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Myra looked up in the sky at the gorgeous approaching shuttlecraft, using her hand to shield her eyes from the sun. Huh. There's usually a sonic boom when they break atmo, she thought to herself. Prettier shuttle than the usual gaudy, corpo crates, too. Very organic looking. Whoever they are, better see what they want.
The flat, dusty grasslands of Windblaine meant you could see anything coming from a hundred kilometers away, so Myra was in no great hurry. She ambled her way over to a shed and kicked the foot-starter of a rarely-used generator. As the generator coughed to life, several floodlights surrounding a patch of hard-packed dirt flickered alight, making the intended landing area more visible to anyone coming to visit. It was hardly what most people would call a landing pad, especially since Myra didn't have any kind of power or fuel conduits to refuel a visiting shuttle, but it was more than most people on this remote agri-world could or would offer a stranger, especially one from corporate. There was a reason the antisocial homesteaders of Windblaine had elected Myra as their spokesperson - she was capable of pretending to be civil when the corpos came around. Sometimes she didn't even bring a shotgun when meeting them.
She chose not to fetch one this time. Anyone who showed up in a flashy craft like that probably didn't want their fancy shoes touching agri-world dirt any longer than they had to, so no doubt this was just a perfunctory visit. But with that kind of visitor, if she was rude and armed this time, the people who showed up the next time would be a lot ruder and a lot more heavily armed.
Myra leaned against a nearby fence as the flashy, organic-looking craft came to a landing, and she tipped her weather-beaten cowboy hat back a bit as if she was shocked and trying to get a better look. She looked every inch the mature, old-fashioned cowgirl, with her broken-in roper boots, dust-crusted jeans, and sun-faded workshirt that might have been red once. Or maybe it used to be orange? Even Myra couldn't remember what color it used to be at this point.
"Ooooweee!" she called as the dust of the landing settled and a thin crack in the smooth skin of the shuttle widened into a tall door. Fancy. Myra leaned into an easy, 'country bumpkin' mannerism that the fancy corpos usually expected of someone like her. Letting them underestimate her was always vital to her actual goal of getting them to leave her and her people alone. "That's gotta be the purdiest shuttle ever landed on this rock!" Corpos also always loved any flattery that complimented their wealth. "What in tarnation would make you bring such a fancy thing all the way out here?"
"Thank you, petal!" called a voice from inside the darkened interior of the shuttle. "As far as what brings me and my shuttle here, I come bearing news, and our records suggest that you are the primary local chieftain on this planet?" The owner of the voice did not yet disembark, remaining within the dark shuttle.
Petal? Chieftain? Weird. "I wouldn't call myself a 'chieftain,' not when there are only three dozen terran souls on this whole dang planet and the nearest one is about twelve-hunnert kilometers that-a-way," Myra said, pointing in a vague direction to the southwest, "but sure, they voted me spokesperson for any visitors from corporate. What's the word? Corporate takeover? Someone new owns the planet?"
Strangely melodious giggling came from inside the strange craft. "You could say that, cutie. We do have some details to discuss."
Cutie now? Myra thought. Are they flirting? "Well, quit hiding in there and follow me to the house. Welcome to Windblaine and specifically E-Bar Ranch. I got fresh lemonade in the fridge. It's made with real lemons my cousin Van on the eastern continent grew, and fresh well water, which is probably a damn sight better than whatever recycled piss you've been living with for however long you were in space." Myra loped in the direction of the chunky, adobe, ranch house, with all the confidence of someone who just offered the kind of casual agricultural luxury that even most corporate middle-men could rarely if ever enjoy.
"I suspect you might be making some assumptions, petal, but I would be thrilled to join you regardless," the voice said with another beautiful, song-like giggle. "One thing, though." Myra was already halfway to the ranch house door and paused to look back toward the shuttle. "Can you promise that when you see me, you will not panic and scramble for a weapon? I am… probably not what you are expecting, and I would hate for you to risk injuring yourself in fear."
