Work Text
The door to the habitation unit was, as Daria had been expecting, larger than a human door. This told her three things; her client was already with an Affini, had likely been living there sometime, and that this wasn’t some kind of halfway house before being taken in properly. Of course, the fact that at least two of the weeds had asked if she was lost, and why she was wearing such a stuffy suit in this weather, had already indicated that much.
But she placed her hand on the buzzer anyways. Money didn’t matter, not anymore, but they thought it did, and Daria’s policy was always that if she was likely never to see someone again, she would do her best to end on a positive. The door opened, and she stepped in. The Affini looked down at her, both literally and, in Daria’s eyes, with the smugness and disdain the species had for her position.
“Hello there, petal, are you the one my precious little Jacqueline asked for?” she cooed at Daria, her voice containing somehow even more ridicule. Jacob Ward had been a clerk at Astaral-3’s main corporation, Grover & Grover Interplanetary. A very successful clerk. A clerk who didn’t really enjoy having all his money, power, influence, taken off of him by some weeds, and finally, a Clerk who had been a bit too loud about it, and taken it a little too far.
“Ms. Daria Clerval, yes. I take it Mr. Ward is inside?”
“Oh, sweetums, it’s
my
ward, not Mr Ward.” The Affini laughed at her own joke. Or, as Daria knew to be the case, laughed at her ‘misunderstanding’, “But yes, ‘Mr’,” her vines seemed to provide air quotes to the word, “Ward is in here. Thank you for coming, petal. My friends say you do this a lot.”
“It gets them to kick up less of a fuss about it,” Daria commented, walking inside, looking around. Fairly standard. Clearly an Affini who was just trying to get her new pet used to an environment, by making it look like something they could have once had. The nose plugs stopped any smells, or god forbid, pheromones, from reaching her, but even she could smell just the hint of the flower’s pollen. She always asked when they contacted if they could air it out a bit. They never did.
“She asked to speak to you alone, of course, but she knows I’m always listening,” Affini don’t smile, in Daria’s experience, but you can always tell when they had a little grin somewhere underneath all that foliage. “She’s just through there,”
Daria said nothing as she walked through the door, finding her former client sitting at a table, clearly one set up in a hurry for the contract. He looked different, but they always did, always in ways she didn’t expect. Jacob’s hair had grown out, and he was wearing a dress, one unsuitable for his former office, which seemed to be more so focused on looking ‘cute’ than anything practical. It even had a bow on it. Jacob looked demeaned by his facial expression, but he was still smiling, slumped over. He even yawned as Daria walked in.
“Mr Ward,” Daria approached the table, taking a seat, “I-”
“Da..da….” He was trying to get his words out, and clearly struggling, “Daria…you…”
“Have to help you get out of this, have to find some loophole, have to get you out of here?”
Jacob nodded, barely managing to slide the contract across.
The first few times this had happened, Daria had fully read the contracts. She had given them the time of day, given them a glimmer of hope of finding a loophole. But there was always that damned final passage, that damned clause that was in every tech-bro, every executive, every loud-mouthed clerks contract. Eventually, Daria just read them to compare. See who ended up worse off than others. Which ones ended up drugged up so often they could barely act as a person, which ones ended up more so like an animal than any ‘feral’ could be compared too. The worst one she had seen was the CEO, Jonathon Grover himself; he didn’t get any special treatment. He was in a Jafe now.
Every ‘rescue’ had a stipulation at the start, or the end, of the contract, stating it was a formality, that it didn’t matter if they signed or not, it was still going to happen.
The terms for Jacob’s were, to be frank, mundane in comparison to what the few months had seen. Obviously, now being Jaquiline and a woman, which was apparently what the Affini thought he would be better as was the main one Jacob seemed to hate. Daria had honestly suspected it a few times herself, but she only saw him on occasion. Legal didn’t touch finance, most of the time.
“Jackie,” Daria began, placing the contract back on the table, “Sign the contract.”
Jackie seemed to just break out of the drugged stupor enough to call her a bitch,
“Jackie, I get a call from one of you at least once a week trying to get out of these contracts. You can’t. I have looked over them again and again, and there isn’t some fancy little loophole, no grand trick I can pull. If you want my advice, sign it now. Act like you have some agency, because you don’t anymore. For what it’s worth, yours isn’t even that unfair. Besides,” She stood up, “Most of you end up enjoying it more if you do,
She picked up her brief-case, which was mainly just a prop, and headed for the door. Jacqueline had started to cry, but had picked up the pen at least, however difficult it was to tick the first few boxes. Daria said nothing as she walked back out into the wider room. Jackie’s new caretaker didn’t seem pleased,
“I understand that it did get her to sign, but you made my little petal cry.” She let out, not yelling, but clearly not thrilled, “What did you do that for?”
