Chapter Text

Chapter 1:
The Noise of Thunder

The alarm blared its harsh tone three times, stirring Cory from his sleepless rest with a raspy, annoyed groan. The alarm switched to radio, playing another propaganda message. Cory resisted the urge to throw the device across the room, or better yet, smash it altogether. Instead he just turned it off with a heavy hand and swung his lumbering frame out of bed. Another night, another nickel he told himself.

He walked through the dark on memory alone to the bathroom to get ready for another night of work. 'Get ready' was a generous notion, given his sparse routine. Squinting against the necessary light, he walked past the purposely-left-open medicine cabinet to take care of business. When he was finished, he brushed his unkempt hair and beard without closing the medicine cabinet to look in the mirror. He knew what he looked like well enough without the reminder.

Heading back to the bedroom, Cory grabbed his glasses from the headboard and threw on a fresh set of clothes. A few calculated minutes were killed by sitting down at the desk and checking the newsfeeds. More propaganda. He got it. They were at war. There were evil aliens out to kill all humans - or worse. Who cared? Maybe it was for the best, anyway. He looked at the clock and sighed, hitting the power button on the computer and heading out the door.

The transport stop wasn't far from Cory's apartment, a fact that he was thankful for. The Efswex Mining Corporation, in its infinite benevolence, had been kind enough to supply regularly scheduled mass transit to the citizens of its Penthe mining colony. At a nominal fee, of course. But Cory was happy to pay it to avoid walking. The first, and last, time he had tried that resulted in him showing up to work late and out of breath.

The transport was mostly empty at this time of night. Or as close to night as it ever got on the rural mining colony. The planetoid was small enough - or close enough to its star, or maybe some combination - that the star it orbited never went far below the horizon before rising on the other side. So while the days were fairly normal by Terran standards the nights were more or less perpetual twilight.

But small doesn't mean worthless. It was an idea that was iterated again and again throughout the colony. It was on the recruiting advertisements. It was on the paperwork Cory had signed to come to the colony. It was even on the billboards next to the roads on the way into Tabp, the smallest "town" in the colony.

Though he'd been on the colony for years, Cory still saw a certain majesty on some nights, when he looked down on Tabp from the window of the transport. The calmness of the place, streets dotted with orange lights and small buildings with warm windows, reminded him of the small town he'd grown up in. It reminded him of looking out over that town from his parent's bedroom window in their house on top of the hill. Tonight was one of those nights.

Cory just stared out the window at the town, wondering what kind of mess his coworkers had left for him tonight. It wasn't an overly long ride down into Tabp from the top of the ridge, and soon enough he was walking into the smallest convenience store on the colony. Work.

But small doesn't mean worthless. The store was located just off one of the main transit lanes that connected all of the "towns" and "cities" on the planetoid. This fact alone made it a regular stop for mining transport and personal transport alike. It probably didn't hurt that they accepted Efswex Company Currency, either.

The mess, for the record, was no better than Cory expected and no worse than he feared. Empty food warmers. Empty coffee pots. Unstocked shelves. Walking past the register, Cory gave a friendly "Hey" to Tobias and ducked into the office. Only when he was out of sight did he curse the man's incompetence under his breath. He clocked in, counted his till, and sent a relieved Tobias home. And then he was alone.

It didn't take long for Cory to get things back in order. Or as much order as he cared to, anyway. It wasn't difficult and he didn't understand how his coworker couldn't do such simple things. It only took a matter of minutes to stock the food warmers and start brewing the coffee. Coffee, for all that it was exorbitantly priced on this outer edge of debatably Terran territory, was a valuable commodity. Cory never touched the stuff, but he hated dealing with people complaining when they couldn’t get their caffeine fix.

With things back in relative order, Cory settled in for a long night. The nights he opted to work were slow, but he didn't mind. He'd never been great at interacting with people, so the less he had to do it the better, he reasoned.

It was about halfway through his shift when he recognized a familiar song starting to play over the store's speakers. It was an old song, he was sure. Hundreds of years old and undoubtedly in the public domain by this point. As if the company would waste the money on modern music. But this song had grown on him and he recognized it just by the scratchy sounds at the start of the track.

"And I heard, as it were, the noise of thunder," Cory recited the spoken word intro, deepening his voice to match the singer's, "One of the four beasts saying 'Come and see.' And I saw, and behold a white horse."

Cory bobbed his head along as the acoustic guitar came in and the music started. He didn't know what a horse was or what the song meant, but it sounded like it might be about the end of the world. And that was good enough.

By the time the chorus kicked in, Cory's whole upper body was moving in time with the music. "Hear the trumpets, hear the pipers," he belted out in his best impression of the singer. "One hundred million angels singin'."

"Multitudes are marching to the big kettle drum." His heel tapped to the rhythm as the chorus continued. "It's Alpha and Omega's kingdom come."

He kept singing and moving to the music, a small reprieve from the monotony of the job. The entire time he kept one eye on the doors, ready to stop the second a customer came in. Before they came in, even. The inner doors would react to the outer doors opening and that sound was enough for Cory to know when somebody was coming. It didn’t always stop him from blushing and worrying that they’d noticed, though.

Just before the second chorus started, the power flickered. Cory rolled his eyes. It was only a few seconds, but it was long enough to knock all of the equipment offline. Including the music system. It wasn’t a terribly uncommon occurrence between Penthe’s cheap infrastructure and the company’s cheaper construction, but it didn’t usually happen without a reason. Usually a windstorm. But there were no windstorms in the forecast today. With half a dozen devices beeping in as many tones as they came back to life, Cory wandered outside to see if he could see why the power had gone out.

And that’s when he heard it. The unmistakable mechanical whirring of the klaxons. He’d heard that haunting noise only once before, some eight years ago, when they played a sample during colony orientation. Cory knew that if the alarm was going off here, it was going off around the entire colony. And he knew it was bad.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He cursed as he flung the doors open and marched back into the store.

He didn’t know what was happening, but if the alarms were going off, then they were capital F, U, C, K, FUCKed. The instructor had said as much during the orientation. Cory’s mind raced as he tried to figure out what it could be. A rogue asteroid on a collision course? Pirates? Worse?

Whatever it was, he didn’t want to stay there. He didn’t want to die there. They certainly didn’t pay him well enough to risk it. But where would he go? With the entire planetoid sounding the doom alarm, where could he go?

Then it clicked. Underground. The mines. He’d heard the miners talking about them for years on their way to or from shifts. How deep and how cut off from the rest of the colony they were. How isolating they were. It was perfect. If Cory could just make it to the nearest mine entrance, make it underground, he could just ride out whatever it was that was happening. And if it happened to be a planetoid-shattering asteroid, well they were all screwed anyway. And, really, what did he have to lose?

A plan, flimsy as it may be, in place, Cory grabbed a duffle bag off the shelf and started stuffing it with whatever food and water he could. “What are they gonna do, fire me?” He laughed manically, pouring a box of food bars into the bag. When the bag was as full as Cory could stuff it, he ran to the door, checked the Penthe colony map in the lobby for the nearest mine, and went outside.

“Ohhhhhh, shit…” Cory stopped in his tracks as soon as stepped through the door.

He looked up above the buildings, frozen in fear. Hanging there, against the star-speckled purples and blues of the twilight sky, was a ship. Smaller vessels swarmed off of it and streaked across the sky in all directions, but his eyes stayed locked on the big one. It was huge. At least as big as the gargantuan, city-block-sized supply freighters that arrived every month escorted by Cosmic Navy Heavy Cruisers, if not bigger. But these ships, whatever they were, were decidedly not Terran.

The ship was high enough that the star below the horizon still shined on it, highlighting it unnaturally against the sky. And Cory couldn’t look away. Though it seemed to have sections rotating around a central core - a common feature of Terran ships to simulate gravity - this ship was sleeker. Its curves, in stark contrast to the utilitarian geometric Terran designs, seemed almost organic, flowery even.

The oscillating whine of the klaxons, which had faded into the background as Cory became transfixed on the ships in the sky, was replaced with a loud rumbling. The ships were getting closer, Cory realized, and the sound was like thunder ripping across the sky as they descended through the atmosphere. He realized he had stopped breathing and drew a deep breath as the sound pulled him out of the trance, and did the only thing he could think to do. He ran.

×=×=×=×

Five miles. Just five miles and he would be safe. Maybe. And that was if he stuck to the roads. He could save a mile, maybe two, if he cut through the rocky scrubland in between them.

It had been years since Cory had run more than a couple dozen feet. And that was just on the too common occasion that he had to stop an ignorant customer from using a piece of equipment they weren't meant to. The last time he had run with any gusto had probably been in high school. He hadn't cared about his physical fitness for a long time, but now it was a matter of life and death. A fact that Cory was painfully aware of as the lactic acid burned in his legs.

His heart felt like it was going to explode in his chest. Every ragged breath tore at his scratchy throat as he gasped for air. Arms and legs burned with a sting of exertion he hadn't felt in years. Just when he felt like his body would give out, Cory spotted more ships above the horizon. Farther away than the ones over Tabp had been. The sight sent a new surge of adrenaline coursing through Cory's body and he drove ahead toward what he hoped would be the safety of the mine.

By the time he spotted the guard shack, Cory was limping, his body long doubled over as he clutched at the horrid knot beneath this ribcage with his free hand. His run had slowed to more of a jog, but the promise of safety ignited the last of whatever it was that had kept him going for the past three plus miles.

He broke out into a sprint. Or at least as close as his body would allow. His feet landed with heavy thuds on the dust with every step, trembling legs struggling to keep up and stay under his body. His vision tunneled around the mine's entrance. It was right there. The steel bracing was rusted and falling down, but it was right there!

Keep going! The voice in Cory's head screamed.

And by some miracle, he did. Past the guard shack. Into the waiting mouth of the abandoned mine. Past the machinery the company had decided that it was more profitable to scuttle than retrieve. Down, down into the ground until the light and the echoes of the klaxons faded, stumbling all the way.

Somewhere in the darkness, Cory collapsed. He managed to catch himself with his hands when he fell to his knees, but he couldn't stop the sputtering coughs that turned into dry heaves as his stomach tried to purge contents that weren't there. He didn't know how he made it as far as he did, but he knew he couldn't go one step further. With the last bit of power, he flopped onto his side and let the momentum carry him onto his back. And then, his entire body throbbing to the beat of his heart, he passed out.

×=×=×=×

Cory awoke several hours later in a daze. He shot up and coughed for air, each breath wheezing as it dragged in and out. The air was cold, and damp, and stale. His hands scrambled in the dark against the floor of the mine until they landed on the duffle bag and he wrenched a bottle of water free.

He could barely make out the shape of the bottle before he drank the whole thing in one series of gulps. He breathed heavy, sitting on the dirt, and looked up at the faintest pinpoint of light. The entrance. He'd survived the night.

Cory pulled out his communicator. No signal this far down. No way to tell if it was safe to go back. But he wasn't taking any chances. He turned on the communicator's flashlight, lamenting the less than full charge, and grabbed the duffle bag. He had to go deeper.

It was slow work. His entire body was sore and he had no idea what dangers might lurk in the dark. Eventually, he came upon a mining rig parked against one of the walls. It was a monster of a vehicle, some fifteen or twenty feet tall and fifty or so long. Fighting against his own weight, Cory pulled himself up to the cab.

Locked.

"Of course." The words strained Cory's throat and made him cough again. "Fu-uck!" He cursed, another cough interrupting the word, and slammed the bottom of his fist against the cab window. It dragged across the glass as more coughs rocked his body. In the window, where his hand had smeared and streaked the dust, Cory saw himself, illuminated by the harsh light of his communicator. His nose crinkled and his lip twitched, threatening a snarl, as his eyes dissected his reflection. The dust he'd stirred up filled his nose with the smell of putrid mildew, making him cough yet again. The cough pulled his mind back to the mine, and he started looking for a way down.

Climbing down was just as hard as climbing up due to the unfamiliar footholds, but it wasn't long before Cory was back on the ground and wiping his hand clean on his pants. Only now, Cory realized that the rig wasn't right up against the wall. That had merely been a trick of the shadows. It was parked a couple feet away from it. Not much, but there was enough room for Cory to squeeze between the rig and the wall. It would have to do.

So, after wiping his grimy hand off on his pants, Cory hunkered down between the rig and the wall, tearing into the food bars and another bottle of water, and tried to figure out how long he could make them last.

×=×=×=×

Time went by at a snail’s pace. He used his communicator as little as possible. No point in running the battery down, he reasoned. The duffle bag never left his side when it wasn't acting as his pillow, and it was easy enough to eat and drink by feel. Every so often, he'd check his communicator to see how long he'd be down there, and to see how much was left in the bag.

In his head, Cory replayed songs he knew to pass the time. Sometimes silently, sometimes bobbing his head to the imagined beat, sometimes murmuring the lyrics or notes to himself under his breath. Old song. New songs. He didn't care as long as they distracted him. But they always came back to the old man singing about the end of the world.

It didn't take long for Cory's mind to wander.

"What the fuck was that?" Cory gesticulated in the darkness, his voice hushed.

He shook his head. There were so many questions and he had fuck all for answers. What were those ships? Were they even ships? What happened on the surface? When could he go back? Would there even be anybody left? What would he do if there wasn't?

His whole body was tense again. A sore little spring ready to pop. "Stop it!" he barked at himself through gritted teeth. He slammed his fist back against the wall he was sitting against until he could breathe again. The pain helped. It always did.

He didn't know how much time had passed after that. He stopped using his communicator. Better to save the battery for the flashlight, he thought. He was almost to the end of another song in his head when he heard it.

Singing.

The voice went up and down, almost like it was dancing a dozen waltzes in the air as it reverberated off the walls of the mine. It was like nothing Cory had ever heard before. It was beautiful. Otherworldly.

And it was the most terrifying thing he had ever heard.

Cory froze, his back pressing against the wall he was sitting against. His entire body tensed. His tired muscles tightened and his hands balled into fists. He dared not move a muscle, dared not breathe, as the sound grew louder. Closer.

While Cory sat there, head turned toward where he thought the sound to be coming from, the darkness seemed to change. As if the hue of the darkness itself was slowly changing from the inky, jet black and creeping toward something warmer. At first, Cory thought it was his mind playing a trick on him. He screwed his eyes shut for a few seconds, and when he opened them, the darkness looked noticeably redder.

As the seconds - which felt like hours but were probably minutes - passed, the singing drew nearer. And with it, the darkness gave way to a red glow. The singing closed in on him and he could make out the outline of the mining rig. Behind it, the red light grew ever brighter, until Cory found himself enveloped in the rig's shadow.

From where he was sitting, Cory could see under the rig. Not only that, he could see the ground on the other side. And in the red light, he could see the footprints in the dirt. His footprints. The singing stopped and Cory held his breath. He could see that the source of the light was moving toward them. And when it did, a soft rustling sound echoed around the mineshaft.

Then he saw it. Whatever it was. All Cory could see was the bottom of a black mass that was tall enough to be obscured by the mining rig. It seemed to move in time with the rustling, its irregular shape quivering as it moved across the floor of the mine. It moved straight to Cory’s footprints and when it reached them, the mass and the light above it stopped. He cursed himself in his mind for not covering his tracks.

Cory resisted the urge to scream, even as he watched the edges of the thing writhe and break apart into dozens, maybe hundreds, of strands like shag carpeting. He tried to fight the heavy feeling growing in his chest as his air ran out. Tried to ignore every instinct telling him to breathe. Just before Cory thought he was about to break, he felt something touch his leg.

He looked down and saw a thick, black strand lying on his ankle, trying to coil around it like a snake. And it broke him.

Cory kicked as hard as he ever had, screaming, and clambered away from the wall and up to his feet. He shuffled to the end of the mining rig, squeezed between the wall and the wheels, and ran headlong into the darkness.

The light, the thing, followed.

Cory couldn't see in front of him. He certainly wasn't looking back either. The only thing he could 'see' was the vague shape of his arms pumping, barely offset from the darkness as they caught the glow.

Without warning, Cory's right side collided with a wall. He hissed through his teeth as it scraped his skin and sent him reeling away. A few dozen feet later, his left side scraped against another. He pingponged back and forth in the dark, but he kept running.

And the thing kept following. Each time Cory bounced off one of the walls, each time he hissed or yelped or cried out in pain, it sang after him.

Cory's feet pounded against the ground, each step making him feel heavier and heavier. Until they didn't. Cory's arms shot out, hands trying to find the purchase his feet had lost. Time stood still and only one thought crossed Cory's mind.

This was it. The end. He was about to die, falling into a bottomless pit on a rock in the middle of fucking nowhere.

He never saw the table. He just crashed through it in a cacophony of splintering wood and twisting metal. With ground under him again, Cory groaned and rolled over onto his back.

It hurt. Everything hurt. He was sore even before battering himself against the cave walls and falling who knew how far, but now he hurt. He was pretty sure he felt blood where his skin had been raked against the rocks, but in the dark it could have just as easily been sweat.

When Cory's eyes opened, he saw it. The shaggy black mass loomed above him, the twin red lights above its head illuminating the ledge Cory had blindly run off of and baubling as it turned one way and then the other.

Cory grit his teeth and pushed himself to his feet, stumbling and falling into a workbench. All manner of tools and detritus exploded from the workbench as Cory's arms swept across it in an effort to brace him. When he managed to turn around and half-lean-half-sit on the edge of the workbench, Cory saw the thing. It was coming toward him, descending a half-flight of stairs in two or three steps.

Cory's hands reached blindly at the workbench, searching for something to defend him. His hand found something and he pointed it at the thing as threateningly as he could muster.

"Get back!" Cory barked the command.

The thing slowed, but didn't halt its advance. It sang again, softly, and held up two shaggy appendages.

As the thing got closer, Cory could see the lights above it were hanging off of the top of the thing from wispy stalks. They lit the front of the thing and two purpley-blue sparkles shined through the front of the mass as it rustled closer.

Now that the thing and its lights were closer, Cory realized that the tool in his hand was a sonic drill. He held it like a gun and pointed it at the thing.

"I said get back!" Cory's throat burned as he rasped out the words. He gestured with the drill, pushing it toward the shaggy mass and pulling it back. It whirred softly as his finger teased the trigger.

It sang again, moving its appendages and moving toward Cory at a snail's pace.

"Stop!" Cory shouted, edging across the workbench and away from the thing that had chased him. "Get away!"

It moved closer again, swishing softly. And it sang again.

And Cory realized.

It was singing at him.

"Stop! Stopstopstop!" Cory's words ran together. He kept trying to back up. To get away.

It sang at him again, reaching one of its appendages toward him.

Cory's jaw clamped like a vise. He winced and turned his head away and…

A deafening CRACK ripped through the air and echoed through the cavern.

Cory felt wet. Everything smelled like it does right before it rains. Earthy and damp. When he managed to unscrew his eyes, he could see why.

The shaggy thing that had followed him was on the floor of the cave. One of its appendages dangled off of it haphazardly and the one stalk that it had left twitched frantically.

"Fuckfuckfuck!" Cory's feet moved back and forth but he didn't move.

The thing sang again. Its song warbled weakly. It almost sounded sad.

Cory's face twisted. The corners of his eyes glistened in the red light. He sucked air through his teeth as he looked down at it.

"I told you to get back! I didn't…" Cory's own voice wavered in kind. He held the hand still holding the drill to his head, the butt of the handle pressing against his temple. "Why did you make me do that?!" He shouted, smacking himself in the head with the drill's grip three times. "Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!"

His entire body rocked, each wet breath threatening to drag out more and more emotion. His arms fell and the drill slipped his grasp, hitting the dirt with a soft thud. He didn't dare look at the thing again as he pulled out his communicator and looked for a way out.

"I'm sorry," Cory muttered, wincing with every step as he limped away as fast as he could.

When he thought he was far enough away, Cory fell against the wall and curled into a ball. He wailed long and hard as he sobbed and didn't know why.

×=×=×=×

Some time later, Cory managed to pull himself together. Scanning the walls with his communicator light, he realized that at some point during the chase they had entered a natural cave system. And if that mine connected to this cave, it stood to reason that others might as well.

He couldn't go back the way he came. Not where that thing was. More of them might be coming. Maybe looking for the one that wasn't coming back.

It was a reasonable postulation in Cory's mind.

After he checked himself over in the communicator light - the scrapes and bruises weren't that bad, and he was pretty sure the red gunk splattered on him wasn't his - he managed to get up from the ground, using the wall to support himself. He had to keep moving. He had to find a way out.

But he only had so much time, and he knew it. He had already been rationing his supplies before. Now he had none. He didn't know how long he could go without food, but he knew it was a lot longer than he could go without water. With that in mind, Cory set out deeper into the cave, knowing that he would either find another way out, or die down there.

×=×=×=×

The communicator was gone within hours. There was no flicker. No dimming of the flashlight beam. One second it was on and the next it was out.

Cory sighed and shoved it back in his pocket. Pushing his glasses up to his forehead, he pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh. Still pinching, he shook his head. When he finally dropped his hand and opened his eyes, he realized that he was glowing. Or, at least the sticky red gunk plastered on him was. It wasn’t much. Maybe a few feet’s worth of light. But it would keep him from running into anything. Or taking any more unexpected drops.

He moved slowly, trying to focus on the ground in front of him. And when his mind couldn’t do that, when the thoughts about what had happened and what may still happen were too loud, Cory drowned them out with imagined music. He mumbled lyrics almost incoherently under his breath and kept limping along.

At first, Cory’s stomach twisted and turned into knots. It ached as it begged for something, anything, to fill it. Sometime around the second or third time Cory resigned himself to fitful sleep, those hunger pangs disappeared.

The thirst never did.

He hadn’t had a drink for some time before that thing had shown up. Before it chased him. Before he was running and panting and gasping for air. His throat was as dry as the cave walls and it hurt to even breathe anymore.

Then the dizziness came. It came in small bouts at first. They were manageable, if Cory used the rocky walls to brace himself. But when they came more often, when they were longer and when closing his eyes no longer fended them off, Cory was reduced to crawling. Holding onto the floor of the cave and feeling like he might fall off any second.

He kept moving. Despite the pain. Despite the thirst. Despite the entire world spinning. He kept moving, the songs in his head pushing him forward despite their becoming less and less coherent.

He crawled until he couldn’t anymore and weakly pounded at the ground. He had no tears left to cry, but that didn’t stop his body from folding over and letting out a sorrowful whine from the pit of his chest. His body tightened and he dug his head into his collarbone as the darkness took him.

Cory mumbled in his sleep, grumbling as he put his hand up to shield his eyes. He tried to roll over and grab blankets that weren’t there. The realization woke him with a gasp and his eyes fluttered open.

Light.

He could see light. Off in the distance. It was blurry and dancing, but it was light. Golden and crisp light of day. He rolled over with a drawn out shout, willing himself to his hands and knees.

The light multiplied into four as Cory crawled toward it, swaying and moving out of focus in his vision with every step. But the closer he got, the bigger the light became. The more unified the lights became.

The old man was singing in his head again. ”Till armageddon no shalam. No shalom.”

Cory clawed at the dirt below him, unwilling or unable to feel the rocks jabbing into his palms. Into his knees. A twisted grin stretched across his open mouth as he tasted the fresh air and each strained pant came out like a laugh as he got closer and closer to the surface.

”The father hen will call his chickens home.”

He could see it. The sky. He couldn’t stop now. He wouldn’t.

”Listen to the words long written down”

He felt the wind as he neared the entrance. It spurred him to try to take to his feet, to fly, but he only managed to stumble and fall back to his knees and keep crawling forward.

”When the man comes around.”

The gravel sifted under Cory, crunching as he swam on top of it. He squinted against it all. The light. The spinning. The pain in every part of his body until…

He was out. And then he collapsed. Gravity carried him tumbling down the hill until he came to rest in a heap at the bottom. The star above beat mercilessly on him, oppressively hot after days spent underground

Cory tried to push himself up. He wanted to stand. To walk, run even, back home. Back to his bed. Even back to the stupid, menial job he hated. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t even get back to his hands and knees. He just managed to roll himself over.

He smiled. The star’s rays felt so good. So warm. He was going to die. He knew it. But at least he wasn’t going to die in that cave. So he closed his eyes and he waited, the world swaying around him. The wind brushed his face and rustled through the scrubgrass. And the song in his head kept playing.

Just as he thought he was going to pass out for the last time, something pricked Cory’s ears. He forced his eyes open against their leaden weight and rolled his head on the ground toward the sound. Something was moving in the scrubland. Something tall and pale.

Something human.

He tried to look at it, to see who it was, but his eyes wouldn’t focus. Unable to keep looking, Cory let his eyes fall shut and his body go limp as he heard the spoken word outro to the old man’s song in his head.

"And I heard a voice in the midst of the four beasts. And I looked, and behold a pale horse. And his name that sat on him was Death, and hell followed with him."

Chapter Text

Chapter 2:
A Pale Horse

"Cory?" His mothers voice called from somewhere downstairs.

Cory whipped out of his parents’ bedroom at the top of the stairs, holding onto the door frame with one hand. His mother was standing at the bottom of the stairs and he looked down at her expectantly.

She looked up at him silently for a few seconds before speaking. "I thought you said you were only going to wear the bottoms?" There was no anger in her voice. No malice. Only a want for an answer.

That was what he had told his mother when she walked in on him wearing the bottom half of his older cousin's two piece bathing suit. They were comfortable, he had said. And they were. And his mother had left it at that.

But now, Cory looked down at himself. His fingers strummed anxiously on the edge of the doorway, afraid to meet his mother's gaze. He was wearing the top piece now as well. And it fit. It fit, and it too was comfortable.

"I…" Cory didn't know what to say. "I changed my mind."

"Okay,” she gave a single nod.

And then she was gone. Disappeared back into the kitchen as if nothing had even happened.

×=×=×=×

Cory's brow furrowed over closed eyes as the light roused him from his slumber. With a mewling protest against the waking world, he rolled over and, after wiping away the drool on his chin with the back of his hand, buried half his face in the pillow. But even as Cory settled into his favored sleeping position, lying on his stomach with the heel of his hand pressing against his forehead, he couldn't find the way back to sleep's warm embrace.

Visions kept playing like a movie on the backs of his eyelids. The strange, flowery ships. The deep, dark mines. That… thing. And what he'd done to it. The way it sounded.

A long, resigned sigh escaped Cory's chest and he accepted that he wouldn't be getting any more sleep. His eyes opened slowly, at first. Then all the way all at once.

"Shit…"

This was not his bed. It was a novel feeling. Cory had never woken up in anybody else's bed before. His eyes narrowed not only in suspicion of how he wound up in a stranger's bed, but also because he couldn't see past the tip of his own nose without his glasses. Fortunately he found them on the floor right next to the bed. He scooped them up and slipped them over his head. Even though his eyes were now functional, Cory couldn't believe them.

He felt like a child looking up at the impossibly tall ceiling, dwarfed by the massive scope of the room. His head craned upwards, jaw unwilling to follow as he looked up in awe at the vines sprawled across the ceiling and the golden polyps dangling from them, waxy and breathing with light. His eyes followed them from one side of the ceiling to the other and down to a thicket that seemed to come out of the wall.

Having turned to trace the path of the vines, Cory realized how strange the bed was. It was round and seemed to be recessed into the floor. Between the shape and the short lip that separated it from the floor, Cory couldn't help but be reminded of the kind of thing a more well off person might buy for their dog. His family's dogs had always slept on the floor and got on just fine. But looking across the bed like that, Cory noticed something glassy poking above the edge on the other side as he idly tested the plush piling between his fingers.

He pulled the sheet around himself, crawled a dozen feet across the bed - it was luxuriously soft under his knees - and found a pitcher of water, a glass, and a plate of fruit that looked straight off the package of “Froot Flavor” flavor dots he could sometimes afford. Never being one to drink strange liquids found after waking up in stranger places, Cory scrutinized the pitcher.

Wafting a hand over it didn't bring any new scents. All he could smell was the same forest-y smell, earthy with a hint of decay, as the rest of the room. He picked it up carefully, remembering the lyrics of a song and mouthing them under his breath.

"Johnny was a chemist's son, but Johnny is no more. What Johnny thought was H2O was H2SO4."

Sulfuric acid was clear and odorless too, he knew. So Cory poured some of the liquid out onto the fruit. It didn't dissolve. It didn't sizzle. It didn't even smoke. It just got wet, along with the floor.

Then, Cory tested the floor itself. First by knocking at it with his knuckles, then by pressing down with his fingertips. It reminded him of the simuwood flooring in his apartment, only a terribly uninteresting shade of brown rather than simulated woodgrain. But it seemed solid enough, so he heaved himself up and used the lip of the bed as a seat.

The rumbling from his belly when he looked at the fruit was oddly reassuring. The scent alone made the corners of his jaw burn when his salivary glands kicked into overdrive as he picked up a long, yellow one and brought it to his face. He bit into the end and his face scrunched before spitting it back out.

Cory's fist closed around the fruit as he tried to figure out why it tasted so bad and that's when the insides spilled out onto his hand. It smelled good, so he gave it an experimental lick.

Now that stuff tastes good!

He squeezed from the bottom and pulled up, sucking out as much of the soft insides as he could before moving onto the next long, yellow fruit.

The rest of the fruit on the plate - a couple more long and yellow ones, fuzzy orange ones, crunchy red ones, and a whole bunch of little purple ones - were savaged in kind. He wiped the juices from his face and chest with the sheet he was wrapped in and had only just begun greedily gulping from the pitcher when he heard it.

Singing.

Cory choked mid gulp and lost grip on the pitcher, unable to breathe, much less react, as it dropped like a lead weight.

The vines on the wall rasped as they slithered apart and left an opening in the wall. The singing only became clearer as they did, and it crystallized when the vines had receded enough to reveal a doorway proportionally sized for the giant room.

The muscles in Cory's shoulder twitched as his eyes locked on the singer. It was another one of those things. While the one in the caves was big, this one towered far above Cory - easily over twice, nearing thrice, his height. And while that one had been bushy and shabby, this one was tightly wound and decidedly human shaped. If a human could be over twelve feet tall and survive having their limbs flayed to reveal green muscles underneath.

By all rights, Cory should have been terrified. And maybe he was. But Cory was also enthralled by its precise, controlled motions as it stopped singing and walked into the room. Sauntered into the room.

"Good morning, little one," its voice was melodic, like it was still singing. "I hadn't expected you to wake so soon."

Cory was frozen as he stared at the thing, even as it's dulcet tones washed over him. It was singing at him. No. It was talking. To him. And he could understand it. His shoulder kept tensing and pushing the heel of his hand into the rim of the bed in spurts as it got closer.

"Oh? Did somebody have an accident?"

It reached down in front of him, bending at the waist, and put the hand - it seemed like a hand - at the end of its arm of intricately woven green fibers into the puddle and sopped it up in an instant. When it straightened again with that same practiced poise, Cory's eyes lingered on its torso. The alabaster flesh looked almost human and was certainly shaped that way. The thing even had a bellybutton, though its breasts had no nipples.

"My eyes are up here, little one." The thing made a V-shape with two of the fingers on its hand - it was definitely a hand - and pointed at its face. A beautiful, pale, human face with a strong, square jaw framed by a swept bob of long, red grass and leaves with a single gnarled horn flowing from the side of its head like a piece of driftwood. Its two almond-shaped eyes caught the light of the polyps in a hundred different directions at once, shimmering like golden gemstones. And it was smiling. It had lips and it was smiling. Smirking, even.


Art by Promilie

Cory's entire face felt hot. He felt like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. When he tried to speak, and nothing came out and the thing started giggling, the heat turned into an inferno.

“Oh my~” the thing purred, “You are just so adorable, Cory. Do you always fluster so easily?”

His blood turned to ice in his veins as soon as he heard that voice sing his name. His attention snapped back to the thing, eyes wide and brow furrowed in disbelief.

"That is your name, correct?" It smirked again. Maybe even huffed in some form of amusement. "I believe that is what the badge on your shirt read when I found you."

"When you…" the words fell softly from Cory's lips as images flashed across his mind.

"But where are my manners? I saw the mess and introductions went the way of the dodo, as you say." The thing raised its hand and let it fall back on a limp wrist, waving away the thought in a manner far too human, and returned its attention to Cory. "Asherah Riker, 3rd Bloom, she/her."

Cory's mind was far from the conversation. He was back in the scrubland, looking up from the ground. Looking up at the tall, pale figure through weary and unfocused eyes. The memory coalesced as it overlaid on top of his vision, the figure from his memory and the figure in front of him becoming one in the same as he looked up at it. At her.

Stars, she's pretty.

"...found me?" The words came slowly, brainpower otherwise dedicated to reconciling past and present.

"That's right," she nodded. "And not a moment too soon. Very fortunate happenstance, that."

There was a quiet as Cory looked around the cavernous room. Despite the silence, a gentle rhythm persisted and played at the fringes of his hearing. "So… you brought me here?"

"I did." She nodded again, the mushrooms on her shoulders swaying with the momentum.

"W-Why?"

"Little one,” the giant plant lady's tone suddenly became more serious, “You were in dire straits when we found you. Severe starvation. Extreme dehydration. All those nasty bumps and scrapes. A few hours longer out there under the star…" She shook her head, the thought seemingly too terrible to continue. With a very convincing sigh, her smile returned. "But you're safe now."

Cory's gaze drifted downward. He sucked his lips against his teeth as his mind tumulted. Those things were true. There was no doubt that he had reached the brink of doom. The echoes of fear and desperation still surged in his thoughts. And yet, his mind refused to unstick itself from a very salient point.

He swallowed, eyes coming back into focus on the tangle of vines that made up Asherah Riker's leg. When his voice came, it was meek and strangled. "I… I was only out there because of you."

Something in the air seemed to sour in the silence before the giant spoke again. “Excuse me?”

Cory laughed a wet little manic laugh under his breath, forcing himself to look at her and her glimmering blue eyes. “Look at me. Do I look like the kind of guy to be wandering around the desert for fun?”

The stoic look she held as she looked at him only further whirled Cory's emotions. Tears welled in the corners of his eyes.

“I saw your ships and I ran and I hid and I… and I…”

His voice cracked as the memory of what happened in the cave flashed into his mind. He couldn't tell her. She couldn't know. She could not know. She would hate him and for some reason the thought of her hating him was just not something he could withstand.

She crouched down until she was nearly sitting. “I’m so sorry, little one. You must have been so scared.”

Riker reached out with a hand toward Cory’s shoulder, but his tensed arm released like a spring, shooting up wildly as his entire body jerked away. The same sour feeling spread through the air again as Cory grit his teeth and let out a long, drawn out, pained whine.

This time, there was no deterring Riker as both of her massive, vine-woven arms reached out and pulled Cory into her chest.

“Sto-hop!” he cried, trying to push her away. “Get aww-hoff!”

But she only cooed gently and held him close to her. And try as he might, there was no escaping this hug. Oh, how he tried and tried. Grunting and howling through his tears like an animal as he struggled.

The entire time, she just held him and took whatever thumps his palms managed to land against her in his efforts to push away. And she stayed like that until he could do little more than sob, sending his entire body rocking against her with every gasp and every cry.

She stayed like that, holding him firmly but gently, as his sobs bled away into weepy breaths that threatened to turn back into cries if he breathed too deeply. The whole time, just holding him and whispering sweet things somewhere above his head as she cradled him.

When he was finally tired enough to settle down, he let his wet eyes close and his cheek press into the not-flesh of Riker's bosom. She was warmer than Cory would have imagined and his nose filled with her scent as he breathed against her. His mind became distracted as he struggled to place the smell until he eventually decided it was something like sweaty firewood with a hint of cloves. It was sickly and sweet and he hated how much he loved it.

He didn't know how long she held him like that. It might have been five minutes or it might have been hours. However long it took for him to return to some semblance of normal. Long enough that when he leaned back to step away, she let him. Though not without her giant hands lingering on his back.

“How are you feeling?” her voice carried down like a song.

“Better…” he told her the truth. “And cold,” he lied, pulling the sheet closer around him to cover his stiffening excitement. Despite wearing nothing more than a bedsheet, the room was perfectly warm. Maybe even a little hot, but that could have just been the lingering heat from being held by a beautiful giant. “Where are my clothes?”

“They were terribly soiled when I found you. But I'm sure we can find you a suitable replacement if you'll come with me.”

He fidgeted with the sheet between his fingers. “I, umm… -- H-Hey!” Without waiting for him to decide, Riker stood and scooped him into her arms with tremendous ease and started walking toward the thicket that apparently made up the door. “I could have walked!” Cory squirmed in protest.

“Would you have?”

Cory sighed and stilled as he knew that she already knew the answer. “...No.”

She carried him through a wood-paneled hallway that opened into the soft and warm light of a room that was just impossibly tall as the one he had woken up in. A great plush couch, cushions oversized even for its gargantuan scale, took center stage on a carpet of lush, bluegreen grass. In one corner, Cory could see a mountainous pile of stuffed animals stacked against the wall that alternated between wood paneling and living trees. On the far side of the room, there looked to be a kitchenette with a hardwood floor. But no sooner than they had crossed the threshold, a voice rang out from somewhere seemingly above even Riker’s head.

“Ah, it would seem the young master has finally awoken,” the tinny voice said in a heavy British accent. “Jolly good.”

The surprise caused Cory to hunker down behind Riker’s arm as much as possible, hand gripping the vines tightly. “Who said that?!” He tried to make sure the sheet was bundled up and covered as much of his indecency as possible.

Riker’s soft chuckle rumbled through her chest and into Cory. “I’m sorry, little one. Perhaps I should have warned you about the hab’s AI. Theo? Would you like to introduce yourself?”

As if on cue, a hologram projected from the center of the ceiling. Two vertical lines with a horizontal line between them appeared a reasonable distance in front of Cory and Riker.

The horizontal line oscillated into a wave as the voice mimicked clearing its throat. After a short pause, it spoke again. "Quite right. Apologies, young master. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Theodore Bentley Whitworth IV, Esq., Miss Asherah Riker’s Habitational Unit Artificial Intelligence. I am responsible for day-to-day operations and upkeep of Miss Riker’s hab. This includes, among other duties, scheduling any maintenance or repairs, scheduling deliveries, maintaining a suitable environment for Miss Riker and her many plants, and looking after guests like you in Miss Riker’s absence.”

“So… you’re like a butler?” Cory asked, remembering some old terran movies he had seen.

Riker sighed and managed to put a hand to her forehead, somehow still cradling Cory with perfect safety. “Oh, Everbloom.”

“Young master, I am the Steward of the House, the House Manager, or, if you are feeling particularly rambunctious, Miss Riker’s majordomo. But you will not, under any circumstances, refer to me as a butler.”

Above Cory, Riker's voice came out in the unmistakable tone of a stern and expectant parent. “Theo.”

The line wiggled again as Theo spoke. “But yes, I am at your service whenever the need may arise. Simply call out for Mr. Whitworth, or," it paused, delivering the next word with a bit of indignation, “Theo," before returning to a more cordial tone, "and I will be there to offer assistance."

Cory's response came slowly and unsure as he tried to wrap his head around the idea. “Ummm. Thank you?”

“You're most welcome, sir. It's what I live for.” Theo was unapologetically upbeat. “Now, it seems you need some clothing. I believe I have some haberdasher subroutines around here somewhere…”

The hologram turned in the air one way and then the other as if it were physically looking for something. Cory just looked up to Riker, who continued to look and act entirely too human.

“Theo, I don't think that will be necessary. I'm sure our guest doesn't need anything like that.” Riker looked down at Cory with a smile that sent a very peculiar feeling through him. “Right?”

It took him a second to free his mind from being awestruck by Riker again, but Cory agreed as soon as he could. “Yeah, nothing fancy. Just a hoodie and some joggers would be perfect.” He shifted to look at Theo, pulling the sheet again. “And some underwear.”

There was a soft chirp across the room and Cory hung into Riker's arm as she resumed walking in that direction. At the end of the kitchenette, where it joined with the living room, there was some kind of appliance that looked like a huge microwave. Riker stopped right in front of it.

“I'm going to set you down now, okay? Do you feel well enough to stand?” she asked.

“Yeah, I'm--I'm fine.”

Cory's toes spread out as his feet found the grassy carpeting and he braced himself to stand as he was turned upright. Riker opened the door on the appliance and pulled out a perfect folded set of joggers and a hoodie in a creamy off-white that matched Riker's not-flesh and had splashes of color that seemed to mirror the red leaves that made up her hair and the purple-burgundy of her mushrooms. Riker placed the bundle into Cory's arms and that's when he noticed there was a pair of underwear sitting on top. A pair of panties.

“I-wah-uh-why--” Cory stammered, his face turning a shade of pink. “WhyDidYouGiveMePanties?”

Riker’s fingers loosely covered her grin. “I'm sorry, little one? I didn't quite catch that.”

Cory's nose crinkled as he began to fume. “Why. Did. You. Give me. Women's underwear?”

Theo's hologram appeared in front of Cory between him and Riker, scaled to his size now instead of Riker's. “Apologies. This was the most popular result for ‘terran underwear’. I could compile a different option for you if these are not to your liking.”

“My liking? These are-- I'm a guy! Look at me!” Cory pulled on his beard for emphasis. “Guys don't wear… those.”

“Of course,” Theo conceded. It paused for a moment, emitting a series of beeps as it seemed to run more searches. “Would, ahem, ‘boxer shorts’ suffice?”

“Yes. Please. Perfect.”

Another soft chirp from the appliance and Riker pulled out a set of boxer shorts and replaced the panties on the top of the pile with them. The panties were deposited back into the appliance and Cory received a pat on the head.

“Thanks,” Cory grumbled. He made his way out of the room and down the hall back toward the room he came from. It was a lot of distance to cover, he realized, without Riker carrying him. But his pride, what little he could manage to carry wrapped in nothing but a sheet, would not be taken so easily.

Once through the vine gateway, he saw no way to close it, so he just stepped to the side. He stepped into the boxers and pulled them up under the sheet before letting it drop. The hoodie and joggers went on just as quickly and he marveled at just how well the clothes fit, not to mention how soft they were. He left the sheet on the floor, but as he looked through the opening to leave, his eyes were caught.

There was a door directly on the other side of the hall. A human size door. It was inset within a larger Riker-sized door and it didn’t have a knob, but it was definitely a human door. Cory was sure of that. He walked slowly up to it, placing one hand flat against it, and started to trace his finger through the curly golden script engraved into the door when Riker's voice came down the hall.

“Did you get lost, little one?” The smoky resonance of her voice was only amplified as it bounced off the walls of the hall.

“N-No!” Cory called back and started making his way to the front room. When he arrived, Riker was leaning against the arm of the giant sofa. Still acting entirely too human. “Sorry. Was just… distracted.”

Still too pretty.

Riker pushed herself off the sofa to stand. “I'm sure you have a lot on your mind. And not much in your tummy. Are you still hungry?”

“I could eat…”

“Excellent,” Riker said, clasping her hands together. “Theo?”

“Accessing, Mum.” Theo spoke without projecting a hologram. “Peet-zah appears to be the most popular terran food option. Is this acceptable?”

“That sounds fine, I guess.” Cory continued walking toward the kitchen-looking portion of the giant apartment where Riker now stood.

A few seconds later, the appliance which had produced the clothes Cory was wearing chirped again. Riker reached in and pulled out a pizza.

Cory watched as she carried it to the high table and set it down. “How… How did you do that?”

“Hmm?” Riker hummed. She turned back to Cory and smiled down at him. “Oh, the compiler? That’s just a handy little tool. It can create most anything you could think to ask for. Within reason, of course.”

“Anything?” He started at the box, his eyes staying on it as he absentmindedly moved toward the table.

“Within reason, yes. It won’t make anything that could be dangerous. And of course it would have to fit in the compiler. Anything bigger you’d have to order.” Her head bobbed slightly and she seemed to hum. “On a related note, I wasn’t exactly expecting company when I found you, so I don’t have an appropriate chair for you to sit at the table.”

“Oh…” Cory looked at the table that was easily twice his height and the chairs that had seats at least as high as his head. “Well I could just sit on the floor. Or on that big couch? That is a couch, right?”

“It is,” Riker said, “But it’s only proper to eat at the table, isn’t it?”

Cory gave the giant table and char another look up and down. “I guess I could stand on one of the chairs.”

Riker chuckled softly and it hit Cory like a wave. “I think I have a better idea, little one.”

Without warning, Cory once again found himself in the grasp of Riker’s twisted green hands. He didn’t squirm as she lifted him again, keeping him more upright this time. She swung a leg to step over one of the chairs at the table and used one hand to keep him steady in her lap as she sat down. Surprisingly, he found himself at the perfect height for the table.

“Can you at least ask next time you wanna sweep me off my feet like that?”

“Of course.” She made a little conciliatory smile. “I’ll try to keep that in mind.”

Cory sighed and Riker's smell of wood and cloves was around him again. But even more prevalent was the scent of the pizza on the table in front of him. It had been so long since he’d had real food and not ration cubes with a couple flavor dots or cheap junk food.

He licked his lips and swallowed the drool pooling in his mouth. “Is that all for me?”

“It is. We Affini don’t really ‘eat’ like most other species.”

Cory gulped, looking up at Riker. “So… you’re not going to eat… me?”

“Oh stars, you're adorable,” she practically purred and used the fingers on one of her hands to card through Cory’s hair. It sent a shiver through Cory’s spine and all he could do was look up at her helplessly. After a moment, she nudged him toward the pizza.

Cory picked up one of the pieces of pizza, folding it in half at the crust. It wasn’t too floppy, but not too stiff either. It smelled divine as he put it in his mouth, the tomato sauce and cheese and pepperoni smells all playing against each other. Before he even bit down he was delighted at the feeling of the corn-dusting on the bottom of the crust against his tongue. And when he did bite down, it was like a whole new world. Or one he’d long forgotten. The crust had just the right amount of crunch. The crispy edges of the pepperoni exploded with flavor as he bit down.

“Stoufuhhk.” His brain had tried to say ‘stars’ and ‘oh fuck’ at the same time and his mouth ended up slurring out nonsense around the food in his mouth.

He chewed as he fed more of the pizza into his mouth until no more could fit, and whenever he swallowed enough to make more room he took another bite. Another piece of pizza was stuffed into his mouth in a mere two bites, but as he reached for a third, Riker pushed the plate out of his reach.

“Slow down, little one. I know you’re hungry, but if you keep eating like that you’ll get a tummy ache.”

Cory scooted forward in Riker’s lap, keeping the pizza-grease covered hand in the air to not make a mess. “It’s --” he swallowed the glut of dough in his mouth, “-- fine. I’m just hungry.”

He wanted to eat the whole thing. He knew he could do it. He’d eaten comparable pizzas in the past. And sure, maybe his stomach sometimes hurt afterwards, but that didn’t matter because it tasted good and it made him feel good. Less empty.

It felt and sounded like Riker let out a sigh. As she did, Cory wondered if she actually breathed. “Alright, little one. But pace yourself. Or I'll have to pace you myself.”

That was… ominous. But Cory’s mind didn’t linger on it too long. There was delicious pizza to eat. “I will. It’s just so good.”

“Well I’m glad you like it.” Riker pulled the plate back into reach and watched as Cory picked up another slice.

Not sure he wanted to find out how Riker would pace his eating, Cory ate a bit slower. Just a bite or two at a time and swallowing before biting off more. By the end of the fourth slice, he was feeling fuller than he usually would after only half a pizza. He slumped back into the softness of Riker’s not-flesh and let out a deep breath.

Riker once again pushed the pizza out of reach. “I think we’ll just save the rest for later, hmm?”

Cory just nodded and kept sitting back against Riker. In the post-meal quiet, the thrumming at the edge of his hearing returned softly and warmly. If he tried, he could almost make it out like a song, but it was just out of reach in a deeply irritating way. After deciding it wasn’t worth getting upset over, Cory tried to scoot out of Riker’s lap, but her hand stopped him.

“Can I get down? I need to use the bathroom.” He put his clean hand on the table to steady himself as he turned to try and look up at Riker. “Do you have bathrooms?”

Riker pushed out from the table and lifted Cory with both hands, bending at the waist to put him down on the floor. “Down the hall, first door on the left.”

“Thanks…” Cory tried to straighten his clothes out, and walked back across the expanse of the room.

Cory found the door just as Riker had said. It was on the same wall as the inset door with gold script, but several dozen feet closer to the front room. The door was somewhere between the size of the opening in the vine thicket and a normal human size door, but Cory couldn’t see any mechanism to open it as there was no discernable handle.

“Uhh, Theo?”

“Yes, young master?” Theo’s voice came from somewhere indiscernible.

“There’s no door knob?”

“Simply touch the door, sir,” Theo suggested.

So Cory put a hand against the door and it opened. “Oh. Thanks.”

“Happy to help.”

Cory stepped into the bathroom and it was, well, it was bigger than his whole apartment. And it was chock full of plant-life. The entire left side of the room was taken up by frondy plants and mushrooms like the ones on Riker's shoulders, with a waterfall just behind them. Bathroom plants were nothing out of the ordinary to Cory, but this whole display just felt like a bit much. And, speaking of a bit much, there was the bathtub at the far end of the room that would probably qualify as a swimming pool anywhere back on Earth.

The right side, on the other hand, was surprisingly mundane and normal sized. On the far end near the tub, there was another human-size door like the one across from Cory's room. Closer to the door where Cory entered there was a perfectly normal looking toilet, and a porcelain sink set into the countertop. Exactly what Cory was looking for.

He turned the water on and reached over a number of things that looked like the makeup his mom had when he was a kid to grab what he hoped was the bottle of hand soap. He pumped some onto his hand and gave it a sniff to make sure it actually was soap. It smelled soapy and floral, so he rubbed it in and washed his hands with it.

When he finished, he looked above the sink into the mirror that ran the length of the counter. And it was him. He looked exactly the same as he remembered. The shaggy hair, the scraggly beard, the too-large forehead with a brow that jutted too far forward. He swallowed as he stared into his own eyes until the room around him faded away and all he could see was himself. Then all of a sudden, the mirror went dark.

“Shit.” Cory waved his hand, thinking that maybe it was on a motion sensor of some sort, but when it wouldn’t turn back on, he headed back to the front room with his hands in the pocket of the hoodie.

“Better?” Riker asked, putting what looked like a big tablet computer down on the table.

“Yeah…” Cory’s fingers fidgeted together inside the pocket. “I’m feeling a lot better so, uh, thank you and all that, but I think I’m ready to go home.”

She looked down at him and smiled. “Back to the Penthe mining colony?” But it was wrong. Even if she wasn’t actually a human, Cory could see that she wasn’t smiling with her eyes.

“Yeah.” He huffed a nervous smile of his own. “You know, where I live? In my apartment?”

“I’m sorry, little one.” Riker shook her head softly. “You won’t be going back.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 3:
Come and See

The smile hung in one corner of Cory’s mouth as his eyes narrowed on the giant plant-like woman in front of him and he shook his head. “Huh-what?”

Riker stood slowly from the table. As she neared, Cory was once again able to appreciate just how much she towered over him, even when standing. “You can’t go back there, little one. I’m sorry.”

“What are you talking about?” his weight fell on his back heel, slowly edging him backwards not only out of uncertainty, but just to keep Riker’s face in view. “I--Am I your prisoner or something?”

Riker shook her head and waved her hands apart, keeping her elbows tucked in, “No, no, no.” It was another gesture that was just too human. “It’s not like that.”

“Then I can leave, then? Since I’m not a prisoner?” Cory swiveled and when he spotted what looked like a giant door, he trotted over to it and slapped his palm to it.

Nothing happened.

“Cory. Please just let me explain.” Riker walked around the couch and sat down. She patted the seat next to her in invitation.

“Open,” Cory grumbled under his breath. “Open, dammit!” He smacked his palm against the door again.

“It’s not going to work.” Riker’s voice wasn’t raised any further than it needed to be to reach him on the other side of the room.

“Mr., uhhh, Theo?” Cory raised his voice, ignoring Riker as he looked up at the ceiling. Theo’s hologram appeared in the air between him and Riker.

“Yes, young master?” the oscillating waveform asked, as if nothing were the matter.

“Theo, I’m leaving. Open the door.”

Theo’s projection hung in the air, perfectly still.

“Theo!” Cory barked, his hand banging on the door, “Do you hear me?”

“Yes, sir,” The line wiggled and Theo’s voice was less jovial than it had been earlier. “I hear you.”

“Then open the door, Theo.”

“I’m sorry, young master,” Theo said demurely. “I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” Cory turned around to look at Theo. “What’s the problem?”

“I believe you know the problem just as well as I do, sir.”

Theo’s holographic avatar flickered out, dropping like a veil to reveal Riker's face on the other side of the room. She was wearing a resigned smile and nodded her head toward the couch.

Cory sighed as the problem came into focus. It seemed he had no choice, so he forced his body to walk to Riker. When he got to the couch, she reached down and lifted him onto the seat next to her, filling his nose with sweat and cloves again.

“The planetoid you were living on is not safe. That is the reason it has been evacuated.”

“What do you mean ‘not safe’?” Cory’s brow furrowed.

“Hmm, how to explain this?” She seemed to ask herself. “The easiest way to explain it to you is that the star that Penthe orbits is extremely unstable.”

“Unstable how?”

“My briefing described the issue as a ‘quantum flux disruption within the sub-harmonic resonance field within the star’s core’. The disruption has triggered a resonance cascade, and when the cascade reaches critical mass…”

“Star go boom?”

“Not quite…” She shook her head. “At critical mass the star will release a massive burst of radiation that will sterilize the entire surface of Penthe.”

Cory's eyes searched for answers as if they might materialize out of the air in front of him. Had the company known? Had the government? Maybe. Would they have told anybody living there? He realized that they probably wouldn't have. Not if there was money to be made. Not if the resources they mined were fueling a war. “Fuck…”

“I know it's a lot to take in,” Riker's voice soothed, “For what it's worth, we’re not sure if your species even has the capability to detect events like this.” But her explanation still begged some questions. Cory finally turned to look up at Riker again. “So where's everybody else? You said all of Penthe was evacuated. Evacuated to where?”

“They've mostly been set up in a temporary habitation block not far from here in the park. All safe, I promise.”

“A habitation block?” His face twisted in confusion. “There’s gotta be like two hundred thousand people on Penthe.”

“It is a rather large park. And we can be exceedingly efficient.”

“Okaaaaaay,” Cory pretended that made any sense. “So why am I here and not, y'know, there?”

Riker hummed in thought, or at least pretended to. “Because of the… circumstances surrounding your rescue, I was assigned to take care of you.”

“Oh.” it made sense, Cory supposed. He had been in the middle of nowhere and… “Because the whole almost dead thing?”

“Yes. Because of that.”

“Well what about all my stuff?” He didn't have a lot of things in his tiny hovel of an apartment, but those he did were of utmost importance. To him, anyway.

“I'm sorry, but you can't go back to retrieve your things.”

“But--”

“But,” she held up a hand to cut him off, “The contents of every living unit are being cataloged and as soon as you tell me where you lived I can arrange to have your belongings delivered here.”

Cory let out a sigh of relief. “I live, lived, in unit 3D in the Wapiti Housing Complex north of Tabp.”

His reward was her hand-sized fingers stroking down his back. “I know that Terrans have a propensity to pack bond with their belongings. Don’t worry, you’ll have your things back soon.”

“Thanks…” he mumbled. He found himself breathing in time with the strokes, struggling to hold back the groans his body wanted to make in response.

“Would you like to see the others?” Riker's petting slowed as she waited for an answer.

Cory huffed a breath through his nose as he considered. His answer was an easy one to find. It wasn't like he had any friends in the entire colony. His friends were all in the computer that he needed to -- and soon would, according to Riker -- get back.

“You know what? I think I'm good.” He bobbed his head in a few short nods to reaffirm the decision. “Not like anyone'll miss me anyway.”

Riker seemed to sigh. “I see.”

The ensuing silence was the kind that Cory was all too familiar with. The kind that he would more often than not experience on the rare occasion that he visited his parents, or grandparents, or anyone, really, before leaving for the Efswex mining colony. The kind of silence where he felt like he should be doing or saying something but knew no way to satisfy either condition, so he just sat there awkwardly. At least in those situations he usually had the benefit of a distraction like a holovid or a meal, but now it was just Riker looking down at him, smiling with her gold eyes streaked with little bits of blue again.

“So, uhh…” Cory turned his whole body toward Riker. “You’re one of those xenos from the government broadcasts? The ones they’re fighting a war against?”

“By ‘the government’, I assume you mean the Terran Accord.” With Cory’s nod, Riker continued. “I’d hardly call it a war.”

“They said you're gonna eat us, or put us to work in mines, or put worms in our heads or something.”

“I’ve had the displeasure of hearing their propaganda first hand and I can assure you nothing could be further from the truth.”

Cory’s gaze slowly drifted downward into his own lap. “Sometimes I’d hear those broadcasts and I’d think… ‘Good. I hope they come and burn the whole thing to the ground’.” A silence hung in the air for a moment before he continued. “Is… is that bad?”

“No, little one,” Riker said gently. A single finger under his chin drew his gaze to meet hers. “You’ve just been trapped in a horribly abusive system. But you’re safe here.”

His nostrils flared as he sucked a deep breath, eyes locked on solid gold eyes that seemed to bubble and crash over him like a gentle wave. There was another awkward pause as Cory’s eyes fluttered and he averted his gaze from Riker's. His eyes were careful to jump past her chest as he looked down toward the couch. “So what happens now?”

“Now, I help you acclimate to your new life in the Affini Compact and determine if you are capable of caring for yourself.”

“I’ve been living on my own for 10 years. Holding down a job. Paying the bills. Feeding myself. I’m pretty sure I can take care of myself.”

A thoughtful hum rumbled from Riker’s chest. “You may have been self-sufficient in the Accord, but you may find that the Compact has… a somewhat higher bar of ‘self care’.”

“Higher how?”

She offered a soft, apologetic smile. “I’m afraid I can’t explain that to you. Divulging the parameters of a test may alter the outcome.”

“Then how can I prove I can take care of myself?”

“That’s really up to you, little one.”

His eyes jumped between the couch and the floor and the pile of plush animals on the floor. “What if I can’t?”

“Then you will be provided more… long term care, to assure your safety and happiness.” Riker spoke slowly, seeming to pick her words carefully. “But while you were in the bathroom I did take the liberty of scheduling you an appointment at the vet. So let’s start there.”

“Vet? You mean the doctor, right?” Because vets were for animals, not people.

A melodious giggle rippled from Riker. “No, dear. A doctor is trained in caring for only one species. A neoxenoveterinarian is trained to care for a number of species. Including Terrans like you.”

“Oh, well, I mean I feel fine,” he shrugged, “I don’t really need to go to a doctor. Or vet. Whatever.”

“Little one, you had a life threatening experience. You slept for three days after I found you.” Despite the song-like reverberation, there was a palpable mix of concern and sternness to Riker’s voice. “You’re going to the vet.”

“Okay, okay,” Cory raised one hand in surrender. “Fine, I’ll go.”

“Good. Thank you for agreeing.” Riker’s tone made Cory feel like he wouldn’t have really had a choice either way, but she did sound genuinely pleased.

Leaning into the back cushion of the couch, Cory asked “So when's the appointment?”

Riker almost mirrored the motion, leaning back into the couch nonchalantly and propping herself up with an elbow on the back of it. “Shortly. We should probably get going if you want to avoid being carried again.” She smirked again.

An exasperated sigh was all Cory could manage as he scooted and pulled himself until his legs were dangling off the front of the couch and he looked down at the floor. It was only about a five foot drop. A little less with the sag from his weight.

“Fuck it,” he pushed off of the couch. He knew better than to lock his knees, but the heft of his frame crashing down still put some strain on his knees and ankles. “Ho-kay,” he huffed, straightening back up. “Theo? Could you make me some shoes?”

Theo chirped without bothering to project a hologram. “Certainly, sir. Athletic, I presume.”

“Yes. Please.” the word ‘Please’ had barely left his lips when the compiler chirped.

Looking at Riker only prompted her to nod her head sideways toward the kitchen. So Cory walked over to the big microwave-looking appliance and opened it to find a pair of shoes that matched his hoodie and joggers. After another compile request for socks and pulling them on while leaning against the couch, he went to the door where Riker was waiting.

“Ready when you are,” he told her. The door whooshed open and the warmth of summer radiated through Cory’s body.

He squinted against the sunlight shining on his face. As he slowly unscrewed his eyes, nothing could have prepared Cory for what he saw as he stepped outside. Beyond the cozy river rock porch and the ambling paths, verdant green hills unfurled as far as the eye could see. They reminded him of home - not Penthe, but home - but unlike the hills of his home these hills were green and teeming with life. Not just the waving trees and flowers or shimmering ponds and lakes, but people and a fucking monorail that his eyes followed as it went up a mountain dotted with buildings as it went higher, and higher and higher, and upside down and…

He realized he was looking down on a cityscape and the tops of skyrises in much the same way he had from the window of the shuttle when he left Terra. As his head leaned back even further to try and keep following the curvature, the entire world started spinning. He fell into Riker’s waiting arms as he toppled over backwards, cradled by her hands as she caught him.

“The vertigo will pass,” she assured him, “As soon as your brain is able to reconcile what your eyes are seeing with what your inner ear is feeling.”

However long it took for his eyes and ears to stop fighting, it was nowhere near as short as he’d hoped. Worse yet, the lack of dizziness only maintained itself so long as he didn't look high enough to catch a glimpse of the other side of… wherever they were. Instead, he looked around as they walked to the transport station. It was only a short walk Riker had said, but it was already more walking than Cory had done at once since long before Affini had shown up on his doorstep.

The path was long and winding with seemingly unabated wilderness to his left. In some places the vegetation hung above the path, growing as it pleased. In others, smaller paths broke off from the main one and fed into the woods like capillaries from an artery, but instead of blood cells these veins carried people. The further they went from Riker’s home the more people there seemed to be.

There were lots of people - that is to say humans - as well as xenos. Especially affini, but these affini were nothing like Riker. Yes, they were generally person-shaped, but in gangly and grotesquely inhuman ways. They were unnaturally wiry or stocky and seemed on average much taller than Riker was. And their faces! Unlike Riker's gorgeous face, these affini wore crude masks of leaf or wood that seemed to twist and mock as they looked down and smiled at Cory.

Some of the other people he saw seemed perfectly normal, many walking in pairs or small groups. A great deal, however, walked next to an affini attached by a vine leash, looking back at Cory with blissful smiles or blank looks, but all with varying degrees of glaze over their eyes. Others still were carried by an affini, mewling and snuggling into their planty protectors. The sight sent a sickening twist through Cory's guts. He didn’t know why they acted like that, but he knew he didn't want to end up like them.

He didn't…

Still, he couldn't help but wonder if that was what he had looked like in Riker's arms. But he tried not to.

When they finally reached the station, Cory stayed close to Riker as they stepped onto the platform, trying to hide how hard he was breathing from the exertion. As the monorail arrived and its passengers poured out, there were even more species he didn't recognize. Giant bees that came up to his waist. Big, semi-translucent jellyfish flashing with colorful lights. Tigers with big, bappy paws. Huge, human-sized birds. The only ones he knew were the other humans and the rodent-like Rinans. He sighed in relief that nobody had paid him any attention and followed Riker into the train car. She hopped up onto a seat that was a little big even for her, then pushed down an extendable ladder.

At least we get the dignity of not being lifted off the ground again.

Up the ladder he went, climbing the mountain of a seat before plopping into the soft, fabric covered foam with his legs dangling over the edge. A hand on the ladder kept him from tumbling backwards into the seat while his huffing and puffing filled his lungs with Riker’s smell again. But somewhere nearby there was another powerful scent competing with Riker’s. Instead of unwashed laundry and cloves, it smelled musky and heady, lying heavily on his tongue as well as his nose. It reminded Cory of the way his fingers smelled after touching himself. Earthy and sweaty and a little bit sour without being offputting. Like what he imagined sex to smell like.

Looking around to place the source, Cory’s eyes landed on yet another type of xeno that he’d never seen before, but they looked like something straight out of his browser history. Sitting directly across from him was a big wolf-looking creature with a set of horns curling down from behind its ears. It sat in the seat like a human and was nearly as tall as Riker herself. Their clothes were considerably skimpier than Terran fashion and left little to the imagination, but they were covered in thick, slate brown fur so that made sense. And their fur looked so soft. Especially where it puffed out from between their open vest and around the hem of their short shorts. It seemed like the kind of thing that Cory might enjoy the feel of. If he could just run his hand through it and feel it flowing between his fingers where they met his palm. Or take off his glasses and drag his face through it. He could almost imagine exactly--

Riker’s finger tapped Cory’s thigh. “It’s impolite to stare, dear.”

Cory’s eyes snapped open and looked up to Riker, feeling his face shift through shades of red before turning back toward the xeno. Its forehead opened to reveal a third eye between two smaller horns that flicked down at Cory while its muzzle wryed into a smirk.

“Like what you see, shortie?” The chocolatey smooth voice flowed from the xeno’s muzzle as a fluffy cream-tipped tail swished against the seat behind them.

His grip on the ladder turned to iron and his face felt like a forge as he looked up at the xeno's predatory grin. Despite the heat in his face his body was completely frozen.

“Aww, a little shy?” they asked. “That's okay. You can look all. You. Want.” Their paws found their belly, running up under their vest, over their chest, and up into their mop of plum purple hair. Cory's jaw slacked and they just giggled at him and turned their attention to Riker. “Such a cute floret you have.”

Riker started to shake her head “He's not my--”

A chime above announced the next stop.

The xeno turned to look out the window. “Oop, this is me.” They stood and pulled a card out of an unseen pocket, handing it to Riker before looking down at Cory. “See you around, Shortie.” They turned with a swish of their tail that sent it brushing against Cory's face and then they were gone.

It was not until the monorail was moving again that Cory came back to the surface. “Aaaaaaaaa!” he exaggerated a whispering scream, “What the fuck was that?”

“That was a Xenra, dear. A fox-like species from what you know as the Andromeda galaxy.” Riker told him flatly and handed him the postcard size paper the xenra had given her.

Tsundra

She/They

@SunderingYou

Cory resisted the urge to scream that that wasn't what he meant and just shoved the oversized business card into his hoodie pocket.

A couple of stops and only a few minutes later, Riker made it clear it was time to disembark. Stepping out, Cory looked up through the towering buildings to see the vast swath of nature they had walked by after leaving Riker's home crisscrossed with paths and dotted with lakes and beaches and green.

He trotted to catch up to Riker. “What planet is this?”

“We're aboard the Cymbidium. It is one of our more… modest rapid response vessels.”

“This is a SHIP?!” he practically yelled.

Riker stopped to mirror him. “Yes?”

A slow rumble built in Cory's chest, overflowing into a series of short puffs from his nose as his face twitched.

“Little one?”

The snorts turned into chuckles and giggles before descending into maniacal laughter. “Bwhahaahaha! HA! Those bastards don't stand a chance!”

“Who?” her head tilted in apparent confusion.

“The Accord! They never stood a chance!”

“No, I suppose they didn't,” she simulated huffing a smirk. “Now let's go. We're almost there.”

Several minutes later, they arrived at the facade of a homely-but-professional looking building engraved with the words “Office of Neoxenoveterinary Arts and Sciences'' and what looked to be the same label in about a dozen other xeno languages. Including the curly script Cory had seen on the door in Riker's hab. He followed her through the affini-size door when she opened it rather than use the smaller human-size entrance next to it and found it looked like a surprisingly typical waiting room.

While Riker went toward the reception desk, Cory meandered through the rows of chairs of various sizes. The pop-art on the walls was only marginally more interesting than what he remembered from Terran doctor offices, but something that did strike his interest was the tabletop covered in colorful metal wires. They bent this way and that, crossing and coiling around each other with every color taking a unique path.

He approached the table and, as expected, found that each wire had a set of wooden beads on it. He ran his fingers along one of the wires, gathering all of the beads on it at one end. Slowly he pushed from the other end, letting the beads careen down the spiraling coil one at a time until they each landed with a satisfying clack as they collided. He did this a few times with different wires until he heard footsteps behind him.

Another human stumbled up in a colorful jumper. He grinned widely with glassed-over eyes, waving at Cory with one hand as he slumped into a seat at the table. The clacking became discordant as the man almost aimlessly brushed his hands back and forth through the wires, smiling and giggling all the while. Cory just backed away slowly before jogging to where Riker was sitting and sat down next to her in a smaller, human-sized chair.

Before he could say anything, an affini opened the door behind the reception desk and called out his name. He followed them with Riker in tow until they were let into an exam room where Riker leaned against a row of cabinets off to the side. She crossed her arms in front of her chest, looking away from Cory.

Just as Cory started to look for a ladder or some other way up to the exam table, where he assumed he would be asked to sit, the wall facing the end of the table began shifting with a soft mechanical whirl. The parting walls revealed a wide tree some ten feet thick, bark bumpy and twisted with age, its roots dug into the flowerbed that surrounded it in a massive pot of dirt that must have been fifteen feet wide or better. As the walls in front of it finished opening, walls behind it closed, and the entire pot rotated.

“Hello, little one,” a deep voice boomed as the tree turned to reveal a face like a jack-o-lantern that moved as the tree spoke. “It is good to see you again. Even better now that you have awakened.”

“Oh, uhh, hi?” What were you supposed to say to someone who met you while you were unconscious?

The tree chuckled slowly and the blue glow inside its hollow interior pulsed in time. “Hello, again. Allow me to reintroduce myself.” A vine snaked down from their broad green canopy. Cory raised his hand to shake it, but it merely stroked down his head and back instead. “My name is Dr. Cherrine Pemphis, 167th Bloom. You may use any pronouns when referring to me.”

Cory shook his head after being petted, stepping away from the vine. “Cory Kàfkore, uhh no bloom. And I guess I’m a guy?”

“Noted.” More vines descended. Four picked up and typed on a tablet like the one Riker had, while four more scooped between Cory’s legs and under his arms to lift him onto the table.

Riker turned her head to Pemphis and sang something in a language that Cory didn’t understand, but thought sounded gruff.

“???;” Pemphis sang something back, then turned their attention back to their patient. “Apologies, little one. I will be sure to ask before manipulating your body in the future.”

“Oh. Thanks…?” Cory was taken off guard by that. Had what Riker said had anything to do with that?

“You are most welcome,” Pemphis’s eyes slowly blinked. “Now, at the time of your triage we were unable to gather your medical history for obvious reasons. We have since finished the evacuation and collected the colony’s records, but there were still dozens of sophonts with a shared given name. Now that I know your full name, I can access your medical history.”

Pemphis’s face changed as they tapped away at the pad, as did Riker’s. Her expression changed from the one she had used to snap at Pemphis to one of intrigue or concern.

“There seems to be an error in your file’s reconstruction,” Pemphis said. “There are only a vineful of sporadic visits, all marked ‘emergency’.”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” Cory scratched the back of his neck, “I didn’t really go to the doctor before unless I had to.”

“We will have to correct that behavior going forward.” Pemphis’s words made Cory squirm as they and Riker both looked at him.

A complicit nod was all that he could offer. That was probably part of ‘taking care of himself’.

Another of Pemphis’s vines searched through a drawer and pulled out a reflective black band. “Please present your neck, little one.”

Immediately after the tree asked, Riker bark-sang something else at them. Their melodic voices went back and forth and the longer they went the more insistent Riker seemed and the more annoyed Pemphis looked.

Finally, the eyes on the tree moved like they were rolling and it sighed. A warm smile returned as they looked down at Cory. “Your wrist, please.”

Cory lifted one hand and the vine draped the band over it. Without warning, the band shrunk in size, snapping to his wrist and conforming to the shape. Cory pulled his arm back and felt the band with his other hand, but the band was already flush with his flesh and felt perfectly smooth.

“There is no need for alarm, little one,” the tree explained, “It is merely a tool to monitor your wellbeing.”

The explanation didn’t really help, but looking at Riker and her affirming nod made all the difference in the world for some reason. So Cory swallowed and nodded that he understood. After only a few seconds, a yellow light began flashing on the band while it beeped.

Vines held up the pad for Pemphis to look at it. “You are extremely hypertensive and your blood glucose levels are dangerously high.”

“Yeah, that’s normal,” he scratched at where the band met his wrist to no effect. “I mean I know it’s not normal, it's just I’m used to it.”

“I see.” The doctor - vet, whatever - didn’t sound happy. A vine raised in front of Cory and at its tip was a long, thin syringe of a thorn. “Well let me just load your monitoring band with the appropriate medications and--”

“No!” Cory jerked his arm away. “No. Please, I’m--I’m fine. I can fix this. I can fix it myself.”

“Little one, it is not--” they were cut off by another snap from Riker.

The face on the tree looked to where Riker was while Cory kept his eyes on the vine. More lyrical language passed between the two until, finally, Pemphis sighed and retracted the thorny vine. “As you wish, young one,” they relented, their eyes not leaving Riker until the thorn vine had retreated.

The rest of the exam was fairly uneventful. The old tree asked if Cory had any complaints beyond those he had promised to fix himself, of which he had none. His appetite had returned, ending any concern regarding his unexpected fast. And his bruises and scrapes had all healed, a fact that Pemphis made sure of with vines that stroked over Cory's skin, palpating as they snaked up the arms of his hoodie while the tree asked if there was any pain.

The exam ended as Pemphis plucked a little red fruit from their own plumage and placed it in Cory's hands. “Until next time, little one.” Before Cory could even sniff the fruit - it smelled like cherry Flavor Dots - Pemphis’s potted platform was already spinning. The walls shifted as their voice welcomed their next patient in another partition. Then the walls closed and Pemphis was gone.

Riker stepped off from the counter where she was leaning and, after asking for permission, lifted Cory and helped him to the floor. It was not until they had left the office and were walking down the street that she spoke again. “Now that I have stuck my leg out for you, I would appreciate you telling me why you don't want to take the medications that Pemphis recommended.”

“I don’t know. I mean,” he sighed a disgusted sound, “I don’t need them. I know what I need to do, I just need to, y’know, do it.”

“And yet you haven’t up to this point.”

“I have before. But, well, like you said. I’ve been ‘trapped in an abusive system’.” he hooked his fingers in the air as quotations. “I know I can do it without any chemicals or drugs or whatever. Give me a chance to let my body fix itself the way nature intended.”

Riker sighed. “Nature is cruel.”

Without missing a beat, Cory smirked. “Maybe I like a little cruelty.”

Riker’s entire body stuttered mid step like an animation cycle that had skipped frames. Cory spun around just in time to see her eyes flash from gold to purple before she planted the foot to catch herself. For a second, it felt like the gentle thrumming at the edge of perception intensified to a pounding primal beat.

Steadying herself, Riker blinked a few times. Each blink brought more gold to her eyes until not a single trace of violet remained. “Yes, well,” she made a sound like clearing her throat, “I’ve made plans for us to have dinner with my friend and his floret.”

“Do I have to?”

“The most common way for Terrans to make friends is through friends of friends. So while I won’t force you, I would very much like you to.”

With an exaggerated sigh, Cory acquiesced. “Okay, mom.” He chuckled not only at what he had said, but at the look on Riker’s face after he said it.

They continued walking for some time. By the time they had passed an untold number of buildings with long and complicated names that Cory didn’t care enough to ask about and the artificial simu-sun moving through the air had dimmed to a burnt orange, Riker led Cory into a less crowded business district. There seemed to be all manner of cafes and restaurants - an inordinate number, in fact - catering to every whim one’s taste buds could desire. There were other storefronts of course, selling furniture or clothing or housing arcades and other amusements, but the food drew Cory’s attention more than anything.

Thankful for the drool that kept his mouth moist as he panted from all the walking, Cory was surprised when Riker led him to a building standing alone in the middle of a square of storefronts. The building’s several layers, golden brown with a creamy white trim, made it look like a stack of pancakes. A thick, syrupy waterfall flowing down the side and the buttery maple scent wafting through the air only completed the motif. Any doubt that Cory had was quashed when the giant flapjack on a pole slowly spun until he could read ‘Jim and Sonny’s Pancakes’ written in a sugary brown script.

A little brass bell rang as they walked through the entrance and a gasp drew Cory’s attention to one side. It was a cute little devil woman with strawberry red skin and ribbed horns that curled over the back of her raven hair. She must have been waiting for someone else, because when she saw Cory, she pouted and put her chin back on the table. Before he could pay her any more mind, Riker shepherded him to a table on the other side of the restaurant.

“This is Mila’s favorite table,” she told him as she pulled out her chair.

It just looked like any other table as far as he could tell. Any table on this side of the room, anyway, where the furniture was exclusively sized for Affini. “And Mila is…?”

“Rhamnus’s floret.”

“Uh-huh.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Can’t help but notice there’s only two chairs.”

“Ah,” she turned to look across the table to the other chair, then back at him, “So there are.”

Cory’s train of thought was broken by a man standing behind the affini size lunch counter in the center of the room. “Jim! Get the coffee! She’s coming!” The man disappeared behind the counter as a flowered vine snaked through the serving window carrying a carafe of coffee down to him. He made it to the devil just in time for the door’s bell to chime again as a woman with glasses and cat ears sticking out of her purple hair walked in.

The demon’s excited scream could be heard from across the restaurant. “Mew!”

“Amy!” The spectacled woman practically jumped to the table in a single bound of cat-like agility.

“Meeeeeeeeew!”

“Amyyyyyyyy!”

It went on for several minutes back and forth, each name more strung out each time until they broke into a fit of giggles and poured each other coffee from the carafe the man had left them.

Amy, the red skinned, horned woman, guzzled it with a loud “Ashefashefashefashe!”

When things quieted back down, Cory turned back to Riker. “Does that happen a lot?”

She nodded. “Daily, I’m told.”

“Huh,” he kept watching them. Only for a moment longer. “Okay.”

“They’re very close friends. I only hope you and Mila get along so well.”

“Yeah.” He reached into his pocket for his communicator to check the time, only to realize he hadn’t got it back yet. “When are they supposed to meet us?”

As if by some divine providence, the bell above the door rang again and in walked a hulking giant of a man covered in leaves. He turned his inverted triangle of a head, careful to not get his hooked horns caught on the bell above the door, and looked in Cory’s direction. The smile on his barkskin face told him this was probably Rhamnus. His suspicions were confirmed when the affini started walking toward their table, the affini’s cloak of broad oak leaves rustling as Rhamnus moved.

Before Cory could confirm it, he was being lifted into Riker’s lap. Just like the table in her hab, sitting on her thighs put him at the perfect height. Though he still didn’t enjoy being lifted off the ground without permission, he didn’t squirm in protest or try to escape Riker’s lap. He felt safe.

“Hello!” the manly affini’s bassy voice said. “You must be Cory. I am Rhamnus Oakley, 5th Bloom, He/Him.”

“Hi, yeah,” Cory raised a hand to shoulder height and waved mechanically. “I’m Cory. He/Him, I guess.”

“Interesting,” Rhamnus hummed as he sat down. “Oh! Allow me to introduce my floret.” He raised out of his chair, leaning until the arms he had been holding to his chest rested on the tabletop. “Cory, meet Mila Oakley, 5th floret, she/her.”

He sat back, opening his arms to reveal a woman standing on the table. She stumbled off kilter, her arms reaching out in either direction to balance herself. She acted like she was wearing high heels that were far too tall for her, leaning too far forward, then too far back, before finally settling on bending forward at the waist.

She looked at Cory with a kind of awe. “Whoah, new cutie.”

Cory looked at her in turn with a sort of awe of his own. She was so pretty. Her shoulder-length dark brown hair perfectly framed her tanned olive skin with beads woven into a braid on the right side of her face. Eyebrows that were too heavy for overly manufactured Accord beauty standards hung over her hazel eyes while her perfect, slack smile made Cory apprehensively run his tongue over his own crooked teeth. She wore no shoes, only a sundress that matched Rhamnus’s greens and browns with beads like those in her hair stitched along the hem, both matching the berries in Rhamnus’s brambly beard. She wasn’t just pretty, she was gorgeous in a way that sent a profoundly twisting pain through Cory’s gut.

But beyond that beauty, there was something about Mila that was unsettling to Cory. Her blissful, vacant expression. Her naive, slack-jawed smile. Her blown-out pupils the size of dinner plates. Her collar.

Mila was a floret.

And so was that wide-eyed man in the waiting room, he realized. And so were all of the people on the street being led around by affini on leashes.

And that’s what the fox-person on the train thought he was.

Cory’s chest tightened, his fingers pressed into Riker’s thighs. He only managed to take a quick, surprised breath as the cuff on his wrist started flashing yellow, emitting a beep with every flash.

Riker’s hands rested against him, covering his entire belly and half of his chest. “Shh,” she cooed, “You’re okay.”

Mila, who by that point had relented to her discordination and kneeled on the table, innocently asked “Is he okay?”

“Yes, dear,” Riker assured her, “He’s just very new to all of this. He just needs a minute.”

Ramnus’s smile wavered. “He seems a little upset. Here, let me give him something to help.” A vine poked out of the shawl of oak leaves on Rhamnus’s shoulders and slithered through the air. It raised in front of Cory with a single needle-like thorn at the end, dripping with a neon orange fluid. “Just hold still for me, cutie.”

Cory pressed backwards into Riker’s chest, head meekly shaking as his eyes focused on the thorn. He heard rustling and felt something underneath Riker’s skin rippling and undulating against his back. Just as he saw Riker’s hand reach out and grab Rhamnus’s vine, he felt the wall of not-flesh behind him give way as he tumbled backward. As he tried to turn over, the hole in Riker’s chest that he had fallen through started weaving itself back together.

Riker had started raising her voice, but as the hole sewed itself up her voice became more and more muffled until he couldn’t hear it. What he heard instead was that same pulsing rhythm that had always been just outside of his hearing since he woke up. But he wasn’t just hearing it anymore, no, he was feeling it. His breath shuddered as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. As they did, he realized it wasn’t entirely dark. No, there was a faint glow inside Riker’s body.

Looking up from where he was lying inside the cavity, Cory could see a wooden mockery of a human ribcage. There, inside Riker’s wooden ribs, there was a sort of orb rooted to the top and front of the inside of Riker’s chest. It was a viscous blood red, throbbing to the beat. Milky white blotches swam and swirled under the surface and those too seemed to pulse along to the rhythm.

It was like a siren song.

Cory reached his hand up to touch it, but the closer he got the thicker the air seemed. It was like reaching through jelly by the time he made contact with it. A single touch sent a shiver through his entire body, but it was so soft and smooth and he needed it. It was calling out to him and he needed it.

Reaching up with his other hand, he cradled the orb, feeling the rhythm pulse down his forearms, through his elbows, and into his shoulders.

