“We reached already?” Ramya asked, throwing an incredulous glance at Ross.
“We make shortcut,” Ahool explained. “And I drive very fast.”
Indeed. They had almost flown.
Ramya quickly scanned the sky and caught Ross doing the same. “Have we lost the ship?” she asked.
“I’ll go outside and check,” Ross suggested. “Ahool, can we get off?”
Ahool sat the rambler down on the ground. Ramya thought the young Mwandan looked even paler than before. He had to be shaken. Anyone would be tense after such a wild dash through the forest
Ramya patted the Mwandan’s shoulder before slipping out of the rambler. “You’re an amazing driver, Ahool. Did you know that?”
A pink flush spread up Ahool’s face. He smiled shyly and shot a quick glittery look at Ramya before nodding. “I pray to forest spirit. They help. They want keep all alive.”
They most definitely wanted to keep Ahool alive. Ramya recalled how the trees had howled when the squad officers had shot at the fleeing Mwandan. He had a connection to the forest spirits, whatever that was.
Ross had been scanning the skies intently. “I don’t see the Norgoran ship,” he declared, “but if they picked up signs of our presence then they’ll surely come back.”
No doubt about that. Norgorans were a notoriously stubborn people, and once they picked up a scent, they didn’t let go. It was no accident that they grew a reputation of being the galaxy’s premier scouts. But they weren’t hovering overhead, at least for the moment.
“Ross. Rami.” Ahool stood behind them, a worried expression on his pallid face. He nodded at the mighty barrier of trees ahead. “I need ask for permission to enter.”
“What do you mean?” Ross asked. “Can’t we just walk in?”
Ahool shuddered and clamped his palms over his ears as if he had just heard a blasphemy. Then he shook his head violently. “Oh no, no, no! Cannot just walk in to Grove of Stillness.” He stopped and pointed at the largest trees that stood at the middle of the wall. “They sentinels. We beg for path. If we go with no blessing, sentinels punish us. They kill us.”
“How do we get their blessing?” Ross asked again.
Ahool gave a droopy-faced look. “I try speak to them. Never have talked to sentinels.” He walked back to the edge of the clearing and sat down on the ground facing the towering wall ahead. He crossed his legs, then his arms, and closed his eyes. Then, his lips started moving as if he were chanting a spell.
Ramya let out a sigh. Thank goodness for their Mwandan friend. It was a fabulous stroke of luck that they had found Ahool or they’d have been killed in that grove the moment they stepped in.
“This is ridiculous,” Ross whispered, shaking his head at Ahool. “Who knows how long this will take.”
Ramya could understand Ross’s fears. The worst case scenario chilled her heart. “I hope the Grove isn’t punishing the Endeavor for crashing into it. I have no idea what these forests are capable of, but the Mwandans do not take them lightly, that’s for sure.”
Ross gave a hopeless shake of his head. “We don’t have a choice but to wait until Ahool wakes up. Funny how everyone starts napping around us. First that damned AI and now this guy.”
Ramya was about to remind him that Dakrhaeth wasn’t napping because he felt like it but to repair the Stryker, but Ross’s dark and gloomy face convinced her to remain quiet. He was stressed and that wasn’t unexpected, given the situation. Now was the time to mend fences, not light a fire under it.
Ramya decided to put some effort into small talk instead. “You must’ve known Captain Milos for a long time,” she said.
Ross turned sharply, his brows furrowed. He was about to snap at her, Ramya was sure, but he didn’t. “Not too long,” he replied calmly. “I was the newest addition to the crew until you came along.”
“Were you on another ship before that?”
“No. This is my first job on a ship,” Ross replied in a thick voice.
“Where are you from? Which sector?”
His eyes flashed and Ramya shriveled a little. She had gone too far with that question. What right did she have asking about his past when she had lied about her own? But Ross didn’t retort like she expected. He simply pursed his lips and turned away.
So much for small talk. Ramya was about to walk about and scan the periphery when Ross turned back.
“Halperion,” he said. “You must’ve heard the name.”
Ramya wished she had never asked. The name Halperion, the way he said it, and the seething hatred in his eyes chilled her bones.
“I have,” she replied simply, holding his burning gaze as fearlessly as she could.
