Kendra descended the crystalline staircase, her boots tapping against the softly glowing stone. The being had created the staircase to connect the abandoned cavern of Asteracean ruins with the chamber where he lived. It gave Kendra a quicker path to him, which proved useful when they hauled lab equipment and a small generator from the rover to the cave.

The being sat on the floor, surrounded by cords as the generator humming softly nearby. With some effort, he flipped a switch with his finger, turning on an old machine used to visualize DNA in agarose gels. He bent over it, looking content as he sunned himself with UV light. It was strangely endearing.

“Hey,” she said as she approached. “Is that helping?”

“I believe so,” he said. “What was your term for the energy this gives off?”

“UV light. Ultraviolet light, that is.” She sat on the ground beside him. “If you need to be above the atmosphere to draw in energy, I’d say it’s likely you can use UVB or UVC light. They’re shorter wavelengths, and typical atmospheres block UVC light.”

He nodded. “That would explain why I have such difficulty absorbing energy here.”

“Do you think these power sources can charge your ship, or do you have to transfer energy to it?” Kendra asked. Nearby, the massive columns of the ship vanished up into the darkness high in the cavern.

“Normally, the ship would draw in energy and recharge itself,” he said. “In this case, I may have to funnel energy to it to wake the database—the ship’s mind, that is. I am not sure of the correct term, but perhaps you would consider them to be an AI.”

“Does the ship have a will of its own?”

“Yes, we believe so. In some ways its mind functions like a machine, and yet, the ship also possesses aspects of a collective consciousness.”

Kendra nodded. “But the ship is a different type of being than you are.”

“That’s right,” he said. “As we understand, the collective intelligence of our ships was born from the mind of a great entity. A long time ago, my people formed an agreement with this entity, whose mind had been fragmented. We created a technology the fragments of their mind could interact with, forming these ships.”

He glanced over to the stone columns of the ship, sadness evident in his expression. “At some point, the great entity fell into a deep sleep, never regaining consciousness. The collective mind of the ships changed, becoming more influenced by our own technology. But there used to be many ships, many parts to make up the collective mind. Now there aren’t.”

“How many of the ships are left?”

“I don’t know,” he said as he met her gaze. “When we fled, we lost contact with the other ships. Some were wiped out instantaneously. Blinked out of existence, like a star disappearing from the sky. Those that might remain must be too far away to communicate.” He folded his arms. “The ship’s mind is intelligent and communicative, but they were meant to remain connected to the other parts of their collective.”

“Like how you couldn’t remove part of a physical brain and expect it to function exactly the same in isolation,” Kendra said.

He nodded.

“I’m sorry the ship has lost its companions, but I appreciate learning more about them,” she said and offered him a small smile.

“I’m happy to speak with you,” he said.

“There’s something else I wanted to ask you. For your help, that is.”

“Yes?”

“When I … died, the machines picked through my things and dumped what they didn’t want into the sand pits. That was why I first visited this cavern, and I need to know if I’ve missed anything,” Kendra said. “It’s easy for things to slip through the cracks here.”

“I’m afraid I don’t think your belongings reached this cavern,” he said. “The rock here is riddled with holes and deep crevasses. Anything that fell too far out of reach may be difficult to retrieve.”

Kendra nodded. “I understand. All I would ask is that you search the sand in the nearby caverns.”

“I would be happy to. Shall we go?”

She knew two caverns where the machines dumped their refuse, both of which had sandy tunnels leading to unknown places below. In the first cavern, the being’s shadowy form sank into the sand, and he returned with little but small plastic fragments and wires.

The being flew on ahead of her as Kendra trekked to the other cavern. Anxiety buzzed in her chest. This search might yield nothing, and then what? Did she return to her experiments with the caretakers’ fuel? She climbed a rocky pillar up to the higher cave and spat sand from her mouth.

Kendra heaved herself up from the hole in the floor and rested on the dusty ground. The being hovered near a cluster of crystals growing from the wall.

“I don’t completely understand what these crystals are,” she said. “You say they aren’t part of you, but they are linked to your mind.”

The being tilted his head in consideration. “They are a rudimentary building block, one that is sensitive to thoughts and emotion.”

“Like a brick, but one meant to be manipulated with the mind?”

“A brick is a rather static physical example, but I suppose physical beings cannot typically manipulate matter with emotion.”

She shrugged. “You could use a brick to build something or you could chuck it at someone, depending on how you’re feeling.”

