February, 2558

 

I had done my part. I had argued to the best of my ability on my client's behalf. Now, it was all in the hands of the jury. Five years ago, this is the part where I would have been terrified, my client's unease worming its way into my own mind. No defense attorney wants to lose a case, but I particularly hated it — it always felt as if I'd let my client down, like I should have been able to do better for them, that they didn't deserve what was about to happen to them.

But that was all in the past. No matter what happened today, no matter what verdict the jury of my peers returned, I knew my client would be safe, happy, and healthy. For that surety alone, I would have accepted the Compact with open arms.

<This is taking too long,> Warren muttered as he paced nervously from one side of the atrium to the other. <It shouldn't take this long, they should have agreed that I'm good to go and stamped it and been done with it!>

<Patience, Warren,> I told him, not rising from my seat on one of the benches. It was absolutely covered with a wild variety of floral growth, and my vines were investigating each and every bloom curiously — I could name them all, I thought. It was a fun diversion for a part of my brain to amuse itself with. <You've had a very long wardship and you've provided them with a great deal of evidence. They're just being thorough, that's all.>

I wasn't sure that this was, strictly speaking, the case. There was probably quite a debate going on behind closed doors while I kept an eye on the little Terran for Vita. But he didn't need to worry about that — he'd just get even more anxious, and while I had a canister of generic Class-E on me (and had checked to make sure Warren wouldn't have a bad reaction to it if I needed to use it), he probably would have been less willing to accept xenodrugs from me than from Vita.

<Easy for you to say,> he spat. <Your life isn't the one that hangs in the balance!>

<Don't be so dramatic>, I told him. <Your life is not hanging in the balance.>

<Okay, fine, not my life. Just my mind, my independence, my pride, my self-respect, my identity->

<Warren, stop,> I said, laying a vine on his shoulders as he passed and turning hm to face me. <You're just getting yourself worked up for nothing.> I could feel, through the vine I had around him, his pulse pounding through his veins. His respiration was elevated, and he was perspiring no small amount if I could taste it through his suit.

<Excuse me for being anxious about my future,> he muttered, looking quickly away from my eyes. He didn't slip out from under my vine, though, like he would have a year ago. <I hate this. Why aren't you in there and she's out here?> I could practically see the neurons firing in his head, written in microexpressions and little quavers in his voice that even he probably wasn't aware of. He really would prefer that it was me in there and Vita out here. Hardly surprising: he was more comfortable around her than me, and I'd seen that in action several times.

<Because I was just your advocate during the wardship itself, Warren. I don't have any formal role in the actual decision,> I told him. I could have sat in, but someone needed to watch Warren, and I was by far the least experienced Affini involved in the whole process. It made sense. <She has my notes, and she can do everything I can in there, and more besides. We all have your best interests in mind, Warren. Trust in the system and try to relax.>

<Trust in the system? Pfeh. Even if I do make it out of this, it doesn't fix things. It doesn't put things back how they used to be.> After a moment, he added <I still think I should have pulled your trick,> in a low voice, still looking away from me.

I couldn't believe he was still clinging to that idea, and I should have been fuming at it, but the most that I felt was a peculiar bemusement. What a silly little creature, I thought. <You cannot possibly, after all this, think that that this is some sort of scam I'm running.>

<No, no, I know you've gone completely off the deep end as far as that's concerned,> he said, crossing his arms grumpily. <You're well and truly one of the plants. But that doesn't mean I couldn't have gotten out of this a hell of a lot easier and quicker with a little creative paperwork!>

<We don't play those kinds of games, Warren,> I said, unweaving my chest just a little and exposing my oversized core. <Besides, something tells me you really don't want one of these.>

His eyes widened. <What the fuck is that? Where's... your body?!>

<I had it surgically removed. My core houses my brain, along with a few phytotech organs that provide the oxygen and specialized nourishment it needs to stay alive.>

<Stars...> He couldn't stop staring at it; something about the pulsing and the gentle glow drew him like a moth to a flame.

Uh-oh. <Warren, did you take your Class-C today?>

<...huh? Yeah, yeah,> he said, finally managing to look away from my core, and right up into my eyes — and if my core had fascinated him, my eyes ensnared him right away. His pupils began to dilate almost at once, and his jaw fell ever so slightly slack.

<Warren,> I said, reinforcing my hold on him with a subtle shift of my biorhythm to emphasize the words, <did you take your Class-C bonding inhibitor this morning?>

<Yes...>

<What did you take it with?> I had to make sure he was remembering this morning.

