We’d had no contact from the other deicide teams. They were either dead—permanently, if their ships were destroyed like ours almost was—or in communication lockdown, like we were. Either way, we were on our own.

With the immediate threat gone, or at least delayed, we were free to plan our sociological recon. Val was needed at the ship to keep the repairs moving, and Abby was our best mechanic. A couple weeks of low-intensity repair work would help them adjust to their new bodies before they had to go into the field.

That left Markus and me, but with my hearing still impaired it was really just Markus. That wasn’t a problem. Markus could handle himself. We’d just need to be careful that he didn’t run into any fateful occurrences and get the oracle’s eyes on us. For that reason, the commander ordered no-contact recon only.

Overreliance on etheric technology could be problematic on deicide missions. That was especially true now. Markus suited up in good, old-fashioned camouflage, packed a couple of autonomous surveillance cameras, and started the hike to the nearest town. The commander and I could ride piggyback in his head, courtesy of an experiential feed from his comm system. Val was inside the engines, trying to figure out what was actually malfunctioning so we could fix it.

We followed Markus down game trails for a good hour or so. The forest was thick, and it seemed civilization had been content to leave it unmolested for now. The disruptor strafing should have killed everything in the immediate vicinity—for now, anyways, the bodies would attract predators eventually—but once Markus got out into the wild there was a slight chance of painful, and embarrassing, death by ambush predator. If Theria had, like, flesh-eating turbo elephants or whatever, Markus’s comm could warn him in time to defend himself. If he accidentally stepped on a venomous snake, the comm would be no help. We’re not gonna talk about the time Abby got swarmed by acid prawns.

The greens in the plants were richer here than on Earth, which probably implied something about the Therian sunlight and/or atmosphere, but I don’t remember my high school biology class that well. Val probably knew. There were a lot of vines around, despite the lack of sunlight filtering through the canopy. Animal life was much less in evidence, as tends to happen when humans blunder through a natural habitat. Comm readings found traces of etheric entities—apparently the disruptor barrage had been a good idea—but nothing got close enough to get picked up.

Markus’s first encounter with a human came about an hour in. Probably a hunter. No-contact recon requires avoidance as a first resort. Markus immediately hit the ground when his comm read the human soul in range. Due to the claustrophobic environment of the forest, that was significantly larger than visual range, so we didn’t get a clear look at the Therian. A lost opportunity, but not an important one. There would be more.

He traveled more carefully after that, however. Unless we’d landed in a culture with itinerant hunters, someone navigating the forest alone meant we were within spitting distance of a human settlement. The forest was starting to thin out at this point, too, the paths demonstrating evidence of human passage. People back home always said that terraforming Mars was a fool’s errand, but why not? Terraforming is what humans do.

“Looks like clearcutting ahead,” Markus said. “Farming. Grain, maybe related to barley.”

That was where he stopped—we didn’t have enough information to blend in, and his clothing was all wrong besides.

“I’m not seeing any people,” I said. “You?”

“Negative,” he replied. “Best to be careful anyway. I’ll skirt the boundary of the field.”

“See if you can get a good vantage point to deploy the first camera,” said Abby.

“There should be a structure nearby, right?” I said.

“I don’t see one.”

“If you can find one, that’s a good location for a camera,” said Abby. “Otherwise, we can work with footage of field labor.”

“There’s a path to the east. If there’s a structure or settlement nearby, that’s our best lead.”

He didn’t move, though, waiting for the order to begin. I glanced at Abby, who was tapping her fingers on the armrest. That was another weird mannerism; Abby didn’t fidget before.

“Go,” she said eventually. “No-contact order is still in effect.”

We watched Markus creep through the forest, glancing around for people. Nothing. It was getting dark, so stealthy movement should be easier.

“I’m thinking about switching to night vision.”

“I can’t see shit,” I said. “Go for it.”

“What she said,” said the commander.

Our patience—and Markus’s effort—was rewarded about ten minutes later when Markus came into view of a fenced compound. A bonfire in the center illuminated men and women dancing in a complicated pattern, laughing and probably drunk. Markus was too busy checking for sentries and line of sight to really focus on it, so I nudged Abby and frowned. She nodded in agreement.

