The gate opened, and a triumphant Evil entered the garden with a frenzied mind bent on ownership and destruction. But all fires need fuel, and here there was none. In the garden, there was only peace and beauty.

****

Max had awoken from a deep and sound slumber. The urge for a hit of doze was there, but for the first time since being at the outpost, he decided to hold back and take this morning without help from chemicals.

“Max.” 

Emma had been nudging him gently until he awoke. It took a second for his sleep dazed eyes to adjust to the dim green bio light of the room. The outline of Emma’s silhouette helped him locate and tune-in on the fine details of her face. “It’s early,” he said sitting up, “is there something wrong?”

“No, my love, there is nothing wrong. I have something to show you. They are ready.”

Max stretched and yawned. Getting out of bed, he moved to the bathroom, needing the extra time to try and comprehend what his Emma was talking about. As he entered the small utility room, bright lights flicked on automatically, and the hygiene routine presented itself for duty. After relieving himself into the waiting machine, he located and slipped into a pair of semi-fresh underpants. “So what’s ready?” he finally asked, “You’ve been secretive about everything that goes on here. I never have a clue what you're talking about.” 

His mind wandered to the last few surprises Emma had provided and quickly tapped his forehead to dispense a hit of doze.

Emma followed him into the bathroom, she still held the petite form of Emma Yee and was wearing an alchemist uniform Max had found for her weeks earlier. He looked at Emma in dismay noticing the clothing dirty and in disarray; stained by the soil in her garden and god-only-knew what else.  

Emma’s next words were singularly the most bizarre thing Max had ever heard, “Our Children Max. They are ready.”

For a moment, he stood in horror. For some reason, he thought that Emma was referring to the manbots that he’d been seeing around the place, or worse, perhaps some half-human-half-orr experiment that she’d been working on in secret. But he guessed either of those ideas would be ridiculous. He thought back to her statement in the field months earlier where she talked about the plants in her nursery; she had said, They are my Children.  So he asked, “The plants?”

The broad smile that appeared on Emma’s face told Max that he was correct. She nodded excitedly, “Yes, and they are beautiful!”

Max agreed a little confused, “Yes they are beautiful and healthy looking, from what I can remember anyway.” It had been a while since Max had visited the hortus, his caring for Churchman having taken most of his time. “So what makes these plants so special and why are they our children?”

“Come, I will show you.” She beckoned for Max to follow her.

“Sure,” he replied ready for anything, “just let me get dressed.”

****

The walk down to the hortus would have been uneventful had Max not tried another attempt to ask about his friend Peter Grimes, who he knew had been scheduled to be piloting the courier that followed his ship. He reckoned that if Peter were still alive, he would have been floating around out there for over three weeks. Max was also dying to know details about the other ship that had supposedly appeared the same time as the courier.

All Emma said about their ‘visitors’, as she had called them, was that most of them had survived including his friend Peter. Beyond that, Emma would not say anything other than hint that he would see them all soon including, as she said,  “the naughty Riggs, who would be due for a special welcome.” Apparently Riggs had attempted to melt the outpost.

This information was more than he had been able to extract from Emma before now, so as they arrived at the entry to the garden, Max decided not to push the issue any further. The usual line applied: better to make the most of her good mood rather than ruin it with evocative questions.

The large panel doors opened flooding the cool lit corridor with a burst of warm golden light. Max stepped onto the high entry landing to the former recreation area. Greeting him was a view into another world.

He turned to Emma, “It’s amazing!” 

The area had already been large, making use of two storeys of the outpost, but now Max noticed the space had been extended a further two levels to form a globe-like space above where the recreational field had been. There now, from the ground at the centre of the dome, grew a massive oak-like tree. Long tendril branches spanned out in all directions and by its size it seemed impossibly ancient.

Above the tree hovered the source of the golden light, a shimering globe glowing with the same orange sheen that Max first saw when he laid eyes on the golden firewall that bordered the heavy metal gas cloud. Like the morning sun, the bright, warm light drew bright lines about the branches of the great tree. The globe shone with dynamic, oscilating beams that reached beyond the branches and all around. Rays hit the golden hortus between them and the tree. Flowers in the herb garden drank in the light like fiery gems.

In recent times, Max had been lost for words due to horror and intense fear. Today, he was stunned for beauty.

“Father,” announced Emma to Max, “behold your children!”

Then, the tree moved. Still rooted in place by a mighty trunk, the branches rose as one untill they almost touched the light then fell slowly forming a pattern of symmetry. The complex pattern held for a moment and then shifted to another completely different, but still magnificent, pattern. The pattern shifted again and again. Each design matched the other’s delicacy, but each was also distinctive in its way.

"See," explained Emma, "They are communicating their ideas".

“They?” Max asked in awe, “I only see one tree.”

“Look closer.” urged Emma, “Come, take my hand.”

As they moved down the ramp, through the hortus and towards the giant tree, Max could make out details that would separate this tree from any other. Rather than formed by a great solid trunk and network of progressively narrower solid branches, this tree seemed to be composed of thousands of smaller trees. Saplings each moving with a life of its own and tethered to others by roots, all growing into tessellated shapes to form trunk and branches. 

Instead of leaves, many of the sapling parts grew long knob like fingers upon the end of which sat luminescent lights that blinked and pulsed.

Not knowing if he wanted the answer Max asked, “How are they my children?” 

****

Evil watched in envy as the two figures walked hand-in-hand down towards the great, light-bathed tree.