by Jayne Castle
“No, my Harmonic Meditation class.”
“When did you start taking classes in meditation?”
“Shortly after you told me your real name and walked out the door. I thought the classes would help me deal with the stress and my hostility issues.”
“Any luck?”
“Let’s just say that if you had come looking for my assistance two months ago, I would have told you that your research team and those two Guild men could stay in that chamber until green hell freezes over.”
“No,” he said. “You wouldn’t have let five people suffer because of what I did.”
He sounded far too certain of his conclusion. What could she say? It was the truth. She pretended she hadn’t heard him and concentrated on keeping her balance on the dizzying staircase.
The steps were fairly wide, but they twisted down into the green world in a convoluted pattern that made no sense architecturally. Like everything else constructed by the aliens, the proportions were slightly off to human eyes. But the heavy dose of psi flowing up from the tunnels gave her a familiar little rush. She knew that Cruz felt the buzz, too.
Vincent wriggled out from under her arm. She set him on a step. He scampered ahead of her down the staircase, his little red beret flopping in a jaunty fashion.
“Looks like he knows where he’s going,” Cruz observed.
“As far as I can tell, dust bunnies are right at home down here. They don’t seem to have any trouble navigating the tunnels or the jungle.”
“Unlike us humans.”
No one knew why the aliens had constructed the vast network of catacombs that crisscrossed the planet. In two hundred years of excavation and exploration, the descendants of the colonists had succeeded in charting only a small percentage of the seemingly endless maze of tunnels.
Recently the discovery of an even greater mystery, the massive underground rain forest, had attracted so much attention from explorers and archaeologists and treasure hunters that mapping the tunnels had dropped to a low priority for most corporations engaged in underworld business. The strange jungle held out the promise of far more scientifically and financially rewarding discoveries.
As the Guild men had promised, the little utility sled was waiting at the foot of the staircase. Cruz got in behind the wheel. Lyra slid onto the bench seat beside him. Vincent bounded up onto the dashboard, where he had a clear view. He looked like a fluffy hood ornament.
Cruz ran a check of the sled’s navigation instruments. Lyra automatically pulsed a little psi through her bracelet as well as the standard resonating amber she always carried with her. Getting lost in the catacombs was all too easy, and the results were deadly if you didn’t have tuned amber. Independent prospectors became downright obsessive about amber. In addition, loners like her were always at risk of falling prey to thieves and the antiquities gangs underground. Both had a nasty habit of getting rid of people by stranding them in the jungle or the catacombs without amber. She always carried plenty of backup, and a lot of that backup was concealed.
“The jungle gate we’ll be using is about ten minutes from here,” Cruz said.
He rezzed the sled’s simple little motor. More sophisticated engines and high-tech tools and equipment in general did not function well, if at all, in the heavy psi environment. The small vehicle raced along the corridor at top speed, which was just a little faster than the average person could run. Vincent leaned into the light breeze and made happy little noises.
“He likes to go fast,” Lyra said.
“I remember.”
They passed a dizzying array of vaulted chambers and rooms, all fashioned of glowing green quartz, all empty. In a rotunda intersection that served seven branching passageways, Cruz paused to check the instruments again. Then he swung the sled to the left. They made a few more disorienting turns before Lyra spotted the gate that opened into the rain forest.
Several people were milling around the opening. In addition to a number of Guild men, there were a lot of worried-looking tech types dressed in jungle uniforms bearing the Amber Inc. logo. There were also some folks holding cameras and notebooks. They looked bored, but that changed fast when they spotted the sled.
“Damn,” Cruz muttered. “I was afraid that the press would get wind of this situation.”
Once again Lyra found herself feeling a tiny drop of unwilling sympathy for him.
“Face it,” she said. “There are some things even Amber Inc. can’t control.”
“Yeah, I discovered that the hard way three months ago when you started bashing the company in the media.”
“Give me a break. I couldn’t even put a dent in Amber Inc.”
