Empire: Book 2, The Chronicles of the Invaders (The Chronicles of the Invaders Trilogy) (14 page)

CHAPTER 25

T
he USB drive Tiray had been protecting could have been inserted into one of the
Nomad
’s ports in order to access its information, but he was reluctant to allow this. If he used its computer system, then any information on the drive would automatically be stored there, and that meant others could access it, either directly or remotely. Instead, Tiray summoned Alis, who produced a portable display unit from her pack, and Tiray used that to open the contents of the drive.

What appeared before them looked at first like an image of tubular microorganisms—
E.coli
, perhaps, the kind of nasty little creatures that could make a person very sick indeed. It was only as figures and coordinates appeared alongside them, and the image began to rotate, that Paul saw them for what they were.

“Wormholes,” he said.

Paul was aware that the Illyri had discovered a lot of wormholes, and more were being mapped all the time, but he had no idea just how many had already been recorded. Now thousands upon thousands of them were being revealed to him, some so close to each other, at least in terms of the vastness of the universe, that they were almost overlapping. With this level of information at hand, it would take only moments for a ship’s navigation system to calculate the swiftest way to get from one galaxy or solar system to another—however remote—using a combination of wormholes. In Earth terms, it would be like traveling from Edinburgh to London via Shanghai and Alaska, and arriving before someone in a car had even managed to reverse from his driveway.

“But isn’t this common knowledge?” asked Peris.

“Some of it,” said Tiray, “although even I was not aware of just how widespread the network was. But one wormhole in particular was a revelation.”

He waved his hand, and a star system in the upper right-hand corner of the map was illuminated.

“This is the Archaeon system.”

“I’ve never heard of it,” said Peris, “and I’ve been studying the Conquest for most of my life.”

“That’s because Archaeon doesn’t appear in the general record, or on any of the existing wormhole charts.”

“On whose orders?”

“The Geographic Division of the Diplomatic Corps is responsible for all maps and charts,” said Tiray. “I suspect, though, that few of them even know of Archaeon. This is the most advanced map we could access, but if I were to delete all but the oldest of wormholes, and the charted systems accessed through them . . .”

Another wave of his hands, his fingers manipulating images, and then:

Nearly all of the wormholes vanished, leaving only twelve displayed. By a circuitous route, they connected the Illyri galaxy to Archaeon.

“These are the first wormholes,” said Tiray, “revealed by the Sisterhood to Meus, the Unifier of Worlds, only days before his death, their location believed lost in the Civil War that followed.”

The death of Meus had led to the Civil War, a century-long clash between the Military and the Diplomats, the scars of which had never fully healed. The circumstances of Meus’s death remained unclear. The official version held that Meus died in an accidental fire at his home, but some said he was dead—murdered—before the blaze even started. And Meus had been no friend of the Diplomatic Corps: he came from a Military family, and under his rule the power of the Diplomats had been severely curbed.

“But it seems they were not lost after all,” said Peris.

“No,” said Tiray. “They were hidden.”

“Where did you get this map?” asked Paul.

“I can’t tell you that,” said Tiray. “Suffice to say, there are those even among the Diplomatic Corps who believe that a darkness lies at the heart of the Illyri Empire, and it must be rooted out. The source of that darkness may lie in the Archaeon system, or why else would its existence have been hidden for so long?”

Paul waved his own right hand, restoring the multiplicity of wormholes to the map. He stepped forward so that he was standing in the midst of them. Bladelike Illyri numbers and letters floated over his head, and planets orbited around suns before his eyes. Instinctively he reached up to his throat and touched the silver cross that hung there. Perhaps this what it was like to be God, he thought, a roving consciousness moving through the universe, before whose eyes suns were no bigger than tiny gemstones, and entire systems resembled merely a sprinkling of dust.

“How did the Sisterhood discover all these wormholes?” he asked.

“They have not said,” replied Tiray, “and they will not say. They claim only that it comes from many years of intense study.”

“But the study of
what
?”

Paul looked at Tiray, but Tiray just shrugged.

“You are not the first to have asked. But Archaeon may hold a clue.”

Paul returned to his study of the star map. He read the names of the systems to himself: Faledon, Tamia, Graxis . . .

“What’s this?” he said.

A blackness at the end of one of the wormholes had attracted his attention. The Illyri had begun the mammoth task of mapping each system revealed to them by a wormhole, all except this one. It was marked only by a single word:
Derith
, the Illyri for “Unknown.”

“The Geographic Division has not been able to map it,” said Tiray. “Drones go in, but they don’t return.”

“Have you any idea why?”

“Who knows?” said Tiray. “There may be an asteroid field at the mouth of the wormhole, or a collapsing star. We’ve only mapped the tiniest fraction of the universe, but we’ve discovered that it is both emptier and more dangerous than we could ever have imagined. We’re finding anomalies that we can’t even explain, let alone name.”

Tiray pointed a long finger at Paul’s throat, where he was still gently touching his cross with the fingertips of his right hand.

“I see you wear a symbol of faith.”

“I do.”

