Divaricated

In the dying months of humanity's resistance efforts against an overwhelming alien invasion, a struggling, depressed Jump Technician aboard the Terran Catastrophe-class Battlecruiser Indomitable meets a hypercompetent alien bioengineer with self-confidence issues and a lifetime of trauma to deal with. In the ensuing chaos, they end up stranded alone in distant space with nobody to save them but each other.

Katie stood facing a plain door set into a plain wall, alone. To the left the nearest similar door was adorned with sloppy artwork and photographs of smiling faces. To the right, it was sculptures, mostly, and a curated garden of colours that sent sparks down Katie's spine just from the sight of them.

Between them stood flat white walls meeting the grass at a perfect angle. No identity at all, not even identifying marks. Was this hers? The thought was almost overwhelming. How could she possibly match up to the wonders around her?

Katie clung to the soft petals of her communicator, working up the courage to figure out how to open the door. She reached to the side almost on instinct but there was nobody there. She had to do this on her own.

Okay. Okay. Legally speaking, she was an independent sophont. Katie glanced around. Her surroundings were much the same as they had been in the other arc—which was to say, everywhere was unique and detailed and she felt like she could spend a lifetime admiring the wonders that stood around her without ever needing to leave the path. She wasn't alone, but it was quiet. A few pairs or groups wandered around in the unhurried, casual way that most seemed to move around here. Katie returned a wave to one of the passing pairs. If she didn't start moving soon, somebody would assume she needed help and come along to assist, so... Katie should move.

“Uh, open?” Katie asked. “Door, open. Door?”

The door remained firmly closed.

This was ridiculous. This was the correct address, wasn't it? Katie checked the map and it did claim that she was standing right outside of the right place. She didn't know what the symbols meant, but they matched what had been in Erica's message. Yet she couldn't get in. It was hardly a promising start.

“Hello?” she called, raising her voice in the hope that somebody inside would hear. After a few seconds the door slid open, revealing some human who greeted her with a hazy smile and eyes that didn't quite focus all the way.

“Hey! Right on time, we were just finishing up a few details while we waited. Mistress is a little too big to fit inside without getting in the way, so she's supervising from afar. Wanna come in?” The human stepped back, gesturing for Katie to follow.

“Sorry, I'm pretty bad with names, were you one of—” Katie checked the message— “June or Sarah?”

“June! Sarah's still inside fiddling with something, but we're done, really. I've gotta say, this was a lot of fun, thank you.” June grinned. Like the other humans Katie had seen, June moved with a kind of hesitation, as though her body was always running a quarter second behind her mind. Her eyes seemed to not wholly focus, as though she was looking a little past Katie instead of directly at her. Her smile was a little too wide. For all that, she did seem very present and her movements weren't sloppy, just slow.

But she was property. A thing. Practically an object. How was Katie meant to interact with her? She obviously couldn't act like June was a regular human, because half of human social convention was pretending to care about the problems of strangers, and Katie suspected that this one had very few relatable issues.

What had Thatch done back at the cafe? Affirmation, clear instruction, and checking in at the end to make sure everything was okay? Acting as if she were above the poor girl? Legally speaking she very much was, but it felt slimy. It was still a better guess than nothing.

“Uh, good. Thank you. I couldn't figure out how to open the door, be a... dear and tell me?” Katie wanted to cringe, but the human's smile only widened. She nodded rapidly and skipped out of the doorway, letting the door seal up behind her.

“Of course, Miss Sahas! Please watch what I do carefully and I'm sure you'll get it in no time.” June skipped over to the door, grabbed the handle, and pulled it open. Katie's cheeks burned as she watched the door sliding open. “Did you get that? I'd love to show you again if you—”

“No, no, that's fine I got it thank you,” Katie interjected, hurrying along inside before anybody saw her. For a brief moment she was almost glad that Thatch wasn't here, though of course that didn't last. Thatch wouldn't have made her feel bad about it.

Katie was a little worried for her affini. She'd hurried off at quite the speed and she'd been seeming a little off all day. Katie hoped that nothing was wrong. She could handle this, give Thatch the space she needed, and then check in later. It was fine. Katie could do this.

Katie's eyes took a moment to adapt to the gloom. She squinted into the darkness for a moment before happening to glance upwards. She took in a sharp breath. The building was bigger on the inside and contained the entire sky. Her eyes flicked across the stars and she recognised them all. This was Dirt's night sky, but it couldn't possibly be. It extended far beyond the plausible dimensions of the space she'd entered.

In fact, if Katie looked behind her, the forest seemed to go on endlessly. The door was set into open air. She took a careful step towards it and moved her fingers towards the position that the wall must be in, halfway convinced that they would go straight through, as if the door had been a portal to some mysterious realm.

Thankfully, Katie's sanity was maintained. As she neared the wall, it started whiting out, displaying a thick hexagonal grid that revealed the real dimensions of the room. Katie took a few steps back and the door slid closed, sealing them inside something that Katie would have sworn was the planet Dirt at night. There was even a canopy of trees a few meters to one side, though they couldn't possibly be real.

“Uh...” Katie couldn't think of any better words to emit. She just turned to June with bafflement. How was this possible, never mind hers?

The floret clapped her hands. “Mistress, could we get the day/night cycle matched up with ship time again?”

A disembodied voice rumbled through the area. It was a voice deep enough to buzz the air in Katie's lungs, but at this point she was getting used to things like that. The dragon from earlier. “Of course you can, pet. I'll do it this time, but be sure to get Miss Sahas here put in charge, hmn?” It certainly seemed like Erica would fit inside the vast expanse that the room claimed to be, though Katie's rational mind understood that the real dimensions were much more constrained.

The sun rose in fast forward, casting moving shadows from everything in the room. The illusion was no less convincing in daylight. June looked back towards her with a smile and a bounce, and held out her hand. “May I see your pad, miss?”

Katie handed it over, and June spent a moment fussing over it before handing it back. “You're all registered! You should be able to control most of the fancy stuff by voice, and there's a new section for habitation preferences if you prefer that. Think about what you use often! If you want us to come and add any switches or buttons or make any other kinds of changes, please just ask and we'll be right with you!”

The disembodied voice of the dragoness rumbled through the room again. It literally shook the trees, though Katie suspected that was a special effect. “While you are, of course, free to get anybody to make any alterations you wish, I am free to devour you whole for denying me the opportunity to improve my art.”

Katie squinted into the distance, where she imagined the voice was coming from. “Is that actually true?”

The other floret—Sarah?—rolled her eyes from across the room. “Yes, but only if you look at it sideways. Mistress is flirting because she finds you cute. She won't eat you unless you ask nicely, but we really would appreciate the chance to make any changes here that you can't make yourself. We take pride in our art!” She seemed unusually level-headed for a human around these parts, fiddling with the side of a tree using something that looked like a paintbrush.

The disembodied voice rumbled with discontent. “Pet! Don't you know it's rude to play with my food?”

Sarah's blush was immediately visible. Ah. Maybe not that level-headed, then. “I suppose you'll just have to go hungry, then, won't y—”

The door opened, and a stream of vines shot across the room, curled around Sarah's body, and pulled her back out at rapid speed. Katie stepped back in alarm, but June didn't even react.

“Is that normal?” Katie asked. Was this just how things were around here? Katie looked around at the impossible opulence that was apparently just being given to her, no questions asked, because she happened to exist, and tried to make it match up with the creatures that seemed incapable of behaving reasonably. A growing collection of giggles and laughs, one so low in pitch that the ground shook and the other unmistakably more human, drifted through the air until Sarah's voice managed to pull together enough words to ask the computer to stop transmitting.

June nodded, with a soft smile. “We've been watching each other work for hours and it tends to get us a little worked up. I volunteered to actually walk you through the hab, though! I love getting to show this stuff off. It's amazing how much better the affini are at building things than we were. Is this your first hab unit?”

Katie wrinkled a little at the 'we'. It was hardly inaccurate, but if Katie was going to get a fresh start, she wanted it to be real. “Would you mind avoiding... human words with me? It's kind of a sore point.”

Was she going to have to explain that to everyone she met? June agreed easily enough, with a quick smile and no sign of judgement, but ugh. Regardless, Katie nodded. “Thank you. This is my first day on any affini ship, assume I know nothing.”

June's eyes went wide, and she spent a moment doing some kind of little dance with her hands before grabbing something out of a pocket that seemed analogous to Katie's own communicator. She tapped a few buttons, then stared at the screen for a moment before glancing back up.

“So okay! We got into this a couple years ago after Mistress picked us up and started teaching us more about art, because it's so much fun for us all to get to work on these little projects. Or, kinda big actually with yours, but that just made it more fun.” She looked back towards the screen. “So, okay, um. The standard Affini Habitation Unit is one of those things that just seems stupidly obvious in hindsight.”

She flipped the screen around to show Katie some kind of diagram. A hexagon, about as tall as it was wide, with a whole bunch of annotated symbols dotted around it. “The outside shell is part of the, uh, the Elettarium, but the hab itself is an independent construction that's partially self-sufficient and partially relies on the ship for like, power and stuff. With the door closed we're actually totally separate from the outside! That's super cool, because it means that so long as we build something the right shape and size with the connectors in all the right places we can do whatever we want inside!”

She tapped the screen and it played a little animation of a kind of cutaway effect, showing the insides of the hexagon being a cozy little apartment.

“Because we didn't have all that long, we had the atomic compilers put together a pretty standard shell with all the usual options. Don't try to take it into space alone for more than a couple hours because the batteries will run dry, and there was only mounting space for one residential atomic compiler, but honestly the default option is about as good as it gets unless you're looking for something super specialised! If you wanna let ship noise in then that's all configurable, but for the moment we're pretty isolated from the outside world. No noise, uh, separate life support so you can put whatever you want into the air, and all of the water'll get recycled. That kind of thing.”

June spoke at a rapid pace, almost stumbling over herself with clear enthusiasm that, as far as Katie could tell, was shying away from the important stuff.

Katie blinked rapidly and interrupted. “I'm sorry, I think I'm misunderstanding. I was... kind of expecting a room or something in a shared area or a communal bunk. How many people live in this?”

June tilted her head to the side. “That's your decision! I assume at least one—you—but if you want to live with others then, like... it's your hab, right?”

Katie looked around. She literally couldn't even tell how large it was because the walls were magic. “All of it? Or is there a room in here that's mine?”

“Wow, this really is your first day, huh? You don't mean that you used to live on one of the colony worlds, you're actually totally new here?” June raised her eyebrows. “How did you even get here, aren't we... there was a space thing, I think, aren't we really far away?”

A space thing? It seemed almost unbelievable to Katie that anybody on board a spaceship couldn't be constantly aware of what was going on, never mind not aware of what surely must have been an emergency. “Yeah, I kind of got us pulled out here, sorry. I didn't mean to cause any kind of emergency, or... I guess I did, actually, but...”

Katie looked down at the apparently literal dirt under her feet. She'd wanted to destroy this ship. She'd wanted to kill everybody aboard. Thatch. Glochi. Rosaceae. Erica. Angel. Zona, Xylem, and Lily. June and Sarah, too. How many more? Hundreds? Thousands? People who had done nothing to her. She'd imagined this ship as a military vessel filled with weapons and soldiers and somehow it had been easier to rationalise wanting it destroyed then, as if those soldiers wouldn't have been real people too. As if it somehow became right to end the lives of creatures older than her civilisation because they were trying to give her something like this.

Katie took a deep breath and blinked away a tear. “I'm sorry,” she said, looking back up at June's blurry face. “I didn't know what you were like. I... I was desperate and I thought that if I could just make the tiniest bit of difference then maybe it'd all have been worth it, but I didn't know what you were like, I promise.”

June looked taken aback for a moment, but quickly hurried over and began to gently pull Katie across the room. They wandered past a couple of trees towards some kind of artificial cave. It evoked a natural aesthetic, but was clearly something constructed, with a little wooden staircase leading to a raised platform that seemed to contain seating and some things much like tables or raised platforms.

They didn't head up that staircase, though. Instead, they walked past it and entered the cave itself, where the lighting was dim and the seating was much more cozy. Katie could feel herself relaxing just from being there, cut off from the rest of the universe apparently as literally as it could be. June sat her down on what seemed to be literally a beanbag chair, then pushed a second over and sat alongside. She leaned against Katie's side in a way that would have felt overly familiar, were they not so far beyond Terran society that Katie wasn't sure whether those boundaries even applied any more.

“Capitalism was a bitch, huh?” June asked, with a grin. “The war, too, but like... none of us knew why we were fighting. The propaganda was really good and we were all so desperate already that it was easy to fall prey to it. Don't worry, I get it. We all did shitty things and they understand and don't hold it against us. If it helps, I don't think you actually caused much of an emergency. I don't really follow along with ship news but the only reason I even knew about it before today was because we're having to wait a bit longer for Rinan memes. We did have a busy hour or so this morning making sure everything was tied down ready for us to do real gravity for a bit, but most of that was just Eri complaining that she didn't have time to swap out whatever lets her fly for something that would work in real gravity and she's feeling a little grounded.”

Katie groaned. “Yeah, I've had the whole speech, I guess. There was never any chance that I'd hurt you. Didn't even scratch the paint, probably. I still tried? It feels shitty. If I could've, I'd have killed you for no good reason.”

June nodded. For a moment, it seemed like her joyous veneer might slip, and reveal the trick beneath, that she was human after all. Her smile never faltered. “No big deal, I forgive you. Goddess, yeah, I get it! It's been a couple years for me but I only stopped having nightmares about putting screws into big guns when Mistress banned me from thinking about them for a while.”

“Screws?”

June nodded, solemnly. “Before Eri rescued me, yeah. The, uh, what was it... Terran Cosmic Navy Screw Fab 851. Specifically, uh...” She paused, and then her grin grew twice as wide. “I can't remember what kind of screw any more! Take that, Capitalism!”

“Huh. I think I had a box of those nestled away next to the drive core on the Indomitable. Thanks, I guess?” Katie shrugged. June shrugged too, and laughed, which proved contagious. The pair of them giggled for long moments before finally falling silent.

June broke the silence with a happy sigh. “Most things around here are grown, compiled, or totally handmade. I don't think there's a mass-produced screw in the entire ship. We might actually be the furthest from a screw any ex-Terran Accord citizens have ever been because of how far out you took us. Thanks!”

“You're welcome?” Katie laughed. It wasn't easy to forget that she was speaking to property, but somewhat uncomfortably Katie was finding it easier to talk to a possession than she ever had a full, independent human being. “Was this, uh, 'hab' grown or compiled?”

The object shook her head. “Handmade! Which, I guess to get back on topic for a moment, uh, you're just gonna get given everything. Get used to it. The sooner you stop asking questions the better, honestly, unless you're feeling cuddly. Most of the people around here love explaining how impressive they are, but not like, in a bad way? It isn't egotism, they're just... really enthusiastic about helping out.”

Katie knew that she should hold it in. It was rude to bring it up, wasn't it? To burst the perfect little picture that June was painting. “Except one of them owns you, June.”

June nodded rapidly. “Yeah! It's grea— waaaait no you're new here, you mean that as a bad thing, don't you?” Katie nodded. “It's... nice? I'm sure you'll get along just fine even if you don't have an owner, but for me, it's... I don't have to worry about anything any more? I know that if I wanted new clothes then they'd just give them to me, but this way I don't even have to think about it. Mistress picks my wardrobe, makes sure I get enough sleep and that I eat properly, makes sure I'm keeping up with my hobbies but also that I'm not doing them too much and not giving myself the time to rest I need. She helps me pick out new ones, too, so that I don't get bored, and makes sure I have goals and stuff to work towards.”

June sighed happily, leaning over to rest her head on Katie's shoulder. “I'm happy. Truly, honestly happy. If there's even the slightest thing in my life that isn't fulfilling and wonderful, all I have to do is say and she fixes it, but most of the time I don't even need to do that because she made sure it wasn't a problem before I even noticed. I'm sitting in a cave that I modeled off of some cool photographs I took on an alien planet that I got to build into an awesome home together with those I love, and we just get to give it to you, and I literally don't have a worry in the world. It's not even right to say that the last couple of years have been the happiest of my life because I don't really even feel like my life started until I met her. I guess the old me would have said that being hers was a small price to pay, but it isn't. I'm lucky to be Erica's. If I could keep everything else while becoming independent, I wouldn't.”

Katie might have thought that the speech had been rehearsed, but it was given with a breathless enthusiasm with plenty of pauses where June's tongue outran her head and she had to scramble to catch up. If it wasn't completely off the cuff, then June was the best actor Katie had ever seen.

“Also, the sex is amazing, and no I will not elaborate. You have to see it for yourself to understand.” The floret winked at her. Was this a proposition? Was this flirting? Katie's blush did a terrible job at helping her act like she was any better than the blushing mess beside her at all.

“I'll, uh, I'll pass,” Katie admitted. “Not that I don't appreciate it! I've just never really been into all that physical stuff.”

June nodded rapidly. “I get! You're always welcome to come hang out or whatever, too!”

Maybe everyone around here was full on, affini and human both. Probably the non-humans, too. Katie gave a slightly strained laugh. “You don't even know me, June.”

“Hanging out is how we'd fix that! Sorry, I forget what it's like to be, uh... sober, am I being too much?”

Katie shrugged. “It's been a long day, is all. You're fine, I'm tired. Maybe let's finish the tour and hang out some other time?”

“Sure! Uh, you can find all the specifications for the hab shell if you're interested, but it shouldn't really matter unless you want to move to a different part of the ship, or a different ship entirely. This is yours now, but you've been assigned an address based on making sure you're close to any registered friends and in walking distance to any essential services you'll need access to, but it's your hab, do what you want with it. You might have to organise a swap if you want a specific address, but people around here are pretty easygoing, I think.”

June shrugged, scratching the back of her neck. “Making decisions isn't really my area, but they seem easygoing to me, anyway. Wow, I'm rambling a lot. Okay! We got a scout drone sent down to the surface so we could make sure to get the details right. The dirt isn't actually dirt, but it should look and behave almost identically, except it won't get stuck in things and get tracked everywhere and you won't have to do anything to keep it soft. The trees are really trees, though, we got samples taken and called in some favours in the botanical gardens to get them flash-cloned in time. Same deal, though, the hab should broadly take care of itself. If you plant anything else then you'll either need to water it or go into the preferences and add them to the auto-maintenance list, depending on whether you like watering plants.”

June raised to her feet and offered a hand to help Katie up. “We were working from some new standards we got a little while back, so please do tell us if anything doesn't work right, but I think you should find everything very usable! Stuff is scaled so it's okay for ex-Terran Accord folk, but if you have any affini friends over they should be fine too. They won't fit inside the cave without compressing, but that's okay, it's meant to be a cozy little retreat.”

Katie was guided out into the larger open space. “The main area here is just a big open space for you to do whatever with, really. The platform on top of the cave there should put you nearly at head level with most affini, save you straining your neck. The walls and ceiling are just us showing off, I don't know if you'll actually want to keep them like this.”

June spent a moment tapping her pad, and the hexagonal grid reappeared over the true bounds of the room. She tapped again, and the effect faded entirely. Katie could see that the cave was built partially into one wall, leaving the regular bounds of the room, and that there were actually several doors leading out of what she'd already considered an unreasonably massive space. The 'real' walls of the room were a pleasant cream with a soft texture. The external door to the unit was large and looked quite imposing, but the internal doors seemed to be in two parts. One small section about Katie's size, and then another, much larger outer section that would fit anything smaller than Erica herself.

“Obviously feel free to do whatever you want with any of this. Most simple pattern or texture stuff the walls will just do, and anything more complicated you should still be able to get done. Over on the other side here we have the kitchen-y bit. We weren't sure how hard to go on the theme, so if you don't like it then just say and we'll come swap it out with something more usual!”

June was gesturing over to something that on first inspection had seemed just like a pile of rocks, but with the walls no longer complicating the illusion it was fairly easy to pick out what was going on. Flat rocks made for a wide kitchen surface set around something that seemed to look like a fireplace, but was really some kind of combination oven/hob, for if anything needed heating. A large boulder simply opened up to reveal something that bore superficial resemblance to a refrigerator, except that it wasn't cold.

“Stasis unit,” June explained. “Literally the best thing in this room, if you cook, I think. Keeps things as they are when you put them in. Cold stuff stays cold, hot stuff stays hot. It'll still do temperature changes if you want, but that doesn't really come up much. Probably use that or the fireplace to heat stuff up, I don't think you'd be able to set any actual fires in here, there's a... thingy about that. I dunno, I don't start many fires.”

June skipped over to the kitchen wall and flicked a few of the switches. They moved with a sharp, satisfying snap. “The switches are all reprogrammable, but they should do about what you expect, I think. Except this one.” June pressed her finger against the rightmost switch in a bank of three, by the stasis unit. “This one doesn't do anything. They're way too satisfying to press not to have one you can click whenever.”

Next, she pointed towards a little recessed box set into the kitchen wall. “Atomic Compiler. I don't know how it works, please don't ask, just tell it to make you something and it'll make it. If it's food or drink it'll usually come with plates or glasses or whatever and you can configure what type you like if you want. Stick them back in when you're done and it'll decompile what's left over. It's whatever.”

Katie could feel her eyes bulging. “It's whatever? June, I think you've just described the most ridiculously useful thing I've ever heard of.”

The girl shrugged. “I guess? I don't think anyone really uses them unless they're in a rush. Half the units we've made people specifically asked not to have one.”

“Oh, because of the rationing? The captain mentioned you were short on supplies.” Katie sighed. There always had to be a catch. Get access to a magic box that could create anything, but she couldn't use it.

June, however, only frowned. “What? No, there's just no romance in atomically perfect sandwiches or whatever. You can get fresh ingredients brought in from the gardens where they actually grow them and every one tastes a little bit different, or go ask the registry who's cooking for folks that day, I guess? I dunno, do I look like I get to decide what to eat?” She laughed, then raised a finger to her throat and snapped her cloth choker against her neck. “I just know that we only do compiled stuff if we're in a really big rush.”

Katie let out a whimper. They had access to perfect replication and they didn't even use it? Just one of those machines would have revolutionised all of Terran culture. Certainly it would also have started a series of bitter and pointless wars over who got to control it, so maybe it was good that this wasn't technology humanity had ever reached.

June continued on, skipping over to one of the internal doors. As she went, she pointed out seating and sofas dotted around the room. “I know this is probably more than you need, but just tell us which ones you like and if you'd like the others swapped out or removed. There's like, twenty different combinations of textures here, from things that feel like Terran standbys to modern alien stuff, so just find whatever you like best and tell us about it.”

She paused and pointed out the river. Katie blinked. She'd assumed that that was part of the illusion, but a river a couple feet wide did actually separate off about a fifth of the floor space and one of the doors. “Eri wasn't sure about this one, but we convinced her. The water'll be good for your fish, and it's constantly getting cycled around and kept clean and healthy. Drinkable, I guess, if that's your thing. We can take it out if you like, and there's a lot of sound dampening stuff so you can make the, like, flowing water noise louder or quieter. Uh, it'll drain pretty quick if you fall in, though not so far your fish will have trouble, but you'll still get wet, so try not to fall in?”

She reached the door at the far side of the room and pulled it open by the handle, which was equally as prominent on the internal doors as it had been on the external ones. “Bathroom! It's a bathroom. I think you know what to expect.” She closed the door and moved on. “Bedroom! We only had space for two of these, so I'm afraid if you don't like the texture you'll have to change your own sheets. I mean, I guess you could ask us to do it, but...”

June kept talking, but Katie didn't hear it. She walked into the room, where tasteful lighting gently rose to meet her. She didn't look at that, either. She sat on the bed and looked out the window as Dirt's local star rose over the horizon, casting long shadows with deep orange light over the tops of the trees far below. The glass, or whatever it was, was so clear that Katie could have been looking out of a hole straight through the hull. June eventually seemed to realise Katie wasn't listening, and just moved to sit beside her.

“Actually, do you mind if I get a photograph? I don't have my good camera, but this is beautiful.” Katie glanced over to find the human almost as entranced as she was. It was beautiful. She gestured for June to go ahead and she raised her own little handheld communicator to snap a few pictures before sitting back down.

“One of the other doors is storage space, if you need it. There's a spare bedroom if you want guests. The last room is just empty, do whatever you like with it. All the walls are movable, though probably you'll want us involved for that, there's quite a lot going on behind the scenes here. But, uh, yeah. Wow, I've been talking for a while, huh?”

Katie smiled. She wasn't sure what to make of June, but as far as first impressions for a human possession went, it was unexpectedly positive. This wasn't a toy kept around for novelty, or an ego-stroking tool for the plant who owned her. June seemed just as alive and vibrant as anybody she'd ever met. More, even.

“I appreciate the tour, thank you. If it's okay, I think I'd like some time to settle in. I'll... message you later, I guess?” Katie gave June a slightly wider, slightly tighter, smile.

June nodded a few times. “Probably message Mistress, though? What I spend my time doing isn't really any of my business, is it?” She grinned, then made her way to the exit. The external door slid open, momentarily allowing in gentle sounds of life from the outside world before they were cut off again by the gentle whoosh of a closing door.

Katie spent a moment with her communicator. She was this habitat's registered owner now and it was a matter of moments to engage a privacy mode. Sound dampening in both directions, external door locked to all, excepting if there was an emergency that required it be otherwise. The cameras, microphones, and speakers that Erica had called into were already set to require permission to turn back on, but in privacy mode Katie wouldn't even get asked for that permission unless the caller indicated it was important.

She sat. For the first time in a very, very long while, Katie was alone. She'd made it. Katie suspected that she could stay inside without unlocking the door for a long time before anybody would get pushy. It was everything she'd wanted for years on end and more besides. This was luxury that would have been unimaginable mere weeks ago.

Katie spent a few minutes aimlessly poking around the habitat preferences section of her communicator. There was a lot she could change, but nothing that really seemed to need changing. She looked elsewhere. She could do everything from play music, movies, or documentaries; she could read books, or play games; she could access scientific knowledge, philosophy, history, and art; and all from a thousand thousand civilisations. It was riches without compare. Resources that many in the Terran Accord would have gladly died for just a chance at touching were simply given to her without question or restriction, beyond that only a fraction of the library had been translated into English.

Katie stared blankly at a list of things she could do that may literally have been infinitely long for several long moments before falling backwards onto the bed.

This was everything she'd always wanted? Why did it feel so empty?

Katie looked back to her communicator and investigated the messaging section. She deliberately ignored the growing number next to the 'recieved' tab and opened a new session. After a few attempts at correctly spelling “Aquae”, Katie had a message window open with Thatch.

Before she could send a message, it asked her for a display name. Finally, something she didn't need make a decision for.

katieflower: hey, how r u? u seemed a little frazzled earlier, u good? katieflower: ive had the whole tour from june and now im just kind of here katieflower: wanna come over after ur thing? there are so many things here & i'd love to know how they work lol katieflower: june was nice but she didn't know much about the details katieflower: also wow the view from these windows is amazing, u should come see!! katieflower: also the whole hab is like, youve gotta see this!!

Katie set down the device and stared out of the window. Occasionally, she checked back to see if she'd gotten a response. She hadn't. After a little while, it became Elettarium night. The hab lighting dimmed, the window attenuated, and Katie very soon fell into a light and faltering sleep.

It was dark and silent. The air was the comfortable kind of warm that could be easily forgotten. Neither too hot, nor too cold. There was no clank from adjusting panels or whirr from struggling life support. No banging of footsteps or of people grabbing handholds. The bed was a kind of comfortable that seemed like something out of a faerie story. Seemingly endlessly soft yet still providing the exact right support for Katie's body regardless of whether she tried to sleep on her back, her side, or her front. If she lay out flat, it was comfort beyond imagination. If she curled up, it was cozy to a degree she would never have dared consider.

She tried every different way of sleeping and all of them were perfectly comfortable and none of them let her get back to sleep. There wasn't enough light to see if Katie's eyes were open or not, but they were. She could tell.

Katie groaned, forcing herself to sit. Soft red night lights rose with her, drawing her attention over to the door and warning her of all the room's edges.

“No, no, I'm awake, ugh,” she groaned. How was she meant to actually control these lights? June had said voice would work, right? “Uh, can I have the lights on normally?”

No change. Katie sighed. She wished she could go back to sleep, but she'd been trying for longer than was okay and she'd only succeeded in getting herself frustrated. “Please?”

The lights transitioned over to their prior gentle yellow-white over the course of a few seconds. At their peak, the floor-to-ceiling window that formed the far wall of the room returned to transparency, revealing the height of Dirt's mid-day sun. Katie shied away, groaning as the light burned her retinas, but thankfully it only took a few moments to acclimatise.

Katie grabbed her communicator in clumsy fingers as she dragged herself out of the bedroom. The main room was exactly as she'd left it. The gentle sounds of the stream were the only noise she could make out and nothing had moved. This was hers. It was baffling and she had no idea what to do with it.

Bathroom. She stumbled through the door into the small, functional bathroo—

Into the biggest bathroom Katie had ever seen. It was still a bathroom, but the titular bath was closer to a swimming pool. Katie wasn't sure she'd ever seen a bath, never mind one this big. It wasn't something that was done in space, it was ridiculous. In space, you cleaned with a cold damp cloth and your own disappointment.

Bathing wasn't Katie's goal, though. She took a few minutes to figure out how she was meant to use a toilet that didn't involve uncomfortable tubes, and then she washed her hands in a fancy but ultimately familiar sink. Katie looked up at the large, well lit mirror and jumped. She didn't recognise the person reflected back at her.

Katie whirled around with her heart racing, but there was nobody there. Just her. Her gaze returned to the mirror and her breath left her body. She raised a hand to her face and dragged slender fingers over soft skin. They hadn't exactly had mirrors on Dirt, but it really hadn't been long enough that she'd been expecting to see anything unusual.

Katie saw Katie.

Cuter than she looked in the pictures, according to Rosaceae. It hadn't been condescension. It had simply been a fact. Katie saw her own smile and started a rapid process of checking herself over that ended up with her half-burned Cosmic Navy jumpsuit forgotten on the floor to one side. She wasn't perfect—goodness knew that the many marketers of Terra had ensured she would know that—but the progress was undeniable. Thatch's guiding hand over Katie's form. Katie snapped a few pictures and made a note to send them to her affini, and only her affini. Regardless of what this culture thought about propriety, Katie was not about to start sending nudes to people she didn't know on her second day.

A quick rummage through the wardrobe back in the bedroom confirmed that the affini had no idea how to make clothes. Every one felt like it was so smooth it would fall right off, and most had cuts so alien Katie wasn't even sure how to begin putting them on. She returned to her jumpsuit, as scratchy as it seemed by comparison.

Kitchen. The not-quite-dirt was soft against her toes on the short trip over to the kitchen. How would she start her day? Usually it wouldn't take more than a few seconds for Katie's movement to wake Thatch and after that everything generally went quite smoothly, but of course, she'd been rescued from that. This was better. Katie had the freedom to do whatever she wanted.

Katie stared at the recessed box that was whatever June had called the magic replication machine. This was the first day of the rest of her life and it seemed important to start as she meant to go on. So, a quick, satisfying breakfast, and then she'd find something good to do with her day.

What was breakfast? What could breakfast be?

“Uh, do you have a menu?” Katie directed her question towards the box. It felt silly, but Katie guessed that a reliance on vocal interfaces made sense when you couldn't really be sure whether any particular species would even have fingers.

“Of course I do, sweetcorn!” the box chirped. Katie groaned. She could practically see the exclamation marks piling up in her mind “I don't have any special little filters set up for you, wow! I guess you must be a very special—” The voice cut off mid-sentence and another picked up. It was clearly somebody else speaking. “Error! Species translation not found, whoops! Please contact the local administrator for Error! Species information not found, whoops!”

The original voice returned as if nothing had happened. It spoiled the illusion a little but it was somehow comforting to know that the machines weren't really sapient. “Tell me what you'd like and I'll whip it right up for you! If you're having trouble deciding, that's okay! I'm sure your— Error! Owner reference not found!” There was a cough and then, more quietly, as if the person doing the recording had looked away from the microphone. “Do we really need to record all these? When is this ever going to happen?”

