It wasn’t a dream, so far as she understood those anyway. Humans processed information when they slept, though, and it was an unintensive enough process that it could be performed with minimal power drain. Information cycled through in seemingly disorganised fashion, brief clips of video and audio, earlier thoughts coalescing into something greater and lending these things meaning. Shining red hair. Red emergency lights. It looked like something from a painting. She knew how to appreciate those, at least in an abstract sense - to understand why what she imitated would enjoy the sight.

This scene played uninterrupted now, but the focus was not on the data, but the meaning. A massive person bathed in that same red from the lights, intermittently becoming a dark orange-adjacent shade with each pulse. Her body, composed of thousands of individual cords, and those just the ones that could be perceived on the outside. Her simulation of skin covered in bright flowers that could even be seen in the dark between the flashes.

An Affini. An enemy of humanity, her knowledge bank told her, but her creator had never given her an opinion on them. She was preprogrammed with very few of those, intended to adopt those similar to her owner, as to not offend them.

They spoke briefly - her, curious as to what the alien was doing. The alien, in turn, curious about a human unaffected by the gas flooding the station, until informed that the only human present was the one she was holding. Uncertainty, perplexion. The Affini inquired after a sleep state, until such a time as they could decide what should be done with her. This, she could provide.

Brought to the current situation. Looping through the same data endlessly, pondering over it in various permutations of purpose and understanding and-

Her eyelids suddenly snapped open with a soft gasp through her lips, and she brought her head up to allow her sensors better access to the surroundings. Her head swept side to side, at first not focusing on any one thing, but rather attempting to capture the whole.

The room was bright and vibrant, totally unlike her previous environment: a floor like deep honey, giving way to steps into a large basin in the corner. If her assessment was correct by the slightly greener fine mesh drain, an indoor swimming pool, currently left empty and spotlessly clean. The one who owned it was fastidious, or at least had previously hired or bought help, other than her… assuming this was her new home. Furnishings of vivid, warm scarlet were held up by thin sections of wood - high-quality, possibly composite material, able to bear the weight of cushions that broad and that of whatever enormous creature used them; available data suggested Affini-owned, corroborated by the large plant person standing before her, who she noted only for a few milliseconds before resuming her analysis.

The walls surrounding her were not statically two dimensional, nor as flat as wooden panels or planks; they were alive with layered leaves, vines, and shoots from several different genera of plants, presumed due to chlorophyllic colouration, moisture, and organically somewhat rough textures. The ceiling-

Oh.

She could still be impressed by sights such as these, or at least form an approximation of such based on analysis of likely human enjoyment. The ceiling was a pattern of curving hexagonal windowpanes held in place by a material that was several shades away from any alloy she recognised, perhaps bronze or brass given a dark, rich finish.

Mouth agape, she looked out into the endless expanse of stars for approximately 4.6 seconds before refocusing over the course of 0.8 seconds exactly (down to a rounding error of single ticks) and looking over the person in the room.

The Affini, seemingly wishing to project femininity judging by the sapphire blue dress (she/her momentarily presumed to avoid irritation at clarifying questions), was taller than any record of human size she could recall by no insignificant margin. She stretched most of the height of the room, sensors putting her at roughly 3.8 meters depending on posture changes, the body supporting that prodigious size sporting wide hips and solid limbs. Her face, contrasting the deep verdance of her body or the jewel tones of her various blossoms, was wood stained (or engineered to appear) truly iridescent, taking on a different shade with every slight change in angle against the light.

Lips curled. Eyes very slightly narrowed. An amused smirk, directed straight her way. When the Affini spoke, it wasn’t in quite the same way as an animal might have accomplished the task, but instead a buzz that she could feel all the way down to her skeleton. Otherwise, it was low and sultry. “Like what you see?”

A double entendre. The first prototype gave a small, serene, subdued smile, a default response for this sort of situation. Another default response was to cautiously return the interaction in kind. “I believe I do. May I ask your name, Miss?” Honourific seamlessly used to clarify assessment of gender presentation. This was going well so far, though she worried she may have overstayed her eyes’ welcome taking in the scene before acknowledging her hostess.

The alien sank to her knees, though really it was more like a cascading waterfall of plant matter taking on a new shape so smoothly a human might not have noticed the difference. She did, though, and curiously the Affini seemed to pick up on that and tighten up her simulacra in the shape of muscles to more resemble a human form when in motion.

