Empire: Book 2, The Chronicles of the Invaders (The Chronicles of the Invaders Trilogy) (40 page)

CHAPTER 75

W
hile Meia treated Paul’s burns, she told them as much as she could of how she had come to be on Erebos: the selection of a new identity (which, not entirely regrettably, had involved disposing of the real Layne, whose remains were now rotting deep below Edinburgh Castle); the journey from Earth, and her arrival on the moon with Syrene’s party; and her discovery, through careful listening on the long voyage, of the plan to use the Blue Novices, the most adept generation yet of the Gifted, to dispose of enemies of both the Sisterhood and the Corps, with the wedding ceremony as cover for the killings.

Unfortunately Meia had been too late to prevent the attacks, but she was present when the bodies of Tanit and the others were discovered, and had just enough time to speak to Peris and inform him of her identity before he was taken away for medical attention and questioning. It was he who had told her of Syl and Paul’s flight, and also of the presence of the
Nomad
in orbit. As a Mech, the communications blackout imposed by the Sisterhood had no effect on her: Meia was her own communications system. Alis had homed in on Meia’s signal, and when she saw the figures in the connector tunnel she knew exactly what to do.

Now Syl and Paul began to talk at once, trying to share what they had discovered both with each other and with Meia. But their conversation was cut short by a warning from Alis.

“Incoming craft from the wormhole,” she said. “I’m picking up Corps chatter.”

“That’s unfortunate,” said Meia, from Layne’s mouth.

She had hoped that the destruction of the array might have bought them more time. She pulled up a screen and watched the approach of six ships, one much larger than the others.

“Wait, that’s not any known ship,” she said. “None of those craft
have fleet identifiers, Corps or otherwise.”

She increased the size of the image.

“It’s as big as a battleship, but I don’t read any armaments. It’s like a huge tanker.”

“We have visual,” said Paul.

Six ships appeared as growing white specks through the cockpit window. As they watched, two of them, including the tanker, peeled off and headed toward Melos Station. The others maintained their course toward the wormhole, increasing speed with astonishing rapidity, seeking to intercept the
Nomad
. They looked sleek and deadly, like silver daggers against the blackness of space.

“They’re trying to cut us off!” said Alis.

“No Corps ship has that kind of acceleration,” said Meia.

“The Corps has been busy while you were on Earth,” said Steven. “But at least we know what we’re up against.”

He increased the
Nomad
’s velocity in order to reach the wormhole before their pursuers. Again, the four silver ships increased their pace, but the
Nomad
had enough of a lead on them to reach the wormhole before they did.

“They’ll follow us,” said Meia.

“And there is one for each of the wormhole’s mouths,” said Steven. “No matter which way we go, we’ll have a ship on our tail.”

More lights appeared on the long-range scanner. All were headed toward the wormhole. Eight dots converged upon them.

“Actually, make that at least four on our tail, no matter which wormhole we take,” said Steven.

“Do you have any thoughts, Lieutenant?” said Alis.

Paul was already at a console. He pulled up the wormhole map and began to plot a course. When he was finished, he swiped his hand through the air to send the course over to Steven’s cockpit display.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” said Steven, when he saw the route.

“We have no choice,” said Paul. “We need to stay away from the main wormholes. We’ll be okay leaving Melos because they won’t have had time to raise the alarm yet, but after that we’ll be in trouble. We have to try to shake them off, and the best way to do that is
through a lot of rapid boosts using unmonitored wormholes.”

“But this route brings us right to—”

“I know,” said Paul. “With a little luck, we’ll be free and clear before we’re forced to make that last boost.”

“And if we’re not?”

“Let’s not think about it.”

He turned away, glancing quickly toward Syl, who quietly nodded her agreement. Her eyes were swollen, her hair was tangled, and her face was ghostly pale and blotchy, but right now Paul was sure he’d never see anything so welcome, and so beloved, for the rest of his days. He gave her a weak smile, then turned again to the control of his ship.

Steven and Alis were staring at the final wormhole on the list, and the word that marked the system beyond it:
Derith.
Unknown. The end of the line was a system from which nothing had ever returned.

“Prepare for first boost,” said Paul.

“What can I do?” said Syl.

“Nothing at the moment. Just strap yourself in.”

The others did as he ordered, all except Meia. She was watching the progress onscreen of the two vessels heading for Melos Station.

“Too fast,” she said.

“What?” said Paul.

“That big ship; it’s approaching Melos Station too quickly.”

They saw cannon flashes and the trails of torpedoes as the batteries on the base opened up. The smaller escort craft veered away, leaving the larger one to continue on its path. Not only was it heading too quickly toward the base, it was accelerating. Torpedoes flared against its hull, and the cannon fire rocked it, but none of the base’s defenses appeared able to stop it.

They all watched—on Meia’s display, on the cockpit screens—as the huge ship struck the base, its bow cleaving through the walls of Melos Station, shattering docking arms and causing the ships moored against them to ignite silently.

