The First Covenant (Dark Universe Series Book 2) Read online

  Ahool reached into his suit and proudly flashed a golden medallion on his chain. Ramya didn’t know what that meant, but she presumed it was some sort of official certification of his medical knowledge, and Ross apparently knew what it meant.

  Ross continued vouching for the Mwandan. “He knows his stuff. You should try some of the berries. It will make you feel better. I was starving, but now . . .”

  Ramya looked askance at Ahool Petta who was observing Ross with keen glittery eyes. As soon as Ross stopped speaking, he opening his palm again, revealing his offering of berries to Ramya.

  The Berkari . . . Ramya tried to recall what she knew about that. It was hard to think. Pangs of hunger were clawing at her stomach and soreness was spreading through her bones. The Berkari was a radical faction among the Mwandans, she recalled. They didn’t agree with the Mwandan government who kept the Mwandans isolated from the rest of the galaxy. The Berkari wanted the Mwandans to be an active part of the Confederacy, a sentiment outlawed by the current Mwandan government.

  But did that automatically make Ahool their friend? Likely so. “The enemy of an enemy is a friend,” so the ancient saying went. It was her father’s favorite saying. Lord Paramount Trysten Kiroff didn’t shy away from attributing his fortunes to following that adage, so it had to be worth something. They were trespassing in a Mwandan territory, and the government wouldn’t like that one bit. In that case, the Berkari was their best ally.

  Ramya grabbed a handful of berries from Ahool. They were sweet and . . . just the most wonderful taste. Ramya was sure she hadn’t had anything half as wonderful in her life. They left a cool sensation inside her mouth, throat, and chest, and a few mouthfuls later, the dizziness had just about disappeared entirely.

  “What now?” she asked Ross, feeling energized enough to conquer Morris II.

  He promptly handed her one of the leaves from his basket. “Have this. It’ll help you adjust to Morris II. Apparently, the trees here release minute spores that can be toxic to aliens . . . meaning us.”

  The berries had certainly helped so Ramya didn’t argue. Ahool’s face broke into a huge grin when Ramya took a bite of the leaf. A sharp sour sensation hit her taste buds and Ramya barely managed to stop from cursing out loud.

  “Ahool has offered to take us to the Grove of Stillness,” Ross explained as Ramya forced some more of the sour leaves into her mouth. “That’s where the Endeavor seems to have crashed. Trouble is, that’s sacred burial ground for Mwandans and we don’t have long to get the crew and, hopefully, the whole ship out of there before the government comes looking.”

  Ahool nodded eagerly. “Fortunate that Grove of Stillness is remote, so HQ don’t know about it very quickly. But still, we need hurry to help your friends.”

  “How long will it take us to get there?” Ramya asked. They had to rescue the Endeavor if they wanted to get out of Morris II, and time was running out very fast. Not just the Mwandan government, but very soon, the Confederacy would come looking as well. Besides, her father’s shadow was always looming.

  “If we walk all way, an hour at least.” Ahool paused to mull over something. “If we not run into squad officers looking for me. Worst case, it take much longer,” he said, the corners of his lips drooping. “But if—”

  “If what?” Ramya asked.

  “If we fix rambler, then—”

  “Rambler?” Ramya asked, fixing a curious gaze on Ahool. “What’s that?”

  “It’s vehicle. I traveling with Moonis in it,” Ahool explained. His gaze drooped and his face lost its characteristic shine when he mentioned Moonis. It seemed the gray pallor of his had suddenly acquired a bluish tinge to it. “Squad officers wreck it when they catch up with us.”

  Ramya cast a look at Ross. Had he asked Ahool about why the squad officers were chasing Ahool in the first place? Was it because he was part of the Berkari? “Why were they chasing you?” she asked.

  Ahool let out a long sigh. Leaves rustled all of a sudden. It seemed as if the entire forest let out a sigh. “We make trouble at the squad headquarters,” he said. His eyes flicked from Ramya to Ross’s before drooping to the ground again. “They had us in prison. We broke out. Make a little explosion and damage the building. Squad officers not like it one bit.”

  Ramya fiddled with her thumbs and looked at Ross who simply gave her an indifferent look. “May I talk to you for a second, Commander?” she said, and Ross stepped away from Ahool Petta, albeit a little reluctantly.