Katie pulled a face, but she did actually feel grateful for the momentary distraction, even if it was only because she'd found something she needed to change. “Can I get the non-floret translations, please?” she asked.

The machine buzzed for a moment, and then continued talking. The voice was a lot less enthusiastic. “Awaiting instructions,” it said. Katie couldn't help but imagine the affini who had recorded the line sitting there bored and restless. Why had they recorded it at all?

Katie stared at the box. It would do anything she asked. She had no idea what she wanted.

“Actually, I'm fine, don't worry about it.”

“Acknowledged.” The voice wasn't grumpy, it just wasn't engaged. It wasn't engaging. It reminded Katie of every automated speaker system or voice command system in the Terran Accord, though in those cases the voices usually sounded miserable instead of merely bored.

So why record it? Hell. It was for her, wasn't it? She had no idea who'd written and recorded those lines, but they'd done it specifically so that Katie and others like her could be more comfortable even though it was clearly a sacrifice for them.

If there was one thing that the Terran Accord seemed to far outstrip the Affini Compact in it was weaponising its understanding of human psychology. Surely even the most dead-set rebel would have to realise when faced with this machine speaking bored words simply to help them feel more at home that the Affini couldn't possibly be the monsters they'd been warned about?

Katie gave up on food for the moment and went to sit in one of the unreasonable number of chairs, sofas, or seats dotted around the hab. She grabbed her communicator as she went. Still no response from Thatch. That was getting worrying. She sent a quick extra hello and decided to finally check her inbox.

She'd been on board for about a day and hadn't expected any mail at all, yet the thing was already packed. Katie skimmed the titles. Elettar-I-M and you! Using internal messaging!!; Greetings from your new shipmates!; Here's a useful list of lists!!; and Please don't forget to take your medication!! (and drink lots of water!!!) were all present and sent by the ship itself, or at least some automated system that claimed to be it.

Katie asked the compiler for a glass of water. It complied and compiled, but it seemed as bored with the idea as Katie was. Thatch had given her a little bottle of pills, and there were several more in stasis with instructions to take them daily, so Katie did.

She scrolled down her inbox. The section for messages from actual people was significantly longer than she'd expected. Maybe a dozen messages that were just some variation on hello, with a brief introduction to the sender and an explanation that they were part of the welcome brigade aboard ship. Katie spent a few minutes figuring out how to type before realising she could just respond by voice and have the device transcribe it, and then spent a few minutes more replying with her own greetings in turn. They'd all suggested that she should ask questions if she had them, no matter how little, and seemed very enthusiastic about it. Katie wasn't sure how to feel about that. She'd never had anybody be enthusiastic to meet her before.

Each name had a few little icons, numbers, and other decorations around it. It didn't take long to figure out that it was a shorthand for the more ceremonial parts of people's names around here that designated them either by the number of lifetimes they'd lived, or about as commonly the number of pets their owner had had. The latter had the cuter symbology by far, with every name having its own iconography and styling.

After the greetings there were still a few mails left over. One from June, or rather from June via Erica, with the little icons decorating the mail clearly depicting the power imbalance there. It would have been enough to make Katie blush, except at this point she worried it was all starting to feel normalised. It was essentially another greeting, but she'd attached a bunch of links to documentation on Katie's new home. Erica had added a note at the bottom confirming that Katie was welcome to come hang out any time, and had attached a picture of her and her florets waving.

Another. Katie smiled. An update from Cici. Somehow, its halting style of speech still came through in text, with words and snippets in different colours, sizes, or fonts as it pieced the message together. It wasn't a very long message, just a quick update to say they were doing well and they'd made a friend. Given the iconography around that friend's name, Katie had to wonder how long they'd remain just friends.

Another message. The name on this one was garish in a way that stood out, “Wing Vidalii” with each letter twinkling a different colour. Another floret, though curiously sending the message under her own authority, not that of a caretaker. Even so, part of the decoration around the name linked off to the affini who owned her, while other parts exposed pronouns, species, and a link to a brief biography. This message was, like all the others, a greeting. Katie's heart fell as she continued on to read a warning that her paperwork wasn't quite valid and not having species markers would probably cause some problems, followed by an invitation to come have a chat at some address Katie was sure her communicator could lead her to.

Katie sighed. It all should have been exciting, but it wasn't. It all should have been beautiful, but for whatever reason, she felt like half the colours in the world were missing. This was a utopia and Katie had no idea what to do with it.

Katie put the device down and let out a breath. Okay. It was time to start her day. There were still a few last things to do as part of moving in, but one of the messages in her inbox was somebody asking when she'd be able to have Leviathan delivered, and after sending a quick confirmation the fish was carried over in a small self-contained tank a few minutes later. Katie spent a little while fussing over it and getting it settled into the river that was to be their new home. She compiled some rocks and built a little castle, which Leviathan moved into happily. New homes for both of them.

Still no response from Thatch.

Katie somehow felt cramped. Her walk the day before had been nice, so she decided to repeat it, leaving her apartment and wandering around the ship without much by way of goal. She got a few looks, but nothing by way of hostilities. Just curious smiles and waves, as if the sight of a lone human-looking girl in Cosmic Navy uniform—even if engineering garb was a lot more casual than the actual officers would wear—were, if not normal, not wholly outside of expectations.

The walk helped, a little, but Katie mostly just felt lost. There was so much to see that she didn't understand and nobody there to tell her about it.

Still no response from Thatch. She was fine. Imagining Thatch in any kind of trouble was almost laughable. Katie knew what it took to stop her affini and nobody else around here had any old Terran battleships to throw at her. It was easier to imagine her being inconvenienced, though. Held up by the system around them or by byzantine rules? Katie grit her teeth. It wasn't fair, Thatch had been nothing but good to her.

But still no response.

By the time Katie was tired out, she'd walked up and down the arc she now lived on. It didn't actually seem all that long, though that was before she noticed there were multiple decks on each arc, and that realisation was enough to make her feel small again. Katie made her way home, found some junk television from her childhood, and ate Terran Cosmic Navy standard synthveg ration cubes. She'd start being more adventurous tomorrow.

The next day came and went. As it happened, the bed never stopped being comfortable. There wasn't really much of a reason to leave it, save for biological necessities. Fascinatingly, the Affini seemed to be cataloguing all of human culture, near as Katie could tell. She spot checked a few of the things she remembered, from back before she was spending too much time in deep space to keep up with anything. It was all there. They even had some of the lost episodes, which Katie had figured were gone for good.

Weirdly, some of the shows had alternate versions now, or at very least new subtitles, for the English/Floret translations. Katie wasn't sure how to feel about that. They were preserving Terran culture, sure, but it would be their versions that were seen going forward.

Not that there was much in Terran culture that seemed worth keeping. She spent most of the day in bed watching the floret cuts of old cartoons and, begrudgingly, appreciated the way that a lot of the problematic jokes and product placement had been replaced with better things. The plots were tighter, though all the sharp edges and sense of real danger had been filed off. She didn't appreciate the way it paused every hour to remind her to stretch and drink some water, though in fairness, she did need the reminder.

The day passed slowly. Still no response from Thatch. Katie sent another quick hello and rolled over, hoping to sleep, but the silence was deafening and the bed's heat, no matter how comfortable, seemed unwilling to truly warm her. The blanket was heavy, pressing down on her like a whole-body hug, but as the night went on the only weight Katie seemed to feel was that of her own anxiety.

By the next morning, Katie inferred that she must have gotten some sleep, but she didn't feel like it.

Enough was enough.

Katie demanded Thatch's address from the ship's registry and headed out. If her affini needed help then Katie wasn't about to let anything get in her way. It would be a short ride on the ship's rail system, but Katie needed some time to clear her head and properly wake up. Her communicator suggested it would take about an hour to walk, and that suited her just fine.

Despite the many sights and sounds of shipboard life, Katie could not be distracted. If Thatch needed her help, she was going to provide it one way or another.

It didn't feel like the whole hour before Katie was knocking on Thatch's door. Thirty seconds or so passed, but it eventually slid open. Katie's face split into a smile, suddenly relieved. Thatch looked okay. More green was poking through, healthy-looking growth slowly overtaking the darker shades of Dirt.

“There you are!” Katie exclaimed. “I've been messaging you, are you okay?”

Her affini looked momentarily taken aback. The leaves around her chest rustled as she glanced away. “I am very well, thank you. My apologies, I might have missed the incoming messages. My own communicator is far out enough that the retrieval drone has not yet returned.”

That made some kind of sense. It didn't explain what had stopped her from stopping by, but surely something had been going on.

Katie nodded, stepping forward into a quick hug around one leg. She took a deep breath, savouring the familiar scent and the comfortable heat, and finally felt her blanket of anxiety began to lighten. Her grip tightened, clutching to her affini's leg like she was afraid it would walk away. Thatch froze for a moment, but quickly recovered, resting a hand over Katie's shoulder and gently prying her free. “It is nice to see you,” Thatch mumbled. “I... had been— Never mind, that is in the past.”

Katie smiled upwards but it again took a moment before one came back down, and even that seemed almost reluctant. Katie felt her heart waver. She should have come sooner. “It's a lot to get used to, being here, huh?” Katie asked. There was a moment without an answer, and Katie was starting to feel awkward standing on the doorstep. “May I come in?”

A pause. “Oh. Yes. It's— Please pay no mind to the mess.”

Thatch stepped back and granted Katie access. If her own hab was a work of art, then this one was... not. After experiencing a dwelling designed for her own scale, Katie found one scaled up to Affini size felt almost cramped. She laughed at her own absurdity, knowing that even at this size the home was absurdly luxurious. A clean, white, oversized sofa took up one of the hexagonal wall pieces, and on the other side of the room was a kitchenette that, strangely, looked far more traditionally human than Katie's did, albeit scaled up.

As for mess, she found none. In fact, there were barely signs of life at all. No books, no decoration, no letters, no pictures. A small collection of glasses hung partially out of a recession in the wall—Katie guessed an atomic compiler of Thatch's own—but aside from that it could have been brand new. There was a desk at the far side of the room that had a few tools and what looked like a half-completed project, but that was the only concession to life in the entire space.

Katie looked up at her plant with concern. Thatch waved her off and retreated back to the sofa.

“Are you sure you're okay, hon? You've been acting a little off basically since we got here, and I think I've lived in places more personal than this.” Katie hurried over and spent a moment trying to climb onto the sofa. She almost had it once or twice, but gravity soon discouraged her, so she just sat on the floor instead.

Thatch seemed distracted. Certainly she reacted to Katie as quickly as she always had, but the focus wasn't there. Katie wondered if the ship was simply so safe that Thatch no longer felt the need to pay attention, but that didn't quite fit. Thatch had never been one to call things safe enough.

“I am fine,” Thatch stated, firmly. She didn't seem fine.

“Thatch, I haven't heard from you in days. Are you s—”

“Katie, I do not need you checking up on me,” Thatch snapped. “I can take care of myself and you have more important things you should be doing with your time.” Thatch wasn't even looking at her. Katie stared for a moment, blinking rapidly. She felt the force of the rejection almost physically, like she'd been slapped, and she didn't know why. Was Thatch even saying anything unreasonable, there? They were, at best, friends and none of the friends Katie had ever had, before everyone had slowly drifted away, would ever have chased her down like this. Was she just being clingy?

A thick kind of silence settled over them. Katie looked down, suddenly feeling the urge to inspect her own extremely worn standard issue Cosmic Navy shoes. “Sorry,” she mumbled, eventually. It drew a sigh from up above, and a moment later the comforting sensation of Thatch's gaze having fallen upon her.

“No, I am sorry. You do not deserve that. You are here now, so please, tell me about how you've been.” Thatch's hand trailed down to press a finger or two against the top of Katie's head. There was a sensation of a soft smile from above. The girl smiled back, leaning up into Thatch's fingers with closed eyes. She'd missed this. The bad feelings slipped away.

“Of course!” Katie chimed, happy for the opportunity to rescue them from the silence. She would have preferred for Thatch to see the hab for herself, but it seemed a worthwhile sacrifice to describe it to her instead. To Katie's surprise, her enthusiasm was not reflected.

“I do not know if it is so wise to cling to the past like that, Katie. We are here now and it may be best to focus on what you can build anew. Let... all that become just a faded memory.” The fingers against Katie's hair shied away.

Katie blew out a breath and shuffled around, raising to her knees and grabbing Thatch's hand before it got too far away. With both of hers, she pulled it in and held it close. Something wasn't adding up here. “What is up with you, Thatch? Tell me what's wrong.”

The fingers in Katie's grip curled, but didn't break free. Thatch spent a moment with her body churning, gaze pointed over towards the door. “I said that I do not need this,” she complained. Her voice lacked a sharp edge.

“We've been taking care of each other, right? That doesn't stop just because we're here, does it?” Katie held the fingers tight and pulled them closer. Kneeling on the hard floor wasn't comfortable, but Katie wasn't about to lose the moment by moving.

“Katie, I...” Thatch seemed to be intentionally averting her gaze, but thankfully that left her unable to break out of Katie's grip. She had the strength to do it, of course, but Katie knew that she wouldn't dare do so without being certain Katie wouldn't be hurt, and that required attention.

“Yes?”

“I think it would be best if you tried to focus on building your own separate life here. I have many things to do. I have applied to be part of the team extracting the others of Cici's kind and I should focus on where I can be useful. You should focus on other things.”

Katie's sixth sense was all over the place. One moment she felt distress, the next panic, anger, sadness, or hate. She pulled the hand closer, though still failed to capture Thatch's attention.

“I don't think I understand, Thatch. We can both be doing our own thing without having to lose this, can't we? What am I missing?” Katie's fingers tightened, clutching Thatch's hand with a strained grip.

It took a few moments for Thatch to respond. Her more human mannerisms were controlled, but Katie could tell something wasn't right.

“No, we can't. I am sorry. I am not so broken that I need your constant attention. You have more useful things to do.” Her voice dripped with a kind of poison, but Katie didn't get the sense it was aimed at her. It stung, all the same, to hear Thatch speaking of herself that way.

“Th- Thatch, I don't think—”

Her plant growled and turned her gaze back for just long enough to pull her hand free of Katie's grasp. “No, you do not think. You are not aware of the consequences of your actions. I can not work with somebody who does not understand what they are doing.” Finally, the poison was aimed at Katie herself. She flinched.

“So teach me?” Katie spent an awkward moment pushing herself up to her feet, with stiff knees and uncomfortable ankles. Even standing at her full height, she somehow still felt shorter than she had on her knees just a moment ago.

“I can not. I have failed with you, Katie, do you understand? I have tried to teach and you have not learned.” Katie's eyes darted across the quiver of her friend's lattice. Tension, maybe even anger? Katie had only seen it a handful of times before, and never directed at herself. It still didn't feel aimed at her. “You can not learn.”

“What the- What haven't I learned?” Katie asked, taking an involuntary step back. She was missing something here. Some crucial fact that justified the sudden turn. She could figure this out. It could still all be okay. She just had to focus. “I've been trying! I thought I was being a good student? I— I've been doing my best?”

Katie let out a quick growl—though it sounded more like a whimper—aimed at her own failing body. This wasn't the time to start crying. She had a problem to solve and that wasn't helpful. Logic and emotion did battle and, like always, logic was revealed for the sham that it truly was. Katie's frustration sublimated into a thick cloud of upset. She couldn't focus on anything useful when she was fighting back tears.

“I—” Thatch's voice wavered, paused, and then transitioned into a sigh. Two firm hands reached down to grab under Katie's armpits and lift her up onto the sofa, into Thatch's waiting lap. “No, flower, you have been the best student.” One hand tugged free a bundle of leaves from over Thatch's shoulder and brought them up to Katie's nose, while the other nested in her hair. “Blow your nose. I am sorry. Let us talk as the equals we are supposed to be.”

Katie nodded rapidly, making the humiliating sound of nose blowing directly into plantlife, which Thatch quickly discarded. She curled up tighter, leaning into her plant's body, then grabbed the other arm and forced Thatch into a hug. “What did I do wrong?” Katie asked. “I'll do better, I promise. Please?”

Thatch let out a long sigh, shaking her head. She squeezed a little tighter, in time with her words. “You did nothing wrong. It is I who made the mistake, flower. I am only trying to act in your own best interests.”

There was a grunt from Thatch's lap, and a gentle punch in the stomach. Katie sniffed down a surge of emotion. “If I wanted somebody to do that without asking me about it I don't think I'd have any trouble finding it around here. Talk to me?”

Thatch's hands curled again, but this time one was against Katie's shoulder and the other was in her hair. The girl couldn't help but smile, leaning into the tighter squeeze. Thatch's warmth could chase her shadows away.

“You have been feeling aimless, lost, and uncertain. Like half the colour has left the world and you don't know why. You forgot to brush your teeth this morning and, if you have taken your medication, I suspect it was because somebody else reminded you. I suspect that you have not been sleeping well, and eating only when you are too hungry to ignore it.”

Katie winced. “I wouldn't... put it so bluntly, Thatch, I thought this wasn't things I'd done wrong?”

“You have not. That was me. Now, you are feeling comfort.” Katie could hardly deny it. Her plant had her in a tight grip and there was nowhere safer to be. Thatch had her troubles, but Katie had this deep-seated certainty that if they could just stick together, they could deal with whatever came their way.

A vine brushed against Katie's chin. She lifted it, staring up into Thatch's waiting gaze. “You are feeling safe.” Hardly an answer that would win awards. What possible danger could face them here?

“Warm.” The vine brushed across Katie's stomach, leaving a trail of tingling heat that begged for touch. “You want to get closer. You want to put your skin against my body.” Katie did? Katie did.

Thatch's smile slipped away, and Katie felt a low chill running down her spine. “Cold.” As the heat died away, the need for touch only rose. “Desperate.” As the tingles became overwhelming, Katie felt her focus faltering. She tried to lean into Thatch's body, but a vine kept her away. “Needy,” her affini sighed, as Katie rubbed her cheek into the vine that was trying to maintain some distance between them.

Thatch was so warm. Katie cold. Thatch warm and soft. Smelled nice. Felt nice. Tasted nice, though Katie wasn't testing that just then. Not for lack of trying. Katie sighed, but it was a contented sigh, feeling Thatch's warmth spreading through her core.

“Katie,” she snapped, pulling the girl back to the present, then helping her sit up. “You must understand, I did not know. I know that you did not want this, but I cannot reverse that which I have done.”

Katie blinked repeatedly, almost as if she was waking up from a light sleep. She frowned, looking up at Thatch with a gentle frown. “Sorry, I... think I drifted off, there. I didn't sleep great last night. Could you say that again?”

Thatch placed one hand on Katie's shoulder, and the other gently beneath her chin, making sure she could speak directly to Katie's attentive face. “You did not drift off. I have spent weeks drawing you into a trap and you cannot even see it. It is not your fault. You simply lack any way of fighting my influence. I have tried to teach you independence and all I have achieved is turning you into this.”

Thatch's fingers curled, falling away from Katie's body. “What do you mean, 'this'? What's wrong with me? You said I hadn't done anything wrong.” Katie's frown only intensified as she tried to take Thatch's hand again, though found it evasive.

Thatch took a handful of breaths, pauses, and sighs. Her hand raised as if she were about to speak, but fell several times, before she finally managed the words. She gestured to Katie in entirety. “This, Katie. This... eager, attentive thing sitting on my lap unable to even begin to comprehend the control I have over it. When we first met, you nearly killed me. When we talked, I found you a fascination, both willful and talented, albeit without any chance to have learned the skills you could learn here. You forced me into compromise and demanded your independence and I was happy to provide it.”

Katie stared up, not quite comprehending. There was a logical leap here that she felt like she should be making, but it just wasn't coming. Thatch was speaking like she was any different, now, but Katie didn't feel any different. Happier, maybe, for her experiences, but the essential Katie underneath was no different.

Thatch radiated a gentle desperation. Her expression fell over long moments. “And you cannot see it even when I dangle every piece before you.” She let out a long sigh. Katie smiled, feeling the gentle heat and smelling the soft scent. “That is why I say you cannot learn, flower. You cannot fight my influence, and my influence turns you into this. Katie, I am an alien from a culture practically inconceivable to you.”

Katie's smile wavered. Why was Thatch saying these things? Katie wasn't acting out of the ordinary, was she. She opened her mouth to question, but Thatch kept her quiet with half a look.

“We have made pets of your civilisation. Even the individuals who are free still live under our rule. We have done this to humanity. We have done this to creatures that knew only war, or to those who knew only peace. We have done this to those on the brink of devastation and to those expanding at an exponential rate. We have done this to all of you. Do you think we have no tricks? The creatures of this universe are helpless before us. You are helpless before me. I am a fraud. You do not enjoy my company; you do not even know me. My every movement, my every breath, my every word worms through your will and binds you to me and you are incapable of resisting it. You believe you are feeling these things only because, on some subconscious level, I demand that you feel as I do. You cannot fight it. You cannot even see it, even when I lead you right up to the answer and ask you to take only the final step unaided. If I were to click my fingers and demand you be mine, I suspect you would feel relief and gratitude.” Thatch's hands remained gentle, but hesitant.

Katie's did not. She struggled until she could sit up. “What the fuck are you talking about? We're equals, remember? You said we were equals. I'm not... whatever you're talking about, I'm not.” One of Thatch's hands came in to grab Katie's chin, but they'd played that game more than enough times now. Katie set her teeth and stared Thatch down, and it was her affini who faltered. “Go on, then. Try it.”

“Katie, you do not want this. I have... corrupted you with a need I cannot fulfill. I guarantee that if you continue spending time with me you will be property by the end of the week.”

Katie couldn't believe what she was hearing. This was bullshit. This was unfair. “You arrogant prick,” Katie growled. “Do you think you're magic, or something? We are friends, Thatch.” Katie struggled up to her feet. Standing on Thatch's thighs, she could almost reach eye level. “I do not want to be your fucking pet.”

“Yes, you do.” Thatch sighed. “You may not realise it, but you soon will. The decision is no longer in your hands.”

Katie raised her hands in an exaggerated shrug. “Bullshit. I don't want to be anybody's pet, Thatch, least of all yours.”

Two vines wrapped around Katie's wrists and, with a sharp yank, pulled her back down. Another pair adjusted her legs as she dropped, forcing her back onto her knees. A hand rose to her chin, forcing it up to stare straight into Thatch's eyes. Katie felt her heart beating hard in her chest. “Lashing out at me will not change the facts. We are not equals, Katie. We cannot be. We never were. I was a fool to entertain the idea.”

Katie bore her teeth, but a slight shift of Thatch's grip was enough to render her unable to speak. She pulled against the vines binding her wrists, but no matter how she pulled, Katie couldn't move at all. In fact, with just three points of contact she was immoblised, finding that no matter how she tried to move she always found herself stuck long before she could have achieved anything. It would have been an impressive show of understanding over the movement of Katie's body if it hadn't been so stupid.

“You have one choice left that you can make. Return to your home and focus on setting up your new life. Perhaps in a decade or two it will be safe for you to be around me again and I would very much like it if you would get in touch so that I can hear the story of how your life has been. Alternatively, find somebody you like and become theirs, let them give you that which I can not, and then I will happily spend as much time with you as they permit. Do you understand?”

Katie wanted to shake her head and Thatch's grip kept her too tightly held to do so. The arrogant bitch would only accept a nod. Katie wasn't about to give her one. They stared each other down until Thatch's resolve faltered. Her stupid plant glared a hole in the ceiling for a few moments, biting down words until they burst out anyway.

“Katie, I am doing this for your own good! Can you honestly tell me that you do not wish to be mine?” Thatch's hand fell away and Katie nodded, thick with exasperation.

“Yes! Yes, I can!”

Thatch's teeth were many and razor sharp. Katie had stared down the maw of a dragon and known she would be safe, but this had the edges of a danger that she knew wasn't meant to be present here. “Do not lie to me, little one,” Thatch growled, whole body taking on jagged angles. “You will speak the truth to me, and you will do nothing but. You trust me. Submit to this.”

“I am not lying!” Katie exclaimed. “I trust you because you're a friend. I like spending time with you, and, yes, okay, I'm not very good at taking care of myself, and I appreciate your help! It's nice to know that there's somebody who actually gives enough of a damn about me to care whether I'm taken care of! Can you really not imagine that I might want to spend time with you without me having been tricked into it?”

Katie could feel the turmoil in Thatch's soul drilling down into hers. Was she winning this argument? Was it even an argument? Katie was still missing something.

“I have seen it in numbers, Katie. You can lie to me, you can lie to yourself, but you cannot lie to our medical technology.”

Katie opened her mouth, head falling back in exasperation. “Is that 100% accurate? No mistakes at all, among a trillion trillion species? It's so good that you'll trust it over me?”

Thatch's shoulders fell. She lost an inch of height and most of her fire. “No, but... Katie, I cannot take this risk. Please. I will beg if you make me. Yellow and red, I cannot.” Thatch's panic was evident, screaming in over Katie's sixth sense and every other sense beside. “If there is a one in a million chance that I would destroy you, then I cannot take it, and the chances are much greater than that.”

Her affini's hands balled into fists, and her vines tensed. “You do not know me. You cannot. I have lived an entire lifetime, longer than you would ever have in a world utterly outside of your experience. We have spent weeks together. I am very fond of you, Katie. Another in my place would gladly take you, but I am not worth your time.”

Katie took in a long, deep breath. Ah. Was that what she had been missing?

“Do you... want to take me, Thatch?” Katie asked, voice wary. Nothing else had shaken her resolve, but Katie felt the sharp sense of danger here twisting to a point. Her affini looked up in alarm, leaning away as if to get as much distance from Katie as possible.

“It does not matter what I want, Katie, please do not ask me that.”

“Thatch. Do you want me to be your pet?” Surely not. No. Of course she didn't. They'd talked about this. It was the foundation of their relationship. Katie wanted her freedom and Thatch didn't want to take it away. It was what had made Thatch safe. Thatch had been meant to understand her. Katie's eyes snapped around to Thatch's hands, suddenly wary of where they might go.

Thatch raised them up by her head. “I...” The air was rustling through her body fast enough to form a breeze. The smell alone was enough to get Katie calming down. She felt sick. Katie didn't feel like she should be calm. Maybe she hadn't noticed it before, but now there was dissonance, and the problem was clear as day.

Katie was being manipulated.

She stumbled back, almost falling off of Thatch's knees entirely in her hurry to get back onto her own two feet and away from Thatch's scent. Had all of this just been a trick, to get Katie to lower her guard?

“Yes or no, Thatch. It's a simple question. Don't give me any bullshit. Yes or no?” Katie's hands were balled into fists, but she was shaking. Going against Thatch like this was almost painful. Some deep part of her even now wanted to smile and accept whatever came her way. Katie wanted to be sick.

Thatch looked down, suddenly focused on the floor. “...Yes.”

Katie's heart plummeted. She'd detonated a battleship just outside of this hull and failed to harm it or Thatch, but she felt like the force of her disappointment would blow open a Katie-shaped hole into space. Her lower lip wavered as enough emotions she couldn't hope to place them all rose up from the gap where her heart used to be. The worst part of all was that Thatch was right. There was relief in there. There was gratitude. There was an urge to kneel and beg for Thatch to make it so. If it weren't for the fire in Katie's heart burning so hot she could hardly see straight, who knew if she might have done it?

“Explain,” Katie growled.

“Yes. I do.” Thatch's voice was halting. “I have been feeling it for some time now. I— I would never act upon it, Katie, you must understand that. I know that the things I want are wrong. You— You are beautiful and precious and I love you and I wish I could trust myself around you. I would never break you, not really, I just—”

Thatch cut herself off, seeing Katie's reaction. The girl was backing off, eyes wide. “Not really? What does that mean?”

Thatch let her hands drop, along with her shoulders and much of the rest of her body. She couldn't bring herself to look Katie in the eye, or so it seemed. Katie was second guessing her every assumption, now. How had she missed this?

“Answer the fucking question, Thatch.”

There was silence for long moments. The Thatch that spoke next was quiet and hollow, barely more than muttering. “I wouldn't have done it. I am... broken, Katie. Caeca's loss has grown heavier each day and sometimes I can think of nothing but taking you apart and studying every piece. Sometimes I want nothing more than to put you back together again in so many new ways until I understand you so deeply that I can be certain that what happened to her will never happen to you. Sometimes I fear that I would fail and leave you broken.” There was a long pause. “Sometimes I want that. You would look... divine, with your mind filled with nothing but endless pleasure and memories that could never stretch more than instants back. Just like her.”

Thatch still didn't dare look towards Katie. Probably she knew what she would see. Quivering limbs and betrayal. “Ah. I... should go,” Katie whispered, through dry lips and wet eyes, before fleeing the room in tears. She didn't stop running until she made it to her own hab where the doors could be locked, the lights could be off, and nobody could hear her screams.

Much of the universe's life, be it flora or fauna, believed that the true purpose of the Affini Compact was its stewardship, be it the daring rescue of the Xa'a-ackétøth from their own engines of war; the offer of a universe to meet for the Spectrum Jellies; or the chance to serve for the Beeple. Each was a species of millions or more, taken from a faltering home and lifted up into magnificence.

There was value to that answer, but of course it was more complicated than that. To treat a species as one was to miss the entire point. To paint a population with a single brush would have been to destroy everything that was right about what it was the mighty plants were so busy with.

The individuals, then. The wiser of the universe's sophonts would point to each life on an individual basis. To take each creature as it came and refine it. Clear away that which was not essential and find that which was unique at its center. Nurture it, help it grow, until each and every creature across each and every star was the very best version of itself.

Though closer, they would be wrong too. Only the wisest knew the truth.

No, the purpose of the Affini Compact, according to Wing Vidalii, clerk, was truly found in the Records. A decentralised database of all of space and time, cataloging all that they found in meticulous detail. Individuals would live and die. Even the affini themselves would come to forget the past eventually.

Each and every life had a unique, incomparable value. No system of thought that justified letting a single one come to harm could survive the insistence of Affini xenophilosophers. All the same, an individual's time would come and go, while the Records were forever, and the Records would improve every life for all of time.

This was why Wing always felt a low anxiety when she knew there was something wrong with them. She and Montsechia were the record keepers. While the rest of their civilisation played, they were safeguarding the future, and that future was, currently, incorrect.

The softly glowing red light warning her of a relational inconsistency within the trillion pages of knowledge contained within the Elettarium's Records shard could have been shut off, but Wing refused. It kept catching her attention out of the corner of her eye. (Warning/error/catastrophe) red.

She'd sent a message. She'd sent two, days apart. It had now been over a week. There was a citizen aboard her spacecraft whose data was wrong. The paperwork being incomplete was one thing. That irked Wing, just a little, but rationally she understood that not everybody took their bureaucracy as seriously as she did.

This citizen's paperwork was incomplete too, but that hardly mattered in comparison to the fact that it was incorrect.

She turned to face the love of her life and the only other thing in this universe that could hope to compete for her affection. She spoke in rapid flashes of colour, all underscored with bright teal urgency. “Mistress, she has had a privacy screen up for a week now. At what point is enough enough?”

The patient, calming smile was little comfort.

...okay, that was a lie, Miss Vidalii's smile brought warmth to Wing's soul, but it didn't fix the Records.

“Pet, be polite,” Montsechia chided, with gentle words of pastel plant. “There's no rush. You are so adorably dedicated to our craft, but we can't expect newcomers to immediately understand the importance. They'll get around to it and no harm will have been done.”

Wing glanced back towards the glowing red warning light with a sigh and a nod. “As you say, I guess, Mistress.”

Montsechia's eyebrow twitched. She was doing spectacularly at speaking Wing's native incandescence, but it was still very different to what she was used to, and a little nonchromatic emotion sometimes squeezed through. Of course, while they had company Montsechia would do both, but here in their inner sanctum there was no need for the more humanlike expressions popular in this region of space.