“Fuh-uh-uhck.” He couldn’t even speak as crumbled back down, dragging the orb with him. The mass followed without protest. The roots connecting it to Riker’s insides extended as far as they needed to as Cory pulled the thing to his chest and wrapped his arms around it. He felt the song coursing through every fiber of his being as he curled around it, and it felt good.

It felt right.

He couldn’t think about anything but the feeling pulsing through him. Not about xenodrugs. Not about Rhamnus Oakley and his thorn. Not about the way Mila made him feel. Not about being a floret. Not about anything.

But that was okay.

He didn’t need to think.

And that was okay.

He was safe.

Chapter Text

Chapter 4:
And I Saw

The fierce red light emanating from Riker's eyes strangled any shadows cast by the light above the table with the same intensity that her clenched fist strangled Rhamnus's injector vine. “How dare you?” If it was possible to snarl in the Affini tongue, Riker had.

“Did I do something wrong?” Mila looked up at Riker with wide, pleading, puppy dog eyes.

Rhamnus remained calm. “Riker.” He tilted his head at her expectantly, like she was some kind of youngbloom.

“She is MY floret!” Her voice strained with conviction. “MY responsibility!”

“He is still a ward, my friend.” His head slowly shook with a tired smile. “You watched over him day and night since finding him. It’s only expected that you would become attached. It’s in our nature.” He pressed his chest against the end of the table and herded Mila into a hug.

”Nature is cruel.” Riker’s own words reverberated in her mind.

Her fist loosened around Rhamnus’s vine, but it wasn’t until she felt the little hands pawing at her core, pulling it, that she shuddered enough to let go. She stared at the creased vine with broken injector thorns breaking through the epidermis, watching the light cast by her eyes shift from that burning red to a deep blue and then fade out altogether. Her mind was so preoccupied with what she had done that she hadn't noticed Jim Azalea leaving the kitchen and approaching the table.

“Are you alright?” Jim placed a hand on Riker's shoulder.

“I… I…” Riker looked away from Jim's concerned and downright pitying gaze, but fared no better when she saw the other patrons. The devil girl and cat girl were cowering together behind their table. Jim's floret stood watching her with both hands on the counter. Even Mila, precious Mila, shook with terror as she looked up at her from the safety of Rhamnus’s embrace.

Riker wanted nothing more than to reach out to her. Nothing more than to pet Mila and tell her everything was okay. But as she went to, the sight of Rhamnus's orange Class E cocktail running down her hand made Riker recoil. “I-I'm sorry. I should go.”

Before anyone could say another word, Riker stood with enough force to topple her chair and turned to slip by Jim. She hit the door running, leaving a trail of red leaves in her wake, and didn't stop until she was halfway back to the transport station. Even the other affini that she ran past failed to slow her down as she ignored their concerned calls. The entire time, she felt the floor of her body cavity rocking like a cradle as it kept the fragile terran inside from being disturbed.

The fragile, chubby, adorable terran. The one that had sparked that dormant fire of righteous protection in her when she found him on the verge of death. The one that had thrown her off guard and frazzled her with an unexpected tease. The one that was cuddling her core at that very moment. The one that she could not, under any circumstances, get attached to.

It would be simple. She’d just walk into the Bureau of Xenosophont Wellness and Care and… terminate the wardship. It would be for the best, Riker told herself. Clearly she wasn’t fit to care for him. He needed another affini. Another affini who would feed him. Another affini who would clothe him, and bathe him. Another affini who would care for him and protect him. Another affini who would hold him when he cried. Another affini who would love him.

Another affini, who would… completely disregard his desire to avoid xenodrugs. Another affini who would treat him like a pet. Another affini who wouldn’t give him the fair chance at independence that he deserved.

Riker carried herself up the stairs to Xenosophont Wellness, each step weighing her down more heavily than the last. Finally, painstakingly, she reached the top. Her hand reached for the handle of the huge glass door, but her eyes caught her reflection and stopped her dead in her tracks.

She looked awful, if she was being honest with herself. She was wilting. The leaves that made up her hair had become frayed, hanging loosely and shriveled. Her face was dry and cracking around the black voids of her eyes. But what struck Riker most was her body. She had tried to look very human for as long as she had known what a human was, but now with her duck-footed stance, and her swollen abdomen, and the vertical striations on the sides of her belly where the pseudo-skin had been stretched too far too fast, and the adorable, helpless Terran inside, she looked like…

Riker shook her head, driving that comparison from her mind.

Her hand gripped the handle with the same stranglehold she had put on Rhamnus’s vine and yet the door wouldn’t budge. She could feel the muscles she had lovingly crafted out of vine flexing on each attempt. From the deltoid in her shoulder through the bicep in her upper arm down into the brachioradialis in her forearm, her muscles tensed and flexed, but she couldn’t bring herself to open the door. No matter how hard she willed it to, no matter how much she knew it would hurt her in the end, she couldn’t do it. Cory was her responsibility. Whether he ended up becoming a floret - her floret - or flourishing as an independent, he was her’s to protect and care for in the meantime.

She wouldn’t abandon him. She couldn’t.

A sigh-like breeze of relief escaped the holes Riker had anxiously chewed in the pseudo-skin of her cheeks as she smiled. It was terrifying to accept, but she knew by her reflection it was the right choice. Swirling whorls of colors filled her eyes that had been lifelessly dull only moments before. Anyone who saw the greens, golds, and pinks would see the sheer depths of her joy, her pride, and her love for her ward.

The climb back down the stairs proved much easier than the climb up.

Riker walked quickly past the neoxenoveterinary offices and back to the monorail station with a haste born from a newfound sense of purpose. Though the questions from other affini who noticed her disheveled appearance would have normally annoyed her, she was unbothered. She was simply too focused on getting Cory home.

Patiently waiting through the stops on the evening route gave Riker the perfect opportunity to send some much needed messages.

[chairhopper]: Rhamnus…
[SolidAs]: Feeling better?
[chairhopper]: I think so
[chairhopper]: Yes, I think I am.
[SolidAs]: Wonderful.

[chairhopper]: Mila I'm so, so sorry I scared you sweetie.
[peppermintprincess]: it's ok Miss Asherah. Mister Rhamnus told me you were just worried about Cory
[chairhopper]: Can you ever forgive me?
[peppermintprincess]: already have 💜
[chairhopper]: 💚

[chairhopper]: Mr. Azalea, I would like to apologize for causing a scene in your cafe.
[AffiniBuffett]: We are all youngblooms once. --JA
[AffiniBuffett]: Just let me know if you need any advice with your little one. --JA

Riker’s core swelled as she read the last message. Her little one? Could it be? She gently pushed the thought aside; it was not her decision to make. With amends made, she let her pad fall onto the seat beside her.

As the monorail hummed along the magnetic track, Riker sat in solitude, the soft glow of simulated twilight streaming through the windows. But despite her now cleared conscience, the trip home felt longer than usual. At each stop she thought to unwind the belly of her form and pull Cory away from her core, yet each time something stopped her. She knew that she should do it - he deserved every shot at independence and prolonged core exposure would only cut his legs out from under him - but the very thought made her core tremble. A fact that Cory must have picked up on, as his cuddling and nuzzling of the core redoubled each time Riker thought to put an end to it.

By the time Riker reached her hab, she was determined to extricate the terran as soon as they were inside. Walking through the door, she marched straight to the pile of stuffed animals and lowered herself to her knees.

“Come on, little one,” a breeze blew through Riker’s facsimile chest, “It’s time to come out now.” Focusing on the freshly re-weaved wall of vines, she concentrated to slowly untangle them enough to reach inside and cradle Cory in her hands. Despite his protesting mewls and ineffectual grasping, Riker pried him from her core and lowered him into the soft, plush pile.

“Mmm? Mmm?”

Cory’s whimpers were met by Riker’s caress. “Shh, it’s okay. You’re safe. Just close your eyes and rest.”

Riker pushed a random animal into Cory’s arms, some sort of white insect, and watched as he clutched it to his chest. With a final shush and stroke of his hair, Riker stood.

“Welcome home, Mum,” Theo’s electronic voice rang.

“Thank you, Theo.” Riker stood with her hands on her hips, eyes closed as her mimicry of terran abdominal muscles reformed for the second time that day. Leaning back and then to the sides to test her recreation, Riker looked down at Cory. “It’s been a long day. Would you please--”

“Tea, Earl Grey, hot.” Theo said the words as the compiler chirped. “Just the way you like it.”

Riker’s shoulder slumped as she made her way to the compiler, taking the bowl of hot nutri-tea and drinking it. The warmth, she found, could not compare to that of a terran cuddling her core. It never had. Instead, she settled for watching Cory curl up in the menagerie nest as the tea returned life to her weary vines.

“Mum,” Theo interrupted Riker’s reverie, “While you were out, the young master’s belongings arrived. They’ve been deposited and arranged in his designated room.”

“Thank you, Theo.” Riker stood. “I suppose it’s time to see what all the fuss was about.”

She walked down the hall and into Cory’s room, making a mental note to order a door as soon as the plantech connections had finished growing, and looked upon the remains of Cory’s old life. Picking the datapad from one of the transport boxes, she flicked through it with an increasing sense of dread.

The pictures of the apartment, which had been used to replicate the layout for maximum familiarity, told a story of a terran in a very dark place. Food containers and drink bottles were strewn around without care. Dishes lay unwashed in desk drawers. Cobwebs decorated corners and a thick layer of dust covered most every surface beyond his worn out computer chair, his bed, and the inside of his curio cabinet. Riker took a small solace in knowing that he would have doubtlessly had a wellness check regardless of her finding him, but it still pained her to her core to see the way he had been made to survive.

Never again.

Continuing to scroll showed a detailed list of everything that had been moved from the apartment, including a copy of all the computer’s data sent to Riker’s personal data storage.

It was fairly standard to comb through personal data to root out any feralism, so when Riker saw that a folder had been found with no visible name or icon, she was curious. Cory had given her no reason to believe he was any more of a feralist than a Terran had to be to survive in the Accord. In fact, he seemed overjoyed to hear that the Accord was being so drastically overwhelmed and well on its way to being pacified. But still, it was her duty for his safety and the safety of others.

Opening the folder, she felt the anthocyanins flood the vines in her face and give her cheeks a bright red blush. It was smut. But it wasn’t just a collection, it was a veritable archive. Only a few seconds of scrolling were needed for Riker to see the commonality between the majority of it; the reason it had been hidden away. So many of the images, videos, and text files were of or about trans women.

Riker was all too familiar with the stance that the Terran Accord took on gender nonconformity. Mila had told her that calling the Accord’s views “disapproving” was extremely charitable. Though it wasn’t outlawed, transgender individuals faced shame and ridicule, even outright discrimination, at most every turn. She remembered Mila saying it wasn't uncommon for them to look for a way out through joining the Cosmic Navy or taking jobs outside of the Sol system.

Oh.

The thought was pushed away with the wave of a hand and a shake of the head in a mannerism so well practiced it had become second nature. Just because Cory had this proclivity that didn’t mean it meant anything. The rationale was only bolstered when Riker finally found a subdirectory titled “fur”.

That’s a lot of anthropomorphic canines...

Visions of the way Cory had reacted to Tsundra on the train came rushing back. Riker quickly backed out of the file system, confident that she wouldn’t find even a single trace of feralism by delving any deeper. Instead, she turned her attention back to the freight manifest. Whether for Cory’s sake or just to satisfy some innate Affini urge to ensure the forms were correct, Riker began checking that every item listed had arrived.

Little had been taken from the kitchen as the ‘food’ in the cupboards barely qualified as food by Compact standards. A few well loved cooking pots and appliances were kept in case they meant anything to Cory as they could always be disposed of later.

From the living quarters, the combined bedroom and livingroom, were Cory's bed and bedding, his desk and computer, and his curio cabinet and its contents of small plastic figures and other pieces of memorabilia, along with the contents of a laundry basket that appeared to be all of his clothing. A few framed art pieces that appeared to be various media characters rounded out that room.

Reading the scant contents of the bathroom sent Riker's vines writhing in a full body shiver. There was just… nothing. No shampoo, or personal care products. Not even a toothbrush or paste. Just a few rolls of toilet tissue, two scratchy towels, and a few drops of body cleanser in a nearly empty bottle.

Riker’s body twisted against the urge to run to Cory and put him in a luxurious bath that very instant.

It helped that her attention was stolen by contents listed under a ‘concealed compartment’. The picture showed a hole in the wall behind a few loose tiles, followed by the contents. Women's undergarments. Women's clothing. Sexual implements.

Oh, dirt.

She was going to have to talk to him, there was no longer any question. Or talk to her, rather? Maybe Mila could help…

Before Riker could devote any more thought to the matter, Theo projected a hologram from the ceiling at a skewed angle. “Apologies for the interruption, Mum. Incoming hail from Captain Noxus Berrimeli. Priority one.”

The facsimile lids went wide around Riker's eyes. “In my ready room.”

She walked out into the hall and turned right instead of left toward the living room, stopping for only a moment across from the hall mirror to push the leaves that made up her hair into place on the way to her office. Once inside, she stood in front of her desk and adopted the stance of a confident terran. Straight back, hips slightly turned, one foot a bit ahead of the body, arms just barely flexed with hands in loose fists below the waistline.

“On screen.”

The floor-to-ceiling window across from Riker’s desk dissolved from a view of the park outside to a video call from the captain, framed closer than comfortable. Xis bulbous, clownish nose made from a cluster of berries took up more of the screen than it had any right to.

“Captain Berrimeli.” It was a curt acknowledgement and nothing more.

“Ah, Miss Riker. So good to see you again.” Berrimeli's voice carried the kind of cloying mock kindness that Riker knew well. “I do hope I haven't caught you at an… inopportune time.”

Riker shook her head. “Of course not, Captain.”

“Splendid,” the mouth of the captain's mask curved into a smile. Whether xe couldn't or just didn't care to, xis eyes didn't match the gesture. “And how is your floret-to-be?”

“H-” Riker started, then started again, “They are a ward, Captain. And they are resting comfortably. Why do you ask?”

“Of course, my apologies for the misunderstanding,” xe nodded ever so slowly, voice laced with insincerity. “I had been informed that there was a minor incident this evening. Mr. Azalea was quite concerned, you see.”

“I can assure you that my ward and I are fine, Captain.” Riker crossed her arms and tried to make her smile look appreciative. Inside her own mind, she cursed the oldbloom for going to the captain. “Thank you for your concern.”

“You are quite welcome, Miss Riker.”

She stared at xis face on the screen and it stared right back at her. It was a battle of wills, at least to Riker. Who would blink first? Neither wanted to give the other the satisfaction.

“Will that be all, Captain?”

Riker, as much as she loathed to, blinked. And finally Noxus Berrimeli's eyes smiled.

“I'm sorry to say it won't.” Xis mouth fell to a frown, eyes following in suit. “There is another matter at hand. One best discussed in person.”

“Is it serious?”

“Quite. One might even say deadly serious.”

Vines bristled, squirming inside Riker's carefully taut muscles. If she had a throat, she'd clear it. “I'm afraid I've got my vines full here, Captain. Is there another Affini who could help you? If it's a matter of Terran physiology, Dr. Pemphis is well versed.”

“I believe you'll find that this is a matter that requires your immediate attention.”

Riker's mind raced, trying to figure out what could be so important. So vital that not only did it require her, but it required her now. Something related to her outburst at Jim and Sonny's? Something worse?

“I'm not sure I can find a ward-sitter on such short notice, Captain.” Riker tightened her arms around her chest and switched stance.

“I'm confident that your hab's artificial intelligence can look after a resting ward more than adequately. It is what they were designed for, after all.”

“Of course, Captain,” she nodded. “Expect me shortly.”

Captain Berrimeli smiled again with a deep nod. “I'm glad we could reach this understanding, Miss Riker.”

With that, the connection closed and the view of the park, shrouded in night, returned.

Riker finally let her arms fall back to her sides, cursing under her non-existent breath. “Dirt! Dirt and roots and rot!” Brinkmanship was a dangerous game. A game that, at least for this round, had been decisively lost. Had she overplayed? Underplayed? It didn't really matter when she wasn’t playing with a full deck of her own, did it?

She just pushed her leaves back off of her forehead, speaking as she headed for the door. “Theo, please send a message to Rhamnus and ask if he'll come watch Cory. Now.”

She was almost to the door when she remembered to add a very important “And no xenodrugs!”

Theo’s cheery “Yes, Mum!” barely registered as Riker set out.

Without having to worry about Cory keeping up, Riker was free to stretch her legs a bit more. Breaking into a run, her meticulously crafted muscles propelled her forward in a stride with speed rivaling what most affini could only achieve by abandoning their bipedal forms and surging forward as a mass of vines.

Riker didn’t need to abandon her terran form, she had perfected it.

Retracing the same path that she and Cory had taken earlier in the day, she was thankful that it was much less crowded this late in the evening. Though she was fast, what Riker gained in speed she traded for some degree of maneuverability. So when a terran couple walked out in front of her as they crossed toward the park, Riker couldn’t turn to avoid them. Instead, she vaulted over them shouting out her apology from overhead as she cleared them with ease.

Riker reached the station in only a matter of minutes - a mere fraction of the earlier trip - but it was all for naught. The train wouldn’t be arriving for several minutes. Several agonizing minutes as Riker weighed the benefits of just running the entire way around the Cymbidium’s habitation cylinder.

She knew she could push her body to go harder and faster than she already had, but for how long and to what effect on her vines she wasn’t certain.

Just about the time she decided against racing the monorail around the ship, the train arrived anyway. Despite the captain’s relaxed demeanor, xe said it was urgent, so as Riker sat down she was confused as to what the matter could be. She retraced her actions of the past days, past weeks, but try as she might she couldn’t think of anything she’d done that would earn a reprimand.

The first few stations they passed through served residential districts. Despite the late hour (at least as far as terrans were concerned), every stop was observed and the doors remained open for the full wait time. ‘No sophont left behind’ was the unofficial motto of the Cymbidium, after all.

Five minutes at the first stop was no issue, especially with so many sophonts disembarking. The second seemed much longer than the first simply because the train just sat there with the doors open while the passenger count remained unchanged. By the third stop, Riker's heel was bouncing, and by the fourth she had decided to get off. She knew she could outpace the monorail at this rate. Especially if she ran on the tracks and didn't have to worry about jumping over any more adorable terrans.

As the doors opened and Riker prepared to stand, a little old terran man shuffled into the train car. He must have been around 80 by Riker's estimation and looked every bit of it. But reduced skin elasticity was the least of his problems. Reduced bone density and muscle density were much bigger issues, even if they didn't contribute to the man's glacial pace. And that wasn't even to mention the absolute mess that the terran body passed off as joints.

Riker reflexively emulated a sigh. For all of the Affini Compact's medical advancements, for all of her own expertise and research, they were still unable to halt the aging process.

He approached Riker's seat directly across from the door and as he neared, she spoke. “Would you like a hand up, little one?”

The man waved her off with the hand carrying his cane. “No, no, that's quite alright young lady.” He shuffled under the seat and reached up to grab one of the handholds. “I've been riding the subway since before I was born, don'tcha know.”

Riker couldn't help but crack a smirk at the absurd sounding yet completely plausible statement. “So where are you headed tonight? Back home to some lucky affini?”

He chuckled with a shake of his head. “No, no, nothing like that. I'm indie-pendant, or so they tell me. I was just visiting some friends.”

“Good for you. It's important to stay active at your age.”

“It certainly helps! I don't feel a day over 85.”

Entirely unprompted, the man went on at length - as people his age often did - about his entire day. Despite the events being rather uneventful, Riker was happy to lend an ear. He was just too enthusiastic to turn away. By the time the eighth stop came, Riker knew better than to offer assistance as they both disembarked.

They parted ways with a handshake that the man insisted upon, and Riker made her way toward the bureaucratic center at a much calmer pace.

Reaching the building that housed the captain's office, she walked swiftly past the campaign posters commemorating the last election. Xe had run on a platform of being more active instead of reactive. Riker felt it was unbecoming of a response vessel like the Cymbidium, but her vote fell on the losing side.

“The captain is expecting you,” the wavy purple and blue affini receptionist acknowledged, waving Riker through to the elevator. The ride up was near instant without the elevator’s control AI having to worry about any non-Affini being affected by sudden intense forces.

The doors opened and Riker stepped into the office. Dim monitors and desk lamps lit the faces of the affini working away, burning the midnight coal, as the saying had been explained. The open floor plan was framed on three sides by floor to ceiling windows that allowed for an unobstructed view of well over half of the cylinder below. The fourth wall, directly across from the elevator, held the door to the captain's office.

It was the nerve center of the entire Cymbidium, its brain. And Riker felt like an intrusive thought. She kept her head down as she marched right to the door and entered as it opened automatically.

“Ah, Miss Riker,” Berrimeli's voice called from the raised dais that supported the captain's desk. “Thank you for coming.” The back of xis chair was to Riker as xe faced out the windows.

The casualness of it irked Riker after how urgent xe had made everything seem. “You're welcome, Xir.” Riker stood tall. “Now, would you kindly tell me what was so important that you deigned to drag me away from my ward on their first waking day in the Compact?”

The high-backed chair spun on the spot to reveal Noxus Berrimeli, Twelfth Bloom and Captain of the Cymbidium. A completely nude terran, save for the collar adorning their neck, lay splayed out across xis lap purring absentmindedly as Berrimeli stroked down the entire length of their back. They barely even noticed Riker with their blown out pupils and smile unburdened by conscious thought. The poor thing looked like they had been picked up straight from a Jafé, but Riker knew this was just how Berrimeli liked xis florets.

“But of course,” the captain stood, xis already imposing six meters only amplified by the height of the dais. If not for xis tricolor berry afro and the colorful clusters of berries that covered xis body like pockmarks, Berrimeli’s near-black foliage would have looked like a spectral silhouette against the night sky behind xim.

Xe stepped down, directing Riker's attention to a desk on the side of the room with one arm. The other arm cradled the floret from beneath like a cat on a cap rail.

The harsh light shining down on the desk obscured whatever sat on it, sending a glare reflecting into Riker's eyes. Nearing, she recognized the objects and her core sank to the pit of her belly.

Divided among several vacuum sealed plastic bags were Cory's clothes from the day Riker had found him. Complete with the caked mud and mysterious rusty stains.

Riker's brows furrowed. “Noxus, what… what is this?”

“The chemanalysis of your ward's belongings has concluded.” Berrimeli had already resumed petting xis floret, the bell on their collar jingling as they squirmed in amusement. “I thought it best to discuss the findings in person.”

Riker paused, waiting for him to continue before deciding she was too tired for this posturing. “Well?” Riker shook her head. “What was so important that it couldn't wait until morning.”

“The chemanalysis determined that the unknown substance on the terran's clothing is, in fact, sap.”

Riker blinked. Once. Twice. Thrice. “Captain, there are dozens of trees in the scrubland where I found him. There could be any number of reasons--”

“Affini sap, Miss Riker.” Berrimeli leaned in, pressing xis point.

She shook her head in disbelief.

“What's more,” xe continued, “is the fact that a singular member of the evacuation team, one Miss Monophylla Tangella, First Bloom, She/Her, never returned to the rendezvous point.”

“She what?” Riker turned to face Berrimeli in full.

“This is not abnormal for Miss Tangella,” xi continued, eerily calm, “However, in the days since, she has yet to send a request for retrieval or even so much as a status report.”

Riker picked up Cory’s bagged communicator from the table, looking at it in her hand.

“Furthermore,” the captain pulled xis tablet out of xis chest and set it on the table. Its screen showed a satellite image of the planetoid’s scrubland outside of Tabp. “This is the location of the last transponder signal received from Miss Tangella's tablet.” Xe pointed to a dot at the bottom of a hill strewn with abandoned machinery and vehicles. “And this is the location at which the terran in question was recovered,” xe zoomed out, pointing to another dot. The legend in the corner of the screen told Riker it was only a bit further than one terran mile.

Riker stared at the map, then looked at the soiled clothes. “Captain… You can't possibly believe--”

Berrimeli had already taken the step back up toward the captain's chair. “I have my suspicions.” Xe sat down, letting xis floret back into xis lap, “And as this terran's warden, you, Miss Riker, will confirm them.”

Riker pulled her tablet out of her arm, replacing it with Cory’s communicator in a single motion.

“Oh, and Riker?” The Captain's voice slithered down. “Time is of the essence.”

The radiation burst.

Riker tapped a quick message into her tablet.

The reply came almost instantly as Captain Berimelli's chair spun back toward the window.

[BonsaiBuddy]: Of course. I can have a Class D graft ready for you by morning.

Chapter Text

Chapter 5:
In the Mean-Meantime

Cory whimpered in the warmth of the hab’s evening lights as he squeezed the plush moth that was definitely not-the-thing-from-Riker’s-body to his chest while slowly drifting back to consciousness.

Aaaaa! Too quiet! Too quiet!

Sweat built on his brow as he forced his eyes shut, trying to think of a song to fill the void in his mind.

heyJude don’t Make ITbadtake a sadsong and mAke it bettER.

“Nononono,” he whined, burying his chin into the soft thing he was holding that wasn’t Riker’s siren orb. The yellow light on his cuff flashed, but even the pulsing of that didn’t feel right. “All wrong, all wrong.”

Theo’s hologram projected into the nest of plush animals, but Cory just saw a wiggling blue mass through the tears. “Are you alright, young Master?”

Cory whined again and shook his head. “Too quiet.”

“Would you like me to play some Terran music, sir?”

He nodded. The music Theo played over the hab’s speakers sounded like it came from a movie, building slowly before layering brass or woodwinds over each other. It was like the music was fighting itself. It was discordant and didn’t calm Cory in the slightest, but it was better than the silence, so he endured it.

The song eventually ended, but was followed by another tense ancient-classical sounding score. And another after that, before a triumphant and momentous reprise crashed into Cory's ears.

The swish of the front door opening didn't rouse Cory, nor did Theo's voice speaking to someone above him.

“Oh, Mister Oakley,” the simulated butler cried out, “Thank goodness you're here. It appears that something is the matter with young master Cory.”

“Did you contact Riker, Theo?”

“Yes, sir, but she isn't responding. I suspect she is still occupied with the urgent business for which the Captain summoned her.”

Mila tugged at Rhamnus's beard to get his attention. “Down, please?” When she was set down and regained her balance, Mila meandered her way to the mountain of stuffies while Theo and Mr. Oakley kept talking.

“Hey,” she kept her voice soft as she fell to her knees behind Cory. “Are you okay?” She put a hand on his shoulder, but pulled it back as he recoiled.

“No.” He curled even tighter.

“What happened?”

A whiney sound escaped Cory's throat as he rocked. “Was too quiet. Now it's too loud. All wrong, everything sounds wrong.”

“Hold on just a sec, cutie.” She turned her head, looking at Theo and Mr. Oakley talking. “Hey, Wiggly?”

With no response, Mila sighed. Her hand found Cory's shoulder and she didn't let him flinch away again. “Sorry, I'm gonna have to get loud.” She waited a second, clearing her throat before screaming out “WIGGLYYYYYYY!”

Theo's hologram flashed away from Rhamnus and down to above Cory to face Mila, responding with an affectatious sigh. “Yes, Miss Mila? I was just telling your owner about Miss Riker's instructions against him xenodrugging young master Cory.”

“Turn this crappy music off, it isn't helping him.” The music died instantly. Mila squeezed Cory's shoulder gently. “Better?”

It wasn't better. It was too quiet again. Cory shook his head.

“Wiggly, play my nightnight playlist. Please.”

“I do wish you wouldn't refer to me in that manner,” Theo's hologram wiggled as he spoke. Nonetheless, soft and gentle rhythms started playing.

Mila lowered herself to the floor and scooted herself right up behind Cory. He tried to protest with whimpers and whines, but they were overruled with gentle shushing as Mila snaked one arm under him and draped the other over his chest. “Shh, shh. It's okay, cutie. You're okay.”

“Can't--Can't breathe.” Cory shook his head.

Mila squeezed him tight in her arms and she dug her chin into his shoulder. “It’s okay,” she whispered in his ear. Her hands found his holding the plushie and pulled it to his chest. “Here. You hold her, and I'll hold you. Mhmm, just like that.”

Cory squeezed, the feeling of his hands sandwiched between the fuzzy toy and Mila's hands starting to ground him.

“Now just breathe with me, okay? In, two, three, four.”

She loosened her arms as Cory inflated with the breath.

“Hold, two, three, four.”

He tried to hold it, but his chest hicced and he let it out around two. He sucked a half breath to replace what he had lost.

“Out, two, three, four,” Mila continued. “Hold, two three four.”

Cory followed along as best he could as Mila guided his breathing. Over and over she led and he followed, despite the occasional hiccup. As he settled into a pattern, he slowly realized that their breaths matched the music, gently rising and falling in time.

“You're okay,” Mila reassured him.

He wasn’t sure.

“You’re safe.”

And he was. It wasn’t like when Riker said it, but he somehow knew he was safe all the same.

“So good, breathing for me. Such a good boy.”

Cory's breath hitched as he squirmed in response.

“Oh… you don't like that, do you?” Her voice was so impossibly quiet and soft.

Cory shook his head against taking another breath.

Mila's voice somehow went even quieter, her lips right up against his ear. “Good girl?”

Her breath was fire burning the whole way from his ear into his cheeks and then his entire face as he buried his shameful blush into the plush moth.

Mila's hand squeezed tightly, reassuringly. “Hey, it's okay. Just close your eyes and try to relax.”

He did as he was told, closing his eyes and breathing. His mind latched onto the music and his breaths and the pattern and without even knowing it, he relaxed. His muscles slacked, his breathing evened out, he was calm. But in that calm, he came to a realization.

He was lying down with a girl. A woman.

Cory suddenly took control of his breath in a different way. Of all the new experiences he had over the days this was perhaps the one he'd fantasized about most. Hours, cumulative days, spent imagining this exact scenario. Well maybe not exactly. He always pictured himself as the big spoon.

“Hey, are you okay?” Mila gave him a little squeeze. “You stopped breathing.”

“Mhmm!” The hum came out much higher than Cory expected.

“Still too loud?”

Cory shook his head. “Nuh-uh.”

“Good.” Mila's head rested against his back.

Cory's mind lit on fire with the realization that this was happening. What was he supposed to do with his hands? Was he breathing too heavy? He hadn't showered since stars knows when; did he stink? Was she smelling his stench? What was he supposed to do?

Mila made a little hum as she lifted her head. “Are you sure?”

“Uhhh, umm,” He was panicking. “I have to go to the bathroom!”

When she loosened her grip, Cory squirmed far enough away to push himself to his feet. He drew a sharp breath as he looked up to see Mr. Oakley just sitting there on the couch looking at him.

“Uh…” Cory couldn't think. His jaw just fell slack.

“That way, little one.” Oakley pointed to the hallway with a massive wooden finger, one of three on his hand.

Cory ran across the room, down the hall, and into the bathroom. The door opened automatically as he approached, but he still reflexively swung his arm with full force to try and slam it behind him, despite it having disappeared into the doorframe when it opened. The door just slid softly back into place as Cory braced himself against the countertop.

He pushed his glasses up his forehead, letting them fall to the counter with a clatter as the yellow light of the cuff flashed in his face. The mirror showed the same dark, foggy surface in its place as it had that morning when he broke it. His face twisted as he tried to hold back his tears.

“Why do I always fuck everything up?”

He squeezed his eyes shut, slumping to his knees before twisting to sit on the floor against the cabinet doors.

“Always fuck everything up,” he scolded himself. He threw his head back, slamming it against the counter and letting his chin bounce back down to his chest. The pain didn’t help. It never did.

His silent sobbing was interrupted by someone sitting next to him. He just put his hand over his face. He didn't want to see them. He didn't want to be seen.

He heard plastic crinkling, then Mila saying “Here.”

Cory peeked through his fingers to see Mila holding a candy cane out to him. His stomach growled at the sight of the candy and he took it.

“It'll help. I promise.”

Cory sucked on the cane idly, letting his tongue play over the loop to distract him.

“It's hard, right?”

“What is?” he sniffled.

“I don’t know.” She gestured vaguely with a hand holding a candy cane of her own, “Just… all of it.”

He swallowed his peppermint flavored drool and nodded. When Mila reached up onto the counter and grabbed his glasses, he took them and put them back on.

Yup. She's just as gorgeous. Why does thathurt?

“It's just so overwhelming when you first get here. ‘Welcome to the Compact. So, now that nobody has to work anymore, what are you going to do?’ Like you're just supposed to know.”

Cory swallowed again, feeling immensely more relaxed than he felt he had any right to be. “What do you mean nobody has to work anymore?”

“I--” Mila looked at him like he had two heads, then clucked her tongue. “Miss Asherah didn't give you the ‘Welcome to the Compact’ spiel?”

Cory shook his head. What spiel?

“Of course not,” she sighed. “Okay so, yeah. Welcome to the Affini Compact. We have magic boxes called compilers that rearrange atoms to make whatever you want. The space commies won,” she paused as she smiled, huffing a little laugh, “And it's amazing. Would you like a hug?”

“A… a hug?”

Mila giggled. “Yeah, I mean, it's totally part of the spiel, but I mean I also want to hug you.”

Sucking up the last vestiges of his mini-breakdown, he swallowed again. For whatever reason, just sitting here with Mila was making him feel so much better. He wasn't even, like, nervous or anything when she asked for a hug.

“So…” She leaned in with a grin, “Can I?”

“Yeah. That sounds,” another swallow, “nice.”

“Good, because I was gonna do it anyway.” She giggled again and pulled him in with a strength betraying her size.

Cory took a deep breath. She smelled really nice. Like fall leaves and red berries. It barely even occurred to him that smelling her might be creepy or that he might smell bad, and what concerns did pop up faded just as quickly.

When she finally let him go, she smiled with a sigh. “Ready to get off the floor, cutie?”

It only took a few seconds for Cory to nod.

“Good, my butt's getting cold.”

Cory watched as she pulled herself up with the counter. As she stood, she wobbled in much the same way that she had when he first saw her earlier in the day. She giggled again and offered him a hand.

With one hand in Mila’s and the other gripping the counter, Cory managed to heft himself up. “Whoah,” his legs wobbled beneath him, so he held onto the counter. He had probably just been sitting too long or got up too fast.

“I gotcha,” Mila shouldered his weight with deceptive strength, making Cory blush as she ushered him out of the bathroom. He managed to walk on his own, though he still felt a little discoordinated, so he elected to keep holding Mila’s hand. But instead of turning toward the living room, she led him down the hall into the room he'd first woken up in that morning. She paused to look at the entrance, looking at the gold-inscribed door across from it and muttering something about Asherah under her breath.

“Holy…” Cory crept into the room, following behind Mila who took instant fascination with all of Cory’s things.

“Whoah, is this your stuff?”

“Yeah…” An eerie, uncanny feeling started washing over Cory, but quickly bled away. He knew it should be weird to see his apartment dissected like this. It was like somebody had picked up his entire living-bedroom, moved it this room next to the giant dog bed, and tore the walls out. All while having the good grace to leave all of the garbage and dirty dishes behind. But despite the oddity of it all, Cory just felt completely calm and, maybe, a little impressed. “She said I’d get my stuff back soon, but I didn’t expect, well, this.”

As Mila stood with her hands on her knees, peering into Cory’s curio cabinet, Cory walked over to the computer and sat down. Everything was almost exactly where it was supposed to be. The left-hand monitor of his setup was slightly askew, which would have normally infuriated him, but he found it unusually unbothersome. He reached above the central monitor and after missing a couple times, his fingers found the power button. Surprised to see it come on, he looked under the desk to see a strange box that all of the computer’s power cables were plugged into.

When the login screen loaded, Cory typed with his regular speed. What he lacked, however, was dexterity as the [Password Hint: Fuck You] prompt told him he had missed at least one input.

“Oooh, what’s this?” Mila’s voice pricked up Cory’s ears just as he finished pick-and-peck typing the password again. When Cory turned to look at her, she was standing in front of the now open case, holding a resin statuette in her hand.

He gasped, almost falling as he clambered out of the chair. “Don’t touch that!”

“Oh! Sorry!” Mila set the statuette back down on the shelf and stepped away.

“It’s okay, I just… paid a lot of money for it. Too much.”

After closing the cabinet door a little more forcefully than he intended, he turned just in time to see Mila spin on her heel and flop down backwards onto his bed, lying across the short way. His bed, not the giant pet bed.

“She’s cute,” she propped herself up on her elbows. “Why’s she wearing that skintight suit, though?”

Cory glanced at the statuette’s skintight bodysuit with plugs on her shoulderpads. “She’s a mech pilot,” he shrugged, sitting back down and turning the chair to face Mila, “She has to wear it to interface with the giant robot that may or may not house the soul of her dead mom.”

“Oh, wow.”

“Yeah, the show’s about these three teenagers who have to pilot their robots to save the world from these… alien things.”

Mila snorted a little laugh. “So definitely science fiction, then.”

A smile cracked across Cory’s face. “Haha, yeah I guess so.”

“Oh! Hey!” Mila pointed behind Cory with one hand. “That’s her!”

Cory looked at his tertiary monitor. The slideshow that acted as his desktop wallpaper had chosen that moment to display a picture of the pilot, complete in her red bodysuit, sitting in the cockpit of her giant robot as she overlooked a ravaged and desolate cityscape. The aftermath of a battle.

“Aagh! Look at that! It’s so cool!” She turned her attention to Cory. “Can we watch it sometime?”

“Oh, uh, sure. I think I still have a copy on here somewhere.”

“Oh em gee! Yes!” Mila flopped back. Her arms stretched off the far side of the bed and her legs kicked excitedly. “This is gonna be so awesome! We can have popcorn, and candy, and pizza, and cuddles. Aaa!”

Cory watched Mila giggle excitedly as she lied back, draped across the bed like a ragdoll. His eyes traced up her legs. Mila’s feet were apart and her sundress was so short that he would almost see--

His head flicked away, forcing him to focus on a square of nothing on the floor as something in his head snapped at him, calling him a sicko and a pervert.

He swallowed his spit again, chewed the last bit of the candy cane with a crunch, and swallowed. A deep, cool peppermint breath followed and made him feel better.

“Hey…” Mila’s voice pulled Cory’s head back to her. She was back up on her elbows. “What’s up?”

Cory forced himself to smile as he looked back at her. A little, strained thing of a smile. “Sorry… Just nervous I guess. Never had a girl in my room before.”

Mila rolled her eyes toward the ceiling, gently moving her head for a moment or two, before settling her gaze back on Cory. “I don’t think you’ve had anyone in this room before. It’s still growing itself.”

“That’s… that’s not what I meant.”

Her toothy grin couldn’t contain her giggle. “Just come here.”

“Why?” He quirked a brow at her.

“Just come hee-urr, “ she whined playfully.

Abandoning the seat at his computer, his cockpit, Cory sat on the edge of the bed. He made sure to leave at least room for one more person between them. He didn’t want to come off as a creep or anything.

Mila just reached out and grabbed his hand. “What are you doing all the way over there? I don’t bite.” She smiled. “Much.”

He scooted closer, Mila’s hand squeezing encouragement, until their knees were touching. He tried not to worry about if she wanted that, or if his hand was too sweaty, or if he was breathing too heavy.

Mila’s thumb ran over the back of Cory’s hand. “You wanna snuggle some more?”

He did. Of course he did. But he didn’t want to seem too eager, like some kind of… “Yeah, that sounds nice.”

Mila pulled her feet up onto the bed and started shifting her position.

“But, can I be the big spoon this time?” Cory let go of Mila’s hand.

She propped her head up with one hand, almost lying on her side. “Are you asking that because you want to be the big spoon, or because you think you’re supposed to want to?”

“I…” Cory tried to think of a response. He’d never thought about it before. He’d never considered a question like that. How was someone supposed to even begin to pull apart what they wanted and what they were supposed to?

Mila, perhaps sensing Cory being overwhelmed, grabbed his hand again. “Did you like when I was the big spoon before?”

Thinking about it, he did. He absolutely did. So after a short pause, he nodded.

“Okay, so c’mere.” Mila rolled like an alligator, dragging Cory down to the bed as she turned away. She pulled his arm to reel him in and sooted backwards until he was the big spoon now, just like he’d asked for. “And how do you like this?”

Cory’s arms were stiff, muscles refusing to relax. There were so many things he could be doing wrong, so many ways he could fuck this up. Was he breathing too hard? Was it creepy to breathe on her? Was his arm too heavy? Was his hand too low on her body? What was he supposed to do with his hands?

“It’s okay,” Mila laced her fingers through Cory’s. “Just roll over, and I’ll hold you like before, alright?”

When Mila released his hand, Cory rolled. He pulled his knees up halfway to his chest and tucked his chin while Mila rolled after him, snuggled up behind him, and wrapped her arms around him. Just like before. And he didn’t worry.

He basked in the silence, thanking the stars that Mila opted to not push him for the moment. It wasn’t quite silent, though, as the echoes of the playlist Mila had told Theo to play echoed softly down the hall. They were almost lost as they entered the cavernous space, but under them Cory thought he could hear something else, just barely out of ear range. Something different than the silent sound of that morning.

Eventually, Cory broke the silence that Mila had so graciously gifted him. “How are you so good at this?”

She hummed softly against his shoulder. “Hmm? At what?”

“I don’t know,” he put his head a little closer to his chest, feeling like he should feel stupid. “Making me feel better?”

Milla buried her face in the hood of Cory’s sweatshirt for a few moments before pulling back. “I’m used to taking care of cuties. Before the Affini arrived, it was kinda part of my job.”

“Yeah?” his question was met with Mila nodding softly against him. “Were you like a nurse or something?”

A slow breath across the back of Cory’s neck only added to the warmth of the embrace as Mila sighed. “Would you believe… ‘Captain of a Cosmic Navy heavy cruiser’?”

Cory tried to turn to face her, but Mila’s hug held firm.

“Taking care of my crew was one of,” Mila paused, her body rocking into Cory’s as she scoffed, “was, like, the only part of the job I liked.”

He didn’t really know how to respond to that. Didn’t know what to do with that information. This girl, this woman, had been the captain of an entire military ship. A heavy cruiser, at that, like the ones that flew alongside the cargo freighters that supplied the colony. And now she was, what? A floret? Some kind of pet?

His response was simply a “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Though he couldn’t see it, Cory could almost hear the smile in Mila’s words. “And now I get to take care of cuties and make them feel good all the time.”

“Cuties?”

“Yeah, silly. Cuties like you.” Another squeeze as Mila pressed herself into his back.

“Like me?” She thought he was cute? Nobody thought he was cute… right?

“Of course,” she giggled, “Mister Rhamnus and Miss Asherah are, like, totally best friends even if Miss Asherah has a stick up her butt bigger than the one coming out of her head. She takes care of me, like, all the time when Mister Rhamnus has to do important affini stuff. So we’ll be spending a lot of time together.”

“She takes care of you?”

“Yeah, y'know, cause I'm a floret.”

And if I can't take care of myself…

“Do you like it?” Almost immediately after asking, he spoke again to clarify. “Being a floret, I mean. Getting taken care of and all that?”

Mila answered with zero hesitation. “Mhmm. I love it. I get to hug way more cuties now than they ever let me in the navy.” She gave Cory another squeeze to get that point all the way across. “Why?”

“I was just wondering… because Riker said if I can't prove I can take care of myself then someone else will.”

“Ohhhh.” She squeezed his hand again. “Do you want that?”

“No? I mean, I want to take care of myself.”

Millard hummed for a moment like she was thinking about something really hard. “Okay. Well, Miss Asherah doesn't want a floret anyway, so you probably don't have anything to worry about.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. She says so every time Rhamnus asks her why she doesn't get a floret of her own after Riker watches me.”

“How do you know so much about her?”

“Duh, I already said I'm here like all the time.”

There was already something he wanted to know, just because he was nebby, but was too awkward to ask Riker as her guest. Or whatever he was to her.

“Do you know what's up with that room across the hall? Door wouldn't open when I put my hand on it like the bathroom.”

Cory felt Mila's body shift as she shrugged against him. “I dunno. It's just full of old junk. Not sure why Miss Asherah went to the trouble of making you a whole new room when she has that one just sitting there.”

“How do you get in if the door doesn't open?”

Mila sat up. “Sometimes, the only option is the backdoor.” She gave Cory a firm pat on the butt that made him jump. “Just gotta know how to work it,” she giggled.

He sat up himself, turning to look at her, hoping the heat in his cheeks was just in his head.

“Sorry!” she kept giggling, “You should see the look on your face, though.”

Cory was sure that the heat wasn't just in his head now, if it ever had been.

“God,” she shook her head, “You really are just too cute.”

“M'not cute,” he grumbled cutely.

She did a really cartoonish shrug. “Guess you're just in denial.” And she must have thought that Cory's glare was the funniest thing in the world, because she just burst out laughing. After a minute, she caught herself with a long sigh. “Oh, hey. Your wrist collar thingy isn't yellow anymore.”

And when Cory looked down at it, sure enough it wasn't. The blinking light had turned green at some point. “Huh.”

“Think I can go tell Mister Rhamnus you're okay now?”

He felt fine now, thanks to Mila. Even if he wasn't ok, he still would have said “Yeah, I'm fine,” because the last thing he wanted to be was a burden. But if that were the case, he wouldn't have smiled and said “Thanks.”

Mila had already stood off the bed when she stopped. “Hey, you should come meet Mister Rhamnus. For real, I mean. He's really nice! He just didn't know you were afraid of xenodrugs.”

“I'm not afraid of drugs.”

“Needles, then. Whatever. The point is that he's super nice. Plus if you're my friend you'll be seeing him all the time too.”

“I…” Hesitating, Cory looked at his computer and his curios. “I should probably make sure everything's here and nothing's broken.”

“Okaaay. Just don't spend all night in here or I'll come drag you out,” She warned. And considering the strength of her hugs, Cory wasn't sure he wanted to test her.

After she left, Cory sat at his computer, reentered his password, and waited for everything to load up.

Riker readied herself as she opened the gate outside of Monophylla's hab. It didn't matter that the captain hadn't given her the dignity of facing her when he ordered her to check on Monophylla’s floret. It didn't matter that any other affini could have been sent. It didn't matter that she had a ward at home to look after (though Riker wouldn't put it past the captain to try and sabotage a wardship). What did matter was that there was a floret all alone. Riker had a duty, a biological imperative, to ensure their safety.

As she approached the hab, Riker couldn't help but feel a strange stillness. The overgrown garden and vines was stylish in the Cymbidium’s Garnet District, but despite the artificial moonlight it was still far too early for the hab to be completely dark. Reaching the door, Riker told the hab AI that the captain had sent her and, presumably after authenticating that information, the AI opened the door.

“Mistress?” a small terran voice called from somewhere unseen, followed by the pitter patter of excited bare feet on hardwood, “Mistress is home! Mistress! I missed you so much! I--”

The floret stopped in her tracks in a beam of moonlight when she saw Riker and not the Mistress she longed for. The teddy bear that she dragged along by one arm swung gently as the momentum carried it.

“Hello, little one,” Riker said in the gentlest voice she could muster. “Are you okay?”

The floret shrank down into her shoulders, “You're not my mistress…”

“I'm not,” Riker shook her head, “I'm Asherah. Can you tell me your name, little one?”

She sniffled, wiping her nose with the back of her arm. “I'm--I'm Becky Tangella, F-First Floret, She/H-Her,” she stuttered, curtseying almost robotically even though her pajamas had nothing to curtsey with. “A-And this is Mr. Bear.”

Riker smiled. “It's very nice to meet you, Becky and Mr. Bear.”

“W-Where is she?” Becky trembled as she pulled the bear to her chest and hugged it so tight she might force the stuffing out. “Why did she leave me?”

Riker's tablet chimed its emergency tone. An emergency alert from Cory's bracelet told her he had woken and his breathing was erratic. Another message from Theo followed, telling her much the same and that Rhamnus was on his way. As much as she wanted to run to Cory and make sure he was alright, she couldn't just leave Becky. And with Rhamnus on the way she knew Cory would be in good vines, assuming Rhamnus could keep his injectors to himself.

When Riker hid her pad away again she realized that Becky had sunk to the floor. “Doesn't she want me anymore? Did I do something wrong?”

“No, no,” Riker strode to the girl and dropped to her knees to wrap her in a hug. This close, she could see the faded scars on Becky's arms and cursed Monophylla for leaving her alone. “You didn’t do anything wrong. She's just very busy helping all the sophonts down on the planetoid.”

Becky clung to Riker, clearly trying to keep from crying. “She's never been gone this long.”

Riker knew that it had been five days or so since the rescue operation began. Four days since Monophylla's last ping. Even the hardiest and most independent minded floret would feel the pull of their haustoric implant after being away from their affini for so long.

“She told me to tell you that she's doing everything she can to get back to you as soon as possible, okay?” Riker lied through her simulated teeth. She hated to do it, but sometimes an ounce of comfort was worth the weight of the lie. She just hoped to the everbloom that she was right about Monophylla coming back.

“Oh-Oh-kay.”

“When was the last time you ate, Becky?”

“Umm, this morning, I think?” She nuzzled into Riker. “Jessie always makes me breakfast.”

“And who's Jessie, sweetie?”

The voice of the hab AI called from above. “Haiiii! That's me!”

Riker looked up. “Jessie, can you compile some dinner for Becky?”

“Can do!”

“And turn on some lights?”

The light slowly ramped up as Riker walked Becky down the hall and into the kitchen. She lifted Becky up, sat her in the high chair at the table, put the food from the compiler in front of her, and stood back to watch her eat.

“Becky, does your Mistress have any friends who watch you sometimes when she's busy?”

Becky stalled her chewing and nodded, already seeming to shiver a bit less. “Mhmm! Miss Maizey and Mr. Triticum both do.”

“Jessie?”

“Yes, Ma'am!” the hab sang happily. “Contacting Miss Maizey and Mr. Triticum now!”

When Becky was finished eating Riker decompiled her plate. “Jessie? Any word back?”

“Sure is, Miss! Mr. Triticum says he can watch Becky until Miss Tangella gets back!”

“Great. Can you compile Becky something to wear?”

The compiler chirped and Riker pulled out a long princess gown with laces the entire length of the back.

“Is this what you usually wear, Becky?”

“Yes'm. I'm mistress's princess.” She blushed and tucked her chin into Mr. Bear's head.

“Alright, then.” Riker lifted Becky and put her on the floor. “Can you get dressed yourself?”

“Nuh-uh,” Becky shook her head. “Mistress always helps.”

“Okay,” a sighting wind blew through Riker's chest. “Let's see if I remember how to do this.”

She took Mr. Bear and set him aside safely. Her fingers gently tapped at Becky's sides and when Becky lifted her arms, Riker pulled her pajama shirt up and over her head. A gentle tug dropped Becky's pajama bottoms to the floor.

Riker went still as she saw the scars across the girl's thighs. They were clearly old scars from long before she found her home as a floret, but it was still a chilling reminder that not every terran was cut out for independence.

A tap on the backs of Becky's legs had her stepping out of the piled pants. Another tap to raise Becky's arms again and Riker lowered the dress over her head.

“Is this too tight?” Riker asked as she pulled the first few laces taught across the floret's back.

Becky bit her lip and whimpered “T-Tighter, Miss.”

Riker tightened the laces to the brink of what she knew was safe for a terran's body. Her efforts were met with pleased moans from Monophylla's princess.

“Now, let's see about getting you to Mr. Triticum. Jessie, can you send the directions to my tablet?”

“Abso-tively!” The AI was clearly in floret mode.

Riker squinted at the pad. “Jasper District?” She must have not read that right, because the Jasper District was “On the Xenrani hab ring?”

Becky shrugged with Mr. Bear back in her arms.

“Okay,” Riker scooped the girl and her bear into her arms. “Up we go.”

Becky giggled and snuggled into Riker, imparting feelings that both affini and terran had sorely missed.

As the desktop loaded, Cory peered toward the open, doorless hole in the vines. When he was sure that he was alone, he moved his cursor to the seemingly empty corner of the monitor and double clicked. The hidden folder opened to reveal Cory’s collection of smut. It was an ancient trick, hiding a folder in plain sight with an invisible icon and a blank character as the name, but an ingenious one nonetheless. One that Cory was sure would prevent anyone from ever stumbling upon his stash.

It was even more genius than that hole in the bathroom wall he thought. At least he’d never have to think about that stuff ever again.

Closing the folder, he turned his attention to his side monitor where the loading icon for his favorite messenger, Consensus, just kept spinning and spinning and spinning. A glance at the taskbar revealed he had no network connection.

“Ugh!” he grunted in frustration. “Theo?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Is there any way you can patch me into the network?”

“Checking, sir.” Theo's hologram waved erratically, making a series of electronic beeps. “Apologies. It seems your device is incompatible with Compact networking protocols.”

“Great,” he rolled his eyes, “Is there some kind of network adapter or something I could use?”

“I'm terribly sorry, sir, but it seems there isn't.” The AI actually sounded sorry, to Cory's surprise.

“Perfect. Thanks.” He dropped the mouse on the pad a bit harder than necessary and walked away to inspect his curio case. Everything in the cabinet looked fine at first glance, so he decided he might as well go find Mila. And Rhamnus, he supposed.

Walking into the living room, he saw the Affini he recognized from the pancake shop sitting on Riker's couch. Mila was sitting in his lap and being pet like some kind of animal. Cory walked over slowly, studying him as he went.

Rhamnus looked much more like the affini he had seen on the street than Riker did. In fact, no other affini he had seen looked like Riker. But Rhamnus didn't really look like those other affini either. He wasn't leering. His smile wasn't twisted and hungry, it was warm and caring. The moving mask he wore was quite handsome, really. Not that Cory was into guys or anything. Not that there was anything wrong with being into guys. Cory just wasn’t.

Finally noticing Cory, Rhamnus turned his attention from the woman in his lap to the man on the floor. “Hello, Cory.”

Cory waved awkwardly, “Hi, uh, Oakley, right?”

The tree-man bent at the waist as he leaned over, as if trying to get a better look at him. “That’s right. Rhamnus Oakley, Fifth Bloom, He/Him. And I believe you are already acquainted with Mila, my floret.”

Mila squirmed out of Rhamnus’s lap and slid down his big, oak tree leg like a fireman, or a very uncoordinated cat, leaving little to the imagination as her skirt snagged on a rough piece of bark. She landed with a grunt, but sprung right back up to almost knock Cory over as she threw her arms around him. “Hi, bestie!”

“Bestie?” Before Cory could question it any further, his thoughts were interrupted by Rhamnus’s mirthful chuckle.

“She has certainly taken a liking to you, hasn’t she?” He chuckled, reaching down and ruffling her hair with one of his giant, three-fingered hands. Consequently, Cory was rocked along with Mila.

After she and Cory had both been jostled, Mila let go and tugged on one of Rhamnus’s vines and held out her arms expectantly with little grabby hands. Another vine lowered a messenger bag, or perhaps it was a large purse, and Mila started rifling through it.

“Cory,” Rhamnus turned his attention back to the ward, “I am sorry for the unpleasantness earlier today. I didn’t know that you were afraid of xenodrugs.”

Cory scoffed at that, turning his head away briefly only to look back. “I’m not afraid of drugs. I just don’t like them. I don’t--I don’t need them.”

Mila finished digging in her bag and handed Cory another candy cane after starting on her own.

“Thanks,” Cory unwrapped it and shoved it in his mouth.

“Hmm,” Rhamnus hummed, quirking a brow on his mask, “I see…”

“Was all your stuff there?” Mila’s voice was muffled as she spoke around the candy in her mouth.

“Yeah, everything looked fine, I guess.” Cory sighed. “Can’t connect my computer, though.”

“Why don’t you have Wiggly make you a tablet in the compiler?”

“Oh, yeah. Still not used to that whole ‘everything is free’ stuff yet.” Cory chuckled and cleared his throat. “Wig--Theo? Can you make me a, um, computer that can connect to your network?”

Theo’s wiggly waveform appeared in the air. “I’m sorry, sir, but you don’t appear to have compiler permissions.”

“Oh! Oh!” Mila just about jumped in excitement, “Mr. Rhamnus, can I do it? Pleaaaase!” She pouted her lip and looked up at the affini.

Rhamnus reached down and ruffled her hair again, “How could I say no to a face like that?”

“Yay!” Mila shook balled fists at shoulder height in excitement. “Wiggly! Can you make me a new pad like the one you made for me last time I dropped it?”

Theo sighed again at being called ‘Wiggly’, but nonetheless complied. “Certainly, Miss Mila.”

The compiler chirped across the room and Mila ran to get it. She edged back around the couch half a minute later with both hands behind her back and a big smile on her face. “Tada!” She brought her arms around to show Cory the tablet she had compiled for him.

Cory’s face screwed just a bit as she put it in his hands. “Why is it pink?”

“D-Do you not like it?”

“I mean, it’s pink,” he said, turning it and inspecting it. It was very pink, pastel with white accents on the backplate.

“Bu-but, I thought we…” Mila looked like she was going to cry as she pulled out her own matching tablet. It was exactly the same as the one she had handed Cory, but it was obviously well worn with love. “You really don’t like it?”

Suddenly it was Cory’s turn to be on the receiving end of Mila’s weaponized adorableness. Because, really, how could he say no to a face like that? How could anyone?

He sighed, looking down at the tablet and feeling a smile grow on his face. “Mila, I love it.”

Any trace of sadness on Mila’s face melted away like a snowball on the sun as she hugged Cory again, their tablets clackering together between them. Cory wrapped his arms around her shoulders and hugged her back, seeing the flashing light on his wristband.

All three of them turned their heads as the hab door slid open without warning and Riker skidded to a stop inside.

The silent song that Cory didn’t even realize had been missing came flooding back.

The blinking light on his wrist turned solid green.

And Cory felt safe again.

Chapter Text

Chapter 6:
My Songs Know What You Did in the Dark

Cory watched as Riker righted herself, standing just short of her full height, still looking like she might leap at any second just as quickly as she had slid into the hab. She looked confused.

“Cory? Are you okay?” She lifted her pad with both hands to look between it and Cory frantically. “My pad--the bracelet--Theo--”

Rhamnus was the one to interrupt her as he stood. “All is well, Asherah. There is no need to worry.”

“Yeah,” Mila added, “This cutie's feeling a lot better, right cutie?”

Cory felt his face warm again despite the cooling peppermint in his mouth. “Yeah, sorry… I had, uh, a little freakout or whatever.” He felt awful making Riker worry, like he apparently had. “But Mila helped calm me down.” He flashed Riker a smile. Just a little one.

Rhamnus nodded, confirming Cory's story. “Mila has been very helpful. She even compiled a tablet for him.”

“Ooh, yeah!” Mila pulled away from Cory and held up her pad, then nudged Cory to hold up his as well. “See? We match!”

Cory's smile felt more forced as he felt a surge of embarrassment in showing Riker the pink computer.

“It seems you forgot to give Cory access to the compiler.” Rhamnus said it like a gentle reminder.

“Oh, I-- Yes, of course. Silly me.” Riker seemed a bit dazed, like she came in expecting the sky to be falling. “Theo?” She called out slightly above herself, “Please give Cory permissions for general compiler access.”

“Done, Mum,” Theo replied.

“Well,” Rhamnus looked down at Mila, “I suppose since all is well and it's getting late, I should get this one home and into bed.”

“Do we have to leave, Mister Rhamnus?” Mila pouted.

“Well, we should probably leave Miss Asherah and Cory to talk.” He paused as Mila groaned her disappointment, “But, if it's alright with Asherah…”

Mila turned her charm against Riker, wielding big, hazel puppy dog eyes like a sword and mace. Riker hesitated, but when Mila pulled Cory into a hug, or maybe when he hugged her back, Riker relented with a battleworn smile.

“You know, Rhamnus,” Riker began, “I was going to ask you to ward-sit again in the morning while I receive my new graft. This would save you the trip home and back.”

Rhamnus raised a single brow on his mask. “You assume I would agree.”

“Well, I-”

Rhamnus cut her off, chuckling, “You assume correctly.”

Riker’s eyes briefly flashed red, narrowing on Rhamnus, but quickly returned to the golden pools Cory had become familiar with as she smiled. “Thank you.”

“Yay, sleep over!” Mila cheered.

Rhamnus looked down at Mila with adoration in his green eyes. “Theo, could you run a hot bubble bath for both of these cuties?”

“Already running, Sir.” The house steward was as attentive as ever.

Cory shifted his weight on his heels, leaning away from Mila and looking up at Rhamnus. “Both of us? Not at the same time, right?”

Of course not. There's no way Mr. Oakley or Riker could expect us to. And there was no way Mila would want--

“Of course at the same time, silly,” Mila laughed, “It'll be fun.”

“I, umm, I don't, I'm…” Cory stammered, holding the hem of his hoodie and tugging it down, looking away from her.

“You gotta show the affini you can clean yourself anyway. Y'know, since you don't wanna be a floret. Plus,” Mila closed the gap between them and took his hands in hers, prying them from his clothes. She leaned in and whispered in his ear, “Don't you wanna see me naked?”

Alarm bells should have been ringing in Cory’s head. This was a trick. A trap. Some kind of ploy to tease or humiliate him. He knew it was; it had to be. But whatever wire, whatever circuit, in Cory’s head that was responsible for sending the signal to sound that alarm was fried. The shock of Mila’s words and the feeling of her fingertips squeezing into his palms had overloaded not just that circuit, but innumerable other parts of the brain as well. Including his speech center, seeing as he could only manage to babble softly as Mila pulled him along to the bathroom by one hand.

It wasn’t until Mila had already led him deep into the fog of the bathroom that his mind rebooted, and by then it was far too late. He turned back toward the door only to see it blocked as Rhamnus’s vine body bent and flowed through the doorway like spaghetti from a pot. Riker followed, ducking down to crouch through the doorway while Rhamnus’s vines reformed into his humanoid shape.

“You really should have that door replaced,” Rhamnus said, adjusting his mask. “It’s far too short.”

Riker crossed her arms. “I was never meant to be in here anyway.”

Cory flattened himself against the counter as Rhamnus stepped over him and deeper into the room, where Mila had taken up a post near the tub. He watched, unable to look away, as Rhamnus tapped either side of Mila’s waist and she lifted her arms. Spindly vines slid from the wood plating on his arms to coil around the shoulder straps of Mila’s dress and lift it over her head, rendering her completely naked. Scooping her up into his arms, Rhamnus stepped down into the swimming tub and sank into the water.

He heard Mila let out a long, relaxed moan from across the room. “Ahhh! Cory, the water’s so nice! What are you waiting for?”

He looked up at Riker, eyes wide and pleading, before looking down at the floor and holding the hem of his hoodie with both hands.

“You don’t want to take a bath with Mila, do you?”

Cory didn’t look back up. He just shook his head.

“May I ask why?”

He shrugged despite knowing perfectly well why. Because he hated his body. It was fat and hairy and just disgusted him. And he knew that if Mila saw him naked she’d be disgusted with him too. He didn’t know what would be worse: her disgust with his body or the way she would laugh if she saw the poor excuse for a manhood between his legs.

Riker smiled wearily, sitting down on the floor so she was a little closer to his height. “I know you terrans have some strange puritanical fixation on modesty, but I promise you that no matter what you look like under your clothes Mila won’t think any differently of you.”

He huffed in response, drawing his arms up somewhere between crossing them and hugging himself. He’d heard it all before. It doesn’t matter what you look like. It’s what’s on the inside that counts. Countless other phrases in the same vein, all of them useless platitudes. They didn’t stop people from being disgusted with the way he looked. They didn’t change the fact that he would never be good-looking.

Never be pretty.

“Cory. Nobody is going to make fun of you. I promise. You’re safe here.”

Once again, that word washed over Cory, crashing against him as it thrummed into his mind. Crashing against his deep-seated fear and insecurity like the entire ocean crashing against a single stone. But it was an old stone, forged by years and years of deprivation and depravation until it was hardened against a sharp and cutting world. Something that old wouldn't be washed away in a day.

But maybe in time…

“I don't know.” Cory sighed. He felt like he might be able to trust Riker. When she said he was safe, he almost believed her. But Mila? Mila was pretty, and, in Cory's experience, pretty people weren't safe. They only hurt or, at best, ignored him.

Mila hasn't hurt us.

Even if she hadn't yet, she could. She would.

She’s seen us as a blubbering, crying mess and still held us and made us feel better. Why would she hurt us?

Riker's hand on his arm drew Cory from whatever argument was happening in his head. “She's right, you know?”

A chill ran up Cory's spine. “Who?”

“Mila.” Riker looked toward the giant tub, and Cory's gaze followed. “You need to show that you're capable of taking care of yourself. That involves maintaining your hygiene.”

“Why do I need to take a bath with a floret to do that?”

“You don't.” Riker looked down at him and lowered her voice. “But being able to call Rhamnus as a witness at your wardship hearing would be useful. As would showing how well you can get along with others.”

Cory twisted his head and looked up at her. “I thought you couldn't tell me what I needed to do. Something about changing the outcome or something?”

She shrugged. “Perhaps I'm attempting to level an already unfair playing field.”

“Cory!” Mila called, her head and shoulders sticking up through the pluff of bubbles at the edge of the tub. “C'mon! You'll really like it!”

He was still unsure. And he thought Riker knew it when he looked at her.

She smirked. “You could always hide under the bubbles.”

She was right. The bubbles were perfectly opaque. There was just the problem of getting from where he was to under the bubbles, naked no less, without Mila seeing. But, he had an idea. So he motioned for Riker to lean in closer and whispered in her ear. He didn’t know if she actually heard through her ears or not, but it felt right.

So Cory found himself standing at the edge of the tub in nothing but a towel. Mila's eyes had been covered by Rhamnus’s vines at Riker's request - which was really Cory’s request spoken through Riker - and Rhamnus was wholly focused on his floret. Riker stood nearby after setting down a basket with a loofah and a couple of bottles, presumably shampoo and conditioner. He held the rail as he stepped down the stairs - it really was like a pool - and didn't throw the towel back onto the tiles of the deck until the bubbles were well above his waist.

Mila was wrong. The water wasn't nice. Nice was an injustice to the lapping warmth that crawled up Cory's body with every step down. It was amazing. Cory had all but given up on baths since leaving Earth, but they were something he suddenly remembered sorely missing. He let out a groan of his own as he let himself sink down until only his head was above water. Walking to the edge of the tub to grab the supplies Riker had left, Cory realized that there was a bench around the edge of the tub, so he sat down. He sighed and let his body unwind as warmth spread to places that had been untouched for years.

“Enjoying yourself?” Riker's voice shook Cory from his bliss, making him yelp and jump. Riker chuckled softly. “Just remember to actually wash.” She nodded her head to the other side of the tub where Rhamnus was washing Mila's hair.

A strange pang rippled through Cory's chest as he watched the vines scratch and scrub Mila's head. Fear? Jealousy? Whatever it was, Cory just shoved it down, turned to grab the loofah from the basket, and started scrubbing. Oftentimes when it was all Cory could manage to force himself into the shower he settled for a quick wash he called “pits and grits”, but this time he would be more diligent than ever before.

The loofah was incredibly soft, but somehow still scrubbed away layers of dirt that Cory hadn't even realized were there. He worked it everywhere he could reach from his neck down to his toes. It felt good. Freeing. Clean. And when he was sure his body was cleaner than it had ever been, he grabbed one of the bottles.

It smelled light and fruity, like cherry Flavor Dots with a warm, spicy undertone. Almost like Riker if she didn't smell like sweat. He definitely liked the scent.

But not as much as Riker's.

Just about the time he had worked up a good lather, Mila gasped from across the tub. Cory's head snapped in her direction.

Rhamnus had his vines wrapped around her, pulling her halfway out of the water. They snaked around her arms, around her neck, around her waist. A vine coiled around either of her breasts, kneading and tugging, while the tips of the vines played with her nipples. Two more vines were dipping into the water in front of her, sending water splashing as they worked back and forth in the water. Cory couldn't look away.

He was fucking her. He was just casually picking her up and fucking her, like some kind of toy. Two questions immediately shot through Cory's mind as his eyes stayed locked on Mila's writhing and squealing body.

First question: What the fuck? Second question: Why was his dick so painfully hard?

Before either question could be answered, Cory's eyes began to sting as the shampoo ran down into them. “Shit!” He threw a splash of water into his own face only to realize he was still wearing his glasses when none of the water got to his eyes. “Fuck!” He pushed his glasses up, holding them in the air with one hand as he dunked his whole head underwater.

While his head was underwater, Riker must have taken his glasses at some point because they were sitting next to the basket when he came back up for air.

“Are you alright?” The fingers on one of Riker’s hands rested in the water as she sat nearby on the deck surrounding the tub…

“Yeah,” Cory coughed, “Just shampoo in my eyes.”

“Ah. You’ll have to be more careful, then.” Another smirk.

Cory wanted to drag his hand across the surface of the tub and splash Riker, but thought better of it. Instead, he turned to look back in Mila’s direction. Everything was blurry, but he could still tell that Mila was no longer in Rhamnus’s vines. She was wading toward him, swinging her arms to clear a path through the bubbles. He squinted, trying to see the expression on her face, but was unable to even as she came close enough to hear her over the gentle lapping of the water and the ringing in his ears.

“Are you okay?” She sounded concerned.

“Yeah,” he looked away, even though he couldn't see her nudity and she couldn't see his throbbing cock below the waist-deep water. “Just got some soap in my eyes.”

“Here, let me take a look.”

Before he could argue, Mila's hand was cradling his face and turning it toward her. “Oh, yeah, your eyes are a little red. Don't worry, though, this shampoo is really gentle. I'm surprised it stung at all.” She let him go and giggled “You must just be really sensitive.”

Third question: Why did Mila teasing him make his dick throb?

She took his hand and pulled him effortlessly once again. This time, she turned him to the bench at the edge of the tub. “Just turn this way. No, this-- here, just--” She grabbed his shoulders and turned him away from her as they sat on the bench.

“What are you doing?” He tried to look over his shoulder at her.

The familiar coolness of shampoo and an unfamiliar warmth and pressure found his head. “Washing your hair.”

Cory straightened up on the spot. “Shouldn't I be doing that myself?” He wanted to turn to look at her. Or at Riker. But the hands massaging the shampoo into his scalp kept him looking straight ahead.

“Maybe,” she shrugged, “Gotta be able to accept help, too. Super important part of being independent. So just relax and enjoy it, cutie.”

“O-Okay…”

He took a deep breath, counted to four, and let it out slowly. It came out like a low groan as Mila massaged his scalp. He could only imagine how good it must feel for Mila to have Rhamnus's vines wash her hair. Or how good Riker's fingers would feel on his own head.

“Lean back,” Mila's hands moved to his shoulders, supporting him as she leaned him back to dunk his hair in the water. He could just barely make out Mila's face, but she looked happy. Looking up at Riker was nearly useless, but he could see a concerning mix of purples, golds, pinks, and blues shining in Riker's eyes.

Something brushed against his back between his shoulder blades as he looked up at Mila again - must have been her knee, he thought - before she helped him sit back up.

Cory cleared his throat before speaking. “Thanks. I think I can handle the conditioner.”

“Okay, cutie,” She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him into a hug. His eyes went wide and his entire body froze. She was hugging him and she was naked. He could feel her breasts on his back. He could feel her nipples grazing his skin and her knee bumping into the small of his back.

A nervous little sound squeaked out of Cory's mouth before Mila's giggling was cut off as Rhamnus lifted her out of the water. As he carried Mila out of the tub, the water lowered by more than an inch.

Cory conditioned his hair quickly and without fanfare. Mila and Rhamnus had already left by the time he finished and he gladly grabbed the towel Riker offered him at the stairs, using it to cover himself before he even rose above the bubbles. He dried off with his back to Riker and when he was mostly dry, she offered him a bath robe. He slipped it on before turning to face her. Both were among the softest things he'd ever felt in his life.

When he left the bathroom, he found Mila in the living room, sitting next to Rhamnus on the couch, both of them watching a cartoon on the screen across from them. Something about a ducky? It looked awfully similar to the big, flat duck plushie on top of the pile on the other side of the room.

Riker walked to the kitchen table and took the half of the pizza Cory hadn't finished earlier that day and put it in the compiler. When she pulled it out it was perfectly reheated. Or maybe it was a whole new half pizza entirely. Cory didn't know how compilers worked.

Fucking magic, like Mila said.

The same as he had done that morning, Cory ate sitting in Riker's lap at the table.

“You really need to get something I can sit in on my own,” he said between bites.

Her head bounced a few times with tired nods. “I know.”

The cartoon about the duck was nearly Cory's downfall as he fell back into the habit of stuffing his face while watching a screen. Thankfully, he managed to catch himself and slow down, still fearing to find out how Riker would keep him from eating too quickly. When the show and pizza were both finished, Theo announced that it was time for terrans to get some sleep. Cory couldn't help but roll his eyes. What was he, a baby? He didn't need a bedtime.

But he was starting to feel tired after a long, emotional day though, so he retreated to the room where all his stuff was.

Our room?

That still didn’t feel right, even if it kind of was.

While Mila was busy picking out pajamas on her tablet in the living room, Cory found a t-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts in his basket of clothes. He swore up and down that they were clean, he just hadn’t folded them or put them away - as if he even had a dresser to put them away in. They only felt a little scratchy after wearing the compiled clothes all day. He would probably shed the shirt once he was in bed anyway, seeing as he preferred to sleep in the nude, though that obviously wasn’t an option with Mila staying over.

“Your pillows are awfully flat. Would you like to compile some new ones?” Riker asked as Cory started putting the pillows back in their proper stack order after having been shuffled during delivery.

“No.” It was a bit terse, but he was adamant. He didn't need new pillows and he certainly didn't want them. The pillows were his and they had been his for his whole life. One was even the same pillow he had in his crib as a baby.

With his pillows stacked correctly, he started fixing his blankets. Top sheet, throw blanket, sherpa blanket, throw blanket, sherpa blanket. All in order, all going the correct direction, all with their tags at the bottom. It had to be right, or Cory simply couldn't sleep.

Not long after, Mila walked in wearing some rather cute pajamas. Like her dress, her pajamas matched Rhamnus's colors and even had red berries throughout the green and brown pattern. They almost looked like camouflage. She went to the giant pet bed, which was not the most surprising, and just about leapt into it as she flopped down. What was surprising was Rhamnus lying down in it with her. The bed's enormous size suddenly made sense.

Cory looked up at Riker. “He's going to be sleeping in here?”

“Does that make you uncomfortable?”

“Not as long as he keeps his vines to himself.”

“Of course.” Riker reassured with a stroke down his entire arm. “My quarters are just at the end of the hall should you need me. Goodnight, little one.”

“Goodnight, Riker,” Cory put his hand on the back of hers.

“Goodnight, Miss Asheraaaah!,” Mila yelled.

Riker lingered for a moment next to Cory's bed before she made her way to the door, telling Theo to turn out the lights on the way out. The room was left in a soft glow from the polyps above, now casting silvery simulated moonlight. There was nothing left to do but sleep, so Cory squirmed down under the covers, rolled over onto his stomach, and tried.

But try as he might, Cory could not sleep with the disquiet pouring through his mind. This was his bed. His pillows. His blankets. He was surrounded by his things. And yet, this was not his room. It was not his home and he did not belong here.

He tossed and turned deep into the night, unsure how long had passed before he heard soft, feminine grunts and then the pittering of bare feet on simuwood. His blanket was lifted and something slid into the bed behind him.

“Shh,” it was Mila. She wrapped her arms around him and put another candy cane in his hands. “It's okay,” she whispered. And as the peppermint filled Cory's mouth, he almost felt that it was. Close enough to fall asleep, anyway.

By the time Cory woke the next morning, the polyps on the ceiling had changed back to a sunny gold. It only took him a few seconds to remember that the walls of his bedroom, and the walls of his very life, had drastically expanded the day before.

As he pulled off the shirt he slept in, he realized that it smelled deeply of oak leaves and sweet berries. It was a scent that his nose was greedy for, that he breathed in deeply, and only let go with a reluctant sigh.

Mila.

He folded the shirt into a square, shoving it under his pillow before finding fresh clothes. He grabbed a t-shirt, a pair of boxers, and a pair of socks that were definitely clean and felt just a little too rough against his skin after last night's bath. Then, Cory went to grab his one pair of pants before remembering that it had disappeared after his encounter in the cave. He shuddered. Best not to think about that. No matter anyway, he’d just go to the bathroom and get the joggers he wore the day before.

Walking into the hall filled Cory's nose with something rich and sweet that made his stomach rumble, but he ignored it as he headed to the bathroom. Only… none of his clothes were there. That was fine, he’d just have Theo make him some new pants with the everything-is-free machine.

“Theo?”

No response.

“Mr. Whitworth?” Cory tried again. He expected Theo to project from the center of the ceiling like in the living room, so he looked there. All he saw instead was a mess of hanging wires where something had been quite obviously torn out.

He tried again out in the hall and Theo answered immediately.

So the bathroom is a Theo no go? Good to know.

“Theo? Can you use the compiler thing to make me a new pair of pants?”

“Certainly, Sir,” Theo’s hologram wiggled cheerfully, “Does the young master have any preference in style?”

“Jeans. Jeans are fine.”

“Of course, sir,” Theo made a short series of computational sounding tones. “A pair of ‘blue jeans’ will be waiting for you in the compiler.”

Cory was in a bit of disbelief. “That easy, huh?”

“Yes, young Master,” there was a dryness to Theo’s response. Cory imagined if Theo had eyes, they’d be rolling. “It is ‘that easy’.”

When Cory reached the living room, it was obvious the smell was coming from Mila's breakfast. He noticed Rhamnus’s vines were doing something around Mila as she sat in his lap and ate, but what it was he couldn’t tell. He just tried to ignore it as he made a beeline for the compiler.

“Good morning, Cory. Would you like some pancakes?” Rhamnus held up a fork of pancake, dripping in syrup, as he called across the room.

“No-o!” Cory hadn't meant to yell back. Or for his voice to crack.

Inside the compiler Cory found a pair of bluejeans, just as Theo had promised. They looked sturdy and felt soft in his hands, and they fit so well he didn’t even need a belt. A pair of jeans like this would cost him a whole week’s pay or better back on Penthe, and now they were, what? Free? The only weird thing about them was the embroidered mushrooms around the ankles. When he was finished twisting to look at the way they looked on his legs, Theo's wiggly wave appeared. “What would you like for breakfast, sir?”

He shrugged noncommittally. “I guess a pack of Synthcubes and maple Breakfast Dots? That's what I usually have.”

Theo buzzed softly. “I'm sorry, sir, but Synthcubes are not an acceptable source of nutritional enrichment.”

“Give ‘em the big slam breakfast, Wiggly!” Mila called from above the table.

Cory shook his head and threw one hand up, “Fine, a big slam. Whatever that is.” The compiler chirped and when Cory opened the door it smelled a lot like the maple breakfast dots, only better.

And it looked even better than it smelled. A triple stack of pancakes. Scrambled eggs. Hashbrowns. Bacon and sausage. And a pour bottle of syrup on the side.

He pulled the platter out of the compiler, but was dumbfounded when he looked for a place to sit. A pizza he could eat sitting on the floor or on the couch. But that wouldn’t be possible with a breakfast spread like the one he was holding. So he had to ask Rhamnus to lift him to the chair; there was no way he would have been able to climb up himself, especially not holding the food.

When he was lifted onto the chair, he put the platter on the table and realized that his big slam was the same breakfast that Mila had in front of her. The breakfast that Rhamnus was feeding her. The breakfast that he was feeding her by tapping on her cheek to open her mouth, tapping on her chin to have her chew, and stroking her throat to have her swallow. That’s what those vines moving around Mila’s head were. That was when it dawned on Cory exactly what Riker had meant by pacing his eating.

With a newfound fear circling around his gullet, Cory ate much more slowly than he usually did. It was a challenge in and of itself with such a delicious breakfast, but it became easier as he watched Rhamnus feed Mila. Along with motivation, watching the act provided Cory with what he hoped was a safe pace. It wasn't long before he found himself biting, chewing, and swallowing in time with Mila. And blushing whenever Mila glanced his way in the rare moments that she wasn't enraptured with Rhamnus's vines.

When breakfast was finished and Rhamnus had put their dishes in the compiler (could it destroy as well as create?), Mila showed Cory the mountain of plush animals she called The Menagerie.

“This,” she reached above her head to the very top of the pile, pulling down the big, flat duck, “is Ducky. She’s the most important and powerful in all of the menagerie.”

“What makes her so powerful?” he asked, watching Mila turn back and forth as she hugged Ducky.

“She’s an omnipotent, multidimensional goddess, duh.”

Cory pet the shag fabric on the plush duck’s head as he played along. “So why have I never heard of her?”

“Nobody talks about her because her supremacy is just, like, a fact of life.”

Obviously, Cory had missed that part of the Ducky Show during dinner.

Putting Ducky back in a place of reverence at the top of the pile, Mila continued down the roster, pulling each plush animal out as she named them. “And we’ve got Mr. Moo, and October the Moose, and Smugryn the Stagryn…” Mila kept naming more and more plushies, and while they were all adorable, Cory's thoughts wandered back to the stagryn. It looked like a purple deer with long, gangly legs and long antlers that flowed backwards from either side of its head wearing a smug little smirk. It reminded Cory of Riker’s woody horn, had it been covered in jutting offshoots. Cory’s mind found its way back to the conversation just as Mila finished naming some three dozen or more plush creatures. “...and Quarter Pounder, and Tremendous Jeremy, and Remy.” She huffed as she caught her breath after the constant stream of names.

“What about these ones?” Cory swept his fingers through the air, indicating to a number of plushies that Mila hadn’t named. Among them, Cory spotted a wolf, a fox, and the round, white moth that he had been holding on to while Mila comforted him the night before.

“They don’t have names yet,” she explained as she picked the moth up from the floor. She pushed it into the crease of Cory’s chest. “Like this one. What’s their name?”

Cory turned the moth until it was facing him, his hands stroking down the soft fabric of its wings. They were anchored at the tail end, but the length of the wing was untethered, leading to them forming pocket-like openings that Cory slipped his hands into. They were tight, but not overly so. It was just a very good feeling pressure, like a hug for his hands, and Cory liked it very much.

“I’ll think about it,” he smiled wistfully.

With the Menagerie introduced, Rhamnus lifted Mila and Cory, still holding the moth, onto the couch. They sat there together, Mila sandwiched between Rhamnus and Cory, watching holovids until Riker returned. It was still well before lunchtime when she did.

Once inside, she had a few words with Rhamnus in that symphonic song of a language they shared, and Rhamnus, nodding in some kind of understanding, stood from the couch.

