Archive of Our Own

Domina didn’t think of herself as a timid person. She was a trained fighter against rogue independents, had lived through historical parts of the Rebellion, and she’d nearly been killed more times than she could count.

Still, fighting and having a crush were two very different things. 

She’d long since put down her lunch food, sometime along the way when Chronica walked in with another commanding officer. They were engrossed in conversation, standing to the side of the dining hall entrance while others passed them by with a nod or wave. 

Domina watched Chronica across the way, trying to keep her eyes above the neckline and failing. Domina blamed it on the way the fleet’s uniform hugged her curves, made her chest pronounced, and complimented her shiny blonde hair so well. Not that Chronica’s face wasn’t just as beautiful, captivating. She had those wet lips that Domina wished she could—

“You’re blushing,” Knives said. 

Domina startled with a yelp and slapped her hands over her cheeks and confirmed that, yes, she was burning hot. She buried her head in her hands, trying to hide behind them. She’d forgotten he’d taken a seat next to her, waiting for Vash to come back with food.

Did she mention her crush happened to be on Chronica of all independents? Strong, stern, and calculating commander Chronica. More importantly, Domina’s partner in battle whom she’d worked with and known her entire life. If Domina let it slip that she had a crush on her or, worse, if Chronica rejected her and viewed her differently afterward—

Her luck couldn’t get much worse. 

Knives watched her with clear amusement in his eyes. “Ah,” he said, “to be a fool in love.” 

“What do you know?” Domina spat at him. “You were born with your partner.”

She hadn’t been around for the birth of Knives and his brother, centuries younger than them, but she’d been told by the crew that they had gravitated towards each other, inseparable the moment consciousness formed. She believed it. Twin plants were rare, but the ones that lived through the implementation of an inhibitor had been noted to never take a partner other than their sibling. 

Most of the newborn twins were whisked away in the middle of the night, never to be seen again until many years later, when they quietly rejoined the ranks. The ones that weren’t temporarily removed, for some reason or another, almost always died shortly after an inhibitor was placed into their body. Compared to other plants, twins had been shown to have a considerably stronger bond—an aggressive possessiveness when it came to their mate that was not to be poked at. Lovebirds, the humans likened them to after they’d gotten over calling them weird and disgusting, little laughs as they watched the twin plants like interesting specimens they were regretful they’d never get the chance to fully study. Domina, as cut off as she was from her basest instincts, didn’t think the humans understood the depth of it at all. She found herself silently and oddly grateful for it: that the plants had at least one well-kept secret compared to the humans’ many.    

Knives raised an eyebrow and huffed. “Just because I was born with him doesn’t mean we understood everything. It took us a long time for both of us to accept those feelings, and an even longer time after that to understand they were reciprocated on both ends. It wasn’t handed to me as easy as everyone would like to think.” 

It seemed unimaginable. More so that Knives hadn’t always known and accepted his feelings for Vash. She was pretty sure the “both of us” part was bullshit.

Vash came back to the table, food in hand. He sat down next to Knives, looking between the two of them and Knives’ smile. “Huh what’s going on here?” 

“Domina’s got a crush on Chronica,” Knives said.   

“Oooh, well that’s nothing new,” Vash said over Domina’s sputtering. “I think you two would be good together.” 

“You two have known?” Domina asked. 

Knives shrugged and Vash laughed. 

“Ugh, is anyone going to acknowledge that she’s not into me?” Domina asked. 

“Huh? What do you mean?” Vash asked while shoveling food into his mouth.

“She’s super into keeping things professional,” Domina said. “It was over for me the minute we were assigned as partners together, not to mention that she’s a higher rank now.” They got called in once a year to watch videos that preached to them about power dynamics in the ranks and the dangers of getting involved romantically with subordinates. Chronica had taken them to heart, careful of the way she acted towards those ranking lower than her. 

Domina thought it was the biggest cockblock the humans had come up with yet.   

Vash shrugged. “That’s just who she is. She’s like Knives: she seems cold and scary, but she’s nice to the people she loves.”  

“At least your brother has a reason for being like that,” Domina muttered. 

The history went that Tesla was the very first independent Plant. She hadn’t lived long. After her came Vash and Knives. They had once described what they saw that day when they’d found her mutilated body—a vivid memory that wasn’t Domina’s and that she could never fully cast away. Despite the time that had passed, Knives especially was cagey around humans and kept them at a distance. He’d managed to keep himself from getting an inhibitor implanted in his body with such caution since they were created after his birth. Some might even claim they were created to quell the fear of the humans when faced with Knives’ growing power and anger at them, but it became apparent that the tension with him was just the tip of the iceberg. If Knives was the warning, the first rogue independent absorbing a dependent was the gunshot that rang through the night. 

Knives refused to fight against rogue independents, and Vash refused to fight in general unless in extreme circumstances. Even then, he never killed or seriously maimed anyone. If they weren’t so widely respected—and maybe more than a touch feared—by the fleet and the other independents, Domina was sure they’d be out of a job. 

Those who were wounded in combat and couldn’t recover had a decently comfortable life being taken care of by the government. She’d see them in the halls sometimes or gathered around tables playing bingo. But always inside the Earth Defense compound, never living outside of it. 

She wondered about them some times, and about the ones that weren’t there. Domina wasn’t sure what happened when an independent wanted to leave the fleet and live a mundane life amongst humans, or got dishonorably dismissed from their duties. 

Someone brushed against Domina’s back and she turned to look at the shadow looming over her. 

“Ah, I see you’ve already grabbed lunch,” Chronica said, looking at Domina’s half-eaten tray. She hadn’t even noticed that Chronica had stopped talking to the other officer and had grabbed her own food along the way. A hot cup of tea was balanced on it, the sandwich they were serving today, and a cookie. She took a seat next to Domina, who scooted over slightly to make room for her. They ended up touching at the elbows, a feeling Domina was hyperaware of. 

Knives gave a jerky nod to Chronica, while Vash smiled and welcomed her by asking how her day had been. Knives had little interest in talking to Chronica unless it involved snide comments. Something had happened between them, that much was obvious, but nobody would tell her what. A disagreement, Chronica had once claimed, and promptly never elaborated on it. Asking Vash had netted her a similar answer, though with more smiles and laughs, covering up the fact that he was evading answering her questions. 

