As he held the intricately detailed piece of freshly compiled metal and glass under the light, examining it from each and every angle, Edgar took a moment just for himself, just to be proud. Anyone could open up the console on a compiler and punch in a few commands to create some preset output, but this, this had taken dedication, practice. He had personally drafted up every notch, every curve and swoop, every splotch of color, each and every minute detail; in total, he must have spent a few hundred hours on the digital model, but it was perfect—or, at least, as perfect as a flawed person like himself could make it. Thoughtfully, he held it in his hand, turning it over, feeling the weight, watching as the little model leaves inside drifted with the motion. Edgar smiled, and a vine came to rest on his shoulder. 

“You finally did it,” a familiar voice spoke, full of pride and commendation. “It looks amazing, really, the level of detail is astounding, just like the real thing.”

Cheeks flush, Edgar rolled the little ball in the palm of his hand, before setting it down in its stand. “You’re sure? I’ve never actually been so I wouldn’t know.” 

“I have,” the affini replied. “The satellite gardens around Terra really are a thing of beauty. And this is—well—none of them are exactly like this one, but this would feel right at home among them. I’m proud of you for how hard you worked on this, really.”

Taking a deep breath, Edgar forced himself to look up into the affini’s eyes, trying not to tremble at the way she was looking at him, or at the guilt he felt. “Th-thank you, Miss Matilija, I couldn’t have done it without your help.” 

Scoffing, she brushed the statement aside with her vines. “Nonsense my dear, I showed you how to work the software, yes, helped you learn the principles at play, did some of the math for you, but the vision, the creation, that was all you.”

Typical affini, always trying to deflect credit onto their ward species, Edgar rolled his eyes, and nodded. “Well, thank you for the help anyway, and for letting me use your compiler.”

“Of course.” She gave a gracious smile, and a little curtsy. “You could always request a model like mine in your home, assuming you keep this hobby up, that's more than enough to justify having a more advanced model for personal use.”

Edgar shook his head. “I like it better having to come into your workshop. It gives me an excuse to get out of the house, plus this way I get to see what everyone else is working on, and spend time with folks—”

“And sneak longing glances at my pet,” Miss Matilija teased. Somehow, Edgar reddened even further. “One of these days you’re going to have to ask her out, dear, or I’ll be forced to take a more active role in getting you two together.” Something about the way she spoke carried an implication which Edgar was either unable, or unwilling to catch on to. 

“Right, well, um, I know she’s asleep now, but do you think you could um, give this to her and tell her it was from me?” Keeping his eyes forward, Edgar thrust the little globe outward. “I know she was saying she wanted to visit again and I thought maybe she’d like it.” 

“Be honest with me, little Terran, did you do all this just as a vague attempt at a romantic gesture towards my floret?” The affini asked. Edgar didn’t answer.

Approximately fifteen minutes straight of ceaseless teasing later, Edgar left Miss Matilija’s workshop, face burning red, but successful in delivering Kelly her gift. He boarded the tram which would take him toward home, and cracked the window.

Wind whipped through his hair as Edgar sat back and took in the scenery. The ride up to the president’s summer home, where his ceremony would be held, truly was a gorgeous one, and what better way to enjoy it than with a fresh breeze and a beautiful girl at his side. He cast his gaze toward Kelly, she gave him an affectionate smile, and squeezed his hand. “Feeling better?” 

“Yeah, still a little off I suppose, but y’know…” it was the normal sort of off. The default amount which he always felt and could never place.

“Well, I’m sure things will go great. Just relax, y’know? Enjoy yourself. It’s almost over.” Kelly did seem to have the right idea; it was important to stay calm, docile. Edgar shut his eyes, and just relaxed into the feeling of the sun warming his skin for a bit. 

A shudder in their aircar roused Edgar, he blinked hard, watching blurry trees whip by as his eyes adjusted to the dark. Oliver’s familiar face came into slow focus. “You’re finally awake,” he mused. “We’re about to cross the border.”

“Huh? Border?” Edgar grumbled, trying to sit up, only to be stopped by a firm hand on his chest.

“Don’t try to sit up. You’re still recovering. We’re getting out of the city, into the countryside away from the plants,” Oliver explained.

“Why’m here instead of back home?” Edgar mumbled. 

“When Donovon shouldered past you, you wound up hitting your head pretty hard, lost consciousness.” Now that Oliver mentioned it, Edgar did feel a bit of a throbbing in his head; it didn’t hurt, it just felt like… pressure. “We figured better to take you with us if you’re no good buying us time, y’know? He left one of his guys behind to buy us time, throw the plants off our trail.”