“I get them to sign, I don’t get them to do it without pushing a little,” Daria explained, taking a step back as the weed stepped forward, “Besides, you didn’t need me. The Rescue Stipulation, and all that. On some level, you knew that getting him to sign of his own accord, which meant me pushing him, would make this whole thing easier. You are welcome,” she began heading for the door,
“Petal, I just ask out of worry,” They always said that, “You seem so cruel, it’s hard seeing a cutie like you get so worked up,” They always said that, “I just wonder if you’re okay, if you need any help?” They always asked that.
Daria, who had already made her way to the door, turned back, and bowed a little, “I thank you for your concern, but I’m just doing my job,”
Affini don’t smile in Daria’s experience, but she could always somehow tell when they found something funny. In a post-scarcity world, what even was a job? Why did she do this?
“Petal, you don’t have to do that anymore, you know that, right?”
“I do, ma’am. Thank you, but I would like to be going now,” Daria couldn’t open the doors from the inside. Pets weren’t allowed outside without their owners permission. Why would it be different for florets?
The Affini faux-sighed, and the door opened. Daria walked out without another word. It was as she walked out that, despite reading it, she didn’t even care to remember the Affini’s name.
They were all the same too Daria anyways.
It wasn’t that Daria disliked the Affini, or that she found them cruel, or evil, or anything like that. Sure, she wasn’t exactly a fan of forced-domestication, or the idea of being treated like a pet, or anything they did on that side of things. But everything else was golden. For the first time in a long time, Daria could do things without guilt. When she drank water, she didn’t have to think about how much it had cost to get here. When she ate food, she didn’t have to think about how many people had starved for her to eat. Daria’s biggest flaw prior to Terran pacification had, arguably, been her bleeding heart in the eyes of the Accord, and the corps. Now that was just gone, because she knew that even if she had to deal with former colleagues being made into women, or being permanently drugged in cafes, or god forbid, put onto Class-Os like that one idiot she had seen, the world was, one way or another, a better place.
The problem lay in the fact that she knew she was going to be on the docket at some point. Daria liked independence, and liked being an independent sophont. She liked having freedom to go to cafes and not be stuck on Class-Js, and eating food she wanted instead of having it fed to her by a plant. She liked bathing herself, and liked occasionally using swear words after a few pints. She
liked
booze, which had somehow ended up completely off the palate the moment anyone got hooked on Affini xenodrugs. But despite being okay with practically every part of the policy, she felt somewhere in the bureaucracy, there was probably a big red sticker saying “Feral”, not because she had any feralist views, but because feral stockbrokers kept contacting her to try and help them. She only hoped that when she kept saying she couldn’t, or perhaps wouldn’t do anything, that it was getting her in the compact’s good graces.
On her way back, as she thought about all of this for the second time this week - two days ago she’d had to deal with another case that was eerily similar, just reversed, with another member of the legal department - Daria took a seat in one of the parks. Once, these parks had been the pinnacle of the corporate world. She would have never dreamed of being able to take the time to just relax in one, to breathe. Now, they were places used by all. Anyone in the city could spend their time in them. Have a picnic, play a sport. Walk their dog and/or floret.
She took a deep breath in, held it for three, then out for three, then held it for three again. It helped her keep calm. Stop worrying. Stop thinking about when someone was going to come for her. She’d barely managed to keep the Bureau away the last time they visited, all because her room had been a bit messy.
When Grover and Grover still existed, she had been a negotiator. She missed that. She missed being able to argue without people looking at her like she needed a muzzle. She missed so much about her work. That was why, she knew, she still did these calls, even if she felt it only dug her grave faster.
The Affini sitting next to her had been staring for five seconds longer than Daria would have liked. They always stared. She dressed in business wear in a world without business, of course they would stare. But never this long. “Can I help you?” She asked, and the weed giggled.
“Oh, no, I’m just admiring what a cutie you are. Stubborn. I admire that,” a stray vine, with a few glowing bulbs on it, gestured to her clothing, “You here with anyone?”
“I’m an independent,”
“That’s not what I asked, petal,”
“No, I’m not,”
“I’m with one of my florets. I like to let her run free a little in this park. It’s so nice here, isn’t it?”
“It is. Which one is yours?” She asked, as if it was anywhere near a normal question to ask about another person,
The Affini pointed to a blonde, 5’11’’, currently practicing swinging a Floret-safe baseball bat near one of the premade pitches, and in a corresponding bright pink jersey with ‘Fleur’s Florets’ on the front. Daria almost laughed.
Almost.
“I take it you’re Fleur?” She asked, managing to just make out the letters,
“That I am. Adrea Fleur, Sixth Bloom. I haven’t really found time to have Florets before, with my work for the Bureau, but there were just so many here that needed care, so,” she shrugged, “Why not?”
“She looks very happy,”
“She used to work with you, you know.”
Daria’s face instantly turned to suspicion, her body shifting slightly away. Adrea only laughed. “Oh don’t worry, petal. You’re okay. I’m not here on Bureau business, though I
am
your case worker. Is your room any cleaner?”
