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Warning! This contains violence toward plants and may be too intense for delicate ferns, vines, or melons. Reader discretion is advised.
No actual plants were trimmed, pruned, cooked, or turned into compost in the making of this .
Time: Five or six years from now, just far enough in the future for the world to slip farther away from democracy and closer to totalitarianism.
1
Big1 paced about bridge of his flagship, the stumps formed from his matted root mass clumping on the deck. The green Botanoid clenched and unclenched the tendrils sprouting from the ends of his irregular vine likelimbs. It wasn’t prebattle jitters or nerves of any kind. More impatience. The operation wasn’t going smoothly, and it sparked his ire. His thick vinelike limbs twitched in the sleeves of his custommade tunic. He never wanted to seem out of control unless it served his purpose, and he was getting uncomfortably close to that appearance. Maintaining perfect control of his demeanor helped him project the aura of authority that aided his ascent.
He had risen quickly through the ranks of the military, proving his leadership skills over numerous campaigns as the armada strode across the local arm of the galaxy like a colossus, destroying enemies and innocents alike while plundering world after world. He now held the title ‘Supreme Commander of the Imperial Expeditionary Force’ thanks to a combination of his legendary exploits and a healthy dose of falsified reports, bribes and blackmail. Skillfully executed assassinations of a few rivals along the way didn’t hurt either.
He had one last objective: Plunder a blue, watercovered planet with technologically primitive inhabitants before returning home in triumph. One more victory, and he could leave the military behind and ascend to the ruling council, assuming the rank, Grand, three hundred and…, what was it? Depending on the most recent accounting of deposed, jailed and assassinated council members, three hundred, forty something.
The scout ships had brought word of this potential conquest, a resource rich jewel in a remote part of the galaxy. The target planet was over seventy percent covered with an average depth of two miles of water, a commodity precious to the empire. The dry surface area was inhabited by competing (warring?) factions of a midlevel industrial population. They were only beginning to experiment with space travel, and other than a few interplanetary probes, didn’t appear to have ventured farther than near orbit around their planet.
Surveys indicated the planet had huge stores of silicon, aluminum, iron and magnesium, not to mention sizable amounts of rare semiconductors, important materials for the empire’s industries. Its vast underground reservoirs of liquid fossil hydrocarbons could be used as feedstock for the manufacture of thousands of essential industrial materials.
The Botanoids had evolved from carnivorous plants, and while they were mainly meateating bulk feeders now, they still needed to absorb nutrients through their root mass from time to time. The massive deposits of fertile topsoil on the dry land masses would be a welcome addition to the empire’s compost farms, easing the burden of feeding a hungry population.
The natives had already discovered the resources and mapped their locations, and once conquered could be used as slave labor to harvest everything worth taking. And then, there was that ridiculous amount of water. It would take a major effort to transport it back to the empire, but that phase of the operation would somebody else’s problem.
He looked at the tactical display of the fleet on the bridge’s main viewscreen and scowled with his eyes. His green head was the size and shape of a large cantaloupe, and while not as rigid, had the texture and fibers of a husked coconut, its surface only broken by his beady black eyes and narrow downturned mouth. The otherwise featureless surface couldn’t convey emotions, and the Botanoids learned to speak volumes with their eyes.
The fleet’s alignment was ragged and uneven, with no balance and little tactical order. A surprise rebellion in a subjugated star system, while easily put down and profitable, delayed their progress and disrupted the mission. The once semiautonomous subjects now provided the empire with several billion new slaves that required transport. Cargo carriers were reconfigured into slave ships and Big1 released two thirds of his force to escort them back to the nearest imperial commerce center. The sixtyfive thousand plus ships remaining in the flotilla were more than enough to resume the mission and capture the target planet without breaking a sweat, but they needed to get organized into a proper fighting force and too much time had been wasted already.
While Big1 was irritated at the lack of progress he hadn’t lost faith in his forces or his ability to lead them into battle. He knew the Botanoids had the best fighters, the best strategy and tactics, the best technology, the numbers and the biggest dicks known to exist in the galaxy. The very sight of their genitals was enough to cause the males of most races to weep with envy and the females to cower in fear. Entire planets acquiesced at a single demonstration of the oftenfatal punishment they could inflict with their majestic pricks. As soon as the flotilla made its presence known, the local population would probably surrender without a shot being fired.