Ross scoffed. “The planet with the biggest Solandium deposits in the galaxy. Halperion sure is famous, isn’t it?”
He was taunting her. Halperion didn’t just have the biggest Solandium deposits in the galaxy, which made it one of the most sought after planetary fiefdoms; it was made more famous by the bloody games the houses played to secure rights over the Solandium mines.
Ross absent-mindedly tapped his blaster. “It used to be a beautiful place. No one cared about a bunch of hillbillies on a remote planet. We didn’t mind the lack of attention either. Then someone stumbled on a vein of Solandium and all hell broke loose.”
She had been just a child then, but Ramya vividly remembered the rush of activity at Somenvaar when the news of the discovery broke. House Danukis was the first to bid for mining rights on Halperion, but they were no match for Trysten Kiroff’s maneuvers. Within a few months he had somehow managed to get most of the homesteaders on Halperion to sign over the rights of their lands to House Kiroff.
Ramya still remembered overhearing a heated exchange between her grandfather and her father.
“Really, Trys? You sent in mercenaries?” Grappa Abelei had hissed at Trysten. “I can understand bidding wars, I can even understand bribes, but threatening those poor people by sending thugs into their homes? Forcing them to sell off their rights for a fraction of what it’s worth? That isn’t right.”
Her father had looked away but his face stayed hard as a rock. A few seconds later he had replied in an icy tone, “House Kiroff is now mine to lead, Father. What is best for it is up to me to decide. I don’t want to lecture you on how to spend your retirement, but if I did, I’d advise you to stay out of our business matters. You’ve done enough and I’m grateful. Please let things stay that way.”
Ramya hadn’t understood what it all meant, only that Grappa didn’t speak to anyone except her in the week that followed. Then the Locusta-Vanga war started. Grappa left for the front and never returned. Thanks to the new Solandium mines on Halperion, House Kiroff manufactured fighter crafts for the Confederacy faster than anyone else in the business. When the war ended, Trysten Kiroff had become the richest man in the galaxy.
Ramya let go of the breath she had been holding while she reminisced. Ross was still distractedly tapping his blaster, his face grim.
“Do you still have family there?” Ramya asked, regretting the question immediately.
Ross looked up and studied her for a bit. “Yes, they work in the mines you own, mines that should have been theirs.”
No wonder he hated her. Ramya breathed in deep but still felt pitifully empty inside.
“I’m sorry. I—”
Ross’s eyes flashed. “What’s your apology gonna get me?”
“Nothing.” Nothing she said or did was going to change the past, but she was sorry for how unjustly the people Halperion had been treated. “If I ever get a chance—”
“Save it, Rami,” Ross cut her off. “Whatever you do now isn’t going to fix the lives ruined. It won’t bring back my uncles who died fighting those thugs House Kiroff unleashed on us. So just let it go, all right?”
“I’m sorry.” The words trickled out of her mouth.
“Please,” he said through gritted teeth. “Please stop saying that.” Ramya shriveled at his vicious to
ne. Ross stepped closer, his eyes flashing dangerously. “I dreamed of going to the university and for a bit it had seemed I could. My poor father was up in the clouds, happy that he could finally give me something worthwhile. But he was just a silly old man with stupid hopes who forgot to factor in Trysten Kiroff’s greed.”
Ramya held her breath. Ross’s words stung and kept on stinging. Strange that she felt no anger, only guilt. No wonder Ross was always so bitter. How many more of such lives had her father ruined? How many enemies did House Kiroff have out there? Fear touched the base of her spine with ice-cold fingers and made her shudder.
Ross went on with his pitiless tirade. “I’ve taught myself to be smarter than my father. I don’t think that just because I’ve been good to people, they’ll be good to me. And I certainly don’t trust anyone with Kiroff blood in them,” he said it all in one breath. He paused for a second before spitting out the next words. “I told you . . . I need you now to get to the Endeavor. Besides, I have to follow the captain’s orders. I just can’t desert you. But don’t, not even for a second, think of me as a friend. I’m not. And I don’t want to be.”
For a gut-wrenching moment or two they stood facing each other, eyes locked in a battle of will. Then Ross turned on his heels and marched away. Ramya turned also, a pall of gloom tightening like a noose around her neck as she stared blankly at the nearest tree trunk.
