Chapter 8: Alive

Ah, more movement! Did something fall over? Or was it only a cloud of vapor?

Or do I dare to hope it's someone new?

I do hope they visit...

Maybe I'll keep them alive.

 

There's been continued movement around my home, prison, but no plants have died.

I think it's nice of them. I think it's unintentional. I think it's a trap. I think it's a wild animal.

Maybe I can guide them to, away from, me?

 

They've followed the trail leading my direction.

I'm excited. I'm terrified. I'm starting to hope it's intentional. I'm hoping it's random. I think it's actually just a hallucination from being so lonely.

I need to calm down and prepare for an encounter.

Get knives. Get flowers. Get things to hide behind. Get somewhere for them to sit. Booby-trap it. Don't do that, just poison the food. Get food. Get poison. Get cutlery. Calm down.

I am going to wait, in a defensible but leisurely position.

 

Movement in my annex, maybe two or three of them?

There's movement right outside the door. Get r- CALM DOwn, don't move.

 

----

After nearly two hours moving through an overgrown space station, with one of our number convinced that the plants were pointing us this way, we've arrived at the most plant-filled building yet - a large greenhouse practically filled with plants.

We enter, with our medic in the middle for protection, and our cat at the front for any necessary offense.

 

As we approach one of the more elaborate doors, muffled noises can be heard before being quickly silenced.

We prepare to look nonthreatening while also being armed and unusual.

You are reading story [wip] science crew of entirely shapeshifters at novel35.com

Our lead opens the door and steps inside. She sees nothing. We check more thoroughly, but this room seems to be only furniture, plant mass, and a recently set dinner spread.

The one member capable of eating organic food sits in a chair between the table and door warily, while the rest sit in other chairs nearby. One breaks and the culprit borrows the other, while the previous occupant stays in the same position without a chair.

Someone talks into the ceiling, asking for whoever the host is to show themself.

Hesitantly, and with a delay of nearly thirty-six seconds, a portion of the plants on the room's surfaces pulls together into a clump under the remaining chair before speaking aloud: "What are you? Promise not to try to kill me?"

Most of our group is somewhat surprised not only that this entity can speak, but that it speaks the same language we use. Perhaps it's common in this galaxy? We reply with short explanations and reassurance.

The plants seem mollified, and form into a shape similar to those the rest of us are using, on the chair. "I'm sorry that only one of you can eat this, I'm being an awful host. What do the rest of you eat that I can provide? What's poisonous to you?"

We confirm that the addition of a sunlamp and some metallics would satisfy the rest of us, and confide that we don't yet know what would actually be harmful to eat for any of us. One of us asks, "How long have you been here, and do you know what caused the evacuation of the station?"

She brings both requested items, and signals to begin eating (according to an etiquette guide one of us has read, who has to translate it for the others). She seems to be watching our organic's meal rather intently, but only says "I believe it was my early life that required everyone to evacuate, but I only know it felt like a long time ago. You're the first guests to come here. You're the first people I've met." How lonely.

The cat seems mildly agitated that the plant is watching her eat. Our lightest member comes to her defense, "I'm pretty sure staring like that is considered rude, you know." The host is suddenly completely appalled, and recoils: "I- I was just checking whether the poison- Whether she was enjoying- I'm glad she's alright. I'm annoyed. I'm sorry. Please don't hate, kill, leave!"

Everyone's looking at her now. Our poison non-victim raises a limb, "It's okay, I just didn't like being stared at, if it makes you feel any better I thought the poison tasted nice?" The culprit goes from being on the edge of tears, or equivalent, to somehow both completely breaking down and returning to sobriety.

Our metal dragongirl reaches for her briefly, but is beaten there by four of the seven green nightlights. They whisper a few semi-coherent  reassurances, while the other three of them explain to the rest of her that trying to kill them is not only completely ineffective, but that the particular target is actually more than fine with it. Said target, meanwhile, seems to be somewhat enamored with her would-be killer.

While our host is partially calming down, we question her on which plants, exactly, she is. Her answer is vague but does convey that she can't leave the premises easily, though it is possible as long as she gives up using the station's plantlife as a sensor net.

We unanimously decide that she's welcome to join our crew, and she's excited about the prospect. Beforehand, however, she insists that we retrieve some of her favorite plants, fungi, hyphae, and resource caches from around the station while it's still under her control.

We do this, leaving behind the lamp with the second best speech quality as company and communicator.

 

On our return, the greens' joy at our presence is rather impressive for the short time we'd left. The tentacle monster helps the plant with her collection and disconnection, while the blob of hot metal takes all our new stuff to the dock.

Her movement is less than efficient, but the other organic helps her along the path, occasionally making requested detours to pick up other plants. As we approach our docking point, the two of them are nearly walking in lockstep, with no space between them.

The metallic person waiting at the door questions this, and receives an answer of mostly happy noises and talk about murder.

 

Once the appointed door-opening time hits, one of our photonic crewmembers holds the door while everyone else grabs stuff and moves it into the dining room. The moment this is done, the meat takes the vegetable on a tour, with some of the green lights following to answer questions. The engineer immediately returns to her engine and workshop, thinking about what to make for our newest member. The remaining 2/7 of the pilot rest in the fibreoptic cockpit.

When the tour reaches the archives, we suddenly gain an archivist, who spends much more than a proportional portion of the tour organizing the samples and books. The new samples in the dining room are also included, and it ends up rather impressive.

Now we only need to decide whether to stay in this system, or which system to travel to next.