It was, but she didn’t say that, she didn’t answer, and the Affini seemed to realise the joke was in poor taste, “Apologies. No discomfort meant. I’m actually here to help stop that,”
“What do y-” A vine was placed to her mouth and part of Daria wanted to scream, but the Affini did not do anything with it. It was just there. Silencing her.
“We get calls about you practically every week, and a lot of us think you’re at risk of going feral, and we can’t have that,” Adrea explained. Daria was right, then. “But I’ve also read your journal. You can complain about invasion of privacy later, but I am on your side, Daria. I
know
you’re not a feral. You think that we made this place better, that we make the universe better. You’re smarter than half the other lawyers we had to rescue, and you haven’t even had to be.”
Daria pulled back, and the vine retracted, as if giving her permission to speak, but rather than speaking, she stammered “S-so-so then why do you have to take me in? Why are you bringing this up, why are you huh-hu–here?”
“Easy, petal. Deep breaths It’s okay. You’re okay. The problem is,
we
can’t. You haven’t done anything that demands a temporary wardship, we just know that other offices are gonna have to deal with you. That means, rather than a wardship, you’ll be rescued.”
Daria’s breaths got deep. And then more frantic, and more heavy, and more, till, again, Adrea’s vine was on her mouth again.
“Box breathing. You were doing it earlier. In for three, hold for three, out for three.”
Daria held it for three, let it out for three, then went in for three. And she continued doing it again, and again, till the appendage moved and she could speak,
“If I make my house look like shit can you do anything?”
Adrea laughed, “No, sadly not, petal. But I can tell you what you can do.”
Adrea looked away for a moment, looking out at her floret on the pitch, “Sam wasn’t a rescue or a wellness check. She was voluntary. Went to one of the domestication centres and signed herself up to be domesticated. I took her in after that, by virtue of having a
lot
of her co-workers,”
“I don’t remember any Sam,”
“A term she negotiated into the contract was her going through Class-Gs. What you call hormone replacement therapy.”
The rest of the utterance seemed to blur. A term she negotiated.
A term she negotiated
.
The silence was noticeable, and the Affini broke it; “Petal, I take it you’re currently hyperfocusing on the first part of that?”
“Uhm, yes, sorry.”
“It’s alright. I can’t blame you for not knowing. You deal with people with the Rescue Clause so much, I guess you just assumed that it wasn’t possible to do
any
negotiating. That all domestications went like that.”
Daria nodded.
“They aren’t. When cute little seeds cooperate, they get a say in what happens. And I was more than happy to help my little Sammy-Lamby become the girl she wanted to be, and so I wrote it in for her, and she signed it so happily,”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“You’ve said it yourself, petal. Not to me, but in your little client interviews. Signing a contract yourself, negotiating it yourself, coming to terms with it. It does wonders for the inevitable. Plus, between you and me,” Adrea leaned over, “A lot of your former colleagues ask about you, but a lot of us think you’re too much of a risk. I know you miss them, sweetheart.”
Daria sighed. It made sense. The Affini didn’t care that her wants were being met, her wants didn’t compare to what they thought she needed. Just the wants of their pets.
“When do they come to mandate it?”
“Tomorrow, noon in Terran hours, from what I hear. You might wanna head to the centre today.”
Daria stood up. She would have held out a hand, but Affini still didn’t have them.
“I take it you’re going then?”
She nodded.
“Lovely. Best of luck to you, Daria. I’m sure it won't be too bad.”
Daria had already started walking off, trying not to think about how red her face was, and to remember where the Affini had set up the domestication centre. But that wasn’t where her trip to the park ended for Adrea. She slid along the bench almost silently, as the other affini began to take a seat.
Chantrieri Bract, 89th Bloom, was not as old as that name would imply. It was simply that it had needed to rebloom more than most. Chantrieri was a weapon. Mil-spec was the term used amongst the Compact to describe those whose bodies were built for battle. Battles that they often wanted to avoid. Battles that Chantrieri had been in time and time again. It did not often leave its residence, which at that moment was merely temporary on the planet while more fitting, and less deadly, housing was constructed.
In its vines, there were thorns so sharp they could cut the hardest steel. On its back, there were seed bulbs that when lit, could release xenodrug gas that could knock out entire buildings. The finest class-Es and Class-Hs could be synthesised within its body, and the remainder of its form was all taken from cuttings of the strongest and most resilient plans in Compact territory. Many asked Chantrieri why it did this.
Chantrieri would always shrug.
It did not enjoy being violent. That was one thing it made very clear. But even ignoring the amount of damage-based rebloomings, it was still an old sophont in some regards. It had been involved in many pacification wars. Because that's what they were; wars. For every volunteer, there were ten ferals who needed to be rescued, but one in every ten was a danger that the average affini wasn’t qualified to handle. Someone had to do it. Something had to be done.
Chantrieri would have liked nothing more than to be peaceful. To be the kind who could have twenty six florets and love them all equally. But it didn’t have the time. Stars, the xenosophonts were adorable, but Chantrieri knew it wasn’t for itself.
