“Yes, dear. We’ll ask Arcas to send a message. Otherwise he’ll think we forgot about him.”

Margaret knew, though, that their only son would be wrapped up in his university studies, translating old Earth scrolls and reinterpreting Terran myths and legends. Anton Colicos had established himself as a scholar just as obsessive as his parents. He had given his mother a little antique music box, which she carried with her to every dig. Anton knew his parents were proud of him, though they were often too preoccupied to remind him.

After Louis had gone into the other chamber, Margaret could hear him tinkering and banging on the apparatus. Letting her thoughts wander, she walked down the dry hallways, through chambers filled with reams of untranslated data, literature, or scientific discoveries. Maybe it was nothing more than obscene insect graffiti….

Did the Klikiss tell stories aloud like humans and Ildirans, or were they a purely rational race? And why had they gone extinct? The questions weighed on her like ticking time bombs, making her feel that if she didn’t unlock the answers soon, it might be too late.

After another day of fruitful yet unremarkable research, Margaret was interrupted by the soft metal footfalls of their loyal compy DD. “Hello? Hello? Margaret and Louis? You asked me to come get you at dusk. I have already prepared a nice meal for us all. I am certain you will enjoy the recipe I have developed. Would this be a good time to finish your activities for the day?”

Margaret turned to look at the compy, rubbing her stiff neck. “It’s never a good time to stop, DD, but we won’t get any more finished today. Go rouse Louis. He’s probably got his head in an alien generator.” She pointed down a corridor, and the Friendly compy hurried off, calling Louis’s name.

Together, the three climbed down the long set of metal stairs. DD led, holding a glowpanel and walking backward to illuminate their way. The compy didn’t miss a step, but he frequently warned them of bumps in the path and rough edges to the scaffolding. “Careful. Careful.” Soon he would probably remind them that he had access to a first-aid data module that they could upload into his limited memory if they required his services as an emergency surgeon.

After she reached the base of the cliff, Margaret’s legs ached from the long descent. Louis put an arm around her shoulder. “Would you like me to help you, dear?”

“You’re just as frail as I am, old man,” she said. “But I’m sure we’ll be much revitalized after we eat the gourmet meal DD has prepared for us.”

“I hope it’s not ‘camp-food tartare’ again,” Louis said.

“I will file your culinary preferences, Louis.”