“I suppose that’s true,” he said. “These stones contain little physical matter, despite their appearance. Instead, they hold memories. Feelings.”

“I experienced some of your memories. We all did.”

The being rippled with purple light. “I am sorry for that. Many of them were not pleasant memories.” Then he disappeared into the pit of sand, and Kendra waited. The sands shifted, pouring into the middle of the pit like glittering sugar in a funnel. Her stomach ached as memories of dinners with Jerome and her parents drifted through her mind. She thought of baking cookies and pies, and the smell of warm dough in the oven.

The being emerged, tendrils wrapped around a small rectangular object. He held it out to her. “Do you know what it is?”

She held it up to the light. “I’m not sure. It resembles a circuit board, but it looks old. Ancient, even.”

“Can you use it?”

“Maybe.” She looked at him. “I’d like to examine it better at the lab.”

As they reached the main cavern on the ground level, the floor shook. Kendra wobbled and braced herself against the stone wall. They hurried out into the desert, the being flashing a distressed pinkish color as he floated behind her. The ground vibrated beneath her feet as they crossed the desert outside, and there was a crash from higher on the plateau, the sounds of rocks clattering and landing with dull thumps in the sand.

“That sounded like a landslide,” she said, a cold chill of anxiety rushing through her. She ran to the hidden space in the cliffs where she had stowed the rover, and small rocks came rolling toward her, touching the edge of her boots. A piece of the rover’s metal chassis stuck out from beneath a pile of rocks.

“No, no, no, not this,” she said. She raced to the pile of rocks that had tumbled down the plateau, covering the rover and littering the ground. “The rover is my only way across the desert. I can’t lose it.”

She scrambled over the rocks on to reach the rover and rolled the biggest stone off. Slowly, she uncovered it and pulled until it rolled free. She swept rocks and dust from the front seat and sat down, starting the ignition. It sputtered. Smoke rose from the hood, and Kendra grunted, trying it again.

She slammed her palm on the steering wheel and tried it once more. The rover inched forward across the sand and stopped. Kendra climbed out of the vehicle and stared at it. “I don’t know how to fix this,” she said, as acrid smoke wafted up from the rover’s hood, and she dropped her hands to her sides.

The being settled next to her. “Is there anything I can do?”

“I don’t have parts here—I have nothing,” Kendra said. She kicked the front bumper as though that might jostle the machine into working. Why did this have to happen now? A sense of despair was growing in the pit of her stomach. She couldn’t think through the haze of anxiety. If she couldn’t fix the rover, how could she ever hope to contact anyone?

The being shimmered and extended a small tendril of shadow toward her. “I know you will find a solution,” he said.

She touched her fingers to the shadow, finding it cool and soft. Sighing, she held onto him, dropping her shoulders as she tried to calm herself. The being edged nearer, settling lightly against her side.

“I might have an idea,” she said, and then wrenched open the rover’s trunk to retrieve a white, rumpled package. “The rover came with a sail. If I can make the rover light enough, maybe I can catch the wind.” She removed the compartment and the metal arm, stripping away any equipment the vehicle didn’t need to run. Then she attached the sail. It rippled as the hot desert air hit it.

“Let me help,” the being said, and he flew into the sail. The rover’s wheels turned, and it creaked as the wind pushed it across the sand.

Kendra started the rover. The engine coughed, and the wheels turned faster. “Is it too heavy?” she called, but the being built up speed until the rover was moving over the sand at a clip.

“No, the wind is helping.”

“No kidding!” she shouted as the breeze whipped through her hair.

They reached the top of a dune, building speed on the way down. Dust and sand flew past her as the rover sailed over the sand. As they were passing the temple, the engine failed, but the sail was enough to keep the rover moving until they reached the research station. Kendra rolled the machine into the garage, and the being floated down beside her, coalescing into bodily form.

She smiled widely at him. “You did great.”

“I’m glad I could help. I was surprised I could fly that far,” he said with an echoing laugh. “Will you be able to fix the rover?”

“With some luck.” She pulled back a plastic tarp, revealing a stack of boxes, which she searched through until she found a heavy crate. “Rovers like this are designed with modular parts. I can swap out this compartment to fix the engine.”

The being handed her tools as she worked, and soon the rover hummed to life again. Kendra rode it around the building, heaving a deep sigh of relief.

They returned to the lab. He stood beside her as she examined the strange computer part under the microscope. “I’m no computer expert, but I’ve never seen something like this.” She leaned back in her chair. “We downloaded copies of the linguistic databases. I can see if they recognize any of the characters engraved on the device.”