Vash made idle chatter with Chronica who tolerated him, and Domina went back to eating in an attempt to keep her mouth shut and not draw attention to her blush. It went by too fast. 

She set her arms on the table, fidgeting with her tray and trying to scrape what was the lingering remains of her meal onto the utensil. She licked her lips, staring at Chronica’s cookie. Neither of them were big into sweets, but she craved it now. 

Without breaking eye contact with Vash, Chronica wordlessly moved her cookie onto Domina’s plate. 

Domina’s eyes lit up, snatching the cookie up. She thanked Chronica around mouthfuls of it, which had Knives giving her a disgusted look.  

Chronica sipped at her tea. Was that the curl of a smile on her mouth? It must be from the tea, Domina concluded. It had long been her favorite drink, and this cup must have been especially good. (Green and matcha were her favorites, and Domina had once gotten her a bowl to prepare matcha traditionally. It’d become a curse, of sorts, with Chronica preferring to use that almost exclusively and opting for steeping simple black tea when she was away from it. It’d ruined her, Chronica had said.) 

Vash and Knives were staring at her. Domina raised an eyebrow, happily munching away on her cookie. 

“Hopeless,” Knives muttered, standing up and dragging off Vash behind him. 

Domina’s day-to-day wasn’t too exciting. She worked out, played video games, and went with the flow of it all. It was mundane, and she’d long since gotten used to the anxious undertones that at any moment she could be pulled into an active fight.  

Lunchtime was approaching in a few hours, and she hoped that she wouldn’t find herself sitting next to Knives again. The shift to her crush had been more unwelcome than the typical preaching of whatever he saw the humans doing that he disapproved of that day. The later comments, at least, she could brush off as the crazed ramblings of a man far too old and weary.

 Currently, she was heading down the hangars to check on the Abraves II. The pilots were in charge of checking for anything on their planes that needed repairs and sending in a report. She already had a list going in her head, of which regular maintenance was at the top. She could maybe wait until next week to get the fluids changed, but it would definitely need to be done before the end of the month. 

“Domina!” Vash called from behind her. 

Her temporary pause as she turned around was all he needed to catch up and prevent her from running away. Normally, she’d be happy to see Vash. They got along well enough, though they didn’t make it a point to hang out with each other often outside of their work. But after yesterday, his presence felt like a premonition.  

“So, I was thinking,” Vash said.

Domina raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“You know about your…” Vash paused and looked around the hall, making sure they were in the clear before he leaned in close to her and said, “Crush?” 

She stared at him for a moment, biding her cheeks from turning ruddy at the mere mention of Chronica. 

“Yes,” she finally admitted. “What’s this about?”  

“We’re going to make her a homemade lunch!” Vash said. 

“I can’t cook,” Domina said, a bit mournful. Chronica never seemed to be as interested in food as Domina, but she didn’t have an aversion to it either. There’d been many days in which Domina had sat down with her, eating their way through a plate of pastries while they talked and Chronica sipped at a cup of tea. Scones, Domina knew, were Chronica’s favorite pairing to those little sessions. Domina’s baking attempts were worse than her food ones, and had nearly gotten her banned from the kitchen.   

“It’s okay,” Vash said, “neither can I.” 

And it looked like today might be the day she actually gets banned. 

“It’s the thought that counts,” he continued sagely. 

Their first round of cooking was nothing more than sludge and the unidentifiable remains of burnt food stuck to the bottom of the pan. Their second and third and fourth attempts followed similar fates. Vash threw the newest pan that’d been ruined into the sink, wincing at the noise it made when it hit the small mountain of dishes they’d already accrued during their attempts.

He pulled a new pan out of the dwindling supply in the cabinet, setting it on the messy stovetop. 

Domina continued on, certain that this was going to be a big waste of time. 

A bit later, when the lunch box was done and free of any horribly burnt disasters, Domina snapped the lid over it before she could second guess herself further. The box was stuffed with rice—courtesy of a rice cooker they’d pulled out of the back of some cabinet, the savior of time and horrible cooks—as well as some grilled vegetables, topped with a light sauce.

They’d traded intricate flavor profiles for low-skill recipes, but Domina didn’t think it tasted egregious. It was the best cooking she’d done her whole life, and she clutched at her chest when her heart fluttered a bit at the thought of Chronica eating it. 

“Now we just have to find Chronica,” Vash said. 

“Are you sure this is going to work?” Domina asked, biting nervously at her bottom lip. They were peaking out behind a wall and watching Chronica. She hadn’t noticed them yet, and would conceivably never notice them without direct intervention.   

The lunch box was clutched in Domina’s shaking hands, so badly rattled already that she imagined the food inside had become a mess. 

Vash gave her a thumbs up, smiling wide as ever. “Of course!” 

He pushed her out from behind the wall and she was just barely able to stifle the surprised yelp that wanted to fall from her mouth. Her legs were shaking like a baby deer’s as she stood there, exposed in the hallway. She glanced at Vash, safe behind the luxury of cover, who pointed expectantly in the direction of Chronica. 

Domina forced the lump in her throat down. It didn’t stop her mouth from feeling like a desert. 

“Hey, Chronica!” Domina called, breaking into a light jog as she tried to catch up. 

Chronica paused and turned around. Her face lit up when she saw Domina, waving at her as she approached. Domina felt her heart skip a beat, a smile breaking out on her face. 

Suddenly, she felt her feet stumble, her body pitching forward, and everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. She fell to the ground, the lunch box went flying out of her hands, and right into Chronica’s face. 

They were running test drills the next day. Despite not going on any missions, Knives and Vash reported anyway. They were commonly used as testing partners for Domina and Chronica, being the only two that were on par with them. Or rather, that Domina and Chronica were the only ones able to keep up with them, but Domina wasn’t keeping score. Though, perhaps, some other plants were.  

Knives and Chronica were glaring each other down when she walked up to them, Vash standing a distance away from them looking exasperated. She joined him, just close enough still to hear what they were bickering about. 

“Sure,” Knives said, “but don’t cry when I beat you.” 

Chronica gave a sharp laugh and said, “In your dreams.” 

Sparks flew between their locked eyes, competition clear in the air. 

“Everything all right over here?” Domina asked Vash. 

