Unbound (2 page)

She was pinning her hopes on a big find this time. The Vogan relics had brought in just enough to cover her operating costs and resupply plus a little for Amin. Interest in the shattered colony wasn’t that high—not enough blood or controversy, was her guess. Loss due to unusual tectonic motion was too ordinary.

A big find would let her upgrade the
Castel
, something she’d been putting off. Do it up right, not these cut-rate patch jobs with used parts. New thrusters, new grav plates, stronger plasma shields—so many things needed replacement—and enough funds to keep her and Amin’s family afloat while her ship was in the dock. What she would do with herself while station-bound, she didn’t know, but the refurbishment was long overdue. She couldn’t keep putting it off. One of these days, it would be the jump drive that failed, and she’d never emerge back into normal space.

If this trip didn’t bring in enough, she’d sell the Dilaryn jewels. Sentiment wasn’t of much use in the Rim, and that part of her inheritance would be even less useful with her dead. Her parents would have understood.

At the heels of that decision, Asrial spotted fresh-looking rock-fall, almost like an answer to her prayers. Soon after, she found more. Too bad they were by the vertical cliff faces, not the ruins.

She almost missed the fissure. It lay in the shadows, between an outlying tower and a spur from the mountain, a fracture of darker shadow behind a pile of rubble. Only the relative cleanness of the stones’ faces, sharp and unweathered, hinted at change.

Aiming the grav sled at the opening, she triggered a probing pulse. The screen lit up with contradictory reports of
void
/
no void
. Depending on which scanners she believed, she was either looking at a solid mountain or a network of caves. Talk about an inconvenient time for equipment to act up. On the off chance the problem would clear up, she set the sled on hover and repeated the pulse.

Solid mountain, partial cave, caves, mountain, mountain, caves.
Excitement shot through her as she realized what she was seeing, a cold blast that had the hairs on her arms standing on end. The equipment was fine. Something was interfering with the return pulse, making the mountain appear solid. But the fissure broke continuity. When the probing pulses were aimed through the fissure, the illusion of through-and-through solidity failed.

A more thorough scan revealed that what lay behind the rugged facade of natural stone had the regularity of artificial construction. The proximity of the tower suggested a connection to the ruins.

Her heart skipped, irrepressible imagination taking flight. It was a cunningly hidden site. If this breach was as new as she suspected, if it gave access to pristine, unexplored territory, she would be the first one in. This could be big.

Asrial set the grav sled on its skids on the broad, flat slab that was the end of the Majian street. Heart picking up speed, she raised the canopy and slid out of her seat. Funneled by the artificial canyon between the narrow towers, warm wind kicked up sand as it swirled into the clearing that separated building from mountainside and stirred her short curls, its moan a lonely sound that made her shiver despite the sweat beading her upper lip. She didn’t need reminding that she was the only person on the planet.

She adjusted the fit of her T-top—not that she had much to support up front, but comfort was important—then pulled on her battered jacket at the last possible moment. It was snug, but its protection was necessary on planet. The carbon silk of her pants would withstand the demands of scrambling around, but the sleeveless top she wore on the
Castel
covered just enough for decency. She checked her jacket’s seals to make sure they were tight, then patted the pockets. Stunner, spare charge, head lamp, tool kit, med kit, comm, comp. Everything was where it was supposed to be, ready to grab as needed.

The tall fissure waited, exhaling a cool draft—as if she needed enticement. Sunlight reached only a few paces inside, but it reflected off finished stone walls. She froze at the sight, tempted to break out in a victory dance.
Not a cave, yes!

Sand had gathered at the opening, seemingly undisturbed. If anyone else had been here, enough time had passed that the signs had been obliterated—unlikely, given how recent the quake was. Besides, the galaxy was huge, and Maj was an old strike. Most Rim rats would have moved on to easier pickings. She could afford the challenge of Maj because she worked solo and turned a profit on smaller finds. But if this was as big as she hoped, she’d make a bundle—maybe even enough to restart her emergency fund after upgrading the
Castel
. It’d be good to have a buffer and have some time off again.

