“There’s one of these ziggurats every 101.2 kilometers, equidistant around Rethymnon’s equator,” Brogan said. “A simple fractal pattern made up of repeating square tombs. There must be billions of aliens entombed in them for the structures to be so large.”

“And you know this how?” said Neilos. He exhaled heavily, momentarily fogging his suit’s helmet, from the exertion of walking in the thin atmosphere with his heavy load.

“It’s one of the great romantic mysteries of interstellar archaeology,” replied Brogan. “Who were they? What did they look like? Why come here to bury their dead?”

“Open the tomb and see,” Dragovic muttered. “Mysteries solved.”

“That’s not allowed. Grave-robbing and such,” said Brogan. “Once they realized these were tombs, the law said they’d have to leave them alone.”

“And what about us?” Neilos said.

“Neilos, I would break into King Tut’s tomb myself and throw him out of his gold coffin if it meant not dying on this rock,” Brogan replied. “I’m also hoping we’re near one of the things that was surveyed. Might be some equipment we can scavenge, or a castaway hut.”

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