The Vanished Seas (Major Bhaajan series Book 3)

by Catherine Asaro

  “We must be close to the surface.” I slid my palms along the ceiling, pressing here, pushing there. Nothing. I tried tapping in the codes for the hatches in the ship, with no luck.

  “Be careful,” Jak said. “It’s all dunes out there. If you open the lid too fast, sand could pour down on us.”

  I stopped banging the ceiling. “Got any ideas how to open this?”

  “Did Bessel and crew say anything about it yesterday?”

  “They were looking for a way in. They didn’t know how to find it.” That probably meant this exit didn’t show from the surface. “Max, do you know where we are?”

  “I’d estimate about four hundred and eighty meters west of the third ship.”

  Jak said, “It felt like we went farther than half a kilometer.”

  Royal answered in his deeper voice. “We did. The passage doubled back several times.”

  “I don’t think humans created this passage,” Max said. “It seems natural, though in places it does look like machines widened it enough to let a person get by.”

  “Whoever used those ships is bigger than us,” Jak said. “At least, based on the cockpit.”

  “If that area of the ship is a cockpit, then yes, they are probably much larger,” Max said. “They would never fit through these passages.”

  “You think the army made this tunnel?” I asked.

  Royal answered. “Not the modern army. The passage is ancient.”

  “I didn’t detect that,” Max said. “How do you know its age?”

  “I’m basing my estimate on the texture of the rocks Jak touched on the way,” Royal said.

  “Bhaaj probably didn’t touch the open areas as much,” Jak said. “She can see them in IR.”

  “Maybe this exit uses Ruby Empire science,” I said.

  “Science is science,” Jak said. “Even that Kyle crap.”

  “Even so,” I said. “Our ancestors came up with some pretty bizarre disciplines.”

  “Daan Bialo seems like an odd person to depend on for knowledge that sophisticated,” Jak said. “He’s not exactly the brightest laser in the pack.”

  “Yet they need him.” I didn’t understand it, either. “He must have a talent we aren’t seeing.”

  “He won the poker hand we saw him play,” Max said.

  “He’s good at figuring out if someone is bluffing,” Jak said. “His problem is that he won’t stop when he’s ahead, and he never stays ahead for long.”

  An idea was forming in my sleep-deprived brain. “Jak, is he good at bluffing other people?”

  “Not really. His tells are too easy to read.”

  “So his only real talent at poker is that he reads the other players well.”

  “Ah. I see,” Max said. “Angel is right; he’s probably an empath.”

  “I’d guess a strong one,” I said.

  “Which helps us how?” Jak asked.

  “I don’t know.” I rested my forehead against the wall of the chute and closed my eyes. Open, I thought. I formed an image in my mind of the rock barrier above me sliding to the side.

  Nothing.

  Open. This time I thought in Iotic. It made no difference; the ceiling stayed put.

  “You all right up there?” Jak asked.

  “Yah. Nahya. I don’t know.” I felt stupid trying to “think” something open. “I wish I knew what I did to activate that box in the cave.”

  “I have your physiological records,” Max said.

  “Was anything different about me during those moments?”

  “Your heart beat slowed. Your brain produced alpha waves.”

  That sounded like a start. “What’s different about alpha waves?”

  “People tend to be calmer and more creative in that state,” Max said. “It’s easier to meditate. It can also occur during REM sleep, but you weren’t asleep. Being in an alpha state can relieve stress and aid your mind-to-body coordination. However, you’re also likely to make more mistakes, since you’re paying less attention to detail.”

  “In other words, I was more relaxed.”

  “Yes.” Max paused. “Actually you were producing a mix of alpha, theta, and delta waves.”

  I hadn’t expected that. “I thought delta and theta only happened during sleep.”

  “Theta waves are a stage you pass through when going into a deep sleep. Some people produce them in a trance or meditating. They are also associated with the sense of well-being you have when you start to wake up.”

