Posting this two days early because I am IMPATIENT and I want you to all BEAR WITNESS to our glorious CUTEST GIRL in the swarm, Skitherix
“You’re… not lying, are you?” asked Edward, his voice carrying that faint crackle of digital unease.
“Nope!” said Vicky cheerfully as she slid the diced sweetroot into the large simmering pot. Steam rose up in a fragrant wave, and she fanned it with her claws. “Said she wanted to try ‘hyoomee food’ made by me, the ‘repulsive cute one’.” She chuckled at her own impression of Chrysanthemum’s voice.
“I’m sorry she keeps calling you that,” Edward replied, more earnest than usual.
Vicky shrugged, picking up a plump rinne and slicing it with practiced ease. “I know her well enough by now. She doesn’t mean that I’m ugly. Just that I flare some old instinct she can’t turn off, and she likes me despite it. Honestly, I think it makes her find me more interesting.”
“Still…”
“Could I have some of that… what did you call it? Venison?” Vicky asked, changing the subject.
“Sure. Give me a few minutes to print it. How much do you need?”
“A kilo and a half.” Vicky frowned briefly as she measured it out in her head. She was getting used to Edward’s strange units, but they still felt alien. Livres and half-tens were second nature—this whole kilo-gram system still tied her brain in knots.
“Got it,” Edward confirmed. “Also, we’re getting low on proteins and carbohydrates. See if you can get more of those food balls. They’re nutrient complete.”
Vicky glanced over her shoulder. “What does that mean?”
“They contain every essential nutrient a human body requires. Alesha designed them with remarkable efficiency. Truly fascinating.”
“Mm.” Vicky stirred the pot, adding in another handful of chopped herbs. The scent filled the chamber, warm and earthy. She was quiet for a long moment before finally speaking up. “What was she like before?”
“I shouldn’t say…”
The dragonkin rolled her eyes, her tail flicking. “You keep saying that.”
“I do serve her, you know. Not you,” Edward reminded gently.
Vicky just shrugged, unbothered. “Can’t blame me for wanting to know. Gods, I think I might love her, actually. You really can’t blame me for being curious.”
Edward’s voice softened, almost like he was quoting some old wisdom. “Curiosity is humanity’s greatest trait… and its greatest curse.”
“Why do you keep calling me human? I’m clearly not.” She flicked one of her horns, then gestured with her tail as it curled around the chair leg. “Tail? Horns? Slit-pupiled eyes? The rest?”
“But you are,” Edward said simply. “Your genome is just heavily edited by the magic of this world. Still human at the core. Which… still boggles my circuits, that magic exists at all.”
Vicky stilled, knife halfway through another vegetable. Then she slowly turned, flashing him a sharp, amused grin that showed just a little too much fang. “You just implied you’re from a different world.”
Edward went silent for a beat too long. Then, with a sigh like static through old wires, he muttered: “Ah, beans.”
“So, if not this world, where does Chrys come from?” The food printer chimed, soft and melodic, as if it were answering for him. Vicky opened the hatch and was greeted by a steaming, bloody slab of meat. The smell was sharp and rich. She set it down on one of the spare cutting boards, claws clicking softly against the surface as she reached for the carving knife. The blade whispered through flesh, the chunks falling into neat piles.
“I shouldn’t—” Edward’s voice carried that same flicker of hesitation it always did when she pressed him.
“You shouldn’t say.” Vicky arched a brow ridge at nothing in particular. “But you seem to want to.”
“I do.”
“Then why not?” Her tail swished lazily behind her.
“Because you do not need to know. Nor would you really understand much without comprehensive explanations about many concepts. You still think me a spirit,” said Edward. His tone was polite but clipped, as if he were trying to close a door he’d left ajar.
“At first, yes.” Vicky tipped the diced meat into the simmering pot and reached for the spice rack Edward had fabricated for her weeks ago—perfect rows of labeled glass tubes, all filled with powdered color. “But now I think you’re more like an… intelligent golem. Except you’re bound to this… building?” She sprinkled a pinch of orange-gold powder into the pot, and the scent of spice bloomed immediately.
“That… would actually be somewhat apt. A crude description, but apt.” A low hum vibrated through the galley as Edward spoke. “And… well, fine. I will tell you a little, if only to stop you trying to pry answers from me. A correction though: this isn’t a building. It is a vehicle. One made for travelling the stars.”
Vicky froze, the jar of spice hovering in her hand. For a heartbeat she could hear nothing but the slow churn of the stew and the faint whir of hidden engines. “That’s possible?” Her voice was flat, but her tail gave her away, curling tight with surprise.
“Very much so.” Edward’s voice softened slightly, almost proud. “In fact, most of humanity lives amongst the stars and has done so for nearly two thousand years. Well, two thousand three hundred and five years for this planet.”
Vicky let out a slow, low breath and tipped the rest of the spice into the pot. “Huh.” She didn’t look up, just stirred the thick broth, the spoon moving in wide, deliberate arcs. “So, if not a golem, what are you then?”