That was till it had heard of the negotiator that was Daria Clerval.
It had started as idle fascination. A brief rumour about some fool-of-a-feral who seemed to consistently try and offer services to worm rescues out of their situation, only to give and say that signing is their best offer. Chantrieri didn’t agree that this feral was a feral - certainly feisty, but she wasn’t some kind of monster who resisted. Especially when it looked into her history before the pacification.
It was funny how many Terrans enjoyed domestication when it was other humans doing it to them, but not when it was xenos doing it. Chantrieri read about Daria like it was a book, and it loved everything it learned. How despite being one of the best workers of her department, she kept getting turned away from promotions for being transgender. How even now, with better things available, she kept to old-fashioned terran medicine rather than touching class-Gs. Even when everyone around her seemed to either despise her or want to replace her, she continued standing her ground, how she worked despite everyone giving her weird looks. How she was unstoppable when on her own turf.
It reminded Chantrieri of itself.
“Chantrieri, it’s nice to see you,” Adrea crooned, “I really think you’re making the right choice with her,”
Chantrieri was quiet, “Is she going to the domestication centre?”
“Yes. You know, I’m surprised we didn’t try this earlier, it’s a clever strategy you proposed,”
Chantrieri didn’t necessarily like what it had suggested, but it was the best way to help Daria be comfortable with it, from what it had gathered. The truth of it was; there was no affini coming to collect her. No one was going to force her into a wardship or domestication, no one was coming. But when Chantrieri had fallen, it had practically begged Adrea to arrange something like this, so that it would have an easier time helping.
“I still don’t think it’ll be easier,” Adrea continued, “If anything, it’ll be harder. She’ll want to negotiate, to try work things out, fight for those little scraps that she can save. Are you sure you can handle that?”
Chantrieri smiled, because despite the views of another, Affini could. “Adrea, that is exactly why I want her. Thank you.”
“She’ll be your first, won’t she?” Adrea asked, “Sorry, snooping, but I mean, the least I could do if you’re not offering a favour back. When things move along, I’ll send some advice for dealing with terran Florets. They’re a handful, however adorable they are.”
“She’s not joining your baseball team,”
Adrea tutted, “Suit yourselves.”
A quiet formed between the two, and they watched the park around them. Chantrieri flared a vine in front of itself, a small flick. Spiked. Dangerous. If this was too work, it wondered; would it need more or less to deal with the little fighter inside of Daria? Inside of Daria Clerval?
It was foolish to even consider it then, but Daria Bract sounded like a better name to Chantrieri.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
It had expected that to meet with its soon-to-be-pet, those pulling the strings would have thought to set it up as what the terrans called a ‘date’. It made almost perfect sense that rather than simply arrive at its residence, the cutie would have wanted it to be public. Chantrieri wasn’t sure what it was expecting would happen. She had to show up. She wasn’t required too, in a certain sense, but her reports showed she never missed any arranged meeting, and of course, if Daria didn’t appear, it just meant Chantrieri would have to go collect it’s floret-to-be from wherever she was.Oh, how strange a sensation it was. To want that. To want to rush towards her, to pick her up, to do all the things it scoffed at in the early blooms, to snuggle and hold and do all the things to Daria that she wouldn’t do for herself, to say that she belonged to it. It was laughable. It was embarrassing. Chantrieri knew that a public meeting was the best way to secure her trust, but that didn’t mean it wanted anyone seeing, seeing how even the strongest, toughest, most terrifying of its species could somehow cave to the right little sophont.Its vines seemed to tighten around the facsimile of a face it held, but no one was paying too much attention to Chantrieri doing the closest approximation of blushing. The weather in Grovercity was not good that day, and as such, the cafe was primarily empty. Most individuals would rather stay in their habitation-units than go out in such abysmal weather. Chantrieri liked rain. It was not sure why, but it enjoyed the sensation of minute droplets slowly landing on its epidermis, then slowly being absorbed inside, however impractical it was, and how bitter it often tasted on newly pacified worlds.Daria Clerval, walking in with an umbrella and looking thoroughly miserable, did not like rain, or rather, she liked not having to go out when it was raining, and not having to go to some cafe on the other side of the city to her hab-unit to meet with someone she was trying to scam into giving her independence. She had brought her briefcase, of course, which she still kept in perfect condition. Chantrieri could only imagine what would be inside. How exciting it was.Daria, first, went to the counter, ordering from the tall, flower-filled affini working there, words were exchanged, Daria ordering her drink, the first-bloom calling her a cutie, and both Daria and Chantrieri groaning, though for very different reasons. A menu was handed to her upon request, Daria having skipped breakfast in order to get the final parts done, and with her menu, briefcase and umbrella in hand, she sat down. In front of Chantrieri.“I take it you are my…” She hesitated, “Prospect?”“And how did you figure that out, petal?”Daria smirked a little. Oh, to be proven right already. “You’re the only affini in here not currently talking with someone. Two by the window have a small cat-thing under the table, those behind the counter are working, and presumably you’d have the decency to not make me talk while you work, and the one in the corner is…” Daria looked over Chantrieri’s vines, at the small, sleeping affini in the corner, “Otherwise occupied”Chantrieri couldn’t smile, their facsimile face having no mouth. But how it wished too. “Very good. Anything else?”
