but largely canine in structure. It stood maybe a few inches taller than zher in a hunched, digitigrade posture. Where zhe was largely greenish-sepias and driftwood plates highlighted by tightly woven leaves in deep reds, this one had a pale gray underbelly of soft feathery vines, swallowed on all sides by a wild mass of dense, fluffy orange flower petals overlaying a dark gray central body.

Balancing their hunched posture was a heavy mass of vines and foliage forming a large, fluffy looking tail, mostly orange but tipped with gray.

Atop its shoulders was a head like a wolf: a short muzzle full of rosethorn teeth smiled down at him beneath a strange set of amber and rose-quartz eyes. Three large ones adorned the bulk of its face, with three much smaller ones in an angle pattern between each of the two side eyes and the central eye at its forehead. Nine eyes in total. Behind them sat a large pair of fluffy flower-petal ears nestled in between the crown of spiky, hornlike roots that wrapped around the skull all the way to its lower jaw.

Its hands and feet were large, clawed, and somewhere between those of a human and a dog.

The affini looked like nothing so much as a hulking floral werewolf of dark salt-and-pepper grays and fluffy orange that shifted lightly with every movement.

Emanating from its body was a powerful scent of wildflower meadows, timber forests, and something more acrid and sweaty. For Fox it was a twofold taste of home—the remaining woodlands near Novy Podolsk mixed with the familiar tang of the Ultimatum's stale air.

"Alexei Lenkovocz, it's a pleasure to meet you. My name is Vixsin Vulpinni, fifth bloom, ce/cer, but hopefully soon, you will come to think of me as Miss Vulpinni, or Miss Vix, or Mistress, or perhaps Sir if you find it preferable. I will allow you that choice."

He did not look forward to that eventuality, despite knowing already that he could do nothing to stop cer.

"Alex," he choked. His throat had grown hoarse from his doomed struggle. "Alexander Fox."

"Oh, I should certainly think not, my little pup. I read Skye's report quite thoroughly. I know you took that name as a symbol of strength, and I promise you, you will not be needing it anymore. You're in my care, now. You will never harm yourself with the pretense of strength again. That is not a choice I will allow you."

He gulped.

"Are you able to stand?"

He pushed, weakly, and was forced to shake his head bashfully.

"Alright, then, pet," ce said softly. "I will help you."

Vixsin stepped forward and, with cer clawed pawlike hands, gently scooped him up and pulled him into the incredibly soft, fluffy foliage of cer large chest, where ce cradled him close and looked down at him like a fragile little thing.

To cer, he supposed, he was.

Soft vines wiped his still glistening cheeks.

"Dry those tears, my littlest fox. The time when any harm could come to you is over. I'm here now. I will always be here. You are mine, and you will be loved beyond your wildest dreams. Would you like to thank Skye for bringing you home safe to me?"

He'd been so enraptured by the wooden wolf that he only now registered the sounds of moaning somewhere below him. With an uncomfortable flush, he croaked out a soft "no."

"Don't be rude, pet. It will take some time to properly socialize you, we may as well start now. Say thank you to the nice floret who saved you."

With a slight flinch, Fox found himself caving to the command more quickly than he'd have liked. He weakly turned to see that Skye had now been brought to her knees, Marion smiling down viciously with its fingers pulling at the ring of a coppery sepia and burgundy collar at Skye's neck, and Urtica gazing fondly down at the pair of them.

"Skye," he choked.

When she turned to face him, dilated pupils had blown out most of the silver of her once-sharp eyes, and she quietly breathed out in rapid, wet moans.

"…Thank you for saving me," he weakly grumbled.

Skye, apparently unable to respond verbally, threw her arm high in the air and gave a thumbs up.

"Good pet," Vixin softly rumbled, and ce brought a few of cer soft vines to his scalp to gently pet him.

If he were honest with himself, the sensation wasn't terrible.