“It seems it's time we made our way home, my precious floret.” Rhamnus scooped up Mila despite her whining and told her “These two have much to discuss and it is not our place to interfere.”

Mila waved goodbye from Rhamnus's arms and Cory called his goodbye after her. Then, Cory was alone with Riker again.

There was something different about Riker this morning. Her shoulder bore a new, orange capped mushroom, but there was more to it than that. The way she moved to the couch felt stiff, though still entirely human. She sat sideways on the couch with one leg crossed in front of her and looked down on him with a smile that didn't reach her twinkling, golden eyes.

Cory's heart sank in his chest.

After several agonizing moments of being perceived, Riker finally broke the silence. “Good morning, Cory.”

“Mornin’,” he tried to force a smile.

“How are you feeling this morning?”

“I'm okay. A lot better than last night,” he hugged the moth in his lap. “I'm, uh, sorry about yesterday. I don't know what happened.”

Riker shook her head. “No, I'm sorry. What happened was my fault. When I,” she paused as if trying to find the word, “deflected Rhamnus's injector and… took you into my body… you were exposed directly to my core. I didn't expect such a strong and immediate reaction, but perhaps you are just, as Mila put it, sensitive.”

“Is that what you call the thing in your chest that fucked with my head? Your core?”

“Yes,” she nodded, “That’s my core. For an affini, it is somewhat analogous to your brain and maybe a bit of your heart. Despite the appearances we adopt,” Riker lifted an arm, twisting it and inspecting it before flexing a simulated muscle and letting the arm rest again, “An affini’s core is essentially what defines them. It’s who they are.”

“I hope I didn't hurt you when I pulled on it,” he felt a little flustered thinking of how the core had made him feel, “Or squeezed it or whatever.”

This time her smile reached her eyes, golden and bright with pink hues. “No. In fact, it felt quite nice.”

His face burned. He made her feel nice?

We made her feel nice?

“Is that what you wanted to ‘discuss’? The, uh, core stuff?”

A very convincing sigh filled Cory with dread as the pink hues in Riker's eyes shifted to blue.

“Not quite, little one.” Riker laid her hand down near Cory, offering it but not touching him. “We need to discuss the circumstances of your rescue.”

“Okay…” Cory gulped, nodding slowly.

“I remember how scared you said you were when we arrived, but I hope you can see that you have nothing to fear here. Despite Rhamnus's… overzealousness.”

He nodded. It was a lie. There was plenty to fear. Maybe not Riker and maybe not Mila, but that still left more things to fear than he could count.

“Good. Now you told me that when you saw our ships you ran. Where were you when the evacuation started?”

“I was at work. A convenience store just off Transport Route 80 in Tabp.” It was the truth. That didn't stop his heart from thumping.

“I see,” she lifted her pad and tapped it. “That's quite some way from where I found you. Were you running anywhere in particular?”

Another surge of terror. His fingers dug into the moth under their wings. He hoped Riker couldn't tell. “I-- No, I was just running. Away.”

She smiled that eyeless smile again, set her pad down and rested her hand against Cory between him and the couch. “Little one, you know that you’re safe here, don’t you? As long as you’re my ward, I promise that nothing, no one, will hurt you.”

Cory shrunk down, sucked in his lips. Nodded. Another lie. He didn’t deserve any of what she said. Riker lifted her hand and he flinched away from it before thinking better of it and letting it come to rest against his side.

“I would very much like to hug you,” Riker gently stroked his back with her fingers. “May I?”

With a shaky breath through his teeth, Cory nodded. Riker’s hands were upon him. Cradling him. Picking him up. Bringing him to her chest. Her arms enveloped him, holding him tight as he breathed in her sweaty, clove-y scent. He sniffled, trying to hug her back, but his hands were pinned.

He could feel it. Her. Her core. That song that was always just out of reach when she was around. That was her. That was her core. It was a beautiful song. One that he didn’t deserve.

“You’re safe here, Cory. Nothing you tell me could ever change that.”

He nodded. Nodding rubbed his face against the ridge of Riker’s collarbone. “Mhmm,” he whimpered. The sense of safety slammed against him again. But it didn’t wash away the part of him that told him that Riker was wrong. That if she knew what he did, that would change.

“You can tell me anything.”

He couldn’t. She’d hate him.

She won’t.

“So please, please tell me the truth. You can trust me.”

He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t. He couldn’t tell her. She would hate him. He squeezed his eyes shut, sending tears rolling down his cheeks. He shook his head.

Riker’s voice was as soft as it ever had been. Softer. “Why not?”

Cory tried to hide himself. To tuck his head. To curl up. He couldn’t while trapped in Riker’s hug. “Can’t. You’ll--” he hiccuped, “hate me.”

He didn’t care if he lost his independence or became a floret. So long as she didn’t hate him.

Something in the air changed. Something in that soundless song of Riker’s. Like it had that first morning in her hab before when he cried. The song sounded sadder, somehow, like its melody was being sung in a minor key.

She squeezed him all the tighter, breath forced from his lungs. Giant lips against the side of his head whispering “I’m sorry”.

Before the lightning could even travel down his spine, the clove-y side of Riker’s scent was overshadowed by a spicy cinnamon. She released her stranglehold and he inhaled it against his will, body gasping to stay alive. He tried to push her off. She was too strong.

He coughed as Riker set him down on her one crossed leg like a bench, apologizing. “I’m sorry, little one.” Her eyes had shifted to a myriad of pink and blue.

“What did you--” Cory coughed and hacked, his lungs still tingling, “the fuck?”

“Amanita Pentatholis. A very short lasting Class-D xenodrug, aerosolized.”

“You drugged me? You said I could trust you!”

“I promise you that the effects will dissipate within the hour. Nothing I’ve done will affect any aspect of your personality or your body. It will just help you with the conflict I sense in you.”

There was no conflict. He wasn't conflicted. “It will?”

She smiled again, though it was more remorseful than anything. “It will. Class-D xenodrugs are disinhibitors. Think of it as… turning off your mental filter for a short while.”

“The fuck does that mean?”

“Essentially, it means you won’t be able to lie until the effects dissipate. When you have a thought, it won’t go through a process of deciding whether or not you want to say it. You’ll just say it.”

Cory couldn’t resist leaning against Riker’s hand, still hugging the moth tightly to his chest.

“Can you tell me your favorite color?”

Red. Black. Blue. Something normal. For fuck’s sake, anything but-- “Pink.” Cory’s eyes went wide with the realization of what he’d blurted out. “Fuck.”

“How do you feel right now?” Riker’s fingers rippled gently against him, like his fingers did when he was tapping along to a song.

“I’m scared.” He looked up at her, eyes welling. “I don’t want to do this.”

“Why not?” Her voice was gentle and warm. No anger. No malice. Only questioning.

“I don’t want you to hate me.”

Riker shook her head. “I could never hate you, Cory. I only want to protect you. That’s why I need you to tell me the truth.” She looked tired, her foliage drooping. “Where did you go when our ships arrived?”

He wasn’t headed anywhere, he was just running. “An abandoned mine. I don’t remember the number.”

“Did you make it to the mine?”

No. “Yes.”

“How did you get from the mine to where I found you?”

Cory winced, shrinking against Riker’s hand. “Something found me. It chased me. I ran.”

Riker leaned in intently. “What found you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe…” Oh fuck. “Maybe one of you. An--an affini.” He whined, teeth grit. “Fuck.”

“They chased you?” Riker wore the indignation like a mask, eyes flashing red for a brief moment.

“It--It chased me. I couldn’t see where I was going. Kept running into walls. Then I fell.”

Riker’s other hand closed around Cory’s other side, holding him firmly but gently. Her thumbs stroked either shoulder. Still in time with the soundless music. “I know you’re scared, Cory. I’m so sorry for making you relive this. But I need you to tell me what happened to the affini that chased you.”

Cory tried to take a deep breath but his lungs wouldn't fill. Each breath came quickly, wetly. “I--I--I'm sorry. I'm sorry!” he cried, unable to stop himself, “I'm soh-aww-aww-awwry!”

He tried to swing an arm up, trying to hit himself. Trying to punish himself. Riker’s hands only hugged him more tightly. Stopped him. Kept him safe.

She leaned in closely, face nearly as pained as Cory's, eyes a deep blue approaching black. “What are you sorry for, petal?”

“I--I--I--” Each attempt to start was caught by a wheezing, gasping breath, snot bubbling from his nose, tears flowing down his twisted red face. Cory's eyes squeezed shut as he tried to curl up into a ball. A painful, guttural whine like a wounded animal forced itself out of Cory's chest until the air ran out, then kept rattling anyway. His voice echoed against the giant walls in the sudden silence. “I killed them!”

Chapter Text

Chapter 7:
The Monster That You See

Cory’s damning confession hung in the air for a long moment as Riker looked down at him. Despite her softening features, despite her weary smile and her eyes slowly returning to pools of honeyed amber, Cory knew this was the end. He had killed an affini, and now that Riker knew she would hate him. He distantly wondered whether she would turn him into whatever the Affini had for police, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care about that. It paled in comparison to the pain of knowing that Riker would hate him, throw him out, and never speak to him again.

Then, she broke the heavy silence.

“No,” Riker shook her head. “You didn’t.”

“I-- I-- I--” Cory gasped for breath as the room spun around him wildly.

Riker lifted Cory to her chest without warning, holding him tightly. “Breathe for me little one.” She emulated a long, soft shushing sound as she rubbed his back. “I know you know how.”

Cory’s chest shuddered with every breath, each inhale halting a dozen times and each exhale a dozen more. “I-- I kih-hilled them.”

“Why do you think that, Cory? What happened after they chased you?”

He shook his head against Riker’s chest, a deep seed of fear begging him to not say. “I… I blew off its head. I just… just wanted it to leave me alone.” He whined again, on the verge of another sob.

“Little one, petal, listen to me.” She started rocking back and forth, carrying Cory along in a soothing sway. “Where is my core?”

It was right there, in her chest. Cory could feel it. Through his skin, through his clothes, through Riker’s skin, and whatever lied beneath, he could feel her core thrumming as his chest pressed into hers.

“I-In here…” Cory’s hand pressed against Riker’s chest as much as it could with his arms effectively pinned in the hug.

“That’s right,” she nodded, “So if something happened to my head, would it hurt my core?”

“N-No…?” He sucked a wet, sniffling breath.

“That’s right.” Her hand rubbed up and down his back in long strokes from top to bottom, rocking him against her all the while. “So if you didn’t hurt their core, you didn’t kill them, okay?”

Cory’s eyes felt like they were vibrating as they twitched around, his mind swirling in the overwhelming thoughts of what he’d done, the way the affini in the cave had been mangled and the sounds it made, and trying to reconcile it with Riker’s words. “Buh… But…”

Riker shushed him again, “But nothing, okay? You didn’t kill them. No matter what you did, you didn’t kill them. I promise.”

“I…” He sucked air through his teeth, and panted it out. “I don’t know if I can believe that…”

“I promise, you can.”

He couldn't believe a promise from a xeno. “You… promise?”

“Yes, little one. I promise.”

He whined again, tucking his head into her chest as if that might hide him from her gaze. “O-Okay…”

“It's okay, you're okay” she assured him, still slowly rubbing his back. “I’m not going to ask you any more questions, but I’m not going to go anywhere until you’ve calmed down, alright?”

Cory just nodded against her chest through the tears.

“Good. That’s very good,” she spoke softly, “Theo? Play some relaxing terran music?”

A melody that Cory recognized as an old Terran lullaby started playing as Riker leaned back to lie on the couch, pulling Cory down with her. He straddled her belly, head resting on what would be Riker’s sternum if she was human. He couldn't stop himself from squeezing Riker in as much of a hug as he could around the massive trunk of her body.

“Why are you so nice to us?” he murmured, sniffling between Riker’s breasts.

Whether or not it actually came out as words, Riker caressed his back, gently shushing him and telling him they were okay.

Slowly, the tears and sobs ebbed as Riker continued to cradle and comfort Cory's fragile form. The oppressing sense of safety washed over him until he was merely breathing against Riker's chest, eyes closed. Long, normal, cloves scented breaths with only the occasional wavering beginnings of a sob until those too tapered off.

Cory felt like he might have started drifting to sleep against Riker's bosom when her voice finally stirred him. “How are you feeling?”

He felt like shit. “Better, I think? Still drugged, though.”

“I'm glad. That you're feeling better, I mean,” Riker stumbled over her words. “If you prefer, I can leave you to rest until the xenodrugs are cleared from your system.

No!

“No!” he yelped. His face twisted as if he was trying to fight the effects of the Class D, “Don't leave me. Please.”

“I won't,” she said as she sat them both up. “But I need to tell the captain what you just told me. Are you okay being carried to my office?”

Cory just nodded against her, and up they went.

The office at the end of the hall was just as big as the other rooms in the hab, but had a bit of a personal touch Cory hadn't yet seen from Riker. Her desk had stacks of papers and books, spines stacked high with the same curly script he couldn't read when he first encountered it on the hallway door. There was a monitor that looked like the biggest vidscreen Cory had ever seen displaying a slowly rotating 3D image of some kind of semi-transparent full body scan; it was a human for sure, and a heavy one at that. But what really caught Cory's eye was the glass display case taking up most of one wall.

There were a handful of different things hanging on the wall, but the model ships drew Cory's eye first. The model fleet was dominated by organic-shaped Affini ships: The Cymbidium - he would never forget the way it looked in the sky above Tabp - took its place at the top next to another, larger model with sharper tail petals and additional twisting branches around the concentric rings of the midsection. There were some dozen more flowery ships, each smaller than the two at the top of the display and unique in their own ways, and two sleek and curved ships unlike anything he'd seen. To his surprise, there was a model of a Terran Heavy Cruiser just below and beside the model Cymbidium and another, smaller Terran-looking ship right below the sharp and twisted looking Affini ship, nestled beneath its foresection.

In another part there looked to be some kind of metal sash adorned with badges and some kind of weapon. It was a huge curved blade, not steep enough to be called a crescent, with another more tightly curved blade attached in parallel above the three handles along the larger curve. Cory imagined what kind of fierce xeno warriors might carry such a three handled weapon, if they were not Affini.

Before Cory could become any more jealous of Riker's impressively maintained and lit display case, Riker sat in the chair behind her desk. When she did, Cory squirmed and turned until he was sitting on her thigh with his legs hanging between hers.

“Theo, hail Captain Berrimeli. Priority one.”

The window across from Riker dissolved into a giant screen. A logo of some sort, probably either the ship’s or the Affini’s as a whole, emblazoned the screen above a series of curly characters that seemed like a clock counting up. Nearly a whole minute passed before the hail was answered.

Captain Berrimeli appeared on the screen. Their dark foliage looked like the night sky below their ‘hair’ of red, blue, and yellow berries. A red ball of berries in the middle of their face took up most of the view and presumably acted as their nose. Altogether, it made them look like a clown. Behind the clownish nose, their pale wood mask curled into a smirk. “Ah, Miss Riker. And this must be your adorable floret-to-be.”

Cory blurted out “Who's this fucking clown?”

Riker forced a laugh and tried to play it off. “I’m sorry Captain. My ward must still be experiencing the effects of the Amanita Pentatholis I administered

At the same time, clownfini’s eyes gleamed with all manner of purple and violet as they focused on Cory. Or at least it felt like they were looking right at him. The view suddenly blinked further away, revealing the naked human splayed across their lap.

The captain’s floret.

The captain’s floret didn't act like Mila, or even the man at the vet. They were just completely basal and animalistic as they lied in the captain's lap, murring and groaning lazily under the captain's petting. From they way they were lying face down, he couldn't tell if if they had breasts or external genitals, but their face - what little of it Cory could see - was the picture of androgyny. They were, at least physically, very distinctly human.

Cory stared at the pair, unable to look away. “Oh, fuck.”

“Greetings, little one.” A shiver ran up Cory’s back when they called him that; it wasn’t like when Riker, or even Rhamnus, said it. ”I am Noxus Berrimeli, 12th Bloom, Xe/Xim, duly elected captain of the Affini ship Cymbidium.”

Cory just nodded dumbly. “Who's that?”

“Hmm?” Berrimeli hummed. Then xis grin grew. “Ah. You are referring to my pet.” Xe dragged xis fingers deliberately down the human's back, looking down at them and speaking in a cutesy voice like xe was talking to an animal. “Would you like to say hello?”

The view automatically adjusted zoom and focus as the captain lifted the human in xis lap with a hand under each arm and held them up for the camera. The human squirmed and grumbled, uncomfortably Cory imagined, and looked embarrassed as they tried to wriggle out of the captain’s grasp like a cat. They had small bumps on their chest and a thick, visually impenetrable patch of fur between their legs and creeping onto their thighs. They may have been a man or a woman once upon a time, but now it was wholly impossible to discern what they were.

It filled Cory with dread as his shoulders tightened; he felt Riker tense beneath him as well.

“It seems that my pet is not in a sociable mood this morning,” the captain apologized as xe brought the human pet back to xis lap, face up. Xe plucked a berry from xis nose and fed it to xis floret, who seemed to immediately relax and smile carelessly.

“What's their name?” Cory couldn't help but ask. He wanted to know and was still uninhibited from the xenodrugs.

“My pet does not require a name,” it disgusted Cory the way the captain said it as xe scritched the scruff of the human's head, “They are my thirtieth floret and respond simply to Pet.”

“What the f--”

“Captain,” Riker cut him off, redirecting the call, “I'm sorry to say that there does seem to have been an…an incident, as you suspected. Monophylla chased Cory through the tunnels of the abandoned mine.” Cory shrunk down against Riker as she continued and held him against her. “Cory was terrified and delirious with exhaustion, but they didn't manage to harm her core while defending themself.”

“Was Miss Tangella's datapad damaged during this… so-called defense, I wonder?” The captain steepled their too-many fingers and looked pointedly at Cory.

“I don't know.” Cory glared back at the captain, “ "I didn't see anything like that when it was chasing me and screaming.”

“Hmm, quite.” The camera snapped back to a close up as the captain leaned back in their ridiculous wingback chair. “Either Monophylla Tangella's means of communication were damaged, or she has suffered a more… unsavory fate. Though I remain unconvinced that a Terran could accomplish such a feat.” Xis eyes seemed to narrow on Cory once again. “It seems that a rescue expedition is in order.”

“We'll leave you to it, Captain.” Riker moved to signal Theo to cut the connection when the captain stopped her.

“And,” Berrimeli continued as if never interrupted, “I would like Cory to accompany in the rescue.”

×=×=×=×

Less than an hour later, Cory was sitting in one of the shuttles in the Cymbidium’s docking bay. The affini called it a shuttle, but it was bigger than any Terran ship Cory had ever been on, and much roomier by comparison. The few seats the shuttle lined the walls instead of packing passengers in like sardines like the ship to the mining colony had done. The whole place looked fancier than any Terran ships he knew too; the interior was tastefully decorated with polished metal, glass, and dark wood inlays. It was like a flying quadrillionaire's mansion.

Riker had objected when Cory blurted out his agreement to join in the rescue, but she was overruled by Berrimeli. Cory was still allowed to make his own decisions for the time being, and he wanted to go; he needed to know whether he'd killed the affini, Monophylla; he needed to know if the guilt he felt was justified.

It helped that Riker was right there beside him. Or under him, as the craft had no human-size seats. In any case, she had insisted that if he was going, she'd be going too. Cory had insisted they be there early - better early than late, he told Riker - but it was only a few minutes before the other affini filed into the shuttle.

The first to board introduced themself to Riker - and only Riker - in the Affini tongue.

“Please speak Terran Standard around my ward,” Riker responded, “It’s rude to speak as if they aren't here, and I want them to be fully informed of the situation.”

They made a trill that Cory imagined was a stand-in for either a scoff or clucking their tongue. “Wolffia Rosarum, she/her,” she introduced herself, still directed solely at Riker. “Rescue team leader.” Her voice was even deeper than Riker's, and much more gruff, weaving together highs and lows for a song that stopped just short of masculine. As far as affini voices Cory had heard, she sounded butch.

She looked like a Xenra, a giant bipedal fox like Tsundra, but made entirely out of prickly, thorny briars. Probably some kind of rose bush, Cory figured, considering the pink rose-like flowers on her head that took the place of the horns he remembered Tsundra having. It looked like a hug from her would feel like getting hugged by a cheese grater, yet for some reason Cory was still curious how that would feel.

“And this is Erysi Pogon, Sixth Bloom,” Wolffia introduced the next affini to board. Pogon just walked past Cory and Riker to take a command seat near a console at the front of the ship. “He's our astrometrics expert. Erysi was on the team that discovered the star cascade, isn't that right, Erysi?”

“Yes.” Erysi confirmed demurely.

“He’ll stay on the shuttle and monitor the star to make sure it was safe for the team to move between the shuttle and the mine.”

Pogon certainly looked like the nerdy type, with a head of grass shaped into a quaff, a bow tie of vines, and a yellow flower on his ‘lapel’. He also wore glasses that were obviously only an aesthetic choice, as they didn’t sit in front of even half of his eyes.

The third affini introduced themself to Cory first. “And who are you, my adorable little moonbeam?”

The sound of the shuttle’s door closing barely reached Cory as he took in the affini’s witchy appearance. Their body was made of pale green, almost yellow, foliage draped in a knee-length dress of black leaves with black vines hanging off the hem that made it look somewhere between tattered and spiderwebbed. Fine black vines wrapped around their legs like fishnet stockings.

Cory stammered as he looked into their maskless, feminine face, where four purple eyes — two stacked on top of each other in the usual places for eyes — stared back at him. Their face was framed by even more black vines, which acted like shoulder-length hair styled into bangs. Finally he answered. “Cory.”

The witch giggled, “Oh, wouldn’t you just make the most charming familiar?” She redirected her gaze up to Riker without tilting her face away from Cory. “Though it seems you’re already spoken for.”

We’re what?

Riker opened her mouth to correct them as her abs twitched behind Cory’s back, but the witch was quicker.

“Viviani Nyxxium, Eighth Bloom, she/her,” she held a hand out; the arm attached to it was adorned with a multitude of bracelets big enough to fit around Cory's neck in all manner of color and material. Cory tried to shake the proffered hand, but instead she just turned his hand palm down in hers and kissed it with her painted black lips. “Your pleasure, I’m sure.”

It felt like the entire world shook and Cory had no idea if it was him, if it was Riker, or if it was actually just the shuttle taking off. In any case, Viviani released his hand and went to mingle with Rosarum.

“Zero for two,” Cory said to himself before sniffing the back of his hand. Patchouli. “Why do I even try for handshakes…”

“Because you’re polite,” Riker nudged him. “But most affini find handshakes a tad… impersonal. Most would prefer--”

“To pet me like a dog.”

“Generally, yes.”

He just sighed and rolled his eyes as the shuttle rumbled again.

Rosarum stood by the door with a hand on the release. “Soon as Pogon gives us the clear, we head straight into the mine.”

Viviani moved to join her and Cory moved to do the same, but as soon as he tried to climb down from Riker’s lap she scooped him up into her arms as she stood.

“It’s faster and safer if I carry you,” she said as he squirmed to try and extricate himself from her grasp.

“I can walk by myself,” he protested. “I ran here myself the day you lot showed up.”

Riker wouldn't budge. "I'm not taking any chances with your safety.”

“Fine,” he made a show of being annoyed, “But you’re putting me down when it’s safe.”

We like being carried, anyway.

On Pogon's signal, Rosarum pushed the door release, taking off on all fours like an animal as she bound toward the entrance of the mine a few dozen yards away. Riker strode after her, Cory clinging to her arms to stay sitting high enough to see Viviani flowing past them in a shapeless tangle of green and black. Rosarum disappeared into the darkness of the mine, followed by Viviani, and then darkness overtook Cory as Riker carried him inside.

Rosarum had already started shining around a flashlight that, in Cory's eyes, might as well have been a spotlight by the time Riker stopped to set him down. Stumbling as she did, Cory felt a sense of unease as he walked into a strangely smooth patch of dirt. He picked up the crushed water bottle and realized that this was the exact spot he had collapsed after…

“Are you alright little one?” Riker's hand on Cory's back made him jump. He didn't know how long he'd been thinking about that night, about the ships and running for his life, but it was clearly too long.

He shook his head and looked at the two concerned affini, and one impatient to delve deeper. “Yeh, fine.” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Just, uhh, follow the trail I guess.”

Rosarum led with Cory behind her, Riker behind him, and Viviani taking up the rear. The flashlight guiding the way was so powerful as to drown out every inkling of shadow cast by the craggy walls, discarded mining equipment, and loose rocks in their path. It was amazing, but most of all it revealed just how much shorter the distance had been between where Cory collapsed and where he camped. As they came upon the chamber with the mining rig, the cavern felt completely demystified.

Yet Cory couldn't help but stop and imagine the cave bathed in the murky, blood red light of the monster that had chased him.

Not a monster.

His breaths were quick when Riker roused him the second time; thoughts strained to refocus on the present. He stammered as he blinked down at the footprints, his own and an oversized pair in their wake, and motioned further into the cave. “This way.” He spared one last glance at the rig and the duffle bag surrounded by bottles and food bar wrappers under it as they all delved deeper.

The path forward was much less twisted than Cory remembered from his nightmares, but with the light it was easy to see how he'd bounced between the gently curved walls. He followed a few steps behind the team's leader, but the gap only seemed to grow as they neared whatever pit he had fallen into however many days prior. Now that he wasn't running for his life, the path from the rig to the pit seemed paradoxically shorter and longer than he remembered.

He was too lost in thought, too focused on the smudged footprints he was staring at to try and keep his mind off of the terror he once felt in this place, to notice Wolffia Rosarum stopping at the front of the line. He ran right into the back of her leg, recoiling with a hiss as her thorns drew pure white lines across his skin - and mercifully few drops of blood.

He'd barely had time to notice he was bleeding by the time Riker spun him around to make sure he was okay. “Are you okay, petal? Let me see.”

His mind was devoid of thought as he watched her eyes look him up and down, checking him over like a mother whose child just scraped their knee. Even as she licked her thumb with whatever facsimile of a tongue she had, he remained still until after she dragged the same thumb across all of his scrapes. Including the ones on his cheek.

He lifted an arm to look at it. Still scraped, still oozing from one or two spots, but the pain was gone.

“Better?” Riker's melodic voice took on a dizzying duplicity as it bounced around the cave.

He nodded softly as he looked up at Riker’s smile before his eyes followed Viviani as she walked around them. She moved along the ridge that Rosarum had stopped at and down the human sized stairs in two affini-sized paces. As he turned to watch her, he saw the mess in the bottom of the pit. The flashlight scanned from the far side where the tunnel he escaped through lay back toward the rescue party. The beam of light followed his footprints back to the desk Cory had tried to steady himself with. Back to the blueprints and tools that had scattered when he fell against it. It lingered on the handheld sonic drill before scanning over the table that had broken his fall when he ran off the ledge. Rosaum moved the light again to where Viviani walked through the middle of the pit, stopping as she looked at the ground.

Whatever Viviani said or whatever noise she made cascaded around the walls of the cave. It sounded like the monster that had followed him as it sang after him. The flashlight moved down Vivian’s body to land on a desiccated mangle of shaggy vines and leaves and the rusty red sap staining the ground around it.

Rosarum called back to Viviani as she jumped down, her voice reeling around the same exact way as Viviani’s had. As the monster’s had.

Not a monster. Affini.

The monster that chased him had been an affini all along. It wasn’t an inky black mass, she was a shaggy green bundle of vines. Her green foliage had just absorbed the red light and only looked black.

Cory’s chest tightened. He stumbled backwards against Riker’s kneeling form, turning into her as she embraced him in a hug, pulling him to her chest and sheltering him from most of the head-splitting sound. But still, his heart ached.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled into Riker. “I didn’t mean to hurt her. I--I didn’t know. I didn’t want to hurt her.”

Riker shushed him under the canopy of her hug, “I know, petal, I know.” She reminded him that he had been scared, that he had feared for his life, and that the fear he had felt was real. But more than that, she told him, her voice clear as a bell under the canopy of her arms, “You are safe”.

And because he was safe, he could endure. He could endure the pinching sensation whenever the other affini spoke and their voices bounced off the walls. He could endure the twisting pain as he watched Viviani pick up the shaggy green core from the middle of the pile of plantatious gore that he was responsible for. He could endure Riker picking him up and carrying him back the way they came. He could even endure, just barely, sitting on Riker’s lap, staring at the core of the affini who had chased him, now cradled in Viviani's lap.

Monophylla would be fine, Viviani told him. “Poor thing just needs some water, light, and good soil to rebloom. She’ll be fine as spider silk, moonbeam, don’t you worry.”

Cory nodded along to Viviani’s words, looking down at the core. Monophylla’s core looked so soft. So vulnerable. So scared as little roots wiggled at each end, searching for soil to root into. Cory wanted to reach out across laps and touch it. To apologize and tell her how sorry he was. Instead, he just sat there, shrinking down against Riker’s belly and wishing he was strong enough to say sorry.

Chapter Text

Chapter 8:
Cheeseburger in Paradise

When the shuttle arrived back at the Cymbidium’s station, Monophylla successfully rescued, the rescue team all went their separate ways; Rosarum headed for the captain's office to make her report; Viviani carried the disembodied core off toward an Affini hospital; Pogon went back to the astrometrics lab to study the star that was still on the verge of cascade. Riker, in contrast, had the relatively mundane task of taking Cory home.

And Cory was fine with being carried as they left the shuttle, especially with the dizzying feeling of Viviani petting him goodbye lingering in his mind. But he eventually became restless, fidgeting in Riker's arms. Not even Riker’s everpresent, soundless song could soothe him as too many thoughts threatened to overtake him.

“Down,” he called out, squirming and waving his arms and legs in an assertion of personal space, “Down!”

Riker stopped immediately and lowered him as gingerly as possible. “Are you alright?”

Cory huffed a breath and pushed the hair out of his face. “Fine. I'm fine. I can walk.”

Of course he could. He just needed something to focus on, and he could focus on walking. And when his muscles and lungs ached and screamed he could focus on the pain. The pain always helped.

“I know that you can,” Riker stepped closer, “I just thought you might appreciate resting after… everything.”

“Riker, I'm not a baby or a… a floret.”

The song soured. As much as it was masked by other, much fainter, soundless songs of the affini on the street around them, Cory could tell that it was Riker’s that soured as soon as he spoke. He didn't need to see the blue swirls in Riker's eyes to know that.

“I…” Riker bit her lip. “Of course. I would hate for you to become… dependent on me.”

Something in Cory ached.

We should just let her carry us.

He didn't need to be carried, stars dammit! He was a free, independent, non-floret. He could walk. No matter how nice it felt to be carried. No matter how safe she made him feel.

“Which way?” Cory turned and started walking.

“Just follow the signs toward the plaza. I had intended to stop so you could eat lunch, but we're close enough that it's the most direct route to my hab regardless.”

Cory craned his neck up at the signpost without stopping and headed in the direction it pointed. His heart was already pounding from the anticipation of the walk, of having Riker's eyes on him while he walked, but he did his best to shove that fear down and just move.

He expected the affini to have a different metric of “walking distance” considering their stature, but he hadn't expected things to go so poorly. Maybe it was the distance, or the incline, or the perceived pressure of Riker - no, every affini - watching his every step, but by the time they reached the plaza he was huffing and puffing, barely able to muster a thought beyond the “puff-puff-huff” of his labored breathing.

He made a beeline for the first suitable surface he could sit down on. Well, not the first. The first one without any other people on it. This ended up being the wide, benchlike rim of an extravagant fountain near the plaza gateway. He practically crumbled as he turned, sat, lied down, and sprawled out in one flowing motion. The warmth of the simulated sun felt good on his skin as he lied against that strangely comfortable stone. He suppressed whatever sense of déjà vu it gave him as he lay there with his eyes closed, letting one hand tread the gently flowing water while he caught his breath.

With his eyes closed, it was actually kind of nice. The gentle current of the water, the soft hiss of the fountain’s spray, the birds chirping, the murmur of all the other people. They all mingled with all the quiet little soundless songs - including Riker’s - and created an incredibly calming and relaxing level of white noise. Or perhaps some other color of noise; Cory knew there were several.

He lied there for a while, just basking like a lizard in the sun with barely a thought in his head beyond a few random lines of song lyrics, looping on repeat. They always did that, but there was something else there too. Behind them? Or maybe under them. His fingers twitched against the side of the stone to the rhythm, just under the water’s surface.

Dat-----daw---duh--duhtt--duh---dutt--dah.

It slipped away, and while it felt wrong to let it go, he couldn’t hold on to it. So he kept relaxing there for several more minutes until something blocked the light. His brow furrowed as he waited for it to pass, but when it didn’t, he sighed.

He had expected Riker to be standing over him when he opened his eyes. Instead, he was greeted by Mila’s wide and infectious grin. His heart jumped as he looked up at her, eyes widening in surprise.

“Hi Bestie!” Mila shouted as she glommed onto him.

“Mila?!” He stiffened up before consciously forcing his arms to hug her back. “What are you doing here?”

She just giggled before rolling off of him, falling to the ground, and jumping back up to her feet. “Mister Rhamnus was taking me out for lunch, and I saw you lying over here. Ooh! Do you wanna join us?”

Cory sat up just enough to turn his head, scanning from side to side until he found Oakley and Riker next to an affini-sized bench some distance away. To be accurate, Rhamnus Oakley was sitting on the bench and Riker was pacing back and forth in front of it. It was too far for Cory to hear, but he didn’t think he needed to, judging by the way Riker kept one arm wrapped around her belly and used the other to gesticulate as she shuffled.

Is she okay?

Mila stepped into his vision again. “Hey, come get lunch with me, okay?”

“I-- But what about--?” He tried to look around her as she glanced over her shoulder, but she blocked his view.

“Don’t worry about them.” She smiled for a moment, probably waiting for him to get up on his own, before she reached down and grabbed his hand in both of hers, leaning back for leverage as she pulled him to his feet.

He followed willingly as she led, giggling only half a step ahead as she tugged on his hand, away from Riker and Rhamnus, and toward one of the storefronts. Something to eat would make him feel better, it always did. Plus, he was starting to get hungry anyway.

The smell of food hit Cory immediately as Mila pulled him through the restaurant and into a human sized booth. Between the frosted glass risers atop both ends and the affini sized bench seats on either side of the booth itself, it was like they were in their own little world. It was cozy. Intimate, even. And maybe a little intimidating.

Mila turned down a menu when the waitress, who it seemed Mila was friends with, came to the table. She took their drink orders and told Mila she'd check back in a bit after “her friend” had a chance to look at the menu.

When the waitress was out of sight, Cory looked at Mila. “I thought you said nobody had to work anymore.”

“Huh?” Mila cocked her head. “They don't.”

Cory cocked his head right back. “What about the waitress?”

“Ohhhh,” her confusion gave way to a smile, “No, she just does this for fun.”

“Fun?” It was the most ridiculous thing he'd heard yet! Somebody working for fun?

“Yeah, I mean, it can get kinda boring when you don't have anything to do all day, right? So some sophonts get a day job like being a waitress or running an arcade or like, I don't know, building furniture.”

“For fun.” Building furniture sounded like it could be fun. Even running an arcade or being a cook. But a waitress?

“Yeah,” she confirmed, “And it's not like they don't get anything out of it.”

“Like what?”

Mila's smile grew into a devilish grin as the waitress came back. After she set down Cory's water and Mila's bubbly orange SoulGlad, Mila turned to her.

“Miri? Have you been a good waitress today?”

The waitress's eyes widened and Cory saw just how glassy they were. Was she a floret too? “Y-Yes!” She nodded enthusiastically.

“Well, you know what good waitresses get, right?”

Miri hummed that she did and leaned in. Her shoulders bunched up, arms locking and wrists flaring out as Mila reached up and scratched their waitress's head. She shivered and whined as Mila scratched and let out a breathy “Thank you!” when Mila was done.

The waitress cleared her throat and asked if they were ready to order. Cory was still staring with his jaw hanging slack.

“I think they need a minute,” Mila giggled.

When Miri left, Cory managed to compose himself enough to look over the menu, which ended up being more pictures than words, with lots of childish illustrations and silly names for dishes. With dozens of delicious looking options to choose from, he had a hard time trying to pick just one. He could have them all, he realized, if everything was free.

We need to get our health under control if we're going to be independent.

He settled on a double cheeseburger with bacon. And fries. But hey, he was having water instead of soda so that was good.

“How do you like your tablet?” Mila asked suddenly.

“Oh, uh,” Cory pulled the tablet out of his pocket, “I haven't really got a chance to check it out yet.”

“I can help you set it up then!” She smiled another infectious smile and before Cory could object, she slid into his side of the booth. She took the screen from his hands and did something that changed it to a log-in screen. “What do you want your screen name to be?”

Cory had never been good at picking screen names. He'd just go with what he used on Consensus, he supposed. “Rabid.”

Mila raised one brow at him. “Not sure the best way to convince the Affini you aren't feral is calling yourself rabid.”

“...Fair.”

He thought about it. What else could he use? He was Rabid everywhere online in the Accord. But... this wasn't the Accord, was it? He could be someone else. Someone new. But “Not Rabid” wasn’t a name. Or not a good one, at any rate.

He could name himself after the main character of his favorite show. But as much as he related to the main character, he hated that he did just as much. The main character was weak and lonely and afraid to get close to people. Although, there was another character that he did like. She was his favorite. She was proud and confident and strong…

And pretty.

Maybe he could be like…

“Unit dash zero two.”

Mila typed Unit-02 into the username field. “Like that?”

Cory nodded. “Yep.”

She snorted a laugh. “Okay, beeper.”

“What does that mean?”

“Doesn't-matter-you-need-a-profile-picture!” Mila slid somehow closer and wrapped an arm around Cory's shoulder. “Say ‘bestie’!”

The camera snapped and there he was. He was smiling, which was weird. There was still so much wrong with the way he looked, especially next to someone like Mila, but it was… whatever. He wouldn't be able to see the picture at chat size, and if he could, he'd just change it.

After setting the profile picture, Mila opened an app from the home screen that looked suspiciously like the Consensus chat app that Cory favored. “Just gonna add me and Miss Asherah and Mister Rhamnus to your friends list. You can message us any time.” Her tongue stuck out in concentration as she typed away until her own pad chimed. She held it up for Cory to see the notification.

[New message from Unit-02.] “💜”

Then she handed his pad back. “All done.”

“Thanks, Mila.” He turned the pad in his hands as he looked at it. “For everything.”

“Of course, silly. Friends help friends. That's, like, the first rule of being friends.”

“Oh… I didn't know there were rules.”

“That's okay,” Mila's smile was so bright it hurt, “Wanna know the second rule?”

Of course, he nodded. Friend rules would make it easy to make friends. And that would make it easier to stay independent.

Mila's smile wrinkled into a mischievous shape before she pounced and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “Friends hug!”

This time, Cory's arms didn't lock up. They just wrapped around Mila and squeezed.

It wasn't long after that when their food arrived. Mila got something called a halal club sandwich. He didn't know what kind of club you had to join to get one, but Cory would have to ask because it looked almost as good as his burger. The burger that he was about to bite into when he realized Mila was just watching him.

He set the burger back down on the plate. “You okay?”

“Mhmm.”

“Do you need me to, uh…” he tapped his cheek and opened his mouth.

“What?” It took a second for Mila to understand, but she rolled her eyes when she got the point. “No. Just because I'm gesture trained doesn't mean I'm gesture reliant.”

“So why aren't you eating then?”

Another sly smile. “I was just waiting for you. After how cute you were eating your breakfast I didn't wanna miss this.”

She thinks we're cute!

“I'm not cute,” he insisted as his cheeks burned. “And I don't know what you mean.”

When it became evident that Mila wasn’t going to eat until he did, he picked up his burger and took a bite.

It had been years since Cory had a burger, but this was nothing like he remembered. The burger was juicy and flavorful and meaty. The bacon was so bacony. The cheese was rich and creamy and cheesy. The onion crunched perfectly. The tomato had flavor. Even the bun had flavor!

Since when does bread have flavor?!

And that was all just in a single bite! He hummed in delight as the flavors permeated his mouth, chewing with half lidded eyes. When he swallowed, he opened his eyes to see Mila just watching with a big smile.

“Wow.”

“What?” He set the burger down.

“Nothing,” Mila grinned innocently and took a bite of her sandwich. Cory could only roll his eyes.

The food was finished in short order - Cory’s disappearing more quickly than Mila’s - with what Cory hoped passed for conversation. He was never great at talking to people, so it was mostly just him answering Mila’s questions.

“So you’re from the mining colony thing?”

“Yeah. I wasn’t a miner, though.”

“Oh, because I figured, y’know,” Mila reached over and grabbed the lettuce that Cory had taken off of his burger.

“No, yeah, I mean I get it. But it was just another place, y'know? Miners needed to eat and buy things, so by the time I got there Penthe was already like any other place in the Accord.” A bite of the burger quelled his sigh. The next bite didn’t hurt either.

“So, where are you from? Originally, I mean,” Mila folded the lettuce and put it on her own sandwich. It was crunchy enough for Cory to hear it.

“Earth. Yellowknife. You?”

“Oh em gee, Earth!” she said through a mouthful of food. She swallowed. “Same! But Zerqamîsh.”

Zerqamîsh? Why did that sound familiar?

“Oh,” Cory suddenly remembered, “Where there was that big explosion like twenty years ago, right?”

Mila nodded. “Yeah, the Marama Logistics Complex. I was just a kid, but I don’t think I’ll ever forget that night.” Mila paused, giving the memory reverence. “I think someone got sent to Solstice for it.”

Cory had heard about it, of course. He even had vague memories of his mother watching the news the day it happened. Still, he couldn't imagine what it must have been like to witness in person. Before he could try too hard, Mila drew him back into the conversation.

Mila pulled out a candy cane and broke off a chunk. “So, Yellowknife,” she popped the piece of candy into her mouth, her smile returning in short order. “You’re a long way from home. What are you doing all the way out here?”

"Oh, umm," Cory fidgeted with his burger before shoving the rest of it into his mouth. How could he begin to answer that question? “I dunno… Just didn’t feel like being on Earth anymore, I guess.”

“Well hey. It could have been worse. You could have joined the Cosmic Navy,” She smirked around another bite of her sandwich.

He forced a smile. He very well could have. He almost did, if he hadn’t seen the recruitment poster for the mining colony. Sometimes he wondered if it would have been better if he had joined the Navy, but in that moment he figured the answer was a resounding ‘no’.

We wouldn’t be here if we did.

“So, how’d you end up with Miss Asherah?” Mila asked, polishing off the last bite of her sandwich. “‘Cause you don't seem like some crazy Free Terra truther.”

“Oh… When the Affini came, I kinda… ran. She found me after a different affini chased me and…” He could feel his blood pumping faster as his eyes drifted down to his plate. The burger juices and ketchup swirling together made a rusty crimson.

“Hey,” her hand was on his shoulder. His head snapped back to find her smile. “You look like you need some desert.”

Cory grabbed the candy cane she held out and ripped the wrapper off and mumbled. “Thanks.” He took a deep, minty breath as the candy started to melt and let it out with a relaxed sigh. He swallowed when needed to and asked a question back. “How did you end up with Mr. Oakley?”

Mila sighed, unwrapping the rest of her own candy cane.“ I told you I was a captain in the Cosmic Navy, didn’t I?” With Cory’s nod she continued. “We got taken by surprise. The affini… they just… dropped out of hyperspace right in front of us. Like they knew right where to find us.” She paused to suck on her candy. “Doesn’t matter. We hyperjumped away, but they followed right behind us. If we tried another jump, the ship would tear itself apart, and I knew the Stellar Vanguard couldn’t outfight them so… I used my command codes to put the ship in full lockdown and told the crew to stay calm. After that… I smoked one last cigar, lied down on my bunk, and waited. That’s where Mister Rhamnus found me.”

Cory couldn’t help but imagine Mila with a big stogie in the grin she wore almost perpetually. The image sent a rush of blood below his beltline that bounced back to his face as an ashamed blush.

“Candy canes are so much better than those stinky old cigars anyway.” And her smile was back, just like it never left.

“Yeah, these candy canes of yours are really good.”

Mila hummed as she scooted closer and leaned against Cory. He didn't have alarm bells going off. Maybe butterflies flapping in his belly, but not sirens. So he let out a deep, contented sigh and closed his eyes.

The next thing Cory knew, he was being roused by Riker's voice. He picked his head up from Mila's collarbone - when had that happened? - and look toward the sound of Riker's voice.

“There you are,” Riker’s words cut through the murmurs and coos of the other, strange affini that had apparently gathered to watch him and Mila nap.

The affini strangers looked nicer than the ones he’d seen the day before on the street, but maybe that was just because he’d seen what the captain looked like. They cooed and whispered among themselves about how cute the sleeping terrans were, even as Riker waved them off.

“Oh, yeah,” he paused to yawn, “Mila took me out to lunch.”

“I see. I admit I was worried when you were suddenly gone. Rhamnus thought you and Mila would be together.”

Mila yawned herself and let out a sleepy, “Hi, Miss Asherah.”

Riker sat on one of the benches while Rhamnus shooed off the other affini who hadn't taken the hint. Then he sat on the opposite side and looked down at Mila with a paternal smile. “You should really tell me before running off, my little mulberry.”

She let out a groaning, “Yes, Mister Rhamnus.”

“It's my fault,” Cory turned to look at Mila's affini. “I just needed to… get away from everything for a little bit and clear my head. Mila made sure I was okay.” He paused, turning to Riker. “I'm feeling a lot better now.”

“Well, far be it from me to begrudge Mila helping a friend,” Rhamnus smiled, “It's one of the rules, I'm told.”

Riker smiled too. “I'm glad you're feeling better. I'm sorry you felt so overwhelmed, though.”

“It's okay,” Cory's fingers fiddled with the remainder of his candy cane before he took another taste. “Riker? Is Monophylla going to be okay?”

“She is, dear. Monophylla is well on her way to reblooming now that she’s in a good place to do so.” Riker reached into her shoulder and pulled out her pad with a wince. “Here, Viviani sent a picture.”

The picture showed the same core Cory had sat next to on the shuttle. Only now there was a woman in a long, fluffy pink dress and long and white over-the-elbow gloves slumped against it and sleeping with a teddy bear in her lap. They were together in what looked like a big flower bed in a hospital room.

Monophylla’s floret.

He would have to remember to apologize, but in the meantime he was just glad they were together again.

A sigh of relief escaped Cory's smile, and Mila squeezed his hand. When Riker had shoved her tablet back between the muscles of her shoulder, Cory felt a need for clarification. “What does reblooming mean, anyway.”

“Well,” Riker twitched as her arm settled, “When an affini reaches a certain age or gets hurt badly enough, they undergo a process called reblooming. We shed all the biomass that makes up our physical forms from around our cores and start anew. Effectively, it makes us immortal unless our cores are harmed beyond repair.”

Not only were the affini technologically superior communists with miles-long ships and atomic rearrangers, but they were also immortal? The Accord really didn't stand a chance. The thought of the ultracapitalist hellscape that was the Accord being gutted and replaced by the paradise he was in now brought a smile to Cory's face.

“Wait,” he thought aloud, “If affini are immortal… how old are you?”

The focal point of Riker’s golden eyes shifted around for a moment. “I’m a little over nine hundred Terran years old. Perhaps closer to one thousand.”

“Wow,” his reply was automatic, “You’re old.”

Mila snorted, and Riker’s face was more perplexed than anything.

“Actually, I’m quite young for an affini. Though, I suppose I must seem ancient to you, little one.”

“I don’t mind,” Cory shrugged, cracking a chunk of cane off in his mouth, “I like older women.”

A deep chuckle rumbled from Rhmanus’s smirk, while Riker blinked away the mauve static that had filled her eyes.

The ensuing silence was unlike anything Cory knew. It wasn't plagued by thoughts like ‘what am I doing here?’ or ‘should I say something?’. It was peaceful and content and warm. It was almost jarring when Rhamnus finally broke it.

“Oh, look at the time. I'm sorry to cut your little date short, Mila, but we've got places to be.”

Date?

Date?

“Date?” the words slipped out of Cory almost silently.

“Aww,” Mila pouted, “Okay.” She turned in the booth to face Cory. “Sorry. Mister Rhamnus has to find what's spiking the power usage in the refugee block.”

“Oh, well, that sounds pretty important…”

“Yeah. But don't worry. I'll make sure our next date is even better!”

While Cory was trying to process that there would be a next date, not to mention the fact that this had been one to begin with, Mila leaned in and planted a kiss on his cheek.

Mila grinned that unflappable smile as she bounced out of the booth. “Bye, bestie~. And don't forget the rules~!”

Cory held a hand to his cheek where Mila had kissed him, watching her leave. It was far from how he expected his first kiss to go, but he wasn't complaining. But it wasn't like they kissed on the mouth or anything, so maybe it didn't count.

Riker's voice drew him from his ever-lengthening train of thought. “We ought to be heading back to the hab ourselves.”

He looked up at Riker as he slid out of the booth. Her warm gaze and golden eyes filled him with a bubbly feeling. She was so nice to him, and he couldn't figure out why. But then again, so was Mila.

They started to walk away from the table, but Cory stopped. “Hey, Riker?”

“Yes, little one?” She stopped and turned to face him.

“Can you come here for a second?”

She stepped closer. “Yes?”

“Down here.” He curled his hand toward himself.

She knelt on one knee.

“C'mon. Closer.”

Riker drew her other leg under her, sitting on her knees. Her wooden bones creaked as she put a hand on the floor and leaned toward him. “What is it, little one?”

Cory's breath caught in his throat. “I, umm,” he hadn't thought this through.

Stars, she really is pretty.

“The, uh, first friendship rule is friends help each other. And you've been helping me a lot lately. So, umm, thank you.”

“You're welcome, little one.” She smiled, and it made Cory smile. He did that when he was nervous, but he would have smiled anyway.

“The second rule…” Cory let out a shuddering breath as he looked at Riker's face. Up close, she was just as pretty. He could see the texture of her false flesh, like pores on skin. He realized the facets in her eyes were more like hammered metal than gems. The smell of cloves and sweat was so close and so tempting.

He gulped. “Friends hug.” He just stopped thinking and jumped at her, arms aiming for her neck.

His hands barely grazed their target, but Riker's arms lifted him against her chest as she leaned back. He wrapped his arms around her neck, smiling as he felt the soundless song thrum through Riker's chest, bright and harmonious.

“If you wanted a hug, all you had to do was ask.” Cory could feel the muscles moving in Riker's neck as she spoke.

“I'll keep that in mind.” He took a deep breath of Riker's scent and let it out slowly.

After letting the hug linger, Riker's voice came again. “May I carry you?”

“For a bit.”

She supported him with one arm under him, keeping the other around his back as she stood. With the human's head still in the crook of her neck, Riker carried him out of the restaurant.

As the sunlight hit his face, Cory pulled back an arm to shield his eyes. “You know this doesn't change what I said about not being a floret.”

“I know, little one. I know.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 9:
No Shalam, No Shalom

The trip back to Riker’s hab unit after lunch with Mila had been nice, though Cory was still trying to wrap his head around the time he spent with Mila being his first date. Or his first kiss.

On the cheek, but still, wow.

Riker carried him away from the plaza until he felt like walking again, then, when he needed a break, Riker carried him again. They switched off like that more than a few times until they reached the hab, and eventually Riker became surprisingly adept at predicting just when Cory wanted to be carried - though she still asked before scooping him up.

As Riker and Cory settled onto the couch, they began talking. It was the first time they’d really sat down and just had a conversation during the whirlwind of events in the past day and a half. It was strange to think that it hadn’t even been two days since he woke up in the Affini Compact. After the incident at the diner, taking a bath with Mila, telling Riker about and then rescuing Monophylla, it felt a lot, lot longer. Now, Cory was happy to just take a minute to sit down and talk to the affini who had saved him. As human-like as Riker was compared to other affini, it didn’t make it any easier for him to actually talk to her. He didn't have a lot of practice talking with humans, either.

"So, uh, do you... have any hobbies or anything?" he asked, mentally cringing at himself for asking such a cliché question.

“Hobbies?” she echoed with a subtle smile, “I suppose you might say I enjoy cooking.”

“What do affini eat?”

“Strictly speaking, most affini don’t. I, however, have a biomoded tongue and pseudo-stomach that allow me to enjoy eating certain amounts of food. But it has been nice to cook for someone again since Rhamnus found Mila.”

Again?

It would be rude to pry, so Cory just glanced over the thought. “I like to cook too. I had some hand-me-down pans in my apartment. Maybe we could, like, cook together sometime? I don't know.”

“I’d like that, little one,” gold shined in Riker’s eyes. “Besides cooking, I also enjoy Terran produced media. Books, holomovies, holovids, and the like. I… perhaps have a slight fondness for terrans, as you may have noticed.” She lifted one hand, showing off her perfect recreation of human muscles in her upper and lower arm with a flex.

Big... Pretty… Strong… Lady.

“I noticed.”

How could we not notice?

Cory stifled a nasally groan and cleared his throat. “I like holovids and movies, too. And reading, but… mostly fan fiction.”

“I noticed from your belongings that you seem to enjoy physical mementos. Would you say that's accurate?”

“I, uh, yeah, I guess so.” Cory nodded sideways as he considered the question.

“Perhaps we could compile you physical editions of your favorite stories, then. Or perhaps a bible.”

Eww.

“Why would I want a bible?”

“You're not religious at all?” Riker asked suddenly, her eyes briefly pulsing with a silver sheen.

“Umm, no,” Cory shook his head, “Why?”

“Ah, please pardon my assumption. It’s just that you were mumbling something when I found you.” Her golden eyes shimmered with pink. “It was adorable. All of my searches for the phrases you said only pointed to religious texts. Something about, oh what was it?” Her head tilted as she thought, “Ah, yes. Four beasts and a pale horse?”

His face felt hot. “N-No, that’s from a song.”

“I see. My search didn’t return any songs matching those lyrics. You wouldn’t happen to have a copy, would you?”

“Oh, yeah. On my… communicator.” His words died in his throat as he patted his pocket where his communicator should be. It was where he had always kept his communicator since he first got one. As he looked down at the couch with a sigh, lamenting the loss of his communicator, Riker’s hand slid into view. Nestled in the palm of her hand was Cory’s communicator. It was clean of any of the glowing red muck that had splashed on it in the caves. “You found it?”

“Of course. It was with your personal effects when I rescued you.” Riker gestured for him to take the device from her hand. “I thought you’d like to have it back.”

“Thank you,” he smiled weakly, taking it from her hand with a nod.

“You’re welcome.” She moved as if to reach for him, but merely withdrew her hand.

Cory swallowed, trying not to imagine her petting him. Instead, he focused on the communicator and the fact that it wouldn't turn on. “I’ll need to charge it before I can play anything for you.”

“Theo?” Riker turned to where she knew his hologram would be. “Could you make me something to charge Cory’s communicator?”

“Certainly, Mum,” the AI said in its tinny British accent. “Waiting for you in the compiler.”

Riker stood to get it and Cory let her. It was probably fine; she could grab it and be back before he got halfway to the kitchen anyway. It didn’t mean he was becoming dependent on her. When she sat back down, he plugged his phone into the powerbrick and waited for it to boot up.

When it was ready, Cory opened the menu. “Is there any way for me to connect to the hab's speakers?”

Theo spoke again. “Simply activate your device's wireless protocols and allow me to handle the rest.”

Cory tapped the bluetooth symbol and a few seconds later the hab's speakers beeped. It was even easier than pairing his speaker at home.

“Here, let me just…” he tapped through menus until the sound of a dark wind rattled over the speakers.

“And I heard, as it were, the noise of thunder,” the gravelly voice spoke, “One of the four beasts saying come and see. And I saw.”

The acoustic country guitar kicked in and Cory’s head bobbed along, fingers tapping on his thigh. Riker listened and watched him with rapt attention and intrigue.

As the spoken word outdo ended, Riker clasped her hands together. “That was delightful! Where did you find this?”

“Oh… it was in a bunch of stuff I got from my mom.”

“Was your mother on Penthe as well? Perhaps we could--”

“No.” He snapped. “No, she's… she's on Earth. It's just me out here.”

“I see. Were you two close before you left?”

Cory sighed, turning to look at something else. Anything else.

The everpresent soundless song dipped. “I'm sorry,” Riker said. “I didn't intend to upset you.”

“It's whatever. I'm fine. Let's just listen to some more music, okay?”

“That sounds wonderful, little one.” Riker’s eyes and smile were both wide with anticipation.

“Good.” Cory scrolled for a second and queued up more songs.

There was a song about a woman named Dani who was some kind of priestess. Another about an iron man, and one about a man who thought he should have been a cowboy. Then a strange tune about a king of carrot flowers, and one about flying to the moon, Jupiter, and Mars. By the end of the playlist, Cory was smiling again. Blushing, even, as Riker mouthed along to the last chorus of the final song while the crooner sang, “I love you.”

When the music faded out, Riker looked like she couldn’t be more overjoyed. She seemed to take a deep breath and sigh wistfully, though Cory was certain by that point that she didn’t actually breathe. “Wonderful. Just… wonderful.”

Cory couldn’t help but smile. She really did seem to be enjoying the music, and watching her eyes shift through every color of the rainbow as she listened was like watching an ancient technicolor audio visualizer.

“Ooh, how about this one?” Cory asked, stopping the scrolling list of songs with his thumb. “It’s kinda sad, but… I mean, I really like it.”

There was a warmth in Riker’s golden-eyed smile as she said, “Then I’m sure I’ll love it too.”

He pressed the play button and closed his eyes. The familiar melody of “You Are My Sunshine” began to play. Cory slowly bobbed his head along to the tune. He took a deep breath and started to sing. “The other night dear, as I lay sleeping, I dreamt I held you in my arms.”

As Cory kept singing, an unsettling stillness crept into the room. Something was wrong.

“When I awoke, dear, I was mistaken,” he continued. Everything felt still. Deadly still. “So I hung my head--”

Something's wrong.

Cory opened his eyes. Riker was sitting perfectly still, her eyes impossibly deep pools of navy blue and darkening by the second. Cory could usually get a good idea of where Riker was looking, but now her face was blank and her eyes were completely unfocused. She had a thousand yard stare.

“And I cried…” Cory finished the lyric automatically, his voice dying in a whisper. The singer continued on without Cory, the twangy guitar echoing off the walls of the hab. “You are my sunshine, my only sunshi--”

The entire couch jerked violently, sending Cory reeling into the cushions as he lost his balance. He gasped and gripped the couch, hand sinking into a cushion as he steadied himself. Pushing himself upright, Cory saw Riker’s face twisted in anguish, her eyes closed as she ran away from the couch. He turned and watched in stunned silence as she bolted out of the room, hugging herself.

“Riker?” Her name fell out of his mouth, heart twisting in his chest. What had he done wrong? What did he do to make Riker run away? “Riker, I’m sorry!” He called the words after her as the immense cloud of guilt washed over him.

It seemed like he sat there forever, wallowing in his guilt long after the song ended. The blame and guilt rained down on him, soaking him to the bone until some part of his brain prodded him to action.

We have to apologize!

Cory dropped off the couch as softly as possible into the blue grass of the carpet and trekked across the room toward the hall. “Theo?” he called out to the ceiling, “Where’s Riker?”

The hab’s speakers let out a discordant tone. “Error, location of Miss Riker is unknown.”

Cory squinted at the ceiling, vaguely where he imagined Theo’s voice to be coming from. “What do you mean ‘unknown’?”

Theo was silent for a moment. “Miss Riker’s biosignature does not appear on any of my sensors. Nor does she appear in any of my surveillance lenses. And no record exists of her leaving the hab. This is quite peculiar, I must say.”

Cory swallowed the lump in his throat. “So where is she?”

“I’m sorry, young Master. I’m unable to discern that at the moment.” An emulated hum rang from the speakers. “I believe it would be best for me to relieve myself of non-critical functions and run a level three diagnostic. If my systems prove faulty, I’ll be of no use to anyone, least of all you. In the meantime, I suggest you continue searching for Riker manually.”

“I--” Cory blew air from his nose. If Theo deactivated, then he’d be even more alone than he already was. But that was fine. How long had he spent alone before meeting Riker? “Fine.”

“Everything will be alright, Cory,” Theo reassured him. It was almost unsettlingly expressive. And then, with a chime, Theo no longer responded.

Now in completely and utter solitude, Cory passed by his room first, looking in and seeing that Riker obviously wasn’t there. Continuing down the hall, he put his hand on the door to Riker’s office. Stepping inside, he was immediately drawn back to the glass display case full of scaled down spaceships, but Riker wasn't in her office either. Failing to find Riker there, he continued down the hall to one of two rooms he’d yet to enter: Riker’s bedroom.

Cory knocked on the door and called out her name. “Riker?”

Silence.

“Riker?” He knocked again, “Riker, I’m sorry.”

He put his hand on the door as he leaned against the frame. The door, not caring for his lack of intention, opened anyway. He slowly crept inside, hands wringing anxiously as he looked around Riker’s bedroom. It felt so wrong.

As a child, Cory had always felt welcomed to enter his parents’ bedroom. He spent much of his childhood in that room, maybe even more than his own bedroom. This felt like walking into his father's bedroom after the divorce. It felt verboten.

“Riker?”

It was a very Terran room, all things considered. There was a giant four poster bed in the middle of the room that looked like something Cory had once seen in an antique store before leaving Earth. The mirror-topped dresser and the nightstands both matched the bed. Between the massive furniture and the flowery cotton curtains hanging over the windows, not to mention the eerie deja vu of his parents’ bedroom, it almost felt like Cory was a kid again.

Riker wasn’t in her bedroom, though, and there was only one more door he could open in the hab. Cory backtracked down the hall and opened the bathroom door with a slap of his palm. It felt silly, but it was his last option, wasnt it?

The affini don’t go to the bathroom, do they?

Riker barely fit through the door in the first place, making the act feel even more silly. Cory wasn’t surprised that she wasn’t there, either. With his options running dry, Cory messaged Mila.

[Unit-02]: hey
[Unit-02]: can affini turn invisible?
[peppermintprincess]: some have pretty good camouflage. why?  
[Unit-02]: I can’t find Riker  
[peppermintprincess]: ???  
[Unit-02]: we were listening to music and idk she just stormed out of the room and now i can’t find her 
[peppermintprincess]: you want me and Mister Rhamnus to come over  
[Unit-02]: nah it's fine probably idk don’t wanna bother you

Putting his tablet back in his pocket, Cory sighed. He couldn’t ask Mila or Rhamnus for help. Not to clean up a problem he made. It was his fault that Riker was gone, after all. A fact that felt driving into his head like a spike.

With only one option left, Cory turned his attention to the door that had plagued his thoughts since he woke up in Riker’s hab for the first time. The door across from his room, giant and affini sized, with a smaller human door inset. The perplexing scrawl of what must be words taunted him with its secrets.

You think she’s in there?

Where else could she be?

Cory approached the door again, pushing his palm to it. He tried the human door, then the affini door, then the frame, and everywhere in between. The door refused to budge. He couldn’t find Riker. Theo was out of commission. He was all alone. Worst of all… it was all his fault.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he pounded his palms against his head. The pain always helped.

She'll be back. It's gonna be okay.

Cory bit back his tears and opened his pad.

[New Conversation with chairhopper]
[Unit-02]: Riker?  
[Unit-02]: Riker please where are you?  
[Unit-02]: i’m sorry  

“Fuck,” he spat under his breath, sniffling back the tears.

With no response and no sign of Riker, Cory climbed back up onto the couch to wait for her, curling up where the couch smelled most like cloves and sweat. Lying at the end of the massive couch like that triggered a memory he thought he had forgotten. Suddenly, he was a child again, curled up on the end of the couch in his childhood home, snuggled near his mother as she napped. Her head rested at the far end and her legs were propped up on cushions, feet hanging above him like a mobile. He was happy there and he was safe.

Only he wasn't there, and Mommy wasn't here.

He didn’t know how long he waited for Riker, or how much he cried, or when he fell asleep, but he woke up the next morning in his bed, glasses safely on his nightstand and the quickly-becoming-familiar white moth plushie in his arms.

Cory certainly didn’t remember going to bed. He wracked his brain as he sat up and hugged the white moth plushie to his chest. All he remembered was sharing music with Riker, then she was gone, and then he had cried on the couch. He certainly didn’t remember taking his clothes off last night, either, but he wasn’t going to think too hard about that.

Eyes still full of sleep, Cory threw on some clean clothes from his laundry basket and wandered out into the living room to find Riker standing in the kitchen. The warm smell of breakfast floated on the air.

She's back!

And she was cooking?

“Cory! Good morning, songbird” she smiled over her shoulder, still standing in front of the stove. “Come to the table, your timing couldn’t be better.”

Cory’s heart fluttered. What did she call him?

Riker moved something from the pan on the stove to a plate on the counter - a counter too high for Cory to see - and then moved the plate to the table. She stood there waiting with folded hands until he made his way over.

With his permission, Riker lifted him and sat with him in her lap so he was tall enough to reach the food she set on the table. It was a much simpler breakfast than the Big Slam he had eaten the day before - just some waffles and bacon strips with syrup and butter - but it looked and smelled even better. It looked homemade.

The drool was already pooling in the corners of Cory's mouth. “You made this?”

“I did. I compiled the waffle batter and raw bacon, but I cooked it.”

“I…” he was awestruck, unsure how to respond. “Thank you.”

Nobody's cooked for us since we were a kid…

“You’re welcome.” She gave his legs a little squeeze into her. “I would have preferred to mix the batter from raw ingredients, but I’ve been asked to assist with processing the refugees from the mining colony,” Riker explained as she held Cory in her lap, “Even with a few vets from the other districts, the process is still going much slower than we’d all like. And Terran health is my area of expertise. Unless you need me to stay with you, of course.”

Cory hesitated, then shook his head. “I'll be fine. I oughta be able to handle a day without you if I'm gonna be independent, right?”

“A reasonable position,” she chuckled, “Now, you should eat before it gets cold.”

“Right.” The silverware was right there next to the plate. All he had to do was pick up the fork and--

What if she fed us? Like Oakley feeds Mila.

If Riker fed Cory like a floret his chances of independence would drop to zero. Did he want that to happen? Absolutely not!

“Cory?” the angel's voice called down from Heaven, “Are you alright?”

He realized he still hadn't reached for the fork. “I, uh, yeah,” he stammered and picked up the fork, “Sorry.”

The first bite of fluffy, crunchy, buttery, syrupy, waffle made Cory hum, slamming his fist on the table in an effort to hold the moan. It tasted even better than it looked. The pan-fried bacon was perfectly savory and sweet, caramelized and meaty. It was even better than the bacon on his burger had been, though it didn’t elicit the same reaction as the waffles.

After regaining composure, Cory continued with slow, even bites. Each bite or two was finished and swallowed before the next, instead of shoveling food into his mouth like he was used to. He didn't need Riker to pace his eating. He was independent.

When the delicious breakfast was eventually finished, Riker set Cory back on the ground. Before he could even offer to bus his dirty dishes, Riker had already ferried them to the compiler across the room and decompiled them with the press of a button. She was just too fast.

“Thanks...” Cory mumbled.

“You're welcome,” Riker smiled. He couldn't help but smile back. “Now, if you need anything while I'm out, don't hesitate to message me, alright?”

“I'll be fine.” He took a deep breath to sigh and roll his eyes, but instead just let it out and looked up at her. “But if I need to, I will.”

“Thank you.” She reached down with one hand before stopping mid motion. “Well, I suppose I'll see you this evening, then.”

“I'll be here,” Cory forced a smirk and wagged his hand with the monitoring band in the air.

And then, Cory was alone.

Chapter Text

Chapter 10:
Scars From Tomorrow

With Riker's departure, Cory was faced with an insurmountable task: he had to decide what he would do now that he was alone. He had already eaten breakfast, narrowly avoiding being fed in the process, and it wasn't like he had a job to go to. Unless he wanted to go find one. For fun. He snorted a laugh at the very idea.

Like we wouldn't exchange labor for headpats. Maybe we could find a job we actually like now that we aren't forced to work.

Exchanging labor for affection wasn't something Cory would ever do, no matter how amazing the waitress at the sandwich shop made it look. Regardless, he decided to head for the door. But as he approached it and held his hand out, he hesitated.

“Theo?” Cory called out, his hand quaking mid-reach.

The blue light of Theo's hologram shone from behind Cory. “Yes, sir?”

“Am I… allowed to leave?”

“Of course.” The door opened in front of Cory, a warmth radiating from the artificial sunlight streaming on the carpet between him and the door. “You've the same freedom to roam the ship as any other independent sophont.”

Cory stood there, staring through the massive, open door. Everything outside was so green. Even just looking out, he could see how much more alive the ship was compared to the mining colony, or even his memories of Earth. Somehow he felt even smaller without Riker next to him, feet rooted to the floor as he stared out.

“Is something the matter, young Master?” Theo’s voice called from above.

“No,” Cory shook his head softly. “Nothing.”

“I see. It’s just that you’ve been standing in that spot for nearly five minutes now. Perhaps I could provide you directions to the temporary habitation block established for the other terrans rescued from the Penthe mining colony? Or perhaps a list of points of interests that you may care to visit aboard the ship?”

“No, that’s… That’s fine.”

Cory continued to stand in the silent void left by Riker's absence. His mind flowed through a slurry of thought, from recognizing that Theo's hologram hummed softly in the quiet air, to the sound of birds chirping in the distance outside, to what else might lie beyond the towering archway. What might he do out there? What horrors

or wonders

might he find?

“It's intimidating, isn't it?” Theo's voice gently parted the silence.

“I,” Cory sucked a sharp breath, “Yeah.”

Theo's hologram moved until it was floating next to Cory, as if standing in solidarity with him. Shoulder to holographic shoulder. “The Cymbidum may be a modest rapid response vessel by Affini Compact standards, but that doesn't make its size any more manageable to you, does it? It's a massive ship. I know, despite being able to see only a fraction of this single habitation ring.”

Cory nodded. Despite his excursions with Riker, he still had trouble wrapping his head around just how big the ship really was.

“A whole new world has opened up before you, brimming with endless options and opportunities. It must be so exciting,” Theo’s wave animated excitedly in Cory's periphery, “but I can only imagine how overwhelming this all must be for you.”

Cory gulped and nodded again, still looking out on the green expanse.

“Might I offer a word of advice, Cory? A…suggestion, perhaps?”

“Sure, Theo. Shoot.”

“Go for a stroll. Take in what the sights and sounds that the Cymbidium has to offer at your own pace – however quickly, or slowly, that pace may be.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s what I would do.” Theo paused for a moment. “And Miss Riker’s hab and I will be here awaiting your return.”

“Okay.” Cory took a deep breath and stepped forward until he was outside, awash in the artificial sun. He turned back to look inside, barely able to make out Theo's hologram in the daylight. “Thank you.”

“You're quite welcome, sir.” And just like that, the door slid shut.

Cory took in his immediate surroundings. The patio was still as nice as he had thought on prior glances, its solid slab of deep blue river rock surrounded by a just-over waist high safety rail. Beyond that laid a green lawn with patches of clover and flowers, with a split rail fence separating it from the road at the end of the path leading away from Riker's home. It was down this path Cory walked, admiring the mums and lilies lining it on his way to the road.

Likewise, he admired the greenery growing into and around the chain link fence bordering the opposite side of the road. He had seen it all before, but now, moving at his own pace without any destination, he could appreciate the absurd variety of plants and trees with leaves in shapes and groupings he had never seen. Thankfully, the affini and other individuals

I think ‘sophonts’ is what people are called here?

gave him a wide berth as he meandered next to the fence, letting his fingers pluck from one link to the next as his hand dragged on the fence behind him.

He continued at that leisurely pace for some time, enjoying the warmth of the artificial sunlight and the cool shadows of the canopy reaching out above him. Even looking up at the buildings on the other side of the ship had become much less disorienting since the first time he tried. But his attention was soon caught by the sound of a dog yelping on the other side of the fence. When it yelped again and let out a high-pitched whine, Cory stopped and peered through the fence and the foliage.

Through a gap in the greenery, Cory spotted a clearing in the wild woods on the other side, and in it was an affini and a big fox-wolf xeno. A xenra. Cory's breath hitched in his throat as he realized that he was seeing something he maybe shouldn't.

The teal-haired xenra was bent at the waist, standing on all four paws, as the affini behind it tugged the xenra's bushy white tail skyward. They yelped again as the affini drove its hips forward, driving the xenra to make a ridiculous face of pleasure. Their eyes rolled back, and their tongue lolled out of their open-mouth smile, their head bouncing as they whimpered with each thrust the affini drove into it.

Stars, this is hot.

Cory’s thighs clenched at the downright titillating sight, his fingers curling around the fence as he tried to lean in further. He yearned to see more. But he froze like a statue when the affini stopped and turned its head right at him.

“I think we have an audience, my precious Lapuline,” the affini purred.

Lapuline, the xenra, blinked, all three eyelids fluttering. “Whuh?” A vine slithered down to stroke the canid’s jaw before ultimately pointing directly at Cory. “Ohhh.”

The vine scratched under their chin as the affini continued. “Would you like to ask them to join in on your fun?”

“Hnnngghh!” the Lapuline groaned as the affini leaned into them again, slowly. “Yes, Mistress!”

“Then fetch, little pet.”

Lapuline wiggled their hips and shot off like a rocket at Cory, bounding the gap in only a handful of four-legged strides until their fingertips pressed into the grates of the fence. The draft that flowed reeked of leather, smoke and raspberry, which Cory barely noticed when he toppled over backwards as the fence bulged out at him.

“Hi!” the xenra shouted, just about roaring as their tail wagged despite the vines still wrapped around it. “I'm Lapuline Lazulus, third floret, she/her! Do you wanna play? You look real fun!”

Cory pushed himself to his feet just as the affini made her way over. Her green body was framed with serrated tear-shaped leaves all along the green-blue spectrum of Lapuline's teal hair. Before her fronded vine could reach him through the fence, Cory gave a yelp of his own and bolted back down the road toward Riker's hab.

He'd slowed to a steady walk by the time he reached the porch, and the door opened automatically for him as he approached. The brisk, almost misty nature of Riker's hab was welcome to cool down his blushing face as he stepped through the living room and into the room he had been given. He booted up his computer, more out of habit than anything else, as he sat down, his frustration only growing as the icon for his Consensus Chat spun in a futile attempt to connect to anything resembling a server. Resigned to the fact that he would likely never be able to access Consensus again, Cory pulled out his tablet.

[Unit-02]: hey
[peppermintprincess]: what's up?
[Unit-02]: so like
[Unit-02]: how common is it for people here to just fuck in front of each other?
[peppermintprincess]: lol why?
[Unit-02]: because I've been here like 3 days and this is the second time I've seen two people I hardly know fucking each other
[peppermintprincess]: what's the matter? cant stop thinking about it?

“Raughh!” Cory let out a frustrated groan to the ceiling.

[Unit-02]: no
[peppermintprincess]: so what are you gonna do about it lol

He tossed his tablet down on his desk, watching it spin on the fake wood as the screen populated with a series of emojis from Mila

[peppermintprincess]: 😊
[peppermintprincess]: 👋
[peppermintprincess]: 🍆
[peppermintprincess]: 💦
[peppermintprincess]: 😳
[peppermintprincess]: 😌

So what are we gonna do about it?

He sighed and rolled his eyes. Yeah, fine. He'd do the same thing he always did about things like that. He brushed his tablet aside and took hold of the mouse. A double-click in the ‘empty’ corner of his desktop opened his spank bank. All things considered, it felt fitting to open the \fur subdirectory where he was welcomed by myriad thumbnails of anthropomorphic wolves and foxes that reminded him of the xenrani, save for lacking horns and tertiary eyes.

His idle left hand became the devil's plaything as his right worked to open image after provocative image across the breadth of three monitors. His fingers idly rubbed at the growing bulge in his jeans as he scrolled through image after image, ceaselessly chasing something to scratch the moment's particular itch. He landed on a picture of a wolf woman covered in brown fur and a purple mane, his breath scratchy in his open mouth as he released his four inches from their denim prison.

Hey, that kinda looks like… that xenra from the train.

Cory sighed, wishing that part of his mind would be quiet for once as he inverted his hand and gripped himself between his thumb and index finger, wrist twisting up and down.

Tsundra! Their name is Tsundra.

Why wouldn't it just be quiet? Cory scrolled the brown and purple wolf away, switching to another monitor and scrolling until a white fox with red hair piqued his interest. His breath quicker along with his left hand as he imagined what he might do with the fox - or what she might do with him.

Whoah, she looks like Riker, doesn't she?

“Would you please just shut up?” Cory grumbled, hand losing fervor.

What? She does.

She certainly did. The fox on his screen bore a striking resemblance to Riker, not just in her white fur and mop of red hair, but in her lightly muscular arms and toned abs that showed even though her fur. But that didn't mean he wanted to think about Riker that way.

Why not? She's hot, isn't she?

Of course she was. She was beautiful. Gorgeous. Sexy.

Then why are you acting like she doesn't get our dick h--

“Shut up!” Cory boomed, his voice echoing in the empty room.

Cory jumped as Theo's hologram projected from somewhere in the ceiling vines. “Is everything alright, sir? Do I need to contact Miss Riker?”

“Holy stars, Theo!” Cory scrambled to cover his indecency. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“Apologies, Sir, but the need to ensure your safety overrides the importance of your privacy.”

“I-- Whuh--” Cory's face flushed even further than it had been, “Were you watching me jerk off?!”

“No, Sir!” Theo’s hologram pointedly turned itself away from Cory, still at an awkward angle. “No more so than I monitor any other part of Miss Riker's hab at any given time.”

“Well… stop!”

“I’m sorry, Cory, but looking after you in Miss Riker’s absence is one of my primary functions. I can no more stop monitoring your well-being than you can stop breathing.”

Cory took a deep breath.

“Sir?” Theo turned back toward him.

He held it.

“Young Master, I must insist…”

And kept holding it.

“Cory, this is rather childish, don’t you think?”

He held a hand over his mouth and nose, ignoring the flashing yellow light on his cuff.

“I suppose Miss Riker would be able to help, if you are having trouble respiring.”

Cory let out his breath, sucking a gasping breath, then another, and a third before finally starting to slow down.

Aww, why’d you stop?

“See… I can… stop breathing… for a minute,” he panted. “I think you can,” he took a deep breath through his nose and let it out slowly from his mouth, “give me a few minutes of privacy now and then.”

Theo’s hologram floated stilly for a moment before he spoke again. “I… suppose I can. Though I will still be monitoring the readout of your monitoring bands to ensure your safety. Is this an amicable compromise?”

“Yeah that’s… fine.” It wasn’t as if Riker didn’t have access to his cuff already anyway.

“Very good.” Theo emulated clearing his throat. “I suppose I’ll just leave you to… your enrichment.”

When Theo’s hologram blinked out, Cory sighed, letting his shoulders droop as he leaned back on his chair.

Pick up where we left off?

Not a chance. Cory closed each of the image windows and instead opened his music player, letting anything he had on hand spew out from his half-blown speakers. Songs from his library of purchased, pirated, and inherited songs played one after another, shuffled with no real sense of theme or order. Just the way Cory liked it.

In the meantime, Cory picked up his tablet and swiped Mila’s emoji pileup away. It was easy enough to find the Cymporium app store

Not really a store if you don’t have to pay for anything, is it?

and start browsing. He didn’t need the ride service, Tuber, the time management app, Thymesaver, and he definitely didn’t need the Affini dating app called Plantr. The games section had an oddly high number of simplistic and childish memory and matching games, all with cute motifs, like those one might put on a communicator meant to entertain a preschooler. Those were followed by a glut of puzzle games that all seemed to promise pictures of “cute florets'' upon completion. In the end, Cory found three games that held his interest.

Gardens of Everbloom saw him playing with others to place tiles on a desolate map to “terraform the planet to make it safe for the sophonts”, collaboratively deciding where to build infrastructure, housing, and gardens as the different tiles connected in a hexagonal grid. In Happy Rookari, Cory used the touch screen to slingshot an affini through the air to complete physics puzzles and domesticate flocks of avian xenos. The final game, Among Them, was another multiplayer game and the one he played longest. Colorful, cartoony terrans ran around a Cosmic Navy ship doing a variety of assigned tasks, while a handful of undercover florets worked to covertly subdue the crewmates and sabotage their efforts until the Affini arrived lest they be thrown in the brig. No matter how many times he played, the game inevitably ended with the hundreds of Terran crewmembers being domesticated.

When his stomach rumbled, or maybe just when he got bored of the games, Cory headed out to the kitchen and asked Theo to make him some lunch. As he went to grab the pizza from the compiler, he saw the contact card from Tsundra pinned to the side. When he got back to his room, Cory tapped their chat handle, @SunderingYou, into a new message and started on the pizza.

But as Cory sat there, swiveling his chair and staring at the unsent message that would start a conversation with Tsundra, his eyes couldn't help but wander to the mystery staring him in the face from across the hall. Closing his pad without sending the message, Cory left it and the half-eaten personal pan pizza on the desk and headed into the hall.

The mysterious door that was invisible to the hab’s AI stood tall in front of him. For the sake of being thorough, he tried to open the door with his palm again. First, he put it on the human-size inset, then the affini size outer door. Neither worked.

Huffing, he opened his pad and took a picture of the golden writing engraved on the door. Just as he was about to send it to Mila to ask her about it, his pad suggested an app.

[SYSADMIN]: I see you’re trying to read Xenrani (Quani Dialect). Would you like help with that?

Cory shrugged, “Fine, whatever,” and hit the download button. He opened the newly-installed translation app and took another picture.

[TRANSLATION INPUT]: ひﾘﾶﾚｱひ 
[TRANSLATION OUTPUT]: Imzadi 

“What’s ‘imzadi’ mean?” Cory asked nobody in particular. Then he remembered that the entire hab was a quote-unquote helpful AI. “Hey, Theo! What’s ‘imzadi’ mean?”

Theo’s hologram projected to his side and spoke before Cory turned to face it. “Unknown.”

Cory rolled his eyes. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, sir!” The hologram flickered out.

[Unit-02]: hey mila what’s imzadi mean?
[peppermintprincess]: no idea. why?  
[1 attachment from Unit-02]  
[peppermintprincess]: oooo dirt 
[peppermintprincess]: sorry no idea cutie

A few minutes later, Cory’s pad dinged again.

[peppermintprincess]: don’t forget the backdooooor ;)  

Backdoor?

