There was wreckage, too. Fragments of one shell, the Prisoner suspected, and the toppled remnant of a second.

Had there been a battle here? Two shells blasting away at each other with star weapons? Surely not; using one star weapon at this range would mean the destruction of both…which must have been what happened.

The Prisoner’s people had used star weapons, though not for seven cycles. (At least, not the small group of people resident here within the warship. The Prisoner had no knowledge of events on the home world.)

The Prisoner knew that star weapons left behind residual effects, poison in the water, soil, and air that would result in death within seven cycles.

Nevertheless, seeing that the toppled shell was sufficiently intact, the Prisoner elected to risk further exposure.

The shell was fragile compared to the ancient one that had brought the Prisoner’s ancestors from the home world. Perhaps the star weapon had damaged it.

Yet it retained a common rounded, pointed shape—surely required when blasting out of the sea—and massive propulsion section.

The Prisoner’s first challenge was entering the shell. There was an obvious portal that, with a brief period of scratching and tugging, opened to reveal the chamber within.

But it was so small! The Prisoner could fit through the opening, but feared damaging the garment it wore.

And yet even a quick glance inside the ruined shell revealed it to be filled with treasure! Again, it was the next risk the Prisoner would have to assume.

Carefully, the Prisoner extended one, two, three fins through the opening. The first attempt to push through almost met with disaster—stuck!

The Prisoner gently rocked back and forth, each movement resulting in inward progress…and possibly damage to the garment. (The Prisoner knew that the garment had the ability to repair itself but did not prefer that mode. There would be heat and discomfort.)

In!

The habitation chamber was lit only by the starlight that entered through the opening. The Prisoner had to move forward carefully, almost blindly.

The first impression—intolerably small! The creatures who made this shell and swam it across the Great Emptiness must have been tiny! From the Prisoner’s youthful lessons about the home world, it knew that most small creatures lacked the capability for great intelligence.

Yet here was evidence. Even if other, larger creatures had constructed this shell—small beings had operated it.

And, so the evidence suggested, destroyed it.

And themselves.

Since there were no bodies, there must have been survivors—or one survivor, to remove the others. Conversely, perhaps the survivor(s) also became prisoners like the Prisoner.

That seemed unlikely, given the vaporized state of the opposing shell. No, the crew of this shell must have won the battle. Then departed.

What would they leave behind that would have value? Metal. The Prisoner longed to rip away several pieces of hanging equipment. It had no tools to work metal, but brute strength often gave results—

The Prisoner discovered that the walls of the shell were lined with many smaller chambers that opened easily, after sufficient pressure and violence.

The contents were baffling. Fabrics. Shiny objects whose functions were mysterious. Containers with colored substances suspended in fluid or paste.

The Prisoner’s elation at discovering the shell, its satisfaction at gaining entry, began to fade. Perhaps the only item worth salvaging was metal.

A tentative tug at one hanging structure proved the flimsiness of the shell’s construction. It came away almost instantly—

Revealing another being!

The creature lashed out, driving the Prisoner back against the material it had torn away—

Screaming in pain and fear.

DALE

Dale Scott was reluctant to enter the Beehive. For one thing, the simple idea was not especially inviting. From Zack’s description on the trek from the former-vesicle tunnel, it sounded like an unholy mixture of animal womb and factory. Why would he want to stick his precious neck into that?

For another—

“There are a shitload of animal tracks here, have you noticed?” Dale said. “And they look fresh.”

He was with Valya, several steps behind Zack and Makali. Wade Williams was behind and off to one side. Dale didn’t know whether the man was just wandering or doddering. He had kept up, though, so it didn’t matter.

“They do indeed,” Makali Pillay said. “And they’re not just impressions in soil. They’re moist, as if they were made by creatures that just crawled out of the primordial ooze.”

“Revenants, fresh from the incubator,” Zack said. “They’ve been resurrected, just like their human counterparts.”

“Mmm-hmm. And big ones, too. Like that cow you saw.”

“Wherever it went. Not just walking creatures, either,” Zack said. “I was pretty sure I saw some birds.”

What was beginning to matter to Dale was the nature of this particular mission. He had automatic, permanent issues with Zack Stewart. Now he was growing quite unhappy with the Indo-Aussie woman, Makali, who had apparently decided she was Miss World NEO Explorer. Her incessant, chirpy observations about the rocks and soil and sky and temperature were no doubt accurate and helpful…if you gave a shit.

Which Dale most definitely did not. Not that he had a great alternative plan; getting away from the Temple, where the two available activities were (a) collecting food and (b) cleaning up—well, this little walkabout was a fine way to kill a morning.

But he was getting hungry and saw little prospect of a meal any time soon. He felt sure that the Beehive wasn’t going to turn out to be the Keanu version of McDonald’s.

A thought struck him. “Hey,” he said, “do you suppose we could eat that cow?”

“It would be smarter to use it for milk,” Wade Williams said. “We do have a baby, don’t we?”

“Fine,” Dale said. “Do you suppose we could eat a cow or the second one we find? Assuming we find any cow, of course.” He turned to Makali. “Apologies if that offends your religious sensibilities.”

“I’m not Hindu,” she said. “But thanks for asking.”

“Why couldn’t we?” Valya said.

“Are you worried that a Revenant animal might be poisonous?”

Dale said, “I’m more worried that it’s just useless. Not nutritious.”

“You mean, literal empty calories,” Williams said.

“No,” Zack said. “I believe that the whole Keanu system proves that matter and energy are never lost. They are just arranged in different states. If we cook and eat cow meat we find here, I’m willing to bet it’s just like doing it on Earth.”

“Well,” Williams said, “it seems to have worked with the plants we’ve consumed.”

“So far,” Dale said. “Our bellies are full…but are we getting the vitamins and minerals we need?”

The others glanced at each other. Zack shrugged. “There’s not much we can do about it. And there’s the Beehive.” He and Makali trotted ahead, leaving Dale with Valya and Williams.

The sci-fi writer turned to Dale. “You are just a ray of sunshine, aren’t you?”

The entrance to the Beehive was a classic cave mouth. The opening was roughly three meters high and half a dozen wide, though irregular. The ground was churned up, muddy. “It looks like a herd went through here,” Williams said.

“Or came out of there,” Dale said. “And did some fighting on the way.” The edges were streaked with some kind of yellowish goo, and in one case a reddish substance that Dale took to be blood.

Makali picked at the wall. “You’re right,” she said to Dale, holding out her finger. “Animal fur.”

“Great.”

“Well, folks,” Zack said, “our choices are stand here…or go inside.”

He voted with his feet and disappeared into the mouth, followed closely by Makali and Williams. Even Valya seemed eager to enter the chamber.