The Vanished Seas (Major Bhaajan series Book 3)

by Catherine Asaro

  Bhaaj, Max suddenly said. The probe just contacted the human security chief and informed her that a trespasser may be on the premises.

  Damn! Are they shutting off the palace exits?

  Yes. You have to get out another way.

  What way? The roof?

  No, they’ve closed the landing pad. You need a way out that isn’t public. He paused. I found an option, but it won’t be long before they close that exit, too. Turn left at the next corner.

  Got it.

  Max sent me into the servants’ wing. Normally, that wouldn’t have helped, since most buildings used bots instead of humans, which meant my presence would stand out like a bruised thumb. Only the Majdas were wealthy enough to afford a full human staff and conservative enough to want people rather than machines waiting on them. I had to hide several times, but I made it undetected to a storage room heaped with cleaning equipment. Max directed me to the back of the room—where I faced a blank wall.

  This is a dead end, I thought sourly.

  Look under your feet.

  I looked. I was standing on a trapdoor, the physical equivalent of the secret entrances Max had left in the Majda mesh.

  Max! That’s a garbage disposal chute.

  I’m sorry. But you can get out this way.

  Well, fuck that.

  I would hope not.

  I knelt on the ground and felt around the edges of the trapdoor. How do I open it?

  Can you feel a series of buttons?

  Yah, seven of them.

  Good. Push them in the order I give.

  I entered the combination, and the door slid to the side, revealing a square chute that angled downward, then made a sharp turn into a horizontal passage. I couldn’t see beyond the place where it leveled out.

  This isn’t a disposal chute, I thought. The Majdas dissolved or incinerated their trash in a manner that didn’t damage the environment. Everyone in Cries did, though I suspected it was more because they liked their living spaces pristine than because they were paragons of environmental virtue. If my memory of the palace served, this chute would come out a horizontal cliff face. The Majdas would never throw their trash so cavalierly down the mountain.

  I’ve figured it out, Max thought. This is for their pets. The animals come and go as they please. Filters clean them. Any dirt or waste is absorbed by the walls and incinerated.

  Oh, that’s charming. I get to use the Majda equivalent of a pooper scooper.

  Essentially. It is, however, clean. You must get going.

  It won’t work. This can’t be an exit. They don’t want their pets running away.

  If my guess is correct, you can get out this way.

  Your guess? You don’t know?

  Bhaaj, you must go now or it will be too late.

  You better be right about this. As I slid down the chute, it closed above me. I hit the flat place where it turned horizontal. How do the animals come and go?

  The entrance door is tuned to recognize them. It opens when they approach. I believe this passage is designed to be fun for them to slide down.

  Yah, great fun. At least the level portion of the passage was large enough to let me stand. What pets do they have?

  Two fluff-bears.

  Well, damn. Yah, those bears looked adorable. They’d also tear you to shreds if they didn’t like you. I walked along the passage. They let their kids play with fluff bears?

  Yes. The animals are trained to protect the children.

  The tunnel wasn’t lit, except by starlight; I could see an opening about a hundred meters distant that showed the night sky. How does this passage end?

  It opens up onto a railed ledge with facilities for the bears.

  I didn’t want details about “the facilities.” It cleans up after them, right?

  Yes.

  So why don’t the bears leave? Why return to the palace?

  They can’t leave.

  Then how can I? I reached the end of the passage and walked into a circular area under the glittering night sky. I crossed to the rail that bordered it—and I understood why the fluff-bears didn’t run away.

  I was screwed.

  Of course the bears didn’t take their fluffy, intimidating selves off to some other place. The only way to leave this ledge was down a cliff. Above me, the cliff rose in another horizontal face.

  Max, I have to go back. Better the Majdas catch me than I die.

  You can’t go back. One of the bears is coming this way. They don’t like strangers.

  As if this couldn’t get any worse. I turned to see a large creature lumbering into the circular area, like an Earth teddy bear with floppy ears and big eyes. Yah, charming—until it growled and raised its huge paws, unsheathing claws longer than my fingers. It headed straight for me.

