Chapter 7: Supernova

Taelor can find the libraries digital representation just fine. Sifting through its clumsy interface to find what they search will take time and patience, though.
"Wait, right here? I can't believe it. Yes, do show it to me!"
The crew and the soldier, leave the office and the camp and quickly find the shell crater. It looks exactly the same and Taelor leads private Ryan and whoever wants to follow down to the bottom of the unnatural indentation, right to the boulder that blocked the entrance from sight from above. But there is no hole. Taelor looks closely and can recognise the boulder, location and everything, even her boot prints, Elan also confirms her findings, but the hole is not there. There is not even signs of it having been filled or closed or other boot prints, it just vanished. Private Ryan ask impatiently "So where is it? It's not here, right? I didn't think so, otherwise we would have found it before."

Taelor paces around the crater, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. She stomps on the ground where she's certain the hole had been to see if it sounds hollow or wobbles or something. "What the fuck..." She looks at Elan. "This is the right spot... isn't it?"

As the nerd grows agitated, she smiles at him apologetically. "I ain't a local, must've gotten turned around... sorry for wasting your time. I'll come find you if I stumble upon it again."

Elan folds his arms over his chest and gives Taelor a look.

"Your first thought wasn't a time loop. What's your second thought?"

Taelor chuckles and looks down at the ground, kicking a rock away. "Uh... shifted to a parallel universe?" Her head shoots up. "Oh! Metadimensional pocket space that collapsed when we removed the box!"

"Look, we've had three examples of weirdness," Elan says. He holds up three fingers in the English, not German, manner.

"First, in the lab, we had the piece of detritus flying about half a meter before it teleported back and did it all over again.

"Second, we had the sergeant glitch out on us, repeating himself in a very curious manner. And I saw a distortion around him, just like I did in the lab when I put the tablet into the phenomenon.

"Now we've got a disappearing hole."

Elan gestures unhelpfully to the place where there is no hole. He pauses for a moment and then looks for any distortions around where the hole used to be. Is it something only he can notice because of his cyberware, or can the others pick up on it too? He keeps his eyes trained on the area while he keeps talking.

"I said it before, but I think something is going on here in metadimensional space. Something that bends time, or makes it replay itself. What to do about it, I don't know, other than we should probably conclude our business and remove ourselves from the vicinity."

"It's a mystery! Like an actual mystery! Shouldn't we stick around and try to solve it?" Samara gasps dramatically looking from Elan to Taelor. "What if you were chosen‽ The psion is beside herself with excitement.

Taelor gives Sam a dubious look. "Chosen by what?"

She shakes her head and chuckles. "Look, I can try and find something on the Library's site while we wait for the quartermaster or whatever to check out our shit, but other than... I got no fucking clue where to look. All this woowy stuff isn't really my jam. I can't just shoot it or poke around it's innards and figure out which wire to clip, you know? This is more your thing," she says, gesturing at Sam and Elan.

"I guess you could... meditate on it or some shit?" she says, vaguely remembering some old flick with space wizards.

Elan stares blankly, unsure why Taelor thinks that he'd be any more capable of solving a mystery.

"This is Rena's jam," he deflects. "I have basic theories but no practical knowledge in how to confirm or reject any hypotheses.

"Right now I know we're, one, in danger of being shelled, two, in possible danger of being caught up in whatever temporal weirdness is going on here. Both of those things make me want to leave sooner rather than later.

"Am I curious? Yes. Did curiosity kill the cat? Also yes. If it's all the same to you, I'd rather be alive and ignorant than dead and well-informed.

"Unless there's an obvious way forward, let's move our goods and then move ourselves."

