Mycelial Bonds

Summary:

Leshiotra, a curious fungus-like woman winds up on a post-apocalyptic Earth via crash landing. Officially, she helps a local community of humans in exchange for assistance on repairing her ship. Unofficially? Her interests lie a little more in the humans.

_

"Vat number 27, no successful parts. Vat number 28, malformed and must be purged. Vat number 29, failed to bud."

A large figure stared at artificial glass tubes, scrutinizing each one with her nine eyes. Each one marked another day she would have to spend on this planet. Her eyes moved across the dingy room, peering out a window where the world's planet peeked over a weary horizon. It shone through ancient buildings, tall cemeteries of the past.

The sun marked when humans would begin their awakening and begin their daily rituals. The curious orchestra that formed one mind.

"Leshiotra," a voice said. "Morning."

She turned to face her visitor, armored plates flexing. Barclay, her more favored among the human tribe stood there. He was a few heads shorter than her, despite being one of the taller humans. He wore a curious smile as always, the expression that showed a delight and a fascination. Leshiotra enjoyed that one in particular.

"Morning to you, Barclay," she said.

Her eyes ran across him, picking out all his alien features. Despite the woven fabrics that clung to his frame, he still seemed so bare, at least in comparison to her. With how much humans enjoyed the touch of one another, it was surprising that scant clothing didn't inspire such flagrant lust between humans.

It could be said that Leshiotra was almost nude herself. Measuring eight feet tall by their standards and wearing only the carapace that served as an exoskeleton and armor. That armor was white, contrasting against the stark black of her actual body, which could be seen at her forearms and forelegs. Her head was similar, a deep inky darkness with an armored face plate. While more limbs might have been a boon on this planet, she followed the general human body plan.

"You have any luck on the organ things today?" He pointed over at the vats.

"No." She pitched her voice slightly lower to convey a disappointment. "Believe the machinery here is too faulty to inspire much progress in the organelles. They refuse to work in proper order, despite the best efforts to encourage them." Leshiotra walked closer to Barclay, studying his expression as she moved, watching it shift into a subdued awe. She wondered if it was her alien nature that made her impressive, or her size. "Progress on a dead ship?"

"None yet. I wouldn't bet on it, either. I doubt half the people on Earth would still be here if there were any old ships kicking around," he said.

"Were it not pertinent to a mission, would stay here. The whole of me."

"Always free to stay." He shrugged.

Leshiotra shrugged back. "Thank you. The effort must be made to return."

"I get it. I'd want to get off this rock if I were you, get some fresh air."

"The air is stale, yes. Not concerning. Work is pertinent." She took a step back, watching him relax with her movements. The way his face moved was a joy that made her cells ripple.

"Well, brought you something that might cheer you up in the meantime."

Barclay stepped around the doorway for a moment, then reappeared holding a rectangular object. He held it up to her. Leshiotra took it up, letting her formed hands delicately feel up its entirety. Something made from fibrous plant materials. Ancient. In its interior were slices of plant with marks of an ink. Their language in a static form.

"It's a book," he said. "You read it. Well, you used to. Those things are pretty damn old."

"Yes. Almost lost the knowledge that your language cannot be conveyed so quickly."

All of her eyes stared at the ink, finding the pattern in the strokes. These were familiar characters she had seen on other machinery and miscellaneous objects in these towers.

"The markings, they read?" she asked.

"Yeah." He motioned over to a bench, sitting down on it. Leshiotra joined him. "See, each one is a letter, then the letter goes with others, and they all join up to make a word with a meaning. The word then mixes with other words to make a whole sentence."

"How to convey that to one who cannot see?"

"Well, uh, I dunno." He shrugged. "How do you do that in your language?"

"Electrical impulses do not judge. Can always feel them."

Leshiotra reached out and pressed one of her fingers against his arm, feeling the lovely, bumpy skin that made up his form. She sent a signal into him. Barclay shivered and shook his head.

"That's hell on my nerves," he said.

"Bad?"

"Not bad per se, but definitely weird. Feels like I've got bugs crawling in my arms."

Other fingers joined in the probing, wrapping around his arm and gently massaging it. In much the same way she could send signals into him, she could feel the electrical impulses in his body talk back. It was almost a primitive response, but she made sense of it all the same. The sensation of pleasure piqued in his body, and in turn, did so in her own.

