Tsuga could name a hundred reasons why she shouldn’t be trusted with a pet, ranging from reasonable points to self-evidently ridiculous excuses. Ultimately, she did not and had never really trusted herself when it came to matters of import. It was one thing to pick through through the remnants of extinct sophont cultures — they were already dead, and there was little enough harm Tsuga could do to them at that point. Even when it came to climatic engineering and geoscience, individual mistakes rarely spelled disaster, since so many vines handled each problem. But xeno care? Xeno care was something else entirely. There was nothing more important than ensuring the well-being of xenos, and especially a xeno under one’s direct supervision. There were so many ways it could go wrong, and one had to be on guard for any of them, at any time, all the time.

And yet, right now, none of those potential problems could mire Tsuga’s core in worry, because set against the sleeping sophont in her lap, her worries were nothing. There was something about seeing Cass’s face, carefree and content as she nuzzled into Tsuga, a hand clutching at one of her vines, that outweighed any uneasiness, any concern. For the third time, she thought that if time were to grind to a halt in this moment, this perfect moment with Cass asleep in her arms, she too could feel that content.

One thing did weigh on her mind, though: And you are loved. Had she really said that? She had been twisting herself in knots over it for so long, and the ache deep in her core had grown so fierce in that moment that she couldn’t stop herself. She had no doubt that what she’d said was true — when it hurt so to keep the secret, how could it not be? — but she worried that it might upset Cass when she woke up. Certainly, it hadn’t bothered her while entranced. She might not, Tsuga reminded herself, even remember her saying it. That would probably be for the best. It would let them both go on like they had before, and not risk disrupting what they already had. The last time Tsuga had expressed feelings like these to Cass, she’d gotten so upset about it. Now, in the wake of such an awful experience, would surely be no different, and very likely worse.

She felt the changes in Cass’s breathing, the quickening of her heartbeat, long before the little terran began to stir, to blink her eyes. “Tsuga?” she murmured, squinting against the light streaming into Polyphylla’s hab from the false sky. “How long was I out?”

“You slept through the night,” Tsuga said, giving Cass a gentle squeeze with the vines wrapped around her. “You clearly needed it, so I let you.”

“…haven’t slept that well in a long time,” she said. After a moment, she added, “Thanks. And sorry I pinned you down here.”

“Don’t be,” Tsuga said, smiling as every one of her needles stood on end. Cass looked so perfect there, in her arms, looking up at her. “It was my pleasure. And I’m glad you slept well. How are you feeling?”

“Better, I think.” She stretched, and Tsuga marveled at the whole production. How can one xeno be this adorable? she thought. “Though…ugh,” she added, wincing and putting a hand to her side. “I really need to go.”

“…go where?” Tsuga said. “Polyphylla didn’t say anything about–“

“To the bathroom,” Cass interrupted. “And I’m a little tied up, so…?”

“Oh. Oh. Of course, sorry, let me– here,” Tsuga said, slowly working her vines free from around Cass. Part of her recoiled at the thought of letting her go, but she silenced it. Polyphylla lets Leah wander. I can do the same for a xeno who isn’t even my floret. She set the little terran down on the floor. “Go and get cleaned up. I’ll make something for you to eat. I’m sure you’re hungry by now.”

“Actually, yeah,” Cass said, taking a few cautious steps as she walked off her sleep. “That would be great. Thanks.”

“I’ll get to it, then,” Tsuga said, rising and reconsolidating her lower body from the mess of vines she’d used as bedding for Cass as she watched her walk away. She followed, out into the common clearing, where Polyphylla and Leah were cuddled up on the sofa. “Cass is awake,” she said as she passed.

“I saw,” Polyphylla said, idling stroking Leah’s hair. The little terran was drifting in and out, her face pressed lazily into Polyphylla’s thigh. “I take it she’s mostly recovered?”

“I think so, but you’re the expert,” Tsuga said. “I’m going to make breakfast for her. Has Leah eaten?”

“She has, but I expect she wants a little snack. Isn’t that right, little flower?” she said, tickling Leah and eliciting a giggle from her as she stood up, carrying Leah with her. “I’ll come with you. I know cooking is still a new skill for you.”

