She was about to break into a sprint when she noticed the movement around the corner. Ramya blinked at the tiny black spot in the distance. It was the muzzle of a weapon aimed directly at them.
There goes my last chance!
She grabbed Gael by the scruff of his coat and sprang forward, hoping to reach the other side. Before she could blink, a blast of light flew through the spot they had been in. Gael shot back in the direction of the blast and ran to the opposite side, and Ramya followed. Skidding over the debris, they dashed toward the next bend in the corridor.
Turning the corner, Gael threw himself into a sizable depression on the wall before yanking Ramya into it. They were pressing against a doorway, Ramya realized. The door was locked with a large, state-of-the-art keypad lock embedded into it.
“I can’t leave Fenny behind,” Ramya blurted. “I just can’t. I have to go back.”
“Why do you keep wanting to go back? Are you suicidal or something?” Gael hissed, his right brow arched quizzically. “Did you recognize that Confederate officer? That was Melroon Danukis back there. Those men were his, all loyal to House Danukis.”
No wonder the officer had looked familiar. He was the uncle of her ex-classmate Armand, that arrogant, annoying pig.
Gael continued his lecture. “Those bastards would love to catch you. And here you are, hell-bent on running into their arms.”
Ramya took a bracing breath. “I can’t leave my crewmate behind.”
“She’ll be fine. She looks like the kind who can take care of herself,” Gael shot back.
He was right. Fenny was more than capable of defending herself. But Fenny wasn’t all Ramya worried about. “I would rather die than get hauled back to Somenvaar.”
“Really? You’d rather give up your life?”
“Yes, I would.”
“Oh, well. Then you should really stay away from Melroon’s people,” he said simply. “Melroon wouldn’t kill you. He’d simply keep you as hostage so he can negotiate a deal with your father.”
He was right again. Melroon Danukis would like nothing better than a means to humiliate business rival Trysten Kiroff, but her father was never going to negotiate for her. She wasn’t worth enough. No, that was wrong. He would. Because to Trysten Kiroff, even though Ramya’s life wouldn’t be a stake high enough, the honor of House Kiroff certainly would.
Gael’s fingers danced on the keypad on the door and within a second or two, the panel beeped and the doorway parted. A small dimly lit room was on the other side. “Step inside please, Lady Ramya,” he instructed curtly.
Ramya did as he asked, but she seethed inside. Not just because he called her Lady Ramya, again, but also because she had no other choice but to follow his bidding.
“Do not call me that,” she snapped as soon as the door closed behind Gael.
He looked a little surprised at her vehemence, his narrowed eyes settling on her face. “What should I call you then? Lady Isbet?”
Ramya stiffened. He still remembered? That was the false name Ramya had given him when they had met at the CAWStrat. She flushed a little, but she was not going to let him embarrass her. He had lied to her as well. She crossed her arms and tilted her chin defiantly at him. “You can call me Rami, CSA Stevan Helves.”
Why Gael grinned so stupidly at her reply, Ramya had no idea, but it irked her endlessly. “Hear something funny?”
Gael shook his head. “Um, no. You're just . . . unexpected.”
She was about to ask him what he meant, but then that would be engaging him too much. Gael Arlington was annoying as heck and the last thing Ramya wanted was to make him feel important. So instead Ramya studied the small room they were in. It was bare, with another closed door on the backside. “What the hell is this place?” she muttered, mostly to herself.
“A place that’s not exploding on us,” Gael replied.
Ramya rolled her eyes. As if she needed to hear his smug quips! Resolving to keep her mutterings under her breath next time, she kept on probing. The walls sounded unusually dense when she tapped, and the way trusses crisscrossed meant that this room was deliberately reinforced. Space stations had built-in shelters strong enough to withstand everything short of a nuclear explosion, everyone knew that. Had Gael found one of those? The lieutenant was resourceful, she had to give him that.
Something crackled and Ramya turned to look. Gael dug up a sharp-looking communicator from his pocket, a model Ramya had not seen before. If this was a safe room, it was odd that any signal could penetrate its walls at all. That device had to be pretty cutting edge.
