The lovely thing about meetings, especially meetings consisting primarily of engineers and scientists, is that when you went first and started the discussion, and all the engineers and scientists who had a long history of working together without you present started talking solutions and planning, you could immediately let yourself be distracted by whatever other, more pressing, and far more complex problems you had, instead of something boring and simple like planetary-scale ecological remediation.

So perhaps there is hope for me yet. Tsuga could not believe she had those words out loud. Was it not embarrassing enough that she’d stressed herself out to the point of dropping needles in front of Cass? She absolutely had to try to be clever about subtly signaling her feelings? As if anything about that sentence was subtle. There was absolutely no way there would be a Hope for her.

“One matter that’s been passed along by the xenosociology team,” one of the geoengineers – Cymosa, was it? – said. “They’d like us to take especial care during the warming phase when it comes to glacial runoff in the northeastern quadrant of the main continent. Apparently there are some structures of there of historical interest from the previous colony, the one operated by… Quakers?” She squinted at her tablet. “Geologists, I suppose.”

This morning, she’d somehow been worse. What had transpired in those few hours Cass had been asleep? She’d been awake most of them, working on her report for this very discussion, her thoughts focused in the main on the problem at hand. She’d only looked in on Cass a handful of times, when the sounds of her slumbering were disturbed by grunts and distressed moans. She had kept her distance and maintained boundaries – and then muddled it all up in the morning by, without even realizing she was doing it until it was too late, flirting with the little grey-stripe terran even more obviously. She’d left as quickly as she could once she realized what she was doing.

“Have we considered that a soletta might be the best solution? Elegant, simple, and keeps the biosphere nice and clean.” One of the older scientists – and Tsuga remembered he had a background in optics – was addressing the meeting now. Of course he was offering a solution that involved placing lenses to intensify the local star’s light on the planetary surface.

Anyway, even if Cass wanted to be a floret – which she very much did not –  Tsuga reminded herself that she was in no position to provide care for a sophont, even a sophont as self-sufficient as Cass was. She was neither qualified nor suited to the task temperamentally. She was shamefully unreliable in a way that did not become an Affini. The best thing, in that case, would be to find a home for her with someone willing to let her visit regularly. Surely there was an Affini somewhere that Cass would find agreeable. And who wouldn’t want such a bright little sophont to call their own?

Tsuga certainly wished she could. But those were thoughts she needed to excise, for Cass’s sake.

“Tsuga, do you have any input on the matter?” Ulmus, the chair of the meeting and the nominal head of the Geoengineering Response Committee, was looking directly at her.

“Hm?” She had lost the conversation entirely as she wallowed. “I’m sorry, I’m afraid I was a bit distracted.”

“You’ve been on the surface,” they said. “What’s your opinion on the working conditions?”

“Ah. Well,” she said, rising to her feet, “simply put, it’s uncomfortably cold. Dangerously cold, for those who are poorly cold-adapted. I was able to tolerate it, but even I wouldn’t want to be down there long-term without somewhere to warm up. Without heating or an antifreeze additive, expect to lose foliage and even small vines to frost, especially if you’re out and about at night. The good news is, we’re coming into local summer, and according to both our meteorological report and my discussions with local terrans, it should be warm enough to–” She paused. In her chest, her tablet was chirping. “I’m sorry, one moment.” She opened up her chest cavity and extracted her tablet, glancing down at it. She froze in mute horror as her eyes traveled across the delicate Affini script.

<TheBestMedicine> Tsuga, please come to my practice as soon as possible. She’s okay now, but Cass had a minor accident.

“…I’m sorry, I have to go,” she said, shoving the tablet back inside herself and bolting for the door without waiting for a response. By the time she hit the walkway, her terran-like form was falling away. Even its long steps were far, far too slow, and by the time she felt grass and moss under her feet again she was falling into a old, familiar form, hexapedal, galloping along in long bounds as she ignored walkways and flung herself across open parks, through wooded greenbelts, up and over habitats.

What happened, what happened, what happened?! It didn’t matter that Arvense had assured her that Cass was alright – something was churning inside her core, like her very sap was boiling. I have to help her. The thought echoed throughout her mind even though she knew full well that if Arvense was calling her in, the crisis was over. Rationally, there was nothing to fear, but she nevertheless felt fear beyond terror. This can’t happen, it can’t, it can’t.

Not again.