He could never forgive her. The camaraderie of the moment was only the means to an end. It would be over the second they found the Endeavor. What would Ross do after that? Could he . . . disclose her identity to one of the countless enemies of House Kiroff?
Ramya leaned against the tree, thankful for its steady presence. Dark, worrisome thoughts swirled endlessly in her mind, and she struggled to breathe. She closed her eyes and willed the fears away. She had to focus on the present, on getting to the Endeavor. The rest was going to have to wait.
“Rami!”
“Ross? Wha—”
Something black and sticky slapped her face and clung tightly, gluing her mouth shut and keeping her eyes closed. Waves of stickiness wrapped around her torso at a furious pace. Long before Ramya could panic, she toppled to the ground like a mummified corpse.
7
RAMYA HEARD VOICES. People were talking in the distance, speaking in a strange tongue—possibly a Mwandan dialect—that she couldn’t understand. The voices faded soon after, and even though Ramya strained to hold on to the distant sounds, she couldn’t for long.
She gave her shoulders a frustrated shake. She didn’t budge even a hair. Whatever wrapped her from head to foot in a dark cocoon was tight and strong. She couldn’t as much as twitch a finger. The blaster in her hand had been ripped from her fingers when the thing encircled her so she was totally, utterly defenseless. Ramya had no trouble breathing though. The cocoon was like a full body armor—a breathable but sightless armor.
It was one hell of a restraint. Ramya had tried to fight her way out of it, and she had also tried to scream. None of it worked. It was funny that even as she braced for a painful death in the hands of her captors, she thought of her father. Trysten Kiroff would’ve been intrigued by such a novelty of a shackle. Perhaps he’d even build a factory or two and make some kind of armor out of the technology.
“Ahool . . .”
Ramya’s ears perked up on hearing Ahool’s name. Who were these people? The squad officers? Or were these some friends of Ahool’s?
She wished they’d at least let her see their faces. Or maybe not. She didn’t want to watch them arrange her execution. Sometimes ignorance was bliss.
The questions didn’t stop coming though. Did they wrap Ross and Ahool up as well? How long were they going to keep her restrained?
Someone shrieked. It sounded just like Ahool. Were they hurting the kid? She strained her ears, but other than some sort of a dull commotion in the distance, she couldn’t fathom much. She was running out of air. It was getting harder to breathe . . .
She had to calm down. There was no point struggling. Unless they let her free, there was no way to get out of this casket. Or unless she grew some kind of superpower, but that was as incredible a dream as could be. She had to wait and not panic. Ramya breathed slowly . . . in and out, in and out.
Ramya had steadied her thoughts to a manageable level when she noticed the change—the distant furor outside was growing louder. The voices were coming closer. Ahool, she realized gleefully, was the loudest among others.
Someone tugged at her feet while someone else grabbed her head. They hoisted her, cocoon and all, and stood her up. There was a dull pop and then the bindings around her body fell away and the stickiness on her face vanished. Someone snatched her second blaster from its holster before Ramya’s eyes fluttered open. The blurred figures came into view slowly. About a dozen or so Mwandans, dressed in black hooded shirts that covered their pale heads, were carrying weapons that looked like blasters but were longer and stouter. They stood in a semicircle facing Ross and her. Ahool stood with them, and on seeing Ramya open her eyes, he rushed forward.
“You be all right,” he said. He pointed at the Mwandans with weapons behind him. “They my friends.”
“Some welcoming friends,” Ross grumbled next to her, massaging his right hand tenderly.
“They not know,” Ahool tried to explain. His face had taken on a bluish tinge, a sign of anxiety.
“What do they want?” Ramya asked. “Why did they catch us?”
“Berkari Chief come looking for Ahool. Then find you.”
Ross stepped closer. “The Berkari chief? He’s here?”
Ahool nodded. “Yes. He wants talk to you. Come.”
Ramya and Ross exchanged a quick glance before following Ahool Petta. This was good news. Based on the title alone, the Berkari chief sounded and seemed quite powerful. If only they could get him to help them get the Endeavor free.