Vash sighed, looking every single minute of his age. “They’re already getting heated up.” 

“Domina,” Chronica said, cutting through their discussion, “with me.” 

Domina jolted. Chronica raised an eyebrow, and Domina scrambled after her toward their planes. Behind her, Knives huffed and glanced back to see Vash walk over to him, hands up in an attempt to pacify him. 

They stopped between the two giant machines, the steps to climb in already extended down and waiting for them. Chronica had a steely look on her face, glare pulling at her features. Her golden-blonde hair swayed gently in the breeze, and Domina recalled what it was like to run her fingers through it while she braided it. But Chronica rarely let anyone touch her hair these days, not since she was much younger and some of the humans had tugged at her hair and threatened to cut it short. It was unbecoming of a fighter, they’d claimed, to have such long hair. Too much like the dependents, though that wasn’t a surprise. The humans took any chance they could to liken the independents to their caged sisters.

No one had said anything for years now, not since Knives had grown his own hair out after hearing such comments. It had been short-lived—being chopped off almost immediately after he managed to make his statement clear—but Domina remembered the admiration in Chronica’s eyes when she saw him walking around with wavy hair that cascaded down his back.

“We have to beat these two,” Chronica said.

“Duh, that’s always the goal,” she said, but she wasn’t meeting Chronica’s eyes. 

“Are you still thinking about yesterday?”

“Not really, I guess,” Domina said, ignoring the fact that she’d spent the rest of the day yesterday curled up in her bed afterward. She was still exhausted, her emotions draining her and apparently haunting her even in her sleep.

“I told you not to worry about it,” Chronica said. “It was an accident. Don’t let something that happened off the battlefield cause you to make an error on it.”

“Jeez, I know, I know,” Domina said, though she had her doubts about whether she would be ready for a real battle today by Chronica’s side. She was glad today was just drills.

“I’m just reminding you.” 

“You don’t have to worry,” Domina said, giving her a thumbs up. “I’m totally fine, and we’re going to do great!” 

“Well, that’s a given,” Chronica said. “After all, I couldn’t ask for a better partner.” 

Chronica climbed into her plane, not looking back to see the red return to Domina’s face as she got into her own plane. 

There were several drills they ran with their ships, but today was shooting practice using placed targets. The humans kept points, but never as a means of competition. More so to see who was lagging behind, needed more training. That was why they paired up two groups of similarly skilled independents together for these tests so that neither side was unevenly outmatched. That didn’t stop certain plants—like Chronica and Knives—from using the point system to their advantage, cranking the heat up for no reason other than to bolster their pride.

It was a game to them, albeit a deadly one were it real. Despite this, neither Chronica nor Knives were the type to play with their food. At least Domina knew what Chronica’s goals were—what she was imagining when she shot at the targets.  

Domina went through the familiar motions of checking her systems, making sure everything was in working order. The Abraves II had been hers for many decades now. The Abraves I had been destroyed when she was young, in one of her first fights with a rogue independent. The independent hadn’t meant to hurt her—they rarely did at the beginning. Instead, the independent had damaged a vital part of her plane, and Domina had been forced to eject herself. Without a pilot, the Abraves I had promptly spiraled down to the bottom of the ocean and had all its tech waterlogged. 

It wasn’t like Domina wanted to see the Abraves I get destroyed. In fact, she’d caused quite a ruckus that night in the dorms as she cried. She’d been piloting the plane since she was ten years old, placed in its cockpit, and told she and the plane were one now. Chronica had been the one to comfort her that night, knocking on her door and hugging Domina until she exhausted herself enough to fall asleep. 

Domina wished she could say that was where her crush started, but that had just been another moment that solidified it. 

Her intercom started beeping in front of her, a line wanting to connect. She furrowed her brow at it, checked the source of it, and became even more confused. 

She switched off the one she had with Chronica, picking up Vash’s call. 

“Sorry,” he said, “I was going to tell you earlier but you got pulled away too fast.” 

“Tell me what?” 

“We’re going to let you win today,” Vash said. “That’ll totally get Chronica to fall to her knees for you!” 

She raised an eyebrow, the scenario highly dubious even if she did score the winning shot. “Is Knives in on this plan?” 

She didn’t have to look over at his plane to know he was probably rubbing the back of his head when he said, “Uh… not exactly.” 

“Vash.” 

“Don’t worry! I’m going to convince him while we’re running drills. I just thought of this plan, so I didn’t have time to tell him last night.” 

She almost wanted to ask again, “Are you sure this is going to work?” but it wasn’t too long ago she’d asked a similar question and the results had been horrible. There would be no reassurance in Vash’s optimism. 

“You better be serious,” she settled on saying, trying to control her jittery thoughts. She switched back to her line with Chronica, hoping the other hadn’t noticed her absence. 

After a final check-in from the officer in the tower, the electronic board came to life, counting down from ten. 

The moment the clock hit one, Domina was hitting the pedal. Her plane roared as the engines burst with life and she pulled the yoke towards her, lifting off the ground and retracing the landing gear back into its body. 

Domina was comfortable in the air, and even more so when she was flying with her fellow independents. They seemed to understand each other intrinsically better than humans could, though she knew there was a lot she was missing out on with their connections as buried and muffled as they were. Vash had once described to her what it was like flying with Knives, and it was something she’d had a hard time grasping. 

Like an extension of yourself, Vash had said as he tried desperately to find an analogy that would work for her. Anything to do with touching the hive—their souls, other dependents and independents minds—was lost on her. Being one with the plane—something physical or even the bond shared with her fellow independents while fighting—was something she could grasp a bit better. 

If Chronica and Domina were simply working together, Knives and Vash danced. They played in the air, coming up close to each other and darting away. They had complete trust in each other that spoke to a deeper coordination and understanding. Was it possible for Domina to ever achieve that kind of bond? 

As Chronica had insisted many times to her, they kept talking to a minimum and only voiced call-outs or other crucial information. 

Running through the drills was like second nature by now, especially once she’d fought against the real thing. Hitting mostly stationary targets was so easy she could do it in her sleep—a joke that had gotten her a stern scolding from Chronica.

Domina zeroed in on the familiar target placements, shooting them as she turned her plane and aimed for the next one. She rarely bothered checking to make sure the shots connected. 