If she could have fired herself like a mass driver payload directly across the ring from the meeting space to Arvense’s practice, she would have done it. As it was, she only made slightly worse time. She didn’t bother introducing herself or waiting for the little terran behind the reception desk – the only thing that brought her scrambling to a halt was Arvense himself, standing in the corridor with his arms outstretched. She barely stopped before she plowed into and through him.

“Where is she?!” Her voice resonated up and down the corridor, echoing back upon itself. Her body seethed with motion, abandoning shape entirely as her vines twisted and writhed with sheer anxiety. “Where?!”

“Tsuga, calm yourself,” Arvense said. The amorphous Affini’s voice was pitched low, soothing and steady – this was clearly not the first time he’d had to settle an Affini concerned over a floret. Sophont. Cass was not a floret, much less Tsuga’s floret. “She’s fine. I have her in one of my observation rooms, and her little friend Aletheia is there with her – so if you go in right now, like this, even if you don’t manage to scare Cass, I can guarantee you will scare her. So please, take a moment, compose yourself, and I’ll tell you what happened. Alright?”

Aletheia? Who’s Aletheia? Anxiety rippled throughout Tsuga’s body, but she managed to force it back into something approximating a bipedal shape. “What happened?!”

“She was given a small dose of a Class-A xenodrug that didn’t mesh well with her sensorium, and she had a very nasty panic attack,” Arvense told her. “There was no pharmacological damage, just stress. I sedated her, gave her the counteragent, then woke her up on a light dose of Class-E to keep her heart rate down. She was tachycardic when she came in, but I imaged her heart and there’s no permanent damage.”

“Who dosed her?” Tsuga hissed as she tried to focus on reassembling her face. Whoever it was, she was going to give them an earful.

Arvense hesitated. “It was Pisca. Before you charge off,” he added hastily as Tsuga’s form nearly flew apart again, “she didn’t know about Cass’s tactile hypersensitivity.”

Hypersensitivity? “What hypersensitivity?”

“…you didn’t know either?” He looked genuinely confused. “But you’ve been living with her.”

“Yes, of course. She never went back to the communal hab with the others.” She was mostly back together now, but everything still felt like it was fit together wrong, and she kept shuffling her vines and bark around anxiously.

“Then how can you not know? I showed her the slightest physical affection after I examined her and she had a very visceral reaction. You never saw this?”

“She…never seemed overfond of affectionate gestures, it’s true” Tsuga said. “But those few times I did touch her, she never protested!”

Arvense affected a sigh. “I think I see what’s going on. She let me get through her entire exam, during which I poked and prodded her every which way, before she told me it was uncomfortable for her. I thought I’d made it clear she shouldn’t do that.”

“That’s not like her at all,” Tsuga protested. “She’s very outspoken.”

“She’s not the first terran who’s done this in my experience,” Arvense said. “Some are just like that – they refuse to discuss what they see as flaws in themselves. The reasons behind it vary from case to case, but it causes me no end of grief as a veterinarian. I’m starting to think Class-Ds should be prescribed to terrans by default.”

Tsuga’s emotions surged as she combed her memories, searching for the signs she’d missed and enumerating each and every way she’d somehow failed Cass, but this time she managed to keep her shape mostly stable. One thing stayed in central focus the entire time, though. “…may I see her now, please?”

“Of course,” he replied. “This way.” He led her to a door like so many others – inside was a rounded room with a broad window showing a projected view of Solstice, the terminator slowly creeping across its brightly lit face. In the room’s single bed, there were two terrans; Cass, laid out, looking frightfully small, pale and helpless; and her red-headed friend, sitting on the bed beside her, eyes limned in red from tears. Aletheia? Wait, that’s– Oh.

The redhead looked up first. “Tsuga!” Cass made a soft noise, but didn’t sit up. “Oh stars, Tsuga, I’m so sorry, please don’t be mad, I didn’t–”

“Hush,” Tsuga said as she crossed the room, leaning over Cass. Her eyes were open, but largely unfocused even as they turned to stare up at Tsuga. She was on Class-E, alright – she had the same look as a lot of other florets Tsuga had seen around the ship. She only just stopped her hand from stroking Cass’s hair – if what Arvense was true, and she had no reason to suspect otherwise, it would be the exact wrong thing to do in this circumstance. “This isn’t your fault, little one,” she went on. “It’s not your responsibility.”

Aletheia shook her head furiously. “But I said it would be okay! I said it would make everything feel nice and it didn’t and I should have known better and–” Everything after that was utterly unintelligible through the sobs as the little terran buried her face in her hands and wept.

