Setting: Central Asia, scorched plain, unspecified (presumably summer 1976)
Subject: Unidentified object, detected by satellites. Landing confirmed.
Participants: Military group under the command of Brigadier General Kovalev, Observer Foundation agent, staff psionicist.
Dust hung in the air like a suspension of time. It clogged the joints of armored vehicles, the soldiers' eyes, the folds of their uniforms. The silence was so profound you could hear a heartbeat - your own and that of others.
General Artur Sergeyevich Kovalev stood leaning on the hood of the command vehicle. His face, tanned and wrinkled like a map of wartime, remained calm. On the horizon, three kilometers away, a structure towered - something that Earth engineers would call a ship, but only if they built ships from bones, metal, and forgotten geometry.
"He's moving," said one of the soldiers, looking through binoculars.
"No," the general objected. "It's the light that's changing. Or us."
A young man in a black jacket with no identifying marks stood nearby. He didn't introduce himself, only call sign: Raven. And an ID card with the stamp "Observer Foundation" and the look of a man who had seen everything is not going according to plan. Many times.
"One of them is coming," he said dryly. "And I don't think he's here to shake hands."
"If he wanted to shoot, he would have already shot," the general remarked, without taking his eyes off the approaching figure.
The figure was tall, thin, seemingly elongated. The color of its shell - not skin, not armor - was shifting from gray to ash. No weapons, no aggression. Only movement - steady, purposeful.
"What do you say?" the general asked, turning to the girl in the unmarked uniform.
She was short, with dark skin and thick hair pulled back into a ponytail. She spoke with an accent—Middle Eastern, perhaps. Her name was simply: Mira.
She closed her eyes and took a breath. Something trembled in the air.
"He's not hostile. He's tired. And... confused. He's trying to speak, but he doesn't know how. (pause) He considers us... the least dangerous of the available options."
"It's nice to be a priority," Raven muttered. "Don't shoot, General. For now."
"One of ours already fired," the general said. "The bullet entered the hull. He didn't even stop."
"Maybe because he has no nervous system," Mira suggested. "Or because he's already dead."
"In what sense?" the general raised an eyebrow.
"Directly," she replied. "They're a Necrocivilization. They're not alive like us. But they're not dead either. They... function."
"A zombie with an engineering degree," Raven chuckled.
When the alien approached within fifty meters, the soldiers raised their weapons. The general raised his hand - not to shoot.
The alien stoped. Hereafter he raised his hand - not in greeting, but rather as if pointing at himself, then at the ship. A sound emanated from his chest - not a voice, but a vibration, as if someone were speaking through an old radio tuned to a nonexistent frequency.
Mira stepped forward. She took off her glove. She touched her temple with her fingers. Her eyes clouded over.
"He's asking for help," she said. "The ship is damaged. They need power. Or... structure. Something that can replace the lost segment."
"Is he alone?" asked the general.
"There are three of them. The rest... are in stasis. Or in anabiosis. It's not clear. But he is the representative. He chose to go out himself."
"Why us?" Raven narrowed his eyes. "Why not someone else?"
Mira listened. Then she said:
"Because we're close. Because we can hear. And because we haven't entered the aggressive phase yet."
The general nodded silently. Then he turned to the liaison:
"Tell the base: we're preparing a mobile power plant. Have them transport it. With maximum protection. And tell the engineers not to ask unnecessary questions."
The liaison nodded and ran off.
"Are you sure?" Raven asked. "We don't know what we'll give them. Or what they'll leave us."
"I'm not sure," the general replied. "But if they wanted to destroy us, they wouldn't have started with negotiations."
Over the next 24 hours, the military, under Foundation supervision, installed a power module next to the ship. The aliens didn't interfere. One of them - the one who had emerged first - watched. Sometimes he would approach. Sometimes he would "talk" to Mira. She would become pale and silent afterward.
"What is he saying?" Raven asked.
"That we... aren't the first." (pause) "And that they no longer seek alliances. Only an opportunity to leave."
On the third day, the ship activated. Its hull glowed from within, as if someone had ignited a star within it. Three aliens slowly entered. One of them - the same one - stopped. He turned to face the humans.
He raised his hand. This time, in farewell.
Mira merely nodded. Raven smoked, looking away. The general stood straight, as if on parade.
The ship vanished. Didn't take off. Didn't dissolve. Simply ceased to exist. As if it had never existed. Only a scorched circle in the ground remained - and a faint hum in her ears.
"That's it?" Raven asked.
"For now, yes," the general replied.
"And then?"
"Then - again."
Mira looked at the sky.
"They said, 'You're not ready yet. But you're better than we thought.'"