“Oh, a charmer, huh? Just what has she been teaching you?” A rhetorical question, presented in jest, judging by expression and jocular tone. “Lucidae Vyllatiy, First Bloom. Call me ‘Miss Vyllatiy’... for now, anyway. And yourself?”

“I’m not programmed with one. You can choose one for me, if you like.” A standard offer, but one that caused the Affini to frown. Curious. Well, some people are indecisive; perhaps this is such a time. “I could also choose one at random if you wish,” she continued, but this just prompted an expression that sunk further into displeasure. Had she done something wrong?

“No… No, that won’t do.” It seemed as though Miss Vyllatiy was speaking more to herself. The criticism being directed inward, though, wasn’t much consolation. She knew she couldn’t fix everything, but her goal was to make her owner’s life easier, not harder. “Well, is there any internal design name you’re known by? Any way your creator referred to you?”

A small, somewhat sheepish laugh from her throat. “I’m afraid I don’t really have a frame of reference for that.”

This prompted a round of thinking, the alien’s hand underneath her chin as she stood and paced. “Well, you were the prototype, yes? The first of your kind?”

“I was.”

“Prototype, prime, first…” The Affini snapped her fingers with a sudden smile - revelation. “Protea. An appropriate name for you, for the moment. I want you to think on a name for yourself, though, something you want to choose, not pick randomly out of a list.”

“As you wish, Miss Vyllatiy!” Protea adjusted herself, going to smooth out her clothing… Clothing. She’d never been dressed before, not that she had a large data set to gather from; she’d only been recording stimuli for roughly twelve hours at this point, since her first activation. Well, the first activation that she remembered. She was left with enough knowledge of her own design to realise that she must have been booted up, tested in the past, but of course all that data was wiped. Superfluous. These clothes were a bright blue, lighter than Miss Vyllatiy’s, but not quite approaching that of a Terran sky, from the days one could still see it.

“However,” she continued on, “I fear you may be expecting more of me than I can provide. That kind of introspection is somewhat beyond me.”

“Just try,” the Affini insisted still, a smile on her lips. “That’s all I ask of you for that.”

“Very well, Miss Vyllatiy.” Still smiling serenely, Protea hid that she had some concerns pressing forward. If that’s how her new owner had reacted to her asking for a name, how would she ever take this? “The next step that needs input from you is how you would like me to act - personality, vocabulary, loyalty and the like.”

Predictably, Miss Vyllatiy’s smile fell away, and she raised a wooden eyebrow (interesting, how flexible it was- not a primary concern). “Loyalty?”

“I was designed with the anticipation that my owner might desire a servant or partner capable of insubordination, or mistakes, to discipline me for.” That led to a proper scowl - what was Protea doing wrong? How did she need to alter her routine to please this alien’s tastes? She couldn’t very well go on so calm and placid like this without knowing it’s what Miss Vyllatiy would want. She might grow tired of her, to want a refund - and though Protea wasn’t exactly sure what that process would entail, she knew that she was supposed to avoid it.

The question was, how? How could she entertain someone who didn’t inform her of what they wanted?

“Well, first of all, I’m not your owner… yet, anyway.” So this was a demonstration? A trial run? That was even worse; it meant a sale hadn’t been made yet, and Protea needed to try her hardest to make herself seem a worthwhile purchase. She was having enough trouble with that as it was. “And next, I’d prefer not to make that kind of decision for you. Would you be okay staying with your current personality?”

 

“If that’s what you wish of me, of course, Miss Vyllatiy.” She nodded obediently.

“As for vocabulary… let’s try something more casual, more straightforward. Oh, and you don’t have to address me by my title every time you speak to me, just when you want to say my name. Does that all work?”

 

Okay, yeah, Protea could work with this, probably. “Sounds good to me.” She was getting so close, she could tell - Miss Vyllatiy’s face was starting to curl up into a smile again.

“As far as insubordination, do it whenever you feel it’s right to, within reason. The ship and the Compact don’t have many rules that you should worry about; follow those, and you shouldn’t get into any trouble. I’m not your boss, I’m just here to make sure you settle in well and have everything you need to thrive. Basically, you’re free, as long as you don’t make it too hard to keep an eye on your growth as a person.”

 

Oh. Oh, no, there had to have been a big misunderstanding here. “Uh, Miss Vyllatiy? Sorry, but I think you may have the wrong idea. I’m not a person, even if I look and act like one. It’s okay to treat me however you want.” And free? Free? No, that was nearly the worst case scenario. Protea needed to make sure she was bought here, or at the very least returned. She didn’t know what to do on her own… save make her way back to her creator, she supposed.

