Blinding light filled Hope’s vision, casting away any remaining thought of further sleep. She opened her eyes to what appeared to be a medical office; though it seemed far too large to be an ordinary medical bay. Despite Hope’s internal turmoil, the soft lights and the fractal patterns covering the walls soothed her. Strange tech filled the walls, but nothing seemed quite out of place. The room had a calming atmosphere to it, with no visible instruments of torture, unlike what one might find in the Coalition’s dental office. Hope shivered, dispelling the thought from her mind. In one corner of the room was a large green entity, roughly humanoid in shape; similar to the many-limbed being that had fought six Terrans simultaneously. It sat over a desk, thumbing over an unnaturally large stack of paperwork.

Hope sat up, trying to blink the lingering fatigue out of her eyes. Where was she? What was this place? These creatures must be the “weeds” she’d heard the Terran Accord was fighting, right? They did appear plantlike in nature. Oh, stars above. Did that mean Hope was a prisoner of war? Hope whimpered. She did not want to be tortured, or to become a pawn used by the elites to barter. No sooner than the whimper slipped from her lips did she cover her mouth. She did not mean to alert the creature!

The plant turned to her. She had an amused look on her face---if you could call the bundles of tightly woven threads a face. “Oh good, you’re awake. Did you have a nice nap~?”

Hope’s cheeks grew bright red. “You---you plants must have done something to me!”

The creature spoke. “If you’re asking if we drugged you, no, certainly not yet. Do you want me to?”

…Fuck, it was true then. Hope had remembered losing consciousness, and she had been extremely sleep-deprived, but to fall asleep instantly in her captor’s arms? How humiliating. “N-no, please, no, I don’t want---”

A vine extended out to shake Hope’s hand. “Parya Ailis, Fourth Bloom, by the way. She/Her. And you are?”

“...Hope. She/Her. Am I… Am I a war prisoner? What’s going to happen to me?”

Parya looked taken aback and paused, clearly confused; then laughed an airy, vibrant chuckle. “No, little Terran. I’m not sure if you’ve been… what’s the Terran phrase again, ‘living on top of a rock’ that you’ve missed out on the last several years of news, but the war---that little misunderstanding, such as it was---is no more. The struggle was futile to begin with. And as to your other question, we’ll get to that.”

“But, those Terrans---” Hope started. Oh, stars above. If she’s right and Terrans lost the war, was she about to be enslaved and sent to work down in the mines? A pit of dread formed within her before she realized that that’d already been her life in the Coalition. Maybe these creatures would at least have properly supported tunnel shafts, rather than the haphazard constructions prone to cave-ins the Coalition rapidly created. 

“Unfortunately, there’s still some feralist groups that crop up now and then, raving about the ‘indomitable spirit of Terra’.” Parya sighed, exasperated, the thin vines surrounding her core rumbling with musical resonance. “As if we needed another nation to add to the list of ‘indomitable spirits’ that we’ve broken. I’m afraid that you met one of those cluster groups.”

“Feralist? They didn’t seem uh, feral to me.”

“Darling, they’re feral because they seek violence, they seek to hurt others and themselves, instead of reaching out and asking for help. Thanks to you, we were able to safely capture them for domestication before they were able to hurt anyone else.”

A lump formed in Hope’s throat. “D-domestication? Like that you’d do to an animal?” Hope imagined Terrans, docile and servile, herded around pens and used for livestock.

Parya paused for a great few moments, her leaves rustling in a windless room, perhaps in anxiety or anticipation before responding. “Oh dear. You really have been isolated for years, haven’t you? Well,” Parya huffed, a quick breeze flowing through her body. “I suppose the standard first contact template will suffice as a brief explanation. I am an Affini, of the Affini Compact. You need suffer no longer. You will be kept safe, happy, and content for the rest of your life. We will watch over your every need, just as we have watched over sophonts beyond counting this way.” She continued. “Well, that’s the short of it.”

Yeah, right, Hope thought. Maybe in the same way that cattle were made to be happy and content before they were chopped up into food sold in old Terran supermarkets. Oh, stars---she condemned all those Terran… ‘feralists’ to such a grisly fate, and probably herself too. Hope did not believe in any god, but she silently apologized to the captured feralists for the fate she indirectly bestowed upon them.. 

“So, tell me, Hope. Do you remember what happened? What led you here?”

Hope rubbed her temples. The Coalition had committed a great many sins, but even they did not deserve to become livestock. And yet, Hope had the sense that this… Parya would see through any obvious lies she concocted. “I… lived aboard a deep space colony. We were pretty isolated, didn’t meet many other Terrans around than the ones I lived with. I got separated from the colony, and didn’t know how to get back. So, I called for help. I… expected them to be the ones to receive the message, but I am glad they were not.” Mostly true, though Hope hadn’t meant to say that last bit.

Parya’s wooden mask made the impression of raising an eyebrow. “You are glad we picked up your call instead? There are not any authorized colonies in this sector. Are they ferals?”

Gotta change the subject. Right. The Coalition had been responsible for just about everything wrong in her life, but surely they didn’t deserve such a cruel fate as being made into compost for sentient plants. “N-no! They’re not… ferals. I um… They’re just, y’know,” Hope panicked. Surely there’s something positive she could say about them? “They’re just… zealous. Loyal? They-they won’t cause issues.”

Parya frowned. “I see. Well, they’re not off the hook; they’re still an unauthorized and unsupervised colony out in deep space. However, we’ll let them go for now and wait to see what they have to say. On to the next question, regarding your medical history---your charts seem rather underfilled, even for Terran standards. I assume this deep space colony of yours wasn’t connected to any Terran networks, which explains the gap? The only listing I have from you was from when you were,” Parya paused, looking at some paperwork, “Not quite 8 years old in Terran years. Are you taking any medications, or have additional health issues pop up since then?”