"Better?" she asked.

"Heh, yeah, thanks."

Leshiotra let her fingers linger a while longer. There was an enticing haphazardness to his construction that was opposite to her own molded form. She gently squeezed, feeling up his musculature. And even in that strange construction, there was a surprising strength. Barclay's expression shifted again, with his wide, vulnerable eyes digging into her touch. Her greediness had been caught. She pulled her hand away.

"What does this book convey?" she asked.

"Haven't read it myself. I figured we could go over it together. If you want, of course. I know you're busy with the ship thing."

"Enjoyable, yes. First, tend to the cries of the botanical gardens," she said.

"Right, yeah, guess that's more important than story time."

"The trade given for help," she said. "Must assist when this form can. Me." Leshiotra stood up and placed the book on her workshop table. "Join in the walk there?" She stuck out her hand, offering it to Barclay.

"They usually don't like me screwing around in there, but with you by my side? I'll take them on."

Leshiotra nodded. They joined hands, and she helped him up to his feet. A very productive day indeed. She had indulged in her fair share of touching under the guise of social interaction, and there was still plenty of time in the day for more.

Barclay departed, with Leshiotra following, ducking under the doorway as she did so. The hallways were quite open, with large windows allowing views into the grand ancient city beyond. It was impressive imagining all the human hands that must've gone into crafting this massive bulwark of metal and glass. None of the humans here knew what this building was originally, but Leshiotra figured it must have been a large domicile for housing humans. What else would a building need to be this large for?

They moved into a stairway and began their walk downward.

"We should get you a room closer to the actually livable areas," Barclay said.

"Unnerving the others," Leshiotra replied.

"They'll have to get used to you eventually. Especially so they can give you a nice 'thank you' for all your hard work."

"Simple work for a hard trade."

"Maybe simple for you, but none of us here can figure this crap out. Well, some of us won't admit it."

They reached one of the many non-descript doors. This one had been given a dash of blue paint to denote it as the main living area. Barclay presented the way.

"Ladies first," he said.

Leshiotra nodded, following his amusing custom, and emerged into a large atrium. The clean artificiality of the building clashed with the more ramshackle stalls and crude decorations that were installed by the new owners. The whole place was abuzz with activity and the low murmur of human chatter. It was surprising they didn't go deaf with how much this place reverberated with their sounds. Leshiotra felt those sounds rattle around her carapace. It was a strange sensation, to be sure.

Automatically, Leshiotra began walking toward the botanical area, with Barclay in-tow. Immediately, eyes were upon her, voices hushing as she passed. As helpful as she might have been, Leshiotra was still very much the outsider. Alien life walked among them, and that was a fact that they had not yet internalized. She measured their reactions. Today, she had taken a farther stride, avoiding major groups. The theory that humans had a sense of a private, immaterial space around them that bothered them when intruded upon seemed to hold true. They stared her down and even slowed, but kept on their activities warily. It was similar to watching an animal tense upon treading into their territory.

Past the crowds of uneasy voyeurs, Leshiotra found the heavily guarded botanical area. A set of double doors guarded by some of the only official looking humans in the area. Official in the sense that they wore some sort of uniform armor with ranged weaponry. Otherwise, they could have been any random civilian without those.

"Incoming. Assisting with the crops," Leshiotra said, staring down at them.

They didn't yield to unease like the rest, but there was still a touch of doubt in their expression.

"And I get to go with her," Barclay said.

"Yes. Barclay assists."

The guards seemed to ponder this for a moment, then relented and unlocked the doors with a card. Clearly, they could not go against the word of their alien benefactor. Leshiotra pushed open the path and ducked under, finding another hallway, which eventually led her to the gardens proper.

It was a wide area filled with various troughs and pots of various plant life, and even some fungus. Workers walked to and fro, looking at and tending to the life. Much like the atrium, this place was alight with chatter, only it was chemical in nature.

"The humidity is great in here, wouldn't you say? Since, you know, you're..." Barclay vaguely waved around a hand. "You know."

"Mycelia."

"Right."

Not an exact definition, but the closest humans had in their limited experience. Humans liked putting names to things. If Barclay was more comfortable with her being classified in that way, she was happy to take on that role.

