Ramya shuddered thinking of the stories she had heard of the Octus. The galaxy was not settled peacefully and the humans had to fight the Octus for ages before things got down to the current state of apparent balance. Ramya tore her eyes away from the nearest painting just in time to notice Fenny slow down.
“All right, guys. Now we go in,” Fenny announced. “The Souk is on the first floor, three levels down from here. That’s where we’re headed.” She paused a while, her keen gaze scanning Ramya and Rei from head to foot. “Keep eye contacts to a minimum, all right? Let’s not attract attention.”
With that she pushed the door open and walked into the main deck of the space station. Ramya followed, trying her best to keep from ogling at the milling crowd. Nebeca 21 was different from any other space station, and the people here were different too. Everyone seemed eager to keep to themselves, and seeing the many scars that most faces sported, they had reason to keep away. Most also sported large weapons, and those who seemed to carry no weapons actually had them concealed under their clothes.
“Keep moving, Rei,” Fenny barked, and Ramya realized their Mwandan mate had slowed down considerably. That was understandable. To a Mwandan, seeing as many people from all races would be a shock of sorts. Ramya had to praise the captain’s wisdom in keeping the boy on the ship as she imagined how Ahool would’ve reacted to being here.
There were shops all around and Ramya’s eyes scoured the eateries longingly. Quite a while had passed since she had eaten a freshly cooked meal and her stomach twitched at the sight of the steaming fresh food displayed in shop windows. But there was no time to yearn for food or to stop for a bite, so Ramya forced her eyes away.
“Two more floors,” Fenny declared as they weaved through the crowd in search of elevators. It wasn’t too difficult to get to the Souk, a dingy floor with less than optimal lighting. Strange smells—from spicy aromas to the stink of dried fish—hit Ramya’s nose as soon as she stepped off the elevator. This floor was considerably less crowded. People turned to look at them more, particularly at Rei, which Ramya assumed was because of his attire.
Fenny hurried them on, stopping or slowing nowhere until they reached a largish shop with a paint-stripped door and grimy windows to match. The proprietor was a buxom woman with faded yellow hair and eyes as blue as the seas.
“Hello,” she greeted in a scratchy voice as soon as the trio marched in, her eyes lingering on Rei.
“Hello,” Fenny said, nodding at Ramya to hand the shopkeeper their list. “Need to push off quickly. Can you put a rush on this?”
The woman scanned the list and grunted. “Well, I have everything, but a few customers are in line so . . .”
A few customers? There was no one else in the shop but them. Ramya frowned, but Fenny was clearly not about to argue. She dropped a wad of money on the table and gestured at it. “That’s an extra thousand lieres. Perhaps your other customers can wait?”
The woman snatched the money off the table and passed it into a drawer. “I’ll put a rush on it,” she said before waddling off into the back of the store.
“That she will,” Fenny muttered. She threw a meaningful look at Ramya and Rei. “In places like this, we let money do the talking.”
The money did talk quite well. A shifty-eyed Norgoran soon pulled a cartful of supplies in front of the shop. The buxom woman waddled out after him.
“There’s everything you wanted,” the woman said to Fenny.
Fenny chuckled. “That was quick,” she said. In another few minutes she had paid the woman and the trio marched back to the docking area.
Ahool and Wiz met them at the entrance.
“Where’s the captain?” Ramya asked, glancing around. Since docking at Nebeca 21, either Captain Milos or Ross was always at the gate. But now neither was present. “And the commander?”
“They’re in a meeting,” Ahool informed. He pointed at the cart laden with supplies. “Can I help with those?”
Wiz dug into the topmost bag and pulled out a bar of chocolate. “Ah, you got my favorite kind, Fenny. Dark with fennel and pepper. Perfect.”
Fenny scoffed and shook her head. “You’re welcome. Hey, is Flux and Azzi back yet?”
Ahool shook his head. “They just called us. Said they need another fifteen minutes or so.”
Another fifteen minutes? It was a pity they couldn’t grab a bite to eat. Ramya couldn’t stop the sigh from coursing out of her. Fenny’s brows shot up right away.