As was typical, both sets of pilots ran through the targets like they were nothing. But Domina had been keeping count, and the humans always put up the same amount each time. She knew there was one target that they hadn’t hit yet. There was always one they moved and placed in strange spots, preventing it from becoming too routine. 

A plane roared in her ears, casting a shadow over her, and she looked up. Vash’s plane flew steadily over her, the giant hand doing a peace sign on the bottom clearly marking him. He pushed a little ahead of her, and she followed where he was leading. It became clear as they got closer that he was bringing her to the final target, neatly tucked between two cliffs with just enough space between them.

She looked away for a moment, looking at Knives’ plane approaching on her right. Chronica’s signal was pinging on her radar, somewhere to her left and slightly behind.   

Vash put his plane into a roll at the last second, coming between her and Knives, and leaving the target open for her. It took her a second too long to process what had happened. 

She felt the impact of the target against her plane as she flew through it, adrenaline shooting through her body as her plane’s alarm started shrieking. 

The target exploded around her, sending debris around her as it got sucked into her airstream. The initial hit to the front was jarring, but the pieces that hit her windshield were even more so. She flinched when a large piece of wood flew straight towards her, impacting against her glass with a sharp thud. A giant spiderweb crack bloomed at the center of the hit, stretching and reaching for the weatherstripping near the bottom of the glass. 

“Domina!” Chronica’s voice came over the intercom sharply. 

She overrode the alarm and steadied her plane, content that there was no damage to the body that would send her careening down. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine!” Domina said into the intercom, trying to steel her voice from sounding like her soul was shaking out of her body. 

Chronica fell silent, and Domina wished her plane would swallow her up right then and there. 

They landed their planes and turned them off, allowing the hatch to open. Instead of getting out, Domina flopped back and pressed her head against the seat. She went through the breathing techniques they’d been taught in training, letting the burst of energy running through her slowly dissipate. She flexed her hands, trying to alleviate the cramping pain in them that had come with clutching the yoke too tightly. 

Domina barely had time to climb out of her plane before she saw Chronica walking towards her, scowl set on her face. Domina looked towards the remaining two planes, wondering if she could somehow get either of them to bail her out. 

Knives had yet to depart from his plane, though she could hear his muffled yells through the glass. When she turned to see where Vash was, she found him also holed up in his plane, and could just barely make out the tip of his hair peeking out into view as he slumped into his seat. Clearly, they would need a minute to themselves. 

“What was that?” Chronica hissed. “I told you not to get distracted.” 

“I wasn’t!” Domina insisted as she tried not to cower. Chronica’s true ire was rarely directed at her, and Domina liked to keep it that way. Her partner was scary when angry. 

One of the humans watching cleared his throat as he approached. “Don’t be too harsh on her, Chronica,” he said. 

Her partner whipped her head around, shifting all of her icy fury onto the human. 

“What if that had been something worse? What if behind that target was the had been something worse?” 

“I’m fine,” Domina said. “And it was just the target and not the rocks, so no harm done, right?” Her weak croaks of rebuttal were quieted when Chronica’s glare returned to her. 

“Your glass is destroyed,” Chronica said. “Have you learned nothing from the Abraves I?” 

Ouch. At that, Domina did flinch. It stung, and it’d been a known tender spot for years. 

The human used the pen in his hand to scratch his scalp. “Well, maybe it’s a good thing she flew into that target,” he said. “The glass isn’t supposed to crack from some impact or light debris like that. There must have been some kind of flaw in it. Better to catch it now than have something harder hit her at a worse time.” 

“If it’s any further consolation,” another human said from the distance, “that last target eked you both a point over Knives and Vash. This’ll go on your record as having a superior performance.”

“Don’t encourage her,” Chronica said. 

The human shrugged. “A point’s a point.” 

The hiss of pressure being released drew their attention away and to the twins who had apparently finished their argument. Knives looked less than pleased as he walked the landing strip. He was glancing at Vash, whom Domina could tell was trying his best not to look sheepish.

“Put in the order for your plane’s glass to be replaced,” Chronica said. “The sooner the job gets done, the sooner we can be dispatched again.” 

I couldn’t ask for a better partner. Those words rang in her head, taunting her, hitting repeat on the memory of the crash.   

There was no way that was the truth, especially after today. 

Two weeks passed without much fuss. Chronica was busy with her individual duties, and for all that Domina liked her, she disliked trailing along behind her like a lost puppy and doing more work than she had to. 

Then, right when she was about to break and think maybe it wouldn’t be too bad, her pager went off, blinking in a series that told her she was needed down at the dispatch hangars. She dropped what she was doing, running to her assigned location. 

There hadn’t been any whispering of any rogue independents gaining power in the past few months. Had they somehow slipped through the cracks? Had their intelligence points been compromised?  

Chronica was waiting there when she arrived, as were a few other independents.  

“What—” Domina panted, hands on her knees as she tried to gather her breath. “What’s going on?” 

Chronica raised an eyebrow. “Relax. It’s nothing major at the moment.” 

She lifted her head, glancing around. None of the other independents seemed too concerned, milling around without much hurry. 

“It’s just you and me being sent out,” Chronica said upon seeing her confusion. “I’ll explain on the way there.” 

One short ride in the armored truck later, Domina found that her partner was right. A dependent plant a few miles into the city had slipped into something resembling a forced merging state. Her form had become loose, almost like a wax figure being melted, and feathers everywhere. Despite that, she didn’t seem to be in any outward pain. 

The humans had already determined the culprit was her inhibitor, which was one of the first models put into the dependent plants. Only a handful of dependent plants still had this version, an obvious flaw being found a few months into creating the plants with it already placed in. They’d fixed the problem for future plants, but had never gotten around to fixing the existing ones.   

“We’ll just be watching,” Chronica told her when Domina just stared at the dependent, unsure what she was supposed to be doing to fix the situation. “Making sure nothing goes wrong during the process, and that no rogue independent gets any ideas during the switchover.” 

They stood in the corner, observing the whole thing with as big of a range as they could get. When Domina was sure the humans were safe, she leaned close to Chronica and whispered, “Doesn’t that mean she’s being pulled on?” The dependents didn’t just start merging out of nowhere. 

Chronica gave a subtle nod. “It’s concerning,” she whispered back. “We can’t find any clear connections to an independent, however.” 