Hope rolled her eyes. Right. A physical. Of course they’d want their docile livestock to be in peak physical condition. Now that Hope was away from the Coalition, she hadn’t given up on her promise. She wasn’t sure how she’d pull it off, but she’d find a way. That included not depending on these Affini. Who knows what kind of mind-controlling drugs were in anything they gave out? “I’m not taking any regular medication. Not even for ADHD like is listed on my chart; I’ve mostly managed to live with the effects.”

“...Are you sure?” Parya placed a strange, particular emphasis on these words.

Hope shook her head. “Not one.” Hope lied.

Parya shook a small container, a tiny little mint-box. It rattled lightly, and Parya held it out of reach as she continued. “What are these, then?”

“That’s…!” Hope started panicking. She had stolen those from the Coalition pharmacy. While they weren’t keen on HRT for trans people, or trans people in general for that matter, they kept a small stock for women going through menopause. Hope forced herself to calm down. She’d steal more, if she had to. “That’s just a box of mints. Please, can I have them back?”

Parya handed Hope the tin. “Dear, I don’t know what you’ve heard about us, but we’re not here to hurt you. We want to help, but we can’t do so if you don’t tell us what’s wrong.” Parya paused, then corrected herself. “Well, we can, but we’d rather you were open about your own needs. In any event, I’ll write you a new prescription and add it to your medical record, alright cutie? These Terran medications are extremely ineffective, by the way. Would you like something more effective? I can guarantee these will work, and faster, and even affect things Terran medicine couldn’t even dream of. Here, let me get you a tablet to see all the options.”

Hope shook her head. None of those Affini drugs. Hope had to see the galaxy, she had no intention of losing herself in drugs. At least these Terran medications were bioidentical, surely unlike whatever Parya was offering. 

“Well, that’s alright. You can always switch to Class G’s later. Now, as to your earlier question, ‘what’s going to happen to you’---seeing as you willingly called for help, per the Human Domestication Treaty, we’re obligated to at least consider what you desire. What do you want?”

Hope stared at the plant, bewildered and confused. It didn’t matter what she wanted, these plants were just going to impose their will on her just like the Coalition. She’d have to take what she wanted, by subterfuge and stealth, like she always did. Still, she supposed it couldn’t hurt to say what she wanted, even if the Affini wouldn’t give it to her. “Um, I’d like to be independent. To live on my own, see the galaxy. I--I can be useful, too, I won’t just be deadweight. I promise, I’ll learn whatever’s needed, just please, don’t domesticate me.” Hope pleaded her case.

Parya glanced thoughtfully at Hope. “Little one, there is no need to make yourself ‘useful’--”

Terror in her eyes, Hope blurted out, “Please! I can operate a jump drive, I’m a quick learner, I won’t screw anything up! Just don’t… Please… I don’t want to become livestock…” 

Parya continued. “---As I was saying before you interrupted, if you wish to pursue a job as a hobby, you’re certainly welcome to do that; some of the Sophonts on this ship and many others run cafes and the like. Your worth and happiness, however, is not dependent on such. I can assure you, there is nothing sinister about domestication. If you do not believe me, you are welcome to ask any of the one thousand, two hundred and forty-six florets aboard this ship. Having said that, we can fill that request. You’ll have your own hab unit by tonight.”

Hope rubbed the underside of her wrist, stinging with phantom pain and desire from her earlier cut. Hope wanted to be independent, and she wanted to go out and live, and see the galaxy. She and Archer had promised they’d do it together some day, and Hope intended to keep her end of the promise. Yet, some part of her was accustomed to pain and misery, and she feared it… She feared herself. Even now, when this Affini was for some reason giving her exactly what she wanted, her arm ached with want, her mind running wild with desire to see that beautiful crimson run down her arm again, like a vibrant river. “U-um! No drugs, but I--I’m not very f-familiar with the culture, perhaps--perhaps I could have someone show me around and teach me the--basics?” Hope said, choppily, stuttering over herself. She could not be alone right now, even if that meant she had to stay around one of these massive plants. She’ll see about independence tomorrow, after the tour and after this episode passed.

Parya looked over thoughtfully. “Hm? What are you---?” Parya seems to have noticed Hope’s anxious habit, who willed herself to stop. What was seen could not be unseen, though. Parya extended a vine, gripping Hope’s wrist, attempting to lift it and expose the wounded underside. Hope attempted to resist, but with little effort her wound was exposed. Parya gasped. “Is this---self-inflicted, darling?”

Hope stuttered out a defense. “It’s---It’s not what it looks like, I promise! It’s---”

Parya cut her off, putting a thin vine over Hope’s lips in a semblance of a finger. “It’s alright, there’s no need to explain. Unfortunately, I will need to mention this in your Domestication Hearing.” Parya paused. “However, I’ll also mention that you asked for help, not once but twice, even if you were a bit dodgy about doing so the second time. As to your question, yes, that’s amenable. You’ll be listed as a medical ward for the time being. You’ll be assigned a guardian, who will ensure that no harm comes to you, by yourself or by anyone else. And---no drugs, unless they’re deemed a medical emergency or unless you request them.”

Hope stared off into the distance. Fuck! Why couldn’t her mind just behave? She was so close to what she wanted. She was glad that she wouldn’t be left alone with her thoughts, but this wardship sounded fairly permanent. Hope paled. Is wardship just a means into easing a Terran into becoming domesticated? Hope did not fully believe that there was nothing sinister about this domestication; and asking those florets, she called them, would be of no help, unaware of the danger they’re in. Now she had another thing to worry about. She’d only wanted some company to ride out her emotions, and now it seemed as though she had gotten more than she’d bargained for…