Disappointed and confused, the crew heads back to the ship,theorising about what just happened.
Back at the ship, Elan and Sam prepare the arrival of the inspector, Elan by preparing the "papers" and checking once more that everything is accessible and in order, Sam by preparing a plate of canapés.
Meanwhile Taelor turns on the cryptic disc.
First she opens the electronic portal of the library of Yanarta. It is pretty clumsy and it takes a long time to find something written in the same language/font as the disc. Some historic document of which only a preview exists. But there seems to be an interpretation available so Taelor starts feeding the computer the inputs. It is a cumbersome job and takes a very long time,since the available sample is very small.
In the process Taelor notices that, by sliding the finger clockwise or counterclockwise on the top of the disc, it is possible to flip pages.
Eventually the computer spits out the content of the page that was opened initially. It seems like an entry of a logbook and given the content and the fact that flipping pages only works in on direction on this entry, this seems to be the last entry.

Quote :

**Experiment: Project Temporal Nexus**

As we venture further into the realm of temporal manipulation, our pursuit of understanding the mysteries of time takes a decisive leap with the inception of Project Temporal Nexus. Our goal is to extend the scope and duration of our time manipulation experiments, attempting a more complex and prolonged temporal alteration than ever before. The implications of success are profound, yet the risks are equally daunting. However, our relentless pursuit of knowledge compels us to push the boundaries of what was once deemed impossible.

**Hypothesis: A Longer Reach**

The fundamental premise of Project Temporal Nexus revolves around our belief that the capabilities of the Chronodex can be harnessed to manipulate time on a larger scale. We hypothesize that by using the Temporal Synchronization Node in conjunction with multiple temporal devices, we can synchronize their energies to create a temporal resonance network. This network, we believe, will amplify the Chronodex's temporal powers, enabling us to extend temporal manipulations over days, perhaps even weeks.

**Plan: Step by Step**

1. **Energy Calibration:** Before initiating the experiment, we must calibrate the Temporal Synchronization Node and the Chronodex meticulously. The synchronization process is delicate, requiring precision to ensure the harmonization of temporal energies.

2. **Energy Amplification:** Once the calibration is complete, we will introduce additional temporal devices within the Temporal Synchronization Node's field. This will create a network of interconnected temporal energies, boosting the Chronodex's capabilities and expanding its reach.

3. **Temporal Coordination:** The success of Project Temporal Nexus depends on the precise coordination of temporal energies. To achieve this, we will engage a team of skilled temporal navigators who will work in tandem to control the network, synchronizing and guiding the temporal flow.

4. **Observation and Monitoring:** Throughout the experiment, we will maintain rigorous observations and data recordings. The results of temporal manipulations over extended periods are unpredictable, and we must be prepared to halt the experiment if unforeseen complications arise.

5. **Safety Measures:** Given the unprecedented nature of the experiment, we have established various safety protocols. Emergency cutoff mechanisms and exit strategies have been implemented to ensure the well-being of all involved.

**Caution and Contingency:**

We acknowledge that the potential consequences of Project Temporal Nexus are significant. Alterations to the fabric of time could have far-reaching effects, and we must tread carefully. As we proceed, we remain steadfast in our commitment to caution and ethical responsibility.

**Final Words:**

Project Temporal Nexus represents the culmination of our collective knowledge and aspirations. Our dedication to unlocking the secrets of temporal manipulation is unwavering. With hope and trepidation, we embark on this journey into the unknown, trusting that our efforts will yield insights that enrich the understanding of time itself.

May future generations, if they ever find this record, learn from our endeavors and exercise wisdom in their explorations of the temporal frontier.

Taelor straightens up on her stool in the workshop as she considers the implications of the disc's record.

"Goddamn it," Taelor says with a pout, as she pictures Elan's smug face. "It is a fucking time loop..."

If Elan is in a celebratory mood, he doesn't show it.

"Mmm," he says. "What's really going to bake your noodle is... how do we know this isn't from the future?

"Oh, sure, it uses the old font, but there's no point to sending things forward in time to an uncertain future. Unless it's a specific investment, it's just a waste of current-day resources. Far more effective is to send something back in time to a when where you know that it will be useful."

He shrugs, unperturbed about paradoxes or the ouroboros nature of time or any of that. He doesn't have the mental horsepower to come to any different conclusions than any of the scientific geniuses who have contemplated the issue over the course of history.