Domina grumbled, unhappy with the information. She wasn’t looking forward to doing the report on this later, not to mention whenever this blew up in their face. 

The whole process took about an hour, but nothing happened. The humans thanked them for their time, and their sister gave them one last look before she curled back up. They hung around for a few more minutes, ensuring that her energy was steady and there were no anomalies before they departed.

When they walked out of the building, the sun was still high up in the sky. 

Domina stopped at the door of the truck, refusing to pull it open. 

“We have all this time,” Domina said. “I was thinking maybe we could go for a little treat?” 

“We should get back…” Chronica murmured. 

“Come on, do you really want to write the report that badly?” More than she wanted to spend time with Domina? 

“I have a—”

“Duty to perform, yeah, I’ve heard it all before,” Domina said, more than a touch exasperated. She barely got to go off the base with Chronica. “But we never get any time to ourselves!” 

Chronica pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “Fine, I’ll tell headquarters we’re staying out for a bit.” 

Domina cheered and went to hug Chronica, who scurried away and carefully dodged Domina’s lunge. 

They found themselves at a café not twenty minutes later, sitting outside and sipping on their drinks. Chronica had gone for a tea latte, while Domina had an espresso one. (She hid the written amount of vanilla pumps she had them put in it with her thumb, because she refused to think about it.) 

“Ahh, this place has good drinks,” Domina said once she put her cup down. 

Chronica hummed in agreement around her own drink. 

Domina watched the humans walk by them, a few of them lingering for a moment too long on their uniforms. She could see Chronica keeping a careful eye on the humans, splitting her attention between them and Domina.  

It was peaceful. There was a couple laughing on a bench, an old man throwing seeds to the birds, a child crying in a stroller as it was pushed by their parents. 

Domina pursed her lips and looked away.

“Let’s walk,” Chronica said, standing up from the table with her drink in hand.

There was a trail through the woods, a circuit that wove into a park and came back around near the shops. She’d seen it before from above, but it was so much better when their feet touched the ground, little imprints of their shoes left behind, the brush of the leaves against their skin. 

They walked the trail until the sun started to creep under the horizon, the moon glowing in the sky. Chronica led them off the main path, now following a trail of beaten-down grass. This, too, Domina had seen before as she flew back into the base one day. Two humans, sitting atop the hill on a blanket, hands entwined, as they stared up at the sky. 

There was no blanket, but they sat down anyway, uncaring if they stained their uniforms with the colors of the earth. (There was also no hand touching, apart from the occasional accidental brush, but Domina had expected that.) 

The stars above them shone bright, a sharp contrast to how it had been hundreds of years ago. With the use and help of the plants, the humans managed to turn the planet’s declining health around, slowly but surely. Project SEEDS, a last-ditch attempt to take humanity to its new home, a brighter future, had half of its funding cut in the revelation of this change. Most of the funding now came from weary billionaires, eager to escape the planet if it took a sharp and unexpected nose dive. It was always a possibility, Domina conceded, with the rogue independents around, and the growing push for loosening the pollution restrictions that had been put in place. 

As such waiting list remained, but there were no plans to utilize the ships in the foreseeable future. At least, not until the inevitable doom of the planet began to occur when the sun started to die, but that was still thousands of years away. 

“Do you ever wonder,” Chronica said, “what life would have been like up there?” 

Domina nodded, having read the plans for SEEDS crew members long ago. 

“Would you have wanted to go with SEEDS, if given the chance?” Chronica asked.

It was inherent, a byproduct of space itself. There was nothing out there besides the passing star or planet, but overwhelmingly empty otherwise. To preserve as much life as they could amongst the crew, they would take turns, one at a time, running and maintaining the ship. The emptiness of space invading even the confines of the ship. 

Domina never believed in any of the human religions, but she still thought that the unknown nature was perhaps as close they came to understanding there was something greater; a being, able to skim their fingers through the galaxies and understand its expansiveness, the meaning of the plants and humans and everything in between on their tiny planet. 

She didn’t think she’d be able to do it. There was little in Domina’s life that wasn’t something she’d been told to do. She was barely a child, then she had to be a soldier. Sure, being Chronica’s partner wasn’t her choice either, but it had been her choice to make the best of it. To become friends with the other woman, and talk to her, and bake with her, and spend her nights talking with her. Everything she’d done, all the love and work she’d put into her life to make connections that meant something, to share in the joys of life, had been Domina’s choice. 

To cut off those connections like they were unwanted, or to play a part in something greater than herself, felt ripping out the last bits of her soul. 

“Nah,” she settled on saying, not sure she could parse into words the flurry that had overtaken her. 

“Why not?” 

Domina felt the words rise, the air for them fill her lungs, but choked on their weight. Because I wouldn’t want to give up you, she wanted to say. But instead, she was left with, “I’d be lonely. Bored. I’d feel like I’m missing a lot of life.” 

“It would be short,” Chronica tried to reason. “You’d do your duty and then go into cold sleep for the rest of the journey.”   

“There wouldn’t be anyone you’d miss talking to? No one you’d be tempted to wake up?” 

Chronica turned to look at her and opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Instead, she stared at Domina, eyes glistening more each time she blinked them. 

“I think… I understand what you’re saying,” Chronica finally said. “No, I don’t think I’d be able to last that long all alone.” 

I like you, I love you, I never want to be without you, Domina wished she could say. But she kept her mouth shut, and watched the stars above. 

“Why not just tell her how you feel?” Knives asked. They were sitting at one of the tables in the common room. On the couch a bit away, Vash was playing video games with one of the other independents. Knives had been watching him hawkishly throughout their conversation. 

Domina had just finished telling him all about the previous week, her emotions not tempered by time at all. 

“Have you been listening this whole time?” Domina nearly growled. 

Knives shrugged. “My brother has led you down more subtle routes. Things that would make her happy with you, but nothing that screams your true adoration. That’s the problem,” he said. “Not to mention he’s failed both times. Quite disastrously, might I add.” 

“Hey!” Vash threw his controller onto the table. The other independent yelped, setting his controller down with shaky hands as Vash stood up with a growl. He scampered out of the room, perhaps having seen or heard stories about the twins’ fights before. Domina thought he was a smart boy, and wished she could do the same. “It’s not my fault they’ve ended up in flames.” 