“Can you guys inventory all the stuff?” she asked. Ahool nodded eagerly and Wiz mumbled something back. As soon as Rei wheeled the cart away, Fenny crossed her arms and cocked her head at Ramya. “What’s going on? What’s that look on your face?”
Ramya flushed as Fenny’s eyes bored into her. “It’s nothing,” she said.
Fenny was having none of it. Tapping her chin, she took a step closer and frowned. “Come on, kid. You have a funny look on your face. I haven’t seen that one before.”
To hell with it! “I’m just craving for some fresh grub, that’s all,” Ramya explained. “It’s silly,” she added hastily.
“That’s it?” Fenny made a face and thumped Ramya’s back. “Come on, let’s go. There’s a saloon right outside the docking area. We’ll be done before Flux gets his lazy hind back to the ship.”
Ramya marched back into the space station, matching strides with Fenny. Her steps were light and brisk as they trooped into the saloon. The eatery was large and fairly clean. A waitress with dark braids and a heavily made-up face showed them to a table almost at the center of the room. Ramya and Fenny ordered right away, Ramya settling for a meat-and-dough soup. It was right after the waitress set the steaming bowl in front of her that a strange feeling tingled Ramya’s spine and made her stiffen. It was the odd sense of being watched.
“What’s it now?” Fenny said, munching on a thick five-layered sandwich. It was uncanny how Fenny quickly picked up on her expression, almost like an elder sister.
Ramya shrugged. She was worrying needlessly. Putting another spoonful of soup into her mouth, Ramya looked around. Nothing seemed out of place, and no one was looking at them.
“You sure it’s nothing?” Fenny asked.
“It’s just a funny feeling,” Ramya confessed. “Like someone’s watching us.”
Fenny looked around furtively. “I don’t see anything odd.”
“I know,” Ramya said. Trying to shake off the feeling, she forced a few more spoons of soup. The meat was succulent and the nuggets of dough were soft and melty. But far from being swept away by the delicious food, Ramya fought the nervous jitters that kept on growing.
She spotted the man in the muted-green uniform of the Confederate Troopers on her third scan. She was far too late. By then Fenny’s comm had started blinking frenziedly.
“Fenny, where are you?” Ross said in a low, guttural voice as soon as Fenny enabled the channel.
“We’re at the Outpost Saloon,” Fenny replied casually. “It’s close to the docking ports.”
“Get back to the ship right now. Flux spotted a squad of Confederate Troopers inside.”
“I see one right across from us,” Ramya whispered as soon as Fenny turned off the comm. “He’s watching us.”
Fenny took a large bite off her sandwich and slowly placed it back on her plate. “All right. Act normal.”
That was easier said than done. Ramya’s stomach churned and she wanted to run out of the eatery in that instant. Somehow she kept from bolting and stayed put in her seat.
Fenny continued in a calm, low voice. “So they’re outside the front door, right? We can’t use that door. There’s an exit on the other side. Should lead us to the back of the eatery. With me, Rami?”
Ramya nodded. Three other men in similar green uniforms had joined the first trooper. One of them had stripes on his collar that signified the rank of an officer. They spoke animatedly among themselves. Ramya’s glanced askance at the heavyset, square-jawed officer. He looked extre
mely familiar yet Ramya couldn’t quite place him.
“Got to move, Rami.” Fenny placed some lieres on the table and rose swiftly to her feet. Ramya set her spoon down and followed. From the corner of her eye, she saw the troopers spread out along the front of the eatery.
By the time Ramya and Fenny were halfway to the back exit, the officer had marched into the saloon, three of his men in tow.
“Halt,” the officer shouted.
“Keep walking, Rami,” Fenny said. Her hand hovered over the blaster at her thigh.
“You two,” the officer shouted again. Ramya could sense the fingers pointed at their backs, then she heard the telltale sound of weapons being drawn.