And then the ship exploded, taking with it Melos Station and the thousands who served on it. A blinding white flash filled the windows, forcing them all to turn away, and the
Nomad
was buffeted by the
shock waves from the explosion.

When they looked again, Melos Station was gone, and only the wreckage of it remained.

“So many,” said Syl. “So many dead . . .”

All on board were similarly frozen by what they had witnessed.

“It’s war,” said Meia. “Civil war.”

“Wormhole imminent!” said Alis. “We’re boosting.”

They belted themselves into their seats, spots of light still dancing before their eyes from the destruction of Melos Station, and then they were in the wormhole.

Eight ships followed, and three stayed with them.

•  •  •

They destroyed the first as soon as it exited the wormhole: a
Nomad
mine attached itself to their pursuer’s hull and blew it to pieces while its crew were probably still shaking off the effects of the boost.

A stroke of luck left the second pursuer at their mercy, for it was disabled by a meteor in the Lodal system, and Rizzo calmly picked it off with their heavy cannon.

But the third stayed on their tail, and they played a game of cat and mouse with it for thirty-six hours. The fact that they had entered the wormhole first gave them a slight advantage, for it meant that the final Corps ship had to exit carefully, always anticipating an attack yet reluctant to allow the
Nomad
to gain a further lead on it. They attempted mines and ambushes. They made an effort to outrun it, with the engines at full throttle, but it kept pace with them all the way. They tried hiding, and alternate routes to the next wormhole, but the pilots of the hunting ship were masterful, and slowly it gained on them, aided by the absence of the kind of disguising layer of armor that slowed the
Nomad
ever so slightly. Gradually it ate away at their initial lead. Their pursuers also conserved their ammunition, firing when a chance presented itself but otherwise seemingly content to wait for the
Nomad
and its crew to tire or exhaust their own armaments.

And the
Nomad
was failing. The ship had made too many boosts,
and the repairs made at Melos Station were patches and little more. The
Nomad
could not continue running forever.

So the pursuit continued, until they came to the last wormhole.

•  •  •

“What’s it doing?” asked Rizzo.

“Waiting,” said Paul.

The final ship remained just within visual range, but out of reach of their cannon. No communication had been received from it, no request to halt and surrender. Like a predator chasing wounded prey, it had simply shadowed them until they were too worn out and exhausted to run anymore. Now it had cornered them, or so it believed, for behind lay only the final wormhole, and nothing that entered it ever came out again.

Derith. Illyri for “Unknown.”

The Derith Wormhole.

“We have activity,” said Steven.

Three small dots appeared on the display.

“Torpedoes,” said Alis. “We’re being targeted!”

The torpedoes sped toward them. One they could possibly avoid; two, with a miracle.

But three torpedoes would doom them.

“Prepare to boost,” yelled Paul.

“Are you sure?” said Steven.

Paul spun toward him.

“That wasn’t a suggestion,
Private
!”

“Yes, Lieutenant! Commencing sequence. Boosting in ten—nine—eight—seven—six—”

The torpedoes kept coming. Closer now, converging on the
Nomad
from three different directions, their inbuilt intelligence systems adjusting course to ensure that no maneuver would permit their prey to escape them.

“Five—four—”

Paul strapped himself in. Around him, the others did the same.

“Three—two—one.”

Paul gripped Syl’s hand, closed his eyes, and prayed.

Hold together. Please, hold together.

And save us from whatever waits on the other side.

“Boosting,” said Steven.

And the Derith Wormhole swallowed them.

•  •  •

They emerged into the blackness of an unknown system. There was no collapsing star, no asteroid belt, no planet right at the wormhole’s mouth with its atmosphere waiting to burn up anything that emerged at speed. There was only space, and the flickering of distant stars.

Then, slowly, space came alive, nothingness transforming into something, something that was all around them.

“My god,” said Syl. “It’s a ship.”

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

W
ith warm thanks to all those who helped make
Empire
a much better story with their close reading, support, and encouragement, particularly our “two Emilies”—Emily Bestler at Atria in the United States, and Emily Griffin at Headline in the United Kingdom—and Mari Evans and Megan Reid. Huge gratitude is also due to all the other dedicated, diligent folk at both Headline and Emily Bestler Books/Atria Books.

Thank you, as ever, to Darley Anderson and his team of angels.

And, Cameron and Alistair, we really do appreciate your patience with us, and your suggestions and comments. You’re very decent chaps!

Paul and Syl's epic journey continues in 2016 . . . In the meantime, read CONQUEST, Book 1 in THE CHRONICLES OF THE INVADERS, and discover more thrilling novels by bestselling authors John Connolly and Jennifer Ridyard

The Chronicles of the Invaders by John Connolly and Jennifer Ridayard

Conquest

CLICK HERE TO ORDER

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