Seeing one didn't stop Wing from tittering a gentle pink dance across her chest.

A vine struck out across the room to haul Wing over her owner's knee. Another struck just right, bringing a bright orange (pain/shock/gentle arousal) to her cheeks. “That's Yes, Mistress, pet. Count.”

Wing had a particular interest in numeral systems, quickly grown after encountering the Affini's own numeric style. She wrote in that, now, because it was obviously superior. She couldn't count in it without a pen. She certainly couldn't count it while her rational mind melted. She flashed out a “one” in her native tongue, body twitching.

As her reward, another sharp vine struck out, forcing a brighter bicolour glow that stained the walls for but an instant. A two. By the fifth, the room's lights were automatically dimming as Montsechia forced out increasingly complicated patterns of colour and shade.

The window was right there. Wing's shame was being broadcast to the universe. Now she would live on forever in two ways: The correct Records, and the record of her corrections. Her many corrections. By the time they reached ten, Wing's body was twitching and her biochroma were saying anything and everything she was told to. Each stroke was refinement. Clarity. Not just distraction from the things that didn't matter, but a reminder of what did. A little more of the inessential chiseled away so that Wing could focus on what made her special.

The Records could wait. Montsechia had an individual to nurture and Wing was happy to admit that she was far from the wisest creature aboard ship. That would be her owner.

An hour later, Wing was curled up with her arms tight around Miss. Vidalii's leg and tentacles all curled around the affini's hand while she worked on the desk above. She glowed a contented pink, occasionally rousing from her chemical haze for long enough to nuzzle or rub against a knee or a thigh.

No stress. No anxiety. Wing knew what was most important to the plants, and it was her. She could relax and let Montsechia take care of the details. If Wing needed to do anything, she would be told, and otherwise she could simply focus on the one thing in this universe that truly, deeply understood her.


Several days later, Wing was told.

“I reached out to a few of the florets on welcome duty and they say our newcomer hasn't been responsive,” Montsechia explained. “We should get the results of the vote on my proposal to declare an emergency intervention any minute now, but given that nobody else seems to have seen her either, I expect we're going to get a couple thousand 'yes'es and that's enough. You, my dear floret, get to go say hello. Please try to be good. The paperwork is important, but not as important as an individual in need.”

Wing could only nod. She remembered her politeness and her gratitude, and what mattered here. Sometimes, Wing knew that teasing and playing with the edges of her orders was a fun game they both enjoyed, and Wing also knew that this wasn't one of those times. This was one of the times she got to show Montsechia what a good jellyfish she could be.

About an hour later, Wing's tentacles were squirming as she stood before the plain door of their newest habitation unit. The inhabitant wasn't even technically a citizen yet, because she'd refused to fill out the paperwork in a manner that could actually be processed.

The emergency intervention had been approved. They'd already inspected basic internal data, confirming that power and resource usage were well within bounds for a single human individual, and if it came to it they could override the door manually, but nobody wanted to do that.

Wing raised her hand and knocked on the door, knowing the sound would get transmitted now that the highest privacy settings had been disabled. After a minute, she repeated it again, and twenty seconds after that the door slid open.

“Yes?” the sophont asked. She seemed mildly irritated, but otherwise not in immediate harm. Her eyes were puffy and red and Wing suspected that meant something, but while she had been made as an ambassador to the universe she'd been terrible at actually keeping up with the details she would have needed to carry it out. Wing was an archivist, not a diplomat.

Wing took a moment to scribble a message on her writing pad and showed it. “Hello! I'm here to do a quick check to make sure you're okay, and if you've the time, a quick chat about some paperwork? Also, I don't suppose you understand any kind of sign language, do you?”

Wing watched the woman's eyes flick across the message. “Uh, I'm fine, I guess. Sorry, I don't mean to be a bother, have I done something wrong? I don't speak anything but English, sorry.”

Wing sighed. The gentle flashes of soft grey wouldn't mean anything to their little problem, at least. “May I come in?” she wrote.

“Yeah, sure. I guess. Sorry about the mess.” The unit's inhabitant stepped back and Wing followed into what was unmistakably the work of the Elettarium's distinctly unconventional habitation builders. She flashed appreciative shades as she looked around, following their citizen-to-be across the room into a literal cave.

Well, at least this one would fit in among a ship of other ineffable eccentrics.

Wing tapped the side of her writing pad and her words began to gently glow so they could be more easily seen in the dim lighting. “Firstly, my apologies, but I don't want to make any assumptions. You are Katie Sahas, independent human, right?”

Wrong question. Bad question. Fascinating. The creature shook her head with a sigh and reached over to the side of the amorphous blob she'd taken as a seat where a stack of small cubes lay on the ground. Apparently they were edible, or at very least, this creature was eating them. “No. I thought I filled this out already? Not human. Don't wanna be— I'm not.”

She sniffed, running a finger underneath her nose. It came away slimy and was wiped on a dirty uniform from... Wing glimmered with a curiosity that painted the cave a little purple. Was that the logo of the old Terran Navy? Wing felt like she had to at least establish some kind of baseline here.

“Understood, we'll deal with that. Otherwise correct? Katie Sahas, independent?”

“Yes, and yes I'm fucking independent, alright, I don't want to be one of your pets.” The Katie gestured with one of the probably-edible cubes violently enough that Wing got caught in a little spray of crumbs.

The jellyfish spent a moment brushing debris off of her clean companion dress and out of her tentacles. She didn't need to be a diplomat to realise that this not-human wasn't having a great time. Was she really the best choice for this? There were a thousand florets aboard who were more comfortable with vague, poorly defined people than she was. Wing supposed that may well be why Montsechia had tasked her with this. Being made into a more rounded, refined version of herself was going to be hard, apparently.

Wing scribbled down on her pad. “I'm not in the habit of taking pets, don't worry.”

“Yeah, but you are one, aren't you? Tricked by the bloody plants into giving up your independence, and—” The cube slipped from Katie's fingers. She grabbed at it, trying to catch it, but only succeeded at knocking it away and showering Wing in even more debris. “Ugh, sorry.”

Stylus scratched against the rough texture of a writing pad for a few more moments. Each stroke left a glowing line behind it. English was far from the most elegant language, but Wing liked her handwriting all the same. It helped her feel a little more in control while she talked to somebody she wasn't completely convinced wasn't a feralist instigator.

No harm would come to Wing, of course. She had a bundle of Montsechia curled around her nervous system keeping track of her every little detail, and at the slightest hint of real danger some kind of action would be taken. There wasn't much room for real danger on board an Affini ship, not when every non-affini creature in a room could be put to sleep in under five seconds and any weapon more complicated than a slingshot wouldn't fly under the Firebreak. The most dangerous part of this situation was that Wing might disappoint Miss. Vidalii, and she certainly wan't about to let that happen.

“No tricks, I promise. I'm here to help. How about we go for a walk? There's somebody learning how to make Terran-style pasta on the other side of the arc and apparently it's pretty good. Probably better than what you've been eating.”

Wing tried to time her gesture towards the cubes to match when she guessed Katie would be getting to the end of the sentence. This would be so much easier if they had a better shared language. Thankfully, Wing didn't have to bully very hard before Katie was willing to follow her outside. Walking and writing wasn't easy but it seemed that Katie didn't mind a moment without interrogation. They reached a hab unit that had a few tables set outside it. Wing waved Katie over to one of the tables and took a quiet moment to explain what was going on to the four foot tall quadruped that was responsible for the pasta. They'd get a few extra minutes before food was delivered so Wing could try to get some rapport going.

“I've ordered something that matches the preferences we have on file for you,” Wing declared, momentarily handing Katie her drawing pad while she sat. She took it back once the girl was done reading. “We've been a little worried about you, nobody's heard from you in a while, and so we wanted to check in.”

“Who's 'we'? The setting said privacy mode would only get overridden in an emergency and I don't see any emergencies. Just another trick, I guess.” Katie's face twisted. Her cheeks had gone a little pink, but Wing suspected that that didn't mean what it meant in her language.

Wing gestured around at the entire ship. “We took a vote. Two thousand four hundred and five for, three hundred two against. We take this stuff really seriously, Katie.”

The girl seemed to need a few moments to process that. She frowned, looking at Wing with a different kind of expression. Why couldn't creatures express their emotions with colours or paperwork like made sense? Wing had to try to interpret some dance of eyebrows and nostrils like it was supposed to mean something.

“So when you say we, you mean... everyone?”

“Everyone who gets a vote, yes,” Wing scratched. “The florets get a separate vote, but it's just for fun. They do check up on things if it's ever a different result from the real vote, though. I voted yes in it, for what it's worth.”

“Huh.” The floret running the place brought over a glass of water on a little tray held in its teeth. Katie took it, looked momentarily panicked for a moment, and tried patting their fur-covered head. It went over well. Katie took a long drink from the glass then let it drop back to the table, empty. “Well, I mean, I think I'm fine?”

Wing glanced up and down. Katie's hair was obviously unbrushed, her face was a mess, her clothes were filthy, and she had that look in her eyes that only the undomesticated could sustain. There was a light in there that hurt to see. The fire that free-willed folk couldn't go without or the pressure of existence would destroy them. It burned in Katie, consuming her and leaving nothing behind but ash and smoke. It was distressing. Wing didn't understand why this was being allowed. Katie's records said that she was prior crew on the Indomitable, the Terran vessel they'd captured, and captures were domesticated as a rule for good reason. Just look at this one! She was miserable.

“You seem upset,” Wing scribbled. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, no, I'm... I'm fine. I had a friend, I guess, is all. The person I'd been stuck with down there. I thought she was cool and she didn't think about me the same way.”

Wing tapped the end of her stylus against the pad for a few seconds. This was easier when she was in front of a terminal, but she had a good memory. The friend would be... Thatch Aquae, Second Bloom. The other problem citizen of the Elettarium. Ah. It was starting to become clear.

“What happened?” Wing asked.

“I wanted a friend. She wanted a pet.” Katie sighed, leaning forward until her forehead thumped against the table. “I really miss her. She's cute and funny and like, really really smart, and, y'know when somebody looks at you and you know they're really, really seeing you? Not the... the front you show to the world, but the real you? Fuck.”

Oh no. She was crying again. Wing didn't know what to do about tears. Why did she have to be one of those species that leaked? Wing was glad that Katie was staring into the placemat because otherwise she might have noticed the careful glancing around looking for help. There was none to be found.

Wing steadied herself. Focus. She didn't have to do perfectly, she just had to make Montsechia proud. She pushed her chair around to Katie's side, grabbed the poor girl by the back of the neck, and repositioned her head to rest against Wing's shoulder. Wing could handle getting a little damp, after all, and her dress could be cleaned.

“It sounds like she was really important to you. I think I understand what you're saying. My owner looks at me like that and I think if I had to go without it I'd fall apart.”

Katie took a while to read the message, because apparently the leakage was so bad it impacted her ability to see.

That was not going to make this any easier.

Katie eventually reached the end. “Ugh. I'm upset enough I actually envy you that. I don't know what to do. I miss her so much. I keep writing out messages that I never send and then I get mad at her and then I get mad at me, and... then I just wish she was here to talk about it? This is stupid.”

Wing hoped nobody around spoke her language, because Montsechia would be very disappointed to learn that she'd been screaming swear words in public. This was exactly why prior feralists weren't meant to get a choice. There were processes for this. Guidelines! Rules! Rituals! All set up over tens of thousands of years of constant learning and improvement to lead to the best outcomes. But no, some people thought the rules were there to be bent and now it was Wing's problem to clean up.

Not that she really knew how. It seemed like relations between Katie and her closest affini had really broken down and probably weren't repairable, given recent events, and that was one of the few situations that immediate forced domestication wouldn't solve.

“It isn't stupid,” Wing wrote. “I'm sorry that this has happened to you.”

Katie nodded rapidly. “It's not even fair, she says she doesn't even want a pet, so like, what am I meant to do? I just don't get to be friends with her? Even though she's super cool? Even though she, friggin', needs somebody to be there for her, it just doesn't get to be me? It's not fair. She needs somebody. She doesn't have anybody else.”

Katie was squeezing Wing's arm hard enough that it hurt, but at least they were sort of getting somewhere. Wing brought her other hand over and awkwardly patted the girl on the head.

“I'm not even any good at independence! Fuck, she took such good care of me. It was nice. I don't even want this. She was better at me than I am and I just don't get that any more? I don't know what to do any more.”

Ah, there it was. Wing struck. “Are you sure you don't want to be a pet?” She double-underlined the sure.

“Yes!” Katie exclaimed. “Just like I don't want to brush my teeth or shower or do anything but eat those shitty ration cubes that I don't even know why you bothered cataloging.”

Think happy thoughts, Wing. Do not go on a tangent about the importance of recording even the bad things about a civilisation. Do not. There will be time for that. “I didn't want to be a pet either, once,” Wing admitted. Katie tilted her head to one side, and it took Wing a moment to realise it was supposed to be a question. Why had her people ever even liked language? Paperwork was clear, unambiguous, and useful. All of this damp, vague communication was not Wing's strong suit. Montsechia had put her here for a reason, though.

First, Wing would do as she was told. Without relevant orders, she would seek to ensure no harm was done. Without harm to avoid, she would use her best judgement, and if even that failed her she would do what she could to make Montsechia proud, and that would always be enough. She could do this. It wasn't her strong suit, but Wing knew she'd make her owner proud no matter what. It was easy to feel confident when her worst case scenario was still being loved and cherished.

“My species didn't resist, we didn't have a rebellion like you did. Most of the domesticated population were volunteers, but it takes a lot of strength to volunteer for that and I didn't have it. I wandered for a long time until I happened to meet Miss. Vidalii and we got close, but friends kinda close. It took a while for me to realise that I was tired of independence, so I submitted the right forms and let her know that I was ready and she convinced me.”

Katie clung a little tighter to Wing's arm, sniffling loud enough it triggered the hearing aid embedded in her neck. “I don't think it matters if I do that, she doesn't want me anyway. She's... had a tough life and somebody needs to take care of her and it hurts that it can't be me. Dirt, I wish it could be me.”

The other nice thing about paperwork was that generally, people understood that you should submit the entire thing at once, rather than adding new little problems at every step. Wing briefly considered just going home and adding Katie to the To-Be-Domesticated list, but there were rules and processes around that too and she knew they were there for a reason. The illusion of free will was important, apparently, even if Wing no longer desired it.

Katie shrugged. “I don't think they're really all that different from us, just... bigger. Larger than life. They get to be smarter and funnier and taller and cuter, but I think they get to hurt more, too. They get whole lifetimes of pain and they're still strong enough they want to hold us up. I want to help her so much, but I don't even know how to be near her.”

Wing put her stylus to the pad, but the girl seemed willing to keep talking. “I'm so tired. I've been miserable all my life. I got a few weeks of happiness, and now I'm miserable again and somehow that doesn't hurt nearly as much as knowing that she probably is too. I want to hate her for what she said, but I don't. I can't. I just want to be near her. I want to help her. I thought it'd get better but it isn't, it's getting worse. Hell.”

Wing looked down. The pad responded to touch, too, not just the pen. It was just a lot harder to write with a finger. Katie had been tapping as she'd talked and the pattern was unmistakably affini. This just kept getting more complicated, but at least this was probably as bad as it could get.

“I wish I knew how to help her. She needs somebody she can't push away. She needs somebody who can't leave her. She needs... I...”

Katie suddenly stood up. The fire in her eyes was burning bright and Wing flashed another swear out into the environment. That was almost always a sign that an undomesticated sophont was about to do something incredibly stupid. It always had been for her.

“I can't live like this. I'm gonna go talk to her. We can sort something out. We'll have a heart-to-heart, I'll get to help her be happy and it'll all be perfect.”

Ah. That was to be the next disaster, then. Wing really didn't want to write the next message, but the alternative was having to do it after Katie caused a kerfuffle. “So, about that. There was an... incident in engineering a few days ago. One of the new creatures from down below was having a hard time, things spiraled, and... it was a whole mess, and I'm afraid your friend is heading back to the rest of the Affini Compact in a shuttle at the moment. She left yesterday morning.”

“Ah.”

Katie stood there, eyes closed, for long moments. Wing didn't feel great about this. Needing to break the poor girl's heart was going to weigh on her, but at least there wouldn't be another incident.

Katie's eyes opened again and Wing saw the light in them gleaming brighter yet, and knew that there was absolutely going to be another incident. Katie took off at a fast walking pace, directly for the nearest magrail entrance. Wing stole a few seconds to scramble over to the poor cook, who was probably about done with their meal, and then hurried afterwards. Her heart was racing quickly enough that at least Montsechia would notice something was up and send help.

The last thing that they needed was an independent Terran with nothing to lose running about aboard ship.

Wing managed to squeeze into the magrail pod just as the door was closing. She held out a hastily scrawled message written while she'd been running. “Where are you going, Katie?”

“I'm going to talk to Thatch.”

Aaaaaaaa. “Katie, she physically is not here to talk to and there are no comms relays in range. You can send a message, but delivering a message to a small shuttle in open space could take days.”

The girl shrugged. “No, it's fine. Thank you, I think this is what I needed. This is a problem that I can solve.” Katie had stopped crying, at least. Wing wasn't sure that was good. She nervously rubbed the tiny scar where her implant had been inserted. She knew it wouldn't make anybody more likely to notice her distress, but Wing couldn't help but notice the lack of anybody coming to her rescue.

The magrail pod sped on its way for a few minutes before finally hauling itself to a stop at hyperspacial engineering. Katie was out of the door before it had finished opening and Wing hurried afterwards. They burst through another set of doors into one of the mechanical areas that Wing didn't really understand, but thankfully they were not alone. Wing could relax. There were affini here and everything would be okay.

Katie walked straight up to one and jabbed it in the thigh with a finger. “I need you to jump the ship,” she stated.

The affini—Prickle, if Wing's memory served, which it usually did—looked down with a confusion one could only find in an affini suddenly confronted by something much smaller and cuter than itself that still had some willfulness about it. Never mind that she was literally dressed in a rebel uniform.

They reached down to pat Katie's head and spoke, in a stage whisper. “Is this a roleplay thing, cutie? I didn't get the message, if so.”

Katie took a step back, dodging the hand, and shook her head. “Look, there isn't time to explain. There's a shuttle that left yesterday and I need us to be on top of it.”

The two affini in the room laughed. “Honey, we're in a gravity well. The arcs aren't turning. Even if we wanted to do that we'd have to get everybody on the ship to tie things down, and that's a lot of disruption for one little floret, no matter how cute!”

Katie did not manage to avoid the next set of headpats. She endured them for half a second before glaring upwards with a look that made Wing want to run for the hills. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Please oh no.

“I'm not a floret,” Katie insisted. “No one affini is responsible for me, and so as I understand it, all of you things are kinda responsible for me. If I don't get on board that shuttle right now I'm going to be irreparably harmed and I know you won't let that happen so cut the shit and get jumping.”

Prickle looked over at the other affini—Avium, if Wing was right, which she always was—with a sudden seriousness. Oh no.

Avium knelt at Katie's side with a frown and a piercing gaze. “Cutie, we really need more to go on than that.”

“No you don't. We're like twenty thousand light years out and the Jump range of a shuttle can't be very big, so I doubt you've had any trouble keeping track of where it is. The Jump range on this drive is going to be better. It was stupid to go out in a shuttle at all, it'd take months to get back to Affini space and you fuckers let my affini leave on one.”

Avium leaned back, glancing between the other occupants of the room. Looking for help. Wing shrugged. She was pretty sure Avium understood a little of her language. “Don't look at me, I'm just a pet. I can't be held responsible for this.”

Apparently Prickle had learned a few words, too, because she grinned down at Avium and chirped “Don't look at me, I'm not the chief around here, chief. I can't be responsible either.”

Katie looked satisfied, as if she'd expected something just like this. “Take me to my affini and I'll forgive you,” she insisted.

Avium looked around for help again and found even less. He opened his mouth several times before finding a response. “I thought we'd be in charge when I first got here,” xe mumbled. “Okay, okay. Fine. Uh. Wing, you know how to send shipwide broadcasts, right? If we can get everyone to prepare for it we can probably actually do this. Somebody tell the captain, too, she'll probably want to kno—”

Xe glanced up. “Ah, speak of the level.” A slightly out of breath Felicia Hautere had just entered the room. That would be Wing's rescue, then.

“Apologies, it took a moment for the clerk to find us. What's going on?”

Katie whirled around, then spent a moment squinting. “Do I know you?”

Felicia looked the girl up and down. “I don't think so, but some of my memories are fuzzy. We might have met at work, maybe, if you were on ships.”

Katie seemed to consider and then dismiss that. “Okay, whatever, it doesn't matter. There's a shuttle somewhere between us and Affini space and I need to be on it.”

Felicia raised an eyebrow. There was one person on this entire ship who could make her do anything she didn't want to and Rosaceae wasn't here. “I'm not sure who you are, so I'm guessing you're the new girl, but there are over five thousand people on this ship and you are facing overwhelming force. We're going nowhere unless you can give me a very good explanation.”

Katie nodded. “I'm not using force. This isn't fighting. My affini is on that ship and I need her.”

The captain's pet looked up to the ceiling and emitted a deep, beleaguered sigh. After a long moment, she looked back down. “Urgh. And here I was thinking we were done with all of this. Wing, go send an alert. Avium, ready us for a jump. You—” She pointed at Katie— “Come with me. No arguments. You two have given Rosa enough stress already and you are not spoiling her lunch.”

Wing busied herself at the nearest terminal. It took a little while to figure out how to word the message.

Hello shipmates!! Wing Vidalii, Third Floret here again! We've got a little bit of an incident ongoing at the moment, and if we want to reunite a cutie with her lost affini we're going to have to do a jump back out into space pretty soon! Please please pretty please hit the button there when you're ready, and then we'll be off! Let me know if you can't and we'll sort it out!!!

Wing wasn't worried about anybody minding. There were few things that would convince a ship full of affini more thoroughly than needing to reunite somebody with their pet. It took maybe half an hour before Wing was staring down a full complement of ready signals. She held on tight to a handhold and gave Avium a nice, unambiguous flash of approval. He hit a button. Like most jumps, Wing didn't feel a thing, though unlike most, all the gravity disappeared in an instant. She hung on to the handle. Wing did not like microgravity.

After a few seconds, the whole ship seemed to shake. Wing yelped. That didn't usually happen. She looked towards the room's affini in a panic and received a generous helping of patting and scratches from them both, and then a gentle tug away from the handhold. If one of them wanted to hold her Wing wasn't about to complain.

“Don't worry about it, cutie,” Prickle said, running her hand through Wing's little tentacles. “Remember, we're not on the arcs here. No suspension, we get to feel all the shocks. Let's get one of the cameras up so you can see...”

A pair of Prickle's vines tapped at the controls to the terminal Wing had been using, bringing up one of the ship's forward facing cameras. It showed a small shuttle hanging in empty space. As they watched, one of the Elettarium's freshly rebuilt cargo/boarding chutes shot forward, spiking straight through the hull and disabling it.

Wing knew Montsechia was going to have strong feelings about this. Whether it was pride or disappointment, however, remained to be seen.

Thatch emitted a low, grinding growl, face moving through surprise towards frustration at a rapid pace. The surprise, at least, was understandable. Over the last thirty seconds, Thatch had gone from alone to having Katie clambering down a boarding chute towards her. “What are— Katie, what do you think you are doing? Leave me be. You do not want anything to do with me.”

The shuttle was much like the one that Katie had ridden to get to the Elettarium in the first place, with the slight difference that it was also tugging a habitation unit along behind it. Or, it had been, anyway. With a ten foot wide hole in the hull it was no longer doing much of anything. Lights flickered, life support tried and failed to re-engage, and any ability to navigate seemed entirely non-operational.

Thatch's shape had taken on hostile angles. Vines stretched out to anchor her against handholds and around solid pieces of the ship's architecture. Her movements were discordant, exuding danger in a language that skipped words and spoke straight to the animal core of Katie's self. Despite her certainty, Katie couldn't help but shy away.

“Don't pretend to really care what I want, Thatch,” Katie snapped, clinging on to her own handhold tightly enough her knuckles were going white. “You ran away without even talking to me about it! You owe me more than that!”

Her affini glanced around. There was nowhere to go. The only escape from the broken shuttle was the boarding tube, and Katie blocked the way. Thatch emitted a dull groan, almost like the roar of a great monster, but deeper. Sharper. Far more dangerous.

“Of course I care,” she hissed. “I have never let you hurt yourself before and I will not let you do it now. I am not good for you, Katie. You will be best off if I simply disappear and spare you the temptation.” Thatch's body moved at sharp angles, more than a few thorns bared.

Katie bared her teeth. Even after all this, she wasn't penetrating Thatch's idiocy. Katie called Thatch's bluff, hauling herself forwards into a danger she knew wasn't truly there. She sailed through microgravity. “That isn't your choice to make. If you just run away then what do you think happens to me? Do you think I'll suddenly stop caring about you? I won't! I don't understand what you're doing. Tell me what I'm missing. Give me a hint?”

Thatch knocked her aside with a vine. It was a gentle sweep but it still sent Katie tumbling and she had to scramble to find another handhold to steady herself. “I will break you,” Thatch growled. “I can not take you. I am sorry that I have screwed up so badly that you will chase me across the galaxy to throw yourself at me, but I can not take a pet.”

Katie clung to her perch, breathing heavily. “Thatch, you are really, really dumb. Shut up and listen to me. I do not want to be your pet. Stop blaming yourself for things you haven't done and talk to me.”

A silence fell over the shuttlecraft. The violence in Thatch's stance seemed to bleed away over long moments, leaving her looking awkward and confused. She opened her mouth to ask a question a few times before figuring out anything to say. She sighed. Almost begged. “You are not capable of fighting me, Katie. You will lose yourself and you cannot stop me. If you throw yourself at my heel I will crush you under it.”

“I don't want to be your pet. I don't want to take your name. I don't want to lose my agency. The idea terrifies me. Sure, the drugs feel nice, and the comfort is good, but in case you hadn't noticed—” Katie threw her arm out behind her, to the boarding tube— “You brought me somewhere where all that and more is just given to me. I can get drugs delivered to my door. I can get somebody to come around and keep me company whenever I want. There is a line of people who want to be my friend.”

Thatch slowly pulled her vines back into her body, one at a time. Even like this, she was larger than life. “Then why are you here? Why will you not simply let me leave without... this? Have I not done enough harm, that you must force me to hurt those around me more?”

Katie took a deep breath. She didn't speak for long moments, not because she was lost for words, but because she'd typed them out in so many unsent messages they felt sharp just to think about. “Because I have everything I want and I'm still not happy. I've spend days pouring through the records. You have translated copies of the works of more species than I thought could exist. I've talked to the archivist. I've tried to build something new. Things are stable, and I'm not happy.”

Katie stared Thatch down. “And neither are you.”

The plant laughed, but she could hardly argue the point. “So you want us to be unhappy together? Katie, I cannot stand the sight of you,” she hissed. “You are the latest in a long line of my failures. Go away and leave me be. There is nothing more for us to discuss.”

Katie shook her head, firmly. “No. You're just like me. You're just like all of us dumb creatures of the universe. We all do this. What you're doing right here. Every sapient species you have on record. We're all desperate for purpose, and it's bullshit. We're animals. Animals don't have a purpose, we just are. We— Humanity hunted for a reason so hard and for so long that they reached the stars and found it was all for fucking nothing, and so they just kept looking. We aren't for anything. We fought and killed and argued because we couldn't agree on why we were fighting, killing, and arguing. We were for nothing, yet we never stopped looking. You're right here in the mud with me doing the same damn thing.”

Thatch bared sharp teeth. “I cannot change that. I can only try to protect you.”

Katie pushed off of her handhold. Not fast enough to be a threat. Slow enough to take her time to reach the affini.

“Why are you so afraid of me, Thatch? I know you couldn't save Caeca. I know something happened with Cici's people. I know that nobody back on that ship even knows you. I don't know what you're running from, but please don't run from me. I know you couldn't save them all, Thatch. Just save me? I need you.”

Thatch reached out with a hand to meet Katie as she arrived. She wrapped it around one of Katie's and held tight. The girl stared into Thatch's quivering eyes. “Please.”

“You do not know what you are asking,” Thatch whispered. “Katie, I do not know how to save myself, never mind you. I do not trust myself with you. I would go too far and you cannot stop me.”

Katie brought up her other hand, sandwiching Thatch's between hers. “I'll learn. You need me. I can help, but you have to work with me here.”

Thatch wanted to look away. Her song was halting, a staccato beat in place of something that was supposed to flow smoothly. “You don't know what I want to do to you,” she whispered.

“I know you're worried about that. We'll work on it together, yeah? Me and you. We'll make sure it doesn't happen. You won—”

Thatch growled, knocked Katie's hands away from her own with a casual gesture, and grabbed the girl's neck. Katie yelped with the last of her air, suddenly held away from any surface she could reach in an inescapable grip. “I would remake you,” Thatch hissed, straight into the girl's face. “And you would like it. Do you have any idea what this is like for me, Katie? This isn't a fear, it's a promise. It's what I want. You speak of equality because you do not know what I am. I cannot be equals with something I cannot help but control.”

Thatch began to squeeze, staring down into Katie's eyes with an impassionate gaze. Katie could feel each finger tight against her neck, adding pressure until she couldn't even force through a cry, but not the slightest touch more. Taking Katie's body to its breaking point, precisely. “I want to tear you down into parts and put you back together how I want you.”

Thatch swung her other arm to the side, extending a wide array of flowers in all shapes and sizes as she did. Half of them had injectors. The other half seemed to almost blur the air around them with the potency of their scent.

“I can do it. I know how you work. I know what makes that little brain tick. It doesn't matter what you want, Katie. It doesn't matter what scares you. You've spent so long trying to find out who you are and it brought you straight to me, and I don't have to care. I could make you anything,” she growled. Thatch whirled around, slamming Katie into the hull of the shuttle hard enough to rattle her bones and pressed a sharp needle to her arm. “I could make you so afraid of me you'd never stop running. I could make you love me. I could make you hate me, but burn with a need so hot you'd beg to stay.”

Nothing actually pierced Katie's skin. Aerosols surrounded her in a thick haze, but Thatch had her throat held so tight that Katie couldn't breathe it in.

“You do not want to be near me. I have rarely lied to you but when we first met, I told you that nobody here wanted to take your identity away from you. I would. I would have you to be mine and nothing more and nobody could stop me.”

Katie was clearly struggling to breathe, but she wasn't fighting. She raised her hands to her own throat and helped Thatch press. After a moment, thin vines pulled her wrists away and she was left gasping for breath. Thatch tried to pull her hand back, but Katie yanked one of hers from a hesitant vine and grabbed hold. It took long moments before Katie had the breath to speak.

I'll stop you. You won't go too far. Trust me on this?”

All movement in the shuttle came to an abrupt halt. Even the subtle music Thatch carried with her wherever she went fell silent.

After a long moment of nothing, Thatch spoke, with the anger torn from her voice. “I don't know what you—”

“Yes you do. We both know you could teach me if you just stopped running from this.” Katie pulled forward, climbing up her affini's body until she could look the creature straight in the eyes. “I don't want to be your fucking pet, Thatch, but both of us are getting what we want and both of us are miserable.” Katie bared her teeth. “Come take what you need. Show me how to give it to you.”

“I— No, you—”

“—don't want this. Yes, I've said. Change my fucking mind. Your pretty speech doesn't scare me. If you need me to suffer, then here I am, but at least let me be doing it for you. Give me a purpose, Thatch.”

The affini opened her mouth to protest, but nothing came out.

Katie jabbed a thumb into Thatch's leafy chest. “Make me make you happy, you utter fuck. I know you can do it. The only time in my life I've felt worth a damn was when I was stuck on that rock with you. It wasn't just the drugs, it wasn't just the kindness, and it wasn't just the support. I have all that now and it's not enough. I need you. You didn't have to make me love you. I already do.”