Clicking on her lamp, Asrial set out to explore.

The chamber beyond didn’t hold anything much of interest to a Rim rat. It seemed to have been a dormitory of some sort, judging from the rows of beds. Perhaps an archaeologist or a museum would slaver over the mattresses, but it wouldn’t be worth the effort to load them on the
Castel
. They were too fragile, and none of the collectors she sold to would waste a glance at them.

A large, wooden door opened into a wide corridor. From the little debris, it looked like she could use the grav sled. That was a stroke of luck, since the last scan indicated a complex extending deep into the mountain.

It took Asrial several days to map her way to the upper levels, in part because she refused to camp inside and had to retrace her path each day. Though the quake hadn’t wreaked much damage in the lower levels, she didn’t want to risk getting trapped underground while she slept. But also because the complex was that large—practically an entire city in itself.

She started to search in earnest at the top. Majians seemed to associate altitude with power. The best pickings were invariably in the highest chambers. Though she kept an eye out for exceptions to the rule, going straight to the top was the most efficient use of her time. As she’d expected, the upper levels were a treasure trove, chamber upon chamber of artifacts, some tarnished by time, others gleaming like new.

Typical of those in power to hoard the good stuff. She’d always wondered if that was the reason her father had been deposed: because he hadn’t been greedy. He’d chosen to abdicate the scepter rather than risk an internecine war pitting Lomidari against Lomidari that would devastate the planet. He’d allowed them to strip him of most of the Dilaryn holdings, which they claimed were lands of the
reis
, not his personal property. Too idealistic to survive in yfreet-infested skies, her mother would have said, smiling. Nasri had compared Lomidar politics to a feeding frenzy of those horrific flying scavengers often enough that Asrial had looked for a vid of such an occasion. Watching the blood fest where only the most vicious yfreet emerged victorious made her regret pandering to her curiosity.

She shrugged off her cynical mood. At least the Majians hadn’t taken their pretties with them when they fled or died out or whatever had happened to them.

At the topmost level, Asrial left the grav sled in a large atrium that gave on to several floors. Here, the Majian ruling class’s taste for lavish surroundings took front and center. The sled’s lights revealed elaborate sculpture and statues with something of a conquering hero motif—dominant central figures overawing smaller, lesser, kneeling figures. Some archaeologists argued that they depicted worship of some deity, but she wasn’t convinced. She didn’t get a benevolent vibe from those scenes.

Even the walls were decorated with murals of fantastical beasts and bewildering cities, their colors still bright despite the passage of time. The pigments were probably baked on, except she couldn’t find any seams. The murals looked to have been made as entire pieces—a monumental effort, if that was the case. And a pity, since a piece as wide as her hand would probably spark a bidding war.

Say what some people might about Rim rats, she drew the line at defacing artwork. Finding some already in pieces was one thing, but having a hand in their destruction was something else entirely; in that much she could be true to her upbringing.

She continued her exploration on foot. This stage required care. Too quick a passage could lead her to overlook some prize—or worse, unbalance and damage a rare pretty. Fortunately, her head lamp was strong enough to illuminate the darkest corners.

Movement out of the corner of her eye startled Asrial. She crouched, ready to jump to safety, only to relax with a laugh at herself. It was just one of the flying creatures that filled Maj’s skies. Then her brain caught up and realized she was seeing spires, mountains, clouds . . . the
Castel
!

How could that be? She didn’t feel any wind or cold. She hadn’t seen any windows in her scans of the mountainsides—if there had been any, surely this complex would have been discovered sooner.

The opening was larger than an ordinary window, larger than the usual door. She walked up to it on tentative feet, testing each step for weakness, maybe a trap.

A tingling pressure met her fingers when she reached out. It felt like a force wall. She froze, her eyes darting in search of its source. Nothing in the literature about Maj indicated any capability of this sort. She should know; she’d had to study the Rim to learn what artifacts collectors were interested in and how to find and identify them. She couldn’t spot what generated the force wall. When she aimed her comp at its edges, the scan turned up blank: unknown source. She took comfort from that—at least the force wall hadn’t been installed by another Rim rat.

