For a moment, Zoi’ahmets stood as still as the tree the wickurn resembled, watching as the unknown creature stumbled backward from her. Perhaps it was the fact that Zoi’ahmets rose twice its height, her triple conjoined trunks, or the orange eye that she swiveled in its direction. Two podia, how could it manage like that? So inefficient in dealing with gravity, unstable surfaces, and even the strain over time on such a small surface area, certainly nothing like Zoi’ahmets’s designs. She had so little time to be certain that everything remained prepared for the Diversiform Dispute judging, and what in Winter happened here? The cognition engine finally linked with the translator nailed to her bark. Only then did she grasp that the sounds striking the translator were attempts at communication.
Amazingly, the intruder turned its back completely on Zoi’ahmets and began to dig through the grass—a very anti-survival trait in an unresolved situation. Perhaps it lost something. She fed its image into the cognition engine, which identified the creature as a human. Trying to imagine what it might be searching for, the wickurn cast about with all her eyes looking over the thick verdure of the pampas and nearby bushes. There. Something black and lumpy with a short set of straps hung in the top of a shrub nearby. One branch reached for it as another gently spun the human around and faced it toward its property. The human awkwardly trudged through the grass. Zoi’ahmets gently handed it the case. It spared a moment to eye its benefactor thoughtfully and then dropped gracelessly to the ground to open the case. The human quickly extracted a silver device which, when clipped behind its ear, opened up like a flower. The shiny metallic petals spun and clicked restlessly in the afternoon sunlight. Another device fit about its neck and a third nestled in the center of its hand. Then Zoi’ahmets finally heard the human begin to speak.
“_____ wickurn ______ about 3 meters ______ seems to be looking out for me. ______ see why it’s here. Since I’m as far into the Disputed zone as I am ______ ______ _______ _________. Can’t understand why it hasn’t ___________ with me yet.”
“Communicated?” Zoi’ahmets offered as she pulled herself slowly to the human.
“Yeah, actually,” the being stammered.
“You were not exactly making intelligible sounds until just a moment ago.”
“And you were pretending to be a tree! No, I’m sorry, you are a tree. You can’t help that. I guess I just never expected you to move.”
“Why would I require help if I am in my natural state?”
“Look, this isn’t going well. You’re one of the workers on this Diversiform Dispute, and I’m obviously keeping you from your job. I apologize for startling you, if that’s what I did.” It took a deep breath and continued, “I’m Kiona. I’m ... a student of the art of photography. I rode the ground vehicle over there until it stopped. Then the flight craft following us crashed into a tree. I’m so sorry to disturb you. I only wanted to learn more about the Disputed Zone.”
It bowed slightly in Zoi’ahmets’ direction, focusing two green eyes on her.
Zoi’ahmets raised a branch, and its eye could see there were fragments of debris at the base of a windrake tree. Flight craft? That could simply be a result of the inaccuracy of the translator. In fact, now that Zoi’ahmets looked at the wreckage, it bore a resemblance to an automated sampling drone. The small craft hung, entangled in the net of branches, its weight dragging down the tendrils and breaking them. Looking where indicated, she could see a surface sampling rover. A makeshift seat mounted to the top of the six-wheeled drone sat directly over the solar panel. Kiona must have ridden the sampler until it ran out of power. The aerial drone would have lost its guidance and then crashed. Could it really be that stupid, or could this be deliberate? Zoi’ahmets wondered.
She turned back to the human in front of her. Perhaps an introduction, “I am Zoi’ahmets Calinve, chief architect of the Wickurn Diversiform entrant in this Dispute.” Gently tipping forward, she returned the bow as much as she could manage. Kiona backed up another step.
“I am so sorry. I had no idea this is your environment. I never wanted to harm it.”
Zoi’ahmets cocked a lower eye toward it. “But you had no problem entering the contested area to gain images of the Dispute—did you? You appear to have subverted a sampling drone to carry you. It’s surprising the drone made it this far.”
With that, she began the typical spiraling walk of a wickurn toward the drone. All the while, she thought to herself, I must find a way to get this thing out of here as quickly as possible. She’d heard that humans were allowed onto this Dispute World and didn’t know how she felt about the imposition. Now she had one interrupting her work. For a second, she considered that her opponents might have put the intruder here to hinder her.
Kiona started after her, but the wickurn found herself waiting as the human pulled at one of the coverings on its feet and set to work on something lodged in an ankle. When it held the annoyance to the light to look at it, Zoi’ahmets dropped a branch eye to view it as well.
“Caltrop seed,” she said. “Something I designed that will allow animals to transport seeds. Helps to propagate various bushes. Basically, harmless, but in your case perhaps annoying.” Also, a distraction, thought Zoi’ahmets, instead let’s find out why you are here. “Let us have a look at your conveyance.”
Her eyes studied Kiona for a moment as her branch, vane leaves unfurling, drifted across Kiona’s shoulder to urge it along. She pushed aside rising annoyance and moved forward.
While the human trotted beside Zoi’ahmets as the wickurn’s three root clusters rolled through the thick grasses, Zoi’ahmets took a moment to access the cognition engine and review the biology reports for humanity. Just to be thorough, she’d made certain to download a full bio-summary of all the judges’ species and anyone who might be visiting the Dispute. Thank Summer, there were no immediate concerns regarding her bio-system.
Looking briefly at Kiona, Zoi’ahmets suddenly realized this was a female of their species and estimated her age at about twelve winters. At first glance, Kiona appeared to be in good health. However inappropriate, one of the humans may have decided to take a firsthand look at the entrants to the Dispute rather than waiting as tradition dictated.