"All we know is that it happened - or is going to happen - and it's probably outside of our ability to stop it. Or promote it, what do I know. But based on the state of the lab, it doesn't seem like things ended well for Project Temporal Nexus, and that should probably be our lesson to extract from this exceedingly odd situation."

Taelor gasps in surprise as Elan seemingly materializes out of nowhere like some sort of spirit from an urban legend, summoned by the chance to say "I told so". She was stunned he hadn't spun around in a highbacked chair, petting Turtle, with a triumphant grin etched on his face. She listens to his spiel with a glare, waiting for the gloating, but the thief shows commendable restraint. It does little to temper Taelor's annoyance at having been wrong.

"Fuck if I know, fuck if I care. If this contains the secrets to time travel, we should chuck it into a star. No one should have that kind of power. At least, like you said, it doesn't seem to have worked out great for the people from Project whatever," she says with a look at the translation. "I don't think we want some power-hungry freak finishing what they started, though."

Samara peeks out from behind Elan to exclaim "Wait! Why would we get rid of information about time travel? We are not power-hungry freaks! We might be able to help people!" Having spent much of her life with the ability to perceive echoes of the probable and of the possible, she is fascinated by the prospect of certainty.

Elan feels the pull of profit motive deep within, but this time he's not so sure about it.

"It didn't end well for Project Temporal Nexus," he says again. "Odds are good that we would meet the same fate."

He thinks back on his wayward youth. Really he's still in the middle of it, but he thinks back to the earlier parts of it.

"I've spent a lot of time, ah, laying low," he says. "I've done a lot of reading. Lots of sci-fi, lots of action and adventure stories. Time travel is a common theme.

"There's an idea called the chronology protection conjecture which says that the laws of physics allow for time travel, but that the universe is constantly self-correcting to prevent it from happening. This could be done a variety of ways, such as the spontaneous creation of black holes or the emergence of new physical laws at high energies.

"Now from the temporal loops, we know something is possible. Something that doesn't violate the second law of thermodynamics, or the grandfather paradox. But that doesn't mean that there aren't other consequences.

"If Rena were here and could opine on it then I might be willing to entertain a different line of thought, but personally I'm neither capable of, nor interested in, following in the footsteps of Project Temporal Nexus. That path seems to lead to the grave, or oblivion. Not sure which is worse.

"Until then, I'm inclined to see things Taelor's way. Spacing this into a star seems like a prudent, if unprofitable, move."

Elan's knowledge is impressive and leaves Samara little recourse outside of teary eyes and a frustrated pout.  "I don't know what  chronological projections are, or how thermodynamics applies to granddads," she wails hopelessly. "I just thought that maybe..." at a loss for how to explain the allure of knowing, Samara is struck by a thought: Is this why Elan wanted to know the possible?

She had never really considered what it might feel like to have a sense of certainty be within striking distance and yet still somehow out of reach It isn't very nice, and gives new meaning to Mother J's admonitions.

Unwilling to give up on the disc, but unable to advocate for her position, Samara makes the subconscious decision to shift the topic.
"So we should make sure that there is still a fight and that the base still needs our cargo?"

"Never knew you were such a nerd," Taelor says to Elan with an amused grin.

She turns to Sam. "For now, I say we wait and see if the Sarge's cargo checkers show up."

The quartermaster and another soldier arrive a while later. After the required pleasantries are exchanged the crew shows them the cargo. They diligently inspect everything there is to offer.
Afterwards, the quartermaster randomly takes samples and inspects the weapons in detail. After having disassembled and reassembled some of the weapons skillfully, he nods and turns to the paperwork.
"Everything seems to be in order. We are mostly interested in the ammunition, in terms of weapons we don't have as much of a gap. What prices did you have in mind."
While the quartermaster talks to the crew, then other soldier stands a bit in the background, listening to the conversation.

From a negotiating perspective, Elan knows that the person who gives a number first generally loses. That said, Elan is worried that the people he's talking to are going to glitch out and start repeating themselves.

