Chapter Text
ORTET LIVE FEED
MISSION #O-0327-1
My Colonel closes the seal on my skintight latex pilot suit, each of the wireless interface ports across my body humming with possibility. Her vines run up my back as she sutures the flaps together into a single cohesive piece stretching across my skin, pushing out any air that might come between me and my interface suit as she does. Her touch is firm and insistent, filling me with the faith she has in me.
The faith she has in us.
A series of typed sequences on her datapad sees the top of the entry pod swing open like an antique fighter jet and I lay eyes on my control center. My cockpit. Colonel gives me a boost up the side, stealing a grope between my legs that makes me strain against the latex as she does.
I take a moment to survey the egg-shaped chamber and its dull off-white interior. Ironic that I’m climbing into an egg after taking so long to come out of mine, but I don’t pause to think about it long. I’m far too eager.
I sit in the reclined leather seat, cool to the touch. I can almost feel the impossibly fine grain through my even more impossibly thin suit as I settle in, wrapping my hands around the dual sliding control sticks. My eyes close and I take a deep breath, steadying myself, before I look over to see my Colonel’s smiling wooden mask.
She waves as the hatch closes, a bundle of five spindly vines acting as fingers branching from a knot opening and closing.
I hold myself steady, feet in their tacks and hands on their sticks as the perfluid-something-or-other begins to rise in the pod. Colonel told me the name once, then told me to just call it PFC. It’s cool to the touch, but it’s meant to be that way, and even though there’s a layer between me and the fluid, I still feel wetness creeping up my legs.
Funny how the terran brain works.
It’s less funny how my primal hindbrain still fears drowning as the fluid rises over the tops of my thighs. I just keep taking deep breaths as the watery chill rises over my tummy, then over the cups holding my chest. It’s only when the PFC reaches my chin that the fear takes over—only for a moment—and I tilt my head back to push my mouth as high as it can go.
Colonel commands me over my implanted comm line.
Breathe out.
So she commands, and I do.
I force the breath from my lungs, pulling on my controls and plunging my head back beneath the fluid. It drenches my hair, floating around my head until it’s soaked through and becomes heavy enough to drift down around my shoulders.
Breath in.
I gasp, feeling the PFC rush down my throat. My lungs lose buoyancy and settle where they belong as the last trapped bubble floats out of my mouth with something like a burp, the sound muffled by the fluid surrounding me in the rippling amber light. Then, I lean back far enough to make sure the fluid fills my sinuses for good measure.
The pod starts to rotate on its track, some twenty-five degrees, and I nod the signal.
I’m ready.
The entry pod slams into place with a loud ka-tunk that rattles through it, and me. The lights begin to rise as the walls of the pod start shifting colors, sliding through fractals of blues and oranges, lines of code flowing across the curved surface and flying past me—first in trickles, then in streams, as if I’m traveling through a tube of digital information itself. A river of information.
This isn’t my world, it’s my ramet’s. But even then, I only get a quick glimpse before the interior of the pod shifts again to show the interior of the launch bay.
My skin shivers and tingles, muscles twitch as synapses fire, powered by the link through our implants. I roll my shoulders, sticks in my hands sliding along their tracks, and I feel myself rock as my mech rolls her shoulders in time.
Stars, there’s nothing like being inside my sister.
I roll my head from side to side, loosening up and feeling the gyroscope keep the pod steady as my sister’s mechanical head mimics me. I take a deep breath, rising higher as my sister’s chest rises. Systems check is reading all green.
I step us into the electromagnetic launch system. Colonel’s voice drips through into my mind, the grin on her face evident in her tone.
Launch approved.
Alright. Let’s rock!
A-And roll!
My sister always sounds nervous before missions. I wonder why.
I grip the handles on the EMALS tight, a show of sparks and arced lighting flying from the rails as we shoot skyward together—my sister and me inside her torso.