Zoi’ahmets looked briefly down at Kiona, considering her again. Humanity had joined the galactic community later than most, and there were concerns among the established species. Humans bred faster than most galactics and still had not modified themselves to limit their numbers. In a community where the primary means of gaining additional planetary growing room was based upon the ability to create effective complete environments for the Diversiform Disputes, most participants learned by modifying their homes and themselves first. Humanity had done a remarkable job of terra-forming numerous worlds, but the issue of their unregulated propagation still remained.
Because Zoi’ahmets’s contemplation slowed her pace, Kiona darted ahead of the wickurn toward the crash of the airborne sampling drone. With a quick glance, Zoi’ahmets noted that it was made of tensioned monomolecular fabric. The remains of a nearby wing swinging overhead seemed to be mostly gas cells with monomole struts. Looking back toward the ground sampler, unease made her stomachs churn. Zoi’ahmets studied Kiona for a moment. Was the human not telling her everything? What was going on here? Did she have time for this?
Zoi’ahmets paused in consideration and looked up at the sky. Reflexively, she called up a weather survey. The cognition engine brought up a real-time satellite map displaying the relatively calm but cloudy current weather and a storm front moving toward their location. Perhaps Kiona hadn’t intended to be out for long, or perhaps being trapped here was all part of the plan. The transmission faded out as Zoi’ahmets became lost in her own considerations.
In the meantime, the human walked about the surface drone. Kiona pulled out another strap-bearing bag from the grass and rummaged through it. Her hand showed through a hole in the bottom as her face skewed, and she murmured something that the translator box didn’t quite register. She turned to Zoi’ahmets.
“Something ate my food, and the only thing left is a snack square. Hopefully, it wasn’t anything of yours that might be poisoned by it.”
That briefly perplexed Zoi’ahmets. It certainly wasn’t the type of comment someone with a nefarious purpose would make unless Kiona’s intent was to deliberately mislead her.
Zoi’ahmets watched as Kiona crawled further among the pampas, where she found a round container twice the size of her palm and pushed that into her black bag. “The rover is ruined,” Kiona commented.
Sadly, the human appeared to be right. Slipping into a gully after it lost power and communication with the satellite grid, the drone snapped two of its three axels.
Zoi’ahmets noticed that the base of Kiona’s leg where it emerged from the grass was no longer the same color as the rest of her. It was the same foot from which she’d withdrawn the caltrop seed.
Zoi’ahmets reached into a mouth. Probing gently past her gullet into one of the xylem spaces, she pulled out a round cylinder. She shook out the tiny arrow-shaped chenditi that clung to the sides. They landed on her lower trunk. Zoi’ahmets’s large orange eye watched as the chenditi absorbed enough solar energy to fill the lift cells in their small bodies by splitting moisture from the air into hydrogen and oxygen. Separately, the little creatures were mere animals. A small swarm equipped with send/receive components acted as a collective intelligence.
Kiona stopped her scavenging to watch as the swarm lifted into the air. One half of each arrowhead was dark black, and the opposite canted at an angle covered with a shiny prismatic surface. Zoi’ahmets noticed that when Kiona stood up from the rover, she favored her left leg.
At first, Kiona shied as the chenditi flitted about her but was apparently familiar with their ability to do chemical and medical diagnostics. They quickly surrounded the human, and she held her arms out from her body as they spun about her. “Like a cloud of butterflies.” Kiona laughed at the image. She drew her gaze back to Zoi’ahmets. Her glance was quick, and her lips slid to one side, a slight breeze lifting her shoulder-length blonde fur. “I do know what they’re for. What do you think is wrong with me?”
“That is what they will tell us.”
“Will you tell me, though?”
Zoi’ahmets was completely taken aback by that comment. Had they not established a basis for trust? Was this further evidence of malicious intent? Was the human aware that Zoi’ahmets harbored suspicions concerning her motives? Further queries of the cognition engine suddenly made her realize something she missed earlier—this was a sapling, not an adult. Zoi’ahmets was briefly off-balance trying to align her own species's view with that of human development. Wickurn budlings were given enough of the parent’s memories to be instantly viable and then grew into mobility while developing a unique persona. They hardly compared to a species whose young were born with a tabula rasa. Human adults gave trust to younglings as they provided evidence that they were developed enough to earn it. Zoi’ahmets formed a suitable reply as the data from the chenditi medical assessment came through. “I have no reason not to be honest with you.”
Kiona shook her head. “Typical adult. You didn’t answer my question.”
She reached into her pack and pulled out a white-wrapped square. Peeling back an edge, she began to eat. Zoi’ahmets devoted part of her attention to Kiona and the rest to the results. Most of Kiona’s biochemistry was a mystery to Zoi’ahmets, but the chenditi found chemicals that were out of balance for the information the cognition engine carried about typical humans. Hormone levels were elevated, and there was an odd reaction with something called histamines as well. The girl’s core temperature registered two degrees above standard, and there were abnormal red streaks and swelling in the area where Kiona removed the seed.
“You have an infection, possibly caused by your injury and possibly due to exposure to microorganisms in the air. Do you have an emergency kit? My medicines and those the chenditi can produce will not help your physiology,” Zoi’ahmets stated.
The chenditi swarm came to rest, clinging to the bark of her trunk, their small bodies twitching and jerking as they arranged themselves to soak up the maximum light.