“Tsuga.” Cass’s voice sounded as weak as she looked, strained and raspy, but when she lifted her hand and set it on one of Tsuga’s fingers, Tsuga felt as if her core would split in two. Cass looked up at her, eyes still slightly glazed, and she was perhaps the most perfect thing Tsuga had ever seen. No matter the situation, no matter that Aletheia was still crying, Tsuga found herself wishing that this moment could last forever. It was selfish, horribly selfish of her. She had felt the same way when Cass had touched her leg – let this moment last forever. A moment in which, for just a short span of time, Tsuga could forget that she could not, would not take Cass as her floret, no matter how much she needed it.

Two such moments, now. This was dangerous.

“Not her fault,” Cass said. “You hear me?” she added, reaching out and seizing a fistful of Aletheia’s skirt to get her attention. “Not your fault. I said yes.”

“But I made you,” Aletheia managed to whimper out.

Cass snorted. “Please. Like you could pressure me into anything. I’m a stubborn old bitch.”

“It’s not your responsibility,” Tsuga repeated, reaching out to stroke Aletheia with her free hand. The little terran leaned into the strokes, her sobs catching in her throat. It seemed to calm her, so Tsuga kept the petting up. “I’ll be speaking to Pisca about this, but none of this is your responsibility.” If Tsuga was right, very little would be Aletheia’s responsibility before long. Best to get her used to the idea now.

“But–” She sniffled and rubbed at her eyes. “But I kissed you, and…”

“We’ll talk about that when I don’t feel like I’ve been hit by a truck, okay?” Cass said. “Don’t go getting your hopes up,” she added, “but we’ll talk, okay?” Aletheia nodded, still sniffling, still leaning into Tsuga’s gentle petting. She really was a very sweet little sophont. Tsuga could absolutely understand why Pisca wanted to keep her.

But that was something else that Tsuga needed to take care of. “Cass, I’m going to go talk to Pisca for a moment, but then I’ll come right back, alright?”

Cass nodded. “Not her fault either, I said yes.”

“Don’t you worry about that,” Tsuga said. “Aletheia, will you keep Cass company for me?” The redhead let out one last sniffle, wiped her eyes, and nodded. “Good girl,” Tsuga said, and the way her face lit up did more to ease Tsuga’s worries about her than anything. “I’ll be right back.”

Arvense’s office was, much unlike the rest of his practice, a homey sort of place, with mosses and creeping vines covering virtually every surface. His desk was perhaps the only dry place in the room. Pisca sat on a stone covered in lichen, every vine and branch she had drooping, her biorhythms slackened and off-kilter – if Tsuga didn’t know this was Pisca, she might not have recognized her. She looked up when the door opened, and when she saw Tsuga, she instantly froze.

“Arvense,” Tsuga said, her voice even, “may I have a moment?”

“Of course,” he said. “I have some tests I can run.” The door shut behind him, leaving the two alone.

“I’m sorry,” Pisca began almost immediately, “I didn’t know that–”

“You’ve rebloomed twice,” Tsuga said, cutting her off. “Once, I know, because you wanted a botanical sample and didn’t evaluate the stability of the cliff if was on before you went to get it. What happened the first time?”

“It’s… really embarrassing,” Pisca said, looking at the floor.

“Tell me.”

“I might have crashed a shuttle trying to fly down a canyon at high speed over a wager,” she said quietly.

“And you were alone in the shuttle, I take it?”

“Well, of course I was, I wouldn’t–”

“Ah,” Tsuga said, interrupting her again. “So, both times, the only person who suffered because of your impulsivity and lack of preparation was you?”

Pisca was silent for a long moment. “I see where you’re going with this,” she finally said. “And yes. You’re right. It was deeply, deeply irresponsible of me, and I feel absolutely horrible.”

“Good. You should,” Tsuga said, sitting down on a stone opposite Pisca. “Because this is how we learn. I am extremely angry with you right now, Pisca. It’s one thing to be careless with yourself, but quite another to be careless with a sophont – and if you intend to keep little Aletheia, that’s a lesson you absolutely must internalize, right here and right now.”

Pisca nodded. “I know, I know, I should have checked, I shouldn’t have assumed Cass was a baseline terran–”

“It’s not just about this one instance, Pisca,” Tsuga said firmly. “It’s about your responsibility to sophonts under your supervision. You’re young, and you haven’t had much opportunity to participate in our common task. Over time, this will become more and more natural to you. But until it does, you must be intentional with your care. You must plan, and plan again, and remember that even when the unexpected occurs it is your responsibility to take care of whatever arises. When you had that grafted,” she said, nodding to the bright orange blossom, “you should have grafted the counteragent as well. I will say this: you did well to bring Cass here. That was the right thing to do.”

