Discoveries & Disturbances, Part I

Posted on Tue Aug 11th, 2026 @ 5:59pm by Commander Percival "Percy" Tapper
Edited on on Tue Aug 11th, 2026 @ 6:00pm

1,760 words; about a 9 minute read

Mission: Initial Conditions
Location: Sautranis III, Sautranis System
Timeline: Three months before launch

The Kherat Foothills offered little encouragement after three weeks of work. Whatever civilization had once made this stretch of Sautranis II home had enjoyed thirty-two thousand years to disappear beneath the red-and-brown windblown sediment, the shifting rock, and the hostility of a warming planet. Each morning, the desert seemed to surrender a few more centimeters of itself. Each afternoon, it seemed to reclaim it.

The Akwapti had nearly three thousand years wondering and hypothesizing whether their ancient ancestors had once called this planet their home before a global heating catastrophe drove them off-world to Sautranis IV. It had always been a fascinating and attractive theory, elegant enough to survive generations of recorded history, but theories such as those had a habit of becoming too comfortable in the public consciousness--even in the absence of hard evidence.

The esteemed professor Carlos Irribarren of the University of Bordeaux on Earth, and an influential member of the Federation's Archaeological Survey, had crossed twelve light-years with twenty-seven archaeologists because the so-called safe theories never really held much interest for him.

Percy Tapper knelt near the bottom of Trench Seven with his sleeves rolled above the elbow and a broad-brimmed hat doing what little it could against the roasting afternoon sun. His white shirt was now a deep shade of beige, having lost its original colour sometime after the third day. The planet's ochre dust seemed to coat everything regardless of pitch or angle. His field trousers now held that polished sheen they always did after some time kneeling against compacted earth.

In his right hand, a narrow trowel rested easily in a light grip. Occasionally, the trowel would be exchanged for brushes of varying size. His goal was simple: one thin layer of soil at a time.

Preliminary ground scans suggested an anomaly existed more than a meter below the trench's current floor. It was little more than an indistinct shape muddied by unusually dense mineral deposits that were prevalent throughout the foothills. Most of the team had judged the return too uncertain to justify continued excavation. Upon arrival, Percy had looked at the scan for nearly an hour before deciding this location--and it's uncertainty--was exactly what made it worth investigating.

Hescamo watched him work while taking long pull from the waterskin Percy had passed across the trench. The Akwapti archaeologist had spent most of his career excavating sites on Sautranis IV where his people's ancient settlements lay beneath fertile floodplains--a far cry from the dense desert stone. He still found Earth's archaeologists strangely willing to negotiate with such impossible ground.

He returned the waterskin with a grateful nod before looking toward the western horizon where the distant mountains had begun to dissolve behind a broad veil of amber. At first glance it resembled a low cloud, though there had been no rain on Sautranis III in anyone's memory. After another moment the whole of the horizon seemed to move.

"You judge we have about an hour?" Percy asked without looking up from his troweling.

Hescamo considered the advancing wall of sand before answering. "Perhaps a little less. The wind is moving just ahead of it." He rested one hand against the edge of the trench and smiled. "You have developed an unfortunate habit of asking me how long we have rather then whether we should leave."

Percy smiled into the desert soil beneath his trowel. "I think I already know the answer to the second question."

"It also suggests you seldom agree with it."

"My friend," Percy said, looking up with a grin and a fair bit of ochre dust caked into his beard, "you should know by now I'm not the disagreeable kind."

"No," Hescamo admitted. "Only when you believe we're about to discover something."

Percy brushed another ribbon of loosened soil aside and paused. The exposed surface differed only slightly from the layer above it--a slight discoloration that was extremely faint but which might indicate a cut.

Every experienced archaeologist who had spent any amount of time in the field knew that dirt possessed its own grammar. It shifted colour, texture, density, and composition according to rules laid down by weather, catastrophe, living activity, abandonment, and mostly... time. If read carefully enough, a valley could become a shelf full of books. A continent? An enormous library.

He lowered himself another few centimeters and angled the trowel into the discoloured seam. The soil started to give--and not without a bit of reluctance. It had the consistency of baked and compressed clay. Shaving away a narrow strip, he paused and examined the edge of the cut, leaning down and bringing his eyes to within several centimeters. There was just a faint difference in texture. Percy was not convinced it wasn't natural.

"Hescamo."

The Akwapti leaned closer.

"I see it."

"Do you?"

"See what?" Percy responded with a smile.

Hescamo grinned, showing the characteristic marine blue gums of his species. "I see you becoming interested in whatever it is."

"That's something different, my friend."

Percy reached for one of the smaller brushes and worked along the boundary with patient strokes. Ochre dust began to gather against his dry knuckles. What was originally a faint line became clearer. It now ran horizontally for perhaps twenty or so centimeters before disappearing beneath the northeast wall of the trench.