Kiona stopped eating the snack square, brow furrowing slightly. She reached into her bag and pulled out the round container she’d rescued from the wreckage. Prying back a corner, she poked and prodded at the interior. A few chenditi flew to look over her shoulder, and she held up the contents one by one to the small creatures.
“Those will not help. Can you walk?” Zoi’ahmets asked as the chenditi returned. Kiona pushed herself to her feet, leaning against the wickurn’s rough bark.
Watching Kiona, Zoi’ahmets’ mind raced. What should she do now? It would take valuable time to return the human to the Judging Area. Would Zoi’ahmets be given any dispensation toward additional time to test her results? She felt confident in the current development of the biosphere but was reluctant to give up any additional time. Then she considered the infection. Her opponents in the Diversity Dispute, the tio chaundon, used virii to control certain developmental aspects of their biosphere. Were they infecting Zoi’ahmets’ biosphere? Could this be a deliberate attempt at sabotage?
She tried to use the satellite uplink but received only the hum of static. A frisson of panic ran up her trunks, making Zoi’ahmets dig her roots into the topsoil. Was she in danger from Kiona? Had the human cut Zoi’ahmets off from the satellite net, or had the tio chaundon?
Zoi’ahmets quelled the desire to distance herself from the human. All the same, she could not abandon another sentient in need. There was also the consideration that the judges would inevitably be made aware of what transpired here. Her choices narrowed considerably. At least by accompanying the human, she could observe Kiona and ensure the girl did no damage to the environment. Otherwise, if a tio chaundon virus infected the human, Zoi’ahmets couldn’t afford to have Kiona perish under her protection.
“How far?” Kiona asked, looking toward the horizon.
Zoi’ahmets placed two branches on Kiona’s shoulders, gently spinning the girl around ninety degrees to the right. “Thirty-five kilometers to the Judging Area.”
“Oh,” was her soft reply. “Can’t we go to your base of operations?”
Again, Zoi’ahmets found herself wondering, did the human plan to sabotage the biosphere by destroying Zoi’ahmets’s work base? She answered quickly, “There’s nothing there to help you. Wickurn don’t have the same physical requirements as humans. There must be an enclave set aside for your kind at the Judging Area.”
Kiona turned away, looking back toward her original position. “Great. My parents are going to love this. Look, I swear, I never intended for this to happen, and I really hope that this will have no effect on the outcome of the Dispute. I really just wanted to get some images—well, I really wanted to see, and nobody was going to let me near anything.”
Zoi’ahmets pondered that revelation for a few seconds before urging Kiona into motion toward the far-off enclave.
“Perhaps you do not understand how wickurn look upon the Disputes. I know that other races actively attempt to fine-tune their strategies as the Dispute occurs. Wickurn feel that if our design has enough viable integrity, it will succeed.”
The grass rustled with their passing. Zoi’ahmets glanced briefly at the map that the cognition engine displayed in her mind’s eye. There were two ridges to traverse. Although Zoi’ahmets’s gait uphill would cost them time, it would be quicker than following the level ground. The storm front continued to advance. At best pace, it would reach them in a day and a half, just before they reached the neutral Judging Area. There was nothing to do but push onward.
By the time they reached the foothills of the first ridge of up-thrust rock, they had passed several net trees, spiral bushes, vane fungus, and whole fields of grasses, one side soft as silk and the other rough and jagged. Agile yellow leapers bounced out ahead of them, sending up clouds of pollen, while feathered grazers looked over broad shoulders with dark clusters of eyes full of complacent ignorance.
Kiona walked behind Zoi’ahmets, chattering about her school classes. About how adept she was at manipulating data and how her parents traveled across many worlds. In turn, Zoi’ahmets answered her questions about her Diversiform entrant and what she observed of her opponent’s. Since they were speaking of her work, it distracted her from her growing annoyance. Zoi’ahmets told Kiona how the challengers, the tio chaundon, built their biosphere in tiers that developed over time and spread outward from a central point. So, each tier increased in complexity and diversity as well as competition. “Oh, Darwin,” she’d remarked offhandedly.
The wickurn came to an abrupt stop. “What do you mean?”
“Survival of the fittest, it’s the law of nature.”
“By ‘law,’ you mean a rule stating a consistent action or situation that occurs under identical conditions? The wickurn Diversiform I have described to you is a web of symbiotic increase of complexity and opportunities for growth.”
“That just means that cooperation is the fittest form, so some other forms must lose out,” Kiona said.
“No, they are incorporated. Their numbers are perhaps limited, but no form is lost. This ensures the increase of diversity. Obviously, this is a ‘law’ only on your world.”
“Are you are saying that’s the case because these two ecosystems competing isn’t natural?”
Zoi’ahmets started walking again, thinking furiously. Suddenly her misgivings were back again. Could Kiona be trying to subvert her or spy on her work?
“No, I merely suggest that your ‘law’ is a theory because not all cases inevitably point to its proof,” Zoi’ahmets said, finally.
“So, do you believe that there is an outside force planning the development of nature?”
Zoi’ahmets hesitated briefly. “I did tell you that I am the designer of this Diversiform. So, therefore, yes, I know that I am the outside force that has planned for this outcome. How the Diversiform reacts to the vagaries of the state of the world and interaction with the opposing entrant is what I can merely theorize.”
“Didn’t answer my question again,” Kiona’s replied as she shook her head.
Zoi’ahmets looked at the human while Kiona walked ahead. Why was Kiona really here? Could she even sabotage the wickurn Diversiform?
