There were only about two and a half weeks until Vivian was due and she was really feeling it now. Thankfully O’rygnoh helped take some pressure off of her back and hips when she wore him, but... it also still felt so weird to wear something sentient. Maybe if he was only ever armour it would be find, but the first day while they’d been settling in everyone had wanted to properly meet O’tmyil’s siblings and so each had taken humanoid form.

O’rygnoh had chosen a human form, seeming to think that would make Vivian more comfortable. Just as O’myinis and O’dypol had. Each had seemed to take rough cues of how they should look from their new charges. From what Vivian had seen of Issiod’rian variation, O’trayj had done the same with Plynx, being more grey than beige. And so now Vivian couldn’t help but picture O’rygnoh’s human form, looking vaguely like a C-Pop star her younger sister had a crush on whenever she thought about him.

Then there was the oddness of feeling his thoughts and emotions at times. It was... intimate in a way she wasn’t used to.

Choosing to move on her own, as she was allowed to do in the large number of lavish rooms that made up the Imperial ‘apartment’, Vivian was glad to find Bokarza alone in the gym. Watching just how much the other woman was curling left Vivian feeling vaguely inadequate. Even with knowing that Bokarza’s alien muscles were denser and stronger than a human being’s, so that she could almost certainly lift more than any human ever had... it still left Vivian wishing she had more energy to work out.

“Hello, Vivian! How is my tallest wife?” Bokarza said, lighting up with a smile once she noticed Vivian standing there.

“I... I’m alright,” Vivian replied (she still wasn’t entirely used to ‘tallest’ being held as such a strong compliment). “Maybe it’s just hormones with the pregnancy, but... I find this whole ‘mental bond’ to an armour partner strange. Do you have advice for adjusting?”

Bokarza nodded, before setting her dumbbell down with a rather loud clunk. “They are Lanthonean designs. Armour. Ships. Planners. Even the high end personal gyms. The Lanthoneans love to put personalities in almost everything, and to have bonds with them, since... Well, you know the Mynx girls, right?”

“Uh... yes?” Vivian replied, not understanding the leap.

“Switch bracelets are another Lanthonean invention, though they need finagling for different species. It’s all because about half of Lanthoneans are like the Mynx girls naturally. Well, about half by bodies. More than half by legal citizens,” Bokarza said as she rolled her shoulders to help stretch out her muscles. “At some point they started making AIs to run things, but thought it was best for those AIs to be bonded to living breathing Lanthoneans... they were probably right, too. They didn’t have a single rogue AI nearly wipe out civilization before they went interstellar.”

“Huh--wait, are rogue AIs common?” Vivian asked, suddenly finding herself much more concerned about that than the previous conversation topic.

“Pretty common. We Kobaroians also avoided them because we hit a certain point in computer designs and decided they were fast enough, we were fine waiting for answers. Turned out we got satisfied just a little before making computers able to run proper AI,” Bokarza replied.

“Is, um... is Earth close to hitting that point?” 

The green woman took a moment to think it over, her clubbed tail flicking as she thought it over. Then Bokarza shook her head. “Not sure. I’m not really that techie to start with, and I forget how your units convert to our units. I’d ask O’tmyil. She would know.”

Wondering about the future of the human race, Vivian nearly headed off to do that when she remembered the reason she had originally come to find the other woman.

“So, did you have advice on how to handle being bonded to Lanthonean armour?”

“Oh! Right. Uh... patience?” Bokarza offered. “For Kobaroians it is almost unheard of to not be singular, so it takes us many months to adapt. Sometimes longer.”

“Ah,” Vivian replied, not certain she liked that news. 

There had been many applications from across the Galactic Commonwealth for a visit from the Empress. It had seemed reasonable to Plynx to give Svetlana a day to relax after travelling in from the outer galaxy as she had, but much more time spent sitting about seemed wasteful.

As such, with the whole imperial family gathered at breakfast on their second day, Plynx cleared her throat.

“Svetlana-wife,” she said, “it has been agreed that you-empress should not visit the Issiod’rian, Lanthonean, or Kobaroian capital worlds first. Each is already represented in your inner circle.”

“That seems reasonable?” Svetlana replied, before continuing her french toast. “Mmm, vanilla-y.”

“Therefore, do you-Svetlana think you would prefer to visit the Glur, Varzin, or Zafzini homeworld first?” Plynx asked.