“This is a perfect spot for the first camera,” she said. “Do you think you can get it up in the tree undetected?”

Markus grunted in affirmation. We watched him take one of the softball-sized canisters off a clasp on his belt, heft it for a moment, and toss it up at a nearby tree. There was a slight splat, unnoticed amid the echoing noise from the party occurring in the compound. The softball deformed, then hardened again. Inside, miniature motors rotated the camera’s lens to focus on the bonfire as Abby worked the controls back here.

“Material culture?” asked Abby. The camera feed was blurry, but slowly clearing as compounds released by the impact reacted with the adhesive. It would cure by morning, becoming transparent—or close enough that adjusting the lens could compensate for it.

“Some ironworking,” said Markus. “They’re using some kind of cooking grille. I can’t tell if it’s machined from here, but from the surroundings my guess is not.”

You could tell there was a pattern to the way they were dancing. It was jogging my memory, but I couldn’t track the whole thing at once. Men and women alternated, skipping to the sides in human daisy chains, sometimes parting to allow other daisy chains to rush through, sometimes changing direction.

“They’re orbits,” I realized. “They’re all on oval paths. But not crashing into each other.”

“The word is elliptical, Lilith,” Val’s voice cut in.

“No one asked you,” I said.

“And look where that got you,” he said. Abby barked out a laugh. “Commander, I popped in to say I’m going silent for the next few hours. I’ve found some issues that require concentration to analyze. No major risk of injury.”

“Acknowledged,” said the commander. “Update me when you’re done.”

“Oval paths,” I muttered to myself.

“What was that?” Abby said.

“Nothing.”

“I think you’re right, Lilith,” said Abby. “This must all be choreographed. We’d see more collisions otherwise.”

“Does that get us anything?” I asked. This was my first time on a recon team. My previous mission, I’ve been part of the invasion force, and the time before that we’d been sent to hunt down a godseed to help the team integrate their awesome new recruit. I’d been through training and everything, I’d just never done this part, you know, for real.

“Not really,” said Abby. “Dances like this are cultural customs. They occur at all levels of cultural development.”

“You have to be, like, specially trained to do that kind of thing back home,” I said.

Abby shrugged. “What we’re seeing is normal.”

We lapsed into silence as Markus crept to a new position. We got a better look at some of their garb. Men and women wore skirts of varying lengths. Instead of shirts, they wore some kind of wrap that went over the shoulders and covered the torso. Many of them—often older members of the community or those not participating in the dance—wore a shawl over that. The shawls also varied in length, and each was covered in unique designs. With the scene viewed through night vision, it was hard to make out the exact nature of the designs. We were at least able to determine that the patterns varied by individual.

“That’s another mark against mass production, then,” Markus noted.

“Unless there’s a tradition of making them by hand.” Abby said. “They could be sacred.”

“So they’re priests?” I said.

“Or elders,” Markus said. “I’ll try to scan them.”

“Be careful,” said Abby.

“It’s me, commander. Lilith’s still on the boat.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Quiet,” Abby snapped. “Let him focus.”

Markus crept alongside the far side of the road from the fence, putting distance between himself and the dance. This took him closer to a set of wooden structures that looked like dwellings. We briefly debated deploying another camera; eventually we decided the risk of detection was too high, particularly without knowing how inconspicuous it would be once the sun came out.

He crossed the road there, briefly visible as a burst of movement in the moonlight. The road looked muddy, but with the noise from the dance, no one would hear it. From there it was a twenty-minute belly crawl over fifty feet of ground to get into scanning range, moving in tiny increments, making sure not to draw anyone’s attention. Back in the command center, we held our breath, as if the Therians would be able to hear if we made noise too.

A blip from Markus’s feed told us he was ready to start a deep scan on the first target: an older man who might be the head of the community here, judging by the deferential body language in the people around him and the woman next to him. He had long, gray hair, tied into a ponytail, and a cane with intricate carvings. His shawl seemed a bit more ornate than the others, but it was hard to tell from this vantage point. Abby gave the order.

“Time to play dead,” Markus subvocalized. He did.

