ET- Dagon Sabad

  E.T. continued searching from rock to rock. The mountain was bare, but he’d seen plants growing in stone before, with splendid tenacity. Plants were the masters of the world, from the depths to the heights.

  And they liked being talked to.

  “Dagon Sabad, who draws lightning from the clouds—” He shuffled along, speaking quietly. The plant would hear, sensitive to the slightest change in vibration. “—Sabad, who stirred the primal atoms, giving birth to the galaxies, and to Reese’s Pieces.”
...

  E.T. continued his shuffling step. “Dagon Sabad, ruler of all plants, possibly greater than even Antum Tadana—”

  Possibly greater?

  Lightning splintered the dark, and its downward pointing tip hovered, momentarily sizzling the shadowy tip of a small and nearly invisible shoot of vegetation. And then the lightning seemed to be drawn down, swallowed in the shoot itself.

  Antum Tadana would perish here, in a little pile of burnt breakfast flakes.

  The plant became silent then, as if returned to its introspection, on cosmic matters, concerning the demise of the present universe and the beginning of the next.
...

  Thus the exploration party stood, fastened in the stones before the altar of Dagon Sabad, and E.T. knew this power gripping them could hold them for days, nights, weeks, ages.

  He leaned toward the shadowy reed in the rock. “I bring greetings from Botanicus.”

  Ah yes, my foremost student.

  “He—that is—I—seek a cutting from your shoot.”

  Certainly, certainly, said the plant, but E.T. sensed that nothing now was certain.

  But his feet were released, the binding power withdrawing back into the stones with a faint hiss. He stepped toward the crevice in the rock, where the shoot was bedded, and the robot shone his eye beams into it.

  E.T. reached down to it, and his healing finger glowed, for he must anesthetize the plant first; then with tender care, he broke it off.

- E.T. The Book of the Green Planet, chapter 19