Artemis Fell

by StormyDayParade

Tags: #CW:dubious_consent #D/s #Human_Domestication_Guide #multiple_partners #scifi #very_gay_swordfights #bondage #Casual_Piracy #dom:female #dom:plant #humiliation #hurt/comfort #hypno #sadomasochism #self_care_is_over_were_doing_drugs_now #sub:female

A transfem pirate that lives for the game of battle, a bubbly shackled VI, and a man. The perfect team. A love that cannot be broken. Until the plants show up and all their trauma is to be healed. By force if necessary. The humans take issue with this, of course.

Standard warning of this is my first story, so any constructive critisism is welcome.

CW for: A distinct lack of plampts.

13.7.2549-19:47 SST-Aboard the Artemis Fell

Artemis awoke with a jump, the grimace of pain and concern etched on her face sliding away as she hops out of bed and into her emergency slippers. As she fastens her weapon belt her voice, gruff and graveled from sleep, echo’s out into her empty bunk. “Vy, report.”

A bubbly, mirthful voice sounds out clear as day and far too loudly, “Oh now cap’n cutie, no need to be so pouty because I woke you from your...3 hour sleep, okay maybe it makes sense for you to be a bit tired, but you did say to wake you if a signature pops up.” The ship lets out a little giggle, the bitch, before continuing. “I don’t think you’ll be grumpy for long~. In fact, I think you’ll love to see who we found.”

Artemis finds herself pausing momentarily, bleary mind working its way into full functionality, as she tries to guess just who she would be excited to see. “Stars Above Vy, if you decided to attempt to throw another surprise party I’ll-”

The VI’s hologram fazes in, cutting off the sleepy tirade from blossoming, and pantomimes an exaggerated march next to the Captain as she puts on the last two pieces of her outfit, her hat and her coat, as she’s going to need them if they’re to have contacts. “Come ooonnnn skippy, skip to it, Landie is waaaiiiiting~.”

With her clothes just barely secured she barks out, “Fine! I’m movin I’m movin, don’t blow a circuit.” as she moves to the exit of her bunk towards the bridge, still fiddling with straps and such here and there. The hologram dissipates a moment before the door opens, and Artemis knows what is about to happen.

A shrill whistle cries out on the bridge followed by a stiff ‘Captain on deck’ from Vy as Artemis strides towards the conn. Already the sleep is falling away as she readies herself for the task ahead. “Number one I’ve got her. Vy what’s happening? This time give me an actual answer please.”

Ready for the order, Conor hops out of the conn and moves towards the lower console without a word as Vy starts with another giggle. “Our net worked wonderfully skippy, we currently have a school of fishies out in the void. Signatures speak of standard patrol patterns, eight lights, mostly screening ships but at the head is the Battle Cruiser Apollo’s Wrath.”

The Wrath is here?! As soon as that little tidbit processes Artemis starts idly straightening her hair under her hat and smoothing out wrinkles before she catches herself. “Righto then! I want the math on all of them, you know what to do Vy. Conor-”

Number one, Captain.” he interrupts, as usual.
Conor, spin us up for battle stations if you please. And tell Simmons to be on the lookout for jump signatures, I would rather not be caught in a trap today.” Without another word the bridge crew sets to work, and seconds later a clarion call rings out ship wide with ‘all hands to battle stations’.

“Is it really a battle, given what we are trying to do, Vy? Feels a little anachronistic to say that, eh? Maybe we could change it to action  stations...oooooo or, or, we just change it to an alarm and everyone knows what it means. Why I bet-” It only takes a minute for preparations to cease as most of the work had been done in advance, all the while Artemis rambles on about the intricacies of preparing for an emergency. A thumbs up from Conor and a chipper ping from above tells Artemis that it's her turn which only barely manages to shut her up and pull her out of her reverie so that she can don her final piece, a smooth, shiny black faceplate with a skeletal grin affixed on it. With the mask secured her voice echoes out in a more feminine register, her words lilting towards melodic in nature, and her grin widens even further. “Alright alright I’m done. Conor open up a tight beam. It's time to say hello to our old friends I believe.”


13.7.2549-19:54 SST-Aboard the Apollo’s Wrath

It had been a good day. It always was when things like this happened. There's a reason that Gabriel had long since dreaded good days. Regardless, today was one. No alerts, a quiet patrol, a peaceful jump, hell he even got to sleep in for once. He mentally berates himself. He should have known.