“Well, if something—a god, for want of a better term—created the universe, then he neglected to finish it. He left empty worlds, both uninhabited and uninhabitable, and he booby-trapped space to kill the unwary.”

“Or the curious,” said Paul.

He spoke without thinking, his gaze fixed on that final wormhole.

Derith
. Unknown.

Tiray spoke again, pulling him back from his thoughts.

“Lieutenant,” he said, “I want you to take me to Archaeon. I want to see what lies there.”

Derith
. The word echoed deep within Paul. He did not know why, but that empty space on the star chart seemed almost to be calling to him. It was only with great difficulty that he turned his gaze back toward Archaeon. What was it that Tiray had said, something about a darkness at the heart of the Illyri Empire? Yes, that much was certainly true, but perhaps it wasn’t so much at the heart, but instead within its very consciousness, for part of it took the form of an alien organism curled around a brain stem. He knew this much from his final days on Earth. Paul turned slowly until he found Illyr, and he reached out to trace his finger through the image of the planet, the source of his enemy, the source of his love.

His Syl.

God, thought Paul, how had things become quite this complicated?

Peris was watching him, waiting for Paul to make his decision. If the Sisterhood had found the Archaeon system, and they and their allies in the Diplomatic Corps had conspired to keep it hidden, then it was worth investigating. The other option was simply to head for the nearest Illyri base in order to deliver Tiray and his strange aide back to their people. But if Tiray was right, they’d have to fight their way there, because waiting on the other side of the nearest wormhole might be more hunters concealed as Nomads. So they couldn’t go
back, but neither could they stay where they were. Eventually somebody was going to come looking to find out what had happened to the two Nomad ships, just as at some point the Military would start to wonder why there had been no communication drones sent by the
Envion
, except Paul was willing to bet good money that whoever had sent those Nomads would be first through the wormhole.

Paul turned to Thula.

“Copy this map and share it with the Steven,” he said. “Tell him to chart a course for the Archaeon system.”

CHAPTER 26

A
s soon as Paul had made his decision, he felt a wave of exhaustion crash and break upon him. He could see it in the others too. They had hardly stopped fighting for their lives since the landing on Torma, and those who were still on their feet could barely keep their eyes open. Rizzo was already fast asleep in a chair, and even the strange geckolike eyes of the Illyri betrayed their tiredness, the nictitating membranes visible as sleep momentarily overcame them.

Thula took a seat next to Rizzo, closed his eyes, and zoned out, but Paul fought the urge to join them. Instead he went over to his brother at the ship’s controls. Steven and Alis appeared to have overcome some of the initial awkwardness caused by the boy’s original body search, and were now conducting a full check of the
Nomad
’s capabilities. Steven’s face was alight with the joy of discovery, and Alis’s fascination with the craft seemed almost to match his own. Out of all of them, only these two did not appear to be weary.

“How are you doing?” asked Paul.

“This ship is incredible, just incredible,” said Steven.

“Yes, so I’ve been hearing. My question is, how long can you keep going before you need to rest?”

“Rest?”
said Steven, as though Paul had just suggested that they trade in the
Nomad
for a used Toyota with one careful owner. “Look, I was thrilled when they gave me my own shuttle to fly—”

Yes, thought Paul, and look what happened there.

“—but this baby is something else entirely. You’ll have to wrest control of it from my cold, dead hands.”

“Well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” said Paul drily. “How long to the first wormhole?”

“If I increase velocity, a matter of twenty hours. After that, there are two more virtually on our doorstep. Are you still worried about a pursuit?”

“They’re coming,” said Paul, “and they’ll be riding in at least one of these.”

“May I make a suggestion?” said Alis, speaking for the first time.

Paul cocked an eyebrow. “Go ahead.”

“The initial course we plotted for Archaeon was the most direct, but if we took a slightly more circuitous route, we might be able to shake off any pursuers.”

Paul considered for a moment, then shook his head.

“We have to assume that they know you’re aware of Archaeon’s existence, otherwise why would they have targeted you and Councillor Tiray to begin with? If we take too long to get to Archaeon, then we may give them a chance to beat us there, and we could exit the final wormhole just in time to be blown to pieces. No, we have a head start, and we need to hold on to it. Just put your foot down, or whatever it is you do with these things, and get us there fast.”

Alis didn’t argue. That was good. Paul wasn’t in the mood for arguing, especially not with this little Illyri.

“What about you?” he asked her. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m fine,” said Alis.

“Well, since you’re the only ones on board properly equipped to fly this thing, I need at least one of you fresh and alert at all times. Steven, in thirty minutes I want you to sleep, whether you think you need to or not. Take four hours, then Alis, you do the same. Understand?”