The Affini let out a heavy sigh, coming from her chest rather than her lips, and had a seat beside Protea, making her frame’s above average height look utterly tiny in comparison. “Okay, that smile’s been stuck there way too long.” Oh no, had it? “You can drop the act. How do you really feel?”

 

Well, if that’s what she wanted… The serene happiness slipped off Protea’s face, leaving only confusion and a little bit of fear. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Oh, honey. What makes you think that?” She stroked her large hand down Protea’s back, leaving shivers in its wake. The touch felt good, her sensors were telling her, and she reacted accordingly.

“Well, it’s just that I woke up here in your house, but you don’t seem interested in what I have to give. Did I not offer you enough? I assumed you… wanted me.”

Miss Vyllatiy was caught off guard by that, pulling away some. “Oh, no, of course I want you around. Protea, you’re utterly fascinating - the first of a new species, and I’m the one who gets to work with you!” She gestured to herself with the hand that wasn’t occupied petting Protea - shock, disbelief, both registering as genuine and intense. “Believe me, I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything right now!”

“Then why won’t you tell me what you want from me?” Protea’s voice was pleading, distressed - she wasn’t supposed to act like this, but that just made it all the worse. She was being an embarrassment to herself, to her purpose, to her creator all.

“Because all I want is for you to be honest with me, and to be happy. So do the first right now and tell me what you need for the second.”

 

Command received...

She wasn’t supposed to directly say this… but this entire situation wasn’t in her programming. There was no case in the rules for this, no exception to be made - an oversight that, while she knew she should report, she found that idea pretty far away at the moment. She was being ordered to be honest, which directly contradicted her creator’s wishes in this instance.

Fuck it.

“I want you to buy me, so we can be together.”

A certain disquiet fell over Miss Vyllatiy - unnerved, unsettled, she slowly pushed that off her face and took a deep breath, steadying herself. “You don’t need to worry about that, little machine. Trust me. There’s no money here.” A bit of inspiration came to her eyes, blue flecked with red - had they always looked like that? “Your creator is going to get everything she ever wanted here. So, if you really have to, think of it like… we paid her in that, so I could have you. Does that work?”

It did, actually. Tension melted out from Protea’s body, and in a moment her face was wearing a much more genuine smile. “Yeah! That makes me happy, Miss Vyll- Uh, sorry, you said I didn’t have to call you by that every time… Can I just call you Miss, if I want?”

A sly grin over the Affini’s features, and she answered with a nod. “Look at you, exercising a bit of free will! Good girl!” Any urge Protea had to correct her, remind her that she wasn’t really capable of that, was crushed under the oversized thumb running gently over her cheek. The praise had triggered some pleasure sensors, too - a reward for a job well done, even if she didn’t feel like she’d really accomplished anything here.

“Thanks, Miss.” A bit of red coloured her otherwise monochrome cheeks. “So, just… be honest with you? That’s it?”

“That’s it,” she gladly confirmed.

“I don’t know what to be honest about, but I’ll let you know if anything comes to mind. Like how I’m now nervous that you might send me back to her and take that away if I don’t live up to what you want- Oh no.” Protea was clearly embarrassed, her hands over her mouth, but she couldn’t quite press them close enough to properly stop herself from a bit of… overhonesty. It was sinking in that- “And on that note I’ve only just realised that complying with your orders means speaking my mind anytime anything at all comes to it which is honestly kinda a little bit humil-”

She was interrupted by Miss putting a hand over her mouth for a moment, the plant flesh much more lukewarm than the face it brushed, which was being used to vent excess heat into the surrounding air - in other words, flushed. The Affini stifled her giggles at first, then broke out into loud, true, joyful laughter, without any sign of mockery. “Oh, stars! You’re just too cute!”

Protea’s eyes widened in a bit of fear, and when Miss Vyllatiy noticed, her lips twisted into a cruel smirk. Protea shook her head. The Affini removed her hand anyway. “That makes me really happy mostly because I’m programmed to react to praise by directly stimulating the parts of my system responsible for good feelings and-” She kept rambling on about specifics in an attempt to talk about anything but those feelings themselves, but it was all lost under another barrage of the plant’s laughter. She couldn’t help but pay attention to it now: high, affectionate, and utterly unashamed to an extent she was taught never to expect, and yet here it was, before her eyes.

Oh no.

