“I cannot imagine why any amount of information would be bad for a sentient organism.”
Ramya had no interest hearing any more of the back and forth, so she desperately hurled herself into the conversation. “All right, Dakrhaeth, that’s enough. Can we please think about the problem on our hands? You realize that finding the Endeavor on a planet the size of Morris II is like looking for a needle in a haystack. A microscopic needle in a . . . massive haystack. Besides, Morris II is a Mwandan sanctuary. We’ll not be welcomed there, forget finding any help. So how are we gonna do this?”
No one replied. Then Ross threw a mocking glance backward at the entryway behind them where the sphere—the only physical manifestation of the Stryker’s AI—rested inside a glass column.
“The know-it-all should have a plan,” he said.
“Well, he clearly doesn’t,” Ramya snapped. Ross was being petty, sparring with Dakrhaeth like an impetuous kid when they should be focusing on important matters. The bickering was getting tiresome and she had to find a way to distract them.
“Dakrhaeth,” she called, “how long to the planet surface?”
“Eleven minutes.”
Ramya’s mind raced. If they could be sure the Endeavor had come this way then at least they’d know this was the right track. “Do you see any evidence of the Endeavor having passed this way?”
“I did notice some debris, but it could be from any spacecraft,” Dakrhaeth replied.
So much for clues.
“Well, they couldn’t have passed through here too long ago, right?” Ross chimed in, and Ramya was happy that instead of the usual arguing he had something useful to say.
“That’s correct,” Dakrhaeth replied. “According to my calculations, they should have been right here about twenty minutes ago.”
“And that means they haven’t yet reached Morris II, right?”
“They could if they were faster than us, but we can safely assume they’re not. So, yes, you’re correct again.”
“All right,” Ross said, suddenly invigorated. “How well can you see Morris II from here?”
“Not well enough to help,” Dakrhaeth replied. Chatty he may be, but no one can call Dakrhaeth insincere, Ramya mused.
Ross sighed noisily. “Can you at least tell which continents are facing our way now? That could narrow things down a bit.”
Ramya mulled over Ross’s words. It made sense—the battered Endeavor would likely land on the first landmass it came across. If Dakrhaeth could make out the continents directly facing their path to the planet, it could give a rough idea of the area they needed to scan.
In the case of most other habitable planets, it’d have been easier to discern the landmasses, but Morris II was very dark, and the dim star it orbited didn’t make spotting things any easier. Ramya squinted hard but saw nothing but a dark ball in space. Not surprising, since even Dakrhaeth was taking so long to answer.
“The largest landmass facing us right now is in a continent they call the Masumm. It is supposedly of a mountainous terrain. It has significant settlements of Mwandans as well.”
“Damn!” Ross voiced Ramya’s own frustration. A mountainous terrain meant it’d be difficult to land the Stryker, and it would also be difficult if they needed to go looking for the Endeavor on foot. And that wasn’t taking into account the threat of an inhospitable Mwandan populace.
“Can’t we go any faster?” she asked, twiddling the controls.
“We’re at optimum speed,” Dakrhaeth replied instantly. “I’d suggest you keep it at that. Starlight is sub-optimal in this system, so the fuel packs are replicating at a lower rate. We do not want them to fail.”
Ross nodded. “Let’s just keep heading straight to Morris II. Simple, slow and steady,” he said.
Ramya pulled her hands away from the controls and pushed them into the pockets of her flight suit. They were right—getting stranded on a Mwandan planet was not an option. She mulled asking Dakrhaeth for detailed maps of Morris II but quickly discarded the idea. There was no point studying the topography when they didn’t know where they’d land on Morris II. There were too many unknowns to formulate a plan at the moment.
A few more minutes passed before Ross cleared his throat and threw a guarded look in her direction. “You haven’t told me how you’d found a way into the Stryker,” he said in a voice that was as cold as the look he gave her.
Ramya’s heart skipped a beat. And then another. The question had to come up sooner or later, but now—they were confined in the Stryker and hurtling into the unknown—was not a good time. From what she knew of Ross, he couldn’t take the news of her hidden identity happily.
