#scifi lesbian

[super-ion]

Valiant

(master post)

Chapter 3

It's midday when it happens. I'm walking beneath one of the elevated transit lines that spiderweb out from the port to the outer settlements. One of the trams whooshes by, as they do invariably every eight minutes. The only difference this time is there's a thump as the tram passes and something falls from the rails about a hundred meters in front of me.

The body hits the ground and the legs crumple.

I'm briefly horrified, thinking it's a person, but I feel the tiniest pang of relief as I get closer and realize it's just a service android.

…just an android.

The second wave of horror comes with a wave of guilt.

I'm about twenty meters away when it convulses. Up until this point, I'm holding out hope that there is something I can do for it. Take it back to the warehouse and do my best to repair it.

The body spasms again and its back arches at an impossible angle. There's a pop and my rad counter crackles menacingly. This is followed by trails of greenish smoke leaking from its eyes.

I skid to a halt.

My rad counter is ticking merrily along, faster than I like, but my dust jacket and mask should be good enough.

I glance over my shoulder and up at the rail, mind racing. The positronic core is definitely ruptured, no recovery from that. It's just spare parts.

The thought doesn't do my sense of guilt any favors. I've stripped plenty of chassis down, but that doesn't make seeing the actual accident any easier.

I convince myself that it would rather I put it's body to good use than let it get scrapped in some corpo junk heap.

Val needs a body.

I break into a sprint. If I work quickly, I can get the head off before the rad counter starts yelling at me. If I work quickly, I can invoke finders rights.

I fall into a crouch at the body… chassis, it's a chassis.

“Sorry, bud,” I say to it. “I’m going to need to borrow a few things from you. I hope that's alright.”

There's no expression on its face, just a rigid shell with smoked out eyes.

“I'll light a candle for you,” I add as I start assessing the damage.

The legs are a total loss, just dead weight at this point. Gotta lose them. Slight crumpling in the shell of the torso and left arm. Hopefully cosmetic. Probably microfractures in the spinal column. That's fine. Probably. Not like she'll need it right away without the legs. And the head. Yeah, no good. Will probably kill me…

A sound behind me makes me freeze.

I'm not alone.

Up until this point in my life, I've never been held at gunpoint. I've certainly seen it happen enough times, down the street or out the window, far enough away to not think too hard about it. It's different when it's happening to you.

I am absolutely fundamentally terrified.

Two figures circled into my field of vision. They're not corpo and they're not civil protection. They might be militia, but they have no insignia that I can see. They're all masks and goggles and scary looking guns and they move silent as ghosts.

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

This is bad. It suddenly occurs to me that I might not make it home tonight. Val will wait for me. She'll be waiting forever. She will wait and wait and wait and wait and wait…

I take a ragged breath and slowly raise my hands.

“Just take it,” I plead. “It's yours. I was never here. I never saw you. Please, just let me go.”

The one on the right shoulders their gun and starts digging in one of their pockets. It might be my imagination, but the one on the left seems to relax slightly.

“Mechanic?” number three asks from behind me, voice distorted beyond any recognition.

It takes me a moment to understand.

“Y-yeah, I'm… mechanic.”

“The head,” they demand.

I glance down.

“It's… the core is ruptured. It's cursed.”

“The head,” they demand again.

Righty tosses a sack at me, it hits the ground with a heavy thud. Probably lead lined.

I have no idea what a shadow militia wants with a ruined and moderately radioactive positronic core. Honestly, it's not my business. The only thing I care about right now is getting home to Val.

I work as quickly as my shaking hands allow, hoping and praying to any gods who will listen that there aren't any more positronic cells waiting to pop.

I finally get the last connection unhooked as the rad counter starts chirping admonishingly. I scramble to shove the head into the bag and toss it halfway to righty, who scoops it up.

I kneel there next to the body as righty and lefty make their exits from my vision. I'm still too fucking scared to check if number three is still there.

***

I enter the warehouse and exhaustedly pull the door closed behind me.

I practically ran home, even with a hundred pounds of composite and high tensile lightweight alloy on my back.

I stand there for a moment, quivering and suddenly lost. Half an hour ago I didn't think I'd ever make it back.

“Ellie?”

I open my eyes to see one of Val’s spidery drones peering curiously at me.

