“I have come to the place where science and reason coalesce – indivisible from myth and fantasy.” Jonas Highland muttered between heat parched lips as the Night – Sister rose and once – more banished the desert heat.

~ How many days has it been now? ~ Some distracted part of the Xeno – Archaeologist’s mind railed as he attempted for the third time that day to record his Chief Expedition Leader’s Log – his fingers numb on the reactive screen of the Data – Pad – but somehow also seemed to feel every grain of sand scouring its abraded surface.

Even as the blessed evening respite of dusk hooded the twinned suns of  Primar – Majoris #7 behind the shimmering horizon, the oppressive heat that had been absorbed by the shifting desert sands beyond and suffused the worn stones of the parapet on which he sat, radiated a truth that had come to permeate the thoughts of Jonas over the past few days of the dig – making the scene below him seem all the more real and immediate.

Within the vast circumference, described into the worn sand-stone edifice of the confounding Reliquary of Ost, a scene of ritual sacrifice was being replayed from antiquity in the amphitheater below – that the actual even had taken place eons ago was scant comfort to the scientist.

Ost was a literal living codex for the Primarion civilizations. Where the ancients of Earth chronicled their histories in tryptic, rune and hieroglyph – the Reliquary played out vivid scenes of Primarion culture and past events in the form of psychic emanations.

Extensive multi-phasic scans from Dr Prideaux, the expeditions Geophysicist had confirmed that the unique design of the Reliquary itself was key to these phenomena. The sandstone itself was a comparatively later addition to the site (only some 400,000 years old), it was what lay beneath the (admittedly) impressive edifice that lay before him that enabled this unique form of tableau.

The Reliquary of Ost sat upon a vast lodestone of unique Basalt-Quartz Crystal substrate that served to act as an immensely powerful Psionic Resonator – somehow acting as a repository for the shared memories of the Primarion – although what energetic process enabled this extraordinary feat remained a mystery to the Federation team’s finest scientific minds.

~For now.~ Jonas thought objectively as he gazed down into the amphitheater that was tens of hundreds of feet across, his gaze drawn by the smaller circular structure – a sort of parabolic depression that dominated the center of the ancient structure – its own purpose as mystifyingly obscure.

This was a place where the past and present were in constant flow. An Archaeologist’s dream on all ostensible levels – an actual camera-obscuras into a species shared evolution – but the experience maddened his eyes with the symptoms of a severe visual – migraine, his voyeur’s privilege of the future wracked with an excruciating ticket – price.

Jonas paused his log recording and vomited empty air into the earthenware vessel left by Curator Kese’an (the Va’ Saal Archaeologist being forbidden by protocol of remaining within the Reliquary to assist him as the kaleidoscope of history played within his mind’s eye). The effect of exposure to the Psionic – effect had a number of unsettling effects on the human body and Jonas had learned not to eat before entering the reliquary as the Psionic mirages seemed to initiate and cease with no discernible pattern or warning.

That last phenomena making establishing a coherent chronological order to the snippets of history they were exposed to, like an audience at an improvised avant-garde performance, was causing Professor Kellian particular frustrations.

~ The hand of the B’Queth is everywhere herein and the V’Saal - almost nowhere, ~ Jonas pontificated ~ and where the maddingly obscure influence of the Sublimed Ancient Aliens known as “The Providers” truly interjects is even more oblique. ~ The Archaeologist reflected with some irritation.

“Computer pause recording, delete last.” Jonas wiped his dry eyes as the long, inevitable shadow of the real day drew over the empty circle of the Reliquary. His headache grew worse as the shadows lengthened and the tableau below continued in the memory of a harsh mid-day sun.

“Re-commence recording.” Jonas blinked his dry eyes and took a grateful draft of tepid – water from his flask and attempted to regain his objectivity in the face of the fractious psionic emanations that haunted this ancient place.

“Unique within the field of Xeno-Archaeology, Pan – Special Adaptive Sociology and just about every scientific discipline of Historical Analogue is the Artifact that the Primarion Peoples call the Reliquary of Ost.” The Scientist recorded with dry humor.

“That the edifice is a site of antiquity is undeniable.” Jonas screwed his eyes shut and when he opened them – the scene below him had vanished.

