The First Covenant (Dark Universe Series Book 2)

by Alex Sheppard

  It sounded so easy, too darn easy for comfort, and that was what worried Ramya the most. But she couldn’t show her fear to Ross. Not because he’d laugh at her, but because he didn’t need doubts to cloud his mind right now.

  “Let’s go,” she said, forcing conviction into her voice. “Let’s get this done.”

  They lumbered on, due north, blasters drawn. The forest floor was eerily quiet. Every forest she had been in had an ambient noise, sounds of insects humming, birds chirping, and wildlife stomping around the foliage. This—absolute silence—was abnormal.

  “It’s so quiet,” she whispered, noticing how Ross’s jaw tightened at her comment.

  “It is,” he said, nodding gravely. “This is creepy.”

  Did he sound a smidge nervous? Perhaps. A shudder sped up Ramya’s spine.

  “The trees are sentient, aren’t they?” she whispered as they walked onto a narrow trail that cut through the undergrowth.

  “Yes, so I’ve heard. Supposedly, they sense emotions,” Ross said.

  The forest was likely sensing their fear or channeling something else. Clearly something was up and it couldn’t be good.

  They continued on, Ramya following Ross. She stepped as noiselessly as she could through the dense undergrowth, scanning her surroundings as she went. Above them, trees grew dark and thick. After some time, Ramya heard a whisper. She paused. It wasn’t a human’s whisper but more like the sound a breeze would make passing through leaves. Only this was far to organized to be a simple rustle.

  Ramya looked up and around her. The leaves were indeed moving. To be wholly accurate, the whole forest was moving, swaying in unison, in a rhythm that was fierce and grew fiercer by the second. Ramya held her breath and felt for a breeze. There was none. The treetops were swaying by themselves.

  Gripping her blaster tighter, Ramya firmly grabbed Ross’s arm and he stopped as well. His eyes were like headlamps behind his round eyeglasses, his lips taut.

  “Something’s going on,” he muttered, stepping closer to Ramya.

  “I hope we haven’t angered them somehow,” she whispered. Ross shrugged in reply.

  Around them, the storm grew. Branches swayed back and forth like spell-casters around a magic circle. Torn leaves flew across their faces, and twigs crackled and snapped.

  Ramya’s heart picked up pace. She had no idea what these trees were capable of, but she doubted the blaster was of any use. They could thrash her to oblivion and just as easily pick her up and chuck her into space. Besides, they were outnumbered one to hundred. In a situation like this, a gun was useless. Nevertheless, she tightened her ice-cold grip on the blaster.

  “Let’s keep pushing forward,” Ross suggested, and they plodded forward immediately.

  It wasn’t their presence causing the storm, that fact was clear right away. The reeling of the trees didn’t change much at all as Ramya and Ross walked past. Their wild throes didn’t ebb; it seemed completely unrelated to the humans’ presence.

  “Perhaps this is just some sort of a natural phenomenon on Morris II,” Ross muttered a few paces later, his shoulders relaxed just a bit. The corner of his lips curled and he gave Ramya an amused look. “Maybe it’s called a ‘treestorm.’” He paused a second. “You know, like a thunderstorm or a snowstorm.”

  Lousy joke, but by the stars, Ross was joking, and with her, the “treacherous Kiroff infiltrator.” Ramya let out a low chuckle and nodded. Internally, she scoffed. As if she was about to fall for a cute joke after all his jibes and baseless accusations.

  “There’s a clearing coming up,” she said, spotting a lightening of the background some distance away.

  “You’re right,” Ross replied. Looking around quickly, he held his blaster up and sprung forward. Ramya followed, throwing cautious glances around as she hopped from behind one tree to the next. Ross had already reached the edge of the clearing and he held his fist up, signaling her to stop. Ramya halted and watched as Ross’s face turned pale as he looked at something beyond the border of trees. He had to have spotted something. Blaster clutched tightly with both hands, Ramya bounded to his side and peeked.

  The clearing was actually an unpaved road. It seemed to stretch from south to north, long and straight across the forest. The scene Ross was staring at, ashen faced, was unfolding to the south of where they stood. Two oblong saucer-like crafts stood to one side; one of them was upside down, and the upright one was much larger and marked with red stripes that reminded Ramya of the Mwandan flag. The striped vehicle possibly belonged to the Mwandan government, she deduced.