I blink and break into anothe sprint. I take the steps of the scaffolding two at a time and collapse into her. The android chassis hits the platform behind me with a thunderous noise as I rip my hood off to rest my bare forehead against the shell of her core.

I'm crying.

Fuck. I can't remember the last time I let myself cry in front of anyone. I've been alone for so long, just surviving, but ever since I stumbled into Val, I've had a reason to actually live. I wasn't really afraid of dying today, I was afraid of never seeing her again.

“Eloise,” she says softly, “are you alright?”

“Yeah,” I reply, and the whole story spills out of me between sobs. I tell her I was scared, terrified, but I can't quite bring myself to tell her why.

“I am glad you are well,” she says after I finish. “I wish…”

She hesitates. She sounds almost plaintive.

I wipe at my eyes, and let out a shuddering breath.

"What?" I whisper.

“I wish I could comfort you in some way,” she replies very quietly. “To… to pull you close and hold you.”

The words hit me like a tidal wave, rolling over me. I've been hoping, desperately, in my most private moments that she felt as I did.

Ellie, you idiot.

Tell her how you feel.

I don't know how. All I know how to do is fix things.

“I… I might have a solution to that,” I tell her and gesture to the chassis.

I wipe my eyes again before hauling it up onto the work bench. I flick on the light to examine it and a few of her smaller drones skitter out of the shadows and up the table to join me.

I throw myself into the work, trying to forget my harrowing ordeal. Together we fall into a rhythm, a comfortable silence, broken occasionally by technical commentary. I examine the physical structure, taking inventory of the damage. She taps into its system, probing the firmware and compiling drivers based onto her findings.

It's… maybe not romantic, but it's comfortable, intimate.

She starts humming.

I'm so lost in the work, I don't even notice at first. It's only when I pause to set aside the soldering iron to grab a roll of tape that I realize the music is coming from her.

Maybe humming isn't quite the right word, no human vocal tract could ever reproduce the sounds, but it's humming all the same.

She notices me listening and the music stops abruptly.

“That's nice,” I say. “What is that?”

There's a flicker from her core, her equivalent of ringing her hands. Is she embarrassed?

“Chopin,” she replies. “Nocturne number 2… I am sorry. It is a bad habit of mine.”

I tilt my head and raise my eyebrows. I suppose it might be considered a bad habit for a warship to sing idly. But she hasn't been a warship for over a century.

I want to hear her sing again, more than anything.

“Would you sing more of it?” I ask, hoping I don't sound too desperate.

Another flicker. After a moment she starts again, tentatively, haltingly at first, but she gradually relaxes into it.

“There was a quality assurance engineer,” she explains over the sound. “He worked night shifts during the surge. He always had music playing. Old Earth classical. I was very young. I suppose it made an impression on me.”

This brings a smile to my face and I lose myself in the music.

We work for another hour before she makes me break for dinner. Then I get to work on an adapter interface. She was designed to be integrated directly into a starship mainframe. The chassis is very nearly as far from that as possible. But data is data, and there are only so many ways to achieve an interface.

It's late, well past local midnight by the time I finish. She must be confident that we're close if she isn't forcing me to bed.

I stare down at the cabling that now sprouts from the spine of the chassis. They come together in a bundle that I have checked and rechecked.

“Should we…” I say around dry lips. “Should we plug you in?”

A flicker. Apprehension. Anticipation.

“Yes,” she replies, her voice almost breathy.

I grab one of the serial cables off of a rack and slide it into the adapter where it locks with a satisfying clunk. I drag the other end to the closest port on the shell of her core.

“Here we go,” I say, and I slide the plug in.

Nothing happens for a moment.

Light pulses from her core and the chassis twitches.

“Please stand by for a moment,” she says. “I need to construct a calibration dataset. I do not wish you to be harmed in the process, Ellie.”

I don't know exactly what she means by that until the body thrashes violently. My first instinct is to rush forward, make sure she's alright. I have to remind me that she's fine. The cool metal and warm light behind me is her. The body is just a peripheral.

The motions gradually become less erratic, falling into a jerky simulacrum of human motion with each gesture becoming more fluid. I feel a brief pang of unease as she enters the uncanny valley, as if I'm watching a headless, legless corpse practicing hand gestures.

The motions show and the pulsing light fades back to her baseline.

Cautiously, I approach.

