Isis said, “C'thulhu? You're pulling my tentacle.”

“The genetic researchers who uplifted me had an appreciation for classical literature – and also a dark sense of humor. They gave me the gift of speech and the ability to breath out of water. I dedicated my life to scientific discovery.”

Isis said, “They didn't ask you and your kind if you wanted to be uplifted though, did they?”

“I will not be dragged into a political debate about uplift.”

C'thulhu said this with what Morgan detected as a bit of regret in its voice. She wondered if debating his creation was exactly what he wanted to do – or if perhaps he really did want them gone that much. Morgan turned to Isis and said, “Lady of Space, this creature will not parley. You should take it by force or leave it be.”

Isis said, “Doctor, if you do not want me to tell you what you don't know, I can help you put into perspective what you do know. Please, tell us what you've figured out so far.”

C'thulhu answered, “These creatures would molt internally. They would grow until they outgrew their internal skeletons, and then they would shed their bones like a snake shedding its skin or a mollusk shedding a shell too small for it. They grew new bones to replace the old. Then, they used their old bones as tools.”

“On the walls?” Isis pressed.

“Yes.”

“Why did they use their bones for that.”

C'thulhu answered, “I do not know – yet.”

“Speculate,” Isis said.

“The bones must have had some significance beyond their practical benefits as writing tools. They must have had some relevance. Perhaps the information on the walls is related to the bones themselves.”

“Go ooooooon.”

C'thulhu looked at the marking again. “If the creatures who build this place were writing about something related to the bones, were they writing about the bones themselves? Is this record a growth chart?”

Isis said, “You're getting waaaarmer.” Morgan simply circled around the room, eyeing the walls eyeing the ruins wearily.

C'thulhu said, “If it isn't a record of the bones, then it is a message about the bones. My word, these are not ideograms after all. What we took for words are pictograms or part of pictograms. This is artwork. This is Impressionism. What is its meaning?”

Morgan spoke up, “Bones mean death. Bones always mean death.”

C'thulhu said, “It's a warning. They were telling us about a death. Perhaps this is what destroyed their entire species.”

Isis spoke excitedly, “Oh, you're so close, I can taste it, Doctor C'thulhu. What do you see?”

“It looks like their teeth. Images of teeth are all along the bottom of the wall.” C'thulhu began shouting, “Computer, call Freeman! I know what killed them.”

Isis said, “Good boy.”

C'thulhu ignored her. “Cleo, do you read me?”

“This is Cleo. Go ahead, Doc.”

C'thulhu said, “Do not let Freeman reach the cistern. It isn't an elaborately decorated cistern. It's a mouth. This entire city was constructed to contain a creature under the surface, but they couldn't contain it anymore. It rose up and ate them all one at a time.”

The voice of Cleo answered, “Doc, Freeman is already there. I lost contact with him too.”

A tremor shook the entire necropolis. Morgan asked, “What monster is only a mouth in the ground?”

C'thulhu told her, “It isn't all mouth. The mouth is the only part we see – if we're lucky. We're not lucky. The planet itself is the monster. It evolved alongside these architects. It devoured local life forms that grew on its surface. It shed its internal skeleton like them and spat those bones out as moons. It grew and ate until it ran out of food, and then it starved. No, it hibernated until some food arrived from another planet and crawled into one of its mouths. Now, it's awake.”

Isis cheered, “Ding, ding, ding, I knew you could do it!”

The monster-planet roared. The walls of the necropolis cracked and crumbled around them.