Incursion
TWs: Mentions of guns (no actual use), Internalized xenophobia/authoritarianism, Mentions of brainwashing
Word Count: 1335 (no idea if this is a microfic but it's fun to write so yay)
Prompt: Terrans Are Adorable 102: Ferals and You
(This one is 3 weeks late oops, but we finally got inspiration!)
Everything was in place.
Breathe.
Clambering my way through the ventilation ducts that serviced this mayoral-building-turned-xeno-educational-center, I was keenly aware of every little scrape, rustle, and clang our group generated. Fern was at the front, silently navigating us towards our captive friend. The tracker we'd given her, injected under her forearm, was steadily blinking away on their screen, and we were going to get to it if it killed us. Not that dying was the worst thing that could happen to us here.
Sam, Vivaan, and Marcia took up our flank, although only Marcia was actually facing behind us. The light sidearms we carried wouldn't do shit against the xenos, but the vents were too small to easily carry heavy weaponry, and explosives were a no-go. Even if Sam argued we could hold ourselves hostage with them, the risk of detonations in a building that had Terrans (even weak, brainwashed, collaborating Terrans) was too great. Besides, the sidearms were just for comfort. The real weapon was secured against my chest.
Experimental tech, the agent had said. We never got her name, but she said she was the last active OCNI member on the planet, and both Riley and Vivaan vouched for her.
The same Riley that we knew was hours away from a live implantation, where the weeds would break her and then puppet her husk into betraying us all.
Remembering our conversations since she got taken made my stomach churn.
At first she'd been her normal, fiery self, enraged at the indignities her captor was putting her through. We'd been cautious about spending time with her again, but when Fern spent time shit-talking the Compact with her and didn't wind up with a collar around their neck the next day, we knew the weeds didn't have her under surveillance. The Affini had decided to keep her on a long leash, and so that meant we got to see her. Chat in the privacy of our own homes, plan ways to get her out, look at back-market ships we could buy to get us all away. Laugh at the times she accidentally called her captor Mistress, or Owner, until the point where she couldn't call it anything else.
Scoff at the ways she was being treated, until notes of genuine hurt entered her eyes when we disparaged her jailer.
Listen in outrage and quiet horror as she described being used as a lab rat, being broken and manipulated and toyed with in front of a crowd of eager alien students.
She was losing herself, a quiet contentment entering her features. Becoming softer. Weaker. A pet.
She knew she was losing herself too, and there would have been nothing any of us could do. If not for that agent and the lifeline she handed us. A volatile gas, harmless to humans, but violently corrosive to plant matter. The agent showed us research notes, testing footage, and even demonstrated on a cutting of an Affini their cell had sourced before its collapse. The timing was suspicious, coming days after Riley learnt the date of her implantation, but the agent claimed they'd been monitoring her situation and had to wait until the time was right. And stars, we needed a win. Terra did. And so we believed her.
Apparently the OCNI network was wiped out before her team could the substance off-world, but this, she had said, was our chance to finally strike back at the weeds. Wound them, kill them, and save our friend.
And so here we were, hours before the surgery that would irreversibly break Riley's mind, moving into position.
Fern brought us to a halt, signalling there were voices ahead and that we were almost there. I felt a thrill go through my body. This was it. Get in, get Riley, get out.
"< -it's been a long semester, and you've all done wonderfully.>" An alien voice, speaking in a strange tongue and with a sub-aural hum that left me feeling slightly off-balance.
"<Could we please give an ovation for our wonderful subjects for this unit, 'Riley' and Penelope'!>" Sam let out a low growl as the applause and cheers echoed through the duct. I gritted my teeth too. The weed had definitely mentioned Riley. Fern stopped at a wide vent, skirting its edges to cross to the other side. This section of the duct was wider and taller, having seemingly been adjusted to account for Affini technicians. A fortunate side-effect of that was that our whole squad could comfortably surround the vent and peek down.
The floor below us looked empty of aliens or dangerous objects, and had a soft carpet that would cushion our landing. While the authoritative one attempted to organize its class into a semblance of order, we began our final checks. Marcia secured our harnesses to the duct's surface, making sure the adhesive set properly so she could pull us up, then retreated back to keep our escape path clear. Sam began setting up her handheld battering ram, ready to break the vent below us off its hinges. Vivaan confirmed radio chatter was steady, and no alerts had been triggered by our passage. Fern readied their adrenaline injectors to help snap Riley back into consciousness (depending on how drugged she was), while I primed our weapon. Twist the upper hemisphere of the orb 90 degrees clockwise, indent the buttons on its poles, and then apply an even pressure around the equator, and… ding. I was rewarded with the two halves lifting to reveal a vial filled with swirling purple gas, ready to be unleashed. It was time.
"<And now my dears, it is time to give you one last test. You've all proven your knowledge, demonstrated care with our little… volunteers, and shown you are ready for a practical assignment.>"
Sam began counting down.
"5." | "<And now- >"
"4." | "<I present- >"
"3." | "<A surprise- >"
"2." "<Exercise.>"
"1."
Sam shattered the vent and we jumped down with a cry. I had time to register Riley and a strangely familiar Terran, their captor wearing a smug expression, and a shocked array of students before I hit the ground.
"FREE TERRA!" I roared, and smashed the grenade to the floor-
Which erupted into a harmless cloud of purple sparkles and the sound like a party popper.
There was a beat of silence, then Riley and her fellow captive burst into giggles. Her fellow…
My eyes widened. The OCNI agent, dazed look in her eyes, wearing a pink dress with a glazed look in her eyes, nuzzling up against Riley and her captor.
Oh.
A tinny yelp echoed above us, and Marcia came tumbling out of her hiding place and onto the ground. A series of vines oozed out of the duct work, severed our ropes, and pulled the vent cover up behind them. The five of us stood frozen in the center of the classroom, watching the monstrous students' faces shift from surprise to curiosity, excitement, and hunger.
"<Now class, you'll be in your assigned pairs for this exercise. These cuties haven't gotten any care yet, so you'll need to guide them through the initial stage of domestication. Their little weapons have been disabled, but they still could hurt themselves with their attempts to fight back. Your task is to pacify them, choosing the correct mixture of xenodrugs, and show them there is nothing to fear from the Compact. I will be available to provide assistance if required, but otherwise good luck, have fun, and remember that this is all about learning.>"
"Guns don't work," Marcia whispered as the plants put their datapads down and began to slowly approach us.
"What?" Sam hissed back.
"Guns don't work. Someone sabotaged them."
As one we turned to look at Riley, who was completely distracted by a vine stroking her cheek.
"…5 bucks say I beat you to all to the door," Sam said, face pale.
"The door behind 10 hungry nightmare plants? Fucking bet," Fern replied.
But in the end, none of us made it more than a meter.











