by Marcha Fox
The Sapphiran Agenda
Marcha Fox
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Published by
Kalliope Rising Press
P.O. Box 23
Burnet, Texas 78611
Copyright © 2015 by Marcha Fox
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For information contact the publisher through the above listed address or their website located at https://www.KalliopeRisingPress.com.
Cover design by the author
Table of Contents
Acknowledgements
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
About Marcha Fox
Other Books by Marcha Fox
Connect with Marcha Fox
Acknowledgements
Research into the possibility of consciousness in the plant world is one of science's most exciting frontiers. "The Secret Life of Plants: A Fascinating Account of the Physical, Emotional and Spiritual Relations Between Plans and Man" by Peter Tompkins and Christopher Bird is but one of several books on the subject. The PBS documentary "What Do Plants Talk About?" is another fascinating investigation of plant sentience. This possibility has of course been explored fictitiously in such stories as "Little Shop of Horrors" with the infamous Audrey and more recently in "Guardians of the Galaxy" with Groot. It is my hope that Thyron, the protagonist in this story, will eventually join their prestigious ranks.
Chapter 1
THYRON EYED THE TWO approaching spacecraft with considerable suspicion. A ripple of caution surged through his protoplasm, causing the hair on his ciliated leaves to quiver with trepidation. Most ships in the area crashed, damaged in battle around Carnelia, the planet's war-torn binary twin, tracing an erratic path across the sulky blue sky before impacting Sapphira's rock-strewn plains. The ones coming toward him now, however, were not only silent but clearly under intelligent control unlike those that approached far less gracefully. The first crash several centuries before had initiated a major cultural change for the primitive race with whom his kind shared the planet. Would this one, likewise, change everything?
His telepathic senses engaged the mind controlling the larger of the two ships, revealing it was human. A dead one wasn't a threat, but a live one was, as proven by that first encounter when the pilot had survived. The arrival of a non-crippled craft had ominous implications, much less two. Was it possible that the Sapphirans' agenda had been discovered? Were they about to encounter opposition from which they couldn't defend themselves much less their way of life?
Drawn by the unusual spectacle in the sky, a crowd of scantily clad Sapphiran natives clustered around him, spears in hand, their minimal minds incapable of such a complex thought. Nonetheless, the situation was unfamiliar so they sensed danger and would defer to Thyron, whom they looked upon as a god, for guidance. He knew off-world beings would have weapons far superior to spears, slingshots, bows and arrows. Yet, so far, he sensed no aggression, even though the pilot he'd psi-probed emitted a scramble of signals typical of someone ruthless and untrustworthy. More blue-skinned pygmy warriors surrounded him protectively, the sulfuric scent of fear polluting the thin air. Luckily for Thyron, he lacked olfactory sensors so the emissions were offensive only in the mental static they provoked.
The lead ship was nearly as large as their camp, a wedge-shaped craft adorned by sequentially blinking red lights, weaponry bays, and military markings. It settled to the ground about fifty spear-throws away, silent except for a bumping sound as its landing jacks settled amidst the rocks. The second ship did likewise, its appearance that of a civilian craft, its shiny, metallic surface bearing only standard galactic registration information and, oddly enough, a name inscribed on the fairing beneath the viewport of the piloting chamber.
Thyron shivered as an eerie silence permeated the air. Previous encounters with humans combined with meditating on Carnelia in the night sky had allowed him to learn their language, but feelings were easier and more accurate to read; emotions were universal and energy didn't lie. His empathic sensors read the incoming psi-waves as peaceful with a tinge of deceit, though their intent to negotiate a deal bespoke a pathetic lack of knowledge of Sapphiran culture.
The natives shifted nervously as the ramp to the disk-shaped vehicle hissed open. A clatter broke the stillness as the natives pointed their various weapons when a single occupant exited, wearing a metallic pressure suit.
While Carnelia had sufficient atmospheric pressure and oxygen to sustain human life, Sapphira was cloaked primarily in nitrogen with a thin layer of ozone and carbon dioxide, which explained the natives' oxygen-starved blue blood and limited brain development. In addition, its ozone layer was too thin to protect living species from ultraviolet radiation which limited plant life to those with heavy bark, species living in constant shade or in some cases underground for those that didn't require light for photosynthesis. Vegemals like Thyron were the sole exception, having evolved to thrive on photons of any frequency simply by force of will. The planet's subhuman species had a thick skin which protected them to some degree, even though their life expectancy was only around twenty-eight standard years.
