“One hour and forty-three minutes, Captain.”
The captain nodded gravely. “Get us there as fast as you can, Azzi. Chief Mifek and his people’s lives depend on it.” He looked at Ramya questioningly. “How about flying the Stryker down there and getting these people out? What do you think?”
Ramya nodded. “I can do it, Captain,” she said.
“I’ll go with her,” Ross volunteered.
“Can I come with you?” Lefrasi said. Ramya had not noticed when the tall Mwandan had quietly joined the huddle. “These are my people. I want to help them.”
The captain placed a hand on Lefrasi’s shoulder. “The Stryker doesn’t have too much room, I’m afraid. Rami and Ross will do their best to retrieve Mifek. They’re our people too.”
“You might need a hand,” he said, nodding at Ross’s bandaged arm. “The commander is wounded.”
The captain pondered a bit before replying. “All right.”
Lefrasi let out a sigh and shook his head. “This is unbelievable. They’ve taken over planets and . . . no one notices.” Behind him, the other Mwandans had gathered, all their faces pale and lifeless. “I will check on Yobeta Point. Get the coordinates for you,” Lefrasi said before leading the group of Mwandans out of the hold.
Ramya was about to excuse herself and head to the Stryker when her father spoke. “This is a suicide mission. You shouldn’t be going anywhere near Bucifer P9, let alone send someone on a rescue job. A trip to P9 can only end one way, Captain Milos, and it’s not something I’ll let my daughter walk into.”
“Well, that’s her choice, isn’t it?” Ross snapped even before Ramya could think of a suitable reply.
Her father’s lips thinned but he didn’t spare Ross one look. Instead he spoke to Captain Milos again. “I will speak to the Confederacy. We’ll have to quarantine Bucifer P9 right away. We cannot have people going in there.”
“This is all your fault,” Ross said, pointing an accusing finger at Trysten. “You couldn’t contain your experiments—experiments that you had no business performing in the first place. Now they’ve taken over entire planets and they’ll do worse. You should be the one flying in and rescuing those poor Mwandans.”
Trysten flicked a cold stare up and down Ross. “Your insolence amazes me. But it shouldn’t. How can I expect any more from someone with clearly no decent upbringing?”
Ross flushed a vivid crimson and anger turned his eyes hard but before he could get another word out, the captain intervened. “Commander, can you plan your gear, please? Make sure you carry enough weapons with you. You’ll need them.”
With a quick salute at the captain and a curt nod at Ramya, Ross marched out of the hold. Ramya watched mutely, fists curled, anger ripping her insides. How Ross got his temper in check so fast, Ramya couldn’t imagine, but he did. She wasn’t so sure of herself. Thankfully, the captain spoke.
“I have questions for you, Trysten,” he said, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “Those things we saw in Mifek’s projection . . . they’re full-grown Locustans. I don’t understand how they got here. We killed all of them, every single bastard. How could they have come back?”
Ramya could tell by the way her father’s gaze drifted off from the captain’s face and hugged a distant corner that he knew the answer. There was no doubt her father had something to do with resurrecting the Locustans. Could he have done it on purpose?
“What exactly did you do in Sector 22, Trysten? Did you bring the Locustans back to life somehow?” the captain grilled him in a pitiless voice that Ramya had never heard before. “Answer me, Trysten.”
“No, we didn’t do that,” her father protested. It was funny how his arrogant tone had been so quickly and completely swept away. He looked like a young ward caught in the act by his mentor, uncomfortable and remorseful. Ashamed even. Ramya stared at her father’s drawn face, thoroughly stunned.
The captain didn’t relent. “But? There has to be one inconsistency lurking somewhere.”
“The pilots,” her father blurted. “They were not bonding with the Strykers so we enhanced their genetics a little.”
“With Locustan DNA?” the captain asked in a spent voice. He looked every bit as exhausted as he sounded.
Her father nodded. “Yes,” he whispered. He looked up at Captain Milos and held his gaze. “But it was a controlled experiment. We only used benign traces to enhance their psychometrics. This wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“They somehow mutated,” Captain Milos muttered distractedly. “Four pilots have now built an army of Locustans. If they weren’t such a deadly species intent on wiping us out, I’d be pretty damn impressed.”