“Vash,” Knives said, jerking his head in her direction with a glare aimed at his twin. 

“Erm, no offense, Domina,” Vash added on sheepishly, a smile plastered onto his face. Knives sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

“None taken,” she said, feeling more than a touch put out by her own clumsiness. It wasn’t like she hadn’t already been beating herself up over everything these past few days. 

“None of that now,” Knives said. “Pick your head up. Vash, go check up on that boy you were playing with.” 

Vash dragged his feet as he walked towards the door. “You could just tell me to piss off,” he mumbled. 

Domina jumped as the door swung shut behind him, feeling just a bit bad for him. He had been trying to help, and had done more to attempt to better Domina’s situation than she had herself all these years. 

“For all I love my brother,” Knives said, “he shares some of the blame here.” 

“You really believe that?” 

Knives nodded. “His plans are too open. They’re far from foolproof.” 

Domina flinched but supposed the subtle jab was fair. It wasn’t too long ago she had insinuated that she thought Knives was an asshole. He’d called her a fool back then, too—a warning. No doubt he’d been shaking his head this whole time as he watched from afar, knowing that nothing she did would succeed.  

“Let me ask you a question,” he said.  

“Shoot,” she mumbled, miserably.  

“How do you expect to be in a relationship with her if you can’t speak to her?” Knives asked. “I can appreciate how straightforward she is. She’d understand best if you just told her.” 

“She’ll reject me,” Domina said. “And then I’ll lose everything.” 

“You’re getting too hung up on the worst-case scenario,” Knives said. “Which is wildly out of line with a realistic reaction from Chronica, mind you.”

“Yeah? Well, what’s your bright idea then?” 

“Kiss her,” Knives said. 

“L-like right on the mouth?” 

“Yes.” 

“Absolutely not!” 

“It’s very direct,” Knives assured her. “Perfect to get your feelings across.”

“It’s too direct,” Domina said. “I’m not looking to get a complaint for harassment.” 

Knives rolled his eyes. “All right, how about asking her to join you in one of the plant tanks?” 

“Where would we even get one that’s not taken?” 

“Don’t worry about that,” Knives said. 

Domina bit her lip. “Pass.” 

“Why?” 

 “It’s weird,” Domina said. “I don’t want to go in that goop.” She wasn’t sure Chronica would want to either. It looked like it had the viscosity of slightly lesser jelly, and Domina vividly remembered the time Chronica had tried jello. She’d taken a single spoonful, twisted her face up, and chucked it into the trash can. It had taken three cups of tea to mute the texture and taste plaguing her mouth. 

Domina couldn’t imagine something similar flooding into her, surrounding her. 

“What about asking her to merge with you?” Knives suggested. 

Domina stared at him incredulously, waiting for him to say he was joking. 

But this was Knives, and Knives rarely joked with Domina. He raised an eyebrow at her, confused by her silence. 

“That’s illegal,” Domina said. 

“Ah,” he said, understanding her previous look now. “This is what I’m talking about. You sound just like Chronica right now. You’re perfect for each other.” 

“You’re lucky I’m not reporting you.” 

Knives looked unbothered by her words. “You wouldn’t be able to merge anyway.” 

“Are these my only options?” she asked. 

“The only ones that would have the highest success rate, baring just talking to her, yes.” 

She worried her lip between her teeth. “What about the tank thing?” she asked. “How does it work?” 

She’d never fully been in one of her dependent sisters’ tanks. The humans had been careful about their interactions with dependent plants, even with their modifications. Despite that, one time when she was young, she’d snuck into the room they kept some in, ignoring the signs on the door. Her sisters had looked happy to see her, coming out of their wrapped wings to press their hands against the glass. When she’d pressed her own hands against the glass—guided by some muted instinct that pulled at her feet before she could even think about it—nothing happened. 

So, like any normal child, she’d climbed the catwalks and tried to reach her hands into their tanks to touch them that way. This way, not even the glass would come between them. Her fingers skimmed the surface like a water strider bug as she waited for her sister to rise and meet her. There had been an unpleasant buzzing that started in her hands and spread to her mind that made her recoil, and run away from the place with fear. Her sisters had watched her as she ran with a kind of sadness before curling back up. 

She’d never tried to touch the water they lived in since, nor had she delved too deep into what had happened. She couldn’t exactly go to one of the scientists and ask them to explain it. 

“Even through your inhibitors, it might allow you to connect to her,” Knives said. “You don’t have to say anything so much as just share your feelings with her.” 

Maybe that should have been more frightening than it came off. She was baring her soul to Chronica this way, showing just how deep her love ran. But with it would come the worry, the sleepless nights, the desire to keep her friendship-partnership with her. Chronica would understand her feelings and all the doubt that came with it. 

This, Domina figured, might get her off the hook or soften the blow when the inevitable happened.  

“I’ll try it,” Domina said. 

Getting Chronica down to the plant tanks required not telling her where she was going. Domina knew that, if she were to tell her where they were going, it would arouse suspicion and hesitation. At best, Chronica would simply decline her offer and think of Domina as weird for wanting to take a dip in the water. 

As such, she told a little white lie. 

They were going for a swim, Domina had assured her. She simply omitted where they were going swimming. Still, after a bit of pestering, she got Chronica to put on a swimsuit under her normal uniform. 

As planned, Knives was waiting for them when they arrived. And, also as expected, Chronica grumbled upon seeing him. 

“You didn’t tell me he was going to be here,” Chronica said. 

Domina gave a forced laugh, trying to ease the tension before Knives’ glare broke out on his face. He was doing this for them, and even unknowingly, she couldn’t let Chronica be ungrateful to him. He seemed to already have half the mind that Domina should do something more direct than this, and she didn’t know if he would confess for her if Chronica rankled him enough. 

“He’s the only one who volunteered to watch us,” Domina said. “Just in case something goes wrong.” 

“The easiest way to not get caught in a situation where things can go wrong,” Chronica said, “is to avoid it in the first place.” 

“Not that anything’s actually going to go wrong!” Domina added over her comment. “Just kind of like a lifeguard situation at the pools.” 

“You really want to go in there?” Chronica asked. 

Knives said, “What, you’re not scared of it are you? Our sisters spend their entire lives stuck in similar tanks. If they can do it, you certainly can, too.” 

