Empire: Book 2, The Chronicles of the Invaders (The Chronicles of the Invaders Trilogy) (19 page)

Ani turned to follow her back to the computer but Onwyn pointed at the shelf.

“Pull that thing up first, please. We don’t want anyone getting hurt.”

Syl hid her laughter behind a cough.

•  •  •

They were barely out of the library when Syl snatched the
The Interplanetary Pioneers
from Ani’s hands.

“I can’t wait a moment longer,” she said as she turned quickly to the back of the book.

As before, the final chapter was missing.

CHAPTER 33

P
aul woke to find the
Nomad
silent. He passed Steven and Rizzo, and then Peris and Thula, all fast asleep. Only Alis was still awake, seated silently in the copilot’s chair as they headed for Archaeon, her face lit by the readings on the cockpit glass before her. Paul became part of them as he approached her from behind, reflected so that his features appeared tattooed with figures and graphs.

“I was going to ask if you ever sleep,” he said, “but I suspect that it might be a silly question. You’re a Mech.”

Alis showed no emotion, but Paul was aware of a sudden tension in her body.

“How long have you known?”

“I’ve been watching you, and I finally figured it out.”

“How?”

“You remind me of someone.”

“Who?”

“Her name was Meia.”

Alis’s face betrayed itself with a flicker at the mention of the name.

“‘Was’?”

“Is, if you prefer. She was alive when last I saw her, for what it’s worth. Does Tiray know?”

“Of course.”

Paul took the pilot’s chair. He yawned. Somewhere among the supplies that he and Thula had taken from the
Envion
was coffee, but he was too weary to go looking for it. He’d let Rizzo sleep for a while longer, then tell her to go and find it. After all, what was the point of being in charge if you couldn’t order people to do things for you?
Then again, Rizzo would likely tell him to go and look for it himself. He suspected that her respect for his new rank only went so far.

Paul looked at Alis. The ProGen skin really was remarkable, and it would have been impossible to tell that she was an artificial life-form—a Mech—from appearance alone. It helped that the golden skin of the Illyri tended toward a kind of smoothness that even the most perfect of human features seemed to lack.

“You’re staring,” said Alis.

“Sorry.”

“Your brother stares at me too.”

“For different reasons, I think.”

Her head tilted in puzzlement.

“What do you mean?”

“I think he likes you.”

“As in . . . ?”

“Exactly.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, ‘oh.’”

“Does he know about me as well?”

“I don’t think so. If he suspects, then he hasn’t said anything to me.”

“Will you tell him?”

“Not unless you want me to.”

He watched her consider the problem.

“I will tell him myself,” said Alis, “when the time is right.”

“Good. Be careful with him—with his feelings. He’s young.”

Alis opened her mouth to reply, but couldn’t seem to form the right words. Her brow furrowed briefly in confusion. Paul managed to hold back a smile. It didn’t matter if you were human, Illyri, or Mech: emotions were tricky to handle.

“I have a question for you,” said Paul.

“Ask it.”

“I heard that all the Mechs were destroyed, but I’ve now met two. It suggests that tales of your destruction may have been exaggerated.”

“What did Meia tell you?”

“Nothing.”

This was true, just about. What he’d learned had come directly from Syl and Ani: the Mechs were all supposed to have been destroyed, their fates sealed when they began to show signs of “system malfunctions”—emotions, in other words—along with a growing faith in the existence of a Creator, a god. It led the Mechs to believe that they had souls, a development that senior Illyri found so disturbing and dangerous that they advocated the Mechs’ destruction. But many Illyri felt uneasy about annihilating beings that appeared to be self-aware, and so it was agreed that the Mechs would be sent into exile on a remote world. The Illyri watched their ships go, their vessels gradually growing smaller and smaller until they were lost among the stars.

But the Mechs were betrayed, for their ships self-destructed long before they reached their destination, and only a handful of Illyri knew of what had occurred. That, at least, was the story that had been told, but Meia, and now Alis, gave lie to it.

Ali was watching him impassively.

“Then I can tell you nothing either,” she said.

‘That’s not very helpful.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t think you are, not really.”