“When she started screaming– well, what else could I do?” The thought of Cass screaming was like a blade in Tsuga’s core; heat roiled up inside, but she kept herself calm. “Everyone always makes it look so effortless,” Pisca said.

“Well, it’s not,” Tsuga said. “But it does get easier with experience.”

“I suppose,” Pisca muttered. “… but you’ve never had a floret, have you?”

Heat was doused with frosty cold that ran in slivers throughout Tsuga’s vines. “No,” she said, “but I have cared for sophonts briefly, and I have learned a great deal from friends and colleagues just by watching them with their florets.” Tsuga knew what being a good owner meant, what qualities it took, and while she knew she lacked them entirely, that didn’t mean she couldn’t help someone else develop them. “You mean to keep Aletheia.” It was not a question.

Pisca nodded, her branches perking up just a little at the mention of her. “She’s so… sweet, and so gentle, and…and I can’t believe I found her in that miserable frozen little hole in the ground. She’s too good to have come from somewhere so horrible. I want her to be warm every day, and I want her to be able to eat hamburgers whenever she wants, and I want to hold her close so she’s never, ever alone, and I want to help her make her body feel right, and–”

“I know,” Tsuga said, reaching out and intertwining a few of her vines with Pisca’s. “I know.” Tsuga wanted the same thing, after all – the gesture was as much to comfort herself as to comfort Pisca. She wanted to keep Cass, wanted her warm and safe and satiated, all her old injuries mended, all her worries banished forever. She wanted to learn to make shakshouka and fesenjoon and baklava and everything else Cass had talked to her about, and more besides. She even wanted to read all her anarchist philosophers, the better to understand why she was the way she was. Tsuga had known it in her core for a long while, but it wasn’t until she held Cass in her arms and hugged her, had soothed her own ancient aches with the simple pleasure of cuddling a sophont, that she could admit to herself how much she longed for it, how much Cass had worked herself beneath her bark.

Not again. Not again. Take her now, before it’s too late.

She could never have Cass. Cass deserved better than her. But if she could help another sophont by helping her owner become the sort of Affini she needed to be – if she could, by proxy, make a sophont happy – maybe that would be enough. “Promise me,” she said, “that you will take this and learn from it. If you can do that, I won’t carry a grudge.”

Pisca nodded. “You’ll still be my mentor?”

“Pisca, if I uprooted a student the first time they made a serious mistake, I would have no students,” Tsuga responded. “Of course I’m still your mentor. I did plenty of foolish things when I was your age, too.” Nothing nearly so foolish, but Pisca didn’t need to hear that – what she needed was to know that she could stop doing foolish things.

Pisca’s vines tightened around Tsuga’s, and an enormous weight seemed to come off her shoulders. “Thank you. I’m so sorry.”

“I know you are,” Tsuga said softly. “Remember that feeling, and you’ll do just fine by Aletheia. Now, take a moment to compose yourself. When you feel ready, you can go pick her up, take her home, and cuddle her all you want. I’ll stay here with Cass.”

“Alright, here we are,” Tsuga said as she set Cass down gently on the bed. “Is there anything you need before I give you the Class-Z? Another glass of water? Something to cuddle?”

Cass shook her head. “No, m’fine,” she mumbled. Even without the Class-Z, she was clearly exhausted from her ordeal, and would probably sleep for a good long while on her own, but Arvense had insisted on the Class-Z to ensure a healthy rest cycle. He’d given her that as well as a canister of aerosolized Class-E cocktail, in case she had a relapse, but Tsuga didn’t think it would be necessary – Cass was a tough little creature.

“Alright, then,” Tsuga said, lifting the canister of Class-Z and gently fitting the breathing mask to Cass’s face. “I’ll see you in 12 hours, and I’ll have something good to eat waiting for you, alright?” Cass nodded, and Tsuga’s needles rippled with relief. Somehow, after all this, Cass still trusted her on some level. “Deep breaths now, and don’t hold them. Sleep well, little one.” She thumbed the release, and watched as Cass’s eyes slipped shut almost as soon as the thick, wispy gas entered her lungs. She held the mask in place for a moment, then shut down the flow and pulled the blankets up over Cass. She desperately wanted to add I will never, ever let this happen to you again, but that wasn’t a promise she could keep.