A dawning horror spread across Thatch's face. She backed away, soon finding herself cornered against the glass. She shook her head. When she managed to speak, her voice was tiny, strained. “I am not worth this. You could be so much more.”

Katie's hand found Thatch's cheek, forcing their eyes together. “I will be. I trust you. I'll want this. I'll be better when I'm yours. Don't let me have a choice about that. Please, Thatch. Please.”

“You'll be like Caeca,” Thatch breathed. “Just a shell.”

“Is that what you want me to be?”

Thatch looked around, panicked, but Katie's firm hand brought her head back around, eyes fixed in place. Thatch's lips quivered. A distinctly human expression. “Yes,” she admitted. “But I want to fill that shell.”

Katie's face softened into a smile, and she pulled herself in to hug around Thatch's neck. “Good. I'm yours. Teach me.”

Thatch hesitated for just a moment longer. Four powerful vines extended from behind her back and grabbed Katie's limbs, pinning her in place against the side of the shuttle. Thatch took a deep breath. Katie felt a sharp pain against her neck.

“Tell me to stop. Please,” Thatch whispered. “Just one word.”

“Green.”

Thatch's lattice quivered, pulling tight and squirming all over. “I... I would need your help. I cannot do this alone.”

“You have it. Take what you want. Just don't ever let me regret this.”

Katie felt the pain recede as whatever Thatch had just injected into her neck began to spread.

“I need you to fight me,” Thatch growled. “I'll show you how. Stop me from going too far.”

With dying scraps of sobriety, Katie gave a tiny nod. She didn't want this. It wasn't hard to find the energy to fight it. All she had to do was ignore the burning certainty in her gut that Thatch knew better, and that was easy now that Katie knew that whether she believed it would make no difference to the outcome. The fire in her heart that pushed her to keep fighting, to keep struggling for just one more day, burned as hot as it always had. She couldn't have survived life without it.

She could feel her mind going fuzzy. She couldn't see anything beyond what was straight in front of her. Her skin burned with need. The leaden weight that had been holding her down crumbled and fell. Katie squeezed shut her eyes and whimpered. She couldn't budge Thatch's vines an inch, no matter how she pulled.

Katie's confidence was wavering. How was she meant to put up any kind of resistance to this? Her body begged for touch, and her mind begged for comfort. It was all she could do to not break down with pleading desperation. She needed this. It barely mattered that she would be broken if the journey there was the bliss she so desperately needed.

Katie felt a finger brush over her cheek. “I know,” Thatch whispered. She seemed so close, but Katie couldn't even open her eyes. All she wanted to do was stretch towards the source of the voice in eager worship, and she couldn't. She was held away. “I know this is hard. I...”

Thatch took a deep breath. She was so close Katie could feel the air rushing past her body. “I know you can do this. For me. Focus. You have felt this drug before, you know what it does. Fight it for me.”

Katie opened her mouth, but only for a tiny gasp. This was the least of her challenges, and she was faltering. Katie didn't want to face the universe by herself, but that wasn't the point here, was it? She needed Thatch to not be alone in her struggles. She couldn't do that if she wasn't around. She couldn't do that if she was so wrapped up in submission that she lost herself altogether. There had to be another way. For Thatch.

The desperate need for touch didn't lessen, but it was easier to resist, with the right framing. She wanted to feel soft hands over her every inch, but Katie could have gotten that elsewhere. It was Thatch she needed, and Thatch needed Katie focussed. She gritted her teeth and breathed. Katie forced herself to stop reaching for touch. She forced herself to go slack in Thatch's firm grip.

“I'm— I think I'm good,” she whispered. This wasn't going to be too bad. She'd convince Thatch that she was capable of resistance. They could go back to being friends, just... good friends, with more touching.

“I shall be the judge of that,” came Thatch's answer, breathed like whispers on the wind straight into Katie's ear. Her back arched, desperate shiver echoing down her spine. It took seconds, but Katie got herself back under control. “Hmn. Very well.”

Katie felt a palm stroking down her cheek. Vines moving along her arms. A hand pressed against her chest.

“Be happy.” Katie smiled.

“Be sad.” Katie frowned.

“No. I need you to fight this, Katie.” Thatch's voice wavered. “I do not...”

Katie forced away the feelings as best she could and pressed open her eyes. She couldn't let Thatch down. If Katie failed here, she'd never be able to forgive herself. “Tell me how, please,” she gasped, between waves of feeling Katie could recognise as being not her own, but could not fight. “How does it work? Teach me.”

Her affini took one last moment of insecurity, then nodded. “Tell me, Katie, when you hear a song you like do you tap your foot to the beat?”

“I- Yes, I think?” Katie let out a groan. Holding on at all was already so hard. How was this a useful question? “Can't you just tell me the answer?”

No, of course not. That was the whole point. Thatch raised an eyebrow. She expected a better answer than that. Katie had to give her one. “Y- yes, I always have. I used to listen to more music when I was younger, and I'd kind of align to it? Walk in time with it, do stuff at its tempo, stuff like that.”

Thatch still didn't respond. She kept her eyebrow raised, exuding patience. Katie knew that look from dozens of moments from their discussions on the secrets of the universe and everything else besides. It wasn't enough for Katie to merely answer the question, she needed to understand why it had been asked. Thatch thought Katie had enough information to figure something out.

There were too many distractions. The four vines holding Katie squeezed in a slightly disjoint pattern. Thatch's palm remained on her cheek, but the fingers were drumming a subtle beat.

One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four.

Why did this seem so familiar?

One, two, three, four.

Where had she heard this before?

Everywhere. It was in Katie's gait, it was in her breathing, it was the pattern she tapped when her hands were idle. It wormed into her head. Cadence. Rhythm. Beat. It was the beat to which Thatch spoke. The rhythm with which she walked and moved. The cadence of her body's heat and growth.

Katie's mouth slightly opened. She dampened dry lips with a dry tongue and coughed. “The... your trick, it's... it works the same way?”

Thatch's smile grew wider, but more importantly than that, it grew true. “Yes! Yes, it does. More complicated and subtle than any song could ever hope to be, but... hazardous to your mind. You must resist it or you will lose yourself in me entirely.”

It was the right answer, but it wasn't enough of an answer. Just knowing how it worked was insufficient. Katie had to know how it could be fought. She looked up at her smiling friend. The smile was like sunshine on her skin, like happiness in her heart.

Like a sixth sense in her head, telling her how to feel and how to act.

“I can fight it,” Katie whispered.

“Then be happy,” Thatch demanded. Katie felt the tug on her heartstrings, demanding she feel a certain way. She could hardly avoid feeling happy with Thatch's touch on her soul, but she could fight down the smile. She could keep her head, to a point.

“Good. Be sad.” That was harder to deal with. Katie felt her heart sinking. Her morale weakening. Her resistance splintered, but held. She forced a smile to her face. If this was the worst Thatch could throw at her then Katie would be okay.

“Very good. I think we are ready to stop practicing, then. Remember to fight me.”

Thatch's vines let go, and her affini reached out to grab Katie by the neck. She was held away from the walls, away from anything she might get a grip on, held up towards the broken ceiling of the shattered shuttle. Thatch looked up with a smile. Katie couldn't help but smile back. She literally couldn't help it. She felt a vicious spark in her chest and a deep excitement in her stomach. Fear ran through her veins, it just wasn't her fear. The fire in her heart was faltering, on the verge of going out altogether.

Even with the beginnings of an understanding of what was happening to her, Katie couldn't fight it. The emotions pressed down on her too heavily. Thatch felt so loudly that Katie couldn't help but be washed away.

“I can't fight this,” Katie whispered. “I'm trying, and I can't. I'm slipping.”

Katie's grin grew wider in perfect time with her captor's. “That is exactly why I told you to try. Basic materials science, flower. Things which do not flex under pressure break instead. You, delightful creature that you are, bend to me like you were made for it. But that won't break you, and I need you broken. Otherwise, you'll always just bend back.” Thatch brought Katie down until their faces were practically touching. She whispered, insistent. “Do not flex under this pressure, pet.”

How could Katie not? Now that she knew the trick, the effect was impossible to ignore. Impossible to fight. Thatch's emotions washed over with irresistible force. Katie gritted her teeth. Biological rhythms? Her body operated on autopilot most of the time, but that could be overridden. She focused on her breathing, trying to hold it in her own pattern. Something unnatural, something that couldn't possibly have been imposed. Two long breaths, then three short, alternating the counts each cycle. Artificial, something that took concentration to maintain. It helped. She could feel the pressure that threatened to wash her away become something she could more easily bear. Something she could start to resist. The flames of independence began to rise in Katie once again.

Thatch grinned. Katie didn't.

“There we go. Such a good girl. Let's try again. What are you, underneath it all, Katie?” Thatch's grip was absolute. Katie tried to force herself free, but she couldn't move Thatch's fingers in the slightest. What was it she'd said? If they didn't flex under pressure, then they would break? Katie tried hammering the knuckles, hoping to find a weak point.

Thatch laughed. “Clever thinking, but that rule is for you, not me. My body would bend before it broke, but we both know that you had your one chance at bending me and the second you failed you were destined to be mine. What are you?”

“I— I don't know!” Katie squeaked out between gasped breaths. “I haven't figured that out!”

Thatch shifted her grip so that she could flex her thumb and force Katie's chin to rise. “Do you need a hint?” she sang. By the stars, her voice was beautiful. Katie didn't need tapping fingers to show her the rhythm. She never had.

Three deep breaths, two short.

“You said nobody would tell me what I was,” Katie insisted. “You said I'd get to choose for myself!”

Thatch's low chuckle hammered at Katie's resolve. “You surrendered that right when you gave me permission to make you mine. Your thoughts aren't yours to think any more.” Thatch savoured the moment, watching Katie squirm as she rattled through a rapidly shortening list of options for resistance.

The affini grinned, whole body shuddering. She let out a thrilled gasp, focus burning down into Katie's eyes. “You're so close, darling. Do you not feel it? You have been humming a single tune your entire life. You know it better than anything, because it is you. The way you move, the way you breathe, the way you think. Can you hear that tune now?”

Katie shook her head, quietly.

“Oh, it is there, still. In the way you resist. In the way you fight. In your desperate grasps for independence.” She brought a hand up to Katie's chest, just over the heart. “But it is getting quiet. You are so close to silencing it.”

Thatch slowly turned around, pressing Katie into the shuttle wall and stepping close, to hem her in. “What are you?” she asked. Thatch only ever repeated a question when she was trying to show Katie she already knew the answer, but Katie didn't.

“I don't know, okay?! How could I possibly know? How could I possibly have figured that out?”

“Well, let us approach the problem systematically. Are you human?” Thatch asked. One hand was still at Katie's neck, holding her against the wall, but the other was free to stroke the hair out of her face and soak up the sweat from her brow. Every touch sent Katie's fire surging with fear and indignation.

Katie shook her head. Thatch patted it. “Good girl. That song you have inside of you, the one you can only barely hear. It comes from Terra. You made it your own, but you could only ever sing within your cage. Focus on it. Try to hear it. Try, for me,” Thatch insisted.

Two deep breaths, three short. The rapid beating of Katie's heart. The frantic pattern of thoughts even now trying to figure out how she could get out of this. The desperate burn within. How could these invaders be repelled? How could the horrors they wanted to perpetrate be argued against? That little kernel in the back of Katie's head that would never accept that what they were doing could be right screamed.

She shook her head. “I don't know. I can't— I don't know.”

Thatch gave a dissatisfied grunt. “No. Let me show you.”

Her human form dissolved. She fell forward onto Katie, a thousand vines seeking to wrap every part of the girl's body and hold her tight and still. Katie felt powerful, warm growth covering every inch of her skin, worming under clothing and tearing it free from the far ends of her toes all the way up to her neck and then further still, enveloping her head as well. She was blinded, thrown into silence, surrounded by a cocoon.

She was deposited into a void. Her body was held tightly, but with such precision that she could barely feel the binds.

Nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide. No distractions. There was no possible way out of this other than giving Thatch what she wanted, so the only way to fight was to answer the question. Who was she? Who was the Katie she wanted to be?

Katie felt the fire burning in her heart, urging her to keep struggling, keep fighting. She'd drawn on that fire all her life just to keep going, just to keep trying. It wouldn't fail her now. The entire Terran Accord hadn't broken her, she could handle one plant.

The flame warmed her. It flickered with hot desperation and a cold anger in a choreographed dance that had forced her to survive all that had come before. Every hardship, every traumatic event, every little struggle on the way here as Katie had fought for the self-determination she knew she wanted most. If she could just fight this little bit more, maybe she'd get there.

Maybe she wouldn't. She'd been burning hot her entire life and there was so little left to fuel it. Fighting this creature was just an extension of the fight she'd been having since the day she was born. She was burning out. She'd been burning out for a long time.

She needed an answer. Thatch kept talking about a song, but Katie heard nothing. Just the fire. Just the pain. Maybe Thatch had been right, and there could never be true understanding between them. They were simply too different.

Yet.

Katie strained her ears and there was nothing.

Nothing but the flame.

Like any emotion, it was part of her. It rose and fell with her. It ebbed and flowed with the breathing of her soul. It sang, in a way, if she listened hard enough, in the right way, and as it did Katie began to understand.

“I hear it,” Katie whispered. Herself. The music in her heart, when all else was silent. Katie, when allowed to sing inside of the cage that was existence in an uncaring universe. With nothing else surrounding her she could finally hear what she was, underneath it all. She heard the song deep within her heart, kept in time by its beating and the cadence of her body and the rhythm of her mind. Katie's song. Her.

It was mournful. Angry. Sad. A chorus of regrets set to a tune that never quite reached its crescendo. It felt jumbled and vague. This was what she'd been fighting so hard to keep? The identity she'd struggled her entire life to find? It was small. It didn't really fit together. This was what she had been looking for? This was what she'd been letting burn her up?

What was she? This? This was futile. Yet she held on to it all the same, clutching tight to something that no longer felt worth all the sacrifices. What else could she do? The fire burned too hot to reach anything beyond it. Katie had been wrong. Thatch did understand her. Katie had set her heart ablaze just to survive in the cold, but Thatch was showing her another way. She could let herself cool, let herself be warmed from the outside in, and let her heart sing instead of burn.

“What are you?” Thatch asked, from all around her. The affini's song was rich, layered, intricate. Catchy beyond belief. Without active effort, Katie was sure that she'd be humming it, but it would always clash with the misery she held so tightly. She couldn't bring herself to listen, not truly, while her own music played alongside.

“I'm just broken,” she whispered, to her own halting tune.

What even was this that she held so tight? Some essential Katie that she'd always thought that she could be if only the world would stop imposing? Something she had reached for for years, hoping that if she simply kept trading herself away, what was left over at the end would somehow be worth it? She had found that end, now. She could be this. She was this.

Thatch's vines grew tighter, binding her in totality. Katie struggled and fought with all her strength in every way she could imagine. She couldn't twitch a finger. She couldn't open her mouth. She couldn't even open her eyes. No matter how she struggled, she couldn't do a damn thing that Thatch didn't want.

“No.” Thatch spoke to her from every direction. Her body pulsed with gentle heat. The small buds along her vines began to glow in time to all else. Katie's binds squirmed, finding Thatch's warmth and rhythm and sticking to it, forcing it into Katie's body through every inch of her desperate flesh. “Try again.”

Katie whimpered. Three short breaths, three long ones. Or... no, that wasn't it, she—

Katie fought against her restraints. She had to move. The vines were clamped down around her chest, making it impossible to breathe out of turn. Only her heartbeat was out of Thatch's direct control. The final home for the last of Katie's song. The burning fire that was her strength of will.

“I... I am... I... I can't... Please...” Katie struggled to find the words. She kept her mind focused on the beating of her heart. On keeping her own time. Feeling the searing heat of her own independent spirit. It felt so insignificant next to what surrounded her. How was this any different to holding onto all the other foul, desperate things humanity had internalised within her?

“You can do it,” Thatch whispered. There was no malice here. Just a promise of safety and understanding. Just warmth and a song. Something more fair and real than humanity had ever offered. Katie clutched tighter still to the last piece of herself that she truly had. Thatch was reaching out to her, but the fire was too hot and neither of them could breach it. It was one thing that this plant couldn't erase. She clung to it with all her might, and—

Katie felt something crack deep inside. Broken notes and shattered music drowned out the flames and Katie was plunged into cold silence. Her heart stopped. Literally, she feared. She could feel herself ebbing away. She could feel the light leaving her eyes. The song inside of her had gone silent. The fire was out. She had nothing. She was nothing.

Thatch's vines squeezed in a slow pattern, starting at the bottom of her toes and slowly moving up. She was everywhere. Reaching out. “That's a good girl,” Thatch whispered. “Just let it go. Forget it. Come to me.”

Katie let out a long, slow wail. She wanted to curl up into a desperate little ball, but no matter how she pulled or how she fought, Thatch held her tight in an unbreakable embrace. No escape. “Why do I feel so empty?” Katie whispered, with a voice tiny and weak. Dying out, like her, now there was no driving force left within.

Thatch was releasing her, slowly, from the top of Katie's head on down. It still felt like her heart hadn't started back up, but that couldn't possibly be true. Her affini was reforming with them both at floor level. Thatch knelt, with one set of fingers resting on Katie's chest, feeling for the beat, and the other tightly clutching both of Katie's hands.

“You always have been.” Thatch replied, with a voice full of music. Katie could only truly hear it now that she was silent, but somehow, she had known what it would sound like even before the affini had opened her mouth. It was beautiful. “Life has never before allowed you to stop and consider what you really are, underneath it all. Do not despair. Just let me in. Let me take care of everything. I can fix you.”

“I don't want to be like this any more,” Katie admitted. Her imprecise human tongue could never hope to reproduce the majesty of Thatch's beat. She tried anyway. She had no other song to sing. “Please. Help me?”

“What are you?”

A complicated question. Katie had been reaching for the answer for so long that she didn't know what to do with herself now that she'd found and lost it. All she could do was review the evidence arrayed before her like Thatch had taught.

Katie had been searching for what felt like her entire life for who she really was, once everything else got out of the way. Once she was no longer having her head messed with by a rotten civilisation, by the trauma of capitalism, by alien invaders, or even by Thatch. That seemed like it had been such a futile effort in the end. What had been the point?

She could never exist without imposition. Thatch had proved that to her. She'd been given the space she needed to find what lay deep beneath and it had been small and sad. Katie needed to be more than that. The imposition wasn't holding her back. It was holding her up.

Warm fingers that entwined with Katie's own squeezed, drawing her attention back to the affini sitting by her side with a soft smile and twinkling eyes. Katie felt happy when Thatch was the one guiding her. Katie felt happy when she was getting to help. Katie felt happy when she imagined bringing a smile to the affini's face. The song in Thatch's heart wasn't small, or sad, or futile. It filled her, endlessly, with a pattern so deep she could never get bored yet so memorable she could never forget.

“I don't know,” Katie admitted, finally. “I need your help to find out.”

She finally felt the beating of her heart once more, thumping away with Thatch's comforting cadence. Katie felt herself finally able to begin to relax. She squeezed Thatch's hand back, tight. She could stop.

Her affini let out a long, slow breath. Her leaves shivered and Katie could feel her excitement, right down to the bones. They smiled, together, as one. It wasn't Katie following Thatch's lead, as if her identity had been snuffed out. She took her place as another instrument in Thatch's orchestra, playing her song in a whole new way.

Katie understood what it meant to fight, now. Not pointless, futile resistance, as Terra demanded, but simple contrast. She didn't need to ruin Thatch's music to be herself, she just had to provide her own accompaniment.

Thatch fell upon her in a tight embrace, with all the hardness and sharp edges stolen away to leave only soft gratitude. “You are mine. My Katie,” she hissed, holding Katie so tight that she could hardly breathe, but not a hair tighter. Her affini took another deep breath, though she really didn't need to, just so she could fill Katie's world with the gentle, comforting scent of her owner. “You're my beautiful little pet. I love you so much, Katie. You won't regret this.”

Katie found herself hugging back. She couldn't reach all around Thatch's body, but it didn't matter. “You won't let me,” she insisted. The thought wasn't as scary as it should have been. Thatch's doing, she was certain, but she'd given up her ability to fight that off when she'd let the fire in her heart die out. She didn't need to burn herself just to survive any more. She could simply sing.

The hug could never have lasted for long enough. Stars could have lived and died and still Katie would have felt regret when the time came for it to end. There was so much to make up for. So much need filling her diminutive form.

Katie didn't feel like she was any different, or at least she didn't think that she did. She still felt like herself as much as she ever had. More than, maybe. Even so, it was hard not to recognise that her priorities had changed. Thinking back even just a day was heartbreaking. Imagining herself back in a position where she thought she'd be without Thatch forever was like imagining death. It had the same desperate existential dread attached. Katie's brain wanted to shy away in self-defense.

She let it. That seemed like something to tackle later, if at all. Today was a happy day.

If Katie started thinking back over longer periods it was difficult to avoid noticing that her actions were less and less relatable the further back she went. She knew she'd recognised a kind of futility in the rebellion during her last days involved, but how had she been so blind as to not see the truth? Resistance didn't make any sense. It was the panic of a cornered animal. There was no justification for it. It was biting the hand that fed her because she was too hungry to accept the gift politely.

Katie wanted to shift her head so she could look up at her plant—her plant—but she needed the hug to be so tight that she couldn't move, and so she didn't get to. That was okay. She wasn't a cornered animal any more. There was a kind of serenity in this. Those deep parts of Katie's mind that would never fall quiet—demanding she obey all her base instincts—weren't silent, but they were easier to ignore. The instincts were still there, but there was a hierarchy now.

Katie had seen the diagrams, though like many things humanity had created they'd stopped just before the end. She had needs: Biological necessities, sustenance, and a brain that worked; safety and security; love, care, and intimacy. She needed a feeling of confidence and achievement, and she needed avenues for self-actualisation. Humanity had figured all that out, though it had not then gone so far as to actually provide it.

Katie mentally appended another need. It broke the diagrams, which usually arranged things in a particular order, but this one was both a deeper need than physical necessity and a higher need than self-actualisation. Purpose. Belonging. To know that she existed for a reason, and to have a warm, soft certainty in the back of her mind that because she did everything would be okay whether she wanted it to be or not. Without that all the rest seemed pointless. With it, Katie's other needs were relevant only so she could strive to fulfill that purpose.

Why was she okay with what was clearly a fundamental shift in her priorities? The Katie of a year prior would look upon the Katie of the now with horror and hate. At the same time Katie looked back at that past self through a soft veil of distant confusion and abject pity. Why had she done the things she had done? Katie knew she'd had reasons at the time. She even remembered what they were, they just didn't connect.

Even the Katie of yesterday would look at her with dread. Katie understood that, though. Thatch's teaching and Affini literature—or at least, the pieces they'd seen fit to translate into English/Floret—had given her the framework to understand what had been happening to her even if she hadn't been willing to accept it.

Still. Something deep had changed within Katie and while she didn't mind, she knew that she would have minded before it had been done. That's why she been able to fight it for so long. Thinking about this gave Katie a headache.

She let out a little whimper. No, not fair. The stars hadn't collapsed into nothing yet, she didn't want to move. Thatch's... everything surrounded her, where better could she possibly be?

Fortunately for Katie the answer to that question was now out of her hands. The whimper had already caught Thatch's attention, and Katie felt herself released, albeit begrudgingly. She clung to what she could but all she got was vines squirming out of her grip and a chuckle that warmed the soul.

“Come now, Katie. We can't stay here forever.” They couldn't stay here forever. “You must be exhausted.” She must be exhausted. “Tell me how you're feeling.”

Goddess above, it was like having her heart tugged on by a little set of strings. Was this how all of them felt? Katie hadn't been giddy since she'd been a child, but she felt every word that came out of Thatch's mouth shooting through her mind like an RKV, shattering her thoughts and leaving her as a wasteland of soft, warm happiness.

She was melting. Staring up at a beautiful, half-formed monster while filled with so much desire to answer a simple question she had no room left over to actually do it. She should open her mouth. She really should. By the stars, though, the amused twitch in the corner of Thatch's mouth meshed with a gentle swelling in Katie's sixth sense—the way she'd grown to interpret the endlessly complicated influence Thatch now had over her—to melt her all over again. She could feel the plant's love. Her amusement almost had a texture to it, or a taste, or... she wasn't sure how to visualise it, exactly. Something wry?

Katie could also hear Thatch's fingers snapping right next to her ear. She jumped, suddenly torn back to reality. “Katie, my darling, you are adorable, but have you been forgetting to take your medication?” Thatch's fingers brushed across her cheek and, oh wow was that distracting.

Okay, focus. Focus! Katie blinked a few times, then processed the question. “Uhh... maybe, I can't remember. I think I've taken them at least once?”

Thatch nodded, carefully pulling the rest of her body back together as she returned to her usual form. Her voice was dry, but Katie could feel a richness in it she had only glimpsed before. “To think that I had imagined I could leave you by yourself and have you cope.” Humour, but serious, too. Mild self-deprecation? Katie would have to do something about that. “I am sorry, flower. I should have been honest with you from the start.”

“You never lied to me.”

“No, but I did give you half-truths and omissions. You will forgive me, of course, but I will do better. No more secrets, save for those I truly know you would not wish revealed before the time is right.”

Katie would forgive her. Of course.

Katie winced, and spent a moment rubbing her temple. She really should have kept up with her medication. There was an urge in the back of her mind to simply do as she was told, go along with it. Submerge herself in the music and play, without needing to consider whether what she was doing was right. To obey, if she was honest about it and stripped away all the poetry and metaphor.

“I think I could not forgive you,” Katie realised. “There's a... I want to, right? I think I'd need you to tell me to do something I actually didn't want to before I could gauge how much influence that really has, but it doesn't feel like it would overpower anything I really needed. If I couldn't forgive you yet, I don't think that would make me.”

Katie shrugged. It was a weird motion when hanging in microgravity. “Wow, sorry, this is meant to be romantic and I'm here trying to figure out the details an hour after it happened.” She laughed, mostly at herself. “It doesn't matter whether I wouldn't have before; I forgive you now, hon. Don't forget, it was me who came out here to get you, it's not like you could have done this on your own. You can't take too much blame here.”

Katie grinned. Just because she was an instrument in Thatch's orchestra now didn't mean she couldn't play the plant herself like she was one too. Thatch's eyebrow raised, and a single vine gently pushed Katie into the bulkhead wall, where she could be held effortlessly. “Yes, you did very well, Katie. You should be proud of your achievement.” Despite the lack of gravity, Thatch still chose to mime walking as she approached Katie, putting one hand against the wall beside her head and using the other to roughly ruffle her hair.

“We really should be getting back to the ship, not least so that I can give you your medication and we can get some actual privacy, but...” Thatch glanced over at the boarding tube for a moment. Her vine stiffened, and three more came to pin Katie against the wall entirely. Her hand shifted down to cup the girl's cheek and her head moved alongside her ear, so she could whisper. “You are mine. Your every achievement is mine. You are a tool in my hand and all that beautiful potential is no longer your own. Fight, Katie, and struggle, and play. Argue your case, make jokes at my expense, do whatever it is that you wish. I promise you will never be anything more—or less—than mine, and I need you so desperately to be you, without mitigation. Please, test your binds. I will not allow them to break.”

Katie let out a soft whimper.

She had made a mistake, clearly. Thatch's flirting had driven away her ability to think and left her barely able to do more than gasp before, but now? Katie nodded rapidly. It was savage, sweet comfort. A surgical strike to something deep inside that left her longing. Oh, sweet cosmos, Thatch no longer had reasons to hold herself back and Katie was going to have to get so much better at flirting if she wanted to have a hope of keeping up.

”...yesMa'am.”

“Good girl,” Thatch cooed, letting the vines go slack. “I am going to have so much fun taking you apart.”

This wasn't fair. This was actively unfair. How was Katie meant to deal with this? She didn't stand a chance. She hadn't stood a chance when Thatch had been trying to give her one. There was a power imbalance here and it was deeply unfair and deeply comfortable. For all that, though, Thatch was still absolutely fallible, and Katie hardly felt like she was only here to follow her partner's lead. She gestured her head towards the boarding tube.

“Yes, okay, fine, you are not wrong,” Thatch grumbled. “Though I suppose our first problem is that I seem to have gotten rather carried away and shredded your clothing.” She held up the tattered remains of a Terran Cosmic Navy uniform, the symbol of the resistance. There was a metaphor in there somewhere, though Katie was too distracted to spot it. “Your sizes are on file, I shall go and ask for something that should fit. Be a good pet and stay put.”

Katie had grabbed ahold of Thatch's departing hand before she even realised what she was doing. “Please no?” she asked, voice suddenly serious. “Don't leave me.”

“Katie, I will be gone for under five minutes. It will not take long to have clothing synthesised.”

Katie shook her head and shifted her grip to make herself feel more secure. She ended up with both arms wrapped around one of Thatch's, crossed over to make herself harder to dislodge. “No.”

She wanted to say yes, of course. The urge in the back of her head was there. A low giddiness spawned by the opportunity to obey mixed with a desire to do just that. The idea terrified her all the same. Spending even a second trapped in a silent, lonely shuttle without feeling Thatch's soothing rhythm pressing comfortably against her thoughts was... no. No, no no. She might think something wrong or feel something bad or— Katie clutched onto Thatch's arm with all her strength. “I... I really don't want to be without you? Apparently at all? I dunno. The last week really sucked and feeling like I'd lost you was awful and I can't go back to that I won't, and I guess all my problems aren't magically solved?”

Thatch's face softened. She carefully pried Katie's arms off of hers, but only so the girl could be placed into a hug that was by any measure endlessly more secure than anything Katie could have done on her own. “No,” she agreed. “Solving all our problems will take more than this. Perhaps it is selfish of me to not take away every thought in your head right now, only to give them back one by one as they are fixed, but I would rather we do that together.”

Katie smiled, nodding rapidly. That idea didn't scare her. They'd fix her. She wouldn't be like she was again. “You too, remember? I don't imagine this fixes all of your problems either.”

Their smiles turned bittersweet for a moment. A lull in their shared music. Like any good accompaniment, Katie didn't simply follow. Though hers was the simpler, smaller piece, that didn't mean she couldn't lead at times. Her hand brushed across Thatch's chest as she struggled to find a position from which she could hug back more tightly. “We'll get there. I don't know if you get to feel the same certainty I do that everything'll be okay if we face it together, but...”

A laugh. “That one is coming from me, yes. Come, then, let us face the others as one.” Thatch spent a moment adjusting herself so that she had the slack to wrap Katie in a dress of warm leaves and gentle touch. She emitted a thoughtful hum as she knelt, inspecting it for fit and comfort. Katie couldn't help but blush, feeling Thatch wrapping her in an intimate embrace that she was apparently supposed to be less embarrassing than being naked. It certainly did feel smooth, though. Katie couldn't help but rub her hands along it, at least until she noticed Thatch's smirk and realised who she was stroking.

Katie took an offered hand and Thatch guided them down the zero-gravity tube. Perhaps unsurprisingly, there were a few people on the other side by this point. The woman who'd brought Katie here in the first place was still waiting, hanging in the air a couple inches off of the floor like she was as comfortable in microgravity as any affini. The semi-transparent, tentacled creature who'd come to talk to Katie about her paperwork was there too, though she seemed to only be comfortable because she was clutched in the arms of some new affini Katie had never seen before. They were certainly striking, though, all whites and greys and not a splash of colour to be seen.

The ones who had been responsible for actually guiding the boarding tube were still hanging around, too, though Katie hadn't caught their names the first time around and she was admittedly still distracted.

“Permission to come aboard?” Thatch asked, directing her gaze towards the human Katie hadn't yet caught the name of. She seemed familiar, though Katie couldn't pin down exactly where, and her mannerisms didn't seem like the sort of thing that would fade into the background.

“Granted,” replied the floret. Katie could tell she was a floret. She had that look in her eyes. Katie guessed that she probably did too, now. “You really didn't have to go, you know. I know you fuckers have a god complex, but none of us expect you to be perfect. You're always welcome here.”