“Lost your tongue?” he quipped.
“Why is it relevant?” Ramya tried to stall. Nothing good could come of this, and if there was a chance to diffuse the situation, she had to try to use it. “We should be studying Morris II.”
“You know there’s no point in doing that until we get closer and find out where we’re landing,” Ross replied snippily, his eyes narrowing. “What are you trying to hide?”
It was only getting worse. If she wasn’t going to succeed in stalling anything, it was better to let him have it straight.
“I belong to House Kiroff,” she said, watching the muscles on his face tighten. Then his nostrils flared.
“House Kiroff?” he said slowly, lingering over each word, each syllable almost. Before Ramya could say a word, he turned away to look at the red planet they had left behind. When he looked back at her, every feature on his face was frozen, his lips barely parting as they hissed out the next question. “The captain called you Ramya. Are you the Ramya, Trysten Kiroff’s daughter and heir?”
That was one precise question. It left no wiggle room. And just the question worried the heck out of Ramya. She didn’t care as much about Ross, but Dakrhaeth? The AI had allowed her access to the ship because he sensed her Kiroff genetics and likely mistook her for her father. What if the AI was only helping them because it assumed she was the head of House Kiroff? What if it chucked them out into space on knowing she was not?
“Why can’t you answer a simple question?” Ross said, his voice rising.
“I am,” Ramya snapped, anger spreading its fiery tentacles into her head. She forced the loathsome words out of her mouth. “I am Trysten Kiroff’s daughter and heir to House Kiroff.”
There . . . you heard it. Happy now?
Ross was far from happy. But he didn’t look smug like Ramya expected him to be. Didn’t burst into a screaming ball of anger either.
“What are you doing on the Endeavor? Why did you lie to us? To the captain?” Ross whispered. Pale, gnawing on his lips, Ross looked just as upset by the revelation as she had expected.
Ramya bit the inside of her cheek as she struggled to frame a safe answer. “I didn’t lie. I didn’t disclose my identity because I’m trying to . . . avoid unnecessary attention.”
“He found out?” Ross asked.
Ramya assumed he was talking about Captain Milos. “He knew from the moment he met me. So he said.”
“Who else knows?”
“Fenny.”
The veins on his temples jutted out. His nostrils flared again. “How long has she known?” he asked.
It hadn’t been too long, but Fenny had promised her, as had the captain, that they’d keep her identity a secret.
“For a bit,” Ramya replied guardedly. “I asked them both to keep it a secret.”
Her defense for them didn’t have an iota of effect on Ross. Unless she considered the mocking twist of his lips and the grunt, neither of which Ramya was aiming for. He turned away toward the darkness outside, robbing Ramya of the chance to gauge his emotions.
Quiet seconds turned into oppressive minutes. As expected, he was angry with her for not disclosing her true identity. Maybe he was let down more because the captain and Fenny didn’t tell him about her.
Either way, Ross refused to look at her. He didn’t even press on
why she was on the Endeavor, traveling incognito. In hindsight, it was good he didn’t probe further because Ramya wasn’t eager to share that she was running away from her father, Trysten Kiroff. Ross was no Fenny and he certainly was no Captain Milos. He had never felt like a friend, and he was far from someone she could share secrets with. Besides, that secret was better not told in Dakrhaeth’s presence anyway.
It was always tight inside the Stryker and now the stifling silence, like a heavy carpet wound around her head, was starting to make it feel like a coffin. How long until they touched down on Morris II?
Just then, Dakrhaeth shouted, “Mihaal, I see a craft! It’s just entered the atmosphere of Morris II.”
Ramya sat up. Ross did the same but didn’t say a word. Ramya tried to push him off her mind. He could lick his wounds for as long as he wanted because she had more important things to do than pamper his hurt psyche.
“Can you tell if it’s the Endeavor?” Ramya asked.
“No, I can’t. But I doubt the Mwandans would have too many spacecrafts flying in and out of the planet.”
