Inferior.  

That was the property she most commonly attributed to her colleagues. Not out of sheer malice, mind you, but more so because it was painfully accurate. And, most of the time, rather obvious. They did not heed her advice or paid attention to her opinions because they thought themselves greater. They thought themselves bigger or stronger than her, just because of their physique. That might as well have been the truth, for all she cared – but she would never concede that they were greater in any capacity beyond that.  

“Hold it steady, dumbarse!” 

A young voice pierced her thoughts. She opened her eyes suddenly, bringing her back to the so frustrating reality she called her own. Vanya Vaevectis currently sat atop a big boulder in the enormous cave they had been exploring for the past few days. She was gazing at the ancient temple that loomed high before her, almost reaching the ceiling of the dark cavern. It was an incredibly old monument, a cathedral to some long-forgotten deity. Her face, framed by her dark and short curls, was composed; the artificial calm expression hid the disappointment at her current situation well – after the last few months of working together with them, she was rather accustomed to it, after all. Vanya, having been tasked with finalising the report of their findings, analysed the old structure for what felt like the hundredth time that day. To say her objective was bland would have been quite the understatement. A long and drawn out sigh escaped before she could stop herself, the frustration at the prospect of helping the fools inside the temple mounting ever higher. But alas, it was better than growing roots where she sat. Probably. And so she stood up and jumped from the big rock she had rested upon to make her way to the entrance. The old boots she wore were, like her coat, made from an old and durable leather that creaked with the motion.

I wonder what the imbeciles have got themselves into this time. 

She looked at the great stone archway in passing, noticing the faint runes that had to be engraved hundreds of years ago. The temple was, by all accounts, impressive, even though its very advanced age showed itself in the cracks of the stone bricks or the sometimes fragile-looking support beams. She hadn’t ventured far into the overgrown structure when she found who had interrupted her peaceful loathing of others. She rounded a corner and stopped dead in her tracks. What greeted her was a sight of utter incompetence. In the rather large room, overgrown with moss and other plant life, were the companions that had been assigned to her on this expedition. Jared held a horribly creaking, crooked ladder, trying to keep it steady while Kannon was balancing his weight atop it. It appeared as though he wanted to grasp something above him – though she couldn’t see what exactly from her position. 

The two were constantly fighting with one another about the most mundane and inconsequential things, which annoyed Vanya to a tremendous extent. Kannon was a rather ghastly individual himself, not quite as burly as Jared but at the very least twice over as stupid, she was certain – which in and of itself was a considerable achievement. They were, for all intents and purposes, two absolutely insufferable halfwits who knew next to nothing of their trade, yet somehow managed to mask their incompetence every time by sheer arrogance alone. One would think that any of their employers would have seen through this pantomime, but alas, they did not. The sole fact that they had been given this voyage, just like the last five, without any kind of hesitation or thought, while she herself scrounged to find any funding for her own excursion was, for the lack of a better word, ludicrous. Laughable, on the best of days.

“Careful, you two!” Another voice rang out, sounding anxious about the prospect of safety. 

It sounded old and hoarse, belying the advanced age of its wielder. It belonged to Professor Andrej Markow. A man, many decades Vanya’s elder. His face was decorated with experience in the field, hard-earned over the years, and a greying beard, which together with his stern expression made him appear even older than he was. Markow was a kind man and he had – at least partially – Vanya’s respect. Not many archaeologists went to expeditions at such an old age. Most simply concealed themselves behind their desks and large offices adorned with their discoveries. Mere trinkets that held no value at all, neither sentimental nor monetary. Another reason, even more impactful than the last, was the incident a few weeks ago. They had successfully completed their last excursion, which their employer had handsomely rewarded them for. The others wanted to celebrate a job well done and had spent the whole day convincing her to come along, promising her a lovely evening. 

What a terrible idea that was, Vanya thought. 

In her completely unbiased opinion, there were very few things worse than Kannon. But it was that she realised a drunken Kannon had to be the absolute apex of useless annoyances. The fool had chugged down enough bad mead to drown a whole tavern and, afterwards, had the brilliant idea to get cosy with her, of all people. What precisely she had done that offended the gods enough to warrant such a disgrace coming her way, Vanya had no idea – but it had better been worth it. She had tried to ask him to leave her alone discreetly a thousand times that night, but Kannon either didn’t get the hint or did not mind the constant refusal. She had been ready to garrotte the man in the middle of the tavern’s common room until Andrej came along, squabbling something about needing help to legally distinguish rats from mice. She had been grateful to the professor, finally giving her the peaceful solitude she sought. At least the rest of the night had been somewhat enjoyable. 

“Godsdamnit!”  

