Pack Bonding - Tumblr Posts

TW: Sibling death

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Sable ignored the tugging on her arm. She ignored the muffled, staticy voice telling her they have to go. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered except the shell laying in front of her.

The empty husk of the one she once held close. The bare, expressionless face and the lightless eyes that once held a vibrant gold glow. The small line of oil dripping from the frameless casing's mouth that had stained the dusky purple paint.

Her twin. Her dear, sweet twin. The one who knew her best. The only one Sable had called her packmate since coming online. Her beloved twin, her other half, was caught by a Husker.

The voice speaking to her became clearer as the shock wore off. So did Sable's grief.

"Sable, we have to go!" Lyra continued to tug on Sable's arm, trying to get her away from the shell of their packmate.

Sable stared at Maura's husk for a few more moments before wrenching her arm out of Lyra's grasp.

"No..." the lone twin muttered. "We're not leaving."

"I know you don't want to leave her, but it's not safe here," Lyra tried to reason. "I know you love her, but sitting here waiting for a Husker to find us isn't going to bring her back."

"...I can't leave her..." Sable once again muttered more to herself than to her last living packmate.

Lyra drew back from Sable. She just said I. She just said I.

"Sable..?" The red, imp-like android places a clawed hand on Sable's shoulder.

"We were one." The dusky-colored drone sits down on her knees in front of her identical husk. "And now we are none."

--

Wip of a story I might write at some point. For background, Sable and Maura were twin androids who had interlinked code, causing them to say things like "our favorite color" or "we're tired" instead of my or I.

In Memoriam

Humans remember their dead. They remember their loved ones. They remember historical figures. They remember strangers. Death does not mean a human is forgotten.

.  .  .

Gerkun perked up as he scented the mess hall. The human crewmates were back! The three of them had taken leave and gone to earth for a human holiday. He made his way over to the table to eat with them.

“Hello, how was your trip?” he asked cheerfully.

“It was great,” Sam replied smiling.

“Long,” was Ron’s reply.

"It was nice to be home," Ethan said.

Gerkun noticed a new mark on Ethan’s arm. “Oh no, are you injured?”

Ethan looked at his arm. “Oh, no. I got a tattoo on leave.”

Gerkun had heard of humans marking themselves in such ways. He had never seen it in person. It looked like an image of an earth plant, vibrant colors and earth marking underneath.

“Why did you get this tattoo?”

“For my grandma, to honor her.”

“Ah. She must be very important on earth.”

Ethan laughed. “In the grand scheme of things? No. Unless you count winning first place in the Newcount County Fair Pie Contest for 47 years in a row as ‘very important’. I just miss her.”

Gerkun did not understand the reason for the tattoo, but he did understand being separated from clan. “Ah, yes. Distance is a hardship.”

Ethan blinked. “Um, yeah, it is. Didn’t mean to mislead you though. My grandma passed about four years ago. I got this to honor her memory.”

“Passed? Where did she go?”

“She died.”

Gerkun paused, trying to understand this new information. “So why remember her?”

Ethan jerked back. The other humans stared at Gerkun.

“Excuse me?”

“She is dead, therefore no longer important. Why-”

Gerkun cut off as Ethan yelled, stood, and tried to strike Gerkun with his chair. The only reason he did not make contact was because Ron and Sam both stopped him. Ethan continued to yell, even as he was held back.

“Don’t you ever (censored) talk about my grandma again you (censored) piece of (censored)! I will (censored) end you!”

Gerkun rapidly backed up, wanting to get away from the angry human. Ron was able to pull Ethan away and out of the mess hall.

Sam glared at Gerkun. “You’ve heard about human pack bonding, right? That doesn’t end when someone dies. Never insult a dead human, especially a family member.” She took a deep breath. “For your own safety, I suggest you avoid Ethan until… forever.”

Gerkun watched her go, stiff with fear. Yes, he would avoid Ethan. And any other human for the rest of his life.

.  .  .

The humans of the ship had what Kersurth thought of as ‘Human Bonding Time’. The humans called it ‘Weekly Chillout.’ Kersurth would often attend simply to listen to their stories. Humans told a lot of stories. Most were horrifying. Kersurth was addicted.

This week the humans had gathered the comfortable chairs around a table filled with snacks. They were waiting for one more person. Shortly after the unofficial start time Jessica walked into the room. She thunked a large glass bottle on the table.

“This week is the one-year anniversary of my aunt’s passing. To honor her memory, I want to tell family stories or legends. To make it extra special I am sharing my family’s moonshine with you creations.”

The five other humans made awed noises, looking at the glass bottle appreciatively. Jessica pulled out six very small glass cups, filled each other with the clear liquid from the large glass bottle and dispersed them amongst the rest of the humans. Once each human had a glass they raised the hand holding the glass, knocked them together, yelled “Cheers!” and drank the liquid in one swallow. Each human made various noises of satisfaction.