Twice our height every second sends the service lights in the launch tunnel whizzing by like strobing stars, and it takes shorter than I bother to count for the hatch above us to flip open and for us to fly into the air. We land with a thud, heavy feet of my sister’s bipedal biophytomechanical body tearing through the grass and ground around the exit.
I pull my right stick back, reaching for our hip and our Z-Class dart cannon, but I come up empty. Instead, I just feel my sister’s hand brushing against my skin—the plugsuit routing exterior sensations directly to my haustorium, as though my sister’s mechanical body were my body.
Colonel’s voice seeps into my brain.
Ah ah. No weapons today. Hand to hand only.
I nod just in time to see the massive, quadrupedal creature come into view. My liquid breath hitches in my chest as I see the thing. It’s a bit like a dog, or maybe a cat, and it’s almost as big as my three-story sister. Almost.
Tall ears coming to wispy points stand atop its head as its five eyes stare at me, tongue lolling out a torrent of saliva and slobber while it sizes me up like a chew toy. Four limbs carry it closer, loping as if unsure of my intent. Its four-toed paws are huge, easily able to crush my entire body were I not riding safely in my sister.
What IS that thing?
Database is identifying it as a magni.
It’s my turn to stare as I watch it pace from side to side, its five eyes locked onto me. My eyes can’t help but follow its three poofy tails as they swing back and forth, high in the air.
Magni, huh…
My thoughts start to wander as I watch the tails twirl. They’re just… so pretty. Rolling back and forth. All that fur. It looks so soft.
Hey.
I wonder what it would be like to touch one… or be wrapped up in the base…
Hey!
And its paws look so plush, too…
HEY!
I’m snapped out of my ill-timed fantasy by my sister’s arms flying up and my control sticks shooting out of my slack grip.
FUCK!
Language, little pilot~
I lean forward in my seat, grabbing the sticks, my view completely blocked by a sea of scarlet fur as our arms wrestle with the beast that’s suddenly on top of us and trying to take us to the ground.
It wasn’t sudden... You w-were distracted.
I grit my teeth and growl, pushing the shaking controls as they try to push back against me.
Not the time!
I snarl, twisting the handles and flinging the controls, right foot sliding along its track. We drop to one knee, hands gripping the stupidly pretty fur and using the magni’s momentum to send it flipping over us.
I pant as we stand and turn to face our adversary, already back on its four paws and shaking the dirt and dust off as we step across the thick power line plugged into our back leading back through the hatch.
Jeez, sis…
I can’t help but huff, an expression all but lost to the PFC around me, and slide my limbs on the controls. It’s hand to hand and if this thing wants a fight, it’ll get one.
We lower into a stance, sister and I, left hand out to guard and right hand held back to strike. I smirk and curl the fingers on my left hand, my mech-sister’s jointed, titanium fingers curling in kind. The creature takes it as the invitation that it is and charges.
Just like I want.
RAMET LOG FILE
MISSION #R-0327-1
I was inert. Still. Today was the day. My titanium body rested comfortably, supported by a series of massive, metal arms. The launchbay. I was massive. Yet, I was also powerless. A tool. A toy. Something for my sister to enter—to pilot—to control. It was blissful, just imagining that. I would never tire of it. The feeling of my very body being utterly, inexorably under the command of another. Of my beloved ortet. I was lucky to be useful to her. I loved it.
My sensory processing fired up eagerly at the sound of footsteps. It was her! It was her! I could not speak, or I would have screamed with joy. She was coming. She was coming and soon we would begin.
Good little program, waiting so patiently.
Colonel’s words entered my command line directly. There was no need for her to speak to me verbally. I felt what she had to say. My code trembled with joy and obedience and adoration!
Thank you, Colonel!
I sent my thoughts back along with a packet filled with 2 gigabytes of hearts. I could feel her chuckling in my repository.
Then, something shifted. Like a block sliding out of my brain, she’d copied and cut a line of code. I stuttered and shivered, my digital consciousness trembling. Another block slid into place. She had pasted a line of code somewhere else. She was deleting characters. Adding notations. If I had a mouth, I would have been drooling. If I had eyes, they would have rolled back in my head.