Svetlana blinked, before her eyes darted to O’tmyil. Right. As much as Plynx loved Svetlana she was not always the best about reading and researching, and seemed to grow especially lost with galactic matters. Perhaps that was fair, it was a realm of history suddenly thrust in her lap with many millennia to build upon. Relationships built on past dealings built on pre-existing relations none of which she knew. Clearly Plynx would have to arrange for her to be given daily briefings on various major civilizations.

“The Glur homeworld is part of a double planet system known for remarkable tides that wash over all but the tallest mountains. The Varzin capital world is a glassy superheated desert sat in the middle between two stars much brighter than Sol. The Zafzini homeworld is... well, temperate and somewhat boggy. The entire ecosystem is amphibious insect-like creatures. It is few people’s first choice, but they are generally honest folk,” O’tmyil explained.

“Hmm... well, the other two sound fancy but a bit dangerous, so the Zafzini homeworld might be a nice start?” Svetlana replied. “I guess I’ll think it over and see how I’m feeling once Vivian is up for travelling?”

Plynx tilted her head, quite confused by the reply. “Vivian-wife does not need to travel with us? Augusta-queen and Thisbe-consort would surely be enough.”

“I would want to be there while she’s recovering from the birth, though?” Svetlana said.

“There’s probably going to be plenty of nurses around... but I wouldn’t mind some help with the baby,” Vivian replied.

“Very well. But that is after the birth? It is still well over a week away, and each of those worlds is within a day or two of Throne World,” Plynx said.

In reply, Svetlana initially just stared at her, a hurt look in her eyes that Plynx did not understand. To her surprise, Augusta, Vivian, and Thisbe were all looking at her similarly. What had she missed? Was there some part of human reproduction that required both parents in the final stages of the pregnancy?

There was nothing she’d read that had mentioned that.

“Vivian... vivian could go into labour at any moment,” Svetlana said.

“The due date is still two Terran weeks away?” Plynx replied.

“Those due dates have a margin of error on them,” Vivian said, the hurt look in everyone’s eyes softening a little. “I’m probably good for another week, but after that...”

“And a birth is a major thing,” Svetlana said. “There’s no way I’m leaving Vivian alone for that.”

It was now Plynx’s turn to stare in confusion, before the explanation hit her. “Earth medicine... I have said, earth doctors-butchers know very little on the healthcare. Vivian-wife is under the care of the imperial doctors on Throne World. She-love will give birth the day that is convenient. If needed, the delaying is more than possible, to ensure that Svetlana-wife is here. Or early.”

“It’s also not that bad to miss a birth,” Bokarza added with a shrug. “The kid won’t remember.”

“Vivian will,” Svetlana countered, sounding horrified.

“It’s not really a process I want to go through alone,” Vivian said.

“Pardon?” Bokarza said. “What do you mean ‘process’? It’s a birth. They give you a pill, the baby is out a few minutes later, then they apply some salves to help everything tighten back up. Over and done in thirty minutes, tops.”

“You-Bokarza have not seen Earth media,” Plynx said, shaking her head. “Earthlings-humans still die in childbirth in some places. I had forgotten.”

“D--die? From giving birth?” Bokarza replied, looking as horrified as Plynx had felt when she’d first learned it. The horned woman then turned to Vivian, the look still in her eyes. “I did not realise how brave you were to carry a child in your culture.”

“That’s super rare anywhere with decent hospitals,” Vivian offered, clearly uncomfortable with the look akin to hero-worship in Bokarza’s eyes.

“It can happen in hospitals?” Bokarza replied instead, eyes then dropping to stare at her empty plate. “I will have to make certain Kobaroian doctors are sent to Earth immediately.”

Plynx took the moment with attention off of her to think matters over and decide to make accommodations for human culture. “While the reasons for you-Svetlana’s desire to stay with Vivian-wife in the coming weeks may be confusing to us-galactic-commonwealth-citizens, it is understandable that the request to leave her-Vivian at this time is culturally insensitive. I shall request media workers inform citizens of the situation on Earth and you-Svetlana’s motivations. In the meantime Augusta-queen and Thisbe-consort along with myself and Bokarza-queen should be enough of a royal tour.”

“The human representation will be very important,” Bokarza said.

“I...” Svetlana began, her eyes darting between Vivian and Plynx.