Urtica's smile grew wicked once more, and they brought a number of vines to zher pet to help Marion unravel the now second most unsettling terran Fox had ever met.

"Very, very good pet," zhe growled, and Skye nearly collapsed in ecstasy as her raised thumb, along with her body, slowly sank to the ground.

Fox turned away a lot pinker than he'd been moments ago.

Vixsin's laugh vibrated his entire body as ce turned and walked towards the elevator. "Don't worry little pup. We'll acclimate you to the Compact's affections in no time. Lycara will be overjoyed to meet you, she's been begging me for a terran connivent for months."

He didn't know what that meant, but remained silent. Whatever came next was out of his control anyway.

"Come to think of it," ce said, as the elevator doors slid closed behind them, "I don't suppose little Skye would have told you what a xenra is…"

Notes:

I did it, I snuck in another Terminator reference. Witness me!

Can you believe the xenra armpits joke from chapter 1 came full circle? I can. I'm very smart, you see.

If you have somehow made it this deep into No Fate without having read the original story, and especially if you enjoyed the breakdown of Fox's will as inevitability crashed around him, PLEASE check out the OG, Human Domestication Guide by GlitchyRobo. The climactic surrender of its protagonist TO THIS DAY remains one of the hottest moments in the entire setting for me. There's a reason this story gave rise to a whole community that has since produced over 2100 stories and thousands of artworks and other media.

This should be the final story chapter of No Fate But What They Make. If it goes the way I expect, chapter 12 will be an epilogue of sorts, with a future snippet or two from the lives of Ginger, Sarah/Katherine, and Fox.

But fret not! There is currently a digitization-themed writing jam going on for December over at the HDG Community server, and I very much hope to get the first chapter of No Fate's prequel story out before this month is over (and quite possibly before chapter 12 comes out).

And somewhere down the road, when Lagnia's list of current writing projects grows short enough, I'm hoping to collab with her on No Fate's direct sequel, in which we'll follow the fates of Ginger, Sarah/Katherine, and Fox in greater detail.

There is also an INDIRECT sequel to look forward to eventually, in which Sindahlia meets her florets about a month after the events of this story, and her neighbors—Urtica & the dolls—will feature heavily as side characters in that.

Skye is also a guest character in PyxxieStyxx's Wildling, and will soon cameo in Dollhouse alongside Marion, so even as No Fate draws to its inevitable end, know that there's plenty more of the beloved blorbos to come.

Thank you to all the readers, commenters, and kudos-givers, as well as my wonderful beta readers Lagnia and PyxxieStyxx, for making my first story such a wild success. I'm glad you've all enjoyed the silly little adventure I got to take you on.

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PyxxieStyxx on Chapter 1 Thu 03 Jul 2025 12:37AM UTC

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO this fic is gonna cook everyone

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Slylittleprincess on Chapter 1 Thu 03 Jul 2025 01:02AM UTC

Absolutely wonderful prose, not that I would’ve expected anything less from you. So excited to see where we’re headed.
Woawwww

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1. EldritchAmy on Chapter 1 Thu 03 Jul 2025 01:33AM UTC
  
  I am definitely going fun places with this. I can't wait to watch everyone explode.
  
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Scamantha_Likely on Chapter 1 Thu 03 Jul 2025 01:14AM UTC

This is SUCH a fun angle for a story. I really, deeply adore it. And the prose is SO good! the dynamic is just fantastic.
Really looking forward to seeing how this one shakes out!

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CarmineJade on Chapter 1 Thu 03 Jul 2025 02:12AM UTC

Oh wow this is so good~! I'm so hyped after hearing the rumors of this one

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violet_moonvine on Chapter 1 Thu 03 Jul 2025 02:17AM UTC

God the VIBES in that conversation are immaculate. Those intro notes were not joking around about the diverging reading experiences. The phrase "floret ramet" packed a punch after all that buildup about her lack of concern. Like. There are so many implications there, beyond the fact that she can probably handle herself.
The prose is also extremely good, delicious words

Last Edited Thu 03 Jul 2025 02:18AM UTC

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Ztmackin on Chapter 1 Thu 03 Jul 2025 02:37AM UTC

Oooooooo the Highly anticipated Amy fic! It lived up to the hype. Tori is such a fun character so far and Connor needs to break his egg yesterday x.x Ginger how do you stand not breaking this egg.