Considering an answer, Zoi’ahmets realized that the light began to fade. “Kiona, when the light dims, I will be groggy. You can stay near my trunk; it will be warmer there. Neither biosphere has any large forms that could cause you harm.”
“I’ll be warm anyway,” was the human’s quick reply as she pulled out a small cylinder that inflated into an aircel sleep sack. Wedging it in between two rootlets, she curled up below the wickurn.
Zoi’ahmets looked down at her. She really could not fathom what went on in the human’s mind. Were her thought processes that different? One moment, she talked about not trusting Zoi’ahmets, and the next, Kiona curled around her roots. Zoi’ahmets gave up trying to understand and focused on something that might be more comprehensible with time. She pulled up the human information in her mind’s eye and turned to their replication substrate, DNA. Now, this was something that would hold her interest until her photosensitivity set in and distracted her from the frustration of being cut off.
~*~
Zoi’ahmets woke at first light, slowly coming back to full awareness as the morning brightened. She gently disengaged herself from Kiona to wander around the small clearing taking samples and reviewing the acceptance of the deposited forms. She roused the chenditi and set them to take readings of the atmosphere and water vapor. She saw no sense in wasting time until Kiona awoke. Finally, Zoi’ahmets considered that perhaps it was time to wake the human.
With the chenditi swarm accompanying her, Zoi’ahmets gently shook the sleep sack. When Kiona’s tousled fur appeared, Zoi’ahmets’ upper eyes were surprised at the redness of her face. There also seemed to be swelling along her jaw and eyes. Chenditi clustered around Kiona and lit on the edges of the sleep sack as she knuckled her eyes and pushed herself up and out. Only after her first attempt at standing did Zoi’ahmets begin to realize the seriousness of the problem. Kiona’s leg was completely swollen now, and she could no longer easily stand upright.
The chenditi registered infection and histamine imbalances again, as well as fluctuations in the hormone called estrogen. The infection would account for the swelling. The hormone imbalances made little sense, and odd fluctuations in her core body temperature seemed to be more than a mere fever. More important was the real problem of the lack of effective medicine, food, and transportation for Kiona. While Zoi’ahmets considered the next alternative, Kiona dug into the round container in her pack. She slapped a patch onto the underside of her wrist before the chenditi could react. A quick review proved that it would be mildly effective against the pain and swelling. She sat back dejectedly. “I wish I hadn’t eaten the entire snack yesterday. Is there anything around here that’s safe to eat?”
“That is a problem,” Zoi’ahmets replied, spinning closer to her. “You cannot safely digest the plants and animal life of my Diversiform because they contain heavy metals that are harmful to you. Wickurns filter them out easily and need some of them, like selenium. Even the water may be harmful over long periods of time.”
“Then I guess you’ll have to call in for a rescue.”
The wickurn dipped an eye close to her and said nothing. The other two upper eyes surveyed the ridge ahead. “I cannot contact the satellite link. There can be no rescue. But we must still find a way to get you out.” Zoi’ahmets hesitated, her mind flickering through possibilities, “How long will it be until your parents miss you?”
Kiona struggled to her good leg, leaning heavily against Zoi’ahmets’s trunk. Now it was her turn to hesitate before replying. She tried to take a tentative step forward, and Zoi’ahmets flung two branches after Kiona before she pitched forward into the grass. She hung there a moment before reaching around to pull herself upright. Liquid ran down the planes of Kiona’s face. “They won’t know for quite some time. They’re sequestered.”
Despite her best attempt, Zoi’ahmets nearly dropped the young human as her thoughts reeled in shock. Kiona’s parents were human judges in the Diversiform Dispute. Her hopes came crashing down. The chenditi, confused by this input, clustered tightly in a rotating ring around Zoi’ahmets’s upper branches, and she desperately fought the instinct to sweep them into her twitching maws. Everything, everything hung in the balance. Would the humans still be impartial if harm came to their offspring? Would they be disqualified as judges? Would the entire Dispute be considered null and the wickurn and her opponents be relegated to a later competition? The cognition engine started determining probabilities until she angrily cut it off. Zoi’ahmets felt the skin between the joins of her main branches begin to grow tender and itch.
She went back to an earlier chain of thought. Zoi’ahmets called the chenditi cluster to the fore. Running the translation twice through the cognition engine, she confirmed that the cluster understood what she desired. Then, spinning like a miniature cyclone, the little mass mind began to retrace their steps. Hopefully, it would be able to carry out her instructions.
“Lean on me,” instructed Zoi’ahmets to Kiona as she started off in a new direction, downhill from the ridge. They could no longer hope to cross the heights. It would add distance to the trip, but the most effective path now lay along the valley floor. Together they limped through three kilometers before Kiona needed a break. At the edge of the river that followed the valley floor, the human sipped sparingly from the water. Zoi’ahmets was still concerned about the contamination, but now it seemed they would have little choice. Kiona poured the water over her head, wiping at the swelling around her eyes. Zoi’ahmets suddenly realized a new concern. If the swelling continued, Kiona soon would not be able to see.
They struggled onward for another two kilometers. Zoi’ahmets reconsidered the distance to the neutral territory base, the cognition engine flicking up lines of numbers: twelve kilometers the first day, five today made seventeen, about halfway, except now they were following the valley and angling slightly away. That made their total trip now fifty-two kilometers. They were a third of the way to safety, and Kiona could literally no longer walk.