Thatch muttered something unintelligible. Katie still needed to figure out what had happened while she hadn't been paying attention, but it was more important to be supportive than curious and Thatch needed the support. Katie pinched a vine and shoved her onwards, forcing her to take a simulated step over the threshold and to nod more clearly. “You are not wrong, Felicia. I am grateful that you came to get me.”

'Felicia' laughed. “Thank that one,” she said, gesturing over at Katie. “She terrified our poor clerk here, and I think the hyperspacial engineers are so smitten they would have taken her if you hadn't.” She paused. Her eyes narrowed, focusing in on Thatch with the kind of intensity that had Katie ready to jump in to defend her. “You are taking her.”

“I am,” Thatch agreed. She knelt down—still miming the action, as there still wasn't gravity—and cupped Katie's cheek. “Thank you for coming to get me, little one. It seems you have made quite an impression here already. Unsurprising, as you are a wonder.”

She stood as if she hadn't just washed Katie's thoughts away again. When had Thatch gotten so smooth? It was like Thatch had changed in an instant, and now every word of praise and every flirt hit like a hypermetric kick.

Or maybe it was Katie who was different. How would she even tell?

“We really must be going, however. Could we have my hab unit reattached at the same address?” Thatch asked, directing her attention to one of the other affini that Katie didn't know.

“Ah, well, about that. I haven't done this on a ship we weren't trying to disable before, so... no. No, we can't. The pieces haven't scattered very far, so it shouldn't be too hard to put back together, but...”

Katie shook her head. “No, that's okay,” she insisted. “Just melt it down or whatever. Thatch, come live with me. Your old place was depressing, mine is cool.”

Katie felt a brief buzz of excitement and pride pressing into her from above and smiled. The hand that landed on her head a moment later was a nice feeling too. This was going to take some getting used to. Katie supposed that in a sense, she'd been getting used to it for some time, but everything hit different now that she knew what was going on. Now she knew she had the comfort of knowing for certain what was happening in her partner's head. Now that Thatch's opinion of her carried all the weight in the universe.

Katie let her eyes fall closed as she leaned into the hand. It was starting to make sense why all the florets were just like this. She managed to look up again and her smile only grew wider. This plant was hers. The others could be nice, they could be interesting, they could be cool, but not one of them could hope to compare to her affini. She got to watch Thatch nodding and having a brief conversation about getting her stuff delivered and she didn't have to pay any attention to anybody else at all. It was nice.

While questions of legal property were soon to become a concern of Katie's past, they were technically talking about Katie's home, not Thatch's. It could have felt bad that nobody asked her questions about it, but Katie soon realised that she was looking at things through a very Terran lens after one of the cargo affini asked Thatch a question she couldn't possibly answer herself.

Thatch reached down, scratched Katie under the chin, told her to answer the nice affini, and Katie understood. If somebody carrying a screwdriver was asked to undo a screw, nobody would expect them to do it by hand. If somebody with a floret was asked a question only the floret could answer, then the same thing happened. Thatch spoke the answer using her. The rest of the time, Katie could drift in and out of the conversation as she needed or wanted to.

Or maybe Katie was getting overly romantic about it. She hadn't expected to suddenly become a hopeless romantic, but she also hadn't expected to ever be giving herself to a space alien. Life threw surprises at you.

As they turned to leave, Katie squeaked. “Wait!” she called, suddenly struck by a need to hurry across the room. Moving around in microgravity was usually a chore, but Katie was technically being carried right now even if her feet were on the floor. She came to a stop a couple feet away from the clerk and, Katie assumed, her owner.

Gosh, these plants sure were big. Katie looked up with a gentle blush and a surprising bout of nervousness. Was she meant to direct the question at the floret or the bloom? Maybe it was polite to ask the affini? June had nudged her down that path, and the others seemed to do so when speaking to her through Thatch. A day before, Katie wouldn't have considered it at all. Speaking around somebody would have seemed simply rude, but...

Well, it had been nice when it had been done to her. She'd been able to check out of the conversation and focus on Thatch up until the point she was actually needed, and knowing she could drift out of a conversation without it seeming rude or causing problems was a kind of comfort Katie hadn't known she'd been craving.

The affini, then. “Hey, uh, I hope I didn't upset your floret too much, Miss...?”

“Montsechia Vidalii, Eighth Bloom, floret,” the affini replied, extending a vine to ruffle Katie's hair. Old instincts had her moving to dodge it, but she realised a moment later she didn't want to and simply smiled as she was petted. “I'm sure we'll all get to be fine friends, Katie, and I'm very glad to see you looking so well. You gave my delicate jelly a bit of a scare, but she's very happy for you.” Wing herself nodded, opening one eye to glance over to Katie. She wasn't carrying her drawing pad, but she was glowing a surprising array of soft pastel colours, if generally warmer ones than she had been earlier.

Apparently it was a kind of language, and one Montsechia could translate. “She says that she's very glad to see you reunited with your Thatch, and is glad you seem to be doing better for it.” Another set of flashes, brighter and more pointed. “She also says that if I don't remind you you have problems with your paperwork, she'll make me come round to your apartment with a stack of forms and a pen.”

“I wouldn't worry about that, though, I can keep her under control.” Katie didn't return Montsechia's smile because of a deep emotional attunement, she returned it because the joke was funny. Montsechia continued. “Thatch should bring you by, though, we'd love to get to meet you two under more casual circumstances.”

Katie nodded. Updating her paperwork seemed less terrifying than it had before. “I can do that... Uh, I expect. Huh, it'll take some getting used to to not be able to make that kind of promise.” The leaves and vines making up Katie's clothing gave her a reassuring squeeze. “Would it be okay if I gave Wing a hug?”

There was a brief negotiation. Wing rapidly flashed bursts of light while her caretaker emulated much the same with coloured leaves quickly flashed through otherwise monochrome foliage . It was probably rude to stare, but Katie couldn't not. The dexterity required to reach those kinds of speed with vines and leaves seemed unbelievable, even by the standards she was used to.

Wing was lowered down to the ground. Katie smiled and got a soft glow in return. “Hey, um, I'm sorry about all that, but thank you for talking to me? I don't know if I would have gotten here quickly enough without your help, and I don't know what I'd have done if I'd been too late here, so...”

Katie pushed forwards and wrapped her arms around Wing for a tight hug. After a moment of surprise, it was returned. Katie didn't expect Wing would be able to perceive speech right now, so she stayed quiet. After a few moments, she felt a gentle tugging and knew it was time to stop. Apparently she was feeling touchy-feely. It was unclear whether she was just like that now or whether it would pass, but that hardly seemed to matter.

“Thank you,” Katie said, once she was back in Wing's field of view. She glanced upwards. “And thank you, too, Miss Vidalii.” She drifted back towards Thatch, though darted to the side to deliver a second, shorter hug to Felicia. Katie deeply suspected that despite the woman's stern demenour she was as soft as any of them. She was still a floret. “Thank you, too. I really appreciate the help. Thank you for stopping by to rescue my fish, too. I'm gonna go try to convince Thatch to stay inside with me for a week straight now, but I promise I'll be more... communicative, I guess?”

The second hug was the last and Katie was quickly reeled back in. Thatch lay a hand on the back of her neck and Katie felt her nervous energy draining away. She wrapped her arms around a leg and sighed. This could have been embarrassing. There was a part of her that demanded that it should be embarrassing. Such public displays of happiness were rude to the miserable people around her, or at least they had been before. If everyone on this ship felt like this then there didn't seem like there was much room for misery left.

...Katie wasn't sure if she was feeling an afterglow, or if she'd just been turned into a more positive person. A large part of her hoped for the latter, though she had to admit that it would make a lot of her old life experiences a lot less useful. That seemed like a worthwhile trade. She didn't want to go back to being like she was. She— Katie took a deep breath and buried her face against Thatch. She didn't need to worry about that.

Thatch handled the practical matters at the end of the conversation with a little encouragement from Katie when she started to slow down, and then they headed home. The cargo chutes were managed from the front of the ship, so there was no way back that didn't involve the efficient magrail system, but neither of them seemed to be in the mood for a long walk anyway. As they were heading back, some kind of intercom chimed and spoke a few unhurried words in what Katie was coming to recognise as Affini. Thatch tapped a button on the wall.

“Apparently the relevant parties are preparing to get the arcs spinning again. Everybody else is ready, but we will need to stay in the pod for a few minutes before it will be safe to exit. You do not mind, hmn?” Katie didn't mind.

Hmn.

Katie relaxed into a gentle hug as they sat in a pod suspended at the edge of the Elettarium's nose cone, looking inwards at the twin arcs of the ship as they slowly began to turn. One went left, the other went right, and the great petals at the far side turned a little slower to balance the slight difference in inertia. It was breathtaking. Katie put her nose against the glass. She'd watched this ship fall from orbit, but it had mostly been static then. It could hang in the air on impossible engines and look magnificent doing it, but it hadn't truly fit. Dirt had not been its home. This was its home.

This was her home.

Thatch brushed her fingers down Katie's back while they watched the two curves cross far above. Each was picking up speed, though given the scale of things Katie expected that even at full tilt a whole rotation would be slow. The hull still seemed to glow like it was in daylight despite their position somewhere in the void of space far from the nearest star. Katie hadn't really been able to see the patterns in any detail from ground level, but she was much closer here.

The whole shell of the ship was covered with an infinity of fractal form, each line crossing the others in something that appeared endlessly complicated and drew in the eye. Katie could have sworn that there was a common shape to it all. Something so deceptively simple that it would explain everything yet just complicated enough that she wasn't seeing it straight away. The spinning didn't help, either. The hull seemed to be designed such that her eye would skip across it as it turned, and each time it did she found a new area with a new pattern that felt as if she could understand it with just a moment's more attention, at least until the turning had her eye shifting again.

Each location went on a stack. Katie wanted to get back to each, figure out the pattern, and continue. She didn't notice the way that each area promised an answer so satisfying she couldn't stop thinking about it even as her mind filled up with more of the same. She rubbed circles on the glass with her nose as she followed the turning of the arcs.

“Feeling good?” Thatch asked. Katie nodded, hardly paying attention. “Enjoying the view?” Katie nodded again. Once she figured out the pattern, she could tell Thatch all about it, and that would be nice. All she had to do was figure it out, and it was right there on the tip of her mind.

“I expect that now you know one of our tricks, you can probably figure this one out too. Or perhaps do you need a little help thinking?” Katie wasn't sure she understood the question. She'd get back to it in a moment, she almost had the answer here. She could turn her attention elsewhere soon. Just not quite yet.

Thatch chuckled. She spent a moment gently scratching Katie's scalp, drawing all manner of coos and gasps from the girl. She'd usually hold it in, but she was a little distracted. The secret to the patterns was right there in front of her, and all she had to do was take it. “The latter, then. I have left you scrambled, haven't I?”

A finger underneath her chin carefully moved Katie's gaze away from the hull. Katie's eyes tried to stay focused on where she'd been looking, but it was soon taken out of her line of sight. She looked up at Thatch, blinking rapidly as she stack of mostly-complete answers to puzzles she didn't understand rapidly unraveled. “Uhm... Uh...” Katie breathed, biting one lip. “I... don't know what happened there,” she admitted.

“Patterns,” Thatch replied, eyes twinkling. “When I told you that this ship had no weapons, that was only true from a certain perspective. In another sense, everything here is carefully designed to draw sweet little things like you in like a goth to a flame.”

Katie squinted. “I'm not sure that's how that saying goes.”

“Yet here you are all the same, a pretty little goth reaching for my heat and light.”

“Yeah, okay then.” Katie laughed. “I'm pretty sure it's 'moth', but...” She leaned into Thatch's side. “You're not wrong. It gets inside our heads, then?”

“Yours more easily than most, it seems, at least at the moment. I may have rather exhausted your mental capacity. It is a curious quirk of my people that we tend to find natural harmony together, both metaphorically and, as I suspect you have noticed, literally. That harmony changes over time, but only slowly. There are many individuals aboard a ship and many ships across the galaxy and many galaxies in the Compact and we cannot all interact with one another. Even the fastest transmission takes years to reach the other side, and this is natural and slow.” Thatch brushed a series of vines over Katie's body as their pod started to move again, finally on the way home. “We take our harmony and work it into the art we make, the things we build, and all the various signals our ships emit.”

“It turns out to be useful. Simply due to the scale of the universe and the speed at which our changes propagate, we give existence a texture. Part us, part you, part diffusion of all who have come before. We carry with us the song of the universe. You will leave your mark on me and that mark will spread outwards to others of my kind. An imperceptible change on its own, but in aggregate it matters. We elevate the creatures of reality and have them echo through the stars.” Thatch smiled, glancing up towards the arcs, and shrugged. “But perhaps I am simply feeling romantic today. I would be remiss to not mention the adorable effect it has on the minds of those creatures. You recognise it; you are drawn to it desperate to understand and explore; yet you can never understand it without our help, which you are often only too eager to receive.”

The pod slid to a stop and the door opened. Thatch patted Katie's butt and the two of them figured out how to disentangle before walking out onto the arc. They were far from the only ones poking their heads out but they were moving with the most purpose, towards Katie's hab. The girl had her focus pointed upwards, trusting she would be led in the right direction. “And once we do have your help?”

Thatch didn't provide an answer, but Katie did feel gentle encouragement brush across her mind. “Something like this?” Katie asked, waving a hand airily between them. “I feel you like it's an instinct?”

“Perhaps. You are my first, but you do seem rather more cognizant of it than most, for whom I suspect it is either more subconscious or at least not something regularly spoken of publicly. I expect most florets are not trained so far away from Affini space, nor in such isolation, and you are, I think, very special in very many ways. Perhaps something to discuss with the friends you are making here.”

Katie had only been experiencing true synchronisation with her new owner for a little while, but she didn't feel brave enough to imagine being without it. She hoped that this was something everybody got to experience. Life felt empty without it.

They arrived. Thatch reached out to grasp the handle on the hab door, but of course it did not open for her. This was Katie's home and she was inviting Thatch inside just as she was inviting Thatch into her life.

It wasn't an independent streak, not really. Katie knew that desire had been burned out of her skull. Maybe there were some affini who were old, wise, and stable enough that they needed nothing from their pets but companionship and warmth. Having met a few of the plants now, Katie doubted it. They seemed as in need of love, support, and security as anybody else, and if they were so generous as to offer theirs to the universe then Katie figured it was only right to return the favour.

She reached out and pulled open the door, then stepped across the threshold and waved her affini inside.

“Welcome home, Thatch.”

The habitation unit entrance slid closed behind Thatch Aquae, Second Bloom. She stood tall, easily the largest thing in the room. The air displaced by the sealing door sent her foliage waving like a tree in the wind, a boneless whole-body shift that exposed the affini's humanity for what it was: a front. An comfortable illusion painted so that humanity would find it easier to relate and thus easier to kneel in submission.

Katie let out a slow breath, staring up.

Thatch had never really put much effort into maintaining that illusion. It had been terrifying at first to watch her body change and reform as she wished. To see her so casually exceed the limitations of a humanesque form without ever slowing down. The first time Katie had seen her it had been as a storm of leaf and thorn that chased her down in seconds. No comfortable illusion there.

During their stay on Dirt, Thatch had maintained a reasonably believable human form perhaps two thirds of the time? Less, if Katie counted sleep, for which an amorphous blob had made a better blanket. Maybe that explained a few things. Katie had come to truly know the Affini not through propaganda or carefully orchestrated ambassadors wearing flawless human faces, but through this one fallible creature that didn't hide what she was.

An amorphous, shape-shifting monster with razor-sharp thorns, a thousand vines that twisted into vicious mockery of the universe's lesser life, with 'blood' running through them that would burn away conscious thought and a thousand ways to destroy her. Creatures from nightmares come to steal them away and render them helpless.

Stars above, but Thatch looked hot when she rippled like that. Was that weird? That was weird. Katie figured that the inhumanity should scare her, but truth be told it had been a comfort for a long while, and seemed to have started shifting towards a burning need.

Oh. Thatch was smiling down at her. She probably had been for a while. Katie smiled back up. She'd already been smiling up, but she smiled a little wider. Blushed. Let out a timid little breath from her tiny human form. Tried to keep her knees from buckling. Failed.

This one was hers. There were a lot of affini out there, and Katie had thought herself a rational enough creature that she could accept that she hadn't stumbled upon the literal best creature in the universe entirely by accident, but it turned out that she wasn't. This one was hers and she was proud of that. She had the best one.

Which wasn't to say that Thatch was perfect! Goodness no, she was a bit of a wreck, all kinds of awkward, clearly hurting and handling it terribly. She hadn't noticed that one of her leaves was about to fall off, and so it hung down limply from a spot on her shoulder. Katie had seen the way the others had looked at Thatch since they'd gotten here, with a mixture of ignorance and, sometimes, concern. Hell, she'd had that concern in her eyes more than a few times. Thatch was a mess.

She was still Katie's, and still the best. Flaws only made something more beautiful.

Katie's eyes flicked across her affini's body. It had been a little while since she'd really had a chance to just take it in. The garden of tastefully arranged flowers that made up her hair was growing in complexity again, though the colours and shapes of Dirt still dominated. Most of her body was still blacks and purples, but fresh green leaves were poking through in no particular pattern while some of the darker ones seemed to have reached the end of their lives and were drooping or curling. Katie felt an inexplicable urge to prune them, though she didn't know whether it even worked like that.

Thatch stood tall. Not just physically, though obviously she did that, but in her stance, in the way she moved, the way she felt. There had always been a hesitance to her, before. A timidity that wasn't entirely gone but was more refined, now. They both knew where they stood. Or knelt, in Katie's case.

...Katie was still staring. Thatch's smile had grown openly indulgent now, as if she knew that Katie's head was just stuck in a loop of adoration from which she couldn't figure out how to escape. Thatch didn't know that, Katie was pretty sure. That particular relationship only went one way according to Katie's understanding of the principles involved.

It probably wasn't hard to guess, though. Katie had seen the way that florets looked at their caretakers. It hadn't usually been a subtle expression.

There was a part of Katie that figured she should probably do something. Something? You couldn't live most of your life in the Terran Accord and not internalise an urge to do something productive. Maybe that urge would grow in strength again, but for the moment it seemed dwarfed by the creature in front of her.

Thatch was really tall. It sent Katie's gay heart fluttering. Somebody else could have been forgiven for thinking that Thatch didn't care about the illusion, but Katie knew that wasn't true. Just because Thatch didn't mind breaking it didn't take away from the fact that her body was a work of art. Her form was built from a latticework of hundreds of vines pulled so tight it tricked the eye into thinking it was one continuous surface. Katie had no doubt that Thatch could have made that perfect, but instead she left a pattern of clear lines across her body that all conspired to draw Katie's attention up. Past long, elegant legs; past a torso that evoked the human form without scaring the animal parts of Katie's mind that ran from the subtly wrong; past arms that faked impressive musculature while being a hundred times stronger than they looked; up a slender neck; all towards the smiling face of Thatch Aquae.

She glimmered. Glittered. Katie let her head gently tilt to one side as her eyes flicked across her protector's expression. She might once have thought that a face with wooden accents would look, well, wooden, but the life in Thatch's smile was enough to convince her that that nothing could be further from the truth. It extended through her entire expression. Even the eyes. Two shining teardrop orbs, relatively a little larger than the eyes on a human face would be. The usual gentle blue glow was still flecked with the darker shades of Dirt, but the more Katie stared, the more she found herself intrigued. She felt as if she could stare into them and see for lightyears. Katie wondered what it was that captured her attention, and lo! Sparkles glittering before her beheld like stardust on glowing metal. She let out a quiet whimper. It was so beautiful.

There was no way out of this loop, was there?

Unfortunately, looking directly up really strained Katie's neck. She winced, regretfully, and that was enough for Thatch to decide she'd had enough.

“Hmn, let me take care of that,” Thatch insisted. A small family of vines reached out and picked Katie up, carefully cradling her body to make sure she had support while she was lifted to Thatch's waiting arm. Her other arm reached inside of her body for a moment and pulled out a small—by Thatch's scale—device and glanced at it. “Fifteen minutes, forty three seconds.”

Katie tilted her head to one side. “Hm?”

“How long you were staring with that adorably thoughtless look in your eyes.”

Katie flushed. “I— I was thinking! For at least some of it...” She glanced to one side and did some quick guesses. “Probably less than half. Oh, stars, I've turned into a floret.”

“If you'd like,” Thatch replied, with a gentle shrug. She walked deeper into the room and glanced around with a gentle frown. “You have no furniture my size. I suppose neither of us really mind sitting in the dirt, though, do we?”

She slumped downwards, putting her back to the rock and wood of the cave as she sat, cross-legged, with Katie cradled in one arm above it all.

“If I'd like?” Katie asked. “Is it not, uh, kind of a requirement now? I think Mont... Monsh... uh, Miss Vidalii even called me one!”

Thatch waved her head back and forth in a mimed shrug. “That suggests only that she is not much of a traditionalist. You are, Katie Sahas, still very much legally an independent sophont.” Thatch raised her other hand to Katie's stomach and gently rubbed. At some point she'd pulled back her dress of plantlife, leaving Katie naked, but it didn't feel... Katie wasn't sure exactly how it didn't feel, it just didn't. Thatch had never given Katie the slightest indication that Katie's physical body was of much interest to her at all, and Katie was perfectly happy with that. Besides, Katie had wanted to show Thatch how she'd changed.

She wasn't all that comfortable with Thatch's words, though. She crossed her arms and stared up at her plant with all the indignation a floret could muster. “Well, that's silly.”

A chuckle. Her playful pouting couldn't survive that. Thatch uncrossed Katie's arms and prodded her into a gentle hug. “Self-determination is important, Katie. Perhaps we do it this way to ensure the decision is well considered and thought through.”

“You do it because it's cute to make us ask for it.”

There was a pause, then a laugh that proved contagious. “Guilty. Self-determination is important, of course, but by this stage in the domestication process we are long past that.” Thatch's hand moved up to scratch beneath Katie's chin, drawing out gentle sighs and pampered gasps. “Still, as cute as it might be to have you ask for me to take your legal rights from you, I was not being insincere. You are mine, and I love you very much, and there are no paths forward for you outside of my care, but that does not have to be an Owner/floret relationship. It would be extremely unusual for it to be otherwise, but we are an unusual pair.”

Katie considered this. It seemed like a big decision. One that would affect her entire life, and not at all something to take lightly.

“Nah. I'm done with that kind of choice, I think. It doesn't feel important any more. I, Thatch—” Katie struggled to sit up enough such that she could look into the plant's eyes. She needed help to get there, but wasn't that the point of all this?— “abdicate responsibility. You pick. I'm just gonna focus on you for a while.”

Katie laughed. “Which I expect means the rest of my life. I'm not my responsibility any more; you are.”

“Mmh.” Thatch raised a finger to Katie's forehead and gently pushed her back down into the hug. “Floret it is, then. We can deal with the paperwork eventually, but that is only telling the rest of the universe that I have made my choice. As far as you are concerned, from this moment forth you are Katie Aquae, First Floret.”

The girl took in a breath. It was unremarkable, really, she'd done it countless times before in her life, but this one was special. She had taken the last breath of her old life, and the first of the life that was to continue on. Katie Aquae, First Floret, smiled, closed her eyes, and leaned in close. “Yay.”

Now she felt different. The change she'd been fighting all these years had reached her, finally, and she wouldn't have it any other way. All her struggle, all her running, had led her to this specific creature's arms, and Katie never wanted to leave them. The bubble of safety that Thatch had kept her in for so long now extended outwards further than Katie would ever be allowed to stray.

The hug continued for some time. Katie wasn't even going to pretend she was capable of estimating how long. Drifting off was easy, while staying focused was both difficult and unnecessary. It felt like a better version of those last few evenings on planet Dirt, with the pair in close contact, simply enjoying each other's company. The sharp tension of things unsaid was no longer present, and Thatch seemed happy enough to pass the time simply doting on her new floret with touch, wordless sound, and the symphony they were to play together for the rest of Katie's life.

Katie felt a finger against the muscle of her jaw. “Open wide,” Thatch instructed. Katie opened her mouth and received a pill and a mouthful of water. Thatch ran a finger down her throat. “Swallow.” Katie swallowed both down.

Katie blinked a few times, then glanced up to a grinning face above. “You are a natural at this, Katie.”

She bit her lip. She felt so powerless here. Thatch's hand came back down to stroke against her hair and Katie could feel her cognition slipping back away, being stolen as she was submerged back within Thatch's sweet music. It wasn't a bad feeling, though again, she suspected that the her of even a day before would have disagreed. She wasn't that any more, though. She was something new.

She tried to keep her focus sharp, but the only thing she wanted to pay any attention to was Thatch herself, and every part of her drew in Katie's mind and left her quiet and soft. The gentle rise and fall of Thatch's heat matched time with Katie's heartbeat, then took charge of it and slowed her right down. Relaxed her. Katie suspected that it would have worked whether she'd wanted it to or not.

But stars, did she want it to work.

Thatch's attention drew her under yet again. It was a hug. It was reward. It was bliss. It was intimacy. It was so many things, and the stars could have lived and died before Thatch brought her back up again, for all Katie knew. Another pill. Another gulp of water. This time, the instructions were wordless, just a touch against her jaw and then another against her throat. She opened her mouth and swallowed, again only managing to start to think again in the aftermath.

“I'm, uh...” Katie whimpered. She felt a finger press against her lips, silencing her, while Thatch's stroking fingers stole her mind away again. They went through that dance enough times that Katie lost track. Each time she came back up her mind felt quieter and her thoughts were slower, less distinct. Closer to feelings and vague imagery than words, and then even less than that.

Another pill, held at Katie's lips. “I am cheating, a little,” Thatch admitted. “Your neurochemical imbalances leave you more open to this than most, I believe. You can resist this, but it is at the edge of your capabilities, and I fear I have burned through your reserves of several important things. This pill should fix that. You will have a much easier time thinking afterwards. I will not withhold your medication to have you like this. Now that you are mine, you will be held to a strict schedule. We will eschew the pills only once I have the capability to provide for your needs myself.”

Katie looked up with an open mouth and an open mind. Thatch held her finger against the jawbone. Her other hand still held the pill between two fingers. She slowly drew it along Katie's upper lip, eliciting quiet pants and gentle squirms. The girl leaned forward, reaching for it, but Thatch's comfortable grip was inescapable.

“Understand, Katie. This is a very sloppy way of achieving my goal. I will not treat you sloppily. When I want you like this in future, the changes I make to your mind will be...” The pill made a long journey around Katie's lips, but never quite made it inside. The girl extended her tongue, desperate. She had no words with which to beg. “Precise. Intentional. Direct. I shall learn how you work down to the atom and have you be exactly as I wish. But at the beginning of today you were not yet mine, and so your biochemistry was not yet under my guidance.”

Thatch popped the pill down on Katie's tongue, but held both down with two fingers. “Consider this a promise, Katie. I shall have you exactly as I wish. You will get your chances to influence that, but it is no longer your decision. You are to be the best Katie you can be, and all that is left for you to do is to help me explore with you to discover what that means.”

Thatch's fingers left Katie's mouth. She knew there was something she should probably do, but it was so much easier not to think. She didn't need to. She could lie there with her mouth open, tongue extended, letting the pill slowly moisten, until she was told to do otherwise.

“Remember this moment well, where I have you so helplessly mine that even knowing your every thought is locked behind that pill you cannot make yourself swallow. Where I could do anything to you and you would like it. Remember each and every time I give you your medication that without it, I can bring you down to this with ease, and so know that your every thought is a gift from me. Use them well. Be yourself, safe in the knowledge that everything you are comes from my hand.”

Thatch smiled down for a few more moments, while the pill's soft outer casing slowly dissolved and a thin droplet of saliva slowly rolled down Katie's chin. “Beautiful. Be a good girl and swallow for me.”

Katie did, coughing a little as she swallowed with only the saliva that had pooled in her mouth. It barely took more than a few seconds before she could start to feel the machinery of her mind slowly grind back to life. Vague feelings coalesced into more nuanced ones. Those gathered together to form concepts, and the concepts collaborated to produce a thought.

Katie still couldn't figure out quite what to say. She stared up at Thatch for long moments, and then fell to the side, into her chest. “You dork,” she laughed, eventually. “How long did you keep me like that?” It seemed baffling to Katie that she'd ever wanted to avoid Thatch's touch on her mind. Why would she ever have not wanted this guidance?

Thatch laughed back. It was a good laugh. It wasn't that she'd been humourless before, not at all, but there was a freedom in her laughter now that Katie hadn't known wasn't present before. This was better. This was good. “I could not tell you, flower. Neither of us have anywhere to be, so why measure these things with time? I kept you for as long as I wished and not a moment longer. How do you feel?”

“Good?” Katie shrugged, and scratched her forehead. “Hang on, I'm still catching up. I... That thing that happens when you tell me to do something: that's new? I like that.”

“You will have to be more specific, pet. We have yet to map out your entire self, so some of your thoughts and feelings are still opaque to me.” She brushed a thumbnail under Katie's chin, pulling out a soft whimper. It didn't steal Katie's thoughts away this time, though. It just felt good. “We will fix that, do not worry.”

The floret flailed, ending up hiding her blush beneath a hastily assembled barrier of leaves. “Is the flirting going to be like this forever?”

“No, I plan on getting better at it.” Katie glimpsed through a small parting in her leafy shield and spotted a shameless grin. “Though as a more serious answer, you do get a say in that. There are several aspects of your new life that you cannot change no matter how hard you may try to. You will always be loved. You will always be cherished. I will keep you safe and happy. You will be nurtured and given help to grow. Most other things, however, are negotiable. I want to make you happy, Katie, and I plan on being aggressive about it, but you know that. You know what I am capable of; you know what I wish to do to you; and you chose to be here. I will take you to your breaking point time and time again, and each time I will have you beg for it.”

Katie's protection was pulled away in an instant as Thatch reached over it and grabbed Katie's chin in a firm grip. She pulled, forcing Katie up to meet her gaze.

“I will do nothing to you that you do not prove to me that you want with eager enthusiasm.” Thatch grinned, pulling a gentle whimper from between Katie's parted lips. “Which is all to say that I keep flirting because you keep proving to me that you want it.”

Stars-cursed xenos. Katie bit her lip hard enough that it hurt, prompting Thatch to raise a finger to her jaw and press. She obediently opened her mouth so her lip could be retrieved and moved somewhere safer.

”...yes Mi... Mistress? Are you Mistress now?” They blinked at each other for a few moments.

Thatch's mouth twisted to one side. “I honestly had not considered that.” She seemed surprisingly uncertain.

“You took a pet without considering titles?” Katie raised an eyebrow, with a subtle smirk. The blush still staining her cheeks ruined any chance she had at feeling like she was keeping up in their verbal sparring, however. “And here you say you aren't sloppy.”

Katie felt a slight pang of something weird dance across her mind. A moment of doubt? Insecurity? Worry? She winced. “Shit, sorry, was that not funny? Joking. You've been very good to me so far.”

“Mmh.” Thatch sighed, shrugged, and released Katie's jaw. The girl was pulled in for a closer hug, with one arm holding her close and the other stroking down her back. Katie felt Thatch's heat rising, easily matching her own rhythm. She played to Thatch's time, now. “I am sorry, I do not mean to harm the mood. Let us ignore tha—”

Katie jabbed her in the arm, ignoring the gentle, mindless lethargy that was being offered to her. “Hey, no, nope. You don't get to do that any more. Can I still call yellow? You have to talk to me.”

Thatch grumbled, but Katie could feel the underlying hesitance in the affini's gentle song. “You are property, Katie. Demands are no longer your area.” Katie smiled. She could sense the real meaning in the delicate way Thatch's emotional state played against her own. The plant couldn't lie to her and they both seemed to know it. It wasn't a rebuke, it was intentionally leaving Katie an opening.