I wonder if I can get paid multiple times, he wonders idly before shaking off the thought. No, he really just wants to go, and if that means giving a number first to get the ball rolling then he will.

We paid 103,500 for the whole lot, he reminds himself. Twenty-three tons times 4,500 per ton. Then we need to be compensated for our time, risk, and the wear-and-tear on the ship. He's conscious of the shell it took, which might require repairs above and beyond the ship's expected maintenance. Maintenance is 20,750 every six months, which is half of what it should be thanks to Taelor's expertise.

A typical profit margin for might be 30%. However, we may want to go higher on a war-torn planet, as there is likely less competition and a greater need for the product. In other words: supply is low, demand is high, especially for the ammo. Of course the purchasing power of these people is what we really don't know, but those gunrunners we ran into earlier were toasting their good fortune.

It's time to start tossing some numbers out.

"80,000 for the ammo and 80,000 for the weapons. However, we'd prefer to move it together so we don't have to break things up and make multiple stops. If you take it all, we'll give you a 20% discount on the weapons. So that's 80,000 for the ammo and 64,000 for the weapons, so 144,000 total."

Maybe not his best speech. He'd feel more confident if he were wearing his big-boy suit, but that would feel a little gaudy in a war zone.

Elan needs to buy time to do some math in his head. He stalls.

"That the 20% discount was contingent on taking everything. If you want the ammo but only half the weapons, then it's only a 10% discount.

"That's 80 for the ammo, 40 for the weapons, minus 4 for the discount. Makes for 116,000¢."

That's more than they spent, so that guarantees at least some sort of profit, but what are they going to do with a half-load of weapons but no ammo?

"Who else might want the rest of the weapons?" he asks, figuring that quartermasters must know other quartermasters too.

The quartermaster stops for a moment, contemplating. Realising the most likely other customers are his direct foes, he hesitantly starts "Well,... when I think about it, the offer is very fair of you. And it is not like the goods expire, right?" He tries to add a laugh to his joke, but it comes out very insecurely. "I will advise my superiors to initiate the payment and we will be here tomorrow, to pick up the goods."

"Very good then," Elan says, then shakes on it if that's a custom on this planet. If not he'll bump elbows, or blink rapidly, or bow, or do whatever the quartermaster does to signal an agreement. "We have a deal."

He smiles inwardly. I did it without my big-boy suit! he exults. Hopefully the women would be fine with the agreed-upon pricing. Elan really has no idea what a standard markup is for gun running. But if the deal goes through it's about 40K of profit. That's about a 40% return on their investment, which is a pretty good return for a few days of risk.

Of course, that's all dependent on the deal going through and payment being delivered.

"Let's find somewhere safe to hole up for the night," he says to the others once the quartermaster leaves.

"Not sure there's such a place. In orbit would probably be the best, but last time we flew, we got shot at, so..." Taelor shrugs.

Evening falls, aside of some distant rumbling (which could be a thunderstorm or artillery) everything is quiet.
The crew just sat down for dinner, when a message reached the ship.

Quote :

Attention Crew,

Word has it the Sisterhood's eyes are on your little weapons deal. You're about to have uninvited guests – they're gearing up for an inspection, aiming to arrest you and seize the cargo.

I suggest you vanish into the shadows for a while. Find a secure hiding spot planetside, and lay low until the Sisterhood loses interest. They're monitoring the orbit closely, so attempting to flee the planet might not be the wisest move. Keep your heads down, and I'll try to gather more intel to help you navigate this mess.

Stay sharp,
Your Silent Ally

"I wonder why the Sisters are making these choices. They could simply ask us not to make the sale.  This makes me wonder if they have even tried talking to the soldiers!  They are not going to make any progress if everyone is hurt or worse, angry."

Samara goes from thoughtful to righteously indignant to sad, before finally perking up again. "Well, at least we made a new friend!  Let's decide where to go while we eat. Once we have a plan... " She fidgets with a serving spoon, trying to muster her courage. "Once we have a plan, I can get a sense of how well it will work! On the short term. If nothing else changes... Um..."