“I wouldn’t say that. The public relations department had to work overtime for weeks to deal with the inquiries they got from every reporter in town. Even the tabloids were calling, wanting to know if Amber Inc. was participating in another Guild cover-up like the one that took place in Crystal City a couple months back.”
She smiled, pleased. “Well, you were conspiring with the Guild to keep the discovery of the amethyst ruin under wraps.”
“Only because we were concerned with security issues. We didn’t want to have to deal with every tunnel rat, souvenir hunter, and low-rent antiquities thief in the four city-states. But that’s pretty much what happened after you took your story public.”
“Nice to know your PR people at least learned my name.”
He brought the sled to a halt and looked at her. Laughter glinted briefly in his dark eyes. “Believe me when I tell you that at company headquarters, you are legendary.”
“I’ll try to take some comfort from that.”
The reporters reached the sled before the Guild men could stop them. Lyra recognized several familiar faces in the crowd. Cruz was right; she had given a lot of interviews three months ago when she had filed the lawsuit.
Tina Tazewell from the Frequency Herald rezzed one of the low-tech cameras designed to work in the underworld and snapped off several shots. “Miss Dore, is it true Amber Inc. had to call you in to rescue a team trapped inside the ruin?” she asked.
“That’s my understanding, Tina.” Lyra scooped Vincent off the dashboard and climbed out of the sled. “Evidently they don’t have anyone on staff who can handle the job.”
Excited by the commotion, Vincent fluttered up onto her shoulder. She heard more cameras rez.
“Can we assume that you agreed to assist in the rescue effort because you and Cruz Sweetwater have a personal relationship?” Tina asked.
“Heavens no,” Lyra said airily. “This is strictly business.”
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Brett Bolton from the Current step in front of Cruz. He had a notebook in hand.
“Does this mean that the Amber Inc.-Dore feud is concluded, Mr. Sweetwater?”
“What feud?” Cruz asked.
He went past Bolton and sharked through the gaggle of reporters until he got to Lyra.
“If you’ll excuse us,” he said, “Miss Dore is a little busy at the moment. She’s got a team to rescue. For the record, Amber Inc. is very grateful to her for assisting us in this crisis.”
“How grateful?” Tina Tazewell demanded.
Cruz ignored her. He took Lyra’s arm and steered her toward the jungle gate where the hunters and the people in AI uniforms waited.
The entrance to the rain forest was a large, rectangular opening in the green quartz wall. Humid heat flowed out into the corridor, but it evaporated almost instantly, nullified by the always steady temperature of the catacombs. Lyra saw a little dirt and one or two dead leaves on the floor of the tunnel and knew that they had been carried out on the bottom of someone’s boots. The debris would soon disintegrate and disappear altogether, thanks to some as yet unidentified mechanism that kept the tunnels clean.
Nothing escaped the jungle unless it was carried out. A number of gates had been opened during the past few months, and at each of them a mysterious and—to human senses undetectable—f
orce field kept the flora and fauna securely confined within the rain forest the aliens had created. The researchers and scientists had quickly discovered that living specimens did not last long aboveground. The plants and animals in the artificially constructed jungle required the heavy psi atmosphere inside their bioengineered world to survive. Like the aliens themselves, they found the surface of Harmony an inhospitable and deadly place.
The green glow of artificial sunlight was clearly visible. It was night on the surface, but the jungle ran on its own schedule.
Lyra moved through the gate, Cruz at her side. At once the rich, living energy of the jungle enveloped her. The Guild maintained a clearing directly in front of the tunnel entrance, but she knew it required daily maintenance. The jungle reclaimed territory with startling speed. Paths established one day usually vanished by the following afternoon.
Beyond the perimeter of the clearing the massed greenery pressed close. It was impossible to see more than a few feet because of the dense foliage, all of it shimmering in various hues of luminous green. The trees towered upward, forming a leafy canopy that concealed most of the quartz sky. Small things skittered in the undergrowth. Birds screeched in the distance.