Really? Myra thought as she rolled her eyes. What kind of easily-spooked greenhorn had this corpo rep been dealing with? They probably just had piercings or tattoos or some of those cosmetic prosthetics that had been getting popular lately among people who didn't have to do real work for a living. Ridiculous. "Sugar, there ain't nothing in the galaxy that could scare me into running for a gun when I ain't already decided to use one. Just come on out already."
"'Sugar?' And nothing in the galaxy, you say?" the voice said with another melodious giggle as, strangely, a huge plant seemed to be shoved out the door of the shuttle. Only, it kept coming on its own, and a face formed on it, and trunks and vines formed into a vague approximation of arms and legs. Probably four meters tall, the plant-being looked for all the world like a purple and green bundle of sugarcane that had decided to uproot itself and try out life as a giant-sized humanoid for a while. "My name is Methana Sacchara, Third Bloom, my pronouns are she and her, and while I imagine you can now appreciate the irony of calling me 'Sugar,' my species, the affini, are not exactly from your galaxy. Can you understand my concern about startling you now?"
Needing a moment to process, Myra removed her hat, wiped sweat from her brow with a dirty sleeve, took a deep breath, and returned the hat to her head. Looking the plant-person up and down, Myra realized that now that she was sorted into a human-shape, she was kinda cute, in a weird, stretched-out, plant kind of way. "Well… My name's Myra Franks, though you probably know that already if you found your way to my ranch, I'm she/her as well, and if someone as tall as you can fit inside, you're still welcome to come in. Sounds like we have more to discuss than I thought."
"I will figure something out, cutie," the plant-person responded with a smile and a bow, and followed Myra inside the house.
Sure enough, the plant woman did figure out… something. Despite the low ceilings of the homestead, the plant just sort of collapsed her lower half into a mess of vines and stems and sat (or stood, or something) at the kitchen table while Myra poured them both large, cold glasses of lemonade from the pitcher in the refrigerator. The plant extended a tendril into the glass and clearly started absorbing it. "Oh! You are right, petal, this is quite refreshing," she commented.
Myra sat down with her own glass and started sipping herself, a little bug-eyed at her extremely alien visitor. She stopped exaggerating her accent quite so much, though clearly not all of it was an act. "… Right. So, how can I help you, Miss Sacchara? I get the impression you lot are replacing Monsamazon Agronomics as far as ownership?"
"In a manner of speaking. You see, I am from the Affini Compact, and we conquered the entire Terran Accord a few months ago." Myra's weathered face betrayed confusion and surprise, but also no recognition or anger at the news. Miss Sacchara looked mildly surprised at Myra's reaction. "I get the impression that your planet has been too remote to receive any news for the last three years? That has been how long the conflict has been happening, and the final treaty was signed three months ago."
"Oh, we get news," Myra responded, her face souring, "but it's always so filtered by Monsamazon to keep us 'productive' that it's never worth paying any mind. I suppose that explains some of the bits about thanking us for our contributions to the war effort. We all just assumed it was some corporate war. That's why I was half expecting a new owner. As far as the Terran Accord, well… you don't go homesteading a backwater like Windblaine if you have much love of the society you came from."
"Well, that is why I am on this mission. I am doing outreach to some of the more remote and sparsely-populated terran-colonized planets to make sure that they are informed of the new situation. There have been some elements of the former Terran Cosmic Navy and corporate militaries that have gone rogue in the wake of the surrender treaty announcement, and they have… caused trouble for other remote colonies. Pillaging, forced conscription, that kind of thing. I am trying to reach remote colonies ahead of such troublemakers. And of course, I get to meet lots of adorable, rural cuties like you," Methana smiled a gorgeous, green smile at Myra and winked, and Myra suddenly found herself glad she was already sitting. She quickly took another drink of lemonade as a cover for her flustered blush.
Get it together, Myra, Myra thought to herself. You're fifty-three years old. Your hair has as much gray in it as auburn these days. You can't turn to a moon-eyed schoolgirl over a wink and a flirt! From an alien plant no less!
