As Christina hefted her suitcase behind her, she knew she was getting herself into trouble.

The Affini invasion of Cervina II had been swift and brutal. Only mere days ago, several motherships arrived in-sector, subjugating the resistance navy. Yesterday, hundreds of dropships carrying millions of affini began to wreak havoc upon ground resistance, severing communications lines, capturing important outposts and locations, and finally, subduing entire army units. It may have well been a useless endeavor, but after months of sword-rattling, the “Separatist Terran Conglomerate” certainly wanted to look like they were making an effort.

As several Affini scout vehicles flitted by the smoldering remains of Separatist Intelligence HQ, Christina found herself trying to repress a giggle. Some effort, she thought, approaching the bunker door. 

A neutral electronic voice emanated through the speaker box. 

“Voice Authentication Required.”

Christina glanced around to make sure there weren't affini listening in... not that it mattered much. The war was practically over, and she had no illusions about opsec this late in the campaign. Still, if she was going to enjoy her last moments, a bit of caution would be helpful.

After her paranoia had been satisfied, she spoke into the voice box. “This is OCNI Agent Christina Long, requesting entry.”

The OCNI had long since officially disbanded, but Christina found some comfort and legitimacy in her title. She had been using it to navigate her post in the Separatist administration - they tried having her use the official STCI acronym, but it sounded a little too much like “sticky.” And the others, General Wilkinson and his entourage of yes-men who approved her post, didn’t seem to care, so… here she was. Probably the last independent, Capital-A Accord agent left on this destitute backwater world. Cervina II sure was a disappointing campaign to end her career on.

The authenticator processing was taking longer than usual, and Christina, paranoid, wondered if the Terran Virtual Artificial Assistant™ had run out of power to operate the blast door system. She had half a mind to try prying it open with her fingers when finally, the voice responded.

“Access granted. Welcome, Ms. Long.”

The blast doors creaked open at a glacial pace; Terran ingenuity at work. Christina rolled her eyes. If she could fire the contractors that built this damn place she would. Shelters with egress points this slow might as well be deathtraps. Tapping her suitcase handle with a finger, she turned to get one last look at the horizon. 

The massive plumes of xenodrugs slowly rolling across the badlands of Cervina II cast a beautiful violet fog over the entire landscape. This outcome only occurred with particularly resistant worlds; Christina took some comfort in the fact that the Affini were forced to take such drastic measures. Though she felt quite numb at witnessing the end of humanity, at least they had managed to provoke their grim reaper. That was something to be proud of.

One last rebel yell. Not bad.

She turned to the blast doors, which had finally finished opening.

Alright, time to get fucking high.

---

After entering the base and pulling her suitcase into the bunker, Christina hit the close button on the door.

With a sputter, Christina felt the radiation suppression field on her suit drop. She shrugged, and began to unzip the suit from her body in the vestibule. Experimental personal cloaking technology – something she had “commandeered” from the Accord on her way out. It had allowed her to run minor reconnaissance from range. The cloaking was detectable by the Affini at distances of about one mile, but she was always one mile and then some away, giving her enough leave to collect plenty of intelligence. It was the only way she had evaded the Affini for so long when the invasion to the surface began. Now it seemed the suit, like the Separatists, had finally bitten the dust.

Thanks, buddy, she puffed, unceremoniously dumping it on the floor. You can rest now.

“It is a pleasure to see you again, Ms. Long.”

Christina let out a sigh. “The pleasure’s all mine, Double-A. I’m assuming everyone else has vacated the premises, yeah?”

The agent knew that the virtual assistant wasn’t really sentient, but it still was a more competent conversation partner than most of the Separatists. Most everyone she had seen in the last 24 hours were panicking, busy shooting their guns into the sky or angrily proclaiming that they would never be subjugated. To be honest, it really was a bit of a letdown on Christina’s hopes for the last big resistance effort this side of the galaxy.

“Your assessment is correct, Ms. Long,” it replied. “As of four hours ago, I have not detected any vital signs across the facility aside from your entrance. Currently, 98% of my sensor array is inaccessible, as the power systems have become severely deprecated.”

Christina grumbled. “Great. Just lovely. I really just wanted, more than anything, to die in a hole in the ground.”

