A Danger to Oneself and Others

Chapter 5

by SapphicSounds

Tags: #f/f #Human_Domestication_Guide #kidnapping #petplay #pov:bottom #sub:female #D/s #dom:female #dom:the_inescapable_reach_of_the_affini_compact #mind_control #scifi #sub:feralism #transgender_characters #violence

Hi there! If you enjoy what you're about to read, you can read through to chapter 14 of this story on my patreon right now, there, you can also get access to my discord server, early access to my work, exclusive content (including audio readings of some of my works) AND pictures of my cat (this is not a euphemism). I'd also like to mention that currently, all of my patreon income goes toward mutual aid, ongoing until I announce otherwise. So come of the smut, stay for the knowledge that your money is going to helping people in need! This work is set in the Human Domestication Guide universe.
If you'd like to commission a work from me, feel free to email me at sapphicsounds@gmail.com 
All characters depicted are 18 years of age or older, do not proceed if you are under 18 years of age.
CWs for this story include: dysphoria, violence, florets being captured by rebels, sad florets, implied transphobic slur, body horror, violence / threats of violence, trauma.

The amount of risk and uncertainty wrapped up in what Clara was attempting to pull off was honestly something she tried not to think about. Truthfully, she had no idea if it was even going to work. And, even if it did work, there was no guarantee Annularia was within comms range of Hyperion’s Lantern. Then there was the possibility that someone on board could somehow pick up her transmission. Or the possibility that—she stopped herself there. The point was to try not to think about it. With a slow breath, Clara grounded herself in the moment, and looked out over her fellow captives. Each of them wore an expression of intense focus, but focus on her and her alone. Clara was certain their implants were working in overdrive to limit their conscious perception and experience of this entire ordeal, which was for the best, they were weak. Weak in a way Clara wished she could be. Weak in a way that allowed them, practically required them to be sheltered from the hurt around them. And Clara was going to get them home. 

With practiced familiarity, Clara reached out with her implant, and joined the little network the florets had synchronized to. Using her rhythm as a guide, Clara took hold of that same signal she’d used to broadcast her song, and reached out into the space around them. Guiding such a signal using a conventional sense of space and direction wasn’t exactly easy. It was an intangible and formless thing, barely more than a concept. Still, Clara had memorized and rememorized the layout of Hyperion’s Lantern for this exact moment; she was prepared as she’d ever be.

Like creeping, intangible vines, Clara probed through the ship, reaching ever outward, keeping her focus as laser-like as she could on her goal. And then, as though the signal had a mind of its own—one completely oblivious to the amount of agonizing Clara had done over whether such a feat was even possible—she felt it slip neatly, cleanly and easily into the ship’s comms unit. Clara couldn’t stifle a grumble at that. Of course affini tech would find a way to make even this easy. For all she knew, they had probably even already thought of this exact scenario playing out and designed the implant with such functionality in mind. Casually, Clara drew a connection between Hyperion’s Lantern’s comm unit, and her personal communicator. All that was left was to just send her message and hope this worked. 

With her communicator to her mouth, Clara realized something: she had no fucking clue what to say. It did matter, there wasn’t enough time to deliberate over this. She began to speak. “This is Clara Sepal, First Floret, contacting Annularia, or any other affini vessels within the system. Myself, along with all the other captured florets are alive and physically unharmed. The situation on board is dangerous, but not out of my control. I have just learned that a rogue faction within the ship has knocked out our jump drive and called for aid from two other rebel ships. Once their backup arrives, this faction intends to carry out a mutiny, and ultimately either execute or medically torture us. I am working to counteract their plans and keep myself, as well as the other captives safe. In three days time, the additional ships will arrive. Using a combination of artificial biorhythms, and xenodrugs manufactured by my implant, I believe that by the time said backup arrives, the entirety of the ship’s crew, including this mutinous splinter group, will have been pacified. I’m sure you are aware of this. I’m sure this is the main reason I have not already found myself back in my Mistress’ arms. But still, I need to make sure you are aware: if any affini vessel were to attack Hyperion’s Lantern without the crew on board having already been sufficiently pacified ahead of time, it would likely result in a retaliatory attempt on my life, as well as the lives of my fellow captive florets. Before I end this message, please be aware that I do not have control of the ship’s comms. Do not send a reply unless you are certain it will reach me, and me alone… I need to go. Please inform the owners of the captured florets that they are alive. Please inform my owner that I am alive. And… tell her that I miss her, that I love her.”