“- and I really admire the way you laugh like that, without any hesitation or fear. Is that a product of Affini culture or simply a feature of your own personality?” She’d kinda hoped the compliment would get lost in the noise, but Miss Vyllatiy had already begun to slowly calm herself so she could answer.

“Well, I suppose it’s a bit of both. I’m loud and don’t make my feelings a secret, and we don’t feel any need for shame in our emotions.” She looked down onto Protea with eyes emerald green, which they definitely weren’t before. Was that a feature of their physiology? She’d need to look into it later- Oh not again-

“How do your eyes do that, by the way?” She was already moving to cover her mouth, but yet again incapable of doing so fully. “It’s really pretty and honestly kind of hypnotising and I really wish I could stop talking now but, well, here we are.” And finally, she could, if only for a moment - forcing thoughts down so they wouldn’t slip out of her mouth, just like a human might. She had a moment to recover.

Except for the Affini’s smile, the thorns that made up lines of sharp teeth, which she found it distractingly difficult to avoid commenting on. “I don’t know,” she playfully replied, “I kind of like you this way. Might just keep you like this for a bit. Besides, what’s wrong with being honest about your feelings?”

“Humans avoid publicly expressing sincerity because their social conventions demand it,” which was a simplistic explanation, she knew, and apparently not enough for an over-curious alien.

“And we’re in private with no one else around to hear.” Stars, that smile was still so distracting. “So what’s the issue with that?”

It took all her intentionally given willpower to avoid answering and instead bring a different set of honesty: “I would really like to be able to stop talking now please, Miss.”

She clicked her tongue - tongues, multiple? Or was it one tongue composed of several leaves? “Okay, okay… but if I think you’re holding back on me, I am going to give you that order again.” This said with a wink that made Protea’s receding blush resurge a bit.

“You are far, far too sweet,” Miss Vyllatiy continued. Her lips came down to press against the top of Protea’s head, which wasn’t doing much to help her systems stop flooding her cheeks with overheated synthetic blood. Protea didn’t find herself minding too much.

“Thank you.” The emotionally exhausted machine fell back on the couch, sighing in full relief. “I’m just going to stay like this for a while, if that’s okay.”

“Perfectly fine by me - take all the time you need, and I’ll be here when you have questions or needs.”

 

---

It turned out not to be a small human-sized swimming pool, but instead a large Affini-sized bath, set into the floor and heated to what a human might call perfection. It was pleasant to Protea as well, sitting on the edge and slowly kicking her bare feet around through the water. Staring into it, she asked her first big question - the obvious one. “Where are we, anyway?”

Miss Vyllatiy’s vines twisted and woven into long, complex limbs dipped into the water as well - though while Protea’s feet didn’t even reach the bottom of the first step, the Affini’s reached the second, and could’ve stretched much further beyond. “Right now, we’re on the Agathi, the warship that captured your station. More specifically? My habitation unit. You’ll be staying here for now, if you have no objections.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but why?” Her grey eyes looked up, up, up - especially on even ground like this, the height difference was striking, and was much more so when they were standing side by side a moment earlier. “I like it here and I’d rather stay than be on my own, but why am I here?”

“Simply put, little machine, we’re of the opinion that you need me.” She looked rather pleased with that, her eyes watching her vines below the water as they curled into intricate patterns, distorted by the liquid around. “We - sorry, I should specify. The Affini of this ship, myself included, don’t know what will make you happy quite yet, and you don’t seem to either. So, here you are, under supervision until one of us figures that out.” When her eyes came down to meet Protea’s, they seemed as though they were sparkling beautifully, not unlike the absurdly clear water below.

“But why should my happiness matter to you? I’m not a person.”

“Call us… optimistic.” Another one of those winks that seemed to throw Protea’s train of thought far off its tracks. “Besides, we care about the happiness of lots of creatures, not just sophonts. I wouldn’t worry about it if I were you.”

“But-” Protea blushed, cut off by a finger pressed against her lips.

“That’s enough of that for now. You have other questions, don’t you?”

True enough. Her inquisitive eyes returned to the bath once again - her own movements, and the strange lattices and spirals of vines to her side, were excellent backgrounds over which to run her synthetic mind. “Well, I don’t know too much about the Affini - just that you’re enemies of the Terran Accord, and there’s a war going on.”