“Yes, sir,” said Steven. Paul thought that he sounded like a sulky schoolboy whose dad had told him to go to bed just as the movie he was watching was getting good. In another life, of course, that’s just what Steven would have been: a teenage boy in school, studying for exams, eating meals at the kitchen table with his brother and his mom, and thinking about girls, money, gaming, and his future, but the arrival of the Illyri had changed all that. Instead, although not
yet even sixteen, he was fighting and killing light-years from home. What concerned Paul was that Steven seemed to be showing no signs of trauma or regret about what he had been forced to do. Oh, he still missed their mother, Paul knew that. He had heard Steven crying often enough in those first months, and a deep sadness still overcame him whenever her name was mentioned, but he was hardening. According to Peris, he had exhibited barely a flicker of emotion as the trap was sprung on the raiders, and he had fired on them without mercy. It struck Paul that his brother might be turning into a better killer than he was.

He left Steven and Alis to their work, passed quietly by Thula and Rizzo, and saw that Tiray was stretched out across two chairs, his eyes slightly clouded as he slept. Once upon a time, those eyes would not have failed to give Paul the creeps, but Syl had changed all that. Syl was lovely to him, and something of his appreciation of her alien beauty had transferred itself to the rest of her kind. He could not hate them quite as much as he once did.

Still, he could try.

Peris was waiting for him back in the meeting room.

“You need to sleep soon,” he told Paul. “You have to be sharp. They’re relying on their lieutenant.”

“What about you?”

“I will sleep too, once we’ve finished talking.”

Paul was tempted to lean against the hull, or even take a seat, but he was afraid that if he did so, he would not be able to stay awake. He chose to remain standing.

“What is it you know?” he asked Peris.

“I might ask you the same thing.”

“Seriously, Captain,” said Paul, for that had been Peris’s rank when he left Earth, “why did you really leave the governor’s service for the Brigades? Why did you choose to stay close to my brother and me?”

In all of their months together, through induction, training, and now on this, their first mission, Paul had never yet found the correct moment, or the courage, to ask Peris this question.

“Because Meia asked me to protect you. Because she told me that
the fate of the Illyri might well be linked to yours, and my first loyalty is to my own kind, even above Governor Andrus himself.”

“Is that all she said?”

“Yes.”

“And you believed her?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I trusted her, and . . .”

For the first time, Peris looked away.

“And?”

“After I made my decision, I must confess that I had doubts. I regretted it. It would have been easier to stay in Edinburgh. I was concerned for Governor Andrus, for he was surrounded by enemies. I almost considered going to him and asking him to take me back. I even went so far as to visit him in his quarters, but—”

He paused. Paul had never seen such puzzlement, such hurt, on Peris’s face before. The old soldier always appeared so sure, so confident in himself. But not now, not as he spoke of the Illyri governor whom he had served loyally for so long.

“The governor was no longer the same,” Peris continued, finally. “He had changed. I cannot explain how I knew, or even the nature of his transformation—except that he seemed ridiculously content for one who was about to lose his daughter to his enemy. He was not the Lord Andrus to whom I had sworn loyalty, and he was not alone in his chambers. The Nairene witch Syrene stood at his right hand, and it seemed that something of what burned darkly in her now burned also in him. That’s the only way I can describe it. And so I left, and I did not look back.”

It was Paul’s turn to speak. He chose his words carefully. He believed Peris, but he did not want to put at risk any of those members of the Resistance who knew what had happened in the depths of Dundearg Castle, so he did not name names. He simply told Peris some of the truth: that certain members of the Diplomatic Corps appeared to be carrying an alien organism in their skulls, a parasite of unknown origin, and it seemed that they were doing so willingly; that Meia had
found evidence of experiments being conducted on humans by the Diplomats’ sinister Scientific Development Division, including the implantation of similar organisms not just into humans but also into other animal species, but those implantations appeared to have failed. Finally, he said that Meia had seen the bodies of human beings split open like grow bags of fertilizer, and anemone-like tendrils sprouting from their insides.

Paul stopped talking but Peris remained silent, taking in all that he had learned. He seemed shocked at the revelations of his own race’s capacity for cruelty.

“Do you think Tiray knows?” Paul asked.

“Tiray is a politician,” Peris replied. “They live for secrets, even more than most Illyri. My guess is that he does not, at least not for sure, or else he would not have risked a mission to Archaeon. But, Paul—”

Paul was startled by Peris’s use of his first name. Until now, Peris had only ever referred to him by his rank or his surname.

“—what you know places you at great risk. Is Steven also aware of this?”

Paul nodded.

“Be careful around Tiray,” Peris warned. “I have no personal experience of dealing with him, but Lord Andrus always respected him. Nevertheless, Tiray has his own reasons for pursuing his investigation, and who knows where all this may lead? Tiray might not be happy to know that a human is privy to the dirtiest secrets of the Corps, and, by extension, the Illyri. Murders have been committed for less.”

“And what about you?” said Paul. “You said yourself that your first loyalty is to the Illyri. Would you kill to keep such secrets?”

“No,” said Peris. “But I would kill to reveal them.”

“So we’ll have to trust each other.”

“Yes,” said Peris. “You will trust me not to betray you because of what you know, and I will trust you not to use on me any of those pulse weapons that you have hidden in the cargo hold.”

Now it was Paul’s turn to be taken aback. But Peris said nothing more. He simply lay down on a couch, turned his face to the hull, and went to sleep.