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1. EldritchAmy on Chapter 1 Thu 03 Jul 2025 02:44AM UTC
  
  Listen she's doing the best she can, she ABSOLUTELY knows what's up but she doesn't know how to help Connor in the middle of a TCN deployment.
  
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Onewinternight on Chapter 1 Thu 03 Jul 2025 03:07AM UTC

What a good first chapter. Everything here makes me excited to see where it leads.

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RocketMermaid23 on Chapter 1 Thu 03 Jul 2025 04:04AM UTC

LET'S FUCKING GOOOOOOOO
What a phenomenal first chapter! Excellent work, and I can't wait for more!

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FlickerTones on Chapter 1 Thu 03 Jul 2025 10:17AM UTC

Incredibly exciting, genuinely invested in everyone introduced <3

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Metagreywacke on Chapter 1 Thu 03 Jul 2025 05:05PM UTC

Oh fuck yes. Well worth the wait! There are a few lines thrown in there that pack a punch of dramatic irony if you know the setting.

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Green455 on Chapter 1 Fri 04 Jul 2025 02:41AM UTC

This looks really interesting

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CherryColoredCollie on Chapter 1 Sat 05 Jul 2025 10:41PM UTC

stars this *is* such a great intro to hdg holy crap
i am INVESTED

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Lilyclimbstrees on Chapter 1 Tue 22 Jul 2025 06:06PM UTC

Let's goooooooooo. What an opening, was definitely expecting an affini to come out but this was actually so much better.

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ErisDeer on Chapter 1 Thu 04 Sep 2025 06:24AM UTC

Hahahahahaha I’m in danger

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1. EldritchAmy on Chapter 1 Thu 04 Sep 2025 07:54AM UTC
  
  Naaahhhh, I'm sure everything is fine.
  
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BasketOfPuppies642 on Chapter 1 Tue 30 Sep 2025 01:20PM UTC

This is one of the best boarding scenes I’ve read, well done.

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ASmallGayCow on Chapter 1 Fri 03 Oct 2025 07:50AM UTC

"Come with me if you want to live a little" is an absolutely inspired line.

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Verdant_Phoenix on Chapter 1 Mon 06 Oct 2025 05:26AM UTC

"not honesty not gaslighting but a separate third thing (very careful wording)"
Well let's see what we can see here...
"There are no affini on board the shuttle"
Conclusion: The shuttle *is* an affini.
"No terrans either"
She does not consider herself to be human.
"Floret Ramet"
She is a digitized sophont - thus why the Haustoric Implant can't be detected.

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AStellarForest on Chapter 1 Sun 12 Oct 2025 03:20PM UTC

Very, very, interesting!
This'll be fun. =)

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Kanagen on Chapter 2 Mon 07 Jul 2025 11:23PM UTC

Who doesn't love 20 gigs of affection transfer protocol packets?
I am so here for every step of this ride and I adore how rapidly it's gone into high gear. Cook those feralists, Tori!

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1. EldritchAmy on Chapter 2 Mon 07 Jul 2025 11:41PM UTC
  
  *looks at the gear shift* O_O;
  Mmm. Mm-hmm! Yep! We're definitely in the high gear part. Fast as she goes, I'm afraid. Slowing down already, even.
  
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QueenAzalea on Chapter 2 Tue 08 Jul 2025 12:10AM UTC

I hauve covid. the tap induction with a metronome (at the Hard Mode recommendation from you) went so hard i melted a bit

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