“Thought I was th’only one who the plants would trust,” Edgar slurred. 

Oliver chuckled. “Yeah, probably. Don’t worry about it though, Donovon didn’t really like the guy he left behind anyway. Plus uhh… well, he figures if the plants come for us he can use you as a bargaining chip—just for show though, I mean, he wouldn’t actually do anything.” Edgar wasn’t so sure about that. At the same time though he just felt fine? Like things would work out. He looked up toward the sky. Trailing behind them, he could see a small affini aircar. They were being followed? Nobody else seemed to be able to see it, not that Edgar cared. It was probably for the best.

“Where’re we going?” He asked.

“Some old abandoned underground storage depo Donovan found when he was living out in the woods doing that wilderness survival shit he keeps saying we all need to learn.” Oliver shrugged. Admittedly, he was definitely not the kind of person to rough it. He’d been living in the luxury of the protectorate practically his whole life; he was too soft—not that Edgar was any different. “Apparently most of his guys are already camping out around there, off the grid y’know? And I guess there’s some old affini tech in there? Mostly recreational stuff, and no weapons, unfortunately, but apparently there’s an FTL communicator. Donovon thinks we can use it to contact the rebellion so they can get us off this rock, maybe glass a few plants while they’re at it, y’know?” 

“I thought the rebels were all gone by now,” Edgar mumbled.

That provoked a scoff from the driver’s seat. “Xeno propaganda. Those fucking weeds could never snuff out the will of Terra. The rebellion will answer the call, and we’ll take the fight to them,” Donovon insisted. “You’re coming with us, too. That’s assuming you’re loyal, don’t worry though, we’ll know soon enough.”

Oliver cast a worried glance toward Donovon’s direction, though from where he was laying, Edgar couldn’t see if Donovon reacted. After a few moments, Oliver returned his attention to Edgar. “Don’t worry too much about him, alright? You’ve helped us a lot, he knows that. I know that. Just relax for a bit, yeah?” 

Edgar nodded, and shut his eyes, letting the gentle warm breeze and sway of the car lull him. He felt Kelly’s hand touch his, and he stirred. “We’re here, love,” Kelly whispered softly. Edgar stretched, and gave her a smile. “You rest okay?” she asked. 

“Think so, definitely needed it,” Edgar answered.

Offering him her hand, Kelly hauled Edgar up out of the car and onto his feet; he took a moment to give himself a quick last minute once over. “You look sharp,” Kelly insisted. 

Without knowing why, Edgar felt himself wincing. “Eh, I dunno, just doesn’t feel entirely right.” At the very least, Kelly was her normal stunning self. She wore the hell out of her dress uniform. 

“Well, we can figure out that stuff later, for now let’s just get going. The sooner the start, the sooner we can enjoy ourselves, y’know?” She offered her hand; Edgar grinned, and took it.

“Yeah,” he replied, giving her a quick squeeze. 

They stood before the doors to the president's manor, and shared a glance. “Well, no sense waiting any longer,” Kelly mused. She reached out, and pushed open the door. Edgar straightened himself out, held his head high, and stepped 

Inside, the president’s grand banquet hall had been decorated to showcase the height of Terran opulence. Immaculately dressed servants flowed through the crowd, offering delicacies from every corner of the Accord. A military band played ritzy swing before a dance floor where high ranking service members trotted about, flaunting their decorated uniforms like peacocks. These were old money types, the sort who didn’t so much as blink at the sheer wealth on display. It was enough to make Edgar feel out of place, but Kelly was quick to remind him why they were all here: Edgar was the man of the hour, after all. 

The speeches came, an inevitability. Edgar was certain nobody truly wanted them, save maybe those giving them, and even in such cases, he was also certain each speaker would much prefer theirs to be the only one. Thankfully, time did everyone a favor and passed all that pomp and circumstance by smoothly enough to leave everyone in attendance relatively unscathed. 

Edgar stood at the head of the banquet, all eyes on him. His moment had arrived. Kelly hung off his arm, striking a perfect balance of dignified lady, badass marine, and supportive girlfriend eager to make her partner look good. The president awaited him across the stage; an attendant gave the signal to approach, and Edgar strode, head held high, to his place of honor. One last speech expounding the virtues of Terran spirit, bravery, resolve—mercifully, it was kept short. The president turned to Edgar, looking down upon him. The cameras focused in; it felt as though the whole Accord was watching. 