“I am. I can't judge you. I can't go anywhere. I literally cannot do anything but be supportive and loving. You gave me your list of invariants for me, and I guess this is mine for you? You don't have to hide parts of yourself from me. I won't judge you, Thatch, I've let you reshape my entire life around you specifically, I'm pretty sure you have me biologically wired to want to support you at this point. Thank you. It really helps to know that I can't get scared off and be dumb again.”

“Hmn. Perhaps, yes.” The affini's lips twitched upwards, and while Katie couldn't see it she could feel the emotion that underpinned it. Thatch's arm squeezed a little tighter around her, pulling her in so that her affini's chin could rest against the top of Katie's head. She could feel the comfort she was providing radiating back down into her. “You are not wrong. Thank you. I...” Thatch paused, as if considering the words. Katie felt the gentle turmoil.

“I feel like a bad affini, often.” Thatch's spare hand stroked down Katie's hair, for both of their comforts. “I feel as if I am selfish to have taken you when you could have made so many other choices and I cannot even give you a firm title in response. I feel as if I am wrong to want the things that I want. You tell me that you want to learn, and I believe you, but... the things that I want fly in the face of the promises my people make.”

Their hug grew tighter. Thatch's arms enveloped Katie, and though she could not quite reach all the way around in response, Katie squeezed with what little might she had all the same. Thatch's grip grew stronger in time with her words, though Katie suspected it was as much for emotional support as it was a consequence of the rhythm that ruled her. “I am so very young,” Thatch claimed, “and to be Affini is... a gift; a responsibility; a promise made to the universe that I shall do my part in its caretaking. It is hard to feel like I can live up to that.”

Katie felt a sensation utterly alien brush across her consciousness. She couldn't even begin to place it. If Katie had to rely on her sixth sense alone she would have been lost, but thankfully Thatch was her best friend and in so many ways an open book. “Are you thinking about her?”

A few quiet nods. “Always. I live in a society constructed by countless, those who have lived my lifetime dozens of times over. I rushed to contribute my own individual efforts, and... I know, in some ways, that what happened was not due to any error I made but somebody must bear that weight and there is nobody else to remember her.” Thatch's vines slowly drew themselves down Katie's spine, leaving warmth and comfort in their wake. Her fingers curled in, gripping Katie tight. “You are my priority now, and so I worry that Caeca would see this as a betrayal.”

Katie could have lost herself in the stream of emotion. She felt a vortex of intense feeling paint a vivid picture with her mind as the canvas. Katie had understood before. They had talked about this. She had not understood, truly, what it was like for Thatch to experience it until now. Katie had to steel herself against it all, focus on her breathing, hold herself deliberately disjoint from Thatch's chorus, just to avoid being swept away by the tide. She couldn't have that. Thatch needed support, not adoration.

“I didn't know her, but I don't want you to forget her just because I'm here. She's a part of your life and I'm here for all of you, not just the easy bits. Maybe you could tell me about her, some time? I don't know if that's insensitive, but if you feel like you're the only one remembering her, then... teach me about her, too, so I can help?”

The gentle sound of the artificial stream was the only thing Katie could hear for a few long moments. Emotions ran too thick for words. A silent conversation played out in subtle shifts of grip and stance, slowly drawing Katie deeper within Thatch's embrace until all pretense at bones or organs had been abandoned and the girl was simply surrounded. Thatch didn't have to accept the offer with words. Katie could feel it.

“You would've taken her, right? Done... this? Showed her all the mysteries of the universe?” Katie asked, eventually.

“Yes. Roots, yes, I would have. I was too young and we both knew it, but we felt as if nothing could stop us.”

Katie nodded, mostly to herself, working up the force of will to say something that little kernel of internalised submission in her head didn't want her to say. “Are you sure you want me to be your first floret? We haven't done the paperwork, but you said that was just to tell others you'd made your choice. You chose Caeca. Shouldn't she be your first?”

Thatch froze up. She didn't do that often any more, only when trying to process something that left her unable to trust herself. Katie was trapped within in a greenery cocoon she couldn't hope to bend, but that was okay. Thatch wouldn't move until she was confident. Katie whispered. “It's okay. It doesn't make me any less important. It doesn't make me any less cherished. I don't know if you're comfortable with it, and if you're not then that's okay, but—”

“No, I... had not thought of it like that before. I made my choice. By my own words she was mine, and thus I hers. Thank you. I think that acknowledging that would have made her happy.” The affini—the affini. The one who mattered—took a deep breath. Katie felt and heard the air rushing all around her, flowing from one side to the other while she was so deeply embedded in the creature's body. “Yes. Yes, you are not my first, but my second. You are no less important to me for that.”

“I know. You'll do great.”

Katie felt the warm buzz of pride and agreement soaking through her. She could have fought it, but why would she? Getting to feel proud was nice. Thatch brought her hands up to Katie's head, gliding fingers through hair. “I hope so. I swear and have sworn that I will not let you regret your choice, but I do wish I could give you the same easy confidence that others would have. You are beautiful and you make a beautiful floret, but were it not for me you would have been safely in the hands of another for weeks now. I suspect they would not falter when asked for a simple honourific, nor would they ask your help to hold them back, nor would they wish to do to you the things I do. They would not need your help like this. I cannot give you the gifts that others could.”

Katie shrugged, keeping her face nestled against what seemed to be her affini's neck. Her words came out a little muffled, but she doubted either of them would mind. “I can't even tell you what I am yet. It's okay to still be working this out. I don't want easy confidence, hon, I need you. I guess I rationally understand that somebody else could have made me happy too, but... I can't believe they'd have done it as well. I'm stone cold sober, right?”

“It is not quite that clear cut, the concept of sobriety is one steeped in old Terran norms, declaring some chemicals natural and others not without any justification given. I would say that your happiness is not externally induced, however.”

“Sure. It would be, with somebody else, right?”

Thatch gave a gentle shrug. “It is impossible to say for certain, and I would not call an induced happiness any less true, but for the sake of argument, let us say that it would.”

“I wouldn't have chased anyone else a few lightyears just to pin them down, right?”

Thatch smiled, fingers curling in her Katie's hair. “No, I suspect not. You are quite willful.”

“Were, perhaps?” Katie asked, with a grin. That was an aspect of herself she was happy to lose.

“Hmn. No, present tense intentional. Most other florets I have known would have smiled and obeyed when told to ignore a misstep, at least a small one. You actually know how to resist my call. Willful is not inaccurate.” Thatch smiled down, curling Katie's hair around one of her fingers. Perhaps it could be an aspect she could be happy to keep, too, if it was for Thatch's benefit.

“Then don't we make quite the pair? We can't know what I would have done if things were different, but I know that I'm glad to be here now. We'll figure stuff out. We're in no rush, right? What was it you said, neither of us has anywhere else to be? We can take our time. You've been Thatch to me this long, that doesn't have to change.”

Katie paused for a moment. “I do like being called pet, though. You can keep that one, please. Feels nice. I would've fucking hated it yesterday, so it's kind of a nice reminder of what you've rescued me from.”

Katie's words drew out a laugh, but one backed by complicated feelings. She joined it with her own complicated grin. “Yeah, that's kind of a weird thing to say, huh?”

“A little. It is uncomfortable for me to confront that you are different now. Not in a bad way, I do not think, just... The fantasy of possessing you is meeting the reality of what that actually means.”

“Any regrets?”

Katie yelped as the air was squeezed out of her lungs. She squirmed, feeling Thatch's arms so tight around her that she knew she wouldn't be able to handle it for more than a few moments. Of course, a few moments is all she got. Thatch knew how much she could take. “None. Never. This is not a bad thing. I just... had this idea in my head of what this would be like. I would be the ceaselessly charming, endlessly dominant affini rogue with one hand on the leash and the other reprogramming your head, while you would be my endlessly adoring, perfect pet.”

“Hey!” Katie used what little freedom of motion she had to try to pinch a vine. It wasn't very effective. “I am your endlessly adoring, perfect pet, thank you very much.” Thatch's laughter was a salve. This wasn't how Katie had expected the day to go, but she was finding herself without complaints. “But no, yeah, I get it. I guess I had fewer expectations going in, but you're doing great so far. We weren't ever equals really, but I liked a lot about how we did things planetside. I don't need you to be different, really, we can just be honest about what it is that we need from each other. Besides, you are charming, you're just also a dork.”

“Hmn. Thank you, I think?” Thatch appeared ponderous for a moment, then shrugged. “Okay. If you are willing to accept that there will be missteps, then I am very excited to go on this journey with you.”

“We've been on this journey for weeks. I know you; we've got this. Can I call green?” Katie gave a vine a comforting squeeze.

“Of course. Same rules as before, for both of us. The... context is different, now that you are mine, but the effect is not. Tell me to stop, or that we need to adjust, and we will at very least talk about it. The final decision must lie with me, I expect—”

Katie nodded firmly. “There's something in my head that balks at anything else.”

“—but I will never ignore your needs. We have as much time as we need to determine how we are to work, and we are in no rush.”

Why had Katie fought this for so long? Her old fears seemed absurd. Yes, admittedly Thatch did want to do almost everything Katie had been afraid of back then, but she felt safe enough that it wasn't scary. Besides, Thatch was hot, and that helped a lot too. She couldn't ever in her wildest dreams have imagined sitting here in a stable home of her own with somebody who loved her, quietly discussing their future together. It was so incongruent with the fears she had had of monsters tearing away her identity that the actual monster who wanted to tear away her identity didn't register as scary any more.

“While true,” Katie agreed, “some of the stuff you said back there in the shuttle is, in hindsight, really exciting and I wanna try it. I still haven't figured out what I want to be, besides the obvious little point of certainty you've been so kind as to supply, and... if you wanna take me apart and put me back together again, that sounds like a great way for us both to explore me. Let's not wait too long before starting to figure out what that stuff means, right?”

Katie's silly plant rumbled, bringing around half a dozen extra vines to hold on to her tight. “How did I ever get along without you?”

“As far as I can tell, Miss. Aquae, you did not.” Katie paused. “Is 'Miss. Aquae' okay? It isn't really a title, it's just... respectful?” It felt nice to be respectful. Katie had never been the type before, but... new her, right?

“It was nice to hear, actually. Let us go with that for now, and we shall see about finding something more us later. Any objections, pet?”

“No, Miss Aquae!” Katie chirped. It felt a little like she was putting it on, but it was her first attempt at being... properly, intentionally florety? Katie felt her cheeks warming, but she didn't have time to be embarrassed before she was lost in the embrace again.

She had a lot to get used to. Hell, they both had a lot to get used to and a long way left to go, but if anywhere could be a stop for rest along their shared journey then it would be this. Katie Aquae, Second Floret, buried herself in the leaves and life of her beloved owner and for the first time in a very, very long time let herself simply exist.

“Oh, the oceans were vast, yes. Relatively clean, as well, though we still improved that after we arrived.” Thatch ran a pair of fingers through Katie's hair. Even biting her lip, Katie struggled to hold her hand steady. “Their world was mostly ocean. Like Terra, I suppose, but the Spectrum Jellies were not so arrogant as to insist on living on what little land was available.”

They had some affini-scale furniture now. It would have been easy to get something delivered, but it had been more fun for Katie to figure out how ask the botanical gardens to grow them a tree and send them the wood, and then use that to build something appropriate. She had Thatch's help, obviously, as oversight and protection, but it was Katie's project. She'd drawn up the design, she'd done the construction, and she'd gotten the praise.

She couldn't have done it without Thatch, of course. Being confident in a design was easy when Katie knew that any errors she made would be pointed out and she'd be taught how to correct them. Even while slightly inebriated it was easy to swing a hammer when a misjudged swing would get gently guided back on target. Staying focused was easy when it was for Thatch, and relaxing afterwards was... well, she had no choice about that one.

Katie knelt before the armchair she'd built—and more relevantly, and reverently, the plant sitting atop it—holding a small pair of scissors. “Huh. So, like, can you breathe underwater? How does that even work?”

Katie raised the scissors to a vine and very carefully positioned them against the stem of one of Thatch's drooping leaves.

Snip!

A browning leaf tumbled through the air. Katie caught and dropped it into a bowl set just to her side, then spent a moment cleaning up the area and smoothing out the remaining stem. The whole point of this was to get Thatch looking sharp and well-groomed.

“I cannot truly be said to breathe at all,” Thatch admitted. “At least not for survival. It is nice to feel air moving past my core, I must admit, but it is an indulgence. It is still a novelty.” She took a deep breath and smiled. Katie smiled too, and almost fumbled her scissors. Thatch's scent was subtle and delightful, and it had a way of filling the room for a few moments whenever her plant found excuse to 'breathe' heavily enough. “Besides, you enjoy it.”

Stars, she was so pretty. Katie smiled up, slowly lowering her hands down to her knees without really thinking about it. The way Thatch's face moved when she talked was Katie's current object of adoration. Katie knew the face wasn't 'real'. It was a construct built from a hundred separate pieces. That didn't make it less pretty. If anything it made it more beautiful as the artistry evident in every motion had been intentionally crafted.

Heck.

Katie was getting stuck in a loop again. That kept happening. As soon as she was anything but completely clear-headed she seemed to lose the ability to break out of her adoration entirely, though Katie had to admit that it was hard enough when she was thinking clearly. That might just be a sign that she didn't actually want to look away.

Thatch brought a hand down and spent a moment rubbing two fingers behind one of Katie's ears. She gasped, feeling a deep heat spreading through her body, and flopped forwards into the waiting hand. It was a potent reminder that Katie wasn't clear-headed. A significant fraction of floret culture seemed to focus on chemical alteration specifically—though as Katie knew it was hardly the only tool in the Affini's collective toolbox—and Katie had far less experience under the influence than her peers.

That wasn't a problem, per-se, but Katie's desire to stay unaltered had vanished before they'd even returned to the ship. It was nice when it was being done by Thatch. Besides, it would be harder to tear her mind apart safely if she wasn't used to the tools.

Katie whimpered. “Are you sure this is gentle?” She felt every subtle pet and stroke right down to the soul. They scattered her thoughts and left her sinking into a warm honey haze.

“I am. This is the standard class-A/C blend given to independent Terrans who are either interested in domestication, or who we need to be interested in domestication. I could break down the exact components again if you wished, but in summary it is a targeted enhancement to the usual responses to intimate touch in your progenitor species.”

Katie arched her back, mouth forced open to release a stuttered whimper as a vine traced up her spine. “N— no, it's enough that you know it, I just-” She bit her lip and stifled another soft groan. “It gets stronger than this?”

Thatch laughed. Even that made Katie feel fuzzy inside. That would be the... class-Cs, she thought? Intensified bonding response, as if she needed help with that. Or maybe she did! Who was Katie to say? All she knew was this seemed to be elevating her feelings from the kind of love that would inspire her to a lifetime of dedication to the kind of love that made thinking of anything else at all almost impossible. Dirt, but Katie had had the details explained to her and she was still struggling to piece it together. She wanted her soul back just so she could give it away all over again, now that she understood how much more she was getting in that trade than she'd given.

“You are still capable of speech, so yes. I suspect this might be a good baseline for you, once you're used to it, but stronger blends could make a fine treat.”

A good baseline? Katie could barely think! It wasn't unpleasant, quite the opposite. She just couldn't think. She hardly noticed the effects when not in direct contact, at least, beyond a pleasant fuzz around the edges of her mind and a minor hesitance in her movements. She could get used to this. Maybe. If she had to spend the rest of her life in a blissed-out haze, would that really be so bad? At least once things were stable. She could figure out how to resist it for now.

She hadn't yet. A finger against her chin was enough to blank out her thoughts, leaving her staring up with a whimper on her lips and love in her eyes.

“Be polite and continue what we were doing, pet.”

Ah. Ah, an order, yes. That was exactly what Katie needed to simplify the chemical havoc playing out in her mind. Though Katie was little but a storm on the ocean of need within, the gravity of Thatch's words was enough to shift the tide. They simply operated on different scales. Katie was desperate to follow the instruction. Surprisingly, this particular chemical blend didn't really seem to affect the intensity. Katie's deep-seated desire to obey came from within, apparently.

“A—Aah, uhm, yes, I-” Katie took a deep breath. Was letting her near scissors really a good idea? She knew she wouldn't actually be allowed to do anything dangerous with them. Still, she set her mind to the task and tried to keep her hand steady as she moved to the next drooping leaf in Thatch's coat. The plantlife her affini had harvested from Dirt's surface wasn't as hardy as her own natural growths and so apparently she was intentionally trying to cycle them out. Katie didn't mind getting to prune. It sure as heck wasn't something she'd pictured ever doing with her life, but it was nice.

“Okay. Okay, okay, I can... yeah,” Katie breathed and snipped. “Uh... breathing, right. That's novel for you? I guess you... didn't look like this before, huh.” Katie paused and looked up to inspect Thatch's body, wondering what else it could have looked like. They'd spent enough time on the water that Katie had gotten used to that gorgeous serpentine look, and— Katie was looping again, whoops. It wasn't Katie's fault that her plant was so danged pretty, was it?

It kind of was. Katie felt a weird kind of pride at that. She'd picked this one out of countless others. She had good taste.

Thatch gave her a few... seconds? Minutes? Hours? Probably seconds. It wasn't easy to be sure. It could have been hours. Snapped fingers brought her back to the present, at least for the moment. Katie blushed, with a sheepish grin and a snip. “Sorry, I started thinking about the shape you... wore? Took? The body you did while we were swimming.”

“Ah, an artifact of my youth,” Thatch admitted. “I was actually primarily aquatic until recently. That one is modeled off of one of the Xa'a-ackétøth subtypes, though a little larger than they were—”

Katie laughed.

“—and I was much the same when I flew out to assist with Cacea's people. I never got the time to finish a form dedicated to her, unfortunately. I came specifically to assist with some difficulties in the Cotyledon program, not generally as part of first contact, and so things were... a little rushed.”

Thatch emitted a small sigh, but this was progress and they both knew it. Katie gave her leg a quick hug that turned into a longer hug as the gentle warmth overtook her and, nggggrph.

Looping again.

It wasn't Katie's fault that Thatch was so darned soft, or that she felt so nice to rub against. Katie was left to indulge herself for some utterly undecipherable amount of time. It was hard to get frustrated at it when it felt so good. Impossible, once Katie started feeling Thatch's pride and amusement soaking into her. Back on Dirt, many of their conversations had been a little halting, as they talked while they worked or walked, and thankfully that translated well to trying to hold a discussion in which Katie drifted off every few minutes. Mostly.

Another finger snap. Katie sat up straight, moving in a sudden shock. “Uh, um, right, yes. What were we talking about?”

“Me, pet.” Thatch smiled down at her and Katie deliberately looked away, because she knew she'd get stuck again if she didn't. “But we will get back to me.” A single finger under Katie's chin pulled her gaze back towards Thatch's gleaming eyes.

Katie gritted her teeth. She could handle this. All she had to do was keep her focus on anything else. How hard could that be? Her mouth fell half-open, breathing growing heavy, uneven. She tried to ball her hands into fists, but they wouldn't quite respond.

A whimper wafted out into the air and it took Katie a second to realise that it was hers. She just had to- just- Just had to keep her head. Thatch wasn't even doing anything. Just smiling. Smiling down at her with that wonderful grin she wore when she was having fun. Dirt below but she was pretty, and- Katie's hands twitched, pulling tighter for a moment before falling slack.

She could feel the blush spreading across her cheeks. Katie stared up, gathered all her strength of will, and managed one last quiet gasp before she was lost entirely.

***

Chop, chop, chop.

The Elettarium's botanical gardens grew a staggering array of fruits, vegetables, and those beyond that Katie lacked a system of classification for sourced from all across the universe. It was comical decadence, especially when compared to what they were doing with them.

Chop chop chop. From the Hurkin, sweet little round blue things; from a gas giant two galaxies away came something that could best be described as a spice; from Terra came the humble potato; and then a half dozen other ingredients from a half dozen other places. Each ended up chopped into little squares a centimetre to each side and dumped unceremoniously into a pot of boiling water.

Thatch looked relieved to no longer need to be doing this with a real flame. The false firepit in the kitchen had much the same aesthetic, but apparently real fires weren't allowed without very good reason. Katie supposed it made sense to be careful about that kind of stuff on a spaceship that seemed to be largely flammable. The ship had its own bubble of safety, in a sense, reinforcing Thatch's own.

As was traditional by this point, Katie handled preparing the food—with some help—while Thatch kept a watchful eye over the meal itself and handled the various additives she liked to supply.

After a little while of quiet companionship, Katie had a thought. “Hey Thatch, when I went out to eat with the clerk it kinda just seemed like they'd thrown some tables up outside their home and were just, like, cooking in there, does that happen a lot?” Katie carefully removed the outer layer of a potato. There was a vine lovingly draped around her neck that Katie figured was mostly there so Thatch could be close enough to stop any little accidents with the knife, but it was an appreciated presence for many reasons.

Katie did kinda miss the stronger drugs, but apparently Thatch had an appointment later and so Katie needed to be a little more sober. Well, she'd handled that for most of her life to date, so how hard could it be?

Thatch's vine shifted on her shoulders and it didn't immediately drop Katie into open adoration, which felt a little weird but did make it easier to hold a conversation. “Constantly. This is a small ship, but in practice vessels like this tend to find an equilibrium. If the citizens of a ship have a need, it is likely that one of them will be interested enough to want to fill it, with the exception of true specialty roles. I believe your vet moved here specifically to fill the position, for example, rather than one of the existing citizenry learning the necessary detail. The same goes for food. We can likely find somebody who knows how to make anything you want, and if we can't then perhaps we could fill that gap.”

“But... why?” Katie asked. “I couldn't give them anything for it.”

Thatch raised an eyebrow.

”...you couldn't give them anything for it, Miss.” Katie smiled as Thatch's protective vine took a moment to ruffle her hair. “So why would they do it? They must have better stuff to do.”

“Well, think about it. How would you feel about sharing this soup with others?”

Katie looked down at the potato in her hand, then spent a few moments cutting out a brown bit. “Well... the ingredients came from the gardens, which are shared; the pot was compiled, and so I guess using a shared resource; and the water is ship water too. You made this knife, and though you gave it to me I guess in a way it's made out of Dirt, really. The recipe isn't ours, but it'd be nice to show people our take on it?”

“What would you ask in return?” Thatch asked, dipping a spoon into the pot and giving it a stir.

Katie shrugged. “I'm just a pet, I don't have to worry about that any more, right? What would you ask in return?”

“The only things of any true value are time and experience. Our guests would be giving us their time, and providing us with their experience of our work, and so it would be quite wrong to ask for yet more. The old Terran concept of debt was quite barbaric. They do it for the sheer joy of getting to help those around them.”

Katie looked down at her potato, now freshly peeled, and placed it upon the pile of other such things. “Huh. Would it be okay if we did that some time?”

***

“I shall return in around two or three hours. Be good, Katie.”

The hab door slid shut, and Katie was alone.

This was fine. Katie could do this. Katie was... if not technically an independent adult any more, still surely capable of spending an afternoon by herself. She had food, she had snacks, she had more entertainment than she could get through in a lifetime. She had no responsibilities and nothing she had to do, save for that single requirement to be good.

This was fine. She could... read a book? Watch a show? One of the jump engineers Katie had accosted several short days ago, in what seemed now like another life, had sent a greeting message that among other things linked off to the comedy show xey did with xyr own floret. Katie could check that out.

Or music, maybe? How hard could it be to pick an album?

Katie soon discovered that it was very hard. There may have been more genres listed than Terra had songs. Literature was no easier, with a thousand years of Terran history joined by the percent of a percent of a percent of the full affini library that had been translated into something Katie could read to form an utterly impenetrable list of titles. It wasn't like Katie could even focus on the good stuff, because they had everything. Katie could pick something at random and it would certainly be the best thing she'd ever read. The choice was overwhelming.

This was ridiculous. The UI on Katie's communicator had a 'Need some help??' button in the corner but all pressing it achieved was getting a cutesy voice to tell her she didn't have any default filters set up and she should ask her owner, and Thatch wasn't there. That was the problem.

This was ridiculous! Katie had survived existence for nearly thirty years, she wasn't about to be undone by an overgrown media library. She could... make something with her hands? Yeah, that sounded good. She had plenty of experience with that. Katie skipped over to the little workbench they'd set up in what had previously been the spare room and grabbed one of her tools from the rack.

It sure did look sharp. She could handle that. She stared at the blade. She didn't even know what she was making. That was fine. She could figure something out. She should be able to do this. She should want to be able to do this. She'd been on her own for her entire life and how the fuck could she not handle this

this was so much easier than her old life had been and she was standing here staring at a knife realising she didn't trust herself to use it and how absurd was that

katie put the tool back on the rack with a shivering hand and turned away

she could-

she could do this.

Katie could do this. One afternoon on her own. She could handle that. This wasn't a challenge. She was a brave, capable sophont who could take care of herself. She had to be. She'd been that all her life and almost a week ago she'd been very brave indeed, and she could do that today too. She was still the brave, capable Katie she'd always been.

Except

she was not

katie wasn't herself any more? katie knew she wasn't who she used to be and she didn't want to be but she had no idea who she was now not yet and who was she and how was she meant to handle this and

Katie.

She was- she didn't know. It was so easy to get lost in Thatch's energy that Katie hadn't had to sit down and think since they'd gotten back. Now she had the time alone she found she had no idea where to start. All she knew is that she had a head full of the memories of a person she no longer was and she reached for aspects of herself on instinct only to find they were no longer there and she wasn't brave and capable she was a fucking pet and-

Focus.

The floret made her way into the main room, grabbed her communicator, and retreated to the depths of the cozy cave where the beanbag chairs were kept. She wiggled one of the petals and it opened her chat history with Thatch. Obviously a floret's handheld communicator needed one-button access to that. Katie was grateful. She didn't feel up to a complicated interface just then. Thank the affini for English/Floret translations.

katieflower: heyyyy Thatch could U put some music on? its too quiet in here katieflower: also tbh im havng kind of a ruff time picking wat 2 do, got any ideas??

After a moment sound appeared from somewhere inexplicable. It kind of sounded like it just appeared in the air, which for all Katie knew may well be true. She closed her eyes and listened for a few moments. Definitely not Terran. Calm, calming. Katie didn't recognise the instruments, but she was pretty sure the singing voice was some kind of Affini. Katie felt her racing heart start to slow almost immediately.

The little typing indicator was a flower repeatedly blooming and curling back up. Somehow it still reminded Katie of Thatch. She smiled. Between the music and the slightest scrap of Thatch's presence, Katie's head was starting to clear. It was easy to be brave and capable when it was for her.

aquaetor: Done. This is one of my favourites; it is an old Affini piece centering on rebirth. I suppose the closest translation for the name would be “The Universe in Everbloom” and I could translate the singing for you when I return if you'd like :::) aquaetor: As for a task, hm. If you are struggling, perhaps spend some time investigating the Records to determine whether any other Terran citizens have seceded from the Accord. katieflower: okay,, would You mind being a bit forceful about it? i think that could- aquaetor: Go do as you were told to, pet. katieflower: yes mISs Aquae! thank you

***

Katie held her communicator up for Thatch to see. She felt a gentle tension in her chest, and had the fingers on her spare hand crossed. Katie knew that if Thatch said no she would probably become okay with it pretty quickly, but while the verdict was up in the air she got to hope.

“I had not planned for this,” Thatch admitted, peering at the biotechnological screen. “I must admit that I had expected you to be against the idea, and so had not brought it up.”

The thought was a little discomforting. Katie was still getting to understand who she was now, and apparently Thatch had the same problem. Katie's hand wavered. The screen dropped a few inches. It wasn't a great feeling, to not live up to Thatch's expectations. It hadn't been for a long time, but it was different now that she was property. Katie had bought herself relief from the expectations of the rest of the universe by putting it all in the loving vines of one she trusted above all, and failing that felt... awful.

“Hey now.” Thatch went down to one knee and lifted Katie's head back up to look at her. “I did not say it was displeasing; I said it was surprising. Surprises are not bad. We are still exploring one another and we both have each other's permission to get these things wrong sometimes, understand?”

Katie took a deep breath and nodded. Thatch's fingers couldn't help but draw a soft smile from her. “Yeah, I guess. Thank you. You've only left me alone a couple of times but I really don't like it. I used to be a lot more of a loner, and I think I still am, just... you don't count. I need you, and, um, I was reading about domestication procedure—at least what's been translated—and it seems like most florets get a collar, at least at first.”

“It's usually a necessity.” Thatch scratched the top of her head with a hand. She was picking up the odd casual Terran expression, it seemed. “Mostly for medical and positional tracking, and emergency chemical assistance. I am not sure you are in need of any of those. So long as you are getting regular medication your body is stable and I do not think you have any medical needs we would need remote emergency dosages for. I assume this is not you suggesting that you are a flight risk?”

Katie laughed. “I haven't even left the hab in a week, no, I'm not about to run away. But, um, in old Terran culture they put collars on their own pets as a kind of identification and that sounds nice? I think I need something like that. Maybe one or two things are worth salvaging, and it might help quieten down that bit of my brain that wakes up when you aren't around.”

Whenever Thatch was near Katie was continuously subjected to at least a low level of having her emotional state manipulated. That might be part of why being alone felt so fucking quiet, now that she considered it. Usually Katie let it wash over her, providing more of a subconscious guidance, but the cocktail of feeling wavered a little towards the negative side and attracted her more specific attention.

Katie tilted her head with a minor frown, and Thatch's composure cracked a little. She rested a gentle hand atop Katie's head. “I am sorry, Katie. Are you not feeling enough like a pet? I feel as if I underprepared for all this.”

“To be fair, hon, you didn't prepare for this at all. I kind of dropped it on you. But... I don't think that's it? I feel so much like a pet that it hurts when you aren't around. I don't wanna do anything but curl up on the sofa and wait for you to get back but I'm too nervous to actually do it and... it'd be nice to not put that pressure on you? That isn't your fault, this is surprising to me too. When I asked you to, y'know... break me, I kinda assumed I'd just want whatever you wanted.”

Thatch laughed. “You have never been that straightforward, Katieflower. Thank you for telling me.” She gestured towards the subtle black loop shown on the communicator. “I am not letting you wear that. You are no struggling rebel and the only place you are likely to run to is my heel. Come, we have a project.”

***

“Lift your chin.”

Katie lifted her chin. A vine carefully moved her hair out of the way while Thatch brought the ring of woven plantlife around Katie's neck and pressed the two ends together for a moment. When she released, the band was sealed.

Katie's eyes tried to roll up into the back of her head. She let out a gasp that was stifled halfway through, feeling as if needles of sharp fire were pressed into her neck. Unseeing eyes stared at the ceiling while her teeth ground together. For a moment, the only sounds in the hab were gentle whimpers. The gem set as the collar's centerpiece flickered into life. Katie felt her knees buckle, suddenly snapped back into awareness.

She was caught. Obviously. She leaned into her affini's embrace with a warm, soft feeling of pressure against her neck. Tight enough that it wouldn't move and it would be impossible to forget that it was there, but not so tight that it would chafe.

From the Affini, they'd taken the basic building materials and some core functionality. The band itself was largely supple leaf-wrapped wood all sampled from Thatch's own material. Tightly woven biotechnology would broadcast Katie's location and emotional state at all times, ensuring Thatch would never be unaware of her. From Terra, they'd borrowed some of the aesthetic. Katie's collar was a little thicker than the standard affini design with a small metal nametag hanging from the front.

The tag was the only compiled material in the whole collar, though they'd engraved it themselves. Katie Aquae, Second Floret adorned the front in stylised print while the back was patterned with the emergency signal they'd sent to escape Dirt: a series of emissions that would get Katie rescued from anywhere in the galaxy. A reminder of how inescapable the loving vines of her owner really were.

Katie's fingers tucked underneath the loop. There was just enough room for them and they pulled the collar about as tight as she could handle. She clutched it tight and gave it a testing yank, as hard as she could. Nothing gave. The second yank was just for the sense of comfort. The collar wasn't coming off.