Gael shot her a quick look with a funny expression on his face that Ramya couldn’t quickly identify. He pressed a couple of buttons on the communicator and a familiar voice filled the tiny room at once.
“Lieutenant Arlington, I hope you’re all right,” Trysten Kiroff. “There are reports of a firefight on Nebeca 21, so I thought of checking on you.”
Ramya froze at the sound of her father’s voice. Even though they were only speaking over a communicator, it felt as if he could see her, as if he was standing right there, frowning dismissively at her. It had been weeks since she’d last seen her father, days since she’d heard his voice. She had moved past her dread of him, she’d thought.
Not so much!
Anger coiled at the pit of Ramya’s stomach. She hated herself for being so weak. Biting the inside of her cheek, she breathed with all her might. She had to grow out of it, she had to. Ramya’s fists tightened with resolve.
“Please tell me you’re well,” her father said, his voice pliant with concern.
Ramya shifted on her feet, discomfort welling inside her. He was checking on Gael. Her father, the heartless Trysten Kiroff, was checking on a worthless minion? That was new.
Gael chuckled. “I’m well, Lord Paramount. I might be missing a few hairs on my head, but I still have ten fingers and just as many toes, I think. Haven’t counted them in a while though.”
Ramya’s eyes widened at the casual way Gael spoke to her father. She braced for her father to snap back, to put Gael in place.
“I’m quite glad to hear that,” her father replied. Was that relief in his voice? No, it couldn’t be. “Please stay safe, Gael.”
Ramya frowned. Stay safe, Gael? It almost sounded like her father cared for the lieutenant like a father would care for a child. A pang of jealousy welled up inside her. That was how he should’ve cared for her. But did he? She’d never heard that tone, not once in seventeen years.
“I will,” Gael replied. “I have news for you.”
Her father let out a long breath. “You’ve secured the Stryker. Thank you.”
Gael shook his head and shifted uncomfortably. “Not yet, Lord Paramount. The Stryker’s here, but I haven’t secured it . . . yet.”
A tight silence hung in the room. Gael shot a look at her across the room and Ramya knew what he was about to tell her father. She inhaled long and deep and held the breath inside her, too afraid to let it go, afraid that she’d never find the strength to take another breath again.
“What other news then?”
“I found your daughter.”
This time around, the quiet stretched longer. Ramya didn’t know when cold had invaded her body, but she suddenly realized her fingers had turned into chunks of ice.
“On Nebeca 21? What was she doing there? Scrubbing the floors for Octus Laurden?”
A startled look came over Gael while Ramya cringed at her father’s cutting words. She fell back a step, and then another, until the cold metal walls of the safe room pushed back at her.
“Not really, Lord Paramount. She was with Captain Milos.”
Another sliver of quiet. Ramya could see her father’s face clearly in her mind, lips stretched into lines, eyes flashing with cold fire.
“How so?”
Gael looked up at her, and Ramya held his questioning gaze steadily. Was that hesitation in his eyes? Ramya couldn’t be sure.
“She’s been
with them since she left CAWStrat,” Gael said.
Her father scoffed. “So she’s been scrubbing the floors of that junk ship of his.”
“Perhaps,” Gael replied jauntily. Ramya wanted to smash that stupid grin off his face. She wrapped her arms tightly around her body, fearing that she might really take a swing at him. Gael totally ignored her glare and continued to speak. “Mostly though, she’s been flying the Stryker. She’s the one to blame . . . or credit for the spectacle at Totori. Space Command still won’t release the extent of damage there, but I can guess it’s pretty massive. I’d steer clear of your daughter when she’s anywhere near the Stryker.”
Did he just praise her?
Ramya studied Gael intently. The grin was still twisting one corner of his mouth, a roguish gleam making his dark eyes shine. She couldn’t tell what he was up to. Not yet.
On the other end of the communication channel, her father sighed. “What a mess,” he said after a while. “Gael, I don’t need Space Command knowing this, all right? Let’s keep this quiet. Can you secure everything?”