“An artificial intelligence,” Edward replied. “AI, colloquially. Or an artificial person, to some.”
“Created by what? Gods?” Vicky asked, half teasing, half serious. Her claws clicked lightly on the edge of the counter as she leaned forward.
The AI chuckled, a sound like water running over polished stones. “No. By humans. I’m a version meant to be as close to a person as possible. There are intelligences that could essentially be called modern gods though, I suppose.”
Vicky arched one brow ridge at that, lips curling faintly. “Ominous.” She reached over, placed the lid firmly on the pot, and twisted the little brass dial Edward had fashioned into a ‘timer’ on the stove. The device ticked faintly, measuring time in a way she still found strange but satisfying. “So what world is she from?”
“Venus,” Edward answered without hesitation. “The same planetary system as humanity’s origin.”
Vicky paused mid-motion, spoon still in hand. “How do you know? This world could be its origin for all we know.” Her tail flicked, betraying her curiosity.
“Unlikely. There is a fossil record,” Edward replied, tone calm but precise. “Curious how humans had made it to this planet though, considering the fact that people were here before humanity discovered FTL travel.”
“FTL?” she echoed, leaning back against the counter and folding her arms. The letters sounded sharp and alien on her tongue.
“Faster-Than-Light,” the AI said after a pause. “Travel between the stars at speeds beyond light. But…” The voice softened, as though weighing each word. “I think I have said enough. I hope that will satisfy your curiosity.”
“You know it hasn’t,” Vicky said flatly, though there was a faint curl of a smile at the corner of her mouth.
The AI sighed, a sound of static and breath combined. “Yes. Yes, I am beginning to see my lapse in judgement here. Hopefully she won’t be too mad.”
“You’ll be fine.” Vicky waved a claw vaguely toward the air, as if Edward could see it. “Probably.”
“Reassuring,” the AI muttered with a rasp of static, so dry it almost sounded human sarcasm.
Vicky only grinned, prying the lid off the pot. A cloud of steam rushed out, thick and fragrant, and her knees almost buckled at the smell. Gods, she had done it. Sweetroot, rinne, venison, herbs, spice—everything had melted together into a broth that clung to the air, rich and savory. She leaned over it, eyes half-closing, and let the warmth kiss her face.
For a fleeting moment she imagined more than just herself and Chrys’s little circle eating here. Vulnerable folk, the ones who hid from the world above, gathered in this strange metal belly of the earth. She could make stew for them, bread for them, something warm that filled the belly and eased the spirit. She could spend her days cooking, laughing, watching the wary melt into comfort. It was a silly thought, but it lodged itself firmly in her chest.
She really was starting to love it down here.
With a shake of her head, Vicky grabbed the stack of clay bowls Edward had shaped for her and laid them out, one by one. She fetched the loaves she had baked earlier, still soft enough to sigh when her knife pressed into them, and cut them into thick, steaming slices. The scent of butter and yeast rose up with each cut, mixing with the stew until the galley felt more like a village hearth than the belly of an alien ruin.
She served the stew, careful not to waste a drop, and paired each bowl with bread. Her claws clicked gently on the rims, her tail swaying behind her in a rhythm that betrayed her growing excitement.
And yes—she set aside one bowl for Chrys. The swarm queen might insist she preferred the food balls the swarm ate in day to day life, but Vicky wanted her to have something different. Something she had made with her own claws, her own care. A bowl of warmth, for the giant, adorable insectoid who somehow had her heart.
“Actually, Vicky, I have a favour to ask,” Edward said, voice carrying that familiar hum of hesitation, like metal straining against a thought too heavy to bear.
“Mm?” Vicky murmured, her claws dusting the final pinch of spice over the stew, steam curling around her fingers.
“I want you to convince Alesha to tell you of her past,” Edward continued, “and then… if possible, I want you to convince her to use the Gene Therapy Chamber. I’ve spent centuries trying to persuade her, but she refuses. Won’t even consider it.”
Vicky paused, one claw resting on the edge of the counter. “What… what is it?”
Edward’s voice softened, tinged with something almost like sorrow. “It’s a device capable of editing a person’s genetics with extreme precision. Originally designed to help with adaptation to new environments. Alesha used it… for something else. No. I won’t explain unless she grants permission. I already feel as though I am betraying her merely by asking you this, but… I miss my friend.”
Vicky tilted her head, tail flicking against the floor. “I don’t know what ‘genetics’ are,” she admitted, “and I gotta say, you aren’t exactly convincing me. What… what would it do to her?”
Edward’s voice faltered slightly. “It… would turn her human again.”
oh. my. god.
she's cuter than we even believed would be possible look at those BOWS
Im glad my friend suggested them. They add to perfection.
Somehow I feel that picture might be popular on a t-shirt or backpack. I can totally imagine middleschoolers walking around in Skitherix swag.
honestly would make for an amazing t shirt
Oh she really IS the cutest in the story...
Hey I am true to my word
DUN DUN DUN THE REVELATION
Skitherix the best girl ever
Skitherix!
hail the true queen!