When Zoi’ahmets checked Kiona’s eyes, she found that her swollen cheeks and eyebrow ridges left her with a narrow band of vision. As Zoi’ahmets dipped her roots into the shallows of the river, something caught the attention of her upper eyes.
Sunlight glistening off the swarm of chenditi heralded their arrival. Carried between their many members hung ten meters of cord and eight gas cells. Zoi’ahmets accepted the strand and began to communicate her idea to the chenditi.
Turning back to Kiona, Zoi’ahmets asked her, “When we met, you said you wrote with light. How do you do that?” hoping perhaps to distract her.
“What’s wrong with your translator?” Kiona said, staggering toward the sound. Zoi’ahmets gently guided Kiona’s outstretched hand against her trunk. “Oh, I see— ‘photo-graphy.’ Means I collect pictures. Like with this,” she said, indicating the constantly moving disk clipped behind her ear. “I keep a record of everything, and then I look for images that hold a particular meaning or will evoke a pleasant memory.”
A constant record, Zoi’ahmets turned that idea over in her mind. “I would very much like to see your record when we reach safety. It will help to review the environment we have journeyed through.”
“Sure, you know a picture doesn’t lie, or is worth a thousand words, you pick.” Kiona’s replied softly as she sat down at the edge of Zoi’ahmets’s roots still on the shoreline. “Tired, gonna’ sleep now.”
Zoi’ahmets helped her into the sleep sack. The chenditi reviewed Kiona’s condition before beginning their work with the monomole cord. As they began weaving the cord into a sling that could keep the sleep sack anchored to the slope of Zoi’ahmets’s trunk just above the root cluster, she considered their results.
Kiona’s temperature had dropped and while the infection did not seem to be nearly as pronounced, walking on her injured leg caused it to swell until she could barely work the covering off of it. Histamine counts were still way off. Perhaps that was something Zoi’ahmets remembered as an “allergic reaction.” So, as Kiona continued to nap, Zoi’ahmets researched further into human physiology. Eventually, she found a heading entitled “puberty.” Suddenly the hormonal imbalance began to make sense. Finally, she considered the weather. Her observations of the wind and clouds indicated the storm would arrive tonight. With that, Zoi’ahmets summoned the chenditi to their perches on her trunk and, with an awkward lurch, began to move along the shoreline.
Kiona woke briefly when she realized that Zoi’ahmets carried her and then returned to sleep. The wickurn kept up the pace until the light began to fade. They were now seven kilometers further. Her root cluster was sore, and the joins of the branches on her crown swelled into round clusters of blisters. Zoi’ahmets briefly explored the largest. Of all the possible outcomes, why this? The stress must be forcing a bloom. One more inconvenience to overcome.
The first drops of rain swiftly distracted Zoi’ahmets, and she pulled the edges of the sleep sack over top of Kiona’s face, carefully propping them up to allow airflow. As tired as Zoi’ahmets was, she still delighted in the feel of the rain cascading over leaflets, branches, and trunks. Her mouths puckered open into waiting funnels.
The rain continued the next morning and made footing difficult as Zoi’ahmets soldiered on, trying to gain more ground despite the grogginess caused by the cloud-veiled light. Kiona mumbled incoherently, and Zoi’ahmets risked another patch under her wrist. That left only one more. Hopefully, Kiona’s fever would break soon. The child would also soon realize that she couldn’t see. Zoi’ahmets grasped at boulders and trunks of trees to pull herself along. In the early evening, the cloud cover finally broke, and the steady rain tailed off. Zoi’ahmets brought them as far as possible away from the riverbed in case the water rose overnight and faded from consciousness.
~*~
As the light woke her, Zoi’ahmets realized that Kiona’s weight no longer rested against her. The little camera flashed and spun where Kiona clipped it to the outside of the flaccid sleep sack. Casting about, Zoi’ahmets discovered the girl at the edge of the river. A trail showed where Kiona crawled through the dew-covered grasses to the water’s edge. Zoi’ahmets came up behind her slowly.
“I guess it’s morning now, right? I mean, I think I can feel the sun. Sorry I left, but I was so thirsty,” Kiona whispered.
Zoi’ahmets gently led the human back from the edge of the river. Kiona demonstrated admirable aplomb at accepting her loss of vision. She was also very fortunate to crawl out onto a low rocky shelf instead of falling off an embankment into the rain-swelled waters. Zoi’ahmets stood there staring at the river for a moment. A desperate idea formed in her mind.
“I heard something crackling last night. What was that?” Kiona interrupted.
Self-consciously, Zoi’ahmets poked a branch into each of her three mouths and found some small pieces of chitin. Apparently, some large insect became an unwilling dinner last night. Zoi’ahmets’ reserves were being put to the test if she ate instinctively. A new concern presented itself.
“Kiona, I can eat during my sleep. You must be very careful if you wake up in the night, especially near my crown.”
“Oh, late-night snack, but you wouldn’t... I see. You mean it’s involuntary. As if I could climb up there anyway with my leg and my not being able to see.” Kiona started to laugh, but it came out a thin sound that soon gave way to sobs. As Zoi’ahmets eased a branch around her shoulders, Kiona reached out and gently squeezed it. “From what I’ve seen, Zoi’ahmets, you’ve made a beautiful world, but I don’t want to die here.”
Zoi’ahmets shuddered briefly. Had Kiona seen past to what she hadn’t dared to admit to the other wickurn? That what she built was designed not only to be effective but also pleasing? Had a child seen what she presumed to do, where others hadn’t? Suddenly what was a vague hope solidified into resolve.