  There were four people crowded about twenty paces from the two vehicles. Two of them wore red striped uniforms. Mwandan police perhaps? Of the two civilians, one was lying spread-eagle on the road, a brown patch spattered like a halo around his head. He or she was surely dead or grievously injured. The other civilian was small and wore a blue bodysuit. They were all throwing punches at each other, the civilian clearly fighting a losing battle against the much heftier officers.

  “That’s just a kid. Why are they beating up a kid?”

  Ross didn’t reply.

  “We have to do something,” Ramya whispered as one officer kicked the kid and sent him flying backward.

  Ross threw her a look that screamed, Are you out of your mind?

  The kid recovered quickly and butted the officer with his head. The officer fell to the ground, but his partner charged, his baton-held arm raised menacingly. He tackled the kid and pounded him. Ramya cringed at the ferocity of the blows. The other officer was back on his feet and he, too, joined the merciless beating.

  The forests started to howl. Ramya and Ross stared at each other in confusion. Ramya couldn’t believe her ears, but the trees made a sharp sound—a plaintive wail almost—that ripped the quiet. It was as if they were protesting the two officers beating their fugitive.

  “We should do something,” Ramya said again, leaning closer to Ross.

  “Like what?”

  “They’ll kill the guy,” Ramya said. “Can’t sit back here and watch them beat someone to death.”

  Ross gave her an exasperated look. “What can we do? We don’t know what’s going on. They could as well be tackling a mass murderer. We can’t be sure.” He paused for a second and shrugged. “Besides, we’re trespassing. We don’t need them coming after us next.”

  “But, Ross, this isn’t fair,” she protested. “This isn’t an even match. I mean, look at their size. Clearly that’s a juvenile they’re beating up. And even if he weren’t a kid or innocent, no one, not even enforcers of law, can beat people to death like this. There’s a system of justice, the courts and councils decide the punishment. That’s the rule of the Galactic Confederacy.”

  Ramya stole a look at the continuing tussle on the road. Thankfully the kid was made of sterner stuff than his dead partner. He had fought off the two officers somehow and now he was kicking and shoving and punching like a madman trying to make some space around him. But his actions were getting slower, Ramya could tell even from a distance. They didn’t have much time to debate on whether or not to help. The kid’s situation would soon be beyond helping.

  “Mwandans have never really accepted laws of the Confederacy,” Ross said. His face was drawn and he flinched every time the two officers landed a hit. The officers landed a particularly vicious strike and the kid collapsed in a heap to the ground. The forests shrieked in protest.

  Ross shook his head. “This isn’t good. But we can’t get involved in this. We’re already in too much trouble.”

  Ramya breathed with difficulty. She was never one to back down from a chance to help anyone in need, and this situation was clear as heck. That Mwandan in blue needed help. But her situation with Ross needed help as well, and Ramya didn’t want to jeopardize the façade of normalcy that had settled between them. She forced herself to turn away from the scene of the vicious beating.

  “Let’s keep going then,” she said reluctantly.

  “No, let
’s not,” Ross said, surprising Ramya. “We’ll do something to give the guy an opening. And after that we leave.”

  Ramya’s heart leaped. She already had an idea. “Let’s shoot at their vehicle. That’ll distract the officers for a bit and it that should give the kid enough time to run away, or at least catch his breath.”

  “Good enough for me,” Ross said as he raised his blaster. With a chuckle, Ramya lifted her own blaster and aimed at the striped saucer-like vehicle on the side of the road.

  “Ready . . .” Ross said, and he paused a moment. “Fire.”

  They fired in unison, energy streaking from their blasters and impinging on the craft with a loud bang. Smoke curled up like a dark tendril.

  “And hold,” Ross said.

  The shots had the intended effect. The two officers fell away from the kid and turned to look at the smoking vehicle. That moment of inattention was all the kid needed. He kicked one of his pursuers on the leg, cutting him off at the knees. He jumped to his feet, and as the other officer rushed forward, the kid fell back a step and lunged, head-butting his opponent squarely in gut. In the second that both officers were incapacitated, the kid broke into a desperate sprint toward the forest. Something, Ramya couldn’t figure what, changed around them.

