On the same planet outside the Museum of Cultural History, a load of metal trolleys, each carrying a sarcophagus, were lined up awaiting transportation onto a truck. The driver and three other employees loaded them onboard, with one being slightly more uncomfortable and heavier than the rest. The driver then checked his delivery sheet and performed a double take upon reading the address for the final sarcophagus. He shrugged his shoulders and then thought rationally about the situation, wondering if the unusual envelope of money he had found in his locker that morning had anything to do with this specific cargo.
The drop off point took him five hours to reach, venturing off road through gravel tracks and woods, eventually coming to a halt at a site specially preserved by the government as a place of significant historical interest. The place was often lined with archaeologist's tents carrying out scientific experiments for the sampling of materials taken from the site. The employee pulled up to a spot situated close to a fragmented grey monument from where many sarcophagi had been recovered. He expected to find a team of officials ready to greet him, remove the cargo from his possession and sign the paperwork so he could get home. He waited and waited, observing the sky becoming darker.
Then, from nowhere, a massive downwind swept his truck several feet off the track, spinning him around in many rotations, covering the area in a cloud of dust and severely damaging what remained of the well-loved monument. What appeared to be an enormous metallic projectile of a ship had all but flattened it, choosing to land directly on top and squashing it into the ground. A blast crater formed a perfect circle in front of the truck and the employee dared not step outside. Instead, he watched a single hatch open and a ramp materialise, and seconds later, a tall, well constructed square-jawed grey thing advanced in robotic movements. As the ramp descended, it locked. The grey thing halted and jumped up and down repeatedly until the hatch touched the ground with a clattering bang, shaking the truck and terrifying the employee.
"Oh you nasty thing you. I spend many hours fixing your hinges and all you can do is creak open. My, oh my."
The robotic voice took the employee completely by surprise and froze his hands to the wheel. His eyes turned into worried binoculars as the grey thing walked mechanically with a slightly camp and stealthy rusted limp swagger over to the driver's window.
"Oh, my creaky joints!"
The employee's window lowered extremely slowly, and he focused two shocked and highly observant eyes against the now apparent intricately detailed robot. His mouth suddenly seemed to stop working.
"Well, hello handsome. I'm here for what you've got in the back."
"...o...okay."
The employee climbed out very slowly and walked around the opposite side of the truck. He came to the rear and received a nasty shock when the robot poked its head out from the side.
"Peeky-boos! Can you open those doors for me, hun?"
"...right."
The employee pushed a green button, a ramp raised and the doors opened.
"I'll take it from here, hun. You have a rest."
The robot sprang into the cargo area and emerged effortlessly carrying the sole remaining sarcophagus under its arm - the sarcophagus that needed extra people to load it onto the truck.
"...p...paperwork?"
"Oh, forget that. You have a good day, hun."
The robot expressed a creepy grin and headed back towards the ship. The driver quickly got into his seat, locked the doors, turned around in a mad skid and drove off kicking up dust. A mumbling noise and a knocking came from inside the sarcophagus, followed by even more desperate rattling.
"I'm sorry, sir. There's no key and I can't open the lid."
"Mmfffmffmff."
"I don't know what you're saying, sir."
"Mmmfff! Mmmfaffmaamffamfamffuff..."
"I am going to use the winch. Perhaps a hard impact will loosen the top."
"Oooohh!"
"Don't worry, sir. I will have you out in no time."
The robot spent the next two hours constantly hooking and releasing the sarcophagus to the ship's winch, smashing it against the hard terrain repeatedly like a container dropped from a great height. The attempts to release the individual inside proved fruitless. Once the robot was satisfied and entrusted that its memory banks had calculated a definite improbability of releasing the lid, it proceeded to keep the sarcophagus on board inside the holding bay, until it could come up with an idea containing a better probability of success.
"How are you feeling, sir? I'm sorry about all the crashing."