“Questions” had become a favorite game between Herschel and Connifred. Herschel could ask any sort of question, which Connifred would answer to the best of his ability. Connifred then got to ask Herschel the same question or a different one. The two had distinctly different approaches to this game. 

Whereas Herschel’s questions were objective things, Connifred veered into much more subjective topics. That morning’s game started with Herschel asking about the gravity on the affini homeworld, and Connifred asking how Herschel felt about stories with ambiguous endings. 

So far neither of them had used the game to pry into any difficult topics, though Connifred could tell there was so much Herschel wanted to ask but didn’t. But his confidence was improving each day, and Connifred was positive that his lovely floret would feel comfortable asking those bigger questions soon. 

At the moment, the two were walking towards one of the many wilderness areas on the ship to meet Connifred’s friend Saguaros and her three florets. Herschel made a mental note to ask Connifred about each of the new alien species he’d seen that day, and was excited to meet one of them sometime. 

That time turned out to be today, evidenced as they approached Saguaros and her florets. Two of which were terrans and one was a creature Herschel had never seen before. It looked something like a scorpion crossed with a sun bear. A chitinous body about the size of a small car sat on six furry legs. On one end was its head, covered in more thick fur with a powerful mandible protruding from its lower jaw. On the other was a long segmented tail topped with a flexible grasping extremity that gave off a bright blue light. 

One of the two terrans nodded at it and began slamming his fist into his hand in a familiar gesture. “Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!” he threw down paper and looked up at the creature’s lure turned hand. “Roq, did you do rock or scissors? I can’t tell.” The creature, Roq, replied with a husky voice akin to somebody getting over severe laryngitis:

“Which one did you do?” the terran rolled his eyes before he replied “Paper.” Roq made a low rumbling sound before flatly declaring, “Mine is scissors.” Their game was quickly forgotten when they noticed Connifred and his new floret approaching. “Lembic, it appears your guests have arrived.” 

An affini covered in desert flora ruffled the fur around Roq’s neck before turning to greet them with a melodious flourish. “Hello, cutie!” Her attention was squarely placed upon Herschel. As an almost afterthought she threw in a “Oh, Connifred, you’re here too.” 

“Playful as ever I see.” Some of Connifred’s vines interwove themselves with some of Saguaros’ in what was clearly an intimate greeting. They exchanged words in what Herschel recognized as one of the many affini dialects before Saguaros broke off the gesture and returned her attention to her friend’s new ward. 

“Herschel, sweetie, allow me to introduce you to my three adorable florets.” She nuzzled her face against the furry alien, who returned her affection in kind. “This lovely lady is Roq.” The creature bowed her head to Herschel and rumbled what he assumed was some sort of greeting. “And these two,” Saguaros pulled her two terran companions into a hug, “are my treacherous terrans!” 

The man and woman wore complimentary companion outfits, but their deminors were anything but. Where the man was mellow and playful, the woman was staring daggers at both the man and the affini doting on her. “Go on, introduce yourselves.” Saguaros prodded them forward. 

The man spoke first. “Elliot Renne, second floret. Pleasure to make your acquaintance-” He extended his right hand to shake Herschel’s, then aborted the gesture when he realized Herschel wasn’t equipped to properly return the handshake. The woman scoffed at him before addressing Herschel with much less enthusiasm. 

“Melba Renne, third floret. Hi.” She made a point to avoid Hershel’s gaze, but the spark of recognition had already registered. “Melba DuPont?” Herschel blurted out. Elliot erupted with laughter and Melba turned bright red. Connifred looked down at Herschel with surprise. “You know this woman?” 

“No, not personally. I know who she is though, if that’s what you mean.” Saguaros giggled as she swept Melba up into her arms. “My little Melba here was quite the mogul back in the former Terran Accord.” Melba tried to bury her head inside Saguaros’ flowing dress. Elliot snickered. 

“Shut up, Elliot. Not like you were much better.” Melba scowled at Elliot, who looked away playfully. Saguaros scooped him up too, now holding a terran in each arm. “These two are so silly, bickering back and forth. I swear it's a sort of game between them. Honestly, they can’t get enough of each other.” 

Now that he thought about it, Herschel realized he recognized Elliot too. They were both obscenely wealthy plutocrats, always at each other’s throat. He made an additional mental note to ask Connifred why and how such people ended up under Saguaros’ care. 

Something that felt like living silk touched his shoulder. He looked towards the source and realized it was Roq’s lure trying to get his attention. “Y-yes?” He looked up at the brutish creature, just noticing how cold and emotionless its insectoid eyes were. It rumbled as it spoke. “I would like to speak with you in a more personal capacity. Would you be amicable to moving towards the water’s edge?” 