Once under the military’s control they would be worked, to death if necessary, for the benefit of the empire. When the planet was stripped of its resources, a decision would be made. If the locals proved to be productive slaves, they would be removed and sold; if not, they would be left to starve on whatever husk was left of the planet.
With his frustration building and his patience nearing an end, Big1 tapped the com system and growled, “Department chiefs, my conference room, now!”
2
Brian got out of the shower and assessed his reflection as he shaved. The muscle tone he developed over the winter was beginning to fade. The weather was nice now and it was always tempting to do something outside instead of working out indoors, but if he didn’t want to get any softer, he knew he needed to get back to the gym. At least he wasn’t gaining weight. He washed the rest of the shaving cream off his face and again wondered about growing his facial hair. He had average features and thought a mustache or short beard would make him look more dynamic, but so far hadn’t had the patience to grow either. As he styled his short dark hair, he made mental note about needing a haircut and hoped he could remember to do something about it when he had the time.
He changed his routine this week. Instead of his usual Friday night hunting at the singles bars, he went to a party hosted by Tom, a friend of his from collage. The bar scene was getting him nowhere and he thought maybe he’d have better luck in a different environment. Brian arrived, fashionably late as usual, with the party already in full swing. He shook Tom’s hand and exchanged pleasantries as he gave a quick hug to Tom’s wife Susan. Looking at Tom, he noted how well his short beard worked with his curly red hair and again, briefly thought about growing one as Tom took him around and introduced him to a few of the other guests. Brian engaged in small talk and tried to memorize names, especially the names of several attractive women Tom presented.
One of Tom’s coworkers, with a rare Friday night off accepted an invitation, also wondering if she could meet someone interesting. Tom and Brian walked up behind the her as she participated in an animated discussion with a couple of the other guests. Only seeing her from the back, Brian decided he wasn’t interested. She was tall, easily as tall as his fivefooteleven and the mane of wavy, voluminous, tousled hair spilling over her shoulders looked disheveled. Her trim body was impressive, but the total package wasn’t what he was looking for. Tom was set on introducing her, so Brian decided he’d go with the flow, thinking it won’t hurt to learn her name; maybe she’d have a sister or a girlfriend more to his liking.
Tom said, “Brian I’ve got somebody I want you to meet. I think you two attended the same high school, which one was it? South Central? Doesn’t matter.” He gently tapped her on the shoulder and teasingly called her name, stressing each syllable with a singsong intonation, “Gen ah vieve”. She turned around, frowning, with her lips pursed in exasperation as he began the introduction.
“Tom, you know I don’t go by”
“This is Jenny. Jenny, this is,”
Jenny’s eyes lit up and her mouth gapped open in surprise. No, disbelief. She leapt forward, wrapping her arms around Brian’s neck pressed the sides of their faces together and screamed “BRIAN!” loud enough to make his ear hurt.
Brian wrapped his arms around her and squeezed. “My God! Jenny!”
Tom finished his introduction, “Brian. But something tells me you already knew that.”
Releasing the hug, Brian explained, “Yes, we went to the same high school, but we’ve actually been friends since before junior high.”
Jenny added, “Until we both left for collage and lost touch, that is.” Turning to Brian, she said, “I ought to kick your butt for not letting me know you were back in town.”
Tom warned, “Watch out, she’s a black belt!”
Brian said, “I guess I should have tried to find you, but I didn’t think you were back either.”
Tom said, “OK, I’ve got to go mingle. Looks like you two have some catching up to do.”
They tried to continue the conversation, but somebody had turned up the music making it difficult to hear. The look on Jenny’s face indicated she was just as aggravated with it as Brian was. Giving up, he said, “Do you want to go somewhere quieter where we can talk?”
She looked at him with a hint of uneasy suspicion, asking, “What have you got in mind?”
“There’s a watering hole I frequent, not too far from here.”
Suspicion gone, she asked, “You talkin’ about that sports bar? ‘The Pregame Hangout’?”