Chronica narrowed her eyes, looking at the tank, then at Domina. 

“With you?” Chronica said. 

Domina steeled her face before it could fall, trying to pretend like it didn’t feel like Chronica just spat at her. Still, her voice was as timid as a mouse’s when she asked, “Do you not want to go in there with me?” 

Chronica sighed, deep and heavy. “That’s not…” She took to muttering as she unzipped her suit, letting it fall to her feet, and stepped out of it. 

Domina hurried to follow her lead, dropping her outer suit to the ground.

The air was cold and prickled at their exposed skin, and the metal stairs they had to climb to reach the top of the tank even more so. 

Domina gave a worried look back down at the ground. The distance to the bottom seemed immeasurable, like it was ground she’d never be able to return to. Her heart was beating fast in her chest, and she forced herself to take deep breaths to calm down.  

“You’ll be fine,” Knives assured them from where he was standing at the base of the tank. 

Chronica looked at her and gave her a reassuring nod. Domina, in return, reached out a shaking hand and threaded her fingers through Chronica’s. They took a step forward, fell into the tank, and sank. 

It felt like she was drowning. The water filled her lungs, and Domina couldn’t help but start panicking. She tried to claw at the water, bring herself back to the surface, but it was as if she had bricks tied to her ankles, dragging her down. Chronica’s face was equally as panicked, though she was doing a better job at not flailing around. 

It seemed like forever before Chronica grabbed her hand again, helping to steady them in the water next to each other. 

Then, Domina realized nothing was happening. They weren’t drowning—weren’t really breathing either—but also there was a distinct lack undercutting the otherwise peaceful floating. 

Nothing was flowing between them. The water that should have been buzzing with emotions, according to Knives, was still and perfectly balanced. 

Domina tried to reach out, but it felt like she was trying to throw her emotions through a weighted blanket. They were sluggish, dead in the water the second they flowed out of her mind. Even as she tried to channel it through the point where they were physically connected, it bounced from her fingertips and back to her heart. 

It was like screaming into the vacuum of space. 

They broke the surface of the water, taking in gasping breaths when their lungs demanded oxygen the second they realized the switch in habitat. Chronica pushed Domina out of the tank first and hoisted herself out after. They sat there at the edge of the tank for a moment, regaining themselves, before descending back down to the ground. 

“Well?” Knives asked, looking hopefully between the two of them. “Did you feel anything?” 

“What exactly was I supposed to be ‘feeling?’” Chronica snarled. “Besides that I was going to die.” 

A warning would have been nice regarding that, Domina agreed. 

“You wouldn’t drown,” Knives said. “You really felt nothing?” He sounded more sullen about this whole thing than Domina felt. She had the feeling that she’d been used to test some sort of theory—the kind that meant Knives was going to be mad for days and whispering under his breath something the humans shouldn’t hear. She wondered if she should tell Vash, and ask him to watch out for his brother’s blades that liked to find their way stuck in the wall next to the rooms of the scientists. All a coincidence, Knives had once said. 

Chronica snatched a towel out of Knives’ hands to dry off, aggressively running it through her hair. She wouldn’t meet Knives’ eyes the whole time, who was watching her response carefully. She threw the used towel down at Knives’ feet for him to deal with and stomped out of the room. 

“You both have shitty, horrible plans,” Domina said. “I thought you said this one was foolproof.” 

Knives shrugged. “Not even I can help someone so played by Eros, it seems.” 

After that, Domina holed herself up in her room. She wouldn’t be taking any more of Knives’ or Vash’s advice, tired of making an embarrassment out of herself with each repeated failure. She would have to do this on her own—something that she’d failed at for decades now. In that respect, Knives’ words were correct, and she wondered if she’d been too harsh on them.  

A knock on her door had her pulling herself out from under the blankets. She was still for a moment, staring at the door and wondering if whoever it was would go away if she was quiet.

There was a sigh from the other side and Chronica’s voice saying, “Domina, I know you’re in there.” 

Domina felt like screaming into her pillow, maybe throwing it against the wall for good measure. Maybe that moment of childish behavior would scare Chronica off for good, she’d request a new partner, and Domina would never have to worry about her crush ever again. 

“Domina,” Chronica’s voice came through her door again, stern this time, “let me in.” 

Because an order was an order—and it was so much easier to think of it that way, instead of something Domina wanted as well—she stumbled off her bed and opened the door. 

Domina forced a smile onto her face, tried to lean nonchalantly against the fame, and hoped her red-rimmed eyes didn’t betray her too much.  

Chronica’s face twitched. “Let’s leave the fake smiles for Vash, please.” 

Domina could feel her whole body slump, slip against the frame, the growing desire to just slide down and lay there. 

Chronica pushed past her, making herself at home in Domina’s room as she had many times before, sitting near the edge of the bed. 

“Come, sit,” Chronica said, patting the spot next to her like it wasn’t Domina’s own bed. Domina joined her, though believed it was suddenly the right time to count the number of grooves in her wall.  

“What’s been going on with you?” Chronica asked. She grabbed Domina’s head, tilting it this way and that, as if it would reveal to her the inner turmoil Domina had been going through for the last few decades. 

Domina pulled her head away so she could say, “Nothing.” 

“Don’t be like that,” Chronica said. “I thought we promised to tell each other about our problems.” 

“Yeah, but that’s just for stuff that would impact us on the field, right?”

“It has impacted you on the field.” 

“Ugh, it really was an accident.” 

“It doesn’t matter,” Chronica said. “I know you—you’re not sloppy like that. This new behavior of yours is worrying me.” 

“Then don’t worry about it,” Domina said. “I’m fine.” 

“I’m going to sit here until you tell me,” Chronica said. 

“What? You can’t do that!” 

“I can and I will.” 

“Don’t you have other duties to attend to?” Domina asked. “Like what about those new independents? They were supposed to be learning how to lift off and land their planes today.” 

“I’ve rescheduled it.”  

Domina groaned, throwing an arm over her face. “You can’t just blow off and delay crucial lessons because of me.” 

“You take priority over them,” Chronica said. 

The silence was louder than anything she’d ever heard before. In the past, it had been comforting, like the warm crackling of the fireplace on a cold winter night. Now, it was more akin to the slow and steady drip of water, slowly driving her mad. She was constantly aware of Chronica’s presence on her bed. 