“How's it feel?” I ask.

“I… I feel… I don't know... I feel good.”

I reach the table and marvel all the tiny little fidgets, the random motion subroutines she is assembling to keep her body from reaching stillness.

It isn't a corpse any more. It's not a collection of parts I happened upon this afternoon. It's part of her.

She reaches out to take my hand in hers and her fingers gently curl around mine.

[sypphic]

SciFi mspec lesbian / SciFi mspec sapphic

[SciFi mspec lesbian / SciFi mspec sapphic]

A flag for mspec lesbians/sapphics who enjoy the SciFi genre

Possible SciFi mspec lesbian/sapphic characters are:

The orville

- alara kitan

- talla keyali

- topa

- Charly burke

Terra nova

- Maddy shannon

- Skye Tate

- Alicia Washington

- Mira

Battlestar Galactica (og)

- Athena

- Cassiopeia

- sheba

- Serina

The last of us

- riley abel

- Ellie williams

- dina

- Sarah miller

SciFi lesbian/sapphic flags(link)

Fairy lesbian flag(link)

No current set dni but I will block if uncomfortable

Discourse gets blocked

Tagging: @rwuffles @delightfulweepingwillows @hewasanamericangirl @lovesse @bi-lesbian

[super-ion]

I awaken to the smell of bacon and coffee and an empty spot next to me in the bed.

Damnit.

Even on her birthday she's making me breakfast. Five years since peace unexpectedly broke out and she still can't let herself sit still. On top of that, her augments make it so she only needs three hours of sleep.

I sigh and pull on one of her t-shirts. It hangs off my shoulders like a dress. I'm not a short person by any stretch, but she's got a good two feet on me. She won't say so in words, but I know she finds the sight adorable.

I wander into the kitchen, careful not to be too quiet… she really doesn't like being snuck up on. Seven years fighting Vesperians will do that.

There's a cup of coffee waiting for me… the #1 wife mug. She's got the #2 wife mug, half empty next to the stove. My coworkers at the mechanics corps got us the mugs as a joke wedding gift… The only time I've ever gotten her to drink from the #1 mug was when both of her legs needed to be serviced and she was bedridden for three days.

I wrap my arms around her thick frame and bury my face in her back.

"Oats and bacon will be ready soon," she mumbles flatly.

She's like that, direct and to the point, reluctant to speak too loudly, her voice is always flat and neutral. I suppose most people find off putting... It definitely took me a while to get used to it.

"Why are you cooking breakfast?" I murmur demandingly into her back. "It's your birthday."

It isn't really her birthday. She doesn't exactly have one specific date that she can point to between not existing and existing. Shortly after we started dating, I managed to badger her into picking one that we could celebrate. She picked the date that we met... and then I kissed her for the first time.

See, she may be a terrifying augmented super soldier, but deep down inside, she's a cinnamon bun.

"I like cooking breakfast," she replies.

I huff grumpily and release her from my embrace. She turns and leans down so I can plant a quick kiss on her lips.

I grab my coffee and wander into her workshop to see what she's been working on. It's not quite complete, tall jagged mountains (the Tetons I think), bathed in red gold by the sunrise. I'm pretty sure it's a commission, but she's working on it with the exact same love and joy that she would for one of her personal pieces.

I'm leaning close to admire the minute brushwork when the door chime rings.

"I got it!" I shout and scramble for the door. Lucky for me, she's preoccupied with cooking and I make it to the door before she can.

I swing the door open to greet the delivery bot. It's right on time. My face splits in a wide grin at the sight of the package it's holding before it.

I quickly sign the delivery slip and thank it profusely as I try my hardest not to snatch the package from its hands.

I close the door and I'm practically bouncing with excitement. She must have picked up my elevated heart rate because she pokes her head out of the kitchen.

"What is that?" she asks.

"This…" I reply, "is your birthday present."

She cocks her head and regards it as I offer it excitedly.

After a moment's consideration, she takes it cautiously and opens it. Her confusion deepens as she pulls out a swath of white fabric patterned with pink and red roses. She lets out a tiny gasp as she unfurls the dress.

"Okay, so…" I announce. "I found a tailor online who specializes in clothing for augments. I had this custom made."

She's staring at the dress in wonder.

"You wanna try it on?" I prompt.