Thyron sensed the man's trepidation as he lingered at the base of the ramp, avoiding eye contact as he shifted his weight nervously from side to side. Nonetheless, the visitor kept them within his peripheral vision, clearly aware that primitive or not, there were a dozen weapons with lethal potential trained upon him. Thyron set his bipedal nodes firmly on the ground in empathic response and drew courage from the planet's life force.
Originally epilithic, or capable of growing on rocks, Thyron's species, known as flora peda telepathis, had evolved mobility over several generations of ectogenesis, i.e. changes necessitated by their environment. In this case, it was an extensive dry spell followed by mineral depletion when the drought yielded to a raging flood. At first the flora telepathis' stolons, which had the capacity to start a new plant, branched out in typical fashion, seeking a better location to set root and gather nutrients.
When none was found, rejecting the futility of taking root in a barren location, the vegemal's evolving sentience had mutated the node until it developed into an appendage. When a minimum of two had formed, the plant became ambulatory, enabling them to actively seek more favorable terrain. Mobility, in turn, required sight to avoid wandering off a cliff or into some other hazardous environment. Two or more bulbils responded to this need by developing into eyes. Thus, they became the next evolutionary step and dubbed flora peda telepathis as Sapphira's first species of flauna evolved, retaining the photosynthesis ability of plants (flora) while adding the mobility and increased sentience of animals (fauna).
When a pair of like-suited humans egressed the military vehicle the trepidation of their companion evaporated while Thyron's increased. Not trusting humans' omnivorous nature, he angled a few leaves in front of his eyes so he'd appear as no more than a rather robust tropical plant on an oxygen-forsaken world. He peered at the trio through the opening that remained as they conferred a moment, then headed their way at a slow, cautious pace. Two were about the same h
eight, the third a bit shorter, though substantially taller than Thyron or any of his cohorts. The afternoon sun glinted off their silver suits, giving the appearance of robots, but Thyron knew otherwise having already connected with their thought emissions. Mechanical beings whether robot, electroid, or android, "thought" through artificial circuits which, being non-organic, were accessed through different frequencies.
By this time Thyron had discerned what they wanted and devised a plan of his own. He psaid an impression to Blglrf, the Sapphiran's eldest member, to come forward and stand beside him. The pygmy responded with confusion so he nudged him again, this time with an image which the tribal leader understood and thus obeyed. He was a few centimeters taller than Thyron, the sparse white hair on his large head showing his advanced age.
When the visitors reached the halfway point, each raised his right arm in the universal gesture for we come in peace. Sensing their sincerity, Thyron projected a stand down message to the natives. They lowered their weapons, spears and bows resting tentatively on the ground while the natives emitted a series of grunts and other unintelligible sounds as well as a few odors that expressed disappointment. Any hunger pangs or threats from these men, however, would result in a telepathic visual prompting to the seemingly peaceful group of Sapphirans to follow their cannibalistic instincts.
Slowly the spacemen closed the remaining distance, stopping a spear-length away.
"I'm Captain Shierloch with the Integrated Space Command and we're here to negotiate what we believe will be a mutually beneficial agreement," the smaller one said aloud, clearly oblivious to the fact that vibrations issuing from the suit's external speaker were meaningless to Sapphirans.
Having never previously communicated with words, Thyron sought the location within his consciousness where he'd stored the human's language and shifted frequencies to articulate words, albeit telepathically, rather than feelings or images in response.
What is your purpose and intent? he psaid, hoping that at least one of the visitors were psi-sensitive, given that Sapphiran grunts, gestures, body sounds and effluvium weren't conducive to translation. One of the taller visitors straightened and said something to the others, his dark-eyed gaze locking on Blglrf. Thyron smiled inwardly, his ploy successful; as planned, the man believed the message came from the tribe's senior member.
There's an individual who's stranded on Verdaris, which has been evacuated due to a space weather event, the man explained. As members of the Hostii Intergalactic Organization we're forbidden from entering the system to execute a rescue. However, we have a deep concern for the person's safety.
So why does that concern the people of Sapphira? Thyron replied, remaining perfectly still while peering up at the man through his leafy visage.
We're willing to provide you with substantial benefit if you'll retrieve this individual and deliver her safely to us.
While his lack of vocal chords prevented Thyron from laughing, the irony nonetheless elicited the high pitched protoplasmic equivalent of a snigger. Did these humans actually believe Sapphirans could be trusted to bring back a human alive, much less deliver one to an outsider? After all, it had been many cycles of their sister planet's track across their inky sky since they'd enjoyed a meal comprised of anything other than worms or slugs.