She slowly sinks in her seat, a blush of shame lightly coloring her cheeks. She isn't sure if she would prefer that the crew put no stock in her gift what if it can help‽, or come to rely on it what if it makes things worse‽ and so immediately regrets putting the option on the table.

Taelor stabs at her food aggressively, her annoyance plain on her face. "I ain't got no clue where we could go. We don't know shit about the situation on the ground and we can't fly high enough to get a good look without being shot at."

She puts her fork down and pushes her plate away, half of her food still on it. She leans back and crosses her arms. "Our "friend" could have given us some coordinates or something. Feels like when someone yells "watch out!" when something's flying towards someone else's head and it just makes sure they get hit in the face instead of the back."

"I suppose we could move closer to our clients' camp. The Sisters won't be making an inspection there..."

Elan is immediately suspicious when someone describes themselves as a "friend" or an "ally".

But that's Elan. Now he's sitting next to Samara, who makes friends and could probably inspire followers if she had any ambition to have her own cult. Given her propensity to make friends wherever she went, Elan is a little more trusting of an anonymous "ally".

"Well I don't think the Sisters sent the message," he observes, "so we should do as they suggest.

"The principles for hiding a ship are the same as hiding a person: find cover, break line-of-sight.

"When we first, ah, landed here we landed in hilly terrain," he continues. "Let's go back there. Maybe we can find a chasm or some sort of valley between hills that we can slip into. If it's unpopulated, the Sisters won't be firing in that direction. The hilly terrain will make it harder for them to scout, and might disrupt their sensors too.

"And, once we get there, Samara will tell us if we've found a safe spot or not. Right, Samara?

"Taelor, it will be fun! The only trick is stay low. Just think of slaloming through canyons, squeezing through tight rock formations, then dropping us down in the middle of some soft glen. It'll be great."

Elan looks ready to fly the ship if Taelor won't.

"Ehn, I grew up flying through asteroid fields. A canyon won't be much of a challenge." Taleor sighs. "Still, I suppose I should do it since we might get shot at."

She stands and brushes some crumbs off of tank top. "I'm gonna go do the pre-flight checks. We can get going once y'all are done eating."

moarhair wrote:

"Our "friend" could have given us some coordinates or something. Feels like when someone yells "watch out!" when something's flying towards someone else's head and it just makes sure they get hit in the face instead of the back."

"It was only the one time! And Graham said that it was okay!" Samara exclaims before remembering that no one else had witnessed the comical series of events that had led to Graham turning just in time to get a faceful of vegetable peels.  She is lost in thought, smothering giggles at the recollection, and hearing Elan say her name snaps her out of it.

"Uh, yes... Yes!"

Samara clears the table once everyone is finished eating. With the crew fed and uninjured, she has no actual tasks on the ship, and finds herself thinking about the disc.

Elan is content to let Samara clear away the table.

He chases after Turtle and, after a game of cat-and-cat-burglar, he secures the cat for takeoff.

"C'mere, you," he says, flexing his telekinetic shields to frustrate Turtle's claws.

Once he's satisfied that the forces of acceleration won't pancake the cat onto the inner hull, Elan takes a seat in the cockpit and straps in. He studies Taelor's technique as she flies, trying to pick up tips and tricks.

Taelor flies the Undertow fast and low, hoping to stay off the Sisters' radar, and using whatever she can (ruins, hills) to break lines of sight. She uses an erratic, hard to predict flight pattern as she takes them towards the hilly terrain suggested by Elan.

Once they get there, she starts looking for a place to land that'll provide them with some cover and a limited number of approaches.

Taelor flies the Undertow semi-erratically close to ground, to avoid any tracking. The terrain lends itself to the course, being hilly, but with occasional rock formations. The bizarre contrast of untouched peaceful nature and occasional burnt villages or battle grounds is horrifying. Only military is nowhere to be seen.