“You are not going to die here, Kiona. But what I have in mind will take bravery on both our parts as well as luck.”
Kiona turned her face to Zoi’ahmets, and the sun broke through the clouds to dance across the river, hiding its swollen state and brown color.
“Why do you have the Disputes, Zoi’ahmets?”
The wickurn considered briefly before answering. A chenditi flicked across Zoi’ahmets vision in the sunlight. Perhaps they were the best example. “Kiona, when the chenditi were discovered a long, long time ago, they completely overran their world. Their planet was tidally locked, with the cold side covered in ozone haze and the warm side covered with nothing but layer upon layer of barely conscious chenditi. Their mass mind became an increasingly more efficient calculating machine capable of vast intellect as their numbers grew. Eventually, they passed a point, and the grand mind broke down. So, their population increased until they were barely conscious, and their world rapidly spiraling into decay.
“When galactic races found them, a great many chenditi were rescued, and a realization grew out of the incident that in diversity lay the hope of continuity. This became the common theme for the developing galactic community. The worlds we find are contested for. Did you know that all the environments must be able to support at least five other species as well as the entrants? We hold these contests and abide by the judge’s decisions, which are reviewed for fairness by an impartial arbiter. By doing this, we bind together the community and preserve it by demanding diversity.”
“But we have put it off as long as we can. Come, we must go to the river.”
With that, Zoi’ahmets put two branches under Kiona’s arms and lifted her up onto a root group. Zoi’ahmets hoped she’d done the right thing. She also wondered when she’d stopped mistrusting her companion.
After she convinced the chenditi to reconfigure the sling for the sleep sack and then use their nanofacture reserves to seal the sack with most of their number inside, Zoi’ahmets slowly waded out into the rush of the river waters. The chenditi in the sleep sack converted the water seeping into the sack into hydrogen for themselves and oxygen for Kiona while the remainder buffered the carbon dioxide levels and vented the waste. Clustered together, they formed a dark blister on top of the sleep sack. The chenditi forced air cells into the tops of Zoi’ahmets’s main xylem spaces, making the large hollows in her body airtight and buoyant. Along with Zoi’ahmets’s natural tendency to float, this kept all of them above the surface. The worst part was the lack of control. Dealing with unseen obstacles that sought to trap her bulk and pull them under was another problem. The difficulty lay in finding the appropriate mix of current and depth to allow maximum speed and control. Zoi’ahmets was discouraged to see so much of the life she carefully placed into the environment swirling out of control about her in the raging waters of the river.
Past midday, Zoi’ahmets made an unpleasant discovery. She realized that they were drifting farther from the eastern shore into an increasingly accelerating current. Debris struck them on all sides as Zoi’ahmets wrapped branches about the precious cargo of the sleep sack and tumbled through the water. She pushed desperately with her root clusters to no avail. After an hour of failure, Zoi’ahmets realized the only answer—make for the western shore. Dragging them out of the river onto the muddy shoreline, she looked back across the water. Now there was an additional obstacle keeping them from their destination. When Zoi’ahmets gently opened the sleep sack, she found that Kiona’s fever finally broke. The swelling in the girl’s foot and leg had begun to recede. But now, Kiona felt desperately hungry and became weaker. The worst news arrived last. The chenditi from the top of the sleep sack were gone, washed away in the final desperate hour.
They spent the last hours of daylight gaining some distance from the flood plain and drying out the sleep sack. Kiona insisted that her camera once again be clipped to the exterior.
Kiona’s brief physical, limited by the loss of a third of the swarm, revealed something new, now that Zoi’ahmets was more familiar with her physiology. The continuing infection was not due to the initial wound. Kiona’s white blood cells singled out those invaders and eliminated them over time. But her body continued to produce an elevated amount of white blood cells because she was still being affected by something else. Zoi’ahmets had the chenditi begin to search for the unknown irritant but ran out of light before the results arrived.
As the first breeze of night riffled through Zoi’ahmets’s crown, Kiona spoke, “What a lovely scent. I wonder where those flowers are.” She sighed contentedly and pulled the sleep sack tight about her.
Zoi’ahmets slumped slightly. Due to the continuing high level of stress, the change in her body proceeded without her assent. Zoi’ahmets’ trunk shook with exhaustion and frustration. Despite her confidence in the biosphere she created, she would have never chosen this. Zoi’ahmets was blooming.
The next morning, waiting for Kiona to awaken, Zoi’ahmets tossed the petals one by one into the river. The water had at last begun to recede. If her calculations were correct, they had traveled too far. The remaining chenditi drifted like a cloud high into the sky and then returned to bring back their observations. The river bent into an oxbow, and their wild ride carried them further from the neutral judging area. Now they were eighteen kilometers and a river crossing away from safety. The chenditi found a possible crossing another two kilometers downriver, but that was still more distance and time.
The girl stirred briefly when Zoi’ahmets moved toward the river but had swiftly fallen back asleep. Zoi’ahmets glanced down at Kiona’s lax face. Kiona swallowed some more water, but her body was shutting down, protecting the human, as her hunger, which Kiona tried to ignore, grew more desperate. The reason for Kiona’s presence still eluded Zoi’ahmets. Time was running out. The wickurn lurched forward down to the streamside once again.
