The Tserri elders march sedately down the wide hall. The simple coloration of their clothing is striking as they walk past the variegated patterns of the onlookers.

  Missing is Jetanda. The elders are on their way to see her.

  The crowd is as silent as they can be, hushing the smallest children. Even the most rambunctious are somber today. Leather clad nomads stand amidst groups wearing station casual. The tourist are also respectful, though they do not understand why the others are so restrained.

  Every member of the security team, from every squad are on duty, guarding the elders on their procession.

  Ship-Mother Eva Chel works with a reduced staff today. Most of her administrators are down among those filling the main tunnel past capacity.

  "Everyone wants to see her off," comments the Ship-Mother quietly.

  Desra nods from her place in the command center. Her stomach rumbles loudly. "Sorry," she mumbles. Her claws click busily at her workstation.

  "You could be singing campaign songs and I'd be glad for your help," answers Eva, looking up from her tablet. "You're getting a promotion for staying with me."

  Her gray furred arms freeze in shock. "Wh- No! That's not-"

  "It is," insists Eva. "Everyone else but you, me, and the warlord's ghost are taking their turns at the burial heights."

  That's just her agitation getting the better of her, I'm sure. She's usually very polite.

  "You're getting my old job," the Ship-Mother continues smugly. "You've been doing it anyway, might as well get the benefits."

  Another console begins to beep loudly. Desra leaps from her seat and dashes over. She enters a quick command and the main screen switches from a view of the elders on their procession to Donna using a public terminal.

  Donna is in her uniform but unarmored. Her ears stand straight up from her head and her eyes are wide open.

  "I just got a message from Zsuchus. Benn and Grita found a door. They're working on getting it open now."

  "Denn, can you put the view from one of their suits on screen, please?"

  Desra splits the main screen in half, so I use the blank half for what Grita is seeing.

  Ceramic walls curving at smooth angles form an irregular shape jutting from the bones of the planet. Yellowish brown from age, the patterns of raised shapes upon them are visible in the evening light.

  Grita turns to the right and a thin oval seam is just barely visible. Benn steps in front of her so I switch to his suit's camera.

  He sees the patterns converge next to the oval into the vague shape of a hand. The number and placement of the fingers is different from those of a Selber. The gray people possess only one thumb on each hand, but the imprint has two.

  "Try to activate it," orders Donna.

  After a brief delay Benn responds, "Understood."

  He places his gauntlet onto the wall. Nothing happens.

  "Without the gauntlet?"

  "If you're willing to take the risk," allows Donna.

  "I am," confirms the medic.

  "No," interrupts Grita. "Let me. If there's something dangerous, how do you expect me to help you? I don't have medical training."

  They wait for additional orders. Eva is the first to speak. "She makes sense. Benn, stay back."

  Benn steps aside and Grita takes his place at the sealed door. She removes her right gauntlet and turns to look at Benn.

  The medic nods encouragingly back.

  "Right."

  She presses her thin gray hand onto the ceramic wall. Rumbling echoes over the comm channel. Grita jumps back from the door.

  "Sorry," mutters Desra. She rubs her stomach in embarrassment. Her gut growls again, angrily. "I'm taking a break. Um. Sorry."

  The grieving Tserri runs from the room.

  "Would you try again, please?"

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  "Sure, Donna, sorry."

  Grita shakes herself once then walks back over to the door.

  "You sure you don't want me to do this?"

  "Shut up, idiot," Grita spits back at the medic.

  "Mos," whispers Eva. "Could you please alert their security that they might need assistance?"

  "I can do this," insists Grita. She jambs her hand onto the wall and holds it there.

  Dust grinds between ancient ceramic plates. The door whines as it opens, revealing a dark recess.

  A light shines past Grita. The beam bounces as Benn steps up behind her.

  "No life signs. Not even bacteria. Air's stale, but it's the local mix."

  "Put your glove back on, just in case," commands Donna.

  While Grita retrieves her gauntlet from the melted stone, Benn steps closer to the doorway. It reaches above his head with ample clearance. This door is meant to allow for the passage of very tall beings.

  They enter together, though I continue to use Grita's camera. A short hallway leads to a wide chamber. Dust coats the furniture. Cup-like seats set far above a usable position for the pair ring the round room at generous intervals. Eighteen odd seats in all.

  Two more doors lead in either direction from the entrance. Abstract markings label each, but without context they are meaningless. By some mutual unspoken agreement, they both turn to the left exit.

  Another hand shape next to the door causes the explorers to request orders.

  Donna snorts her irritation. "Do it."

  "Understood."

  Once more Grita removes her gauntlet and presses her naked hand against the ancient device. Less dust invades the mechanism of this door. It opens with a soft whisking sound. A light on the other side flickers but fails to stay active.