  “Damn! He’s coming our way,” Ross said in a low voice. The kid was indeed heading toward the fringe of the forest on their side. “Fall back,” Ross ordered. With long steps he hurried back deeper into the forest.

  The trees! Ramya suddenly realized the forest had stilled. Not a leaf moved, not a branch crackled. There was no howling, no moaning, not even a whisper. It was as if the entire forest was holding its breath just like Ramya.

  “Rami, get back here.” Ross’s voice, urgent and tight, reached her ears, but Ramya’s feet wouldn’t budge. She desperately wanted to see if the kid made it. Her eyes flitted from his sprinting form to the two officers who had now hobbled to their feet. They pulled something—weapons presumably—from their hips and pointed it toward their fugitive.

  The forest howled. No, it screamed. It was a gut-wrenching, ear-splitting ruckus that shook the world. Ramya clutched her ears, and her legs buckled under her. She sank to her knees, her eyes trying to hold on to the scene playing out before her. Bright yellow flares shot out of the officers’ weapons and streaked across the road toward the kid who was still a few paces away from the edge of the forest. Just before Ramya blinked, he dove into the trees. The yellow flares, now pointy and streamlined like a pair of javelins, landed on the trees where the fugitive had disappeared.

  Another howl ripped the skies as the assaulted trees fell apart and collapsed in a fuming heap to the ground. The pain in her ear intense and nearly unbearable, Ramya writhed on the ground. A few steps away, Ross was doubled over. The noise didn’t show any signs of abating.

  Ramya looked askance at the officers. They were clearly not affected by the sound, but they weren’t hurrying after the fugitive either. The duo animatedly discussed something among themselves and a moment’s hesitation later, marched toward the forest. Hands clasped over her ears, Ramya stumbled toward Ross. She could barely think straight with the ear-splitting ruckus that churned her guts, but they couldn’t let the two officers run into them. Together they stumbled deeper into the raucous forest, barely seeing where they were headed.

  Low branches tore into her arms and legs and thrashed against her face. Ramya’s vision was blurry and her throat was parched. Then her foot caught something—a root or rock—and her heart lunged into her throat as she went flying. She landed face first on the forest floor, unglamorously like a pile of mud. The world faded a little, slowly at first. Then, in an instant, it turned black.

  5

  A PAIR of glittery red eyes set on a deathly pale brow-less face peered at Ramya. No, not just pale. It was gray, a shade of death. It was hairless with a brown-streaked neck. It reminded her of the Somfero mushrooms that were famous on Nikoor. As much as Ramya struggled to focus on the immediate, her energy-starved mind drifted impishly into thoughts of a sumptuous meal of long ago.

  Somfero . . .

  Ramya loved the Somfero—meaty, a little tangy, and perfect when toasted with a bit of pepper. Her father hated the Somfero as well as her love for them, Ramya recalled, grimacing.

  “You have a peasant’s taste in food,” her father had growled at Ramya once as she gorged on a generous helping of the Somfero. She had cringed at his disapproving tone and set her spoon down. She had looked across the table hopefully. Her mother, the shadow of a presence on the other side of the table, had not even spared a glance. Like always, Lady Sonya had said nothing but simply gone on with dinner without a care.

  “Hello,” the small figure said in a voice that tinkled like a glass chime and cut through the haze of hurtful memories. “You be all right,” he added.

  He? Ramya couldn’t tell for sure. The telltale brown stipes of a Mwandan male was present on his neck, but they were faded at best. If this was a male, he had to be a very young one. Ramya squinted, noting the enlarged oblong cranium typical of Mwandans, the overhung head in the back, and the lacking hair. He was wearing a blue bodysuit that fit snugly like a glove on a fist. Blue like the color of the sky in Nikoor.

  Wait! A blue bodysuit? This had to be the Mwandan kid they were trying to help. The events leading to her fall and eventual blackout hit Ramya like a Drednot’s bulk. She sat up and looked around. Her neck felt stiff and weak as if it had gathered a decade of rust. The Mwandan stranger looked on curiously as Ramya pressed her throbbing temples and scanned her surroundings. The forest was quiet, far from the shrieking presence it had been when she’d tripped and fell.