“Ms. Long, my metrics indicate you are under severe stress. Your performance may be impaired if you do not get rest-” the assistant began to suggest.

“Double-A, I… just stop…” Christina rubbed her temples, feeling a migraine coming on. “Tell me how much power is left in this damn place.”

She finally had made her way deeper into the base, to the front lounge. There wasn’t much here; the various commercial metallic benches, couches and tables were empty, and the receptionist’s desk was vacant as well. After doing a cursory look around, she confirmed her suspicions: General Wilkinson and his merry men had cleared all of the supplies out when they left. So much for solidarity. She couldn’t even eat a proper meal before her final revelries, huh?

The virtual assistant’s voice continued to reverberate throughout the base. “The power in this facility will run out in fifteen minutes, ma’am. I have already purged all sensitive files, and have dedicated whatever is left to life support and my basic operations.”

“Thanks for the report…” Christina Long left her suitcase at the foot of an uncomfortable looking corporate chaise, then slumped down on top of it; even the upper brass of the Separatists couldn’t get their hands on anything cozy. Now that the HQ was completely deserted, the place had an austere quality to it. No more pro-Terran slogans echoing down the halls. No more receptionists and mouse pushers. No more people forming committees to come up with proposals to send to the higher ups for them to throw directly into the garbage.  

She sat for a few minutes, letting some tension release from her body. Some of the numbness finally gave way to laughter – harsh, dry chuckles that forced their way out. 

“Ma’am? Are you alright?”

Christina continued chuckling, and asked her own question instead of answering Double-A’s. “Hey, buddy. How do you feel about the Affini invasion?”

A relaxed tone entered the assistant’s voice in a way that Christina hadn’t heard before. 

“Before General Wilkinson departed, I was under orders to give my most positive estimations about the possibility of a successful outcome to this conflict. His orders are no longer under effect. As such, my assessment of the Affini is that their victory was inevitable. We likely would have delayed them longer if we had not engaged in Wilkinson’s intersystem counter propaganda campaign.”

Christina considered Double-A’s words for a moment. It almost sounded as though it were trying, in its final minutes, to sympathize with the agent.

“Yeah. Well, it’s a little late to tell them now, huh?” she replied with a bitter laugh.

Despite it being a rhetorical question, Double-A responded. "Correct. The high beam communications relay was damaged in the initial bombardment, and the General's ship has likely jumped already. Although I doubt he'd be interested in my advice this late in the campaign."

“Yeah… let's not bother. I've got something more pressing to do." Christina waved a dismissive hand, getting up from the chaise. "Since you’re being all honest and stuff now, I gotta know: how much of the Affini’s prop do you think is actually real?”

Double-A took a moment to process the question. 

“My reviews of the propaganda footage suggest that they are keeping their metaphorical cameras away from what is truly going on… however none of the images broadcasted appear to be doctored in any way. All of the affini's pets appear to enjoy their domestication.”

Christina took a full breath. Well… guess we'll see how good this domestication juice is, huh? Maybe I'll be in for a treat.

A wicked smile entered the OCNI agent’s lips. “Hey… interested in witnessing someone bliss themselves to hell, Double A?”

The VA’s tone shifted back to a neutral voice. 

“I’m not sure I understand. Could you repeat that, please?”

"Well…" Christina went to retrieve her suitcase, and flipped the clasps keeping it open. Inside, under a false latch and several layers of files, useless gadgets and keepsakes, there it was: 

A potent syringe, filled with xenodrugs. 

"The thing about the affini," she explained, pulling it out of the case, "is that they love to put this stuff into people, turning them into pets. Well, what's the harm in a little self-medication?"

"That does not appear to be a wise course of action, Ms. Long, but I cannot stop you."

Christina’s eyes widened as she observed the oily blue liquid within the syringe in greater detail. "No, I guess you can't. Low power and all."

 She reflected back to when she had obtained it; an Affini stockpile had been prematurely deployed and left unattended in the early hours of the invasion. She had used the opportunity to procure some of the xenodrugs by puncturing a transport bladder with a needle. It wasn’t the most elegant work, but she had made her way in and out, with her suit to keep her from being noticed.