She eventually lands the ship on a plain, between two hills and some rocks that look like three needles, but not unnaturally so. It is early afternoon, occasional clouds are scattered across the sky, the branches of the few trees that are scattered over the hills gently sway in a slight breeze. The temperature is comfortable and it is quiet outside. Some wildlife noises that the group cannot definitely place are the only sound, except for the rustle of leaves.

"Right, very good," Elan says as they land.

"I'll scout the perimeter. Maybe climb one of these hills and get a look at the surrounding area."

Granted, they just had this view a moment ago when flying in, but it's different with your feet planted on the ground.

"Let's see... Lola, you want to come with me, or climb the other hill?  

"Samara, how does this spot feel? If it's good, do you want to see if there's anything interesting to forage for dinner?

"Taelor, are there any more repairs to be done or have you taken things as far as you can without a shipyard? Let's make sure either you or I are close to the ship in case we have incoming. The ship can depart and anyone not on it can lay low until the coast is clear."

"Ok Elan! I am not the best at foraging, but on the plus side that means that I got to find out that there are some plants, fungi, and even animals that are toxic to eat but still delicious! " She chirps happily. "Animals! Can you believe it? Oh! Remind me to tell you about the time I learned that I could undo poisonings! I was so tired afterwards!" She smothers an airy laugh with the back of one of her hands. "Um, anyhow... I'll let you know what this spot might feel like soon."

The scene before them is serene. The sun's rays are velvety warm against Samara's skin, while the occasional touch of the light breeze is silky and cool. She fills her senses with the sights, sounds and tastes of tranquility before reaching out to glean the site's - and therefore their own - near future. Would the gentle rustling of leaves be replaced with the crisp crackling of their fragile structures collapsing beneath heavy, trudging boots; or drowned out by the roar of thrusters; or worse yet, the cacophony of combat?

Sam concentrates on the time to come and a scene manifests before her eyes.

Spoiler:

The the scene fades and she is back in the now.

Samara takes in the scene, stock still. When she allows the overlay of the potential future to fade from her senses, it is accompanied with a beatific sigh. " 'Too beautiful a day to wasted on idleness'," she murmurs to herself. "That's what Mother J would say..." She lowers her head to stare self-consciously at her feet, but rallies. "We could like it here! Soon feels like now!" Samara punctuates the word "now" with a sweeping gesture towards the vista before them, with its comfortable quiet; punctuated only by the creatures whose home this is, and the rustle of leaves.

"I've done what I can. We're space-worthy, the problem's all the itchy trigger-fingers on this rock," she tells Elan.

"I'll hold down the fort. Y'all enjoy your hike."

Elan nods, content with Taelor's and Samara's responses.

"Off I go," he says. He heads out with Betsy, his compad, and his metatool, which has limited use in rural settings but Elan would still feel naked without it.

He also brings some binoculars with him, as well as some energy cells for Betsy. "Just a little snack," Elan tells her, packing three of them. He also carries three Lazarus patches in case he dies three times. A force of habit, really. A canteen of water goes on his hip, and then exits the ship.

Elan heads out, looking around for a good hill that looks like it would have a commanding view of the countryside. He's not concerned about cliffs or other steep approaches, as his gecko anchors will make short work of those. In fact, a steep-but-direct cliff would be preferable to a slow elevation gain over an extended distance.

Elan pays attention to the local fauna as well, alert to potential threats.

"Did we answer the person who warned us? I know that we should not tell them where we are, but we should at least say thank you, right? Find out if they will contact us again when it is safe, maybe? It would feel better than only relying on..." she holds her hands out, one palm up and then other palm down, and then lines them up as well as she can, which is quite close but of course not perfect.

As Elan steps out of the spaceship, the gentle breeze carries the crisp scent of the surrounding flora. The hills undulate gracefully, a sea of grass rippling under the azure sky. To the west, a remarkable rock formation looms, its jagged silhouette etched against the skyline like a sentinel standing guard over the valley. The air is filled with the distant sounds of wildlife, and a sense of tranquility pervades the atmosphere.

