Though Anton had experience with several forms of languages, from the standardized human speech to void ant’s sign, that didn’t suddenly make him able to communicate intelligently with whatever he wished. Not that he had expected any different. As a star, Maheg was vastly different from anything else he’d interacted with. He couldn’t even be certain about its level of sapience, though it clearly reacted to him instead of its energy simply acting naturally. Effectively, he knew it had the ability to sense things around it on some level and little more.
So far, it seemed gentle. Anton didn’t sense any malice, but that didn’t mean he was planning to approach closer nor that he would suggest Matija or her team do the same. It wouldn’t require any intent to vaporize them. Even Anton would struggle to survive, away from a bound star. He couldn’t actually dive into whatever star he pleased without being annihilated, only those that were effectively part of him.
After a day of attempting to communicate, all they accomplished was the star responding more ‘swiftly’ to Anton’s gestures. It seemed to be able to replicate the broader strokes of anything Anton demonstrated, like the twisting handshake of energy. It was better about not annihilating his energy at the end of things, as it seemed to figure out that was part of the process. But as for learning more beyond that it was willing to replicate actions, there really wasn’t much.
Creating rivers of energy large enough for the star to recognize and react to was rather tiring, and while its responses were slow Anton eventually felt himself drained. “I’ll need a break,” he informed Matija. “Meanwhile, we should determine our end goal.”
She nodded. “Indeed. We can keep doing this forever, but I don’t think we’ll learn much of value like this. I think the concept of language might be difficult to convey as well, even if we could organize this into something.”
“A longer term project,” Anton agreed. “Getting advice from various minds would be for the best. We don’t get an opportunity like this every day.” If asked if he was surprised about such a development, Anton would say he hadn’t predicted it in the slightest. Yet he wasn’t entirely blindsided by the idea either.
Obviously he interacted with stars quite frequently. As humans tended to do, he would project various human features on those he interacted with. Some were calm, some grumpy. Stars that Anton bound to him had more than elemental properties, though he was well aware that any sort of thought he attributed to such stars was merely projection. They responded to his call, but that was a natural reaction of energy.
This was quite different, but he had previously thought it might be possible, in some vague sense. That said, he would have expected some human influence, of which he felt none. Then again, there had been some in the system so perhaps they did something. Either way, Anton had seen animals develop intelligence when filled with natural energy, cultivating on their own. Plants were rarer, with only particular things like the Grandfather Willow truly seeming to be sentient.
Then again, if Anton’s crops or orchards had their own thoughts, perhaps they simply hadn’t had a way to reveal them. Or a need to, really. He cared for all of the needs of things he planted, helping them develop as best he saw possible. They didn’t need to ask for water except by the slightest curling of leaves, and changes in color often told him when nutrients were missing. If some sort of consciousness existed, they might not want anything beyond that.
Animals fit somewhat naturally into the idea of cultivation, as their basic structure was similar to humans, with brains and the like. Yet even insects who had vastly different central nervous systems had developed intelligence and cultivation ability. When he also added plants to that… was it odd for pure energy to have a system of cultivation and some sort of intelligence?
Well, yeah. It was still very unusual. But Anton wasn’t completely floored by the possibility. If something had or gained a soul, he wouldn’t say it was impossible for it to grow with the presence of energy. What better place to get it than the source of the majority of energy in every system?
-----
After a period of discussion, Anton and Matija decided that studying the remains of the humans in the system might prove fruitful. If nothing else, it might give the star time to think about things, if it even did that. Also to recognize that their presence wasn’t necessarily permanent.
The few rocky planets in the same system told pieces of a tale, though Anton wasn’t a skilled archeologist or anything. However, a number of things were fairly clear. He had seen dead planets previously, destroyed by differing catastrophes. This one was different from the others, yet he could certainly tie it to some form of disaster.
Anton didn’t see anything indicating it was an invasion or extermination of some sort. However, he did notice some clear signs. First, there were massive graves dug near cities. That, but there were still a small number of decayed bodies within the cities. The architecture was crumbled, but he saw no signs of traumatic destruction. Everything should have been more or less intact when people began to die.
“A plague, perhaps?” Anton suggested to Matija.
“I wouldn’t say that it is inconsistent,” she replied. “However, I’m sure you might notice a certain lack of something else that makes it unlikely.”
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
Anton spread his energy out, realizing belatedly what it was. His initial impression of it as a dead planet had blinded him. In fact, he nearly missed the forest for the dead trees. Dead everything, really. It had all decayed, given time, but plant and animal life had completely fallen apart. Yet, with time to bury bodies, it didn’t seem to have been all at once.
Unfortunately, there were no helpful records to be found. What most likely had been sealed vaults had a few half intact cultivation techniques that should have once been enchanted to last. The formations that would have helped sustain them were entirely broken down. A product of time, certainly, but Anton also suspected something else.