She pointed at her forehead, “First set of eyes locked on me the second I entered, the second set were locked on my briefcase, and the third wouldn’t stop darting between me and the barista.”Chantrieri’s six eyes lit up, “As attentive as I was told. Chantrieri Bract, Eighty Ninth bloom, It/Its. You may call me Sir or Ma’am, if you prefer.”It was that that caught Daria’s attention. From the second she walked in and noticed the lone weed, she had been piecing things together. She had suspected a first bloom. She knew that first blooms were young, the closest thing to nineteen year olds that ancient plant precursors could have. It’s body wasn’t what she was expecting, far too inhuman to pass off for anything but affini, a sign of both overzealousness and inexperience. But eighty ninth? The average bloom, she had read, lasted for a few centuries. This thing was ancient.“You’re mil-spec, aren’t you?” She asked, putting two and two together. The inhumanity made sense now. It wasn’t inhuman, it was weaponized. The bulbs on the back were seed-pods, the vines weren’t just thorns but injectors. “Oh, right, apologies. I forgot you don’t like that term,” She apologised, with sincerity clearly having gone on holiday.Chantrieri’s vines tightened once more, its eyes flaring ever so slightly, “I do not mind the term, actually. While not usually appreciated, yes, and I personally prefer ‘rescue-orientated’, my form has been designed to achieve greater results in pacification campaigns. What you would call ‘military specialised’, I believe. What gave it away?”Daria’s smirk faded a little, but she didn’t let that phase her. “Seed-pods on your exterior. I presume they release some form of xenodrug gas?”It nodded, placing its vine in the bowl of nutrient water that lay between the two, “You would presume correct. Once removed from my form, they slowly begin to release a Class-E Xenodrug. I prefer Class-Es over Class-Zs in rescue operations, as th-”It stopped, looking at Daria’s face. It forgot that the terrans, or any domesticated species really, often didn’t like the details. But that wasn’t why it stopped. Daria was interested.“Keep going.”“Manners?” It tested the waters slightly. Daria closed her eyes, and smiled.“Would you please keep going?”“Better,” It began again, “I prefer Class-Es over Class-Zs in rescue operations. While yes, Class-Zs would be strictly described as safer, I find that Class-Es helps them come to the realisation that it is happening sooner. It is a lot easier to understand what is happening when you see it happening, rather than waking up and being told it is.”The barista brought over the espresso, and asked Daria if she was ready to order. She shook her head, and continued staring at Chantrieri.“I believe you would say it is rude to stare?” Chantrieri broached.“Daria Clerval, She/Her” She did not hold out her hand to shake, as she would have to any other xenosophont, “Though, you know my name already, I imagine.”“I do, but it is appreciated that you are sharing it, Ms. Clerval,”“If you have read my file, then, I take it you understand what my circumstances are?”“When the Bureau contacted me,” Which was not technically a lie on its part, as it had been contacted, it had just been scouring her file for weeks beforehand, “I was given your file. As I understand it, prior to domestication, you were what is known as an attorney, an individual who made agreements and contracts between independents and corporations that defined rules of engagement?”Daria nodded, “Yes, though I prefer the term solicitor.”“Why?”“It’s what we used on Astaral-3. Attorney is used in other parts of the Accord.”“I see. What is the difference?”“There…isn’t really one you would understand. Generally, from what I know, territories and corporations that utilised attorneys would have those attorneys deal with court trials and proceedings on top of paperwork, whereas jurisdictions such as the former Grover & Grover planetary grant separate that into a different legal profession,”Chantrieri could hear her talk about nonsense things like that for hours. It knew that the bureaucracy that made up the Compact, however flawless, was expansive, but if there was a species that had a larger mess of a system than they did, it must have been the Terran Accord.“Of course, I ask that because I want to ensure this isn’t a surprise…” She said, as she began to open the briefcase. Chantrieri hoped it knew what was inside. What it wanted to be there, what it desperately wanted her to pull out. She would belong to it before year was over, it knew that, but it wanted to make sure it was fun, that it was fair, that it was her giving up slowly and conceding and it hoped beyond hope that whatever was in that case was the way to do it;“I used the atomic compiler to print this,” she said, placing the contract down between them.Chantrieri got what it wished for.“It lacks your name, naturally, and I imagine you will likely have amendments you wish to make, or negotiate. To be clear, this is not,” she put enough stress into her intonation the word was almost having a panic attack, “A domestication contract. As it clearly states; Pre-domestication interaction procedures. While I volunteered, we should both recognise it is inaccurate to say that, aside from in the sense that all independents are domesticated and looked after on a global scale, I am not domesticated on a personal level, which as pe-”“I understand,” Its voice had a sense of glee to it that Daria didn’t quite place, “You wish to ensure that we are the right fit before you sign any proper domestication contracts, petal. I had hoped you would,”It had hoped she would.She slid the document over, trying not to dwell on its hopes and dreams. Daria didn’t know how to feel about this Chantrieri Bract. The only thought she truly had was that it was unique. It was an affini who, unlike the myriad of others who all just looked vaguely human with a wooden facemask, could stand out and be spotted. It’s voice was not the sing-song cadence of so many, but, if anything, dulled. It was a tool, just a way to get across a message, not something to try and entrap her.She hoped.