Odd Prompts: The Mad Botanist

This is a snip of a project, spawned from two prompts. One was given to me by a friend when I whined about being 'stuck' for ideas. The other is a spare prompt from MOTE. I hope you enjoy! 

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We all knew a blue-white flash meant we’d be dead, and likely wishing we were while waiting for the end. But this FLASH was plaid. The entire platoon had been standing in the middle of the biggest part of the station, staring upward at the only part of the hull that allowed visible light from the exterior to penetrate to the interior. If they saw anything, it would be too late. If they didn’t... they had a fighting chance.  Which meant none of us were thinking at all about the incongruity of standing in a field full of bluebonnets and other wildflowers. We were all clutching weapons and keyed up for the outcome of something we had utterly no control over.  The plaid was the flying skirt of a very angry woman, who burst out from behind the shrubbery, waving a riding crop. She was wearing a crisp white shirt, muck boots, and long stockings under the skirt. That we could see.  “Out! Out, damn you!” She shrieked. Then she stopped, her mouth making a perfect O of surprise. Almost hilarious, if it hadn’t been due to a lot of muzzles being aimed in her direction.  “What the hell?” She put her hands on her hips. “Put those away. Why are you in the flowers and why do you have plasma rifles. In the station? You’ll put a hole in the hull!”  The platoon all lowered their weapons almost reflexively when she asked them to, and the sergeant clicked his into the magnetic holster before performing the sinal salute.  “Lady, there’s an attack happening right now. I think the flowers will do better if we have to make a few small holes, rather than, you know, a whole section explosively decompressing.”  “Do you have to stand there to do this?” She switched the crop, then looked at it.  To everyone’s amusement, she suddenly turned bright pink. “Er. I grabbed the first thing as I ran out...”  “Yes ma’am,” the sergeant deserved a medal for his patience. He’d already ordered two men to continue the watch overhead, through the sublingual circuit she couldn’t hear. “We have to be able to see.” He pointed, up, and she followed his fingers.  “Oh.”  There was silence for a moment.  “Was that...” She asked, pointing at the arcs of sparkling light between us and the planet far below, depending how you calculate that sort of thing from orbit. We weren’t falling... but something was. There were flares of light as bits entered the atmosphere.  “Stand down, men.” The sergeant gave the order audibly for her benefit. “That was the enemy ship. Let’s get out of the nice lady’s flowerbed.”  “I’m sorry I shouted.” She was hiding the riding crop behind her. “Thank you for not shooting me.”  “Sorry about the flowers. Will they die?” The sergeant ignored the looks he was getting from the men filing - carefully! - past him and out of the field. He was looking down into her face from a considerable height difference. She hadn’t seemed that small when she’d popped out of the bushes ready to go to war for the wildflowers.  “No. Just... some of them won’t do well with being walked on. As long as you don’t make a habit of it, they won’t die.”  “Glad to hear it. We hope not to have to make a habit out of standing watch during a battle.”  She shivered. “What happened? Can you tell me? I was in the lab - it’s attached to the barn back there - and didn’t hear any news.”  “They didn’t announce it, ma’am. We’d appreciate it if you... ah, kept quiet until the public announcements.”  She nodded. “I can do that. I’d rather you all didn’t come back, no offense.”  “None taken.” He straightened up.  “Oh, um.” She turned pink again, and looked at the column of men walking away. She lowered her voice. “Maybe you could tell me what happened? Over coffee sometime?”  “Only if you bring the crop.” He winked, and she turned scarlet and started spluttering. The sergeant turned away, and as he did, called over his shoulder. “I’ll be back on Thursday at 1730.”  She didn’t answer. She couldn’t have, she was still hiccuping in half amusement half anger it looked like. It would only have been worse had she known we were all augmented and could hear every word of their conversation.  “Damn, Sarge, that was smooth.” Someone said over the sublingual channel.  “Shuddup.” He muttered. “Just don’t step on any more flowers, got it?”  *** The spare prompt I grabbed was "We all knew a blue-white flash meant we’d be dead, and likely wishing we were while waiting for the end. But this FLASH was _plaid_"  To read all of the prompt responses, or play along yourself, head over to More Odds Than Ends!