Clara severed her implant’s ties to the comms unit, and gave a shuddering sigh. In all likelihood, Annularia, or some other affini vessel was hiding somewhere inside the system, watching and waiting for a safe opportunity to strike. They had to be. If she was wrong, all that was for nothing. Hyperion’s Lantern didn’t have any FTL comms, even if it did, she’d have no idea how to go about pinpointing where in the vastness of space her recipient was. Her only hope was that the affini had managed to successfully track the fleeing rebel ship’s jumps up until this point, and that somewhere within comm range, they were waiting in the wings to mount a rescue. 

The urge to dwell on the possibility of failure was laid out plainly and clearly for Clara to indulge in should she choose to. And it was tempting, to agonize over whether she’d just sent a message to noone, or, even worse, that it had been somehow picked up by someone aboard Hyperion’s Lantern. If it were only herself Clara needed to worry about, she may well have allowed herself eagerly fall right into that trap, but she couldn’t. Instead, Clara focused on the next step of her plan. 

She bade each of the florets an individual goodbye, giving Lyssa a particularly affectionate hair ruffle, then began to march purposefully out of the brig. As she walked, Clara withdrew her tablet, and, seeing how many notifications she had, suddenly remembered the thing had been blowing up with messages earlier. At the very least, Clara now had an idea as to why. As though to prove her point, just then, Clara received another message. This one, like the rest, from Admiral Trapper. She took a moment to catch up on her messages, though didn’t bother to slow her purposeful stride. Among increasingly frustrated demands for her to pay Trapper a visit, Clara learned exactly what had riled up the Admiral so much. Apparently the drive engineer had taken a less than subtle approach with his attempt at sabotage, and had been found out of breath, standing over a pile of broken machinery and clutching a loose pipe. Clara had to assume there was a more subtle and elegant way of accomplishing the same thing, but admittedly, the vast majority of humanity’s best and brightest had already come to the obvious conclusion they were better off living in the luxury of fully automated post scarcity instead of whatever ‘Free Terranism’ had to offer.

Either way, Trapper wanted to meet with Clara in her office, which was certainly convenient. Picking up her pace, Clara made a beeline through the ship’s corridors toward Trapper’s office. Stopping outside the door, Clara gave two sharp knocks, and, a moment later, was bade to enter. Seated before an old Mahogany desk which Clara couldn’t even begin to imagine finding a way to fit through the door, was Admiral Trapper, her brown creased and an impatient frown on her lips. “I first asked for you over an hour ago, Lieutenant, I expect a good reason for your lateness.”

Clara gave a curt nod, and a salute. “My apologies, Ma’am,” she replied. “I think you’ll find the tardiness justifiable. In fact, I suspect its actually quite relevant to the reason you asked after me in the first place.”

Gesturing to the chair before her desk, Trapper gave a small nod. “Have a seat, Lieutenant.” Clara did as she was asked, and, after the admiral gestured for Clara to explain herself, she visibly relaxed, then got to work constructing her narrative. 

“The ship’s Quartermaster, along with another junior officer, paid me an unsolicited visit this morning. They came with a warning: Decker is planning a mutiny. They weren’t sure how many people Decker has on his side, but they told me his plan. I would have come sooner, but they were already taking a great deal of risk visiting me to begin with, and I did not wish to squander the opportunity.” This was, technically, not a lie. Of course, Clara was omitting a very important aspect of the truth, but if she revealed the true nature of their visit, Trapper would have questions when Clara suddenly turned around and claimed the pair were loyal to her now. It would be best for everyone if the admiral never learned of the pair’s initial hostility. “The sabotage of our drive core was part of this.” 

The gravity of the situation setting in, Trapper sat back in her chair, and poured herself a glass of whiskey, then a second for Clara, which she slid across the desk. Clara reached to take the glass into her hands and, as she did, felt a sudden urge to dip the tips of her fingers into the liquid. Perplexed, she shook her head, and banished the though, returning her focus to the matter at hand. Across from Clara, Trapper took a slow breath, chewed her lip, then, in a sudden explosion of movment, slammed her fists against the desk. “That fucking bastard. Do you have any idea how many good ships I’ve lost because of his fucking ego? If it were up to me I’d toss him out a goddamn airlock, but sadly, even with Terra gone, there is still the matter of politics to consider.” Growling, she slumped forward, and glared across the table. Even knowthing that glare wasn’t meant for her, Clara had to admit, it was quite withering. “Tell me everything,” Trapper commanded.

Her opportunity at hand, Clara did exactly as she was asked, going into great detail about everything she’d learned. She even mostly told the truth. Of course, the part where she used affini biorhythms and xenodrugs to convince the pair to betray Decker was omitted. There was, also, of course, the bit where Clara completely fabricated a plot to drug the water supply, but Trapper, like everyone else aboard the ship, was days into listening to her song. Within reason, Trapper would trust Clara implicitly, so long as Clara spoke with rhythm. 