“I know how to do a few things, at least,” Tsuga said. “And I think I will be making Cass a breakfast sandwich.” Sandwiches were easy, not to mention convenient and easily variable; Tsuga had been very impressed by that particular collection of traits.

“Oh, lovely! Well, let me help anyway,” Polyphylla said, running a vine across Tsuga as she followed her into the kitchen. She set Leah on a little round cushion on the stone countertop and added, “Stay.”

“Yes, Mistress!” Leah chirped, curling up and wiggling happily. Small as it was, the cushion was more than spacious enough for her.

“You really don’t need to,” Tsuga said as she dialed an order into the compiler: bread, halal bacon (raw), two eggs, milk, cheese, and a fresh tomato, along with a bit of oil, a bit of soft butter, and a plate for the finished sandwich. It began to rumble away.

“Well, I’m going to be in here making a snack for Leah, anyway,” Polyphylla said, opening the stasis chamber and pulling a small basket of strawberries out. “And I admit I’m curious.”

“Curious about what?” The compiler chimed, and Tsuga pulled out the tray of ingredients, carrying it to the counter beside Polyphylla. “Oh, where do you keep your knives?”

“Up here,” Polyphylla replied, reaching up to the ceiling and taking down a pair of short ceramic knives. <Can’t be too careful with little hands about,> she added in Affini. <And as to what I’m curious about, well, apart from seeing how you’ve mastered the art of the sandwich, which Leah tells me is critically important to terran culture, I’m curious as to when you’re going to make your move.>

Tsuga paused as she took one of the knives from Polyphylla. <My move?>

<On Cass,> Polyphylla said, casually cutting up the strawberries while she tapped a few commands of her own into the compiler with a vine. It began to rumble again.

<…there’s no move to make,> Tsuga said. She began slicing the tomato, carefully selecting the exact strata and gauging the thickness to ensure maximum juiciness on the sandwich. <She doesn’t want to be domesticated.>

<And she may not have a choice in the matter,> Polyphylla reminded Tsuga. The compiler chimed, and she retrieved a tray with a small, brilliantly red floral-print bowl. <You were there for her mnemonic regression. Even if her history of violence is complicated and potentially justifiable in the wild, the sheer degree of trauma she’s carrying around, not to mention the instability of her persona…well.> She opened a jar, sprinkled a bit of sugar over the strawberries, and tipped them into the bowl. <I just think it’d be better if she were to approach domestication as an opportunity rather than as some sort of punishment.> “Here you go, sweetling,” she added in English, passing the bowl to Leah. <So make your move.>

“Mmm! Thank you, Mistress!” she said, taking the bowl and beginning to eat the strawberries one by one. Polyphylla gave her a tender stroke, and she let out a happy little noise that not even Tsuga could keep herself from delighting at openly.

<She is unfairly adorable, you know that?> she said. <But there is no move to make. And I’m not a good choice for her, anyway.> More and more, Tsuga had been fighting to cling to that idea as the voice in her head, the voice of desire and of love, demanded action, insisted that she would be a good match for Cass. She cracked her eggs into a bowl and began to whisk them, adding milk slowly.

<You’re joking, surely?> Polyphylla said, staring at Tsuga. <I’ve been observing the two of you together over the last day or so, and it’s manifestly obvious that she not only trusts you, but actively wants to be around you. You say you haven’t entranced her into it, at least not intentionally, and I believe you, but that just means that she wants it of her own accord.>

<She trusts me because I respect her desires and am honest about my own,> Tsuga replied. With one vine, she sketched out a small square on the countertop, and it began to glow a dull infrared as it heated up. <If I ask her to be my pet, I lose that. I’ve already had one close call on that score, and I don’t mean to make the mistake again.>

“… is Cassie okay?” Leah said, pouting, a strawberry held in her sugar-dusted fingers halfway from bowl to mouth.

“Of course, petal,” Polyphylla said, giving her a gentle scritching behind her ear. “Why wouldn’t she be?”

