She wanted answers.

Kendra kept running until she reached the room that held the system console. The console glowed softly, illuminating the stone walls with blue light. An electric jolt ran through her hand as she connected to the system.

“You have returned,” it said.

“I need more information about the corrosion in the ruins,” she said. “I’ve seen where it sleeps, and I want to know everything that you know about it.”

The air of the empty white space surrounding her shimmered. “The corrosion interferes with the preservation of the ruins,” the system said. It sounded almost irritated. “Its presence impedes system function.”

“Why? How does it affect you?”

“Corrosion impacts our mental processes.”

“So it affects your mind,” she said. “You and the caretakers.”

“Restoration of the ruins is the system’s highest priority. Negative effects on mental processing impact our capacity to carry out restoration.”

“Are you or the caretakers able to feel what’s contained within the corrosion? In the crystals. Because I experience that information as memories and emotion. Do you feel that?”

“Yes,” the system replied.

“So you aren’t just machines, not the way we think about them. I can’t plug circuitry into my hands and expect to talk to my computer. You communicate mind to mind. This isn’t only about the corrosion affecting the ruins. It affects you.”

“For these reasons, the corrosion must be removed.”

“How long has it been here, as long as you?” Kendra asked.

“No.” It paused. “Converted to your measurement system, the corrosion was first noted five years ago.”

“Five years? That’s nothing compared to how long the ruins must have been here. Since your ship crashed here. Tell me, when did you arrive?”

“We have previously stated that our earliest logs were lost. System timekeeping is inaccurate, but at we have been here at minimum seven thousand years. However, this is irrelevant to the corrosion.”

“Is the corrosion intelligent? Is it a sentient being?”

“It is not meant to be here.”

“You aren’t meant to be here either,” Kendra said. “You may be missing data, but I want to know anything you remember about crashing here.” She visualized the metal hull and the room with its missing circuitry for emphasis.

The system responded with a data log, a rush of text and symbols. Kendra didn’t need to understand it to grasp that something had gone wrong. A hologram of a ship flickered into view. It was massive, with sleek curves and steep slopes, its dozen cargo capsules tiny by comparison. Error signals clouded the hologram, clustering over the capsules.

The ship neared the planet’s surface but did not crash; the hull had been breached, the capsules damaged. One capsule was punctured, spilling ruins into the desert, while another careened out of the sky and crashed into the cliffs. The system dispatched the caretakers to survey the damage, and they reported with another series of logs, which the system broadcast back to the ship.

“But your ship didn’t make it, did it?” Kendra pointed to the trajectory of the ship after losing the cargo capsule. “After the capsule was lost, the rest of the ship must have been destroyed. A crash would have left behind a lot of wreckage had it landed on this planet. But it didn’t. Maybe it cleared the atmosphere, made it off this planet first, but it was still destroyed. No one got your message, and no one came back.”

Hundreds of logs followed, and with them, thousands of error messages flashing before her eyes. There was an onslaught of information, much of it disjointed and incomprehensible.

Kendra raised her hands, about to tell the system to stop when fragmented videos began to play. The machines dug through the plateau, tunneling and laying down circuitry harvested from the ship. They collected bits of metal debris and repurposed it. Then they relocated the computer system and their fuel source.

“You and the caretakers tried to fix the capsule and the ruins. But the capsule was too badly damaged, so you improvised, reworked your circuitry into the caves,” Kendra said.

“Repurposed.”

She snorted, crossing her arms. “Repurposed, like the machines did with my things? They dumped my gear into their garbage pits.”

“Caretakers work semi-autonomously,” the system said. “Directed to repurpose material. Were they wrong?”

“Yes, wrong. Wrong, like how they tried to fix Antony’s arm. He had some bits of crystal, of corrosion stuck in his arm. Whatever the caretakers did changed his arm, made him lose it.”

“Corrosion was removed. Damaged material rebuilt.”

Kendra shook her head and blew a sharp puff of air out her nose. “That’s it? You were trying to repair him? It didn’t help. He wasn’t in any danger of dying, and now I don’t know what happened to him. I know my whole body is affected, but what about him? Were the changes to his tissue, to his arm local, or could they have spread through his body?”

The system paused. “Local change is the most parsimonious outcome,” it replied.

“So if he lost his arm, that should have been all he lost, right?”

“Correct.”

“Thank god,” she said. “But what about me? Because I don’t want to depend on this fuel to survive. I want to leave this place. I don’t want to wait out the rest of my life here, watching my body turn to dust.” She called up the horrible memories of seeing her own body crumbling. Of Antony’s arm.

“Kendra restored,” the system protested.

“But we don’t crumble into dust. That doesn’t happen.”

“Composition of the dust?” the system asked.

“What? The remains of Antony’s arm were mostly calcium carbonate, a combination of chalk and limestone. Why?”