“Do you think it belongs to the machines in the ruins?”

“It could, but I don’t know why they would throw it away. I’ll run an analysis of the material to see how old it is as well.”

While the research station computer ran its analysis on the part they’d found, Kendra sat beside the being on the roof, overlooking the vast desert. “Antony and I came up here to sit and decompress.”

“You and he were friends, weren’t you?”

“Yeah. I wish I could tell him I’m still alive,” she said and stared up at the moons glowing among the millions of stars. “I feel so cut off from the world I knew. Most of my family is already gone, but I was glad to have a familiar face on this expedition.”

The being sat, resting his chin against folded hands. “It is an unfortunate thing you and I have in common to understand isolation in this way. Still, I am glad to know you.”

She met his gaze. “Me too. I’m glad to have you here.”

“I am sorry to hear that your family is gone,” he said.

Kendra blew out a long breath out between her teeth. “My family was unlucky, in a way. Our genetics make us unable to use the most common treatments that can extend people’s lifespans.”

He folded his hands, a look of concern on his face. “I’m afraid I have little basis of reference to understand.”

“When I was born, my parents and I had routine medical checkups. We found out that both sides of my family have gene variants that reduce the effectiveness of the treatments to slow aging.”

“How do those treatments work?”

“The most potent treatments boost the body’s ability to repair damage to our DNA and organs,” Kendra said. “The treatments don’t prevent all cosmetic aspects of aging, laughter lines and gray hair and whatnot. They tend to freeze your external appearance somewhere around early middle-aged. My parents didn’t have brief lives, but it was a blow to realize they might live only half or a third as long as their friends.”

“That would be difficult. I assume that affects you as well?”

“It does. Worse, since I inherited those alleles from both parents. Still, I wanted to explore places all over the galaxy and learn as much as I could. I didn’t expect to get married,” she said and shook her head, her mouth curving into a wistful smile.

The being nodded. “What was your partner like?”

“My husband was a scientist involved in farming and agricultural research, so he worked with animals and plants,” she said. “We met when I was in grad school. He’d finished his master’s degree and worked in the same university town. I went to a café to get a drink that reminded me of home, but I forgot my money. He was behind me in line and bought it for me.”

She shook her head and laughed. “After that, we started talking. I surprised myself, because I asked him out without a plan. Got nervous, couldn’t even think of a good place to get dinner. He suggested going up to the best telescope on campus for our first date.”

“That sounds wonderful,” the being said, and his eyes crinkled with warmth.

“It was.” She folded her arms. “He had a congenital disease that was chronic but well-managed, and he knew it would limit his lifespan. When he told me, his face was so grave, and I didn’t know what to say, so I told him about my genetic issues.”

Kendra huffed. “Neither of us knew how to react, so we started laughing like we were in on this morbid joke,” she said. “There was some comfort in imagining that neither of us were likely to be alone long.” She stared down at her palms. “We were wrong, though. He passed away about five years ago now.”

“I’m sorry,” the being said. “What was your life like when you were together? You lived near a lake, didn’t you?”

“We did. We both enjoyed hiking and being outdoors. Even with his heart, his doctors recommended moderate exercise to keep him strong. He would sketch and fish, although I got bored fishing easily,” she said. She tilted her head toward the being. “I don’t remember telling you about the lake.”

“I have an image of a man with reddish blond hair on a dock,” he said. “Sunlight glinted off his hair and the lake. Purple seaweed floated in the water, flowing back and forth.”

Kendra paused, holding her hand to her mouth in thought. “So you received that memory through the crystals? I remember that thought flooding back to me when we were trying to escape the ruins,” she said. “What about you? Do you have a family?”

“I had guardians and mentors early in my life,” he said. “Later on, I became what you might consider a curator or archivist. I have been more solitary than most, primarily enjoying the company of our texts and databases. Still, I have had a few partnerships over the years.” He hunched over, a slew of expressions passing across his face—he looked almost sheepish. “From what I learned of physical beings in the ship’s database, you may consider them romantic partnerships.”

“So, love and warm fuzzy feelings?”

“Yes, all that. I’m afraid I have been a substandard partner, however.”

“Why?”

“I have had two partnerships of moderate length. One partner thought I was too dour, that I became sad too easily. It is true, but saying so didn’t help. The other partner rejected much of the emotional sharing and mental connections common in our culture. I thought perhaps they were right; maybe we share too much, and it would be easier to keep my emotions contained.”

She raised her eyebrows.