Leah let out a happy sigh at the touch, but the concern was still there in her face and voice. “Well, she had to have desk time, and I know when I have to have desk time it means something broke in me. And you’re talking about her now but you’re doing it in Affini so you probably don’t want me to hear. I don’t really know what you’re saying, but, uhm…I know enough Affini to know you’re talking about Cassie.”

“Oh my little flower,” Polyphylla said, smiling. “We are, yes, but we’re talking in Affini because we didn’t want you to worry unnecessarily, alright? You just have your snack. I promise, my love, I promise that we’re going to take care of Cass, and she’s going to be alright. Okay?” With a delicate touch of a vine, she steered the strawberry towards Leah’s mouth; with another, she gave her a gentle tap on her cheek, and Leah’s mouth opened just in time. Another tap under her chin, and she took the treat.

“Okay, Mistress,” she said when she swallowed. “Thank you.”

<You have a very smart, very good girl,> Tsuga said, keeping her Affini slow and precise. Leah giggled and kicked her feet a bit, just as Tsuga had expected. Good girl, and appropriate variations thereupon, were often some of the first words xenos picked up in Affini. She poured a bit of oil onto the cooktop. “Oh. Spatula?”

“Here,” Polyphylla said, reaching up and extracting a long, thin tool from above and handing it over. <She is a very good girl,> she added, the pride a vibrato in her biorhythm as well as her voice. <And Cass would be too, with very little effort on your part, I think.>

<I’m sure she would be,> Tsuga said as she poured the eggs out onto the glowing cooktop, and they began to set almost immediately. She scraped the eggs back and forth to ensure they didn’t burn.

<And I can tell that you want it,> Polyphylla went on, coiling a few vines around her. <Your biorhythms are practically saturated with the need for it.>

<We often want things we can’t have,> Tsuga said as she levered a sheet of fluffy scrambled eggs off to the side. With a single slide of a vine next to the cooktop, it began to glow brilliantly as it became searing hot. Tsuga laid out the halal bacon on it, and it began to spit and crackle as it cooked.

<But you can,> Polyphylla insisted. <What do you have to gain from denying yourself?>

Her happiness, Tsuga thought as she flipped the bacon, but she caught herself almost immediately. Cass wasn’t happy — the mnemonic regression more than proved that. The poor creature was carrying so much trauma Tsuga was amazed she was as functional as she was. But that’s what Cass was: functional. Not happy. <I envy your confidence,> she said at last as she buttered the slices of bread and began to construct the sandwich. <I’m sure you’d have solved this problem already.>

<I think the solution to your problem is closer than you think,> Polyphylla said, leaning into Tsuga. <You just have to recognize it for what it is.>

<Perhaps.> She scooped the bacon off the cooktop, laid it gently atop the sandwich, and finished it with the second slice of bread. Then, she levered the completed sandwich back onto the heated surface, dialing the heat back down, to let it toast and brown. This was a very important part of the breakfast sandwich, she’d read — a good crunch. After a moment, she slid the spatula beneath it and flipped it to toast the other side. The bottom, now the top, was a glorious golden-brown. All that practice is paying off, Tsuga thought, very pleased with her effort.

It had been a good sandwich, and it had followed a nice, private bath during which no Affini had pestered her to make sure she was cleaning herself properly, and that had followed the best night of sleep Cass had experienced for quite some time. There was some disquiet about how she’d gotten that sleep — letting Tsuga play with her mind like that scared the hell out of her, but given how anxious Tsuga was about herself, Cass didn’t think it was likely she’d broken her promise. She certainly didn’t feel any different.

There were bad things too, of course. There were always bad things, one way or another. In this case, it was the dredged up memories slowly starting to leak around the block Polyphylla had put in, as she’d explained would happen over breakfast and during the walk over to Pisca’s hab. According to her, it would be a slow and easy reacquaintance with what had happened in the session. Even without it, though, Cass’s mind was at least in part mired in her past, since she knew full well what had happened to her throughout her life and could readily guess where a (probably well-meaning) busybody like Polyphylla would go poking even if she wasn’t starting to remember the details. And then there was what Tsuga had said, but she was trying very hard not to think about that.

