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Fired up a cargo skiff to spare me the trudging through these streets, if you can call them that. Scratched the paint making the first turn… It's a tight squeeze. The architecture is in the typically bizarre style of the Kavash: interlaced geometric construction with material that appears to be a sort of stone, pretty basic construction at first blush. Not unlike their spacebound megastructures. No visible power flow, here. These structures seemingly aren’t built for comfort or habitation, but it’s difficult for me to guess knowing little of their physiology. More qualified analysis would be necessary there. You know though, I don't think it's a city necessarily. Maybe a storage depot, or bearing some other purpose. It’d be very like their Creators to build so big for something so mundane. I really don’t see the Core having been so protective of it out of archeological interest, though. They were transporting material from here somewhere…

Found a passage beneath this large ziggurat-like building, one of a couple that dotted the horizon from the surface. Seems the Core were here, and pretty heavy-handed getting inside. Cut their way through six huge doorways leading down here. Each of the side corridors past each one just spun off into little dark alcoves, dead end rooms that I bet a hefty portion of their salvage came from, along with some strange tall containers. Interesting designs, about the size of a person, but empty. Found little else of import. Going to keep looking.

Jesus… I’m still-... feeling giddy after that. This’ll be a tough one to describe, I think.

So I came across another doorway, but this was much more significant. It was force-shielded, and there was Core equipment strewn all about the area in front of it. Looked like they tried to cut it open, too. Even tried to mine their way around when that didn’t work, but looks like they didn’t get far. It wasn’t unlike the forbidden section barriers of the Shrine, but definitely smaller-scale. I poked around at the equipment, then examined the swirling field itself a little closer. I didn’t see any projectors, but even if they were there, I doubt I’d recognize them. I just… gazed into it, out of curiosity.

The longer I stared, the more I could hear this faint melody… not necessarily music as we’d think of it, but still having that quality of sweeping you away if you let it, you know?

I see enough happen to others and experience enough myself to be wary of mental intrusion these days. This had all the signs. Even discounting the gift of knowing the song for what it is, the hair on the back of my neck always stands up when something I don’t recognize wants to share space in my mind - ever since the first time. The technique my would-be mentor taught me then, to suddenly and viciously force the presence out… felt out of place here. If there were incubi, I was armed and ready. I’m not even certain how long they can live without life support. And I already swept the rest of the area. So what was that, I wondered?

Against my better judgment, in hindsight probably a dumb risk, I indulged in the flow of that melody… for lack of better words. With what I’ve been taught, I knew it wasn’t anything Nomad that was reaching out to me. Not… volatile enough, emotionally. This was a more basic sensation, repeating, barely acknowledging that I perceived it. Another similarity to the Shrine, but again simpler. The implications get really fun when you compare the two, but, I’m digressing.

So, I considered it. I’d born witness to the weaving of thought more complex than this in my tutelage, for what it was. Maybe this looping melody would respond eagerly to a conductor, and I could direct the presence across the connection it made between us. So, with my talent, I played the part. I bid it to interrupt its pattern, and so it did. What followed was the barrier shielding the door dissipating, and that melody fading to a mild hum, waiting and listening.

Just, holy hell. Has anyone dissuaded a defense system like this before? I assume that is what it was. The Technocracy, or the Bretonians in Newcastle maybe? Simply electrifying, I swear. I’ll try not to let the pride of this get to me.

And what’s on the other side seems more than worth it, from what I see here. Time to see up close.

Good morning me, good morning Bornholm. Nnrh… now, yesterday was an alright day. Well, not to diminish splitting the barrier like the Red Sea, but even if it was a small start, I came away with something. Erm… is that hubris…?

So, uh, after putting in some elbow grease down there, my analyzer suite confirmed the object I grabbed off the central dais in the chamber as an active artifact from inside the complex. Small but hefty. Very dense, pyramidally shaped just like the whole building, crystalline fixture at the apex. Even without putting my hands on it, the way it warped the air, feeling that soft hum inside when I laid eyes on it - it echoed the song. Always a different timbre, I notice. The barrier, the Shrine, all their creations and now this. Difficult to do it justice here, but the way they reflect off their surroundings is distinct between them. It almost felt wrong to take it. Bit distasteful to think of myself as some tomb looter. But, when all’s said, it’s still a piece of technology. Studying it could prove handy.

Looking down those chasms near where it was set, the structure ran deep. Very deep. Looked like a maze of stone mechanisms down in the depths, but I couldn’t find any path down to it. Something shifted in the distance below when I secured the object. Not sure what. Rappelling down there alone was a little out of my depth for that initial search, much as I wanted to. But, hey, not so eager to pancake in a two-hundred meter fall after convincing an alien door to let me through. Would’ve been an appropriately absurd whoopsie to capstone the last four years of my life. For now, I believe I’ll return this to Heisenberg for them to study. They won’t need to know all the details of how I got it.

The sparse beeping of the distress beacon notice light is audible over the recording, as well as the dull metallic creaking of a ship’s hull.

-’ant… I slipped up… can’t get away. If you find this-

A shriek of pain rips out in the woman’s normally calm voice, teeth-clenched sobbing following just behind. She sounds ragged. Frenzied. Fear grips her tone, and isn’t letting go.

D-drowning… can’t- can’t breathe… l-let me ou- out!

The speech degrades into pained groaning, interrupted by brief sharp screams. Gradually, it grows less coherent and descends into violent crying. Twice, the sound of shattering glass rips across the recording as a supplement to her wailing. No other voices speak.

Even the sobbing tapers off, slowly. Pained, heaving breaths, growing weaker as each minute drags on. Eventually, the audio receptor picks up the sound of distant rhythmic pulsing sounds, most likely energy weapons fire, with the occasional loud thud that sounds like it shook the entire craft, as if from a shockwave.

The woman’s voice does not respond to the audio. As suddenly as they appear, the sounds abruptly go quiet. The recording stretches on for another hour, but there is only vacant silence. With a low battery warning, the recording ends.