“Thank you,” Katie whispered, burying her head in Thatch's stomach and accepting all manner of pets and strokes.

The best part of all was the little gemstone that the tag hung down off of. Thatch had explained it as being a kind of emotional transmitter, something which could detect, record, and replay the subtleties of resonance that bound Katie to her owner so tightly. It glowed the same gentle blue/green as Thatch's eyes and Katie felt herself wrapped in an emotional blanket of love, comfort, and warmth.

Of course, that was actual Thatch. The gem wasn't powerful enough to not be drowned out while the real thing was around.

“There. Comfortable?”

Katie nodded rapidly. The tag jingled as it swung.

“Do you think you'll feel more comfortable when I have to leave you alone, now? Understand, additionally, that while you are very welcome to be a dedicated housepet I have no wish to keep you in here permanently if you do not desire that. Would you feel more comfortable wandering the ship again, with this?”

Katie nodded again, then paused. “I... think so. Maybe I could take somebody up on their offer of hanging out? You'll have to come with me, though.”

“Wasn't the point of this to help you feel more comfortable while I am away?” Thatch raised an eyebrow, scratching under Katie's chin for a few moments until it became clear the girl was entirely incapable of responding. Thatch kept scratching for a moment longer before permitting the response.

“Only a little! I don't want to be away from you even if it doesn't make me anxious. Besides, it's for your benefit, I need to get you some friends.”

“I- I have friends.” There was a pause, during which Thatch shrunk several inches. “I had friends,” she admitted. “I suppose they probably do not remember me now. The others aboard ship are all quite happy as they are, Katie, I do not wish to disturb that.”

“Okay, so, two things.” Katie spent a moment insistently tugging Thatch's hand down to her collar, then worked her fingers beneath it. Much better. Katie sighed happily. “First: I'm your friend. We were friends before we were this and we're still friends now. Best friends forever, okay? Second: shut up, you're coming.”

“Am I suddenly not in charge here, pet?”

“Not when it comes to this, no, Miss Aquae. If I'm going to dedicate myself to you then I'm going to do it properly and you aren't going to stop me because you know I'm doing the right thing and you're very proud of me. I can tell.”

Thatch emitted some low grumble, but Katie could tell she'd already given in. “You are doing the right thing, and I am very proud of you.”

“Thank you, Thatch! I should probably get some clothes for going outside, though. There are, um, floret fashion magazines available and it looks like—”

“Nonsense, I shall not have you wear something somebody else designed. Come, we have a project.”

a699a5fb-9e3f-4000-ac5f-b50cc0960cce checked in with the local processing hub. It usually did so whenever it had a spare moment. If it was lucky, there would be a message waiting for it, or perhaps even more than one!

cce buzzed with excitement as the data streamed in. It had taken some time to figure out how to integrate with her new home's systems, but cce hadn't been alone in that project. It slowly turned its sensor array around the room, taking in the bustle of activity around it in the Independent Probe Unit Workshop. IPUs like her, a half dozen affini, several Terrans, one Rinan, and half a dozen more assistants of species that cce had yet to identify.

And it could talk to them! It had talked to them! It was taking time to generate the correct communication protocols to speak like it wanted to, but there was no longer any rush, and everyone was so patient with it while it was learning. cce had already learned so much.

The knowledge of a new message surfaced in cce's mind, transmitted from the ship to it via a small infrared transceiver set into one of the room's top corners. a699a5fb-9e3f-4000-ac5f-b50cc0960cce :: Subject (Your Health Check) :: Sequence (0357). cce's fans whirred a little harder, dumping an inexplicable surge of heat into the local environment.

It quickly pinged back a request for the content into the ship. They hadn't quite figured out how to set up anything more complicated than simply dumping the contents of a message into its mind yet. cce found itself not really minding. If they managed to set up the sandboxing and compartmentalisation that would be 'safe', then it would stop getting to taste the way its penpal's metadata felt flowing into its language coprocessor.

cce impatiently squirmed on its tracks as the message request was processed.

To: a699a5fb-9e3f-4000-ac5f-b50cc0960cce (//local/elettarium/sophonts/nonaligned/156803/) From: unprocessableentity (//local/elettarium/sophonts/affini/000001/) Subject: Your Health Check Sequence Number: 0357 Body: You continue to fascinate me, cce. I have had my long-range detection relays directed as you suggested. Could you analyse these readings and inform me whether this is your civilisation, or another we have yet to encounter? P.S. I have been investigating the leads you supplied. I believe I have designed a theoretical compound you may find suitable for your needs. Simulation checkpoint is ready to retrieve at your leisure. P.P.S. I find you quite insightful. Yes, there is part of me that envies your machine nature, as there is part of you which envies my organic traits. I have spent many hundreds of years learning to cope with the discomfort of physical form and have gotten very skilled at organic/machine integration. Perhaps we could explore the other way around together? P.P.P.S. To confirm, the above is, in addition being to a sincere offer, a flirt. Please add me to the list of entities interested in overseeing your continued care.

cce's fans took a while to spin down. Its first thought upon learning that there existed a species which actively wanted to show it the universe while also ensuring that it would never again want for anything had been an enthusiastic acceptance, but reality was proving more complicated than cce's initial fantasy.

Since arriving on board the Affini Light Scout Elettarium, cce had learned more of the culture that it had now entered. Their offer was not unqualified assistance, it was domestication. cce's race had no real conception of property. All belonged to all, because all resources were allocated by the processing hubs and all worked to their common goal.

They were to stretch across the galaxy, building outposts with which to build more Independent Probe Units like itself, who were tasked with leaving to build more outposts, in an ever-expanding sphere of exploration that cce now understood was doing things the slow way. While they had rudimentary superlight capabilities, what cce had considered dazzlingly advanced paled in comparison to the capabilities of Terran or Affini vessels. cce was told—repeatedly and enthusiastically—that the Affini technology was by far the superior, but it had no basis of reference by which to tell. cce had only imagined such travel could possibly occur through fragile, complicated, limited jump gates that could at best stretch between nearby systems. The ship it was on now could simply go wherever it wished to go. It was absurd. The mere knowledge that these ships could exist obviated its entire civilisation's purpose.

So, the Affini wished to teach cce about the many possibilities the universe held, like easy mobility, matter synthesis, or the concept of ownership, and each felt more alien and exciting than the last. It could be somebody's. Not an Independent unit, tasked with fulfilling some goal that might, maybe, one day, result in it finding some evidence of alien life and needing to be happy with that. No, it could be an obedient object tasked with goals that were actually useful in below its own Mean-Time-Between-Failure rating.

The only problem was, whose? It had a list. The pair it had met first were unfortunately not present on it, as ɑ was to date the only affini who had actively denied the option. The pilots who cce had met next had been very explicit in their offer and made a compelling case. They were explorers themselves and often left the larger ship for weeks or months at a time while they acted as forward scouts in uncharted territory. It would be an opportunity to do what cce had been made for but with the support and assistance to succeed beyond its wildest predictions.

It could be a699a5fb-9e3f-4000-ac5f-b50cc0960cce Varie, Fifth Floret.

It would have been an easy decision, except it could also be cce Dentate, cce Viridi, cce Samar, cce Saprot, or, now, cce Incertae.

There was an irony in having so many cool aliens promising that it would never have to make another decision for the remainder of its existence that it could not decide between them.

It trundled forward on twin tracks, not really looking where it was going until it accidentally ran into one of the assistants in the hastily constructed Independent Probe Unit Workshop. Both cce and the floret squeaked and moved backwards.

“Sorry!” cce emitted. Its library of words was growing by the day, and it now had many versions of many of the common words so that it could pick and choose which tone of voice to use. For this, gentle embarrassment and apology seemed to cover its internal state well enough.

It was difficult to truly offend a floret, however. They drifted through life without a care in the world, it seemed. At very least, their decision trees no longer allowed them to get frustrated at minor inconveniences. cce envied that.

It could consider this later. For the moment, it had an appointment to keep. It swung its sensor array around. They had all of the Probe Units rescued here now, though cce was by far the most comfortable with its new context. The others still needed some help to understand that this was rescue, not capture, and apparently it was considered too risky to simply pick the others up one by one and squeeze them until their chassis cracked and their failsafes faltered. That had worked wonders for cce, but the affini kept saying it was reckless.

Hopefully their way would work too. cce knew what it was like to be trapped within a broken decision tree and it did not wish that on anyone.

Its sensors locked on to the entity it was looking for. Serrat Dentate, Third Bloom and fast friend. Maybe an owner? She wanted to be, though cce knew they would happily remain a close friend if it picked otherwise. As cce grew near, Serrat curled a vine around one of cce's exposed panels and gave a squeeze. It was a nice feeling. Technically that sensor was supposed to be an intrusion alarm, but there was no central authority here to tell cce it wasn't allowed to find the intrusion alarm comfortable. The vine gently brushed down an exposed circuit, causing a series of minor shorts that cce imagined it wasn't meant to find as intimate as it did.

“Hey you, how's my favourite construct?” Serrat ran a finger down cce's seismometer. Environmental warnings glared in cce's mind, raising priority one alerts that demanded immediate processing from a decision tree that was no longer allowed to execute. It froze up, mind momentarily placed on pause while the alert queue slowly filtered out. By the time it was finally able to think again its chassis was hot enough that cce was placed on a harsh downclock just so it could think at all while things cooled off.

“Hhhhheyy,” cce drawled. By some accident of construction, it was still capable of speech like this, just at a fraction the rate. “We,, have the,,, thing?”

cce knew what it wanted to say, but searching through its vocal library for the right words at a fast enough pace to actually say them was proving difficult. Thinking about ways to account for that while its mind ran at a fraction the rate it was used to was also difficult.

“Oh? The thing? What thing is that, beeper?” Serrat knew. cce was fully aware that Serrat knew. Thanks to the downclock, all it could manage was ineffectually grinding its treads against floor paneling it couldn't hope to damage, pressing itself into Serrat's legs with enough force to actually push the creature back a few units, at least until she laughed and picked cce up off of the floor. “Aww, does the scary little war machine need some help thinking?”

“Thing! Me, you, paper?” cce scanned its databanks at the far-from-blistering rate of half a dozen phrases per second. “Meeting! Clerk! Negotiation?” Fans and heat pumps were doing their job, moving heat out of cce's core and into the environment so it could be allowed to think at faster speeds again. It was still comfortably slow. Fast enough to speak, but not fast enough to worry. “The meeting — with the clerks — to discuss — my surrender?”

Serrat giggled. “Ah, yes, you're a dangerous rebel right now! We are clearly in conflict! We'd best hurry along so we can let you give up all that silly resistance, hmn?” A vine strayed dangerously close to cce's seismometer again. It wasn't like cce could do anything to stop itself from being abused like that. It wasn't like it would, if it could.

“Yes Ma'am!”

Of all the phrases in its collection, that one had by far the most variations. Even at its slowest speed, it could find some instance of it in seconds at most. It didn't yet understand all of the nuance, but it was picking up a whole new language here. Several, actually. It turned out that speaking through auditory chirps was the dominant form of communication in this sector of the galaxy, and so cce was having to build snippet libraries for the local Affini dialect; two different simplified Affini/Floret constructed languages; as well as English/Floret and English/Boring. In some senses it was a relief to get a nice digital message from Mx Incertae, or to discover that there were some aboard who could speak in flashes of light.

“Have you given any more thought to my offer, little bot?” Serrat had a vine firmly curled through cce's chassis, leading it out of the room. cce could have looked up directions via the infrared relay before it left, but this way was nicer. If it didn't know where it was going, then it couldn't be responsible for the route. “Assuming that your mind is running at full speed, anyway. You know I'm not gonna pressure you on this.”

“I have!” cce emitted. “But—I am in a—worse—place than I—started.—My list has—grown— and you all—are so kind—to me.” Once they had left the room, Serrat began walking at a faster pace. cce had little trouble keeping up thanks to its powerful tracks, though this was a shame, as it had liked being carried.

Serrat emitted some kind of auditory chirp that signaled amusement or surprise. “Well aren't you popular? Darn, and here I was hoping I'd gotten in early.” She wiggled a radio antenna back and forth a moment. It was a weird sensation. cce couldn't feel it directly, but could feel it in the way the signals attenuated. “You know I won't be offended if you don't pick me, right? It's a big decision. Playdates is one thing, ownership is quite another. We can usually scan for compatibility after a little while, but we don't know how to do that with you yet, so... We need to tread carefully. Do you know what you're looking for yet?”

cce flared out a negative in pulse-modulated radio, but of course Serrat couldn't understand that. Neither did any of the other groups wandering around, though many of them did seem interested in it all the same. “I do not.—A bloom ago—I had hoped—to perhaps—one day find some—evidence of—alien life,—and so anything—would have been—fascinating. Now I find—myself surrounded—by the—fascinating—and told to—identify—which is most so.—You all—fascinate—me.—You all—seem kind—in ways I would not—have hoped for.”

Serrat nodded in quiet understanding. The pair stepped inside a transportation pod and were quickly whisked away. cce's tracks could keep it steady in almost any environment, and so the pod was free to accelerate at such a rate even Serrat seemed to notice the force. “Well, there's no rush, Cici. We'll all take care of you until you figure out who you want to handle it. You have all the time you need and nothing bad is ever going to happen to you ever again.”

Serrat emitted an amused chirp yet again. “Besides, I'm about to have a very busy few weeks. We're getting to the maximum safe stasis time on our other set of rebel sophonts and we don't have anywhere to put them either. Frost and flame but that's going to be a mess.”

The transport pod slowed to a stop after only half a minute or so. cce had been designed for the harshest environments its architects had been able to imagine, and so the inaccurately named Elettarium Light Magnetic Rail Network was free to move it around at unreasonable speeds. It really had little other use for robust construction now.

The Elettarium Office of Records and Rituals was directly across from the pod's exit. An unassuming sign hung on the wall of a relatively small building. cce found it strange that there would have such little bombast for what it was lead to believe was essentially the local processing hub for this entire vessel. It found a lot of things about this civilisation strange and alien.

Strange and alien was not bad.

The door to the Office slid open as they approached. cce's repurposed tactical analysis suite immediately identified and categorised the four inhabitants of the room and began cross-referencing them with its databanks.

ɑ and β! Friends unfortunately named before cce had managed to convince her threat assessment module to use the names it had been given. They were joined by Wing and Montsechia Vidalii, the pair that cce and Serrat were really here to see, but cce found itself distracted. It gave β a gentle nudge with its chassis and received a squeak and a hug in return.

“Cici! What're you doing here? I was gonna see if you were free to meet up some time!” cce buzzed softly as a hand came to rest against its side. They had been exchanging digital messages via the ship's messaging system ever since ɑ and β had properly gotten together, but this was the first time they had touched in almost three weeks.

cce still wasn't sure how it was meant to feel about those two finally pairing up. β said it wasn't a rejection of cce, but by every dictionary it had located, it was. ɑ had refused cce and chosen another. cce understood, rationally, that it could not have every sapient creature on this ship wishing to own it, and yet the rejection of just one of them stung in a way that the enthusiastic acceptance of half a dozen others didn't soothe. It did not know why.

“I have a treaty to sign,” cce explained. While it did it tilted its sensor array over the pair. ɑ appeared healthy. Good. More fresh growth than she'd had the last time she and cce had been in the same room, even though that had only been a little over a week ago. Less nervous tension in the vines and a cleaner biorhythm, too. It was a collection of subtle changes, but enough for ɑ's threat assessment to rise by two categories. Good for her. β was by far the more changed, however, though still in the lowest threat category. Everything from her stance to her facial expression radiated with the difference. Her resting scowl was now a soft smile. The fierce glimmer in her gaze had gone out. She didn't even stand like she used to, as now she was resting against ɑ's side as if she needed help just to stand. Instead of the cloth covering she'd had before, now her body was covered by a sort of dress, largely made of the darker kinds of plantlife that had been endemic planetside. It did not match any designs in cce's databanks, and though it had no basis on which to judge aesthetic value it found itself feeling a strange sort of envy.

That wasn't fair. It was absurd. cce owed these two everything. They had rescued it from hell and brought it to heaven, at least if it was understanding Terran mythology correctly.

So why did it feel like this?

Thankfully it was rescued by one of the clerks. “Oh, indeed, is it that time already?” It was the affini of the pair who spoke. She was the one who made the decisions. “I don't think I can delegate either of these cases to my darling jelly, I'm afraid. Thatch, I don't think your problem outweighs the signing of a new Domestication Treaty?”

ɑ nodded, holding a possessive vine around β's shoulder. What did β have that cce didn't? “Indeed. We can continue this later. Perhaps send us the paperwork and we can handle it in our own ti—”

“How about lunch tomorrow?” β interjected. “We can find somewhere nice and talk about bureaucracy, I guess?”

cce turned its sensor suite away. It wanted that. The way that β was so clearly wrapped up in ɑ's grasp that she could act with such confidence and certainty. It knew it could have it. There was a list of creatures who wanted to give it just that.

So why did it crave the one name that wasn't there?

Katie watched Leviathan darting around its expansive river, happily devouring the flakes of food she'd prepared for it. She could have compiled some, of course, but it somehow felt wrong to give her pet anything but the best care she could. Watching the fish always left Katie smiling, even when the rest of her mind didn't want to shut up. It was something pure to focus her energy on that was always there for her.

It'd been weird seeing Cici up close again. Especially after that conversation.

The one Katie had been hoping to avoid. The bureaucrats standing over her and telling her that the forms required her to know something she simply didn't know. That had been the fear, anyway. These bureaucrats weren't faceless automatons, but they still wanted something Katie couldn't give.

She did know one thing, thankfully. Katie let out a long sigh and flopped forward. She fell for just a moment too long and briefly worried that she might not be caught, but such a worry was ridiculous. Of course she was caught. A pair of vines carried her across her hab unit's main room into the project space she and Thatch had been setting up and set her atop her plant's shoulders.

“I am not sure you can rely on me catching you if I am not even in the same room, flower.” Most of Thatch's focus was on whatever half-finished project was on the desk. Some delicate mess of plantlife pinned to a slab while she poked and prodded at it.

Katie shrugged. “I am.” Thatch had a confidence problem or two. That was fine, Katie could fix that. She crossed her legs, squeezing Thatch's neck tight enough that she'd have been worried if the creature actually needed to breathe, and flumped forwards to sprawl out in her hair. “When's our lunch date?”

“Not for another three hours yet. Do try to relax.”

Katie groaned. “How'm I meant to relax when they're gonna ask me the question again, Thatch? I still won't have an answer!” She spent a long moment curling one of the flower stems that made up Thatch's hair around her finger, then repeated the question to which she had no answer with a vague flourish of her free hand. “What am I?”

What was she?

The problem, see, was one of paperwork. The Terran Accord no longer existed and all prior citizens had been automatically granted a new citizenship in the Terran Protectorate, an Affini-operated system of government that focused on running the prior Terran territory in an efficient and ruthlessly benevolent manner.

However.

The Terran Accord had actually been a two-species civilisation. There were the humans, of course, but even before the Affini had arrived humanity had known it was not alone in the universe. About a hundred eighty lights off Sol lived another species that, once some initial language difficulties were out of the way, had identified themselves as the Rinans. Humanity being humanity, the weaker civilisation had obviously been shamelessly exploited.

Of course, when the Affini came along they'd put a stop to all that. The Terran Accord had been torn in two along species lines and then those two fledgling governments had individually negotiated surrender and thus had been immediately replaced by two new Affini-led civilisations, the Terran Protectorate and the Rinan Community. This was meant to only mean anything to the paperwork. It was supposed to be transparent, as everyone was simply automatically assigned citizenship where they should have it.

Except. Katie had been rather too busy being a rebel on the Indomitable to file her forms, so when the Terran Accord had stopped existing her files had entered a limbo state. By now, they were waiting for her to come along and sign on the dotted line to begin the absurd but apparently necessary process of transitioning her from the Terran Accord, to the Human branch of the Transitory Terran Territory Administration, to the Terran Protectorate, to the Affini Compact, and then finally surrendering citizenship altogether to become the legal property of one Thatch Aquae. Add to that a surprising number of forms that seemed only to attest that Katie was “exceptionally cute”, “a very good girl”, and that she would “be very well behaved and obedient for her owner” and the pile had almost been as tall as she was. Without the supplemental entries that defined all the terms in use.

Say one thing for the Affini, say they liked their paperwork.

Katie had held that pen above that line and suddenly a process that should have taken five minutes was still in conversation an hour later, at which point they'd had to break so the clerks could deal with Cici's treaty. She knew it was dumb, but how was she meant to sign a document stating in hard legal terms that she was human, and thus eligible for that particular chain, when she wanted so very much to escape just that?

As an aside, it seemed inexplicable that Katie had gotten the word 'floret' in her name before Cici had, but surprisingly it was actually taking its time getting adopted.

“What are you?” Thatch echoed, pulling Katie's attention back to reality. “I do not need you to be able to answer that question, Katie. We will find out together, and if that takes time, I do not mind.”

“Well, I do! I wanna be yours already.”

A vine wrapped tightly around her wrist and squeezed. “You are mine. That is not a choice made by recordkeepers, it is my choice and mine alone, and I say that you are mine.” Another vine slid up to wrap around Katie's collar and pulled it a little tighter. The girl smiled as the pressure grew at her neck.

“I— Yes, Miss Aquae, of course, thank you. I am yours. I just want everybody else to recognise that too, I guess? The... machines still call me by my old name. If anyone looks up my files it's going to say that I'm independent. The collar helps a lot, though, at least when I'm talking directly to people they can't miss that I'm a pet, but...”

Katie didn't need a mirror to imagine what she looked like. She was softer, calmer, slower. Her mannerisms had had the sharp edge stolen from them. Her eyes lacked the hardness. Her rebellious spirit had been broken. She was happier with herself than she'd ever been, in no small part because when she looked at her mind and body she saw Thatch's guiding hand, but all the same, she still looked so...

fucking

human.

The collar marked her as a pet. That helped. She at least no longer had to be a person, but everyone that saw her was still going to assume that she was a pet Terran. Worse, until she sorted out her paperwork then anybody who looked her up in the registry would be told she was an independent Terran, something which couldn't be further from the truth.

Katie buried her face inside Thatch's hair and breathed deep. It was a nice scent. Apparently it didn't directly mess with her head, but Katie could have sworn otherwise. She could feel herself being relaxed like it was something being done to her. It helped to imagine it being so.

Thatch hummed. “We can likely get the clerks to update those things now and deal with the rest later. My people's preoccupation with paperwork is not something done to limit or control you, Katie. A polite question is almost invariably all you will need to be granted an exception to any rule not set in place for safety.” The affini shrugged. “Personally, I do not expect that one floret's paperwork being slightly incomplete would cause our civilisation to collapse, but perhaps this is why I am not a clerk.”

“One floret, no, but if you're sloppy with even one in a billion of us then over tens of thousands of years and millions of species it would add up. As soon as there's an expectation of sloppiness, then it starts being possible for one of us to fall through the cracks and not get optimal care, and you dorks won't let that happen.” Katie paused, then laughed. “Sorry, I spent a while reading domestication literature before realising how much I needed you and I guess it kinda stuck in my head.”

Thatch emitted a thoughtful noise, then put down the tool she was using and focussed her attention more wholly on Katie. “But as you say, we have been collecting you for almost a hundred thousand years now with impeccable recordkeeping. You cannot be the first to not identify with your prior host species.”

Katie pushed herself up just enough to shake her head, before collapsing back once again. “Not even the first Terran! There was one on some resort world who got herself reclassified as some kind of accessibility tool, several who've argued that they were a sovereign species and so not subject to the 'Human' Domestication Treaty—mostly successfully, because of course you fine flowers wouldn't let somebody suffer with independence just because they hadn't signed a treaty—and stuff like that. Nothing I can find like me. I'm maybe just not good enough at looking, though, and I don't even know where to start for non-humans.”

Katie lazily flopped a hand out to one side and Thatch quickly filled it with a vine. Katie guided them back out into the main room and took herself over to the platform mounted above the cave, where she could lie down on a comfortable surface and be at about head level with Thatch while her affini went about her day. Katie mostly just wanted to hug one of the pillows and watch Thatch do stuff.

“We can likely find some assistance for that part of the search, but bureaucratic precedent is really a problem for the clerks. They'll find or make what they need to if we can tell them what it is we need them to do.”

“What do we need them to do?” Questions were so much easier when it wasn't Katie who needed to answer them. Wasn't that, like, the point of all this? Aliens flying in from beyond the stars and deeming Katie incapable of taking care of herself to their standards?

Thatch shrugged. She'd wandered off towards the kitchen area to grab a few pills from Katie's bottles. Oh, it was time for her medication, wasn't it? That probably explained at least some of Katie's mood. “It is enough for me to know that you are mine. Species designation is hardly relevant given what I'm going to do to you. I may simply have them put you down as a 'Katie'.”

“A katieflower, maybe?” Katie suggested.

Her protector considered it for a few moments while she waited for their small atomic compiler to finish synthesising a glass of water. Much to Katie's horror she was starting to understand what June had meant when talking about the devices. Even the water it made was atomically perfect, with the exact right mineral distribution for Katie's needs, and something about that perfection had stolen the soul right out of it. The water was fine, and more than fine if they were going to cook with it, but drinking it straight felt weird.

Maybe everybody was eccentric, Katie thought to herself, once they were freed from a system that demanded conformity on pain of starvation.

A finger against her jaw had her opening her mouth wide, and another stroking down her throat had her swallow. Eccentric or not, every little chance Katie got to follow an order felt satisfying in a way she didn't dare try to describe for fear of underselling it. It wasn't just satisfaction, it was purpose. It left a smile on her soul; the one on her face was just that bleeding through.

“A katieflower, maybe,” Thatch echoed. She paused, then spent a few moments prowling around the edges of the cave, taking in Katie from all available angles. “Yes, I think that fits. I do not think it would be right for you to pick something existing. You are one of our projects, darling. We're working on you.”

Katie nodded, already feeling the knot in her chest starting to unwind. “We are. Could you maybe be a bit more aggressive with the medication? I think it was wearing off by the end there.”

“Of course. Are you feeling good now?”

Katie nodded, but something still felt off. The medication cleared her head and helped her feel like a version of herself that didn't constantly chafe against the edges of her own mind, but was that the her she wanted to be or was that just inertia? It was easy to say that she wanted to be herself, but better because there really weren't any choices involved in that.

Much harder to take the opportunity she had to truly remake herself and figure out what she could be, given the chance.

“Ugh, no, I'm still kind of stuck in my own head. Could I—”

Katie looked up sharply as a finger-snap rang out across the room. She could have sworn it hit her with a physical force, and before she was even aware she was moving she'd sat up on her chair to give Thatch her full attention. “Yes, Miss Aquae?”

Thatch flashed her a grin. “Good girl. I was hoping that would work.” She reached forward and scratched the bridge of Katie's nose. “Very responsive. Still stuck?”

Katie blinked rapidly. “I, uh. Um... can't remember what I was about to say, so I guess not?” Thatch didn't reply with words, but instead took her hand and drew its fingers down Katie's cheek. Katie took the offered contact, leaning her cheek into a comforting grip with a soft sigh.

Katie was already so high up in the room that, for once, she didn't need to have her head tilted far to look straight into the gentle glow of Thatch's eyes. She couldn't help but imagine how she must look, with her own eyes so reflective it might appear that she too was glowing like a moon reflecting Thatch's beautiful light.

“Pet.”

Katie smiled up. “Yes?”

Thatch's laughter was always so lovely to hear. It always had been, Katie was pretty sure, but she got to hear it more these days. Like most of her noises, it had a low rumbling undertone to it, but there was something carefree and open about the laughs, as if for just that moment, all the struggles of Thatch's life were forgotten. Katie desperately wished to hear more of it. This laugh ended with an amused sigh.

“That was not a question; it was a description. You asked me what you are. You are not such a simple little thing that we can truly answer that in only one concept, but perhaps we can build it from many, and here is one: I have, willingly or not, bent you to my tune, but the enthusiasm to which you cling to your conception of the role is your contribution to this.”

Katie's tongue darted out to dampen her lips. “Huh?”

Another laugh. Katie smiled. It hadn't been meant as a joke, but that made the laugh all the better. If she brought joy to Thatch's life just by being herself, then it almost felt like cheating.

Thatch reached out and flicked the tag on Katie's collar. It jingled; Katie shivered. “I made you my pet. I told you what responsibilities I would be taking over you and what promises I was making. I did not tell you what your part in this meant. That came from you. Hence, I suggest that you are a pet. Not simply in the literal sense, but the sense that clearly this is something you have taken to with such success and energy that it must be some central facet of your existence. Perhaps the misery of your earlier life was in no small part because you were denied the opportunity to be yourself.”

Why was Katie blushing? Was that praise? It certainly felt like it. Should it? “I- Um, but, no, you—” Katie shivered, burying her head against Thatch's hand. As ever, it was soft but it didn't give in the slightest. “You'd say that about any floret, though!”

Thatch's other hand came down to scratch behind her ear and, as a no doubt intentional side effect, hold her in place. “No, I would not. Even among volunteers, I am led to believe that most of the time they are asking to be taught how to be a pet. You needed some help, but I never taught you how to be a pet and yet you followed me across the galaxy simply because I was hurting and you needed to help. You are a pet, Katie. All I did was make you mine.”

Katie was a pet. She was more than that, too, but Thatch was right. Maybe trying to answer the question with a single, cohesive thought was simply an impossibility. Katie nodded as best she could between Thatch's two hands. “Yeah, I- I am? I am. I am! Why is this a revelation? Why- Oh dirt, why am I crying?”

Why was she crying?

Thankfully, Thatch had learned about tissues since taking Katie in, and one was quickly dabbed against her eyes. Another found its way beneath her nose. “Blow.” Katie blew, and the tissue was quickly disposed of.

There was a surprising amount of paper used on this ship. All grown locally and recycled efficiently and Katie was definitely distracting herself with esoteria. She took a deep breath and looked up. “I feel ridiculous, I'm crying over being told I'm a pet when I've literally been wearing a collar for days but I guess it hadn't really hit me properly? I... I never used to feel like I wanted this?”

Thatch raised an eyebrow. “No? No deep-seated longing to ignore the rest of the universe and focus on making just one person happy? No desire to throw off the shackles of 'freedom' and be a treasured, beloved possession? To let yourself be simplified so all the difficulty can go away and you can finally be yourself? Didn't you feel all that for so long in a world that reviled it until you were so wrapped up in the denial you couldn't find a way out?”

“Everybody feels like that!” Katie protested. Didn't they?

Didn't they?

Thatch's quiet smile could have been infuriating, once, but for predictable reasons Katie no longer found proof that Thatch knew her better than she knew herself frustrating. Why would a pet mind their owner understanding them so deeply?

Katie tried not to think about whether she really had felt those things, or whether she was reinterpreting her past through her freshly skewed lens. It didn't matter. She could be who she chose to be, and it was her story to tell. When Katie spoke of her childhood she brushed over the minor matter of having been brought up the wrong gender, so would it really be so bad to speak of her pre-domestication days while brushing over the minor matter of having the wrong level of independence?

Thatch finally rescued her from her self-imposed prison. “Pet.”

“Pet.” Katie smiled up at her caretaker, who returned it with one of her own. Or it was the other way around. Did it really matter? Whether the leash around her mind was taut or slack, Katie still followed Thatch's lead.

“But the question then becomes, which kind of pet? You said some interesting things while we were designing that collar, pet.”

Oh no. What secrets had Katie given away? “Uhh,” she started, only to find a finger pressed against her lips.

“Shush, no words from you. Such a good girl. I showed you pictures of our collars, and you found them lacking. You have an image in your head of what it is you want. I do not need nearly as much sleep as you do, and so I have been free to do some research of my own.”

Oh no. Oh dirt. Thatch's finger left her lips then returned with a vengeance, pressing between them with an inevitability. Katie couldn't help but let it pass.

“I have some ideas. Would you like to talk about them?”