Leshiotra looked around. Perhaps the air was nice. It certainly felt nice on her exposed extremities. She opened her stomach plates, allowing a warmth to wind through her body. Barclay instantly snapped to look at her new orifice, though he did his best to appear as if he weren't staring.

"Yes. Pleasing."

"Hey!" Someone whistled. "What are you doing bringing that thing back in here?"

"Shut it, Irving," Barclay said. "You owe your whole garden to her."

Leshiotra turned to look at Irving. Another unique specimen of human. Older. Age was gripping at his body, straining his skin and hairs. Despite that, he contained a firm fervor that few others held. He lacked a charm that Barclay did, however. Irving was the de facto head of this growing operation.

"Assistance giving. In return for the trade. Any help needed?" she said.

"No, and I don't want you walking around here, either. You did your part, now get a move on." Irving furrowed his brow. "God knows what kind of spores you're letting off. We don't need more of you."

"Spores?" she asked.

"The way you make more of yourself," Barclay replied. "He thinks you're going to start budding everywhere."

How scandalous. Leshiotra wasn't even prepared for such a thing, and here he was, talking about breeding so casually.

"Not yet. I. Not prepared for a thing," she said, adding a shake of the head. "Would not here. Out of all choices."

"Really? The way you opened up like that, I thought for sure you'd start vomiting up more of you," Irving said.

"No. Tasting the air." Leshiotra traced a finger down one of the seams in her armored plates. "Letting the inside free." She flexed and pulled on a plate to reveal her black innards.

Irving winced, raising a hand and turning his head. "Don't do that."

She let the seam snap shut.

"So, you heard the lady, need any help?" Barclay asked.

"Better question is why they let you in here, Barclay," Irving replied.

"I'm the only one with the guts to hang around Leshiotra." There was a pride in his voice. She quite liked that.

"You have a name?" Irving looked at her incredulously.

"That is the name. Yes," she said.

Irving shook his head. "One has to wonder why a walking colony needs a name."

"One has to wonder why a walking primate needs a name," Leshiotra replied.

Irving scoffed and looked over her form. Though, rather than lust or fear, it was confusion in his gaze. "You're telling me when you look like that?"

"Pleasing. More human and friendly." And appealing. "The colony does not frighten you like this. Right?" She leaned forward, staring down at him. "Right?"

"She's your problem, Barclay," Irving said. "Reel her in."

"Just answer the question, buddy," Barclay replied.

The body that Leshiotra called home was engineered, designed by her to better fit the human mold. The feminine physique felt fitting for her. Not that her biology had a similar role, but she embraced it all the same. Especially for those enticing humans. She glanced at Barclay, finding him with an amused smile on his face.

"Didn't you already finish your work here anyways? Why are you here? We can't grow your weird ship parts, I already told you."

"Idiom for this, Barclay. What was it?" Leshiotra said.

"Fruits of labor," Barclay responded with a snap of the fingers.

"To see the fruits of labor."

"So, to gloat," Irving replied.

"To gloat in the fruits of labor," Leshiotra said with a nod. "And assist."

"Fine, whatever. Just don't go around smearing yourself on everything."

Leshiotra rubbed her fingers together, then walked off. The other gardeners kept their distance, strategically steering themselves down different rows of the garden whenever she drew near. Though, rather than focus on their reactions, she was more interested in those lovely fruits of labor. Alien biology had been all but conquered by her, showing in the vibrant greens that made up the garden, with other colors popping up every now and again.

"You think I could have a sample of your work?" Barclay asked.

"Yes. For your assistance." She moved to a smaller shrub that bore red apples. One of her better triumphs. Leshiotra picked an apple and twisted it in her hand, cleanly snapping it into two halves. She handed one half to Barclay.

"Easiest meal in my life," he said.

"Dealing with one like this is easy?" She tapped on her chest.

"Compared to some of the other guys?" Barclay took a bite of the apple. "Yeah."

Leshiotra watched him chew, noting his tongue shifting around in his mouth. One of the few places she wasn't allowed to touch, but that she had often pondered about. That pink muscle wasn't far off from some of her own anatomy. She pictured them intertwining, feeling up every bit of that bumpy, wet surface.