“Thanks for coming down here, Miss Dore,” one of the Guild men said.
She gave him her most vivacious smile. “Well, it wasn’t like I was doing anything else more entertaining this evening.”
Relieved laughter greeted that remark. The small crowd of ghost hunters and Amber Inc. people seemed to relax.
“How far to the ruin from here?” she asked. “When I discovered it, I used a different gate. You know how it is; distances are deceptive underground.”
Her not-so-subtle claim to the ruin did not go unnoticed. Cruz smiled slightly. The AI people exchanged glances. The Guild men, however, were a lot more focused. There was a team trapped in the jungle. It was their responsibility to rescue it.
“The amethyst chamber is only a thirty-minute hike from here,” the lead hunter said. He hesitated. “That’s if you’re accustomed to jungle travel. If you’re not used to it—”
“I’ve done this before,” Lyra assured him.
“She’s a pro,” Cruz added.
She glanced back over her shoulder and saw the reporters crowded around the entrance, still snapping photos. “Are they coming with us?”
“No,” Cruz said. “They are not. Those of us in charge of this project are trying to pretend that the ruin is still a secure site and that only authorized personnel are allowed anywhere near it.”
Lyra thought about all the unwanted free press she had given him and the discovery of the amethyst chamber in the past three months with her lawsuit. She laughed.
“Good luck with that,” she said.
“Tell me about it. We’re having to pay the Guild overtime for twenty-four-seven security in the field, not to mention covering the costs of several search-and-rescue operations. Amazing how many treasure hunters and curiosity seekers have managed to sneak into the rain forest in search of the ruin and gotten themselves lost in the process.”
“See, we independents don’t face those logistical problems,” she said smoothly. “Because we keep our mouths shut when we make significant discoveries.”
“And then you screw up by trying to sell your finds on the underground collectors market.”
“Well, yes, that, too,” she admitted.
He looked at her. “Thought we agreed to save the snappy comments until some other more convenient occasion.”
“Right. Let’s get going. I’d still like to get some sleep tonight.”
They plunged into the jungle, the two hunters in the lead using machetes to cut a path through the thickest sections. Taking Lyra at her word, they set a difficult pace.
Mostly it was a matter of pushing through masses of vibrantly green plants and flowers and scrambling over vines and downed trees. Since there was no way to maintain a road or even a rough trail suitable for sleds, the only way into the rain forest was on foot.
As far as the researchers and explorers had been able to discern, there was little to fear from the flora and fauna. The aliens hadn’t been so dumb as to fill their artificially constructed jungle with a lot of dangerous wildlife and poisonous vegetation. But the Others had been gone a long time, and everyone knew that life had a way of evolving on its own, even in a controlled, bioengineered environment. The experts continued to issue warnings, and no one took unnecessary chances.
There was, however, no doubt at all about the other two major concerns in the underground world. Getting lost was a serious hazard. In addition, powerful currents of dangerous psi energy flowed in rivers and occasionally manifested in full-blown storms. Blundering into the heavy stuff could be lethal. Those who survived the experience usually ended up with their para-senses permanently shattered.
But in its own way, the rain forest was incredibly beautiful. Lyra savored the experience as she always did. Green sunlight filtered through the canopy. Magnificent peridot green flowers bloomed everywhere. Vast curtains of vines studded with green orchids of every size and description hung from the trees. Here and there small green lizards and other creatures scurried into the undergrowth to avoid the tread of human feet. Emerald green butterflies with impossibly large iridescent wings flitted from blossom to blossom.
“You like it down here, don’t you?” Cruz asked.
“Who wouldn’t?” she said. “It’s an astonishing experience. I’m so glad the Guild has begun to allow some tourism. Everyone should have the opportunity to see this place. It’s one of the wonders of our world, like the mountains and the oceans and the forests on the surface. No one has a right to monopolize the rain forest.”