Alis seemed about to say something more, but stopped herself. Instead she asked him a question of her own.

“The human, Galton. Why did he go back to the
Envion
? Why did he want to die?”

“He was in love with a woman named Cady. She was killed down on Torma. He couldn’t live without her, or thought that he couldn’t.”

“He was wrong to do what he did,” said Alis. “He despaired. We should not despair. There must always be hope. There must always be faith in the Creator.”

“Galton was in shock,” said Paul. “Under other circumstances perhaps we could have saved him, but we were in shock too. And sometimes people just break. Call it a design flaw. When you see the Creator, be sure to bring it up.”

“But you wear the Christian symbol. I’ve read about it. You believe.”

“I believe,” agreed Paul. “But there are times—like the deaths on Torma, like the suffering of my people under the Illyri back on Earth—when I wonder why I do. Maybe I just believe because I’m frightened.”

“Of what?”

“Of not having anything to believe in at all.”

Paul stood. He wouldn’t wake Rizzo after all. He had a pretty good idea where the coffee was anyway.

Alis’s hand touched his. He was surprised by how warm it was. He was fascinated by the reality of the Mechs. He wanted to know more about them, but for now he was content to have his theory about Alis confirmed.

“I am sorry that I can’t tell you more about us,” said Alis. “Truly. You knew of one, and now you know of two.”

“And there are more,” he said.

It wasn’t a question, but a statement of fact. He didn’t even need her to nod in agreement.

“Meia,” she said.

“What about her?”

“Meia is important.”

Her hand tightened on his, as though imploring him to act on Meia’s behalf. But Meia was far away, and Paul could not help her. Then again, when last he’d looked Meia didn’t seem like the kind who needed much help. Meia was like a one-Mech army.

“Am I interrupting something?”

It was Thula. He was grinning at Paul. Alis released her grip.

“It’s not what you think,” said Paul, and instantly realized that this was just the sort of thing someone would say if it was
exactly
what another person thought.

“Maybe if I become a lieutenant, attractive aliens will start throwing themselves at me too,” mused Thula.

“If you don’t wipe that grin off your mug, something heavy and sharp will be thrown at you,” warned Paul.

Thula managed to straighten his face, but it was obviously a struggle.

“I’m going to find coffee,” said Paul.

“Good,” said Thula. “I will stay here.”

Paul slipped by him, conscious that his face was red.

“Do that.”

“And I won’t hold hands with anyone.”

“I’m warning you . . .”

•  •  •

Everyone was awake by the time Paul returned with coffee, oatmeal, and a pile of ready meals. The coffee was instant, but better than nothing. The galley provided hot water, and pretty soon all of the humans were eating. The Illyri consumed their own food from the supplies on the vessel—mostly rehydrated vegetables mixed with meat that smelled to Paul like pork that had gone off. Even Alis joined them, raising another question in Paul’s mind about the workings of the Mech digestive system, although he wasn’t sure that it was a question he actually wanted answered.

“Why does Thula keep grinning at you?” asked Steven.

“Thula finds jokes where there are none,” said Paul, but he took Thula aside when they had all finished eating, and spoke softly to him. When Thula returned he was no longer smiling, and he regarded Alis with renewed interest.

Steven was back in the pilot’s chair, although there was little for him to do until they reached the first wormhole, and that wouldn’t be for some hours yet. (Although far from Illyr, they followed the Illyri clock, which had a thirty-hour day.) The coordinates had been fed into the ship’s computer, and its powerful engines were doing the rest. The
Nomad
also continually scanned for signs of pursuit or radio transmissions. Like everything else about it, the range of its scanners was greater than anything Paul had encountered before. They would receive more than adequate warning if any ships were in their vicinity, but so far the scanners had picked up nothing.

Paul walked to the conference room at the rear of the ship, where he found Peris and Tiray in conversation. It didn’t appear to him to be anything particularly secret, just the talk of two Illyri with some knowledge of each other who were making the best of their time to
gether to catch up on mutual acquaintances. Paul took a seat across from them, and the discussion petered out. Both Illyri waited for him to speak.