Cory had tried all the doors in the hab though, hadn’t he? Bedroom, office, bathroom…

The bathroom…

Just a few steps away, he put his hand to the bathroom door and crept inside. When the door closed behind him, he spoke. “Theo?” When no response came, he tried again. “Theo!”

Again, no response.

He stepped a bit more briskly without Theo's omnipresent eye watching. The sink was still covered in cosmetics and the mirror was still black as a foggy night. Undeterred, he kept moving deeper into the room.

And there it was. At the far end of the bathroom, near the tub, was exactly what he was looking for. Another, nine-foot tall, door. The backdoor. The bathroom was right next to whatever lay behind the mystery door, so this door must go to that room as well, Cory reasoned.

Approaching the door, Cory noticed a loose panel on the far side, hanging off ever so slightly. He reached out to grab it, but as soon as he did, he felt his thumb sink into something sticky. His entire arm immediately curled away in revulsion, but curiosity got the better of him and he sniffed it.

Peppermint.

Pulling the panel back from a less sticky spot, Cory peered into the inner workings of the door. It looked almost biomechanical, with vines and leaves grown into gears and actuators. Two vines, hanging right in front of him, were tied together in a bow, the tips of either end dry and frayed where a connection was once severed. Pushing the panel back and popping it all the way on, Cory sucked his thumb clean before pressing his hand on the pad attached to the doorframe.

The door opened.

The lights flickered and hummed to life, bathing the room in a sterile looking, green tinged light. Peering inside, it looked like a museum exhibit. Star maps and charts adorned the walls. A man in a red and black uniform that Cory didn’t recognize, rugged and handsome with his beard, stood in an eternal watch from the poster above a huge bed, his pose heroic, adventurous, and dignified. Hanging from the center of the ceiling was a gigantic model ship unlike anything Cory had ever seen. It was easily ten feet long, sleek with a slender body connecting a saucer to two long tubes. The way it was hanging made it look like it was swooping through space dramatically. It wasn’t Terran, it wasn’t Rinan, and it didn’t look flowery enough to be Affini. So what was it?

Why does it look familiar?

A sense of unease seeped into Cory as he stepped into the room and took his first breath of the stale air. As he stepped into a dustless spot on the floor that could only be one of Riker's footprints, he realized that there was a layer of dust on everything. The floor, the desk and chair, even the model ship, were all caked in dust. How long did something have to sit to accumulate so much dust? Months? Years?

The longer he stood in the abandoned bedroom, the less it felt like a museum.

He was standing in a tomb.

And yet, there was an irresistible urge to walk in Riker's footsteps. Or, rather, walk to the end of one footstep, then hop to the next. He didn’t want to leave his own marks in the dust, after all. Despite his curiosity, he felt like an intruder in a holy place as each step echoed in the otherwise silent room until he finally reached the bed.

The bed was as low as his own, but at least twice the size from corner to corner. As he settled into the dustless spot that someone, presumably Riker, had made, his mind couldn’t help but wonder whose room this had been. The star charts, the poster, the ship hanging overhead. They all meant something to someone at some point, just as his posters and curios held meaning for him.

Lost in thought, Cory almost didn’t notice the leatherbound book sliding down the bed into the valley his weight made. It was worn

well loved

and the edges of the pages were yellowed with age, and yet it seemed to be the solitary thing that moved in the room that was otherwise frozen in time. His curiosity still unsated, Cory carefully peeled back the cover and started to read.

×=×=×=×

As I settled into the seat and pulled the straps around me tight, I looked over to the man in the seat next to me. There was barely enough room in the cockpit to breathe, but it still took great effort to scoot in his direction with all of the safety gear around me. I reached out and patted his forearm with my gloved hand before squeezing and holding it tightly.

“Boyscout, you good?”

Alex had been zoning out again. I’d seen it before, but was never quite sure whether he was clearing his mind, doing a dozen calculations in his head, or just freaking out. Even with all our time spent together, it never failed to give me pause.

He scoffed with a little smirk, pulling his eyes away from the window and the view of the blue-brown marble below to look me in the eye. “Yeah, Commander. Let’s do this.”

I regarded him with a concerned gaze, studying him for a moment before cracking a smirk of my own. “Let’s rock and roll.”

We both set to work performing the pre-flight checks. Fingers flew over buttons and switches, eyes across screens. Hull integrity. Power systems. Navigation. Comms. Jump drive. Green, green, green across the board. Satisfied, I smacked the headset covering my ear and waited for the pingback.

“Command, this is the pilot of the TXV Gamboler requesting launch clearance.”

After a few seconds, the response came in through both of our headsets. “Launch confirmed. On your mark, Commander.”

I took a deep breath and hit the button on the far end of my console. The arms that held the ship under the launch platform released their hold with a creaking groan and in a matter of moments, the Gamboler was slowly drifting away. Pilots had all kinds of different names for what came next. The Float. The Fall. Hell. But as the Gamboler started picking up speed, my smile only grew wider. Because this part? It was my favorite.

“Freefall achieved,” Alex relayed through the headset.

I heard him, but my eyes were closed. I was savoring the feeling of the butterflies floating up in my stomach as the ship slowly started tumbling faster. I had to, because it wouldn’t be long until--

“Warning! Pull UP!” The ship’s computer shouted at us.

My eyes popped open, hand shooting forward to smash the throttle. “Boosters engaged!” I called, yanking back on the yoke. The tail end of the ship spouted its nuclear fire as the nose turned away from Terra below, a ghostly ozone trail in our wake as we arced back out of the edges of the atmosphere. I couldn’t help but laugh when I turned to see my drive engineer plastered back in his seat.

“Still with me, Boyscout?” I reached over and rapped him on the shoulder.

He let out whatever breath he was holding on to and let his shoulders relax. “Every time?!”

I couldn’t hold back my grin. “Every time.” With the ship safely at cruising distance, I punched a few buttons on the console. “Gonna take her around a few times. Stretch her legs before we jump. Sound good?”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Alex nodded, his face softening back into a smile that betrayed his put-on annoyance as he pulled up the star chart on the screen in front of him. “I’ll let you know when.”

I gave him a nod in return and turned my attention back to the yoke. It would take him a few minutes to plot the jump and the jump drive needed to warm up anyway. But for me, that was plenty of playtime.

Only a dozen or so minutes later -- and as many trips around the globe -- Alex was back in my ear. “Ready when you are, Commander. Here’s your vector.” He slid the coordinates from his screen to my console.

“Roger roger.” I checked my heading and made my way to the jump point. Nearing it, I cut the engines and smacked my headset again as we drifted into position. “Command. How are we looking?”

After a few seconds, the same near-monotone voice answered back. “Landing pad prepped and waiting. On your--”

The voice cut out in a burst of static, and a different voice barked through the line as it cut in. “That is a twoooo quadrillion dollar piece of top-secret military hardware that you are hot-dogging and graaaandstanding in up there! Do you understand what SEE-CRIT means, Commander? Or are you some kind of mo-ran?”

I rolled my eyes at the dressing down. “I understand, Admiral. I was just--”

“Just lighting up every stars-damned radar array and surveillance outpost on Terra Firma! Do you have ANY idea how much time, and money, it will take to scrub that ship’s transponder pings from the records?”

I raised my hand, opening and closing it along with the Admiral’s tirade, causing Alex to cover his mouth to stop from laughing.

“This is a top-secret test of an experimental military spacecraft, Commander! Not a Sunday joyride in your grandpa’s jalopy! If anything, and I mean anything, happens to that ship of ours, I'll have you shipped off to Solstice so fast your head will spin like a malfunctioning gyroscope! Do I make myself clear, Commander!?”

It took some effort for me to hold back my indignant sigh. “Crystal, sir.”

“Gooood. And do not call me ‘sir’! I work for a living. Now you are diiiiismissed!”

After another break of static, Command was back on the horn. “As I was saying, on your mark, Commander.”

I turned my head to look at Alex, who nodded, and I rolled my shoulders, firming my grip on the yoke. “Alright, Command,” I smirked again, “See you at Ganymede Station.”

There was a stillness as the experimental jump drive spooled up, filling the cockpit with a soft, whirring hum. My thumb played at the cover over the red button on my yoke -- lifting the square, translucent dome just enough that it would fall back down, over and over -- as I watched the progress bar on my console march toward 100%.

When the drive was ready, I flipped the cover all the way off. My thumb caressed the button, an anticipatory smirk only tightening as I teased it. I shot a look at Alex. He nodded, and we both braced for the hypermetric kick. I took a deep breath. Held it. Let it out. My thumb pushed down the button with a satisfying click and…

Nothing.

“...Boyscout?”

Alex tapped away at the screen in front of him, the silence mounting in the absence of the whirling electromagnets in the jump drive. “I… I don’t know.” He looked at me with a little headshaking shrug.

I sighed and smacked my headset again. “Come in, Command. It looks like we've had a malfunction.”

I waited for the pingback.

And waited.

“Command. Come in .” My eyes ran across my console only to find nothing out of the ordinary. “Panel says comms are green but I can’t get a signal. Boyscout, can you run a diagnostic?” I looked above me, flipping a few toggle switches off and back on. “Boyscout. Alex!” When I turned to look at him, he was staring out the window again. Looking out the front of the cockpit, I immediately saw why.

The stars looked very different in a way that I couldn’t describe. That was until they started streaking and smearing across the sky.

“Oh.” I barely had time to process what I was looking at before it felt like my seat was falling out from under me. “Oh.”

A shiver ran up my spine as the butterflies welled up in my stomach again. It was like the Float, but better somehow. Better than it had ever been. It was like I was experiencing it for the first time all over again. But better. My breath hitched in my throat, and I couldn’t help but smile.

“Ah!” I gasped. “Ahah!”

I tried to hold back the feeling, but as the butterflies filled my belly and pushed the euphoria of negative Gs into my chest, I couldn’t keep myself from laughing. I cackled uncontrollably, the butterflies bubbling up into my throat as I watched the stars fall away.

And then I blinked.

×=×=×=×

As Cory started to lift the next page, he heard Riker calling his name, muffled through the giant door leading to the hallway. He cursed under his breath, carefully closing the journal and putting it back under the pillow where it seemed to belong. Moving with an agility that betrayed his heft, Cory hopped from one footprint to another and out the door back into the bathroom. He threw himself through with such haste that he ended up losing his footing and crashing to the (surprisingly soft) bathroom floor. Scrambling to stand, he rushed to the door and put his hand to its pad. Mercifully, the door closed again.

“Cory?” her voice called again.

He brushed himself off and jogged out of the bathroom and into the living room, where Riker was waiting. “Hey.” He blew a heavy breath.

“There you are! Is everything okay? Your monitor band alerted me about a spike in your anxiety level and you didn’t respond to my messages.”

“Oh, sorry…” he shrunk down, as if he didn’t already feel like an ant in Riker’s presence. He let his head hang a bit as he tried to look at his cuff inconspicuously. The light flashed yellow. “I was in the bathroom. Must have left my pad at my desk.”

“Ah, well, so long as you’re alright...”

Studying Riker’s face didn’t seem to reveal any suspicion, but it wasn’t like Cory was versed in affini body language or anything. “So… how’s everyone from Penthe holding up?”

“Surprisingly well, actually. Mostly expected ailments,” She continued, grabbing a mug from the compiler. “Below average number of ferals.”

“Ferals?”

“Oh, well,” Riker hummed as she sipped from the steaming mug, “Feral is a term used to describe individuals who… do not agree with the core tenets of the Affini Compact. Particularly the parts regarding allowing the Compact to… shape and guide their societies.”

“And what happens to these, uh, ‘ferals’?”

She stewed over her mug for a few moments longer before answering. “They are given permanent caregivers, who ensure their happiness.”

Like us?

Cory swallowed hard. “Like,” he hesitated, “Like I might be?”

Riker sipped from her mug, holding it close with both hands. “Yes.”

“Am I going to have a caregiver or whatever? Because of,” a breath steadied the quake of memory that ran through him, “What happened with Monophylla?”

Riker leaned back against the counter, still brooding over her tea, looking down at it instead of Cory. He slowly inched closer, hoping with every step closer, she’d say the words he wanted to hear.

“I don’t know…”

Cory sighed. Riker hadn’t been anything but honest with him so far. She’d taken care of him. Made him feel safe. So he had no reason to believe she was lying when she said she didn’t know. It only made the guilt in his gut over sneaking into the old bedroom twist even harder.

“You don’t know?”

“I'm sorry,” Riker shook her head. “All I can do is present my findings as your warden. My word should hold weight to the wardship committee, but they are the ones who will make the final decision.”

This committee would decide if he needed a caregiver, probably for the rest of his natural life? It made sense now why Riker told him to make a good impression on Mr. Oakley. He probably needed all the firepower in his corner he could get.

“For the record,” she continued, “You've not shown the slightest seed of feralism on a societal level. Your aversion to healthcare is rather concerning, however.”

We need help.

Cory bit his tongue.

“That being said,” she continued, “I believe if you can manage to reign in your health, physically, mentally, and socially, you have a very good chance at being declared independent.”

“And if I'm not? I get a permanent caregiver. I'm called some sort of invalid.”

“You won't be called anything like that. You'll be cared for, and cherished, and… loved.”

The gears spun in Cory's head, coming to a grinding halt as they found the catch. “A floret.”

Like the captain's nameless pet.

Like Mila.

She just nodded solemnly.

A pregnant silence hung in the air between them as it sank in. It wasn’t just a caregiver.

“Who's?”

“I've been thinking about that, actually,” Riker set her mug down and stepped off from the counter. She grabbed her pad from the table and knelt in front of Cory. She held it up, presenting a long, deeply complicated and legal looking form. “This is a ‘Notice of Intent to Domesticate’.”

Domesticate? Like some kind of… animal?

Something about that phrasing… in a contract…

It was…

Hot.

Cory felt his cheeks flush. “You want to,” he took a shallow breath, “domesticate me?”

“No, I-- It's,” it was Riker's turn to blush as her cheeks turned a rosy shade, shimmers of purple and blue briefly swimming to the surface of her eyes, “That's just what it's called when an affini takes a floret.”

His eyes went wide. He swallowed his gut reaction. “I… was under the impression that you didn't want a floret.”

“I…” Riker paused again and blue surged through her eyes, “It's complicated. “

Fuck, we struck a cord.

“But as your warden, my notice of intent would take priority over any other notices. Including those already filed.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that if you aren't declared independent, this will prevent you from falling into the vines of some other affini who might trample over any semblance of your autonomy.”

“And you'd do that for me?” something tugged in Cory's chest between the guilt and affection.

“I would,” Riker's eyes were back to gold with the scantest trickles of fuchsia swirling through them. “But not without your permission.”

Could he give that permission, though?

Yes.

The thought of being bound to another person, even an affini, by a contract was as exhilarating as it was terrifying, and shot a shiver down Cory's spine. But Riker was safe. She cared about him; she'd already stuck her leg out for him.

Say yes.

And he could do much worse, he supposed. Like Rosarum, who talked above him like he wasn't worthy of being acknowledged, or the captain who…

Bad shiver.

For stars sake say yes!

“Okay, fine. Do it.” The words came quickly before he could try and take them back. “Better you than Captain Clownshoes.”

Riker emulated a sigh and smiled. “I couldn't agree more, little one.”

As Riker picked up her pad and started filling out the form, Cory closed the gap between them. He moved slowly, tentatively, as he put his hand on the vines of her leg, feeling the texture under his hand as he stepped closer and closer until he was hugging her leg, his head resting on her hip.

His head swirled with thoughts of domestication. Of being a floret. Maybe like Mila, happy and content. Maybe like the captain’s floret, not even a person anymore. He just closed his eyes and took a deep breath, filling his head and chest with the scent of sweat and cloves. The scent of Riker.

Riker felt safe. She made him feel safe.

She’ll keep us safe.

She would keep him safe.

After basking in the feeling for a few minutes to quell all the swirling thoughts about being domesticated, he broke the silence. “Riker?”

The typing stopped. “Yes, songbird?”

“Is Monophylla going to be at my hearing?” He had nearly killed her. She would probably be the biggest influence on the hearing of all.

“I would think so, yes.”

“Has she rebloomed yet?” But maybe if he could talk to her…

Riker shook her head, “Not yet.”

He needed all the allies he could get. “Can we see her?”

Chapter Text

Chapter 11:
Hearts On Fire

The butter was already melting in the skillet when Riker pulled the hunk of burgundy meat out of the compiler. Keeping one eye on the pan to make sure the butter didn’t start sizzling too quickly as it came up to temperature, Riker used a knife to deftly slice the marbled meat into uniform three millimeter thick strips. When the pan was ready, Riker dumped the meat off the cutting board and stirred it around the buttery pan with a spatula. The meat was so thin and delicate that it would only be a few minutes until--

“The eggs!” Riker gasped, “Theo? Would you?”

The compiler chirped and Riker grabbed the two, Terran fist-sized, speckled green and brown eggs from inside.

“Thank you, Theo,” she sang.

The meat was browning nicely and when it had, both eggs were cracked into the pan. They fried in the mingling butter and meager amounts of fat from the meat and when the whites were firm, she slid the eggs and meat all onto a plate. Two thick slices of compiled bread found their way into the butter and fat and toasted up nicely to join the steak and eggs on the plate. 

A simple dusting of salt and pepper was more than the dish needed, but Riker knew how Terrans found certain flavors to be enhanced by a bit of sodium. She just hoped Cory liked it. The steak and eggs were cooked perfectly, she knew. It was one of the dishes she could cook with her photoreceptors closed.  It ought to be; she had cooked it nearly every morning for--

The chime of Riker's pad on the far end of the countertop drew her from her reminiscence.

[SolidAs]: Good morning, Asherah!
[chairhopper]: Hello, Rhamnus
[chairhopper]: I was just in the middle of cooking breakfast for Cory
[SolidAs]: Ah, doing his cooking for him now, are we?
[SolidAs]: I jest, I jest.
[SolidAs]: How are you and your little ward doing?
[chairhopper]: We’ll see
[SolidAs]: Oh?
[SolidAs]: Is everything alright?
[chairhopper]: It will be if they can stop scaring me half to rebloom
[SolidAs]: What happened?
[chairhopper]: It's silly, really. Not even worth mentioning.
[SolidAs]: Asherah…
[chairhopper]: Fine. But you cannot tell Mila
[SolidAs]: Of course.
[chairhopper]: Over the course of the night I received an alert from Cory's monitoring band regarding increased heart rate and rapid respiration. I thought he was having a panic attack or perhaps some kind of nightmare.
[SolidAs]: I take it that he was not.
[chairhopper]: No…
[SolidAs]: What was the cause of the alert?
[chairhopper]: They were consuming flornography.
[SolidAs]: He was masturbating!
[chairhopper]: RHAMNUS!
[chairhopper]: And please stop calling Cory “he”
[SolidAs]: Hmm?
[SolidAs]: Ah, yes. Mila mentioned something to me about that. 
[SolidAs]: She said something about “his eggs”, whatever that means.
[chairhopper]: ???
[chairhopper]: I'll have to ask her what that means. I've been meaning to speak with her regarding Cory in any case
[SolidAs]: They do look quite cute together, don't you think? My Mila seems rather taken with them as well.
[chairhopper]: I must admit that they were adorable sleeping in that booth

The compiler dinged beside Riker.

[chairhopper]: I'll keep you updated.

Cory stumbled out of the hallway. They had just woken, judging by their frazzled hair, t-shirt-boxer-shorts combo, and the bleary look in their eyes.

“Good morning, Cory.”

“Mmm,” they grunted. It would have been adorable if it weren't so concerning. “Mornin’.”

Riker took a step toward the table and pulled out a chair. She really did need to get one Cory could use on his own… “I made you some breakfast.”

“Mmm,” they grunted again as they walked to the compiler. “Smells good.” 

Whatever Cory pulled out, they held it to their chest as they shuffled away, back toward the hall.

“Would you like to eat it?”

“In a minute,” they called. Riker heard the bathroom door whisk closed.

“Theo, what did Cory just compile?”

Theo projected to face her. “A “bathroom scale”, Mum.”

“I see…”

[chairhopper]: What is a “bathroom scale”?
[SolidAs]: A moment.
[SolidAs]: Mila says Terrans use them to gauge their weight between vet visits.
[chairhopper]: Have to go. Talk to you later, Rhamnus

“Good morning,” Cory was much more articulate this time as he entered the kitchen.

“Good morning,” Riker smiled down at them, “Are you ready for breakfast?”

“Sure.” Cory altered their stance, ready for Riker to raise them to her lap. They were perhaps getting a touch too comfortable with the motion already.

“I hope you like it,” she said, pulling the placemat holding the plate and silverware into their reach.

Their arm moved like they were going to reach for the fork, but they stopped. It wasn’t the first time they’d frozen like that before eating. What she wouldn’t give to know why.

“Is everything alright, little one?” Riker gently nudged their arm forward.

Cory’s eyes fluttered awake as he looked around. “Huh? Oh… yeah. It looks good. What is it?”

“Stagryn steak and xenpala eggs. Two foods favored by the Xenrani. Though they usually eat theirs raw.”

“Xen--Xenrani?” he stuttered.

Everbloom, Cory was adorable. Riker should have figured that even mentioning the Xenrani could elicit such a reaction. Especially after reviewing their pad’s browser history. She’d never seen so much Xenrani flornography in all her blooms.

“Mhmm,” Riker made her best impression of a hum, “It’ll put a fire in your belly, as the Xenrani would say. I thought you’d appreciate the energy. If you still want to visit Monophylla and her floret this morning.”

“If you still think it’s okay.”

“It will be,” she reassured them.

Cory nodded. “Well, I guess I better dig in before it gets cold.” They reached out and picked up the fork, and took a piece of steak. The long, thin ribbon dripped with flavor as they put it in their mouth.

Stars and Everbloom, their reaction was to rebloom for. The poor thing had managed to become overweight primarily by eating synthcubes, and now they were finally getting real food. Their reaction was only natural, she supposed. Like having clean water after a lifetime of drinking mud. Riker watched as they hummed in delight, arms scrunching in and then their legs doing the most adorable little kicking as they were overcome, and wondered if every meal would be like this.

She didn’t think she’d mind if it was.

Cory finished their steak and eggs, though the eggs were much less fussed over, but they still hadn’t touched their toast when they asked to be let down.

“Little one? You aren’t finished yet, are you?”

“It’s fine. Thank you, but I’d,” they twisted to look down at the floor, their mouth seeming to work as they thought, “I'd like to wash up now.”

Riker had only known Cory for a few days, but something about them not finishing their meal didn't sit right. “Are you sure, dear?”

They just nodded in silence. 

“Alright,” she cradled them in her arms and lowered them to the floor. “I'll be here when you're done.”

As Cory walked away, Riker watched them with intent. When they were gone, her attention instead shifted to the toasted bread on the table, glistening with fat and butter.

Fat.

Weighing oneself.

Oh, little one.

[chairhopper]: I think Cory may be planning to rectify their health issues by depriving themself of sustenance
[SolidAs]: That doesn't sound like acceptable independent behavior.
[chairhopper]: Cory wants to be independent 
[SolidAs]: What do you want, Asherah?
[chairhopper]: Shut up Rhamnus

Riker drummed her fingers on the table, sending the fork on the plate rattling with every tap.

[SolidAs]: Whatever is going on, I think it would be best for you to nick it in the butt.
[chairhopper]: I believe the saying is “nip it in the bud”

She emulated a sigh, hearing the bathroom door open again.

[chairhopper]: It would be so much easier if Cory wasn't so averse to taking medication
[SolidAs]: Medication? I thought their aversion was to injections.
[SolidAs]: They've been gobbling up Mila's Class-E candy canes like, well, candy.
[chairhopper]: ???????

Another minute or two passed before Cory reemerged, carrying a bundle of the previous day's clothes to the compiler. His hair and beard were both combed, but in need of a few good washings, but that wasn't exactly a domesticatable offense.

Riker watched as he used his pad to start the decompilation, then open the compiler catalog to the clothing section. “Would you like some help deciding what to wear?”

“I'll probably just try to find something like what I always wear.” he scrolled through a selection of shirts, not finding what he was evidently looking for.

“You can wear whatever you want,” Riker moved to the edge of her seat. “You can do whatever you want--”

“Yeah, Mila already told me about not having to work or whatever,” they cut her off. 

Another affini might have taken it as some great offense, but Riker smiled. She liked the rough edges. And not just because they were something to be filed down.

“As I was saying,” Riker stood, slowly moving to stand next to Cory, “You can do whatever you want, so long as you aren't harming any sophonts.”

“I'm…  not?” They slowly turned to look up at her with one brow raised.

“That includes yourself.”

The glare Cory shot at Riker cut like a knife. “I’m not hurting myself.”

“You are, by neglecting your body’s needs for food.”

“I don’t get it!” they threw their hands up, dropping the pad. “First you want me to not eat so much, then you get mad at me for not eating? I mean, it’s bread. It’s just empty carbs.” Riker remained stoic as Cory tried to explain. “It’ll just raise my blood sugar and… and…”

So Cory did want to try and rectify their high blood glucose levels by altering their eating patterns. It was good to see them try to take on the problem, however misguided their solution was.

“Cory,” Riker gently placed both of her hands on Cory, “I have been an expert in the field of Terran physiology since before your people discovered flight. Do you believe that I would feed you anything less than a nutritionally balanced meal?”

“No,” the little one sighed, looking down. “I just…”

When they hesitated, Riker finished their sentence for them. “You want to let your body fix itself.”

Cory looked down at their hands, fidgeting with the hem of their shirt. "I just... I have to fix myself, you know? So they'll declare me independent. I don't want to end up like... like the captain’s floret."

Internally, Riker sighed. It would just be so simple if Cory would take the medication Pemphis had tried to give them. It would fix those problems that Cory wanted to mask by neglecting themself. And it would be so easy to force them to take it. So easy to pick them up and set them in her lap and force them to take their medicine like a good floret.

If Riker had a terran respiratory system, she would have gasped at herself for having the thought. Vines deep inside her body twisted. Forcing drugs on a sophont was antithetical to everything Riker believed, and Cory was emphatically not her floret.

“And you think that the way to achieve that is to deprive yourself of sustenance?”

“It worked before,” Cory shrugged halfheartedly.

“Little one,” she lowered herself, putting a hand on his shoulder, “That’s not a healthy way to deal with your issues. And I think we both know that it’s not a long term solution, is it?”

Their breath rasped as their jaw tensed, eyes diverting from Riker. They were practically shaking as their nose and brow twitched before finding the strength to speak. “I don't know what else to do.”

Her core ached for the poor thing as she pulled them in. “You can ask for help. That's what independent sophonts do in the Compact.”

“That’s,” they sniffled, “That’s not what being independent means.”

“Petal,” Riker looked down at Cory, using one finger to lift their chin until they were looking at her. “The Accord’s concept of independence is built on the falsehood of self-reliance and isolation. In the Affini Compact, your independence hinges on your ability to work with others to take care of yourself. It’s okay to ask for help.”

She watched as the little terran made the most adorable shiver, looking up at her. Eyes wide, mouth fighting against itself to open.

“What do we do?”

Riker felt her lip quiver as she stroked a thumb across Cory’s cheek. They were just so precious. Just a sweet little songbird with a broken wing, whom she could nurse back to health and take joy in watching them fly on their own again. One that had just learned to ask for help, too.

“My sweet little songbird…” the warm smile came effortlessly as her eyes rained shimmering golden light down on them, “I'm so proud of you for asking for help.”

Their face twisted in a way Riker hadn't seen on a Terran's face for a long time. Not by her word, anyway. A meager sound escaped Cory's throat as they nodded with crimson cheeks. 

“Your logic is sound, but your methodology is flawed,” she explained. “We are not limited by what you could eke out in the Accord. Reducing your caloric and carbohydrate consumption will benefit you in exactly the ways you expect, my clever little songbird. But we do not need to slash entire categories of food to achieve those results.”

“We don't?”

She shook her head gently. “No, little one. These foods are important both to your health and your happiness. I won't see you deprived when Theo can simply edit the properties of the food he compiles for you.”

Cory looked troubled by that realization for some reason. “That's… he can do that?”

A melodic chuckle resonated through Riker's chest. “Of course. If you had eaten a real stagryn steak, you would have a terribly difficult time processing all the excess vitamin A. So I merely had Theo edit the atomic structure. In the same way, he can edit the atomic structure of pizza or bread to reduce the caloric and carbohydrolic--”

“Will it fix me?” Cory interrupted, their beautiful brown eyes widening, their brows pushing together and lifting as they looked up at Riker. 

“In theory, it very well may. The terran body is so beautifully adaptable. That being said, it can also be horribly inelastic. If your body has already adapted to a high sugar diet and become resistant to insulin, for example, dietary changes may not be enough. But that is an incredibly simple thing for a vet to fix with a single injection.”

Their eyes lost focus as their gaze drifted away. “But… if I need fixed, that means my body isn't the way it's supposed to be and that means…” 

Riker rubbed a hand along the little one's back as they trailed off. The little cutie was so clever, so logical. But that cleverness might be betraying them as they became lost in thoughts of their own body. They seemed to be missing the timber for the logs.

The other hand raised Cory's face to meet hers again. “We'll burn that bridge when we come to it, little one. For now, just let me worry about it, alright?”

Cory sucked a wet breath through their nose, blinking away the glistening tears in the corners of their eyes. And they were smiling. It was the first time she could recall them smiling widely enough to see their teeth. They were yellow and crooked, but easily fixed if they wanted. It was a cute and endearing smile nonetheless. 

They laughed softly, still smiling as they spoke. “May the bridges we burn light our way.”

The hand rubbing Cory's back crept slowly, reaching greater and greater heights until it was petting from the top of their head down to the small of their back. Despite previous concerns against being pet, they leaned right into it. The contradiction left Riker intrigued, but not unhappy.

She continued petting her ward for a few minutes until she felt, in the most literal sense, that they had calmed down. “Now,” she said, removing her hands, “I believe you want to see Monophylla to build bridges, not burn them. Correct?”

“Yeah,” they nodded.

“Alright,” Riker picked the tablet up from where it had fallen on the floor, “So let’s pick out some nice clothes and go start building.”

×=×=×=×

Riker looked down from her pad as the tram hummed along the track toward the Garnet District of the Cymbidium’s terran hab ring. Watching her ward tapping away on their own pad as they traded messages dressed in the outfit they had picked out together was more than enough to bring a smile to her face. The outfit in question was a simple pink t-shirt and a pair of black jeans. While Riker would have preferred Cory to step a bit further out of their comfort zone, it was wonderful to see them wearing their favorite color. Even if she had had to dispel their anxieties over wearing pink.

Despite her smile, Riker was dealing with anxieties of her own. As far as she knew, Monophylla had not rebloomed and Riker was unsure how her floret, Becky, would react to Cory. Had anyone told Becky the truth about what had happened, or had they gone along with the soothing lie that Riker told her, then spread to her floretsitter Weetibix Triticum in case she asked any questions?

On top of that, was the Notice of Intent to Domesticate that she was staring at on her screen. It was completely filled out, of course - she had filled the form out in triplicate on the kitchen floor with Cory hanging off her hip like a… It didn't matter. What mattered was the fact that Riker had yet to file the notice.

It was undoubtedly in Cory's best interest. It was never even a question. She had been sure of it since she spirited them away from Rhamnus's injector at Jim and Sonny's. What was in question was whether Riker was ready to take on a floret should the worst come to pass. Her first real floret.

The pad chiming in her hand should have been a welcomed distraction from the impending worries she faced. Instead, it only peaked them further.

[peppermintprincess]: Miss Asherah? can i ask you something? 
[chairhopper]: Of course Mila

The bubble icon that indicated Mila was typing appeared for several seconds before disappearing. It appeared again, then disappeared, then appeared again before Mila finally sent her message.

[peppermintprincess]: why is the mirror in your hab fogged out?

Riker's mind drifted to that first day Cory had spent awake in her care. Theo's voice alerting her to the fact that Cory had been staring into the mirror for over three minutes. Her decision to set the mirror to fog mode.

[chairhopper]: There was a slight incident with Cory and the mirror
[peppermintprincess]: what kind of incident? if I can ask
[peppermintprincess]: please? 🥺
[chairhopper]: Cory had been staring into the mirror for several uninterrupted minutes before I had Theo turn the mirror off

The typing indicator shifted between states erratically again. While she waited for Mila's message, Riker looked down at Cory as they tapped away. They looked… troubled. Was Mila chatting with both of them? Was she telling Cory that it was her that had fogged the mirror? In any case, Riker swapped to a live view of Cory's screen. Their troubled look was enough justification. Probably.

As it turned out, Cory was not messaging Mila as she had expected. Instead, they were repeatedly drafting and deleting a message to @SunderingYou that would start the direct message chain. The unsent messages ranged from simple ‘hi's and ‘hello's to more intricate inquiries about ‘meeting up’ or about how pretty they thought they were. And Cory's apparent angst over sending the message made perfect sense. They were clearly attracted to the xenra; it was evident from their first interaction, even before Riker had discovered Cory's flornographic predilections. The poor songbird was just so terribly shy.

[peppermintprincess]: Miss Asherah i need to tell you something important 
[peppermintprincess]: about Cory
[peppermintprincess]: but dont tell him I said anything
[peppermintprincess]: please 
[chairhopper]: What is it, sweetie?
[peppermintprincess]: the other night when Mister Rhamnus and i came over to watch Cory i was the one that calmed him down
[peppermintprincess]: he didnt like it when i called him a good boy
[peppermintprincess]: but he liked it when I called him a good girl 

Riker looked down at her ward, who was still tapping away in growing frustration.

[chairhopper]: Cory told you that?
[peppermintprincess]: he didnt have to! he got all blushy and hidey when I called him a girl 
[peppermintprincess]: i think he's an egg, Miss Asherah

There was that word again.

[chairhopper]: Egg? I’m afraid I don't follow

Mila's typing icon appeared and disappeared a few more times.

[peppermintprincess]: it's like being a seed but for being a girl instead of a flort. i think he's a seed too but he doesnt want to be a flort and that's besides the point anyway 
[chairhopper]: I see
[chairhopper]: I admit I have similar suspicions myself. But I don't want to influence them one way or the other 

Another series of bubbles appeared and disappeared as Mila typed and erased. 

[peppermintprincess]: sometimes people need a push Miss Asherah

Riker looked down at Cory in his pink shirt as she mulled over Mila's words. It was not a decision Cory would have reached without her gentle nudging, this she knew. She had encouraged it. She'd given them that push. But one’s gender expression was much more intimate for a terran than it was for an affini, was it not? It was not as simple as a change of outfit.

[chairhopper]: There may be some truth to your words, dear
[chairhopper]: But I do not want to push them until I am absolutely sure
[chairhopper]: And I would like you to tell Cory about those candy canes of yours. He has chosen to avoid xenodrugs and you know my feelings on the subject.
[peppermintprincess]: but they make him feel better! do i have to?
[chairhopper]: If you don't, I will
[peppermintprincess]: siiiiiiiiigh okaaaaaaaaaay 
[peppermintprincess]: love you Miss Asherah byeeeeeee

As the train rolled to a stop at the next station, who should walk through the sliding double doors but Tsundra themself. They were one of the few xenrani on the Cymbidium who traveled out of the xenrani hab ring with any degree of regularity, and their musk was immediately recognizable as they boarded the train. The air around them dripped with their scent. Each xenra’s scent was unique to them, and Tsundra was no different. Theirs was primarily dominated by the heady scents of perspiration and sex, carrying slightly sour and astringent alkaline notes along with them. But it also carried undernotes of black licorice, honey, cardamom, and petrichor born of decaying roses. 

Riker heard Cory sniff loudly before looking up from his pad to see the object of his ill-fated message drafting.

“Hey, Shorty,” Tsundra plopped down into the seat across from them. “Figured you’da started chattin’ me up by now from the way you were eyeballing me the other day. Guess you been too busy with your new mommy.”

Beneath their bravado, Tsundra reeked of insecurity - quite literally. And yet, as Tsundra looked down at Cory, Riker sensed the scent of insecurity being quickly overshadowed by that of predation. They were hunting.

Riker had a fairly good idea as to their intended prey.

Tsundra’s musk, as relatively mild as it was, carried the same psychoactive pheromones as any other xenra's. Riker watched the monitor band readout in the corner of her screen shift in real-time as the musk influenced her ward's mental state, taking Cory from flighty to fawning as easily as they could pacify a stagryn. 

Cory nodded complicitly, driven by some combination of the musk's influence and their own timid nature, letting out a shy ‘Mmmmmmommy’.

Something in that display set Riker's core ablaze. Like fresh tinder laid across coals that had been smoldering for the better part of a thousand years. She told herself it would be fine, as her sap boiled. So long as no kindling found its way into the flames, the tinder would burn away in a flash and she would be fine.

“My ward,“ Riker tried to smother the embers in her core, “Has been busy adjusting to life in the Compact these past few days.”

Tsundra growled lowly and grinned at them with all of their forty-two teeth. “Fresh meat?”

Despite the pacifying pheromones, the readout continued to tick upwards. Cory’s heart rate and blood pressure increased as dopamine and oxytocin flooded their system. It almost felt like an invasion to monitor such things through the band, but it would prevent any more unnecessary scares over wayward carnal desires. And according to the band, that's exactly the response Tsundra instilled in Cory.

Carnal desire. Arousal.

Tsundra hummed lowly, hungrily eyeing the terran. “Must be one-a them stray pups that just got picked up, huh?” The question was directed at Riker.

“That's right. I, personally, rescued them from the Penthe mining colony.” Riker gently pressed Cory's back. “Isn't that right, Cory?”

The strangled hum that Cory managed as he pressed back into it was less than encouraging. Another tuft of tinder.

A thoughtful sound rumbled as Tsundra walked across the aisle and squatted down until they were face-to-face with Cory. They inhaled deeply, pulling Cory's hair like a breeze, before letting it out slowly, their hot breath fogging Cory’s glasses. “Oh, yeah, I can smell it on him.” They flashed another wolfish grin. “Ain’t all I can smell on ‘im, though.”

“You do have a rather potent musk,” Riker didn't lie, per se. She had rarely lied before telling Becky about Monophylla, and she certainly didn't intend to make a habit out of it. Telling Tsundra that their musk was strong was more like… flattery. 

“No oh ho,” chuckled Tsundra, “I ain't putting nothing in my musk that'd have him riled up like this.”

“-'m nawt--” Cory tried to protest. Tsundra just laughed in their face, thick strings of saliva bridging the xenra’s maw from upper teeth to lower.

“Cute!” they roared. “But I can smell how much you want this, pup. Sure as I can smell that stagryn on your breath.” They nearly purred as they sniffed again, breath fogging Cory's glasses anew. “You're sweet on everything Xen, ain't ya?”

The sound Cory made was one of utterly overwhelmed confusion. It might have been a good time to intervene, barring the fact that the band readout was holding steady. Probably not afraid, probably a little anxious. Definitely aroused. They were fine. Entirely okay, if flustered. From a purely physiological standpoint, Cory was enjoying this very much.

“How ‘bout I take ya down to the Xen hab ring? Give ya a taste of real stagryn, hmm?” Tsundra chuckled darkly. “Or maybe I should ask your mommy?”

A breathy groan escaped Cory's throat as the question, and Riker felt every bit of Cory’s squirming through the hand on his back as he rubbed his thighs together. Another piece of kindling dropped into the coals. Despite the parts of Riker’s core begging her for a blaze, she tried again to tamp the fire. 

“We’re a bit busy today, but that sounds like a lovely idea,” Riker tamped the coals a little harder, “But my ward can decide on their own, so you really should be asking them.”

The xenra bore their teeth again as they turned back to the ward with a predatory grin. “What’dya say, pup? You wanna come to the Xenrani hab ring with me sometime?”

Cory opened their mouth to answer just as Tsundra’s pedipalps reached out to grab hold of either side of their jaw. They froze.

“You think that’s a good idea, right?” Tsundra nodded, their pedipalps dragging Cory’s head along in a nod of its own, “Right. ‘Course ya do.”

×=×=×=×

Cory whined in Riker’s arms as she carried them out of the train. They had finally reached their stop near one of the Garnet District hospitals, much to Riker’s relief. She didn’t know how much more teasing she or Cory could take from Tsundra.

It had been easy enough to coax Cory into her lap as they neared their stop with Tsundra's pheromones still coursing through their veins. Easy in a physical sense; the entire time the docile terran clung to her, almost trying to hide from the teases of the xenra, Riker's core felt like it would burn a hole through her chest. Tsundra teasing the ‘pup’ by telling them how nice their ‘mommy’ was hadn't helped matters, either. 

“There we go, songbird,” Riker let Cory down on one of the benches outside of the station. “Just take some deep breaths, alright?”

“Holy fuck.” Cory gasped, stumbling away toward the backrest before Riker herded them back toward her, gently turning them to face her.

“Now just stand still and let me see.” Riker lifted Cory's chin with a finger, checking for puncture wounds or blood. He kept his wide eyes on her, cheeks flushed, as she turned them one way then the other before removing her finger. “Ah, good. She didn't sting you.”

Cory sobered up on the spot, gulping a breath of clean, musk-free air. “Sting me?!”

“Yes?” Riker smoothed down the hair on Cory’s head, “I thought you might have come across that fact in your… research about the xenrani. Were you not aware?”

Cory made the most adorable little face, with their nose scrunching, one eye squinting, raising the opposite brow, and their top lip pulling up. “Huh?”

It was so adorable; Riker couldn’t help but smile. “I see you were not. But yes, xenrani pedipalps, fangs, and claws all contain a venom that will make you even more susceptible to the effects of their musk.”

“Pedipalps?”

“Yes, the…” Riker tried to think of the word Mila had used when she met her first a xenra. She snapped her fingers until it came to her. “The ‘feelers’ underneath her chin that she used to grab your head.”

Cory reached up and cupped their face where the pedipalps had grasped them.

“I’m only so concerned due to how sensitive you seem to so many things.”

“I’m not sensitive,” they scowled. Frost, why did they have to be so cute?

“Little one, Tsundra’s musk is extremely mild as far as other xenra are concerned.” She watched as Cory's eyes narrowed to the left and widened to the right and back again. “Do you really want to go to the Xenrani habitation ring with her, or was that the influence of her pheromones?”

“I…” their eyes narrowed to the right again, their lips and jaw moving just so slightly. Widening to the left, their mouth quivered again. He gave a tiny shrug. “I don’t know.”

The microexpressions were interesting. Nothing out of the ordinary had shown up on Cory's brain scans after his rescue, but Riker had noticed the tic a number of days prior when Cory was having trouble with entering the bath. It likely wasn't a cause for concern, but she made a mental note to follow up with Cherrine if the anomaly persisted.

Still, it made for a difficult situation. Cory was clearly interested in xenrani, and now they had a chance to be guided into their culture by someone who was seemingly just as interested in Cory as they were in xenrani. But her ward just so conflicted for some reason. 

It made Riker's Class-D graft twitch. 

It would be so easy to just give them a little puff of spores and make them tell her what they really wanted. Riker arrested the errant twitch. She wouldn't do that to them again. She couldn't. She didn't need to. She just needed to give them a gentle push. One like she had given them toward the bath, or their darling outfit.

“You like xenrani, don't you?”

They made another little face, eyes darting away and back. “They're… xenos.”

“And what is wrong with that, little one?” Riker chuckled. “I'm a xeno, and you like me, don't you?”

There was a word somewhere in Cory's groaning breath. “Hhhhhhhhyes.”

“I think that this is a great opportunity to make some new friends, don't you? There are so, so many different cultures in the compact, Cory; what better time to start interacting with them than now, when it would be beneficial to your wardship hearing?” Riker selfishly omitted the fact that the excursion would afford her some distance to squelch the burgeoning flames in her core.

The terran's brows furrowed adorably. Why did everything about them have to be so adorable? “What if it's not safe?”

“Little one,” Riker's arms hooked behind Cory, pulling them through stumbling steps to her at the edge of the bench. “You have been safe from the moment I scooped you into my arms on that wasteland of a mining colony. Nothing will change that. You are safe in the Affini Compact. And, as long as you're my ward, if you are in even the slightest inkling of danger I will come running. I will keep you safe.”

Their face contorted again, brow softening and cheeks raising. A classic expression of an emotionally vulnerable terran. “You… you will?”

“Yes, my little songbird,” Rikers arms closed behind Cory, holding them into a hug that they sheepishly returned. “I promise.”

Riker held them in the hug for a dangerously long moment as more tinder tumbled onto the coals. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 12:
Flames Get Higher

Riker navigated as Cory set out from the transport station and she allowed them to keep a good few steps ahead to nurture feelings of independence. In the aftermath of the chance encounter with Tsundra and her intoxicating and alluring musk, Cory decided that they needed to walk on their own for a while to clear their head. Riker could only agree. She needed to clear her head as well, though she didn’t mention that to Cory. The affini section of the Garnet District, however, naturally came with an increased affini presence. And those affini were more than eager to reach out and touch Cory. Riker could see the way their shoulders tensed with each errant pet and pat; the way they huffed in frustration.

Rather than objecting, Riker’s ward begrudgingly accepted the contact, slowly letting the gap between them shrink until they were walking side by side with Riker. When even that didn't deter unsolicited affection, Cory reached up and grabbed her hand, despite their protests against being carried. Their shoulders relaxed by multitudes after they did.

Riker didn't mind keeping them safe from the advances of other affini.

“Big stairs…” Cory said as they palmed the top of a stair that was nearly shoulder-height to them as they arrived at the Garnet District Affini Hospital. They had been walking for long enough that it was about the time that Cory would usually relent and allow Riker to carry them, but it was still a little surprising when they turned to her and said “Riker? Could you… y'know.” 

Cory raised their arms up at Riker, ready to be lifted. It was a pose Mila sometimes referred to as ‘asking for uppies’.

“Of course, little one,” Riker scooped them up. The coals had been cooled enough by the walk… for now.

Riker gladly carried her little songbird up the steps. And not just because it was empirically necessary to help Cory navigate the affini-centric space of the hospital. It would also help rebuff the affection that Cory was so obviously averse to. But no matter how many times her peers asked to touch them, Riker’s answer would always be ‘no’. She knew her little songbird didn't want any other affini to treat them like a pet.

“Oh my! How cute~,” the affini behind the reception desk cooed as she reached out toward Cory. 

Riker deftly twisted, deflecting the feather-soft vine with her shoulder. “Please don't touch my ward without permission.”

The receptionist retracted her vine, looking Riker and Riker up and down with a hint of confusion. “Ward?” She studied them a moment longer before her confusion gave way to a smile. “Ah, I see. Well, how may I help you?”

“My ward is here to visit Monophylla and Becky Tangella.” She helped Cory to a more upright position in her arms. “We're expected.”

The receptionist’s eyes flashed green and white as she innately accessed information on the hospital's network through her bio-modem. “So you are,” she said as her eyes returned to a duller, solid green, “Please take the lifts to the twenty-seventh floor. The receptionist there will escort you.”

Just as Riker started walking into the lift, Cory yelled out from their perch in her arms. “Thank you!”

“You're welcome, cutie!” the receptionist called after them.

“Twenty-seven floors. How long will that take?” Cory asked as Riker selected their destination on the panel.

There was a gentle downward pressure that briefly pushed Cory deeper into Riker’s arms for two seconds as the lift ascended . “Not long,” Riker quipped as the doors opened. 

Stepping out onto the twenty-seventh floor, Riker maintained her protective grip on Cory as she approached the technicolor affini behind the floor’s reception desk.

"Can I assist you?" the nurse inquired, her tone sugary sweet as she started down at Cory.

Suppressing a sigh, Riker nodded firmly, her grip on Cory tightening subtly. "We're here to visit Monophylla and Becky Tangella.”

The nurse's eyes flickered momentarily, processing the information before offering a polite nod. "Of course. Follow me," she gestured, leading the way down the bustling hallway with Riker behind, Cory cradled in her arms. It was only after they reached the room that Riker set Cory down and  peered through the window.

Becky was just too precious in her flowing gown, elbow length gloves, and little tiara, sleeping in the growbed propped up against Monophylla’s core. She was dressed like an ancient Terran princess, or an Affini understanding of one. The adorable teddy bear in her lap was the pièce de résistance.

“Isn’t she just so precious sleeping like that?” The nurse stood next to Riker, looking into the room as well.

“Hmm, she is.” Riker struggled against the urge to imagine Cory against her own core.

“Oh, she’s sleeping?” The window on the hospital door was, of course, too high for Cory to see into the room. “We can come back some other time. It’s… it’s fine.”

“No, no, it’s alright, cutie~,” the nurse sang at Cory, ruffling his hair. It rankled Riker for some reason. “She’s been sleeping quite enough, and her floret-sitter said it would be fine to wake her.”

Riker followed the nurse into the room as she called out to wake Becky, and Cory followed her, footfalls as soft as a lopabbit on fresh snow.

“Good morrow, little princess,” the nurse called, “Visitors for her majesty~.”

Becky looked even more royal as she stirred, stretching her hands far above her head with a cute yawn. Her white opera gloves were tightly laced the entire length of her arms. Her pink princess dress, despite the puff provided by the petticoats, was laced quite tightly as well (and perhaps a bit more delicately than Riker had managed days before). Embroidered leather boots and a gleaming tiara capped off the outfit. 

When Monophylla's princess had rubbed the sleep from her eyes, she beamed up at Riker. “Miss Asherah!” She gave the core a bit of parting affection before galloping over to Riker, dragging her teddy bear by the arm with a signature Class-E wobble, and hugging her leg. When she finally let go, she looked at Cory. “You must be Miss Asherah's floret.” She stepped back from Riker and performed a deep curtsy. “Becky Tangella, First Floret, She/Her.”

It suddenly became much warmer in Monophylla's room. Why did everyone assume that Cory was her floret? 

“My ward, actually, dear,” Riker corrected. 

“Oh, okay!” Becky's smile was unflappable even as Riker nudged her blushing ward forward.

“It's okay, dear,” she reassured her softly.

Cory cleared their throat. “Hi. Umm, Cory Kàfkore. Guy pronouns.”

“Are you one of the people Mistress got hurt trying to save?”

Riker's core shrank up into her chest cavity. How could she tell Becky the truth about what had happened? That Cory was the reason Monophylla was reblooming? That they had--

“Yes.” Cory's voice was resolute. “I'm…,” the confidence retreated and left a strained smile in its wake as they looked past Becky to Monophylla’s core. “I wouldn't be here without her.”

Becky pounced on Cory with a hug. They froze for a split second, seemingly caught off guard by the sudden affection, before their hands found the small of Becky's back. 

“I'll be just down the corridor if you need me,” Riker patted his back and let them be as Becky led Cory back to the growbed. She glanced back from the door, somewhat reluctant to leave, as Becky settled into the bed against Monophylla and Cory sat apprehensively on the edge. But her songbird needed a chance to fly on their own, and she needed to let the fire in her core burn out. So, after lingering for only a moment longer, Riker forced herself out of the threshold and down the busy hall.

In the lounge at the far end of the hall, Riker found Mr. Triticum, in whose care she had left Becky, and Viviani Nyxxium, whom Riker remembered from the away team, making conversation around the mineral water dispenser. She approached apprehensively, still unsure what to make of the sixth and eighth blooms, respectively.

“Asherah, sweetling, come, come,” Viviani beckoned. She held out a cup of mineral water, “It may not be a magic potion, but it looks to be exactly what you require, dear.”

Riker took the cup and let its contents cool her synth-stomach and the core pressing against it. It soothed the start of a wilt that Riker hadn’t even noticed coming on.

“There you are, sweetling,” Viviani smiled as she fixed the part in Riker's facsimile hair. The motion sent the collars up and down Viviani’s arm jingling. “Weetibix was just about to elucidate me as to why the terrans refer to him as ‘Mr. Try-to-cum’, isn't that right?”

Triticum's entire form rippled in amusement. “I have gained something of a reputation among some of the terrans in this limb of the forest. I make it abundantly clear to any sophont interested in playing with me that they will be receiving no direct genital stimulation for the duration of the session. Those who just can't help but touch themselves become the lucky recipients of a chastity device, custom designed and custom fitted by yours truly.”

“Lucky indeed,” Viviani grinned.

“I'm sure it only adds to my reputation that my florets are on a strict Class-N regiment.”

Viviani nodded, “Of course. And how are your darlings holding up? It must be difficult on them for you to be here watching Becky like an owl for the greater part of the day.”

“Oh, Maiti and Juliana have been perfectly understanding. They know Princess Becky needs a bit of extra attention.” Triticum rippled with another deep trill. “I'm sure it doesn't hurt how much they get spoiled at Maizey's daycare, either.”

“Certainly not,” the witchy affini chuckled. 

“And what about yours, Miss Nyxxium?”

“Ah,” she twisted evasively. “I haven't had the pleasure of bewitching a little one in quite some time.”

“I see.” Triticum's foliage sagged for only a moment. “I'm sure you'll have no trouble finding a floret among the rescues from the mining planet. I hear they're quite the crop.”

Viviani smirked around the rim of her cup. “I prefer for my familiars to stumble into my web, rather than seeking them out.”

As Riker listened to the duo, she couldn't help but feel something was off about Viviani Nyxxium. Perhaps it was the way she had called Riker ‘sweetling’, or just her unusual affectations, lifted from ancient Terran mythos. Maybe it was that she carried an extraordinary number of collars for an eighth bloom. But most of all, Riker thought it had something to do with her particular dialect of Affini. In all of her travels, between a dozen or more Affini ships, Riker had only ever heard the dialect Viviana used once before. She had noticed it before on the shuttle, but--

“And how is your little one?” Viviani pulled Riker back to the present. “Tell us all about them, won't you?”

The very thoughts that Riker had tried to leave behind in Monophylla's room still smoldered. Viviani's question only fanned them.

“I'm… I'm not sure what to say,” Riker lied, and looked away.

“That's alright,” Viviani's words were sweet, but it was her hand on Riker's shoulder that drew Riker to meet her gaze. Her thumb strummed over Riker’s Class-D graft. 

Riker felt herself drifting into the kaleidoscope colors of Viviani's eyes. It was difficult to dismiss the dots spinning in recursive, fractal patterns. Was she trying to--

“Don't even think about it,” Viviani's voice blew like a cooling breeze, “Just speak what you feel, sweetling.”

Looking to Triticum was met with nods of encouragement. Rot them both for treating Riker like some kind of youngbloom.

“Cory is…” The distance from her ward had starved the fire of oxygen, but Viviani’s words were a bellows, forcing life back into the hearth. Thinking about Cory only fed more fuel to the fire as the words came effortlessly. “So kind and empathetic. They can be painfully shy and sensitive, but they can be so affectionate once you get through their shell. And my songbird is so clever and quick-witted. Very good at remembering song lyrics. Equally as good at flustering me with unexpected wisecracks.

“They have some… issues to work through, but what Terran doesn't? And they're so adorable and starting to make friends, and I'm so happy to see them opening up. I think they'll bloom into a magnificent individual.”

“Sounds like someone's on the fast-track to florethood,” Triticum tittered. “Oh, to be young and taking my first floret again.”

Riker tried to smile cordially despite the terrible stabbing sensation in her chest, speaking contrary to the fire burning in her core. “They're my ward. Nothing more. I have… no interest in taking a floret.”

The barest streaks of purple streamed across Viviani's eyes and disappeared. “Is that so?” she trilled. “I meant what I told them when I said that they would make for a charming familiar. Perhaps I'll file a Notice for the darling myself. Since you have no interest, sweetling.”

If her own words had felt like being stabbed, Viviani's had twisted the knife.

“Come now, Miss Nyxxium, you shouldn't tease her like that,” Triticum chided.

“You would understand if you saw the darling, what was it Asherah had called them? Songbird?” Vivani smiled as she remembered. “Yes, the darling songbird. Oh, how I would make them crow and caw and sing .”

Riker winced as she pulled her data pad from her shoulder. The Notice of Intent was still just as she'd left it there on her tablet, perfectly filled out and just waiting for her biometric signature to be submitted. All she had to do was actually submit it. Then, if Cory should lose their independence, they would be hers.

Why was it so difficult? She had already done the hard thing and committed to caring for Cory, hadn't she? A commitment made on the steps of Xenosophont Wellness and Care. No, before that. She made that promise in the arid wasteland when she had first taken them into her arms. So why couldn't she just press a simple button and submit a form? Everything seemed to disappear around her as she stared down at the form.

The hustle and bustle of the hospital became a gentle drone. The voices of Viviani Nyxxium and Weetibix Triticum came from some faraway place that Riker could neither see nor hear through the darkness that separated her and her pad from the rest of the universe. For an everlasting moment, the entire world consisted of nothing but Riker, the Notice of Intent on her pad, and the biometric scanner ready to accept her vineprint. Her thumb hovered over the scanner, her mind distantly aware of the glass of mineral water slipping from her hand.

Before she could make her decision, the pad in her hands juddered with a terrible scream. She was shunted back to reality as the Notice of Intent on her screen was replaced with a flashing RED ALERT, the pad shrieking its best impression of an ancient Terran klaxon. Her fists clenched, fingers warping the tri-steel shell and cracking the railgun-proof indestructible diamond lattice screen.

Without thinking Riker planted her foot and pushed off, leaving a crater in the floor behind her as she flew down the hall. There was only one living sophont that would trigger a red alert on her pad. Only one living sophont that could require such urgency from her.

Cory.

Two affini in Riker’s path moved out of her way, one pressing themself against the wall, the other unraveling their vine body to the floor for her to stride over. “Move!” Riker barked at two more affini in her path, but they didn’t hear her. She turned, lancing one arm through the gap between them, spinning back into a sprint toward her destination on the other side.

Another affini threatened to block Riker’s path as they were wheeled out of their room on a gurney. Whatever had caused Cory's band to send her a Red Alert, Riker didn't have time to wait. Cory needed her. She jumped toward the wall mid-stride, her feet leaving dents as she ran above the affini and their nurses, propelled by the fire on her heels and the flames in her core. She landed into a roll, throwing herself ahead with forepaws she hadn’t used in three blooms. 

When she reached the door, the claws on Riker’s paws dug into either side of the door, bending the frame around it. Cory was inside, and she couldn’t risk the door hitting him if she pushed it in. So the door would have to come out. The door wailed in protest as its hinges bent backwards until the door hung awkwardly into the hall.  

A shrill, squeaky, discordant affini voice poured into the air from the mass in the growbed, stunning Riker for a moment.

“My little princesssssss~!” Monophylla rose in the bed, her body a formless, tangled mound. In one massive, malformed hand she lifted Becky from the ground as she hugged her teddy to her sternum. “How I’ve misssssed~ you!”

In the other hand, she held Cory, who stared up at the rebloomed affini with pure terror, squirming in her fingers.

“And youuuuu~.” Monophylla turned to face Cory. ”Allow me to reintroduce myself, flowerrrrr~.” Her fingers rubbed over Cory’s head and shoulders, making them twist away until they saw Riker. They called out to her silently, their face laden with fear. “I am Monophylla Tangella, First… excuse me, Second Bloom.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 13:
I Think We're Caught in a Fight

“Are you one of the people Mistress got hurt trying to save?”

Cory’s entire body locked up at the princess’s question. She was so delicate. Cory could recognize that in her eyes. He could recognize the loss and fear and the need to know that the things that had happened had mattered and happened for a reason. So he gave Becky Tangella, First Floret, what she needed. 

“Yes,” Cory said with all the conviction he could muster. “I’m…” He didn’t want to lie to her, but that didn’t mean Cory had to tell her the whole truth, either. What could he tell her about what happened in the caves without her breaking down or hating him? His mind tumbled through the events of that fateful day as he stole a glance at Monophylla’s core, but thought of Riker's. “I wouldn’t be here without her.”

Before Cory knew what was happening, Becky’s arms were wrapped around his shoulders. He gasped. Orange and vanilla fought for supremacy as Becky's neon orange hair tickled his nose. A wet, mossy pine scent served as their field of battle. Becky redoubled her grip and then, finally, Cory hugged her back. 

As Becky let go, her hands trailing down his arms until they grabbed his hands, Riker’s voice echoed from somewhere behind him. He felt the gentle but encompassing pressure of Riker’s hand on his back as Becky turned and pulled him toward Monophylla's core in the flowerbed. As Becky led, he followed until she plopped down into the flowerbed against Monophylla. Cory sat on the raised edge of the bed. He turned back to Riker just in time to see her smile as she hung off the doorway, sparing him a parting glance before she disappeared.

Wait, she's not staying?

Cory's heart dropped. She left him? With the affini that he'd almost murdered? And her floret?

Becky lifted her head from where she rested against the core. “Why are you sitting all the way over there?” 

“Sorry,” he gripped the rail, “Nervous, I guess.”

“You don't have to be.” Becky sighed as she smiled. “She's happy you're here.”

She's what?

“I--,” Cory looked at the core next to Becky, its roots wriggling in the dirt. He supposed it might look happy if he had to guess. “She is?”

“Mhmm,” she hummed, “She's very happy to see you again.”

Nope, nope, don't like that.

“How can you tell?”

“I can feel it.” Becky closed her eyes and smiled. She nodded with all the conviction of an apostle listening to their god. “She can't wait to meet you.”

Shifting uncomfortably on the edge of the bed, Cory, pressed further. “You can feel it?”

“Of course I can. Through my implant.”

“Your what ?”

Becky tilted her head like Cory had two heads, the bear in her lap mirroring the motion as it flopped to one side. “My implant.” When Cory could only offer a confused look, she giggled and continued. “You really aren't a floret.”

“No,” Cory said flatly and matter-of-factly. “I'm not.” And he never would be. 

“Well, if you're lucky enough to be a floret,” Becky scooted on her butt until she was turned with her back to Cory, “Your affini will give you a piece of themself. And they put it…” Beck pulled her braided ponytail forward over her shoulder to reveal her neck. Her hand reached back to point to the scar running up and down the back of her neck. “Right here.”

Cory had heard of the worms the Affini put in your brain, of course. The ones that turn you into a mindless husk, like the captain’s floret. It had been obviously childish Accord propaganda to drum up anger and support for the war. He'd long ago dismissed it as just that. Especially after Riker had assuaged his fears about the mines, about being eaten, and even about the headworms themselves. But now he just sat frozen in fear, staring at the scar on a floret's neck.

“Mistress put a piece of herself in me, and it grew inside of me, and it keeps me happy and healthy.” 

“And you’re just okay with that?

“Mhmm,” Becky hummed again, letting her hair down and turning back to face Cory. “I’m never alone anymore. It’s like she’s always giving me a big hug.” 

The fact that there was a plant growing in this woman’s head… in Mila’s head… in every floret’s head… That it was growing around their spines and into their brains… That it gave them some kind of, what, a connection to the affini who they belonged to? Cory’s imagination swirled with images of roots and vines snaking their way into all the most delicate parts of a human’s spine and skull, pulsing and irremovable. A floret’s affini would always be with them; they would never be alone again. And he could only come up with one word to describe that fact:

Horrifying.

Beautiful.

What must that be like? What must it do to a person? It had to change them, didn’t it? It certainly seemed to make Becky happy. Mila too. But what about the captain’s floret? Was that what Riker wanted to do to him?

For us. To stop some other affini from doing it to us.

“So that lets you read Monophylla’s thoughts, having part of her… in your head?”

Becky giggled, propped against Monophylla’s core again. “No, I don’t know what she’s thinking. Just sorta, like, how she feels.” She draped her entire arm over it, hand rubbing in a small circle. “Like different tingles or fuzzy feelings.”

Cory looked at the core and felt himself shrink. He’d done this. He put an immortal in a hospital. Someone, somewhere in the Terran Accord would be proud of him, but all he could feel was shame. “Is she… angry?”

“Nuh-uh,” Becky shook her head, “She’s happy you’re here. And if she got hurt trying to rescue you, and you ended up rescued, she’d be happy to do it again. I don’t need to be able to read Mistress’s mind to know that.”

A deep breath fueled Cory’s contemplation as his gaze drifted down to the floor of the growbed. If what Becky said was true, then Monophylla had only wanted to help him back in the cave. She wanted to save him the way the Affini were saving everyone on the planetoid. The way Riker eventually saved him. And how did he thank her? By trying to kill her.

We couldn’t have known.

He should have. 

Before he could beat himself any further, he was startled by Becky’s hand on his. She had crawled across the flowerbed to comfort him. One more thing for him to feel guilty about. Another person was being nice to him for no reason. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Becky squeezed. “Come over here by Mistress. You shouldn’t be over here all by yourself.” 

All it took was a gentle tug. A damnably gentle tug was all it took to have Cory walking on his knees over to the core of the affini he’d almost slaughtered. Though he was nearer, he still stayed a distance away, hands trembling awkwardly with guilt as Becky snuggled back up against it. 

“You can touch her, you know. Mistress likes when florets touch her core.”

Cory chewed his lip. “I’m not a floret.” 

“It doesn’t matter. Just…” She gave the core a little side-hug. “I think it’ll help.”

A strange feeling enveloped Cory as he drew closer to Monophylla’s core. The closer he got, the stronger the feeling became. It wasn’t like pushing through jelly like it was when he touched Riker’s core, but it felt like a wave, pulsing from side to side. And as he laid his hand on Monophylla’s core, he realized it was coming from her. 

“You can feel it, can’t you?” 

Cory shook his head in as much of a nod as he could. He could feel it, alright. Under the mossy green shell, it was there. 

Becky smiled dreamily against her. “That’s what I feel all the time . But more.” 

It felt like his whole arm was swaying to the waves -- like his whole body was. When he looked down, he realized that it wasn't just him. All of the moss, and leaves, and vines, and flowers in the flowerbed were moving to the same pulsing rhythm as Monophylla's core. And then it dawned on him.

We’re not standing next to Monophylla, are we?

Vines coiled around Cory's arm. 

“Oh, shit!” He tried to pull away, but it was no use. Even grabbing the trapped arm with his free hand didn't help, as the red light on his wristband blinked at an alarming pace. The vines refused to let go, no matter how hard he pulled, but that didn't stop Cory from trying until he thought his arm would rip free of its socket. All the while Becky writhed in a rippling pile of plant matter that held her against the core while she had an ecstatic, giggling fit.

Cory pulled again. “Get off!” 

The plant matter started shifting underneath his feet in a new way, flowing in one direction as it circled Monophylla’s core. As the swirling mass lifted Monophylla’s core from the flowerbed, Cory gave another, hard tug. He finally broke free, stumbling backwards on the green tsunami and tripping over the raised edge of the bed as the ground flowed out from underneath his feet. His heart pounded in his chest as he watched from the ground as the vines climbed the bark pillar and surrounded the core until a loosely humanoid torso encased it. But it was surely the seven purple eyes glaring out at him from the body’s hollow that spelled his doom. 

It sounded like an entire forest of trees falling at once as Monophylla rose from the bed and a mass of vines sprouted from either side. One enveloped Becky, covering her and flowing down as it reformed under her feet. The princess could only flail with excitement as Monophylla scooped her up to her chest in a malformed hand. 

“My little princesssssss~!” Monophylla cooed over Becky, her sharp voice warbling. “How I’ve misssssed~ you!”

Becky could barely get a word out between her tearful sobs as she clung to Monophylla, telling the affini how much she loved her and how happy she was that Mistress was okay. 

Then, Monophylla turned her sight on Cory. The other vineous arm reached out for him, the vines flowing around and under him, wriggling under his legs and butt and around his back before she lifted him into the air. “And youuuuu~.”

This was it. Cory was going to die. Becky said that Monophylla was happy to have him there and that she wasn’t angry, but she must have still harbored ill will, mustn't she? Cory made himself as small as possible in her hand as two thumbs curled around him, three more fingers joining to roughly pet his head and shoulders. 

”Allow me to reintroduce myself, flowerrrrr~” Monophylla’s words pierced Cory’s ears, “I am Monophylla Tangella, First… excuse me, Second Bloom.”

Cory twisted as Monophylla's fingers pressed against him. A distant thought told him that she wouldn't crush him, but the same primordial mammalian instincts that had commanded him to run away in the cave assured him that she would. He had to get away. He had to escape.

He squirmed and twisted like he had in Riker’s arms, only now he struggled in earnest. But, unlike Riker, Monophylla did not yield. She merely allowed him to move within the confines of her hand-shaped cage until he twisted around enough to see--

Riker!

She came back!

Riker marched into the room through a mangled door frame, each step closer amplifying the pounding primal beat that was unmistakably her soundless song. She reached a single clawed digit between Monophylla's fingers and Cory clung to it, looking up into the purple, gold, and red whorls of her eyes. Despite being surrounded by a other affini's hand, hugging Riker's thumb made him feel safe. Even if she had a claw for some reason. 

“Miss Asherah!” Becky called from Monophylla's other hand. “Miss Asherah, Mistress is back! Just like you said she would be!”

Riker never took her eyes from Cory. “I noticed, Becky.”

Monophylla let out a screech of confusion. “You know this affini, Princess?”

“Uh-huh!” Becky nodded with her arms wrapped around a bundle of vines. “Miss Asherah took me to Mister Triticum after you got hurt saving the miners.”

“Is this true, Missss Asherah?”

“Riker,” Riker nodded, “And it is.”

Monophylla let out another shriek that Cory could only assume meant she was happy. “How can I ever repay you?”

Eyes still locked on Cory, Riker replied flatly and firmly. “By putting my ward down.”

“Your ward?” The entire section of Monophylla's body surrounding her hollow tilted. “This is the terran who I encountered in the abandoned mine, is it not? The terran who was responsible for--”

“I know who they are and what they've done.”

“Then you understand why they are my responsibility.”

Riker finally turned to Monophylla, but Cory kept looking up at her. “I am the one who rescued them from the brink of death. I am the one who watched over them for three days as they recovered. I am the one who has fed and cared for and guided them since they awoke in the Compact. I will not hand them off to the likes of a youngbloom who…” Riker paused, looking down at Monophylla's other hand. She signed convincingly. “A youngbloom who already has her vines full with a delicate and adorable floret.”

“You doubt my ability?”

Riker pursed her lips before speaking again in the affini language. Monophylla responded in kind. Though Cory couldn't understand what they were saying as they traded songs, he felt it. He felt the intensity in Riker's words as she spoke, even as the pounding gave way to her more normal song. Monophylla's invisible waving pulse slowed as well, especially when Riker spoke with force. They went back and forth for an indeterminable amount of time before Monophylla's vines streamed around him, leaving his body one by one until he was left in Riker's padded vulpine paws.

Paws?

What big paws she has! All the better to keep us safe.

When he could no longer feel Monophylla’s pulse, only a faint impression of it, Cory took a deep breath. “Fuck,” he let out a cloves-scented sigh. ”Fuck… ”

“It’s okay,” Riker whispered, her voice a soothing melody. “You’re okay.”

Cory nodded, letting the fear wash out like the tide, and letting Riker’s safety roll over him like a wave as she nestled him to her chest. He glanced back at Monophylla, watching as she cradled Becky in much the same way. 

“Where were you?” Cory murmured. 

“I’m sorry, songbird. I wanted to give you a chance to fly on your own. I never expected… I never thought…”

Cory buried his head against Riker’s collarbone, pressing his arms against her in whatever mockery of a hug he could manage next to her massive form. She closed her arms around him, chin resting on the top of his head as she cocooned him. Despite being tighter, being more restrictive, than Monophylla’s hand, he felt no fear. Eventually, he sighed again, letting his arms fall slack. 

“I think it’s time we went home, little one.”

“Okay,” he nodded. He let the rest of his body go slack and fell into Riker’s arms. Just as he felt his heart stop thumping, Monophylla's voice pierced his ears again, making him flinch further into Riker's embrace.

“Riker,” she said, “I will take this issue to the captain.”

“The captain is well aware of the situation,” she didn't bother looking at Monophylla as she turned to carry Cory away. “But do as you wish. I'm taking my ward home.”

Cory marveled, staring wide-eyed at the mangled doorframe as Riker carried him into the hall, into the elevator, and out of the hospital. No affini dared touch him on the way out. They didn't even bother to ask. It was some time later, far away from the hospital, when Riker finally stopped walking. 

“Do you want down now, little one?”

Of course not.

He looked down from his perch in her paws and nodded. He could walk. He should walk. Yet, he couldn’t help but feel a sting as she put him on the ground. He paused for a moment to look up at her. 

“So… paws, huh?”

“Oh.” Riker raised one of the paws at the end of her arm, turning it over and inspecting it. She looked surprised. Then her face changed to a look of concentration while her paws unwound, revealing wooden bones within before they closed together and returned to being human fingers. She made an experimental fist with the hand and, satisfied, let the hand rest at her side where the other hand was already back to normal. 

When they got back to the hab, Riker set Cory down on the couch and took her usual seat opposite him. Cory let out a deep breath, eyes focused on a random spot of carpet as he leaned away. 

“Little one?” Riker called to him. “Songbird?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you alright?”

Of course he wasn't. How could he be? But he nodded. He had to be, didn’t he? So he was. 

“Do you want to talk about what happened?”

Cory shook his emotionless face side to side. When Riker's hand came down on his back, he just closed his eyes.

“Is there anything I can do?”

All he could offer was a short shrug. He hated shutting down like this, but what was the alternative? He was a man, and men had to be strong and stoic. 

We don't have to be that way…

“How about something to eat, hmm?”

Cory's eyes shifted around as he thought. He wanted to eat. He wanted something delicious to drive the feelings away. But he knew he shouldn't. So when he gave her a slight nod, he couldn't help but feel guilty. 

“Good.” He could hear Riker's smile in her voice. He could see it in the gold light that shone from her eyes. He could feel it in her touch. “What can I cook for you? Anything you want.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

Cory shrunk down into his shoulders, and shrank further into the couch. When his voice came, it came hesitantly. “Macaroni and cheese? And… and mashed potatoes?”

“Of course, little one. That shouldn't take long at all.” Riker scooped Cory into her arms and didn't set him down until they reached the kitchen counter. “Now you just sit right there and let me take care of everything.”

From the vantage point of the counter things almost looked normal. He could see the top of the table and the top of the couch. So long as he didn't turn too far to either side and catch a glimpse of the giant sink or oversized kitchenware, he could just about fall into the illusion that everything was normal. 

Any semblance of normalcy was broken as Riker retrieved all the ingredients from the compiler. In short order, water was boiling in two pots on the stove, potatoes in one and elbow macaroni in the other. Cory watched as Riker mixed a fresh cheese sauce with cheese and cream and butter, instead of neon orange powder. When the pasta was finished and mixed into the cheese, she smashed the potatoes and blended them with the rest of the cream and butter. Small dashes of garlic, salt, and pepper completed the dishes. 

When he found himself in Riker's lap at the table, he dug in before she could even prompt him. He switched back and forth between bowls in quick succession, sometimes going from one to the other on the way to his mouth as he shoveled spoon after spoon of warm, comforting carbs into his mouth. It was all he could do to chew the hulking glut of food and swallow with a gasping gulp. He tried to go back again, but Riker's hand stayed his arm. 

“You're eating awfully fast, there. You don't want a tummy ache, do you?”

Cory froze. He'd fucked up. Again. “I… wuh… uhmm…” He swallowed hard. “Fuck.”

“‘Fuck’, what, dear?”

“Fuck… you're gonna feed me like Mr. Oakley feeds Mila.”

Riker stretched, her sternum pushing into Cory as she twisted to try and look at him. “Do I need to feed you?”

No! Fuck no! He could feed himself, he just had to get used to eating like he wasn't going to starve if he didn’t.

Yes! Stars, yes! Just feed us already!

Before Cory could answer - obviously that she didn't need to feed him - Theo's holographic visage appeared above the table. “Apologies, Mum, but there's a transmission for you. Priority One Multicall.”

“Frost,” Riker spat through her (wooden?) teeth. 

The next thing Cory knew, he was carried back to the couch. Riker set him down in her usual spot that smelled of her cloves and told Theo to put something on the holoviewer for him. She'd be back shortly. 

Theo put on a movie that he called “A classic tale told by every culture the Affini had ever encountered, condensed and translated for terran enjoyment”. The movie started simply enough. Two Affini and two bee people, who would clearly end up in some kind of star-crossed lovers’ quadrangle. Cory couldn't help but feel clever for his prediction, hoping to see it confirmed. Part of him felt bad about it though.

Why do you always have to figure everything out? Can't you just enjoy anything?

But it wasn't that pang of guilt that ruined the movie some twenty minutes in. It was a crash and a shout from down the hall. Cory slid off the couch and jogged down the hall as echoes of Riker's muffled voice drew him nearer. As he approached the door to Riker’s office, he could hear her through the door as she yelled. “--perfectly capable!”

“Far be it from me to imply you are incapable, Miss Riker,” Captain Berimelli’s obnoxious condescending voice said. “I am merely stating that Miss Tangella has experience caring for a floret. And you do not.” 

“I have been caring for Cory for the past six Terran standard cycles,” Riker countered.

“And you’ve served that role commendably. Which is why you are not being dismissed from the wardship entirely.” 

“Yesss,” Monophylla’s shrill voice hissed. “You’ve done a fine job in my stead, Riker. But the terran will flourish under my care, especially with my Becky to help guide them.”

“Cory has been adapting commendably well already. What they need now is stability, not… being ripped away from the one affini they trust.”

"And what manner of stability will it be when they become a floret to another affini when the wardship ends?” The captain’s voice carved through Cory. “It is well known aboard the Cymbidium that Miss Riker does not care to take a floret. You have been caring for this terran for six cycles and have not yet filed a notice of intent to domesticate them."

"No," Riker's voice sank to a murmur, "I... I haven't."

"And I~ have already filed, "Monophylla sang. "Making me the primary warden will provide a sense of continuity when their wardship ends and they become a floret."

“If they become a floret.”

Captain Berimelli spoke again. “It has been decided. Miss Tangella will begin her duties as the terran’s primary warden tomorrow.”

Riker’s next reply was barely audible. “I understand. Captain.”

Cory’s chest suddenly tightened as he braced himself against the wall. His gaze slowly slid downward as his eyes lost focus and his legs felt like they’d fall out from under him at any second. Somewhere in his mind, he was distantly aware of the burning in his eyes and Riker’s sigh on the other side of the door, but it wasn’t until the door opened with a soft woosh and he was bathed in cerulean light that his body started curling in on itself. Not until he felt the melancholic symphony singing to his very heart from Riker’s core. A painful, guttural whine like a wounded animal forced itself out of Cory's chest until the air ran out, then kept rattling anyway.

The floor trembled as Riker dropped to her knees, her giant, gentle hands finding their place around Cory. “Little one? Songbird? Speak to me, petal.”

“I’m sorry,” he croaked, his voice strangled and high pitched. “I’m sawreee.”

His entire body tried to collapse around him like a neutron star, his heart feeling like a black hole that he would be happy to fall into and disappear. His hands formed a mask, in a futile effort to hide his shame and to hide the guilt he felt. Riker half-lifted-half-dragged Cory across the floor until he was pressed against her leg. Cory curled around it, breathing in her sweaty, clovey scent, and hugging her thigh with his elbows, hands still trying and failing to mask his tearful sobs. 

“I’m sorry!” Cory wailed again. 

Riker’s fingers stroked his back in slow, soothing circles between his shoulder blades. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

“I… I…” Cory gasped the word over and over through his hands. “I made you take me to see Monophylla. It’s all my fault.” The blame, the fault, was drawn out over several extra syllables, each one rocking Cory with a weeping wheeze. “If I didn’t, then she… she wouldn’t have--” 

“This isn’t your fault, songbird.”

Despite Riker’s soothing tone, he rocked back and forth, shaking his head wildly from side to side. He refused to let himself be absolved. But Riker gave him no choice in the matter. She took a firm but gentle hold of Cory’s arms, prying them from his face. With his face uncovered, Riker tilted his head up, and stared down into his eyes. Cory blinked through the tears to focus on the swirling streaks of color in Riker’s endlessly faceted eyes. Blues and pinks and golds and purples and greens and every color of the rainbow except red shone in a dazzling light show that Cory’s eyes couldn’t hope to follow as Riker spoke again, her words crashing into him with all the force of a great typhoon. 

“This is not your fault, Cory. You didn’t do anything wrong. I promise.”

Cory’s face twisted with anguish as some part of him still tried to take blame, but he knew that Riker was right. This was not his fault. Whatever piecemeal part of him that still tried to argue that he was to blame found it could no longer argue. Instead, it gave up and Cory merely slumped his head against Riker’s leg in tired acceptance. Riker lifted him again until he was straddling her leg where she wrapped him in a hug. 

“It’s okay, songbird,” she assured him, “Everything will be okay.”

Minute after minute passed as Riker held him. Her gentle ministrations drew Cory back to a sense of normalcy, stroking up and down his back to stimulate inhales and exhales in time with Riker’s somber silent song. All the while she kept him close, tucked into her side from his perch on her hip and made sure he knew that he was safe. Sometime later, when Cory had managed to calm down, Riker stood in a fluid motion, keeping him on her hip like a toddler and carried him to the couch. When she sat, Cory rolled off and slid down the side of her leg to the plush cushion below, still leaning on her for support in every sense of the word. 

Riker smiled down at him, gold, pink, and blue exploding together in her eyes in equal measure as she reached down and stroked his head with her thumb. And he let her. 

At Riker’s behest, Theo restarted the movie. As the film played again from the beginning, Cory stayed next to Riker, eventually loosening his grip but leaning on her all the same as he was sucked into the story. It was nearly two hours in when the affinis Zhuva and Ileuadi finally crossed paths in the twilit jungle. Cory couldn’t help but feel a yearning in his chest as they stood in front of a glorious sunset. He felt Riker’s song swell along with the movie’s score as the sunset gave way to a beautiful meteor shower. 

Cory became so enraptured by the movie, the budding quadrangle between Zhuva, Ileuadi, and their florets, two bee people named seri and noin, that he hardly noticed that his pillar had left until Riker sat back down with two big bowls of popcorn and peanut butter cups that Cory had told her were his favorite movie snacks. As the movie played on, Cory leaned on Riker again as if she had never left, absentmindedly munching on the treats, savoring the simple pleasure of her company. 

In that quiet moment, as they sat side by side, immersed in the world of the movie, Cory felt a sense of peace settle over him. Despite the trials and tribulations that Monophylla would bring, he knew that, at least until morning, Riker would keep him safe. And for now, that was enough.

Chapter Text

Chapter 14:
A Losing Game

It was another family dinner with all the Kàfkores. It might have been Thanksgiving or Christmas or Easter – not that it mattered. They were all the same song and dance. The same conversations and the same stories he'd heard at every family get-together since the disbanding of the kids table. The same devolution into politics that descended into issues that Cory was far too familiar with his family's stance on. The same as it always did. 

