“It shouldn’t be that hard,” said Neilos. “Check in the database for ‘planet with incredibly huge ziggurats’ and you’re golden.”

“If we had the complete database up and running, maybe,” Dragovic said. “But with a static backup? It’s a matter of searching broadly and narrowing things down.”

“While we wait here to die of oxygen starvation or, if we’re lucky, actual starvation,” Neilos said. “Wonderful. Take your time.”

Brogan returned from the overlook and handed the binocs back over. “There’s no need to look any further,” she said. “I recognize the structure.”

Neilos slapped his suit’s gloves together. “Oh good, you’ve been here before. Tell us about the garden spots, the best places for a light lunch.”

“Does the name Rethymnon, or Kresijos IV, ring a bell?” Brogan said. “You’d have heard about it if you were up on your archaeological findings.”

“Please, skipper,” said Dragovic. “Just tell us where we’ve crashed.” He looked over his shoulder at the approaching storm. “Preferably before we die.”

Brogan gestured at the distant structure, rising over the windswept valley and extremophile lichens alike. “Those aren’t buildings,” she said. “They’re tombs, the greatest precursor tombs known to exist anywhere, and we’re about to be the first people to see them up close.”

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