Herschel nodded, then realized the gesture might not track for whatever species Roq was and vocalized his consent. “Sure.” The two walked down to the edge of the nearby pond, still within earshot and sight of their respective affini. Roq entered the water, visibly relaxing as she floated on its surface. 

“Your familiarity with my fellow florets’ prior escapades intrigues me. The two constantly trade stories back and forth, one often contradicting the other. It is my hope that you can be an impartial judge with which to determine truth.” Herschel took a moment to parse this request. A giant space crab brought me aside to ask about gossip? “I might be able to help. What’s your question?”

“Did millions of terrans line up to hang upon the every word of the one called Elliot? If his boasting is to be believed, he had millions more followers than his contemporary, Melba.” Herschel thought for a moment, trying to piece together what sort of context Roq had gotten this information in. 

He replied thoughtfully, “It sounds like he was bragging about social media metrics.” Roq’s head snapped to attention, looking from Elliot and Melba to Herschel. “So his tales of his legions of devoted followers are true?” Herschel realized that Roq’s species weren’t familiar with terran-style social media. Lucky space crab. 

“No.” he clarified, “They aren’t literal followers. The number of them doesn’t really mean anything. Plus, a lot of them were probably fake.” Roq considered this new information for a moment before asking a follow up question. “So Melba was indeed correct in her assertion that these followers were a meaningless metric with which to judge value?” “Pretty much, yeah.” Herschel replied. 

Roq nodded her head in understanding, then added “This means that Melba’s assertion of being the ‘baddest bitch’ may indeed also be truthful…”

<> <> <> 

Dinner that evening was some sort of stew served over noodles. It hadn’t gone unnoticed by Herschel that every meal Connifred served him was one that could easily be eaten one-handed. It was a little uncomfortable dining in front of a creature that didn’t seem to eat in the same way he did, though he had seen Connifred dip his roots in some sort of special liquid from time to time. Herschel realized he had the perfect starting point for another round of their question game, which he got right to asking. “Connifred, do affini photosynthesize?” 

“Short answer? Yes. Long answer, well, that depends on how long you have and what level of understanding you have of xenobotany. So medium answer, yes. We are capable of altering our physical and chemical structure in order to gather energy from most classes of stars. We figured out how to synthesize artificial sunlight, which you’ve experienced here aboard the Sphenophylla.”

Herschel couldn’t help but blurt out his new burning follow up question. “Does it taste like anything?” This took Connifred off guard. Was his floret bridging into philosophical questions now? Or was this still in the realm of the scientific? He needed clarification. “Elaborate please.”

“Taste, like the sensation of ingesting something. The flavor, not the physical experience.” This was the most animated Herschel had ever been regarding one of his many quandaries. It excited Connifred, but also turned up the pressure for him to give a satisfactory answer. But the more he thought about it, the less sure he was. 

“I don’t know if taste is the best word for it, but there’s definitely a sensation. It’s hard to describe…” This only added more fuel to the curious fire consuming his floret. 

“Does the light from different stars taste different?” Not the best worded question, but Connifred got the idea. 

“There is a difference, yes.” This answer pushed Herschel over the edge of curiosity and into fascination. Connifred quickly clarified, “Again, taste isn’t quite the right word. I… I’m sorry, I don’t really know how to describe it.” The slight disappointment on Herschel’s face did little to hide the flame of fascination that still burned within him. “Let me get back to you on this one, alright sapling?” That did it. The fire was still there, but now the disappointment had been replaced with anticipation. 

“It’s your turn to ask a question now.” Herschel smiled at Connifred before hastily adding “I suppose you get two questions if you want…” Connifred extended a hand, stroking Hershel’s face. Where the skittish terran used to reflexively shy away from physical displays of affection, he now leaned into them. It made what Connifred was about to ask feel risky. 

“Do you enjoy being my floret, Herschel?”

That word–floret–carried heavy implications. The affini wasn’t just asking Herschel if he enjoyed spending time with him. It was asking him if he was enjoying his subjugation. Was the question some sort of test? A passive-aggressive twist of the knife to make him revoke everything his people had fought for? He knew the answer. He knew it but he didn’t want to say it. He didn’t want to officially condone the collar that sat around his neck, and everything that came with it. 

Why was Connifred doing this to him? Was everything up to this point just an elaborate ploy to get his guard down so that this casual act of treason would hit him that much harder? Was- 

Herschel spared a glance at Connifred’s face. There was no sign of smug superiority, or crafty satisfaction. His internal spiral into anxiety didn’t go unnoticed. Connifred pulled his hand away from Herschel as his face contorted into one of concern. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t feel com-” 

“Yes.” 

The abrupt answer surprised both of them. With the word out of his mouth, Herschel began falling apart. Every bit of bravado and “terran spirit” fell away as the ramifications of what he’d just agreed to began creeping in. 

Just like that he’d betrayed what was left of the Terran Accord, and all it took was some kind words and a few library books.