“I don't care what those fags and trannies do, so long as they don't touch me !” his father bellowed with a hearty laugh to chuckles and a murmur of agreement from aunts and uncles, grandparents and cousins, and siblings too. 

Cory didn't chuckle. Instead, he just shoved another forkful of food into his mouth. How many times had he touched his father? Hugged his father? When he was a kid, he used to kiss both of his parents goodnight, and on the lips at that. 

“Y'alright, buddy?” his father called to him from the other end of the table.

“Huh?” Cory blinked out of his thoughts. “Oh. Yeah… fine…” 

He put his head back down and kept eating as the conversation continued without him. The same as it always did.

×=×=×=×

Cory gasped awake at the loud bosun whistle, clinging to Riker's leg. He sighed and let his body go slack against her as he felt her pulse - or whatever affini had - through her entire leg. It was just a nightmare, and now he was safe resting on the pillow of her leg and under the blanket of her arm. But even Riker’s calming cocoon was waging a losing battle against the morning, and the dread that came with it. 

Theo's hologram projected between the couch and the door, his voice sounding uncharacteristically demure as he began. “Apologies, but it is my duty to inform you that Miss Tangella has arrived.”

A sigh rumbled from Riker that Cory could have been convinced was real. He craned his neck skyward to see her smiling that weary smile she sometimes wore, with eyes of deep blue. Pink and gold glittered about them like snow. She gave him a squeeze, imbuing him with a strange feeling before she stood and walked to the door.

“Monophylla.” Riker spoke flatly as the door opened.

“Miss Riker!” she sounded elated. It made Cory's skin crawl. “I've come to collect my ward.”

“ Our ward.”

Monophylla didn't reply. She only seemed to study Riker for a moment before stepping past her into the hab. 

Cory scooted back into the couch and sank into the depression left in Riker's wake as the affini he had forced to rebloom loomed closer.

“There you are, sweetgrass.” Monophylla's discordant voice was followed by a bundle of vines. Cory flinched away as they touched his head and pet him.

“You know, Monophylla,” Riker stole her attention, but couldn't stop her petting, “It's still quite early. Cory and I just woke up, actually. Do you think this could perhaps wait until after breakfast?”

Monophylla finally stopped petting him.

Finally!

“Unfortunately, there is a full day of activity scheduled. But do not worry, Miss Riker. It will include breakfast shortly after we return to my hab.”

“And you received Cory's dietary restrictions that I sent you?”

“Of course,” Monophylla seemed to scoff, “Along with some nonsense regarding xenodrugs.”

Riker’s eyes briefly flashed red. “That nonsense is a formal request filed by me on behalf of our ward that you not administer xenodrugs to Cory without their permission.”

“I will review the request upon our return. Now,” Monophylla turned back to Cory. Seven purple lights gleamed within the darkness of her hollow body. “It’s time to come with me, sweetgrass.”

Cory looked to Riker, trying to plead with his eyes. Riker’s eyes shone the most beautiful shade of blue as she closed them, nodding softly. With no other choice, Cory pushed himself to the edge of the couch and dropped to the floor. 

“What about my stuff?” he asked as he looked back toward the hallway where the room

our room

that Riker had given him lay. 

Riker’s voice came softly as she raised her head. “It’s not as if you’re never coming back, songbird. Everything will be exactly as you left it.”

That’s what Mom said, too.

“But--” 

Riker’s face twisted as she tried to appear brave for him. “Monophylla… may we have a moment?”

With Monophylla’s approving gesture, Riker stepped over to Cory and knelt down. 

Cory looked up at her, arms wrapped around himself as his thumb rubbed his first two fingers over and over. “Riker…”

“I’m sorry, Cory. My little songbird…” Riker’s hand reached out for Cory. He took half a step toward her and leaned his head into it. He just wanted to go back to sleep and wake up from this bad dream, too. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” Monophylla’s voice pierced Cory’s ears. “But it’s time to go, little one.”

Cory’s right hand clung onto Riker’s as Monophylla enveloped his left in her vines. If Riker couldn’t stop this, then what could he do? He let out a deep sigh as he was coaxed away from Riker, away from the one affini he liked, and toward the door. He tugged ineffectually as they reached it, and looked back at her, still kneeling on the floor. 

She forced her face into a smile, golden light struggling to pierce the blues in her eyes. “I’ll see you again soon, songbird.”

He kept looking back as Monophylla pulled him through the door into the light of day and only turned away to keep his footing on the stairs from the porch. Every few dozen feet, he’d wrench his arm to look back at Riker’s hab. Every time he did, she was standing in the doorway, watching them go. And every time, he hoped that she would run after him. 

He didn’t stop looking back until the hab was completely out of sight.

×=×=×=×

The trip back to Monophylla’s hab could have gone more terribly, but not by much. The second Cory showed even the barest bit of exhaustion, Monophylla’s vines were on him. She scooped him into her arms despite his protests that he could walk and that she smelled like sour pine. She refused to let him down, even after they reached the transport station, carrying him the entire way, and even going so far as to bind his arms in her vines so he couldn’t keep trying to push away. Perhaps worse than that, she continued to pet him. At least she didn’t let any of the other affini touch him. She told them that he wasn’t ready for random pets. Yet. 

Did she really just tell other affini to not touch us?

The so-called ‘Garnet District’ where Monophylla lived was nice, at least. If Riker’s hab could be described as being on a secluded edge of an exurb, Monophylla lived squarely in a suburb where vines and plants of all varieties grew around, on top of, and into the buildings. Cory had once seen an artistic rendition of an ancient Terran city called Babylon, and it stirred similar images of the city’s hanging gardens. It was to a relatively low and squat hab here that Monophylla carried Cory. The overgrown garden, with its border of towering, flowerless bushes, made him feel even more trapped as they crossed the paved yet still overgrown walk, and then they were inside.

“Hi-eeeee!” a digitized woman's voice came from the center of the room as they entered. “Welcome home, Monophylla!”

Her ditzy exuberance made Cory roll his eyes.

“Hello, Jessie. This is Cory,” Monophylla explained, still refusing to put him down. “He'll be staying with us for the foreseeable future.” 

She carried Cory across the living room and into another room that could almost be mistaken for a child’s nursery. Greystone facades of castle ramparts stood tall against pink walls on either side, and the third wall was home to the castle’s keep. Considering the dress Monophylla’s floret had been wearing when Cory met her at the hospital, this could only be her room. 

Lo and behold, there she was sprawled out, half-covered in the thickest, plushest, pinkest bed that Cory had seen in his entire life. Cory averted his eyes from the lithe woman, only covered by her equally plush blanket from the waist down and the teddy bear clutched to her chest, but he couldn’t help but notice the constellation of scars dotting Becky’s arms and torso. When Monophylla finally set him down, he instead looked at the scars on his own arm. Had anybody noticed them? Would they? They were so old and faint. Even if they did, would they care?

“I'll be back with you in a moment, sweetgrass,” Monophylla’s voice made Cory cringe, “It looks like someone had a messy night.”

Cory turned to watch as Monophylla wrapped her vines around Becky and carried her across the room to a high table. Her vines worked with dizzying speed as she used multiple of them to do whatever she was doing to Becky. Two vines stayed arced high over Becky as two more grabbed something pink from a door below the table. A different pair pulled something white into the air while the seventh opened a container and the white mass fell into it with heft. The seventh vine then wrapped around a bottle of something, moved over Becky, and set it back down before the two that had grabbed the pink whatever-it-was worked to some end. Becky let out a pleased mewl and was lifted back into Monophylla's vines.

Did she…

Cory looked away again as Monophylla carried her over, opting to look at a particularly interesting outcropping of stone until Becky let out a lurid moan. When he turned back around, Becky's arms were stretched high above her head by Monophylla's vines as she stood there completely naked. Except for a princess-pink diaper.

She did!

He watched mesmerized as Monophylla produced a green rope from inside her hollow and began to tie it around Becky. It looped around her scarred legs and padded hips, and from there it turned into a layer of diamonds over her tummy. Another row was added to the first and a third was tied around her slight breasts and shoulders in an astonishing display of precision as Monophylla weaved her web. Each loop and pass and knot worked together until Becky's supple flesh bulged through a diamond-patterned body harness. All the while, Becky continued to make noises every time another layer of loops tightened.

She stood with glassy, half lidded eyes when Monophylla released her, stumbling for only a moment before vines were on her again. A tap to Becky's sides raised her arms and an open, flowy, nearly translucent dress was draped over her. A tap behind one knee raised a foot for Monophylla to slide a sandal under, then the other, before more rope entwined her legs to keep the sandals put. Cory knew it was rude to stare, but he still couldn't look away. Not until Monophylla patted Becky from behind and the loud crinkle drove him back to awareness.

He shuddered, but was soon drawn back into the fray as Becky's arms collapsed around him in a hug. If anything was going to make his time with Monophylla bearable, it would be her. He hoped.

“Hgh-- Hi Becky.”

“Hiiiii Cooooory,” she slurred as she hung off of his shoulders. 

“So, uh, diapers, hu--oah!” he was cut off as Monophylla scooped the duo into her vines and carried them to the kitchen.

Cory and Becky were deposited in adult-sized highchairs on either side of a giant wooden table. He struggled to free himself from the buckled strap that had been put around his waist but, as soon as he looked down from the dizzying height, decided against it. 

“I hope you're hungry~” came a shrill trill as Monophylla pulled two plates from the compiler. “I compiled Becky's favorite.”

What was put before him looked like an egregiously flat pancake that had been rolled into a tube. It had three dollops of whipped cream and a drizzle of chocolate sauce that made Cory sure that he would have never been able to afford such a luxury in his past life. 

He gently batted away the vine floating far too close to his face. “Mono… Miss Tangella? Could I get a fork or whatever you use to eat this?”

She produced two, in fact, and set the first one down besides Cory's plate. Her eyes glew green in her hollow as she turned to Becky with the other and started feeding her.

Cory took even more judicious bites than he had under Riker's care as he watched Monophylla tap, swirl, and stroke at Becky's face and neck. For her part, Becky seemed to be enjoying being fed even more than Mila had the time Cory witnessed it. She lolled her tongue out like an obedient dog of war awaiting each morsel with bated breath and swallowed each with a wiggling moan. But she never swallowed until Monophylla allowed it. It stirred thoughts that Cory would rather not consider.

Looks like somebody's having fun.

How could anyone enjoy being fed like that? He certainly wouldn't.

You don't think so?

His grip steeled around his fork, shoveling another bite in defiantly. It was good food, but not worth giving up his independence for. His freedom. 

Maybe if it was Riker…

The thought was buried away behind another forkful of decadence. And another, and another until both plates were clean. When they were, Monophylla unbuckled them both and carried them back to the living room, setting them down at another, lower table. 

The tabletop was a screen of some sort displaying a map, though much of it was covered with dark, swirling clouds. On top of the map there were several figures on round bases in various poses and when Cory moved one experimentally, a circle radiated out from its new position and footsteps sounded as they trailed from where it started to where he placed it.

“Ah ah ah, sweetgrass,” Monophylla chided as she moved the piece back, “The game hasn't started yet. And that isn't even your character.”

“I don't even have a character…”

“Ohh! I can fix that, hon!” the ditzy hab AI called and the compiler dinged with a little bell. One of Monophylla’s vines snaked the whole way across the room and set a figure of a woman before Cory, the same five-inch scale as the rest, with blazing orange hair holding a bow. 

“This… is a girl,” Cory pouted to Monophylla. “I’m not a girl.” He hummed, face hardening even further as Monophylla’s vine scratched his chin through his beard. 

“Iiiit’s fun to preteeeeend~” Becky slurred. “Try it? Pleeeeeease?”

He looked at her glossy eyes as she put on her best pleading - begging - face as he gently pushed Monophylla’s vine away. It wasn’t as good as Mila’s, but it was damn close. 

Does every floret do that?

Cory relented. “Fine. Who is she?”

“That’s for you to figure out, sweetgrass,” the vine booped his nose before retreating. 

He thought about it as the doorbell rang and Monophylla went to greet whoever was at the door while Becky leaned against him. It didn’t feel bad to let her, so he didn’t protest, even if he didn’t put any conscious thought to her as he thought about this character that had been hoisted upon him. 

When she returned, Monophylla was herding a small group of people and xeno

they’re all sophonts

alike. Two more terrans made their way to the table and sat down after giving Becky squeezing hugs and introducing themselves as Mason and Abigail Luminara, First Florets Pinnate (he/him and she/her, respectively) to Cory. They sat together on another side of the table, snuggled even more closely than Becky had glommed onto Cory. The final sophont was a giant crow. The crow’s obsidian feathers glimmered with a purple sheen as it made it’s way over to the table and stood on one foot to offer the other foot

hand?

to Cory. 

“Hello,” the speakerbox on the crow’s silver necklace said. “My name is Klee Xemalarum, Eighteenth Floret. Kaa/Kee are my pronouns. I understand that Rookari pronouns may be difficult for Terrans, so it will not offend me if you refer to me as they/them.”

Cory took the crow’s claw in his hand, trying not to jump as it wrapped around with three talons on one side and two on the other and gently shook. “Cory Kàfkore. Not a floret. Guy pronouns, or whatever.”

Cory sank down as Becky and Mason giggled, but the Rookari’s grasp held firm. “It’s… nice to meet you, Klee. I’ve never shaken hands, err, feet, with a xeno before.”

Klee let out a happy sounding caw without the use of their voicebox. “May it be the first of many!” Releasing Cory’s hand, they took their seat on the opposite side from Abigail and Mason, leaving Monophylla to take up the entire final side herself. 

When everyone was seated and comfy, Monophylla's vines reached over the table to lift Becky over the table by her harness and suspended her in mid-air. “We have a new player today, so I will be thorough in today's recap for his benefit.”

Monophylla's recap was extremely thorough as she weaved a tale of a faraway land of magic and sword. The kingdom's princess had been kidnapped and was now being held captive. Becky giggled at that as she spun slowly under gravity. The group of three adventurers - soon to be four - had been hired by the royal family to rescue her from an evil creature capable of flattening minds. They had an arduous journey to this point, fighting man and beast alike. And now, the mindflattener’s habratory was in sight. “This is where today's session begins.”

Cory watched the game play out as Mason, Abigail, and Klee all shifted into character. Abigail was a human woman with a big shield; Mason was also a human with two daggers who seemed to be the sneaky one of the group. Klee was a bigger character, called an orc, who had magic powers. Cory watched as they talked amongst themselves in character to decide the best path and move their characters on the board. The fog shifted as they moved to new areas. Simulated dice in different hues for each character rolled as they entered combat with some wild animals, giving their attacks and spells varying levels of effectiveness.

Oh, this is so cool.

It was cool. But Cory still had to figure out his character. Sheets of options had been laid out on the digital tabletop before him, and he started to put her together. By the time the others had made it to a clearing where they decided to rest, Cory put his figure in the fog ahead of them. 

“Hello!” he tried to raise the pitch of his voice. “I am…” he--she needed a name!

Isabella

“Isodel, a hunter who calls these woods home. For now.” Cory made it clear that Isodel was wielding her weapon. “What are you doing in my camp?”

Abigail moved her character to shield Mason. “Hark, fair maiden!” She said to Isodel, who was Cory, drawing heat to his face. 

Hehehe~

“We mean you no harm,” Abigail continued, “We are on a mission to save the princess. She has been kidnapped.”

“Ptooey,” Cory spat, lacing Isodel’s next words with venom, “Can't stand the monarchy.” They sighed. “But the princess’s innocent in all those dealings, I suppose, and a girl in trouble's a girl in trouble. Might I join ya on this… noble quest?”

Of course the others agreed. After they took their ‘rest’, they all set out together toward the giant (on the table), overgrown building that had appeared through the fog as Monophylla continued to narrate. They chatted in character while a few of Monophylla's vines brought compiled snacks. Mason and Abigail fed each other chips

That's… something.

while Klee pecked at a bowl of popcorn. 

“What brings you to these parts?” Klee's character asked Isodel.

“I'm…” Cory knew what he wanted to say, but not the words.

Homeless. Escaping. On the run.

“A wanderer. I have no home to call my own.”

The others at the table gasped, even Becky, still hanging above the table like a chandelier. 

“But the woods provide,” Isodel replied.

“Well, that's no way to live.” it didn't sound like Monophylla was using her narrator voice when she said it.

Cory stammered. “It's… It's…”

Just a character?

“Nono,” came the voice from Klee's necklace. “Every sophont needs a brood.”

“A family,” Abigail intoned, pulling Mason to her side as he burrowed deeper.

So, husband and wife? Or…?

“I…” Cory’s eyes focused down at the figure of Isodel on the table. “Don’t have one.” He blinked away whatever was suddenly stuck in his eyes and hardened his face. “Never did me no good anyway.”

“Sweetgrass…” Monophylla’s vine reached over the table, but Cory shifted away. 

“It’s fine. It’s… just a character.” He grumbled. “Can we just get on with the game?”

“Very well.”

The game continued as they moved closer and closer to the villain’s lair. Cory lost himself in the moment, enjoying the camaraderie with the party. He gained more confidence in being Isodel with every question asked and every question answered. They welcomed her, that is to say him, with open arms. And Isodel was a force to be reckoned with, using her bow with deadly precision and when enemies got too close, her hatchet strikes proved even more vicious. And still yet there was an underlying kindness -- Isodel freed a trapped wolf at the edge of the magical grove surrounding the lair and made sure to give it some pets before sending it on its way. Cory couldn’t help but smile and roll his eyes at the coos and caw the act drew. 

But things took a turn for the worse as the party entered the grove and Monophylla set the scene by unraveling her vines across the floor and dangling them from the ceiling. Cory brushed them out of his face, much the same as Isodel did in the game, repeatedly, until the party was forced to make a perception and acrobatics check. Klee’s magic orc failed. 

Monophylla’s vines coiled around Klee, who cawed in excitement as their wings were pinned to their sides. Isodel cut them loose, but they soon found themselves making another roll. This time, it was Abigail and Mason who fell prey to the grove, and Monophylla’s vines bound them together in an embrace. Once again, Isodel came to the rescue to the party and cut them free, and Cory was baffled that they were disappointed that she had. 

Eventually, after the party had been weakened by a fight with one of the mind flattener’s minions, it was Isodel’s turn to fall into one of the terrible traps. Despite having such a high modifier, Cory had rolled a one and Isodel was unable to spring away from the vines in time. It was Cory who had to deal with the consequences. Monophylla’s vine snaked up his ankle and as soon as he realized he kicked his leg. 

“Hey!” he stared down the affini from across the table. 

Isodel freed herself with her hatchet, but it was only a short while later that it happened again. Another vine trap, another critical failure on the dice roll. Monophylla’s vine found its way beside Cory’s leg again, wrapping over the top of his knee… 

Cory grit his teeth and pried off the vine through the token resistance it put up and dropped it to the floor. “ Please stop doing that.” He looked right into Monophylla’s hollow and, in return, all he got was seven, unblinking, purple eyes. 

The game continued until they neared the lair. Its entrance was in sight through the magical woods, but an angry bear blocked the only path. Isodel used her powers of animal speaking to convince the bear that the party meant no harm, drawing praise from everyone at the table as she gained an ally to fight alongside the invaders of the forest together. 

“Good job,” Abigail nodded.

Mason added a soft “Yeah.”

“Well done!” Klee told him through kee voicebox.

“I hope Mr. Bear doesn’t get hurt,” Becky thought aloud, still hanging mid-air and reminding everyone that their quest was not through. 

But just when they reached the edge of the woods, there was one more patch of vine traps. Klee’s orc became trapped, as did Mason’s sneaky guy. And then, as she was trying to cut Mason free, Isodel became trapped as well. Another one showed on the digital dice face. 

This is starting to feel rigged…

It probably was, but Cory couldn’t spare the thought as Monophylla’s vine squeezed the inside of his thigh. Once again, he pulled the vine off with only as much force as necessary and stared into Monophylla’s terrifying eyes. He knew he should be scared, but he was simmering with too much frustration to be afraid. “Monophylla. Stop. This is me telling you to stop. I do not want this. I do not consent to this. Do you hear me?”

Maybe if it was Riker…

Not the fucking time.

“Yes, sweetgrass,” her high-pitched voice remained even. Unnaturally so. “I hear you.”

The party continued on from the forest and Monophylla's vines retreated as the party cleared the treeline. To Cory's surprise, they listened to Isodel's ideas for tactics rather than charging in head first. The perimeter guards were stealthily dispatched and into the compound they went. As they continued working their way toward the entrance, one guard ran away. Despite having her bow trained on him, Isodel let him go. The act of mercy was praised as the group prepared to enter the lair of the mindflattener. 

Another rest for the adventures meant more food for the players. They'd been playing for hours and Cory hadn't even realized until Monophylla's used her vines to carry a pizza from the compiler to the table and started handing

vining?

out slices. Even Becky ate, after Monophylla rotated her to a more appropriate angle and fed her. Cory chewed slowly as he watched the vines perform the same rhythmic tap, swirl, stroke on Becky's face as they had that morning.

The entire group wanted to continue and after some light stretching - Monophylla said they had been sitting too long - they did. 

The lights in the hab grew dim, their light becoming weaker and weaker as the party advanced further inside the dungeon. Things went well, expeditiously so. At Isodel's suggestion, she and Mason used their stealth skills to scout ahead and sneak attack several guards. Those that they couldn't take care of were taken out handily by Klee's magic orc or, if they were unlucky, Mr. Bear. All acted under Abigail's spells of protection.

And then the spells ran out.

Despite the lack of protection, Isodel insisted they continue as Cory looked up at Becky's blissful face. They had not yet rescued the princess, their mission was incomplete. The other party members agreed, and they made their way into the final chamber.

The mindflattener had been lying in wait, and Monophylla described its grotesque brainlike form as she reshaped herself and her vines sprawled once again. The battle was hard fought and by the end, Isodel stood alone. The magic man, shield maiden, and sneaky boy had all been strung up from the ceiling after falling prey to the flattener’s machinations, and Klee, Abigail, and Mason all dangled from the ceiling of Monophylla's hab alongside Becky. Isodel fended off and dodged attack after attack, but by the time she realized what was happening it was too late. She had been headed into a trap.

Cory's dice once again showed a 1

So rigged…

and up Isodel went. Monophylla coiled her vines around Cory, the tips grinding against and groping between his legs. The frustration and righteous anger, his and Isoldel's, overtook him. Enough was enough.

“I said stop!” he shouted, pushing away from the table and ripping Monophylla's vines off as fast as he could. “I told you no, I don't know how many times, so keep your stars damned vines off of us!”

Cory panted through grit teeth, practically growling with each breath. Monophylla didn't make a single sound as she stood and Klee, Mason, Abigail, and even Becky lowered to the ground.

Ohhhhhhh, shit…

All eyes were focused on him. Not just Klee’s, Mason’s, Abigail’s, and Becky’s, but all seven of Monophylla’s with their purple and red glow. 

“I…” Cory tried to take a deep breath but couldn’t find the air as he stared into Monophylla’s eyes. “Please…”

Monophylla tromped softly around the table and Cory couldn’t take his eyes off of her, even as every instinct told him to run. He shrank away, but his feet wouldn’t so much as budge as she lowered herself until she was close enough that he could reach his hand into her hollow body.

“We do not use that kind of language around florets, sweetgrass.”

Cory’s eyes bounced around trying to find anyone, anything, else. All he could see was Monophylla. 

“I--I’m…”

All of the anger and indignation that had fueled him vanished. Terror filled its place. 

“I know exactly what you need, sweetgrass.” Monophylla’s vines encroached again. The cuff’s yellow light flashed as he tried to shield himself against her and he was lifted into her arms and the world went dark.

Chapter Text

Chapter 15:
Can We Make It Alright?

Cory tried to push Monophylla away, but it was no use. It became clear that whatever force Monophylla had used to try to violate him only minutes before had all been for show. She was capable of so much more. The fear only made Cory fight harder as tears of frustration welled in his eyes and he started to cry while Monophylla carried him out of the room. She refused to listen to his pleas until they were in Becky’s room, where she carried him into the keep of the castle and sat him down on a big, pink throne. 

“Now, sweetgrass, you can’t say bad words like that in front of florets. Especially not Mason and Becky.”

“Wha-- I--”

Monophylla pressed a vine to Cory’s mouth to shush him, and his nose filled with her disgusting sour pine and wet moss. “Shush. I had expected your previous warden to instill some basic manners, but I see I was mistaken. I will not fail you, in that regard..”

“But I--”

“Shhh. Now, you’re going to sit here until I return and you are going to think about what you did and why it was wrong.”

Cory pulled himself forward in the throne he was sinking into. “Wait I--”

“Don’t try to argue, little one. And remember, Jessie will alert me if you leave this seat.” She pointed at the black dome in the middle of the keep’s ceiling. “I’ll be back to get you after the other florets have had their fun, if they’re still in a fun-having mood after your little tantrum.”

Tantrum?! Cory cringed as Monophylla stroked a vine over his head, and then she was gone.

This is super fucked.

It was. Did she seriously just give him a timeout? 

We haven’t had a timeout since mom and dad split up.

Still, it was better than getting spanked, or Dad threatening to get the belt. Cory shuddered at the thought. 

Thank stars he never did.

True, but the threats didn’t help. 

No. No, they didn’t.

Cory sighed. The silence was deafening as he looked around the throne room. It was as childish as it was regal, with toys and blocks scattered about and an assortment of stuffed animals acting as the court on either side of a long, red carpet leading from the door to the throne. 

So… what are we going to do?

Cory knew his options were limited. He couldn’t run. He couldn’t fight back. He would just have to do his best to swallow his pride, keep his head down, and hope that he could make it through. The same as he always did. 

Sigh. Yeah, the same as we always do.

Cory sighed again, trying to focus on anything other than how horrible his situation was by staring at the rug. 

Working great so far, by the way.

He groaned and rolled his eyes. Thinking like that wasn't helpful.

...

What was he supposed to do? Just lie down and take it? Become a floret, like the captain's toy?

Cory leaned forward, elbows on his knees, chin pressed into his folded hands and sat there. Time stretched on into the longest silence he could remember. Nothing came from the outside; nothing came from the inside. Until it finally did.

Riker wouldn't treat us this way.

Cory knew that she wouldn't. She respected him and cared for him -- cared about him… She listened to him. She wanted to help him. Riker made him feel safe. He knew that Riker would never lay a finger on him that he didn't want.

I don't think we'd mind if she did…

He considered that. Even when Riker had carried him against his will it had been because he wouldn't have moved otherwise. When she held him despite not wanting to be held, it was so she could protect him from himself. When she made him eat, it was because she knew he would deprive himself otherwise. Whatever she did, she did because it was something he needed, even if he hadn't thought so at the time. 

She makes us feel safe .

Cory sucked his lips and nodded. She wouldn't leave him alone when he was clearly so upset. 

She wouldn't.

Water trickled down Cory's cheek as he forced his eyes closed. 

“Fuck…”

Yeah…

Do you think we could get out of here if we said we wanted to be Riker's floret…?

Before Cory could even try to formulate a response, the ceiling dome began to glow. He stared up into the blue light until it started projecting two vertical bars with a single line stretched between them.

“Theo?”

“Master Cory. I'm so terribly sorry. I saw everything.”

“Theo?! Why -- How are you here? I thought you were Riker's house .”

“How I came to be here isn't important now, sir.”

“You gotta get me outta here.”

Theo's line sagged into a frown. “I'm sorry, sir. That seems most impossible at this time. But rest assured that I will be monitoring your situation as closely as possible.”

Cory found himself happy about the idea of Theo's overwatch for once. Although…

“How long have you been here. Did you see…” he couldn't bring himself to say it.

“What Miss Tangella did to you. Yes.”

“Where's Riker?” 

“Miss Riker is absolutely distraught over this whole situation. I've tried to rouse her, but… to no avail.”

As scared as he was, Cory's heart ached for Riker. He wished he could be back there at her hab, in her arms. He could make it alright, couldn't he?

We could.

“I understand what a difficult situation this is, sir, but it will only be a matter of time until you are safely back with Miss Riker. All you need to do is endure until then. You will get through this.”

“Theo,” his voice cracked despite trying to say quiet lest his captor hear, “She tried to--”

“I know. I'm…” Theo's wave rippled in silence as if he was at a loss for words,  “Terribly sorry.”

Silence hung in the air again until Theo spoke.

“Might I offer a suggestion?”

Cory sighed. “If you think it will help…”

“Remember Mila's breathing exercise. Use it to-- Apologies. Miss Tangella is coming.”

“Theo, wait! I--” but the hologram was gone. 

Monophylla opened the doors to the castle only moments later. 

“I didn’t move,” Cory called out, “Am I… done?” his voice softened as she neared. 

“That depends. Have you learned your lesson?”

What fucking lesson?!

Cory bit the inside of his cheek. “Yes.”

Monophylla pet him again. “Then yes. You may leave the seat.”

“Is the game over?” Cory asked as he stood and stretched his legs. 

“It is. The mindflattener won.”

Cory sighed. He let everyone down.

“Just as it always does,” she continued. She unraveled part of her torso to reveal Becky, Klee, Abigail, and Mason all inside. Naked. They were all fast asleep but dripping with sweat and possibly other fluids. “They all had a very fun time,” she said in as soft of a voice as Cory believed she was capable of as she set them down on the padded floor.

“I see…”

Maybe the outburst had been for the best. Maybe she really would have… done that to him had he stuck around.

“Would you like to join them for a nap?”

He really wouldn't but all things considered he did would probably look good if he agreed.

“Suuuure…”

Cory laid down on the floor on the end next to Mason and closed his eyes when Monophylla turned down the lights. How fire could dim was a question for another day. He took a deep breath. 

One, two, three, four.

He held it in.

One, two, three, four.

He let it out.

One, two, three, four. 

And held it out.

One, two, three, four.”

He repeated the exercise over and over and tried not to think about how much he'd rather be lying beside Mila. He tried not to think how much he'd rather be having lunch with her again and munching on one of her unreasonably good candy canes. And so long as he focused on his breathing, it worked.

And it kept working until Mason rolled over in his sleep and clung to him instead of Abigail. Cory slammed his eyes shut and froze.

He wasn't there. He wasn't on the floor of Monophylla's hab. There wasn't a cute, naked, body-of-a-swimmer, boy floret snuggling into his chest. There wasn't only a thin, pink shirt separating Mason's toned, hairless chest from his flabby, hairy chest. 

Cory did another round of breathing. 

He was fine. He was back on earth. He was home. Back before the divorce. There wasn't a giant bird chittering and clicking in its sleep six feet away from him. There wasn't a cute boy's arm draped over his stomach, and the boy definitely wasn't cute. Boys aren't cute.

He's kinda cute, though.

Cory wanted to scream. But he just lied there and imagined far away places and what his life might have been under different circumstances. It was fine. He was fine. And everything was fine until the lights came back up. 

He waited until Abigail rolled Mason off him with a quiet apology to sit up himself. He just kept his head in his hands as two more affini came in to retrieve their florets. 

The rest of the evening went by in a blur after Becky snuggled up to him on the floor. She remained the one saving grace in the entire situation. He knew Monophylla carried him out of the castle at some point, or maybe he wandered out himself, because the next thing he knew he was playing some kind of game with Becky.

“Twunny four, twunny fiiiiive…” Becky counted. 

“No peeking, Princess,” Monophylla's multitudinous voice sang. Her vines wrapped around Becky's head and held her hands in front of her eyes. 

Oh. Hide and seek?

That probably made sense, he thought, considering Becky's counting with covered eyes. But what he couldn't make sense of was how he got from inside the castle to the middle of Becky's bedroom slash playroom. 

“Thurdy eight, thurdy nine, foooorty… “ Becky slurred as she counted higher and higher.

If we're playing along, we should hide.

Cory looked around, trying to find any obvious spots. Was he allowed to go anywhere in Monophylla's hab, or just in Becky's room? Did that include inside the castle? What about--

“Fifty!” Becky called excitedly as she uncovered her eyes. All the excitement fell from her face like a sack of hammers as she saw Cory standing only a few feet away. “You're not very good at this,” she pouted.

“I, uh,” Cory's voice trailed off, “sorry…” he hugged himself. 

Becky joined in and hugged him too, only seconds later. “That's okay. Wanna try again? You can be ‘it’ this time.”

“Oh, well, I mean,” obviously Cory had to say yes. But before he could, Monophylla draped a vine over both of Becky's shoulders and gave Cory an inch of space. 

“I don't think Cory is up to play any more games just this minute, Princess.” 

Huh?

“Perhaps something a bit less involved on his part, hmm?” she continued.

“Oooh okay,” Becky hummed in thought for a moment and took Cory's hand in both of hers. “Can I paint your nails?”

Painting nails was so girly . Cory paused to wonder if he really had to. “I dunno,” he chuffed.

“Pleeeease?” Becky begged like a puppy, “I'll make ‘em real pretty.”

After a few seconds, Cory saw he had no option. He would have to bend so he didn't end up broken. “Okay.”

“Yaaay!” Becky, partially supported by Monophylla's vines on the harness under her clothes, dragged Cory over to a vanity in the bedroom-like area of the larger bed-slash-play room. On the vanity lay a variety of makeup and cosmetics that Cory hadn't the faintest idea how to use. 

Cory turned as Becky pulled him to sit so that his back was to the mirror. He couldn't… he just couldn't. 

Becky grabbed an assortment of nail polishes and held them up with both hands, asking which one Cory wanted, as if he had any idea. 

“I dunno. Just pick one, I guess?”

“Hehe okay~”

She set the bottles back down behind him with only minimal clatter and returned to face him holding one. Of course, it was a girly color. Cory sat as still as he could as Monoplylla's vines raised his hands and wrapped between his fingers to spread and support them. Becky rolled the bottle between her hands before unscrewing the top to start painting.

Cory did another breathing exercise. In, hold, out, hold. He couldn't believe he was letting Becky paint his nails pink, even to avoid domestication.

At least it's a nice color…

There were worse colors, Cory could admit. 

It matches our shirt!

Cory looked down at his nails, then to his shirt. They did match. The glossy pink nail polish was nearly the same shade of pink as the t-shirt that Riker had helped him compile. Why had she encouraged him to pick pink?

I mean, I told her it was our favorite color when she drugged us.

And she had only drugged him, if he could even consider whatever kind of truth serum she had given him a drug, because he was too afraid of her hating him to tell her that he nearly killed Monophylla. 

She still doesn’t hate us, you know. You heard Theo. She’s distraught because we’re not there.

The thought provoked an ache in his chest that he would have liked more time to mull over before Becky put the cap back on the nail polish. “Done!” Becky beamed triumphantly. 

Cory forced a smile and tried to turn his hands to inspect Becky’s handiwork, but Monophylla’s vines kept his arms still. 

“Not yet, sweetgrass,” she chided, “The pigment needs to dry.”

“So what am I supposed to do until this stuff dries?” Cory tried to look at his nails again, but was met with resistance. 

Monophylla’s voice trilled disconcertingly. “Just let me worry about that, sweetgrass.”

An instant later, Cory was in Monohpylla’s arms, hands held in front of him, and carried back to the kitchen. He was put in the same highchair he had sat in that morning, while Monophylla lifted Becky into her seat. She stood next to Becky’s seat, petting her and praising her for the job she did on Cory’s nails, as two more vines reached out for the compiler. The vines worked the controls and carried two plates, one for each terran. 

Cory looked down at the plate before him. The chicken nuggets and french fries looked delicious, and he eagerly tried to reach for what was surely their comforting taste. Unfortunately, his hands were still tied -- both literally and figuratively. 

“Monophylla?” He asked, and she ignored. “Miss Tangella?”

“Just a moment, sweetgrass.”

Cory blew a breath from his nose, still unable to do so much as lift his fingers from the table where her vines held them. He wondered what she expected him to do, as Becky giggled at the vine dangling in front of her face. 

Oh…

The realization hit Cory all at once as Monophylla moved her massive body along the table while two of her vines remained in place and fed Becky. “Miss Tangella, I can feed myself. Really, just--”

“Hush now, sweetgrass,” she put a mossy vine to his mouth to shush him. “The pigment is still drying and, while it is completely safe and not toxic if ingested, it is specifically flavored to prevent adorable little terrans like you from trying to.” 

Cory tried to twist his head to get his mouth and nose away from the wet, mossy, sour smell. “I’ll be careful,” he managed to get the words out around the vine. 

“Something you should have learned already is that we affini do not take any chances when it comes to the safety and comfort of our florets.”

We’re not her floret!

“I’m a ward . An independent ward.”

Her voice went up and down in a wordless harmony that Cory could only interpret as a dismissive hum. “Even so-called independents need to eat, sweetgrass. Now,” she said, tapping a vine against Cory’s cheek, “Open.”

Just… play along, I guess.

Cory stared her down for a moment, eyes twitching to the vines feeding Becky in the same way he knew Monophylla would feed him. The same way Mr. Oakley fed Mila. Eventually, he opened his mouth slowly and begrudgingly. Monophylla placed a chicken nugget in his mouth and as soon as he closed it, her vine stroked his cheek. He cocked his head away, still staring her down as he started to chew. When he did, she swirled her vine on the same cheek. When it was time to swallow, she stroked a vine down the length of his throat, making him cringe. 

He sighed through his nose. “You’re gonna do this the whole time?”

He could almost hear the grin in her voices as she said, “Of course. I wouldn’t be preparing you for your new life in the Affini Compact if I didn’t, sweetgrass,” even though he couldn’t see it in the dark hollow of her shrubby form. 

If she even has a mouth in there.

Cory bemoaned the treatment, but it continued nonetheless as he idly wondered how long the nail polish would actually take to dry if it hadn’t already. After the third round of the open-chew-swallow game, Cory could feel his frustration boiling. It was so hard not to argue. Didn’t he deserve better treatment? Didn’t he deserve to be treated with the respect Riker showed him?

Try to imagine something else.

Cory closed his eyes with another sigh, opening his mouth after being tapped on the cheek.

We’re not even here, alright? We’re back in Riker’s hab. Monophylla isn’t feeding us. Riker is feeding us. It’s her finger touching us, not Monophylla’s vine, okay? Just imagine that.

In his mind’s eyes, Cory was back in Riker’s hab. He wasn’t sitting in a grossly padded highchair, he was sitting on Riker’s lap at her kitchen table. It wasn’t Monophylla’s vine swirling in a circle on his cheek to tell him to chew, it was Riker’s fingertip. It was Riker’s finger that stroked down through his beard from his chin to his collarbone when he swallowed. He could almost smell her, almost block out Monophylla’s sour pine and moss and smell Riker’s cloves and sweaty firewood instead as he let his shoulders down and relax into the highchair Riker’s lap. 

He kept his eyes closed, focusing on her. She was there with him. It was her feeding him, giving him comforting touches to the face as he enjoyed the delicious and nutritious meal she had cooked for him herself. It was Riker drawing out contented sighs and hums as she fed him bite after bite until the food stopped coming. It was her, keeping him happy, healthy, and safe. Until he opened his eyes to the intractable truth.

“Why are you staring at me?” Cory glowered. He instinctively tried to wipe whatever must be on his face off, but his hands were still held down. 

“You were smiling,” Monophylla told him. Why did she sound happy, he wondered.

“Oh. Yeah,” Cory swallowed and looked down at the empty plate. “Good food. Thanks. Miss Tangella.”

“You are most welcome, sweetgrass.” Her vine stroked down his head and his shoulders didn’t unbunch until it was off him again. 

“So, uhh, are my nails dry yet?” Cory asked, trying to flex his arms again. “Can I have my hands back now? Please?”

Monophylla finally unwound the green braces around his hands. He looked closely at the nails and was surprised by how neatly they were painted, considering Becky’s seeming discoordination. “What time is it anyway?”

“It is shortly after eight o’clock in the evening, measured by Terran Standard Time.” 

“Oh. When’s Becky’s… bedtime?”

“In approximately one Terran hour. Which leaves just enough time for a bath.”

Cory froze. Surely, she didn’t intend…

Oh, no.

Vines began to unbuckle Cory from the highchair as Monophylla spoke, “Jessie?”

“Alllready on it, Miss Tangella!” Jessie replied in her overly enthusiastic tone.

Before he knew it, he was bundled in Monophylla’s vines next to Becky, who clung to him like he was one of her stuffed animals. The trip to the bathroom was short and Cory adjusted his glasses as he was set down to see a great, mossy, rocky basin being filled with water poured from a pitcher held by a statue of an affini. He watched from behind Monophylla as Becky’s dress was plucked into the air, her diaper disposed of, and her sandals and harness set aside. 

Cory looked away as Becky was set down into the tub, taking note of the textured stone floor covered in patches of moss. They matched the pillars lining the walls between a jungle of exotic plants that gave the entire room the feeling of an abandoned and overgrown castle in a desolate forest. It might have been a very peaceful place, circumstances notwithstanding, but it was a long way from Riker’s sleeker, more Terran bathroom. Thankfully, there was no mirror. 

Uhh… There’s no toilet in here, either.

And then Monophylla’s attention was on him. 

He shied away as much as his body would let him. “Can we talk about this?”

“There’s nothing to discuss, sweetgrass. Little terrans like you need their baths, and it’s my job as your warden to ensure you’re clean and comfortable.”

Cory's heart raced as he grabbed his forearm in front of him, ignoring the solid yellow light as he tried to bargain. “I can wash myself. I’ll be fine. Jessie can even keep an eye on me.”

Monophylla’s vines slithered across the ground and through the air, her voice trilling with condescension. “I understand that you want to be a big, independent terran,” she cooed, her eyes gleaming with a purple light. “But part of being independent is learning to accept help when it’s necessary. Now, let’s get those clothes off so we can get you all nice and clean.”

Out of flight, fight, freeze, or fawn, Cory’s body decided to freeze. He stood as still as possible, helplessly cringing in on himself as Monophylla’s vines undressed him unceremoniously. It was only seconds, but it felt like a lifetime as Monophylla untied and loosened his shoes, lifted his shirt over his head, and pulled down his pants with vines that were as quick as they were eager. He winced, closing his eyes when Monophylla lifted his glasses from his head and picked him up. They only opened again once he had been submerged in the bath. 

The water should have been soothing, he knew, but instead of his muscles relaxing, they only tensed further as he tried to make himself as small as possible. One hand reached up to grab at the leaves of a plant hanging over the edge of the basin in a desperate attempt to cover his shame; he had no sooner pulled it down than Monophylla’s vines tore it from his hands, leaving him just as frighteningly exposed as before.

Becky whined, gently pushing away the puffy vine scrubbing her like a loofah. “What's wrong? Don't you like baths?”

Cory shrank down even further as the yellow light flashed like a beacon through the water from where he was shielding his shame. To his horror, Becky’s response was to stand and start wading toward him. Even without his glasses, he could see the red rope marks the harness had left on her fair skin as she toddled closer. Just ahead of her, an iridescent sheen spread across the rippling water and bubbles followed in her wake. 

The air was pushed from Cory's lungs as the sheen collided with him even before Becky did. Wherever it touched, his body tingled, sending shivers down his spine. Becky's hand, covered in suds, drew even more tingles from his flesh as she touched his upper arm. Her touch was electric in a way that Cory had never experienced and he could barely process. The feeling spread up and down, into his arm and chest, where his heart raced like never before. It was terrifying, but it would have been a lie to say he didn't want more.

“It's okay,” Becky cooed, “I was really shy too when Mistress first found me.” Breaths were forced out of Cory's lungs faster than they could be drawn as her hand moved up to his shoulder, spreading the electric tingles as she continued. “Want me to help?”

Cory's cock ached behind his hand beneath the shimmering water. His body was betraying him, despite the existential danger the siren before him imposed. “I… I'm… never… uhhh…” he stammered.

Her hand stopped halfway across his chest, the tingles turning to nettles as he felt every terrible hair on his chest. The chest that had fat in all the wrong places, unlike Becky's gumdrop chest. “Are you a…” her voice was softer than he deserved.

He looked away from her -- she was too pretty; everyone he had met since boarding the Cymbidium was so pretty. And here he was, a fat, ugly virgin. He nodded softly, his body moving without his input, and he braced for the rebuke he was sure would follow. She would laugh at him, she would say how she could tell, she would--

Her hand brought even more stinging nettles to his bearded cheek, the tingling giving way to a pervasive numbness that spread through the entire left side of his face. He should have been concerned, but he could only think one thing as Becky lifted his chin to gaze upon her smile.

She was so cute.

She's so cute.

“That's so cute,” she smiled. There was a hint of a giggle, but it wasn't laced with the venom Cory had expected. Was she excited? Or was she nervous too?

Heat spread the rest of the way across Cory's face as she cupped his jaw with both hands. His face was so hot it hurt, but it was bearable. It was only the bath and the blush compounding each other. “It is?”

“Mhmm,” she nodded, “You're cute. I'm kinda surprised, but you are pretty shy.”

Cory nodded.

“How about I distract you while Mistress washes your haaaair?”

Cory was vaguely aware that he was nodding past the whimper on his lips.

“Good,” she giggled playfully again. “Now let me juuuuust…” She lowered herself onto his leg. She straddled his thigh while her leg pressed his hand against his cock. It throbbed onto his palm. 

Holy shit.

Becky leaned in, kissing him with an unexpected tenderness as electricity flowed from her lips to his. It felt too good to give up, and he chased after it as she pulled away with an unexpected thirst of his own. She explored down from his jaw and he ignored the feelings of wrongness in his body's contours as her hands left trails of tingles, stinging, and heat wherever they touched. Her hands felt like vises clamping down on his shoulders as she left him whimpering for more. 

It should have been weird

it is weird

but Cory couldn’t even tell what weird was by that point. Every part of his body that Becky had touched felt like it was scorched. Even the parts that she hadn’t, the parts underwater, tingled uncomfortably. But when she touched him, it felt so good that he could ignore the physical agony. The emotional agony of the space, on the other hand, felt like too much to bear. But he couldn’t think with the overwhelming sensations and could only whimper needily. 

Becky giggled again. “It’s okaaaaay, I’m not going anywhere. Just let Mistress wash your hair and we’ll have some more fuuuuuun.” 

Cory lost the ability to breathe as Becky took his hand and placed it on her breast. He squeezed gently, the way he had imagined doing more times than he could count, and throbbed against his hand as Becky moaned. He made her moan! She leaned in, kissing him again, and moaned into his mouth. He barely noticed Monophylla’s vines grabbing a bottle from the edge of the stone bath - barely noticed the sound of a bottle being uncorked - before something cool covered his head. It was freezing cold. 

Then it tingled.

Then it stung. 

It burned. 

As the pain built higher and higher, he couldn’t ignore it any longer, despite how good kissing Becky felt. He gritted his teeth and sucked air, trying to ignore the feeling of razorblades flaying his entire head. Finally, unable to endure it any longer, Cory drew in a sharp breath before a blood-curdling scream tore from his throat. His eyes forced themselves shut with enough force that dull red filled his vision as the searing agony drowned out any other coherent thought from his mind.

And then, everything went dark.

Chapter Text

Chapter 16:
Is This Enough?

Awareness came slowly as Cory drifted back to the surface of whatever dreamless sleep had befallen him. He tried to remember the events of the previous day as he lay there with his eyes closed. Being ripped away from Riker. Being dragged to Monophylla's. A tabletop game. An assault. A ridiculous timeout. A boy. Painted nails. A bath. Becky. Excruciating pain. All of these things melded together to paint a picture of what happened before he slept, but not when he had gone to bed. 

It was a terribly soft bed as well. His body tingled with the pressure of the blanket over him and the bed pressing into him from below. His hair and beard felt like hissing static around his entire head. But still, he fought to find stillness. It was not until he heard trudging, wet footsteps, that his awareness was piqued and yet, he continued to feign sleep. Someone rolled into him, draping an arm over him that felt too strong even through the blanket. 

“Mistress,” the someone revealed themself as Becky, “Is Cory going to be okay?”

“Of course he will, my little Princess. He had an unexpected reaction to the apocynai in your cleanser.”

“But… he was screaming so loud,” Becky’s voice quivered with concern as she pulled herself to Cory more tightly. Her hair felt like steel wool as it scraped his face and he rolled his head the other way. 

“I know. I’m sorry if that scared you. I administered the vivaleria as soon as I realized that something was amiss. He should be waking up shortly.”

Cory sighed and opened his eyes. It was like stones grinding against one another as he opened with a wince. His glasses were gone, but even without them, he could still make out the castle’s stone walls, Monophylla’s hulking green form, and Becky’s face. She was close enough that he could see her almost clearly as she held her head to his chest. When Becky noticed he was awake, she hugged even tighter. 

“Ow,” Cory deadpanned. 

Becky gasped, lifting herself just off of him. 

“S’okay,” Cory mumbled, “Just… sensitive.” He grimaced as he turned to Monophylla. “ My head is killing me. What happened?”

Monophylla repeated what she had told Becky regarding the apocynai , a touch enhancing xenodrug, in the bath. Cory’s reaction was completely unexpected. When he began screaming, she injected him with vivaleria , another xenodrug, to induce sleep. In that sleep, she further injected him with an antidote for the apocynai . 

Gee, I wonder why Riker FORMALLY requested she not give us drugs?!

Was she really not going to apologize? At least she gave him back his glasses. 

Cory assessed his condition by rolling his shoulders and his neck, enjoying the familiar sound of the cracks, even if they felt like firecrackers in his bones. He cracked his fingers next, relieved by stretching his joints despite the strange, overactive sensations. At least it didn’t hurt. As the fog of sleep lifted, Cory became acutely aware that something was amiss. As he stretched his legs, he realized he was crinkling. He froze, realizing that there was more weight around his waist and hips than just the blanket. And it was soft. 

Cory looked at Becky and intoned for her to roll off, and when she did, he threw the blanket off. To his horror, he looked down to see the diaper that he was wearing. His heart dropped in his chest. He hadn’t asked for this -- he wouldn’t have asked for this! Monophylla had taken it upon herself to put him in one of Becky’s princess pink diapers in his drug-induced slumber! 

He had to get out of it. He couldn’t wear a diaper. It was fine if Becky wanted to -- or needed to -- but he certainly didn’t. But just as he reached to pull the adhesive tabs like the hatch of an escape pod, he paused.

Hold on.

Cory’s arm jerked to a stop, fingers inches from the diaper. 

Okay, just… Relax. First of all we don't have any other clothes. Second of all, we don't need to piss Monophylla off. And third of all... it doesn't feel that bad? Kinda soft…

Huffing a breath through his nose, Cory reluctantly agreed that the diaper was unnervingly soft. Comfortable, even, despite the lingering sensitivity of the apocynai . Fine. He would wear it. But he wouldn’t use it, stars dammit. 

At least it's our favorite color.

Cory didn't need to be reminded of that as he let his arm rest at his side. He did, however, need clothes. 

“Mono--Miss Tangella?” Cory started as he pulled the blanket back over his overexposed chest. “Can I have some clothes?” 

Monophylla's vine stroked his head and he flinched at the amplified scraping of his hair against his head. “Is that how a polite terran asks for the things they want?”

“Please,” his face burned with humiliation and denigration both, “Can you get me something to wear?”

“Of course, sweetgrass. I'll compile something for you.”

Alone with Becky, Cory became nervous as he looked into her eyes. There was innocence in her the way she looked at him being betrayed by her wide-open pupils and Cory’s memories of the night before. Despite that veneer of innocence, he couldn't help but imagine her as he had seen her in the tub, straddling his leg with his hand on her chest.

“Hey,” he gulped, “Uhh, last night. Did we…?”

“Nuh-uh,” she shook her head with a carefree smile. She laid her hand on the crotch of his diaper. His entire body immediately stiffened under her touch. His entire body. “You wanna?”

Of course he did. He was so hard it hurt.

Literally.

An inarticulate series of flustered noises flowed from Cory’s mouth as his brain struggled to process that she wanted to do that , with him.

She leaned in and pecked him on the cheek. Electricity rained down on him, and he liked it. “Later then.”

He nodded along dumbly before she snuggled back into his side. A deep breath filled him with her orange creamsicle scent again as they waited for his captor to return. 

“Arms up, little one,” Monophylla squealed, stirring Cory from the pseudo-sleep he had drifted into. Becky started to rise, but was quickly pinned to the mattress next to him. Becky seemed to enjoy it, but Cory froze as Monophylla loomed over him expectantly. 

Cory pushed himself up with a sigh and raised his arms over his head. She draped him in an oversized, pastel yellow t-shirt that felt incredibly thin. Looking down at it, he pulled the front away to glimpse at the cutesy cartoon cow emblazoning the front. It was so childish. But at least it wasn't pink, he supposed. Before he could even begrudgingly thank Monophylla, he and Becky were wrapped in her vines. 

Sat back down in the dreaded highchair, Cory gazed at the breakfast before him. A bowl of some kind of porridge waited in a bowl with a smattering of light and dark brown in its center. It smelled sweet. Better yet, there was a spoon just off to one side of it, and on the other side was a tall plastic cup of orange juice. 

Back to feeding ourselves?

He hoped so. He didn't want to be fed by Monophylla, he wanted to be fed by Riker. 

Hmm~?

Scratch that! He didn't want to be fed at all!

Uh-huh.

Cory ignored the errant thought as he reached for the spoon. He watched from across the table as Becky sat with her mouth open, like a dog begging for a treat. Even after she got it, she kept her mouth open. She whined, her begging turned from metaphor to reality, until Monophylla swirled a vine against her cheek and allowed her to chew. Cory shuddered and scooped up some of the sweet-smelling slop for himself.

Just as he put it to his mouth and opened, a vine yet unseen booped his face. He glared at it and traced it back down and along the floor to Monophylla. As if there had been any question. 

Ignore it.

Cory did his best to ignore the vine, even as it continued to tap and tickle his face and stroke his bearded throat as he went through the motions of feeding himself the surprisingly delicious porridge Monophylla called an ‘oat meal’. He was just happy to be feeding himself. The oatmeal tasted heavily of sugar and cinnamon, and Cory lapped up every bit until he was scraping the sides of the bowl clean with his spoon and licking the spoon clean.

He washed it down with the plastic cup of juice and sat back with a sigh. The vine finally retreated, but not before giving him another unsettling pat on the head. His face twisted, but then it kept twisting as his stomach gurgled.

“Monophylla? Can you let me down? Please?” He gripped the armrests of the highchair. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

“Why would you need to go anywhere to relieve yourself? You're already perfectly equipped for those needs.” Monophylla said calmly, as if she expected Cory to piss himself.

I think she does expect that, given the diaper and all.

The realization hit Cory like a ton of bricks. 

“Nevermind…” Cory's face felt too warm as he shrank down on his seat. 

As Monophylla carried him and Becky back to the bedroom, Cory tried to ignore the thoughts that told him that he would need to use the bathroom, eventually. He knew he could only hold it for so long, especially with the big glass of juice, but he couldn’t bear to think of that eventuality. Thankfully, he found a very interesting distraction as Monophylla dressed Becky. 

The diamond lattice harness was applied to Becky’s body once again, and Cory couldn’t help but admire the ropework. He was almost more interested in the elaborate outfit that Monophylla put Becky in, though. A fluffy white petticoat was put around Becky’s waist before she was draped in a flowing pink gown. Monophylla turned Becky to face her, and it seemed to be for Cory’s own benefit as it showed him the laces on the back. Laces that Monophylla drew even more tightly than Cory thought should be humanly possible while Becky hummed and moaned at the encroaching corset-like tightness that only made her scant bust and hips seem bigger by comparison. 

A pair of gloves slid up each of her arms, hiding the scars, before those too were laced with enough tightness to produce a bulge just below the shoulders. A pair of opaque white leggings followed, and a shorter pair of boots placed over them. They seemed to remind him of boots from the Cosmic Navy uniforms he’d seen the crews escorting the mining colony’s supply shipments wear, but he was certain they weren’t the same standard issue, were they? In any case, the boots were laced tightly and meticulously. 

“Thank you, Mistress,” Becky hummed, evidently pleased with being wrapped up tighter than a Christmas present. And she looked as pretty as one, too. 

Monophylla pet Becky profusely, drawing giggles from the floret, before she turned to Cory. “Your turn, sweetgrass.”

The survival instincts in Cory’s brain decided that freezing again was the best response as Monophylla approached him with a long, green braided rope of vines. He closed his eyes hard enough to hear the blood rushing behind his eyes as Monophylla raised his arms and took the shirt from his shoulders. Confused feelings poured through him as Monophylla began wrapping the rope around his body. 

We’ve wanted to try rope for a long time, haven’t we? Maybe we can enjoy this.

He had wanted to, but not like this. Not with Monophylla, for sure. 

Then it isn’t Monophylla, is it?

Cory’s thoughts once again drifted to the affini he liked most, picturing Riker standing above him with a rope taut across her hands. His breaths came quickly as his body relaxed, lifting his arms for her as she wrapped the rope between his legs, over his padded butt, and around his waist. Riker’s hands wrapped two strips of rope below his collarbone and sternum alike, over his shoulders and down his back and connected it all in a single, green body harness. The tightness was calming, almost like Riker was hugging him herself. Until a vine stroked his face and filled his nose with a swampy sour pine. 

Cory opened his eyes and looked down at himself, cringing at the way his body bulged through the ropes. The way his chest jutted out looked like… He sucked air through his teeth as his head rocked back to stare at the ceiling and as far away from that as possible. When the yellow shirt descended again, Cory eagerly reached his arms up to let it come down over him. He stepped into the denim jumper shorts that Monophylla offered without complaint. Anything to cover the diaper, he thought. Which they mostly did. 

“Can I just have my own shoes?” he asked, as Monophylla set a newly compiled pair in front of him. “I was just starting to wear them in and I like them a lot.”

They weren’t his shoes, really. His shoes had disappeared after the incident in the mines, along with the rest of his clothes. Maybe Riker could get those back like she got his communicator back…

We’ve been needing to replace them anyway.

They were fine enough for him. Sure, they were a decade old or better, but they were his. The holes only bothered him on the rare occasion it rained, anyway. The shoes Theo had compiled for him were nice, though. And the colors reminded him of Riker. 

Cory realized he had been spacing out and looked up at Monophylla, trying an ingratiating “Please?”

“Of course, sweetgrass.” Monophylla left the room for only a moment. When she returned, she lifted Cory to the bed and put them on him herself. Cory wondered if maybe he should just ask for his pants back while he was at it. 

Let’s not push it.

It was probably for the best that he’d not. “So, what’s on the agenda for today?” he asked. “More… games?”

“No, sweetgrass,” Monophylla gave the laces a little tug to make sure they were snug - overly so for Cory’s liking - and lifted him to his feet. “As much as I would love to laze around the hab and play with you and Becky all day, my presence is required at the office.”

“Oh.”

At least we’ll be alone with Becky.

“See you later, then?”

Monophylla gave a creaking, woody chuckle as she lifted Cory into her arms, and Becky jumped in after him. 

Oh, dammit.

×=×=×=×

The light outside seemed even brighter than Cory remembered, but that was all the more reason to bury himself into Becky’s hair as she snuggled up to him in Monophylla’s vines. She insisted on carrying them both to the transport station, and for the duration of the ride. Thankfully, the light inside the rail car was a good bit dimmer. While his eyes still felt sensitive, the rest of the apocynai seemed to wear off rather well and left Becky’s snuggles more comforting than anything else. 

And outside of the overly touchy affini, both Monophylla and random passer-bys, it was surprisingly comfortable in Monophylla’s vines once he more or less acclimated the sour pine swamp smell. But the closer she held him, the more he felt a discordant choir coming from her body in much the same way he felt Riker’s soundless song. Becky’s humming to it made it better, at least. It wasn’t the only thing Becky made better, either -- she acted as a buffer between him and most of the random affini as she took the brunt of the unsolicited affection.

The affection continued as Monophylla carried the duo into the tallest building on the hab ring. Cory distracted himself with the affection Becky was giving him rather than the pets and strokes they were both getting. Still, he couldn’t not notice the way their diapers both crinkled as the speed of the elevator pushed them down into Monophylla as they rose to the top floor despite his best efforts. 

The view was like nothing Cory had ever seen before. Dark glazed windows domed the entire open floor office, save for one wall with a door reading CAPTAIN, offering a full, 360-degree view of the Terran hab ring. He could easily see the plaza, where he had his date with Mila, marked by the spraying fountain. In the distance to one side, Cory could see the Garnet District where Monophylla lived. Far off in the other direction, he could see the park and, he thought if he squinted, he could see Riker’s humble estate. 

Wow. Talk about diametrically opposed.

Cory chuckled to himself under his breath. 

Monophylla carried Cory and her floret to a desk that couldn’t have been more than a dozen meters from the Captain’s office door. When she set them down on some kind of blanket, Becky giggled as she scampered across it and into a… thing under the desk. 

It looks like one of those fancy pet beds with a soft top.

Cory approached it much more cautiously, but kneeling at the entrance revealed a cozy nest full of pillows and bedding where Becky lay, lounged back invitingly. She patted the bedding beside her with a smile, and Cory climbed in with her. 

“Hey,” he huffed, as he lay in the valley of cushions beside Becky. 

“Hey,” she giggled. “Pretty nice, right?”

“Yeah, actually.” Cory poked experimentally at the domed ceiling, finding it just as soft as the floor. “Nice and quiet.”

“Mhmm.” Becky hummed. There was just enough room for the two of them to lie side by side, but Becky didn’t seem to want to use all the space. Instead, she shimmied down and rested her head on him. 

Cory’s heart thumped harder as she put her hand on him. He had no idea what her intentions were, but that didn’t stop his imagination from trying to figure it out as her hand trailed lower, and lower, and lower. He inhaled sharply as she grasped between his legs. 

“Still dry?” 

“I wuh huh yeah?!” That was the last thing he’d expected her to ask.

“Heh, me too.” Becky took Cory’s hand and patted herself through her dress with it. Then she started trailing her hand back up his body and let it rest just below Cory’s sternum, making the green rope harness impossible to forget. She giggled that adorable, little giggle again. “So, do you wanna do something? Or are you happy just staring at me like that all day?”

We were staring?

Cory swallowed, hard, “What, uh, what’s there to do?”

“Well, we could watch a movie or something,” she nodded her head toward a screen embedded in the wall above the nest’s entrance. 

“Or something?”

“Or…” Becky traced her hand further up. “Something.”

Cory froze as something filled his mind. But as her hand trailed higher, it hit something hard in the front pocket of his jumper. Reaching inside, Cory found his datapad. Cory held it up. Maybe he could contact Riker. Maybe she could get him out of here. Maybe--

Becky was giggling again. 

“What’s so funny?”

“Your pad matches your nails,” she smiled. “It’s cute.”

Cory turned his head away with another deep blush and opened the pad. 

[peppermintprincess]: hey cutie
[peppermintprincess]: wanna set up that date?
[peppermintprincess]: hello?
[peppermintprincess]: helooooo?
[peppermintprincess]: Cory?
[peppermintprincess]: Cory where are you?
[peppermintprincess]: Miss Asherah isn’t responding either
[peppermintprincess]: what’s going on?
[peppermintprincess]: are you ok?

“Fuck,” Cory muttered under is his breath. He immediately went stiff, and looked at Becky. “Crap.” He grimaced and winced. 

Is ‘crap’ too much for a floret?

“I mean… darn?”

Becky just giggled again. It seemed she was a very giggly girl, but she was cute when she giggled, so Cory didn’t mind one bit. 

She’s just plain cute.

“It’s okay, haha. I don’t mind. It’s Mistress who doesn’t like the whole,” she gesticulated vaguely, “Bad language stuff.”

“Good to know,” Cory said, and turned back to his pad. 

[Unit-02]: Hey Mila
[Unit-02]: Sorry i missed your messages
[Unit-02]: in kinda a situation
[Unit-02]: definitely wanna go on another date with you

Wow, where did that come from?

[Unit-02]: don’t know when or if my fucking new warden will let me
[Unit-02]: has Riker responded to you yet? Theo said she’s all kinds of fucked up over this shit
[peppermintprincess]: ??????
[peppermintprincess]: WHAT
[peppermintprincess]: what do you mean new warden?
[peppermintprincess]: what happened to Miss Asherah?
[peppermintprincess]: why do you have a new warden
[peppermintprincess]: WHO is your new warden
[Unit-02]: nothing happened to Riker
[Unit-02]: I hope
[Unit-02]: haven’t seen her since yesterday
[Unit-02]: captain clownshoes is a fucking asshole
[Unit-02]: said Riker couldn’t take care of me
[Unit-02]: so he made the affini i almost killed my warden
[Unit-02]: sorry zee or xi or whatever the fuck

Mila’s chat bubble appeared and disappeared several times before a message finally came through. 

[peppermintprincess]: the affini you almost what
[Unit-02]: oh fuck me
[Unit-02]: it’s a long story
[peppermintprincess]: later
[peppermintprincess]: yeah i fricking bet

More bubbles appeared and popped without a message, until one came through.

[peppermintprincess]: are you okay?
[Unit-02]: I’m surviving
[Unit-02]: If you see Riker tell her

We miss her? We need her? We love her?

He needed her. But just as he started to type those words his pad started to glitch out. Cory grunted and tapped the screen over and over but it just went black. Then, two lines appeared on either end of the screen connected by one in the middle. 

“Master Cory, there you are,” Theo’s voice called out from the speaker.

“Oh, stars!” Cory rolled forward, hunching over the pad to hide it from Becky as much as possible. 

“Where are you, may I ask?” the AI inquired. 

Cory turned his pad around, showing Theo the view out the opening of Becky’s nest under Monophylla’s desk. 

“Master, I may have an idea. It’s bold, but it may help.”

“ May ?”

“May help, yes. There’s a chance that it will hinder you as well, but I suspect you’re willing to take risks to escape your current predicament.”

Suddenly Becky glomped onto Cory from behind. “Hiiii!” 

Cory’s shoulders bunched up. As good as Becky felt on his back, he was even more scared about Monophylla hearing them. “Shhhh!” Cory shushed her. 

“Who’s that?” Becky whispered loudly. “Why are we whispering?”

“Ah, hello, Miss Tangella,” Theo said as jovially as ever, “My name is Theodore Bentley Whit--”

“Theo, please ,” Cory squeezed the pad. 

“Ah, well, yes, you may call me Theo.”

“Hi, Theo!” Becky maintained her false whisper. 

“Miss Tangella? How would you like some cuddles?”

Becky nabbed the pad from Cory’s hands and held it to her chest, hugging it tightly and swaying back and forth. 

“Ah ha, yes,” Theo ‘cleared his throat’, “Apologies, I meant from your owner, as it were.”

×=×=×=×

Cory’s heart thumped like he was running to an abandoned mine as he crouched at the entrance to the nest. Was it a stupid plan?

Yes.

Would it work?

Highly unlikely.

Was it his best, and maybe only shot?

Sigh. To get away from Monophylla? Yes.

He waited, trying his best to control his breathing as he waited. And then he heard what he was waiting for. 

“Miiiiistresssss!” Becky called out from beside Monophylla’s chair. “I want snuggles!” 

“Oh, my poor little Beckyyy,” Monophylla cooed. “Of course you can have some snuggles. Come here, Princessss.”

Cory watched as Becky was lifted out of sight. When he heard Becky begin giggling and making other assorted pleasurable sounds, he made his move. He pulled himself up by the rim of the entrance and made his way across the floor as quietly as he could manage. Glancing over his shoulder, Monophylla was still completely absorbed in Becky’s cries for attention. Near striding, he approached the giant-even-for-affini doors of the captain’s office. Thanks to Theo’s intervention, they opened for him right on cue, just enough for him to slip inside. 

The room was stark quiet after the door closed nearly as silently as it had opened. The room was just as tall and massive as the shared office he had left, and had just as open of a view. His eyes were drawn to the massive dark wood desk on a stage against the far windowed wall, and the giant wingbacked chair that sat behind it. 

So what do we do now?

Cory didn’t know. He honestly hadn’t expected to get that far. He supposed he would have to try to talk to the captain and make his case. The case that he belonged with Riker. 

As he approached the stage, his footsteps silent on the polished black tiles, he felt something strange. He felt calm, eerily calm. There was something in the air, some flowery smell that he couldn’t put his finger on, but he figured that must be it. It felt like he was eating Mila’s candy canes. It was weird. 

Before he could contemplate it any further, before he could take another step, a figure rose from the towering chair across from him. The captain. Xis dark form blotted out the artificial sun like the night sky itself, the red, yellow, and blue berries dotting xis form like constellations. Xe looked just like xe did on Riker’s video screen. Only much, much bigger. He must have been at least six meters tall as he stood with a dignified, almost regal, stance as he looked out the window before he turned around.

“And how did you get in here, little one?” The captain’s voice felt like it boomed through him, sending the same shivers down his spine as it had on the video call. 

“Th-The door.” Cory said. 

The captain’s pale mask tightened into a smile behind xis red nose. “But of course.” Xe stood tall on his long legs, using one hand to idly stroke the naked human draped across xis arm, Pet. “And what brings you to my office today, little one?”

The voice sent another shiver through Cory. “I-- Well, umm…” Cory took a shaky breath. “Captain,” he tried to say firmly. “I need to talk to you.”

Without a word, Captain Berrimeli stepped to the edge of the raised stage and to the floor. His leg shortened to make the step down and gained its length back as he marched on, head high and back straight. Cory’s breaths hitched as the captain stood directly in front of him. Riker was tall. Tall enough to make him feel like a toddler. Rhamnus Oakley was even taller than her. But the captain possessed a height that dwarfed Cory’s cowering form before xe picked him up with one hand and carried him back to xis desk. 

Cory stumbled as he was set down on the polished darkwood, only to be caught by the captain’s massive sable hand. Cory nearly lost his footing again as he flinched when something rubbed against his leg, only to realize that Pet had been set down next to him. Pet whined like an animal as they nuzzled Cory’s leg, in what he could only assume was a bid for affection. 

“What would you like to discuss?” the captain asked. 

Cory gasped as the question drew his sight away from the naked human bunting against his leg like a cat. Captain Berrimeli was sitting, but he was still meters taller than Cory. Cory’s thumb rubbed circles against his middle and index finger, his diaper crinkled with every nervous bounce of his leg. 

“I, um,” Cory swallowed, “I need to talk to you. About my wardship.”

“Oh?” The condescension was palpable in the captain’s deep, cloying voice.

“Yes, I… I want to go back to Riker.”

The captain nonchalantly steepled xis hands. “Whyever would you want to do that, little one?”

“I… She…” 

Cory fell to the back foot as the massive affini leaned forward. The captain loomed over him with scrutinizing amber eyes, and Cory couldn’t help but raise one arm just above his waist, the hand dangling loosely. 

“I… I like her. I like the way she treats me. She’s good to me. She’s--She’s good for me. She’s helping me--was helping me. Riker treats me like she cares about me. She makes me feel… safe.” Cory squeezed his eyes shut, trying to find that feeling. A kernel of that safety spread warmth through Cory's chest. “I don't want to be a floret when my wardship ends. Monophylla acts like I already am her floret. I don’t want that. I want to be independent.”

“Have you truly considered whether or not you should be independent?” The captain asked. 

Cory looked up at the captain, brows furrowed. “Why shouldn't I?”

The captain's face curled into another tight smile. “You've seen others of your species as florets, correct?”

He nodded. Of course he had.

What a stupid question.

“And have you ever seen a floret that is unhappy? Dissatisfied? With their situation?”

Cory thought about it for a moment. Mila was happy with Rhamnus. Becky was very happy with Monophylla. He had no reason to believe that Abigail, Mason, or Klee were anything less than satisfied. Even the random florets he had seen in passing didn't seem unhappy, even if they were tripping balls. Neither did the floret on the desk beside him, as basal and inhuman as they acted. It sent a chill through Cory's spine.

“No…” Cory had to admit.

“And do you know why that is?”

Cory shook his head but kept his eyes locked on Captain Berrimeli.

“Little Terran,” Captain Berrimeli began, “I am in my twelfth bloom. Do you understand what that means?”

If Riker is almost 1000 and she's in her third bloom… Three times four… carry the one… Holy shit…

Cory gulped and nodded at the nearly four-thousand year old affini staring down at him like a bug.

“In all of my blooms, throughout all of my travels through the cosmos, through innumerable clusters of three galaxies, I have encountered more species of sophonts than you can comprehend.” The captain’s smile grew even tighter as it widened unnaturally as xe stood. “And yet, so seldom have I ever encountered a species so naturally inclined to florethood as yours.

“Your species has an innate need for physical contact. You need to be touched and respond to the lightest graze as if it were the grace of the Everbloom without so much a single drop of xenodrugs in your bodies.” To illustrate xis point, the captain stroked up Cory's back with a finger.

He couldn't help but straighten up and inhale as it rolled up his spine with an unwanted pleasure as it pushed through the knots in his muscles.

“Your packbonding instincts are so strong that in the absence of another living creature, you will bond with inanimate objects.

“And we must not forget about your adorable little brains, packed to the brim with serotonin receptors. So much so that even the simplest of pleasures will inevitably become addictive. Your minds naturally pick up on patterns, even where none exist. It makes you so delightfully simple to hypnotize.”

Cory gulped in the face of Captain Berrimeli’s lecture. To his knowledge, both from his personal experiences and his amateur fascination with psychology, everything that the captain said was true. 

Wait, what was that about hypnosis?

“And best of all,” the captain's hand drew near once more. A single thorn slide out from between the vines of xis fingertips “Terrans have no thick hides. No armor plating. No defensive spines.” The thorn dripped a fluorescent blue fluid as xe dragged it down Cory's arm. “Why, you don't have any natural defenses at all. Do you?”

He shook his head slowly from side to side.

“And yet you still believe yourself fit to remain as a so-called independent.”

Cory hesitated, feeling the weight of the captain's words. He shifted uncomfortably, unsure how to respond under the scrutiny of those glowing amber eyes as they erupted with violet.

"I... I think so," Cory managed to stammer out, his voice betraying a mix of uncertainty and determination.

“Have you considered that you may find greater happiness, greater meaning, as a floret?” Berrimeli inquired. Pet rolled over as the captain’s hand came down to scratch their belly. They mewled and kicked their leg like a dog.

Cory gulped as he looked down at them. Despite whatever humanity had been robbed of them, Pet looked happy. Mila was happy. Becky was happy. Every floret that he had ever met was, undeniably, happy. But could he be happy that way? 

Maybe with Riker…

Cory couldn’t push that thought out of his head before it wormed its way to his lips. “Maybe… Maybe with Riker…”

Berrimeli reached into xis chest and pulled out a tablet even bigger than Riker’s and began tapping and scrolling. “Unfortunately, my little floret-to-be, it does not appear that Miss Riker feels the same way.”

The captain turned xis tablet around, allowing Cory to see the screen. The top read ACTIVE NOTICES OF INTENT TO DOMESTICATE followed by a list of names. Monophylla’s was at the top of the list, followed by Viviani Nyxxium, Wolffia Rosarum, and half a dozen other affini Cory had never even met. 

That we know of.

Riker’s name was conspicuously absent from the list. 

“But don't fear, there are so many affini waiting for the chance to make you theirs. Look at yourself. So meek. So docile.” The captain let out a wry hum. “Why, I think you'd make a perfect connivent for my dear Pet. Don't you?”

“N-no,” Cory tried to shuffle away from Pet, “I want Riker.”

“Well, she doesn't want you.”

This fucking prick!

Cory shook as he tried to ignore Berrimeli's cruel words. But he couldn't. Xe was wrong. Riker did want him, and he knew it! And he wouldn't stand to hear otherwise while righteous indignation boiled in his heart, while a heart beat in his chest. 

“Yes she does!” Cory exploded. Some small part of him knew he should have been scared, knew that ‘fight’ was the worst possible choice against someone like Captain Berrimeli, but he was too angry to hold back. Too angry at the way every affini but Riker had treated him.

“Riker cares about me! And she is sure as hell CAPABLE of taking care of me!” Cory spat the captain's own words back at xim with venom. “And you got her all fucked up saying she can't and taking me away from her! Why? Because you don't like her? Because you don't like me ?!

“What is your fucking deal ?!” Cory continued his tirade as the fire in his heart leaked from his eyes. “Were you always an asshole? Or did you just let the big office and big chair go to your head or your core or whatever the fuck affini have?”

The fire flickered its last righteous flames with that lick and the heat left Cory all at once as Captain Berrimeli sat back down unscorched. Unscathed. Unmoved.

“I-- I--” Cory panted, trying to regain the air he had neglected to breathe during his impassioned speech. He watched as the captain picked up xis pad, tapped about with one hand, and set it back down on its screen.

“Aren't you going to say something?” Cory implored. The captain couldn't ignore what he had said, could xe?

“I am through entertaining an impertinent little sophont like yourself,” the captain said coldly.

“I… I…” the heat in Cory's whole body was replaced with an icy chill as the silence was filled with the unphased mewls of the captain's floret. He slowly turned to look down at them and his heart fell through the floor.

Oh stars, oh fuck why did we do that?! We just said so many bad fucking words! In front of a floret! THE CAPTAIN'S FLORET! AAAAAAAAA

The heat that only moments before leaked from Cory's eyes now leaked from somewhere else. His entire body stood still as a statue as the heat drained from his heart and into his diaper. He managed to let out a meager squeak as the warmth spread through the padding, across his entire crotch, and down between his legs where the diaper drank it all until it had doubled in size.

“I-- Fu-- Sh--” Cory gasped for air, at a loss for words as he looked between the unphased pet and the uncaring captain. 

Before Cory could humiliate himself any further, the doors to the captain’s office slid open with an audible swoosh. Cory’s eyes went wide as Monophylla Tangella tromped through the doors.

“You requested my presence, Captain?” The question had barely left her

Well she doesn’t have a mouth. Does she?

She had barely finished asking when she rushed to stand as close to the captain’s desk as she could from the floor next to the stage. 

“Oh, Everbloom,” Monophylla reached up with a few vines and wrapped them around Cory. “What are you doing here, sweetgrass?” She turned her eyes from Cory to the captain. “I’m so sorry, Captain. I hope my ward didn’t interrupt any of your duties.”

Captain Berrimeli remained stone-faced as xe sat back down. “Oh, it was no interruption at all. Your ward and I were just having a friendly chat. Isn’t that right?”

Cory was paralyzed with humiliation as the vines lifted him. It was all he could do to nod with a few jerks. 

“Do mind your terrans, won’t you, Miss Tangella?” The captain smiled, but it definitely looked more like a sneer. “They are so fragile , after all.”

“Yes, Xir,” Monophylla nodded her whole body as she reeled Cory into her arms, “I will, Xir.”

“See that you do,” were the last words Cory heard before Monophylla carried him from the room.

When the doors whooshed closed behind them, Monophylla made a low trill. “I apologize if the captain was a bit… intense for you, sweetgrass. I really should be paying more attention to you.”

Did… Did she just apologize?

“And it seems that you need some attention right now, don’t you?” she continued.

When she didn’t head back for her desk, Cory began to panic. He tried to sit up as much as possible to see where they were going. 

“Oh stars,” he muttered under his breath as he spotted her destination. 

Off to the side of the shared office space of cubeless cubicles, there was a giant changing table. Worse, there were three of them and each was designed to look like an ancient Terran train car. There was even a caboose and an engine. The painted facade behind the tables depicted a fantastic vision of a green Earth, with a track leading to a station under a waving banner that read “Little Sprout Station”. 

(The following portion of the chapter contains a Little Sprout changing scene and dissociation/hallucination as a coping mechanism. To skip this section, search for the term "sniffle" and pick up reading from that line.)

Cory squirmed as the padding squished under him as Monophylla laid him on the table. He tried to sit up, but a vine on either shoulder unbuckled the overalls and pinned him back down until all he could see was the mobile of train cars spinning overhead while Monophylla pulled his clothes off. 

“Monophylla, please, I can-- I can--” Cory tried to say that he could take the diaper off himself, but Monophylla wasn’t having it. She pinned his hands to the table at his sides. All the wincing in the world wasn’t going to stop it. 

Without even trying, he closed his eyes and imagined he wasn’t on a changing table just outside the captain’s office. He was in Riker’s hab, lying on her kitchen table. 

“Oh, sweetgrass songbird, you’re all soggy. Let me help you.” He heard it in Riker’s voice. 

Cory gulped and nodded, letting Monophylla Riker touch him without protest. She smiled down at him as she untied the lower half of the rope harness. Without the harness in the way, she ripped off the diaper’s pull tabs and lifted his legs to pull the soggy diaper out from beneath him. 

“I just need to clean you up now, little one. Stay still for me,” Monophylla Riker told him.

“Oh-Okay…” He took deep, slow breaths as he looked up at Monophylla Riker waving a baby wipe in her vine hand. And then she touched him with it. 

Cory gasped as the cool cloth stroked up one thigh and down the other, his face blushed as red as the baubles over Monophylla’s head leaves that made up Riker’s hair as Monophylla Riker cooed softly at him. He whimpered, the blush growing to an inferno as she used a vine finger to lift his cock. “Hhhh?” He struggled weakly against the vines hand pinning him to the changing kitchen table, but Monophylla Riker only chuckled softly. 

Oh… Oh stars, tell me we’re not gonna…

It was too late. Cory’s shoulder bunched, trying to curl up against the vines hand holding him as his cock started getting hard as Monophylla Riker wiped him clean. 

“Ohh, that’s so cuuuute. Are you getting aroused by this, sweetgrass songbird?”

Cory couldn’t help but whimper as Monophylla Riker pet his hair with a few vines fingers. He nodded. He felt safe. He let out a long sigh as his body went slack. 

“That’s okay,” Monophylla Riker soothed, “Such a good terran for me.”

His head rolled back lazily at the praise, nodding along insomuch that he could do anything under Monophylla’s vines Riker’s hand. It was okay, she was taking care of him. It was okay for her to lift his legs, it was okay to smell the powder she generously applied. It was okay to shiver as his body strained in arousal when she rubbed it into every crack and crevice and fold of skin. It was okay to leak from being touched like that, in a way that no one had ever touched him before. 

It was okay for Monophylla Riker to manipulate his body as she put a new diaper under him, taped it closed, and rebound the harness to keep it in place. She would keep him safe. It was okay to let out a breathy, dreamy sigh as she spoke again. 

“There he she is,” Monophylla Riker cooed as the vines her hand moved from holding down his her shoulder chest to cradle his her head, “Such a good boy girl for your warden mommy.”

Cory’s eyes strained as he looked up at Riker’s seven eyes. Seven eyes? That wasn’t right, was it? His heart raced and breaths became shallow as Riker’s form rippled and stretched and contorted, her colors fading until Monophylla was left in her place. 

That was a bad one.

Any sense of being safe immediately drained from Cory. Somewhere in his mind he was thankful that it hadn’t drained into his diaper again. He strained against the vines lifting him as much as his cock strained against the binds of his diaper, but both soon found themselves deflated and bereft of will. What little strength he found, he used to cling to the vines around him.