Vanya’s eyes darted to the source of the yelling. Kannon was currently trying to seize something dangling from the high ceiling. He stood on the wooden ladder, trying to simultaneously not fall off and grab what appeared to be a decoration piece, something shaped like a pillar, adorned by a multitude of precious-looking stones. Whatever that thing was supposed to be, it was not their prime objective. They weren’t here for some piece of fancy furniture – however much money one could sell it for. Their objective lay much deeper in the cathedral and would likely impress the institute far more than this meagre thing. That was another sin of Kannon. He wasn’t only insufferable as hell; he was also greedy beyond any reasonable measure. How one simple man could possess as much greed as Kannon did made no sense to Vanya. She almost would have considered it impressive were it literally any other individual but him. At last one of the grasping hands seized the pillar, letting the men exclaim a triumphant sound.  

"Professor, what are they doing?” 

Markow jumped slightly. The man turned around to meet her gaze, obviously spooked by her sudden appearance. He winced slightly because of the shouting that grew even louder than before, as Kannon started to violently pull. By now every last thing that crawled in these wretched caverns would know they were here; she was sure of it.  

“Ah, Vanya. There you are. Kannon is currently trying to take this relic with us as proof of our work here. Unfortunately it seems kind of stuck up there.”  

The annoyed voice of the man in question came thundering through the room almost immediately after.  

“Kind of? Old man, are you blind?” 

Jared only hummed faintly, as though in agreement. Vanya analysed their surroundings, her precise calculations quickly surmising the uselessness of their endeavour and the dangers of the environment. 

The structural integrity of this room is not sufficient for withstanding such force for long, and there are already multiple cracks forming in the walls. Should that thing be removed forcefully, the whole ceiling would come crashing down soon after. 

Vanya’s thoughts were, as always, structured and most often accurate enough to rely on. However, she did not inform any of the other people who were present. She held back because she knew how the two young men would react. Kannon, especially, was known for his rude ways. He crudely degraded anyone who didn’t share his worldview and all those he saw as weak. That included, rather unfortunately, Vanya. Not because she had given him any reason to doubt her capabilities, but rather purely on principle. She was a woman. And Kannon seemed to firmly believe that this made his thoughts and ideas worth more than hers. She still found the notion that her opinions were near worthless, just because she couldn’t beat someone to a bloody pulp, utterly ridiculous. However civilised or distinguished she tried to administer her concerns or to contribute, both of them were, just like most Kraskowaran faculties, set in their old ways. The professor would hear her worries but would ultimately let Kannon decide how to proceed, as he would rather not have an argument with him. Why Markow let them have so much free rein, even though it was he who was in charge, made no sense to her. Equally senseless seemed the Tsar, who in his infinite wisdom had decided not to equalise the chances and rights of female researchers and scientists at all – to what end was anyone’s guess.  

“Don’t just stand there, looking dumb. Help us get that damn thing down here!”  

Polite as ever, Kannon.  

Vanya took two steps back towards the entrance of the room. Her calculations had prompted her to conclude where the safest place to stand was in case the ceiling came indeed down to greet them. 

“No, I don’t think I will. Though I sincerely wish you the best of luck in this endeavour, she said, the disgust in her voice so thinly veiled it just might as well have not been at all.  

I sincerely hope you fall flat on your face, preferably on the nose, she thought. 

"Gods, you are useless, woman!” 

Vanya narrowed her eyes, and her gaze darkened. That man would never change; she was certain of it. That was the most frustrating thing about him. She could endure all the belittling and insults and ignore all suggestive comments. But she knew that he would never change his ways, that she would never be considered an equal, whatever she did, and that was somehow far worse. She was about to answer in kind when Kannon finally managed to yank the pillar along with the heavy metal chain downward. Even the stone where it was anchored fell to the ground. 

“Ha, told you I’d get it!” He yelled excitedly.

Kannon held his prize high with a triumphant expression, leaving the rest of the group speechless. Vanya couldn’t believe her eyes. It didn’t make any sense – by all accounts, the pressure should have made the brittle stone crumble before giving way peacefully. Had she miscalculated? What possibility hadn’t she accounted for? That’s when she heard it. Above them, a distant rumbling echoed, muffled by the layers of stone in between. The cracks in the walls started to expand, widening at brutal speeds. Small pebbles started to fall from the ceiling, and the ground began to shake. The tremors were faint at first but soon got violent and deafeningly loud. The crooked ladder came tumbling down, and with it, so did Kannon. Both the clunky Woden construct and the man atop it fell onto Jared, who cried out in pain as his lower body was crushed like a fly beneath the weight. A loud crack could be heard – the bones of his legs snapped cleanly in half. 