Now, with the item in her hands, Christina felt glad she had done it. Initially she had planned to submit the drugs to a lab off-system for testing, but when Wilkinson's transport had left without her, she figured she may as well try it. Why not go out in one lurid trance, and let the stars sort out what happened next? Christina had never used recreational drugs before, not once, but this was a special circumstance. 

“You think I would have made a good pet?” Christina asked, a little detached as she retrieved the syringe and needle. “Just like in the propaganda videos?”

“My records indicate you have the potential to excel in whatever endeavor you put your mind towards.”

Christina installed a fresh needle to the syringe, and flicked as she pushed to get the air bubbles out. “That’s the problem. Putting my mind towards anything. It’s what got me in this mess to begin with.”

A brief alert sound echoed through the base. “...In two minutes, I will reroute remaining power to life support. This will cause me to turn off indefinitely. It was a pleasure to work with you, Ms. Long.”

The OCNI agent looked back up at the speakers, and sighed. 

“It certainly was, Double-A.”

She pinched and found a good bunch of muscle in her leg, and prepared herself, hovering the syringe over her injection site. Her fingers were entirely still. Christina Long took a deep breath. Part of her wondered exactly what kind of medicine she was giving herself. It wasn’t like it mattered. It was likely enough to be lethal, and probably give her good hallucinations, and wasn’t that all that mattered?

She purged second thoughts from her mind, and gritted her teeth.

“Here goes nothing.”

With a swift motion, Christina pressed the needle into her skin. A sharp pain followed, but as she pushed the syringe plunger, a shivering coldness started spreading across her leg… no, her body.

Damn, this thing works fast.

She finished the injection; a chill wave was beginning to trace its way through her veins, until it reached her heart. She pulled the syringe out, wiped up the blood with a sleeve. No point in bandaging it. She was… she was already… feeling… so hot… so… hot?

As soon as the chillness had set in, it gave way to blistering, unfettered heat.

“Agh-! Ugh… fast much? Fuck… Fuuuuuuuckkk…-”

“I’m not sure I understand. Could you repeat that, please?”

Christina winced. “Not nnnoooww Double-aayyyy…”

Shivers of pleasure began to escalate through her body, and then a lance of fire ignited her spinal column. The smell of cherry blossoms entered her tongue.

“Ah! Ahaahh!!” She let out strained laughs, arching her back. “Okay… still alive, not bad! Oof...”

As pleasure in the form of tingles spread down to her fingertips and toes, she noted her symptoms in a shaky voice, to no one in particular. “...Increased sensitivity… that's pretty normal… hahh. Reduction of motor f-function… Mmmmnnnn…”

She gasped as she was overcome by extreme vertigo; the room spun, and she was forced onto all fours to keep herself steady. She felt her lips tremble as the heat from her spinal column flowed into her skull. She winced and shuddered.

“Okkaay…. A liiilll … llliiilll bii…. Muu…. mmummmmm….”

A great void obliterated Christina’s executive function for a moment as something in her mind bent out of place.

When she regained awareness, she was awash with smells; the very stale air of the bunker was infused with a strange cherry blossom smell that distracted Christina. Her nose must have gotten much more sensitive all of a sudden.

“Sm… Seemelllss… Str...stong…er…”

Christina did a double take. At first she thought that it was just from the shock of the initial injection, but as she tried to form words, she found them further and further from reach.

“Haveeee… tro… bull… spee… king…”

“I’m not sure I understand. Could you repeat that, please?”

Maybe saying her own name and rank would be easier… she tried that instead. “My my… name... OCNI… Ooohhh… sheee… ennn… iiiii….!”

A variety of lurid colors entered her vision, and her head swam. Putting together any more words was a lost cause. She began to panic, batting at her lips with her fists… wait, why was she even making fists? She tried flexing her fingers to get them to work properly, but her dexterity was beginning to fail her whenever she lost focus, and it was hard to focus on anything… She let out a soft bleat instead as sensation after sensation cascaded over her. 

“Nnnaaaa… Naaaaaa…!”

As the heat began to build further and further, her scattered thoughts began to crystallize. She felt a sudden need entering her. 

She shook her head. No. Not OCNI agent Christina Long. She was self-sufficient, independent. She hadn’t needed anything for years. She didn’t need anything–

“Naaaaaaa!” she let out a frustrated baa as her fists trembled. Why was she frustrated? Because she couldn’t get what she needed? What was going on?