“Alis is a Mech,” said Paul.

Both Tiray and Peris looked surprised, although, Paul supposed, for different reasons. He could see from Peris’s face that the old soldier had no idea about Alis’s true nature, while Tiray was probably astonished that Paul knew.

“She told you?” asked Tiray.

“I guessed,” Paul replied, and he couldn’t help but feel a hint of pleasure as he saw Tiray’s opinion of him change once again. “My question is, why is she with you?”

“I sheltered her when the exile was announced. I knew what was about to occur. She was valuable to me. I trusted her.”

“So she’s the only one?”

“Yes.”

“You’re lying.”

Tiray didn’t look happy to be called a liar, but Paul didn’t care.

“You should pick your words more carefully, young human,” said Tiray. “This is still an Illyri vessel, and the rules of both command and courtesy require you to guard your tongue.”

Paul ignored him.

“Here’s what I think,” he said. “You, and a handful of other senior Illyri, told the Mechs about what was planned for them. As a result, their ships weren’t blown to pieces, and they made their way to safety. But you and your friends wanted to keep channels of communication open with them, so you held a few back and hid them among your staff.”

Tiray didn’t answer.

“Tiray, we know about Meia,” said Peris. “It was she who acted to help Governor Andrus’s daughter back on Earth.”

Tiray nodded. His eyes were filled with sorrow.

“We couldn’t save them all,” he said. “We only found out about the devices on the ships at the last minute. By then, two of the transports had already left the galaxy. Their communication systems had been
disabled. There was no way of contacting them. We did what was necessary to save the Mechs on board the final vessel.”

“Where are they?” asked Paul.

“I don’t know.”

Paul was about to call him a liar again, but Tiray raised a hand to stop him.

“I’m telling you the truth. It was deemed better that we did not know, in case someone discovered what we had done and we were interrogated. Alis stayed with me, and I know of four other Mechs who remain hidden with sympathetic Illyri, but only one of the Mechs from that final ship eventually returned.”

“Meia,” said Paul.

“Yes, Meia. She is the only one who knows the location of the refuge.”

“How many were saved?” asked Peris.

“Five thousand.”

“Five
thousand
?” said Paul.

He was shocked. He had not thought that there might be so many.

And, again, a sadness enveloped Tiray.

“Only five thousand,” he said. “The
Vianne
, the last vessel, was the smallest of the three ships. Each of the others held almost ten times as many. What happened was a crime, but one for which no one will ever be punished.”

“Why?” asked Paul.

“Because if we were to reveal our knowledge of the plot to destroy the Mechs, we might also be forced to reveal that we managed to save the five thousand. No proof exists of what occurred, apart from the Mechs who were saved, but they are safe only as long as their existence remains unknown.

“And even if, by some miracle, we were able to produce evidence of the plot without endangering the Mechs, those responsible for that slaughter are among the most powerful Illyri in the Empire. They are the elite of the Diplomatic Corps. Their role is to punish, not to be punished.”

Paul turned his attention to Peris.

“You were the last one to speak to Meia,” he said.

“Yes.”

“Who else knew about her?”

“No one. Well, aside from Lord Andrus, obviously. And Danis, I would think. Andrus trusted Danis more than anyone.”

Danis was the head of the Illyri Military in Britain and also Ani’s father.

“And the Securitats didn’t suspect Meia?” Paul asked.

“I don’t know,” replied Peris. “I don’t think so. They hated her, Vena most of all. Vena ordered Meia’s arrest in the last days on Earth, but I don’t know if she’d discovered that Meia was a Mech. Meia was accused of treason and murder. If they had found out the truth, and then caught her, she would not have survived for long.”

Paul was troubled. A lot of those at Dundearg had seen Meia and witnessed her actions during the battle. They must have realized that she was no ordinary Illyri. If they were found by the Securitats, and tortured to reveal what they knew . . .

Perhaps all would be well. Meia was more intelligent than any of them, and hugely resourceful. She had kept herself hidden for a long time.

But it was as Alis had hinted to him: if one Mech could survive, then so could many. If Vena knew Meia’s secret, she would not rest until she was found.