<Coffee, bagel with lox and cream cheese...>

I felt a wave of relief rush through me — that was exactly what he'd had that morning when I stopped by Vita's prior to the wardship meeting. <Good boy,> I said, patting him on the head, and he let out a soft whimper. At least now I didn't have to worry about accidentally getting him fixated on me — that could cause issues no matter which way the committee ruled. Vita must have just trained him into having greater hypnotic susceptibility since I'd last enthralled him. <How are you feeling?>

<Nervous...>

Well, this I could help with. <There's nothing to be nervous about. Take a deep breath...hold it... now let it out. Feel your heart rate slowing down... that's it.> His vitals began to drift back toward his standing baseline. His cortisol levels would probably still be elevated, but given time that would work itself out. <Now, come here.> I reached out and lifted him up, setting him down on the bench next to me and gently leaning him over to rest his head in my lap. <Just take it easy and rest,> I said, maintaining his trance purely through biorhythmic influence. <Take a little nap, if you need to. I'll be right here, watching over you.>

I felt him start to drift off as I stroked him gently. He'd come so far, and I was so proud of him. He'd gone from a completely hopeless wreck to a sophont entirely capable of living independently, and even if his opinion of the Affini hadn't changed all that much over the interim, he was at least less angry and less combative about our presence. Given a few more years of passive exposure, even that would probably fade; he certainly got along well enough with Vita. I sat there, entirely content to pet the sweet little xenosophont dozing on my lap, for at least an hour before the door to the meeting room finally opened and Vita emerged.

"Oh no," she said, smiling as she saw Warren asleep in my lap. "Was he nervous?"

"Just a bit," I said, giving him a little scruffle. He began to stir, and made a very adorable grunting noise. "I only entranced him a little, no xenodrugs."

"Oh, very good, very good," she said, kneeling down and giving Warren a few good pets. <Hey, sleeping cutie~>

<Mmmf?> He lifted his head, blinking away the sleep. The moment he realized he was looking at Vita, though, his eyes lit up in a way that I recognized immediately. <Oh, hey,> he said, trying and abjectly failing to play it cool.

<Hey yourself~> Vita said, giggling. <Guess who's officially an independent sophont?> My memory flashed back to the train ride on Selenipedium — I'd played this exact game with Judy to distract her, and Warren reacted the exact same way she did.

<...I am? I'm... it's over?!> He was on his feet, standing up next to me on the bench and practically vibrating with excitement. <You're not pulling a fast one on me?!>

<I'm not pulling anything, Warren, fast or slow. You've officially been cleared, your wardship is over, and you're an independent sophont once more!> She'd barely finished speaking before Warren all but launched himself into her arms, clinging to her as she held him well off the ground and spun him around. He made no effort to slip free, no demands to be let go — he simply let her hold him.

"My, he really is attached to you, isn't he?" I said, standing up and giving him a gentle scritch at the back of his neck.

"Oh he's so docile," Vita said. "I'm half expecting to get a message from him five minutes after we part ways begging to see me again."

<What are you two saying?> he asked, looking up at Vita, then at me.

<Oh, nothing to worry about, just some logistics about finishing up the case,> I said to him. "You think it'll be that quick?"

"The other half of my expectations are that he won't even let me out of his sight," Vita said with a wry flourish of her biorthym. Warren shivered right in time with it. "He's mine. He even wants to be mine. He just doesn't realize it yet."

"I think I can see it, now that you mention it," I said. My mind immediately spun up a dozen ways Vita might break him here and now, and I desperately wanted to see which she'd go with. "...want to test it?"

"Oh, absolutely. Watch this." <Alright, well...that's over and done with,> Vita said, disengaging her vines from Warren and setting him down on the ground, damping her biorhythm to practically nil at the same time. <Sophont Housing Services is on the 17th floor, I believe — they'll set you up with a hab of your own.>

<...huh?> He looked up at her, confusion suddenly dominating his features. <We aren't...going back home?>

Home. Oh, Vita was right. He was already hers. Even if he hadn't synchronized with her biorhythms, she still been a part of his life for over a year and a half, and that background noise was a part of her. He was used to their presence — used to her presence — and their sudden absence even when she was standing right in front of him was something he wasn't prepared for psychologically. No wonder the poor thing looked so lost.

<Well, you'd just have to come back here to get your hab allocation handled,> Vita said, shrugging. <If you go do it now, though, I can return to my hab and have your things shipped off to your new hab. They'll probably beat you there. And then, you'll be all on your own, an independent sophont once more, just like you wanted it. Congratulations!>

<But...> I watched every single indicator I knew for Terran emotional states swing rapidly into the negative, watched his little heart come right to the breaking point. At the same time, I could see the confusion in him. He didn't understand what was happening — he knew he should be happy, but he wasn't, and he clung to that paradox like a shipwreck survivor clung to drifting debris. <You... you don't want to... I mean, it's... it's steak night...>

<Warren,> Vita said, patting him gently on the head. <You know how to make your own food. You don't need me to provide for you. You'll do just fine all on your own.> Those words hit him like a hammerblow; I honestly thought for a moment that his knees might give out. <You're an independent sophont. It's been very lovely taking care of you, but alas, that's over now.> She paused, long enough for his heart to flutter helplessly in his chest, then knelt beside him. <Unless...you'd prefer to stay with me?>

His spirits soared at the mere suggestion. <W-well... yeah,> he said, trying in vain to recover his emotional equilibrium. <I mean... we're... pretty good roommates?>

Vita smiled. <Roommates? Is that what we are?>

<Well, it's not like... like I'm your floret,> he stammered out. He was quavering now; with Vita so close, he expected to feel her biorhythms, but she remained as silent as she could.