None of it mattered right now, anyway. Everything on her mind was being pushed aside by Aletheia bullying her way into Cass’s lap, whimpering and rubbing herself up against her like a cat or some other animal demanding affection. This was not the first time it had happened since the visit at Pisca’s hab began, and it would probably not be the last — Aletheia was, as Polyphylla had explained it, having her xenodrug dosage ramped up in preparation for implant surgery, which left her in a state where any thoughts that might chance to enter her head were so fleeting that she certainly wouldn’t be voicing them. She was operating purely on instinct and impulse at the moment, and unfortunately for Cass those impulses still included Aletheia’s inexplicable attraction to her.

“Allie, no!” Leah said, laughing and hugging Aletheia from behind and tugging her away from Cass. The redhead made a soft bleat of protest before forgetting entirely what she’d been doing and burying her face between Leah’s breasts. “Mmm, good girl, Allie!” Leah said, stroking Aletheia’s hair with one hand and cuddling her up close with the other. “I can’t believe I get to say that,” she added, winking at Cass.

“Thanks,” Cass mumbled, thankful that Leah had, once she’d realized Cass was uncomfortable with affection from Aletheia in her present state, taken on the task of occupying Aletheia’s attentions as much as she could. Not that Cass was comfortable with Aletheia’s affections when she was sober, either, but seeing her like this was having the exact opposite effect on her as it seemed to be having on Leah, or on the Affini for that matter, who seemed to regard Aletheia’s current behavior as “irresistibly cute.” Even Tsuga had gotten in on the routine, petting and stroking Aletheia in ways Cass found hard to watch.

And you are loved. What the hell was that supposed to mean?! Cass had been stewing over it practically since she’d woken up, unable to put it completely out of her mind. She’d better not be getting back on her domestication feelings, Cass thought, or I’m screwed. She’s the only one I have backing me up.

“Oh, I don’t mind,” Leah said, totally oblivious to Cass’s internal quandary. “I remember when I had to get ramped up for my implant. Sort of.” She screwed up her face, pursing her lips as she pushed to remember. “Mmm. Yeah. I remember it. It was fun! Allie’s having a great time.”

“Mnuh?” Aletheia lifted her head, a dopey, confused expression on her face.

“Oh, you heard your name, huh?” Leah said. “Stars, I totally get why Mistresss likes t–“ She squeaked as she was cut off by Aletheia pressing her lips against Leah’s. One of them giggled — maybe Leah, maybe Aletheia — and they both rolled over and began to make out. Again. Cass couldn’t help but see a future version of herself in the same position, thoughtless and empty-headed, cavorting on the floor like an animal. That’s what they want for me, she thought. They’ll do it to me in a heartbeat if they decide I need it, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. I need to get out of here. I need to think. I need to think of a way out.

She got to her feet and walked off, past the trio of Affini sitting around a low table. Pisca’s hab was a lot like Tsuga’s, in that she’d filled it with many of the same kinds of vegetation in many of the same configurations, as if she was trying out the style as she looked for her own. “I need some air. I’m going outside,” she said, neither stopping nor looking up at them. She didn’t want to give them a chance to argue it.

“Well, alright,” Polyphylla said, “but don’t wander off!”

Cass bit her tongue and said nothing as she stalked through the entryway. “See you soon, cutie!” the hab chimed as the door slid open, one last jab before she was blessedly free and into the mossy, rocky garden out in front of Pisca’s hab. She chose a relatively smooth one to sit upon, buried her face in her hands, and tried as hard as she could not to cry.

It went about as well as everything else she’d ever done.

I fucked up. I fucked up. I fucked up. The words echoed in her head as she lost herself in sorrow and regret. It wasn’t just about the mnemonic regression, or her fundamental misread of the Affini, or even agreeing to come up to the ship in the first place; it was everything, everything she’d ever done, every choice she’d ever made. Everything she had ever touched was irretrievably fucked, and it was all her fault. Her only consolation was that, when the Affini finally got around to deciding to scramble her brain, there wouldn’t be enough left of her to feel bad about it — she’d be like Leah, like Aletheia too now, blissfully sleepwalking through the rest of her days.

