It only took a few years to urately predict that the Bloodsoaked Neb was going to end up somewhere towards the preferred end of the spectrum of possibilities. Another decade after that and everything had nicely copsed into a ck hole. They just had to figure out what to do with it.
“It’s so exciting!” Catarinamented. “The Alliance had terrible luck with ck hole cements so we haven’t been able to directly observe any before.”
Engineer Uzun nodded slowly. “Of course, this isn’t a <em>naturally</em> formed ck hole. With a bit of time we can presume it will normalize, but our observations of the early formation period will be quite a bit off. In a way, this is an extremely slowly forming ck hole. Normally, we should have expected it to form into a star. However, with the rate of material flow and the total quantity it broke past the normal limits.”
Technically, the <em>actual</em> copse into a ck hole took about the same amount of time as expected- just a few moments as it rapidly elerated. But it was difficult to get any sorts of sensors into the area during that time and for a while after as additional material continued to flow into the area, maintaining its momentum both due to kic energy and various upper energy rted factors. Possibly something to do with lingering will as well.
Of course, just because it had been <em>difficult</em> to get any observations doesn’t mean they were willing to give up entirely. They did happen to identally feed a few tonnes of material to the ck hole as it was formed from various unmanned vessels being swept up in things, but enough made it out with unique data that the losses were ignorable.
Various experts had been brought in to confirm that it wasn’t going to do anything… problematic. Diviners, empaths, physicists, and engineers of all sorts gathered to witness the lingering effects. Somewhere around a hundred systems from the imprecise region that had spanned tens of lightyears in three dimensions had been pulled into the area, with much material even now being absorbed or falling into a wide orbit.
As far as anyone could tell, the lingering will had subsided just as much as Koronis herself. The Domination cultivator’s death was actually quite a bit easier to confirm as the effects on the Creeping Fire Neb were easily observable with just a few spies in that territory. All signs of a Domination cultivator faded, which made things pretty clear even though Catarina only observed her death from a distance.
Catarina pursed her lips. “I think it would make a good nexus. The physical and metaphorical weight of this thing also happens to be conveniently located <em>vaguely</em> centrally. We could save quite a bit of energy maintaining our spatial distortions by taking advantage of the unique properties here, and we didn’t even have to <em>intentionally</em> create a ck hole!”
“That ambition… isn’t grand enough,” Uzunmented. “Then again, you are already a Domination cultivator, so it makes sense you wouldn’t consider its uses in that regard.” “Oh?” Catarina asked. “What are you thinking?”
“Well, it’s an amazing intersection of boundless energy… that happens to be locked up in a way that makes it nearly impossible to retrieve in any useful manner. The properties avable here have many intriguing uses. I might personally achieve something with this… unless someone can figure out a method faster than myself. In which case, I’m quite willing to let them try,” Uzun grinned. “At the moment, my ns for an anchor wouldn’t require much in the way of structural additions. Obviously I will have to undertake a long period of examination beforemitting to anything. We might still be able to use it as a formation core, but the calctions would be entirely different as an anchor.”
Catarina nodded. “So you believe you can extract Domination energy from the ck hole? Koronis <em>is</em> in there. Or what used to be her.”
Uzun shook his head. “I think that would be the wrong way to word it. I think I can generation Domination energy in rtion to the <em>concept</em> of the ck hole. I don’t have the guts to try to extract anything from a singrity myself. I wouldn’t rmend anyone try beyond what has already been done.”
“True. I couldn’t even get my <em>own</em> Domination energy back out,” Catarina said. “Any link was instantly severed past the event horizon.”
She considered there was a possibility that she would permanently lose some energy capacity, trying something like that. It was worth the risk to find out, and it would have only been a small strand. Even if she nominally generated Domination energy from her ‘anchor’- which happened to be numerous sr tforms throughout the Alliance- it still relied on <em>her</em>. So if she was damaged, her maximum capacity could be.
She had absolutely no intention of getting any part of her physical body anywhere close to the event horizon, though she believed she had the power to pull herself back from even a massive gravitational pull. They had drones for such risky maneuvers, and more than half of them were returning undamaged.
-----
Pictures of the ck hole were pretty cool, but Anton was disappointed that he couldn’t see it himself. Perils of being allergic to upper energy, he supposed. Or maybe the upper realms were allergic to him. He wouldn’t me them, given how he stole energy from some alternative future of himself that would never exist.
Fleeting Youth was a powerful conceptual technique that was still extremely unpopr. Nobody wanted to wait until they were old to properly cultivate, which removed the vast majority of potential candidates. The rest, even if they were nning to opt for Assimtion over Ascension, still didn’t want to lock off potential visits. After all, the Alliance throughout the upper and lower realms were quite close. Especially now that they could travel in both directions whenever they pleased.
It was a strange technique that spoke to Everheart’s genius, that he had created it to a level of satisfaction without actually practicing it. Or maybe he did, with projections or proto-clones or something like that. A grand technique with heavy restrictions, but even if Anton could bear the weight he grew tired of it.
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“And that’s why I’m going on a long trip,” Anton said to Bear Hug.
“To see… nothing?”
“To experience a ck hole,” Anton said. “Visually, it might be interesting for what it does with space around it. However, that’s not the most interesting part.”