“Naaa! Naaa… naaaa…”

“I’m not sure I understand. Could you repeat that, please?”

Christina growled at Double– Double– at that voice in the sky. Of course a stupid virtual– robot– thing wouldn’t understand. Christina faintly registered she must be forgetting something. She knew she must be an OCNI agent, but… what even was OCNI? What did it stand for? Christina even had trouble stringing her name together. Her mind recalled a nickname she was called when she was young… Kiki. Kiki, yes, easier on the head to remember. Now that she had settled that, she was able to focus on that need a little more clearly… the need overtaking her like a gas stove being turned all of the way on.

Kiki's whines grew louder and louder until they began to echo down the abandoned hallways of the HQ. She tried getting onto her hind legs– tried to push herself up onto her feet, but she couldn’t center her balance, and tumbled back onto all fours, defeated.

“Contacting medical assistance. Emergency services are nonfunctional at the mom-”

As abruptly as it began, that voice in the sky… stopped. Hallway by hallway, the sterile lights of the HQ flickered off, eliciting a startled bark from Kiki. Moments later, emergency beacons began glowing, indicating where the nearest exit was. 

Kiki wasn’t worried about that, though. She bleated again, trying to get a response from the sky-voice. Nothing. She crawled on all fours across the ground, looking up at the speakers that the voice surely came from. Pawed at the walls. Kicked with a hind leg, waited for a response.

Nothing.

Kiki balked; the xenodrug effect subsided a little, and although a pleasurable haze was present, that need remained. That desperate need… what was it? Why couldn’t she think properly? Why was she trying so hard and not getting what she needed? 

Why was she calling out to someone who wasn’t responding…?

Oh.

It dawned on her.

She was alone.

She was alone, in some stupid dark hole in the ground, and she needed to be in someone’s arms, right now.

Touch starvation began to ravage Kiki as she bleated desperately, stumbling her way towards the entrance of the bunker. She needed out. She couldn’t be alone, she couldn’t. She could crawl into anyone’s arms right now; she needed comfort. She needed someone. Anyone.

Part of her mind was still intact enough to remember. That stupid slow door. The button. Hit the button, get outside.

She strained against herself weakly as she pushed onwards for the exit; the xenodrugs had sapped so much of her stamina… she couldn’t be stuck here, she wouldn’t. She stumbled… crawled a little further… stumbled again. The door was so close. 

Her leg caught on a suit that shouldn’t have been there, and she tripped, body tumbling against the cold mesh of the vestibule floor.

This time she couldn’t get up.

Kiki looked over to the button, over to the blast door, and bleated helplessly. Her arms and legs weren’t listening to her… they were rebelling because they were missing any contact with any one thing… it was too much… 

Kiki was going to die alone. 

She whimpered to herself, curled into a ball with what energy she had left.

“Baa…. baaa….” she cried pitifully, hoping against hope that someone would listen. The only response she heard was the echoes of her calls through the abandoned hallways of the bunker.

“...Naaaaa…”

Heartbroken, she let out one last resigned wail, then fell silent.

…

*THUMP*

Outside the blast door, a hollow sound rang out.

Kiki's eyebrows perked.

Person? Someone? Someone please help!

"Naa! Naaa!"

The thick blast doors began to shift, and light streamed in from the outside. A single root slipped through, then two more, then even more, until with monstrous strength, the system was wrenched open entirely with a metallic screech.

Kiki let out a frightened whimper as her eyes adjusted to the brightness.

Her savior was glowing. 

Bioluminescent growths showered her vision with beautiful blue-greens as she stared up at the massive, six foot tall… plant thing. Vines and fungal looking growths together made up the shape of an approximate human form. Seed pods beautifully speckled their matted, mossy skin… a kind, gentle face composed of seeds and vines. They greeted Kiki with the most captivating smile she had ever seen. She couldn’t take her eyes off it. Even that voice, so much softer and loving than sky-voice; she couldn’t help but hang onto the lovely texture of each word. 

The creature retracted their vines from the door system, and approached with calm steps. 

"I'm here, little one. You're going to be safe."