The artifact is still pulsing. Steady. Waiting.
Del circles it. Keeping distance. Observing from different angles.
The surface is smooth—almost like glass but metallic. The glow comes from inside. Through the surface he can see... shapes. Moving. Shifting. Hard to focus on. Like looking at something through water.
He focuses on the hum. The frequency. Trying to sense if it's active-dangerous or active-stable.
The pattern is... complex. Not simple pulse. There's variation. Rhythm but with subtle changes. Like—
Like it's responding.
He takes a step closer. The pulse changes slightly. Faster.
Step back. The pulse slows. Returns to baseline.
It's sensing me. Reacting to proximity.
That's new. Del's felt artifacts before—felt the wrongness, the hum, the danger. But not this. Not... awareness.
He crouches. Getting eye-level with it. The shapes inside are clearer from this angle. Not random. Patterns. Moving in sequence. Repeating but with variations.
This isn't just artifact. This is something else.
But he needs to retrieve it. That's the test. Prove himself or fail.
He reaches out slowly. Hand hovering near the surface. Not touching yet. Just... close.
The pulse quickens. The glow brightens slightly. The shapes inside move faster.
It knows I'm here.
His hand is shaking slightly. Not from fear—from the wrongness. The exposure. Being this close is affecting him. Pressure building in his skull. Nausea rising.
But not overwhelming. Manageable.
He touches it.
The surface is warm. Not hot. Just... warm like living skin. The pulse is stronger now—he can feel it through his palm. Rhythm like a heartbeat but not quite right. Too fast. Too regular.
The wrongness intensifies. Pressure in his skull increases. Vision blurs slightly at the edges.
But he doesn't let go.
Picks it up. Cradles it. The pulse continues. The shapes inside are moving frantically now. Like they're... agitated? Confused?
Like it's aware I'm carrying it.
Del turns. Heads back toward the passage. Each step is work. The artifact is affecting him more the longer he holds it. Nausea building. Pressure becoming pain.
Halfway up the passage his nose starts bleeding. He can taste copper. Keeps moving.
Three-quarters up and his vision is tunneling. He's seeing only straight ahead. Everything else is gray static.
Almost there. The entrance is visible. Light from above. The crew waiting.
He emerges. Stumbles slightly. Catches himself.
The crew is there. All six of them. Watching. Expressions range from surprised to... something else. Respect maybe. Or just acknowledgment.
The crew leader is standing with arms crossed. Face neutral.
Del walks forward. Holds out the artifact.
The crew leader takes it. Examines it briefly. The artifact's pulse slows in his hands. The glow dims slightly. Like it's... calming.
"Huh," the crew leader says. "Survived."
No praise. No congratulations. Just: acknowledgment.
Del's nose is still bleeding. He wipes it with his sleeve. The pressure in his skull is fading now that he's not holding the artifact. Vision clearing.
One of the workers—the one with scarred forearms—is looking at Del differently now. Not friendly. Just... reassessing.
"There's a body in there," Del says. Voice rough. Throat dry.
The crew leader doesn't look surprised. "Yeah. Last new member. Wasn't sensitive. Was slow."
"You sent him to die."
"Sent him to prove himself." The crew leader's face doesn't change. "He didn't."
"You knew—" Del starts.
"Everyone knows." The crew leader tucks the artifact into a bag. "You prove yourself or you don't. You did. Welcome to crew."
Just like that. Test complete. Del is in.
The worker with scarred forearms nods once. "Name's Tovin. I run the east sections. You'll work with me today."
Another worker—older woman, missing two fingers on her left hand—speaks: "Ren. I handle the deeper sites. You did better than I expected."
The crew leader: "I'm Hadric. I've been crew leader here for six years. Kael assigns me the sensitives. Most die within a week. You might last longer."
Not might survive. Might last longer. Different thing.
"We work different than regular crews," Hadric continues. "More artifacts per site. Higher exposure. Better rations. But the work is harder. Dangerous. You understand?"
Del nods.
"Good. Let's move."
