Rial stared down at Mead as it finished its explanation.

“That’s the simplest you could manage?” he asked, not really hoping for an answer.

Mead did not reply.

“So you mean people brought some kind of… of greater consciousness with them when they came to this planet?” The sentence felt alien even as Rial spoke it.

“Or the consciousness brought the people, but in essence, yes. You have grasped the root of the idea,” replied Mead.

“And this planet is trying to defend itself?”

“At a basic level, yes. You shouldn’t think of these awarenesses in the same way you think of individual people; there is very little to no sentient thought as we recognise it involved. However, it can and does react to the same external stimuli lower-level life forms do. A direct competitor has appeared, you could even say a predator, and a reaction has been stimulated.”

“But we’ve been here for… I don’t know how long. For aeons! Why…”

“Judging by this unit's internal isotopic decay along with the decayed level of scientific knowledge of present societies, in the region of a thousand years at least.”

Rial paused, frustrated to be once more thrown off track but unable to stop himself asking.

“What do you mean, ‘decayed?’” he asked.

“You possess mathematical, evolutionary and geographical knowledge inconsistent with what I have seen of current technological ability. My explanations to you have often contained reference to geological and biological themes that you understand despite a lack of equipment and the theoretical underpinnings to detect such things. This infers that at some point in the past you have lost the ability to produce such technology but have not yet forgotten the information gained from it.”

“We learn what we can from the books,” replied Rial.

“Exactly,” continued Mead. “Your feudal social structure also indicates such a deterioration. The tranche of customs and fealties belie a far larger community than your village in fact contains. My software can only reach one conclusion; the capabilities of the planetary population have decreased.”

“So we’re decaying.”

Rial sighed and stared into the stream as a reddened leaf floated past, spinning in the flow.

“I still don’t see why the planet would react like this after we’ve been here so long. From what you say, we’re becoming weaker by the day,” he said after some time.

“The process operates on a timescale of geological ages. The deterioration in social and technological standards may well have some relation to such a reaction.”

“This seems like a lot of information for you, Mead,” said Rial, hoping to find some reason not to believe the weapon. “Most of the time you don’t have an answer for anything I ask, but suddenly you know all about planetary consciousness?”

“I am a weapon,” answered Mead.

“Yes? So?” Rial said impatiently.

“I contain a database on all living things, including the theoretical.”

“So that you can determine if something is alive?”

“Incorrect. I exist to determine what can be killed; and anything that lives can be killed.”

There didn’t seem to be much to say after that, so Rial didn’t say anything. Instead, he stood up and flung Mead into his pack, perhaps harder than was strictly necessary. An impotent fury was building up inside him, fury at himself, at Mead for telling him such things, at Rei for abandoning him, at his companions for leaving him. It was an aimless, formless anger, and it writhed in his stomach.

He camped that night amidst the towering tree trunks, a little away from the now-clear stream. The poisoned foliage of the area had hardly begun to recover, and he made a bed from a pile of dried and crackling crimson leaves. He lay there on his back, Mead at his side, staring at the stars that glimmered between the tops of the trees and struggling to switch his mind off. It took a long time for sleep to find him.

He dreamed that night, vividly. He dreamed that as he lay there, eyes open and locked on a single white star that glimmered above him between the whispering leaves, Gryrne was watching him.

He hardly noticed at first. The moon light was broken by the branches through which it fell, dappling the forest with patches of light and shadow that made surfaces and edges indefinite and gave life to the vegetation swaying in the breeze, creating shapes and forms in the darkness that confused the tired mind. It took some time for Rial to realise one of these shapes remained solid and pale where others changed, warped, or became part of one another.

Gryrne stood amongst the tangled branches to one side, eyes glinting violet in the swaying beams of moonlight that crossed his face. His features were long and drawn, pale save where the scratches from khiladri claws cut livid lines across his cheeks. He stood motionless in the night, focused solely on Rial.

Rial lay there and looked back, peering through narrow eyes to see his old friend in the shifting shadows, unafraid as he floated in the dream.

A particularly strong gust blew through the trees and the shadows shifted once more. When they settled, the apparition of Rial’s dead friend was gone. Rial fell back into dreamlessness.