“Rami, duck.” Fenny’s urgent whisper had barely reached Ramya’s ear when blaster fire roared behind her. Ramya threw herself at the exit. Her body bumped into the door, flinging it open. She crashed shoulder first onto the grimy floor on the other side. Fenny careened through it a moment later and rolled away from the opening. In the next second the sound of blaster fire filled the air, and the door riddled with blaster holes looked like Erocondian cheese. Something more potent than a blaster fire hit the door right after, ripping the edges and setting it ablaze. Ramya shielded her head and scrambled to one side, away from the flaming skeleton of the door.
The moment she caught her breath, Ramya spun around and took stock. They were not out of the saloon but had ended up in a back hallway. There were doors along the wall, so they weren’t trapped . . . yet. They had to find a way out.
But first she had to get to Fenny. They had both rolled away from the door after crashing through it, but to opposite sides. Fenny was now on the right side of gaping hole in the wall that had been the door. Ramya pulled her blaster out and stood with her back against the wall, straining her ears to find out what the troopers were doing inside. There were muffled voices, sound of running feet. Fenny was barely ten paces away on the other side of a belt of smoke, fire, and debris, listening intently as well. Holding the blaster tightly to her chest, Ramya took a long breath. She could do it. She had to reach Fenny. Another breath. Then Ramya sprinted.
Just then, a big chunky block flew through the broken door, crossed Ramya’s path, and hit the wall. Ramya didn’t know what it was, but she was sure it was an explosive. A couple of balls—Ramya identified them instantly as concussion devices—came bouncing through the door right after. Ramya desperately tried to stop but she was running too fast and her feet slipped on the debris. She toppled backward, the blaster flying from her hand. Not too far away, the big blocky device hissed menacingly, releasing copious green fumes.
“Fall back, Rami,” Fenny screamed. “Fall back.”
Ramya scuttled backward as fast as she could, but it wasn’t going to be enough. The block hissed louder. Someone grabbed her by the arm and pulled. The hissing block receded. Then the room exploded in a shower of heat, flames, flying debris, and an ear-splitting ruckus. Ramya covered her ears and head and kept scrambling away. A door opened and she crawled through it. It was dark on the other side, but at least the air was cleaner.
Ramya breathed as if she had not breathed in ages. Her ears rang, the jarring sound reverberating through her bones and shaking her core. For a few unending seconds, the whole world turned blurry. Ramya blinked furiously, but the haze refused to lift. The grip on her arm stayed firm. Whoever had saved her from the troopers’ raid was still with her. She could tell it was a human male, and he wore blue.
“Thanks,” Ramya whispered to the unknown blur next to her.
He nodded in response. “My privilege, Lady Ramya,” he said.
Strange how a few words could cleanse her senses like a magic wand had been flicked. Ramya’s thoughts, murky since the blast, turned as clear as the ocean waters off Somenvaar in an instant. He had called her Lady Ramya. He knew who she really was. Her vision cleared slower than her mind, but it cleared nonetheless, and she had no trouble recognizing the man in the sharp blue uniform of the GSO, who was shooting at the smoking mess behind them with a sleek, state-of-the-art Nihilator field gun.
He was Trysten Kiroff’s man in the GSO, Lieutenant Gael Arlington. She remembered the name clearly. He was the one she had danced her last dance at CAWStrat. But what was he doing here? Trying to catch her, or was he trying to get to the Stryker? Was he here alone or did all of the GSO know the Endeavor had docked at Nebeca 21?
The more her mind raced with questions, the more Ramya’s heart turned into an icy blob of fear until she could barely think any more. Only a constant monotone: “Get away,” it kept saying. “Run!” But there was no way out of this battlefield.
Someone shouted. Loud voices sounded in the smoke-filled saloon. Footsteps. Orders. Yells. The grip on her arm grew tighter. Gael Arlington was pulling her away again. Every fiber of her being came together, cut through the fog of fear, and rose up in protest.
“What are you doing?” Ramya shouted, trying without a smidgeon of success to wrench her arm free of his vice-like grip.
“Isn’t it obvious?” he said through gritted teeth, shooting in the direction of the blaster-fire. “I’m trying to keep you alive.”