Hescamo's expression changed as he leaned back, sitting on his knees.

"That is a cut."

Percy cocked his head sideways and wiped his brow with his forearm, sweat and dust caking it.

"It's got me right drove--as my father would say," Percy muttered.

"I don't think it's geological, Percy." Hescamo craned his neck to the left and squinted at the massive clouds that were pushing ever closer.

"It may very well be a grave," Percy replied, gently sweeping away the loosened dirt with what looked very much like an old paint brush with fine bristles.

Hescamo sighed. "We have possibly twenty minutes before that dust storm reburies everything."

Percy stared at the soil discolouration and frowned. They were on the edge of the most significant discovery for the Akwapti civilization and not nearly enough time to truly enjoy it.

"Percival!"

Carlos Irribarren was making his way toward them from the cluster of tents and equipment which served at their temporary field headquarters. Even from inside the trench and a good forty meters, the brusque Basque archaeologist appeared in a terrible mood. His broad-brimmed hat was tilted forward against the violent wind and in one hand he held a dust-covered data PADD against his chest.

Several paces behind the bull of a man was Houchmi, his counterpart and one of the most respected Akwapti archaeologists. He was a much older man with careworn eyes and a slightly gaunt face.

It was Carlos who reached the trench first and looked at Percy, then glanced to the horizon.

"I assume you've seen the storm coming."

Percy continued brushing away the dirt without turning to look at his friend and colleague. He stopped only long enough to point a finger toward the cut in the soil.

Ignoring protocol, Carlos lowered himself into the trench and crouched beside Percy. His expression quickly shifted from irritation to professional interest, examining the exposed layer.

"Ah."

Houchmi climbed down next and knelt beside them. His long fingers hovered over the surface without touching the dirt.

"So the scans were correct then," the Akwapti said to Carlos.

Percy stopped brushing and leaned back again on his knees. "Quite possibly, Houchmi."

Carlos gave his old friend a look. "We have a change in the sediment, Percy. Nothing more."

"I've been right before, my old friend."

The Basque man squinted at his old friend. Whatever was left of his hair was being blown around by the wind. "You've also been wrong a good many times, too."

Percy snorted and ran a dirty hand through his hair. "Frequently. It keeps things interesting."

Houchmi smiled as well. "I find the uncertainty exciting."

Carlos looked at the elder Akwapti.

"Do not encourage him."

Percy and Hescamo shared a laugh that was drowned-out by the wind which was now becoming more powerful.

Waggling the hand with the data PADD, Carlos said, "I'm closing Trenches Two, Four, Five, and Nine. We just aren't finding anything. There is some debris which is too deprecated to tell us anything and the stratification is almost useless. There are deposits that should be separated by centuries sitting together like some giant came in and stirred the whole thing with a spoon."

Houchmi brushed some dirt from his eyes.

"Thirty-two thousand years is sufficient time for these changes."

"Thirty-two thousand years is sufficient time for almost anything," Carlos replied, shouting over the wind. "We have evidence of ancient flooding, wind erosion, seismic activity--even volcanoes."

"We have signs of industry," Hescamo interjected. "Almost as if a civilization dismantled its own settlements. Possibly another civilization arriving and using the ruins. The entire surface may have been disturbed several times over."

Percy was not listening to the exchange, instead now deeply considering the exposed seam. "Perhaps we're looking at something that survived because nobody needed it."

Carlos raised a bushy eyebrow. "That is a distinct possibility."

Houchmi looked toward the mountains.

"Our oldest records begin only eight thousand years ago. Everything before that is inferred from material evidence and oral fragments. We have always assumed that the absence of settlements here was evidence that our ancestors had already departed."

"Which means the assumption has always depended on finding the place they left behind," Percy said.

Houchmi nodded. "And if this is what the scans suggest?"

Percy's eyes remained firmly fixed on the soil.

"Then I'd say your history begins here."

For a moment nobody spoke except the wind.

A veil of dust blew across the entire excavation site suddenly. Behind Trench Seven several other diggers were removing tools and tying down canvas coverings. The remainder of the camp crew were securing all other loose material in anticipation of the storm's direct hit.

Carlos rose slowly, almost apologetically.

"I must close the remaining trenches, Percy."

Percy nodded.

"I'll remain here."

"I thought you might," the Basque university professor said.

"You have one hour, Percival. One hour." Carlos' tone suggested he would not allow a minute longer.

"One hour it is."

Carlos gave Hescamo a sympathetic look. "Make sure of it, please."

Hescamo nodded solemnly and watched him leave with Houchmi in tow.

---

Commander Percival Tapper
Commanding Officer
USS Eventide

 

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