Of Fire and Night - Kevin J. Anderson [181]
Encased within the verdani battleship, his wooden body sacrificed even its human shape. He was rooted once more. His carved hands fused like clay to the living wood that was energized with wental water. His legs melted into the forest tissue, and he sank into a swirling vortex of woodgrain.
Even as he grew into the structure of the massive treeship, he retained part of himself. Immediately after his rebirth, Beneto's connection to the world and his beloved family had been tenuous and intellectual. Back then, he would not have hesitated to make the sacrifice. Now, though, he felt the loss to his very core. To his heart. Thus, so did the worldtrees. He would miss being alive. . . .
Aboard the swarm of new-grown verdani battleships, his fellow new green priest pilots were all symbiotically fused with their enormous tree forms. They had let their flesh-and-bone bodies be absorbed into the enfolding wood, while leaving their minds still alert, carrying human personalities. After a thousand years or more, they would begin to lose their individuality like those poignant ancient creatures who guided the original treeships. Though these volunteers were giving up a great deal, Beneto also knew how much they would gain. In the end, they would consider their sacrifices worthwhile. He was sure of it.
Outside, looking simultaneously forlorn and relieved, Solimar squared his broad shoulders and gazed up at the giant vessels--the seedships that had turned him away. Celli was with him, her dark eyes sparkling with tears. She was deeply sad to see Beneto go, and also happy for the parting gift her brother had quietly offered her.
Like so many green priests, Solimar had been enamored with the idea of joining a verdani battleship. He had volunteered to give up his life to become a pilot of a huge seedship, just as Beneto had done. Many green priests had offered themselves, far more than the hundred who were needed.
Though he was no longer entirely human, Beneto still knew his young sister's heart. He had seen her and Solimar treedance together and understood their affection for each other. They belonged together. For love of Celli, he had not allowed Solimar to be chosen. The worldtrees listened to his heart, though it was clear the verdani did not entirely understand. But they had regrown him as a manifestation of the worldforest and of humanity; the sentient trees wanted to learn from Beneto and his memories. They listened to his love for his sister.
He had offered Solimar a legitimate explanation. As one of the few technically literate and mechanically inclined people on Theroc, Solimar was needed for his engineering knowledge. The other green priests were not irreplaceable, but Solimar possessed skills the Therons would need. The worldforest asked him to stay behind, and the new battleships accepted another green priest pilot in his stead.
And so, as volunteers had streamed to the hundred new battleships, the gold-armored trunks remained closed to Solimar, forcing him to stay behind. Celli realized immediately what her brother had done. She silently thanked him and did not tell her friend what she knew.
Now Beneto could concentrate on his new residence, his new mass, his new existence. This great vessel was an extension of his body. He could look out upon the forest--all extensions of the worldforest--through the simulated eyes of uncountable leaves. He saw the many colony worlds where green priests had brought treelings to form a communications network.
More than ever before, Beneto could feel all the memories, the secrets, the wistful experiences stored deep in the verdani mind. His thoughts flowed like sap through the intricate woodgrain, deep into