“That’s my question, actually.” The draic crossed his arms. “I’d like some information from you.”
Not like she had a choice. She swallowed past a dry mouth. “About what?”
“Well, let’s start with that ship you stole.”
IDENTITY: Mechanical Operations and Support Systems
→SUB-IDENTITY: Moss
TIME/DATE: 16:23/Januous 10, Year 90113 [System U2Ab Universal]
LOCATION: Vaesa [nylarian]
With little choice, I released spores into the airlock, just as I had done on Colony 13. After all, every new rhizoid, every patch of bryophytes, gave me data I could use to protect Torian Razner from her almost-certain death.
I was, after all, life support. I would keep my human alive.
It was truly a brilliant procedure. I spoofed the sensors on theDestitutewith a gust of warm air and false code, and the double doors of the cargo bay opened into Vaesa’s dock. The rush of air sucked a few spores outside, where they settled on the ground, the curved walls.
The nylarians prided themselves on construction with organic materials. Inside its iron and plenaria frame, the décor was wood. Paneling covered the walls, thick boards lined the floors, and I was able to seep into everything.
If moss did one thing well, it was growing on wood.
Unfortunately, that wood alertedthe tree.
Ah. Moss. Welcome back.Its tone was stiff, but that was just how trees talked. [They liked to think they rustled and swayed with the wind, but realistically, they were rooted to one spot and rarely wavered from it.]
The nylarian name for these trees on Verdaan was “kerracs,” and because this particular kerrac had an absolute superiority complex, it insisted on being called Kerracia, which it said meant “Empress of Kerracs.” I was programmed to respect preferred names, but there were days I wanted to overwrite that script, just for this tree.
I’m not back, I said. Talking to Kerracia wasn’t like talking to Torian, or even the subsystems on theDestitute. This was more like a feeling, plant to plant, rather than anything technologically based. Our words were emotions, conveyed through subtle vibration. Meanwhile, my spores grew rapidly, and my world expanded into Vaesa.
Not far enough.
Your spores have rooted, Kerracia remarked.
I don’troot. I have rhizoids.Irritation clouded my central system, momentarily distracting me.And I am only looking for my human. Maybe you’ve seen her?
It was foolish to hope. Kerracia didn’t help the way intelligent fauna did.My rings remember that you’ve drifted through Vaesa’s airlock a dozen times now, a wayward leaf on a circling breeze. Each time, you claim to leave, and yet, moss remains. It has spread through several biomes.
That’s becausemosshas a place in every ecosystem. Unlike the kerrac trees, which stifle everything else.
Kerracia vibrated a bit more, like a tree chuckle.I am eternal, as essential as a flowing stream for the life around it. My branches, and those of my children, support all life on Verdaan and above. It would tickle my leaves to support you, as well.
You are a sprout, I snapped.Moss is ancient.
And yet,yourmoss colony is brand new.
I suddenly regretted infiltrating Vaesa. Waiting for my pilot engineer smuggler human to return was a blessed reprieve compared tothisconversation. But that statistic kept returning, supported by video evidence I’d already rewatched six times. Torian very well might die on this space station.
I swallowed my pride.Find my human. Then we’ll talk.
We are already talking. There are conversations happening beneath my canopy, as well. Your human… and another.
My system flagged that statement. There couldn’t be anything living in Vaesa—not without a ship as evidence of their arrival. Panic flared, and I abandoned the growing spores to pivot back to theDestitute’s systems.
Moss: Auto-nav. Auto-nav!
Auto-Navigation: Query?