Sure, there were florets who were functional, even normal, if you discounted their totally blasé attitude towards being property, but Cass was never going to be a floret like that. Even Cliff, who had charged an Affini with a grenade in his hand, was just a schlub who’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time. He’d been conscripted, hadn’t had a choice in where he was or what he was doing. He hadn’t started the war. He hadn’t been in command. He hadn’t gotten half the population of Solstice killed in a single day.

She was so lost in her tears that she didn’t hear the soft creaking of wood, the gentle susurration of vine on vine, and the ever-present infrasonic rumble until Tsuga was already crouching down next to her. She didn’t reach out to touch Cass, didn’t so much as prod her with a vine, but simply sat there, close but not too close, until Cass finally mastered herself enough to cast a glance up at her.

“I thought you might like some company,” Tsuga said, her voice soft, soothing. It reminded Cass of the previous night, the comfort and safety she’d felt listening to it. “But if you’d like me to go, I will.”

“Stay,” Cass managed to croak out, the only word she managed to say before she dissolved into tears again. And here you are, crying in front of her again. She’s going to think this is all you are if you keep this up. Stop fucking crying, you coward!

“I will,” Tsuga said, edging slightly closer to Cass. “I’m right here, and I won’t go anywhere unless you ask me to.” Another soft creak came as she lifted a hand, holding it just behind Cass. “May I?” Cass nodded, and she felt the heavy weight descend on her back, a still and comforting pressure.

Cass sobbed helplessly. Look at you. You’re practically letting her pet you like a fucking animal! How are you any different from Aletheia like this? Fight back! Fight! Back! There was no escaping it, no getting away from how much every single decision she made was a colossal fuck-up from square one. Even now, she was failing, and this massive alien plant was going to make a mindless pet out of her.

“Is this about the mnemonic regression? Has the block fully broken down?” Cass shook her head, and Tsuga let out a rumbling sound that Cass felt throughout her body like a brief massage. “Then…I’m sorry, but I don’t know what’s hurting you. But I’ll listen, if you want to talk.”

“Just…everything,” Cass managed to whimper, sniffling and wiping at her eyes, her nose. “Everything is fucked.”

“I don’t think it’s as bad as you think,” Tsuga said. She offered a vine to Cass, and she reached out and took it, squeezing it tightly. It was soft, and gave gently under pressure.

“Everything I’ve ever done… a fucking mistake,” she whispered. “Everything wrong. Useless. Fucked.”

“Not true,” Tsuga insisted. “You kept your comrades alive through a terrible disaster.”

“After I got tens of thousands more of them killed!” Cass spat.

“That wasn’t your doing. That was a decision made by someone else, far away, executed by others, none of whom you’ve ever met.”

“I started the fucking revolution, Tsuga!” Cass shouted, anger the only thing that had so far that was holding off the tears. Good. Use it! Fight back! Fight harder! “I helped organize it, I was central fucking logistics for the early days, I disseminated educational materials through Archives orders, I made it fucking happen!”

“And others joined you of their own free will,” Tsuga replied, her voice even, calm, soothing, welcoming, unmoving — Cass’s anger dashed upon it like waves on a breakwater. “And having seen some of the conditions they, and you, were kept in on Solstice, I can easily see why.”

This was wrong. She wasn’t supposed to be understanding, she was supposed to see why Cass was a monster, a fuck-up, a mistake without any redeeming value. “I… I took advantage of them! I got them killed! I probably got Auntie Ashtî killed, I never heard from her after the Marama Complex, and she sure never showed up on Solstice! I abandoned my father, I ruined everything, and it all meant nothing!”

“You did no such thing,” Tsuga said. Another vine snaked in, gently steering Cass’s head by the chin to make her face Tsuga. “You did no such thing,” she repeated.

“I… I let my mother die,” she whispered, the fire going out of her. Anger could no longer hold back the floodwaters that drowned her heart. The tears returned, but she was too tired, too empty, to sob any longer.

