A pure fractal made in Apophysis 2.09, carefully colorized to bring out all its wands in Paint
Well, it did wiggle, and the long appendages might have suggested wands to some … but what really happened was that Qviiegkil Qvaahandin Qvorm, which is the closest we can get in Standard spelling to the name for the creature, is too hard to say for most human tongues, so “Wigglewandin Worm” it has become throughout most of the human tongues of the galaxy in casual use.
Something else changed, and by no accident in the grand scheme of things, because this creature is now no longer feared by human beings. It was all a big misunderstanding, settled by three human beings out on a walk in a sudden rainstorm. One of those was Admiral Benjamin Banneker, my uncle.
Ventana 4 has literally pyrotechnic thunderstorms because of the makeup of its atmosphere; Ventana 5 has Earth-like storms more or less, but an abundance of creatures that live in its higher elevations that rarely come down to ground level unless a particularly powerful thunderstorm blows them off their perch or out of midair. The Wigglewandin Worm is one of these, and it is also called living lightning because of the power of the poison it can deploy from its tentacles.
“Acid electrocution – sounds like fun,” my husband, commercial captain Rufus Dixon, said about it when he planted the flag of Kirk and Dixon Shipping out there.
So, it was a rare pair of humans who stopped some ways ahead of myself, my husband, and my uncle as we were out walking after a thunderstorm and noticed that a juvenile Wigglewandin Worm had crash-landed in a cold pool – runoff from a great warehouse that circulated water as an insulation against the summer heat to keep power use down for its huge freezers. The creature could not break the surface tension, and was clearly weakening, losing the battle against the cold water.
“We gotta get it out,” the man said to the woman.
“But how – we know we can't touch it,” she said, “but maybe we can use my shoe... maybe it can climb up on it.”
By this time we had caught up with them, and my husband pulled me back – and for good reason. A juvenile Wigglewandin Worm can kill an adult human woman.
However, Uncle Benjamin had two bionic legs, and the skin was not conducive to electricity. He literally stepped into the shallow pool – to the horror of the couple who did not understand at first – and put his foot gently under the struggling creature and lifted it a little bit, as if the creature had found a rock to land on. After the Wigglewandin Worm had settled onto that and rested for a few seconds, Uncle Benjamin lifted it out, and the couple spread a jacket under the creature and moved it carefully into the sunshine.
“How did you do that?” the man asked.
“Bionic legs – nothing to shock and burn down there,” my uncle said.
“Wait a minute,” said the woman. “My father served on the Argent, and his captain was Benjamin Banneker, the only man in the fleet who ever burned through two sets of bionic legs taking care of all the humans and creatures he could care about as captain.”
Uncle Benjamin smiled.
“Well, it's been four sets since your father knew me – you must be that daughter Lt. Copperfield was always showing pictures of!”
“My name is Vanessa Copperfield Gray!” she said.
“And you must be Capt. Banneker!” Mr. Gray said.
Uncle Benjamin did not even bother to make the rank correction.
“It's so nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Gray,” he said. “I am indeed Benjamin Banneker, and this my niece and nephew Capt. Rufus Dixon, founder of Kirk and Dixon Shipping, and fleet captain Khadijah Biles-Dixon.”
“Wait a minute,” Mr. Gray said. “Kirk and Dixon is the company that runs my company's products through the Ventanan frontier – on time, every time!”
“Now that's what I call a testimonial!” Capt. Dixon said. “I will tell my crews to keep up the good work!”
“Is Lt. Copperfield still alive?” Uncle Benjamin asked.
“Captain Copperfield is alive and well and will be tickled pink – we gotta do a picture!” Mrs. Gray said.
The Wigglewandin Worm, having listening to the conversation and having decided humans were no threat, photobombed us, wrapping itself around my uncle's neck in gratitude just as Mr. Gray snapped the photo.
“Switch to video,” the admiral ordered at this extraordinary moment. “This means the Wigglewandin Worm is actually not a threat to humans and humanoids – video this.”
The creature understood him at least by mood, and gently touched his mouth as if to say he was telling the truth, and swirled all up and down my uncle's gently upraised off before flying off and bringing back its whole family to cuddle with us. Apparently, the juvenile had explained the whole situation to the family.
By this time, a crowd had gathered in the street, and a Vulcan woman was standing there, the stoic logical front breaking because she was a telepath.
“They are sentient,” she said, and then Mr. Gray turned he camera on her. “The Qviiegkil Qvaahandin Qworm are a sentient race, and they are overwhelmed with love and gratitude and finally understanding that humanoids and they are not meant to be threats to each other.”
We literally had walked into the biggest inter-species meetings of the minds for thirty years on Ventana 5.
Today, the universal translator can manage QQQ ultrasonic chirping quite well, and the galaxy is blessed to have some of its finest natural elecroplating and fine metal workers – all those “wands” with the sensitivity they have makes for work a humanoid could never do. That was the problem; humans who were first to encounter them did not know how gentle they needed to be not to harm the creature's delicate wands … but Uncle Benjamin had the juvenile crawl onto his foot, and then very carefully and slowly lifted it out of the water. The Grays had then put it on Mr. Gray's light jacket, which was soft, before laying it on the hard sidewalk. That had opened the door to the breakthrough.
But long before that, Uncle Benjamin's new friend found him and us at odd times walking around, and cuddled up around our necks which allowed us to introduce the harmlessness of the creature, handled correctly, to all people otherwise ready to pass out from shock.
That fine young representative became the first ambassador of its species to the consortium, and still laughs heartily at the nearest possible approximation to its actual name.
“Good day, Ambassador Wandlywoggle!” my uncle still delights his now old friend with whenever the ambassador flies by for a cuddle when both are on Ventana 5.