“Okay,” Bear Hug nodded. “How long of a trip is it?”
“I’m expecting… at least five years each way,” Antonmented.
“I see. You need me for that long?”
“No,” Anton said. “I don’t intend to respond to anyone for such a time. They can handle things without me. So even if you ryed messages, I’d just have to ignore them. I don’t need you at all.” Bear Hug looked disappointed for a moment. “But I do <em>want</em> you toe, if you’re willing. Company would be nice.”
“Yeah!” Bear Hug said. “We can make so many friends along the way!”
Anton might have to extend his time estimate in that case. Even if they only encountered popted systems every fifty to a hundred lightyears and then spent no more than a week at each, that could easily add another half year or a year of dys. Even Anton himself might want to spend longer.
They’d have to think very carefully about what they brought along. Obviously the Alliance would want them to bring a bagful of recording devices. Nobody ever had enough observations of such things. Anton didn’t need food, and Bear Hug could transmit energy to themself from elsewhere. If they somehow were too far from the rest, they could probably make their way back. It would be lonely, but viable. Besides, <em>one</em> Bear Hug being lonely wasn’t too bad. Anton doubted that Bear Hug was ever <em>actually</em> alone. But they also seemed to have a supernatural limit for social interaction, both in terms of total quantity and simultaneous urrence.
Anton was bringing a lot of seeds. He’d never forgive himself if he found a hungry and didn’t have any way to help. Of course, normally he could make use of local products… but catastrophes happened.
-----
Despite the pretense, Anton wasn’t taking a trip that would span over a thousand lightyears just because he was jealous about people seeing a ck hole up close. That was only <em>part</em> of it. Instead, he was interested in going further than anyone else had. No, that wasn’t possible at this point. As it turned out, there were a lot of determined people. When incentivized to go as far as they could and equipped with ships that would function with little maintenance for decades… some people had gone quite a bit further, replenishing energy from random systems.
But aside from going for distance, they didn’t aplish much else. There were probably still valuable observations recorded in their vessels, but that was all.
If he was willing, Anton <em>could</em> beat them. He could perform his own maintenance and wouldst for more than a few decades in one direction if he just wanted to <em>go</em>. But he generally liked being around people too much- that was why he was limiting it to a trip that shouldn’t surpass a decade.
He chose a ck hole far to the east… because he wanted to see how far the influence of the upper realms stretched. Information about what was beyond the Trigold Cluster was minimal. Anton could hope that whoever was there- if they <em>were</em> there- were minimally problematic. If so, he wouldn’t actually hear about them in the lower realms. But presumably the shift in the tides continued all the way around the gxy. A wide circle of the sort of scale that Anton was quite leery of <em>any</em> cultivator surviving even going one lightyear per day. Somewhere around four of five millennia of travelling <em>far</em> beyond lightspeed.
As it turned out, gxies were big. Stars were big, and gxies had vast quantities of stars. Both were amazing. Anton had pretty much <em>always</em> known that, but his appreciation had been further instilled into him by Vandale. Rtedly, he thought about inviting the man but pulling a Domination cultivator away from the upper realms for so long might be a bit much. Especially since they couldn’t know how that might affect them. If nothing else, he would be weaker and thus <em>slower</em>. Distance from an anchor wasn’t usually an issue, but it <em>might</em> be after five hundred or a thousand lightyears.
Of course, with Bear Huging along Vandale wouldn’t actually be <em>slower</em>. Even if he dropped an effective phase, that was still more than Bear Hug who was still firmly in Integration/Assimtion.
-----
Previously, Anton had exined to Bear Hug that there were no green stars. Of course, Bear Hug didn’t actually <em>see</em> things so colors weren’t important to them, but they still wanted to visit a star that ‘looked like them’. That wasn’t possible. Or at least, it shouldn’t have been.
“This is why you can’t trust databases,” Anton said.
“Are people <em>liars</em>?”
“There’s that,” Anton shrugged, “But mostly it’s because they won’t always list what you’re looking for.”
In front of Anton was a green star. If ‘in front’ was correct for ‘still several systems away’. And if a green star didn’t have to be green itself. It was a product of a neb that happened to fit tightly around just that particr star. At least, from the angle Anton had. Their star charts weren’t terribly detailed this far out- though they <em>had</em> finished the initial ‘million stars’ project, exploring over five hundred lightyears in each direction in the lower realms. Anton was close to the edge of explored space, and already far beyond practical interaction points. The Lower Realms Alliance might eventually find it practical to expand their sphere of knowledge, but it would be at a measured pace as they expanded slowly.
“It looks pretty green,” Anton said. “Unfortunately, it’s still spherical so you’d need to turn yourself into a ball to look simr.”
“Like this?” Bear Hug asked.
“Perfect.” Anton took a few pictures, including one where he perfectly ovepped Bear Hug and the distant star. Bear Hug wouldn’t be able to get much from pictures, but others might. And Anton’s memory wasn’t so perfect that it was a waste to keep electronic records. “Time to move on. In a couple weeks, we can check it out up close.”
“Yay! Can you name it after me?”
“I’m not sure,” Anton said. “I think it might already be named.”
“It can just be a nickname then,” Bear Hug said. “Only we need to know.”
Anton grinned widely. “We can do <em>that</em> for sure.”