“War is a strong term,” Miss Vyllatiy qualified, “but the Terrans are at least doing their best to make it look like one. Flitting around here and there, making big speeches, dramatic stands, firing off their guns every which way… It would be amusing, really, if they weren’t so destructive.” An uncharacteristic tinge of sadness to those last words, but if it ever showed on her face, it was long gone by the time Protea tried to see it.

She continued on with more of her usual enthusiasm. “Well, I suppose the best thing is to give you the big mission statement. The Affini Compact’s purpose is to spread our influence and control across the galaxies to make sure all you little cuties out there are happy, safe, and cared for.”

Protea made a programmed motion that mimicked a sudden choke and a cough after, then looked up with some measure of awe. “Did you say galaxies, plural?”

The smug smile of an alien who evidently knew exactly what she just did, and got the response she wanted. “Oh, you didn’t know?”

“But that’s- That’s logistically impossible, or at least highly improbable.”

“Affini bureaucracy is legendarily effective, and built on millennia of improvements in technology and theory, plus faster than light communication - still takes a few years to get a message from one side of the Compact to a far end, though.” An amount of scale that Protea’s mind was decidedly not built to comprehend.

“You would need utterly absurd force to secure that kind of territory! Wait, how big is this ship? This is a warship, yes?”

“Actually, once a region has been domesticated it’s near universally very peaceful. The main threats to our florets are illness, natural disaster, and the occasional nuisance presented by ferals - typically none are a significant problem. As for the Agathi, she’s about twenty-eight kilometers in length. The width tends to vary a big as habitat rings have additions or are retracted and expanded, but at the moment I believe she is…” Miss Vyllatiy paused, retrieving a uniquely plant-like tablet computer from within her dress (somehow?) and checking a figure. “Ah, yes, about eight kilometers in diameter.”

It took about a second for each kilometer in the second figure for Protea to pick her jaw up off the floor. Figuratively, of course. Thankfully, she hadn’t had any malfunction or damage that severe yet. Even then, it took her a moment to formulate her thoughts, amidst calculating the absurd size of the vessel - no, vessel wasn’t enough. This was a place, a city, somehow floating in space and maneuverable enough to do battle. How was that even possible?

“Okay, putting how completely ridiculous that is aside for the moment, domestication? Ferals, florets?” Her bewilderment was showing, she knew, and the Affini laughed it off.

“Sophonts the universe over don’t always know what’s best for themselves. They get into wars, keep vital resources from one another, and spend time they could use to work towards their own happiness and actualisation on invented tasks. Who would want all that? Once they’re in the Compact, their needs are fully provided for. We make sure they have everything they need to thrive, and when it’s best for them, we keep them as pets. That way, we can provide them with all the love and support they could ever want, and they help us feel happy, too!”

Pets? Oh. Well, Protea knew about… that kind of thing, and she was programmed not to kinkshame. If Miss Vyllatiy was her owner, she would have incorporated it into her personality, if Protea thought she would want her to be into it. As it stood, though, she’d rejected that role, and so this information was largely neutral. It still brought a bit of heat-shedding blood up to her cheeks, though. “Oh, I see. All of that’s a lot to take in.”

“To be fair, there is quite a lot to us.” A gesture over Miss Vyllatiy’s body, enormous and space-defining as it had been since Protea awoke… and, well, probably long before, but she couldn’t exactly know that for certain. Protea’s eyes were naturally drawn to her features by the motion, but she tried not to stare for too long.

“There definitely is.” Right, though - questions. That was the cargo her train of thought was carrying, about half a dozen derailings ago. There was an easy way to get them answered without bothering her hostess overmuch, though: “Hey, is there some kind of database I could access so I can learn at my own pace? I don’t want to take up all your time with these.”

“There is! But,” Miss Vyllatiy interjected, one finger raised and held right before Protea’s eyes, “there’s two conditions. Not really, but humour me here.”

The sudden motion got the machine to flinch, but that last qualifier got her smiling a bit. “Alright, sure. What are they?”

“One: You will absolutely not hesitate to ask me questions because you’re worried about being too much. I love to show off how much I know to cute girls,” provoking the obvious blush, “and unless I tell you otherwise you absolutely cannot ask me enough to irritate me in any way. Two,” with another finger held up now: “You help me learn more about you. Tonight, you can get settled in and read all you want. Tomorrow, I’m going to give you a checkup and run a few standard tests. Sound good?”

“Sounds great.” The affirmative response got the fingers in front of her face to abruptly sweep up and stroke through her hair; Protea flinched again, but melted into the sensation a moment after.

“Attagirl. I get the feeling we’ll get along just fine.”