“Are you not composed of the same materials?”

“Similarly, yes. Our bodies contain carbon, calcium, and oxygen in significant amounts,” she said.

“Do you not return to those elements?”

“Not the way his arm did,” Kendra said. “Composition doesn’t tell the whole story. I can understand some of the composition of your fuel, but it doesn’t mean I know how it works. Your chemical components alone can’t tell me whether you have a mind.”

“Your mind is intact and restored to full function. Restoration of ruins is incomplete. Impossible,” the system said, a note of frustration in its tone. “Restoration of Kendra was complete.”

“Why? I still don’t understand why. You don’t understand my biology, or I wouldn’t have ended up like this,” she said with a low laugh.

The system was quiet.

Kendra looked down at her hands. “I don’t know what kind of answer I expected.”

“Caretaker 03,” the system said. “Caretaker 03 expressed grief at Kendra’s death.”

A strange pit settled in her stomach. “Grief?”

Alerts emerged before her eyes. “The corrosion has returned,” the system said, and it closed their link.

A growing dread filled her as she approached the main chamber, her footsteps loud in the empty hallways. Frantic trilling came from inside the cave, and as she reached the sprawling golden ruins, darkness blotted out the sunlight that spilled in through the cracks in the ceiling.

Two caretakers hid near the stone steps in the middle of the room. Spotting her, the machines crept closer, cowering near her feet. Icy cold crept down her neck as she felt the sensation of eyes on her. She looked into the darkness that hung in the air.

The shadow unfurled into a dark mass. It lacked eyes, yet Kendra had no doubt that it was observing her, and that intelligence pervaded its gaze. The mass of shadows swirled, and her mouth twisted into a frown.

“Can you understand me?” she asked.

The shadow swooped down, swaying closer to her.

“I can,” it said, voice reverberating through the cavern. Its body flickered, moving like ink in water. “I have seen you before. Did you enter my chambers?”

“I did,” she said, keeping her voice as even as she could. “I was looking for equipment of mine that these machines discarded.”

“You woke me for a moment, but no matter. With these machines disturbing the ruins, I won’t be able to return to sleep,” it said.

“Then tell me something.” Kendra’s hands were shaking, and she balled them into fists. “The crystals. I saw more of them in your chambers. Are they part of you?”

“They are linked to my mind.”

“Meaning?”

“They are not part of me, though they respond to my thoughts, my attention, my will.”

“Then why do they invade the caverns? Is that your will?”

The shadow tilted its approximation of a head, sending purple light shimmering through it. “I do not understand. They ought not to be dangerous to you.”

“I want to know something. Antony—my friend and I fell into a pit full of crystals. These machines pulled shards from his arm, more than could have possibly been embedded in his muscle,” Kendra said, jabbing her fingers at her own arm.

“Despite their appearance, the crystals contain little physical matter,” it said. “They would not form a crystalline structure inside physical tissue. Perhaps the structure reformed upon extraction by the machines.”

“But how do you know?”

“I did not see that happen, so I do not know.” It paused. “Were there others in the ruins? I thought perhaps I heard voices as I slept.”

“There were.” Kendra crossed her arms. “You weren’t aware of anything going on in the ruins until now? Not the crystals moving and overtaking the ruins, not any of us?”

“I was not consciously aware. Show me, if you will,” the shadow said. “Show me the crystals that you say have overtaken the ruins.”

She glanced back at the caretakers as they slunk away into the vents. “Alright,” she said, and began to lead the shadow to the cavern below. It followed behind her, radiating an eerie coldness, and her chest tightened with anxiety. “Do you know the room with Asteracean ruins within the hull of the cargo capsule that brought them here?”

“I am not certain. What is Asteracean?”

“That’s our name for the planet where these ruins originated.”

Purple light passed through the shadow’s body, and it appeared to nod.

The crystals still blocked much of the path to the cavern. A tendril emerged from the shadow’s body as it waved them out of the way. The darkness blotted out what little light illuminated the tunnel behind her, creating the illusion of a void.

“I have not seen this cavern in this state,” the shadow said. It flew up into the middle of the room, above the ruins. Its edges rippled, and color coursed through it. From there it examined the far corner, where the longest crystals bent hung from the ceiling, forming intimidating spikes.

“So this place wasn’t covered in crystals the last time you were here?” Kendra asked when it returned, billowing above a nearby building.

“No. It was not.”

“Then what happened?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t intend to cause this,” it said weakly. “I feel something else. What became of the others who were here with you?”

“They’re gone. My friend lost his arm, and then they were evacuated,” Kendra said.

A chill passed through her as the shadow landed nearby. “But why are you here?”

“Because I died here,” Kendra snapped. “They left me here because I died in a cave-in. They came back, but the machines had taken me away. I can’t reach anyone off planet.”