She pushed her head and a hand through and found the stinging wind she’d expected. And got a shock at seeing her disembodied hand emerge from apparently solid rock.

This was no ordinary force wall. None of the conglomerates used this kind of tech, especially not in the Rim. If they could build this advanced a force wall, they wouldn’t waste it out here where there was no profit to be made, nor would they leave it behind.

Asrial stared at the mountains, an endless vista with countless valleys, and couldn’t help but wonder if there were many more such complexes hidden in them, in the entire planet.

How long she was lost in her thoughts, she didn’t know. It took the prickling of her nose to recall her to herself. Other hidden complexes had no bearing on the here and now. She could fit only so much in the
Castel
’s hold. This was probably a once-in-a-lifetime find. She could break her heart and her pocket trying to find another. Not a good idea.

At least with the force wall, she wouldn’t have to thread the maze back to the fissure the way she’d been doing. She’d take her blessings wherever she found them. The Spirit of space knew, they were few enough—she could count them on one hand with fingers to spare.

But if this collection sold as well as she hoped, she might have to start on her other hand.

On that cheerful thought, she resumed her exploration.

Asrial found more force walls looking out into the mountains, convincing arguments that they were Majian work. The conglomerates wouldn’t have made them permanent installations, which made it unlikely someone would come swooping in to grab her find from under her.

She turned a corner and stopped before she stepped on a long pool of glass roughly bisected by a metal groove. Gravity must have taken its toll. Had that been artwork?

The room beyond thrust her Rim rat’s disappointment at lost profit right out the airlock and straight into amazement. Here, the quake had left its mark. Debris from broken walls and fallen shelves littered the floor, like the remnants of a giant’s rampage. But untouched amid all the destruction was what looked like a vase or a flask of some sort. It had a wide base and a long, narrow neck topped by a heart-shaped lid. Just visible under the dust was a distinctive golden brown with some dark tracery around the thickest part.

Asrial inhaled sharply, stunned by her discovery. Majian pottery! And intact. The examples she’d seen in museum catalogs were typically shards. She could think of dozens of collectors who’d pay insane sums for an intact piece. She screwed her eyes shut, cautioning herself to throttle back on the enthusiasm.
Don’t spend those credits before they’re in the bank.
This was just one side. For all she knew, it could have suffered massive damage somewhere she couldn’t see.

Excitement urged her to find out, one way or the other, but the rubble made an immediate inspection impossible. The uneven footing forced her to choose her approach carefully. Haste wasn’t her friend. If she misstepped and broke a leg, no one would come to her aid.

Climbing over the remains of a wall, she slithered over the debris, holding her breath as she got nearer, dreading the sight of a crack or chip. She ignored the rough edges under her hands, the clatter of stones shifting from her weight, focused completely on her prize.

It was perfect.

Her breath left her in a rush of relief. Asrial circled the flask again, incredulous at her luck. Up close, she saw it was elaborately etched with strange designs that ringed the narrow neck. Its base wasn’t as regular as she had first thought. A deep indentation bisected the base into two ovate gobs with the neck rising at one end.

She stopped in her tracks, struck by the most absurd notion. From that angle, it looked like an enormous, erect, stylized phallus. Had that been intentional?

Snorting in self-deprecation, Asrial shook her head. There she went, thinking about sex again. Obviously it’d been too long since she’d had a man between her thighs, but that went hand in glove with being a Rim rat. Her choice.

 

 

Propping her hands
on her hips, Asrial visually quartered the
Castel
’s hold before conceding defeat. “That’s it. Finis. You’re done.” Much though it pained her to leave so much behind, she was out of space.

The
Castel
was too large a ship for one person. Its quarters could accommodate a family—or a small crew, if they were friendly. But with everything she’d gathered over the past several days, it would take some fancy load juggling to fit the grav sled into the hold without breaking something. As it was, she’d have to move the more valuable pieces to the spare cabins in order to accommodate the items still in the sled.