“The pilots were perfectly fine for years,” her father said in a rushed voice. It seemed to Ramya that he was trying hard just to justify his actions to himself. “Then suddenly . . .”
The captain exhaled noisily and shook his head. “Something triggered a change. Of course. You don’t know half of their physiology and there you were, tinkering, playing god. What were you thinking, Trysten? Ambition . . . you were always blinded by ambition. Always. Now look at what you’ve done.”
Ramya didn’t exactly know what came over her at that moment or why. Perhaps it was seeing the clash of pride and humiliation in her father’s face, or perhaps it was just a pressing need to bring some hope into the conversation that made her speak out.
“We’ll fix this,” she said to Captain Milos. “Captain, we’ll find a way. We have to.” Ramya paused a second to push down the throbbing lump in her throat. She could’ve stopped there, but she went on, rolling toward some unknown end. “This was a mistake, Captain. I don’t think anyone meant it. And maybe . . . if we all work together . . . we’ll make this right.”
She looked hopefully at her father, but there was no warmth in that face and none of the kindness she was hoping for. There was no reconciliation coming from Trysten Kiroff.
Ramya’s insides shriveled. What was she thinking? Stupid, stupid, Rami! The ache in Ramya’s throat gushed up, embarrassment at having exposed her naiveté to her uncaring father once again making her face burn.
“I’ll prep Dakrhaeth, Captain,” she managed to push the words out before her voice choked completely.
As soon as Captain Milos nodded, Ramya dashed away as quickly as her legs would carry her to her sanctuary within the Stryker.
23
DAKRHAETH WAS in a fairly agitated state when Ramya entered the Stryker. He greeted Ramya chirpily and announced his awareness of the mission.
“Yes, Mihaal, I know,” he said as soon as Ramya brought up the subject. “By the way, I met your father.”
“So you did,” Ramya said in the most off-putting way she could muster.
Dakrhaeth chose not to be weighed down by her dismissive handling of the topic. “Yes, I did. He’s . . .” Dakrhaeth lingered before passing a judgment on Trysten Kiroff, and as aloof as Ramya pretended to be, she was quite curious about the AI’s opinion. “He’s not you,” he said finally. His calculated and non-committal reply made her smile.
“Good to know,” Ramya said. Who knew if that was a compliment or otherwise, but at least he didn’t openly start worshipping her father. “Listen, Dakrhaeth, this is a simple extraction mission. We’ll swoop in, pick them up, and get our tails out of there,” Ramya explained. She took a long bracing breath to steady her voice. “Run a check on your systems. Make sure everything is working well.”
“I already have, Mihaal,” Dakrhaeth said. Of course. He had overheard the conversation and prepped right away.
“We’re short on weapons, right? No torpedoes left.” They had spent all of the Stryker’s torpedoes in the battle at Totori.
“We have two. I regenerated them during our repair time on Morris II,” Dakrhaeth informed.
“Oh!” Ramya blurted. She had never heard of a craft being able to regenerate weapons, but this was a hybrid super craft built in a Kiroff factory, so who could imagine what else it could do?
> “The commander will join us again, I suppose?” Dakrhaeth asked.
“Yes, he will. And Lefrasi will come too,” Ramya said. Since Dakrhaeth was already set, there was no point spending time chatting. There was other work to be done. She swung out of the door and dropped to the deck. “Any progress on the faded star thing?” she asked before leaving.
“No, Mihaal,” Dakrhaeth replied simply, just like Ramya had expected. They were at a dead end. Even after questioning Dakrhaeth for days, she had found no new clues about the imminent invasion. Ramya’s steps were dragging when she walked out of the hold, dark thoughts making her heart leaden with worry.
However, as soon as she picked up some chores, time passed at a furious pace. Along with Lefrasi, she helped Ross pick out weapons for the mission. After hauling the stash to the Stryker, she visited the dining hall. It was better to not start on an empty stomach, she reasoned. Who could predict when she’d get the next meal? Recalling the near-starved condition she’d been in when they’d landed on Morris II, she also filled a bag of food packets to stock up the Stryker.