As she fantasized, Leshiotra pried open her stomach again and carefully placed her slice of apple in. She watched Barclay's reaction closely as she played with her food, moving it about between her tendrils. It seemed to be the only thing that could lessen his amused smile. The only question now was whether that was a fear response or an embarrassed arousal. She sealed her body again, beginning the slow digestion process.

"Enjoyable?" she asked.

Barclay swallowed. He looked at his apple. "Yeah, it is. Haven't had something this sweet in a while."

Not exactly what she was asking about, but good, nonetheless. It was nice to help the humans along with their task.

"You know, Irving wouldn't say it out loud, but you've really turned this place around," he said.

"Why not aloud?"

"Jealous."

"Funny, strange thing, jealousy."

"You guys don't get jealous from time to time?" he asked.

"Nothing to make jealous. All is shared, all is given. Jealousy makes anger, that has no purpose."

"I dunno, I think anger can get you pretty far."

Leshiotra looked up at the skylight that afforded the garden its precious sunlight. She pointed at it. "Your world did not go far with it."

"Touché."

That odd word wasn't familiar, but she could guess from his small smirk and rolling eyes that he had to begrudgingly agree with her little pointed comment. She lingered on his smirk. Unfortunate that she couldn't also engineer lips to her hardened exterior, as they'd compliment her probing tendrils nicely. The human lips were just too small and complex to function with rigid plates. Maybe she did indeed have a lingering feeling of jealousy, or humans were rubbing off on her more than she realized.

"Something up?" he asked.

Leshiotra turned her attention back to the plant. "Apple all over your face," she replied.

"That's how you know I liked it."

"A human feature, or a Barclay feature?"

"Both. I just do it more than most."

"Then thank you," she said.

"No problem, just keep those things coming." He took another bite. "I'm guessing making these bite-sized would be out of the question?"

"They are."

"For you, yeah, tall lady. Not me."

"Smaller for poor humans, yes. Agreed."

"I'd take offense to that if this wasn't so tasty," he said.

Leshiotra laughed, plucking her innards to make that curious noise. It felt good to vibrate in that way.

She began walking down the aisles again, making certain every crop was working as engineered. Fortunately, none so far had grown maligned, and seemed to be producing more than enough for the amount of humans that settled here. She ran a finger across a particularly vibrant leaf, picking up on the faint electrical impulses it gave off.

"Maybe you guys don't have jealousy, but you sure do seem to have pride," Barclay said.

"Growth is important. Does it make you happy?" she asked.

"Does it make you happy?"

"Is that another human feature? Question avoidance?"

"No, that's more of a Barclay thing." He smiled.

"You must make a list of Barclay things."

"You'll learn all of them soon enough."

"And you will learn all Leshiotra things."

Barclay nodded. "Definitely more interesting than learning all about me."

"Not true, Barclay." Leshiotra moved over to him. "You are interesting. Very." She placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I'll take that as a compliment," he said, nodding. "Are you done with the plants for now? Or is there more food to sample?"

Leshiotra gently squeezed his shoulder before retracting her hand, feeling the layers of muscle and bone underneath. "More time. Then free."

"Gotcha." He took another bite.

Leshiotra briefly wondered how much more humans would have if they could digest all of a fruiting body, rather than just the flesh outside it. Though, it might have been a preference for consumption. Perhaps the core of an apple was simply too unappetizing. Amusing, then, as they seemed so voracious in all other things. Maybe a lingering instinct from when they were so free to act as they pleased during the height of their once mighty civilization. That was admirable, in a way, to keep the status quo of their opulence in the face of destruction.

The rest of Leshiotra's garden tour was focused on checking clippings from various plants with closer examination under a microscope. Slightly awkward with her height disparity, to the point where she had to bend over to use any of the human's equipment. It did flare the imagination, however. Was her rear end shapely enough to entice onlookers, particularly Barclay? What about her legs?

The many eyes that Leshiotra had allowed her to gaze at so many things. And allowed her to perform her own voyeurism. They lacked pupils, and that paired with a blank visage meant Leshiotra could send her gaze every which way without scrutiny. So while she may have been checking plants for their genetic strength and current health, she was also watching the gaze of the males in the room when they would pass her by using sneaky angles of the head.