Anton surveyed the decay, looking over everything at the finest levels. If he focused, he could detect things on the level of individual cells or even tiny bacteria. Bacteria were necessary to break down everything and cause decay… yet there were none still living. That was a surprise, as he would have expected at least some in extreme conditions. But there were other oddities to consider, when he thought of that.
Some bacteria could survive in the heat of volcanic vents, others could survive as cold as arctic lakes with barely any source of energy or nutrients. So many things were missing. Arctic zones, in particular. Then again, they couldn’t properly exist without liquid water or an atmosphere. Technically, the planet he was looking at still had a thin atmosphere. There were also small seas, and he’d at first thought it was just a relatively small proportion. Extending his senses, he realized that the world had once had much more water.
He could surmise various possibilities, but there was one that stood out over all others. Both water and atmosphere could be taken away by severe solar activity. The very reason they were in the system at all was the greatest oddity, after all.
Had it wiped out human life? Possibly. Yet its current output was not sufficient to tear apart the atmosphere or annihilate the seas.
Matija said just what Anton was thinking. “A period of heightened solar activity,” she commented. “Heat, and most likely excessive radiation. Enough to kill the common folk. Perhaps not cultivators, however. However, it seems whatever cultivators remained happened to be insufficient to rebuild.”
“With no crops to grow or animals to hunt, what would they eat?” Anton said. “Sea life seems to have perished as well, the delicate balance upset. So then, we must ask a question. Was it on purpose?”
Matija just shrugged. “I don’t know if we can answer that. We don’t know enough. I’m not sure if we can even know whether or not the star was conscious, at that point.”
“Or whether it was acting in self defense,” Anton added.
“Hmm. A possibility,” she agreed. “Though I think if they were capable of significantly affecting their local star, they would likely have been able to spread out to nearby systems. We can do a more thorough sweep, but I do believe there were some habitable planets that… aren’t.”
“Perhaps they were sufficiently advanced in certain paths, but not travel,” Anton said. “Without certain advancements, even a cultivator lifespan would be insufficient to reach a neighboring system. Lightspeed or near lightspeed capabilities would be required, or some sort of hibernation or other system that could sustain itself long term.”
“Right. So, what do we do?”
“Well, we’re clearly far too late to save any lives. I’m not an expert on the decay due to solar radiation, so I can’t judge how long it’s been… but I suspect this might have been like this before I was born,” Anton said. “Though it could be as recent as a couple centuries, if I’m wrong.”
“Either way,” she shrugged. “There is not much that could have been done, as they were unknown. We might be able to satisfy our curiosity by looking at historical readings for this star. Rutera’s should go back at least a thousand years, though obviously much of that was less sophisticated. Before that… it would have been noted only if it were unusually bright or the like.”
Anton nodded. “We can keep searching for any intact records, but I have the feeling we won’t find much. We might get lucky with a cave or something.”
-----
Despite whatever happened in the past, it was fairly clear that Maheg had made no attempt to kill any of their group. Whether that was because it didn’t wish to or was being cautious was a question they could not answer, and they had to go with intuition.
Personally, Anton thought the star was safe. At least, as it was now. Whether the destruction had occurred pre or post consciousness, it now felt peaceful. Maheg was willing to interact with Anton, but it was also content to have people sitting and studying it for months on end.
Though Anton wasn’t able to feel the deeper flow of the star’s energy, he didn’t try to force the issue either. He still found value in simply observing what came to the surface, the particular sort of control that had formed.
Even if Anton felt safe, he still kept in mind that he was in the presence of a new and most likely very patient acquaintance. The possibility of being betrayed was still there, though Anton didn’t think there was any benefit to such a thing. It didn’t seem that the star had consumed the energy of the people on the nearby planets or anything like that. Obviously knowing that for certain was difficult, but he would have expected a burned and melted planet instead of one that was slightly cooked at best.
He wondered if he would ever understand the mysteries of this star, but he also realized that it didn’t matter. Just like interacting with people, the gains were in the act of getting to know them. The process of understanding was what led to development.
Anton had much to learn about stars. He didn’t think he would ever try to change a star that was bound to him, but he might change how he interacted with them. The connection inside of him might be refined to be more efficient. And perhaps Anton could smooth out the lifespans of some of his stars… though that scale was already so long he might do more harm than good by trying to change things, without even realizing it. There would be no way for him to make a meaningful observation about the change a star’s lifespan even if he lived another thousand years.
That was true even of his first star, providing warmth and energy to Ceretos. Anton knew that regardless of his lifespan, his end would come in some manner eventually. But he was just one life among many, and he hoped the people of the Lower Realms Alliance could persist far into the future- while maintaining prosperity, of course.