Venturing towards the rock formation, Elan is struck by the peculiar arrangement of stones near its base. It's not a random formation; rather, the stones seem deliberately placed, forming a circular pattern. Elan examines the stones, noticing faint engravings on some of them. They depict symbols reminiscent of an ancient language, very similar to those he saw on the discs hologram.

As Elan contemplates the significance of these symbols, a soft humming sound fills the air. Looking up, he spots a small drone hovering above. It seems to be surveying the area, its mechanical eye focusing briefly on him before continuing its patrol. The drone is unmarked, lacking any clear identification of its origin or purpose.

Choosing to follow the drone's path, Elan finds it leads towards the crest of one of the hills. Upon reaching the summit, a breathtaking panorama unfolds before them. The valley stretches out below, revealing more of its hidden beauty. In the distance, a herd of graceful creatures grazes peacefully, their presence adding to the serene ambiance.

However, Elan's attention is drawn to a structure nestled in the valley, partially concealed by the hills. Nothing is moving around it and the local flora claimed a good deal of it. The drone is headed towards the structure.

Another AKA wrote:

"Did we answer the person who warned us? I know that we should not tell them where we are, but we should at least say thank you, right? Find out if they will contact us again when it is safe, maybe? It would feel better than only relying on..." she holds her hands out, one palm up and then other palm down, and then lines them up as well as she can, which is quite close but of course not perfect.

Taelor frowns. "No, we didn't call back. I'm not even sure we can. I'll look into it." As Elan heads out, Taelor makes her way back to the bridge. Turtle, nestled in the pilot's seat, lifts his head and glares at her, daring the young woman to try and claim his throne. Taelor waves him off. "Don't worry, I'm not here for that." She sits down at the comms. Turtle lowers his head slowly, his hateful stare finally disappearing behind the armrest once he's satisfied he won't be chalenged.

Taelor brings up the message from their self-appointed "Silent Ally". She checks the transmission log, pulls up the message's code and checks for any traces of its origin, as well as if there's a way to message back.

Elan enjoys the fresh air and the peaceful, rolling hills. He uses his compad to snap a picture of the rock formation, trying to capture the faint engravings so that he can review them later.

When the drone passes over, he comms an update to the ship.

<<Just got spotted by a drone. Don't know whose it is; it's unmarked. Not sure if it saw the ship but it definitely gave me a look.>>

At the crest of the hill, Elan takes out his compad again to capture the view. Things look different now with panspectral optics, but if anything the beauty is magnified and enhanced beyond normal levels of perception.

<<I see an overgrown structure in the valley below. The drone is headed that way. I'm going to check it out.>>

Perhaps he is being lured into a false sense of confidence by the beautiful, serene surroundings. But his general impression of menacing military installations is that they are busy places with a lot of commotion and do not tend to have herds of grazing creatures nearby.

Could just be a farmer, he thinks to himself. With the drone out looking for stray animals.

Or, given the state of natural reclamation, perhaps it is abandoned and the drone is simply following some long-forgotten routine.

Let's go see if I can make some friends. Why should Samara be the only nice one?

He gives Betsy a pat to reassure himself, just in case his silver tongue turns to lead.

Elan's curiosity piqued, he approaches the enigmatic structure. A dome, a weathered amalgamation of ancient stone and faded metallic alloys, unfolds its details as he draws near.

From a distance, only the curved top of the dome is visible, concealing what lies beneath. Intricate carvings and symbols etched into the exterior.

As he cautiously nears the structure, Elan discovers an arched doorway adorned with faded glyphs, slightly ajar. The door, revealing signs of recent disturbance, prompts questions about who might have ventured here before him. Running his fingers over the worn patterns on the stone, he catches a faint scent of ancient dust lingering in the air.

The slightly ajar door invites him to step into the unknown and explore the traces of those who may have come here before him.

Given his history as a cat burglar, Elan is more than accustomed to slipping inside buildings even when he's uninvited. Usually there's an element of breaking and entering, but in this case no breaking is required.

He takes a photo of the structure with his compad and sends its location to the ship so they have a sense of where he is.

<<Taking a peek>> he comms.