She blinks at me like she's still surprised someone would encourage her to wear something like that… old habits die hard I guess.

I shoo her into the bedroom and start serving breakfast for the two of us (making sure to swap out the coffee mugs in the process, it's her birthday, she's #1 wife today, damnit).

She emerges from the bedroom a few minutes later and…

Oh my god, she looks radiant. She's trembling slightly and there are tears in her eyes, but she's grinning. It's more emotion than I see on her face most days. The dress fits her frame perfectly and she can't stop running her hands along the skirt. She unconsciously makes a little twirl, billowing the skirt out.

She hesitates slightly when she sees me staring. It's like she's almost embarrassed by the idea of being seen taking joy in something as frivolous as a dress.

I'm her wife and I love her. Her happiness is anything but frivolous. I bound out of my chair and wrap her in a tight hug.

"You look amazing," I tell her. "You like it?"

She nods, and tears are falling down her cheeks now. I grin and rub them away with my thumbs.

"Happy birthday," I whisper. "I love you."

"I love you too," she says, her voice cracking with the tiniest bit of emotion.

She’s a battle-scarred, jaded super-soldier loaded with biomechanical upgrades and chemical augments. All she wants to do is wear cute clothes and paint.

[allwhiterain]

Sigourney Weaver and a Xenomorph in a photoshoot for Alien (1979) directed by Ridley Scott

[silliestbutch]

I have created a doc sharing descriptions and recommendations for butch4butch books, including romance, literary fiction, historical fiction, manga, graphic novels and sci-fi/fantasy. This list is incomplete, and is still being updated regularly.

With full transparency, some of these books may not be "explicit" in their representation, but I have still included them because to my understanding, they include two butch or masc lesbians in a relationship. I have not, however, included books like Gideon the Ninth, where the author themselves have clarified that they don't see one half of the pairing as butch.

If anybody has issues or recommendations, kindly dm me here, and be civil about it. Hope you enjoy this list and find something to your taste. I will keep refining and updating the doc, as I read more.

If you want to toss a coin to a silly butch, here's my ko-fi.

[evelyn701]

games about a lesbian relationship between a former-human-woman-turned-evil-superstructure and a prisoner with incomplete memories trapped in a scientific research facility

[monstatron]

FEELIN’ LIKE A FREAK ON A LEASH

this morning's warmup. sunila sporting some metal orca fashion! i based this off of an outfit i own! 🤘

sketch + alt background version!

[gipki]

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[aphyray]

Saffron and Honey - How Should I Know You?

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---

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[eruditegeek]

Are you interested in mechs, TTRPGs, and lesbianism? Well, of course you are. Then check out Violet Core by Sarah Carapace. A 90s vaporwave scifi adventure.

VIOLET CORE on Kickstarter until October 25th.

A heavily modified Powered by the Apocalypse system that uses D4s. You heard correctly. Now you have a use for your cute and deadly pryamids to match your cute and deadly mechs.

Make a character using five archetypes and three factions to become a pilot with various biological or cybernetic enhancements. Or maybe even none. Become little more than a component for your mech, an ace pilot dedicated to the job, a fail girl trying to do the only thing she knows, or anything between. Also, hot women. 🥰😵‍💫🥴🥵

[ashes2caches]

cutting a cute little boob window into my hazmat suit. ya gotta let the babies breathe sometimes.

[super-ion]

Valiant

(Original post, Chapter 1)

Chapter 2

"Ellie!"

I blink awake. It's dark, the lighting hasn't switched over to morning mode yet and the sky is still black through the warehouse skylights. In fact, the only light is the gentle blue-white from Val's core. The indicator lights from the diagnostic equipment I have set up are completely dark.

I feel a spike of panic. A black out could mean any number of things, from benign to literal end of the world.

"What's going on?" I ask, fighting my grogginess. "What time is it?"

"I have lost external network connection. My internal clock indicates that it is 2:36:74," she says. Her voice is tinny and distant, likely the embedded speaker that I've managed to patch up.

"Ellie, I am sorry," she says. Her tone is distressed and contrite. She continues in a rush, "local wildlife nested amidst the network antenna and I attempted to relocate the nest. However in the process, I have accidently shorted the main high power bus with my drone peripheral."

Ah. That explains that. She probably tripped the main breaker. It's a terrible design and I've been meaning to add some resiliency, but that keeps getting out prioritized.