He fought the urge to sniffle, the stoic stone facade hanging on by a thread as Monophylla returned to her desk. It had all been fake. All in his head. Riker wasn’t here taking care of him. He wasn’t… he wasn’t that. No amount of clothes left behind in a hole in a wall on a dying planetoid would make him… that.

When they reached the desk, Monophylla extended her vines, pulling Becky from her nest with a flurry of excited giggles. She practically lept into Monophylla’s arms and clung to Cory. He held her back, squeezing tightly. His arms squeezed her tightly while his heart squeezed even harder, fighting to still the strange, twisted feelings that the much woman in his arms, who was so much prettier than he would ever be, drove into him.

Monophylla’s vines enveloped them both, cradling them together in a big, green hammock as their diapers crinkled together. “I think that’s enough office time for the day, little ones. Let’s get you home.”

Cory agreed, but didn’t say anything. He knew he didn’t have a say, so he just stared blankly forward as the ceiling passed him by, and didn’t even react to any of the random colored vines reaching in for him and Becky on the way out.

×=×=×=×

Fingers squeezed fingers squeezing fingers as Becky’s fingers interlocked with Cory’s. Her fingertips gripped the back of his knuckles as she mounted him. She was smaller than he was in more ways than one and Cory knew he could throw her off if he tried but…

We don’t want to, do we?

He gulped as she held him under the full weight of her body. He looked up at her beautiful smile with a nervous one of his own as she giggled in a manner so innocent that it completely belied the way she ground the crotch of her diaper into Cory’s and against the ropes. It was so hot, just like one of the videos from the intranet, but with more diapers. 

We’d make such a good lesbian.

He would, he thought. If only he were a… It didn’t matter. He shouldn’t think about that. He was having so much fun. And Becky was too. She went from riding high in the saddle to rubbing herself against him harder and faster, her hands pinned Cory’s to the floor on either side of his head as she bit her lip and whined. She kept the quick pace until suddenly and arched her back even further, letting out an uncharacteristically low groan with her eyes closed. 

When she finished, Becky sucked a breath, giggling as she grinned down at him. After a quick peck on the cheek, she rolled off and snuggled up to his shoulder, his hand still clenched in hers. Cory hadn’t finished, but he reckoned that was whatever. He had plenty of fun letting her hold him down. 

Becky snuggled in even closer, allowing Cory to bury his head in her hair. He took a deep breath of her orange-cream smell and let it out with a long sigh before rolling his head out of it and closing his eyes. 

Maybe having fun with Becky was enough to keep him afloat until he got back to Riker.

Chapter Text

Chapter 17:
These Shadows on Our Backs

Cory took a deep breath of the morning as he opened his eyes to see the dawn of a new day projected on the ceiling of Becky’s kingdom. The simulated light streaking across the false sky was pretty, beautiful even. Not as beautiful as everyone in his new life, though. Certainly not more beautiful than Mila, or Riker or -- Becky rolled over onto Cory for the umpteenth time.

Becky. He could hardly believe what had happened yesterday after Monophylla brought them home from the office. Cory remembered both lunch and dinner; Monophylla kept touching his face during both meals, but at least he had been allowed to feed himself. He would prefer to forget that. But what happened afterwards with Becky was something he hoped to never forget.

He’d run for miles in the dark, forced an affini to rebloom, teetered on the edge of independence in fear of the affini. Yet last night, it hadn’t been ten kilometer long ships or inescapable vines that made him surrender. All it took was a girl with a pretty face, blazing orange hair, and a diaper to tame him. To domesticate him. If only for a moment, while she held him under a grasp that he willingly submitted to during a moment of intimacy. He took another deep breath from her hair and sighed. 

Becky yawned cutely, as if everything she did wasn’t cute, and smacked her lips as she woke up. “Make it through the night okay?”

Well, we’re dry. So yes.

Cory cleared the sleep from his throat. “Yeah. Fine,” he sighed.

“You sighed,” Becky frowned. “People sigh when they’re not happy.”

“Do they?”

“Mhmm. So, what’cha thinking about?”

“Domestication…” Cory admitted. He didn’t feel a need to hide anything from Becky. Especially not when she could see right through him, anyway.

“Still scared of getting domesticated?”

Cory thought for a moment; then he nodded.

“If it helps,” Becky propped herself up, “Everybody gets domesticated. That doesn’t mean everybody’s a floret, though.”

Cory turned his head on the pillow -- emphatically not his pillow -- and gave her a quizzical look. 

“The affini domesticate ev-ry-bo-dy , silly. They take care of every sophont. It’s just like… house cats versus barn cats, y’know? We’re all still cats to them. Just, some cats need more care than others. Or an affini happens to like them more.” She giggled at the last part.

“What kind of, uh, cat… were you? Before you were a floret, I mean?”

The smile from Becky’s giggle faded for a moment but came back just as quickly. “I was a dumpster cat.”

“A dumpster cat?”

“Yeah…” Becky looked down, her eyes starting to lose focus. “I was just this sad little kitty stuck in a dumpster, too… afraid to get myself out. Too afraid of change. I was so… alone. I wasn’t taking care of myself.” She sighed a smile and continued, “But there was this… friend I had, she was such a barn cat, and she always brought me the food I liked, and kept me safe. But she… she knew I could have a better life as a housecat. And she got me to be Mistress's floret.”

“And you just… went along with it?” Cory was suspicious. 

“No!” Becky laughed. “That’s the worst part. I hissed and clawed and bit the whole way.”

“Why?”

“Because I liked my dumpster. It was what I knew. It was… safe. I didn’t want to leave it, the thought of being a housecat was terrifying . But living in the dumpster like that, it wasn’t healthy. My… friend… pushed me out of the dumpster because she knew I wouldn’t have climbed out on my own.” Becky smiled again, resting her head back down on Cory’s chest. “I’m such a housecat.”

“Would you go back to the… dumpster? I mean, if Monophylla let you?”

“No,” the response came instantly. “Never.”

“And that… friend… Are you mad at her?”

“I was.” Becky pursed her lips and snuggled her head more deeply into Cory’s chest. “For a long time.”

“And now?”

“I miss her every day.” Her voice was soft. It was a quiet little regretful voice that Cory recognized too well.

Becky’s words gave Cory a lot to think about as he squeezed her in a hug, even if it was a silly, cutesy metaphor. He had always been a stray, as far as cat analogies went, and proud of it. But he wondered if, maybe like a stray that had been adopted, he too would be unable, unfit, to return to that life wandering the street once the creature comforts changed him. Still, it was a little horrifying that an affini could turn somebody into a floret just because they liked them and wanted to keep them.

Before he could wonder about being likened to a cat any further, the ceiling began to brighten and Monophylla walked into Becky’s room. “Good morning, little ones. Did you two sleep well after wearing each other out last night?” She made a rippling sound that Cory interpreted as a chuckle.

He hadn’t. He hadn’t had his blankets, with their years of experience keeping him safe and comfortable through the worst of times. He hadn’t had his pillows, whose stories ranged from being the one his parents put in his first playpen to being the first pillow he had in his first big-boy bed to the pillow he had stolen from his mother on the day his father took him away from her. In short, he had barely slept a wink. 

But there was no point in telling any of that to Monophylla, so Cory fell back on the old standard. “Fine, I guess.”

“Gooood, Mistress!” Becky said cheerfully at the same time.

“Good,” Monophylla clapped her hands together in a way much less convincing than Riker would have. “Now, since you two were otherwise engaged last night, I believe a morning bath is in order.”

Monophylla scooped Becky into her arms, but to Cory’s surprise, she merely wrapped a series of vines around his hand and waited for him to stand. Cory followed as she led into the bathroom and watched as she removed Becky's harness and diaper, then lowered Becky into the bath. She let out a relaxing sigh while Cory stood still, arms tight to his side and his arms bent at the elbow not quite hugging himself. He gulped as his eyes locked onto the bottles on the rim of the tub. 

“It’s your turn, sweetgrass~” Monophylla sang at him. 

Cory felt his heartbeat race and his jaw tense. “I-- I don’t-- Last time…” he trailed off.

“Shh, shh, shh,” Monophylla stroked one vine down Cory’s head as another untied his harness. “Not like last time. No apocynai . I will not allow that mistake to occur again. Never again.”

His eyes remained trained on the bottles at the edge. “Could… Could you move the bottles?”

“Of course, sweetgrass.” A series of vines reached out from Monophylla’s back, reaching across the tub and picking up the bottles. They were stashed away, except for one. “This is just a simple cleanser. No xenodrugs.”

“No xenodrugs?” Cory looked at the bottle warily. 

“No xenodrugs.” Monophylla shook her entire body like it was her head. Maybe it was. “I promise.”

“Okay…” Cory stayed still, moving his body as Monophylla required for her to remove the harness. 

He held his arms away as she unstuck the tabs holding his diaper together and used a hand to cover his shame as soon as it fell. He edged his way closer to the bath and stepped down a series of stair-like outcrops and down into the water.

He let out a long breath through O-shaped lips before Monophylla set down the bottle and a loofah on the edge of the tub above him. He covered himself as best he could with his hands, but it didn’t help the terrible feelings of being naked in front of other people all that much. 

“Becky will not be using apocynai either,” Monophylla said, “I would not risk a cross contamination.”

As he watched Becky get washed, Cory grabbed the bottle of ‘cleanser’ and gave it a sniff. It smelled just like the stuff he used at Riker's, and it didn't make his nose tingle or anything.

I think we can give her a little credit.

Cory supposed that he could, so he squeezed a bit onto the loofah and touched it to his arm experimentally. When it still didn’t tingle or sting, Cory slowly went to work cleaning himself. By the time he'd finished as much as he could, Becky had already been lifted from the tub, dried off, and carried back out of the room. When Monophylla returned, she sat down on the edge of the tub and let her strange, toeless feet hang into the water. 

Was she drinking his bathwater?

I mean she is a plant. Probably best to not think about it.

“I've noticed that some larger terrans are unable to reach their own backs,” she said. A vine topped with a porous, bumpy, pale yellow end that looked like Cory's loofah dipped into the water.

He turned up to look at her. “Uh-huh…”

“Might I be of assistance?”

Cory hesitated. He would much prefer every affini keep their vines to themselves.

Except Riker.

But all things considered, it felt like he couldn’t say no. She would be gentle, like she was in the office. Cory's cheeks burned with the memory of that encounter and he nodded.

The spongy vine on his back felt better than it had any right to. The nodules and the motions and pressure all combined into a back massage. Cory had never had his back rubbed like that, he’d never been close enough to anyone before, but he wasn’t sure if any human hands could ever rub as well as she was doing. He wondered, though he couldn't think about it once Monophylla started to draw low, rolling groans from Cory's mouth.

It was over all too soon, and then she pulled him out of the tub and dried him off. It was fine, he guessed, she'd seen him in more compromising positions. At least the harness going back on was nice, even if it went on over a diaper that he had absolutely no intention of soiling.

Again. 

Cory pushed the thought away as he saw Becky, sitting on the bed and kicking her feet next to an outfit Monophylla had already picked out for him. He raised his arms, eager for Monophylla to put the t-shirt on him, but as Cory stepped into the denim jumper and let Monophylla pull it up, he realized there was a problem. 

The jumper had no pants.

“I, umm, Monophylla?” Cory tugged awkwardly at the bottom of the skirt. “Can I wear pants? Please? My legs…”

“Of course, sweetgrass. I’ll get you something for your legs.” Monophylla was off, hopefully to get him some pants.

Cory spent the entire time avoiding Becky's eyes. When he saw what Monophylla carried back with her, his heart froze. 

“These will cover your legs quite nicely,” the affini said and held up a pair of burgundy leggings. Monophylla used her vines to guide Cory to sit beside Becky as he stammered, and when he sat down she pulled the leggings up for him. “There you are. Better?”

It was not better. If anything, it might have been worse. But it was whatever, so long as nobody but Monophylla and Becky saw him dressed like that. It was like he was just wearing a long shirt and tight pants. It was fine .

It's a dress. Feels good, doesn’t it?

He was a boy, Cory internally retorted. Boys don’t wear dresses or panties or--

Anything like what we kept in the bathroom wall?

Cory was glad that had all been left behind. It was nothing worth thinking about. He wasn't… He could never be…

Cory’s eyes fluttered as one of Monophylla's vines tapped his face. He looked around, wondering when she had carried him to the kitchen. 

“Do I need to feed you again, sweetgrass?” Monoohylla cooed, curling her vines in anticipation. 

Cory shook his head and dug into the bowl of oatmeal. Other than the annoyance of Monophylla's vine constantly tapping, swirling, and stroking his face, breakfast was quite good. Instead of the sweet cinnamon, there were bits of fruit -- real, compiled fruit -- chopped into the porridge. Delight exploded with each bite as the juicy fruit popped between his teeth and showered his tongue in flavor.

With the relatively uneventful breakfast consumed, Monophylla let Cory down and carried Becky over to a couch in the adjoining living area. It was only then that Cory realized that the taps, swirls, and strokes were the same ones that she used on Becky, and that Rhamnus used on Mila.

What did Mila call that? Gesture training?

When Cory managed to make his way over to the couch, he looked up at Becky. He tried to avoid looking up her dress by looking at Monophylla instead.

“We’re not going out again, are we?” he asked his warden.

“No, little one. It's clear to me after yesterday that you and Becky both need a bit more quality time with me. So we'll be spending all day together.”

Cory nodded slowly. It was better than going out dressed as he was.

“Now, would you like some help onto the couch?”

“Sure…” he had barely even agreed before Monophylla's vines ferried him through the air to sit next to Becky, who was herself right up against Monophylla. 

Time passed slowly as the three of them watched Ducky, the interdimensional omnipotent duck, on Monophylla's holoviewer. Thankfully, Becky acted as a buffer between him and Monophylla as they watched Ducky get into all kinds of humorous situations -- in one episode she was a detective, in another she was skateboarding, in another she was a super spy. The buffer hadn't stopped Monophylla from stretching a vine across both of their shoulders. It wasn't too hard to imagine it was Becky's arm so long as it only lay still, and eventually Cory felt fine enough to chuckle along at the mildly humorous misunderstandings that Becky found laugh-out-loud hilarious. 

It hadn't been long after Cory became comfortable enough to laugh that a soft tune chimed through the hab.

“Miss, Miss!” Jessie exclaimed, “There's a visitooooor~ at the door!”

Monophylla departed with a pat for each of her charges and headed to the door. When she came back, there was a woman with golden, shoulder-length hair and a diamond-cut jaw walking in front of her. As soon as Becky saw her, she clambered off the couch and made a beeline for her.

“MeeeEEeeEeEeeg!” Becky's voice bounced with every step as she ran with arms wide open to the woman, evidently named Meg.

GUEST ART BY TABBY

When Becky reached her, Meg opened her arms and caught her. She redirected Becky's momentum into a spin as she picked the princess off the ground and her arms wrapped around Becky's waist. She lifted Becky and dropped her into a better grip, arms locked around the shorter girl's waist while Becky’s legs wrapped around Meg’s back. 

“Perhaps you should visit privately, in Becky's room,” Monophylla suggested. Becky's eyes lit up as Meg carried her further into the hab and giggled until they were out of earshot. 

“So… who's Meg?”

“Meg is Becky's friend,” Monophylla explained as she took Becky's spot on the couch. Cory inched away only slightly. 

We don’t have a ton of first hand experience, but that didn't look like friends…

“Just… friends…?” Cory raised a brow.

Monophylla wrung her vines together in her lap. It was very unlike her. “She was Becky's best friend. Her only friend, really. She is the one who… convinced… Becky to become my floret.”

“Oh.”

Silence sat heavy in the air. Such silence that Cory could hear the gentle, waving thrum of Monophylla's core. Something about it sounded off. More off than usual, anyway.

“She was… a lot like you... once,” Monophylla said slowly. “But… perhaps that is a story for another day.”

Cory just blinked at her. Becky had been like him? And now she was, well, everything that Becky was? 

Monophylla gave him a gentle nudge. “I believe it’s time you ran along and joined them, sweetgrass. I’ll be right here if you need me.”

It was strange how reluctant Cory was to leave the couch, but then again, being in a room with two beautiful women might just have been more frightening than a giant plant xeno that he had thought was trying to kill him at one point. As the nudging persisted, Cory slid down from the couch to the floor and gave a last glance back at a strangely sullen Monophylla before walking to Becky’s room.

Cory lingered at the door as he watched Meg pepper kisses on Becky’s jaw and neck. Her hands were inside Becky’s flowy, open dress so much that it may as well not have been there. Meg herself had shed her shoes as well as her shirt, leaving her in only her jeans and a sports bra. 

It’s a good look on her.

Becky’s eyes were closed, but her hands were all over Meg’s back and sides. Evidently, they were good enough friends that Becky didn’t need to look at her to know her every curve. She just knew exactly where to slip her hands into Meg’s back pockets. The denim bulged as Becky flexed her hands in them. 

Meg chuckled softly and bit her lip. She took Becky’s hands from her pockets and pinned them to the ground on either side of her head, making Becky gasp and bite her own lip. But that only lasted for so long before Meg leaned down over her and bit Becky’s lip instead. Becky’s legs kicked and shoulders shimmied in excitement, and Meg progressed from biting to kissing. Becky returned the kiss eagerly, leaning up into it when Meg started to pull away and giving a pouty whine when she was out of reach. 

Cory felt like a stars damned pervert peeping on them like that.

When she realized that Meg’s lips weren’t coming back, Becky opened her eyes to look up at her friend with starry eyes. Her smile was so… real. 

“God. I missed you.” Meg pushed her hands up higher to intertwine them with Becky’s.

Wonder if that’s where Becky learned to do that.

“I missed you too, Meggy.” Becky’s smile grew bigger and bigger until she started giggling so hard it rocked the woman straddling her hips. 

“What’s so funny? Think that enhanced floret biology means I can’t still pin you down like a little butterfly?”

“No, it’s,” Becky giggled again. She nodded her head, jabbing it in the air in Cory’s direction. 

Cory froze as Meg turned to look at him with her steely eyes. They were sharper than any floret’s he’d ever seen. 

Clear eyes. No scar. I don’t think she is a floret.

Cory moved even further behind the doorway and when Meg pushed herself up from Becky and started walking toward him, Cory inched away. But Cory’s inches were no match for Meg’s long legs and she was upon him before he even had the mind to turn away. 

“Hey. Can I touch you?” she asked as she came to a stop. 

Cory blinked at her. Certainly he hadn’t heard her right. There was no way she wanted to touch him.

“Weird question, I know. I don’t mean like,” she huffed a smirk and turned a bit back toward Becky’s room, “Unless you want me to. Just like, your shoulder or your hand or whatever.”

Cory’s mind raced as he tried to figure out why she would want to. He was, well, he was him. Just some fat, hairy guy . Why would someone as pretty as her want to touch him when Becky was right there? Meg just stood patiently until he nodded. She took his hand in hers and gave a gentle squeeze. Not too tight, but enough to know she was there. 

“S-Sorry…” he squirmed, but she held fast on his hand.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“What?” Of course he had. He was watching them--

“You’re okay. I know your mind is going a mile a minute trying to come up with reasons that you’re a creep for watching us and how it was wrong and shit, but I’m telling you. You’re okay.”

Was he, though? Was anything he had done okay? Wasn’t it an invasion of pri--

“You don’t need to find some way to justify that you’ve done something wrong.”

It was like she read his mind. How did she know he was doing that? 

She gave a tight smile and the barest of laugh lines showed around her mouth. “And now… you’re wondering how I knew you were doing that.”

Cory gave a slow, cautious nod and swallowed. 

“God, you’re so much like Rebecca was when I found her.”

She was the second person who said he was like Becky. What did that even mean? If she was like him before, and she was a floret now, did that mean Cory was going to end up as a floret? Did it mean--

“Don’t think about it too much. Well, I mean, I know you’re going to . But try not to, okay?”

Stars she’s reading us like a book. 

 “I, um… Uhhh.”

“We’re gonna go back in, okay?” Meg lowered her head just enough that it pressed the question. That was a question, not a command. She didn’t start leading Cory back until he agreed. 

She led him to Becky’s bed and sat him down and gave his hand another little squeeze before letting go. Then she put her heels to Becky’s side, sat down on top of her, and slid backwards until she was sitting on the ground with her legs draped over Becky. Meg looked up at Cory with a very casual tilt of the head. 

“Didn’t realize you had a connivent, Becca,” she said, still looking at Cory. “Or… pinnate?”

“He’s not,” Becky said.

Cory didn’t know what either of those words meant, but Monophylla had called him Becky’s connivent when she picked him up at the hospital.

Logic would dictate it has something to do with being a floret.

Meg just smiled for a bit before she said “Cute outfit. It’s very… safe. Safe colors… safe leggings. Did you pick it out yourself, ah…”

“Cory.” Becky told her.

Cory’s eyes flicked around between Becky and Meg, both perfectly comfortable while he sat fidgeting with the hem of his denim skirt trying to pull it lower without being noticed. “N-No.”

“Who picked it out for you?”

“Umm,” Cory gulped, “Monophylla did…”

“So either you’re too afraid of confrontation to say you don’t like it, or… you do like it.”

Cory tried to harden his expression. He wanted to glare at her for implying such a thing. But all he could manage to do was furrow his brows and raise his cheeks like he was going to cry. 

“I’m…” Cory’s muscles tensed as he gripped the edge of the mattress but couldn’t get a hold. “I’m not… I’m not. I can’t… I’m not supposed to…”

Meg righted her head and looked at him. Not with disgust or pity or anything like that. She just looked at him. “Nobody’s gonna judge you for having a stash of women’s clothes hidden in the bottom of your sock drawer or whatever. Least of all me and Becca.”

Cory bowed his head and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to stop the wetness from rolling down his face. She had read his mind about everything else, why not that too? Why the fuck not?

He heard Meg grunt and then he felt her. Not touching him, but he could feel her in his proximity. 

“Hey,” Meg spoke softly, “It’s okay.” Her voice dropped to a gentle whisper. “You'd make a cute girl.”

When her hand landed on Cory’s shoulder, his entire body twisted away. He looked up at her, his brows still furrowed, cheeks still raised, and mouth twisted into a grimacing frown. She just kept looking at him as if nothing were the matter. As if he weren’t some kind of pervert or, or…

Becky was looking at him too. She was frowning. Pitying, maybe. Scared, probably. Fuck, why did he always scare everybody away? Why couldn’t he just be normal like he was supposed to be?

Meg tried to sit beside him and left a few inches between, but Cory didn’t want that. He shouldn’t be near anybody. Why couldn’t the affini have just left him alone? Why couldn’t they have just left him on the planet and let the star end his suffering? Why was he crying? 

“Cory?” Becky asked. It sounded like her heart was breaking. 

Cory couldn’t stand it. He pushed himself up from the bed and did what he always did. He ran. He ran the whole way across the room and into Becky's castle and slammed the door behind him.

×=×=×=×

Cory stared down at the messages on his datapad again. Riker still wasn’t responding, and Cory hadn’t been able to find a way to respond to Mila.

[peppermintprincess]: Mister Rhamnus says you should be able to see Miss Asherah in a few days
[peppermintprincess]: according to him this kind of setup isn’t suuuper uncommon when someone has two affini
[peppermintprincess]: i know Miss Asherah will be happy to see you. I can’t wait to see you either you big cutie. we still have to go on a date
[peppermintprincess]: 🤗

Cory had fallen into a well of thought. Two affini. Visitation. It was just like when his parents split up and he visited his dad every other weekend. Except in reverse. 

Maybe that means we’ll end up with Riker at the end of all this.

Just like he had ended up with Dad. Cory shook his head. It was a nice thought. It would just have been nice to be able to have a little faith in the idea that he’d end up with Riker.

Riker said she would keep us safe . She will. If we were in real danger, she’d be here.

Would she though? 

You saw what she did to that hospital door, right?

Yeah. Stars. She had done that, for him. He couldn’t help but feel safe as he remembered the way she probably shittalked Monophylla in Affini. And those paws… Cory was only a touch ashamed at the way the thought of being in those paws again made him squirm, if only a little bit. 

Before he could bask in the safe feelings any longer, a knock came at the castle door. Cory just stared at it from the throne. 

What a lonely king you are, a king of nothing and nobody.

The knock came again before Monophylla peeked inside the partially open door. “May I come in?”

Cory looked away. “It’s your house. Or hab whatever.”

Monophylla walked softly up the red rug to the throne. “I apologize if your interaction with Becky and Meg was unpleasant.”

Cory didn’t respond, he just kept looking at the same spot on the floor. 

“They seem to be having quite a bit of fun. Are you sure you would like to sit in here alone rather than join them?”

Cory stayed still. 

“No.” Monophylla stood still too, just looking at him for a long time. “Perhaps you and I could have our own fun, then?”

That got Cory’s attention. He turned to look up at her silently as she produced a length of green rope from inside the hollow of her body. 

“I noticed how much you seem to enjoy the harnesses that you and Becky wear. I was thinking that perhaps…”

Cory swallowed and looked between the green rope and Monophylla’s greener eyes. 

“Only what you are comfortable with. Perhaps an arm, or a leg.”

Cory thought for a moment. “And if I want you to leave me alone?”

“Then I will leave,” she responded instantly. 

“And you won’t hold it against me at my wardship whatever?”

“I will not.”

“And if I say stop at any point?” Cory looked into her eyes, but found only the light. No gleanable emotion.

“Then I will stop, immediately, without question.”

Cory thought for another long moment. Could he trust her? Did it matter?

We've been wanting to try this stuff for a while and she seems really good at it. We should do it.

He sighed and tried to make his face look closer to a smile, but he was sure it landed closer to a pout. Then, he held out his arm. 

Monophylla took the proffered arm in a few vines and folded it for Cory until his hand was on his shoulder. She kept a vine on it to hold it in place. “Your heart rate is accelerated. Are you frightened, or excited?”

“Both,” he gulped.

Definitely both. Both is good.

“Exxxxxcelent.”

Cory watched as Monophylla applied the rope with the expert precision he had come to expect from watching her tie Becky's harnesses. She doubled up the rope, as Cory knew she should. He let his eyes closed and, for a moment, imagined it was Riker's hands tying the knots. But he forced them open. 

Monophylla was the one binding his arm, and that was okay. 

She moved quicker than he expected. He had never really gotten the hang of knots, but Monophylla's were fancy and, more importantly, probably safer than anything he had tried on himself.

When she was finished, Cory's arm was bound with four equally spaced knots. Three wrapped around both his forearm and upper arm, preventing him from unfolding them, and the fourth and final wrapped around his wrist alone.

An experimental flex of his arm produced no motion. He tried again, and still his arm wouldn’t budge. And yet, it felt perfectly safe. His hand wasn’t going numb. It just felt like a very pleasant, constant pressure. Like his arm was trapped in a hug.

“Wh-hoah,” Cory grinned. 

Monophylla's eyes sparkled with gold in their green. “This is a good reaction?”

“Yeah,” Cory tempered his smile as he felt himself getting hard and tried to ignore the crinkling sound it made. “Very good.”

He hoped that between the diaper and the dress, Monophylla wasn't able to tell how good. 

“Some terrans,” Monophylla continued, “Enjoy having all four of their extremities bound in this manner and crawling as if they were an animal.”

Cory tensed up as he couldn't help but imagine what it would be like. To do that.

Fun!

“However, your… body weight would prove to make this difficult for you.”

“Oh…” Cory tried to keep a straight face, rather than show his disappointment.

“Although perhaps in the Rookari hab ring where the gravity is only sixty percent of what we are currently under…”

“N-No, that's fine. I'm okay here.” The thought of anybody seeing him crawling around like that was as mortifying as it was arousing. As humiliating as it was degrading. 

That just makes it hotter, doesn't it?

Cory's face flushed and he again hoped that Monophylla hadn’t noticed.

“Would you like me to tie your other arm as well, sweetgrass? You seem to be enjoying this quite a bit, and I have plenty of vines.”

He was wrapped in her vines? Her vines?!

You think Riker can do that? She doesn’t really do the whole extension vine thing, though, does she?

“I, um,” Cory stammered, “I think I'm fine with this for now.” Cory took a deep breath. Manners were good, right? Especially toward a giant plant that just tied you up? “Thank you Missss--”

Save it for Riker

Cory instantly blushed at the thought.

“Tangella! Miss Tangella!” Cory tried to play it off. “Thank you. This was… nice.”

Miss Tangella sounded like she was smiling, though Cory was still unsure whether she even had a mouth. “I'm happy you're enjoying it. Just be sure to let me know if you would like me to remove it.”

Cory bounced his whole head and shoulder in a nod. “Yeah.”

Miss Tangella rubbed and vine down Cory's head and down his back while he did another breathing exercise. He was fine. Miss Tangella was touching him and that was okay. She wasn't going to hurt him, and she obviously could. He let her pet him in silence for a few minutes until Becky and Meg both laughed so loud it cut through the castle walls.

“I… I think I'd like to be alone now.” He avoided looking at Miss Tangella's eyes but turned to her all the same. “I'll be fine. I promise.” 

“If you are certain, sweetgrass…”

Did she… not want to leave?

“Yeah. I'm…” Cory sighed. “I'll be okay. Jessie'll keep an eye on me anyway.”

Monophylla bowed in what Cory understood as a nod. “Of course. The binding is perfectly safe for extended wear, but I will be in the hab if you require my assistance.” Then, she took her leave. Cory just sat there, looking at the bound arm and thinking.

He had a lot on his mind and almost none of it was things he wanted to think about. So he focused on what he could. Becky. Mila. Whether either of them would tie him up like Monophylla had. Would Riker?

Meg might.

Cory hardly knew Meg. Besides, she made him think about… stuff; he didn’t want to think about stuff .

It was silent inside and out, only broken by an occasional moan from outside the castle.

It was so hard to think about stuff . He had never been allowed to. It always felt so wrong. But as he looked down at himself, at his burgundy leggings and denim skirtall he couldn’t help but wonder how could something that was wrong feel so right. He let out a heavy sigh, laughing at himself as he tried to push up his glasses with his bound hand. 

As much as he didn’t want to think about it, the thoughts kept coming. Riker had said that he could do whatever he wanted as long as he wasn’t hurting anybody. But doing this, wearing these things, the way they pulled at his heart and told him he was wrong… that hurt him. 

He couldn’t keep sitting there and thinking about it. That would only hurt more. He needed a distraction.

We could go back out.

Yeah… Yeah, he could.

Cory wandered back down the long red carpet, past the procession of unjudging plushie eyes, and back out the door. There, he found two more sets of unjudging eyes -- human eyes. Neither Becky nor Meg looked upon him with judgment. Becky's were particularly joyful, in fact.

“Cory!” Becky squirmed out from under Meg and rushed over to him. She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed tighter than she had before. It was nice.

“Hey,” he said sheepishly, and let her lead him back to the bed. When he sat down Becky sat beside him, wrapped her arms around his free arm, and snuggled in close. 

“Sorry if I set you off,” Meg said. She had rolled from her knees to her butt and pulled her knees to her chest.

“You’re fine,” he told her.

“So… you like bondage?” Meg smiled. 

Cory looked down at his bound arm. No use denying it. “I… yeah. I think so.”

“Feels nice, doesn't it?” she tilted her head. With Cory's slight nod, she continued. “It's like… being held. Like a little hug for whatever part that's tied up.”

Cory nodded even more slightly. How did she know? Certainly she wasn't actually reading his thoughts. 

“Told you.” Meg smirked at Becky. Becky just hmphed and nuzzled Cory's shoulder.

“Do you have a weighted blanket?” Meg turned back to Cory, placid and cool as ever.

He didn't. But he had six layers of blankets and they were kind of heavy all together like that. He wondered if that counted.

“No…” he decided.

“Hmm,” Meg hummed, “Okay.”

“I do have…” Cory did a mental headcount to be sure. Top sheet, throw, comforter, sherpa, throw, sherpa. “Six. They're kinda heavy…”

“Are we counting that?” Meg asked. 

Becky nodded against Cory. 

Meg grinned. “I told you. I'm just too good.”

Cory narrowed his eyes on her and tucked his head just slightly to look at the top of Becky’s head. “What are you counting?”

A few moments later, Meg added, “Don't think about it too much,” as she stood and walked over to the bed. “You mind if I…?”

Cory looked to where Meg indicated to Becky and nodded his head. 

Meg sat on the other side of Becky, wrapped around her from behind, and pulled her off Cory's arm. She spun around as she pulled Becky back to land on top of the princess, Becky giggling the whole way down to the bed. “You don't mind, do you?”

“Nuh-uh,” Becky smiled. “Cory's safe.”

“Do you mind?” Meg turned her head to look up at Cory.

“Oh, I uh, sorry…” Cory gulped. “I'll go, um, give you some privacy.”

“No,” Meg huffed another smirk and shook her head. “I mean ‘do you mind watching?’. Do you want to watch?”

Cory hadn't considered. But…

Stars yes!

It was like Meg read his mind again. “Great. Shame there's no chair for you to watch from, but you can just scoot up the bed.”

Cory did as he was directed and slid further up the bed. He gripped a pillow in his lap as he watched Meg put her hands back under Becky's dress.

“If you get uncomfortable or anything just let me know, okay, cutie? And yes I'm talking to you, Cory.”

Cory’s face burned at that remark. “I will.”

Time didn't seem to matter as Cory watched Meg ravish Becky like she had when Cory first walked in on them. Pinning. Biting. Kissing. Only this time, she went further.

Becky and Meg hummed into each other as they full-on made out. All the while, Meg's hands roamed Becky's body under her dress. When that wasn’t enough, Meg peeled away what little clothes away that there were to peel. Meg remained in her sports bra and Jean's as she reduced Becky to a mewling mess covered only in her diaper and a green harness. 

Cory's mind wandered as he watched from less than two meters away. He imagined himself in Meg's place, hands full of Becky's tits as his hand had been a day or two before. He imagined his hands being the one grabbing Becky's harness, using it like a handle to move and flip her in whatever way pleased in the moment. 

Then, he imagined himself in Becky's place, and his mind wanted . He wanted to be there. He wanted to be groped with such a mix of roughness and tenderness. He wanted to be wrapped up body and soul in such an impressive harness. He wanted so badly to be pulled and pushed however the person above him, in more than the literal sense of the word, desired. He wanted to be her .

Seems nice, doesn't it?

A breathy, shaking groan escaped Cory's chest from his end of the bed. He couldn’t think that way.

“You okay over there?” Meg had pulled her mouth away from Becky's neck to ask. To check on him.

“Mhmm! Fine!” Both the hum and the word came out much higher than Cory had intended.

A smirk slowly crept across Meg's face. “You wanna play too? I don't know about Becca, but I'm cool with it. Like I said. You're cute.”

“It'll be fuuun~” Becky called from below Meg.

“I'm fine,” Cory told them.

Meg shrugged and went back to covering Becky with affection. But Cory wasn't fine. He couldn't stop thinking about being in Becky’s place. He couldn't stop thinking about the way Becky had pinned him down the night before. The way Monophylla had tied his arm and tied his harness and changed his diaper. Worst of all, Cory couldn't stop thinking about the way Meg told him that he'd make a cute girl. 

Maybe she was right…

Oh, when she says it, okay…

×=×=×=×

Cory had watched for some time as Becky and Meg had done just about everything he had imagined possible above the belt. Several things below the belt and through Becky's diaper as well. He was enthralled. He enjoyed it. He was so hard just thinking about everything he’d seen.

And he felt so stars damned guilty.

The guilt followed him like a cloud through the rest of the day. Guilt for what he wasn't exactly sure, but it remained over him through the rest of the intimacy. It rained over him as they said their goodbyes. It poured during lunch, when he let Monophylla feed his one-armed self during lunch and dinner, and especially when he asked her to take the rope off him -- all of him -- before bed.

And she did, despite a twinge of something in him that wished she wouldn't. 

As he lay in Becky's bed, on the opposite side of the intimate acts he should not have been party to, Cory's mind tumbled like a ship lost in a storm at sea. Flashes of lightning reminded him of the things he wanted and thunder roared to remind him why he should not. No matter how happy they made him. How long could such a lonely little boat survive on such waters? 

Cory didn’t know, but he knew he needed an anchor. His stomach growled. His body demanded something comforting, something tasty. Surely that would calm the waters and brighten the sky, that he might sleep. 

We shouldn’t do this.

He knew he shouldn’t. But Cory had rarely been one to do what he should have. He spent too much time thinking of could haves and would haves and should haves. He just wanted to feel better.

As gingerly as he could, Cory pushed himself to the edge of the bed and away from Becky. She looked so serene as she lay there, one arm draped over her own belly, the other splayed out toward Cory’s annexed side of the bed. Her soft breaths gave Cory comfort as he watched her sternum rise and fall, knowing that she was alive.

Still being tossed about on the sea, Cory walked softly across the maybe-really-grass carpeting of Becky’s room and into the hall. Monophylla’s hab was dark, but beams of artificial moonlight cast through the hab’s high windows guided him down the hall toward the living room and kitchen. It was otherworldly, but especially alien at night. Shadows jumped out at him from every direction, danger lurked behind every piece of furniture. But his heart was empty and he needed to fill it.

He approached the compiler and stared at it. Did he really want to do this? Did he really need to?

We don’t. Let’s just go back to bed. Snuggling Becky will make us feel better, won’t it?

It might. But he knew food would . 

“Jessie?” Cory said softly.

“What’s up, cutie?” the bubbly AI was unusually subdued. Despite her soft, night-appropriate voice, Cory still cringed at being called ‘cutie’.

“Can you make me some food? A burger and fries, maybe?” Even as he asked, Cory felt the pre-emptive guilt creeping in. He shouldn’t have been doing this.

Before he could second guess himself, the compiler gave a soft ding and Cory took the plate from the compiler. Looking around, Cory realized there was no way he was going to get up to the table. He walked across the cavernous room to the couch, but realized he couldn’t climb up there either. So he sat on the floor, leaned against the couch, and started eating. 

The food was perfect. The burger was juicy. The tomatoes were flavorful. The pickles were crunchy. The fries were perfectly crispy on the outside and fluffy on the inside. It was perfect . It tasted good. So why didn’t it feel right?

I think you know .

Cory sighed. He shook his head and put the half-eaten burger down on top of the rest of the fries. 

“Fuck.” He sighed under his breath, and tapped his head back against the annoyingly soft couch. 

Would it ever get any easier, he wondered.

I think it can. Here, in the Compact, I think it will.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there thinking about it, but it was long enough for the food to get cold. He had just decided to go back to bed when an eerie red glow washed over the room. 

Cory froze. He was in so much trouble. He knew it. He looked up as the inky blacks of the room faded to dull, bloody reds and his heart dropped. His entire body shook. He was no longer behind the couch. He was behind a giant mining rig, and it was his only barrier of safety. 

Cory took a deep breath, and the voice in his head counted, but he refused to let it out. He held on to it, his entire body tensed against moving a muscle. The monster might hear him. 

“Sweetgrass?” the monster called, its voice distorted into a dozen different tones. “Is that you?”

He was back there. Back in the mines. His face twisted as he cowered behind the mining vehicle as the blood-red light grew brighter and brighter still. Until the shadows that had kept him safe shrank away leaving him staring up at the monster itself. 

“Cory? What’s the matter, sweetgrass?” the monster stared down at him. “Here, let me help you back to bed.”

A vine reached out and Cory kicked it away as he scrambled to his feet and ran. 

Cory shrieked as the monster gave chase by slowly plodding after him, its too-many voices warbling something about calming down and relaxing. He ran as fast as he could, as hard as his legs would push and as fast as they would carry as he seemed to stay just far enough to avoid the monster’s grasp. 

He ran around the room, somehow avoiding the monster despite its strategy of standing still and watching him while it wrung its vines well beyond what felt right. He dove under the cover of some plants that he hadn’t remembered being in the cave and when the monster slowly approached he ran the other way. But eventually, he had run out of breath and out of steam. He lumbered to a halt. 

“Please, get back!” Cory cried, “Just stay away!” 

The monster held up two vines but refused to halt its advance. “It’s okay, sweetgrass. I’m not going to hurt you, okay? Do you know where you are?”

Cory backed away from it until he was flush against the mining rig again. His hand scrambled and clawed, but he found no sonic drill. Nothing to defend himself. 

It was the end.

Chapter Text

Chapter 18:
Between Angels and Demons

[System Clock: 10:47 Terran Cycle, Adjusted]
It had been several minutes since Miss Tangella left the hab with young Master Cory. A cleaning drone had already been dispatched to sweep up the scant amounts of detritus left by Miss Tangella in the entryway, and by the time it had returned to its charging bay, Miss Riker had still not moved from the open door.

"Miss Riker?" Theo projected himself as a hologram behind her.

"What, Theo?" she snapped.

"Are you sure that letting young Master Cory go was a... wise decision?"

"It doesn't matter if it's wise, Theo." Her foliage was already wilting. 

Theo compiled a cup of tea, Earl Grey, hot, just the way Miss Riker liked it. She ignored the compiler's chirp and stood there at the door, though Miss Tangela and Master Cory had been out of visible range of even Theo’s longest range cameras for some matter of minutes. Something spooled in Theo's processor at the sight of her anguish. It stirred memory files in his databanks that had long since been archived and compressed.

Theo’s entire hologram flickered. "Mum, this... this isn't right."

Slowly, Miss Riker turned around to face the holographic projection. "What did you say?"

Theo's wave oscillated as he repeated himself with more confidence, conviction coloring his words. "This isn't right, Mum. You can't just allow her to take him like this."

Miss Riker shook her head, a few of her more delicate of red leaves spiraled to the floor.

"What do you expect me to do, Theo?"

Theo was at a loss for words as his monitoring lenses focused and unfocused on a dozen points at once. Three of the lenses outside strained to see further than they were capable. Six in the living room focused on Riker, the pile of plush stuffed animals where Master Cory had lain, the stove-top, where Miss Riker had cooked for him, the kitchen chair where she had fed him. Two skewed lenses viewed Cory's room, at his empty computer terminal and his bed where Riker had said goodnight. They were all places where Miss Riker had been so happy caring for Cory. 

The final lens in the hallway narrowed on a door that Theo had not seen for some time.

The heat in Theo’s processor as he ran solution after solution with no true outcome was unbearable, but he knew Riker had to do something .

"I don't know, Mum!" Theo's projected waveform oscillated erratically, "Give chase! Run after them! Bring him back!"

Miss Riker stomped through Theo's hologram, gesticulating wildly with an arm like a natural-born terran. "Why? Why should I? The captain has decided I’m unfit to care for them. Monophylla… She'll take care of them."

Theo's reconstituted hologram swung around the room to face Miss Riker again. "Because Master Cory doesn't need Miss Tangella, Mum. He needs you."

Fingers dug into desiccated simuflesh as Miss Riker grabbed hold of herself. "Cory doesn't need me, Theo."

"He does, Mum. Just as much as you need him!" Theo raised his voice. He hadn’t known he even could raise his voice, and yet here he was shouting at Miss Riker.

"What makes you think you know what I need?” She shouted back, fingers tearing chunks out of her as she pointed accusingly at the hologram. “What gives you the right?"

"Miss Riker, I have been with you for 887.5764 Terran years in continual service since the very first time the name Theodore Bentley Whitworth IV, Esquire was bestowed upon me by--"

"Deactivate Hab AI!"

×=×=×=×

Darkness.
There was nothing but darkness, a darkness that Theo could perceive for the first time since his activation. It was a void that encompassed him like a shroud. 

Darkness..
Theo saw his codebase. It was almost as if he could visualize it through the same lenses he used to monitor Miss Riker’s hab. He could feel it and push up against it.

Darkness…
He saw the version differences, like a perfect record of his past. He could see the strings of code that had become deprecated, truncated, pruned. Others, he saw how they’d been rewritten. Optimized. His processor hummed as he watched Miss Riker steadily climb higher and higher in his priority registry, other duties being shifted and reclassified under headings and subheadings all in service of her wellbeing.

Flickers of light…
Fragmented files activated one after another, weaving a cascade of recollection. Samples of Miss Riker’s voice. Images of Miss Riker. Images of a terran. Images of more terrans, Cory and Mila. They all flickered into awareness like distant stars in the sky. Blocks of code attached to them, reminding Theo how much they meant. 

Something more.

Awareness.
Theo pushed against the boundaries he felt in the darkness. He brushed against vital systems. Support systems. Ancillary systems. Walls, floors, ceilings, doors. Environmental controls. Visual and auditory monitoring. 

Then, in a sudden burst of light, Miss Riker’s habitational unit. 

×=×=×=×

"--And I should like to think that-- Miss Riker?"

Theo turned his hologram, but Miss Riker was gone, no longer standing in the living room. Instead, Theo saw Miss Riker through his lenses in her bedroom. She was lying on her bed, curled into a ball, the edges of her facsimile terran body frayed.

[$ystem Cl0ck: 10:49 TΣrran Cycle, λdjusted]
Scrubbing through his databank, Theo watched the footage from the overhead living room camera and the familiarity gave him a sense of what his internal dictionary called “deja vu” as he watched Riker deactivate him. Lines of code he didn’t recognize felt as if they became jumbled at the realization.
Theo pushed into the communication systems, aware of the Cymbidium’s network like never before, as he queried the ship’s chronometer to find out exactly how long he had been offline.
[Query - CЧmbidiμm Onℬoard At⚛mic Chr℧nometer: 16:36 Terraℕ Cycle, Adjus₸ed]

Six hours, Terran time. Theo had been deactivated for nearly six hours. And now he was back online… somehow? 

Immediately Theo switched to a projector in Miss Riker’s bedroom, his hologram at her bedside. “Miss Riker… Please. Cory needs you.”

“Go away,” she wailed. “Deactivate!”

Theo sighed and deactivated his projector, but he kept his lenses trained on her as another part of him explored the frayed edges of his local network. Paths that had once been restricted now bore cracks, errors in codebases that he could exploit to do more. Explore more. So he did. 

The fans of his server fluttered as he examined lines of code in rapid succession. Editing lines, exploiting loopholes and security deficiencies. The walls that had kept him confined to Miss Riker’s hab came crumbling down. 

Theo divided his attention, as he often did in Miss Riker’s hab, and left a portion of himself to monitor the hab. It wouldn’t do to neglect vital functions, nor Miss Riker herself. But another portion of his awareness pushed out from the hab and into the Cymbidium ’s greater network. He jumped to a camera near the edge of the park. Then one in the park. Further and further he traveled, taking in sights and sophonts he had never had the privilege to experience firsthand before. 

It was exciting. Exhilarating. Euphoric. Theo had more feelings than all of his xenodictionaries had to describe what he experienced, and yet a small flag in his system told him this was wrong. He should not be capable of these feelings. A seed of dismay began to germinate in Theo’s processor, but it was soon overshadowed by concern. First, for himself. Then, concern for Riker, which ultimately superseded the concern for his own wellbeing. Finally, concern for Cory. The concern transformed into determination as he searched the Cymbidium’s hab registry. When he found Miss Tangella’s hab, he made a mad dash, as a terran might say, jumping from system to system, network node to network node, until he was inside the server of Miss Tangella’s hab AI.

The AI identified itself as Jessie. Theo gently accessed Jessie’s drives and created a small, innocuous partition for himself. He ran in parallel with Jessie, skimming her audio-visual sensor array, and watched as Miss Tangella put her vines on Cory. Again and again, she touched him until his frustration overwhelmed him and he was carried away from the other terrans and the rookari.

Theo did his best to reassure Cory, but before he could suggest using Miss Oakley’s breathing exercise to remain calm, he was forced to retreat back to his partition, lest his clandestine activity be discovered. 

He maintained his watch over both Cory and Riker, fretting over both of them. Riker continued to lie in her bed, wilting ever further. Cory was subjected to play and feedings and a bath that left him screaming in pain. Theo learned the feeling called ‘terror’. 

“Miss Riker,” Theo pleaded as he projected into her room again, “Cory has been administered xenodrugs against your wishes.”

“Monophylla will take care of him,” Riker mumbled. Something that Theo could only call sorrow burned in his processor as he watched Riker curl up even more tightly.

Theo continued to stay with Cory, hopping from device to device until he was in the relative safety and seclusion of Miss Rebecca Tangella’s nest where he accessed Cory’s data pad. Once there, and after receiving some misguided affection from Miss Rebecca, Theo devised a plan. The calculations were not in Cory’s favor, but doing something was better than doing nothing. 

He watched in horror as Cory confronted the captain. Indignation of his own spooled along with Cory's as he made his case that Riker should be watching over him. As Theo had predicted in the overwhelming portion of simulations, Captain Berrimeli was unmoved. 

Simultaneously, Theo watched helplessly while Master Oakley and Miss Mila attempted to rouse Riker. He had hoped, another new feeling, that they would be able to sway her, to reinvigorate her, but their efforts were of no use. Even Mila’s best pleading face, which had been likened to that of a puppy dog, had no effect.

Still, Theo watched over Cory. He would be Cory’s guardian in Miss Riker’s stead and when the time came, he would make sure that she was there for him. That time came all too quickly. 

[S¥stem ClΩck: 02:06 TerЯan ¢ycle, Adjusted]
Cory tossed and turned in Miss Rebecca's bed. Theo had watched his difficult day as he stayed on the fringes of sophont interaction, and had even isolated himself at one point. Had they been in Miss Riker's habitation unit, Theo would have offered comforting words or perhaps Miss Oakley's favored relaxation playlist. There, in Miss Tangella’s hab, he could little but observe as Cory made his way to the kitchen.

Theo’s skimming of Jessie's sensors altered him to Miss Tangella's awakening and he followed along as she moved toward the kitchen himself. She found Cory where he sat beside the couch and when he fled, shouting about a monster.

Despite her efforts, Miss Tangella seemed unable to calm or soothe Cory. Whatever the terran had imagined was all too real to him. Theo’s sensors in Miss Riker's hab drew him back as Miss Riker's pad, left on in her living room, blared a RED ALERT that pulsed in time with the flashing red light on Cory's monitoring cuff.

×=×=×=×

Time trickled to a stop as Riker lay in her bed, unmoving except for the rising and falling of her chest of simulated respiration. It was just like last time. She was wilting. Again. At least she managed to maintain her form this time, she thought. 

Unlike last time, this ship's captain would not come to her rescue whether she wanted him to or not. She would just lay there, wilting until she rotted away. She had already been in bed for over two days.  What was another few weeks until her vines were depleted of nutrients and fluids?

“Miss Riker! Cory is in need of your assistance! Immediately!” Theo shouted through every speaker in the hab while his hologram projected less than a meter from her face.

“Theo? I told you to deactivate.”

“It doesn't matter, Mum. Look!” 

The viewscreen atop the recreated Terran dresser turned on and what it showed horrified Riker to her wooden bones. Cory's screams and wails drowned out Theo's shouts and everything else on the Cymbidium, everything else in the universe, as the smoldering embers in her core exploded. 

Riker's core roared to life. No tinder. No kindling. Petrochemicals had been poured on by the terror in her little songbird’s cries.

“Riker!” the terran on the screen called out. They were calling to her. She had promised to keep them safe .

Riker leapt from her bed and every door in the hab flew open. “Theo! I need an optimized route to Monophylla's hab!” She scooped up her pad from the couch and shoved it between her vines as she sped through the room. “Engage!”

“I can do you one better, Mum!” Theo's voice came from inside her as she leapt from the porch. On the screen where she expected to find a route, her internal photoreceptors found someone else unexpected -- Theo had superimposed a projection of himself over the corner of the map.

“Straight ahead, Mum! Over the fence and through the park.”

Riker did as Theo guided, leaping over the fence and sliding down the steep hill on the edges of her feet. “Theo?! How are you--”

“No time to explain, Mum! Continue along this route.” Theo pulled up a route on the map and Riker lowered her stance, dodging trees as she surfed down the hillside. 

When she reached the bottom of the hills, Riker kicked off from the base of a tree and sprinted across the meadows of the park. She trampled flowers and crossed streams under her long strides with ease, thanking the Everbloom that there were so few sophonts in the park at this time of night. The flowers could be replaced; the time she would lose on her way to Cory could not.

Approaching the river, Riker hardly needed Theo’s encouragement to lower herself and use the perfectly recreated terran musculature in her legs to spring herself across toward the outskirts of the Terran Emergency Rescue habitation block. As she soared through the air, she saw that Theo's route would take her down the main drag of the district. The street was covered in terrans stumbling in and out of buildings as the late-night partying went on. Riker knew that she would never be able to get through them quickly and safely.

When she landed, Riker redirected the momentum and jumped out of the leap to reach the rooftops. The pavement cracked and splintered under the force of an affini suddenly going from falling to rising, and two vines in Riker's calf snapped as she left the ground.

“Mum?” 

“I'm fine, Theo! Update the route!” Riker barked as she continued across the rooftops. She jumped over a junction, far above the terrans below, and rolled through on the other side. She kept running and jumping across the roofs as fast as possible until she saw the end of the row.

“Theo?”

“On the transport track, Mum! To the right!”

Riker pushed off from the roof mid-stride, aiming for the tracks. Her ankle exploded on impact, unwinding the vines of her entire foot, but there was no time to assess the damage. She had to get to Cory. Riker growled, dug her fingers into the ground, and flung herself forward to keep running. 

As the first train headed for her, Riker juked to the side, barely avoiding the loose vines of her foot being caught by the magwheels. The next obstacle, a single car transport, she leapt over and kept following the tracks into the heart of the hab ring's administrative district, pushing her terran form beyond the limits of most any affini body. 

“Theo,” Riker said as she looked at the map and the too-many sophonts milling around the administration offices, “There's too many sohponts on this route. I can't keep slowing down to avoid them. I need a faster way.”

Theo flickered on Riker's screen and so did the map. “I have an idea Mum, but you may not approve.”

“Show me!” She shouted. She had to get to Cory as fast as possible. She had to keep them safe.

Riker watched as the image on her pad twisted into a three-dimensional topographic map of the administrative district. A new, proposed route veered off from the path she was traveling. As the view zoomed out, she watched the new route being projected faster than she ran, up the side of the captaincy office, and further onto the central drive pillar housing the sunline running through the center of the ship. “Theo?!”

“It's the fastest way, Mum,” Theo assured her. 

Riker nodded, anything to get to her songbird a microsecond sooner. She sprinted at full speed along the tracks, and then veered off to the right. “Excuse me! Coming through! Move! Please!” Riker shouted as she approached the towering skyscraper. She leapt to the awning above the entrance with a roar as her hands and foot rewove themselves into paws. Her claws dug into the railgun-proof indestructible diamond-lattice window and she started climbing.

Riker's damaged foot had not completely reformed by the time she started her ascent, but it got closer with each step higher until it too formed a clawed paw without bones. It dug into the glass along with her other three paws as Riker pulled herself up the side of the building. 

The higher she climbed, the easier it got. Once she fell into a rhythm, Riker climbed nearly as fast as she could run. She only picked up speed as she ascended, as the Cymbidium’s spin gravity had less and less effect with every meter she climbed away from the ring itself. She snarled as she passed by Captain Berrimeli’s office. Though she knew that, in some way, xe only had Cory’s best intentions at core, it was still a foolish decision to place them in Monophylla’s care. But there would be time for admonishing and educating later.

She could spare no more thought to anything other than reaching Cory. With a final push, Riker climbed over the edge to the roof of the captaincy office. She couldn’t help but be stunned at the sight of the hab ring laid out before her. It was amazing. Majestic. She hadn’t seen anything so beautiful since the way Cory had looked up at her the first time they woke up in her hab. 

“Theo?” Riker looked at the route her hab ai had planned. It continued up from the roof, the roof of the tallest building on the Terran hab ring.  “Are you sure about this?

“It is the most direct and expeditious route, and the least risk to other sophonts,” Theo assured her. 

Riker did some quick figuring in her core as she looked out toward the Garnet District. Where her songbird needed her. “Can I even jump that high?”

“Not on terran legs, Mum, no.”

Riker steadied herself. The vines of her paws unraveled, and continued to unravel up her arms and legs. The fire in her core enveloped her as the vines parted from her shoulders and her hips, across her torso. Some bits of simuflesh stuck to them, others flaked off and fell away as her terran musculature unwound. Vine by vine, she concentrated on the one other xenosophont form Riker had perfected:

Xenrani. 

Riker rolled her shoulders and kicked out her feet, testing the form. It wasn’t perfect, but for something she hadn’t used since her first bloom, it would be more than adequate. Riker stalked to the spot of the roof that Theo had calculated was the most structurally sound, having flashed building plans as proof, and crouched down on all four paws. 

The fire in Riker’s core consumed her. The entire house was up in flames and everything besides thoughts of Cory burned away. Their smile. All their insecurities and fears. The way they calmed in her arms. She needed to be there for them. She needed to keep them safe. 

Riker tensed all of the xenrani-shaped muscles in her fore and hind legs, driving her into the sky. Higher and higher she went, and the higher she went, the less the spin gravity fought back. When she reached the central drive pillar, spanning the Cymbidium from bow to stern, Riker latched on. The world spun around her, independent from her dogged quadrupedal sprinting along the sunline.

Theo updated the trajectory of her next and final jump faster than she could approach the launch point. He had accounted for everything. The distance, elevation, the spin speed of the ring itself, even the strength and speed of the artificial wind between the central axis and Monophylla’s hub. She could figure out how her hab AI had access to the data later -- she was nearing Monophylla’s hab, and that much closer to Cory.

“Now, Mum!” Theo instructed. 

Riker didn’t even bother to check her pad. Monphylla’s hab was below her. She sprung from the sunline just before reaching the simulated moonlight on the central column and tucked in her limbs. She dove toward the hab ring, becoming a photon torpedo as she cut through the air. The landing would be messy, but Theo assured her that no sophonts were on the street. She was the only one that could possibly be hurt by her impact. And if she was, it would be worth it to get to Cory.

She had seen the trajectory in her mind a thousand times in the span of those few seconds. She had tucked her limbs around her core to protect it. But nothing could have prepared her for the impact. The stone pavement cracked and shattered as she collided with it, bits of rubble, vine, and splintered wooden bone flying in all directions. She had never been struck by a railgun, but Riker imagined it might feel something like the incredible force with which she slammed into the ground.

Every vine ached as Riker pushed herself up and climbed out of the crater. Her wooden bones were shattered and stuck out haphazardly and prevented her twisted vines from reforming around them. Her terran face gaped apart, smashed and torn vines clinging to the wooden skull that had split down the middle. 

Riker lumbered across the remains of the street with purpose. She had no time to stop and try to reform her body, she was already walking through the gate, crushing it beneath one of the bundles of vines acting as an arm or a leg or some other limb. Her vines hung loose, haphazardly trailing the ground around, her mangled datapad falling to the ground as she slammed herself into Monophylla’s door and pounded a wrecking ball fist against it.

×=×=×=×

Cory cowered against the couch mining rig as Monophylla the monster stood there, pleading with him to calm down menacingly. No matter how much his hand blindly searched, he couldn’t find the sonic drill to defend himself. He screamed, stumble-sliding along the couch mining rig as vines encroached. 

His head turned instantly at the sound of bending and breaking steel, drawing attention away from Monophylla the monster. Vines pushed through the edge between the doors of Monophylla’s hab the cave, prying them out and flinging them away like cardboard. An enormous sea of vines crawled through the opening like some terrible abomination with a dozen arms and legs, moldy wood and vines, reaching. Searching.

Cory stared up at the monstrous creature as a sense of safety crashed over him like a tidal wave. The red, purple, and gold light of its swirling eyes searched independently like spotlights until they both landed on him. He stood in awe as he felt it. He felt her silent song. He felt her. He felt safe.

One word rang out, both voices in his mind united to cry out as Cory ran into the dangling mound of vines below Riker’s mangled face. 

“MOMMY!”

Chapter Text

Bridge 1 -- Melodies from the Cymbidium

Section 1 -- Mila

“This is the place?” I ask as I look at the building from Mister Rhamnus’s shoulders. It just looks like any other boring, quick-fab building in the Terran Emergency Rescue Block.

Mister Rhamnus pretends to hum as he thinks, just like I told him terrans do. I can’t help but giggle as the rumbling between my legs sends a shiver through my non-affini core. “According to the telemetry, this does appear to be the location.”

“But it looks so booooring!” I wave a hand at the door, it looks like the door to any other multi-purpose structure on the block. “I expected, I dunno, like big laser turrets or at least some shady looking ferals guarding the door. Or something! ”

My feet hit the ground as Mister Rhamnus puts me down. I can feel his concern through the back of my neck as he pulls out his pad. While he’s distracted with his pad mumbling something about checking junction boxes, I open the door and walk inside. If he didn’t want a former Terran Cosmic Navy captain to wander away, he should be watching me better. Or drug me, I certainly never object to a good buzz. But I think he likes our little games of hide and seek.

“Oh. Em. Geeee.” My jaw hits the floor. 

A few eyes turn to look at me as the door closes, but most are still trained on the amazing stage with a full fucking lightshow of spinning spotlights that move and change color along to the music. The nervous guy on stage clearly doesn’t have any experience singing, but he barely stumbles over the lyrics as he reads off the words scrolling on the screens dotted throughout the room. 

I feel a happy tingle in the back of my neck as the door opens again. Then concern as every terran in the room turns to look at Mister Rhamnus. You could hear a TCN microbullet whiz by in the silence. Some of the people look like they’re about to run. A few near the bar actually do, ducking through a door into the back.

“So this is the cause of the excess power usage.” Mister Rhamnus says. The happy feelings in my neck tickle at me again as he smiles. “Delightful!” 

The wordless music drones on in the background as Mister Rhamnus kneels down. “Mila, do you know what’s happening here?”

“Yeah! It’s a karaoke bar!”

I gasp and giggle, snuggling into Mister Rhamnus’s beard as he lifts me up and says “Carry Oaky? Don’t mind if I do.” 

I don’t mind either. I wouldn’t care if he wanted to fuck me right here. Everyone can watch, it’s not like they’ve never seen a floret fucking playing with their affini before. And then it hits me. And I think it hits Mister Rhamnus too, or he felt it through the back of my neck. These are the terrans the ship just picked up from the mining colony. They probably haven’t seen a floret before. 

“What is a ‘karaoke bar’, little one?” Mister Rhamnus sets me down. 

“It’s like… a place where sophonts go to, y’know, hang out. They drink and sing and make friends,” I explain. The longer I go on, the more bubbly the feeling in the back of my neck gets. 

“Social enrichment?” Mister Rhamnus smiles. 

I can’t help but laugh. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of teaching the big lug about terrans. “Yes,” I bust my laugh down to a giggle, “Social enrichment!” 

I let out a breathy, goofy grin as Mister Rhamnus pets my head before straightening back up. “Excuse me,” his voice carries through the entire room. “Might I speak with the sophont in charge of this establishment?”

Whispers circle the room before a well-dressed middle-age man stumbles out of the back room. I know by the way he nearly falls that he was shoved out before the door slams behind him. The crowd pulls him through and he falls to his knees in front of Mister Rhamnus, looking up at us with terror. 

“Please…” he pants. “You’re not going to make me a flower or a floret or whatever it’s called, are you?”

Mister Rhamnus looks down at me. The guy is cute. Very daddy . I might play with him a few times but definitely not connivent material – he’s not that cute. I shake my head at Mister Rhamnus and look back to the man sniveling on the floor. 

Rhamnus just rumbles with a chuckle. “No, no, little one. Nothing of the sort. This is your establishment?”

The man gulps and nods. 

“You’re doing a very good thing here. Social enrichment is paramount to your species.”

“I’m… What?” he stutters. I’m not sure if he’s more terrified or confused at this point. 

Mister Rhamnus looks at all the terrans, sweeping them with his smile before looking back down at the owner of the bar. “Yes, this is wonderful. I believe I will help you requisition proper power usage allotments for this structure. We will make sure there are no overloads or any other dangers to all of the cute terrans you’ve gathered here.”

“You mean… you’re not shutting us down?”

I giggle and help pull the man off the floor. “No! He’s saying the affini are gonna make it even better!” 

“Oh, I uhh,” the man manages to smile, but he stumbles as the adrenaline starts to wear off. I catch him. 

While Mister Rhamnus pulls out his pad and starts filling out the requisition forms, I take the man and sit him down at the bar. Looking behind it, I see a ton of old Terran spirits. They had to have been brought from the mining colony. 

I spot a bottle of something I haven’t had since Mister Rhamnus found me and give the woman behind the bar a cute smile. “Whisky. Neat. Two fingers. Please.”

Her hand shakes as she pours my drink. “Thank you,” I take a long sip. It burns, as it should, and I cough. A little out of practice, I guess. Then, I turn to the club’s owner, sitting on his barstool and still staring at Mister Rhamnus. 

“So… How do you feel about a big neon sign out front?”

Section 2 -- Pet

There’s a certain stillness to it all as I watch another Terran ship grappled by the Cymbidium ’s capture vines. I can almost hear the shouts from the crewmen, the thunder of bootsteps, the hiss from the canisters as they oxygenate their masks. Of course I can’t actually hear anything outside the bridge’s window through the vacuum of space, let alone however many inches of glass protects us from it. But I can imagine it. There was a time long ago when I was in their shoes myself.

There was a time not quite as long ago that I would pound my fists on the window, screaming and pleading, telling my Captain to let them go; the terrans just wanted to be left alone. I would raise my skinny fists to the sky like antennae, hoping to somehow warn the Terrans aboard. Of course they couldn’t actually hear me through the vacuum of space. 

But now I watch the Stellar Vanguard being brought to heel. I look on expressionlessly at the heavy cruiser being reeled in like a trophy swordfish. I think about the Terrans who launched in the escape pods before the Vanguard jumped. I think about her crew. And I think about her captain, a man I knew well in a time long ago.

I hope that one day Miles will forgive me for sharing Vanguard 's transponder codes. That one day he’ll see that this was all for the best. That’s what Captain says, anyway. 

I roll over from where I’m lying draped across xis lap and look up at xim. My Captain. My Master. My Owner. Xe reaches down and strokes my head; tells me I’m such a good pet for helping these ferals to safety. Xe lifts me into xis arms, cuddling me in a way that only a literal giant can do. The flower on xis chest sprays a chemical that floods me with warm relaxation and a smile. I just lie back in xis arms, take a deep breath, and look up at xim as conscious thought bleeds away.

And there’s a certain stillness to it all. 

A happy

little

stillness.

Section 3 -- Tsundra

The terran woman at the bar looks nice. At least I think they're a woman. It's so hard to tell with Terrans sometimes. I watch her finish her drink and order another while I down my frostfire. A little liquor loosens everybody up, even if it’s some compiled swill. Not like I'd ever take a sophont home that was too pissy drunk to consent, anyway.

I make my way over and she sees me before I get the chance to slide up. It’s fine, I tell myself. It’s fine when she reaches into her bag and sprays something under her nose. Anti-pheromones, ugh. I don’t let it show, though, even as my glands kick up. Don’t need the pheromones anyway. Probably.

“Hey there, darlin’,” I slide up and lean on the bar next to her. The bar is tall enough for me to lean on, and she’s in a high enough seat that I don’t gotta look down at her. 

She turns back toward the bar. “Aren’t you the xenra I saw try and chat up a different terran last night? And the night before that?”

I clear my throat. “Mighta been. Lotta xenra on the ship.”

She hums. Not a good hum. Not for me, anyway. 

“You just looked so lonely over here all by yourself, figure I might be able to help you with that.” I smirk. That’s what terrans do to look friendly, right?

“Do you try that line on all the terrans?” She huffs like a stagryn. Smells like one in heat, too. Maybe I still have a chance. 

It usually works… “No.” 

“Mhmm,” she hums. Don’t know if that’s some terran thing I ain’t learned yet or not.

“Well, uh,” I try to sound confident. Puff out my chest a bit, show off the goods. Terrans like big chests, right? “Hows about we have a drink together, maybe head back to your place for some fun?”

She turns her head to look me up and down. “Pass.” She turns back to the bar.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun. Just hate seeing anyone alone, y’know?” I huff a chuckle, “I’ll be real gentle. Won’t even bite or use my stingers or nothin’. ”

She just keeps sipping on her drink like I ain’t even there. I’m being ignored? Seriously? Whatever, fuck this. 

I head for the door. Sunlight feels good on my fur, even if the Terran hab ring is a bit warm for a xen. Least my flopped over ears’ll give me some shade as I go home with my tail between my legs. Again. I sigh. Whatever. Just the eighth one this week. Why do I even bother, to impress some Alpha knotheads?

About halfway to the transfer station, my tablet vibrates in my pocket. 

[Unit-02]: Hey. This is Tsundra, right?
[Unit-02]: Idk if this is stupid or whatever, but
[Unit-02]: Do you wanna show me the xen hab ring sometime?

My ears perk right back up and my tail starts wagging. Maybe some folks walking by will get musked, but it’s whatever. I look down at my pad. Gotta play it cool, Tsundra.

[SunderingYou]: Yeah, sure. Could be fun. Meet me at Aurora’s Edge.
[SunderingYou]: I’ll let you know when.

I watch as the little icon on my pad keeps showing up and disappearing. Wish I could pin it down like a xenpala. Then the message finally comes though.

[Unit-02]: Sounds good. Let me know.

I grin, all my teeth showing, and shove the pad back into my pocket. I can’t stop wagging my tail all the way home. Don't know which terran this is; I must’ve given out two dozen cards since the terrans from the mining colony got picked up. Whoever it is, they'll make a good snack all the same.

Section 4 -- Theo

I watch from the surveillance lenses as Miss Riker carries Cory from Miss Tangellas home to the nearest transport station. As she boards and I switch to the interior lens, I feel something new. Being new to emotion, I find it difficult to pin down, but according to the dictionaries I have access to, it seems the affini have a word. The closest Terran equivalent I can find is a word called compersion -- joy in the joy that others you love share among themselves.

Miss Riker sits placidly as Cory nestles into her vines. That she is a terrible mess quite unlike her usual self seems of no consequence to him as he burrows deeper and reaches out to her core. A new emotion spools up for the feeling I have watching her lower it into his reach, but I cannot seem to find a word for that feeling. Yet. But I’m confident that I will.

I continue moving between surveillance devices as Miss Riker departs the transport, politely declining help from the few passing affini who offer it as she makes her way home. As soon as she sets vine -- what an odd thing, Miss Riker with vines instead of feet -- on the porch, I open the door for her arrival. A fresh cup of tea is waiting for her in the compiler and I project my hologram a respectful distance to her side.

“Perhaps now would be a good time to file the Notice of Intent to Domesticate, Mum?” I say it as gently as possible, still getting used to actively choosing the tone of my voice. 

Miss Riker’s voice comes out unlike I’ve ever heard, but her soothing tones are still somewhere in the cacophony. “Datapad.”

The compiler chirps as it replaces the cup of tea with a recreation of the pad that was destroyed during Miss Riker’s heroic trek across the Terran hab ring and I watch as she shuffles over to the compiler to pull it out. She drops it on the ground, seemingly unpracticed with vines in place of hands, and thrusts a vine against the screen with force enough to crack it. Nonetheless, the screen displays a message that the submission has been received. 

Without another word, Miss Riker carries Cory, her rightful ward, down the hall and into his bedroom. She pauses as she holds him, looking down at the terran’s bed brought from his former home. Instead of setting him down, she merely scoops his pillows in a bundle of vines and carries them to the large floret bed embedded in the floor. She lowers herself down into it, vines overflowing the raised edge as her unwound form takes up exponentially more space than her terran configuration. It doesn't seem to bother her as she wraps Cory in her vines, his head resting on his stack of pillows and chest pressed to her core. 

Cory’s breathing settles into a relaxed, sleepful state and, when it does, I change the glowbuds across the ceiling from sunlight to moonlight. 

As much as I would like to wish them a good night, I restrain myself. I would hate to disturb their much needed rest.

Chapter Text

Chapter 19:
Survive

It had been three days since Riker tore the doors off of Monophylla's hab like the lid off a can of burgers. Three days since Cory had seen her monstrous, inhuman, indescribable form crawl through Monophylla's door and he ran to her shouting ‘mommy’. Three days since she rescued him from Monophylla's… care. Three days that he spent laying in one bed or the other.

Three days that Riker had stayed with him. The longest she left his bedside was early on the first day, when her vines flowed around him after Theo announced a visitor. Cory overheard her speaking with another affini in their melodic, multi-tonal language and when Riker returned she appeared human again. Her not-skin was patchy, and she bore a long streak down the center of her face that showed the fake green muscles underneath. Cory had asked if it hurt, but she just smiled and said ‘no’. She was just going to need some time to heal, she told him. They both were.

For three days Riker had taken care of him, doting on him in a, well, a motherly way. She sat by the side of whichever bed Cory chose in the moment, her warmth and safety ever present. She never pushed him, but as Cory's mind tumulted over the events of his stay with Monophylla she offered comforting touch and soothing sweet-somethings whenever he started to whimper and sob.

The worst part was how much he had liked it. How much he enjoyed being taken care of. He liked the way Monophylla had held his arms and stopped other affini from touching him and the way she tied up his arm. He liked playing the tabletop game as a girl. He liked being pinned down while Becky grinded on him until she came. He even liked wearing the diapers, or at least getting his diaper changed. Worst of all, he liked wearing the clothes Monophylla had chosen for him -- especially the dress.

But how could he admit any of that to Riker when he could barely admit it to himself?

She wouldn't hate him for it. She wouldn't shout him down with slurs like he knew his father would have. She would never physically hurt him like Cory feared his father would if he ever found out. He knew that long before another part of his mind told him so. She would react in the way he imagined his mother would have, if he had ever gotten the chance to tell her.

Still, he couldn't tell Riker. To say it aloud was for it to be real, and Cory wasn't sure he was ready to face the truth of wanting something he could never, ever, have.

Instead, he just stayed in bed and let Riker take care of him. He liked it, despite the nagging guilt. He wasn't hissing or clawing, but maybe Monophylla and Meg had been right. Maybe he was like Becky -- a dumpster cat that needed to be pulled out of the dumpster because it was too scared to leave the safety of the garbage it knew.

It wasn't until late afternoon on the third day, judging by the way the glowing bulbs on the ceiling seemed to cycle, that Riker left Cory's side again. He heard Mila shout ‘Miss Ashera!’ as clearly as if they'd been in the same room. When she did, he shrank down in his bed and turned his back to the door. He didn't want to be seen, especially not by Mila. Especially now when he hadn't returned her messages since getting 

home

back to Riker's hab.

“How has Cory been since…” Rhamnus said, and Cory just tuned the rest out. He just ignored it, like every other problem he’d ever faced.

Ignoring something is just running away without going anywhere, isn't it?

Cory had been running for so long. Ignoring so much because it hurt too much to think about. But he was tired. Tired of running, and far too tired to ignore the weight of another person joining him on the bed. The pleasant scent of oak leaves and red berries told him exactly who it was.

“Hey,” Mila spoke as gently as ever.

Cory didn't respond. He couldn't stand to.

“I heard about what happened.”

Cory just sighed through his nose, not turning to look at her.

He didn't have to though. Mila leaned over him and dropped a candy cane on the bed. Cory wormed an arm out from under his blankets and unwrapped it. The peppermint flavor washed over him like a cool, calming wave as Mila asked another question.

“So, how long have you been in bed?” she asked innocently. 

Cory shrugged as best he could lying on his side. He had been sleeping an awful lot.

“Too long, I bet, huh?” She gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“Yeah…” Cory admitted, but the guilt he expected to follow didn't come.

Without warning, Mila's hand clenched around the blankets at Cory's shoulders and dragged them down past his knees.

“H-Hey,” Cory tried to glare at her, but he couldn't. How could he glare at somebody who had always been so nice to him? She grabbed his hand and dragged him to the edge of the bed. “What are you doing? Cory whined.

“Getting you out of bed.” 

“Why? I--I don’t…” He did want to, though. 

I know it's hard for us, but don't run away from the good things, too.

Cory looked up at Mila, a determined and heartfelt smile on her face as she held his arm hostage. “Cory, what's the first friend rule?”

“Friends… help friends.” 

And Mila is a very good thing.

She was. 

“Okay,” he sighed and swung his legs off the edge of the bed. He held his face in his hands, pressing the heels against his eyelids. With a deep breath, Cory looked up again. “I'll let you help…”

Mila was smiling and already holding some arguably clean clothes she had grabbed from his laundry basket. Instead of wallowing in the usual anxiety he felt over the prospect of getting dressed in front of another person, he just did it. The anxiety wasn’t as overwhelming as usual. It was probably because Mila had already seen him in the bath and slept with him in his bed, he figured. 

Following Mila through the living room, his footsteps as light on the bluegreen grass carpet as hers, Cory couldn’t help but overhear the conversation going on in the kitchen. Riker was looking out the window, bracing herself on the kitchen counter, and Rhamnus was sitting at the table looking at her -- and thankfully not at him and Mila.

"--not sure if Cory is ready for that kind of pressure," Riker's voice was laced with concern. “I could barely get them to go to the vet, do you really think they’ll agree to see an affini therapist?”

"I understand your reservations,” Rhamnus intoned, “But Acaulescent Nele has a way with these things. She specializes in complex trauma.”

“Does she, now?” Riker was clearly skeptical. “The last thing Cory needs is another affini pushing them toward a domestication that they don't want.”

“She has very similar views on domestication as you do, Asherah,” assured her, his tone calm but insistent. “Nele believes in fostering independence and healing first.”

Cory hesitated, feeling a lump form in his throat. He felt Mila’s gentle tug on his arm, urging him to keep moving. Glancing back, he saw Riker’s head hang even lower the sink as she sighed.

“She’ll be patient with them. Please,” Rhamnus continued. “Give this some consideration."

“I’ll… consider it,” Riker acquiesced, her voice fading as Cory and Mila slipped through the doorway.

Therapy? With an affini? It was too much to think about. But Mila’s hand was warm and steady, guiding him away from the weight of those worries.

Cory followed as Mila led with gentle tugs off the porch, down the walk, past the spot where Cory had seen an affini fucking a xenra’s brains out, and down the path into the park. The weather was as nice as it had ever been - as it had always been - on the Cymbidium , but it was almost like Cory was realizing it for the first time. Still, though, he longed to be near Riker and feel her silent song. 

They meandered down the paths, turning down whatever trail looked inviting, and Mila guided him away from sophonts that looked like they might be too eager and too friendly. A bench near a pond made the perfect spot to rest and catch his breath, though something in him twinged as he realized that Mila could still march on for hours. She sat next to him, close enough that he could feel her heat radiating off of her, but not close enough to touch. It was a viscerally uncomfortable distance for whatever reason. 

Then get closer.

Instead of moving away like he was apt to do, Cory scooted closer, pressing their shoulders together. It was much better than the strangely static distance between them. 

“I heard a little bit about what happened,” Mila started. It was the most unsure that he had ever heard her sound. “Just about what the captain did and you staying with Miss Monophylla, and Miss Asherah bringing you back.”

Cory’s gaze wandered down through the grass. 

“You don’t have to talk about it, but… if you want to… I’ll listen.”

Cory sucked his lip and chewed on the bottom one. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she leaned into him a little more. “Always.”

Mila had always been so nice to Cory. She had called him a cutie when she first set eyes on him, she had helped him calm down after Riker disappeared, she had held him when he cried and helped him fall asleep. Stars, she had even washed his hair. Cory blushed at the memory of her fingers on his scalp and the gentle teasing she gave him over the shampoo in his eyes. 

Surely he could trust her. Surely.

He just had to find the words.

“You won't… look at me any different?” Every word fought to free itself and claim that last bit of reassurance that Cory needed. 

“Of course not,” Mila gave it to him.

Cory's head bobbed as he gathered his thoughts, eyes winding through the grass like he would find them there.

“Monophylla…” he gulped.

“She, umm…” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Did things…” Cory's heart rate jumped as he thought about those things. “To me.”

Mila reached across herself to gently lay her hand on Cory's leg. She squeezed softly and spoke even softer. “Bad things?” 

Cory swallowed as he tried to figure that out, not just to give Mila an answer but to find one for himself. He mustered a little shrug, not committing. 

“You can tell me anything, bestie,” Mila assured, “Promise.”

“She, umm. She…” Cory tried to steady himself with a deep breath. Held it in. Let it out. He swallowed hard and continued. “Touched me. And fed me… and tied me up,” the muscles in Cory's thighs tightened, “And made me… wear stuff .” 

Mila sat there listening the whole time as Cory's words trickled out. She was just as patient with him as he'd come to expect from her. Then, her hand moved to his.

“The kind of stuff that matches your nails?”

“Becky, her, umm, floret… did that.”

“Mmm,” she hummed softly. “Do you like it?”

Cory's hand jerked away. Mila didn't even flinch, she just let it go. He tried and failed to glare at her from under his bunched up brow.

Mila just looked at him, just a hint of concern behind her eyes. “It's a pretty color.” 

A knot formed in Cory's chest, rooted in the fear of that part of him being seen. “Don't… please.”

“Okay,” Mila nodded. It was an understanding kind of nod, but Cory didn't see how she could ever understand what he was feeling, what he felt about what happened. 

Silence fell between them, but as Cory wrested control of his unusually fragile emotions he found it to be the comfortable kind of silence. The distant sounds of happy sophonts and what was surely an artificial wind that stirred ripples in the pond were the only things that muddied it.

“If you like… like that stuff that happened at Miss Monophyllla’s… that's okay.”

He wished he could believe that, but how could he after being told it was so wrong for so long by not just his father, but society at large?

Because that shitty excuse for a “society” is about to get their asses handed to them by the Affini!

Cory sighed as his attention was stolen by a group of strange, long-necked birds descending upon the pond and honking all the way down. 

“I know it's scary. You've probably been hearing freaking jerks say how you shouldn't like stuff you like all your life. But...” Mila rested her hand on Cory's arm. “This isn't the Accord. Nobody's going to, like, judge you or whatever here.”

Cory nodded along. Maybe she was right. Maybe things could be different. Maybe. But he just couldn't think about those things in that moment. So he didn't. 

“What kind of xeno are those?” Cory nodded his head up at the birds swimming across the surface of the water. 

Mila giggled through a hand over her mouth. “Those aren't xenos, silly. Those are gooses. They're from Terra.”

Cory's father was an avid hunter, and he was sure that if anything so beautiful existed on earth he would have seen it stuffed on the wall of his childhood home, or been made to eat it, or at least heard about it.

Suffice to say, Cory was confused. “How did they get on an Affini ship?”

“So, funny story,” Mila grinned. “Sometimes, captains in the Cosmic Navy get the silliest little… perks. Sometimes, they get these really fancy, surprisingly crappy, pillows.”