The chores kept the dread from piling too high inside her, but it was far from gone. Ramya tried to think otherwise, but the truth was just like her father had said it—this was a suicide mission. What did she know of Locustans, what did she know of fighting them? She was an untrained, inexperienced dud, who had had a lucky break or two. Luck never lasted, not as long as courage did anyway. Ramya only hoped she’d not run out of courage, but even hope was hard to come by.
There was only one saving grace in those final hours; there was no sign of her father or his guards anywhere she went. On that front at least, Ramya spent the time before the mission in relative peace.
BUCIFER P9 WAS AS DIM a planet as Morris II had been, Ramya realized as the Stryker sunk lower into the planet’s atmosphere. The difference though was twofold. P9 was mostly oceans with only three small continents and its skies were almost purple. As soon as the craft dropped below the sheet of clouds, Ramya gasped in surprise. They had entered right, their destination—the smallest continent of P9—was directly below. But the element of surprise was the vegetation, dark and thick just as it had been on Morris II.
Ross raised a curious eyebrow at her, so Ramya decided to share her observation. “It’s sort of weird. This place is just as dim and covered just as densely with possibly the same plants we saw on Morris II. Suddenly felt like we’re living in a time loop.”
Ross chuckled. “I had the same thought.”
“That’s because all our planets are chosen for a reason,” Lefrasi explained. He had been assigned a seat near the entrance of the Stryker. “The flora you see is special. We call it the Manoko. It only thrives on planets with a certain level of illumination.”
“So you settled only on planets that had the Manoko?” Ross asked, turning slightly to look at Lefrasi.
Lefrasi chuckled. “No, no. It’s the other way around. We found planets suitable for the Manoko and then went to live there,” he explained.
“I didn’t know that,” Ross said.
“Manoko is the native flora of Taymen, our original home,” Lefrasi added. “Taymen is no more, but we believe pieces of it still exist since all of our sanctuaries are built in its image.”
That was an interesting way of doing things. Probably to a traveler leaving for the unknown it was a common thing to carry the essence of their home world with him. Probably the only way to keep sane in the vast and terrifying odds he faced. The humans did it too. Old Terra, the distant planet many galaxies away from which humans evolved, had been an image for the early human settlements. But the humans sure didn’t take it to the level of the Mwandans.
Ramya’s thoughts were cut short by a bright red spot on the Stryker’s console displaying a map of the terrain below. A second after it appeared, the spot started blinking.
“That’s Yobeta Point, Mihaal,” Dakrhaeth announced. “I see the peak, but there’s nowhere I can land.”
“You’re not landing anywhere.” The crisp voice of Captain Milos boomed across the Stryker’s tight interior, startling Ramya a little.
This—a working communication channel—was new. A little help from the Mwandan engineers, some parts from Nebeca, and the Endeavor’s radio system was now at par with the Stryker’s. Or maybe not at par according to Dakrhaeth’s objective assessment, but they were able to synchronize just fine. But now it meant anyone at the Endeavor’s COM was able to listen in and join them in conversation.
“You are to circle the peak, check if they’re present, and set the ladder down so they can climb in. Then get out of there. Understood?”
“Yes, Captain,” Ross replied promptly.
The captain continued. “We’re trying to get through to the Mwandan HQ down south so we’ll have to switch channels on you. We’ll be right back.”
“Assuming there’s still time to help them,” Ramya said.
“Can’t give up hope, Rami,” the captain said. “Godspeed.”
That was a nice thing to hear but the reality was quite different. If the Locustans had found an obscure Berkari settlement, would it be hard for them to find and attack the HQ? Or maybe she was looking at it wrong. Maybe obscure little settlements were easier targets.
“What did Chief Mifek mean by top blown?” Ross asked. They had discussed that earlier, but no one could draw any clear conclusions. Now that they were nearing their destination, they had to find a solution to the riddle.
“I think we’ll know when we get near Yobeta Point,” Lefrasi said, hovering behind the cockpit. “He said there was a cave. So . . .”