We have no means to perform such an endeavor, Thyron stated, mirth still tickling his protoplasm.
We'll provide you with this ship, the man stated, gesturing toward the smaller vehicle. Upon delivery of the individual you'll be allowed to retain it as payment. It's been reported that you already have a few similar vehicles which some members of your society can operate. This one has been pre-programmed to reach Verdaris for your convenience. An automated return to the delivery location can be easily activated as well.
The man continued to look down at Blglrf as if they were conversing, making the Sapphiran nervous. His round eyes were protruding from their sockets even more than usual, his jaw slack with a glob of drool accumulating on parted heavy lips. Not wanting the human to realize the pygmy was clueless, Thyron sent a brief psi pulse of reassurance, to which the Sapphiran blinked, closed his mouth and stood slightly straighter. Perfect, Thyron thought, satisfied the response gave the appearance of cognizance.
And if delivery is not accomplished? Thyron responded.
We'll retrieve the ship through remote means and your people will be dealt with harshly for their deceit, the man replied, pursing his lips.
Thyron's leaves trembled slightly at the statement's frequency shift. The man was lying. While carrying out his threat was certainly technologically possible, it was apparent that these spacemen had more important things to do than deal with a primitive culture who minded their own business. At least mostly, with the possible exception of an occasional harvest festival-related abduction.
His branches quivered as anticipation coursed through him like a blast of organic nitrogen. Every flora peda telepathis thrived on light for not only photosynthesis but its inherent knowledge as well with Thyron no exception. Learning made life interesting. While all plant life had a certain level of intelligence primarily geared toward survival, flauna craved nourishment for their mind as much as their botanical body. There wasn't much left to learn on this desolate world. A space adventure, which he'd never embarked upon before, would allow access to a wide variety of new data from exotic sources to incorporate into his genetic material. For intelligent flauna, the more variety and information incoming photons contained the better.
Following development of his species' ability to move, their intelligence had increased exponentially as they soaked up data from all frequencies along with numerous multi-dimensional psimissions. While fauna savored flavors through their sense of taste, vegemals found variations in the electro-magnetic spectrum a veritable feast much as the pygmies would derive a culinary orgasm from an all-you-can-eat buffet. Every quanta of light contained information about its origin, including entanglements, connections, and anything it had illuminated, similar to a subatomic level hologram. Visiting another world would provide input beyond Thyron's wildest dreams, not only for himself but his progeny as well.
As a flora peda telepathis he would live a long time, but not forever. His sagacity, however, would, passed on literally through reproductive bulbils. Like most bulbs, he could go through numerous dormancy-flowering-energy storage cycles, but after approximately an hundred, when he knew his viability was winding down, he would anchor his feet permanently to the ground, unlike the occasional short-term rooting events necessary to gather nutrients. Then at least one and sometimes as many as three bulbils would develop below ground, after which he would shed his leaves for the final time.
Each bulbil stored all the intelligence accumulated within the vegemal's DNA along with his genetic makeup and any new evolutionary traits. When the weather was favorable for germination, a new flora peda telepathis would spring forth, which retained every bit and byte of data accumulated by its progenitors.
But there was a downside to such a jaunt, mind expansion notwithstanding. While others of his kind had reported amazing experiences on other worlds, there was considerable risk when it involved dealing with humans. The Sapphirans, who worshipped his kind, protected the vegemals who had a peaceful, non-aggressive nature. In return, he and the other flora peda telepathes willingly provided assistance for an agenda of which humans disapproved. If, perchance, the pygmies were caught, Thyron would suffer a similar fate, or worse, as their accomplice. His fearful shiver at the possibility that his bulbils would never have a chance to develop, much less germinate, brought an arboreal rustle which drew the human's gaze. He brought the feeling to an abrupt halt and commanded his leaves to be still.
His gaze fixed upon the beckoning spacecraft, longing welling within. The opportunity to expand his horizons may not come again. Dangerous or not, he owed it to his progeny to gather all the enlightenment he could. If he refused this opportunity, h
is DNA would record cowardice instead in perpetuity. He shuddered, the thought of inferior descendants more chilling than winter's freeze.
Coming back from his reverie, Thyron noticed that Blglrf's expression had reverted to an even more dumbfounded look than before. He goosed him with a lateral swipe of a branch, to which the pygmy once again obediently straightened and closed his mouth.
Thyron stiffened with determination and responded: We accept.