“For peerless courage, and unshakable resolve in the face of danger, and for your instrumental role in stopping a threat to so many innocent lives, I present to you the highest honor I can possibly bestow.” A hand fell upon Edgar’s shoulder, he shuddered. “Present your neck for me.” A command, Edgar’s breath hitched in his throat. He tilted his chin, staring up into those eyes, twinkling, infinite; the world fell away. Unable to move, unable to even breath, he waited, captive by the moment, by those eyes. For a moment, he believed his heart had stopped, but no, it had fallen into time with something else, the pulsing harmonious rhythm that saturated the room, vibrating every atom in his body to its beat. 

Far above, the president dangled his medal; light danced off it: shiny, perfect, made just for him. In a slow, deliberate motion, the president brought it to his neck. Hands trembling, blood running hot in his veins, Edgar screwed his eyes shut as he felt the soft material hug his neck and throat. A sharp click pierced the silence, and the world shifted.   

Lost, needy eyes fluttered open; Edgar looked up at the affini standing before him in confusion, and—an affini. There was an affini standing before him. That wasn’t possible. He’d won; Terra had won. The plants were gone. That’s why he was here, wasn’t it? Wasn’t it? His breath began to heave, only, something felt strange about that, too. He looked down—he was a girl? Since when was she a girl? She wasn’t supposed to—an intangible pull called her attention back to the affini before her, to those eyes, that smile, that rhythm in the air. She was a girl. The look in Mistress’ eyes told her so. How could she argue with that? She’d always been a girl, deep down, that implacable discomfort and malaise she’d been too afraid to confront ceased to exist in a body like this one. It was impossible to ignore; she’d always been this way, never ready, never able to accept it. But Mistress had taken care of all that difficult introspection for her, had told her who and what she needed to be. She could never thank her owner enough for that.

But no—no, this was wrong, she was a soldier, a hero of Terra, she had to do something—why weren’t the other attendees doing something? With great effort, She cast a glance over her shoulder to look out at the rest of the party. There was nothing there. But Kelly—surely Kelly could help her, right? Kelly was a real badass, a fighter in ways she never was. Then again, she could also just look back up into Mistress’ eyes and sink. It would be so much easier, so much nicer, wouldn’t it? No, no that was wrong. Desperate, she whirled around to face her girlfriend. Her connivent stood before their shared owner, wearing a pretty, flowing, flowery dress. Around Kelly’s neck was a collar—just like the one Mistress had just bestowed upon her little ‘hero.’ Their collars matched; they matched perfectly. And Kelly was looking up at Mistress with a look of pure adoration, unquestioning devotion, submission, docility. This was how things were supposed to be. 

One of Mistress’ vines curled under her chin, and the hero of Terra took a stumbling step backward, averting her eyes. She had to look away. Another step, and she lost her footing, where had her balance gone? She was falling; panic seized her. Vines wrapped around her, securing her, suspending her in the air. Mistress lifted her up, bringing her close. She couldn’t look, she had to look away. If she looked she—the vine under her chin gently guided her gaze upward. It was just the most phantom of touches, the lightest pressure imaginable. It would be so easy to push back against. She didn’t. Mistress’ eyes were so pretty. Her owner smiled at her, she smiled right back.

“There’s my good girl,” Neya purred. “Just relax for me, little Celia.” Celia obeyed. “I know this was a bit extreme, but don’t worry, we’ll make sure to properly sort out the finer details of your identity and such once things settle down.” A mischievous smile crossed her face. “I just couldn’t resist having a bit of fun. What is it you Terrans used to say? ‘Shock and awe?’” 

Whatever Mistress was going on about, the awe part was certainly working. Celia felt as though she were constantly on the verge of breaking out into desperate, needful whimpers. How could she not? The most important person in the whole universe was standing right there, holding her, fawning over her. And she got to be Her pet. 

“Relax for me now, dear, we’re almost done. Just a little bit more. I’ll see you again soon.”

Celia obeyed. Her world began to spin.

A flurry of activity unfurled around him, people running to and from assigned tasks and the like. When things got truly hectic, the world dissolved into a chaos that everyone but him seemed to understand, but that was life in the cosmic navy, Edgar had come to learn. And yet, he couldn’t seem to pull himself from his place, seated on his cot, sulking. He would get in trouble if he stayed here. He couldn’t bring himself to care. They’d drafted him the second he was old enough—literally, the notice went out automatically at midnight the day of his eighteenth birthday. At the time, he understood, Terra was facing its greatest threat yet. As far as wars went, this one seemed—almost—noble, setting off to defend humanity against invaders from beyond the Milky Way was surely as good a cause as any. He’d told himself that anyway, whenever the prospect of taking a life kept him up at night. Apparently he, and the rest of the crew aboard Trumpets on High, were too green for that, though. They needed to cut their teeth first. And so, under orders from some governor or other, they were en route to a remote mining colony to put down some radical insurrection which was threatening to destabilize the system. 