  “What?” he said in a low voice as soon as they were a few steps away from the Mwandan. His face flushed, and he almost seemed annoyed that she had pulled him aside.

  “He’s a fugitive,” Ramya said. “The Mwandan law enforcement is after him.”

  Ross shrugged. “You wanted to help him, didn’t you?” That was a fact. “Besides, we’re fugitives too. We’re wanted more than Ahool, I have no doubt.”

  Ross was correct, so it was back to the same old saying. In hopes of shoring up that elusive courage, Ramya muttered, “An enemy of your enemy—”

  “Is a friend,” Ross completed. His voice had turned hard when he spoke again. “We have to get to Captain Milos. Whatever it takes.”

  Ramya nodded in agreement. She couldn’t lose sight of what was really important. They had to get to the Endeavor. They headed over to Ahool Petta, who was sitting with his head bowed.

  “So, Ahool . . . what’s wrong with your rambler?”

  “Not wrong. Just fallen.” He sat up a bit. “They fire at us. The rambler topples. Moonis dies. They try to kill Ahool, but you help.”

  “But what’s wrong with the rambler?”

  Ahool shrugged. “Maybe nothing. I not know. I no engineer. I doctor.”

  “Oh, I see,” Ramya said.

  Perhaps they could fix the vehicle. Ross had been on the Endeavor for a while. He had to know something about fixing vehicles. She knew a thing or two about spacecraft design also, although she’d never tried her hand at fixing an automobile, let alone a strange Mwandan version of a vehicle.

  “The best option now is to check the rambler out,” Ross said, and Ahool nodded vigorously in support.

  “Assuming the squad officers left it there,” Ramya said as they started walking to the edge of the forest in a line, Ross leading, Ahool in the middle, and Ramya flanking the end.

  “Yes, they did,” Ross said. “They took off in their own rambler with the dead man.”

  That was good news. Perhaps they’d be able to fix the vehicle and get to the Endeavor quickly.

  “Why didn’t they follow you into the forest, Ahool?” Ramya asked the Mwandan. Ramya recalled the howling forest when the officers had shot at a fleeing Ahool.

  “They fear forest spirits protecting Ahool,” Ahool replied. “The squads no friends of the forests. They not respect the true Mwandan ways. That’s why Berkari fight.”

  “But I thought . . .” Ramya stopped as her thoughts drifted. Little was known about the reclusive Mwandans except for the fact that the race was closely linked to plants.

  “We, Mwandans, evolve from plants,” Ahool went on in a plaintive voice. “Mwandans are children of forests. We are one with them.” Ahool raised his arms toward the trees that towered above them and Ramya was pretty sure they swayed just a bit, as if agreeing with Ahool. “But government now want to use forest for fuel.” Ahool paused and shuddered. “No true Mwandan accept that. No true Mwandan destroy ancestors.”

  Ancestor or not, using the trees for fuel wasn’t such a great idea. Humans had long learned that. Since the near-destruction of Old Terra, cutting down of trees or making any drastic changes to the habitats on any colonized planet was strictly monitored. Either the Mwandans didn’t know the terrible history of the humans or they chose to ignore it knowingly.

  “Not a great idea,” Ramya said. “Destroying forests is no good.”

  Red eyes flashing, Ahool turned toward her and nodded. “That’s why I protest. And they lock me up.”

  Ramya
chuckled. “So you blew up a building?” she asked.

  “Ahool not proud of that. But he had to get out,” Ahool replied. “I not know explosives so powerful. Moonis arrange that. But dome breaks in half and people get hurt. I not enjoy that.”

  Ramya’s feet slowed as Ahool’s words sunk in. “Hey, wait! Ross, could this be the same building we saw down south?”

  “Could be,” Ross replied distractedly. He raised a cautioning arm in the next second. They had reached the edge of the forest and only a single row of trees stood between them and the clearing beyond.

  The clearing was empty. Except for the overturned rambler that lay to one side and a large brownish patch on the ground where Ahool’s accomplice, Moonis, had once lain, there was no evidence of the scene of a few minutes ago.

