Archaeologist (Second Class) Retik carefully picked its way across the rubble, trying not to catch the fabric of its protective suit on any of the projecting debris. While the archaeologist would not have died from exposure to the atmosphere of this world, it would have had an unpleasant time recovering from the shock to its metabolism. Retik raised a gloved claw to its helmet to wipe away a sheen of dust, then turned its attention to the sensor pod that floated a few metres away.

Retik's companion, Born, leaned over the archaeologist's insectoid frame and grunted in her native tongue. The translation system in the archaeologist's suit paused for a moment before rendering the grunt into something more comprehensible. "Found anything?"

The archaeologist chittered back. "Not yet. I am still waiting for the survey drones to complete their search pattern."

"Why not just wait in the lander? Better than being out here." Bron gestured towards the sky with a shaggy paw. The sky above the mismatched pair was a clear blue, broken only by patches of grey clouds. A bright yellow sun hung in the sky almost directly above them. If it hadn't been for the archaeologist's suit or its companion's furry mantle, the two of them would have been badly burned by the star's ultraviolet-tinged rays.

Retik reared up on its hind legs so it could face its companion eye to compound eye. "I am an archaeologist. I specialise in the study of vanished cultures. How else can I understand their thoughts, their ideas, their memes if I do not see their world as they did?"

Bron turned her fur-covered head from side to side, scanning the area around them. There was rubble everywhere, the pieces ranging in size from small lumps just smaller than a fist to chunks that were larger than the two interlopers combined. Bars and coils of oxidised metal protruded from the rubble, ready to rip and tear at unwary flesh. Nearby ruined structures gave some indication of the origin of the debris. "This hole? Listen, Retik, this was a Class Four civilisation - too stupid to live. What makes this one special?"

The insectoid hummed in frustration: something its translator struggled to convey in its neutral tones. "This one did not wipe itself out in any of the usual ways. The surface radiation is within the normal limits for a world of this type, so no deployment of fission reaction weapons. It was not an ecological collapse. Local biodiversity is low, but not dangerously so. As for measuring the mass of certain fundamental particles ... !" The archaeologist made a sweeping gesture, obviously meant to indicate that the world was still there.

"So? They're still dead."

Retik felt the vibrissae on its thorax begin to stir with annoyance. "Try to get this into whatever passes for the seat of intelligence in your species, Bron. The civilisation that was here did not collapse for one of the standard reasons. Some other catastrophe overtook them. Now, if the Class Ones in the Conflab bureaucracy are worried enough to send us here rather than just open up one slightly-used world for exploitation, then I am worried enough to take this assignment seriously."

Bron eyed her smaller companion with something that might have been contempt. "You're a Class Two, yes?"

"My species is."

Bron uttered a wheezing laugh. "Typical Class Two. Come. We go back to the lander now. I'm tired of this rubble."

The two creatures returned to their vessel, picking their way through the remains of the ruined city. Their craft had landed in an area that was relatively free of debris, but overgrown with moss and stunted plants. Its smooth, conical form looked out of placed in the wild landscape. Once inside the safety of the lander, Retik divested itself of its protective suit, while Bron set about checking the craft's communications logs.

Out of its suit, Retik resembled an overly large, twisted version of a grasshopper. Its carapace was covered in a multitude of short hair-like protrusions, and was topped with a head that had blunt mandibles and large, segmented eyes. Sexually, Retik was a neuter drone. Originally it had evolved as a scout and information gatherer in some nameless hive on a faraway world. Supposedly this gave Retik the perfect temperament to be a cultural archaeologist. Bron, on the other hand, was more fitted to a physical existence. She was descended from arboreal hunters, and her thick pelt concealed a powerfully muscled body. As if that wasn't enough, evolution had granted her species a strong parenting instinct. This made her a near-perfect bodyguard, but even she found the insectile archaeologist's condescending attitude difficult to tolerate. The two of them had been on this deserted world for ten of its diurnal revolutions. Despite the plethora of ruins, their survey drones had only found a handful of cultural objects that had survived whatever had befallen their creators. These artifacts had been placed in stasis cylinders to await the scrutiny of the Conflab's scholars. Meanwhile, they were in the charge of Archaeologist (Second Class) Retik.