The reports said they were real bastards, the worst humanity had to offer. They were still humans, though. Edgar didn’t want that kind of blood on his hands. He didn’t want any blood on his hands. Even killing those plants scared him. They were people too, weren’t they? That was dangerous thinking, though. It was them or Terra. Them or humanity, he’d been told that so many times, he had to believe it. And this too, was necessary. Without the mines functioning, there would be a shortage of raw materials in several key sectors. Without those materials, the Accord couldn’t build the hard power it needed. Without those weapons and ships, the affini would win. If the affini won, humanity lost. It was a simple calculus, wasn’t it? To keep the war effort going, a few people had to die, to scare the rest of them into going back to work. What other choice did they have? Tears pattered against the fabric of his uniform. He wanted out. The ship lurched. Alarms began to blare. 

Suddenly, that flurry of activity somehow doubled. The whole crew seemed to be tearing through the halls now. Another lurch, the whole ship groaned as it came to a stop. Edgar had to steady himself against the bedframe of his cot. An announcement: the affini were here. As though in a dream Edgar found himself donning a gas mask. He could hardly secure it with how much his hands shook. There was something he was supposed to do now. Something about battle stations, but he’d barely even fired a gun once during the hasy crash course which the outnumbered and under-resourced Cosmic Navy had passed for basic training. Instead, he did what any sensible soldier would do: clutched his sidearm, and hid under his bed. 

Edgar didn’t bother to keep track of the time. In the end, it was a waiting game, a dance with inevitability. When he saw two green, leafy—almost human—legs stride into the barracks, Edgar knew it was over. The affini paused for a moment, though he couldn’t see its face. He didn’t want to imagine what sort of monstrous visage it would take, the stuff of nightmares he was certain. Then, as though specifically done to eviscerate that line of thought, it spoke; its voice was nothing short of enchanting. “Little Terran,” there was a playful lilt to its tone, as though it were singing along to an unheard melody. “I know you’re hiding in here. Please come out, nobody wants to hurt you.” 

He almost did. That was a bad idea, stupid. He shouldn’t, he—vines snaked their way under the frame of his bunk. Then, without a hint of effort, they lifted his hiding spot right into the air. Edgar scrambled back against the wall, suddenly face to face with the invader. They were… pretty. The way they smiled at him felt safe. He shouldn’t think like that, couldn’t think like that. Breath heaving in his throat, Edgar raised his pistol, leveling it best he could at his target. Hot tears rolled down his cheek. If only his hands would stop shaking, if only his vision would unblur. The affini merely cocked their head, and smiled.

“Little one, I know you don’t want to use that on me. Put it away, and come peacefully. I’ll take you away from this awful place.” Edgar shook his head. He couldn’t do that. They had to be lying, he had to do this, for Terra. His grip loosened. The gun clattered to the floor. In an instant, he was swept up into a tight embrace. “Thank you, dear, for trusting me. I’m so proud of you.” 

Unseen, half there, half not, Celia watched the scene unfold before her. Watched the poor, scared thing she used to be let go for the first time. She smiled. It was going to be okay, both for the scared girl she saw before her, and for the woman she’d grown into. She closed her eyes, and, for what certainly had to be the last time, felt the world shift. 

When she awoke, the first thing Celia saw appeared to be a sort of hatch, swinging open above her to reveal a large, dimly lit room. Her head felt fuzzy, thoughts and memories cloudy, She found herself laying inside some sort of cylindrical pod. Its interior was padded, and cozy, doubtless to ensure the peak of comfort for whomever found themself inside. Admittedly, Celia was still not entirely certain what she was doing there, but she was content. The sound of footsteps caught her attention, and a familiar figure stepped into view. Familiar in a bad way, unfortunately. 

Before her mind could properly react, Donovan was looming over her, sneering. “Well, look at that. Turns out you’re a filthy plantfucker after all.” 

“What? What are you talking about? What did you do to me?” Celia could feel the makings of fear, despair welling up inside her, but then, it dissipated. Was her mind simply this slow to awaken? Had she simply gone into shock? Perhaps it didn’t matter, When all was said and done, Celia simply felt far more confused than afraid. 