Maybe he was, but he was not a friend. He was Trysten Kiroff’s flunkey, and Ramya didn’t need to be saved by any of her father’s minions. Besides, he was dragging her away from the saloon and away from Fenny.
“I have to get back to my ship,” Ramya yelled. “And that’s the other way.”
Gael shoved her through a door and dragged her across the storage room behind it.
“The other way? The other way’s through a firefight, Lady Ramya,” he said. “You’ve lost your weapon and I don’t think you’re impervious to blaster-fire. Tell me how you’ll get through there.”
Maybe he was right. Hell, he was right. But she couldn’t just trust him, could she?
“Run,” Gael yelled suddenly. Ramya sprinted, running blindly after Gael, noting the faint plop behind her.
Gael dashed through another door and Ramya followed. Seconds later the room they’d just left behind turned into a ball of fire. Gael fell to the ground and rolled sideways and Ramya dove after him. Tongues of fire leaped out of the doorway behind them. The world shook again, a momentary blackness spreading in front of Ramya’s eyes like a thick, suffocating curtain.
15
RAMYA STUMBLED through a smoke-filled corridor, her ears still ringing and her vision barely normal. Ahead of her, Gael edged forward stealthily. Ramya wished she were back in the Endeavor, that she’d never wanted a trip to the saloon, but wishing didn’t help any. The only thing she could do was trudge ahead through the smoke and the debris. And keep following Gael. She had to admit, she was in a pretty bad situation. She’d lost her weapon. She’d lost Fenny. Heck, she didn’t even have a map of this place.
A thought that hadn’t struck her suddenly numbed her heart. Had Fenny survived? She had last seen Fenny duck when the explosives set off, but what happened after that?
A desperate need to find out swamped her. Coming back into the space station and visiting the saloon was her idea. And now Fenny was . . . Ramya couldn’t think any further. She had to get back and make sure Fenny was all right. But how could she get back? The only way was along this corridor that took her further away from the saloon and her crewmate.
A chance came moments after. They had reached a crossroads of sorts. Eight walkways merged at a central hallway like the hub of wheel, each corridor just as deserted as the other. Ramya’s mind picked up pace. The corridor on the right was in the direction of the saloon’s entrance. Sure, the Confederate Troopers could still be lurking, but Fenny had to be there as well. She had to try to get back and this was her chance.
Gael’s hand clamped on Ramya’s arm even before she’d taken the first step. “Don’t even think about it,” he said, tugging her into one of the other walkways. He was taking her away from the path back to the saloon, away from Fenny.
“That’s the way back to my friend,” Ramya yelled. �
��Don’t you get it? I have to find her. Help her.”
“You can’t, Lady Ramya,” he said. “You’re not in a position to help anyone. Now, keep moving.”
The more she tried to fight him off, the more his grip tightened on her arm. Where the hell was he taking her? Not back to the Endeavor, that she was certain. To her father? She was certain her father had sent the troopers. She had to get away, but she had to be careful. She couldn’t lead him into finding the Endeavor. If her father got the Stryker back that’d be even worse. Without Dakrhaeth’s account, who would believe the Locustans could be coming? The Confederacy would throw Captain Milos into prison. Then there’d be more politics, more deflection, and more waste of time. Meanwhile the Locustans would come and the galaxy would fall.
A projectile flew past them and hit the wall ahead. Gael pushed her behind a column and threw himself over her. An explosion rocked the hallways a split second later, debris—crumbly tiny pieces thankfully—showered over them.
She pushed him off herself the moment the sound died down. He didn’t seem to notice as she checked the corridor on both sides. He was busily inspecting a holo-map of some sort, possibly of this section of the star base. Ramya mulled her options. She could make a run for it. All she needed was get into that partially open doorway down the corridor. It looked like a room of sorts, and she could lock herself in there. Twenty paces, that’s all there is to it.
Ramya stole a glance at Gael. His eyes were still glued on the map. It was now or never. She had to escape Gael Arlington at any cost. She couldn’t let him drag her over to her father. Not now. Not ever.
The First Covenant (Dark Universe Series Book 2) Page 14