Myra tried to compose herself with the distraction of business. "Well… I suppose you'll be wanting to know about the planet, then." Myra raised an eyebrow, and Miss Sacchara nodded back, and brought a tablet out to take some notes. Myra continued. "Windblaine is flat. Stars that burn, it's flat. If I stand on my roof, it feels like I can see a thousand miles. The deepest the oceans go is about 60 meters, and the highest hill is only about 100 meters. We do sometimes have trouble with windstorms, since there's literally nothin' between the equator and the poles but our barbed wire fences, and even those are blown down half the time. That said, as you can see with my little place, we designed the buildings with that in mind, low and solid, so you don't need to worry about me blowing away in a tornado anytime soon," Myra said with a proud, cocky grin.
"Thank the Everbloom for that. I would hate to think of a cutie like you being stuck in some kind of natural disaster," Miss Sacchara said with another winning smile.
Really? Just going to flirt with me in the middle of my planet report? Myra thought. How do these plants get anything done? Myra blushed and continued her report. "Windblaine's axis of rotation is almost perfectly perpendicular to the plane of orbit, so we barely have any seasons to speak of; it's growing season year-round, for better or worse. Not much in the way of accessible minerals - there are a couple of automated mines that supply most of the raw materials we need for tools and bots, but barely, and certainly not enough for export, so thankfully that made our planet uninteresting to the big, industrial suppliers like IRC. As far as native life, there's a species of these tall, blue, amphibious antelope-looking things that Doctor Cotton, our veterinarian, named andalites, after one of her favorite books. They seem to be the only large native species this planet had afore we got here, and they've resisted all our efforts at domestication. We were hoping they could supplement our herds, but they just don't seem to thrive in captivity, which is sad, because they're majestic beasts and I'd love to try to ride one one day. There're no predators of the andalites, as far as we know, and they don't bother our cattle or goats or eat too much of our crops, so we just leave 'em be. Also, they have very long legs, so it's silly to try to build fences high enough to keep them out. There's a handful of native bird-things and bat-things and bugs and fish, but not much else. Windblaine is natively almost all grassland and scrub forest. The few native trees and tree-like species don't grow much taller than about three meters at most, probably on account of not getting uprooted in windstorms. They tend to cluster near the rivers and coasts. One species makes these big, blue fruits. Tastes like a rotten potato, but they seem like a favorite of the andalites." This was a report Myra had given before to other corporate visitors many times over her life on Windblaine, and she recited it from memory.
Myra paused her recitation to look Miss Sacchara in the eye. "Incidentally, it has taken a lot of work on our part to convince the corporations to not disturb the native life too much, to explain that a thriving native biosphere is why we're such a productive agri-world. Although it has helped that we're remote enough that they barely give a shit. You don't have any plans of wiping local stuff out to replace it with yours, do you?" She raised an eyebrow in concerned curiosity.
"We would never, petal! And honestly, it is refreshing to hear a terran express any such consideration. Working with the native biosphere, and with whatever you have already naturalized here, and potentially even restricting potentially invasive species that terrans have brought here, will actually be one of our highest priorities with this planet."
With a satisfied nod, Myra continued describing the planet. "We have fourteen megafarms and three ranches, covering about 56% of the arable surface. The rest is wilderness. The farms and ranches are almost entirely automated, obviously, considering our tiny population. The Wilkersons on the south continent recently had another 'cousin' from off-world move in, so that brings our total terran population up to 38, including myself. We're technicians as much as farmers, mostly here to fix drones and such that break in the windstorms. Export is also fully automated; Monsamazon drones… or I guess, your drones now… carry produce to five launchpads around the planet, and periodically build drone-ships from raw materials the automated mines provide. From here, the automated ships go to factories and processing centers across the sector. We're actually proud to provide several factory-worlds in the area with probably the only real fruit and veg and meat they can even get. What isn't turned into synthcubes in the refineries, of course." Myra was at first visibly proud, but then made a disgusted face at mentioning synthcubes. To Myra's surprise, Miss Sacchara made a similarly disgusted face.
"Well, we will certainly not be doing that anymore," Miss Sacchara commented, and started scrolling through information already on her tablet. "We actually have Monsamazon's data on your productivity, and there is no reason any of your produce should be being turned into synthcubes. The synthcube refining process is actually incredibly wasteful. You could feed the entire sector three times over without resorting to… rations of that nature at all. We may, however, ask you to diversify. Your output of maize, rice, and soybeans is, quite frankly, astounding, far more than could ever be used, even when converted to biofuels and synthcubes. There are some fruits and vegetables from elsewhere in both terran space and the Affini Compact at large that might perform quite well here instead."