Dakrhaeth was right. Mwandans were reclusive to a fault. They always had decent tech and access to all of the Confederacy’s technological know-how, but the Mwandans refused to use it to spread across the galaxy. The chances of this being a Mwandan spacecraft were less than minimal.
“Follow it then,” she instructed.
“I am, Mihaal. Following it closely.”
Ramya slumped back against her seat and let out a long, torturous breath. Her head throbbed, and her aching muscles longed for a good night’s sleep in a warm, soft bed. Her mind drifted.
“Mihaal,” Dakrhaeth’s sharp call jolted her. Did he sound worried or was it just in her mind?
“Yes?”
“I detected an explosion on the planet’s surface. It roughly matches the trajectory of the craft I saw earlier.”
Ross spun around to look at her, his face drawn. Ramya could guess she looked just as shocked.
This couldn’t be happening. Dakrhaeth couldn’t be right. What he saw couldn’t be the Endeavor. They couldn’t lose the Endeavor.
“Should we hold our course, Mihaal?”
There was no doubt about that. Even if the Endeavor had crashed and gone up in flames, they had to go down and make sure.
“Yes, of course.”
“May I note, Mihaal, this could have been caused by a Mwandan defensive. If we follow the same path, we will be heading straight into a similar fate.”
Perhaps. But no matter what, she had to find out what happened.
Ramya breathed in long and slow. “Get us there as quickly as you can, Dakrhaeth,” she ordered.
There was no way in hell she was bailing on her captain and crewmates.
2
GROUND COVER HAD a different meaning on Morris II. As the Stryker approached the surface of the planet, Ramya held her breath. The dark vegetation had wide swaths of plants in all sorts of shapes and sizes and there was barely a spot or two of the ground not covered by it. The dim light of the star made the entire scenery murky and depressing.
Dakrhaeth steered the Stryker steadily in the direction of the explosion they had seen earlier and Ramya could barely think straight. She didn’t hope for much. Better to prepare for the worst—the Endeavor had crashed and no one had survived. But even considering that didn’t clear her head. She still couldn’t think beyond finding the crash site and it didn’t help that Ross sat rigid and stony-faced next to her, refusing to speak.
She wasn’t going to give in to him. He could fret and fume as much as he wanted. Her eyes were glued on the landscape below, the thudding of her heart growing steadily like a war-drum beating faster and louder as the moment of first encounter drew near. As time crawled on they crossed more ground, but there was no sign of a crashed spacecraft.
“I’m locked on the explosion site, Mihaal.”
Ramya sucked in some air and braced for the inevitable. The Endeavor would be in pieces and everyone in it—dead.
She reached for the flight stick. No one could alter the grim truth, but at least being in charge when facing it would give some sense of control even when there was none.
“I’ll take over Dakrhaeth,” she announced. Grabbing the flight stick, she leaned forward to look outside. A thick plume of smoke rose a short distance away, right from the middle of the dark expanse of the forest. Dakrhaeth had scopes and sensors at his disposal to see more, Ramya figured.
“What do you see, Dakrhaeth?” she asked, ignoring the throbbing lump that seemed to expand in her throat.
“It is interesting. I do not see any spacecrafts. A building seems to be on fire.”
The breath Ramya had been holding made out of her in a slow relaxed wave. There was still hope! Maybe the Endeavor had landed somewhere safely. Maybe its crew was still alive. Regardless, they needed to check out the explosion site and make sure it had nothing to do with the Endeavor.
Ramya pointed the Stryker’s nose directly to the swirling gray column. As the Stryker drew closer to the plume, she saw the source of the smoke clearly. Dakrhaeth was correct—there was no spacecraft in sight. At the center of the site was a building complex of some sort, built of a dark-brown material. The centermost structure was shaped like an ovoid. An explosion had ripped it in half and smoke billowed out of it. Ramya could see the raging fire and people—Mwandans were humanoids, so they looked just like regular people from afar—running in and out of the area.
Dakrhaeth sounded a cautionary note. “Mihaal, they’re looking. I suggest we get out of here.”
“I agree,” Ramya muttered under her breath as she tugged the flight stick to turn the Stryker around. There was no Endeavor here, so whatever else was going on down there was none of her business.
