The Speaker for the Trees by Sean DeLauder Page A

Visitor, looking back at him
with his great crooked grin on his face.
    Trunk’s mind
boggled.
    “Hello,” said
Mr. Visitor pleasantly, as if his presence here was completely within the
boundaries of protocol.
    Trunk stood
motionless, too flabbergasted to reply. As he stood, the incoherent howling of
the council thundering down upon him became understandable when he began to
pick out small chunks.
    “Stop him!”
they cried. “Catch him!”
    “What are you
doing in here?” Trunk asked at last.
    “Warning them,”
said Mr. Visitor. “That’s what I do. It never works, though. Are you familiar
with a Mr. Hedge?”
    Trunk thought.
    “No.”
    Mr. Visitor
seemed disappointed but unsurprised.
    “He is a very
elusive character,” he confessed.
    “I have to
catch you,” said Trunk. “It’s my job.”
    “I understand,”
said Mr. Visitor.
    Mr. Visitor was
extremely polite, Trunk decided, despite the fact that the council seemed to
think he meant to destroy them. It didn’t seem the case to Trunk, though. He
expected a destroyer, such as the Fire-tailed Xiz, would appear more menacing.
As a result, Trunk was only mildly disappointed when Mr. Visitor vanished when
Trunk clapped his arms around the intruder, leaving behind another set of empty
footprints and a smell of burning.
    The clamor grew
louder at Mr. Visitor’s disappearance, but Trunk knew he couldn’t do any more.
So he left the council, closed the doors behind him, and resumed his duties. It
didn’t make sense to get all worked up when they could always just ask the
Plant of Ultimate Knowing what to do.

A New Garden
    Hedge stared
dully at the display as stars and systems and galaxies buzzed past, orange and
blue nebula bursts of exploded suns still expanding after millions of years.
His back and arms and butt were sore from sitting at the terminal, where it
seemed he'd spent the past several days. It made him wonder how trees remained
locked in a single position for their entire lifespan, sometimes hundreds of
years, without becoming crabby and plagued by countless, lingering aches. The
Plant of Ultimate Knowing was on the desk at his elbow, maybe watching, maybe
asleep. Hedge couldn't tell.
    It was quiet
and dark in this gothic and grim complex where all of the data plant society
had gathered was kept and made available to any who wished to peruse it.
    Right now Hedge
was browsing three-dimensional displays of star charts, searching. As the Plant
of Ultimate Knowing had explained, stealing humanity was simple. Saving them
would prove most difficult, and would require a great deal of legwork. Stealing
humanity wasn't enough to save them. Now they needed to find a place to hide
them. But despite the tremendous area that plants governed and explored there
were very few systems capable of supporting more than the simplest forms of
life, and of the few that could support them there were none that weren't
already occupied or being watched.
    Now, as he
stared blankly at the star systems that flickered on the screen, Hedge
understood why the plants governing the universe had time for little else.
Universe had always been understood as a vast, all-encompassing term, but he'd
never quite grasped the sheer enormity until he tried to rifle through the
whole thing without knowing where to look, and thus having to look everywhere.
There was just so much. Little wonder the plants where humans lived never
bothered to evolve and left the rule of the planet to others. There was no time
for relaxation, no time for joy. Maybe these plants were wisest, rather than
those who sat in the Council chamber. And Hedge realized yet again why it was
he so enjoyed his time with Anna. There were no disasters of galactic
proportion to fret about, and never more than the slightest interruptio....
    "There!"
    The Plant of
Ultimate Knowing's quiet but biting voice jerked him from his reverie.
    Hedge blinked
rapidly and his surroundings retook focus.
    The scene had
fixed on a small star