~*~
Looking back across the river, Zoi’ahmets could not remember finishing the crossing. She vaguely remembered thrashing about, losing leaves and scraping rocks that sheared off wide swaths of bark. The sleep sack sloshed with excess water. Zoi’ahmets slid Kiona out of the sack into a boneless pile and then had to grab desperately after the girl as Kiona scrambled away. Instinctively, Kiona began pulling up the variform grass and trying to shove it into her mouth.
Zoi’ahmets’s branches gathered Kiona up, scooping out the grass, washing off the cuts the rough surfaces made on her mouth and slapping the last med patch on her wrist.
Zoi’ahmets stood there for a moment, letting the sun wash over her, her mind dazed by recent events. But something bothered the wickurn, something she had seen when she looked at the human health records, specifically at their replicating code, DNA. Zoi’ahmets could see the dancing spiral forming over and over again, and still, the pattern that the chenditi had shown her for Kiona was different. Different in such a small way that only a being that designed worlds for its living might have noticed—but still wrong. This time the code didn’t dance. It wobbled, it stumbled, but only in spots that were ordinarily filled with discord. What kind of species left this much junk in their codons?
Holding Kiona against her trunk as the girl sobbed, Zoi’ahmets enlisted the chenditi’s help in spreading the sleep sack out to dry among her branches. When Kiona finally reached upward to the swelling fruit that came from the shed flowers, Zoi’ahmets didn’t even try to stop the girl. She could feel Kiona’s hands among the joins of the branches at her crown and the tearing sensation as each fruit let go. Instead of hurling the human from her as Zoi’ahmets’s instincts prompted her, she clutched Kiona tighter. As Zoi’ahmets desperately tried to find something to distract her from the horror of what was being done to her, the wickurn suddenly realized what she saw. The oddities in Kiona’s DNA made sense if and only if she accepted one proposition. What Kiona had done in distress did not compare to this.
Hardened by the knowledge, Zoi’ahmets turned and plunged onward toward the judging area with a renewed resolution. She hadn’t come this far to fail now.
The first cloud of chenditi that came boiling out upon the news of Zoi’ahmets’s arrival at the judging area went directly for her. Waving away their attentions, she demanded they see to the nearly comatose human at her side. Kiona was gently removed and carried off, the purplish blood of Zoi’ahmets’s potential children still staining the girl’s lips. Brushing off the attentions of the chenditi, Zoi’ahmets doggedly pushed on into the wickurn enclave. Time, she had so little time. Some things needed to be set in motion, and Zoi’ahmets dearly hoped she could trust her colleagues. Soon she would be called to account, to the judges, to the humans, but first, Zoi’ahmets had to do the impossible. She must speak to the arbiter.
A few moments later, Zoi’ahmets whirled down the hallway to the central dome of the installation. Kiona’s tiny camera she entrusted to her assistants, as well as a copy of all of the recent data from her tour of the Dispute and the single most important item, a heavily encrypted version of Zoi’ahmets’s suspicions. Outside of the doorway to the Court of the Dispute, Zoi’ahmets reached into her xylem space and pulled out the worn canister housing the remainders of the chenditi swarm. They were difficult to coax into the container before entering the neutral area. Perhaps the loss of their numbers made the little mass mind more sluggish and easily confused. Zoi’ahmets spun to a stop in front of the doors.
Her translator box proclaimed loudly, “I am here to see the arbiter. I have evidence concerning the judgment of this Dispute.”
Zoi’ahmets shifted uneasily. Anyone could bring formal evidence or concerns about the Dispute, but this was to be done in the court of judgment. The identity of the arbiter was always kept secret. She could feel the traffic of passing species come to a slow halt and all eyes or senses coming to bear on her. Zoi’ahmets held up the container of chenditi and shook it briefly. “I said, I will see the arbiter.”
With that, the doors slid open, and Zoi’ahmets slipped through them into the alcove ahead. The doors slammed shut behind her as the set opposite folded back. Ahead lay nothing but darkness. Zoi’ahmets spun slowly forward into the echoing space. She could just make out the central walkway before the doors folded shut, leaving her without a single source of light. Zoi’ahmets uncapped the container of chenditi and shook them free. “You need to know what these have to offer,” she stated. With that, Zoi’ahmets settled back to wait.
Zoi’ahmets’ suspicions were rewarded in a few moments. Light began to filter down from the ceiling of the dome as the thousands of chenditi, which clung to the skylight windows, dropped into flight. The light sparkled across them as they wove and dove like a flock of avians. Patterns, shadows, and absences flickered across the mass as it spun, filling the great dome from one side to the other.
“You will tell us. We will tell the arbiter,” came through Zoi’ahmets’s translator box. Time to drive in the first spike, she thought.
“There is no difference. You are the arbiter. You know all that the swarm that I carried knows. You know that someone has tampered with this Dispute.”
The cloud of chenditi spun faster, and Zoi’ahmets could feel the air begin to move slightly in the great hall. Now she would see if the supposition that she formulated was correct. The chenditi with their past would make formidable arbiters as well as their ability to condense into a mass mind with tremendous calculative powers. What kind of debate went on in that great mind now? Would the chenditi kill her with the many nanomachines they carried? Would she simply vanish? Pointless to worry, for already they were in motion again, spreading out across the roof of the dome, the light failing.
