Though the ride to the abandoned Volanter vessel was short, Meladee checked all of the seals on her suit, over and over. Everyone else sat in silence, except for Benham, who had done some space walking in his days of extreme tourism.

He chattered on about those days. Meladee repeatedly rustled her suit and missed a lot of it. The gist was that he’d explored asteroids and stood upon platforms for viewing comets. He’d even climbed a mountain that went so high, it pointed straight out the atmosphere. His planetary adventures and his life, in general, made Meladee’s seem tame.

As they neared the abandoned vessel, Benham imparted some advice. “Just go slow to start. Oh, and it’s best not to jump. We won’t have gravity, and we won’t stay put without our boots.”

Meladee didn’t think anything he said would help her. She was just going to stick to him anyway and complain whenever she needed help. He was her man, and it was her right to pester him for aid. Meladee tuned out the advice and looked out the window.

The Volanter ship floated amid a sea of flotsam. Burned pieces of hull, derelict chairs, and shattered tubes presented themselves for inspection. There was so much more, but Meladee fixated on that chair. It was red and nice, probably belonged to a captain.

“Why is everything like this?” Inez asked.

The pilot answered, “Superliminal distortion. Would be something you’d just travel around, except this one was masked. By magic, of course. This area looked clear, so ships came through. They wrecked. The distortion is still here, but it’s so much smaller than the graveyard.”

The magical cloak, however, was probably bigger, enough to hide Volanter shenanigans. It was all contrived, but even without the Volanters’ planning, space had obstacles. Meladee thought that space was a little like the sea, where things lurked in the water while you went about your business above.

Meladee again turned her attention out the window and watched as the Volanter ship came into better view and better detail. It was long and thin. It looked almost flat from the side, but from above, it would seem more like a circle with two triangles slapped on either end. Meladee thought the ship was white, but on second inspection, it was pale green. Holes opened in the ship, and Meladee saw darkness inside. The shuttle’s lights couldn’t penetrate far enough to give her a preview.

“Got that, Meladee?” Benham leaned into her view. He wore the hint of smile.

“Nah, I wasn’t listening.”

Benham wasn’t surprised. “Lucky you’re the teacher’s pet.”

“Yup. That’s why I took this expertly calculated risk.” Meladee nodded at Camellia. “You might like to know that you can pee directly in these things.”

Camellia held one of Florian’s hands with both of her own. “I don’t intend to use that feature.”

Meladee shrugged. “You look nervous. Might not be able to help it.”

Inez snorted a laugh.

Eder groaned. “That is not my favorite feature of this suit.”

“What is?” Inez asked.

“The part where I get to come home and take it off,” Eder answered.

Benham held up a hand. “We’ll be okay. We’ll all stick together. Everyone is coming home.”

Eder nodded.

A few minutes later, they entered the bay, and the ship jolted as it landed. Meladee thought she could have done a better job. She turned on the lights, on either side of her helmet.

Camellia threw her hands up and averted her eyes.

Meladee aimed her gaze, and her light down. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to. Just want to be prepared.”

Camellia preferred archaeology in atmosphere, where she could spot an interesting aspect of the site and let it cast a spell that absorbed all her attention. Inside the derelict ship, she struggled to focus, especially with holes that led direct to space. She looked ahead and back, side to side. Nothing enchanted her. Nothing beckoned.

At least, they stayed together. Guards led, and guards followed.

Camellia and the other inexperienced space walkers had a bubble of protection. They were supposed to do their jobs as close to normal as they could. Camellia breathed slow, and her heart slowed too.

Camellia followed Benham’s advice and took it a step at a time. She couldn’t think as clearly as she would have liked, overwhelmed by the new sensations, the new architecture, and the familiar signs of Volanter peoples in new places. Camellia wondered how she was going to get any good archaeology done, but she resolved to try.

Florian worked beside her, drawing a rough map on a tablet. Already, he documented the ship, giving Rooks more of what she’d asked for.

“This is déjà vu for me,” Florian said quietly as they entered a hall, filled with circle symbols.

The circles were the old, single-ringed kind.

“Makes me think of that Volanter temple where Cernunnos and I got the wormhole spell.” Florian shook his head. “This place is eerily similar.”

Camellia raised the camera and took pictures of the walk. She tried to get an image of each circle, but she knew that Inez and Eder would document that. They also worked their cameras, taking care of each side of the walls. Benham and Meladee worked video cameras. Camellia watched them pan the technology over the derelict ship, and she couldn’t help feeling that Benham’s video would be better.

Camellia aimed her camera into a room that looked like a communal tub. “I just want to grab as much information as possible and then run home. We can play with it aboard Fauchard.”

A couple of guards shined their lights into the bathing space, and Camellia took four pictures.

“I’ve got this friend who likes to go urban exploring,” Eder said. “He finds run-down buildings that no one is using and gets in there before they get fixed up. I never went with him.”

Inez held her camera very close to her face and examined an image. “He is going to be soooo jealous.”

Camellia didn’t think that Eder cared.

They walked the outskirts of the entire ship. They saw rooms for communal living space as well as research. Benham made a quick call to Rooks, and she urged them to go into the center of the ship.

Camellia guessed it made sense, but she couldn’t really feel the call of archaeology, as strongly as she usually did. She had reached a limit on what could excite her curiosity.