Reitk stared at the contents of the nearest cylinder, trying to figure out the purpose of the object suspended in the glow of the zero-field. The object was made of multiple sheets of something organic. Time and exposure to the elements had fused many of these sheets into a grey mass, but there were still traces of images and glyphs on some of them. Retik turned to Bron and chirped. "What do you think these were?"

Bron busied herself at the lander's controls. "I have no idea. Manuals of some kind? Religious tracts? What makes you think that I would know?"

Retik used its forelimbs to smooth its vibrissae back into place. "Your species shares some characteristics with this one."

"And you thought that the mental process of a lowly Class Three might have something in common with these Class Fours? You insult me. Class Fours are idiots."

Retik tried to soothe Bron's feelings. While it was unlikely that she would cause the archaeologist any harm, Retik did not want to antagonise its companion. "No, I did not mean that. Look at these creatures! They are bipedal. They have sexual dimporphism. They even bear live young. You have a similar biology. I can only theorise how these creatures would react." Bron made a gesture of casual apathy. She had seen the illustrations before, but had not paid much heed to them. Yes - they showed a species that was superficially similar to hers - but it would have taken the arrogance of a Class Two to confuse them. Retik continued chirping. "It is disturbing to think that these creatures found a new way to destroy themselves. If only they had left more evidence."

Bron shrugged. "Or the Conflab bureaucracy worked faster. How long has it been since the report of their extinction was filed?"

"Seventy-five accounting periods."

"And how long before that did these things destroy themselves?"

"That is what we are here to find out."

"Exactly." As far as Bron was concerned, this was proof of the futility of their assignment. She returned to her seat at the lander's controls. "It will take more than a handful of diurnal revolutions to solve this, and only you seem to care, Retik."

* * *

Retik was taking its turn at the communications console, watching data come in from the drones that had been seeded across the surface of the deserted world. The drones had been programmed to seek out and report non-natural anomalies: concentrations of refined minerals, areas of high radioactivity, places with abnormal levels of pollutants. This information could lead the archaeologist to centres of habitation and, presumably, hidden caches of cultural relics. As the data came in, Retik began to notice a pattern.

"Bron? Would you please come over here? I would like your opinion on this."

Bron got up from her couch and shuffled over to the console. Despite the annoyance in her voice, she was pleased at the prospect that the tedium of the last, few diurnal revolutions might be relieved. She looked at the holographic display. "It is a network of some kind."

Retik shifted in excitement and called up some more detailed data from the drones. "Look at the spectro-assay!" the archaeologist chittered. "Yes. Copper fibres. Possibly some kind of transmission system ... Running between nodes ... ." A low, buzzing noise began to emanate from Retik's torso. "Nodes! What if this is a primitive example of a data network? That would make the nodes some form of data centre. If they are still intact, think of what we might learn about this culture!"

"It was a Class Four civilisation - too stupid to live! What makes you think they would have had a global datanet?"

Retik exhaled in exasperation. "Do you want off this world?"

"Yes!"

"If this is a datanet, and these are storage nodes, we could have the information out of them and into a cult/morph. We'd be out of here, and we'd have a nice bonus for completing this job under budget."

"And you would have another research credit."

"We both get what we want, Bron."

Bron tapped her digits on the surface of the console, then came to her decision. "Give me the co-ordinates. I'll get us ready to lift."

The lander carried them to their destination: the smaller of two islands located just off the anti-spinward coast of the world's major continent. It was an obvious choice. The island was home to a major communications hub and appeared to have links out to the next-largest continent.

Retik felt exhilarated by the possibilities. "If you were going to have a data centre for a network - one that was meant to be robust - where would you put it, Bron?" Bron did not disagree. While a Class Four civilisation might be congenitally stupid or insane, they would never have reached any level of sophistication without some form of logic.