  I thought of the way I fell asleep every time I tried to do the empath exercises Adept Sanva had given me. “Does any of this connect to empathic ability?”

  “Delta waves are the ones most associated with empathy. Humans mostly produce them while asleep or meditating, neither of which applied to you. People also seem better able to feel empathy while producing alpha or theta waves.”

  “Well that helps,” I said. “I can’t be an empath unless I’m asleep.”

  “You’re always an empath,” Max said. “Your brain doesn’t produce only one type of wave at a time. Usually it’s a mix. Some people have more delta activity than others when they are awake, and those people tend to have a higher capacity for empathy.”

  “I had no idea.” I’d never been that interested, given that for most of my life I’d assumed I had no Kyle ability. My military records still listed me as having none; no one but the Majdas and Adept Sanva knew those records were wrong. “I’d always thought it was gamma waves that enhanced empathic ability. Whatever those are.”

  “Gammas relate to simultaneous processing of data from different areas of the brain,” Max said. “They are associated with universal love, altruism, and other states people associate with higher virtues. You might say they relate to spiritual emergence.”

  I snorted. “No gammas for me, then. My spiritual consciousness is zero.”

  “Actually, you were producing them at one point after you activated the box.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “I don’t usually,” Max said. “Though I have been working on my sense of humor. But no, I’m serious. It seems you interact with these machines when your brain produces alpha, theta, or gamma waves, I’m not sure which. When you are fully awake and problem-solving, you tend to be in a high beta state. That may be why you can’t work the mechanism above you right now.”

  “It’s not a mechanism. It’s a rock ceiling.”

  “Actually, it appears to be tech encrusted with sand that has hardened over time.”

  I rubbed my eyes. “So you’re saying we can’t get out unless I—” Unless I did what? “I have to meditate or something?”

  “I’m not sure. What did you do when you activated the box in the cave?”

  I thought back. “I tried this thing I used to do when I was sleep-deprived during extended periods of combat, sort of half sleeping.”

  “Can you do that here?”

  “It’s hard to relax when you’re trying to make yourself relax.”

  Jak spoke from the tunnel below. “Think about that game we used to play in the grotto.”

  I remembered. In our youth, we often went to a grotto sparkling with crystals that reflected in its poisonous water. We’d curl together on the tapestry we brought and imagine secret thoughts for each other, then make love and fall asleep. When we awoke, we’d guess what secrets the other had been thinking. We were rarely wrong; it was as if we shared a mind.

  I closed my eyes and tried to calm my body. I was wedged so tightly into the chute, I didn’t even slip when my muscles relaxed. I imagined sleeping next to Jak, not in the grotto, but under the open sky on the planet Parthonia, in a field of flowers and waving grass, with the gentle sun overhead, easing out of our worries and into bliss . . .

  “Bhaaj!” The voice stirred my mind.

  “What?” I opened my eyes, groggy. “Jak, is that you?”

  “Yah, it’s me. You all right up there?”

  “Sure. Why? What’s wrong?”


  “You’ve been asleep for almost three minutes, even after that scraping started.”

  “Asleep!” Then I realized what he’d said. “What scraping?” I pressed my hands against the ceiling—and it moved. When I pushed it to the side, it slid out of the way. Sand poured all over me.

  “It worked!” I averted my head and coughed, trying to clear my nose. “Shit!”

  “It’s raining sand,” Jak said.

  “How do you know what rain is?” I rasped. “It doesn’t exist on Raylicon.”

  He laughed, sounding more relieved than anything else. “I do have an education, Bhaajo, even if I didn’t go to the university.”

  I’d always liked that about him, that he read so much. I looked up past the trickling remains of the sandfall—to a starlit night. “We’re free!” I clambered out and stood beneath a sky rich with stars. They didn’t twinkle as much as on planets with thicker atmospheres, but they glittered in more vivid colors. No glow showed on the horizon from Cries; it was late enough that the light pollution laws had gone into effect, requiring all buildings to go dark on their exteriors for ten hours during the forty-hour night.