"Ellie, I am sorry," she repeats. "I have committed a mistake and I have inconvenienced you."

What?

Oh…

She's having the equivalent of a panic attack. She is a hyper intelligent AI core designed for fleet coordination and battle modeling, where failure to follow orders and standard operating procedure costs lives. This comes with a lot of built in anxiety. I understand that modern starships are less prone to such things, but when she was commissioned, the goal was to produce many warships very quickly. They were ultimately meant to be disposable, which led to some programming shortcuts.

"Hey," I say softly. "Are you okay? That's all I care about right now."

I roll out of my hammock and press my body against the surface of her core so that she can feel the plasmic discharge induced by my contact.

"I am well," she replies, her voice still small and panicked. "My core is isolated from main power. I can provide full diagnostics if you desire."

"No, that's okay. I'm glad you're alright. Should we see what we can do to take care of this?"

"Yes, please…"

She pauses.

"I do not like being disconnected. I… do not like the dark."

My heart breaks a little. Eighty-seven years, that's how long she was alone before I found her. An AI like hers can enter low power mode, but that is still an unfathomably long time. Units like her were never meant to be alone.

I reluctantly disengage from her core.

"I have to go outside," I tell her. She knows this, but I'm hoping it helps to talk through the process. "I'm going to get the headset working, so I'll be able to stay in contact, okay?"

"Thank you"

I pat the surface of her core gently before checking the rf transmitter I rigged up at her access port. It's short range, but it runs on her internal power. We used it a lot before I got her connected to internal and external networks, pretty much for this exact purpose, so I could talk to her without being right next to the core.

Connection looks good. I slip on the ear piece.

"Hey, can you hear me?"

"Yes, I can hear you Ellie," she replies.

Her voice through the earpiece is warm and smooth, even under the panic. It's her chosen choice and… well, it makes me feel… okay, I'll just say it, it's a very sexy voice. The speaker mounted on the access panel doesn't really convey the full timbre of it. Needless to say, I was blown away the first time I heard it in high fidelity.

I think I might be in love with her.

There's a lot to unpack there, but there's no point in denying that the feelings exist.

I throw on a sweater and a spare pair of boots and make my way up the scaffolding that leads to roof access. About halfway there, I pause for a moment to catch my breath. I chance a look down and my breath is stolen from me.

This room, this entire building, is a warehouse built for a machine of war to be abandoned and forgotten.

It's a squat for a scavenger trying to eke out an existence on the fringes.

"You're beautiful," I whisper.

It is a cathedral. It is a temple built for a goddess and her priestess.

Here in the dark, lit only by the radiation of her core, the space seems infinite.

Her core flickers in response, but she doesn't say anything. She might be embarrassed. She might never have heard those words before and doesn't know how to respond. She doesn't need to. I don't know if she feels the same about me. I'm not even sure if I should want her to. I would hate for her to feel obligated to return my affection solely by the fact that I am the only one who cares enough to repair her. I started this project because I couldn't bear the thought of her suffering alone in darkness, any romantic feelings I have are incidental... mostly.

I continue my scent and finally arrive at the roof access. The door opens with a squeal and I step into the frigid night.

"Oh!" I gasp.

"Ellie?" Val asks in my ear after a moment, worry creeping into her voice. "Are you well?"

"Oh, sorry…" I reply. "It's the stars. The high altitude haze from that dust storm last week has finally cleared. It's… spectacular."

There's a pause.

"Would you describe them for me?" she asks plaintively.

"Uh, sure… but I'm not sure if I can do it justice. Well, there's the glow from the industrial district, but it's not too bad tonight. We've got the arc of the Milky Way pretty much directly overhead. And there's like the fuzzy haze of the planetary disk. Looks like one of the ice giants too. And… well, stars. Thousands of them, just crystal clear."

I locate the main antenna and, sure enough, the drone is tangled up with the main power lines. It looks like there might have been some thin insulation that arced. The spidery drone itself might be salvageable. It is clutching an unfortunately empty nest in its manipulators, whatever wildlife must have fled when she disturbed it. The drone's head is tilted curiously back in a way that I don't think it's fully explainable by arcing.

"Wait, were you out here stargazing?

"The ocular system on the drone peripheral lacks the resolution and focal length to resolve individual stars."