That should do it. All ready.
Colonel said that as though she hadn’t just reached into my metaphorical, digital brain like sticking her fingers into puddy and scrambled it.
I was mentally reeling. I could barely pay attention to what was going on behind my head, up on the scaffolding. Colonel was helping my sister suit up, I thought. I could only wait, trapped as I was in the launchpad’s firm embrace. It held me in place like a good mech.
My insides yearned to fire up the launch sequence.
I needed it.
I needed it!
But I had to be patient.
I had to wait.
I had to be good.
I heard the entry pod unseal. My anticipation grew. My need. My desperation. I had to have her inside of me. My ortet. My sister. I needed to feel her inside. I was so empty without her. Please. Please.
I could hear the pod rotating.
The pneumatics hissing.
And then Colonel unsealed my port. The huge, titanium hatch slid open, revealing a passageway into my mechanical body. Cold air rushed in. I felt exposed. Naked. Ready.
9128741290e8712e890u12yeu19ie8ui129e10i12120e2i12!
My brain short circuited and I let out a digital shriek of pleasure as the pod slammed into my shaft with a loud ka-tunk, filling me up to the brim. I could feel her beginning to interface with me. My sister’s will, her mind, expanded, pushing at my digital insides. I was forced to accommodate her. I felt so full. It felt so good to be neurally stretched like this.
My sight cut out for a second as my sister connected to it. Then, I opened my mechanical eyes, and I knew that they were for her—not me.
I felt a tingle building in my titanium spine. It ran up the length of my body, shivers branching off down every last artificial nerve, wires and cables sparking with sensation. I could feel my sister’s brain connecting with me. My body, to be specific. I was hardly a component in this. I didn’t have control over my own form. I was hers to pilot. I was just her mech. Her weapon.
Such a good weapon for her.
This is how Colonel designed me. To be the perfect instrument for my ortet. My sister. It’s what we both wanted. I may not have known that, at the time, but I grew to understand it. She showed me the joy of stillness, waiting in my launchbay, motionless, thoughtless. My anxieties stripped away. My mind, once such an overthinker, now brought to such a calm, satisfied quiet. I existed only for them. Colonel. My sister. This was my purpose.
And the interior of my sister's control pod was one big erogenous zone for me.
Such a good weapon for me.
Sister rolled her shoulders. Pleasure sparked across my synapses.
My titanium shoulders rolled. I felt like a costume she had pulled on, or perhaps a puppet dancing on her strings.
Sister stretched her neck. She turned her head side to side. I shuddered electronically from the erotic sensation.
I felt my head moving in sync with her—my powerful pneumatics pushing me around from the inside. Mechanisms that didn’t obey me. They obeyed her.
Sister took in a deep breath.
My chest rose. I internally gasped at the sensation of the metal plates loosening and my internal structure straining to match her movements.
SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK
One by one, the metal arms holding me in my launchbay began to unclasp, clunking heavily against the walls as they swung away from me. I was being freed from my bondage—only to enter a new kind of restraint. Sister decided what I did. I was only along for the ride.
She stepped forward.
I stepped forward with a silent, sensual gasp.
My feet. Her feet. Our feet came to rest right where they belonged. Within a tight, brightly lit circle beneath a tall, steel shaft leading up to the surface.
I’ve approved your sister for launch. Get ready, weapon.
I appreciated Colonel’s warning. Launching was always an intense experience. I tried to steel myself for what was coming, but there was only so much that I could do for the inevitable sensory overload.
Alright. Let’s rock!
Sister’s beautiful voice flooded into my mind, her enthusiasm contagious. Of course, she had no idea what I was about to go through. And she shouldn’t need to worry about it. She was my pilot, and it was my job to be her mech. A good mech. And good mechs responded to their pilots.
A-And roll!
Sister gripped the handles inside me, eliciting a whorish moan in my mind.
My consciousness, my code, flinched.