“Then you cannot leave here, either.”

Kendra nodded.

The shadow drew back, angling itself toward the pit of crystals that lay nearby, gleaming like an open mouth. With an arm-like tendril, it touched a long, pointed crystal. Brilliant purple light bloomed within the glassy surface. “What happened here?” it rasped.

The crystals shifted, pointing themselves toward the shadow. Bright dots of light arced toward it, some like droplets of liquid floating through space, others like lightning.

“No, no, no,” it said, voice trembling. It gestured, holding out shadowy arms to stop the onslaught of whatever was emanating from the crystals, but that did nothing.

Kendra backed away. The crystals moved, but this time, they didn’t stay confined to the pit. They flowed outward, nearer to her, swaying back and forth.

“There are memories here,” the shadow said. “Some mine, some from others. I don’t want them.”

The crystals loomed over Kendra, casting their eerie glow on her face. A horrible groaning filled the air, reverberating through the cave. Kendra pushed back against the glassy surface in front of her, trying to move it out of the way. Instead, as she touched it, images filled her mind.

She was sitting in a chair, her gray slacks rustling as her foot tapped against the floor. She hooked her foot behind the chair’s leg to stop it from tapping, and she rested her palms on her knees.

A gray-haired man in a blue plaid shirt and navy suit coat sat in front of her. His slacks were rumpled, and his smile failed to reach his eyes.

“Listen, Seph,” he said to her. “I’d rather you hear it from me than through the grapevine. The university is closing in nine months.”

“The whole university? Why?”

The man shook his head. “I wish I could tell you more, but that’s all I know,” he said, laughing humorlessly. He leaned closer. “Look, I know you’ve been working on your tenure package. I was looking forward to reviewing it. You’re one of the best, Seph. I know you’ll be able to find another position somewhere else.”

The image dissolved and Kendra was back in the cave, blinking into the purple light. The shadow lay on the ground at the bottom of the pit, struggling to move as light bled into it, pinning it down. Its cries echoed through the chamber.

She pushed forward through the moving crystals that twisted unnaturally around her. Another emerged from the ground. Unable to dodge it, she threw her hands up, the light intensifying around them where she touched it.

More memories filtered into her mind, and she was speaking rapidly, panic in her voice. “What do you mean her shuttle is missing? How could it be missing?”

“We lost contact with the shuttle an hour ago. A second shuttle was sent to investigate, but it hasn’t arrived yet,” the operator said.

Her stomach dropped. “Can I have someone—can you call me back when there’s more information?”

“I’m sorry ma’am, I didn’t catch your name. Are you family?”

“My name is Bria. And no, not family, Iditri is one of my graduate students. She was on that shuttle. I can’t reach her family right now. So listen, please, tell me as soon as you know more. Please call me back.”

Kendra gasped as the crystal wobbled away from her. Crossing her arms tightly to her chest to avoid touching anything else, she rushed shoulder-first to the edge of the pit.

“Why did you bring me here?” the shadow cried from the bottom of the pit.

“I didn’t know this would happen!” she yelled. “How could I have known?”

A hiss rang out through the cavern, becoming a groan and then another cry. “I don’t want these memories. I don’t want them.”

Kendra climbed down. As she neared the bottom, her vision split. She saw the shadow lying there, and at the same time, she saw a vast nebula. Tall towers and columns rose from the swirling clouds. There was a flash of light and a thunderous crack. The towers fractured, breaking into pieces as the nebula itself splintered and faded from her vision.

The shadow lay on the ground in a crumpled heap. “Can you move?” she asked. But the shadow only shimmered weakly. The crystals encroached on them, and Kendra threw out her hand toward them, willing them to move back. They slowed but continued to advance.

At the bottom of the pit, the crystals crisscrossed each other tightly enough to close a hole in the metal. But what was below that? Kneeling near the shadow, she pressed her hand to the floor, her breath hitching as the red light bled from her fingertips. The crystals tilted and moved, forming a staircase into the dark below.

Cautiously, she touched the shadow. It was soft and cool, phasing partially through her hand. With some concentration, she lifted it from the ground. It felt like holding something between air, water, and fabric, and the edges of it draped down, trailing behind her.

She stepped down the staircase carefully as she could. The red light glowed around her boots as she made the descent, carrying the shadow. Then, below her, the darkness gave way to dim light.

There were no more steps, and she was falling. The shadow reared up, billowing around her and her fall slowed until her feet touched down on the floor of a cavernous chamber. Nearby stood the immense stone towers where she had first seen the shadow.

Exhausted, she fell to her knees. The shadow lay wrapped around her, tangled like a sheet. She extricated herself from it. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t know that would happen.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” it said. “I was overwhelmed. I apologize.”

She knelt near it. “Are you alright?”

“I will be in time.” It shimmered around the edges. “Perhaps then we could start over.”