  “All’s clear,” Ross whispered. He pointed in the direction of the rambler. “Let’s get to the vehicle. Be prepared to fall back.”

  They reached the rambler without any incident and after some tugging and pushing, the trio was able to straighten the vehicle.

  “I try to start it,” Ahool volunteered. He scuttled into the glass-covered passenger area and sat in the single seat in the front row. His gray fingers danced on a large curved panel. Ramya peeped in to observe. All control of the vehicle was achieved through that touch-sensitive panel, and Ahool seemed quite at ease with the control system.

  “What’s going on?” Ross asked from behind. He had been scanning back and forth in case the officers returned.

  “Nothing,” Ramya said. Other than some noncommittal beeps and barely reassuring bloops, there didn’t seem to be a sign of progress as far as she could tell.

  “We can’t wait out here for too long,” Ross said in a low voice. “The squad can be back anytime. Possibly with reinforcements.” He raised the blaster in his arms. “Our weapons are no match for what those two had.”

  Ramya agreed. It was unwise to wait for too long at the scene of the getaway. Sooner or later, the squad officers were bound to come back to check the periphery. If Ahool Petta was indeed responsible for the explosion they had seen from the Stryker, no law enforcement worth their salt would simply shrug off the miscreant behind such pandemonium. They had to get away from here as quickly as possible.

  “It getting alive.” Ahool’s excited shout made Ramya snap back toward him. The panel was now brighter than before, clusters of shapes and letters dancing over it. Ahool’s fingers danced even faster, almost in frenzy.

  “Can you drive it?” Ramya asked.

  “I not know,” Ahool replied. “But I try. I wake it up, didn’t I?”

  Somehow, even though Ahool sounded nothing short of confident, Ramya couldn’t feel enthusiastic about the ride. Ross’s face was equally dim.

  “Is it all right?” Ramya asked again. “Safe?”

  “There trouble with fuel line. Blockage, report say.”

  “Can you fix it?” Ross asked.

  “Nothing to fix. We take chance. Go as far as we can.”

  What if they went up in a ball of flames? Ramya looked at the panel. A zillion words in some unrecognizable Mwandan script flashed all over it. She couldn’t read it and asking Ahool to translate it all would take a long time. Time they didn’t have.

  They had to follow Ahool. There was no other option.

  “Come up,” Ahool invited. His eyes were like rubies, and a nervous smile stretched unsteadily on his lips.

  The stars help us, Ramya thought before jumping into the rear seat of the vehicle. The window next to her was shattered, a reminder of the attack that killed Ahool’s companion, Moonis. Ramya suppressed a shudder and forced her eyes ahead.

  As soon as Ross climbed in next to her, Ahool let out a joyful, chirpy sound. “We go now,” he announced. “We follow road for ten minutes, then find fork to Grove.”

  The rambler lifted off the ground slightly and teetered. For a second, nausea returned to fill Ramya’s guts. Then, with a bone-chilling hiss, the rambler shot forward.

  Ramya had barely let out the breath she had been holding when the shadow fell across the clearing. The shadow’s immense size and the suddenness with which it appeared made everyone look up through the glass roof of the rambler. Ramya’s heart skipped a beat.

  There was no mistaking the hulking craft north of them. It was blood red, a color typical of a Norgoran spaceship. It reminded Ramya of a torpedo. Its flaring rear end shaped like the tail of a fish was spinning, which was characteristic of the Norgoran Glasspointe, the fastest scout ships in the galaxy.

  “Ahool, take cover,” Ross yelled immediately. “Right now!”

  Unsteadily, the rambler scrambled to the edge of the clearing.

  “Should stop?” Ahool asked in a rushed voice, his face tinged with fear.

  “No, keep going straight up,” Ross instructed. “Don’t turn toward the Endeavor. We don’t want to point them that way. Just keep going. Stay in the shadows.”

  The Glasspointe hovered over the clearing, and for a while Ramya was sure it was watching them.

  “Is it here for us?” she whispered to Ross.

  “Why else would a Norgoran ship come to a Mwandan sanctuary?” he said before tapping Ahool on the shoulder. “Hey, Ahool, have you seen Norgoran ships out here lately?”

  Ahool shook his head vigorously. “Never seen ship like that in my life.”