But she could pretend, for just a few days. Arvense had insisted on bed rest for at least 48 hours following her sleep, and light activity at most for another few days afterwards, depending on how well Cass was recovering. During that time, Tsuga would have to care for Cass, provide food for her, help her bathe, everything. For those brief hours, she could pretend that the impossible was possible. I’ll just be doing the basics, she told herself. Nothing fancy. Just simple things any Affini could do, even me. I won’t cause her any harm in so short a time.

She could manage that, and she could allow herself those private feelings. Just for a few days. She could never express those feelings, of course – Cass would never understand, let alone accept, them – but she could allow herself to feel them. My floret, she thought as she watched Cass sleep. Just for a few days. She’d do better than she had when Cass’s leg was recovering. She hadn’t really known the terran then, hadn’t understood her at all, but now there was a connection between them. Wasn’t there? Cassandra Sequi, First Floret. The thought made her dizzy, made her foliage shift like the sun was rising, every needle hungrily steering for nourishing light – and at the same time, a bitter tang in her gustatory nerves.

Not again.

She left, closing the door as quietly as she could, and settled on her sofa. Cass would be sleeping for some time, and she had work to catch up on. The planning meeting for the environmental remediation of Solstice had gone on without her, of course, and she tackled the notes from the meeting first, taking special care to read over those parts that had come after she’d left. Nothing too surprising, but it was good to know what page everyone was on. She began typing up an addendum, both by way of apology for ducking out and to add detail to her abortive explanation of conditions on the planetary surface, when she received a message.

<SuspendedDisbelief> Tsuga, I’m on my way to your hab. Please have Cass ready – I need to speak to her.

Why would the Captain need to speak to Cass? she wondered. Quickly, she typed up a reply.

<UnearthedHope> Cass is asleep. Is something wrong?
<SuspendedDisbelief> Rather a lot, unfortunately. Can you wake her up, please?
<UnearthedHope> I’m afraid not. She’s sedated for medical reasons.
<SuspendedDisbelief> Medical reasons? Everbloom, what’s she done? Never mind, the train’s just pulled up to the transit stop. Tell me when I get there.

It wasn’t long before the front door to Tsuga’s hab slid open and the Captain strode in. “Alright,” e said, “how sedated? How soon can I talk to her?”

“Twelve hours minimum, probably longer,” Tsuga said. “She had a bad reaction to Class-A because of her tactile hypersensitivity. Even after she’s awake, she’s not supposed to do anything strenuous for several days. What happened? Why is it so important you talk to her?” It could be anything, Tsuga thought, her mind spinning off countless ways everything could go wrong. The awful little bunker Cass had been living in could have collapsed. There could have been an infectious disease outbreak. One of her poor little terran friends could have gotten frostbite. The local star might be approaching its hydrogen depletion threshold (this was, admittedly, the least likely possibility).

The Captain sighed – affected a sigh, at least. Eir terran mannerisms really were quite natural-looking. “The terrans have all run away.”

“What?” This was bad, of course, but not nearly so bad as Tsuga had been imagining. Relief mixed with confusion. “What do you mean, ran away?”

“I mean they appear to have, in a coordinated manner, arranged for a series of distractions during a supply shuttle landing, gotten into one of their cute little land vehicles, and driven away up into the mountains. We have a trail, and I’ve scrambled overflight across the entire eastern half of the continent, but I am extremely disappointed. They were being so cooperative!”

“I’m surprised as well,” Tsuga said. “At least it’s not that many of them, right? It should be easy to track them down.”

“Ah, see, here’s the ‘fun’ part,” Andoa said, shaking eir head. “May I sit? This may take some time.”

“Of course,” Tsuga said, gesturing to her sofa. “Can I get you some mineralized water?”

“Oh, much appreciated,” e said as e settled in. “Hard as it comes.” A moment later, eir vines dangling in a glass, e went on. “Before they left, the terrans set up an automated transmitter, which broadcast a series of what seem to be aphorisms or quotations followed by a series of numbers. Here, let me play you some of it.” E extracted eir tablet and tapped at it, and soon the audio file began to play.

“…four, nine, four. You were born with wings. Why prefer to crawl through life? Three, nine, nine, three, two, two. I prefer a short life with width to a narrow one with length. Five, seven, four, two, zero, two…”

“Hold on,” Tsuga said as Andoa switched the file off, “that was Nell, wasn’t it?”