“You know that there is a human-specific microorganism designed to limit the fertility of their species, made to settle in their DNA and rewrite junk sequences that would be passed along to their descendants, causing a decline in their fecundity. This world was only a test since there are human judges. Whoever did this did not expect the humans to bring their child, who is just becoming fertile, and that the virus would affect her like an allergy. Since her body would not develop a defense for it, and since the virus is airborne, she was constantly re-exposed. Her white blood cells kept trying to defeat the invader, whereas, in an adult, the virus would have settled in gradually using various hormones to fool the lymphocytes. The elevated hormones of the change in her body kept affecting the invader, and it kept the chenditi and me from discovering the virus until just before our arrival.”
It was dark now, and a continuing rustle from the chenditi proved that not all the mind came back to rest. No response came. Zoi’ahmets hadn’t expected one. While capable, none of the other races judging this Dispute would have ever considered such an action. This information pointed to a species capable of manipulating matter on a very small scale, a species able to calculate vast odds. But they made one small error. They chose the wrong test subject. They were outwitted by the vagaries of nature, timing, and development. Only luck caused Kiona to be affected as she was. Zoi’ahmets continued to wait. Perhaps the time had come to sink another barb or two.
“A carrier had to spread the virus. I find it hard to believe that she could gain access to the Dispute before judging. Therefore, she was allowed entrance. The human carried a very interesting device along that kept a constant record of the entire trip. I made sure to send it to her companions—after the record’s information, along with my observations, went to the closest three wickurn outposts on nearby worlds. As a good observer and scientist, I made sure that I completely backed up my data. However, I never revealed what I have told you. But this information in the hands of qualified persons could lead them to certain conclusions.”
The flare of light was sudden as more than half of the chenditi left their perches to fall through the air swooping madly about, the chamber singing with the speed of their passage. Zoi’ahmets pulled in her branches and leaflets completely. Chenditi dropped like rain, all rushing toward her. They clung in successive layers, coat after coat. Zoi’ahmets’ eyes were swiftly covered. Her branches began to buckle inward, and it felt as if her xylem spaces were beginning to crack. How long before the mind calculated the odds? For or against? Had she guessed right? Would she even live that long? Would some unforeseen accident befall this world and all of those who received the information?
Her mind continued to race in the darkness. Tiny rasping sensations came from every inch of her bark. They were eating her alive. Like some giant swarm, they would consume her and leave nothing but dust behind if their monstrous weight didn’t crush her first. She felt a minor branch snap. Then Zoi’ahmets thought she felt a shift and her trunk leaned to the left. They were twisting her. She would snap like a green twig. But gradually, the pressure grew less as she realized they were quieting. Finally, the translator box emitted a signal.
“Whom will you tell about our identity as arbiter?”
Zoi’ahmets considered briefly—interesting that they were ignoring her accusation. “Surely, I am not the first to guess. There have to be other species, which given the proper clues, have come to the same conclusion.” Already Zoi’ahmets could feel the coating of thousands of tiny bodies beginning to slowly lift.
“The nature of your dispersion of information will end our tenure. It is therefore irrelevant. The humans will not be adjusted. Those here will be returned to normalcy. What is your response?”
“I have a theory, nothing else. Soon I suspect I will have no proof. Why would I pursue something I cannot prove? My time is better spent working on the Diversiform, where I belong.”
“The Dispute will continue. Another arbiter will be assigned. Leave.”
After the last of the chenditi wafted upward to hang in an immense churning spiral, Zoi’ahmets stood there staring at the ceiling. Shocked to be still alive, she spun about and headed toward the slowly opening doors.
Zoi’ahmets felt relief that someone exercised the forethought to wash the stains from around Kiona’s mouth. Rushes of unresolved feelings coursed through her as she once again pushed aside the thoughts created by those last desperate hours that brought them to the neutral area. Kiona remained facing away from Zoi’ahmets. She knew Kiona heard her rustling entrance and felt Zoi’ahmets clipping the small camera to the top of the healing restraint. When Kiona finally turned, the girl couldn’t seem to meet Zoi’ahmets’s gaze.
The medical hammock Kiona lay wrapped in reminded Zoi’ahmets briefly of the sleep sack. But its sloshing nutrient packs, glistening readout patches, and clusters of ropy coils that fell from the ceiling ended the similarity.
“Thank you,” was all that Kiona could manage at first. The water from her eyes coursed down her face mixing with the other fluids that were packed about her ravaged body. Zoi’ahmets shuffled closer. “After what I did, why would you do all you did for me?” Kiona asked.
That was a truly puzzling question. Zoi’ahmets considered her response. During the early parts of the journey, she did act selfishly to preserve her work. As time went on, her view of the situation changed until the final revelation. Kiona didn’t understand the greater issue, and Zoi’ahmets could not tell her. But there was something else that prompted Zoi’ahmets’s actions that she could share.
“I told you that to a wickurn, all parts of the Diversiform are important. I believe that the idea that only the strong should survive works in situations where intelligent life does not have control of its surroundings. To be a true participant of a Dispute, one must understand the environment one creates and accept that intelligent life changes the outcomes of situations left to nature. But this is only a theory, not a law.”
A brief smile touched Kiona’s features at that. The girl worked one of her arms loose from the hammock’s restraints and pulled out the round white bag she carried throughout their journey. “I wouldn’t let them have it. Here.”
With that, Kiona settled back into the hammock, her features slowly becoming lax as she faded from consciousness into sleep.
Outside in the hallway, Zoi’ahmets opened the sack and peered at the round nodules that clustered at its bottom—the seeds. In all that happened, Zoi’ahmets never realized that Kiona saved every one, instead of scattering Zoi’ahmets’s children across the land of the Dispute. That time might come, eventually, and now—thanks to Kiona’s thoughtfulness—it could.