“Watch out!” Ross shouted.
Ramya pulled on the flight stick and pressed hard on the throttle, but it was already too late. Something hit the right side of the Stryker in a series of soft plops. It didn’t sound harmful, but the craft tipped sideways and it sounded like every alarm on the Stryker went blaring.
Ramya threw her weight on the flight stick and pushed the throttle down. The Stryker turned and pulled forward but not as quickly as Ramya wanted it to. For a second, her vision turned blurry, but she held on. By the time they’d cleared the vicinity of the explosion site Ramya was gasping for air. The world seemed to recede from her. It had to be the rush of adrenaline, or maybe it was her empty stomach. Or maybe it was both, Ramya couldn’t be sure. The alarms assaulted her senses with their unending screech. The entire control panel was blinking red, as if everything on the Stryker was falling apart.
“Dakrhaeth,” Ramya shouted as soon as she had put some distance between them and the building. “What happened? How bad are we hit?”
The alarms quietened abruptly. The silence that followed told Ramya there could be nothing good to hear.
“I’m afraid it’s bad news, Mihaal,” Dakrhaeth said. “We were struck quite efficiently. Whatever the weapon was, it took out a good chunk of our right wing. And unfortunately, navigating in these atmospheric conditions requires working wings.”
First the failing fuel packs. Now this? Could they ever escape Morris II?
“You idiot,” Ross snarled so viciously that Ramya jumped and shrunk back. “Did you forget to have the damn shields up?”
Ramya couldn’t believe her ears. That was no way to speak to a compatriot, human, AI, or otherwise. Annoyance rose swiftly inside her. “Neither of us asked him to check on the shields,” she reminded as gently as she could. Even though she didn’t want to engage in a heated argument with Ross again, she wasn’t about to let it slide altogether.
“He’s supposed to take care of the Stryker.” Ross spat the words out. “It’s not my job.”
“I’m sorry,” Ramya replied caustically. “I forgot. Your job is yelling at people. With or without reason.”
His glare burned into the side of her face. “You’re going
to take that stupid AI’s side now? But of course, you two are in on it together. How could I forget he’s your lackey? That you infiltrated the Endeavor together.”
Infiltrated? That’s what he thought she had done? Was he delusional? Whatever it was, she had to put an end to it now.
“You know, Ross, you’re behaving like a twelve-year-old,” she blurted. Her voice was icy and her words scathing, and his stunned stare was expected. Ross was not only older but superior in the hierarchy of things on the Endeavor as well. But Ramya had had enough. With the Endeavor lost and the Stryker’s wing shot, their chance of getting out of this alive was getting dimmer every minute. The one thing they needed was to put their heads together and find an escape route.
“Quiet,” Ross growled. He had been shouting at her for quite some time but never had he sounded so angry. And even though she didn’t want to admit it, his tone made her nervous.
Ross had a lot more to say. “Right now, we have to find the Endeavor, the captain, and the crew. That’s the only reason I’m putting up with you.” He spoke through gritted teeth, nostrils flaring, and his face turning an indignant red. “But the fact remains that you’re an imposter. A Kiroff spy. I’m going to get to the bottom of your treachery, I promise you that.”
His words stung even though Ramya had tried her best to steel herself. Treachery? She had simply tried to escape an infernal life. She hadn’t wanted to betray anyone. Why didn’t he understand? Frustration and anger raised their head again. Before Ramya could retort, Ross held up a hand.
“I’m not done speaking,” he said. “You may be the boss of the Stryker and its AI, but I’m your commander. I’m the one in charge of this mission and you better keep that in mind.”
Or what? Ramya was about to snap at him, but she decided against it. He was right. Whether she liked it or not, Ross was in charge of the mission. Captain Milos had put him in charge, and she had to defer to the captain’s judgment.
“You’re right. I’m sorry,” she said hastily, almost afraid that she’d change her mind before the words made it out of her. She hoped for peace, however temporary.
The First Covenant (Dark Universe Series Book 2) Page 4
