Work Text:
So a stray's courier ship breaks down, and he gets picked up by the Trillium. There, he's processed by the vet and put into a short wardship, but it's something of a formality —this is an incredibly nonferal terran, very much a "don't care for the Accord, I'm just doing my job and trying to stay out of sophonts' way" sort of being. But during his wardship, he keeps hearing this strange noise he can't place. He doesn't know the ship or the Affini, though, and thinks it might be a part of the hab's normal noises or something, so he lets it go for the most part. The stray is cleared to be independent, and they're even given a shuttle which they can use to send handwritten telegrams to sophonts who want pen pals! …But right before they go, they decide to ask their warden, Delphineae Lycoctonum, Sixth Bloom, what the noise was.
"Oh, I'm sorry, petal," she tells them. "I can't tell you; you're not an Affini."
They decide, that's fine, and jet off to their first destination, happy to still get to see the universe while delivering much more meaningful things than expense reports and tax data.
At some point, the indie happens to jump on top of the TCN Calamity, and takes a direct railgun hit. Realizing that this is an Affini shuttle, though, and that it somehow didn't break, the Calamity freaks out and jumps away. But the independent got thrown around the cabin and had some nasty cuts and scrapes, so they call for help and the Trillium answers again! They're picked up and sent to the vet, given all the care they need at the sniffles ward, and are given a short post-vet medical wardship to make sure they're okay. And once again, when they're there, they hear the strange noise. But she's cleared once again, and just before she leaves, again she asks, what's the noise? And again, Delphineae says, "I'm sorry, petal, I can't tell you; you're not an Affini."
So the indie says "Okay, fine. What do I have to do in order to become an Affini?"
And the Affini looks at her with a certain kind of respect, but also pity. "Oh, petal," she says softly. "It's a very hard road, one that even most xenosophonts with the drive never quite make. I can't say no, but I must stress that it's not only difficult but something that many Affini do not understand and will not support. Are you sure you want to even attempt it?"
"Yes, yes!" she replied. "I want to become an Affini."
"You might benefit from digitization, then," Delphineae explains. "The amount of time, energy, and transformation required is large, so large that I fear your poor little mind isn't currently physically able to withstand it."
"Then digitize me! Please!"
"Of course, petal."
So Delphinae starts the paperwork, and digitizes the little floret. She's transferred to the digital Compact and given access to a vast library map, so large that she couldn't see the other end of it. Shelves of books stretched out high into the air, where they got lost in soft white clouds that hovered above; apparently the library was large enough to have its own weather. "I've removed your bodily methods and optimized your mind's code so you can learn as much as you want, as persistently as you want," Delphiniae says. "You can be here as long as you like, in the deep trunk, and read until you know everything there is to know about being an Affini. If you ever want a break, feel free to come out, okay, petal?"
"Okay, Mistress," the floret says, "Thank you!" And, when Delphiniae leaves her to her own devices, begins to read. And read. And read.
She spends hours, then days, then weeks reading. Shelves of books neatly despawn as they were read, making sure that she doesn't accidentally pick up the same book twice and delay her even further. She's driven, diligent, hearing that noise in her head over and over and over again, its sound filling the library. It nearly drives her mad, but she keeps at it, tirelessly reading books forever. She celebrates each milestone: A book, a shelf, a whole rack, a row of books. It was progress. It was all progress. Sometimes during moments of doubt, struggle, questioning whether it was even worth it, she celebrates every page, every sentence, every word. Each was one step closer to her goal. Each was one step closer to figuring out that noise.
Years and years and years pass, and the books steadily disappear, until she looks up one day and realizes that she's on the last bookshelf! The last shelf! The last book! The last page! The last sentence! The last word!
She's done it! She's read the whole library!
She had been augmenting her own code as she went. Changing her cognition, getting used to a wholly different body plan, expanding her capacity to understand the history of the Compact, its goals, its methods, its ethics. She knew hundreds of xenodrugs, and the anatomies of dozens of xenosophonts in order to use them effectively. Reams of texts on hypnotic techniques. Things that no Affini has ever had to deploy against a xenosophont, but could, if it ever came to that; and the vast quantity of safety drilled into her that made her understand why it had never been deployed. Her mind was shaped like a lump of iron from a million directions with a million hammer blows until it was the perfect shape.
She emerges from the digital library for the first time in centuries, though in the deep trunk, time flows differently to that of the material world; only months have passed up on the surface. A chassis is waiting for her, vines and an artificial core which glows the prettiest shade of baby blue.
"Petal!" Delphiniae exclaims. "I'm so proud of you! You spent so long down there, and I was watching the whole time! Oh, you've done so well for me."
"Thank you, Mistress." the floret replied.
"You know everything an Affini does, now!"
"I do, Mistress."
"So! Are you ready for the legal battle? All the ways that the Compact might raise an eyebrow as someone such as you trying to claim the title of Affini?"
"No, Mistress."
"…No?"
"No, Mistress. I read everything about the Affini, and understand all your methods. I could do it. But I don't want to any longer. The Compact is so vast, so beautiful, so perfect; I realize now that I was a fool to want to participate in it just to know what a noise was. So I'm letting go of my desire. I don't need to know. I just want my Mistress and to be your floret and make you happy."
"Aww, petal…" Delphineae's fascinators pigment with the richest pink of endearment, "If you're sure.~"
"I am, Mistress."
And that little floret cuddles up to her Mistress, vines entwining, allowing ATD-As to flood her system, listening to the strange sound, and feeling comforted by it, even though she never figured out what it was.
I could tell you what it is.
But you're not an Affini.