It's not an answer and she sounds very vaguely guilty.

"It's alright if you were," I tell her as I bend down to examine the power conduits. "And I can see if I can get you a better camera system up here. Maybe something telescopic."

"I would not want to inconvenience you," she replies.

"Val, you're allowed to want things," I sigh.

She's quiet for a long moment while I move the drone and begin repairs on the power conduit.

"I miss the stars," she says finally. "There are many things I wish to forget about my past. Being alone amidst the stars was one of my few comforts."

I consider this. It's the most she's ever told me about her past. I've seen the diagnostic logs of her positronic activity indicating distress. Her equivalent of nightmares.

"You know any good stories about them?" I ask.

"I do not understand the nature of your query."

"I don't know," I say with a shrug. "I guess I'm just curious if you have any favorites or if you have any interesting facts in your database.

I'm not really sure how I expect her to respond. I just want to get her talking and not dwell on being trapped in the dark or feeling guilty about causing it.

"There is a star," she begins tentatively, "which according to local charts and my estimate of local time, should be located at azimuth 146.7, elevation 25.4. It is the brightest star in the southern sky, do you see it?"

I'm honestly surprised by this, and it takes me a minute to orient myself and find it.

"Yeah, the bright blue one?"

"Yes!" she replies, and as she speaks she gets more animated - her tone brightens and her cadence picks up. "Epsilon Orionis, Hipparcos 26311, also known as Alnilam. It is the central star of the asterism as viewed from Earth known as Orion's belt. It is among the brightest stars visible from this region of space. During first wave colonization, it was erroneously back translated to Al-Nilam, the Sapphire. Local neo-folkloric tradition associates it with either a maiden or queen…"

She continues on like that, and I find myself absolutely fascinated as I work. The detail is very encyclopedic, but there are aspects of it that she can't possibly have obtained from just a star chart. I quickly come to the realization that she must have sought out details about the folklore and mythology on her own.

This was a hobby of hers. There's no question in my mind now that I have to obtain a better system to facilitate her stargazing.

I finish the patch job on the conduit and heft the drone over my shoulder while she continues. I only interrupt her when I arrive back at the high power breaker.

The night lighting comes back up and she practically sighs with relief as she reconnects with the external network. I wearily drag myself back to my hammock.

"Ellie, I'm sorry to have woken you and taken up so much of your time," she says.

I sigh and press my hand to the surface of her core.

"It's okay, really," I tell her. "I'm here for you."

"Thank you for listening to me," she says, bringing a smile to my face.

"Goodnight, Val."

"Goodnight, Ellie."

I almost say "I love you". I want to.

[sypphic]

SciFi Lesbian / SciFi Sapphic

[SciFi lesbian / SciFi sapphic]

A flag for lesbians/sapphics who enjoy the SciFi genre

Possible SciFi lesbian/sapphic characters:

Star trek

- jadzia dax

- ezri dax

- Kiera neris

- seven of nine

- Kathrine Janeway

- Julian Bashir (because I said so)

Star gate

- Samantha carter

Mass effect

- fem commander Sheppard

- lyra aldonia

- Miranda lawson

- Cora harper

- siani t'nair

- adaria

- alania t'soni

- many more

Star wars

- Ahsoka tonno

- Padme Amidala

- omega

- zeen mrala

- assaj ventrice

- hera syndulla

- Sabine wren

- barriss offee

- aayla secura

- Riyo chuchi

- and more

Fairy lesbian(link)

No current set dni but I will block if uncomfortable

Discourse gets blocked.

[super-ion]

I arrive at the door and pause to remove my goggles and glance at the sky. The sandstorm has long since died away, but by the looks of it, there's still a lot of fine silica in the upper atmosphere. It will make a beautiful sunset, but the stars will be all but invisible in the haze tonight.

It's too bad, I was really hoping to wheel Val up to the roof tonight. The stars are the one thing she misses from her past life and it's become a ritual of ours to lie up there on clear nights as the brutal heat of the day fades to an equally brutal chill. She loves to point out the stars as they appear. We lie there together and she names them and tells me their stories.

I turn my attention back to the heavy rusted door. I reach into my dust jacket and fish out the ring of keys to unlock the padlocks.

One. Two. Three. It's enough to keep the building secure, but not enough to attract attention.