If I could just be here without this spacesuit that would make all the difference.

But, minus the space suit would mean plus the Volanter.

Camellia imagined the ship in working order and wondered just how many of them it housed.

Benham stopped. The guards flanked him. Benham turned and jabbed a thumb behind him. A doorway gaped, dark and hard to see inside. Camellia’s dhampir eyes could just make out a gnarled tangle of limbs. Her heart skipped a few beats, and then, she realized it was a Dipinta tree.

“Gave me a heart attack,” Meladee whispered.

“Mmhm,” Camellia agreed.

“I think this is that central gathering room,” Benham said. “We should have a quick look. Then, maybe fan out to the living quarters. After that, we need to have a look at engineering, sick bay…” Benham stared at the ceiling. “I think that’s it, considering the bridge is just gone.”

Camellia nodded. She tugged Florian towards the gathering room. He tugged back.

Florian said, “I’m going to take a quick walk around the perimeter. You, Inez, and Eder go in.” He pointed to a timekeeper on his arm. “We only have five hours left.”

Only five hours would seem like a lot in most situations, but Camellia understood. She’d never complete a dig in five days, let alone five hours. She nodded and let his wrist go.

Camellia crept inside. Inez and Eder did the same. A couple of guards preceded them, and one whipped out a lantern. The powerful device threw light across the room. Frozen, withered plants threw shadows on the walls, but the gnarled and stooped Dipinta threw the largest shadow of them all. Camellia thought it would fit nicely into a Groazan fall.

She took a moment to admire its aesthetic and then wandered over to a wall. She placed her hand against carved metal and looked up. A skylight above let in starlight, but there wasn’t much. Camellia saw debris through the window, with only a few stars peeking between the bits of broken hulls. The skylight, though cracked, remained in one piece, crisscrossed by metal vines, placed to strengthen the glass.

On Iruedim, Camellia would be ecstatic to find such strong protection from sunlight. The sun could age paintings and fabrics. It could ruin an object that survived for centuries. In space, the stars were usually too far to bring ruin to all things. Camellia could see that preservation in the painted carvings on the wall.

The colors, frosted from the cold, showed vivid scenes of Volanter life. Camellia walked the length of the wall. She moved slow and tried to read the story there.

A Volanter woman waited in darkness. She lay in a cave, while storms raged outside and overhead. The insides of her torso were on display, and Camellia was not surprised to see a small Volanter curled in that space. Tight writing and squiggly lines moved from the mother’s head to the child’s.

Camellia frowned. What an odd depiction of motherhood. She raised her camera and snapped a photo. Camellia frowned once more at the carving and moved on.

The next image showed the Volanter mother with her child. The child spread its arms, and the mother held it aloft. They played in what seemed to be a windy garden, with tall waving grasses. The winds above formed curls and strained less than the winds of the storm. A nice day.

Camellia snapped another picture.

The mother, with child in arms, waded from the sea and onto a small island. A Dipinta tree greeted the pair of Volanter. Clouds and winds above looked even puffier, serene.

Again, Camellia raised her camera and made a record of it.

The Volanter mother rested her hand against the tree. The tree had a face, and it smiled at the two Volanter. Tight writing seemed to pass between tree and woman.

Talking to trees now, I suppose. Better take this. Camellia lifted her camera and photographed the communion. What more do you have to show me? Camellia moved to the next image.

The Volanter mother received seeds from the tree. The seeds fluttered down into the woman’s hands. The child reached high for them too.

Camellia snapped a quick picture. She hurried to the next image.

Just as she’d thought, the Volanter woman moved over the land and planted the Dipinta seeds. Dipinta trees sprang from the soil. The image stretched over a long length of wall.

Camellia had to take several steps back to capture the image. She moved one step at a time, feeling the magnetic pull on her boots grow weak as she stepped onto deeper soil. She got the image and hurried back to the shallow edge. Camellia moved from the long carving, onto the rest of the story, the beginning of the end.

Volanter gathered around the trees. Runes worked their ways over the Dipinta trunks, replacing some faces. Runes floated in the air, and images of family life lay among the roots. Camellia snapped pictures of the lazy childhood days. An infant sucked on a toy. Children swam and played beneath trees, and adults practiced magic.

A depiction of flourishing research. Though the joyful image was not as large as the preceding one, Camellia had to back up to get it in full.

She returned to the wall and the last two smaller images.

A Dipinta tree stretched high. No Volanter stood beside it. Runes ran up the trunk, and one great circle ringed the scene.

Camellia documented it and moved to the last. She drew a sharp breath.

The image showed a Volanter man, possibly the son that appeared in earlier images. A tree occupied the back of the image, and he the front. He matched the tree. His torso and head lay in the trunk. His arms and hair tentacles stretched into the branches. His leg tentacles stretched into the roots.

“They love those trees.” Camellia raised her camera and photographed that love.

“What was that?” Florian asked over the helmet com.

“Oh, nothing. I’ve just found some images. I got a lot of pictures.” Camellia began to strap the camera to her side.

“Time to move on,” Benham called. “We need to have a look at the infirmary and engineering.”

Camellia turned. She found herself near the door, having moved a full circuit around the circular room. She caught one last look at the Dipinta tree, pulled her camera free, and took the tree’s picture. She checked the photo and thought it might just win Groaza’s yearly contest for most desolate image.