Marus was awfully close to the fence. I worried the firelight might shine on him between the human strands weaving their way around and through each other.

“Nothing,” said Abby. “The shawls might not indicate clergy. Try his wife.”

The wife was a bit more promising to my eyes, if only because she was leaning on a staff instead of a cane, and those seem more wizard-like to me. Look, I may have zoned out during sociology training, but I’ve still got my instincts, alright?

“That’s a hit,” said Abby, typing into a console. “Frequency transform yields... two divine frequencies. One god, biphase. Signal strength is consistent with occasional rites, so it’s not her occupation.”

“So she’s an elder,” I said. “Village leader’s wife does the religious stuff, at first guess.”

“Or she is their leader,” said Markus. “Watch how people interact with them. They talk to her first.”

“Hell yes!” I said. “I get to be on the right end of sexism for once!”

“Calm down, nothing’s confirmed,” said Abby.

“Val’s going to hate this,” said Markus. “That’s got to be it, look at the way the men don’t make eye contact with her.”

“Man’s got a point,” I said, leaning back with my arms folded behind my head. I shot a smug look at Abby, who pursed her lips and ignored me.

“Hit the other targets,” said Abby. “Actually, the clergy hypothesis is looking poorly. Just pick people who stand out. Shawls and no shawls.”

“Yes’m.”

“I’m gonna go sit on benches and take up all the room I want,” I said happily. “Then I’ll explain things to people who already know them. Oh, and I’m going to start interrupting people all the time.”

“You do that already,” said Markus, marking another target. She was standing apart from the others, her face unhealthily thin.

“I’m a natural,” I said, beaming.

“We’re very proud of you,” said Abby. “Is this the one who looks sick, Markus? Didn’t get anything off her.”

“I thought there might be a chance she follows a taboo god. Small chance.”

“It was worth the try, I agree,” said Abby. “Try the one who just left the dance. That ornamentation implies a status differential in the community.”

“On it.”

“You see, Markus, we have to look for status differentials because it helps us map the community,” I womansplained. “Then we can find out how religion plays into the map, and that tells us where to find the gods.”

“Lilith, stand down before I revoke your bridge clearance.”

“Don’t do that, commander. I’m just a dumb man, sometimes I need to be reminded,” said Markus.

Abby narrowed her eyes. “Really? You too?”

“Gotta start practicing now, don’t I? Otherwise we’ll start infiltr—shit!”

The last word was just a hiss as Markus jerked and went completely still.

“Markus?” Abby said. “Markus, respond.”

A single blip on the console. He was alive—he was just playing dead for some reason. That reason quickly revealed itself as two entwined, giggling teenagers staggered their way past Markus’s location.

“Welp, at least we got a hint on their sexual mores,” I said. “Markus, you good?”

“Yeah. They hopped the fence when no one was looking. Permission to extract?”

“Granted,” said Abby. “Track the couple’s movement first. I don’t want you stumbling over them in the woods on the way out.”

“What do you take me for?”

“It’s a security risk,” said Abby, exasperated.

I patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry about him. He’s a man, you know. He doesn’t always pick everything up.”

Markus got his headcam pointed over his shoulder. We tracked the couple down the road, where they appeared to collapse into some bushes.

“A really big hint on their sexual mores,” I said.

“See if you can just cross the road,” said Abby. “They’re too close to the route you took on the way in, even if they’re occupied.”

Markus gave the road a considering glance.

“I think I can make it.”

He started slowly, making sure to check for more aspiring trysts in the making. So slowly, in fact, that he’d barely left his original position when Abby called out “Markus! They’re coming back!”

“What? That was barely any time at all!”

“That’s what she said,” I snickered.

“Lilith—”

“No, really, look at her face!”

“I don’t—Markus, just get out of there!”

Markus looked over his shoulder just once. Was anyone in line of sight? Too late now, the teens were coming back, the shamefaced boy trying in vain to get the girl to look at or respond to him. Markus rolled himself across the road and stopped on the far side from the compound. For a moment it seemed like someone was about to call out, or raise the alarm, or something. But the night went on. The Therians continued enjoying each other’s company.

We breathed a sigh of relief. We’d done it.