  I didn’t waste time cursing. Grabbing the rail, I vaulted over it and came to a stop with a hard jerk, hanging from the rail, stretched out along the cliff. Scrabbling with my feet, I tried to find a toehold. My boot caught on a crack, and I wedged in my toe. With a grunt, I let my weight settle on my foot, giving my arms a rest. A growl rumbled above me. I looked up to see the bear leaning over the rail. It trailed its claws along my arm as if to say, “You’re dead meat.”

  With a grunt, I let go of the rail with one hand and grabbed for a handhold in the cliff face. My other arm ached from supporting my weight. Catching a projection, I hung on tight. The bear raised its arm, extending its claws. I released the rail and grabbed the projection in the wall with my other hand. So far, so good. Easing my foot out of its toehold, I let my body slide down the cliff face. I couldn’t find another toehold—sliding—the projection I was clutching with both hands wouldn’t support my full weight—

  My boots hit a ledge, nothing more than a ridge barely wide enough for the balls of my feet, but it did the trick. I stopped sliding, my arms stretched above me. For a moment I just clung to the cliff face, afraid to move. Air whistled past me. The fluff-bear leaned further over the railing, but I was beyond its reach. It growled, baring its fangs in all their sharpened glory.

  “I don’t like you either,” I muttered.

  The bear’s head retreated out of view.

  They can’t talk, Max thought. It can’t tell anyone you were here.

  Yah, well, I’m still here.

  You have to climb down the cliff.

  Are you fucking insane?

  I am not insane, reproductively or otherwise. The distance you have to climb is about a third of a kilometer. Three hundred meters. You can manage.

  Yah, right. I could create a few galaxies, too, while I was doing the impossible. Given that I had no other choices, however, climbing would have to do. I slid my left hand toward my right arm until I touched the gauntlet on my wrist. When I pushed a stud there, a blade snapped out of the leather sheath. Repeating the process with my other hand, I snapped a second blade out of my other gauntlet. I moved my hand down until it was level with my shoulder and worked the knife into a tiny crack in the cliff, then repeated the process with the other knife. Reaching down with one foot, I searched until I found a crack that held my weight. With a breath of relief, I eased both feet onto its support. That entire process took me down the cliff about one fourth of a meter.

  Good job! Max offered, simulating cheerleader mode.

  Yah, right. Only two hundred ninety-nine and three-fourths meters left to go.

  So I went, using my hands and toes, and the blades from my gauntlets. I was fortunate the cliff wasn’t as smooth as it looked, if anything about this mess could be called “fortunate.” Eventually I found a ridge large enough to support my full weight. I paused, leaning against the cliff, catching my breath. It felt like I had been climbing forever—

  The ledge collapsed.

  “Ah!” I was suddenly hanging by my hands and the knives shoved into the stone. My left hand pulled off the spur I was holding, adding my weight to the knife, which snapped out of the rock. With my entire weight pulling on only one blade, the
second knife yanked out as well. I plummeted down the rock face, scrabbling frantically for a handhold. My boot hit a projection and I flipped away from the cliff.

  It isn’t supposed to end like this, I thought.

  CHAPTER VII

  THE FOOTNOTE

  I hit the ground hard and grunted as the air went out of my lungs.

  Bhaaj! Max actually yelled in my mind. Are you alive? Then he added, Oh, yes, of course you’re alive. I’m monitoring your vital signs. He sounded scared, Max, my emotionless EI.

  I lifted my head. I’d landed at the base of the cliff. It looked like I’d slid several meters and fallen several more, enough to do damage, but not enough to kill, at least not my ornery, rock-headed self. The smart knives had retracted into my gauntlets rather than stabbing me. The ground here sloped down toward the foothills of the mountains, sparsely clothed in scraggly cactus vines. An overhang of the cliff hid my view of the palace.

  I’m okay, I told Max. Do I have any broken bones?

  I don’t think so. Your fall smashed some of the tech-mech in your gauntlets, however.