“Oh, it was definitely Nell,” Andoa said, stowing the tablet away. “I don’t suppose you can make any sense of that?”

“Well, it’s some kind of code, clearly. There’s no inherent meaning. And, well–” Suddenly, it became very clear to Tsuga why Andoa wanted to talk to Cass. “It does sound an awful lot like the sorts of things Cass says.”

“Precisely,” Andoa said. “And if she can help us find these little runaways, I need to know that as soon as possible. I also need to know if she knew about this ahead of time, but she’s at least already up here where we can keep an eye on her, so that, at least, can wait a bit.” E drained the glass of water and picked it up in eir vines, toying with it idly as the last dregs swirled around its bottom. “And to think, it was all going so smoothly. I was looking forward to a nice, calm, orderly domestication of this planet. It would have been a nice change of pace. Ah well. At least this lot are only running away from us. They’d be much more likely to hurt themselves if they actually tried to fight, like the rest of their species did.”

“Hopefully it stays that way,” Tsuga said, nodding. “I don’t understand why they’d run, though.”

“Feralists are like this, Tsuga,” Andoa said. “I know you don’t have a lot of experience with direct domestication, but let me tell you: sometimes, feralists will do the most counterproductive things imaginable, and they seem to have an endless imagination for precisely how to go about it.” E hesitated, three or four of eir eyes watching the glass, before continuing. “This lot of terran feralists are different from the usual sort, though. It would be a mistake to assume anything about them. Hence, again, why it’s so vital I know everything Cass knows, as soon as possible.”

“Her recovery has to come first,” Tsuga insisted. I have to protect her.

“Naturally,” Andoa said soothingly. “I think it’s admirable how much you care for her – which is why it’s a bit odd you haven’t filed a Notice of Intent to Domesticate.”

Tsuga froze. Was she that obvious? That easy to read? “I don’t have any intention of domesticating her,” she said, a little too quickly. “Apart from the fact that she doesn’t want to be domesticated, I don’t believe I have the requisite qualities necessary for long-term care of a floret.”

Not again.

“We both know she’s going to be domesticated,” Andoa said, giving Tsuga a curious stare. “She’s a feralist, Tsuga. It’s for her own good.”

“You yourself said these feralists are different,” Tsuga countered. “She aligns with us on virtually all points except the keeping of florets – and if we can show her that her worldview doesn’t conflict with domestication, I think she would adapt herself very quickly to life in the Compact. And,” she added, “since she’s expressed a desire to remain independent, I feel obligated to help her stay that way, if her well-being permits it.”

Andoa regarded Tsuga for a moment, long enough to be uncomfortable. She was just about to say something when Andoa finally leaned forward and said, “She’s got your vines all tied up in knots, hasn’t she?” E rose, setting the glass down gently. “Can I give you a little advice? Sophonts much prefer an Affini to take charge. They may not know it when they start out, but they do. Watching them finally unclench is one of the most rewarding sights there is. It’s what’s best for them anyway. So, unwork those knots and take charge, eh? And file that Notice of Intent,” e added, “before someone else does.”

Tsuga bristled, her vines coiling up tightly as if she were about to engage in strenuous work. “I’ll let you know when Cass is awake,” she said quietly. “But her well-being comes first.”

“Always, Tsuga,” e said. “Always. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I now have a much more complicated and freeform evacuation to manage. We’re going to have to dig all these little sophots out of their holes, and all because someone got them all riled up.” There was that predatory look again – Tsuga could see it in em so easily. Wherever Nell was, her days as an independent sophont were numbered, and Tsuga agreed that she probably needed it.

But not Cass – Cass was a good girl. She could be reasoned with.

Not again.

She watched Andoa go, watched the door slide shut behind em, and finally allowed herself to relax, if only fractionally. She had work to do if she was going to be ready to care for her floret-for-a-few-days when she woke up.

Take her now before it’s too late.

She had been doing her research, especially when it came to archaic terran measurements. This time, the pancakes would be perfect. And they would have bacon and eggs and toast alongside them. Cass deserved the best, and Tsuga would give it to her. At least, for a few days. Then, Tsuga would do everything in her power to give Cass the one thing she wanted above all else: her independence.

I can’t lose another one like that.

She would do anything for Cass – even if it hurt just to think about it. But no: she pushed the thought away, buried the ache deep. They were thoughts and feelings for later. For now, she could be kind to herself, and pretend. She could let herself feel, and it would harm no one to do it so long as she kept it to herself.

Just for a few days.