Kersurth had no idea why the humans were doing this, or what the liquid was. Humans had such strange customs.

“Thanks Jess,” Michael said. “Is this the stuff you’ve been bragging on?”

Jessica nodded. “Yeah. Secret family recipe starting from the days of Prohibition in the Appalachian Mountains, and perfected in the next few generations.”

Alanna refilled her glass and then tipped it in Jessica’s direction. “I, for one, truly apricate the bounty you have gifted us with. I was going to share the story of when the pigs got loose on the farm when my prissy aunt and cousins were visiting. But, in honor of this fine ‘shine, I’ll share the story of my great, great, great….”

Alanna paused and stared at her fingers. She used them to count as she spoke “my great, great, great, great, great grandpa.” She looked up and smiled at the rest of the group. “He was a bootlegger during Prohibition.”

Adam raised his little glass. “Here, here!”

Alana tapped her glass against his before continuing her story.

“My grandpa didn’t actually make the booze. He lived in Michigan at the time, and he was part of the team that got booze from Canada and took it to Chicago. He was on the second run. The cops were in on it, too. The ‘leggers would pay them, and in return the ‘leggers would only spend six months in jail, on rotation. So, on paper it looked like the cops were doing good work, which kept the Feds off their backs.”

Alanna added a few more stories, including the time her ancestor used his 8-year-old daughter as distraction by putting her on top of the booze on a donkey lead cart. The group was laughing by the time Alanna was done with her stories.

Kersurth had rarely seen them laugh so much. It was a little disturbing. He also understood very little of the story. He assumed he was missing a lot of historical and cultural context.

Justin smacked his glass down on the table and refilled for the fourth time. “Okay, in continuation of the alcohol and ancestors, I have a story about a great, great, something uncle of mine. He’s the reason its illegal to drive a tractor drunk in the state of Kansas.”

The following story Justin told had Michael and Alanna laughing so hard they were wheezing. Erica fell out of her chair and it took her a moment to collect herself enough to get off the floor.

Again, Kersurth did not understand the humans. They seemed to find the stories entertaining, but why bother to remember them? The ones they spoke of were long dead. Why bother to remember them?

Humans were weird.

.  .  .

Veertomic was very pleased to have been selected to study human social behavior. They were complex, and seemingly half the rules changed depending on the region. It was fascinating.

Today was a special day. Her sponsor, Daniel, was taking her to a memorial. She had seen memorials before, for soldiers fallen in battle, for great heroes, of people of historical significance, even cemeteries filled with small memorials to the dead humans. The great pyramids in Egypt were just elaborate tombs. For a species brimming with life they had a weird obsession with death.

Which made today so interesting. They were going to a memorial site where a ceremony was going to be held. The location was a small garden. A new plague had been erected, with a lot of names on it. A man stood and gave a small speech. A fire had happened at this location, one hundred years ago to the day. 107 people had lost their lives and 54 people were injured. They were dedicating a new plague. The man read the names of all 161 victims of the fire. Then there were 11 minutes of silence, one minute for every hour the fire burned. All in all it was a touching ceremony.

Veertomic had so many questions. She needed to be very… delicate in how she approached Daniel. He was even tempered but she found humans could be volatile over the topic of death.

“I would ask a few clarifying questions about today’s ceremony.”

Daniel raised his eyebrows. “Shoot.”

“You were not related too any of the deceased?”

“No, I’m not.”

“And you didn’t know them?”

“No, this happened waaay before I was born.”

“And you don’t know anyone who was related to any of the victims?”

“No.”

“Then… why attend?” Why are they important Veertomic does not ask, but that’s what she really wants to know.

Daniel looked somber. “Because they deserve to be remembered.”

“Why?” bursts out of her, and she cringes, hoping she didn’t make him mad.

Daniel doesn’t get mad. Instead his facial expression, body language, and tone convey ‘this is a very important human thing’ as he explained further. “Those 107 people died in a horrific was that should not happen to anyone. It was a tragedy that should be remembered. They had family, friends, hopes, dreams, ambitions. They lived and they should be remembered.”

.  .  .

AN: My Grandma passed in January 2020, my favorite uncle passed very unexpectedly in March 2022, and a friend passed from cancer in June 2022. My other story, Grief, delt with that. This story is more about remembering and honoring those who have passed.

The uncle from Kansas comment is from Tumblr user @patternsinnoise. Just Shower Thoughts posted about people being forgotten within three generations, and patternsinnoise replied "Tell that to my great, great uncle, who is the reason that it’s illegal to drive a tractor while drunk in the state of Kansas”.

The story about the pigs, and the bootlegger grandfather are based on actual stories from my family. My great grandma really was used a few times to throw off suspicions.