“Of course, as you likely have objections to certain clauses, I can understand you wanting to read it and discuss. I brought my datapad,” she lifted it out of the briefcase, turning it on and pulling up the document, “to make any amendments.”She knew Affini couldn’t smile, but it was. She somehow knew Chantrieri was, however it could be possible. It was enjoying this. It was enjoying her little attempt. Did it know? Did it have some knowledge of what she wanted out of it?“I am glad you feel comfortable changing it, petal. There are quite a lot of changes I can already see,” Chantrieri flipped over the page.“You’re…only on the definitions,”“That I am. Clauses five and ten are inaccurate. The Haustoric Implant is not a ‘final step in Domestication’. It can be implanted at whatever point the Affini and Floret feel comfortable with it. Were you not aware of this when you wrote it?”“I am aware of how they work,” she lied, “I simply found that should we go forward, as you say, if it is a point we both feel comfortable with, it serves as a good foundation to define the relationship,”“If you are aware of it, would you write into the clause that you recognise this is an oversimplification?” Chantrieri asked, its voice still bearing that strange, eerie flatness.Daria thought about it for a moment. Lingered on the question, the request. It was a perfectly reasonable request. In fact, had she not assumed the Haustoric Implant wasn’t the final stage, she might have written so herself. But it was the affini’s request that scared her. It had caught her out. The contract wasn’t infallible. She had spent hours since leaving the domestication centre, barely slept, all to try and create something faultless.She had failed.If it knew she had failed, she would fail again.She began to tap on the datapad, reading aloud what she wrote, “Is that suitable?”“Yes.”“Do you have other problems with the definitions?”“You’re not a ward.”“Pardon?”“Clause 11, and to an extent 12. You refer to yourself in the contract as a Ward. You aren’t one. That has a specific legal definition in the Compact, as it relates to the Bureau of Xenosophont Wellness, no?”“Well, yes, but-”“But that definition does not apply to you, and if I understood Grover & Grover’s legal rules, which I assume you are basing this document off of, you are not allowed to supersede legislative definitions in a private contract?” It asked it as a question, though both of them knew Chantrieri was right,“Then what term shall we use?” Daria adjusted quickly. It had come here to play. It wanted a proper negotiation. It had studied in advance. To put it lightly, it was a little impressive how badly it seemed to want her. She was almost intrigued.“Seed for you, caretaker for me,”“Caretaker is fine, but seed is inaccurate,”“Seed is a slang term, it has no precise meaning,”“The slang term makes the contractual definition blurry,”“Except you define it, and as such, the clause should be fine.”It really wanted her to call herself a seed. Daria wanted anything but that. It was rapid fire. To Daria, it was like being back in the office. To Chantrieri, it was like being in the field,“Pod. Similar word to seed, operates a similar meaning without the connotation the slang term has,”“Agreed.”She tapped away, the change was made.She smiled.“The majority of section three will need to be amended.”Her smile faltered.“Is that so?”“Shall I explain it step by step, petal?”“Go,”Chantrieri let its vines wrap further around its chair. They would be here for a while, it thought.“Clause 3 wont work, as now that you are in domestication, you are my responsibility. I cannot ensure your wellbeing if you live somewhere else the majority of the time.”“I can offer you two nights a week,”“Five nights,”“Three.”“Three, but I have permission to enter your habitation module at any point.”Oh. She didn’t like that. Chantrieri could see on her face that she didn’t. Terrans were so expressive.“Four nights.”“Four and you may stay for any additional nights you wish.”“Done,” She began tapping away again, “They are allowed to spend more nights with their caretaker-”“And are encouraged to do so.”Daria looked up from the screen, but then nodded, continuing, “And are encouraged to do so, should they wish,”“Clause three is good. I am glad you know to ask for help, flower.”Daria ignored the compliment, instead asking quickly, “What’s the issue with clause four?”“Same as with clause two. It is my responsibility to guard your well-being, if you vanish and I am unable to find you, I cannot do that. I propose the term that you are permitted to roam freely during the day, but must request permission to leave on evenings where you are with me, and require notice before leaving Grovercity, and permission to go off-world, should you ever wish.”It was hard to argue some points, because they would have been exactly what she had suggested. She had little interest in going off-world, so to give it up as a permission system was…ideal. But that was perhaps what it knew.“Agreed. Clause 5?”“No problems.”“Really?” Daria asked, looking over it. The protection clause. That is to say, that it would be Chantrieri’s duty to look after Daria from any other affini, to avoid anything from ever happening to her from another.“You are mine, petal,” It responded, and she shivered, “No one will touch you.”