“Yes, of course.”
“You don’t sound so sure, Gael,” her father said. “If you like I can send someone else.”
“No, I’m fine.”
“All right, then.”
“Lord Paramount . . .” Gael paused hesitantly for a bit. “Lady Ramya is here with me. Do you wish to speak to her?”
“No.” There was no uncertainty in that refusal. His vehemence stung Ramya like a backhanded slap across her face. “Good luck on your mission, Lieutenant.”
The line clicked to an end. Ramya glared across the room at Gael, silently daring him to begin a conversation. He didn’t.
“So, you’re going to take me back to Somenvaar?” Ramya said when she couldn’t hold it any longer.
Gael stared back at her with an inscrutable expression.
“Lost your tongue or something?” Ramya snapped. “Is that the plan? The all-powerful puppet master expects you to deliver the Stryker and me to him.”
Gael’s brows came together. “Is that how you always speak of your father?”
“Yes, I do. Did you hear how my father speaks of me? You could’ve asked him why he does that,” Ramya retorted. “Oh no, wait! You’re a minion he keeps to do his bidding. How will you question him?”
“Minion?” Gael said, an amused expression swamping his face. “Did you just call me a minion?”
“Why . . . you don’t like it?” Ramya tapped her chin and studied the roof. “Let’s see, what else can we call you? Stooge? Flunkey? Henchman? Or maybe, Trysten Kiroff’s newest pet?”
The sound of blaster-fire trickled in. Gael stilled and listened to it intently for a bit before turning back to Ramya.
“Remember me saving your life just about five minutes ago?” he said in a teasing, slightly arrogant voice. “You should be thanking me. But all I get is hate.” He strolled closer to Ramya’s end of the room and circled her like he was hunting down a prey. “Why? Just because I can take you back home? Or because your father is nice to me?”
Somenvaar was no home. And why would she care if Trysten Kiroff was nice to Gael?
Ramya scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Who cares if he likes you or roasts you for dinner? Incidentally, how much did he pay you to make you betray House Arlington? You must’ve made quite a fortune to forget all that enmity your house has for the Kiroffs?”
Not too long ago, the Arlingtons would’ve spat on the ground a Kiroff walked on. Clearly not anymore. Tucker Arlington, Gael’s father, had to be furious at his son’s disloyalty.
Gael, however, simply cocked his head at her and flashed that infuriating all-knowing smile of his. “Yes, I was offered a fortune, but I didn’t have to betray House Arlington. This is an arrangement between the houses, between Trysten and Tucker. Hate me if you will, but I’m just a pawn, only a strategic piece in a game of galactic power play.”
His words stirred another memory from their last conversation at CAWStrat. What had he said exactly? Something about lives being swept away in galactic politics, into strategic marriages . . . Ramya’s thoughts crashed to a halt. The room seemed to close on her, the air turned too thick to breathe. She forced her lungs to pull in the heavy air and shoved the words out of her parched throat.
“What exactly did my father promise House Arlington?” she asked, running her tongue over her rapidly drying lips. “What’s your stake in this? And why do you keep following me around?”
He didn’t reply as fast as he usually did. Instead he seemed to be mulling his answer.
“I’m not following you around,” he said finally, with unusual deliberation, taking time to utter each word as if he were weighing each of them. “And I’m not at liberty to discuss what was promised.”
He didn’t have to tell her. She knew already. The thought had struck her like lightning—sudden, intense, and clear as clear could be.
“He promised you my hand in marriage, didn’t he?”
He blinked. That was enough for Ramya. He didn’t have to say another word.
Anger simmered along the edges of her head. This man was a lieutenant of the GSO, an accomplishment anyone could be proud of. How could he have sold his fate to the wiles of Trysten Kiroff?
“What kind of a man are you?” she yelled. “Don’t you have any self-respect? You wear the blues, for stars’ sake. You’re supposed to have pride in yourself, in building your own destiny. How can you allow anyone to trade your life for the rights of a planet or two?”
Gael’s eyes narrowed some and his jaw hardened. He didn’t say a word, but Ramya was on a roll anyway.