“In principle I agree with you,” Cruz said. “The problems, as usual, are in the details. People get killed down here. The jungle is dangerous.”
“So are mountains and oceans and forests. But people go hiking, swimming, and camping all the time on the surface. And sometimes they get killed.”
“Okay, I’ll concede there are a few parallels,” he said.
“The only real difference down here is that access is limited to those who possess the kind of psychic talent it takes to open a gate. Since most people don’t have the ability to do that, the Guilds have been able to maintain some control. But they are fighting a rear guard action.”
“I know,” Cruz said. “At the rate talents are appearing in the population, it probably won’t be long before the majority of people will be able to open a jungle gate. Another couple of generations, maybe.”
“Don’t worry about it,” she said cheerfully. “I’m sure Amber Inc. won’t have any difficulty hanging on to its mining monopoly down here, just as it hasn’t had a problem hanging on to it aboveground.”
“We’ll certainly do our best,” Cruz said.
She knew that if she glanced back over her shoulder, she would see the unmistakable spark of dark humor in his eyes, so she concentrated instead on pushing through a veil of hanging orchids.
Something small and green darted along a tree limb. Vincent’s little paws tightened slightly around Lyra’s shoulder. His second set of eyes, the ones he used for hunting, popped open. He studied the small rodent with great interest.
“Uh-oh,” she said.
“Hey, you hang out with predators, you’re going to see some blood once in a while,” Cruz observed.
She recalled her words to Nancy earlier that evening. He looks like a really well-dressed hit man.
“Yes,” she said. “I have noticed the blood.”
There was a short silence behind her.
“I was talking about dust bunnies,” Cruz said finally.
“Oh, were you?”
Thankfully, the small creature on the tree limb disappeared into a tangle of leaves, and Vincent lost interest.
Twenty minutes later, she sensed the faint aura of energy that emanated from the chamber before it came into view. Vincent picked up on her anticipation and m
ade enthusiastic noises. She was breathing hard, and her shirt was soaked with perspiration, but her spirits lifted immediately.
She had always had an affinity for amber of any kind, but the purple variety called amethyst was her specialty. It sang to her senses in a way that no other version of the stone did.
Amethyst amber was one of the extremely rare forms of the stone. But until the discovery of the ruin, it had not been viewed as valuable except to collectors of rare ambers and to those who liked amethyst jewelry.
The relics that she had found inside the ruin had caused the experts to reconsider that analysis, however. It was evident that there was a lot of latent energy in the artifacts. The problem for the Amber Inc. lab experts was accessing that energy. They badly needed someone who could work amethyst amber to aid them with their testing and experiments. Such individuals had proven to be scarce. To date, the only person they had found who could resonate with the energy in the relics was a stubborn, low-rent tuner who had steadfastly refused to cooperate.
“Almost there,” one of the Guild men called back to the sweating trekkers behind him.
A few minutes later they walked into the small clearing that the hunters had established around the amethyst chamber. A half dozen men and women in AI gear were arrayed around the scene. Most sat glumly on bedrolls or other convenient pieces of camping equipment, drinking bottled water and munching on energy bars. They surged to their feet in unison when they saw the rescue team.
“You got her,” someone said. “Thank God.”
“I didn’t think she’d come,” a woman said. She gave Lyra a grateful smile. “Thanks, Miss Dore.”
“Always happy to be of service to Amber Inc.,” Lyra said lightly.
The bald-faced lie produced a wave of nervous laughter.
The amethyst chamber stood in the center of the clearing, a windowless structure carved out of what appeared to be a single massive block of purple amber. The ruin was circular in design, nearly thirty feet high, and a little over half that in width. Lyra knew the numbers because one of the first things she had done after finding the chamber was measure the interior. A colonnade of amber columns surrounded the outer wall, giving the structure an oddly graceful appearance. The columns supported a dome-shaped roof.