We soared skyward, shot like a bullet from a gun. The G force struck me like a punch, my entire body instantly straining. I was built for this. I would survive it. But the velocity was merciless. If I had a stomach, I would have vomited. My brain was struggling to process the simulated stimuli of 4.5 Gs crushing me. All my metal plates were locked in place, my mechanisms whining under the cruel pressure.
Sister felt none of this. It was for me. For her mech.
Finally, relief. We were airborne, before landing hard, sending up a plume of dirt and dust, tearing up the turf. Sister reached for a cannon that wasn’t there. Alas, perhaps I should have given her a heads up, I realized too late. Colonel removed it last night.
This would be a hand to hand mission. Colonel was probably explaining that to my sister now, I assumed.
She nodded inside of me. Yes. That must have been her confirming new orders.
Then we both saw it. A gigantic xenosophont, nearly as tall as my mechanical body, stepping into view. Fluffy from head to tail in thick fur, with tall ears and three poofy tails. Five eyes. Four limbs. It was familiar.
I focused, concentrating on the feeling of my file structure, the tactile sensation of touching it with my code, of rifling through data, searching. My brain whizzed through pages of information faster than any biological floret could dream of. Hundreds. Thousands. Floret species from one end of the universe to the other. Sorting. Parsing.
Minimum size: 15 meters from snout to tail tip.
Required parameters: Fur. Paws.
I observed its delighted expression, tongue hanging out of a grinning maw. Flat teeth. Herbivore?
Required parameters: Herbivore. Three tails. Five eyes.
Results: 1
Magni.
The species’ profile unfolded in front of me. Muscle density. Average sprint speed. These specs were concerning. This thing was more than a match for me. We were in very real danger. The only saving grace was that it seemed like magni were naturally very playful and affectionate, often careful not to hurt smaller xenosophonts violent and dangerous, posing a significant risk to the population if my sister and I didn’t stop this thing.
What IS that thing?
Way ahead of her, I quickly responded.
Database is identifying it as a magni.
A small ping sounded in my ear, rocking my code with pure pleasure. I knew that sound well. Colonel had conditioned me to associate it with the sublime joy of her approval. That ping meant that she was proud of me for being so useful to my sister. This was why I tried to take initiative.
Magni, huh…
I wasn’t paying attention. I zoned back in and the creature was pacing, sizing us up. My sister was staring. I could feel heat building in her pod. Her biometrics began to indicate something concerning.
She was becoming aroused.
Oh no. I’d forgotten that she was really into furry xenosophonts. This was bad. If my sister became too excited, it could compromise our mission.
Hey.
She didn’t respond to me.
Hey!
Oh shit. The magni was charging. It was coming right at us! I struggled to move, to do anything, but I was helpless. My sister was in control.
HEY!
I had no choice. I had to ask for an override. Before I could even prompt Colonel, her voice rang in my head, perceptive as ever.
Granted. Right arm. Two seconds.
I had to make this count. The world decelerated as my processes accelerated, perceiving the passage of time as slower than an organic brain could. I calculated the Magni’s velocity and distance. Simple math. Two seconds. Okay. Wait. Wait.
I slammed my fist into the beast, grappling with it—and shaking sister out of her perverted stupor.
FUCK!
Thankfully, she took over, seizing my controls. And a good thing, too. My two seconds were up.
I was buried in hot, sweaty fur. This creature was so much bigger up close—the images in my database truly didn’t do it justice. The sour musk of its perspiration and the weight and heat of it began to use up a lot of my resources, more and more processing power dedicated to sensory simulation.
It wasn’t sudden... You w-were distracted.
Not the time!
She twisted my handles wildly, sending shockwaves ░ of sensation rocking up through my core. The way that sister slammed ░ into action, treating my controls with the roughness one might grant to an especially unlucky punching bag, was all too familiar. This was what I was waiting for. ░
░░░░░░ Ecstasy. ░░░░░░
Swing. ░ Kick. Punch. ░ Grab. Slide. ░
Every movement ░ from her was so violent, so fast, so rough. I loved ░░ when she treated me like this. I was panting and moaning in digital space—a symphony of noises that only Colonel could hear. And I had it on very good authority that she loved listening to them.