Myra's eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. "That's what I've been saying for years! Maize especially is a waste. Like, it's a great, nutritious vegetable and grain, don't get me wrong, but there's no reason for it to be a full third of our output! Thank you!"
"I am glad I could validate you, cutie!" Miss Sacchara's musical giggle filled the tiny ranch house, and once again, Myra froze with an incredible blush filling her face.
How is she doing this to me? Myra thought. I feel like… I don't know! Everything she does just seems to… draw me in. Something about being so close to her in this tiny kitchen, maybe? It was a good minute before Myra could regain her composure enough to speak. Miss Sacchara politely waited, and poured both of them another glass of lemonade from the pitcher, which her prehensile vines had, at some point, retrieved from the refrigerator. Myra appreciatively gulped down the cold drink until she could refocus on the important business before them. "Right. Okay. So. Do you have a contract for me to sign? I assume you plants use contracts for this sort of thing?"
This time, it was Miss Sacchara's turn to blush, or at least she seemed to do the plant-person equivalent, as several puffy white and pink cane blossoms throughout the leafy foliage that constituted her hair puffed out into full bloom. "A contract? Why, that seems awfully sudden, petal. I hadn't even been… Are you sure?"
"Of course?" Myra said, a bit confused. "Why wouldn't I be sure? You plants seem like way better owners than our last ones anyway."
"Oh! In that case, I'll be right back! Let me get one from my shuttle. Petal, you have made me so happy!" The plant practically flew out the ranch house door back to her shuttle.
What a strange thing to get that excited about, thought Myra. Still, her enthusiasm is pretty cute… Is it weird to ask an alien plant on a date? I mean, there's not really any place to go here on Windblaine, but… Maria has been encouraging me to try dating again… and this way I wouldn't have to endure anymore clumsy set-ups with Maria's cousin Jaime again…
Before Myra knew it, the cute plant giant was back with a stack of paper. "I am very excited and flattered that you are so willing, petal. Usually, there is an elaborate courtship and negotiation period and…"
Once the plant set the weighty contract on Myra's kitchen table, Myra immediately started initialing all the small lines and signing the big ones she found, never reading a single word on the page. "Yeah, I'm over all that, too. It's always the same boilerplate corporate stuff anyway. 'You acknowledge that you don't actually own anything, you acknowledge you have no rights to influence corporate policy, everything you use is used under ABC license with permission from XYZ authorities, everything you do reflects on such-and-such, which has full authority to enforce punishments and penalties. Blah, blah, blah.'"
Miss Sacchara twitched a little awkwardly, but made no move to stop Myra's hands from continuing to fly through the paperwork heedlessly. Her metallic eyes flared with yellow and green sparks as she watched Myra's hands intently. "While that is surprisingly similar to certain sections of the document, I think there are a few key differences which you might-" Myra cut her off, her hands zooming through the paperwork.
"Sugar, you already made a great pitch for what you want to do with the place. Respecting the biosphere, diversifying the crops, and not making more garbage synthcubes. I'm happy to sign it. I'm the duly-elected representative for the Windblaine Tenant Farmers And Sharecroppers Society. No, I did not choose the name. Carl Wilkerson thought he was being clever with the acronym. It is pretty funny when he has to ask all his 'extended family' to join the W.T.F.A.S.S. when they arrive… Aaaand DONE," Myra announced as she signed the last page and handed the massive stack of papers back to Miss Sacchara. Miss Sacchara looked so happy she could burst, which struck Myra as still quite odd, so she tried to explain to the alien. "We… We all know how this works: old corporate gets shoved aside for someone new, that someone new runs everything, institutes a few new ideas, has us plant a few different things, and life goes on. The planet has had six different owners in the last ten years, not counting the four times that Monsamazon has taken it back through legal chicanery. Regardless of who's in charge, 98% of what we grow gets shipped off-world, and what little we keep here almost entirely goes to feed the livestock, which also gets shipped off-world eventually. The rest of the people here won't care that our new overlords are alien plants instead of terrans, and most of them live this far out because they were trying to get away from the Terran Accord."
