Don't Panic
The area around Mayapan was among the least pristine examples of pre-Gulag societal collapse that Niysha had ever seen. That was quite an accomplishment, and a kind of impressive all its own. It had taken a half-hour of circling on a speeder bike to even find a structure robust enough to be intact and larger than a hut. Eventually, though, she had found something promising. Stone walls with easily marked rainwater paths, steps that were at most 40% moss or dirt by volume, and a few genuine spires inside. Even if they were only a half-dozen stories tall, that was legitimate architecture. This was what she'd been looking for from the moment she'd seen that tablet in Mayapan proper.
The Miraluka's datapad beeped a couple of times when she'd made her way up to the top of the stairs that remained. Niysha had had suspicions, and set it to run geometric scans a bit deeper. Her instincts, as frequently happened, were spot-on. There was what looked to be intense structural damage to the center of the stone courtyard inside the walls, creating a very, very deep pit at the base of the modest spire above. It would likely be pitch black to a sighted species, Niysha could make out several floors worth of destruction heading down into what was at least three basements at the edge of her casual range. Very, very promising.
After a minute or two of pulling her backpack off, futzing with the supplies she'd packed, and finding an anchor point, she was ready to rappel down. She had enough catridges of liquid cable to be able to slowly work her way down, and it wouldn't naturally degrade for more than a week. Unless something tragic happened in the dungeons below, she'd have an easy way out of this pit when she was done.
Her boots hit the wet, very soft moss carpet on the second-floor basement stone, and after a moment to tie her line tight and secure, she dropped to her knees and breathed deep, centering herself. Leaving her body wasn't difficult when she was this alone, when the world was this quiet. Her senses expanded, but without intent or definition. She wasn't looking for details, just detail. Singular.
After a moment, a minute, or a might bit longer, she found it. Deep, deep underground, a single signature. Thrumming with the kind of ancient power that only an old, forgotten artifact could have. That would be her prize... whenever she got there.