“Stay. This is an important period in your culture,” Plynx said firmly.

“Th-thank you,” Svetlana replied.

Serving her duties to the crown did not bother Augusta to any great degree. It was something she’d grown up with. In fact, it was better than she’d grown up with, her father training her to represent crowns her family did not have. In some cases they were not even the primary claimants, despite her family’s maneuvering.

Unfortunately, travelling with Thisbe, Bokarza, and Plynx while Svetlana remained behind on Throne World was not the outcome she had hoped for. It was not to say that she disliked time spent with Thisbe, the vampiric woman was a source of many fascinating tales from her long life (if ‘life’ was the correct term), but the others... well, Bokarza had yet to return any of Augusta’s feelings and Plynx simply irked her. The other woman was such a natural at accepting her position as a princess, having apparently faced none of the needs for personal sacrifice Augusta had had to make. She claimed to have never been barred from friendships with servants for being from the ‘wrong’ class. Had never been told by her father how much more useful a son would have been. Left constantly struggling between hatred for her father for demanding the impossible of her and disdain for herself at failing him and the family legacies she had inherited.

It was all weighing on her as she retreated to her private room on the inter-system shuttle. Staring at the alien painting on the wall she wondered what she had done to deserve being reminded of her shortcomings so thoroughly.

“Is everything alright, your majesty?” O’dypol asked, shifting to his human form to sit on the bed.

His human form was relatively handsome. The sort of gentle face and eyes that Svetlana had shown before, though with far less sadness to them than she had shown, now that Augusta looked back on things honestly. Perhaps it was a matter of alien gender norms differing from human ones.

Whatever the case it made him the sort of man that left her with utterly confused emotions bubbling within her. Hadn’t she worked out she was a lesbian? 

“Envy,” she said, sitting down at the small table in the room. “I am wracked with envy.”

It was a far smaller room than the imperial suite had been on the ship from Earth, but it was a much smaller ship. More like a sleeper train than a cruise ship. She vaguely remembered Plynx saying something about it being a sleeker and faster vehicle, useful in the better mapped segments of jump space near the heart of the galaxy. 

“That much I could gather,” O’dypol replied, and she then felt a sort of patient kindness from their neural bond that only worsened her confused feelings about him.

It left her wondering if it could be a good time to make a mistake. There wasn’t anything else to do on the small spaceship, other than gossip in the dining hall or watch alien television. And something about connecting to a male presence felt very nice at the moment.

“I...” O’dypol began, before swallowing. “If I am reading the new feelings from you correctly, I feel I must inform you that, unlike my sister, I am quite thoroughly asexual.”

“Ahh...” Augusta said, letting out a sigh. “Well, then I shall just have to be left struggling with my thoughts and emotions as we spend two days travelling to meet a tree.”

That drew a blink from O’dypol. “Not just any tree. The ancient clonal forest of Qwa. One of the oldest sentient beings in the galaxy, known for great wisdom.”

“I shall have to prepare for cryptic clues to the true nature of happiness, then,” Augusta muttered, before shaking her head. It didn’t sound like her idea of an enjoyable destination. “Let’s go see Thisbe has figured out how the games work on the entertainment consoles.”

After almost two days cramped on a Lanthonean sized star runner, Bokarza was glad to get out and stretch her legs on the space port above Qwa’s World. The four of them waved to the crowds assembled to get their first in person views of humans, clearly very excited to be one of the first worlds visited by the new imperial family. Svetlana having stayed behind to tour Throne World had led to a slight shuffling, the previous planned options too important to not bring her, but it meant they were getting to go a little more off the beaten path. Which was kind of nice. Plus, Bokarza was always thrilled to visit Qwa. Her people had a strong spiritual respect for plants the way the carnivorous majority held a spiritual respect for animals. Trees were extra special, as one could harvest them for a lifetime.

After brushing elbows with local dignitaries for a while, she led the two earthlings towards the space elevator down to the planet. It was important to maintain the purity of the atmosphere of Qwa’s world, so it was an elevator only world.

“Is Plynx going to catch up with us later?” Thisbe asked, realising that she was not with them.

“The Issiod’rian royal family are considered core members of their Church of Moraq,” Bokarza replied. “As Qwa is considered the head of an entirely different religion there are some who might complain about her feet despoiling their soil.”

“Oh,” Thisbe replied.