“Noted. Clause six?”Clause six was one of her real protection clauses. Consensual domestication. Anything that it wanted to do to her to make her more docile, more of a good little pet, it had to run past her. She smiled. She smiled to not show weakness. There wasn’t a chance Chantrieri would let it slide. It would give her too much power, too much strength. The contract would essentially give her independence in all but name if her caretaker accepted it, so why would Chantrieri?“It can stay as it is.”Any joy turned to fear at that statement. Why did it let it slide? Why was that what it would allow to go through? Her toughest shield, and it was allowing her to carry it into the heat of battle. She began skim reading it again. It was one clause. Honestly, it was remarkably simple; the only way it could have been clearer was Thou shalt not domesticate, like scripture rather than legalese, but something must have been wrong if it found the clause acceptable.But she found nothing, and the affini’s eyes seemed to be noticing her worry. It’s eyes. Metallic. Cold. Unblinking. They were the colour of honeysuckle, that ever so pale yellow that you could only see was yellow if you were looking directly at the flower.“Shall we move on, petal?”“Section four, then.”“Section four is lovely, and I don’t think it needs any amendments. Tell me, podling,” She already hated that nickname and it had only been used once. “What compelled you to have an entire section saying how much you hate the Accord and reject what it was?”Chantrieri was correct about what it was. Section four was a set of statements both parties would concede to, mainly about how the Accord was awful and the Compact was brilliant. That feralism was wrong and that global domestication was fair practice for the good of xenosophonts everywhere. Daria thought carefully before answering;“The Accord was terrible, and I am happy to admit that. In many contracts I’ve read since you people arrived, you want to make that clear. I believed it would be…beneficial for me to state that,”It would be, insomuch as lowering any prospective owner’s belief in any ‘feral’ ideology in her. It was a faux-platitude, meaning very little, but giving her an edge. A blade with which to cut out the terms she wanted by giving what was truly nothing in the terms of obligation.Chantrieri saw it for exactly that, but was fascinated by the attempt. Fascinated by how clever she was. It had to admit, there would be Affini who would see that as truthful, as an actual admission and not something as part of a larger powerplay. Perhaps that's why it was perfect for her.“Interesting. For that ‘no bad language’ clause, which I appreciate you putting in their podling, I will provide you with a list later…Now, moving onto section five…”The drug section, or more accurately, the section where Daria tried to not give permission for any drugs to be used.Chantrieri didn’t like that.“I imagine this will be a sore spot for negotiating, so I have only three amendments I actually want made.”“Which are?”“Firstly, Class-Es are given permission for use.”“No.”“No?”“No.”Chantrieri’s vines grew slack. This was what it signed up for. She wanted an argument. It would have to argue.“In order to comply with section three, clause five, I will need to be able to administer Class-E’s to you. There may be situations where you are in danger, or otherwise need to be…”Chantrieri couldn’t find the word, and that’s when Daria struck, “Manipulated, controlled, violated?”“Not any of the words I would use, podling. I should have specified that while I doubt you will do anything so silly, there will be times where I need to stop you, for your own health and safety, as is my duty as your caretaker.”“Then why can you not physically restrain me should that happen?”Chantrieri thought for two seconds, then answered, “I pick you up, and hold you, and,” Don’t go into detail, don’t go into detail, “Stop you in that moment. What is to say that when I place you down, you don’t instantly pick it back up again? Class-E’s give me the opportunity to discuss with you what needs to happen when I provide you the counter-serum.”Daria couldn’t argue with the logic, but her feelings weren’t a fan of it. “Fine, but I want a compiled list of all Class-Es that you intend to utilise.”“Agreed.”Tap, tap, tap.“The caretaker has permission to use Class-E drugs should the pod ever be a risk to themselves-”“Or others.”“I was going to write that anyways,”“Ah. Carry on then.”“To themselves or others, on the condition that a list be provided of the specific Class-E’s the caretaker intends to utilise. What issue do you want next?”“Class-Ds”“The truth-serum class?”“Yes.”“Do you not trust me?”“It’s not about trust, podling. I trust you to make the right decision, but I know from experience that xenosophonts aren’t always honest, especially when they need to be. Besides; you would have done many things to have those during your career.”Daria would have happily admitted that in prior hearings, in negotiations, in her career, she would have killed for something as convenient and helpful as Class-Ds. To be able to get her clients to actually own up, to be able to get the opposition to admit things they should have been required to say, for the corporate espionage of it all to just fade away, giving way to the truth. She didn’t like that Chantrieri had spoken the truth just now.“Fine, under the same condition that you provide a list.”“Agreed.”