If Donovan noticed how unphased Celia was, he didn’t seem to care. “This beautiful piece of machinery,” he slapped the side of her pod, “really is a technological marvel. Say what you will about the plants, they know their tech. It’s a fully immersive virtual reality pod, state of the art entertainment, I’m told. But this unit was used during the war of ‘pacification,’” he spat the last word, audibly disgusted. “It’s not here for fun, it’s for turning loyal terrans into helpless plantfuckers. I can’t say I know exactly how to operate it, but I managed to tweak things a bit, and made a little loyalty test for you. Do you choose Terra? Or them? We both know what happened in the end.” Donovan reached into his jacket, and withdrew what appeared to be a ramshackled together makeshift pistol.

“It’s a shame,” he mused, cocking his gun. “For a while there, I really thought you were on our side.” He took aim. “Don’t worry though, I’ll be sure to tell ‘Miss Matilija’ how you really feel.” With that, he squeezed the trigger. The barrel fizzled, then popped. Smoke billowed. The grip glowed red hot. Donovon’s eyes went wide, and suddenly he had flung the gun across the room, clutching his hand and shouting an incoherent string of profanities. 

The realization came slower than it should have, but it still came: this was her chance—not just to save herself, but to do what she should have from the very beginning. These were dangerous people, cruel people. Even Oliver, who still had his moments of humanity, had fallen so far. They needed to be stopped, and Celia needed to be the one to do it. It didn't matter if she was complicit. If the affini wanted to punish her for it, they would, she needed to stop Donovon and his people from hurting anyone else. Celia leapt to her feet, looking about frantically for something she could use. Then, through a window into the next room, something caught her eye. Oliver had said Donovan found an FTL communicator. The FTL part was maybe a bit excessive, but it was more than adequate, and Celia was absolutely certain she was looking right at said communicator. The room was empty, the door was open, she could lock herself in and save the day. 

Without another moment of thought, Celia took off, sprinting past Donovan, who noticed her flight a few moments too late. Howling in rage, he slammed against the door just as she shut it in his face. They shared a tense moment, staring one another down through the window. In one last fit of rage, Donovan slammed his fists into the glass. Strangely, his hands looked unburned. It didn’t matter, Celia had more pressing matters at hand. She rushed the console, with a bit of trial and error, contacted the affini. 

Relieved, Celia sank against the console. She’d won. She took a moment to catch her breath, then laughed, full of joy. She gave Donovan one last look, he was screaming at her now, something about being a commie plantfucker. She paid him no mind, this may well have been the last time he’d ever be able to scream at anyone again, so why would she give him the satisfaction of making it meaningful? She took a few more moments to herself, allowing the adrenaline to wear off, then remembered there was one last thing she needed to do. It was simple: the affini had asked that she wait outside. Celia stood, turned her back to Donovan, to The Pod, and stepped into the open air. 

Oliver, and the rest of Donovan’s crew were nowhere to be seen. Frankly, Celia didn’t care. There was something much more pressing that had grabbed her attention. Standing in the clearing, bathed in gorgeous light, was Neya Matilija, Third Bloom. The mere sight of Celia seemed to fill her affini with relief. And that smile was enough to remind Celia of everything she’d been shown inside that constructed reality. It had felt wonderful to be hers. Could things be that way in real life, as well? There was only one way to find out. Casting aside her reservations, Celia ran through the clearing, and threw herself against Neya’s leg. Her affini knelt, and wrapped her tightly in a tangle of vines, stroking her hair gently checking her for injuries. 

“It’s alright, darling,” she cooed. “You’re safe now, they can’t hurt you. I’m so proud of you.” 

“You’re not mad at me for helping them?” She asked. 

“Stars no, darling. They pressured you, threatened you, manipulated you. Nothing they did is your fault. There’s nothing you need to ask me to forgive you for. The only person who needs to forgive you, my dear, is you. And I’ll make sure that happens, because you’re mine now, and I don’t permit my things to suffer.” Neya stood, taking Celia with her. “Let’s get you home. I’m sure Kelly will be thrilled to hear you’re finally ready to tell her about that helpless, adorable little crush you have on her.” A musical giggle reverberated from deep inside Neya’s core, and Celia shut her eyes. The world began to fade away.

Big, bright red text filled Celia’s vision: “Congratulations! You win! Thank you for playing Hero of Terra!!!”

A gasping, disoriented breath filled his lungs, and Edgar sat up with a start. His vision was still blurry, his mind felt like it had been put through a blender. Across him, Edgar recognized an old friend. “Dr. Fields?” he asked. 

“It’s Violaceae Fields, Seventh Bloom, actually,” she answered. “But as always, you can just call me Violet, dear.” She flashed him a smile, clearly unable to hide a hint of smugness. “I’m guessing your thoughts and memories and, well, sense of reality haven’t quite recovered yet, no?” Violet asked. Edgar nodded. “Well then, I’m sure you have questions, so fire away.”