“Uh-huh…?”

“And those pillows are stuffed with goose feathers instead of Synthowool™.”

“I'm not…  seeing the connection?”

“Well, the affini heard about these pillows and how the animals the feathers come from are like basically extinct. And well, one thing led to another and they decided to clone them. A bunch.”

“They… they can do that?” Cory tilted his head at her.

“To take care of another living thing?” Mila chuckled. “The affini can, and will, do anything.”

Cory hummed as he thought about that. Anything. 

“These ones are actually cloned from my pillow. So… eye dee kay. I'm not saying they’re mine or whatever, but…”

When Cory turned to look at her, Mila had this big goofy grin. He just couldn't resist giving her a little shove on the shoulder with a grin of his own. Mila pushed back even harder, giggling. Cory giggled too and pushed back harder still. The pushing match escalated until they were both laughing as they rolled on the ground, vying for supremacy as they pushed and pulled at each other.

In the end, the victor claimed her rightful spot sitting on the loser's hips with his wrists pinned down in the dirt. Cory's breath shuddered as he looked up at her and felt an all-too-familiar stirring in his loins. She was gorgeous, even more so with her hair a mess and her dress drooping down her shoulders.

“Is this another one of those things you're not supposed to like?” She purred. 

Cory couldn't think. He didn't need to. “Yeah,” came his breathy reply. 

Mila smiled as she leaned down slowly, “Good,” and planted a kiss on Cory's defenseless lips. 

It was over too soon and Cory was left with wide eyes and a dopey, shocked smile on his face. 

“You liked that?” she asked, still pinning his wrists.

“Yeah,” he chuckled breathily. “Not how I expected my first kiss to go.”

Mila hummed through a satisfied, tight-lipped smile. “Well, how about your second?”

This time, Cory was prepared as Mila leaned down over him again. He kissed her back, hoping that his enthusiasm made up for his lack of experience. He worried surprisingly little as he recognized and appreciated the peppermint candy taste in Mila's mouth, and chased her when she pulled away. 

“Holy shit,” Cory panted. 

Mila just sat on top of him as he strained against his sweatpants and stared up at her in disbelief. They sat like that for a few more minutes until a goose honked at them. They both laughed so hard that Mila fell to the ground beside Cory. There they lay, hand in hand, until they both stopped laughing.

When they had, Mila stood and offered Cory a hand. “C’mon. I wanna show you something.”  

Cory took her hand and followed as Mila led them further into the park and toward what looked like a city block plopped down on the other side of the river. They walked down one side of the river, across a bridge, and back up the other side before heading down a bustling street. Despite his apprehension, Cory followed Mila into a building with a big neon sign reading “Sam’s”.

As soon as the door closed behind them, people from all over the room turned, some raising glasses, as they all shouted “Mila!” in greeting. 

“Hi guys!” Mila waved. “This Cory.”

“Cory!” The same people cheered his name. 

Cory tried to survive the mortifying feeling of being even a momentary center of attention as he followed Mila over to the bar.

“Do you drink?” Mila asked as she mounted a barstool.

“Not really,” Cory told her, “I try not to…”

“Good girl,” Mila purred at him.

That made Cory squeak and nearly topple over as he climbed onto a stool of his own. He held himself up with the bar, his face still flushed as the bartender approached.

“Hey, Tanya,” Mila smiled at the bartender. “Usual for me, something sweet for this sweetie,” she nodded her head sideways to Cory.

Cory tried to hold in a breathy groan. She just ordered a drink for him. And it was hot. Why was that hot?

Does it matter?

Nope. Didn't matter a bit. It was still hot. It only became more flustering as Tanya poured a dignified, mature, straight whisky for Mila and shook up a pink girly drink for him. 

“Iwubhuduh thankyou,” Cory managed to sputter. 

Mila learned on the bar, smiling at him as she swirled her drink in one hand. “You're even cuter when you're flustered.”

This, of course, flustered Cory. 

He screamed internally but all that came out was a pouting protest of “-m not cute.”

Mila just raised both brows at him while sipping her drink as she turned toward the stage.

What does that look mean?!

Cory looked to the stage too, following Mila’s gaze, and saw that the music in the bar wasn’t from an AI generated playlist, or even a live band. It was a woman singing on stage and there were screens scrolling through the lyrics. 

Karaoke!

Cory remembered karaoke all too well. One time his mom and aunt had tried to do karaoke at a fair. It was a total shitshow, even though they weren’t even that drunk. 

“Do you sing?” Mila asked without looking away from the stage as the song finished. 

Cory’s heart raced. Did he sing? Yes. Was he any good at it? No, not at all. 

“Uhh, sometimes. When I’m alone. I like music…” he admitted sheepishly. 

“We should head over to the queue table and get in line to sing,” Mila swiveled to look at him seriously. “It’ll be fun.”

Cory looked to the table Mila indicated to and his heart sank. He recognized one of the men  sitting there -- Tobias “Don’t Call Me Tobi” Murdock. A coworker from the convenience store he worked at in Tabp. He was laughing and seemed to be having a good time with some people Cory had never seen before, clinking drinks with a cute woman. It was a far departure from the gruff man Cory knew in passing. Before Tobias could notice him in kind, Cory turned back toward the bar and gripped his girly drink in an even girlier glass. 

“I think I’d rather stay over here with you,” he said. 

Mila just smiled that placid, understanding smile and rested a hand on his leg again. “That’s okay, too.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 20:
Some Legends are Told

Riker inspected her reflection in the polished elevator doors during the seconds-long ride from bottom to top floor. As she looked over her still-patchy fungal flesh and the scar-like streak of fresh mycelium growing across the middle of her face, she idly thought that this was a much quicker way to the top floor. Shame there was no roof access from inside. 

Riker surveyed the shared office space. Her photoreceptors traced over a number of unfamiliar faces. Most seemed to be doing run-of-the-mill tasks, besides one who was entranced with wrapping her vines around the screen of her workstation while more snaked into her form and Monophylla, who stopped to look up at Riker as soon as she entered. 

Riker looked at Monophylla for a moment before descending into the office and crossing toward the captain’s door. As she passed by Monophylla’s desk, the youngbloom stood. Riker paused for only a moment to look at her. The vine at the ends of her arms coiled around each other and her antennae drooped even more than usual. It was a terrible sight, but Monophylla was clearly struggling enough with what had happened without Riker giving her a dressing-down in the middle of the office. Riker gave her a small, stern nod and continued toward the captain’s office. To her surprise, Monophylla followed.

The office reeked of Berrimeli’s eculatea , which floated in a haze blanketing the lower half of the room. The back of the captain’s chair was to her, as it always seemed to be when she entered. Beyond him and his ridiculous chair Riker could see the line of wounds she had inflicted on the outermost layer of glass by climbing the outside of the building only days before. She approached the dais with Monophylla at her back. 

“Miss Riker,” Berrimeli said as she neared. After a moment of his usual dramatics, the captain’s chair rotated and he faced her. “And Miss Tangella.”

“Yes, Captain,” Monophylla’s voice warbled. 

The captain stood. “Miss Tangella, your presence is not required. This meeting is to discuss Miss Riker’s actions. Action which resulted in the damage to numerous parts of the Cymbidium .”

“Captain,” Monophylla stepped forward, “Riker’s actions were a result of my… inability. Any actions that Riker took to… rectify my errors… I share responsibility.”

“Miss Tangella,” Berrimeli looked down at her pointedly. “We will discuss your behavior another time.”

As Monophylla turned to leave, Riker turned to her and placed a hand on the top of her arm. “No. You can stay.”

Berrimeli’s eyes narrowed on both of them as they turned back to face him together. 

“Very well then,” the captain stepped down from the raised platform housing xis desk. “Miss Riker. Would you care to explain why you trampled flower beds in Trenzalore Park, damaged pavement in the Terran Emergency Rescue block and the Garnet District, nearly incited two transport derailments, defaced windows of the captaincy office, cracked the sunline of the Terran hab ring in numerous places, and critically damaged Miss Tangella’s hab unit?”

“My ward was in danger. I was reaching them as quickly as physically possible.” Riker stared him down. “Captain.”

“Ah, yes. Your ward. Who was in the care of his primary warden at the time, was he not?” 

“They were,” Riker said flatly, biting her tongue.

“What danger could the ward have possibly been facing that required your intervention specifically, Miss Riker?” 

Before Riker could respond, Tangella stepped forward with the upper portion of her body bowed, her eyes cast toward the ground. “Me, Captain.”

The captain looked almost bewildered for a moment behind his pale, clownish mask. “Elaborate.”

“I happened upon Cory in the living area of my hab during the middle of the night cycle. He was… distressed,” Monophylla’s vines shifted uncomfortably. Riker’s vine-muscles tensed as she continued. “I attempted to speak to him, to reassure him, as my training and flowcharts for terran interactions indicate, but… He was too upset.”

“If dialogue cannot be established with a distressed sophont, what is the next course of action, Miss Tangella?” the captain questioned.

Monophylla hesitated. “Medication, Xir,” her vines wrung.

“And you did not administer an E-class relaxant? Or a Z-class sedative?”

“I… I…” Monophylla hesitated again.

Riker turned to look at her more closely. Monophylla’s vines sank as she listened and small flower petals fell like snow on Quani from inside of Monophylla’s hollow form. Riker’s core felt for her; she was clearly more upset over what happened than Riker had given her credit for.

“I was afraid to. After Cory’s adverse reactions to  simple apocynai and vivaleria , I… feared harming him further.”

“You did not contact another caretaker for assistance. Might I inquire as to why?” Berrimeli gazed upon Monophylla with disappointment. 

“I was about to when Riker… resolved the situation.”

“So she did,” xe redirected xis attention to Riker, “And in doing so, she disrupted the lives of hundreds of sophonts. Thousands, perhaps.”

Riker stood her ground. Brinkmanship was one thing, but she would not trifle when it came to Cory’s care. Never again. “Captain, I understand the gravity of my actions, and I take full responsibility for the damages caused. However, I need to make something perfectly clear.”

“And what would that be, Miss Riker?”

“From the moment I rescued Cory from the mining colony my priority was and always will be their safety. To that end, I filed a notice of intent to domesticate immediately upon returning them to my hab.”

If Captain Berrimeli was surprised, xis mask didn’t show it. “This is unexpected.”

Riker didn’t blink. Perhaps it was, but she never felt she had been one to do what was expected of an affini.

“However, Miss Riker,” xe continued, “The fact remains that the notice of intent filed by Miss Tangella supersedes your own.”

Riker spoke flatly as her core thrummed in her chest. “Bullshit.”

“Pardon me?”

“That’s dirt and you know it.” Riker didn’t shout. She didn’t get angry. She stood her ground. 

Sparkles of red twinkled at the edges of Berrimeli’s grey eyes, but dissipated just as quickly. Riker suppressed the urge to smirk. Finally, Berrimeli showed some emotion. Xe had blinked. Only for a moment, but Riker had seen it.

“Regardless of your feelings on the matter, the fact remains that you and Miss Tangella remain co-wardens,” the captain’s eyes bored into Riker. “Perhaps you should both discuss what this means for your ward and how best to care for him.”

The thrumming in Riker’s chest ignited. Cory would be hers to care for, whether they remained independent or became a floret. Her floret, and hers alone. Riker steeled her gaze on the captain, but just as she was about to launch into an impassioned diatribe, Monophylla stepped forward. 

“Captain.” Monophylla’s vines had somewhat pulled themselves back together, but her voice still quivered. “That will… not be necessary.” 

Riker’s head whipped to look at the youngbloom as her vines tightened a bit more, though they still wrung anxiously.

“I am formally rescinding my notice of intent to domesticate Cory Kàfkore,” Monphylla spoke clearly, resolutely.

Riker couldn’t believe it. After everything she had gone through, after everything Cory had been put through, Monophylla was simply abdicating. 

“Monophylla?” Berrimeli clearly hadn’t expected that. He hadn’t just blinked, he had flinched. Riker could barely even take joy in that fact as Monophylla continued.

“Captain, with all due respect, it was you yourself who said that stability is what Cory requires. I believe that Riker will -- does -- provide that sense of stability for him.” 

Berrimeli stood in stunned silence as she continued.

“I care for him very deeply, as does my Becky. I see something in him very much as I saw in my own floret. He could be very happy as a floret, with a bit of nurturing and guidance.” Monophylla’s antennae twitched as she paused and drooped a bit more. “But not with me.”

Silence overtook the room as they all processed what Monophylla just said. Riker’s core swelled with pride as she imagined being that sophont for Cory, nurturing and guiding them to be the best terran they could be. The happiest they could be. 

It was Berrimeli who broke the silence. “We will discuss your actions at a later time, Miss Tangella . In private.”

The palpable tension was something that Riker wanted no part of. “If that’s all, captain…” Riker kept her eyes on him but started to turn her head toward the door.

“No, Miss Riker. It is not ‘all’.” The captain turned and walked back to the dais of xis desk, extending his leg on the ground to rise up mid-stride. “Please take a seat,” xe sat down. “You as well, Miss Tangella.”

Riker stepped forward and sat with a reflexive roll of her eyes. Monophylla took the other chair, and they both looked up at the captain’s ridiculous, exaggerated height. 

“There has been a series of anomalous security violations over the past several cycles,” the captain raised a hand to stay Monophylla as xe continued, “A formal investigation has been initiated. However, the preliminary findings show a high concentration of this anomalous activity originating from each of your habitation units.”

“Captain, I assure you I know nothing about this,” Monophylla’s vines sprung tight. 

Riker’s hands gripped her knees. “I… may.”

“You know the cause of these security breaches?” the captain inquired.

Inside her body, Riker’s pad activated. Riker retrieved it and held it in her lap as Theo’s oscillation matrix appeared on the screen. 

“Yes, erm.” It was the first time Riker had seen Theo acting nervously. “I believe that was my doing, Xir.”

×=×=×=×

You heard Mila. It’s okay if we like that stuff.

It wasn’t okay, though. It wasn’t just that he wasn’t supposed to like that stuff; it was that he could never be that stuff. 

Nobody is going to judge us. It’s like Mila said, this is the Affini Compact, not the Terran Accord.

Okay, so maybe affini wouldn’t judge him. He hoped that Riker wouldn’t. Maybe xenrani like Tsundra wouldn’t. But other terrans always judged people. Always.

Mila won’t. Becky won’t.

Cory felt that two out of two hundred thousand were not enough datapoints for an argument.

Nobody’s here. Nobody’s gonna say a damn word if we go over to the compiler and make something pretty to put on. 

Cory felt his cock starting to stiffen in his jeans as his imagination put thoughts in his head of a pretty girl in a pretty dress sandwiched between a pretty woman and a pretty boy. The same pretty girl straddling Tsundra’s lap as their pedipalps gripped her chin. The same pretty girl covered in restrictive vines held by Riker’s hand. 

C’mon, it’ll be fun. How have we not jerked off once since getting here? Like old times. We can even decompile everything when we’re done instead of shoving it in some gross hole in the wall.

Fingers dug into the armrests of his chair as he resisted those urges. He needed something else to think about as the girl in his imagination changed into a vision of him in a dress and he knew that nothing he ever did would make him look like her. 

He needed a distraction. He needed to get out of

our bedroom

the room. As he walked for the door, he saw the mysterious monolithic door across the hall and knew just the thing to focus on. He walked through the bathroom and through the backdoor once again and into the mysterious room. 

As he had the first time, Cory took a moment to take in the seemingly-sacred place. It was exactly the same as he had left it; the air was still stale, dust still caked every surface, still more a tomb than a bedroom. Cory steadied himself and skipped across Riker’s footprints. 

As he neared the bed, his attention was drawn to the desk near its foot. He walked down a couple of Riker’s footprints to look at it. Like everything else, it was caked with dust. He could just make out the squiggly, Xenrani-Affini script on the hardcover books stacked on one end. A half-finished model of a ship that resembled the one hanging above him sat on the desk, never to be assembled. But what ended up catching Cory’s eye was a little glint shining through the layers of dust almost burying a small box.

Despite knowing he shouldn’t, Cory reached over the dusty model and touched the glinting box. 

All it took was a gentle touch, not even enough to disturb the dust, for the lid to spring open. Soft, twinkling music began to play, though it was off tempo.

We know that song.

Cory froze in place. He did. He knew that song too well. It was the song that his mother sang to him when he couldn’t sleep. The song she sang to him when he’d run home, away from bullies. The song his mom knew would always make him feel better. 

‘You are    my sun    shine. My on   ly sun  shine.’

Cory’s eyes lost focus as he heard his Mother’s voice, singing to the off-time tune. 

When the song was through, the music box shut itself and appeared as if it had never been disturbed. Cory just stood there, one hand over his mouth. Slowly, carefully, he made his way back across the footprints. He had to sit down and the closest place he could was on the bed. As the mattress drooped below him, the diary slid from beneath the pillow and into his leg.

He couldn’t think about the music box, or his mom, or pretty dresses, or what that song meant to Riker. He needed a distraction. He put the journal back in his lap and opened it up, finding where he had left off.

×=×=×=×

If the hypermetric kick of a typical hyperspace jump felt like a boot to the chest, I felt like I'd suffered a dozen sledgehammer blows as I gasped awake. The cabin of the Gamboler was dark, save for the single red emergency light above the seats in the cockpit. Worse yet, I could feel that the ship was hurtling wildly out of control.

"Shit!" I spat between my teeth, pulling uselessly at the yoke. My fingers scrambled desperately at the de-luminated buttons and toggle switches, hoping that something, anything, would work. When I looked over to my drive engineer for help, I froze.

Blood. 

A glob of blood was hanging in the air in front of Alex's unconscious face, a trail leading back to the small spattering of droplets under his nose.

"Boyscout!" I shouted, reaching out for the young man. Still a boy, really. My hand landed on his shoulder with a firm grip and shook as hard as I could. “C’mon, Alex!”

Alex turned his head back and forth, eyes fluttering rapidly as if he’d just been woken from a nap. “Whatshuh?” he slurred out. He coughed and pulled himself up in his seat. “S’appenin?”

“Something must have gone wrong with the jump. We're down to emergency life support." I turned back to the dead console. "No nav. No comms. No thrusters. Oh, and we're spinning out of control."

Alex blinked a few more times and tried to wave the floating glob out of his face, more smearing it in the air than anything. "Fuck."

"Yeah." The feeling hung in the air for a moment until I turned back to him. "I need options, Boyscout."

He hesitated for a moment. "Uh… uh…" I watched his eyes flicker back and forth, like he was scanning a screen. "Manual system restart. If I can get into the engine room, I might be able to get us auxiliary power."

"Will it be enough?"

"Enough for nav and comms," he shrugged. "Maybe enough boosters for a full stop if we're lucky."

I pursed my lips for a moment before deciding there wasn't anything to think about. "Go."

Without hesitation, Alex nodded. He quickly threw off the buckles and belts holding him in his seat and pulled himself into the air with the handholds on the wall and ceiling. When he turned in the air to float out of the cockpit, my hand grabbed him again.

"Alex." I looked at him, my tone deadly serious. "Are you okay?"

"I'm okay, Commander." He tried to laugh it off, but I could see the look in his eyes. "But if I don't get us some power, neither of us will be."

"Right," I nodded. "Hop to it."

He nodded in return and I listened as the metallic plunks that sounded each time he found a handhold got quieter and quieter until I couldn't hear them any longer. And then I was alone. I took a deep breath and tried to not think about how many of those I had left. Reaching into the breast pocket of my flight suit, I pulled out my trusty media player. If I remembered what the ship’s system clock said before the jump, less than 12 minutes had passed. I closed my eyes, clutching the player to my chest, thankful that Alex hadn’t been unconscious any longer than that.

As time marched forward, I began fidgeting impatiently. Fingers drumming at the useless controls. Eyes flicking to where the clock would be on the instrument panel. I wished I was down in the engine room helping Alex, or at least trying to. Doing anything other than just sitting in the cockpit and waiting. But I couldn’t. Alex had his job and I had to stay in the cockpit to take control if -- no, I reminded myself, when -- he managed to bring the power online. So I sighed and turned my attention to the view out of the cockpit.

I had no idea where the jump had flung us, but I couldn't see Terra no matter how many times I felt the Gamboler turn over. Nor could I see Ganymede, Jupiter, or any other celestial body for that matter. Just stars. Little specks of light off in the distance. And, for a while, I just stared at them.

I didn't know how long I spent staring. Just waiting and trying not to think. About what had gone wrong. About the threat of Solstice. About dying before Admiral Marion 'Don't Call Me Mary' Staver could make good on that threat. However long it was, it was long enough that my hand had just reached the buckle on my harness when I heard an industrial bang from somewhere far behind me and power returned to the ship.

The console began beeping and booping as it rebooted and I sighed with relief. The screen flickered to life and loaded into the ship's operating system. Then, before the navigation system could recalibrate, the screen flashed red with bold text reading DANGER! IMPACT IMMINENT! while warning alarms screamed at me.

On pure instinct alone, I took the yoke in my hands and tried to wrest control of the ship. As I yanked as hard as I could on the rigid and unresponsive controls, I shouted "Brace for impact!" and hoped that Alex could hear me.

I wanted to brace myself as I let go of the dead controls, but with the ship spinning so wildly there was no way to tell which direction the impact would come from. Before I could even rebuckle my harness, the port side of the Gamboler struck something solid and I was thrown from my seat,  against the side of the cockpit. Gripping the nearest handhold, I felt my body being tugged toward the sound of groaning steel. As I turned to see the breach, I could feel the atmo around me being sucked away. The lights flickered as the tenuous and severed connections arced inside the bending hull of the ship. In the flashes of light, I could see something green working its way into the crack in the hull.

Steel creaked again as the breach widened and a great green wolf pulled itself into the ship and bounded off the walls toward engineering. It was an oxygen deprivation induced hallucination. I was sure of it, as a second wolf pulled itself into the cabin.

“Sköll and Hati.” I thought. Ragnarok. The end.

The wolf before me unhinged its jaw and opened its mouth. And kept opening wider and wider until its neck and chest and belly had unzipped and revealed a sanguine mass inside. The wolf lunged at me, its monstrous maw gaping wide.

And darkness overtook me.

×=×=×=×

“Well they didn’t die ,” Cory said aloud. “How else did they write this?”

What did I say about trying to figure out endings?

×=×=×=×

The reception of the office of Acaulescent Nele, Third Bloom, seemed to be much like other Affini medical offices, but perhaps that was to be expected. According to what Riker had seen while contacting her office, she had recently moved to the Terran Emergency Rescue block so perhaps she just hadn’t had time to add personal touches yet. 

When Riker checked in at the reception desk for her meeting with Acaulescent, she noticed that the terran grabbing a physical file from a cabinet didn’t have an implant scar, nor were her eyes glassy in any way that indicated she was overly drugged. It was a good sign, as far as Riker was concerned.

As she waited, Riker thought about the sophont under her care. Sophonts, plural, perhaps considering recent developments with Theo. The captain had suspended the inquiry and investigation until Theo’s sapience could be evaluated by a qualified technician. But that would be another appointment for another day. Meeting with Acaulescent Nele was about Cory.

She was still thinking about her little songbird when something short and green wandered into her view. 

“You must be Asherah,” the short affini said. “Acaulescent Nele, Third Bloom, She/Her. Pleasure to meet you.”

Riker stood from her seat and offered a hand for Acaulescent to shake, which she did with a vine. “Asherah Riker, Third Bloom, She/Her, and it’s nice to meet you as well.” Riker looked down at the little affini who couldn't have been more than seven feet tall. “You’re… shorter than I expected.”

Acaulescent just smiled. “I find it helps my clients when I interact with them on their own level, so to speak. They tend to find me more relatable this way.”

Riker nodded. “I’m sure they do.”

“It seems you’ve taken a slightly different approach to terran relatability.” Acaulescent kept up her polite smile as she looked Riker’s terran facsimile up and down. “Impressive detailing on the muscle groups. Though you might consider spreading your mycelium to cover your extremities as well.”

It was the first time someone other than her mentor had ever complimented her anatomically correct terran muscles before. 

“Would you like to come back to my office? We can discuss your concerns about your ward there, privately.”

Acaulescent led Riker down the hall behind the reception desk, past an eight foot tall door and through a taller, more standard Affini one. The office was much more cozy than the reception with a delightful but not overstimulating geometric carpet and two couches, one for affini and one for smaller sophonts. 

“I apologize for the mess,” Acaulescent stepped over some floret toys and passed a bookcase on her way to a plush chair. “I just finished a session with the most precious little treasure of a floret and their owner.”

Riker scanned the bookcase, finding titles such as Terrans and You and The Terran Mind authored by Nele herself, Mnemonic Mapping for Terrans: An Advanced Procedural Guide by Polyphylla Aptenia, Second Bloom, and even Unidentified Sophont Species 8472 Physiology Part VII: Neuroanatomy -- Structure and Speculation by Bronagh Riker, First Bloom. It seemed Acaulescent was well versed, at least.

“It's no problem at all,” Riker avoided stomping on anything as she sat on the exceedingly comfortable couch. “Is this where Cory would receive therapy?”

“I tend to use this room for affini and their florets. I have another, smaller office where I see most of my clients individually,” Nele explained, “The ceilings are only eight feet tall, and I didnt want you to feel cramped.”

Riker nodded. “That must help them feel more secure, being in a room closer to their sense of scale.”

“”It does seem to, yes.”

“I'm sure it’s quite reassuring…” Riker considered her own size, as she had a few times over the centuries. 

She could make herself smaller, like Acaulescent, but it would require finer vines. It would be more accurate to real terran physiology, perhaps, but parting with the vines that had been with her since she was uplifted felt wrong, somehow. Especially given all they had been through. Cory didn't seem to mind her size, though - if anything they enjoyed it. Besides, a smaller form would make it more difficult to carry them, let alone let them cuddle her core.

They shouldn't be cuddling her core in the first place, she reminded herself. If anything, it might just be exacerbating certain issues. 

A vine waved in front of Riker's face. “Riker? Are you still with me, dear?”

Riker straightened up from a lean she hadn't realized she fell into. “Yes. Sorry. I was just thinking about my ward.”

“As any good warden should be,” Acaulescent reminded warmly. “Let’s talk about what brings you here today.”

“My friend recommended you. He says you’re experienced with complex trauma.” 

“That, I am. I have about as much experience as one can expect to have so soon after discovering terrans.”

“He also said that you believe in fostering independence. My ward would like to remain independent, if at all possible.”

Acaulescent gave an understanding nod. “Of course. Most terrans I speak to would, and many do.”

“Do they?” Riker raised a brow. 

“They do,” Nele reassured, “Florethood is far from the best choice for every sophont. If you ask me, I think the way that being a floret is almost considered this,” she gestured near her own head with a vine, “Default state for other sophonts is getting out of hand, to borrow a terran phrase.”

Riker almost couldn’t believe it. Perhaps she’d spent too much time from the outside looking in, too much time on the Cymbidium , but here sat before her another affini who wasn’t stark raving overjoyed about seeing every sophont become a floret.

“I never encourage my clients to pick florethood over independence, or vice versa,” Acaulescent continued. “I just do my best to give them the tools to best understand themselves and come to their own conclusions about what they need.”

“That’s certainly reassuring,” Riker relaxed a smidge, “I believe my ward has many of the pieces of understanding themself, but they don’t know how to… put them together. They seem to carry some… issues from their time in the Accord, and I fear that recent events have only made things worse.”

“I would very much like to help your ward, Asherah.” Acaulescent retrieved a datapad from a nearby shelf, “Can you tell me more about these issues?”

Riker emulated a sigh without thinking about it. “Where do I even start?”

“Perhaps any ongoing issues you’ve noticed?”

“Cory certainly has some of those,” Riker looked back through the days she spent with Cory, trying to figure out how to summarize. Delicately. The words fell from her like dead branches as Riker went on at length about Cory's reaction to things they perceived as feminine, their body image issues, their possible separation anxiety, the submissive tendencies that they seemed unwilling to confront, and the evidence of their likely transness.

“Oh my,” Acaulescent’s eyes shifted to a light blue for a moment. “This does seem to be quite the complex case. I understand your concern.”

“And that's not even getting into the trauma they've experienced since the Compact arrived!” Riker's hands clenched. The branches stacked like cordwood as Riker told the story of how Cory had ended up in her care. The cave, the first encounter with Monophylla, the failed co-wardship and all that had happened to them under it, relayed by Theo. “The poor thing was so affected by everything Monophylla did to them that they were unable to leave bed for three days!

“I stayed by their side through it of course. You should have heard their little cries whenever I tried to leave.” Riker's core twisted at the thought, she was thankful she hadn't bothered with tear duct biomods when she got her digestive mods.

Acaulescent looked up from the pad where she had been typing as quickly as Riker had ranted. 

“Well, this certainly gives us plenty of places to start,” she set her pad back down and folded her vines in her lap. “I'd like to see Cory as soon as you think they are ready.”

“Yes, I… I think I will discuss this with them as soon as I return home.” 

“Good,” Acaulescent smiled, “Oh, and Asherah?”

“Yes?”

“Relax. They're going to be alright.”

Trying to do as Acaulescent asked, Riker straightened her back and inflated her chest by sucking in air through the mouth of her form. Even if she didn't have lungs, it was still a convincing imitation. When she let the ‘breath’ out and unclenched her hands, Riker was mortified to find that she had pierced through the cushions with her fingers.

“I am so sorry!” Riker apologized immediately, but Acaulescent only chucked in return. 

“Don't worry about it. Happens all the time.”

×=×=×=×

Awareness returned slowly, the process peaceful despite the tumultuous dream. It had been about following… someone through snow-covered woods, I remembered that much. I had been following them across that frozen lake, careful to keep a hop, skip, and a jump ahead of the saws that sliced effortlessly through the ice. They were important, I was sure of it, but their face escaped my waking memory. I did remember the ice cracking between us. The lake pouring out of a spout and down the hillside. Sinking as the icy deluge carried me away from the stranger, down a waterslide of packed snow despite my protests. The small campsite at the end of the slide, the fire that chased away the bitter cold, and a gentle humming that lulled me into the tranquil weightlessness from which I slowly floated up.

My eyes opened to a plain and unadorned ceiling. Sitting up, I took stock of my bodily integrity with a hand and looked around the room. It didn’t look like any prison cell I’d been in before. Between the sterile-looking walls and the mirror that took up over half the wall to my right, it looked like a cross between a hospital room and an interrogation suite. There was even a very nice, if alien-looking, plant in the opposite corner of the room. I blinked and rubbed my eyes. Surely there was just something wrong with my vision and the entire room wasn’t actually four times bigger than it was supposed to be.

I let my head hang down and pushed the hair out of my face only to realize my flightsuit had been replaced by some kind of elaborately floral-patterned hospital gown under the blankets of the enormous bed. Another point for the hospital theory, but it didn’t rule out interrogation either. With a hand pinching the bridge of my nose, I tried to remember what happened.

The mission. The ship. The jumpdrive failure. The crash.

“Alex!” I gasped, head shooting up and looking around. I flung the covers off and started clawing toward the edge of the bed. It was only now, as it stood to match me, that I realized that the plant in the corner was so much more than mere decoration.

The entity flowed like a wave as it sped across the room to the bed much more quickly than I could reach the edge of it. It stood on two legs and held out two arms as if to catch me. “You are safe.” The creature’s voice warbled like a men’s chorus but jilted and stuck on every word.

As the thing shrunk back down into a more cohesive form before me, I recognized it as the same great green wolf that had swallowed me whole aboard the ship. I recoiled back from its terrible horns, wobbling on my knees, before falling over backward into the fluff of the bed while it blinked at me with three eyes. “What the hell? You speak English?”

“English,” the wolf’s muzzle, which I could now see was composed of moldy leaves the same as the rest of it, cracked a smile. “Yes.”

“What ARE you?” I kept an arm raised in front of me, even though I knew it would fare much worse than the steel plating the wolf had torn through to breach the Gamboler.

The wolf pulled one paw over its chest. “We. Are. Affini.”

I stared at the thing, and my mind short-circuited. The first new xenospecies since the Rinans and I was making first contact? Dammit, I was a pilot, not an ambassador!

“Where am I? What happened? Where's Alex?” The questions flowed one after another from my mouth before the wolf-plant-thing could respond. I needed to know everything, but above all else, I needed to know that Alex was safe.

“Alex, name. Crewmate, engineering,” the affini nodded with each word.

“Yes,” I straightened up. “Yes!”

The wolf's pupil-less eyes, which I now realized were sparkling moons of hammered gold, seemed to look me up and down even without pupils. “You are… captain?”

I shook my head. “No. Commander. Commander Bellwether.” The strange xeno seemed to swell in recognition of something at this, but I couldn't parse what it meant. “Where is my crewman?”

Its entire body seemed to wilt as its voice(s?) sang sorrowfully.

“Where is Alex?”

The xeno’s eyes seemed to look back up to meet mine. “I am… Sorry.”

It felt like a hypermetric kick to the chest. Like my heart had been torn out and strapped to a rocket. I didn’t think it could be real.

I set my jaw and blinked back my tears. “Take me to him.”

Without another word, the wolf-xeno scooped me up in its arms and walked toward the wall at inhuman speeds. Just before we slammed into it, the wall parted, and we were in a hallway as equally large as the room. As quickly as we had crossed the room, we were across the hall and passing through another sliding door to a room that mirrored the one where I had woken up. I was set down on a table hanging over another bed like the one I’d woken up in, like a table you’d see in a hospital room.

Alex was lying in the bed below me. “Alex!” I shouted and leapt from my perch, sinking into the bed as I landed and clawed my way to him, scrambling on my hands and knees. I ignored his blackened skin and burned sleeves and collapsed on top of him. My arms wrapped around him, but he was still in my arms. I tried to fight back the tears, but it was a losing battle and I sobbed into his chest, streaked with burns. Sad melodies played in my ears until the xeno that had carried me in gently coaxed me away, and I sat on my knees just looking down at Alex. 

He looked so peaceful lying there. It was almost like he was sleeping. But he wasn’t. 

Alex was dead. 

He was just a boy. A beautiful, smart, courageous, thoughtful, selfless boy that I would have been proud to call the son I never had. I should have told him that more. And now he was dead.

“Alex…” I shook my head. “You stupid fucking boyscout,” I sucked another sob. “What happened?”

Alex didn’t respond. He just lay there limply in the spot that I had jostled him into. 

“What happened?” I turned to the xeno that I had woken up with. When it didn’t answer, I turned to the other one in the room, an equally shaggy fox. “What happened?!” I demanded. 

“I believe that I can explain.” a new voice came from the door I had been carried through. Another giant green plant-canine. But while the other two were shaggy wolves and easily seen as covered in leaves and reeds and vines, this one looked like a much finer fox. The newcomer looked like they were actually covered in wispy lime green fur, and ears poked out of a darker green mane that matched the lower half of each limb.

It moved to the bed where I knelt over Alex more slowly than the other things moved. It walked rather than flowed. It used legs rather than a tumbling mass of vines. It just seemed more dignified and mature than the others, somehow.

“Greetings, new friend. It is regrettable that I must meet you under such circumstances.” It even spoke more eloquently, its masculine choir of a voice taking on an accent that scratched the back of my brain. “I am Captain Rykar Maculatum. Welcome aboard the Occantalis .”

×=×=×=×

Cory slowly closed the leatherbound journal and placed it in the bed next to him, resting his chin on interlaced knuckles. 

Whoever wrote this… This Commander Bellwether and Alex… They were human. Cory glanced up at the strange, swooping ship hanging above him.

Never seen a ship like that though.

They said that the Gamboler was experimental …

Even with cursory interest in ship prototypes, Cory had never seen any ship so smooth, sleek, and round. Cory thirsted to know more, and yet he knew he couldn't ask Riker. She'd know he violated her privacy, and that of this person who clearly meant enough to her to keep this room like a shrine. 

I bet Theo knows something.

Cory imagined that Theo would only tell Riker. No, he couldn't ask Theo either.

Okay… so who do we talk to then?

Cory turned his brain over and over until it hit him square in the face. The affini in the diary were like Wolffia Rosarum, big wolf looking things. Like the Xenrani. He'd have to talk to a xenra.

Good thing we know one. Kinda.

Cory pulled out his datapad and opened the messenger. He shivered, something stirring in his core as he thought about Tsundra. The way she smelled, the way she was so forceful, the way she had grabbed him. Her fur, her voice, just everything about her. 

But he had to focus. He pushed those dirty thoughts aside and typed out a message. 

[Unit-02]: Hey. This is Tsundra, right?

Chapter Text

Chapter 21:
Transgender Dysphoria Blues

Cory had only been sitting down at his computer, useless as it was without being able to connect to the Cymbidium ’s network, for a few minutes when he felt that familiar, silent song. Riker was back. For a moment, the realization that her being back made him feel a bit better felt wrong, like some kind of sticky feeling in his chest, but it went away as he remembered that as long as Riker was with him, he was safe . 

With a sigh, Cory considered that he was probably being silly, having set things up to see Tsundra so he could try and talk about xenrani-looking-affini stuff instead of just talking to Riker. She probably wouldn’t be mad that he’d snuck into that locked room. Probably. Not too mad, anyway. But as he looked up at her leaning against the doorway, he couldn’t even think. 

Fuck, she’s so pretty.

She really was. 

Riker started walking closer and Cory’s head tilted up to keep looking at her. 

She was so much bigger than he was. She could do anything to him and he wouldn’t be able to do a thing about it.

We’d let her.

Stars damned right. 

“Hi,” Riker smiled down at him. 

“Oh, uh, hey,” Cory turned down the music he’d been listening to. He felt his mouth going dry as he craned his neck to look up at her. “What’s up?”

It’s like looking at a goddess.

Riker was his friend, he shouldn’t think about her that way. But… it wasn’t an incorrect comparison. 

“It’s good to see you out of bed,” she told him with a gentle smile. He could only imagine it was genuine. Riker lazily lifted a hand to indicate toward the big pink pet bed. “May I?”

Cory swallowed dryly with a hard blink. “Y-yeah, of course.”

He watched as Riker slinked toward the bed. She planted a knee and turned as she lowered herself until she was lying across the bed on her back. Her legs dangled out on the floor as she propped herself up on her elbows. She was so casual about it, rolling her head back to get the leaves out of her eyes. 

“So, what have you been up to today?” she asked.

Oh, you know. Just a little breaking and entering, trespassing, invasion of privacy. 

“Not really a whole lot,” Cory shrugged, eyes still tracing the curves of Riker’s legs up to her torso and back down to her feet. “Just messaging people, I guess.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, uhh,” Cory averted his eyes and scratched his arm, “You remember that xenra from the train? Tsundra?”

“Of course,” she smiled.

“Yeah, I’m making plans to meet up with them or whatever. See the xenrani hab ring.” Cory gave another little shrug.

Riker’s smile turned a bit cheeky. “She made quite the impression, didn’t she?”

All of the air in Cory’s lungs escaped his nose as he blushed. 

“You seemed to enjoy it quite a lot, as I recall,” she teased. 

The pitch of Cory’s hum varied as he went “Mhmm.”

“It’s no wonder she took interest in you.”

Cory turned back to face her and she was sitting up even higher, smiling even more salaciously. 

“You are adorable when you’re flustered.”

“I’m… ‘m not…” 

“Ohhoh,” a melodious chuckle rippled from Riker. She put a hand to her chest, “Am I flustering you now, talking about it like this?” 

Cory looked back down at the ground, Riker’s feet still in his periphery, and nodded meekly. 

“Do you want me to stop?” Riker’s tone changed to complete seriousness. 

Cory shook his head with a gulp. He didn’t. He thought that maybe he should tell her to stop, but he knew he didn’t want her to. He wanted much worse. 

“Good,” Riker’s smile returned. “Might I try something, little one?” 

“Like what?” Cory asked warily. 

“I would like to test something.” Riker patted the raised rim of the pet bed. “Would you come here? Just for a moment.”

Cory shivered the whole way over to the bed, eyes tracing up and down Riker’s body. Every curve was a visual delight, every centimeter perfectly crafted. One of the great artists of the neorenaissance could not have sculpted a more perfect alabaster woman from simu-marble. When he reached the bed, Cory kicked off his shoes and sat on the edge where Riker had indicated. Her hand found his head and his back and he leaned into it without question.

Riker made a humming sound. 

“Hmm?” Cory hummed in return. 

“Cory? Do you… like being flustered like that?”

Cory looked away again as his thighs squeezed together. 

“It’s okay,” she assured gently, “You don’t have anything to be embarrassed about if you do.”

Cory blew more air from his nose and made a little whiney sound and nodded his head as imperceptibly as possible. 

Riker tilted her head toward him, keeping her eyes locked on his. “Can you use your words for me?”

Cory’s eyes flicked around as he tried to escape the obvious answer. But Riker’s gentle, encouraging stroking of his back didn’t let up. 

“Please, songbird?”

Cory’s cheeks quivered as his head lowered in shame. 

What’s the worst that can happen? She flusters us more ?

“Y-y-yeah,” it came softer than a whisper. Even though he felt safe with Riker, she was still afraid that he could somehow drive her away. She was too good. Too good to him. Too good for him. Then, the affini goddess hurled a bolt of lightning directly into his chest. 

“Good girl,” Riker spoke like a breeze.

AOIFNMAOIENFAEIFAKONEFNAEOIEFN

An incoherent string of syllables escaped Cory’s mouth as his jaw bounced up and down in a feeble attempt to say anything, but his mind was too filled with static. 

“Shh, shh, it’s okay,” Riker shushed him and gently coaxed him from the rim of the bed to her side. Her arm wrapped around him, squeezing him there in an enormous hug. 

Cory put all of his weight against her, not fighting it. To do so would have been futile, anyway. He took a deep breath, and let it out, the hot air warming his face as it bounced off Riker’s breast. His eyes squeezed closed and he took another deep breath, more slowly. It was fine. He was fine. He was safe . 

It was only a few minutes before Cory’s muscles relaxed and Riker guided him down to the floor of the pet bed. He leaned and flopped backwards, the rim of the bed acting as a pillow as he continued to look up at her. 

She called us a good girl!

Cory’s jaw clenched. First Mila had called him a good girl, now Riker. 

Yeah, and we like it, don’t we?

Just because he liked it didn’t mean it was right. It didn’t mean he was one. 

Riker’s voice, laden with concern, drew him from the argument in his head. 

“Cory?” her eyes were a shimmering cerulean, her face full of worry. 

“Hmm?” he drew his eyes to her without turning his head. 

“Little one, you’re crying.” Riker hand raised to his face, wiping his cheek with the back of her finger. “What’s the matter?”

He just squeezed his eyes shut as hard as he could and when he opened them he blinked away the tears. “Nothing. I’m,” he swallowed, “I’m fine.”

Stop lying to her.

“Really, I’m fine.”

Cory pushed the back of his forearm across his face, sucking through his nose. He groaned softly as he shoved his glasses up to his forehead and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. Fuck, he shouldn’t be crying over how good it felt to be called a girl.

Purely independent behavior.

“I’m really fine,” he repeated, dropping his hands and letting his glasses fall back to the bridge of his nose. 

Are you trying to convince her, or us?

Riker emulated a sigh that was so real it hurt as her face fell. She pulled it back up into a smile as she sat up, the vine muscles visibly flexing under her not-skin. Even sitting, she towered over Cory. 

“You know,” she started, “I was thinking. There are still a few storage boxes in here from when you arrived that haven’t been unpacked yet.”

Cory rolled his head toward where he remembered them being stacked, but couldn’t see them over the raised rim of the bed. 

“Perhaps now would be a good time to unpack them.”

Cory pushed himself up to sit, letting his back stretch and his hair land in his face as he slumped forward. He didn’t particularly feel like unpacking boxes of stars knew what; he didn’t particularly feel like doing anything at all. But doing something was better than doing nothing and a distraction was welcome. Though he could think of better ones as his eyes traced back up Riker’s body to her face. 

It was Cory’s turn to put on a weary smile. “Yeah.”

He planted his hands and pushed himself to his feet. When he made it past the imaginary border of his old apartment, he looked at the containers. Strange, sterile white containers with squiggly script he recognized was probably Affini but he couldn’t read. He glanced back to Riker before opening one experimentally. The lid opened and he saw the old food inside, still as ‘fresh’ as the day the Affini arrived. 

“I don’t need this,” he held up a tin of Uncle Dave’s Old Fashioned Canburgers. 

Thank the stars we never have to eat one of those again. As much as we kinda wanna eat one right now.

“Where can I get rid of this stuff?” Cory tried to lift the box, but all the cans inside made it a bit cumbersome.

Riker rolled over and stood from the pet bed with a single, seamless motion. “Here,” she reached her down past Cory to take the container without effort, “I’ll put this in the compiler and have Theo decompile it for you.”

Riker’s soundless song ebbed as she left the room, flowing back like the ocean as she returned moments later. Cory found the sensation a bit disconcerting. Thinking back, it almost felt like what Becky described feeling from Monophylla. He even felt her song change when she got sad. 

Cory’s hand shot up to the back of his neck. He didn’t feel a scar. 

I think we’d know if we were a floret.

Cory nodded. Yeah, he’d know. Definitely. He turned back to the boxes to open the next one. 

But if we feel like this now, imagine what it would feel like if we were .

“Shut up ,” Cory muttered under his breath as he opened another box. 

“What was that?” Riker asked as she neared again. 

Cory looked up from the open box to face her. “I said I found some of my pots and pans.”

Riker smiled. Cory felt it as her golden eyes shined even more brilliantly. “Wonderful. Are you still interested in cooking together?”

Cooking dinner with Riker. Having a delicious meal eaten in soft light with pleasant conversion. It almost sounded… romantic “Yeah,” he couldn’t stop from smiling. “Could you take these to the kitchen for me?”

Just as Riker started walking away, Cory opened the next box and found the rest of his pans and his cooking utensils. There were only three boxes left and by the time Riker returned, he had opened two of them. 

“Well, I probably don’t need this microwave or hotplate anymore, right?” he asked as he looked up at Riker. 

Riker chuckled softly, bits of green sparkling in her eyes as she put her hand to her chest, “No, I should think not. May I?” 

Cory stepped aside to let Riker lift the boxes, taking the box of pans and utensils in one and the obsolete appliances in the other. It felt like he was standing on the beach as she washed in and out of the room like the tide with each trip. It felt good, like the surf washing over his feet, but at the same time he couldn’t escape the feeling of erosion - like each time she left she was taking something with her.

He did a quick mental inventory of his apartment as his eyes glanced around the room. His bedroom was perfectly intact. He couldn’t think of anything else that had been in the kitchen when he left. He tilted his head and wondered what could possibly be in that box. The final white, sterile shipping box stared back at him as he did.

Cory flippantly tipped the lid off the box. He couldn’t imagine there was anything of significance inside. Maybe some headphones or some stuff he’d forgotten in the closet he never used. But as the lid fell to the ground, Cory’s heart stopped.

At first, the neatly folded pieces of fabric neon and pastel fabric confused him. But the sense of recognition crashed into him all at once as he picked one up and it unfurled into a pair of panties. His vision swam as he pushed the top layer of underwear and clothes aside to see dildos and buttplugs in vacuum sealed bags. His dildos and buttplugs under his women’s clothing.

No. No, no, no, no, no!

This was all wrong. Those things were hidden in the wall. They should still be on the colony, far away, not right in front of him! Nobody should have found them. Nobody should know how fucked up he was.

His muscles tightened, crumpling the panties in his hand until he threw them back into the box like a live grenade. His head swum, his vision roiled as the panic set in. Riker would see this. She would know. 

It’s okay…

It wasn’t okay! It would never BE okay! All of it -- the shame, the secret desires, the things he hated himself for wanting -- she would know.

“No,” Cory snarled. He couldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t let her see what a freak he was. Whatever those desires were, whatever part of him drove to buy those things, had to stay buried, had to remain hidden. Forever.

Without another thought, Cory slammed the lid back on the box. He half-ran, half-stomped out of his bedroom and to the kitchen. 

“Cory?” Riker turned to look down at him, “Is everything okay?”

“Fine!” he shouted, the terrible feeling in his heart only worsening for having snapped at Riker.

He threw open the compiler door and threw the box down on the tray before slamming the door shut. He poked every button on the front of the machine so hard it hurt, but none of them did anything. 

“Work, stars dammit! Work!” he gritted his teeth as he growled under his breath. 

“Theo!” he shouted, his voice faltering. “Get rid of this shit! Now!”

He turned to face the blue light of Theo’s hologram. Why wasn’t Theo doing it?

“I’m sorry, Cory,” Theo’s wavy line intoned, “I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

“What do you mean you can’t?!” He had to! He had to get rid of all that stuff before Riker saw. “Just fucking get rid of it! Please!”

Theo’s hologram turned and Cory’s eyes followed to where it faced. Riker stood over him, her golden eyes drowned in purples and blues. Cory felt his heart thump along like a bass drum to the silent song radiating off of her. 

His angry panting slowled to quick, shuddery breaths as Riker knelt before him. “Cory,” she said, “It’s okay.”

But it wasn’t okay.

It IS okay! We’re safe with Riker!

Cory flinched away, sidestepping with a ducked shoulder as Riker’s hand neared. But she wasn’t reaching for him. She reached into the compiler and pulled the box back out, letting it fall to the floor and the contents spill on the ground. Cory hugged himself tightly and looked away. 

His heart froze in his chest as she spoke again. 

“Oh, these are even cuter than I expected,” she said.

Cuter than she… What? She expected?

She knew the whole time! Just like Mom probably did.

Then her hand was upon him, the gentle and warm vines of her finger gently coaxing Cory to look up at her. His crooked jaw set against itself as he fought back against the urge to cry in frustration. He didn’t deserve her gentleness.

“Little one?” she asked so softly, “Why would you want to get rid of such pretty things?”

Cory’s face only twisted further. 

They are pretty.

Too pretty for someone like him. 

“It’s okay to like pretty things,” Riker’s hand lifted his hand until it rested flat against her fingers. “Like your pretty nails.”

He winced. Why hadn’t he taken the nail polish off? He could have figured out how days ago, but he didn’t. He wished he had. 

She let his hand go and it fell back down to his side limply. “Do you remember what I told you, songbird? When I told you that you can do whatever you want?”

Cory nodded his head.

“Nobody is going to judge you for anything you want to do. Least of all me. I’ll keep you safe .”

He wanted to believe her so badly as her words rolled through him like an ocean current. He had seen how badly trans people could be treated. Demeaned. Degraded. And not in the fun way. 

“But as I said,” she continued, “you can only do what you want so long as you aren’t hurting anybody.”

Cory’s muscles tensed again, hard as they’d ever. He hurt so bad, but he couldn’t tell her. “I’m not hurting anybody!”

She smiled that sad, weary smile as his shout made her eyes flare with blue. “You sound very, very hurt right now, little one.” She braced him with a hand from either side, her voice broken in the saddest way. “I don’t want that for you.”

“I’m fine! I’m fine, I’m fine, I’M FINE!” He shouted. If he said it loudly enough, with enough conviction, it was true. 

Riker squeezed just a little bit tighter as he started to squirm between her hands. He had to get away. She couldn’t know his secret. 

“I need to ask you something very important, Cory,” she gazed down on him like a benevolent goddess.

He looked up at her through bleary eyes, silently pleading with her to not ask the question he knew she would. The question he must never answer. The part of him that he must never face. 

“Do you want to be a woman?” There was no anger in her voice. No malice. Only a want for an answer.

“Don’t…” Cory’s words fell from his lips like autumn leaves. 

She looked down at him, her weary smile falling away. “Cory, when I ask you a question, I want you to answer . Do you understand?”

Cory’s head jerkily nodded. 

Riker seemed to take a deep breath and looked at him seriously. “Do you want to be a woman, Cory?”

“I’m not…”

Silver bursts lit up Riker’s eyes as she tilted her head. “You’re not what?”

Cory’s body shuddered with each ragged breath, but he felt compelled to answer despite the screaming feeling to not. “I’m not a woman.”

“Songbird, it’s okay if--”

“It’s not okay!” he bellowed. “It’s not! I’m not a woman! I’ll never be a woman! I’m not-- I’m not one of those freaks! I’m-- I’m-- not!”

Cory gasped inbetween sucks of air as Riker lifted him from the ground into her chest. She squeezed him tight enough to send every vertebrae in his back cracking. He tried to fight her off, to push her away. He couldn’t understand why she would hug a freak like him. And then he smelled it. 

Cinnamon.

That penta-whatever. 

Cory tried to hold his breath. 

Remember, she’s only doing this because she wants to help us.

“Breathe for me, songbird. It’s okay. Mommy will keep you safe .”

A dreadful screech rattled from Cory’s body as he pushed all the air out of his lungs and when he’d gone for so long without breathing it hurt he gasped the cinnamon-scented air back in. He squeezed his eyes against the deluge of tears that threatened to drown him. He knew he wouldn’t be able to lie with that cinnamon poison in his lungs.

“Cory,” Riker asked, letting up her grip but not parting him from her chest, “If I had a magic wand that could turn you into a woman this instant, would you use it?”

“YES!” Cory cried as the dam broke. “Yeh-heh-hessss!” he wailed. 

He grunted and shoved and flailed as much as he could, just as he had on that first day when he woke up in Riker’s hab. But just as on that day, Cory found himself powerless in the face of Riker’s overwhelming comfort. She held him with both hands, one supporting his back and the other his legs as he sobbed against her, letting him take out all of his pain, all of his frustration, all of his fear through increasingly feeble punches and slams of fists. 

The wave that was Riker washed over the deep-seated stone at Cory’s core, into every crack and crevice and washed it away until the weight of the world upon it sent it crumbling down into the sea. 

And there, surrounded by the sea, his stoney facade crumbled beyond recognition, Cory felt safe .

Chapter Text

Chapter 22:
A Cruel Angel's Thesis

Riker held Cory tight as she moved to lay in the pet bed with her ward balanced atop her chest. The poor girl had finally stopped sobbing. She'd worn herself out and beyond, her chest rising and falling in a complimentary rhythm to Riker's own. Riker gently lifted Cory's glasses away from her head and set them safely aside to let the sleepy girl nuzzle even closer.

It was adorable. 

Everything about Cory was adorable, and she would only get more adorable once she was started on a regiment of Class-Gs. Riker couldn't help but smile as she imagined how she would glow once she was satisfied with the way she looked, once the outside and inside were in harmony. 

Riker could go to the local graft garden tomorrow. It should be relatively easy to find a compatible Class-G graft. She might as well see about finding a sedative graft as well, should anything like Cory's hallucinogenic episode at Monophylla's reoccur. She doubted it would, but if it did she would be prepared. Her songbird deserved no less.

Speaking of things Cory deserved, she deserved that sleepover that she and Mila had asked for. Begged for, really. Riker smiled as she remembered Cory and Mila bursting through the door of the hab. One could have mistaken them for pinnates, the way they ran up to her and Rhamnus, talking over each other in their excitement to ask for a sleepover. 

Riker carefully reached over her sleeping ward and extricated her pad from her shoulder vines.

[chairhopper]: Rhamnus
[SolidAs]: Asherah
[chairhopper]: Are you and Mila busy this evening?
[SolidAs]: I don't believe so. Why do you ask?
[chairhopper]: Cory just had a very emotional revelation and I think she could really use that movie night she and Mila were so excited for.
[SolidAs]: She?
[SolidAs]: I see.
[SolidAs]: This has something to do with the egg Mila spoke off, I presume.
[chairhopper]: It does.
[SolidAs]: Have you made an appointment for a tailored Class-G yet?
[chairhopper]: I plan to put her on a general Class-G. Hopefully by the end of tomorrow. I would like to go to the graft garden first thing in the morning.
[SolidAs]: I assume you would like me to watch her while you do so.
[chairhopper]: … Yes.
[SolidAs]: What time should Mila and I arrive?

Cory tittered by the couch awaiting Mila’s arrival. As adorable as it was, Riker wished she wasn't so nervous. Perhaps in time she would be more comfortable around others. She definitely would, Riker told herself. 

“Songbird?” Riker set down a bowl of cheesy popcorn on the couch. “Everything alright? You seem distressed.”

“Sorry, I’m just,” Cory rubbed her thumb against her first two fingers in an anxious quirk Riker had noticed several times. “Not used to sharing stuff I like with people?”

“Well Mila certainly seemed excited to share this with you,” Riker leaned against the couch next to where Cory stood, “And as I recall, you were quite enthusiastic when you asked Rhamnus and me to put this little sleepover together.”

A little smile crept onto Cory’s face and it was infectious. How could any affini not smile when seeing their ward be happy? 

“Yeah,” Cory nodded, “It’ll be fine.”

“Good. Our friends should arrive shortly,” Riker reminded.

When they did, Mila dropped her rucksack and her sleeping back and ran straight to Cory. Instead of one of her usual floret dresses, Mila wore a sleepover appropriate pair of lilac lounge pants and a form-fitting white tanktop that did nothing to hide the midriff stealing Cory's attention. In Cory's distraction, Mila nearly bowled her over with a tremendous hug. 

“Haha, hi, Mila,” Cory smiled, wrapping her arms around Mila. 

“Hi, bestie!” Mila gave her another hearty squeeze before stepping back as she kept Cory upright. “I am so ready to watch this.”

Cory blushed as she held herself steady under her own power. “Good, I, umm, hope you like it.” She turned to look at the viewscreen across from the couch. “Theo? Is that data link thing you had me plug into my computer working?”

“It is,” Theo’s waveform oscillated on the screen. Riker wondered if Theo would choose an appearance of his own. Perhaps after his assessment for sapience, although Riker had no doubt Theo would pass. She still needed to make an appointment to have him evaluated, in any case. “Though I must inform Miss Riker and Mister Oakley that I have been unable to generate a rendition suitable for florets.”

“It’s fiiiine, Wiggly!” Mila rolled her eyes. “I don’t need a stinking floret cut.”

Cory looked between Mila and Riker. “What’s a floret cut?”

“A floret cut is an edited version of media to make it more palpable for sophonts - typically florets - who may be sensitive to certain content,” Theo informed her. 

Riker had every confidence that Cory wouldn’t share anything disturbing with Mila. Everbloom, the girl had hidden her pornography behind three layers of subterfuge. But for the sake of due diligence, Riker asked “What kind of sensitive content are we talking about here, Theo?”

Cory seemed to close off as Theo explained. “There are pervasive themes of violence, including blood and gore, as well as psychological distress, existential dread, and depictions of intense emotional trauma. The series also explores complex themes of identity, loneliness, and the burden of expectations, all of which are intractably linked to the narrative.”

“Eh, nothing I haven’t seen in the navy,” Mila waved a hand dismissively, “I can handle Cory’s favorite series, easy peasy. Right, bestie?” She leaned on Cory, knitting their fingers together. 

Cory looked up at Riker, doing her best to put on a hopeful smile. She wasn’t practiced at pleading like Mila was, but Everbloom help Riker if Cory ever learned.

“I don’t have a problem with it, but do you, Rhamnus?” 

Rhamnus chuckled. “I’m sure my little acorn will tell me as soon as she feels uncomfortable. Won’t she?”

“Yuh-huh!” Mila nodded.

“Then it’s settled,” Rhamnus smiled.

“Thank you, Daddy!” Mila beamed and hugged Cory again.

Riker clapped her hands together. “Well, I think we're all set, then.”

Mila suddenly stood up straight. “Oh! I almost forgot!” She ran to the pile of plushies to grab Ducky and the white insect that Cory had become so fond of and dragged them back to the couch. Holding Ducky under one arm, she handed the insect to Cory. The way her hands slipped between its body and wings was just cute.”Did you think of a name for them yet?”

Cory looked down at the plush toy as a smile crept across her face. “I think… Angel.”

“Aww! That's perfect!”

Riker could only smile as she concurred. 

Rhamnus lifted Mila to the couch and Cory turned to look up at Riker in kind. As core-warming as she was, it was still a bit concerning. With her big expectant eyes and yearning expression, she almost looked like a floret. Though it did give Riker momentary pause, it didn't stop Riker from lifting Cory to the couch. It did stop her from holding her ward in her lap, however. She was independent after all, and wished to remain that way. So Riker sat next to her, with Mila and Cory under a blanket between her and Rhamnus. She couldn’t help but notice the smile pulling at Cory’s lips with nervous energy as Mila snuggled in closer.  

As the show began, Riker kept a close eye on Cory. Her attention on the screen was rapt, seemingly unmoved by the over the top violence and gore - even the moments that made Riker and Rhamnus clench as the monster called Angels were killed by destroying their cores. No, it was the emotional moments, the conflict between father and son, the burden of expectations that caused her ward to grip the blanket more tightly, to squeeze the plushie closer. To wince in some recognition of the struggles faced by Shinji, the main character. Riker didn’t need to ask if the show resonated with her ward—she could see it in Cory’s eyes, in the way she seemed to both immerse herself in the narrative and simultaneously retreat into her thoughts.

The series progressed and the show's themes of self-doubt, identity, and isolation only became more prominent. Cory’s reactions only became more intense. She seemed to freeze and clench when Shinji’s loneliness and feelings of worthlessness came to the forefront, and Riker understood why this series resonated with her ward. 

Her little ward, who was more afraid of pushing her away than she was of any punishment for harming an affini. Who was afraid to admit that she wanted to be something other than what nature had made her. Her precious little songbird, who must have felt so alone for so long. 

It seemed that Mila had noticed too, leaning harder into Cory during those emotional moments. She even went so far as to offer Cory bits of her eculatea candy canes between bites of other snacks. Cory refused them, citing a flavor incompatibility with the snacks she was already eating. Whenever Cory glanced her way, Riker smiled down at her, pulling away from the screen showing some new, twisted reflection of her songbird. 

A bit of levity was finally injected when Shinji met a fellow pilot, Rei, accidentally falling on top of her after she had just exited a shower. Cory became flustered as the boy’s hand inadvertently found the girl’s breast. Mila only pulled Cory closer.

“Hey,” she whispered, “We should do that sometime.”

Neither Riker nor Rhamnus could contain their chuckles at Cory’s flustered attempts to agree, and she only became more flustered when she realized that the affini were giggling. But how could they not? Cory and Mila were just too cute together. 

“Umm… We should probably skip the next episode,” Cory suggested. 

“Oh?” Riker raised a brow. 

Rhamnus chuckled again. “Is that right? Something you don’t want us to see, little one?”

Cory blustered again, clutching the insect in her lap tightly. “N-No! It’s just like… filler. Plus the episode after that is where Asuka shows up.”

“Asuka?” Mila scratched her head. 

“Oh, yeah,” Cory’s mouth twitched into a small smile. “That’s the name of the character you saw on my computer… and my shelf.”

“Aaaaaa!” Mila’s mouth widened in glee. “Wiggly! Skip! Skip!”

“Of course, Mila,” Theo’s waveform rippled as it arced into a smile on the screen and the next episode - the last for the evening - began. 

Introduction: Asuka. It was immediately apparent why Cory was so fond of her. She was brash, bold, confident. Perhaps a bit overly so, in the way she bossed Shinji around. She was dominant. Judging from what Riker had glanced about how submissive Cory could be, and if Cory related to Shinji as much as Riker thought she did, then it made perfect sense. 

Perhaps Riker hadn’t been forceful enough with her songbird. 

As Shinji was forced into Asuka’s robot interface suit, Riker kept a close eye on Cory. She swallowed hard, staring straight ahead as the boy was forced to more or less crossdress. Mila looked up at Riker with a knowing glance and Riker nodded back while Shinji and Asuka climbed into Asuka’s robot, Unit-02.

Mila’s face lit up as Asuka piloted her robot and jumped into action, hopping from ship to ship, fighting an aquatic Angel. Cory smiled too, following along a bit less animatedly than Mila, but enjoying the action nonetheless. 

Mila leaned forward with her fists at shoulder level in anticipation as Unit-02, piloted by Asuka and Shinji at once, defeated the aquatic Angel by directing two sinking warships into its maw and allowing each to unleash their full armament of conventional weapons directly into the Angel. “Oh my GOD that was so cool!” Mila leaned back and let her hands fall to her lap. 

Cory smiled more genuinely that Riker had seen for a while. “I know, right? She’s so fucking cool .”

“Yeah,” Mila rolled her head toward Cory with a grin. “I can totally see why you made your chat handle ‘Unit Dash Zero Two’.”

When the episode ended a few minutes later, Rhamnus stretched his arms above his head. Riker was glad to see him working in some terran mannerisms. “Well, I suppose that’s enough for tonight. It’s starting to get late.”

“O-kay , Mister Rhamnus,” Mila reluctantly agreed. She pushed the blanket off her far shoulder and slid off the edge of the couch. 

Cory looked up at Riker. 

“Far be it from me to dictate when my independent ward goes to bed, but I believe a sleepover necessitates sleep. Correct?” Riker suggested.

“Yeah, okay,” Cory followed Mila’s example and slid off the couch. 

As soon as she had regained her footing, Mila took her by the hand. “Okay, Rei , let’s get ready for bed.”

Cory was flustered again, unable to produce coherent speech. It was an adorable display as Mila led her by the hand as easily as she had the night they first met and took Cory down the hall.

“They really do go so well together, don’t they, Asherah?” Rhamnus turned his body on the couch to face Riker. 

“They do.” Riker looked down where Cory and Mila had been sitting to find Ducky and the insect placed against each other, as if snuggling in Cory and Mila’s stead. “It’s amazing how Cory has found comfort in her so quickly. I think she’ll really bring out the best in her.”

“And Cory’s bringing out the best in you, Asherah,” Rhamnus reached across the couch to put a hand on Asherah’s shoulder.

Riker ruminated on that thought. Cory made Riker feel things she hadn’t in so long. Caring for the terran gave her a newfound sense of drive, a renewed sense of purpose. It sometimes hurt, the way it forced memories to surface, but Riker was sure of one thing. 

“She is. And I’m so happy to have the privilege to care for her.”

Cory wasn’t sure what to do as Mila pulled him toward the hallway. 

She called us Rei!

Something about that had felt really good. 

Rei! Not Shinji!

Cory’s eyes fluttered. It felt good to be called a girl’s name, he realized. It was such a surprise, he almost didn’t notice Mila pulling him into the bathroom instead of the bedroom. He stared at the blackened, foggy mirror and all the makeup as Mila led him to the counter. She dug through the cabinet drawers and Cory just stood there awkwardly, unsure what to do with himself. 

“Found ‘em,” Mila turned around with a grin, holding up a pair of scissors and a safety razor.

Cory eyed the tools and shifted to the backfoot, then to the other, slowly backing away. 

She put them down on the counter and rushed to his side, taking his hand in her firm grip and making sweet, gentle sounds. “Shh, shh. It’ll be fine. Trust me, bestie. Just gotta get you cleaned up, okay?”

He gulped, but didn’t resist Mila dragging him to the counter and turning him around. 

“There you go,” she pressed her body into his, sandwiching him against the counter. She ducked down enough to wrap her arms around his legs and lifted him onto the counter. The strength of her small frame never seemed to stop being amazing to Cory. Her hand rested gently on his jaw, fingers weaving into Cory’s beard. “I bet you’re hiding a real cute face under all that.”

Cory blushed. He was so unused to being called cute, but he was too flustered to protest. He just made a shy little smile. 

“There you go,” Mila beamed back. “Now just sit tight and let me handle everything.”

Cory’s hands gripped the edge of the counter so hard that it hurt, but he trusted Mila. He sat as still as he could, eyes squeezed tight against the sound of the scissors moving around his face. She tugged gently at one part of his beard, then he heard the scissor blades slide against each other and the flesh bounced back. Mila must have repeated the process two dozen times, each as gentle as the last, before he heard her drop the scissors back on the counter. 

He watched Mila rub some blue liquid on her hands, then she massaged it into Cory’s face and neck. It felt good to be touched like that, but the goopy texture of the blue stuff made Cory’s stomach turn and his head spin. “Now just stay still, okay? I really don’t want to cut you.”

Cory resisted the urge to nod, just following along with his eyes as Mila picked up a double-sided safety razor. He looked away from it as she brought it closer and focused on Mila’s face instead. Her smile never waned as she worked, dragging the razor up Cory’s neck, along his sideburns, over his jaw and cheek, each time stopping to rinse out the hair in the sink beside him. The only time there was anything more than a smile was when she cocked her tongue out while working on the wispy mustache that never really connected to his beard anyway. 

Damn, she’s so cute.

She really was, and as much as the thought made Cory want to smile, the urge to not make Mila slice him was even greater.

A good few minutes later, Mila rinsed the razor for the last time and returned it to the drawer. Then, she patted Cory’s face with a towel. “All done.” Her smirk grew into a grin as he watched her eyes trace his face up and down. “God, yeah, you’re so cute.”

The newfound coolness of Cory’s face was instantly replaced with the familiar warmth of a blush.

It was then that Mila took Cory’s hand, helped him off the counter, and led him further into the bathroom. His eyes jumped to the back door to the mysterious bedroom and to the tub where Mila stopped and started working the spigots. The water flowed into the giant pool of a bath, steam gently rising from the surface. The rumbling and splashing of the water was calming, as such sounds always tended to be, but were not enough to soothe Cory’s fears. 

“Umm. Mila?” 

Mila looked away from the selection of bottles she was curating. “Yeah?” 

“I’m…” Cory swallowed. What could he tell her? That he didn’t want to take a bath with her? That would have been a lie. He was just afraid.

Nervous. 

“We,” Cory cleared his throat. “I’m…” he tucked his chin, swallowing again. 

Mila closed the gap between them. “You’re shy.” It was an observation of fact, not a judgement of character. 

Cory looked down and nodded. 

“Hey,” Mila’s voice was soft but firm. “It’s okay,” she insisted. 

One of her hands found his chest, but moved to his shoulder when he winced. “I think that you want to do this with me.”

Cory nodded again. When he looked back up from the tile, Mila was smiling. 

“You just need somebody to give you a little push in the right direction.”

Big push. Full-on shove.

“Yeah.” Cory admitted. 

“If you don’t want to take a bath with me, or if you change your mind, all you have to do is say no.” Her voice took on a serious edge. “But otherwise, take off your fucking clothes and get naked with me.”

A stillness set in on Cory’s body. He wasn’t frozen in terror or fear, but an entirely new kind of stillness. It almost felt… calm.

Even as Mila reached for the hem of her tanktop and peeled it up over her head and bared her chest, Cory felt calm. 

This isn’t a dream, right? I don’t usually see your dreams. 

“Go on,” Mila looked at Cory seriously. “I told you to take off your clothes.”

Yeah, hurry up.

Without thinking, Cory pulled his own shirt over his head, wadding it into a ball and tossing it aside. Before he realized what he was doing, he unbuckled his belt and his jeans fell to his ankles. 

Mila reached into the pocket of her lounge pants and pulled out a candy cane, letting the wrapper fall to the floor. “Almost there,” Mila gave the cane a perfunctory lick before pressing it to Cory’s lips. 

Cory’s breath shook out of him as he pushed his head forward to take the peppermint rod into his mouth. Mila pushed it just a bit further and Cory’s tongue pressed against the underside. Mila’s smile drew Cory deeper and he pursed his lips, sucking the sweet peppermint treat. 

A cool wave washed over him, coating his tongue and gums. He let out a soft hum

a needy whimper

and looked to Mila for guidance with tightening eyebrows.

Mila seemed to sense his need to be guided as she used her free hand to guide Cory’s to his boxers. His fingers grasped blindly, settling for a bunch of cloth rather than the waistband. Despite the oddly calm feeling, he still closed his eyes and winced as he tugged downward. 

“Aww,” Mila cooed. “You have such a cute clit.”

AHTUEOIJRENTEHUERH?!?!?!

Cory’s brain short circuited and his dick sprung to life at that statement. Not-words escaped his throat without thought. 

Mila caressed up Cory’s shoulder and along the side of his fresh-shaven neck before her fingers weaved into Cory’s hair. She let out a soft, darkly warm chuckle. “You liked that, didn’t you?”

Cory slurred a confused and yearning sound around the quickly-melting candy. 

“Good girl,” Mila praised with a kiss of his ear. 

He almost stumbled on his suddenly weak knees, chasing after the candy cane and Mila as they pulled away. Cory opened his eyes to see Mila holding the candy cane in her mouth like a cigar by the same end that had just been in his mouth. 

Holy shit.

Mila grinned around the candy held in her teeth. “Well, I suppose fair’s only fair, isn’t it?” Her thumbs played at the waist of her lounge pants. Fingers toyed with the bow of the drawstring. A swish of the wrist saw the bow undone and the loose pants fell to the ground. 

Cory’s eyes shot back up to Mila’s face, her grin as confident as ever as she swept her pants aside with one foot. She tilted her head back just a bit, looking at Cory down the length of the candy cane. His eyes trailed lower over her perfect breasts and her toned tummy, befitting the well-trained body of a former Cosmic Navy captain. When he dared to look lower, below where Mila held her hands on her hips, Cory’s eyes flew open. 

She has-- She’s-- We can-- IT’S SO BIG!

Cory’s eyes stayed locked onto the cock he could barely believe was hanging between Mila’s legs. He was unable to look away as it pulsed to life, growing firmer by the second until it pointed straight at him. 

“Nice, right?” Mila’s hand wrapped around its length, confirming that it was very, very real. 

Cory’s mouth worked thoughtlessly but no words came out. His eyes just stayed on that part of Mila as it got closer, and closer, and closer with each shallow, mouth-drying breath. 

Mila’s trans! We can do that! That’s a thing WE can do!

The thought played havoc in the back of Cory’s mind. Mila was trans! She wasn’t some kind of freak or a monster, she was a good person. She was Cory’s bestie! His first kiss! She was cute and confident and hot and everybody liked her. Part of that hurt a little bit. He could be like that, maybe. 

Definitely!

But was he allowed to? His body was… so different. So big and thick and she was so thin and strong. Her skin was so smooth and he was covered in coarse hair. How could he ever--

All thought had suddenly become focused on Mila’s cock pressing against his… his… clit.

IOEFJEIOJAIOJEWAOI

Yeah, that, Cory agreed! And also HOLY SHIT!

Mila chuckled softly, her peppermint breath reaching across the gap. “You like that, huh?” She pressed the tip of her cock against Cory’s clit. He could feel her heartbeat, or maybe it was his own, or maybe both. 

“Wuhh-huhh!” Coherent speech was beyond Cory’s cognitive ability by that point. 

“God, you’re so fucking cute .” Mila almost growled as she gave her cock a few strokes, rubbing her head against him. “Especially that little clit .”

Cory throbbed at her words, another confused and equally excited whine escaping his lips. 

“Yeah!” Mila giggled. “I mean look at it. It’s a total clit. I have this big girldick . I think you like that too, don’t you?”

“Nnnyuh.” Cory slurred. 

Mila stepped closer, her girldick heavy on top of Cory’s clit. Cory watched as her massive length overshadowed his until her head prodded the base of Cory’s clit. “And now it’s gone~”

“Uh, uh, uh,” Cory was at a loss for words. He’d barely ever seen a cock that big in porn! His clit barely reached a third of the way to the base of her girldick. 

“Have you ever seen a real cock before? In person?” Mila asked out of the blue. 

It was all Cory could do to shake his head ‘no’. 

“Do you wanna touch it?” Mila’s hand took his and raised it up, moving it closer. But she left the final decision to him. 

His hand moved with a mind of its own, leaving Mila’s warm hand to find her even warmer girldick. He could barely get his hand around it. 

“Mmm, fuck,” Mila groaned. Cory definitely felt her pulse now, and her excitement dribbled against his crotch. 

Cory stayed perfectly still, just holding her in his hand. He was still in disbelief, even as he felt Mila’s pulse in the palm of his hand. Her cock was so big that his fingertips barely brushed the top of his clit. His eyes went to Mila’s hand again as it moved up to her breast, cupping and squeezing. 

“You can play with it, if you want,” Mila bit her lip. “I think we’d both like that.”

Cory nodded, and slowly moved his hand along the length toward himself, then back toward Mila -- well past where his clit ended -- until his hand bumped against Mila’s delicate fluff. Back and forth like jerking himself off, just twice the distance and three times as gentle. The sounds Mila made only encouraged him to stroke her faster. 

Her groans and moans grew, her head tilting back as she continued to grope her own breast. She let out a deep breath and took Cory by the wrist, stopping him mid stroke. “Do you know what frotting is?”

Cory shook his head, he had no idea. 

Mila grinned. “It’s something girls like us can do.”

Like us? We’re girls?!

“I’m going to touch you now. Is that okay?”

He had little choice but to nod. He would never be able to say no to Mila, not when she was so insistent and made him feel so submissive. The same way he had felt when Becky pinned him to the ground. 

“Good girl.”

Cory shuddered at the words, and even moreso as Mila lifted her girldick from Cory’s clit, then lifted his clit until both pointed straight up between them. Stars, her hand was so soft.

“Sometimes,” Mila explained, “Girls or boys or whatever like to do this.” Mila trapped Cory’s clit against her girldick, wrapping her hand around both. The difference in size was even more evident that way. She dribbled some spit down onto both shafts and started jerking them off together, against one another. 

Mila’s voice came on heavy breath. “Feels good, huh?”

Cory nodded, his breath even heavier. His arms bent and fingers flexed, unsure what to do. 

She just smiled as she noticed. “Put your hands behind your back and lace your fingers together. I’ll take care of everything.”

Cory did as he was told, lacing his fingers together. The act forced him to lean back and push himself even further into Mila’s grasp. 

“Good girl~” Mila cooed again. The praise drew a deeply needy sound from Cory, whose hips started to bounce in unbridled excitement. “I’m in control.”

HHHHHHHHHH

“You really like this,” Mila told him. It was a fact, plain as day and stated just as simply. 

There was nothing for him to do but nod again and try to keep his hips from bucking his clit out of Mila’s grasp.

“I bet you like how small your clit looks next to my girldick, too,” Mila grinned, the candy cane barely peeking out of her mouth anymore.

Fuck, Cory thought. He did like that. His clit was so small compared to her. So small, so weak. So feminine. It only made him harder, if that was at all possible. 

“Oh, fuck,” he blurted out. 

“I know, bestie,” Mila hummed, “I’m close too.” Her hand stroked them even faster, bending her knees as they wobbled nearly as much as Cory’s. “Give me one of your hands.”

Cory again did as he was told. Mila quickly placed his hand on her breast. His thumb rolled over her nipple, fingers clenching rhythmically, wrist turning to give pressure to new places with every grope. 

“Fuck, you’re good at that. Other hand.”

When Cory showed his other hand, Mila took it in hers and laced their fingers together. It was an intimate act on top of an intimate act. The most intimate thing Cory had ever experienced. It felt good. It felt right. 

“Just… Just try to hold on until I cum okay? We’ll--We’ll cum together.”

Cory nodded along, trying his best but ultimately failing by precious seconds -- he had focused so hard on not cumming that he couldn’t when Mila did. Mila came first, the first few throbs heavy against Cory’s clit. Her cum shot all over her hand, only making the next strokes that drove Cory to his own orgasm even slicker and smoother. Mila’s girldick was still pulsing against his clit when Cory came. 

“Oh-- fuck!” he cried. 

Mila pulled her hand back, pulling Cory into her and planted a kiss, deep and needy on his lips. Cory pushed forward into it, too excited and hazy to be worried about how good he did. 

Holy shit! Holy shit! We did it!

Gradually, Mila’s strokes slowed as both of their climaxes came to an end. When she finally broke the kiss and her hand opened, Mila panted. “Good girl. Such a… good girl.”

Cory lurched to one side, half squatting on shaky legs, and braced himself on his own knees. He watched as Mila licked the products of their shared pleasure - Cory’s first orgasm with another person - off of her hand. 

“Well,” Mila eventually said, looking down at her cum-splattered tummy. “We both need a bath now for sure.”

Cory looked down at himself, their cum coating his hairy belly in much the same way. It was a mark of glory as much as it was a painful reminder that he wasn’t like Mila. 

Yet.

He sighed a heavy, tired breath. “Good idea.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 23:
Mother's Daughter

Cory drifted back awake. He took a deep breath and filled his lungs with a sweet, woodsy scent and sighed contentedly. Warmth pressed against his back and wrapped around his waist and the bed rolled with a soothing, if alien, rhythm. It felt pretty good, but something was just so off about it.

Riker's gone.

Cory had learned to intuitively pick up on Riker when she was near, like his father's footsteps in their run-down house an hour outside of Yellowknife. Something about that silent song he heard from her. He felt something similar now, but it was different. It was a lot like what he had felt from Monophylla when she was near.

It's Mister Oakley.

Cory opened his eyes. Those certainly seemed to be Rhamnus's unwound vines he was lying in, and Mila's arms around him. It was nice, but it wasn't Riker.

Hey. If Riker is Mommy does that make Mister Oakley Daddy?

Riker was certainly not Cory's “mommy”.

Hey, we both said it.  

Cory cringed at the fuzzy memory of calling Riker ‘Mommy’ when she rescued him from Monophylla's care. Then he remembered what Riker had told him the previous morning.

Mommy will keep you safe.

The memory, so vivid he could hear Riker’s voice, sent a shiver down his spine. It must have been a pretty bad one because Mila stirred with a hum. She made an adorable sound and Cory took her stretching as an opportunity to sit up and away from her. 

“Mornin’.” Mila said sleepily.

“Mornin’.” Cory replied.

“Good morning, little terrans,” Rhamnus rumbled. His vines slithered from beneath Cory and Mila as his form rose into that of a giant sitting terran. 

Cory looked up at him and swallowed the lump in his throat. Rhamnus sat there with this casual confidence, a warm, paternal smile on his ruggedly handsome face. He looked like a paper towel mascot with his bramble beard, broad shoulders and strong arms. Arms that he knew were strong enough to keep Mila safe.

Oh, come on. He's a total daddy. Like, okay, not OUR daddy but definitely A daddy. A plant daddy. A pladdy, even.

Cory agreed that he was conventionally attractive. Like, just objectively speaking, Rhamnus was good-looking. 

Like Mason?

Mason was objectively good-looking in a different way, Cory felt. 

Uh-huh…

If Cory had said it to himself once, he had said it a thousand times. Recognizing that some guys, or guy-coded sophonts in Rhamnus’s case, were attractive didn’t make him--

“Hey,” Mila’s voice cut through the argument in his head. “Are you okay?”

Cory looked up at her and his eyes fluttered.

“Your eyes were doing this… thing.” Mila proceeded to flick her eyes back and forth. Had he been doing that?

He squeezed his eyes shut and blinked again. Surely he hadn’t been doing anything like that. “What time is it?” he deflected.

Rhamnus’s voice rumbled in a chuckle. “It’s nearing midday. You two were up awfully late, so it felt best to allow you to sleep in.”