  Are they fixable?

  Yes. I suggest you don’t use a Cries vendor for the repairs. The Majdas might find out and wonder what happened.

  Good point. I could bargain with a cyber-rider to work on it. How is the jammer?

  Your backpack protected it. Your shroud still works. Can you walk?

  I struggled to my feet and took a step, easing my weight onto my foot. Nothing cracked or otherwise gave away. I just hurt all over. My second step worked almost as well, except for jabs of pain in my foot. The holosuit was torn in several places, including a long gash that stretched along my abdomen. It had ripped open the knife wound, and blood soaked my clothes.

  “I need to get home.” My head hurt, so I spoke instead of thinking.

  We shouldn’t talk out loud, Max thought.

  Is Majda security still searching for the intruder?

  Undoubtedly. However, I disconnected from their system so I don’t know for certain.

  That made sense. The faster we got out of there, both physically and digitally, the better. I limped down the hill in the dark, staying concealed under overhangs, and headed home, hoping to make it without collapsing or being arrested for treason.

  I opened my eyes into the dark, my head throbbing. Where—?

  It came back in a rush: my spying and near-fatal escape from the palace. I’d walked home, forcing myself not to limp, in case a city monitor picked me up. Once here, I’d collapsed into bed. I’d have berated myself for the stupidity of my actions, except I now had a goldmine, all the files the Majdas had put together about me. It had been worth the trouble.

  At least, I thought I had them. I spoke into the darkness. “Max?”

  “Good evening.” His voice came from below me.

  I peered over the edge of the bed, trying to get my bearings. I didn’t remember undressing before I passed out, but I must have because my gauntlets and clothes were lying on the floor.

  “Is your record of the Majda files intact?” I asked. They might have primed the files to delete if copied. Their security was better than I’d expected even after my assumption it would be exceptional. Any system that outwitted Max so soon after we snuck into their mesh was damn good.

  “That’s your first question?” Max asked. “Not ‘How injured am I?’ or ‘Are you all right, Max?’ Yes, I’m good, I wasn’t damaged in the fall, thank you for asking. And yes, the files are intact.”

  I smiled. “EIs aren’t supposed to scold people.”

  “I’m not scolding. Also yes to the other question you should have asked. I have checked, double-checked, and triple-checked the protections in your domicile here against spying. We have privacy. Which is good, because I don’t think you should use your neural interfaces for a while. You overextended yourself at the palace.”

  “Thanks for checking.” I smiled. “You’re the only person I know who ever says ‘domicile.’”

  “I’m not a person, but thank you.” He sounded pleased.

  I sat up in the dark, rubbing my temples. “My head hurts.”

  “That is because you hit it when you fell.”

  No shit. I swung my legs off the bed and picked up one of my gauntlets. With caution, I stood up. My head swam, but I stayed upright. “I feel like I went through a meat pounder.”

  “What is a meat pounder?”

  “I think I made it up. That’s how I feel, though.” I walked across the room in the dark. The few people from Cries I’d allowed to visit my apartment thought it odd that I chose a penthouse with such a small bedroom. It was just big enough for the alcove with my bed, a console against the wall, and an open area about eight paces across. The archway at the foot of my bed opened into a bathing room with a “bathtub” that took up more space than this entire bedroom.

  Jak never asked why I slept in a small, enclosed space. He knew. We’d grown up as part of a dust gang, two girls and two boys who protected a circle of children and young adults. They made the cave where we all lived into a home, with handwoven rugs and tapestries, sculptures carved from the rock, and bead curtains. Jak and I had some privacy due to our status as protectors. We slept in a nook behind a half wall of rock. This bedroom was the closest I could come to what I’d known then. A large room wouldn’t feel safe. Logically, I knew that made no sense, but never mind. This kept me happy.

  The archway across from my bed opened into the spacious living room, which filled with light during the day. Right now, starlight trickled through the doorway. That meant I hadn’t slept through the night. Of course, that wasn’t saying much given that the night here lasted forty hours.