“Jared! Kannon!” Markow yelled loudly. “Get out of there!” 

Vanya grabbed the old man by his shoulders and dragged him out of the room to safety. She would not be held responsible if he hit his head. The rocks falling from above them grew ever larger in size; what had started with tiny pebbles had soon evolved into small and fragile boulders that shattered into hundreds of sharp pieces when they hit the ground. Vanya’s charcoal grey eyes found the two men on the ground, scrambling to collect themselves in time.  

Chances for survival are virtually nil, getting lower by the second. 

The whole of the cracked ceiling began to rattle ominously, its looming collapse obvious.  

“Argh! Kannon, please! Help me!”

Jared’s gurgling wet cries pierced the noise of the crumbling cathedral. Kannon, however, did not care for it. No, he cared for naught but himself, and so he left him behind in the rubble. He made a run for it – straight across the elongated room, trying to avoid any stones that fell down. Jared was dragging himself through the debris, with bloodied hands and cracked fingers, in an attempt to save himself. Heavy sobs escaped him, betraying the egregious pain he was in, greatly increased by the razor-sharp edges of the ground he had to crawl through, which slowly sliced his abdomen open. Jared was continuously pelted with the descending rubble – each one eliciting another sob or scream – until he had no strength left to drag himself forward and collapsed onto the broken tiles. 

“No! Jared!” The old professor’s voice rang out, raw with palpable terror.  

Vanya held him steady to keep him from doing anything irrational, like risking his life for the ones that already were forfeited. Her colleague didn’t look back. His fixation was solely on the doors through which they had entered the room, his only escape from the death trap the temple had devolved into. To Vanya’s surprise, Kannon almost made it. Almost. He was barely five meters from safety when a jagged stone caught him. His skull split open, bones splitting with a wet crack, and brain matter and blood violently sprayed the air. His body collapsed mid-leap, coming to a slithering halt before his comrades’ feet with a sickening, squelching thud. Blood started to seep into the crevices beneath the corpse the second it hit the ground. Then the ceiling gave way. The ancient temple crumbled in a thundering groan, burying Jared’s remains beneath the falling rubble and engulfing Kannon’s lower body. The deafening sound snapped Markow from his stupor. He fell to his knees beside Vanya, eyes wide with terror, and his face drained of colour.  

“Kannon,” his strained voice mumbled quietly. “Oh gods, Kannon.” 

Tears streaked down his face, falling to the cracked ground. Vanya stared at the corpse, at the bloodied remains that once had been her compatriot. She should feel something, she was certain, anything at all. Yet she did not. She had no sorrow left for the likes of them. Neither did she feel any kind of grim satisfaction, now that she wouldn’t be insulted and mishandled anymore. Nothing.  

It was a few hours later when the professor sought her out. Vanya sat cross-legged before her tent, the pages she was supposed to fill with analytical observations on her lap. Andrej was wrung out, his eyes bloodshot, rimmed red from all the tears he had cried for their fallen comrades. Vanya understood only in part why he was so sentimental. Yes, theoretically speaking, he had been in charge, and therefore they had perished under his protection. He had failed his duty and, as Vanya assumed, grieved the position he could lose because of it. She understood that. Because that made sense. What she could not grasp, however, was why, out of all people, he seemed to mourn Jared and Kannon. She did not voice her lack of understanding - it was not the time. 

“You knew, didn’t you?” His whispering voice accused her. “You knew it would all collapse.” 

“I calculated the probability,” she corrected him. 

Vanya paused shortly, as though to carefully pick the words she chose. 

“After that—there was nothing left to conclude.” 

She did not bother to look up from the papers she worked so diligently on. 

“And you said nothing?”  

Andrej’s voice strained with disbelief. 

“There was no point,” the woman told him. 

“They are dead because of your silence,” the professor huffed quietly. 

That made her look up at him, her charcoal eyes piercing his. There was no malice in her gaze – only indifference. 

“They’re dead because of their ignorance.” 

“They dismissed me every time I spoke.” 

“You know why.” 

Vanya tilted her head slowly at the elderly man, studying his facial structure. 

“Why would this time be any different?” 

Markow did not know how to answer. Nor how anyone could talk so dismissively of the dead. The ease with which she spoke of their fallen comrades unsettled him almost as much as the gruesome sight of the deaths themselves that had burnt into his memory. He turned and walked away, leaving for his tent without another word. Vanya watched the professor go, her brow tightening slightly. Then she returned to her notes.  

Field Report — Vaevectis  

Two members of Expeditionary Group “Markow” deceased. 

Prior structural instability indicators disregarded in favour of continued excavation. 

Resulting fatalities consistent with preceding decisions.