“It didn’t go well, as you may have guessed,” he said ruefully. “Despite their stance on emotional sharing, they seemed to want emotional support, and it felt that no matter what I did, it was never that they needed.”

Kendra pursed her lips. “I don’t know your partners, but it sounds like they had their flaws. Besides, calling someone ‘dour’ just isn’t very nice.”

“And yet I can’t deny that I struggle with my emotions and spend too much time in my mind. Naturally, being alone for so long did wonders for that,” he said.

“Sarcasm?”

“Indeed. What you’ve seen and experienced in the caves, that manifestation of the crystals … that shouldn’t have happened. I think it is a symptom of my mental state being inflicted on your reality.”

Kendra shook her head. “Doesn’t mean it’s your fault. I don’t blame you for any of it, and as far as your old partner is concerned, I don’t think it’s good to be too closed off. I think sometimes people aren’t in the right place to make things work, and they’ll try to rationalize that in all sorts of ways.”

The being nodded. “You may well be right. I still find it easy to blame myself because it somehow makes me feel I have control over the situation.”

“Goodness knows I’ve tried to rationalize my situation,” Kendra said. “I thought I made peace with losing my family and husband. That I grieved for them, and for the longer life I wish I had. But being here trapped here makes me feel like I did something wrong.”

She stared into the sky, back at the two moons rising on the horizon. “When I reached the research station and got the rover back, I thought I had a chance to understand what was happening to me. That I had control over something,” she said. “But I know that science doesn’t always win. There’s no guarantee that I’ll be able to understand what happened to me, let alone fix it.”

“Yet I hope that if we work together, perhaps we can both leave this planet,” the being said.

“On that note, why don’t we check on the samples in the lab?” Kendra asked.

They entered the computer room next to the lab. A scan of the computer part rotated on the screen, and the progress bar for the analysis hit 99%. After another moment, the results popped up, and Kendra scrolled through them.

“Doesn’t look like the tech is a good match for anything in the database. But wait a sec.” Her eyes widened. “It looks like the writing is Asteracean.”

“The ruins are Asteracean, are they not?” the being asked. “What does it mean that this computer part is Asteracean as well?”

“It means I need to know how ancient it is.” She hurried to the lab and drummed her fingers against a boxy gray piece of equipment until the report popped up on the screen. “Estimated at 9,200 years old,” Kendra said. “The Asteracean ruins are all around 12,000 years old. That’s earlier than the first spacefaring age, 8,000 years ago.”

She tapped the lab bench. “Our research team wanted to understand how these ruins ended up on this planet. We’re nowhere near Asteracea. We could never analyze the machines in depth, but we argued over whether the machines came from Asteracea.”

“It would be consistent that Asteraceans would be most interested in transporting Asteracean architecture, yes?” the being asked.

“Absolutely. But these ruins pre-dated major advances in spaceflight that set off the first spacefaring age. We know some cultures attained limited spaceflight before then. Traveling to local moons and planets in the same solar system,” Kendra said. “It’s a monumental feat of engineering to build a ship that can cross the galaxy. Especially if your ship is carrying tons and tons of stone ruins.”

“Certainly. Are you able to access the information on this computer?” he asked.

“No, I can’t. Can you?”

“No. My ship may have been able to glean something from it, but it still lacks enough power to come online,” the being said.

“That leaves the Asteracean computer system itself, though I don’t trust that AI. It hasn’t harmed me, but our interactions haven’t been enjoyable.” She ran her fingers over her chin, smoothing away tiny grains of sand still stuck there. Then she turned to the being, searching his face for a reaction. “If I interfaced with the system, could you watch me? Could you pull me out if I go in too deep?”

“Potentially,” he said. “I cannot interface with it directly, though I can catch bits and pieces of information running through it. It’s all very disjointed.”

“It uses some sort of mental interface that requires a physical connection. But I agree, it is disjointed. It spoke to me before of missing data.”

“That stands to reason,” he said. His brows furrowed, and his eyes shimmered under the bright lights of the lab. “For me to monitor your link to the system, I would need a connection to your mind.”

“What does that mean for you?”

“I would be able to hear some of your thoughts and feel your emotions. Not all of them, of course, but I would likely hear anything you discuss with the computer system.”

“I’m fine with that if you are,” Kendra said. “I trust you much more than I trust the AI. If you’re willing to help me, I’d gladly do that.”

“I’m grateful to have your trust,” he said. “Know that I will help you as best I can, but I can’t guarantee your safety.”

“I know.”