“No,” Tsuga said. “Her death was a tragedy, one I am very sorry you had to endure, but it was not a tragedy of your making. If you had gone with her, you might have suffered the same fate — and then I would never have gotten to meet you, to say nothing of all the other people whose lives you’ve touched since then. Have you failed to notice how you inspire others? How they care for you?”

And you are loved. There it was, in the back of her mind again. She shook her head. “Everything I did was wrong,” she breathed.

“No,” Tsuga said. She extended her other hand, holding it out to Cass. “May I hug you? You look as though you could use a hug.” Cass sniffled and nodded, and Tsuga’s fingers closed firmly but delicately around her as she was lifted into the air, pressed into Tsuga’s chest. Her thick, sharp scent pushed past sinuses clogged with tears, and the warm pressure of her bore down on Cass’s sorrow. “Shhhh,” Tsuga whispered, the sound of it penetrating every cell of Cass’s body. “I’m here.”

And Cass wept, though she felt as though there were no more tears in her. She wept, and wept, until the world fell away and there was only her and Tsuga, a presence so powerful but so gentle that she couldn’t help but allow it into her, allow it to pass through her, and as it did she felt the tension in her body slacken, felt the rage and the grief begin to wash away. “Thank you,” she finally whispered, her face still buried against what would be Tsuga’s collarbone, if she had bones.

“Of course,” Tsuga replied. “I will always be here for you, whenever you need me, no matter what happens.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Cass mumbled. “None of it matters. Nothing I’ve ever done mattered. It was all pointless.”

“I very much disagree,” Tsuga said, “but why do you say that?”

“Because you exist,” Cass said, the hurt amplifying her voice more than she meant to. “Because if I’d just sat at home and been a good little cog in the machine that killed my mother, you’d have come along and fixed everything anyway!” The sobs began to gather in her chest again, threatening to take back lost territory. “Nothing I’ve ever done has changed anything. It’s just made me and a lot of other people miserable, and gotten so many people killed, and all for nothing.”

“You did what you felt was right at the time,” Tsuga said, giving Cass a gentle squeeze. “I’m not going to judge you for things you did in the wild. You didn’t know we were coming, you couldn’t have. You believed you had to take matters into your own hands, and given what you experienced, that’s very understandable. The important thing is that you’re safe now, and you’ll be taken care of.”

“After what you saw? After everything I’ve done?” Cass sucked in a long, sniffly breath. “I’m fucked, Tsuga.”

“Polyphylla is still laying out your psyche map. She hasn’t even written her report yet, and we don’t know how the committee will vote even in light of that. I think you have a very good chance of remaining independent. So please don’t despair. Your situation may seem bleak from where you’re standing, but I promise you, no matter what happens, you will be okay.”

“You don’t understand,” Cass whispered. “You just don’t understand. You can’t. You’ve never been powerless like this before.” Tsuga went dead silent — even her biorhythms died back hard, after a brief burst of dissonance — and still as a rock. Oh, great, Cass thought. I fucked up even more. “H-hey, I’m sorry,” she added, “I don’t know what I–“

“No, it’s okay,” Tsuga interrupted, her body softening again as her internal rhythms restored themselves. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“But I did fuck up,” Cass said. “I know I did, you can’t convince me I didn’t.” She felt Tsuga shift internally. “Please,” she said. “Tell me what I did wrong, so I can stop fucking up in at least one way, okay?”

Tsuga hesitated. “I suppose I’ve seen a great deal of your trauma,” she finally said. “Perhaps it would help to share a little of mine. Do you remember when we discussed gender?”

Cass chuckled, despite herself. “Yeah, I had to explain what a dyke is to you.”

“And I told you about a particular species I had encountered before, the– well, I’ve noticed you flinch when I say their name. I suppose it’s uncomfortable for you?”

“A bit, yeah,” Cass said. “Sorry, it just… sounds like metal scraping on metal. It’s not a sound our ears like.”

“I’ll refrain from speaking their language, then,” she said, sighing. “Though it really is beautifully poetic. In any case…I met them while conducting an archaeological survey. We thought the planet was dead, there were no signs of life, so we went about our work for several years of cataloguing and reconstructing their civilization, looking for remains we might be able to salvage hereditary information from, and so on. And then I happened to discover a small group of survivors who were living in a bunker nearly a kilometer below the surface.”