  Ross threw a meaningful glance at Ramya. “Only one thing has changed. Us. Our presence on Morris II.”

  “The Norgorans are the best seekers in the galaxy. They must be looking for the Endeavor.”

  Every race in the Confederacy was allowed to maintain their own space fleet according to the Treaty of the Races that culminated in the formation of the Confederacy hundreds of years ago. The Norgorans didn’t build battleships like the humans or starbases like the Octus. Their specialty was the smaller, sleeker, and fuel-efficient scouting ships. When it came to looking for new resources in uncharted territory or scanning a disaster zone for survivors, the Confederacy often turned to the Norgorans for help.

  “Besides, they’re probably the only people the Mwandans would allow in here,” Ross added.

  Norgorans were peaceful people. They were a far cry from the other two races that actively participated in the Confederacy: the ferocious and bloodthirsty Octus, and the slightly less fierce but not entirely peaceful humans. If the reclusive Mwandans let anyone into their sanctuary, it had to be the gentle Norgorans.

  The shadow above them shifted and Ramya looked up at the dark underside of the ship. It tilted, then turned away southward.

  “They’re leaving,” she whispered.

  “They didn’t see us,” Ross said. “We just had a most lucky escape, Ahool. Let’s get away while we can.”

  “I take you quick,” Ahool said. He swerved, the rambler teetering toward the forest at a breakneck speed. Ramya’s shoulder crashed into the window frame and all the soreness in her body came alive in an instant. She winced and held her breath, bracing herself for impact as the Mwandan automobile rushed headlong into a wall of trees.

  6

  THE RAMBLER WEAVED through the trees, veering madly from one side to another, back and forth, over and over again, to avoid the tree trunks. Branches and twigs smashed against the rambler’s front and side like whips, and wind blew through the broken windows and lashed across Ramya’s face as she grabbed the back of Ahool’s seat as tightly as she could.

  The worst part was the lack of control. Ramya had been through plenty of iffy situations in the last few days, but she had never been so much at the mercy of unknowns. Right now, on a planet she knew little about, guided by a person she had barely known for a few minutes, and careening recklessly into who knew where, every fear that Ramya had kept at bay for a long time now pounced back on her.

  There would be no going to the Fringe. No finding the Moanus. Or Uncle Brynden. There would be no regaining of her honor back from her father. She would remain the black sheep of House Kiroff, the one who ran away f
rom CAWStrat like a common thief.

  In that dark second, Ramya’s mind flew back to her final days at CAWStrat. Armand Danukis’s sneering face flashed across her mind’s eye. Leona’s snicker floated into her ears. Her father’s blue-gray eyes stared at her, murderous rage coiling in their icy depths.

  Someone nudged her elbow. “Rami!”

  Ramya clung on to the voice like it was the one plank that could get her out of the seas of despair. Her eyes fluttered open to find Ross looking worriedly at her.

  “You all right?” he asked.

  “No.”

  The rambler tilted to almost sideways before straightening. Ramya felt Ross grab her arm, steadying her just when her head was about to hit what was left of the window. Any other time, she’d have hated looking so weak, but now she felt oddly comforted by his support.

  “We’ll never make it,” she whispered, and felt his grip tighten.

  “We will make it,” he said in a steely voice. “We have to. Can’t let the captain down.”

  He stared, hard-jawed at the blur ahead. Forests rushed at a break-neck speed on his round eyeglasses. Ramya noticed how the plated metal on the rim of his glasses had peeled in places. Is he too poor to get it fixed, she wondered. It was as unexpected a thought as the appearance of the Norgoran ship. Guilt twisted in her heart. It was wrong to have kept her identity a secret from him, from any of the crew. They were family now. They had to know. The first chance she got she’d tell them.

  The rambler stopped, and Ramya pushed on the back of Ahool’s seat to keep from falling forward. She peered outside, her head spinning. They had reached some sort of a blockade. It was a wall, not made of stone or steel but an impenetrable line of super trees. It was difficult to believe that trees could grow so close together that they almost formed a mesh.

  “We reach the Grove of Stillness,” Ahool announced in a breathless voice. He lifted a shaky finger at the barrier ahead. “That Sentinel wall.”