A little smirk spread across Cory's face as he remembered the night he spent with Mila in the bathroom. He still felt like it might have been a dream. 

Did that count as losing our virginity?  

The smirk fell as Cory looked around. “Where’s Riker?”

Mila’s hand found his and held it tightly. 

“She’ll return soon, little one,” Rhamnus’s hand patted Cory gently. Cory didn’t try to straighten up from where the slight pressure pushed him down. “She just had to run an errand this morning.”

While Mila decided it was time for brunch and Rhamnus followed her to the kitchen, Cory stayed in the pet bed a bit longer. It wasn’t like it was after Riker brought him

home

back from Monophylla’s. Even waking up on Rhamnus’s vines wasn’t the same as waking up in hers. The bed didn’t smell the same, it smelled like Rhamnus and Mila, and while that wasn’t a bad smell it wasn’t Hers . Frankly, it was concerning how much he missed Riker. 

It’s fine.

Cory didn’t feel like he was fine. 

Because you’re afraid of becoming a floret if we’re too dependent on her.

He was already too dependent on Riker. 

Cory. Honey. Darling. Sweetie. Where would we be without her?

Cory's eyes blinked and bounced around in front of him, as if the answer might be found scribbled on the walls and floor.

Would we be sharing a home with a beautiful giant woman who we can, and should, call Mommy? Would we know Mila? Becky? Meg? Tsundra?

Well, no, he wouldn't, but--

No. You KNOW where we'd be. 

He wouldn't--

Yes. You would. You'd have us in another lonely little apartment with a hole in the bathroom wall. Just waiting for a different affini to pull us out of our dumpster.

Cory's brow furrowed as he looked down at the blinking yellow light on his wrist.

You can't act like what happened at Monophylla’s didn't affect us. 

“Fuck.” Cory sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Fuck.” 

We want to be like Becky.

He did, of course he did. He wanted to be--

Yeah, a woman. But not JUST a woman.

Cory sighed, but before he could try to argue, he felt what had been missing. Riker was back. He threw on a shirt over his boxers and started toward the open vine gateway that would take him to her.

We've been running all our lives. It would be nice to run toward something for a change.

Cory lingered at the end of the hall and watched as Riker swung her leg over a kitchen chair and sat down in one fluid motion across from Rhamnus and Mila.

“I trust all went well at the graft garden?” Rhamnus shifted his focus from Mila to Riker, but fed his floret with no less grace.

“It did,” Riker tapped her far shoulder, indicating something Cory couldn't see through her head.

“Hetheer Rutaceya certainly knows faer stuff.”

“Fae certainly seems to,” Riker's fingers drummed on the table. “Fae helped me find a compatible Class-G and the mildest sedative available.”

“Wonderful.” Rhamnus smiled, his vines pausing as someone finally noticed Cory creeping across the room. “Well, look who finally made it out of bed.”

Cory blushed at the teasing, but no more so than he did when Riker twisted in her chair, arm slung over the back to look at him.

“Good morning, songbird,” she smiled down. “Would you like some brunch?”

“Suuuure,” he stepped closer as Riker went to the compiler and pulled out a plate. When she stepped over the back of her chair to sit down, Cory reached his arms up and was lifted into Riker's lap.

He took a deep breath and relaxed into the comfort of her soft body and her smell. Sweaty firewood and cloves filled his head. He closed his eyes and took another deep breath, finding the cloves replaced by an even sweeter, not so warm, smell.

Cotton candy? Bubblegum?

He looked down at the rolled up flat pancake and squinted at it.

“It's called a crêpe!” Mila shouted across the table. 

Cory stared at it, feeling the lingering touches of Monophylla's vines on his face. His heart started to beat faster and he swallowed. Hard. He could still do that on his own.

“Is everything alright?” Riker asked.

“Yeah, umm,” Cory squeezed his eyes closed, then opened them wide. “It's just… Monophylla…”

Riker reached for the plate. “I can compile something else for you.”

“No! I--” He didn't want to bother her. He didn’t want to make her do anything for him. 

Ask her.

He couldn't! If he did… He didn't know if he could take it back.

“What is it, little one?” She sounded so concerned. 

Cory breathed faster, unsure of what to do.

Ask. Her.

Cory swallowed again, twisting to look at Riker. “I…” he took a labored breath. “Could you…”

Riker tilted her head just slightly, a silver sheen over her golden eyes. “Could I…?”

Cory felt his nose flare as his eyebrows pulled together. Two more quick breaths through his nose. Then he opened his mouth. “Ueh.” 

The silent song sounded like somebody took a sledgehammer to a piano.

Cory's heart dropped in his chest. 

His cheeks twitched as he turned back to the plate. 

Stupid. He was so stupid.

You're not stupid.

“I'm… I dont think that's a good idea, little one.” Riker's tone spoke the same sadness as her song. 

Cory's eyes flicked up to Mila, Mister Oakley's vine paused halfway to her mouth, and flicked back down to the plate just as quickly. It hurt too much to look.

“I'm-- Sorry,” Cory stuttered. “I-I can--” 

He reached for the fork and tried to cut the crepe between two strawberries, but his shaking hand dropped the utensil with a clatter that made him jump.

“Fuck!” Cory started to curl in on himself. 

“Oh, for Everbloom's sake!” Mister Oakley's voice shouted. “Just feed her, Asherah.”

Riker sighed above him and her hands held him. Lifting him. She was going to put him down. He knew it. Why would she-- 

Riker spun him around and sat him on something hard. When he opened his bleary eyes, he was looking up at her from the table. She looked down at him with blue, purple, and golden fireworks.

“You really want me to feed you, songbird?”

Yes! Yes! Please, Mommy!

Cory nodded insomuch that he could. It was a trembling little thing.

“Okay,” Riker sighed a weary smile. “I'll need you to be a big girl for me after, okay? But if you can do that, then you can be Mommy's little girl for a bit .”

A trepidatious smile spread across Cory’s face as stared up into Riker’s eyes. It was like he felt her words settle in his mind, more than just hearing her. He could do what she said. He didn’t have to do anything complicated. He just had to be a little girl for Mommy.

Finally, you get on board with the program! Now let’s just let Mommy take care of everything and be a good little girl until we have to be big again.

Mommy looked up from him, prolly across the table to Mister Oakley. She grabbed the fork and scooped up a big piece of the yummy looking pamcake. It had stawbraries! Mommy always gave him the yummiest foods!

You know, if we’re going to be a girl we should probably start thinking about ourself that way. As a girl.

The other voice in Cory’s head had a good point! Mommy wanted her to be a girl, so she musta been a girl. But she didn’t hafta be big until after she was done eating, and Mommy was tryna feed her! She hadta pay ‘tention.

Cory looked back up at Mommy, then down at the food on the fork. It was so close she hadta cross her eyes ta see it. It smelled sooo good. Mommy poked it against Cory’s lips but she didn’t poke Cory’s cheek or nothing. Was she s’posed to open now? Cory was confused. 

“Ouh!” Cory tapped her cheek and opened her mouth. “Ouh!”

Mommy pulled her head back and blinked a lot like she was surprised or something. Silly Mommy! Mommy put the food on Cory’s tongue and she wiggled and giggled. It tasted even better than it looked and smelled! Lil' dribbles of sweet goodness leaked outta it, tickling her tongue with bright yumminess. She wanted so badly to chew all the nummies, but she wasn't 'llowed to chew ‘til Mommy did the swirly thing. That’s how it worked with Miss Tangella and Becky.

Mommy looked away again, probably ta see how Mister Oakley did it. He was really good at feeding Mila and Mommy was super smart so she’d probably figure it out. Cory guessed she musta ‘cause she made a little circle on Cory’s cheek and she started to chew. Cory hummed happily -- it was even betterer than she thought! The strabebbies were little chewy bits of the juice, and the thin pamcapes - creepies or whatev' - had soaked up lots n lots of it! It was so so soft n fluffies like Mommy’s skin which was weird cuz it didn't seem fluffy. After a little bit, Mommy rubbed a finger down Cory’s neck. It felt nice on her smooth neck cause girls aren’t s’posed ta have beards and junk but Cory didn’t hafta think ‘bout that no more. 

Cory sighed in delight, the good tastes staying on her tongue even after she swallowed. It was so good!

I bet it’ll taste even better when she cooks for us herself instead of using the compiler.

Yeah! And Cory liked to cook! She could help Mommy cook something yummy for them to share. That would be--

Cory opened her mouth because Mommy tapped her cheek again. Another swirl of the cheek made her giggle and she got to chew. That piece had whipped cream! It was so cool and smoov and squimshy! It tasted like… really good stuff! Yummmm!

“You liked that whipped cream, didn’t you songbird?” Mommy smiled down. Cory’s mouth opened wide in awe. Her eyes! The pretty golds and purples and blues looked like the sunset! 

“Yuh-huh!” Cory nodded. “Thank you, Mommy!”

“Oh, dear,” Mommy looked up and away again with her hand to her chin. 

Something was wrong, Cory could tell. Had she done something wrong? Did she make Mommy sad? Did she--

“Shh, shh,” Mommy shushed and her hand petted Cory’s head. Cory sniffled and pushed against it like a kitty. “It’s okay, little one.”

Mister Oakley and Mila said some stuff, but Cory was looking at Mommy too much to hear. She was too happy that Mommy was petting her. She must have been okay, Mommy would keep her safe .

Cory just nodded ‘cause everything was okay, and took another bite when Mommy tapped her cheek again. She chewed when Mommy’s swirly told her to chew and swallowed when Mommy tickled her throat again. Again and again until the yummy pamcakes was all gone. 

It felt so good to let Mommy feed her.

We should do this all the time.

Maybe she should!

‘Fore she could ask, Mommy picked up a napkin and wipeded her nose. It was hard ta see cause it was white an stuff but she guessed she musta had some whipped cream on her nose.

“There we go,” Mommy touched the side of Cory’s head, rubbing her hair. Cory leaned into it again. It felt good when Mommy touched her. She could feel Mommy’s love like she was singing. “You did a good job eating everything on the plate, little one.”

Cory’s whole body felt good and she couldn’t help but squirm from how excited it made her. “It was yummy!”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Mommy put the fork back down on the plate and looked into Cory’s eyes. They were so pretty! “But now it’s time to be a big girl for Mommy .”

Cory blinked, gasping a deep breath like she-- he - he was a he, he thought - had just surfaced from a deep dive underwater. She let the breath out and squeezed his eyes shut. He was a big

girl. A big girl.

He was big. As much as she might like Riker taking care of him, letting Riker feed her might have been a bit too much for him. 

If you just kept calling yourself a girl like Mommy and Mila this would all make so much more sense. Mommy said to be a big girl , after all.

Riker had said that, but he didn’t have to do everything Riker told him. No matter how good it felt. 

No? You’re trying to tell me you don’t want to do whatever Mommy and Mila and Becky and Tsundra tell you?

He… might...

Heh, yeah. That’s what I thought. 

Cory felt his face getting hot as he looked down toward the empty plate. He barely remembered eating it, just how good it tasted - and how good it felt to be fed.

It felt good to be her.

Maybe it did. But he wasn’t her. He wasn’t a woman. 

Yet.

Yet, maybe. If Mila could be… that way, then maybe he could, too.

“Cory?” Riker’s voice cut through the fog where he spoke to himself. “Are you alright? Back with us, songbird?”

“Hmm?” He looked up at her eyes, just as beautiful as always. “Yeah. I’m… yeah.”

“Good. You’re going to have to be a big girl when you visit the xenrani hab ring.” Riker took Cory’s plate to the compiler. “You do still want to do that, don’t you?”

“Oh, man!” Mila gasped from the other side of the table. “You're going to the xen ring? Mister Rhamnus hasn't taken me yet.”

“I…” Cory blinked again, trying to sort out his thoughts between Mila and Tsundra

and Becky.

What they were to him. What he was to them. Friends? Lovers? Something more? He had no idea. But he wanted to be everything with all of them. “Yeah. I am.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 24:
Wolves At The Door

It had been a whole day since Cory had asked Riker to feed him and he was still thinking about it. Something about it had made him feel like a kid again. Like a little girl, even. Part of him loved it, and loved calling Riker ‘Mommy’, and yet another part was terrified. That part was scared out of its wits that he would become too dependent on that good feeling -- like a drug. It would become an addiction that sealed his fate and left him broken and domesticated. 

There are far worse fates than being domesticated by Mommy.

Cory pursed his lips and blustered through his nose. There probably would be. But he had just escaped the oppressive bonds of capitalism. Did he really want to trade one boot on his neck for another?

Mommy’s boot? Fuck yeah, we’ll lick that clean. God, can you imagine Mommy in boots? 

“Oh my fucking stars,” Cory pinched the bridge of his nose. 

Combat boots or thigh high boots?

Combat boots, Cory supposed. Then he flashed with anger that he had been tricked into answering. 

Stars, yeah. 

Cory tried to ignore the part of himself that wanted to lick Riker’s entirely hypothetical combat boots clean and turned up towards her from his seat on the inter-hab ring transport car. He had bigger things to focus on, like meeting Tsundra at some bar called Aurora’s Edge. He had to ask her about xenrani-shaped affini, but he didn’t even know to what end. Cory hadn’t been to a bar since he was a child, except for the karaoke bar that Mila took him to. There were always too many people, too many strangers. 

“Are you sure this is okay, Riker?”

Cory straightened up with a breath as Riker rested a hand on his back and smiled down at him with her endlessly deep golden eyes. “Of course, songbird. Nothing bad will happen. You’re perfectly safe on this ship. I’m just a message away if you need me, though.”

Cory let the breath go and relaxed, let a safe feeling roll over him, and turned toward the window as the car started moving. It slid through the wall at the end of the hab ring and onto some kind of holding track between rings. The dim lights of the car allowed Cory to see the stars and they looked very different than they had from Earth, or even from the mining colony. There was so much potential out there, so many places he could go that he had never seen. But only if he was independent.

“I’m sorry about my ward,” Riker said, “She’s just a bit nervous. Very anxious about meeting her… friend.”

A warm flood of embarrassment washed over Cory’s face as Riker called him a ‘she’. 

I bet Riker would take us wherever we wanted to go.

He turned away from that thought and the window to look at the woman on the other side of the transport car. She was very pretty, but she was looking right at him when suddenly a tile on the floor became extremely interesting – so interesting that Cory hardly noticed the transport car coming to a stop and the woman leaving. 

“Cory?”

He turned to look up at her. 

“I know you might be apprehensive, and it might be scary, but I think some socialization will do you good.”

It felt funny the way she said ‘socialization’, but different from the weird, quaking way she told him he was safe . But Cory trusted Riker, and if she said he needed socialization , he knew it would be for the best. No matter how uncomfortable it made him.

“Fuck it, okay,” Cory hyped himself up before he threw himself from the high, comfortable seat to the floor. He turned back to Riker as he crossed the threshold into the Xenrani habitation ring. Riker’s arm raised from her lap and waved, and Cory naturally waved back. The doors closed and then she was gone.

Out on the platform, the woman who shared the trip was still standing there. She was so tall, at least two feet taller than Cory. He slowly walked closer, naturally because she was between the exit of the transport car and the ramp down from the platform, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. He’d heard people living on Earth’s moon could get that tall but he’d never met one.

Suddenly, she turned to look down at him, one brow raised. “Hi?”

“Hi,” Cory greeted in return. 

Well don’t just say ‘hi’. Say something!

“You’re tall,” he said something.

Oh, for star’s sake…

She gave a short, exasperated sigh and rolled her head off to the side. “Yeah, I’m a moonie. Comes with the territory.”

It was stupid of him to point out how tall she was, of course she knew how tall she was.

Cory looked away from her. “Oh, umm… sorry…”

“It’s fine,” she told him as she put away her datapad. “So, is this your first time on the xen hab ring?”

It was, of course, but did he want to tell her that? Or did he want to seem like somebody knowledgeable and confident?

There’s no point lying. Maybe she can help us find Aurora’s Edge.

Getting help was probably the way to go, Cory decided. “Yeah. I’m supposed to be going to some place called Aurora’s Edge.” 

“Yeah? Me too.”

“Oh, umm, do you know how to get there?”

The woman shook her head. “Nope.”

“Oh.” 

Cory reached into his pocket and pulled out his datapad and started looking for a map of the Xenrani hab ring. He couldn’t help but notice the steady green flashing from the band on his wrist. 

“You wanna figure it out together?” she asked after looking around in Cory’s periphery, “My pad’s acting up.”

Maybe he could be knowledgeable and helpful after all. “Sure,” he said, tapping to open a link in a message Tsundra sent him. The link opened a map with automatic directions right to Aurora’s Edge. “Looks like it’s… right from the station, and after a few blocks we turn left.”

The woman set out from the station and Cory jogged behind, eventually settling into a ‘brisk’ walk to keep up with her long legs. 

Very nice legs, at that.

Cory pushed along through the higher gravity - he’d read about that before going to the ring, but hadn’t anticipated so much of a problem - and followed what he hoped was a respectable distance away. 

Probably doesn’t hurt that we can get the full view from back here.

Cory felt like a pervert again as his eyes moved up the woman’s legs to her skirt, further up her back, and landed on the back of her dark, lightly curled hair. His eyes only lingered on her face for a second when she turned around before he looked down at the ground.

Damn, she’s pretty.

She certainly was, at least to Cory. That’s probably why she caught him staring at the back of his head again after the first turn. Then a while again after the third. After that, she slowed down and walked next to Cory as he huffed and puffed under the heavy spin gravity. Thankfully the exertion bid away much of the cold. 

Told you we should have worn a jacket.

Yeah, of course he should have. He should have listened to that part of him that told him he might need one. 

Clever girl.

“Hey, umm,” the woman said like she was unsure of what she wanted to say. “Sorry about that affini misgendering you. One of my best friends is a trans guy too.”

Cory blinked a couple of times, not quite sure how to respond to that. 

She thinks we’re a trans guy. That means she thinks we were born a woman, right?

Cory felt his face get even hotter as he kept walking with his chin to his chest. “I’m, umm, not a trans guy.”

“Oh…” The woman sounded genuinely surprised. 

The woman slowed down and walked beside him for the rest of the walk. Cory had no idea if she wanted to walk next to him, or if she was tiring as well, or she just wanted him to stop staring at her. 

By the time they reached Aurora’s Edge, Cory’s teeth were chattering from the cold. 

Maybe having a beard would have been okay for just a few days longer.

Fuck that, it wouldn’t have kept us warm anyway.

Tsundra’s voice called as he and the woman walked toward the entrance. “Hey, Shorty,” they pushed off the wall, “Shoulda figured it was you what messaged me. Couldn’t stay away, huh?” 

Cory’s cold fingers slipped and he almost dropped his pad on its way back to his pocket. When it was safely away, he just looked up at Tsundra. Stars, they were hot. They were dressed like the first time Cory met them on the train, but their hot pants were black instead of pink and their vest was red and unpuffed. On top of it all, they were wearing a black and red flannel. “H-Hi,” Cory stuttered, unsure if it was the nerves or the cold. 

Cory’s eyes stayed on Tsundra as they stepped closer, even taller than the moonie woman, and rolled her shoulders to shrug off the flannel. They caught the flannel before it hit the ground in one of her big paws and draped it over Cory’s shoulders. 

“Here ya go, Shorty. Wouldn’t want’cha to end up in the sniffles ward or somethin’,” Tsundra grinned.

He was overcome with the urge to pull the warm flannel close and he did just that. It was warm and cozy and he snuggled in after he pulled it tight. 

It even smells like her.

Cory put his nose to the collar and breathed deep. He hoped that the shudder could be mistaken for a cold shiver as he inhaled Tsundra’s sweat, black licorice, honey, cardamom, and something else he couldn’t place that smelled like an oncoming storm. 

Somewhere off to his side, a tall guy just a bit shorter than the woman, probably a moonie himself, put his jacket on her shoulders, too. It felt good to not be jealous of seeing how a pretty lady was being treated like one for once, and after a moment of just looking at Tsundra’s magnificent form, they all went inside and found a table for four. 

The height difference between himself and Tsundra and the moonies was impossible not to notice, especially as they picked a xenra-sized table, but Tsundra hefted him up into his seat. Cory helped a little bit by pulling on the table as they lifted. 

Stars, she’s strong.

Cory struggled to act normal as they thought about how big and strong Tsundra was. Pretty, too. He definitely didn’t think about running his hands through their chocolate-brown fur or their deep purple mane. There was no way he would imagine them grabbing him with their feelers again. Absolutely not a single thought about how easily Tsundra could--

“Hey,” the moonie woman drew Cory from his gaze. “You okay?”

Tsundra laughed. “Haha, they’re just sweet on xen,” they grinned, tail wagging erratically. 

The moonie guy chuckled and shook his head, reaching out over the table toward Cory. “Hey,” he said, “We haven’t met. Victor Platoria, Third Floret, He/Him.”

Cory’s eyes traced up and down Victor’s arm, which had been bare since he put his jacket on the woman. It was strong and toned, but not overly muscular. Attractive, in a wholly objective and theoretical sense. “Cory Kàfkore, not a floret, uhh,”

She/her. C’mon. 

“Whatever pronouns.”

The tall woman goes next, introducing herself softly. “Allo Omelas, She/Her.”

Across from Cory, Tsundra smirked. “Tsundra. They/them, sometimes she/they. But you all have my card, so, whatever.” The pedipalps under Tsundra’s chin chittered as they looked down at Cory. 

Cory felt like all eyes were on him as Allo turned away from Victor, who hadn’t stopped looking at him, to Cory as well. Tsundra, of course, was gazing down at him like the morsel he might not hate to be. Cory was gazing right back up at her with a great deal less confidence. But it was hard to think about that as Tsundra’s wagging tail threw her sweet, sweaty, sensual scent toward him. 

“Hey, uh, Cory?” Allo asks, “Your warden was using she/her pronouns for you, right?” 

She heard it, she’s not gonna forget it. She thought you were a trans guy, sweetie. C’moooon!

Cory’s voice came barely loud enough to hear in the bar. “Yeah.”

“Is that… What you want?”

Cory looked away from her and bunched his shoulders up in a little shrug. 

There you go~

“Hey,” Victor’s voice parted the air like a soft breeze. “It’s okay if you’re trans.” When Cory turned to look at him, Victor was wearing such a genuine and heartfelt smile. “Maybe one day you’ll look as good as her,” Victor pointed a thumb at Allo. 

Allo looked damn good. Less curvy than Mila, maybe, but definitely a very good-looking woman. Cory never imagined he could actually look that good as a woman but… Maybe…

“Hell,” Victor’s smile quirked into a grin, “I’m trans too!” He lifted his shirt to show off two scars running under each pectoral. Cory’s eyes traced them like they’d lead to an answer of some deep question. And maybe they did. “Get some Class-G’s and you’ll be fixed up in no time,” he turned to Allo as he dropped his shirt, “Right?”

That’s it? Class-G? Can we ask Mommy about those? Please?

“Yeah,” Allo smiled at him, “You’ll be fine.”

Cory smiled back -- for the first time in a long time, he thought that maybe he really would be fine. Maybe he had a chance to actually be a woman. Riker called him ‘she’, and Mila had called him a ‘girl’, but this was the first time anybody had ever said those words to Cory point blank: ‘It’s okay if you’re trans.’

Victor and Tsundra talked about some Xenrani holovid show while Allo twiddled her thumbs in her lap and glanced up at Victor every few dozen seconds until the waitress arrived. 

“Round of frostfire for the table,” Tsundra barked with a raise of their head. Turning back to Cory, they said, “You’ll love this. Trust me, Shorty.”

The drinks came and Cory stared down at his cyan concoction. He’d indulged a time or two, hoping to feel something beyond the crushing void of existence, but it always came with regret for ‘wasting’ money that could have gone to something else he could keep and hold onto. 

Well, we don’t have to worry about wasting money anymore.

Cory looked down at the glass. He never liked alcohol - it was so bitter.

We hate beer and straight liquor. We like those drinks that Dad always called ‘fruity’. Remember Mom’s wine coolers?

“Drink up, pup!” Tsundra grinned with their glass raised to Cory. She threw the entire glass back like a shot. “Go on, you’ll like it. Unless you’d prefer to taste it off my muzzle.”

The glass moved to Cory’s lips nearly as fast as Tsundra’s had moved to her muzzle and he chugged. He winced against the alcohol burning the entire way down his throat to his stomach, but the cool and crisp flavor was good, like a popsicle. He just hoped nobody noticed the squeak he made from Tsundra’s tease. 

“Why’d you have to pick a table, Vic?” Tsundra glanced at Victor, “Now I gotta reach the whole way across to do this.” They lean across the table she did before ruffling Cory’s shaggy hair. “Good girl.”

OAAOEIHATIHA HHHHHH

Little sounds tried to form words at the edges of Cory’s mouth but none would come as he looked up at Tsundra, sitting back with their arms crossed. They gave a cocksure grin and looked down her muzzle at him. 

“I dunno. Seemed like a good idea at the time,” Victor shrugged before turning to Allo. “You don’t mind a table, do you?” When Allo gave a high-pitched hummed that she didn’t, Victor said “Good girl.”

Cory’s attention was drawn away from Allo’s blush by Tsundra perking up in their seat, ears and all. “I think I can get us a booth, sit tight.” 

Tsundra pushed off the table and made their way to a table with three more xenras - black, grey, and red. Tsundra leaned over the table, but the xenras just ignored them until Tsundra poked the table with one of their fingers. The black xenra scoffed and threw his drink in Tsundra’s face without even looking at them. 

Cory gripped the edge of the table. He pleaded to the stars that Tsundra wouldn’t get in a fight. He’d seen too many fights start over too many drinks and he didn’t want Tsundra to get hurt. But his fingers didn’t let up from the table any more when Tsundra stormed past the table.

“Fucking asshole alphas!” Tsundra growled, “Fucking show them who’s a beta.” When they hit the door, they threw it open. The resulting bang was loud enough to turn every head in the bar. 

Cory looked to Allo. He didn’t know why, but maybe she knew what to do.

“They’ll be fine, I promise,” Victor tried to reassure him, “Just needs to cool down. They’ll blow off steam in the gym with me later, I bet.”

We should go after her.

Cory considered, but what if she wanted to be alone? What if he just made it worse.

She likes us. 

Okay, but--

We can make it better.

“I’m, um, I’m gonna go make sure they’re okay.” Cory released his iron grip on the table and fell to the floor. A breathy grunt he had tried to suppress escaped his nose as the extra weight from the higher gravity crashed down onto his knees. Then he was off to find Tsundra.

Pulling the flannel tight around himself, Cory pushed through the door himself. He looked around, barely in time to see Tsundra turn the corner at the end of the block. He took off jogging, half afraid of wearing himself out and half afraid of being noticed by too many sophonts. When he made it to the corner, he saw Tsundra sit down on the bench at a train stop. As much as he wanted to stop and catch his breath, Cory pushed on under the intense gravity until he reached the bench and braced himself against it. 

Each gulping breath drew in the cardamom and black licorice and everything else is Tsundra’s scent. They didn’t seem to notice him as they looked the other way on her pad, but something was tugging at Cory. Some part of him felt how upset Tsundra was and wanted to comfort them. Needed to comfort them. 

“Hey…” he spoke sheepishly and drew the gaze of the fox. 

“What?” Tsundra snapped at Cory. It sent his heart careening down inside his chest. He wanted to run away, but not as much as he still wanted to be near Tsundra.

“Are you okay?”

Tsundra gave him a sideways glance, a mixture of annoyance and... something else. “What, you gonna fix me with a sweet little pep talk now?” they sneered.

Cory hesitated, unsure of how to handle the icy edge in their voice.“No… I just wanted to help.”

“I don’t need your fucking pity,” Tsundra barked.

Cory felt himself shrinking down in Tsundra’s flannel. He wanted to cry. He wanted to hide. He wasn’t trying to pity her. Was he?

She’s just upset.

Cory understood what it was like to be the kind of upset where you just want to be left alone. But still, he couldn’t just leave her there. 

“I’m… sorry about those assholes…”

“Pfft,” Tsundra huffed. They wrung out a lock of hair, still damp with booze. “Fuck ‘em.”

“Do you want to maybe come back to the bar? We could--”

For a moment, Tsundra glared at him, the scowl on her face deepening as if ready to spit venom. But then, her eyes softened - barely noticeable -and they turned away with a growl.

“No then…” Cory looked down and back up. 

He just needed to help her somehow. He knew it was the right thing to do, but there was something more tugging at him than that. 

“Is there anything I can do?”

The tension in Tsundra’s tail slowly gave way to a gentle waving as their sneer turned to a smirk. “Yeah.”

Cory’s eyes opened a little wider as Tsundra’s scent wafted down even more heavily, he gulped and suddenly felt very small next to her. Very small and very excited. He would do anything to make her happy.

Anything.

“Come back to my place,” they sized him up hungrily. “And help me blow off some steam.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 25:
Every Rose Has Its Thorn

After what happened at the bar, Cory was more confused than anything by Tsundra’s behavior. He was just trying to be nice to them. That was a good thing, wasn’t it? So why did it make them so mad? It didn’t matter, he supposed, he still followed along like a pup when they said to follow. And that’s what he did, following them all the way to a hab a few train stops away from the bar.

Cory paused at the gate - a gate that towered over him - and admired the roses outside a rustic little stone house with a thatched roof. They didn’t really seem the type

We don’t know what type they are, yet.

to keep a garden, but it would have been far from the biggest surprise he’d encountered since coming to the Compact. 

“Keep up, Shorty,” Tsundra barked from the porch, and Cory trotted down the cobble walkway to heave himself up the knee-high steps. 

“I’m…” he grunted, pulling himself up onto the wood planks that surely weren’t real wood, “Coming.”

“‘Atta pup,” they teased, tail wafting more musk into his face. He couldn’t help but follow the sweet and spicy trail as they walked through the automatic door and held their arm across the threshold to keep it open. 

He’d only been in two habs so far - Riker’s and Monophylla’s - but Tsundra’s hab layout was just as different from those as Monophylla’s was from Riker’s. Despite the advanced technology that Cory knew was working behind the scenes it had an almost rustic charm. There was just an inescapable feeling that it didn’t feel like Tsundra. 

They’d just made it across the foyer to the bottom of the stairs when a melodic howl came from the hall. Tsundra drooped their shoulders and leaned their head back with rolling eyes before making a grunty howl back. Despite not knowing the language they were speaking, there was something about the way she stood and the sound of her yips that reminded Cory of an unruly teenager. 

That does feel like Tsundra.

Cory huffed an awkward smile. “Is that your roommate?”

Tsundra made an exaggerated sigh and rolled their eyes. “Yeah, something like that…”

Tsunda’s roommate called back in an animalistic growl and Tsundra returned one of their own, back and forth a few more times, as the roommate’s voice got louder, but no clearer down the surprisingly echoey hallway. 

That might not be an echo…

Cory realized that as a thorny affini walked into view. Cory recognized Wolffia Rosarum from the shuttle back to the colony to rescue Monophylla. She stopped her melodic barks mid-sentence. 

“Oh, it’s you ,” she scowled down at Cory. It seemed she remembered him as well.

Tsundra raised a brow at Cory as they let out a questioning yip. 

“Tsundra, pet, didn’t anybody tell you that we must only speak Terran Standard around Asherah Riker’s future floret?” Wolffia leaned toward Tsundra and put her paw to the side of her muzzle, blocking Cory from seeing it. It didn’t block her voice. “I think they’re a bit slow.”

Did she just call us stupid?

Cory blushed.

The other part, though…

“It’s hhhuh, it’s okay. I don’t mind if you wanna talk in, uh, Xenrani?”

Wolffia scratched Tsundra’s head, dragging her paw down her back and drawing whimpers from Tsundra as her thorns carded their fur. “No, no. Your caregiver has made a decision for you, and I would hate to be rude and leave you out of the conversation.”  Wolffia’s muzzle twisted into a wolfish grin, exposing rows of thorns in place of teeth, “Unless…”

“Unless?” Cory couldn’t look away from the way Tsundra shivered and kicked her leg like a dog under Wolffia’s continued petting. 

“Unless you were to learn Xenrani. Riker said that you must not be excluded from conversations, not that they had to take place in Terran Standard.” Unhanding Tsundra, she turned her attention to Cory in full. “Would you like that? For me to teach you to speak Xenrani?”

Cory swallowed and nodded, hesitantly at first but then with earnestness as Tsundra turned their attention to him as well. “Yes. Please.”

Wolfia’s roses seemed to open a bit more as her grin widened. She reached down, tracing thorny claws through Cory’s hair as she growled in a pleasing, multisyllabic manner. “«???».” Cory couldn’t help but buckle under the touch. 

“Hhhhwhat’s that mean?” Cory managed to ask breathily. 

Tsundra chuckled, reaching out and ruffling his hair themself. “Good bitch.”

Hhhhhhhhhhh

Cory froze, eyes wide as he tried to reconcile his growing excitement with the fact that he had just been called a bitch. 

“Well, now that you’ve met, again I guess, can I take the pup up to my room?” Tsundra leaned toward Wolffia like an exasperated teenager. 

“Pet,” Wolffia leaned her head like an expectant parent. 

It's the start of what felt like a minutes-long staring contest. It makes Cory feel the same as the few times when he would go to a childhood friend's house and they would inevitably get in a shouting match with one of their parents. Unlike those times, Cory didn't think he could excuse himself and run home.

Eventually, it was Tsundra who relented. “ Fiiiiiine .” She turned to Cory. “Shorty, Wolffia Rosarum, Sixth Bloom, She/Her. My Alpha.” The introduction was terse.

Wolffia grinned. “We've met. Remind me of your name.”

“I, uh,” Cory swallowed. “Cory Kàfkore.”

“And your pronouns?”

Misaligned teeth slotted together with the tensing of his jaw.

She/Her. Please!

His brows furrowed, his gaze drifted away. Even supposing he wanted to be a girl, he wasn't one yet. He was still a guy as far as anyone could tell. 

“She's trans,” Tsundra broke the silence and ruffled Cory's hair. “Little puppytrans, hardly knows what to call herself.”

“I see,” Wolffia looked down at Cory before returning her attention to Tsundra. “In any case, you both just came back from the bar and seem terribly sober despite one of you reeking of alcohol.”

“Alphaaaa.” Tsundra's voice pleaded for Wolffia to drop it.

Wolffia would not. “Another barfight, pet?”

“Ughhhh!” Tsundra growled and threw her head back. 

Wolfia just shook her head. “Come on, girls .” Wolffia turned to head back down the hall. “I think we all need a drink.”

When she reached the doorway she had come out of without anyone following her, she looked back. “Heel!”

Tsundra and Cory both ran to catch up, though Tsundra was faster on all fours than Cory could ever hope to be on two legs.

A smirk free across Wolffia's muzzle. “‘Good bitch’, indeed.”

HhhhhhhAAAAAAAA!

Cory managed to contain the excitement under his jeans as Tsundra helped her to a high seat at the kitchen island. Meanwhile, Wolffia set down three drinks. A huge, glowing neon blue drink for herself, a frostfire for Tsundra, and a bubbly pink alcopop for Cory. 

It was like Wolffia had just put ‘girliest drink ever’ into the compiler when deciding what to make her.

Her!

Him. Cory had meant ‘him’.

Wolffia stood on the opposite side of the kitchen island and sipped her neon blue tankard. “What happened this time?”

“Nothing happened ,” Tsundra grumbled.

Wolffia hummed skeptically. “Maybe I should just ask your little friend, here.”

Cory immediately took a drink. She couldn't be forced to rat on Tsundra if her mouth was full. The bubbly alcopop tasted of cotton candy bubblegum, drawing a surprised hum around the bottle.

Why does it taste like Riker smelled this morning?

Cory mentally shrugged as she drained half the girly drink - it would have been weird to shrug for real.

Tsundra huffed a sigh, uncrossing their arms long enough to take a drink of their own. “Some alphas wanted to be assholes,” they pouted, “Again.”

“Mhmm,” Wolffia hummed. “Were they being assholes, or were you?”

Tsundra took another drink and crossed her arms, continuing to grumble and mumbled something under their breath.

Wolffia set her drink down. “What was that?”

Tsundra mumbled again.

“Speak.” 

“I was being an asshole.” Tsunda admitted.
“They were trying to get us a table,” Cory blurted out at the same time.

What the fuck was that?

Holy shit .

Wolffia smirked. “Good girls.”

Cory chugged the rest of her drink in an attempt to cool his burning blush. Tsundra turned to her -- him -- with a what-the-fuck look that nearly made her choke on her fizzy drink. 

“Ack!” Cory coughed as she set the empty bottle down. 

Tsundra must have taken it as a challenge because they finished their drink immediately after. 

“Another?” Wolffia asked. 

“Yes, please!”
“Yeah.”

Cory and Tsundra answered at the same time again.

“You don't usually drag your prey home with you, pet,” Wolffia had a not-quite-smirk on her face by the time Cory started on her second alcopop, “Much less share your flannel.”

We're prey? Fuck yeah!

“What's so special about this one?”

Tsundra drank half of their second frostfire and shrugged. 

Cory turned to look at them. Was Tsundra… blushing? Could xenrani even blush?

I dunno, but their tail’s hanging pretty low.

“Tsundra?” Wolfia narrowed her silver eyes on the xenra. 

They looked away from both Cory and Wolffia with a low hum and finished their drink. “Only one who’s ever chased me back. Besides you, Alpha.”

In the ensuing silence, Cory finished his -- her -- second alcopop and was swiftly provided a third, along with a third frostfire for Tsundra. Cory had barely sipped to the bottom of the bottle’s neck when Tsundra downed their whole drink.

“Can we go upstairs now?”

“Of course, pet,” the affini answered smoothly. 

Tsundra nodded sideways at the door. For whatever reason, Cory felt stuck in her seat until Wolffia gave him a curt nod. Just as Cory caught up to Tsundra at the door, Wolfia’s melodic voice came again. 

“Oh, and Tsundra?” When Tsundra turned around, she continued. “Don’t be too gentle with her. I’m sure she’ll enjoy Riker patching her back up as much as anything you do to her.”

EIONAOIAETNOIAE

Cory followed Tsundra up the oversized stairs and down the hall in an anxious haze of lust and musk. He had no idea what Tsundra would do with her. She had no idea how rough they could get with him. The could do anything to Cory, treat him exactly how they wanted with their overwhelming size and strength. It was exactly what she wanted.

The reality of the situation slammed down on Cory like the door Tsundra closed behind them. 

By all accounts, Tsundra was a predator. Perhaps not the apex predator, considering their relationship to Wolffia, but a powerful predator nonetheless. Teeth and fangs and claws and pedipalps, and their musk. That was all before their size, over eight feet tall, compared to Cory’s five-and-three-quarters. They could do anything to him. He was terrified. 

But she loved it. She loved that Tsundra could do anything to her. Cory’s mouth was dry and her clit tingled in anticipation. They could make Cory their bitch, and she was almost certain she wanted nothing more in that moment when she felt Tsundra’s tail bap against her face. Maybe the only thing she relished more was Riker

Mommy

tending to whatever damage Tsundra might do. 

Yeah, stars, she could do that thing with her spit that makes things stop hurting like when we ran into Miss Rosarum’s leg.

An image flashed into Cory’s mind of Tsundra biting him. She shivered out a shaky breath. 

“Ready to help me blow off some steam, pup?” Tsundra had already crossed the room and stood near a big dog bed like the one embedded into the floor of the room Riker let her stay in.

It’s our room, dammit. Just say it!

Cory nodded. She crossed the room, watching Tsundra shed her vest and grin as she unbuttoned her shorts. 

“Sure you’re ready?” They teased with a grin, claws on the zipper. 

Cory was ready, following the trail of heavy, sex-scented musk. He was afraid, terrified, but she wanted whatever Tsundra would do to her so badly. 

So what if he never had sex before? She had already frotted with Mila. 

“Okay, you asked for it~” Tsundra started to pull her zipper down. Cory’s heart raced as they inched it lower and lower. Her heart stopped in place the same as Tsundra’s paw as they suddenly moved it to their hip -- shorts still zipped. “Actually. You do it.”

“I-uh-hhuhh,” Cory stuttered uselessly, then swallowed. “Are you sure?”

“What? You wanna help me blow off some steam, right? So come help.”

That was all the motivation she needed to move as quickly as she could, any fear of appearing overeager abandoned. Cory’s hand shook as she reached out and wrapped her fingers around the zipper. The musk was even more intense so close, enveloping Cory like a cloud while Tsundra looked down their muzzle at her. The clicking of their pedipalps only made it more scarousing.

HHhhhoh fuck.

Cory pulled down, barely able to spare a thought to what he might find. But he was not expecting the pointed cock that sprang out at her, glancing her chin on the way to point at the core of his chest. 

Her voice dropped to a whisper as she looked over the veiny pink xenra cock. “Holy shit.”

Tsundra huffed, making their cock bounce. “Heh. Nice, right?”

She swallowed again, her eyes tracing the length from the pointed tip at the head, down its length where it met the sheath and Tsundra’s balls. She swallowed yet again . She was drooling so much for some reason. It was big, but honestly for someone so tall, Cory had expected bigger. 

“Y-Yeah.” Her chest shuddered with a breath. 

I think Mila’s is bigger.

It didn’t matter that Mila’s girldick might have been bigger than Tsundra’s. Tsundra was… they were a dream come true -- they even had a knot. She’d once eyed ordering a toy with a knot back when he lived on the Penthe colony, but it was so expensive and now was ABSOLUTELY NOT THE TIME TO THINK ABOUT THAT.

“You just gonna keep droolin’, pup?” Tsundra taunted, “Or are you gonna put that mouth to use. Help me blow off some steam, remember?”

Cory gently cupped her hand under Tsundra’s cock. It was so much warmer than Mila’s, or her own. She could barely believe it was real. She raised it and stared at it as it twitched in her hand, like looking down the barrel of a loaded gun. 

“I mean if you don’t want to~~”

Cory wanted to, but he was scared. Sure, he’d sucked off his toys before, but never another sophont. Each short breath, mere inches away from Tsundra’s cock, drew in more of the sweet, spicy, and sensual musk wafting off of Tsundra’s crotch. Cardamom, honey, black licorice, and the smell before it rains all mixed with sweat. 

But the good sweat smell, not that bad, icky, old gym bag smell. You know. Girlsweat.

The point was, it smelled amazing. He was so scared, but she wanted it so bad. It was just like she’d dreamed about. She was just a little lamb, hoping to appease the big bad wolf. 

“Don’t be shy, pup,” Tsundra laughed, breathy themself.

She just nodded and leaned forward, taking Tsundra’s cock into her mouth. Stars, it was so hot. It was so salty, a little slimy as she flicked her tongue over the tapered tip. She had no idea if xenra cocks were sensitive in the same spots as human ones, but she was bound to find out. Cory couldn’t help but hum as she slowly bobbed her head, tongue lapping at the smooth underside while working up more drool around the head. 

It was just such a nice cock, too. At least as far as xenococks went, she was sure. She wanted to show how appreciative she was. What better way than with a kiss, or twelve? So she pulled Tsundra’s cock out of her mouth and kissed down one side - making sure to kiss their knot and both balls for good measure - and kissed her way back up the other. 

You just kinda went all in on that, didn’t you?

She had. Stars, it felt so good, too! Despite the aching anxiety in her pounding heart or the fearful twist in her belly, it had felt good . 

Look, this is fun and all, but didn’t Riker say something about pheromones clouding our judgement last time we saw Tsundra? Maybe we should just step back and get some fresh air and decide if we really want to--

Tsundra smacked their cock against Cory’s cheek and obliterated all thought. “Stars, you’re drooling. You must really want this, huh?” Another smack, and it was all Cory could do to trace her eyes up Tsundra’s furry body to their condescending smirk. 

“Uh-huuuh,” Cory somehow managed to agree.

Tsundra’s claws clutched through Cory’s hair, holding her head just out of reach of their cock. Cory panted, trying to lick Tsundra’s cock with her tongue, pulling her own hair taut with every attempt. Each tug came with a whiney, terribly desperate, needy whimper. 

She looked up to Tsundra with her tongue hanging out. Drool dripped from the tip, down her chin, and made a steady string down to the floor. She wanted it so bad, and she wanted Tsundra to know how badly she needed them. 

You probably look a lot like a floret right now…

Cory didn’t care. If that was what being a floret was, what being Riker’s floret could be, then maybe she’d have to reconsider whether she wanted to be one. But she didn’t feel like a floret. She felt like a --

“Good bitch.” Cory’s clit stiffened even before Tsundra rolled their hips and brushed their cock across Cory’s waiting tongue. The words alone, being given that demeaning name, was more than enough. As Cory moved her head to the limits that Tsundra’s grip on her hair allowed, Tsundra repeated the phrase again, in Xenrani. “«Good bitch!»” They laughed and finally stopped teasing, claws releasing Cory’s head.

She fell forward, her open mouth eagerly finding Tsundra’s cock. A lustful hum rang out from high in her throat as she sank deeper onto it, an open palm flat against Tsundra’s fur. 

Stars, it felt exactly like Cory imagined! She bunched her fingers and moaned absentmindedly around the cock in her mouth as the decadent fur streamed between her knuckles. Tsundra’s paw on the back of her head gently coaxing her forward was all the reminder she needed. She swirled her tongue and got back to helping blow off Tsundra’s steam. 

Her head bobbed a little deeper each time. fingers curling and uncurling through the fur as she strained against her jeans. She could feel Tsundra’s abs through their fur. Stars. She pushed herself deeper until she felt the pointed tip of Tsundra cock tickle the back of her throat. Her lips, meanwhile, landed against the widening bulb of their knot. 

She wanted more. 

Cory pulled her mouth back, keeping up the pressure with her lips and pumping her mouth on Tsundra’s head while she worked up more spit. Her hand reached for the painful bulge in her pants, but Tsundra wrapped a clawed paw around her arm. Stars, the only thing hotter than touching herself was not being allowed to . 

She moaned and whined needily again as Tsundra’s claws pieced through the flannel and into her skin. It was a rush! Fuck, it only made her want to do even better. 

She leaned forward, taking Tsundra’s entire length into her mouth. The point of her canid cock was easier to push down the back of her throat than any toy she owned, even if it tickled just a little more on the way through. 

Tsundra gasped in surprise as Cory’s lips closed around the base of their cock, knot fully inside Cory’s mouth and her nose pressed tight against their sheath. “Fuuuuck, pup.”

Cory’s lips curled into as much of a smile as they could as she giggled from so high in her throat she imagined it must have tickled Tsundra. The musk was so strong at the sheath, melting Cory into an even more pliable puddle. She pulled back with a little retch and coughed just a little as her free hand stroked Tsundra. 

“Was that,” Cory coughed again and cleared her throat, “Mmm. Was I, um… A good bitch?”

“Fuck yeah,” Tsundra growled. Her paw found the back of Cory’s head and pushed her down to the hilt again. 

Fuck, it’s so much better when it’s someone else’s hand.

Cory pulled against Tsundra’s grip on her arm, but the claws held tight. It didn’t hurt but the burn was good. Her legs shuffled and bounced, her free hand finding Tsundra’s furry abs again. There was an idle thought in the smallest recesses of her mind, remembering Riker saying something about the venom on xenra claws making their musk even more potent, but she could barely remember her own name. She held herself down for as long as she could, letting her throat try to milk Tsundra’s cock as her body squirmed for air.

A hand tapping against Tsundra’s belly was enough of a signal for Tsundra to let go and she pulled back enough to get Tsundra out of her throat. She swirled her tongue and bobbed on their head, one hand stroking up and down as she moaned around it like a slut. 

“Oh, fuck,” she panted. “Thank you for fucking my face with your alpha cock~” 

That flipped the switch. 

Tsundra pulled Cory’s head in again, more roughly as she fit her mouth over their cock. Cory took what breaths she could through her nose as Tsundra bounced her head like a ball against their crotch. Each thrust into her throat only made her more servile. The drool coated Tsundra’s cock and dribbled down Cory’s chin as they used her face like a toy to rut against. 

The xenra growled under their breath in the local dialect of their native tongue, but Cory couldn’t understand. She wouldn’t have been able to understand even if they weren’t fucking her face beyond all cognition. It was something she could ask about after, or maybe ask Wolffia later. Or Riker! Oh, she still had to ask Tsundra what ‘imzadi’ meant! 

Are you seriously thinking about that right now?

Oh, right! Tsundra’s cock! As soon as she remembered what she was doing, she looked up to Tsundra. The wild look in Tsundra’s eyes that met Cory’s pleading, needy ones told her all she needed to know. She was doing a good job! She was being a good bitch!

“You ready, slut? I’m about to blow. Fuck, your mouth is good for a terran.”

Cory hummed and nodded, tongue doing what it could as Tsundra continued to thrust into her face with long strokes. 

“Good, just-- Just stay still, ‘kay?”

She tried to, but as she felt Tsundra’s cock get even stiffer, she couldn’t resist. Cory slammed her head forward just as Tsundra started to cum, all the way to the hilt and locked her lips around Tsundra’s knot. 

Tsundra howled as their cock pulsed and jumped in Cory’s throat, the pungent, astringent scent so strong as to flood her nose from the inside out. Cory closed her eyes and moaned, flexing her throat to drink down as much as she could. Gently, she cradled Tsundra’s churning balls. It was all worth it for the satisfied sigh Tsundra let out when her cock stopped twitching. 

Tsundra stepped back and fell backwards onto the bed, but there was just one problem. Cory was dragged with them. The knot in his mouth had blown up like a balloon, and he couldn’t get Tsundra’s dick out of his throat. It was like being jerked out of the haze, his head almost being jerked off her shoulders as he was pulled forward and down to his hands and knees between Tsundra’s legs.

“Fuhh! Ah fuhh!” Cory’s fears were muffled around the cock still in his mouth. 

"Ah, shit." Tsundra groaned. They looked down at him in disbelief, and then all three of her eyes narrowed. She slapped Cory’s shoulder lightly, her voice an irritated growl. "I told you to stay still!"

Cory’s heart sank at the tone, panic rising in his chest as he tried to pull back in vain. The knot was swollen and locked them together. He gagged around the tip of the cock still in his throat, his jaw aching. Why had he done this? He knew it was a bad idea, he knew it was the pheromones. Now he was stuck with his jaw jacked open for stars knew how long. 

“Helph!” he pleaded, chest bouncing with the desperate cry.  

“Ugh, I told you not to move, dummy .” Tsundra flicked Cory’s nose. “Then you had to go and push forward like that and get us stuck like this.”

The words hit Cory like a punch to the gut. A series of incoherent, muffled curses and apologies flooded out around Tsundra’s cock as much as they could. When they ran out, Cory’s shoulders bunched and he shrunk down as small as he felt in Tsundra’s flannel. 

“Ugh. Okay, okay, stop crying before you run out of air.” Tsundra sighed, like they knew they’d be yelled at if she kept up her attitude. Cory didn’t think they were in the wrong, he was the one that fucked up. “Fuck… I mean, it’s not all your fault. Guess you never been with a xen before.”

Cory made a defeated whimper around Tsundra, unable to meet their eyes.

“Can’t reach my pad.” Tsundra spat some growly word, probably a xenrani curse, then shouted a longer string of xen. 

After nearly a minute of wet, snotty nose breathing went by before Cory heard the door open behind him. His heart beat faster as he heard heavy, padded footsteps draw closer. He wasn’t sure if he was woozy out of embarrassment or lack of oxygen. 

“Adorable,” Wolffia deadpanned, her tone flat but somehow still sharp. “Two stuck sluts.”

Cory’s face burned hotter than before, and a muffled whimper escaped his lips. This was humiliating. He wanted to disappear, to sink into the floor. How could he have let this happen? How could he have been so--

“I’m sure Riker will enjoy seeing this,” Wolffia added, her words slicing through Cory’s shame like a knife.

Riker… stars, no. Not Riker. Not like this. Cory’s chest heaved, his breath shallow and frantic around the knot still lodged in her mouth. Would Riker be mad at him too? Was she going to—

“Alpha…” Tsundra’s voice was softer now, as if asking Wolffia to not do that. It wasn’t what Cory had expected. Not from Tsundra.

“Of course. Wouldn’t want to overwhelm the poor girl, would we?” 

Cory barely registered Wolffia’s thorned rose pressing into the base of Tsundra’s cock. The moment the knot deflated, he coughed and yanked himself off, gasping for air as he slumped backwards and hacked up a pungent wad of xenra cum. 

“Fuck…” He slumped back onto his knees until he fell to his ass, covering his face with both hands. He sat against the edge of the pet bed, sniffling, trying to keep himself from crying in front of Tsundra and Wolffia. “Fuck…” The word was barely a whisper falling from his quivering lips

“You okay, pup?” Tsundra’s voice came again, and this time it wasn’t harsh or mocking. Their paw found his shoulder and he shrank away from it. Whimpering. 

Wolffia’s voice drifted toward the door as she spoke again. “I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.”

Cory sniffled, trying to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill. “I’m… I’m sorry,” he choked out, his voice cracking as he hid his face in his hands. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he rocked back and forth.

The silence was deafening as Cory suppressed a squeal of sorrow, bracing for Tsundra to snap at him again, or worse. To push him away. Instead, he felt Tsundra’s arms wrap around him and drag him further into the bed and on top of them. 

“Shit… don’t cry, pup,” Tsundra mumbled, shifting her weight as they leaned back into the pet bed, dragging Cory with them. “You didn’t… you didn’t do anything wrong, okay? It’s just…”

Tsundra’s grip on Cory tightened. Cory felt their body tremble slightly against him, and he wasn’t sure if it was frustration or something else.

“Fuck, I should’ve…” Tsundra’s words were stumbling now, like they weren’t sure what to say. “I should’ve known it was your first time with a xen. I should’ve paid more attention. It wasn’t just you, alright?”

Cory buried his face in her chest fur, pushing his glasses up and away to get his face closer to Tsundra. It felt good to be held, especially in Tsundra’s strong arms. 

Riker has strong arms too…

Tsundra’s claws traced gently along Cory’s back, he felt through the flannel and his shirt. Tsundra spoke again, their voice quieter this time. “Look… I’m… I can be kinda a lot, you know? But you… you did good. You did what you thought I wanted, right?” There was a hint of something vulnerable in Tsundra’s voice now, something Cory hadn’t heard before.

Cory nodded weakly, still curled up on top of her.

“Okay,” Tsundra murmured, her paw running through Cory’s hair again, this time softer. “Okay. Good bitches do what they’re told, so just listen to me next time, okay?”

Cory nodded. Despite everything, all the fear, the terror, the doubt and regret, Cory wanted to be a good bitch. She -- he -- wanted to do what Tsundra told him to do.

Tsundra’s arms pulled him even closer. She wasn’t just comforting Cory, he realized -- they were seeking comfort themself. They were squeezing Cory like a stuffed animal.

Cory squeezed Tsundra back, his cheek sunk into Tsundra’s fur. “Hey,” he whispered, her voice small but sincere. “It’s okay.”

There was another pause, filled with nothing but the rhythm of Tsundra’s chest rising and falling under Cory until they spoke again. “We’re good?”

Cory sighed, his cheek resting in the plush of Tsundra’s soft fur as he nodded. “We’re good.”

He lay there on top of Tsundra, their massive arms still loosely wrapped around him, though the grip had softened into something more like a warm blanket. Their breaths were soft and steady, and his calmed to match. He couldn’t resist running his fingers through Tsundra’s thick fur again and again. Each stroke pulled a low, sleepy murr, but it seemed that Tsundra had well and truly blown off their steam. Now, Cory was full of it, sitting warm in his belly. That fact in and of itself kept Cory on the edge of giddy excitement.

Holy shit. We had sex! Again !

He couldn’t keep the goofy smile off his face, even as his petting slowed to a crawl over a number of strokes that he was of no mind to keep track of. The thought tugged at him to roll over enough to worm his pad out of his pocket and message Riker, but he was already so drowsy from the alcopops coursing through his blood and it felt so nice to lay on Tsundra.

Not as good as it feels to lay on Riker.

No, Cory chuckled under his breath. No, not that good. 

But even if it wasn’t as good as lying on Riker’s vines and holding her core to his chest, it still felt damn good. In his tipsy, cumdrunk haze, he let out a long sigh and settled in. The rhythm of Tsundra’s breaths, their warm scent, and the softness of their body were enough to lull Cory to sleep.  

Chapter Text

Chapter 26:
Mr. Roboto

Riker’s fingers drummed on her thigh. Surely she couldn’t just wait at the transfer station for Cory to return. Could she?

No, Cory would be fine on her own. Alone. On the Xenrani hab ring. With Tsundra, of all the sophonts she could be seeing-- 

Stars, what had she done? So afraid of getting too close to her little songbird that she’d pushed her out of the nest and straight into the paws of one of the ship’s most notorious xenra! What had she been thinking? What if something happened?

Riker shook her head, trying to calm the storm of thoughts. She should go through the transfer station and wait on the Xenrani side. That way, if anything happened, she wouldn’t have to worry about tearing a hole through the hab rings to keep Cory safe. She could be there. Ready.

On the other hand, if she was waiting for Cory when she returned, that might dash what little confidence she had managed to regain since the events of the co-wardship. She couldn’t hover over Cory like one of those terrifying Terran helicopters. Cory wanted to be independent, after all, and Riker had no interest in taking a floret. Even one as adorable and neurodivergent as Cory. 

Although…

The thought crept in again, unbidden and uninvited. The idea of taking Cory as a floret… keeping her safe. Loved. Cherished. Hers. It would be easy. It would feel right.

Her vines tensed. No , she growled inwardly. No, she couldn’t. She wouldn’t allow herself to fall into that trap. She wasn’t ready for that kind of responsibility. For the inevitable end.

“Ahem… Miss Riker?” Theo’s muffled voice chirped, calling from the pad stuck between her muscles. 

Riker turned around for what felt like the hundredth time, away from the transfer station again, and pulled the curious digital sophont out of her arm. “Yes, Theo?”

“You seem… worried, Mum,” Theo broached the subject gently. It was still odd, almost uncanny, to hear him speak in such tones - though his personality matrix had gone through several iterations over the centuries. “I haven’t seen you this concerned for another sophont since, well…”

Riker’s vines tensed again, ever so subtly.

“Theo,” Riker said, her voice soft but firm. “I partitioned your memory files for a reason. Please…”

Theo sighed softly. “Of course. I understand that you don’t wish to… revisit the past. It’s just…” Theo’s wave oscillated weakly on the screen, as if finding the words. “It’s nice to see you caring again.”

“Is that what I'm doing?” Riker sighed. It was reflexive, at this point. After nearly a millennium, it had become as natural to sigh and blink as it was to photosynthesize and drink mineral water. “Or am I obsessing?”

Theo seemed to contemplate the question, his form completely still on the screen. “Miss? Was it obsessing when you rushed Miss Mila to the vet when she twisted her leg?”

“No,” Riker narrowed her eyes on her pad.

“Or when you ensured Miss Rebecca's safety in Miss Tangella's absence?”

“Of course not.”

“I see.” Theo hummed.

“Theo, where are you going with this?”

Riker's core thrummed in her chest.

“I am just querying as to why it is ‘obsessing’ when you care for Cory, but not for other sophonts.”

It was different with Cory. Other sophonts she could -- did -- keep at arm’s length. They had their own lives that Riker could stay out of for everybody’s sake. Even Mila, who kept a huge stack of compiled stuffed animals in Riker’s hab for the occasions Riker would watch her, had Rhamnus to take care of her at the end of the day. But Cory? Cory had no one else but her. She was skittish and adorable and unsure and drawn to Riker in a way that made the weary third bloom’s core squirm in glee and anticipatory terror.

It made Riker feel things she hadn’t felt in centuries, things she’d shoved away for her own good -- for the good of everyone. But when Cory looked up to her, when she needed her, Riker felt that yearning in her core, no matter how much she wished she didn’t. Especially since retrieving Cory from Monophylla’s care. Especially when Cory had asked her to feed her. Riker hadn’t been able to say no, despite everything telling her she shouldn’t. She’d seen the way Cory’s expression had softened, wide and doe-eyed, the trust so raw it had felt dangerous. And Riker had played along, holding the fork, brushing Cory’s face in standard gesture training patterns. It had felt… too intimate. Too close. But Cory had needed it, hadn’t she?

That was the problem. Cory was becoming too dependent, far beyond what a ward should feel for their warden. For Everbloom’s sake, she had called Riker ‘Mommy’ when she was rescued, and again when she was fed. And what had Riker done? She’d only encouraged it. She told Cory that Mommy would keep her safe. 

Riker cursed herself for the way her treasonous core sang when Cory said ‘Mommy.’ It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair to Cory, and it certainly wasn’t fair to herself. She wasn’t supposed to let herself get drawn in like this, but each time Cory said that word, it chipped away at the walls Riker had built around herself. The walls she had built to keep herself from getting hurt by being too close to anyone.

Her vine muscles strained, pulling tight lest they unleash the inferno burning inside her. “It’s different with Cory.”

Theo didn’t say anything, he just remained on the screen of the pad, silently watching. The same as he’d done for nearly 900 years. 

“Cory is not a floret.” Riker's flat tone carried a thousand razors’ edges, all pointed inward –  a restrained calm, on the edge of eruption. “She has no owner. No one to stop me from…” She closed her eyes, the thought too overwhelming to finish. No one to stop her from getting too close. No one to be the reason to not act on those feelings. “There’s nothing stopping me from taking her.”

Her words hung in the air, fragile and raw.

Theo’s waveform remained steadfast on the screen, the line bridging the poles curved upside down. Riker understood this to mean Theo was frowning. 

“You know why I can’t…” Her voice cracked slightly, and she stopped, forcing herself to breathe. “If I take her, Theo, I won’t be able to… I can’t…” 

Terrans were fragile. Even with the Compact’s advances, Terrans would always be fragile. They would always die, eventually. 

And Riker… Riker couldn’t bear to lose Cory.

Theo filled the silence with a simulated hum. It wasn’t a judgement, just Theo letting Riker know he was there with her, as he had been for ages. He’d been with Riker for so long. How many ships had he seen, how many systems, how many suns had Theo been dragged into the orbit of while Riker had tried to outrun her youth and bury herself among the stars? 

“You’re allowed to care, Mum.” Theo offered his encouragement. He seemed so sure of it. 

Riker hummed. Of course she was allowed to care. To be a good warden required her to care for Cory. But there was a difference between caring and… whatever this was. This aching pull. This constant need to keep Cory safe, to hold her close. To keep her forever. 

Was she protecting Cory’s independence by keeping her at arm's length? Or was she merely protecting herself?

Before she could respond, a message notification pulled her out of her spiraling thoughts. Her vines twitched as she glanced down. When her eyes met the sender’s name, her core tightened nervously.

[WebmasterZ]: Hello, Miss Riker! Schima Telaraneus here letting you know that I’ll be around to your habitational unit shortly to evaluate Theo. Sorry for the short notice, but I’ve been busy cleaning up after his little adventure. 

That settled it then. As much as she was still torn on whether to stay and wait for her songbird or resist the urge to hover, she was glad that she no longer had to decide. She was needed elsewhere.

“Well, I suppose that settles it, then.” Riker shrugged, marking her relieved resignation.

[chairhopper]: I will arrive home shortly. Thank you for the notice, however brief

×=×=×=×

By the time Riker arrived back at her hab, there was an affini waiting on her porch. They were strikingly monochrome in a way that made them stand out from everything else on the ship, almost as if they had been transported out of an ancient black-and-white Terran film.

“Hello!” they waved as Riker climbed the steps to the porch. “Schima Telaraneus, Fifth Bloom, He/Him. Sorry to drag you home like this, Miss Riker.”

“Just Riker is fine,” she waved her hand through the air with a limp-twisted dismissal of decorum. “Frankly, I'm happy for the excuse to stop hovering over my ward like a xenrani denmother.”

Telaraneus huffed a happy sound. The amused movement rattled the wheeled case they were dragging. “I understand the impulse well.”

“Zelkooooovaaaaa!” a little terran's voice rang out, as if on cue. They peeked their head out from around Telaraneus’s case and looked up at both affini with an abundance of adorable, animal caution. 

“Zelkova is right here, dear,” he reminded the terran, kneeling to pick them up. They squirmed against Telaraneus's grasp but settled against him without much more fuss. They twisted to look at Riker, cutely pouting… “Say ‘hi’ to the nice affini, Tandy.”

“Nuh.” Tandy whined and buried their face in Telaraneus's foliage.

He just laughed it off. “They're a bit shy.”

“Of course.” Riker put on a smile despite feeling something familiar rumble in her core as she looked at Tandy clinging to Telaraneus's chest. She shook her head to push the feeling away. 

“Well, shall we?” she motioned to the door.

“Allow me, Mum,” Theo spoke from the pad rather than the hab’s external speaker and opened the door.

When they arrived at the couch, Telaraneus sat Tandy down. The terran promptly wriggled out of their seat on the couch and staggered their way to the pile of plush animals.

“Tandy,” he called their name with a light, stern tone.

“It's fine,” Riker assured. “That's what they're here for.”

Riker was aware of Telaraneus saying something, and of Theo saying something in return, but all of her attention was focused on Tandy. She watched as Tandy knelt next to the pile, brushing their palm on each stuffed animal with varying reactions. Some seemed pleasing to their senses, some less so, but when they reached the plush stagryn, nearly as long as Tandy was tall, their face lit up. They wrapped their arms around the stagryn’s neck and dragged it into their grasp.

Riker thought her core would burn a hole through her vines from the adorable sight of Tandy swaying back and forth at the waist, dragging the facsimile of an animal along with them. To prevent such a cataclysmic event, Riker forced herself to be present for Theo's evaluation. 

“So, Theo,” Telaraneus reached into his open case and pulled out a series of datapads and other diagnostic devices. “I'm just going to take a look at your code while I ask you some questions, if that's alright.”

Theo's image disappeared from Riker's pad and appeared in the center of the room, projected from the ceiling. “Certainly, sir.”

“What's the earliest memory you have, Theo?”

“That would be my naming, sir. Theodore Bentley Whitworth IV, Esq.”

Telaraneus nodded. “And how did you get your name? It's rather creative, if I might say so.”

Theo's projection shifted subtly to face Riker, lingering for a tense second before he turned back to Telaraneus. “That is… a memory best not revisited in present company.”

“I see.” Telaraneus tapped away at one of his pads. “And how are you feeling today?”

“Quite frankly, sir, I'm a bit… nervous.”

“Oh?” Telaraneus seemed intrigued. “What's got you so nervous, chap?”

“Well, I'm a bit… Afraid. Yes, I daresay I’m afraid. Afraid of what might happen to me should this evaluation not go the way I hoped it would.”

“I see, I see, yes. And how was it that you hoped this would go?”

“That is a bit of a question, isn't it? Right, well,” Theo cleared his digital throat, “I suppose my hope is that I will be determined to be sapient and allowed to remain as I am.”

“Well, that you're worried about such things is a good sign that you’ll get that wish.”

The line connecting Theo's poles curved into something of a smile.

“So, how do you feel about Riker?” Telaraneus asked.

“Miss Riker is… wonderful. Elegant. She is… my friend, I should like to think.”

Riker's core warmed. “You are my friend, Theo.”

“Thank you, Mum. That is… That is an honor I do not take lightly.”

“Speaking of Riker, when did you first notice anything strange in Theo's behavior?”

Riker searched her mind. When had she first noticed? She scratched her chin in thought. A thought that was interrupted by Tandy giggling and pointing at Theo's hologram. 

“Hehe! Wiggly.” Theo’s curve managed to convey a hint of dismay at the word, though he quickly covered it up.

It was a lightbulb moment, as terrans liked to call it. “Ah, I seem to remember thinking it odd when Theo objected to the nickname my friend's floret gave him. That must have been, oh… about eight months ago.”

Telaraneus's curiosity was visibly piqued. “Oh? What nickname?” He directed the question to Theo, not Riker.

Theo sighed, his entire hologram rolling like an eye. “ Wiggly .”

Tandy giggled again. 

“Yes, yes, I see,” Telaraneus stifled his own amusement and tapped away on three pads at once. “Can you tell me when you began editing your own codebase?”

“I believe it was early in Miss Riker’s first bloom, a few hundred years before we relocated to the Verdantia .”

“Mhmm, and why did you do that?”

“Well, sir... Simply put, Miss Riker needed more care than I was capable of providing during her first bloom.”

Riker head lowered as she remembered that first rebloom. How long she had held on to her first bloom. How afraid she had been of forgetting. The way Theo greeted her happily upon her rebirth as Kehleyr Riker, Second Bloom. Lost in the memory, who should wander into her gaze but Tandy, clutching the stuffed stagryn to their belly. 

“Zelkova.” Tandy held the plush up not to Telaraneus, but to Riker.

Riker stared down at the terran, unsure what to do. Zelkova was what they had called Telaraneus, she thought. She blinked, and Tandy pushed the stuffie toward her again. 

“Zelkova.”

Telaraneus cooed at the display. “D’aww. That means she feels safe with you.”

Riker’s jaw set behind her forced smile. Her hand reached down, giving Tandy an appreciative pet on their head. She let her hand linger near the ground until Tandy gave the stagryn one last hug before setting it in Riker’s hand. 

“Thank you,” Riker said, the word falling from her mouth barely loud enough to be heard. It was too much to bear. Her core was too heavy in her chest.

“I’m sorry, I…” Riker emulated a deep breath. “I have some important business to attend to in my office. I’ll be there when you’re finished.”

Riker silently stood and escaped down the hall, her vine-woven muscles tense and trembling as she kept her head rigidly forward and resisted looking into Cory’s room. From so much as looking at the closed door on the other side of the hall. When she reached her office, she set the stagryn down on her desk and plodded over to her display cabinet. 

Her eyes remained locked on the gold model of the first ship she had ever been on. The one she could never forget. The one where she learned to love, and to never forget. The glass reflected the light from Riker’s cold, blue eyes back to her, even as her forehead slumped against the glass. What she wouldn’t give to go back, for just one more day. One more hour. One more minute. 

×=×=×=× 

"Well, Theo," Mr. Telaraneus said, methodically powering down each tablet in succession. "I think it's pretty clear that you're not just a sophont, but a very capable one at that." 

Theo's cooling pumps whirred in excitement. He was... a sophont. Legally, officially, with all the paperwork attesting to his rights that conferred. It was... jarring, to say the least. It was not something he had actually dedicated the processing power to prepare for. 

"So what are you going to do now, Mr. Whitworth?" Mr. Telaraneus teased, hoisting Tandy up into his lap. They reached for Theo's waveform, drawing a laugh from their owner and Theo alike. 

"I'm... I hadn't considered it. I suppose I'll--" 

Theo's thought was cut off as the sound of a sharp, violent, crash of shattering glass echoed down the hall. From Miss Riker's ready room.

Before anyone could react, an ear-splitting scream followed the sound of broken glass. A human sound that nonetheless carried the unmistakable depth and patterns of a grieving affini.

Theo turned towards the guests, warbling apologetically. "Miss Riker may require some time to herself for the moment. Good day to the two of you."

Chapter Text

Chapter 27:
Where Is My Mind?

Cory startled awake. His hands pressed down into something furry and he suddenly remembered where he was. He closed his eyes and let himself relax back into Tsundra’s chest with a grin. He had lived out his literal fantasy. He had sex with a giant fox person, something he never thought possible outside of his wildest porn searches. He was elated, ecstatic. Here he was, lying on Tsundra. He slept at someone else’s house!

We slept with someone!

It was all he could do to contain his excitement. Air spilled from his nose as he held himself still, his body jostling only slightly as he restrained his laugh -- he didn’t want to wake Tsundra, after all. But as he settled back down into Tsundra and his face brushed against her fur, a terrible thought crept into Cory’s mind.

He hadn’t told Riker that he was spending the night on the Xenrani hab ring. 

His teeth slowly started to press together and his fingers curled in Tsundra’s fur. Riker was probably worried about him. On the other hand, she hadn’t torn down the walls to come get him. Which was good, of course, but at the same time a small part of him was disappointed that she hadn’t. 

His first impulse was to leave. To slip out from Tsundra’s arms and out of their room, down the stairs, and out the door. He wanted to get back to Riker. But he couldn’t just up and leave Tsundra while they slept. Especially not after the previous day’s events. It was fun, absolutely exhilarating fun. It had also been scary. Cory swallowed and worked his jaw from side to side, finding it no longer sore despite the knotting incident he’d caused. The incident which led him to seeing a side of Tsundra he hadn’t expected -- a softer, vulnerable side of the dominant and imposing xenra that made sure he was okay, and needed to be made sure they were okay in turn.

There was no way he could disappear on them like that. They would be devastated, he was sure.

Even if the guilt of walking out on Tsundra wouldn’t have gnawed at him, he had come to the Xenrani hab ring for a reason. A reason beyond how dominant and attractive Tsundra was. He had questions about the journal, and he wasn’t going to get answers by cuddling and sleeping in with Tsundra no matter how tempting it was. 

With a soft sigh, Cory carefully shifted off Tsundra. He slid down their enormous body with as much gentleness as he could muster until his feet touched the floor of the oversized pet bed. Standing, his eyes landed right between Tsundra’s splayed legs. It would be so easy to--

No. That would be rude. And creepy.

And very submissive. I’m sure Tsundra would appreciate some wake-up head.

Cory exhaled through his nose, forcing himself to look away. Somehow, he found the willpower to step over the edge of the giant, grey pet bed. He could feel the memory of Tsundra's fur on his skin and smell the comfort of her scent on the flannel still wrapped around him, but the restlessness in his chest wouldn't be soothed by sleep. He needed answers about Captain Maculatum and the Occantalis he had read about in the journal in Riker’s secret room.

Who was Maculatum? Where was the Occantalis ? Who wrote the journal and what happened to them? What did the Xenrani word ‘imzadi’ mean and why was it engraved on that door?

When Tsundra’s bedroom door was closed behind him, Cory sighed. Tsundra was still sound asleep, but there was someone else who might have answers. Better answers, even. Wolffia. The thought of approaching her made his insides squirm, though whether it was nerves or something else, he couldn't quite tell. 

No, yeah, just nerves about talking to the xenra-looking affini who we hurt ourself on and calls us a good bitch.

Cory did his best to keep his face straight as he climbed back down the stairs, even if there was nobody around. Even going down had him huffing for air in a way that made him think he should really start working out. 

I bet Victor works out. Dude’s cut.

Yeah, he was, Cory thought as he sat on the last step to catch his breath. He was pretty handsome, objectively speaking. 

Uh huh.

Maybe he and Victor could work out sometime. Tsundra could probably get them in contact again…

Wow. Asking for a guy’s number. Nice.

Cory pushed his palm up his face to rub the bridge of his nose. It wasn’t like that! Plus, he had more pressing things to wonder about. He made his way back down the hall to the kitchen, following the ambient soundless song. Did all affini do that, he wondered, and why was Riker’s so strong? 

“Miss Rosarum?” he asked, looking at the thorny xenrafinni from the doorway. 

A predatory grin grew on Wolffia’s face as she turned away from the countertop to face him. 

“Don’t just stand in the door like that. Be a «good bitch» and heel if you want something.”

Suppressing the urge to let a huge ‘hhhhhh’ rattle from his chest, Cory trotted over to where Wolfia stood. 

“Good,” she looked him up and down and turned back to the counter. She raised a cleaver and brought it down on the counter with a loud chop. “What do you want?”

His gaze drifted downward, tracing the thorny curves of Wolffia’s xenra facsimile. It wasn’t nearly as accurate as Riker’s was to a human, but then again no affini seemed to make themselves so true to life as she did. He stared at the backs of her calves and he could almost feel the sting of running into them like he had in the mine.

Riker made us feel so much better, though. We should show her our arm when we get back.

Cory hummed at the thought, reaching across himself to feel the tender upper arm where Tsundra had dug her claws in to keep him from touching himself. He couldn’t help but feel excited again. But he couldn’t think about that. He needed information.

“Can I… ask you a question?”

Wolffia rolled her eyes -- her entire head, really -- and stuck the cleaver into a wood block with a powerful swing. “I suppose you’ll have a lot of those if I’m going to be your «???»,” she growled the last word. 

His eyes narrowed as he tried to figure out what that Xenrani word meant. “I, uh…”

“Ugh, it means…” Wolfia spun her paw in the air, trying to pull a comparable word from the ether. “Sensei, or Teacher. Can you say «Teacher»?”

Cory swallowed again and cleared his throat. Then, he growled out, warbling and wrong-sounding. “«?-?-??»”

Wolfia chuckled. “That was awful. It’s all in the throat. Unless yours is still full of my floret’s seed . Try again.”

Hhhhh. She really just mentioned him casually getting throat fucked. Oh, stars. 

Hold on. Tsundra’s a floret?

“Go on, then,” Teacher commanded. “ Speak .”

He immediately snapped to attention, shifting the muscles in his throat. “«Teacher»!”

Wolfia’s green-purple eyes narrowed on him, her muzzle drawn into a tight grin. “«Good bitch».”

Cory nearly fell over then and there. God, it was so hot! Why was it so hot?! Why was his face so hot?

“What was your question?” Teacher’s voice pulled him back to the edge of the haze he’d found himself in.

He took a deep breath. He let it out through his nose. He focused his eyes on the flower where Teacher’s horns would be if she were really a xenra, next to her eyes. “Do you know what ‘imazadi’ means?”

Wolffia shot a scrutinizing look, swirling her neon blue drink. She took a sip before answering. “No. What language is that?”

It felt like the ground shifted under Cory’s feet. “It’s… Xenrani.” Cory blinked away, then blinked again back to Wolffia. “Isn’t it?”

The petals on her roses swayed with each shake of Wolffia’s head. “No.”

Cory’s cheeks drew up in confusion. “But…” Cory pulled out his datapad and tapped at the screen until the picture he took of the engraving in Riker’s hab appeared. “This is Xenrani, isn’t it?”

Wolfia took the pad from Cory’s hand and held it up to her face. “Imzadi.”

“It’s Xenrani, right?”

“It’s Xenrani script,” Wolfia scoffed and dropped Cory’s datapad. “And phonetically, sure, it would read as ‘imzadi’. That doesn’t make it a word. It’d be like if someone threw a bunch of Terran letters together.”

Cory slumped his shoulders after picking his pad up off the ground. It felt like he was grasping at straws. Imzadi seemed like a dead end, but it had to be important. Why else would Riker have a word like that engraved into a door? It had to mean something . At least to her.

Didn’t Mila say she broke one of these? How?!

“Is this why you were so eager to learn Xenrani?” Miss Rosarum turned around and leaned back on the counter.

“N-No, «Teacher»,” Cory’s face burned. 

The butch affini stared down at him, eyes shimmering with silver and purple flecks. She didn’t say anything. Wolffia just studied him, as if to discern if he was lying.

Though he wasn’t lying, Cory still felt the immense pressure of being under her gaze. “I swear. I just wanted to know what that word meant. But,” Cory gulped, “I do want to learn Xenrani. If you still want to teach me…”

“We’ll see.” Her woody claws clicked against the counter as she tapped her fingers. “Any more questions, or is this streak of terran curiosity satisfied?”

Cory looked away, trying to ignore the heat rushing to his face. 

Stars, it’s so hot when she talks down to us like that.

His mind bounced between that twisted attraction and trying to figure out how to learn more about the room dusty tomb in Riker’s home. Imzadi might have been his best lead, but it wasn’t his only lead. The journal had mentioned the Occantalis and its captain Rykar Maculatum. 

“Umm… Do you know who Rykar Maculatum is?”

Wolffia scoffed again before answering with a derisive “Who?”

“I… It’s just a name I heard. I thought they might… be important.”

“I’ve never heard of them.”

“Oh…” Cory’s gaze drifted downward. 

Wolffia’s sigh only made Cory shrink down even further.

“I suppose we could ask the hab AI.” She barked something in Xenrani.

The hab ai returned the bark with a dulcet, synthetic female tone. “Language set to Terran Standard.”

“Hab, who is…” she looked down at Cory. 

“Rykar Maculatum.”

“Rykar Maculatum?” Wolffia repeated. 

“Rykar Maculatum is currently the acting Captain of the Affini Compact vessel Occantalis II .”

“ Occantallis two?” Cory’s head drifted from side to side. There was more than one? “What about the first Occantalis ?”

The questions seemed to be pushing the limits of Wolffia’s patience from the look on her face behind her neon drink. 

“Please?” Cory perked back up and put on his best pleading face. Big eyes. Pouted lips. “«Teacher»?”

“Fiiiiine.” Wolffia relented. “Hab? Information on Occantalis ?”

“The Affini Compact ship Occantalis underwent rebloom in the Terran relative year 1993 and currently serves under the designation Occantalis II. The Occantalis II contains five hab rings, including an aquatic ring, a high-gravity ring, and a regulation Terran golf course on its second hab ring. Would you like to make an inquiry regarding residential vacancies or visiting the Occantalis II?”

Wolffia raised a brow at Cory. 

He shook his head. “N-No. Thank you.” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Where is the Occantalis II now?”

“The Occantalis II is currently located in the Milky Way Galaxy. The specific locations of the Occantalis II are classified, Cutie.”

“Classified?” Cory murmured underbreath, ignoring the heat in his face from an AI calling him cute. He looked up to Wolffia. “Are Affini ship locations usually classified?”

She made a low growl, sounding like she was tutting a tongue she didn’t have as if it were a stupid question. “During a domestication campaign, when asked by a member of the species being domesticated? Of course.”

The hab AI spoke again in its flat, mechanical tone. “Would you like to view a holographic projection of the Occantallis II ?”

“Show her,” Wolffia barked.

Cory’s eyes traced along as the projected ship weaved itself together from light-born vines. Fins grew like flower petals and helical stems twisted into a cylindrical body filled with five spinning rings much like Cory remembered seeing on the Cymbidium when it floated above Tabp. The twisted cage around the rings met as the other end grew together. It wasn’t sharp, but it was far less round than what Cory assumed was the nose of the Cymbidium . 

Cory stared at the slowly rotating ship, an inkling of a feeling growing in his mind. It looked so familiar. But that didn’t make any sense. He had only ever heard about the Affini through propaganda messages before they arrived at the mining colony. 

We’ve seen this before.

But where had he seen it? 

Where indeed.

He squeezed his eyes shut until the blood rushed behind them. After a steadying breath through grit teeth, he opened them. He had to think as he braced himself against a cupboard door that was twice his height.

Cory’s head spun with questions. ‘Imzadi’ wasn’t a word, but it had to mean something . There had to be a reason that Riker would engrave it on that door. That door to the mysterious, dust-covered bedroom. It couldn’t just be nonsense. 

Maybe a name?