Georgia double checked the battery pack on her rifle, checked the webbing attaching it to her hard-suit, took a deep breath, and nodded for the xeno-archiology team to start opening the presumed airlock.
The airlock in question was part of the half buried circle looping the central shaft and archeology had so many questions. The first of which were if the circle level could have rotated, back before this (presumed) station had crashed. Which was off course completely integral to the whole artificial or rotational gravity question. Had it been an atmospheric or space station? Had the central core been oriented horizontal to the planet, making the ring an off-center portion of the station, or vertical to the planet? If it was vertical, did that make the ring party of the top or bottom of the station?
And those were just the questions a security grunt like Georgia could (well, would) follow when the archeology team started getting excited.
She had her rifle up and pointed at the door as it cycled open. There was a soft groan over the comms when nothing jumped out at her and a digital flash through the shared network as Ezra paid out. The asshole either had a hard on for strange alien life-forms attacking humans on sight or just her getting knocked on her ass by them. It’s not like he was on the xeno-vetinary or biology track.
Either way, none of the local life-forms had gotten themselves into the airlock nor were itching to get out. Just as well, the local apex predator was small, fast, and annoying as fuck to find a hand-hold on that didn’t involve razor-quills after getting tranked. She’d been so happy when the bio team had figured out the standard drug would work. Fat lot of help they’d been.
Georgia kept her variable tranquilizer rifle up and advanced into the opening.