The vast arena below him was as empty as it had been just 40 minutes below, right about when the mirage of the Ceremonial – Transit of High – Altern Verspidian IV (known to the worshippers of  that epoch as “Verspidian the Stubborn”) was ritually eviscerated and succeed by High – Altern Verspidian V (thus ironically called “Verspidian the Wary”) – as a bloody Trieste of B’Qeuth secular pageantry as ever there was – albeit some three thousand years previously.

“That the influence of Psionic resonance that the Reliquary is thusly famous for, is also singular from the scientific, theological, sociological and Xeno – archaeological perspective is an experience beyond compare and equally undeniable as a lure to the educated mind.” Dr Hyland reflected as movement below – actual movement this time of a person in the here and now.

The Arch-Dyspneal Vilem. Sweating and non-doubt rehearsing some ingratiation as he made his way to the ruins of the upper Triennial – gallery.

“But when presented with the epithelial – chance to enjoy an almost God – like ring seat to the history of an entire culture…” Jonas frowned at the sight of the corpulent B’Queth curator of the Reliquary of Ost, struggling up the curving course of rough – hewn stones to invade his reflections.

 “…One cannot but question that the almost-exclusive bias of memories that showcase and favour the achievements of the B’Queth cultural experience, rather than that of the V’Saal (who’s stories are as scattered and dissonant as children’s tales by dint of representation in the archives) does not speak, at least in part, to the presence of some unreliable – narrator.”

“My Esteemed – colleague Doctor Hyland!” Arch-Dyspneal wheezed and wiped the sweat from his brow with pudgy fingers – the B’Queth’s vertiginous neck fronts pulsing hard to dissipate his body heat. “What heights we do climb to gain the lofty perspective of the elevated eh?” Vilem panted and steadied himself on the remainder of stonework describing the former stairway concourse.

Somehow Jonas doubted that the Arch-Dyspneal ever deigned to scale many heights in the archaeological wonder that was his remit. In the three formal – engagements that Vilem had hosted for the Federation Science – team in short time they had been on – planet, Dr Hyland & his team largely suspected that Vilem’s actual role fell somewhere between tour guide and distractor-in-chief of the Gerontocracy, for all that he seemed to know about the actual Reliquary and its import.

Not for the last time, Jonas found himself missing the quietus of Curator Kese’an and missing the V’Saal academic’s thoughtful and measured insights. The studied idiocy of denying such a cultured mind from entering the inner – sanctum of the Reliquary – that she surely understood far more intimately than anyone here – on point of protocol, was to Jonas the ultimate inanity on behalf of the capricious B’Queth.

He sighed and paused his log – recording again.

“Arch-Dyspneal, good evening. “Jonas greeted tiredly but cordially enough, mindful of his responsibility to the science and opportunity to be able to document this remarkable place. “I did not expect to see you at this hour.”

~ The desert is ever full of irritants after all ~ He mused sourly, as he shook off the dust blanket from his head and waved the persistent sand-flies from his face as he stood. ~ How long have I been at this? ~ His knees protested as he rose and crossed the narrow parapet to the B’Queth dignitary.

Vilem nodded gratefully as he accepted Jonas’s proffered flask and drank deeply as he caught his breath and smiled a weak smile.

“I trust your studies are continuing with verisimilitude Dr Hyland?” The Arch-Dyspneal inclined his head, the vastness of the desert to his back.

“This is certainly the most real – unreal experience it has been my honor to be party to in the name of science, Arch-Dyspneal. “ Jonas remarked dryly, trying to exorcise the mental image of the ancient Verspidian the Stubborn, stubbornly refusing to give up his liver to the ritual knife.

“Quite so Professor, quite so!” Arch-Dyspneal Vilem proceeded, making Jonas only half – sure that the B’Queth as only half – listening to him and pursuing some other agenda as always. “And the rest of your team – are they equally as inspired by the wealth of our cultural ethos?”

Jonas nodded and turned to gaze inwards over the great circle of the reliquary, aware that in this moment he had to be both scientist and diplomat – no matter how comfortable he was with one truth and uncomfortable with the disingenuity of the other.