“Amending…”“Thank you, podling. Now, finally; Class-Gs”“Non negotiable. You do not get to administer any of those to me.”Chantrieri paused, watching as Daria took a long sip of her drink. That had surprised it, but not as much as it could have. It knew that Daria had taken hormone replacement therapy, but not Class-Gs. She had taken the ineffective, less efficient, less permanent drugs provided by the Accord to a group they so hated, which the Compact wanted to care for so greatly. She still did take them. How she had found a way for the compiler to produce something so ineffective was almost impressive, given that medical-grade compilers were exclusive to veterinary offices, but, nonetheless, she did it. Chantrieri’s eyes lit up a fraction brighter.“I will not press it, then. That term may stay as it is. May I ask you why?”Daria had a reason why. A very good reason, if you asked her, even when so many of her friends had leapt at the opportunity when Class-Gs became available post-pacification. But that reason was not the weed’s business.“You may ask, but you will not receive an answer.”“Very well. Moving onto section six, then. I respect all the terms you write, however, I require something more from it.”“Why?”“Termination from my breach exclusively benefits you, which I understand. But if you breach and I terminate this contract, it still only benefits you. I would like a clause that dictates the following;”It’s voice shifted. If it was possible for it to be more monotonous, it would have been silent. “Should the pod breach their duties under any section of this contract, rather than termination, the caretaker is permitted to amend any term as they see fit or relevant within the contract, without agreement.”Daria wanted to say no, but saying no wasn’t going to work here. Chantrieri was entirely right. Termination exclusively benefited her, that was why she wrote it. But this term would get them to sign it. She could tell. There was always a term that would get a finisher, some little amendment that would get them to agree to whatever other nonsense you placed in a contract. But this one actually meant something. It was actually dangerous. If she misbehaved, or broke a rule, then what?“You cannot alter or change any section one or section six term.”
“That sounds…reasonable, podling.”With her condition provided, she began typing away, initially what Chantrieri said verbatim, and finally her own,“While I did provide the written copy for my own preference, digital signatures were, of course, just as binding as any written one.” She said, sliding the datapad over. Section seven was two clauses, both asking for a signature from one of the parties. “I already placed your name, you just need to sign and date it.”Before she could even finish, a vine had slithered onto the tablet, and was already beginning to write its name out, then placing the date. The vine then handed the tablet back, “Your turn, podling.”Daria wrote her name out. Daria Clerval. She took a deep breath in, glaring at the words. A thought ran through her mind, then ran chills down her back; If she wasn’t careful, this would be the last contract she signed with that name.She didn’t like that idea, and as she dotted the i, she looked at Chantrieri.It wasn’t smiling, she knew they couldn’t smile, but there was that glow, that brightness, that honeysuckle sweetness.“Signed and dated.”“Wonderful. Truly marvellous, my little podling.”Daria took another sip of her espresso. “Now that we have that signed, let us discuss the days I will be staying with you.“Today, and the three days afterwards. Then, you may return to your own accommodation, unless you wish to stay.”“Tomorrow, and the three days after. I had plans this evening,”Chantrieri’s vines tightened a little, not in modesty or embarrassment, but in slight annoyance. “I see. I will allow you to do those plans, though, you do need to tell me where you are going pe-”“Per section three, clause four, I am aware. We did just sign it.”Chantrieri laughed, or approximated a laugh, “Yes, of course, little one. Where?”“I will be at a social event at Argon’s. It is what we call a bar.” Daria said, as she began placing her belongings back in her briefcase. Chantrieri stood up,“I take it you will spend the rest of your day informing any friends or acquaintances of this change to your living situation?”
“Quite probably.”“That is good. It should not then come as a surprise what will come.”Daria herself stood up, eyes squinting at the affini, at what it just said. What will come. What did it have planned for her to say something like that? What did it want to do to her?She pushed the thought aside as the mass of vine and plant matter slithered forward,“Ms. Clerval,” It was still using her name, at least, “As your caretaker, and under the domestication treaty, I can do so of my own volition, under the recognition that you are most certainly, a cutie.”Daria almost froze. The treaty. The damned treaty. The most important piece of legislation in her new world and she had forgotten to even touch on it, at least properly beyond a brief mention. It wasn't that she ignored it or didn't remember it, she was rushed not stupid, but still, the fact she hadn't considered it, the fact she had let herself stay up into the hours of the morning with no consideration to the one true fork in her work..Chantrieri continued, unaware of the thoughts running a mile-a-minute within Daria's head, “But, I believe you would rather I ask, so I will; may I hug you?”Daria could have used a hug. Desperately. Every thought running through her head was one of fear. How many sections had she failed to consider? Was the contract even valid in any sense? Legislation trumps contractual definitions, and even she knew about the damned punishment article, had she messed up? No, it wasn’t a question of if she had messed up, more so of how badly. Yet, despite the worry, despite the fear, her answer was a brief curtsy, a formal no, and her rushing out the door. Chantrieri wanted to grab her, to stop her, but not yet. Not now. It would be patient. It could be patient.