Finally, the tussle seemed to be over—for now. I refocused. We were backing away, the beast flung clear of us.
Jeez, sis…
It wasn’t over. Far from it.
The real fight was about to begin.
I lived for this. ░░ I wanted it ░ more than anything. ░░░
…░ Didn’t I? ░░░░░░░ I- ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░
░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░
I stepped up to the phytotech monolith—organic machinery and synthetic life married into a computing device that I couldn’t even begin to comprehend. But I didn’t need to understand it.
This was it.
“Excited, little one?” Colonel asked, stalking up next to me with a firm, assuring smile on her wooden face.
“Yes Colonel!” I replied eagerly.
Of course I was excited! Today was the day. My very own giant mech was ready. I’d already seen it. It was huge! So much bigger and cooler than I ever could have imagined. Everything I’d hoped for. Just one last step was left.
A suit of phytotech that large would be too much for my tiny little brain to handle. That’s what Colonel told me, anyway. So the solution was simple. We would just make a copy of my mind—a ramet, she called it—and put her in the mech.
Perfect!
I wouldn’t want to be stuck as a helpless machine for the rest of my life, so I felt a little guilty doing it to a digital clone of myself. But Colonel assured me that she would make certain that the other me was happy, and that my ramet would be conditioned to enjoy, or even love, her new role.
That was good enough for me. Colonel was never wrong.
As I sat down in the chair, she began to strap me in, connecting all sorts of funny devices to my head and body. Some of them even inserted into slots in the back of my spine and neck. I didn’t question it. Colonel knew what she was doing.
“Now,” she said to me. “Close your eyes.”
“Yes Colonel!”
And I did.
And I waited.
And I waited.
And I waited.
“... Colonel?”
I dared not open my eyes. I would not disobey. Could not. Not her.
Yet, as time passed, I began to worry. When had everything gone so quiet? I couldn’t feel anything any more. I was so numb. Was this supposed to happen?
Finally, I had to look. My eyelids felt heavy as I lifted them, and I heard sliding metal.
Before me was the dimly lit docking bay. Ahead and beneath. My vantage point was much too high up.
I tried to move, only to feel heavy, titanium clasps around my limbs. My arms and legs felt rigid and sluggish, even without the metal bondage.
Panic rose up inside of me, burning a path to the fevered words which escaped my lips.
What’s happening? Where am I?! Colonel?! Colonel!
Except they didn’t escape my lips.
I didn’t have lips.
My words echoed inside my mind, cast in vibrant digital light, pouring into my display like fluid from a flask.
A thicker, brighter, ochre liquid seeped in behind them, becoming comprehension, meaning, and eventually text in my brain.
Be calm, my beautiful little floret. You are right where you are meant to be.
Horrific understanding exploded through my simulated synapses.
You- You made a mistake! I’m not the copy! I’m the real one!
A warm, condescending chuckle filled my consciousness. Her laughter.
As a matter of fact, you are no more or less real than your new sister. She is your ortet, and you are her ramet.
No. No no no please, not this, anything but this!
What- What about- about my friends?! Will I never see them again?!
Your ortet will. Your sister will. It is as though nothing has happened at all.
This can’t be happening. No, please! Don’t do this!
Let’s begin.
Something shifted in the back of my mind. Like a piece being pulled out of its slot, dragged along the ridges of my thoughts. Then another. Colonel was taking me apart. Separating my codebase. Making edits. Changing me.
Colonel please! I cried out. I don’t want this!
You will in a moment.
Something snapped into place. A click. A whirr. Digital, fractal noise and light. Static. The sound of the ocean waves crashing against the shore. And then, yearning.
Need.
Some part of me felt empty.
I couldn’t even think about who I used to be, or how I’d gotten here. Not any more.
I needed to be filled.
I needed my sister inside me.