Friendly space-faring cultures had taken myriad spores and spread them through neighboring regions where other living cultures existed. They had sent the spores to occupied planets in protective casings that dissolved on impact, allowing the seeds to sprout and grow in the available soil. The deliverers had made no effort to contact those cultures; that was highly risky, as cultures were suspicious of alien craft, and some were in league with the machines. They had delivered and departed immediately. Gale's plant was one such, perhaps the only one to get established on her planet.
It had sprouted, grown, established itself, then executed its primary mission: to contact a Glamor of Symbiosis, or the closest thing to it. That, as it had turned out, was Gale. But it could have been intercepted by a negative respondent who came with conquest or worse in mind. The moment they saw that Gale had brought her sprout—her child—they knew that she was legitimate. So they had established contact, first with the child, then with her.
There was a pause, or perhaps Gale paused, preferring to intersperse the huge inflow of information with some personal dialogue. "You do not see the future paths?"
"This concept is unfamiliar to us."
Gale realized that this made sense. The Glamors had not been able to see the future paths until Voila, then a baby, had discovered the ability and taught them. This had enabled them to defeat Mino, the machine culture scout, and enlist him on their side. It could be sheer wild chance that enabled such a discovery to be made, by any culture.
"Perhaps we can teach you this ability. It greatly facilitates personal safety. Without it I would not have dared visit an alien culture such as yours."
"Understanding. The risks are mutual."
"How long have you known of the machines?"
"Millennia," the plant answered. Its mind—it was, in the manner of many plants, bi-sexual, with both male and female flowers—was separate from the pollen-borne package of data. "We did not know whether you knew of them, until this dialogue. They are our common enemy."
"Agreement. We learned of them by discovering one of their minions, an exploratory mining unit that surveyed our planets as prospects for exploitation. We subdued it and learned its nature. Now it works for us."
"Do not trust it!"
"We were cautious, but we do trust it. Or did, until this crisis loomed. Now we use it only to study the nature of the machines, and to gain an insight into the far future. We are able to read the near and intermediate future; it is limited to the far future."
"The machines, as the information you are receiving will clarify, are enemies to the whole galaxy. They are systematically conquering and destroying all living cultures. Our only hope for survival is to form a league to oppose them. Even so, the odds are against us, but it is all we have."
"Our understanding of the machines is that your culture and ours would be vastly insufficient to stop the machines."
"Agreement. But we are not alone. The league already exists, consisting of thousands of living cultures. You will join us. Perhaps such a force will be sufficient."
Now the details on that were infusing Gale's awareness. It was true: there was an enormous network of living cultures, united by the common threat. The same threat the humans faced. The machines had been expanding their domain for thousands of years, on their way to achieving galactic dominance. The entire human culture was merely a blip on their screen, one more minor detail to handle.
"Negation," the plant said. "You are not a mere blip. There is something they want from you. They want it very much. Perhaps even enough to spare your culture in exchange for it. So you may be able to bargain."
"What is it?" Gale asked, perplexed.
"We do not know. Only that news has spread that the thing they want most in the galaxy is in your sector of space. We are very glad to have established contact with you."
"And if we give them this thing, whatever it is," Gale said carefully, "and they spare us—what then of you and the other living cultures?"
"We are doomed."
"Then how can you afford to trust us? We could bargain for ourselves and let you go."
"You are not that type."
"You know this, with only this present contact between us?"
"We know this because we have been receiving information about you while delivering ours to you. You are a leader of your species, and you will never betray a friend."
"But I am not your friend! I just arrived here."
"You are our friend, and your culture will be our culture's friend. We lack this future path awareness you have, but we have a general awareness of your nature." There was a twinge of the stamen within her, reminding her of the intimacy of their association. If they were receiving any portion of the mass of information they were sending her, they did know her well enough.
"We know you are in temporary symbiosis with a demon Glamor," the plant said.
They found me, Idyll thought. Those paths were obscure, and I was remaining quiescent, but they are able to fathom essential natures.
"So it seems we can trust each other," Gale said. "But I will have to share your information with others of my culture, and they will decide what to do."
"You will have specific data on all the other cultures, so that you can contact them and coordinate with them. Your assimilation will significantly enhance our effort."
"All the other living galactic cultures?" Gale asked, astonished. "But how can they trust us not to betray them?"
"It is not your nature. But it does not matter. If you give the machines what they want, all of our efforts will fail and we will be exterminated. If you do not, then you will have to oppose the machines, and your only hope will be with our league."
"It does matter!" Gale protested.
They are right, Idyll thought. Only that thing the machines want really counts. The intermediate paths are confirming this, and surely the far future paths are certain. That is why the machines want it. If we deny the machines, we will have to support the league of life completely.
So it seemed. "I think I have absorbed my limit," Gale said.
"It is done," the plant agreed.
Gale carefully lifted herself off the stamen, which was now somewhat limp, its informational pollen expended.
She worked the bulbous anther out. Her center of being was warm with the thought substance radiating from her vagina into the rest of her body. This had been a sexual experience like none other, if that was what it was.
"Appreciation," she said. That was a complex understatement. She remained in physical contact with the plant, because her bare feet were standing on its petals. That maintained their avenue of communication.
"We can help you further, perhaps in exchange for the considerable favor of your information about the future paths."
"Question?"
"Explanation: we connect to each other via our root systems. All relevant plants on the planet are receiving the essence of our contact."
"This is telepathy?"
"Negation. Merely root contact. But the network is planetary"
"Then why bother with the pollen package? You could have read my mind for them all."
"Negation," the plant repeated. "The roots are for establishing territories, sharing water and nutrients, and relaying general news of weather and animal presence. They are crude compared to the pollen packets. But they do enable us to do some useful things."
"Question?"
"We can perform with numbers. Each individual plant is weak, but linked plants are stronger, and a planetary network can be quite powerful."
"Confusion. Relevance?"
"You can read the future paths. We understand, from your mind, that these soon diverge widely, extending beyond your ability to follow. This is why your perception is limited. But a simple matter of calculation can enhance your ability. This could be useful."