Captain Gabriel Achart sits in the conn of the Apollo's Wrath as the bridge scrambles to battlestations. They are currently being hailed by the same frequency coming from five... no, six distinct points of origin. Gabriel hardens his features as he knows what is coming next, but there is no way to stop it. “Number one, have the fleet move into a defensive stance, every scanner up to max. Find that damn ship yesterday. And open up the hail. If we don’t answer she’ll get...unpleasant. More so than usual.”

The bridge is hustling about, officers of every stripe trying to intuit how to best handle their duties. Nary a word is said out of turn and up on the viewscreen appears a video feed of her. Gabriel takes in the features of the murderer opposite him with a scowl. He notes that the pirate is still wearing a fencer’s outfit of old, a thin white shirt with tight black pants. Only, in the last few months she had also, she had somehow managed to get a hold of a long flowing red coat and a wide brimmed cavaliers hat, complete with a large red feather affixed with a metal skull pin. She truly fashioned herself a pirate it seems. 

He regards the faceplate with a grimace. Only a thief, sneak, and murderer would hide themselves behind a mask like that, not that there is any doubt on any of that for her. There she sits, so comfortable, so...fucking demure in the chair that used to be Dona-. Gabriel silences the rising rage within him. He needs to focus on the job at hand.

“Artemis Ste-”

“Come now Angel, I believe that I told you the last time we met that it's Captain, surely you can remember that, hmmm? I know you’ve taken a few knocks to the head so it might be a little hard for you to manage, it’s okay, I understand.” Her voice echoes within the bridge. Chatter dies out in the bridge as even hushed tones felt far too intrusive upon the brigand’s haunting melody. Somehow, even Gabriel finds himself calming somewhat just at these bare few insulting words spoken. 

Not content to let only one insult go to pass she continues, “Now love, just sound it out. Cap-tain. See? Easy. Just pretend that you’re one of your little drones and that you are addressing yourself. Now nod if you understand.” For the barest moment, Gabriel finds himself following along to her every word, and almost lets out a nod before refinding his composure. How did she do that? Stars I hate her, the murderer. Why does she have to be so captivating? She doesn’t even have a claim to the title ‘captain’. As far as he knew she never attended a naval academy and certainly she wouldn’t survive moving up the ranks of the Navy. And why does she still call me Angel?!

As the interruption ends Gabriel continues. “Steele, you and your crew are to surrender immediately, decloak, and submit yourselves to the justice of the Cosmic Navy of the Terran Accord for your crimes of high treason, piracy, theft, void travel without a license, possession, and desecration of, OCNI property, and, for you personally, murder in the first degree of an officer of the Terran Accord. Should you submit, your crew will be treated favorably and you will survive to see trial.” Gabriel belts out the standard talking points with fervor, but his bluster seems to fade out towards the end with a few unreadable emotions gracing themselves across his face.

Pffa. Artemis. Who steals a ship with their own name and keeps the name? The pirate regards Gabriel with a small tilt of the head, seemingly in amusement, as Gabriel does the same with a bitter look on his face. She seems to have lost some weight, her musculature is fading in places. Good. Being without constant supplies would do that to even the most rugged of men, hopefully the worm fades away. Her hair has grown longer to the point that a small ponytail can be seen out from under the chapeau. Gabriel’s eyes fall on the gun on his foe’s belt. An antique. Customized. Donald’s gun. Gabriel’s eyes hardened even further, a fire felt deep within him. Murderous bitch.
       Finally deciding to break the silence, the pirate starts with an audible grin, relishing every word as if they were the best treat they’d had all week. The fire within Gabriel thankfully helps keep him from falling into her every word. “Now Angel. Surely you know that I can’t do that, you silly boy? Just as much as you know...that you are unable to force the issue. Let’s have four destroyers with you, aye?” She gives a wave of his hand as if it doesn’t matter, a trifle. “Have one of them empty itself of all crew and then jump the rest of your fleet out of the system. Do that...why, and none of your other ships need to see a scratch on their paint. Of course, Angel, if you wish to dance I am always willing to spend an exciting evening together.” 