“Yeah. No local game tonight so it should be pretty quiet.”
“I’ve been there, it’s nice. Let’s go.”
They said their goodbyes to Tom and Susan and left, heading for the bar.
3
Big1 sat in the elevated seat, glaring at his senior staff, seated at the long, curved table that formed a semicircle in front of him. “Would anyone care to explain to me why this fleet is still haphazardly spread out like the last bunch of refugees we hunted down?” No one answered. “You tactical! I want an explanation!”
The Chief Tactical Officer answered, “Sir, I can’t organize a deployment until I get a complete list of resources from Logistics.”
Big1 barked out, “Logistics?”
The head of Fleet Logistics glared at the tactical officer while answering, “Sir, we can’t get a complete accounting of the remaining vessels until security lifts the communications blackout.”
His irritation building by the second, Big1 asked, “Security?”
The Security chief gave a quick look of disdain at the logistics officer and thought of ways to make the being’s life miserable as he answered, “The security directive you issued to tighten communications caused some confusion among the fleet. Several of the tactical battle groups interpreted it as an order to maintain strict radio silence, so we’re in the process of sending messengers to their ships with refined orders.”
“If being served by a bunch of eunuchs wouldn’t damage my image, I’d chop the dicks off the lot of you! Speed this up. Securitysend the messengers to the group commanders only. Tell them to get communications going with their ships by whatever means necessary and tell them I want it yesterday.
“LogisticsGet that information together, fast. I don’t care if your staff has to work around the clock, get it done.
“Tactical”
“I’ll have the fleet deployed in an attack formation as soon as I get the information from Logistics.”
“See that you do.” The staff snapped to attention as Big1 stood, turned and left the room. The bickering, blaming and finger (tendril?) pointing started as soon as the door closed behind him.
4
Brian and Jenny found an open table in a quiet corner of the bar, ordered a couple of beers, and began catching up on their time at collage, current social situation and fledgling career paths.
Brian asked, “So what’d you get your BA in?
“It’s a BS actually, in communications.”
“You spent four years learning how to communicate bullshit?”
Other than a look of exasperation, she Ignored his comment and continued, “I studied public speaking, media studies, journalism, organizational communications and about a dozen other disciplines involving the dissemination of information. I’m trying to break into the media.”
“Any luck so far?”
“Channel 7 took me on as an intern right outta of college. That’s where I met Tom.”
“So, you were an unpaid gofer.”
“Yeah, but the key word there is ‘were’. They liked my work ethic and my desire to learn and made me a permanent hire, so now I’m a paid gofer. It’s just a ‘foot in the door’ job but I’m learning a lot and the advancement opportunities are good. How ’bout you?”
“I got a BA in business management. I’m not sure where I want my career to go yet, but for the time being I’ve got a ground level position with a momandpop sized accounting firm.”
“What do you do there?”
“I’m learning about their business, mostly. I addition to helping out with the accounting, I’m doing financial analysis and some financial forecasting for some of the clients.”
“Oooooooooo! How exciting!”
Deflecting her sarcasm, Brian countered, “Somebody’s got to do it. We all can’t be glamorous TV reporters.”
She laughed and said, “Trust me I’ll never be a reporter. I don’t look good on camera, and I like the ‘behind the scenes’ work. You wouldn’t believe how much goes into producing a daily news report.”
Eventually the conversation turned to relationships as Jenny asked, “Are you seeing anyone?”
“No. I had a couple of serious girlfriends”
“Not at the same time, I hope.” Jenny replied, with hint of mischief.
Now Brian showed a bit of exasperation as he replied, “No, not at the same time. I met and dated them while I was away at college, but one dropped out and went home, and the other transferred to a school in a different state; I lost touch with both of them. I’m not good at maintaining long distance relationships.”
“I noticed!”
“Anyone special in your life?”
Jenny shook her head. “No. I’m at kind of a social impasse. I’m not prime dating material. My body draws Neanderthals looking for a quick score but,”
“I was going to say, you look really fit. What happened to the couch potato I knew in high school?”