By the time Clara finished her explanation, Trapper had calmed herself into a still, quiet rage. Her face a mask of calm, the admiral took another slow drink, then swirled the liquid about in her glass, watching it with detached curiosity. After a moment of consideration, Trapper returned her gaze to Clara. “What do you suggest we do about this, Lieutenant?”

“If we spook them before we’re ready to respond, they might lash out. We should make them think their plan is working, while taking it apart. I suggest you have all weapons and non-standard issue equipment be returned to the Quartermaster. They’ll be annoyed, but accept it since they think the Quartermaster is on their side. I’d also recommend you restrict access to life support. I can personally check the water and air filtration systems every day to ensure nobody has snuck inside, if you’ll allow me to. Decker is afraid of me; he’s afraid of the rest of the captives and what we’re making them into. When the day of his mutiny comes, his people will be unarmed, and outmatched. We’ll keep our distance from the other two ships, and not allow them to dock with us. They won’t open fire so long as their fleet admiral is on board. Once the threat on board is dealt with, we’ll find a way to diffuse the situation.” It was crucial that Clara convince Trapper to ostensibly wait and let things play out the way Clara intended them to. If everything went according to plan, Decker’s people, along with just about every person aboard Hyperion’s Lantern would be pacified, and Annularia could swoop in and secure all three ships before things got too dangerous. 

If Clara had to guess, she’d call Trapper receptive, but skeptical. “What about the plants? They’re not going to just wait around.” 

Clara bit her lip thoughtfully. She’d need to choose her next words carefully. “The plants won’t come after us unless they’re certain they can also prevent anyone from trying to kill me or the other rescues. They don’t like it when people hurt their pets.”

Though Trapper seemed to at least understand, and agree, she didn’t look particularly pleased with that answer. “It’s only a matter of time though, isn’t it? I’m not naive, Clara. I can’t look into the future and see what things will look like fifty, or a hundred years from now, but I know neither of us are going to live long enough to see a free Terra. The only way I’m ever leaving this ship is either as one of their captives, or…” With her thumb and forefinger, Trapper mimed aiming a pistol into her mouth, and pulling the trigger. 

“Which is exactly why we need to deal with this problem before they decide to act,” Clara insisted. “Nobody on this ship will be able to repair and operate our jump drive within the three days. Our only choice is to find a way to resolve this schism within our own ranks as peacefully as possible.”

With a sigh, Trapper gave a nod, and seemed to relent. “You have a point, I suppose. I guess I’m just tired of all this.” For a moment, it looked like the admiral was about to elaborate. She stopped herself. “I’ll send out the orders you requested, have the ship’s Master at Arms confiscate any weaponry from crewmates—though, just, keep your pistol in your quarters, okay? I’ll make sure he knows to make an exception for you—and I’ll have ship security limit access to life support.” She paused, withdrew a tablet, and tapped it a few times thoughtfully. “And there, I’ve just granted you the same clearance to every part of the ship that I have. Just… get this done, and make sure by the end of this you’ve made a proper fighting force out of those rescues.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” After a few moments of tense silence, it became clear Trapper had nothing more to say. Clara made a silent exit, and wasted no time. She immediately struck out for the rear of the ship, where life support was located. 

When she reached the door, Clara hesitated for a moment. This was her boldest move yet, if someone where to find out about this, things would get ugly. Then again, if she didn’t do this, things would be even worse. She swiped her access card into the room’s scanner, the door gave a satisfying beep, then click, and Clara stepped inside. Working quickly, she crossed the room to the ship’s water supply, popped the hatch, and took a deep breath. Feeling a tad awkward, Clara peeled off her uniform, then began to pluck flower after flower from her back, depositing them into the water supply. Within a matter of minutes, the pollen in the drugs would have absorbed into the water, lacing it with that same mix of sedatives and empathy boosters Clara had used on the two intruders. It would serve a dual purpose of pacifying the ship, and ensuring her new allies stayed drugged up enough to not have a change of heart. 

Once she’d plucked her last flower, Clara shut the hatch, and took a step back. It was done, she was past the point of no return now. One dose batch of drugs would likely not last the full three days, so her implant would have to make more, and she’d need to return daily, but this would work; it had to. 

Hello my lovely readers! Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! I'd like to take one more opportunity to plug my patreon https://www.patreon.com/sapphicsounds, where you can read up to chapter 14 of this story. You'll also get early and or ecxlusive access to other content such as erotic audio recordings AND pictures of my cat. I'd also like to mention that currently, all of my patreon income goes toward mutual aid, ongoing until I announce otherwise. So come of the smut, stay for the knowledge that your money is going to helping people in need! 

Show the comments section (2 comments)

Back to top

Register / Log In