  Eva Chel mutes her pickup, then mutters, "Kind of strange that works. You'd think her biology would be too different for the machines to recognize."

  She's right, of course. "Who can know the mind of an alien? Perhaps the creators had no enemies and thus didn't even think of security."

  She quirks one thin shoulder at my conjecture, clearly not convinced. "Or maybe they wanted it to be easy to explore."

  I'm about to respond, but Grita speaks before me.

  "This hallway continues around with a slight bend. I can make out more doors, but little else. We're going deeper."

  "Go ahead," confirms Donna. Behind her the crowd follows the progress of the elders. Occasional snippets of their conversations reach the pickup Donna speaks into. "Just stay together."

  "Yes, Donna," answers Grita. Her voice quavers with poorly suppressed fear.

  I check Fren's suit and find him and Oolian heading to the entrance of the buried artifact. The two of them joke about some kind of walking corpses from a tri-vee program they're both fans of. Foolishness. Still, it is good that they recognize there could be some unknown threat inside and are acting accordingly.

  "Fren is bringing one of the planetary security with him," I inform those listening. "They're approaching the entrance now."

  In Oolian's grip is a Skeetum Arms model seven. I'm unfamiliar with the weapon, but it vaguely resembles Gelly's rifle. The same metallic silver in color, the device has a single long barrel much wider than the SAm20. A bulky ammunition hopper rests atop the otherwise sleek killing tool.

  "Have them wait outside for now," Donna decides. "If there's trouble inside, I'd rather not lose them all at once."

  Eva presses her thin lips together, but that is her only response. Eyes locked onto her screen, Donna pays more attention to Grita's advance than to her superior's reaction.

  "Should we include Bucket in this meeting?" Donna's ears flick as she inquires.

  "No, they wouldn't be able to offer any insight we don't already possess," concludes Eva. "Mos, make sure they receive copies of everything we're seeing, though. Maybe there's a pattern we can't see."

  The tall hallway down which the explorers carefully tread is barren of any debris or loose equipment. Only placards on the gently curving walls break up the sterile monotony. Upon the slightly raised signs are more incomprehensible markings.

  I create a small data base of all the different symbols the pair encounter. Including the raw videos of the placards should allow the translation software a decent chance to decipher the strange script. The program runs smoothly but is unable to deliver any meaning from the scraps of writing I feed it. It will require more before it can make any real progress.

  "Let's try this one," recommends Benn, stopping in front of a random sealed door.

  "Why not," remarks Grita. She places her bare hand upon the indicated spot and the door slides into the wall. The lights within flicker to life. Over half of the glowing panels immediately burn out, but the rest shine a warm yellow light into the cramped room.

  "Do those look like power banks to you, Grit?"

  "They do," replies the explorer. "A little larger than the ones we use, but yeah."

  The two enter the room, standing close together in the close space. Around them rows of battery packs reach from floor to ceiling. Many of the indicator lights upon the bulky devices are dark.

  "Not much charge, looks like," comments Benn. He reaches out to touch one of the dead batteries.

  "Idiot!" Grita slaps Benns hand away before it can make contact.

  "It's dead," grumbles Benn. He doesn't try to touch another, contenting himself with capturing video and electronic scans.

  "Try another room," recommends Donna. "Maybe we can find out what they needed so much power for."

  As the two exit the small power station another light burns out. The machinery inside the artifact suffers from uncounted ages of neglect. That so much remains functional is no small miracle.

  The next room they enter vaguely resembles Eva's office. The table is taller and much thinner, and the chairs are instead high cuplike things, but the purpose of the room is obvious. The surface of the table lights up when the door opens, though nothing else inside reacts.

  "That looks like Denn's room," jokes Benn, pointing to a panel below the dominant high bucket seat.

  Grita nods absently, staring at the smooth top of the high table. Flickering red lights rise from it and congeal into the air above it. A model of the planet in crimson tones takes form. The positions of the continents are incorrect, badly out of date.

  While Grita gazes with awe at the scarlet projection, Benn quietly moves around the desk. His eyes remain upon the panel.

  "Benn, no!"

  Too late comes Donna's warning. Benn's gauntleted hand presses against the panel and it slides aside. A dimly glowing sphere rests inside the recessed alcove. Darkness mottles the surface of the hidden core. Lightning arcs from the nearly dead energy core and connects with the medic's body. Blue-white flares, blinding both cameras momentarily.

  Benn's suit fries instantly. His once gray skin, now black, sloughs off of his skull as he collapses to the floor.

  "Noo," wails Grita.

  Without taking the time to put her gauntlet back on, she pulls the steaming corpse out into the hall. Static bites at her fingers but she only winces and keeps pulling. While she works, I catch a glance at the orb in its alcove.

  It is black and dead.