Meanwhile Augusta seemed as withdrawn as she’d been the whole trip. Wasn’t visiting a whole new world exciting for her? It was a brand new concept for an Earthling. Thisbe certainly seemed excited, watching out the space elevator window as they descended towards the purple and blue planet below.

Well, maybe actually walking in amongst Qwa’s many trunks and speaking to them would help her.

In the meantime Bokarza dragged them both off to grab some food on their ride down. The food was well known for being very fresh and unprocessed, the clergy of Qwa big on keeping things as natural as possible. Even the space station and elevator were made of wood, harvested sustainably from continents beyond Qwa’s own forest. 

To her disappointment it only seemed to sort of work, Augusta’s gourmet heart demanding she comment on the food quality, if nothing else.

The whole planet seemed oddly quaint to Augusta. It reminded her a bit of those supposedly environmental retreats in Switzerland or Malaysia where other well to do people insisted they were unplugging and getting reconnected with nature while sitting in air conditioned rooms with room service and 18 hole golf courses at hand. Oh, but everything was made from wood and visibly recycled material, so never mind that they’d flown there on their private jet, it was ‘eco’.

Perhaps, by the standards of the galaxy, this world really was rugged, but it rang fake and hollow to her. 

Sitting in the back of a solar powered helicopter-like vehicle, she did have to admit the purple leaves of the planet were interesting. There were apparently more options than chlorophyll out there. But she was still generally in a bad mood as they reached a clearing and the ‘copter descended between the trees. 

They were tall. That was her first impression. The gap between the forest floor and the canopy was larger than she’d realised. Sunlight also barely reached the ground once one was more than a few metres from the clearing. That was somewhat impressive. Though she wondered how natural it could be.

Upon landing the vaguely canine priest who had been guiding the ‘copter stepped out and hurried around to open the doors for each of them. All of it was done silently, as one was apparently not allowed to speak so that they could better hear Qwa. The orientations had said that they spoke on the wind, tuned so that each person would hear only the message meant for them.

Not being certain what to expect, Augusta began to follow Bokarza on a walk through the woods. The whole forest was apparently a single organism, this Qwa being. She’d heard vaguely of similar forests on Earth, where one tree spread by its roots, though her it looked as much spread by the branches with how the canopy was interwoven.

“A friend of Bokarza Kreck... Kreck-Fujikawa’s is a friend of mine,” the wind whispered somehow (in excellent French), causing Augusta to jump. 

Looking at the others she saw a gentle smile on Bokarza’s tusked mouth while Thisbe seemed surprised as she walked with her parasol. Not as shocked as Augusta, but surprised all the same.

‘How do I reply without speaking?’ Augusta wondered to herself.

“We can listen very well, good sir,” the wind replied. 

Blinking, Augusta took a moment to process what had been said, only to then feel her cheeks go flush. Was it an error of translation, this Qwa not understanding the gendering of the linguistic hierarchy of earth tongues? Or had this forest chosen to poke at her inadequacies?

“Ah. We have listened too well. Sometimes we hear things that not even our visitors know... and sometimes they are not ready for that,” the forest replied.

‘Are... are you attempting to say I am a man? Because I can tell you that I have quite enjoyed myself in Svetlana’s embrace many times, with none of the shame she spoke of having before her own transformation,’ Augusta countered defensively, perhaps from fear, perhaps from refusing to admit a tree could know her better than she knew herself.

Even a sentient tree that had apparently existed for millions of years.

“Many times, but... every time?”

The question made her wince, but... but those had been times when her guilt of actions warring with her upbringing had been in play.

Hadn’t they?

“We do not think you are always masculine. We see genuine love of being a woman in your heart as well... but we are also both, the balance of our trunks shifting with the seasons and the climate. These matters can shift and flow.”

That was... that wasn’t nonsense. She remembered it having been something discussed from the little time she’d spent around Svetlana’s trans friends. Wasn’t Geordi... well, they varied from female to indifferent, if she remembered correctly, but... it seemed too easy. All her struggles with the balance of the sexes? To prove she was good enough despite her feelings of failure? Wanting to prove a daughter could be as good as a son to herself as much as to her father...

It all came down to just being both?

“Sometimes the correct path is the easy one,” the wind replied with such simple certainty and wisdom.

It was simply too much for someone raised with as much Catholic guilt as Augusta. So she fainted.