First Contact

Born Whole

Vaneer-One was born whole. Fully formed with his mind full Vaneer-One stepped out into the sunlight of the garden's observation deck, looking around with his wide eyes. He was in a dura-glass cylinder, overlooking the eight long horticultural bays, the dura-glass hidden beneath layers of dust. Surrounding the structure Vaneer-One had been born in was nothing but desert with strange streamers of light off in the distance making the horizon look strange to Vaneer-One's eyes.

  "Work Day will begin in 15 minutes," A soft voice said from the air.

  "Thank you," Vaneer-One said.

  "Debris must be cleared from hydroponics and greenhouse dura-glass surfaces," The voice said.

  Vaneer-One nodded, knowing how he would have to complete such an action. Not that he had ever been taught. He had been born knowing his tasks and his duties.

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  Vaneer-One looked at the dura-glass. The glass itself had held through the storm but the supporting structure had warped, allowing the strange energies from the desert beyond to affect the plant-life he had spent full rotations around the sun maintaining.

  The air was thicker now. He could feel the warmth through the glass.

  It pleased him.

  Sighing, Vaneer-One checked his knowledge within his mind. There, cross-breeding, strengthening a plant via selection. He could use faster more reliable methods than cross-breeding, but those methods were methods of last resort.

  He looked again at the air-gap. The servants had given out rotations ago. He would have to solve it his way.

  Fungus it is.

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  Vaneer-One stood outside. The strange deadly energies had subsided somewhat but he was not here to measure them. Instead, he knelt down and examined the fungus. It had spread, driving roots into the sand, feeding off of sunshine as well as the deadly energies.

  It was good.

  The crack had gotten wider, wide enough that Vaneer-One could slip his finger into it. The grass seed he'd encouraged through the gap had taken hold, battling the fungus, and had begun to sprout in a fan away from the cracks.

  Vaneer-One was tired. He had been born whole. He had cared for Planthome and the plants within.

  Vaneer-One laid down on the soft bed of fungi, moss, and basic grass. He sighed and closed his eyes.

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  Vaneer-Two was born whole. He knew all there was to know. He knew his place in the world, knew magic words to change plants, knew that Planthome was his home.

  Over the decades he ensured that the lichens and base grasses expanded from Planthome. Closer to Planthome, where the sand had been defeated and turned into loam, Vaneer-Two had planted seeds of tough but attractive bushes and plants.

  Eventually Vaneer-Two laid down in a bed of moss, where his ancestor Vaneer-One had lain when his biological functions had ceased.

  Vaneer-Two was content as he closed his eyes. The next would carry on his work.

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  Vaneer-Three was born whole. He knew the secrets of nature. Of plant and water. He knew magic words to modify life. He stood on the deck of crystal observation deck, observing how the green had spread out.

  Planthome was old. The dura-glass was discolored in places, the metal had gotten old and brittle.

  It was time to use magic to pull water from deep beneath the sand that had become soil. The moss and fungi would strip the poison out and those poisons that the lichens and moss did not filter, Vaneer-Three had plans for.

  Vaneer-Three went outside and began to sing. Songs of passion and magic that let him reach down into the rock and bring forth the water.

  Once the way started flowing he lay down on the soft moss and went to sleep.

  His work was done.

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  Vaneer-Twelve was born whole. He knew secrets of nature, of plant and water, of wind and rain, of magic and will. His pointed ears and wide sensitive eyes were reflected in the small creature in front of him, who was yawning as the petals of the flower peeled back.

  The tiny creature was female and it was her job to pollinate flowers. A perfect recreation of Vaneer-Eleven, who had used magic to create them. It had been Vaneer-Twelve's duty and pleasure to oversee her birth, and the birth of her sisters. She yawned, responded to his singing, and flew into his hand. She preened as he moved through the greenhouses of Planthome.

  Happy with his success, Vaneer-Twelve went outside the crystal walls of Planthome and opened his hand, letting her sense the world around her.

  She was a queen. She had been born whole.

  She would fly through the air, now sweet to the taste and no longer choking those who tried to breathe it.

  Vaneer-Twelve laid down on the moss and closed his eyes. It had taken dozens of decades for his work to be done, and now that it was, he could rest.

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  Vaneer-Thirty-Eight had been born whole. He knew secrets, magic, and how to alter life itself.

  Unlike the others, he knew what he was.

  He was a Wood Elf.

  He knew this because he knew, because he had been born whole.

  It had rained the day before, without the acids that turned the plants to soup that soaked into the ground. The acids had been slowly dropping in strength.

  Which meant that Vaneer could start singing plants that were more fragile, more gentle.

  He had been born whole, but his time was nearly done.

  He sang to the Fairies, who sang back and preened.

  He laid down and slept.

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  Vaneer-Sixty-Eight had been born whole. He knew the magic of plants and the secret songs of the fey.

  He had travelled far from Planthome, four days of walking. The fey had danced and sang to him that they had seen something beyond their green lands. Where the sickness sand spread out from the good healthy green.

  He pushed aside flowers and walked down grass, pleased at how far the green and plants had grown. Four days walk.

  In front of him he saw another Wood Elf. The first time he had ever seen another of his kind.

  "I am Vaneer-Six-Eight," he said.

  "I am Damtee-Nine-Five," the other said.

  "I greet you. Am I the first you have met?" Vaneer asked.

  Damtee nodded. "Shall we exchange secrets, songs, and spells?"

  Vaneer smiled. "Of course."

  Together they sang, telling one another their secrets.

  "Shall we merge our gardens?" Damtee asked.

  "Yes," Vaneer answered.

  Vaneer walked back, feeling tired. He laid on the moss and the fairies sang to him.

  It had been good.

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  Vaneer-One-two-nine was born whole. He knew the secrets of plants, the magic of songs, and the dances of the fey.

  Planthome was dying.

  Spells were failing. Songs were no longer answered.

  He had used the last of his magic to bring into being the little ones. Covered in fur, covered in scale, covered in hide. Flying ones. Swimming ones. Walking ones.

  He had cast the last spells and the magic was dying as Planthome died.

  But Vaneer-One-Two-Nine was content.

  The sky was blue. The stars no longer stripped the plants of their life. The sun no longer seared. The water no longer poisoned, and the air no longer choked.

  As Planthome died, Vaneer-One-Two-Nine smiled.

  He was a Wood Elf. Keeper of the plants. Singer of the songs. His work had made the days warm, the nights cool, water pure, the air sweet, and the land covered in plants.

  He laid and went to sleep, smiling.

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  CONFEDERATE SURVEY VESSEL PUDDLEJUMP REPORT ON: Mevaleen-228

  Terraforming complete. Environment stable.

  Wood Elf Class Terraforming Systems have shut down in accordance to projections.

  Estimated time from beginning to full terraforming: 238.5 Solarian Years

  Looks like a project success.

  ------------NOTHING FOLLOWS--------------