Miss Sacchara grinned and let Myra continue with her explanation uninterrupted. "For example, Steff Holt, who is the nearest homesteader to the southwest, lost both her legs and an eye in one of the corporate wars a few years ago, and since her corp was on the losing side, the insurance companies denied all her veterans benefits and said she owed nearly a trillion credits for their hospitals having saved her life. When she finds out the Accord is gone and corpo thugs aren't looking for either her money or her blood anymore, she will probably celebrate by getting blasted on that disgusting bathtub hooch she thinks the rest of us don't know she makes… Not that that would change much from her usual 'day that ends in Y,' now that I think about it, but you know, she'd be happy while doing so this time."
"Flower, I think you and I had a deep misunderstanding between the contract I thought you were asking to sign and the contract you thought you were signing," Miss Sacchara's eyes practically burned with a predatory, golden gleam that made Myra more than a bit uncomfortable. "But no matter, what is done is done, and you have made me deliriously happy regardless." Myra found herself staring into those burning eyes. There were ripples, patterns to the glow, and though they were scary at the moment, they were also… so beautiful… she could just... fall into them...
CLICK!
Miss Sacchara snapped some sort of collar around Myra's neck, also snapping her out of the hypnotic trance and back to reality. "Wait, hold on, what is this about!?" Myra exclaimed, tugging at the collar and trying to find a latch on it. "How do I get this thing off?"
"Myra, my pet, I think you should reread the first page of the contract you just signed." Miss Sacchara handed the contract back to Myra, whose eyes went wide as saucers. The title read:
TERRAN DOMESTICATION CONTRACT, Standard Edition
The more Myra read, the more flabbergasted she looked. Is this legal? One person can't just own another… right? Is that what's been going on? 'Pursuant to the Human Domestication Treaty, section blah-blah…' That is what's been going on! Myra looked up at Miss Sacchara so confused. "What does this mean?" She did not ask the other question on her mind, and why is it kinda hot? but she suspected the plant already knew.
"You see, the contract was not for acknowledgment of ownership of the planet, although that will doubtlessly be arranged at some point, the contract was for my ownership of you. We misunderstood each other, and I tried to warn you before you got too far, but I was interrupted. That can be your first lesson in not interrupting your Mistress, which is what you will call me from now on. Although, I think I will allow the occasional 'Sugar.' It sounds far too cute in your accent. We will need to correct some of these entries, of course. In your excitement to sign, you did not even give me a chance to provide your new name, which is 'Myra Sacchara, First Floret.' But the names are easily corrected, and your enthusiasm for signing documents you were not actually reading was far too cute for me to interrupt."
"But… Wow… Okay…" Myra sat back down and ran her fingers through her auburn and gray-streaked hair. Do I… want this? she thought. It would be nice to not be alone anymore, even if it's… weird and… kinda kinky. Yeah, I'm… tired of being alone… Huh. "I'm not actually finding as many reasons to fight this as… maybe I should?" Myra finally said out loud after a few moments. "When you ran off to your shuttle, I was actually wondering if it would be strange to ask you on a date. And… this does solve the problem of Maria Rodriguez continuing to try to match me up with her cousin Jaime. I… yeah, I think I can live with this, as surprising as that sounds to me. I'm tired of being alone. Err, Mistress."
Mistress made a high-pitched squeal of excitement. "I am so glad! And you wanted to ask me on a date? That is so cute! What did you have in mind?"
"Well, there isn't really a town, or really infrastructure of any kind on the planet. I couldn't take you out to a restaurant or a movie, unless…" Myra paused to think, "I don't suppose you'd be interested in a horseback ride down to the river and back? I'm not sure how bulky you are exactly, but if you can compact yourself a bit maybe, Old Sam is a draft grade and should be plenty strong."
This time, it was Mistress's turn for her eyes to go wide as saucers in surprise. "YOU HAVE A FROSTING HORSE!? AND I CAN RIDE ONE!?" Myra nearly exploded from laughter at her cute new Mistress.
