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of eyewitnesses, but it was worse that no trace of their whereabouts were to be remembered at all. The best clues to the crash’s origins would lie with them. But, perhaps without meaning to, the abbot had provided them with a better record of the crash than a two-century-old tale. They would need to pore over this notebook, however, and any other treasures the old abbot could dig out of that lock box of his.
    “Shajda,” de Lis asked, pointing his hand to the lock box, “ask him if he will give us the other papers in there.”
    Shajda started to translate, but the abbot handed de Lis the rest of the stash. De Lis quickly bowed, showing his appreciation. “Thank—thank you. You have been too kind.”
    The abbot bowed as well, his fingers steepled.
    Valagua gently guided the ancient papers into a sample bag.
    “Shajda...the site?” de Lis asked once more.
    The Sherpa nodded; his work was now nearly complete.
    With the group shown the monastery’s door a short while later, de Lis wasted no time following Shajda down the path; their diversion had already cost them two hours of precious sunlight. Just past the garden, however, Waters took several digigraphs with a holo-imager and lidar readings using laser pulses to document the monastery’s precise topographical coordinates; besides, no one back at the lab would believe them if she didn’t employ every means to authenticate the monastery.
    Some time later Shajda led the team back to the mountain fissure. Before allowing his team to pass back through the narrow way, de Lis had the team cover their exposed flesh. De Lis then consolidated the rucksacks and gave them to Shajda to carry, which allowed them the optimal amount of crawl space, lessening any chance for new injuries. They all crossed through the passage with less difficulty, emerging in two-thirds the time. Each member reclaimed their gear from the waiting Shajda, then rested a moment to focus on the upcoming trail.
    De Lis pushed the team forward again, paying particular attention to his creeping chronometer, which was not the team’s friend. Meticulously tracing their journey with his holobook, he marked their every step, correlating Waters’ lidar data into a holographic cartograph, which produced an extended view of the region. If indeed they did have to return to the monastery for any reason, he’d make sure that Shajda was not along for the trip.
    Shajda soon led them to the familiar section of the path. He continued onwards, beyond a series of outcroppings that formed a natural barrier to the unaided and unfamiliar eye. Mason noted again the absence of crash strata, lending more credence to his private hypothesis of river flooding, which conveniently hid any immediate connection to a crash site.
    A bowl in the structure of the mountains soon opened up, and they realized they had ventured into the bottom of a thousand-meter crater. De Lis and Waters crouched, scrounging around the exterior of the bowl with sample bags, ready to collect the first specimens. De Lis was curiously quiet, Gilmour thought. The agent at least expected the doctor to give some profound announcement, perhaps justifying their presence there. But true to the scientist he was, the doctor silently gathered his samples. Grappling for a useful purpose, Gilmour and Mason walked around the bowl’s perimeter, studying the layout of the land. Mason even briefly conferred with Valagua, but the historian could only serve to validate Mason’s flooding theory as the explanation for no visible signs of a meteor or other “normal” crash debris. Whatever had crashed here, neither the landscape nor the scientists were forthcoming.
    At least yet.
    Shajda suddenly tugged at de Lis’ and Waters’ arms, gesturing down to the bowl’s nadir. At first trying to ignore the guide’s incessant commotion, de Lis finally acquiesced and rose to his feet. Sighing, he and Waters followed Shajda’s descent. The Sherpa raced ahead some five meters into