  She stiffened. How long had she been passed out? Where the hell is Ross?

  “He gone foraging,” the Mwandan tinkled as if he had read her mind. “You both quite . . .”—he paused and tapped his smooth gray chin—“famished. That appropriate word, believe so. I send him out foraging.”

  Even in the stilted, oddly formed sentences the young Mwandan strung together with obvious difficulty, the description made Ross sound like a bovine. Ramya’s nose crinkled.

  “Forage?” Ramya said. “For what? Food? There’s food around here?”

  The Mwandan raised both hands up at the canopy of trees above them. “There food everywhere in forest. You only need eye to see.”

  Ramya scrambled to her feet, once again reeling from the dizziness and a sharp pang of hunger. She and Ross couldn’t tell one tree in this forest from another, so how was he going to forage for food? He could eat a poisoned plant and kill himself. She steadied herself. Ross was her last link to the real world, she couldn’t lose him.

  “What the matter?” the Mwandan asked.

  “We don’t know enough about Morris II, let alone its vegetation,” Ramya said. “Ross wouldn’t know what’s good for him. I need to find him and stop him.”

  “You should keep faith in partner,” the Mwandan said. “He be back. You have these.” He stretched an arm and opened a gray palm. About ten black-and-red berries sat at its center. “Please, have.”

  Ramya looked from the Mwandan’s gray face to the berries and back. She wanted to eat them so badly, but she knew nothing about this stranger other than the fact she and Ross had aided his escape. Ramya forced her eyes off the berries and focused them on his red glittering eyes.

  “What’s your name?”

  The Mwandan’s eyes dulled. His fingers curled over the berries. “You not have faith in me?” he asked.

  Ramya shrugged, her eyes lingering on his closed fist more than was necessary. “I don’t know you.”

  “But I know you. You save my life,” the Mwandan said. “You and Ross. I obligated to you both.”

  Ramya flinched. She could do without the obligations. Her father was big on debts and gratitude and loyalty and obligations. She had heard those words far too many times to even tolerate them anymore.

  “I only try repay my debt to you,” the Mwandan went
on, possibly not even noticing her frown. “This food is paying of debt.”

  He was likely harmless. Possibly. But could she take a chance and try one of those berries? Another sharp pang in Ramya’s stomach struck at her will to hold out. She looked around one more time. Where the hell was Ross?

  “You didn’t tell me your name,” Ramya said, suddenly remembering a forgotten thread.

  “Ahool. Ahool Petta my name,” he said. “You Rami, I know.”

  Ramya nodded. “Yes, that’s me.” Ross had not divulged her true identity, thank goodness for that. She could do well without the entire universe knowing who she really was.

  Suddenly Ahool’s eyes glittered merrily. He was looking past her, Ramya realized. One glance back and she spotted Ross marching toward them. Ramya blinked. What was going on with Commander Ross? He was grinning in a silly, happy sort of way, Ramya had never seen before. He carried his blaster in one hand and a small red packet in the other.

  “You found them,” Ahool Petta squealed like a kid who had found a long-lost toy.

  Ross kneeled near Ramya and opened the packet he’d been carrying. It was full of leaves. They were dark just like every other foliage on Morris II. In addition, they had red veins crisscrossing them from tip to base.

  “These perfect. Crisp,” Ahool said as he ran his fingers over Ross’s collection. He picked a couple, shook them a little, and held them out for Ross. “Chew. Chew lot. They give you strength and build immunity.”

  Ramya stared incredulously as Ross stuffed his mouth and started to chomp. All without a word or a question. For as long as she had known him, Ross was the suspicious kind. She couldn’t understand why he would eat these strange leaves because a strange Mwandan told him to. She blinked a few times as Ross shoved another large wad of leaves into his mouth.

  Ross had clearly noted her disbelieving look. It was hard to miss anyway. “It’s all right, Rami,” he said as soon as he had finished. “Ahool is a Berkari. He’s also training to be a doctor.”