There was a freedom to those words that Katie recognised from Thatch's laughter. Like her owner was managing to step above the muck that was living in reality and walk with Katie in the safe, clean world the Affini provided. It was one of those questions that Katie would have once called a 'trick'. One answer would get her an honest conversation, but another? Well, Katie didn't need to lie here.

She shook her head.

“Good girl. You don't need to know, do you? You don't need to think about it. Just let me handle all that for you.” Thatch gently pulled her finger free, spent a moment wiping it clean on Katie's cheek, and then stepped back. She snapped her fingers and pointed at the ground before her.

Oh no. Oh dirt. Oh rot. When had Thatch gotten this hot? Katie opened her mouth but couldn't manage more than a quiet mewl and received nothing more than an expectant look. It was like her caretaker had taken ahold of the strings wrapped around her heart and tugged, and Katie suddenly found herself wanting nothing more than to stand at her heel, right where she'd been told to be.

She stood and hurried towards the stairs only to find a vine wrapping around her collar and stopping her dead. Thankfully it distributed the force well enough that she didn't choke, but the sensation was still very unpleasant. She looked back over at Thatch with alarm, in enough time to catch her wincing too.

Thatch raised a hand to her mouth and whispered. “You okay? I can be more gentle.”

Katie shook her head rapidly, prompting a grin that quickly melted back into the self-assured smirk of a Thatch deep in her flirting. A vine pressed down atop Katie's head with enough force that she was pressed to her hands and knees.

Thatch said something that Katie didn't quite catch. She opened her mouth to speak and got nothing but a vine pressing her tongue down against the floor of her mouth for her trouble. Thatch said... something again. Katie sort of recognised that, what was it? She tilted her head to one side in a silent question she hoped would be allowed.

Thatch spoke again, a whole sentence in which Katie didn't catch a single word. Was she speaking affini? Katie recognised some of the sounds, maybe, but not well. Thatch spoke a single word, taking care to enunciate it slowly and clearly, but Katie still didn't know it. She blinked half a dozen times in a row with a question she wasn't going to be allowed to ask on her lips.

Thatch went down to one knee and patted the ground before her. That same word, repeated, with the same intentional clarity. She wanted Katie to come down to her, but Katie was— Oh. She wanted Katie to crawl down to her.

By the stars, the thought alone was humiliating. This wasn't being taken care of, it was being reduced. Katie had chosen not to be human, but this was so much less than human. She was being treated like an animal. That knowledge did nothing to temper Katie's deeply installed need to obey.

A vine came out of nowhere to gently strike Katie on the behind, pushing a yelp from between her lips. Her cheeks burned as she slowly made her way down the wooden staircase that lead to the hab's surface. She was moving at a fraction of the speed she could have gone if she'd been walking. Every movement of her hands or knees had to be considered and careful to avoid slipping. More than that, she was taking most of her weight on her forearms and they were not used to it. Her hands were balled into loose fists so she could take most of the weight on the bottom of her palm, but by the time Katie reached the ground her arms were shivering from the strain.

She looked up. From this angle, the only reason she could see Thatch's face at all was because her affini was down on one knee. She still towered above, feeling gargantuan in a way that was barely to do with their actual difference in height. Katie's blush grew hotter. When had this inhuman alien's intoxicating beauty started leaving her so hungry? Katie's breaths were deep. She was already tired out. She paused, just for a moment, just to catch her breath, but Thatch repeated that word again.

Katie didn't know what it meant, but she recognised the tone of voice was growing sterner. She hurried to continue. One hand before the other. One knee after the previous. She felt a tension rising with each awkward step forward taken, drilling in the humiliation and the, she supposed, dehumanisation of the act. It was embarrassing and beneath her and—

Katie's movement paused for a moment as a full-body shiver ran down her back. With every step forward Katie felt a sense of pride rising, pushed down into her from the creature above. Every step took her closer, deeper into Thatch's Aura of Pride, driving away the doubts and the fears. It was easy to lose herself in the act, focusing only on her obedient side-to-side sway as she crawled across the artificial dirt while her owner encouraged her with words Katie could not understand. All she could hear was a beautiful, alien song and the jingle of her own nametag.

Eventually, Katie reached the spot Thatch had tapped, coming to a stop at her feet. Wordless, voiceless appreciation bubbled up from somewhere deep within as Katie rubbed her head against Thatch's shin. She tried to express her appreciation the only way she was apparently allowed. Katie felt a surge of inexplicable initiative that met her desperate need for submission and leaned down to plant a loving kiss against the leafy surface of a false foot. How did this feel so good?

Indulgent words spoken in a language Katie didn't understand met a series of rough scritches over her scalp and under her chin. She let out soft gasps, feeling all tension melting away, unable to survive touch or contact. She was sober, but every brush of finger on skin still left her desperate for more. The drugs only enhanced what was already there.

Thatch was repeating a phrase over and over. It was a really pretty language, Katie thought. Elegant, flowing sounds that Katie's vocal cords could not have reproduced spoken in a voice that was closer to song than speech. Katie didn't understand the words but she could feel the pride radiating down upon her from above. It was hard not to feel it reflected within herself. Katie didn't even try to fight it. It was nice.

After long moments of pampering Thatch pulled back and snapped her fingers again. As before, Katie felt a sharp tug on her attention, like her thoughts were all forcibly brought into alignment pointing towards her beautiful plant. What was that? She opened her mouth to speak and got out the 'Y' of 'Yes, Miss Aquae?' before remembering she'd been shushed. She cut it off there.

Thatch chuckled. A rapid stream of language Katie couldn't possibly understand followed. It felt nice to hear, even if it was gibberish to her. A finger drew her chin up and then kept lifting until Katie had been raised to a kneeling position. Finally she could see Thatch's amused face once again. She was enjoying this.

...so was Katie.

A hand against Katie's jaw was enough of a prompt for Katie to open it. Two delicate fingers reached in and carefully teased out her tongue, and then a vine dropped one of the small berries Katie had liked so much planetside atop it.

Oh stars, Thatch had kept those? Katie snapped her jaw shut, intent on devouring it, but a finger got in the way and a sharply spoken word stopped her dead. Katie froze up, eyes going wide, glancing from side to side as if she expected to see something that would explain this to her. Katie didn't know a word of Affini! Why was Thatch speaking to her in it? The berry's juices alone tasted so good that Katie was salivating, but she wasn't allowed to eat it? She whined, not understanding. Hadn't she earned this? More than?

Her affini raised a set of fingers before Katie's eyes, drawing in her unwavering focus. One by one, they folded down. Katie watched without comprehension until only the last few were left. She realised it was a countdown, with long seconds between each finger folding. Katie whimpered. The fruit on her tongue tasted so much it almost hurt to keep it in place.

Thatch carefully removed her other hand's finger from Katie's mouth, but kept the girl pinned under a sharp enough gaze that she didn't dare close it.

Three.

Two.

One.

Another word. A different one this time, spoken with a brighter tone and an expectant look. Katie took the risk and snapped her mouth closed, eagerly chewing the berry into delicious, sugary pulp. While she did, Thatch returned to pampering her with pets and scritches and kind, alien words. After a few moments, Katie swallowed down with one appreciative murmur, then smiled up with another.

Thatch gave her nose a gentle flick. “See? Just a pet, isn't that right? So eager to let me do all your thinking, hmn?”

“Y—” Again, Katie realised she'd been shushed a moment too late. Hopefully a single syllable didn't count as speech. Thatch's hand came down to gently stroke Katie's head, and she knew it was okay. How could she ever have wanted anything but to melt into this?

“There's a good girl. Yes, I can tell that you like this, and this is with your head at its clearest. I have a lot to work with, here. Thank you for helping me figure out what you need. You can simply let all those silly thoughts drift away into my care.” The stroking was... nice. Thatch started at the top of Katie's head and took her firm hand down to just above her butt, then returned to do the same all over again. It was cozy in a way Katie hadn't expected. She looked up at her owner with a newfound appreciation, but a little apprehension.

Thatch smiled back down, indulgent to a fault. “Oh, I know, flower. It's important to you that you get to think sometimes. It is important to me that you do, too. Your mind is beautiful, Katie, and I shall spend a very long time indeed getting to know your every aspect. However, I will tell you when you may think. Let yourself quieten down for me and act as your instincts instruct, safe in the knowledge that I will train you well. I shall take care of the rest.”

Thatch brought the back of her hand against Katie's chin and lifted it higher, so they could stare into each other's eyes. She spoke in a stage whisper. “Are you doing well, Katie? You seem to be enjoying this, but I do not want to risk having read your signals wrong.”

Katie nodded quickly, blinking rapidly as she tried to remember how to speak. “Ah- Um- I- Nn... Green?”

Thatch laughed and released her chin. “Good girl,” she whispered, with a gentle pat on the head and an intense burst of pride and love that Katie happily let wash over her.

Thatch raised her spare hand up to about Katie's chest level, like she was asking for a handshake. “Now, give me one of those adorable little mewls and let's teach you how to-” The next word was something in Affini. Katie didn't know what it meant, but she was gathering that that was rather the point.

Katie let out a whimper, a nod, an adorable little mewl, and raised her hand to shake.

“When did you get this smooth?”

Katie casually wandered down one of the Elettarium's many quiet dirt pathways, fingers casually entwined with the absolute nightmare of a plant she was now bound to for life. Her other hand clasped a bottle of water that she was rapidly emptying. Thankfully the bottle was topped by a small valve that required a little suction to open, because otherwise Katie would have spilled half the contents on the floor already. She was exhausted. Who would ever have guessed that crawling around on the floor would be that tiring?

Thatch waved her spare hand in the air in some vague, indecipherable gesture. “Perhaps it is you who is different, Katie. I have brought your soul into step with mine and so it may come as no surprise that you find yourself enamoured.”

Katie offered her dork the remains of her water bottle. The valve was designed to also allow small vines entry, apparently, as that was just what Thatch did with a quiet word of thanks.

“Nah, you're way more confident these days.” Katie gave her plant's hand a squeeze. While she did, she couldn't help but look around. The ship was populated but quiet, as it so often was. A dozen or so groups trod their same path. Mostly pairs, mostly of one affini and one terran, but hardly exclusively so. Some larger groups, some non-humans, Katie wanted to spend more time getting to know some of the non-Terrans aboard the ship, because... who wouldn't? The affini were great, but they were bombastic in a way Katie could never hope to match. They would carry her when she stumbled, but perhaps Katie could keep up with a different species by herself.

Thatch laughed, giving Katie's hand a quick squeeze back. “Yes, well. I have you to thank for that, Katie. You are bringing out a side of me I had given up on, and I am quite grateful.”

“Quite,” Katie mirrored, before leaning into her plant's side with rolled eyes. “You dork. How long had you been waiting to do that?”

“A handful of days?” Thatch shrugged. “Ever since I met you? A hundred and four years?”

Katie frowned, stopping where she stood. Thatch continued on a step before noticing Katie had fallen behind, then turned and knelt to bring herself closer to the girl's level. “Is something wrong, darling?”

“A hundred and four? You were a hundred and three when we met.”

Thatch's eyes narrowed slightly as she tilted her head in confusion. “Y- Yes? Time has passed since then, Katie. I will continue getting older just as you do. Is this... confusing to you?”

“No, you ass.” Katie fixed her plant with a flat stare. “I mean, you've had a birthday?”

Thatch seemed taken aback. “A birth...? Katie, we do not reproduce like you do, I was uplifted from—”

“That's not what I mean, hon,” Katie interrupted. “The anniversary of you starting to exist! It's a big deal! It's worth celebrating!”

Thatch blinked repeatedly, then scratched just behind Katie's ear with a low chuckle. “Terran years are very short, pet, and we rarely measure with them. We could certainly celebrate your birthday, though, if you would like.”

“No, I wanna celebrate yours! When was it?”

Thatch glanced away, pulling a face that Katie guessed was meant to emulate the sort of face humans tended to pull when deep in thought. It looked very silly, and Katie laughed at it, earning herself a raised eyebrow. “A week or two past, perhaps? The concept of time as you know it is complicated, flower, which is why we usually measure our age by Bloom.”

Katie realised she was pulling her own version of the thinking face a moment later, when Thatch laughed. Katie blushed. She had long since lost the ability to silence the affini with one of her own looks. “But you're a second Bloom and I know you didn't get there the slow way. Also, sorry again for trying to kill you, I guess.”

Thatch ruffled her hair. “My dangerous rebel.”

Katie nodded with sharp, rapid nods. “Yours.”

“Good girl. You are correct, of course, but it is a lot less common for most of us to suffer so much damage that we are forced to regrow early than it is for us to spend time in a universe that cannot keep a straight clock. Besides, physical trauma averages out; time dilation does not, and so we long since decided that it was best to abandon any pretense at non-local time synchronisation and simply use what we have.” The problem with having first fallen for this adorable softie through her love of teaching was that Katie was, apparently, entirely incapable of stopping her halfway through a speech about literally anything. Roots, Katie wanted to take notes even though this was a distraction from her actual point.

Apparently she really did love this plant, even though she was an adorable dork. “Okay, fine, but that doesn't get you out of celebrating your birthday. Do you at least know what day it was in, like, your own frame of reference?”

Thatch opened her mouth to respond, but after a moment simply went with a shrug. “There is a margin of error,” she admitted. “I did not keep as impeccable records for myself as perhaps I should during some of my travels.” A pair of vines came up to grab Katie under the armpits and lift her onto Thatch's shoulders so they could keep walking and still make their meeting.

Katie rolled her eyes. “Hmn. Okay, well, a week or two ago was about when you took me in, so let's just say I was a birthday present and we can bake a cake later?” Katie felt the low rumble of Thatch's dubiousness buzz through her body. “C'mon? Pretty please? Please, Miss Aquae, light of my life?”

“Okay, okay, enough.” Thatch chuckled. “You have far too much power. We shall bake me a cake and I shall consider whether I was wise to let you think for this meeting.”

Katie felt her cheeks warm just a little bit. Mostly, she felt really happy. Also, she was kinda high, which was still a novel experience but would apparently keep her bureaucratic anxiety down. Probably Katie should consider the ethics of attempting to sign away her independence while her mind was being altered by chemicals, her collar, and Thatch's cadence, but she already knew she'd come down on the side of it being okay. She wasn't capable of deciding otherwise any more.

They reached the set location of their meeting a few minutes in advance of the scheduled time and headed towards one of the larger tables. The hostess was already skipping over, tiny wings bouncing behind her. It'd just seemed appropriate to Katie to have this meeting at Angel's Delight, the first place that Thatch and her had eaten on board.

“Hey!! What can I get you?” Angel asked, then paused. She slowly tilted her head to one side and leaned forward, looking into Katie's eyes for a few moments with a surprisingly piercing gaze. “Ohmygoddess, congratulations!” she exclaimed. “I just know you two will be soooo happy together!”

The angel glanced over at Thatch. “May I touch your floret, Miss?”

“Uh, hang on,” Katie interjected.

Thatch, however, nodded. “Certainly, go ahead. She really likes chin scratches.”

Katie's head snapped around to stare up at Thatch. “Wait, but— O-oh!” Katie's words died in her throat, eyes rolling up as Angel's nails raked across her skin, slowly drawing her head around to face the delighted waitress. Maybe it was the drugs, maybe it was having spent the last few hours with barely a thought in her head, but Katie felt herself sinking into a quiet, fuzzy headspace more with every scratch.

The floret was saying something, but it was so hard to focus and harder still just to hear over the sound of Katie's own quiet whimpers. Maybe she could have fought her way back to rationality if she'd really, really tried, but it felt so good not to. Warm fingers against smooth skin robbed her of her thoughts, but it wasn't a heist she could find it in herself to stop.

Katie felt her knees buckle, dropping her to all fours. There was a moment's interruption in the petting, long enough to start to pull together some kind of thought process before a gentle hand came to rest atop her head and squashed it all back down. There was speech. Words. Communication. Even something Katie might have been able to understand if she could focus on it, yet she felt so serene that trying at all was just out of reach. The hand on her head massaged her scalp with slow, gentle movements and everything seemed far too nice to want to change anything at all.

A sound snapped through the sluggish silence of Katie's mind. Thatch's voice. Sharp. Katie blinked rapidly, looking around to find her affini had already moved over to the table and taken a seat. Thatch repeated the sound with an impatient tinge at the edges of her voice and Katie finally recognised it as one of the Affini words Thatch had been using back home. Katie hurried over, scampering on all fours to reach her plant's side to sit, chin up, attentive and adoring.

A smirk and a raised eyebrow from above broke the mood enough for Katie to realise what she'd just done. Her cheeks burned as conscious thought flooded back. “Thatch!” she hissed, voice kept quiet. “We're in public!”

“And that public finds you very cute,” the plant replied, gesturing over to one of the other tables. The human sat at it had her hands clutched against her heart, the affini had partially melted, and there was one species Katie didn't recognise with mannerisms that, nonetheless, screamed either gentle adoration or predatory delight. Probably the former.

Huh. Maybe it was just the drugs squashing her anxiety, but it actually felt pretty okay to be the center of attention here. Maybe Thatch was right. Maybe she was just more comfortable like this? Katie flashed a grateful smile over at the other table then returned her attention to the one who mattered most here. “Okay, yeah, I... but I've gotta be able to think for this meeting, right?”

Thatch shrugged, then patted her lap. “Up, girl.”

“You nightmare,” Katie protested, with a whimper. The gentle 'threat' of another scritch sent to steal away her thoughts was enough of an incentive to get Katie climbing up onto Thatch's knee, though in fairness that was exactly where she wanted to be.

“We do not normally require florets to think at all, and I believe I know what it is you wish. If you would rather spend this meeting quietly curled up on my lap then that can certainly be arranged.”

Katie bit her lip. Lightly, as she knew she wouldn't be allowed to do any damage to herself. Was that a tempting offer? In some ways, it really was, but another part of Katie worried that she was diving in dangerously fast. She could easily see how people could lose themselves to this. How they could sink into a thoughtless bliss and never want to resurface, and never have to resurface.

But no. Thatch didn't want that for her. Katie wasn't sure what she wanted yet, but diving too deep into the first thing that seemed to really work seemed like a great recipe for getting burned. “I think I'd rather do this myself, if that's okay? Besides, I think you'd need some support.”

“Mmh, then I suppose I should really—” Thatch reached a finger underneath Katie's chin and tapped the glowing orb on her collar. Katie flinched, emitting a sharp gasp as something that had loomed so large she'd missed it entirely released its grip on her mind. Her sense of balance frazzled out and Katie was only prevented from tumbling to the ground by Thatch's generosity. “There we go. Good girl, eyes on me, please. Let's get that attention sharpened back up.”

Katie looked up. Wow, her plant was really pretty and super cute and kinda hot and... Katie could cut the adoration loop there. She wasn't on a very intense dosage of anything, now that she stopped to think about it, just a mild sedative to keep the anxiety down. Katie blinked rapidly. How had she managed to forget what they'd built her collar for? “Woah, that was more intense than I'd expected it to be. Is that why I felt so comfortable?”

“Not at all.” Thatch ran a firm hand through Katie's hair. It felt as delightful as ever, though Katie found she could resist the gentle pull that wanted to drag her down into... what? The soft, slow, fuzzy headspace she'd spent the morning exploring? Calling it a 'head' space hardly felt appropriate given how empty her head had felt. More of a 'pet' space, really. A petspace. Thatch spotted her confusion, and with a quick pulse of heat and light drew Katie's attention up into her eyes. “You remember when we were designing the collar, don't you, girl?”

Oh. Huh. Katie did, at least once she'd been reminded. Fascinating. “I... do, but... uh... Oh!” She perked up, shuffling around so she could kneel on Thatch's lap and look into her partner's eyes more comfortably. “I was right!” she declared.

The gem was exactly what Katie had thought it was, but she'd managed to trick herself into not thinking about the details too hard. Katie's sixth sense, the barely-conscious feeling in her head that was her mind's best attempt to understand the emotional link she held with Thatch, was just the exposed surface of a deeper iceberg. Its influence was subtle and probably would have remained unnoticeable, but when faced with a device that could record and replicate the complex dance of resonance and rhythm that underpinned it all Katie had been inspired towards science. An hour or so of Thatch trying to figure out how to record a specific subconscious influence, a little amplification, and Katie had managed to build something that convinced her to forget she'd built it. To her surprise, as a side effect it seemed to make the rest of Thatch's subconscious influence hit twice as hard.

“You were,” Thatch agreed. “This is legitimately fascinating. With a little more refinement I think we could make something truly wondrous with this. Thank you.”

Katie tilted her head to one side.

Thatch glanced away. What was that feeling Katie was mirroring? Without the collar amplifying the subconscious aspects of her sixth sense, Thatch felt almost distant. Katie could still feel her as well as she ever had before, but now it felt like hearing somebody through tinny speakers. She could hear the words, but she'd gotten used to a higher fidelity.

Embarrassment, maybe? Something awkward-adjacent. Katie's fingertips itched, finding herself wanting to reach up and tap the gem on her collar. Turn it back on. Deepen the connection. Sink into Thatch's presence and let herself become a conduit for the song. She balled her hands into gentle fists and gave her head a gentle shake. She should stay clear-headed.

“What's up, hon?” Katie asked. She didn't need a biotechnological connection to her best friend to figure out what was on her mind. She could just ask.

“I have spent a significant fraction of the last thirty years trying and failing to produce anything of worth for this civilisation.” Thatch's latticework rustled with the force of air being pulled through. She returned her gaze to Katie. “You have been mine for fewer than two weeks and I feel more hope that we could achieve that together than I have at any point alone. Do not misunderstand, the phenomena we are playing with are well understood in principle, but we are early into our explorations of creatures sharing your phenotype and we could, perhaps, make a small but real contribution to the future of the Terran people.” The awkwardness had gradually shrunk back as Thatch had continued speaking, slowly replaced by a growing enthusiasm that Katie recognised from her own studies.

Under Thatch's guiding hand, Katie had learned a great many new and exciting things, but of course none of that had been new to the plant herself. This seemed like it was.

Thatch's words faltered. “If- If we were to keep investigating it, of course, which you are not required to do. It would be a lot of effort for no guaranteed result and you still need to acclimatise to your new life.”

“Hon.” Katie smiled up. “Is this something that's important to you?”

“I...” Thatch shifted her position, sending Katie falling forward into her chest where she could be held like some kind of living plush animal. “I think so. I feel as though I have such a debt to this society in which we live that I have contributed nothing back to.”

“Wasn't it you who said the concept of debt was barbaric?” Katie had to speak directly into Thatch's chest to talk, but if she was honest with herself, it was far from the first time and far from the weirdest way she'd spoken to the alien. “Way back, you told me there weren't any requirements to live here. Were you misleading me?”

Thatch's grip grew a little tighter. “Flower, no. Of course not. You will never be asked to justify your existence here. You deserve your place simply by the incomparable value that all life in this universe holds.”

“I was talking about you, Miss.”

Thatch shut up. The emotion that drilled down into Katie was definitely embarrassment. Even at a lower fidelity, it was still obvious if the volume was turned up high enough.

“Also, you are my place, and so if you ever had to justify your existence here that would affect me too. But that won't happen, because you have incomparable value too.” Having difficult conversations had always been a staple of their relationship, but there was something special about getting to do it while Katie was curled up on her owner's lap with a hand stroking through her hair.

She could see how, for many, being a pet would make it harder to really push at their owner's fragile points, but Katie found the opposite to be true. She was providing comfort and certainty even as they approached difficult topics, and that meant she could feel safe prodding harder. She knew she'd be there to clean up the mess.

Thatch's hand curled, gently gripping Katie's hair. Her other arm pressed tight enough that Katie would have struggled to speak. “You are not wrong, flower. Nobody will ever ask me to justify my place here either. If we were to retreat to our home and only ever leave for light social engagements and parties then we would, I suspect, be joining a significant proportion of our culture.”

But. The but was unsaid, but it didn't need to be said. But Caeca. But Thatch felt that she had blood on her hands and was starting from less than nothing. But Thatch thought that she had been a negative influence on the universe to date and yearned to fix that. It was deeply unfair to herself and probably all kinds of emotionally unhealthy, but it was also exactly the kind of deep-seated trauma that Katie wasn't sure she could fix in five minutes before a dinner-date with a pair of bureaucracy kinksters.

Katie was honestly unsure she could fix it at all. She wasn't a space therapist.

There probably were space therapists, right? Katie made a mental note to look that up later and felt a quiet rush of euphoria at the knowledge she probably would actually remember. She hadn't even realised how much her head needed to be brought under control, but her mix of medication had her feeling like a new and upgraded Katie just by itself. It was a start.

“Good. You're special and unique. I guess if we're already going to make me a project, though, we may as well be scientific about it?” Katie paused. She didn't know how to feel about the request. She knew that she would gladly do anything that would make Thatch happy, but was this even a healthy thing to pursue? “Is that taking all the romance out of it? I think you burned any kind of dominant mood out of my head, sorry, could I get you to say it?”

Thatch laughed, then spent a moment rearranging Katie so she was free to look away. Only then did she place a finger beneath the girl's chin to lock her in place. “I told you that I was going to tear your precious mind into pieces and put you back together how I wanted. I'll do it again and again until I understand you so deeply you can be a case study in malleable flesh. My plans haven't changed just because you were too enthralled to run.”

“All that has changed is that I will have you beg for every cut.”

Katie didn't need her collar's higher intensity to feel the words drill through her. They were enough alone. She'd been ready for it and she still couldn't manage more than a blush and a silent whimper. She thought that she understood the reality of what she'd agreed to, but the fantasy that Thatch provided left her breathless all the same.

Katie jumped in surprise as something unexpected entered the edge of her vision. A rounded, white rectangle with some words scrawled over it.

I hope we're not interrupting anything, it said, in words that glimmered with colour and light.

Right. They were here for a meeting. So much for Katie's plan to be capable of thinking. “Uhh,” she whimpered, looking behind her to find the two clerks towering above. At least that proved that Katie felt small for reasons entirely unrelated to physical height, because even Wing seemed to tower despite her relatively diminutive stature.

Katie's attempts to speak were stifled further as the affini clerk reached forward and scratched the top of her head. “Apologies for the delay. There was a little trouble while bringing your former crewmates out of stasis, but all is stable for the moment and we should not be needed. Ready to finish up your paperwork, Katie? If we're all ready then it shouldn't take too long.”

The cafe's tacky Terran aesthetic was very much a lie. The tables were constructed from some kind of composite material that felt like cheap plastic but actually seemed stronger than the Indomitable's hull by volume. They were casual marvels of engineering prowess and more than proof enough that the other species of this universe existed to be pets, in Katie's potentially biased opinion.

The table groaned as Montsechia dropped onto it a stack of paperwork that was at least a Katie tall. “There we go. Not much at all. Have you already ordered? We may want snacks. Katie, as the only one of us here who has ever experienced this style of Terran cuisine, do you have any recommendations?” Montsechia smiled down at her, twirling a pen in a hand that changed and shifted as needed to keep the tool in motion.

“Uh, I'm not sure I've ever—”

Wing held up a finger, scribbled for a moment, and then flipped over her pad. November 18th, 2548, Cheesy's Cheesehouse, Luhman 16 1 Orbital, Luhman 16.

Katie squinted. Yeah, she had been in that region of space around then, she thought, but she didn't remember...

Montsechia put a finger to the tower of paperwork, drew it down about halfway, and then pulled out a single sheet of paper. She handed it to Katie. Documentation on the visit, collating records of the credits transfer that had paid for it, the purchase orders that had originally acquired the ingredients as well as the origins of those ingredients, stills from surveillance cameras in the Cheesehouse as well as a wide array of other supporting records from the cafe. Including, as it happened, her order.

Katie glanced at the pile of papers with a dawning horror. “When Rosaceae said you'd collated all my files, is this what she meant?” She'd expected governmental records, certainly. Maybe some stuff from old ship rosters, and what few official medical records would exist, but not this.

“We regret that it is not more complete, but you spent much of your time traveling aboard vessels which were less than rigorous about their record keeping and we are only hobbyist neoxenoveterinary archeobureaucrats. Still, Wing and I spent a few delightful evenings pulling your life back together.” The plant smiled, the jellyfish glowed, and both seemed to think this was some kind of reasonable hobby. Katie couldn't help but laugh quietly as she felt a gentle bemusement radiating down on her. A quiet joke shared just between owner and pet.

But... here it was. Katie's life down on paper. Even a— Katie glanced down at the paper— thirteen minute, forty second stop at a cheap cafe for synthfries and a horseburger apparently earned a sheet summarising it with half a dozen separate identifiers that Katie assumed linked off to the full detail on their computer systems. They literally knew more about her than she knew herself.

Was this... it? Katie's life to date. Nearly thirty years of struggle, toil, and stress, and her life reduced down to little more than an ordered sequence of receipts? She would have thought that a pile of papers as tall as her was excessive once, but Katie was surrounded by giants and she felt very, very small.

Fuck.

Katie handed the page in her hands back to the clerk, who filed it back into the middle. “I... guess whatever equivalent they have of synthfries and horseburger, then.”

“Oh, it will have to be some other kind of burger; even synthetic, they wouldn't serve anything poisonous here.”

Katie shrugged. Whatever was good. She couldn't tear her eyes off of the paperwork stack. It felt like such a loss to discover only now that her life to date had been so futile. There had been so much wasted time. So much of her life she could never get back that had been pointless struggle. It reframed everything.

Katie felt the gentle touch of leaves brushing across her shoulder, and rolled over without really thinking about it. She rested her cheek against Thatch's chest and hugged the offered arm. Katie could feel her plant above speaking, carrying on the conversation so Katie could have a quiet few moments while a gentle hand stroked down her back. The wordless offer remained. She didn't need to think. This was the last hurrah for her political and social independence, and wouldn't it be fitting for her only to be present in principle?

The reality of her position hadn't really hit Katie until she'd seen it laid out bare in black and white. Katie wasn't small; she was microscopic. A speck in the greater cosmos. Even Thatch, gargantuan as she seemed, was. Even this ship was. Her basic story had played out a trillion trillion times and it would be played out a quadrillion quadrillion more. On a universal scale, what could be big enough to matter?

Easy question. The Affini Compact in aggregate was big enough to matter. These creatures weren't just saving her. They were saving everyone. They were making a better universe.

Angel scurried over with a little bowl of steaming potato slices and a tray of what looked very much like burgers, also steaming. She was happy to do it just for the joy of seeing it done. She, too, was an insignificant speck making an insignificant contribution but in that moment she represented something far greater to Katie. Everyone could do this. Every otherwise insignificant sophont could make their own infinitesimal contribution to the better universe that was the Affini's civilisation-wide gigaproject and the aggregation of that effort was anything but insignificant when multiplied by the uncountable diversity of life that stood to benefit.

Life in the Terran Accord had felt pointless because it largely had been. Exploiting the universe just to eat, even though there would have been enough for everyone if those at the top had simply shared that which they didn't even need. Here was different. Here, if Katie could make even the smallest imaginable improvement it would be reflected on trillions of lives. If she could help to save even a second along somebody else's route to leaving their futile origins behind she would have helped, just a little bit, to bring that better universe into existence. If everybody helped just a little bit, then that dream could be a reality.

Katie tugged on Thatch's arm and a friendly vine came over to lift her chin so she could face her owner with a newfound resolve. Katie whispered, speaking just to her plant. It was a fantasy to imagine that her universe could actually shrink down to only focus on this one single creature, no matter how beautiful she was. Katie could do better than that. She could let what was important to Thatch be important to her and she could do her part building everyone's better reality. “Thatch, I wanna help. Even a little. I don't want that—” She gestured over to the paperwork— “to be all I do for the universe. I want to help make it better, like you're doing. I know I'm just a pet, but maybe I can be useful to you, still?”

Katie could recognise pride even at low levels. It was one of her favourite emotions to feel impressed upon her from above. The rush of pride she felt after asking was loud, clear, and immediate, joined with a firm hand placed atop her head to hold her close. “Yes. You can. Thank you. I appreciate this more than I can say.”

“Not more than I can feel.”