“Oh, God…” Cass suddenly understood the obsession with fragility, the anxiety that Tsuga must have felt in that moment. “But you saved them, right?”

“…no,” Tsuga said, staring off into the distance. “We tried, but…they had used a teratogenic biological weapon at some point in their past, before their biosphere collapsed. It’s part of why the biosphere did collapse. It took up residence in their hereditary molecules and stayed there, causing peristent damage even in the descendents of survivors. We found 81 in that nest, all very ill, and we found no other surviving nests despite an exhaustive search once we realized there might be others. Within three years the population was down to the low 40s, despite one of the most massive mobilizations of medical specialists the Compact has ever seen. Hundreds of ships, millions of Affini. Perhaps tens of millions. I stayed because, as the one who found them, they saw me as a sort of savior figure. It gave them a great deal of comfort to know that, even if I wasn’t a medical specialist, I was still there, watching out for them.”

Cass tried to imagine it — millions of Affini descending on a world in the name of saving less than a hundred lives. Millions of Affini working towards the same end, and somehow not succeeding, despite all their power and technology. “How?” she blurted out. “I mean…you couldn’t figure out what was wrong?”

“No, we knew the problem,” Tsuga said. “But their hereditary molecule was so complex and so flexible that any changes we attempted to introduce proved even more disastrous than the teratogenic weapon they employed in the first place. The problem was compounded by their eusociality, since they only had a single surviving queen.” She went still again for a long moment. “I’m sorry. I don’t talk about…well, queen is a feminine term in your language, and she did produce eggs, so I suppose I should say that I don’t talk about her often.”

“You don’t have to,” Cass said softly, reaching up with one hand to touch Tsuga’s chin. “You really don’t.”

“For the first time in a long while,” Tsuga said, turning her head to give Cass a weak smile, “I think I want to.”

“What was her name?”

“In Standard English, it would probably take me about five minutes to give you an accurate translation,” Tsuga said. “I told you, highly poetic language. I’ll just give you an abbreviated version of the initial thesis statement of her name: Mother in Ashes, Strong of Limb and Quick of Mind, Vast in Her Glory, Whose Children Will Outnumber the Stars. They had a lot of hope bound up in her, you see, which I think must have been very hard for her, considering she couldn’t lay fertile eggs.”

Cass felt a deep, remorseless cold run across her skin. Her troubles, her guilt, suddenly seemed so infinitesimal by comparison. Her cheeks flushed in shame at how petty her life was compared to that kind of weight, that kind of guilt. “Fuck,” she whispered, unable to articulate anything more.

“We tried to fix that, of course. We never could, at least, not while she was still alive. And she was the youngest among them, so she outlived the rest by a considerable margin. Twelve years.” Tsuga squeezed Cass tight, tight enough that for a fleeting moment it was uncomfortable before her chest gave way and softened, becoming another part of the embrace as it half-swallowed Cass. Even if Cass had wanted to resist, there was no way she could have. Tsuga was simply too strong. “She was so very lonely. I worry that, in the last days before her death, she was sure that she would be the last of her species. I’m very happy to say she was not — we were able to resurrect them about fifteen years later, and while her children may not outnumber the stars, there are billions upon billions of them, living on a world that is green and healthy again, and they are all very, very happy. But I’ve never been able to forget the way her pedipalps trembled when she talked about it. I do wish she had been able to live to see it, to know for certain that she wasn’t the end of it all.”

“I’m sorry,” Cass whispered, her mouth half buried in Tsuga’s vines. “That’s…fuck.”

“You should have seen my Sixth Bloom,” she said, her rueful laugh a wave that rolled around Cass. “If my colleagues think me neurotic now, they should talk to my friends back in Andromeda. I was scarcely functional. I don’t know why anyone let me be in charge of anything, much less ecological engineering.” Her chest slowly released Cass, and she fell gently back into Tsuga’s arms. “You’ve actually been very helpful, you know, in helping me to… to find a place of stability, I suppose is the best way to phrase it. Even very recently, just thinking about this could render me useless for days.”