Pointing the Stryker’s nose toward the roughly triangular peak ahead, Ramya pushed hard on the throttle. Time was not on their side and every second could make a difference. Squinting at the landform didn’t help much, so Ramya twiddled with the display a bit.
“There’s nothing,” Ross said, peering all around and down.
“I’ll circle the peak once,” Ramya said, tugging the flight stick. The Stryker turned smoothly and quickly around Yobeta Point.
“Look there.” Lefrasi pointed toward the side of the peak. A large chunk of the rock had fallen off, revealing the dark inside of the hollow within. “That must be the top. It’s blown.” Lefrasi let out a long sigh. “We’re too late.”
Depressing silence fell swiftly in the cockpit. Ramya let her thumb off the throttle some. The mission had failed even before it started. They had lost. She turned around a little and positioned the Stryker above the open pit. If Ramya was hoping to spot survivors, she was not in luck. Nothing moved and nothing made a sound.
“Let’s just leave,” Ross said after a while and Ramya nodded. She tugged lightly on the flight stick, nudging the Stryker around. Her eyes were still scanning the ground below, eager to find a sign of life.
“Mihaal, I detect movement below,” Dakrhaeth said suddenly. “It’s coming toward us and closing in fast.”
Gritting her teeth, Ramya pressed on the throttle and twisted the flight stick to move away from the spot they were hovering. Better not be the Mwandan missiles again, she hoped. Those had left them stuck for hours of repair on Morris II.
“What are those?” Lefrasi exclaimed. “Giant bugs?”
Indeed, they were giant winged insects and they—four in all—came charging like ticked-off rhinos. Locustans, Ramya gasped. She was seeing Locustans face-to-face.
“Dakrhaeth, rail guns,” Ramya shouted.
“Yes, Mihaal.”
“I’ll keep it steady,” Ross offered.
Ramya eased the flight stick, lined up the Stryker’s gun array with the first two, and fired. They went out in a shower of blood and slush. Ramya was more than prepared when the next two came closer, ripping them apart with a shower of hot metal. She grinned happily to herself as the Locustans’ remains scattered all over in an unholy mess.
“How do you like that?” she muttered. Her joy was awfully short-lived.
“I see something
below. People running,” Lefrasi shouted. Ramya tugged the flight stick and made the Stryker circle around. It didn’t take her long to spot them. Two Mwandans, both clad in black, were running through the forest, chased by a giant Locustan. There was some distance between them, but the Locustan was catching up quickly.
“Bring up the rail guns again,” Ramya said. That nasty pest was going to get a taste of her anger. She adjusted the Stryker’s speed, calculating the perfect flight in her mind. But while she was ready, the firing button stayed dark.
“Dakrhaeth, the guns,” she said impatiently.
Ross had been looking intently at the chase. He now flashed a panicked look at Ramya. “It’s catching up. Hurry!”
“Mihaal,” Dakrhaeth called suddenly. His tone was sharp and taut, and it wasn’t one Ramya had heard before. “We have to leave. Please turn around.”
“Turn around?” For a second Ramya couldn’t believe she heard it right. The image of the settlement was stuck on the monitor, and the picture of the two Mwandans being chased by that enormous Locustan burned in her memory. They had to help. They couldn’t just leave.
“I sense something . . . not good,” Dakrhaeth replied. His regular chirpy tone had all but disappeared. “Have to leave before it gets close.”
Ross rolled his eyes and shook his head. “What is it you sense?”
“I’m not sure. But we have to leave.”
Lefrasi had stayed quiet for a long time, but now he spoke. “We can leave, but let’s help these people below. We saw survivors.”
“I agree,” Ramya declared. “Dakrhaeth, do you follow?”
There was a pause, a somewhat hopeful pause. “I’ll have to take the controls back from you then,” Dakrhaeth said in a cold, dejected voice.
Ramya stiffened, her fingers curling around the flight stick possessively. “You’re doing no such thing, Dakrhaeth. That’s an order. Dakrhaeth! You can’t—”
The First Covenant (Dark Universe Series Book 2) Page 21