“Did I do something?” Chronica asked. 

“Huh?” 

Chronica shifted on the bed, fixing her eyes away from Domina. “You’ve been acting so weird, I thought, maybe, I’d done something to make you uncomfortable,” she said. “Or someone said something to you.” 

“Like what?” 

There was a moment before Chronica shrugged. “Insulted you, or told you…” 

Domina’s eyebrows furrowed, waiting for Chronica to finish her sentence. It never came, and Chronica’s eyes never fell back on her. 

She’d been getting plenty of insults from Knives and Vash, but she didn’t bother saying that. After all, how could she? The reason why they kept ribbing her was sitting right next to her, oblivious as ever to her crush. 

Instead, Domina said, “Come on, you know me. It’ll take more than some random insult to get me down.” 

“Exactly,” Chronica said, and Domina understood at that moment what she’d walked into. “Which is why I’m so concerned.” 

Domina grew silent, unsure what to say. She hated the thought that she was making Chronica concerned.

Here, in the moment, she wondered if she should put herself out of her misery. Would it be like ripping off a bandage? The sting temporary, and then she could move on with her day. She’d done an awful lot of picking and smoothing it back over her skin over the years, too cowardly to take the final step. She hoped, in vain, that at some point it’d fall off by itself. 

Finally, Chronica looked at her, but when Domina met her eyes she froze. They were set, resolute, and Domina felt a sudden burst of anxiety run through her like she was a rabbit, a fox in the distance. 

“Please, Domina,” Chronica said. “Tell me what’s wrong.” 

Domina’s emotions, ones that were held so carefully behind that dam that had been leaking for far too long, finally burst open. A flood from her heart, forcing its way up through her throat, pouring out of her mouth. 

“I really like you,” Domina said, “okay? That’s what’s wrong.” Then, she scrambled to correct herself. “Not wrong wrong, but—” she groaned, considering if it was appropriate to excuse herself and never come back. Her face was burning, awkwardness beating her over the head. 

Chronica paused, her brow furrowed. “I thought you had always liked me.” 

“No, like…” Domina sighed and said, “…have a crush on you kind of like.” 

The icy look on Chronica’s face softened, melting somewhere between understanding and amusement. 

“So your behavior this past month—” 

Domina nearly growled in annoyance, sitting up and becoming more animated. “That’s all been those two! They’re menaces.” 

“You took advice from them?” Chronica asked, mirth dancing in her voice. She looked as amused as she sounded, a smile on her face. “So the lunch box—” 

“Vash.” 

“—and the target range—” 

“Also Vash.” 

“—and the tank?” 

“Okay, that one was Knives.”

“I can only imagine how bad it must have been to stoop that low. Knives isn’t renowned for his romantic intelligence.” 

You’re blushing. Domina could feel her face heating up again, horribly aware of it ever since Knives had said something. “Um… w-well—”

“You could have just told me,” Chronica said. “We could have gotten to this point such a long time ago.” 

Domina froze. “What?” 

“I said—”

“Um, sorry, I heard you I just… didn’t think you liked me like that.” Half of her was still expecting Chronica to laugh and say she was joking, but that wasn’t Chronica at all. She’d never known Chronica to joke around in the same way that Domina might have cruelly done in a nervous fluster. She was serious, and Domina could feel her heart skip another beat because this was real. 

“Have I done anything to make you think that?” 

Domina blinked, feeling her mouth run dry. No, she hadn’t. 

“I’m sorry for being so harsh on you earlier,” Chronica continued, as if she thought that was the issue.

“What are you talking about?” 

“When we were running that drill,” she said. “How I yelled at you afterward for what happened with your plane.” 

“I probably should’ve been paying more attention,” Domina conceded. 

“Yes, you should have,” Chronica agreed. 

Chronica’s face twisted up, as a sudden unpleasant thought crossed her mind. “Does this mean Knives and Vash would have won during the drill?” 

Domina laughed. “Yeah, pretty much.” 

“That’s… unfortunate knowledge.” 

“But we also technically still won!” 

“Let’s win for real next time,” Chronica said. “Without any planes being damaged.” 

“Should I thank them?” Domina asked. 

“For what?” 

“I mean, for all their faults and horrible plans, without them I never would have said anything. At least not for another decade or so.” Maybe never, unless she slipped up and somehow let her crush out another way. The thought popped into her head that maybe she’d never confess her crush. She’d be dying with feathers on her face, mouth stuffed full of them, absorbing every word she tried to say. She had a good benchmark for that. It would probably feel a lot like the tank, she imagined.

“It’ll be a cold day in hell before I thank Knives for anything,” Chronica said sternly.  

“What about Vash?” 

Chronica’s mouth wavered. “Maybe,” she said. “I’ll consider it.”  

“So…” Domina said, poking at Chronica’s side with a cheshire smile, “you like me huh?” 

“Don’t ruin the moment,” Chronica said, but there was the hint of a smile pulling at her lips as well. 

“Oh! There’s this restaurant I’ve been wanting to take you to,” Domina said. “You think you can get us permission to go off base?” 

“I’ll try.” 

“You’re paying, right?” Domina asked. “Commander salary and all that. How would a lowly pilot like me be able to afford such a thing? Plus, I think I deserve some kind of reward for saying it first.” 

“Careful now,” Chronica said, “I might think you’re just in it for the money. And don’t act like I haven’t been just as tortured all these decades.”

Domina paused. “Decades?” 

Chronica hummed, brows turning up in thought. “Hmm… decades? No, a century? Or was it—” Chronica stopped, looking at Domina’s red face. “What’s wrong?” 

“C-cent-century?” 

At this, Chronica did smile, a wicked thing. “Yes, who’s the oblivious one now? Perhaps you should foot the bill, just for that.”

Chronica’s pager rang, and she glanced at it before sighing. “I have to go, but I’m glad we got this settled.” She slid off the bed and Domina stared at her, wide-eyed.   

“Wait, how long?” Domina asked, sitting shocked on her bed. “When? How? Why?” 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Domina,” Chronica said, the door sliding shut behind her. 

“Wait, Chronica!” But it was too late, and she was already gone, leaving Domina to stare at the closed door with more questions than answers. 

Oh, Chronica really was going to be the death of her.