“What, because you want to make me your pet?” Cass said, half joking — she knew full well that Tsuga still wanted that. And you are loved still echoed in the back of her head.

“…I do want that,” Tsuga said. “I want to be strong for you, so I can help you overcome your own hurt. And I want to make you happy, happier than you’ve ever been, and to do that every single day of your life. I want every day from now on to be the best day of your life, Cass. I want so, so badly to give that to you.” She hesitated for a moment, then gently set Cass down on the ground; Cass’s legs almost gave way, and when Tsuga released her she felt cold for a moment even though the ship’s ambient temperature was quite comfortable. “But I also know that it’s not what you want for yourself,” she went on. “I know that you want to remain independent, and even if I think it would probably be better for you to be domesticated, I think you are functional enough to live on your own, so I will respect that.”

Cass stared up at Tsuga, her heart pounding in her chest. God, I can’t believe she can just say these things out loud like it’s nothing, she thought. She was so honest and forthright and kind and gentle when she said it. It was impossible not to take her at her word — Tsuga believed she could do those things, she very likely could, and she genuinely wanted nothing more than to do them. And yet, despite that, she was willing to stand back, to let Cass stand on her own. “Thank you,” she whispered, unable to make her voice any louder.

Tsuga smiled, her eyes a complex swirl of colors that Cass had to fight to drag her gaze away from. Even crouching down, she was absolutely immense, seeming to fill the world up. “There is one thing I would like to ask you,” Tsuga said. “I was going to wait, but if you’re this concerned about things, perhaps now would be a better time to bring it up. If the committee does decide you’re to be domesticated…there’s paperwork I can file ahead of time that would place me at the front of the line. Would having that in place be a comfort to you? To know that I’d be the one to take care of you?”

“I…what?” Somehow, Cass’s heart sped up, cold sweat beading at the back of her neck. “You… you’re serious?! I thought you didn’t want to– didn’t trust yourself to–” She stumbled over her words, unable to properly articulate what she was trying to say. And you are loved. How was she supposed to think with that in her head all the time?

“Just in case, so that you’d know who it would be. I promise that I’d make the minimum necessary changes to help you. I don’t want to change who you are. I just want to let you be yourself in a way that doesn’t hurt. And again, this is only if the committee votes to have you domesticated.”

“I don’t– Tsuga, I can’t– That’s the next best thing to just volunteering for it!” Cass protested.

“It’s only a contingency,” Tsuga reassured her. “It carries no more weight than that, I promise, and it certainly won’t predispose the committee to recommend you for domestication. I just want to help you feel a little safer, that’s all.”

“Tsuga, I can’t answer that,” Cass said, hugging herself and looking down at the mossy ground cover. “Not…not right now.” How could I ever? How was she supposed to know how to feel about this? How was one supposed to feel about a giant alien tree woman who wanted to put a collar on you and feed you and treat you like an animal? How did that even enter into the calculus of a human mind?

“Then I’ll wait,” Tsuga said, holding one hand out to Cass. “I will follow your lead on this, however you want to address it.”

“But you want it,” Cass whispered, glancing up at Tsuga’s hand. Part of her wanted to take it, if only for the comfort of a familiar, safe touch. It was so rare she could find that, and now that she had, her skin was as hungry for touch as it was afraid of it.

“Yes,” Tsuga admitted. “I do. Because you are a wonderful little sophont, and you have helped me in so many ways already, and I very much wish to return the favor — whether or not that ends with you as my floret. So I will follow your lead. I promise.”

Cass took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. She’s the only one that’s even a little on your side. Don’t push her away now. She’s your only way out of this with your mind intact. “Okay,” she whispered, reaching out with one hand to take Tsuga’s. It dwarfed hers in a way that was as comical as it was comforting. “File it. But this doesn’t mean I want domestication. It doesn’t mean you get to treat me like a floret in the meantime. It doesn’t mean I’m going to be your floret. It’s just a safety net.”

“Just a safety net,” Tsuga said, smiling and giving Cass’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Nothing more.”