  In the opposite direction, the starships hulked in the desert, completely dark. We were indeed about half a kilometer away, farther than I’d been yesterday while I eavesdropped on Bessel, Sav Halin, and Detective Talon. Although dunes surrounded us, this small area had less sand.

  Jak climbed up next to me. “This exit doesn’t seem like it’s been used in ages.”

  “Someone has been in that cave,” I said. “They dusted off the third box.”

  “They probably reached it through the ship.”

  “Yah.” It could have been Ken Roy or whatever other scientists studied the boxes. Bessel and the others knew about the chamber, though, so either they’d been there or they had information from some mole who was helping them.

  “We need to get back to the ships,” I said. “Find out what’s going on before it’s too late.”

  CHAPTER XVIII

  SAND MESHES

  “I don’t see squat,” I muttered.

  With my mind linked to the green beetle, I flew over the ancient starships. I couldn’t locate anyone down there, not Ruzik, Angel, the lieutenant, or anyone else.

  Max, disconnect me from the beetle, I thought. The overlay of its view disappeared. I wasn’t actually close to the ruins, but instead kneeling behind a dune about fifty meters away from them.

  “What about the hatches on the ships?” Jak asked, crouched at my side.

  “They’re all closed.”

  “The ships look dark.” He sounded pissed. “The lieutenant betrayed us.”

  “Maybe. But what about Angel? The lieutenant would have had to do something about her.” In hand-to-hand combat, Angel could best pretty much anyone. I’d taught the advanced Dust Knights how to disarm opponents with guns, and Angel and Ruzik were wicked good at it. “I think someone else is out here, screwing with us.”

  Could be, Max thought. The beetle just found two people on the far side of the ships.

  Ho! Link me back up.

  Suddenly I was hovering above the first ship. Two people stood below, one on either side of the closed hatch. I could barely see them. They were probably wearing skin suits that matched the temperature of their surroundings, making them hard to distinguish with IR vision.

  Max, bring me closer, I thought.

  They could detect the beetle if it gets closer. Also, they are using some sort of smart-dust. I’m not sure what it does, but it’s all around them.

  On a planet? Ships in battle used “smart-dust,” clouds of tiny droids that beleaguered the enemy. The dust corroded ships, hacked into their systems, disrupted their sensors, and in general harassed the offending vessels. Using it on a planet would cause more destruction than made sense, at least in this situation.

  Smart-dust “grains” are little droids, I thought. They’re big enough that I’d see them clearly.

  Maybe smart-dust is the wrong word. It’s floating around them.

  That sounds like the spy dust corporations use for industrial espionage. It’s actual dust.

  It’s hard to tell. The substance barely registers on the beetle’s sensors.

  We need to get closer.

  You’re sure you want to risk it?

  Yah. But take it slow.

  The beetle edged toward the two figures until I could see them better. Damn. That was Bessel and Daan Bialo.

  Stop, I told the beetle, which was the same as telling Max, since we were all connected. Max, try linking me to their dust.

  I don’t know if it has that capability.

  If it’s anything like what the corps use, each grain has a picochip. All the grains can link together to form a rudimentary AI.

  If I try to break into their network, I could end up getting hacked instead.

  You always run that risk. You never get caught.

  Usually I’m dealing with known systems with standardized protocols, like at the Majda palace. This is an unknown and probably experimental system composed of many tiny brains coded in ways that may be alien to me.

  I have faith in you, Max.

  Is that Bhaaj-speak for “Do it anyway?”

  I’m afraid so.

  I will see what I can do.

  While he worked, the beetle hovered. Bessel and Daan still looked blurred, but I realized now it was because a translucent cloud of dust surrounded them.

  They’re communing with the dust, I thought.

  If you mean, they’re using neural links, Max thought, I’d say you are partially correct.

  Why partially?

  I doubt they can talk to the dust. It’s not sophisticated enough.

  Can you get me into the network without their knowing?