By the end of it the bitch was speaking slowly, chewing on her words like they are all that matters in the world. Gazing down at the bridge crew shows that may just be true for most others. What Gabriel would give to wipe that smug, evil, infuriating, beauti-A shake of the head pulls Gabriel out of that dangerous thought before barking out “You’re going to be hanged for what you did Steele. Such a fate is too good for you. I would do it myself if it were proper. Number one, close the hail.” Blasted fucking pirates. Annoying as all hell. Worse when they have a high tech stealth ship. Absolutely insufferable when they fascinate so easily. 

Gabriel rubs his eyes. It always has to be her doesn’t it? Making his life worse by her mere existence. Whatever. There’s a job to do. Here’s hoping she’s been sloppy this time.

“Captain, dozens of contacts! Torpedo drive signatures. Trajectory converging on the Wrath. Spinning up point defense turrets.” The lieutenant calls out the warning and finds a sigh as Gabriel’s only response, as Gabriel is not enjoying the situation he’s putting himself in.

“Evasive maneuvers, fleet wide. Number one, tell me you have a position I can fire at.” Gabriel steadies himself as the ship accelerates in a new direction. It wouldn't do to panic and rush into action. He knows how this pirate works. First it’ll be a feint they can't ignore, then-
“Captain! Energy spike detected. Lazer beams incoming, low power.” -Then it will be an attack to force them into a bad spot. The beams rake across the engines of the Wrath. Without an order the helm directs them towards the source and prepares to open up. He’ll determine the damage later.

Gabriel knows what is coming. That bastard had chosen the ground and they walked into it. No point in stopping, the other option is to have their engines sheared off or to jump away. He’s beginning to lean more and more into ‘jump away’. But no. He’d be arrested or at the very least demoted for cowardice. Even though he knows what's coming. Even though they’re being moved into check. Even though the game is probably already lost. He gazes at the sensors, noting signatures pinging from every direction. Hundreds of shining points of light. Which one hides his enemy, he wonders. Gabriel rubs his eyes. Not sloppy at all today. 

And then it happens, the trap slams shut. From behind them comes a single shot. Not a railgun. Railgun’s don’t pierce through an entire ship like that. He knows what he needs to do even before the callout from Captain Sabatier rings over. With a report that their main fuel line has been cut and the atmosphere is evacuating into space there’s little to be done. They’re sitting ducks. With a sigh he starts to bark out orders. “Evacuate the Break of Dawn, spool up jump drives. That is an order. And turn to face where that shot came from!”

It had been a good day dammit.


13.7.2549-20:05 SST-Aboard the Artemis Fell

It’s turning out to be a good day...if fraught with exhaustion. 

Artemis slumps back into her chair, a small smile on her face, mask hanging limp at her side. “Very very good work there lads. Now come on. Let's go collect our booty. And Vy...tell me you recorded the interaction with Angel. Love that guy. Did it look like he’s been eating enough?” With a wave she hands the helm over to Vy and relaxes in her chair, allowing the softer g-forces to wash over her. Three hours of sleep is far too little to live on. She closes her eyes and idly lets herself drift, just letting the low gravity soothe her stressed mind. Eventually, the Destroyer looms close in the viewscreen, a tad bigger than the Fell itself and, with a sigh, Artemis reaches for the horn. 

“Congratulations crew, you have all done very well and you are all good spacers.” Out of the corner of her eye she sees Conor shiver at that and smiles. “Now. We’ve caught ourselves a fish that is ready for filleting, and it’s time to drag it back home. Mudskippers get suited up and lets get her attached, engine room lets get the jump drive spinned up just in case, okay? Thank youuuu~” 

As she sets the horn away she sighs, decompressing, falling. This is going to be a several hour affair and she really wants to sleep. Well...might as well make it pass a tad faster. “Vy turn on the music, shipwide. Something... classical if you would? And yell at me when we’re ready to jump back home.”

With a chirp of acknowledgement Chopin starts to ring out over the ship, slow, and calm, and Artemis starts to relax in her chair. Not dozing. Never dozing. She still has a job to do. So the implant in her head keeps pinging away and is content to let the hours slip away with no thoughts in particular. 

It starts out tame, notes about how Angel looks, his mannerisms, how he’s grown. He’s staying healthy, if far too attached to the fleet and his father, but that is probably for the best anyways. As the hours roll by she eventually finds her train of thought turning to the past and the road that has led her to today.  

What a road it has been. A road far far too long.


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