---
They work through three sites that day. Del's role becomes clear quickly: he checks artifacts first. Identifies which ones are stable enough to retrieve. Warns about dangerous ones.
At the second site, there's an artifact that looks safe—steady blue glow, regular pulse. But when Del gets close, he feels it. The wrongness underneath. The pattern that's waiting to activate.
"Don't touch that one," he says.
Tovin: "Looks stable."
"It's not. There's something underneath. Waiting."
Hadric approaches. Studies it. "You're certain?"
"Yes."
Hadric pulls out the small activator device—the same kind Kael used. Presses it near the artifact.
Nothing happens. The artifact stays blue. Steady pulse.
"See?" Tovin says. "Stable."
But Hadric is watching Del's face. "You still feel it?"
"Yes."
Hadric pulls out a different tool. Thin rod, metal, with a hook on the end. Reaches out carefully. Touches the artifact with the tip.
The artifact's pulse changes. Speeds up. The blue glow shifts—red bleeding through. The wrongness explodes.
Hadric jerks the rod back. "Fuck."
The artifact pulses faster. Red spreading. Then—stops. Returns to blue. Stable again.
Hadric looks at Del. "You felt that. Before I touched it."
"Yes."
"Good. Don't touch it. Mark it unstable."
They move on. Retrieve six other artifacts from that site. Leave the blue one.
At the third site, Del finds something different.
Flat piece. Thin, maybe the thickness of his palm. Black surface. Smooth like glass. No visible glow. Looks inert.
But when he gets close—
Spikes. Sharp. Random. Not the steady hum of other artifacts. Just... bursts. Sudden frequencies that spike hard then drop. Spike again. Drop. No pattern. Completely chaotic.
Like it's trying to do something and failing. Over and over.
He jerks back. The spikes stop.
"What?" Hadric asks.
"That one—" Del points. "There's something wrong with it."
"It's not glowing. Inert."
"No. There's—" How to explain? "Spikes. Random. Like it's... trying something. Failing. Trying again."
The crew exchanges looks.
Ren approaches carefully. Looks at the flat piece. "I don't feel anything."
"Get close," Del says.
She does. Crouches next to it. Waits. "Nothing."
Del approaches again. The spikes return immediately. Sharp bursts. Irregular. No rhythm. Just chaos.
"I feel it," he says. "It's doing something. Just... wrong. Broken maybe."
Hadric: "Active or inert?"
"I don't know. It's not glowing. But it's not inert either. It's... somewhere between."
Hadric pulls out the activator. Presses it near the flat piece.
Nothing. No glow. No pulse. No response.
But Del still feels it. The spikes. The attempts. The failures.
"Leave it," Hadric says finally. "If you feel something, we don't touch it. Mark it uncertain."
They retrieve four other artifacts from that site. Leave the flat piece.
End of shift. Rations distributed.
Del gets double portion again. The crew gets similar—priority crew benefits.
They eat together. Not friendly. Just... together. Efficient. Professional.
Tovin: "You did better than the last three."
Ren: "Last one panicked at the first exposure. Dropped the artifact. Broke it. Died from the release."
Hadric: "One before that refused to go into the test chamber. Sent him back to regular crews. Dead within a week."
They're talking about failed members casually. Like statistics. Like weather.
Del is eating his bread. Listening.
"You're different," Hadric says. "You don't just survive exposure. You *understand* it. Feel it before it kills you."
"Most sensitives just don't die as fast," Tovin adds. "You're actually reading them. That's rare."
Ren: "Kael knows what he's doing. Usually."
They finish eating. Pack up. Head back toward sleeping areas.
Del splits off toward his corner. The crew goes their own directions—they have better quarters, probably. Priority crew benefits.
That night Del sits in his corner. Double ration in his stomach. Body aching from exposure. Hands shaking slightly—aftereffects. Feels good. Doesn't try think.
He closes his eyes. Tries to sleep.
Dreams of voices. Hundreds of them. Overlapping. Speaking in patterns he can't understand.
Wakes to gray sky.
Day twenty-five.