  I can get you in. However, they will know you are there.

  That’s no good. Then again, maybe it didn’t matter. Max, if they knew I’d hacked their dust, could they do anything to me?

  Yes, I believe so. I don’t think the dust incorporates safety codes. If you connect your brain to its network, it could kill you. And since I am essentially part of your brain, if you die, so do I.

  Gods. What is it with these people? Imperialate law required anyone creating a mesh system to incorporate safety protocols that prevented the code from injuring humans. It told me a lot about the High Mesh, none of it good, that they chose to leave out such a fundamental protection.

  Could the dust actually harm us, though? I asked. If a grain only carries a picochip, that’s far less power than my beetles have. And my bots couldn’t kill anyone.

  Your beetles can’t kill because you haven’t weaponized them. However, that isn’t what I meant. The danger isn’t from a single grain, but the combined effect of them all. If several sent messages to your brain at the same time, they could cause a neuron to fire. If thousands sent messages, they could cause many to fire at once, sending you into a convulsion. If millions did it, the convulsions could kill you.

  I grimaced. Okay, let’s not link to them.

  We have another problem. You’ve overused our neural link, specifically the accelerated firing of your neurons that speeds communication.

  Translate that into plain talk.

  You’re thinking too fast. It can also damage your brain.

  All right. Drop me out of enhanced neural mode.

  Done.

  I didn’t feel different, except for a slight sense of dullness. Max, that dust probably drifts around more than we can see. Is my beetle picking up grains?

  I’m sure it has. You and Jak probably have, too. It’s why your tech-mech isn’t working. It seems to affect mechanical more than biological tech, given that your biomech web still seems to be functioning.

  So why doesn’t it know we’re hiding behind the dune? What one grain knows, they all know.

  I think its range is limited. You’re too far away for the dust on your body to link to the cloud brain. Without that, the grains have t
o act on their own. By themselves, they’re pretty dumb.

  Good. Disconnect me from the beetle. Then let it go dead for three seconds.

  If I do that, it will drop out of the air like a rock.

  That’s right. It’s like knocking on the door. Set the beetle to escape after the three seconds.

  Done.

  Abruptly I was with Jak behind the dune again. Across the desert, the clink of my bot hitting the ground cracked in the deep silence of the night.

  “You hear something?” Jak asked in a low voice.

  “Yah. My beetle. I’m using it as bait.” Only a few seconds had passed while I talked strategy with Max. Or with myself, if I accepted his claim that he was a part of my brain, which I wasn’t sure I did, but we could leave that for another time. “Bessel and Daan are on the other side of the first ship.”

  “Angel must still be inside.”

  “I think so. The lieutenant also.” I peered around the side of the dune, to make it harder to see my head silhouetted against the sky. Sure enough, Bessel and Daan appeared, searching the area on this side of the ships, which meant my beetle had mostly likely succeeded in taking off again, frustrating their attempts to locate it. Although the blur of dust surrounded them, I could tell Bessel carried a rifle.

  Jak lifted his coilgun, sighting on the two men. “Easy shot.”

  “No.” I laid my hand on his arm. “No killing.”

  To my relief, he didn’t argue, he just lowered the gun.

  “I’m surprised they aren’t trying to hide,” Jak said. “Or at least evade us.”

  Max spoke in a low voice. “They probably assume you’re trapped in the cave.”

  “They shouldn’t assume anything.” If I were their CO, I’d have their hide.

  “They seem pretty inexperienced,” Jak said. “But they still have the advantage. We can’t get any closer without showing ourselves.”

  He had a point. The army kept the region around the ships clear of rocks and dunes. As I studied the area, the hatchway on the third ship opened and a woman stepped outside.

  “Shit,” Jak muttered. “That’s Talon.”

  The detective motioned Daan and Bessel over, and they stood conferring together. I strained to hear their words. My tinnitus had almost cleared up, but even the faint ringing interfered with my ability to listen. Max, I thought. Can you crank up my hearing?