The material reminded Henrik of a insect’s carapace; black and hard as stone, but with an iridescent sheen like the surface of a bubble. Slight imperfections in the surface made it appear unmistakably organic. He’d felt for a while now like he was exhuming some monstrous invertibrate.

“They won’t buy your story,” said Helli. She’d already downed tools, and was standing over Henrik with hands on hips, looking grave. “As soon as one of the stiffs from Central heads down here for a photo op, they’ll see what you’re doing. They’ll know you lied, they’ll shut us down, and neither of us will ever do field work again."

Henrik put down his chisel. She was right, he knew. But he had no intention of letting anyone from Central near the dig.

“You’ve never excavated relics before. I have. And yet -“ he turned to face her and smiled, raising his arms in a shrug - “here I am!”