“Dr Anas is particularly taken with the iconography and provenance of the statutory and the progression of industry relative to its progeny that is for certain.” Jonas nodded. Show Bireme Anas a statue and the enthusiastic Antiquarian would hold an army at bay with wide – eyed fervor and a crippling knowledge of his field.

“Ah! The edifice of Khorasan the Maleficent is one of the finer examples of Post – Recalcitrancy stone – craft in the outer-systems world, it is true.” Vilem nodded sagely.

Dr Hyland knew for a fact that this same description was easily plagiarized from open-source scientific publications but kept his annoyance and own council mute in light of his statement.

“However, Dr Anas is still struggling to decipher how that dating of that particular statue, indeed most of the iconography from the Desite – era aligns with some of the other finds on the site?” Jonas offered disarmingly.

The problem facing the Federation Science Mission (at least the most pressing one) was trying to draw a line between the more recent Millennium – scale era of architecture – obvious the product of Primarion industry – with the Eons – old Crystaline structure that permeated the more recent structure. In between was a gulf of unanswered questions. Fortunate that this type of dichotomy represented exactly the kind of enigma that the academics and scientists under Dr Jonas Hyland’s charge – lived to engage with.

“I’m afraid I don’t follow Professor?” Vilem muttered airily and made a show of consulting his own data – pad.

“Well, when the team performed tachyon – dating of the Hieroglyphica (He used the correct term of the vast curving tryptic wall of hieroglyphs that spanned the inner – half of the great inner circle of the Reliquary), the readings returned confirmed that the dating between that and the statutory are, actually, in the span of epoch rather than eons?”

“I’m not sure what that means really Professor!” Arch-Dyspneal demurred gratefully as a black – clad B’Queth equerry made his way up the concourse of steps towards them (no doubt at Vilem’s summons).

Dr Jonas Hyland sighed, tiring of the hypocrisy so assiduously enforced to occlude reason in this place of wonders.

“Speaking as a layman Arch-Dyspneal, I think my team is wondering why an archaeological wonder such as this is being passed off as a sandstone edifice of a millennial scale, utilizing combined logographic, syllabic, phonetic and alphabetic elements; when the science intimates that the entire site is sited on a Rosetta – stone  of Basalt-Quartz substrate that acts as a Psionic Resonator of almost unparalleled scope to hold the shared memories of an entire race?” Jonas postulated testily.

“You’re tired of course Professor!” the Arch-Dyspneal as he retreated down the steps, intent on more seemingly important things to attend to. “You must of course come to this evening’s reception and gather your thoughts with a restorative and tell me more about your fascination insights! Hah! Well…. Good – Evening Professor!”

Dr Jonas Hyland stared after the Arch-Dyspneal as he descended the stairs, but his mind was elsewhere – awash with the familiar and beguiling fission of enquiry that drove the man.

~Who really built this place? ~ was the most obvious and rhetorical.

~What do the visions mean and why is there no structure or order to how they play out? ~, inescapable such as the intrusive psychic - medium of the Reliquary recall and lore – keeping was.

~ Why are the present B’Queth so intent on the obscuration its historical past? ~

Which lead his thoughts and eye down to the sweeping arc of the great story – wall that ran around the central circle of the Reliquary (which some obviously dry - whit on his team had ironically dubbed “The Pool”) and (in – particular) to the 20 – odd foot of Glyphs that had been damaged by an undocumented event sometime in the site’s storied history and for now remained indecipherable.

 ~ And what secrets were contained there and what does its destruction intimate? ~

At that point the omnipresent, enduring Bass – clarion of The Callers began to well up and suffuse the circle of the Reliquary of Ost with their evening song – effectively blotting out the chance of further thought. The upswell of voices carrying on the warm night breeze and resonating around the circle of the Arena, making the surface sands vibrate perceptibly.

Dr Jonas Hyland let the all – encompassing tonal song wash over him, grateful for its ability to permeate his physical core, feeling his muscles relax to the vibration and thankfully letting his mind give itself over the choral assault of the singers.

The parallel between choral resonance carrying tradition through The Callers layered voices and the resonance of history held within the ancient stones would continue to worry his mind well into the sleepless, starlight night.