Ahool led the way near the edge of the clearing to the damaged rambler. There was a larger vehicle next to it. It was almost five times bigger than Ahool’s rambler and black as charcoal. A caped figure stood next to the vehicle looking up at the Sentinel wall. On hearing the group approach, he turned around.
Ramya’s eyes widened on seeing his face and her steps slowed. This male—she was sure it was a male—was not gray like Ahool and the rest of the Mwandans behind them. Instead, he had deep brown skin with black stripes on his neck.
“He’s an Uminato,” Ross whispered. Ramya had no idea what that meant, but she was sure glad Ross knew. She took note of the light tone in his voice, so it had to be good news. There was no time to ask Ross to explain because they were already face-to-face with the leader of the Berkari. Ross gave the Mwandan a quick half-bow and Ramya quickly followed.
Ahool pointed at Ramya and Ross and spoke excitedly to the chief in some Mwandan language, none of which Ramya understood. The chief did not seem displeased. He simply nodded gravely. As soon as Ahool stopped speaking, the chief addressed Ramya and Ross.
“Humans are not welcome on Mwandan sanctuaries, weren’t you aware of that?” he said. His voice tinkled also, just like Ahool’s, only his sentences were perfectly constructed and nothing like the rapidly and randomly strung sentences Ahool typically spoke.
“Yes, Chief, we were aware,” Ross replied.
His eyes widened. “Then why are you here? Ahool tells me your mothership has crashed into the Grove of Stillness. Is that true?”
“Yes, it is true. We did not have a choice but to land here, Chief.”
“Why is that?”
Ross inhaled sharply. He was clearly hesitating and that was not lost on the Berkari chief.
“You are not outlaws, are you?” he asked, the tinkle in his voice suddenly thick and heavy. Ross shook his head when the chief held up a cautioning hand. “Let me tell you that lies are useless with me. I can sense untruths just as easily I can see you standing in front of me. You could ask why I’m even telling you that. I should simply find out when you speak
.”
He paused, looking from Ross to Ramya, and holding Ramya’s gaze for an uncomfortably long time. Ramya knew she was not supposed to open her mouth—the Berkari chief had just stopped Ross from even shaking his head—and if anyone was supposed to respond to the chief, it had to be Ross. Yet, something inside her fluttered and snapped out of control as the Berkari chief stared at her.
“You’re testing us, that’s why,” Ramya blurted. “You’re giving us this chance to choose for ourselves. If we speak the truth, you’ll help us.”
His eyes glittered. “So, speak. Speak the truth.”
Ross didn’t need another invitation. He related every part of their adventures, starting from their finding the Stryker in Sector 22 to the encounter with the Confederacy and finally to their journey to Morris II to find the Endeavor. Once in a while, Ramya chimed in with things she had heard from Dakrhaeth and his pilot, Habardein.
“We didn’t plan to come here, Chief,” Ross concluded in an earnest voice. “Neither did Captain Milos. And we won’t stay here for a second longer than needed for us to get the Endeavor out of here.”
The Berkari chief looked away from them. His eyes had lost their sheen. Ramya knew what that meant from watching Ahool—the chief had to be worried about something.
“What do you know about the four missing Strykers?” he asked Ramya after a sizeable silence.
For a second, Ramya’s mind stumbled to a halt. That was odd. Why did the chief ask that particular question?
“Rami,” Ross’s sharp call shoved her out of the jumble in her head.
“We don’t know for sure, but Dakrhaeth . . . the AI on the Stryker we have . . . he said they went to the Fringe to lay the groundwork for the second Locustan invasion to begin.”
The Berkari chief crossed his arms and paced around, his deep brown coloration turning purplish for a moment or two. He was agitated, maybe even afraid. The idea of a second Locustan invasion was terrifying, but Ramya couldn’t understand why it rattled the stolid Berkari chief so much.
Something pierced Ramya’s thoughts like an unsettling ripple through her mind, vanishing as swiftly as it had come. Her spine tingled at the strange sensation. Ross stood stiffly next to her with a bemused expression on his face. The Berkari chief stared at them, his eyes boring into them like a pair of lasers. He had just probed their minds, Ramya realized.
The First Covenant (Dark Universe Series Book 2) Page 8