“Or maybe you’re just that desperate. House Arlington must be tired of coming in second all the time. So why not pimp yourself out? That Kiroff girl looks quite fetching anyway. Not a bad deal to get to the top tier.”
Ramya paused to take a breath, suddenly realizing how quiet Gael was. His shoulders had slumped a little and a deep frown had formed on his forehead. Ramya opened her mouth to spout some more rebuke, but she closed it, noting the vacant, faraway look in Gael’s eyes. For seconds that seemed like forever, they stood, staring blankly at each other.
“Are you done?” Gael broke the uncomfortable silence.
“Yes, I’m done,” she snapped, striding past him to the door. “We need to get out of here. I don’t know what your plan is, but I have to get back to my ship.”
Shooting a blistering glare at Gael, Ramya turned her attention to the door. She pressed her ear to the panel. It was quiet outside, nice and peaceful. Perhaps the firefight had stopped.
Gael simply stood at the middle of the room, watching her. “Are you going to help or what?” she asked irritably.
“We can’t go outside with just this,” he replied, raising his Nihilator. He had a point. Melroon’s fighters had some serious weapons on them and all they had was one Nihilator. But they couldn’t just sit in this room forever either.
“How long will we wait?”
“As long as it takes.”
“What?” Ramya spat. Anger, unjustifiable fury spewed out of her. “Just so you know, holding me in this room won’t make me fall head over heels in love with you. The last thing I’ll ever do is marry you, Arlington. So let me out.”
He crossed his arms and shook his head. “No wonder your father doesn’t have faith in you. You are absolutely, utterly . . . irrational. No, I’m not opening the door, Kiroff. Like it or not, this is where you’ll stay until I decide it’s safe to get out.”
His scornful expression set Ramya’s head on fire. “I don’t take orders from you, Arlington,” Ramya retorted.
“The hell you do. Right now, you don’t have a choice,” he snapped back. His intense, dark gaze bore a hole through her. “And just to make things clear, I’m no more interested in you than you are in me. But not everyone can just run away when things don’t go their way. Some of us stick around and face hell, even after seeing the only person they care about ripped ou
t of their lives. That’s called surviving, Kiroff. I survive.”
His words had hardly sunk in when a commotion grew outside the back door.
“Stand back,” Gael ordered, pushing her away and facing the door, his Nihilator raised.
“This is it,” someone shouted. The voice was faded but familiar. “Move back, I got the codes.”
Ramya caught the clicking sound of fingers punching on the panel lock. Someone was about to walk into the room.
“They’re coming in,” she whispered. “What do we do?”
“We fight back, Kiroff,” he said. “What else can we do?”
“Fight back? With what?”
“I don’t know,” he replied through gritted teeth as he aimed his Nihilator at the door. “Think of something.”
There wasn’t much time to think. The door was starting to part. Ramya patted her pockets. She found nothing. She made a mental note of hiding a dagger on herself the next time . . . if there would be a next time.
Just then, her heart leapt with joy. The hair pins! They were small, but at least they were something. She could stab a couple of people with them. If she were fast enough she could bring an attacker down.
One tug and she had two sharp and long needles in her hands. The problem was that she could only use them at close range. Ramya darted from behind Gael to the side of the door. Gael twitched, but his tight jaw relaxed just a bit on seeing the pins. Ramya couldn’t be sure, but she thought she saw the ghost of a smile on his face.
The door kept parting. The voices grew louder.
“Rami,” someone called.
“Fenny?” Ramya yelled incredulously.
“She’s in there,” Fenny shouted. “How many hostiles with you, Rami?”
Hostiles? Ramya looked at Gael. He wasn’t really a hostile. He had saved her life. But then . . . given a chance he would drag her back to Somenvaar, to her father, and into a loveless marriage.
“One,” she shouted. “But he’s going to put his weapon down.” Holding Gael’s gaze, she ordered, her fists tightening over the hairpins, “Put it down. Now, Lieutenant Arlington.”
The First Covenant (Dark Universe Series Book 2) Page 15