  “How long was I out?” I asked.

  “About five hours. You could use more sleep.”

  “After I clean up.” I walked into the bathing room, and its light came on gradually, letting my eyes adjust. Blue, gold, and aqua tiles covered every surface. The pool lay to the right, with a mist hanging over the warm water. I’d never felt comfortable knowing this “bathtub” contained more fresh water than I’d ever seen in one place in the aqueducts. I intended that to change. My people wouldn’t take fresh water for free, but I was finding bargains they’d accept, like in my work with Gourd. The water filtration systems he built would far outlast any handouts from Cries. More than that, it showed we could do it ourselves. Change had to come from within the Undercity if it was going to last.

  I set my gauntlet by the pool and slid into the shallow end, submerging to my shoulders while I slouched against the side. Soap-bots swam around me like silver and blue fish.

  I closed my eyes. “This is good.”

  “I wish I could advise you to see a doctor,” Max said. “Unfortunately I can’t.”

  “No one can know I’m hurt.” Not now, with the Majdas trying to figure out who’d been prowling around their palace.

  “As far as I can tell,” Max said, “you are only banged up. However, the gash in your abdomen aggravated your knife wound from yesterday. You should take extra care with that.”

  “I will. Is anyone looking for me?”

  “Scorpio Security would like to know if you have any leads on Mara Quida.”

  “So would I.” I laid my head back against the edge of the pool. “Can you reach Lukas Quida?”

  “He’s probably sleeping.”

  “If he is, my message will go into his queue, waiting for a more civilized hour.” I doubted he was asleep, though. I remembered the nights in my youth when Jak would disappear. I’d pace and pace, agonized that he gotten himself killed.

  “I have Del Quida on comm,” Max said. “He’s asking if you’d like audio or both audio and visual.”

  “Which would he prefer?”

  “He didn’t say. But based on my analysis of his voice, I think it’s a good bet he’d like both, for the company. I can make an appropriate holo of you to converse with him.”

  “All right. Go ahead.”

  The ti
led floor of the room glimmered as its holoscreen activated. An image of me dressed in trousers and a pullover appeared. I looked as if I were relaxing in a chair in my living room. The image Max created showed me with no sign of fatigue or injury.

  Lukas’ voice came into the air. “Major Bhaajan?” He appeared in a chair opposite mine as if we were both in my penthouse. Dark circles of fatigue showed under his eyes and his face was even more strained than the last time I’d seen him. No trace of his fashionable silver hair or elegant clothes remained; tonight he dressed in worn trousers and a simple gray pullover. He dark hair was tousled and stubble showed on his face. He looked more like a graduate student than a member of the sparkling Cries elite.

  He nodded to me. “My greetings.”

  “My apology for disturbing you,” I said. “I know it’s late.”

  “It’s all right. I can’t sleep.” He leaned forward in his chair. “Have you found anything?”

  “I’m working on some leads.” I wished I had more to tell him. “I was wondering if you were all right.”

  He looked startled. “Thank you.” With self-deprecation, he added, “I feel like a violin string. Every time any comm in the house buzzes, I twang. It’s never good news.”

  “You should rest. You look so worn out.”

  Lukas smiled wryly. “This is what I really look like, Major. I mean, not this tired, but that polished man you met at the gala isn’t real. As the Earthers would say, I’m just a nerd.”

  I wondered if his wife pushed him to glamorize his appearance. She wouldn’t be the first exec to use her spouse as a decorative accessory. “Did you feel pressured to put on an act?”

  “By Mara?” He gave a startled laugh. “Never. She didn’t care. When we first started seeing each other, she was as shy as me.” With affection, he said, “She never pushed me to impress her friends. She doesn’t think that way. That’s why I enjoyed doing it for her, because she never asked. She loved me just the way I was when we met, an absentminded analyst with no more fashion sense than a freight tug.”

  I smiled. That fit with the picture I’d been forming. “The Scorpio investigators seem to think the two of you are some sort of glitz duo.”