<Do you want to be?> she whispered. Warren began to voice a question, his lips shaping themselves into a "wh-" shape, but no sound came out. Vita repeated herself: <Do you want to be my floret, Warren?> And with that, she let her biorhythm rumble back up to its usual level. The effect on Warren was instantaneous and obvious, his eyes welling up with tears of relief.

<I...what?>

<Do you want to stay with me? Do you want me to take care of you? Do you want to never have to worry about anything ever again? Do you want to never have to be away from me ever again?> Her biorhythm rose in a steady crescendo, and I watched as Warren's defenses fell one by one. <Answer.>

<...yes?> he squeaked, his lower lip quivering. He seemed almost surprised by his answer, but was in no position to do anything about it. Vita held him in place with nothing more than her will.

She stood up, and let her biorhythm slacken again — just as before, it had an immediate effect on Warren, one that made him gasp audibly. <That's not good enough, Warren. I spent quite a lot of time and effort making sure you could be independent. This is your first choice as an independent sophont; if it's also going to be your last, I need to be sure it's what you want.>

<I...> He hugged himself, but never took his eyes away from her. <I...you did something to me...didn't you?>

<No,> Vita said, <but if I had, would you be upset?>

<....no,> he whispered. He swallowed heavily, and added, <I do want that.>

<Not good enough>, Vita repeated.

<W-well, what do you want from me?!> Warren cried out, desperation filling his voice and twisting his face.

<I want you to beg>, Vita told him, ramping up her biorhythm again. <If you, Warren Argall, can bring yourself to beg me to make you my floret, then I'll do it.>

For a long moment, he simply stared up at her. I watched him fight a battle with himself over the next word to come out of his mouth. Deep inside him, shame and fear were waging a campaign of brutal, bitter attrition for the sake of the word "No," but it was obvious that side was only delaying the inevitable. The other side was gaining strength all the while, a storm of longing and hope sweeping across Warren's emotional landscape, its victory inevitable. <Please,> he finally whimpered.

<Louder.>

<Please!> His voice cracked, tears running down his face.

<On your knees.>

His knees gave out instantly, and only the swift intervention of Vita's vines kept him from banging them painfully on the floor. <Please!> His hands curled around the loose vines of Vita's left leg, and he hung onto them for dear life. <Please let me be your floret!>

She smiled, knelt down, and booped him on the nose. <I thought you'd never ask.> Then she giggled and swept him up into her arms, and he laughed and cried all at the same time, his relief palpable as he clung to her with his arms around her neck. <Silly boy, fighting so hard for so long over something you didn't even want!>

"That was... magnificent," I said. I had watched every moment of it, my full attention focused on the little Terran, reading his every response, practically his every thought — it was all so transparent, so easy to see. Because of that, I could see the results of each and every move Vita had made. It was amazing how much one could learn from books and study, but it paled before how much I had learned from simply watching another Affini break a Terran right in front of me. "I feel privileged to have seen it."

"Oh hush, you could have done that," Vita said, giving me a warm biorhythmic chorus that drew a little noise from Warren in tandem. "He wanted it. It was just a matter of giving him the chance to realize it. Why let him wander away and make himself sad? What would that accomplish? He's always on about 'the way things used to be,' back when he had the power to make others do things for him, back when everything was taken care of for him. He wants to be taken care of. He just needed to allow himself to be."

"...you're absolutely right, of course," I said, giving Warren a gentle stroke. Even if Vita wasn't, strictly speaking, responsible for Warren as a ward any longer, she still had a moral responsibility for the little xeno who had fallen for her despite being on bonding blockers. In a situation like that, really, she was obligated to break him — how fortunate that she clearly felt much the same about him as he did for her, but then, after a year and a half of caring for him, that was hardly a shock. <I'm very happy for the two of you,> I added. <Is he your first?>

<He is,> Vita said. <Warren Clematis, First Floret. How do you like the sound of that, hmm?> Warren didn't say anything, just buried his (very red) face into the side of Vita's neck.

"Aww, I think he's a little embarrassed at how much he likes it," I said, laughing just a little. "Precious little guy. How long do you think it'll take you to get an implant cultured?"

"Tam, please," she said. "I started one culturing a week ago."