“I got into some club sports in collage. Enjoyed ’em so much I started working out to get better, and even took some karate lessons to help with my balance and coordination. I found out I liked being fit and stayed with it.”
“And you earned a black belt?”
“No, Tom was teasing. I’m a green belt. A black belt would be years away if I decide to stick with it. Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah. I was saying that my newfound fitness draws Neanderthals and Troglodytes while my looks scare any serious candidates away; nobody wants an imposingly tall plain Jane.”
“You’re being too hard on yourself,” he answered as he looked at her and assessed her selfdescription. The lack of prominent cheekbones, the high forehead, the slightly too prominent nose and narrow mouth prevented anyone from mistaking her for a model. Her face, ending in a pointy chin, was too long, and the wavy, mousybrown, flyaway hair flowing over the tops of her shoulders accentuated its shape. Her closeset brown eyes were shaped like thin almonds, and her eyelids covered enough of her irises to give her a perpetually sleepy look. Her sloping eyebrows didn’t help either, causing her expression to suggest a forlorn sadness even when she smiled, and when she furrowed them, it often looked like she was about to cry. And yes, most men were intimidated by women this tall, but while she would never be the image that men dream about, she wasn’t unpleasant looking; she Just wasn’t the type to stand out in a crowd.
Below her neck was a different . The thin, lanky kid he knew in high school had filled out, her body now looking wellproportioned and athletic. Not skinny, but not a bit of excess fat either, demonstrating enough muscle to suggest supple power. Smooth arms, and sleek legs, and curvy hips, and a flat stomach, and those riveting thirtysix D’s, and the wonderful cleavage, and. Brian mentally slapped himself to snap out of it and stop staring at her body. It was mesmerizing.
He went on, “I like the long hair. I’ve never seen you with it before and I think you’re really attractive.”
She asked, “Above or below my neck?”
“Both.”
“I don’t believe you for a second, but thanks for the flattery.” Brian smiled. Jenny, resuming her earlier train of thought, said, “I learned to steer clear of the cavemen, and I haven’t attracted anybody else who wanted something more than a quick hookup, which really means I’ve never had a serious relationship.”
“I have to ask. Feel free to slap my face if you don’t like the question, but are you still a virgin?”
She blushed slightly as the corners of her downturned mouth curled into a shy smile. “If it were anybody else asking, they might get slapped. But if you have to know, yes, I’m still a virgin.”
“You’ve never had an orgasm?”
“Of course I’ve had orgasms, you idiot just never with a partner.” Brian chuckled. Growing up, she’d often teased him with that insult, even using it as a pet name; hearing it again made it feel like old times. She went on, “I had a lot of fun with my roommate’s toys in collage.”
“Your roommate’s toys?”
“Well, most of them were hers. Anyway, I’m still waiting for Mr. Right to come along, and I probably will be for the rest of my life. I suspect they’ll put that on my tombstone.”
“So you’re saving yourself for marriage?”
“No, I’m saving myself for somebody that wants more than just a quick fuck.”
“If you want to have that experience with somebody you know well, I could”
“Down caveboy!”
He corrected her, “That’s cave man!”
“Well, you did go by Brianboy in high school.”
“Somebody else started that.” He said with a sly smile, “It wasn’t my idea, JennyMay.”
“Call me that at your peril!” she said chuckling.
They shared the laugh, then she got serious again. “Did you ever think of me as dating material back in high school?”
“I…, Umm…, It’s complicated.”
“Uncomplicate it.”
Brian let out a sigh. “You’re gonna think this is the corny but I didn’t want to ask you for a date because I liked you too much,” he said and paused to collect his thoughts.
Getting impatient, she challenged him. “OK, that’s either a silly bullshit excuse to spare my feelings or it’s the beginning of a longer . If there’s a longer , let’s hear it. If not, just say you weren’t interested and leave it at that. My ego’s not that fragile.”
“My dating in high school was an unmitigated disaster. The girls I asked out were the ones that bowled me over. If the earth moved under my feet, if I heard the angels sing, if they turned me into a quivering bowl of jello, they were on the list.”
“So, you only asked out girls you met during earthquakes, celestial encounters or magical transformations to disgusting hospital food?”
ero