The data centre was located in a valley, close to a ruined conurbation. Once it had been a sprawling complex of low structures made from white stone, steel and glass. Now, they were shells. Glyphs in faded primary colours hung above what had presumably been the main building in the complex. Retik shivered in the mild climate, and turned up the heating elements in its suit to a more comfortable level. Bron, for once, did not feel stifled by the heat. "Shall I send out the survey drones?" she asked.

Retik bobbed up and down on its limbs. "Yes. We need to find out if there is anything worth recovering."

Eight small, silvered spheres leapt into the cool air, propelled on their mission by their in-built gravity engines. The two explorers watched the drones as they vanished into the ruins, then turned their attention to the flow of data arriving on their screens. Retik waited, hardly daring to respire, watching the images build and merge. One of the buildings was particularly promising. It contained an open space, bigger than any of the others that according to the data, was filled with metals, plastics and other evidence of technology.

Retik pointed at the building on its screen. "I think that is the place."

Bron shrugged. "Do you want to start the retrieval operation?"

"Yes. I shall come with you. I want to observe this first-hand."

The pair left the lander and made their way to the buildings, passing through broken corridors to the cavernous hall. There, as if waiting for their arrival, were rows of metal and glass cabinets. Some of the cabinets had been destroyed by a collapsing roof beam, their fragile contents scattered across the floor. However, most of the units were still intact, promising a hidden trove of data. Bron carefully made her way between the shattered circuit boards and picked up a shiny disc from the rubbish. "Magnetic storage medium. Primitive, but serviceable. We should be able to read the data from it. I'll start dismantling these. You get the cult/morph ready."

* * *

In its dormant form the cult/morph looked like a silver egg. However, as the data from the ruins had been entered into it, the cult/morph's form had begun to change. Now it resembled what should be an average member of the culture that had called this world their home. Retik looked closely at the cult/morph, trying to learn what it could. Bipeds, with bilateral symmetry. Dextrous hands with opposable thumbs. Jaws filled with an omnivore's teeth. However, the physical form gave no clue to their mental processes. That was the purpose of the cult/morph. As well as taking on the physical form of a species, it would also take on the mental processes and cultural patterns concealed in the data they had found. By questioning the cult/morph, Retik would be able to learn something of what drove this culture - maybe even what had killed it off. Of course, the cult/morph's responses would not be a perfect emulation of an actual, living being. Its performance would only be as good as the data that had been put into it. No doubt some information would be lost forever; but there should be enough to learn something of the previous inhabitants of this world. Retik trembled with anticipation. "Is it ready?"

Bron raised her right paw. "All the data has been incorporated. It's ready any time you want."

"Turn it on."

At first there was silence. Retik stared intently at the cult/morph, waiting for it to move. Finally, after endless seconds, the cult/morph lifted its head and looked directly into Retik's eyes. "Ready for interrogation," the simulant intoned. "Shall I enter cultural emulation mode?"

Retik's pulse quickened. "Yes. Primary sequence of probability."

The cult/morph became somehow more animated. "Formal greetings. I am tribal subculture leader name designate. I have a financial proposition for you that will make mutual profit." It continued to drone on, uttering meaningless phrases.

Retik was confused. This was not how the cult/morph should have reacted. Perhaps there was an aberration in the data? Maybe a different set of cultural norms would give a more sensible result? Retik tried again. "Abort current sequence. Restart cultural emulation mode," the archaeologist commanded. "Secondary sequence of probability."

The cult/morph shifted its form slightly, incorporating the new parameters into its structure. "You have achieved significant gain in the geographical area contest," it began. "To initiate your claim, send quantity of economic exchange units to location designate."

Retik felt anger and frustration begin to take hold of its mind. It buzzed in frustration. "Abort sequence. Cultural emulation mode. Alternate sequence of probability."

"Greetings, name designate. Are you dissatisfied with your sexual activity? Technical information previously available to a select few is now to be disseminated."

Retik listened, stupefied, as the cult/morph continued to babble inanely. Above it all, the archaeologist could hear Bron's wheezing laugh. "Class Fours! What did I tell you? Too stupid to live!"