He uses his panspectral optics to see if there are any radio emissions radiating from the structure. Such signals won't stop him from going in, but will inform the level of activity he is expecting.

He does his best to be discrete. Whatever opened the door could still be present. He tiptoes around, favoring the dark so that his optics give him an advantage over anyone (or anything) present.

Elan steps into the dimly lit interior of the ancient structure. The atmosphere is tinged with a sense of antiquity, and the curved walls are adorned with faded symbols and carvings. The air is still, carrying the weight of ages. Elan's eyes adjust to the subdued light as he takes in the surroundings.

The central space is relatively small, the dome overhead creating a sense of containment. The symbols on the walls, illuminated by stray beams of light, dance with an enigmatic beauty. The floor is smooth, with patches of dust undisturbed for years.

As Elan explores, he notices faint imprints of footprints leading toward the center of the chamber. These tracks, left by the prior visitors, are barely discernible and reveal a purposeful exploration rather than aimless wandering. The footprints seem to converge around a particular area, suggesting a focal point of interest.

The center of the room is a round shelf. There are foot prints around the shelf, on the shelf dust is disturbed as if something was quickly removed.
Elan can not see where the foot prints end or exit.

Elans panspectral optics show little of interest. Just on one side of the room a cove in the wall shows some sort of radiation, that is foreign to Elan. If anything it reminds him of what he saw in the bunker next to the military base.

Elan takes the scenic route around the perimeter, walking along the walls and trying to get a sense if there are any rooms in this facility or if this central space is the entirety of the structure.

Elan isn't exactly an archaeologist, but he tries to compare the depth of the undisturbed dust to the depth of the dust in the footprints he found. His goal is to get a sense of how recently the footprints were made. Today? A year ago? A decade? A century? He'll use his own steps in the dust as a point of reference for what a fresh footprint looks like.

Elan doesn't trust the cove emitting some sort of radiation, as it makes him think that there is liable to be some temporal weirdness present. Still, curiosity killed the cat so he inevitably finds himself wandering closer to investigate. Maybe there will be a vision of what the room once was, or what used to be on the pedestal.

Taelor dedicates herself to the mysterious warning message the ship received. First she checks the obvious, but the senders digital signature is encrypted, with no public representation. The address from where it was sent is also a bust - some kind of redirect server, the message could have originated anywhere.
After a while without any leads, she gives up.

The dust on the floor of the room is not very thick. Either it hasn't been abandoned that long ago, or there was simply not enough dust to settle, or some draft made sure not too much would accumulate.
The other set of tracks however look very similar to Elans, whoever was here, was here recently.
The dust on the center shelf has a few rectangular shapes spared out, that are disturbed on the corners.

On the walls Elan can see some writing, that could easily be the same writing as they saw in the holographic log entry.

The little cove in the side wall looks like some kind of shelf. It is about half a meter in width and height and a little less in depths. The dust on the shelf says that it hasn't been used in a long time, but in the center of it, some radiation radiates upward. However Elan does not see anything else unusual on or around the shelf/cove.

Elan takes some pictures of the writing on the walls. He's not sure what he'll do with it, but it will save a return trip if he ends up needing them.

He searches around for a pebble. If necessary, he'll go outside to find one. Then he'll put it within the radiation well in the center of the shelf to see if anything happens.

If not, it's time to head back.

Tecumseh wrote:

He takes a photo of the structure with his compad and sends its location to the ship so they have a sense of where he is.

<<Taking a peek>> he comms.

Samara practically squeals with excitement at the message.  <<    >> which one might interpret as reading FOR SCIENCE!!

As he continues to explore, Samara's elation becomes a mix of concern and curiosity. Eventually she writes again.
<<   >>

Followed by (mainly) actual words.
<< R U OK?>>
<<Is it interesting?>>
<<R U sciencing?!>>

A pebble is quickly found (much faster than these words). Elan lops it into the energy field and... It flies through the field, hits the back wall, bounces off and drops to the floor. The field is undisturbed and the pebble remains still on its final resting place, comfortably lying in a bed of dust.