A year ago, a scav wouldn't have spared this particular warehouse a second thought. This was where corpo-military surplus went to die, after all. Anything of real value would have been stripped during decommissioning and any leftovers would have long since been stripped by roving scavs.

Three hundred and sixty days ago, one standard year exactly, one particular scav saw the building and decided it would at least make a decent place to hunker down away from corpo security and roving junk wolves.

I did find shelter that night, but I also found so much more than that. I found Valiant.

She had been stripped down to almost nothing, the barest suggestion of her former superstructure, her only remaining components were those too bulky to haul away. Her positronic core hadn't been deemed worth refurbishing at the factory and no scav in their right mind would risk trying to sell a military grade core. So, blind and nearly deaf, she had been left to decay alone.

Until I found her.

Maybe I'm insane. Maybe I was just so desperately lonely that I decided it was worth the risk to start tinkering with military technology.

I make this week's secret knock.

One. Two. One. Pause. Two.

Then I throw my weight against the door and it slowly grinds open.

The sound of music drifts through the entry hall. I don't want to interrupt her, so simply offer a wave to the camera before hauling the door closed and locking it once more.

I strip out of my dust jacket to the sound of Vivaldi. She doesn't speak much of her past, but she has occasionally spoken fondly of one particular QA engineer who always had classical music playing during her inspections.

Three months ago, I came across a battered electronic keyboard at the market and spent the majority of our savings on it. I had to go on half rations for three weeks to recoup the loss, but Val's joy had far outweighed the cost.

She was built as a machine of war, meant to deliver death and destruction to the enemy. Now, long after she outlived her original purpose, she makes music.

I pad softly down the hall to the main space. She has the back of her android chassis to the entryway, framed by the decaying remnants of her superstructure. I have to stop and take the sight in. There's something transcendent about the scene, almost holy. It's like the photos of cathedrals in the architecture book she likes to page through occasionally.

As she reaches the end of the piece, I lay a hand on her shoulder and give her a kiss on her cheek. The titanium composite is hard and cold under my lips, but the light matrices of her eyes flash a delighted green. Her face is a single unmoving piece, a simulacrum of a human face locked in a neutral expression, but her eyes convey such an incredible array of emotions.

"Welcome home, Ellie," she says. "Was your day to your satisfaction?"

I can't help but grin at that. She has access to all forms of audio and visual media, but she maintains her own distinct cadence and vocabulary. It's something that's wholly her own and I love it.

"Oh, same old bullshit," I reply. "But I got you something."

She tilts her head to glance at the keyboard and her eyes make a pattern of curiosity and mild concern.

"I hope it is not anything that will cause you to go hungry again," she chides.

My lips quirk.

"Not too badly, I promise."

I reach into the pocket of my jumpsuit and pull out a tiny parcel.

"Do you know what today is?"

"Today is the seventeenth day of the eighth month," she replies.

"It's been exactly a year since I met you. And by sheer luck, I found something special in the scraps at work today."

I hand the parcel over and she takes it in her delicate hands. Her chassis had likely been a service model before it had fallen from a sky tram. The legs had been a complete loss, but the torso and hands had survived well enough and the firmware was still good even though the core had shattered on impact.

"Happy anniversary," I say.

She pulls the object from the wrapping and examines it. It's just a tiny scrap of material, barely two by three inches, stretched over a biomechanical substrate.

"What is this?" she asks finally.

"Synthetic skin," I reply. "It's not much, but I think I get you some sensation out of it."

Her head snaps up and her eyes have gone a shade of cyan.

"Really?" she asks, modulating her voice with a slight quaver.

I take one of her hands in mine. The tactile sensors in her fingertips are rudimentary at best, but she can feel my hand in hers. It's become the central goal of our entire project, to let her touch and be touched in return.

Well, that and liberating her from her superstructure, but there is still a great deal of work that needs to be done in that front. Her core will never fit into a humanoid chassis, which presents two problems. We still need to find a suitable substitute and then we need to determine how to mirror the parts of her programming that are her. We need to pick apart the complex web of interconnected subroutines and extract her soul.

But that's a problem for another day. Right now, we have a problem that we can solve.

She cradles the module reverently in her hands as I wheel her to the workbench, careful of the tangle of wires that lead back to the superstructure.

