Ruins: A Space Opera Anthology (Paperback)

I stood on the top plank of scaffolding and craned my neck back to gaze at the magnificent capstone glittering above me.

Atop the pyramid, slowly spinning, the pointed red monument shone a blood-bright crimson in the red sun of Gatthi. Rotating in the wind, it stood a meter tall, etched on four faces with pictograms depicting a mythological battle between good and evil.

Not for the first time on this survey, I was overcome with awe. The pyramid—an intriguing structure made of airy stone latticework—was not even the main attraction. This glowing marvel at its peak had, for decades, captivated the interplanetary community of xenoarchaeologists.

A dozen such pyramids dotted this region of jungle, each shrouded in mystery. They must have been incredibly expensive to construct. Who had built them? Were the capstones merely decorative, or did they serve a greater purpose?

I opened my mouth to ask the middle-aged tribesman beside me what he thought, but cries and groans erupted from the workers below. They shouted and pointed to the east, across the canyon, where swirling dust from an imminent storm whipped the horizon into a frenzy.

“Misu, come down!” Rishi shouted from the ground.

Misu, their word for Sir, literally meant “magnificent capstone” in the local tongue. It was the same word they used for the capstones’ sparkling crystal material, which resembled diamond but had a slightly different molecular structure. Initial tests indicated it was even harder than diamond.

Misu were worth billions on the black market. The natives believed the capstones possessed magical power to ward off evil spirits, endowing those who touched them with spiritual protection. Some scientists theorized the material could be excellent conductors for starship engines, but thus far no new deposits had been found, here or on other worlds.

As for the capstones that did exist, most had been stolen from the other pyramids on this small, windy planet. Only this one remained: the last capstone, the object I had traveled between star systems to investigate.

Located in the most remote and inhospitable region, where a thick rainforest met the edge of a sudden and enormous crevasse, I had been invited by the Gatthi natives to study this last capstone—its story, craftsmanship, and most of all, its purpose.

Though they guarded it fiercely, the people of Gatthi feared this one, too, would soon be stolen. They wished to document it in detail before it vanished. They’d asked me to create a comprehensive scientific archive.

Receiving their invitation had been the highlight of my career.

But it seemed I would not be able to complete my survey today. I looked down into the vast, shadowed mouth of the crevasse over which our pyramid rose. Not even at this time of day, with the sun directly overhead, could one see the canyon’s shrouded floor. The locals said that the river of the dead flowed through its depths. Somewhere down there, almost directly below this pyramid, lay the frozen entrance to the underworld itself.

Carvings on the capstone depicted Hell’s entrance like the corolla of a black lotus. Why a black lotus? In their mythology, the flower symbolically related to the dark haboob—the violent dust storm bearing down on us.

“Come down from there, please, Misu Dane!” Rishi called, cupping his hands to be heard over the whistling winds. Rishi had been my guide since I’d arrived. “Haboob comes. We must take shelter!”

I ground my teeth. We were so close to reaching the capstone. Just a few more levels of scaffolding, and I’d be close enough for a better look.

I held my hand out to the middle-aged, bearded tribesman working next to me. He passed me a clamp. I secured a carbon fiber rod, then screwed it to another rod, creating an X-brace to stabilize this shelf. We shook it to test its strength. It felt solid.

“Raise the plank,” I said. Fen signaled two fellows on the level below us. They passed up a large wooden plank. We secured it overhead, then attached it to the X-braces on either side.

The natives climbed these latticework pyramids barefoot and thought this was an extravagant way to approach my survey, but I wanted the scaffolding for space to work and to avoid being tightly harnessed while up here.

Climbing onto the new plank, I stood and tested my footing. Reaching up on my tiptoes, I could just brush the edge of the red capstone. It whooshed as it rotated, seeming to speed up as the storm approached.

“Ouch!” I hissed through my teeth.

Blood oozed from the tip of my finger. I put it in my mouth and tasted copper. I must have cut it on the edge of the capstone as the corner swung past. I barely felt the slice, only the stinging pain afterward.

“So sharp! Look how the material fits perfectly on top of the base—is that a metal frame holding it in place? There’s barely a hair’s breadth between them. How did they do that?”

I glanced down at Fen, who smiled and shrugged. He spoke Galactic Standard but rarely offered his opinion.

“That’s odd,” I said. “There’s some kind of clear resin or wax laid over the seam between the metal base and the capstone.”

Maybe it was animal excrement or silicate residue left by the haboob. My finger continued to bleed heavily. So much for protective powers! I pulled a bandage from the emergency kit on my belt and wrapped it around the wound.

“Misu, please!” Rishi shouted again from below. He and the other workers had already packed the ydrams and were strapping the last of the saddlebags onto the bulky creatures. “We must hurry!”

I hefted the next rod and glanced at Fen. A polite smile was fixed on his round face, but he danced from foot to foot, nervously glancing between the storm and the spinning capstone. I sighed and stowed the rod in my pack. “Yes, okay. Fine! We’re coming down.”

“Many thanks, Misu Dane! Many thanks to you, sir!”