Chapter 40
The reason the Corporation didn't attempt communication with the space eel seems to be because the Federation had concluded it was an unintelligent lifeform. Hearing such sloppy reasoning again, Kait felt a bit disheartened, thinking this wasn't going to go well.
When it came to the thought patterns of the space eel, he left it entirely to Gorou, the expert. He had handed over all the Federation's past data on communication attempts, hoping Gorou could find more clues than an amateur like him.
In the meantime, Kait had a meeting with the Corporation's branch manager to discuss conditions. This time, since it was between representatives, no need for polite language.
"So then, are the conditions acceptable?"
'I don't mind. Are you okay on your end? Depending on the situation, we may end up starting a battle at close range.'
"In that case, I'll crush you all with everything I've got. I'll fillet the space eel into three pieces while I'm at it."
The basic terms of cooperation were threefold.
First, to share all information necessary for communicating with the space eel.
Second, to cooperate in any and all attempts to communicate with the space eel, regardless of the method. This included some attacks. (This point was the most difficult to negotiate.)
Third, to stall the space eel's movement as much as possible. The Federation didn't want it approaching inhabited planets, and the Corporation wanted to observe it—so their interests aligned.
"Once the space eel approaches the containment limit of Planet Namibif 6, the cooperation ends. Understand that the containment limit will be the orbit of this artificial celestial body, Radia."
'Of course. Even if Star-Eater attacks Radia, we won't intervene. That's fine, right?'
"In that case, it means Radia has been recognized as a planet. That's great for the research."
Perhaps due to their first encounter, Kait couldn't stand the branch manager's attitude. Including Prosecutor MacDonnell, he thought it was unwise to easily trust them as allies.
The planet where lifeforms resided in the Namibif star system was provisionally named Namibif 6 for convenience. This was only until the current situation ended—if the beings living there developed intelligence and named their own planet, that would become the official name.
Either way, that was a matter for the distant future.
As Kait was lost in thought, the branch manager addressed him. From both tone and expression, there wasn't a hint of friendliness—just an unpleasant question.
'Captain Kait. What's your favorite food?'
"Donuts. Why?"
'So, is it correct to understand that what you're trying to do with Star-Eater is like the powder on those donuts trying to tell you "I'm alive"?'
"Yeah, something like that. A ridiculous attempt that defies common sense."
'I see. The Federation members forced to go along with your hobby must have it rough.'
It was sarcasm. He probably meant to say it was a hassle to be dragged into this too.
But if confirming the space eel's intelligence was too much trouble, then what exactly did they mean by protection?
Kait smiled, as if to show he wasn't the least bit offended, and asked back.
"Branch manager. What's your favorite food?"
'......Fried Karagie from Rudimeli. Why do you ask?'
"So the protection you're talking about is like saying the powder on that fried Karagie from Rudimeli is trying to protect you from external threats. Between my communication and your protection, which one sounds more like a hobby?"
There was no reply from the branch manager.
He just fell silent with a deeply displeased expression.
And so, without another word from the branch manager, the meeting naturally came to an end.
***
"Well. That said, the guy does have a point, doesn't he?"
Once the line with the Corporation side was cut, Kait sighed and looked at the monitor.
Behind him were staff members visibly annoyed at how Kait had been treated. Though now wasn't really the time for that.
As Kait ignored them and pondered, a simple question came from Emotion.
"A point, you say?"
"Yeah. We're the donut powder, and the space eel is me. That's the idea."
"No. In terms of volume ratio, we're more like viruses than donut powder."
"It's a metaphor."
"I see."
Quoting such an unpleasant metaphor as-is wasn't a good idea. When talking with someone like Gorou, maybe he'd switch to something like a water flea.
Still, even if a water flea tried to tell a human it was alive, the struggle would be endless.
The cry of a water flea... Yeah, that's not something you can hear.
"So, Captain. What do you think the success rate is?"
"Who knows? Even if we establish communication, it's probably fifty-fifty at best."
"What?"
This surprised not only Emotion, but also the staff. Including Terapolapaneshio, they all seemed to think that communication with the space eel was the end goal, which was a bit troubling.
"The space eel eats stars, right?"
"Yes."
"There's no guarantee it doesn't eat organic lifeforms too. What if it thinks we're a rare delicacy?"
"In that case... there's probably no room for negotiation."
"Well, if that's what it thought, it wouldn't have responded to our call in the first place."
In that case, the act of trying to communicate would be a grand waste of effort.
And the space eel would become a perfect natural enemy to organic lifeforms.
"What is the Corporation really thinking, wanting to protect that thing...?"
Even if the space eel was a natural enemy, would they still want to protect it?
The one point about protecting rare creatures. He realized he didn't understand anything about their thoughts or common sense.
Maybe he'd ask Gorou about it later.
***
'...Hmm. I understand that concern as well. But—'
"Nah, I don't actually want an answer. Just knowing that's the kind of look you'd make is enough."
Seeing Gorou's grim expression and the way he glanced around, Kait gave up on pressing further.
For now, it was enough to know the Corporation had its own distortions.
"So, Doctor. Have you figured anything out about the space eel?"
'Ah. If you mean Star-Eater, I've made some hypotheses.'
Emphasizing the word "Star-Eater" oddly strongly, Gorou showed them some documents.
'Within visible range, we didn't find any organs corresponding to eyeballs. However, I believe it's still acquiring visual information in some form.'
"Visual information?"
'Light. Space is nearly a vacuum. Sound is too limited for situational awareness. It might be producing vibrations by expelling air, so I wouldn't say it's completely absent.'
The space eel was said to follow the light emitted by star systems to find planets to feed on.
In fact, during battles with Federation fleets, it was reported to prioritize avoiding attacks with high light output. Even if it lacked vision, it clearly had organs capable of perceiving light.
'It was also confirmed to stop at a certain distance from stars. Likely, it uses the quality of light at that range to assess the state of the star system.'
Being a living creature, the space eel probably couldn't devour a star itself. Probably.
Its food was located around the star. While maintaining distance, it would approach the planets in the star system and feed.
Vision came first, followed by hearing. If it had vision, then Federation ships were likely too small to be noticed.
Gorou also had some hypotheses regarding Terapolapaneshio's psychic power.
'Regarding the failure of telepathy, I suspect it's a frequency issue.'
"Frequency?"
'You know radio, right? That old-timey thing that transmits information via electromagnetic waves.'
"Yeah. I've got some knowledge of the classics, so I kind of get it. Radio frequencies, huh. Makes sense."
The emotional outburst at the moment of death was likely not related to frequency, but just a dying scream.
Kait found that explanation reasonably convincing.
'So then, how do we make them aware? That we, as microbe-like beings, possess enough intelligence to communicate?'
"What can you do? Since ancient times, the best way to say 'I'm here' has always been through stimulation."
Do they even have pain receptors?
Kait's thoughts, having reached a dead end, began drifting toward a rather simplistic direction.