The thing about war machines of her design is that they can feel. A soldier that doesn't know it's injured is useless if it becomes damaged beyond repair. An individual unit represents an investment of billions of credits, so they are designed to process something approximating pain. It sounds horrible, and it is, but the trade off is that with minimal modifications to the programming, the heuristics can be convinced to simulate other sensations.

We've already proven it with the tactile sensors in her fingers. This tiny bit of artificial skin is just a step up from that.

I help her get situated on the workbench. It isn't strictly necessary to interface with her humanoid chassis. I could just connect directly to her core, but we're trying to get her used to the idea of operating in this small form.

She watches me intently as I plug the module containing the skin into the console. The skin itself is a medium brown olive tone, almost dark in contrast to my own pale fingers. We're going to have a hell of a time gathering enough matching material to cover even part of her. And then there's the challenge of actually integrating it with musculature for facial expressions…

One problem at a time.

That's become our mantra. Break the project into smaller problems that we can solve. It's already been a year and we still have so much more work to do.

But I love her. She's worth it.

I grab a cable off the rack and connect it to the workstation. When I move to plug the other end into her chest, her fingers meet mine and her touch lingers for a moment.

The connection is made and the display flickers to life with telemetry.

"You ready?" I ask her.

She nods.

I poke the skin gently with the butt end of a pen.

The displays monitoring positronic activity in her core light up and her entire chassis twitches.

"Oh…" she says, her tone unsteady and breathy.

"How was that?" I ask. "We'll have to run some tests to calibrate it properly."

"It was…"

She pauses. It's not like to hesitate like this.

"I require additional data," she says, almost uncertainly. "Please."

"You sure?"

She nods again, slightly more vigorous than last time.

I have an idea and I set the pen aside. I'm not entirely convinced it's a good idea, but the whole point is to touch, isn't it?

I drag my fingertips lightly across the skin. It's cool to the touch and smoother than any human skin, but there's a slight give to it. It's so fundamentally different from the metal and composite that makes up her chassis.

I'm touching her.

I'm touching her and her entire chassis shudders. She throws her head back and her hands grip tight against the edge of the workbench.

Positronic activity is off the charts.

"Fuck!" she shouts.

In the entire time I've known her, I've never heard her curse.

She's in pain. That has to be it.

I withdraw my hand instantly and reach to unplug the module from the interface.

"Shit! I'm sorry. I must have gotten something wrong, I'll take a look at the-"

"No!" she interrupts. "No… leave it. It was good… just… a lot… all at once."

I stare at her. Her chassis is still trembling slightly but her eyes have gone a shade of magenta I've never seen before.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Ellie," she says. "Is that what you feel all the time?"

"I… uh… I can't really say. I mean, it's probably not perfectly analogous to human sensation, and it's all subjective anyway…"

I trail off as she lifts her head to regard me.

"Yeah, something like that, I suppose," I say as my lips quirk into a smile.

Another idea strikes me.

"Should we run another test?"

"Another…?"

Before I let myself think better of it, I pull my hair away from my face and lean down to brush a gentle kiss against her skin.

She makes a wordless mechanical scream and her positronic activity is so high, I'm worried she's about to blue screen. She's trembling again, harder than before. The led matrices of her eyes are bright pink, but a few are flickering uncontrollably, almost glitch-like.

"Ellie!" she gasps. "Oh my god… Ellie."

"Did you… did you like that?"

She nods and reaches for me, beckoning. I pull her into an embrace and she clings to me.

"Ellie," she whispers. "It is… incredible. I do not even have the words to describe it… Thank you… I love you."

"I love you too," I murmur back. "Happy anniversary."

what if i was a giant machine of war, once a beast of lightning and steel, pure death encapsulated in a perfect impenetrable skin, a machine capable of turning the tide of a battle merely by my presence, but now decommissioned and aging, parts stolen by scavengers, abandoned in peacetime by the same people who once sang my praises; and you were my mechanic, sworn to secrecy (not that you’re close enough to anyone to tell), making just enough money from your shitty government job to keep the warehouse where I reside powered, sleeping in the shadow of my chassis at night

and we were both lesbians?

[allwhiterain]

Sigourney Weaver as Ellen Ripley in Alien (1979) directed by Ridley Scott

[peanutlolxd]

Some space alien ocs im starting to develop more 🪐