Empire

  That still didn’t sound right, but by this point Paul had largely given up caring. He felt like he’d blundered into a minefield, and all he could do was hope to escape from it without losing a limb.

  “Who is she?” said Alis.

  “Syl Hellais,” said Paul.

  “Lord Andrus’s daughter?”

  “Yes, the very same. That’s how I came into contact with Meia. What has Steven told you about us, and how we came to be here? You’ve had all that time together in the cockpit. It must have come up.”

  “Very little,” said Alis. “He just said that both of you were in trouble on Earth, and it was either conscription or a Punishment Battalion. You chose conscription.”

  Paul experienced a surge of pride at his brother’s discretion. Even in his attraction for Alis, he had kept his mouth closed about their circumstances.

  “Choice didn’t enter into it,” said Paul.

  And he told Alis most of their story, leaving out only those details that he believed she didn’t need to know because they might harm others. He told her nothing about the Resistance beyond the barest facts of its existence, and left out entirely any mention of Fremd, the Green Man, whose suspicions and knowledge had led to the discovery of the organism in Gradus’s skull.

  “Peris took a great chance by intervening on your behalf,” said Alis when he was done.

  “He did so because Meia asked him to.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” said Alis. “You’re in his debt.”

  Paul hadn’t looked at it like that before. It made him uncomfortable because it was true.

  “Now you know our story,” he said. “It doesn’t change anything, though. You still need to talk to Steven.”

  Alis’s face contorted into an expression of pure misery.

  “I am afraid,” she said.

  “Of what?”

  “That he may not want to be around me anymore. That he may hate me.”

  “I think,” said Paul, with only slightly more confidence than he felt, “that you may be underestimating my brother.”

  • • •

  Alis spoke to Steven in the captain’s quarters while the Nomad’s autopilot brought the ship closer and closer to the next wormhole. Paul left them in private, his eyes fixed on the stars, his thoughts with them in the void. He must have lost track of the minutes, for it seemed to be a long time before Steven emerged to return to the pilot’s chair. He did so without even glancing in his brother’s direction, the expression on his face entirely unreadable, but Paul saw that Steven’s lips were red and swollen, and his skin was flushed with pleasure.

  • • •

  Alis rejoined Steven as the Nomad neared the second wormhole, and the drills and procedures began again: checking, stowing, securing. This time, Paul felt only the slightest of pressure on his skull as they boosted, but he had the impression that this boost took longer than the last.

  “Emerging,” said Steven.

  “Commencing procedures,” said Alis. “We have—”

  Something struck the Nomad, causing it to list suddenly to starboard. Warning lights flashed, and Paul heard the emergency signal howl.

  “Meteor strike!” shouted Alis. “We’ve got more incoming.”

  An image of the Nomad appeared on the display before her. It was surrounded by fast-moving irregular shapes, some of them almost as big as the ship itself. It reminded Paul of the old Asteroids video game, but this time for real. The tail of the meteor cloud was long, extending for miles, but the storm itself was not deep. It extended into space like a great but irregular stone snake. Meteors blinked out of existence as they entered the wormhole. To go back into it would be just as dangerous as remaining where they were: sharing wormhole space with meteors would be lethal enough, but at the other end the rocks would shoot out like missiles. The chances of the Nomad being hit were very high.

  Afterwards, Paul would be torn between hugging his brother and banging the boy’s head against the Nomad’s hull, but only once his terror had faded to the point where he could stop shaking. Like Paul, Steven had spotted that the cloud was shallow, but his next thought was not the same as his brother’s, for Steven believed that he could steer them through it.

  And that was what he did. It took no more than a minute, and Paul spent most of it with his eyes closed, but it was the longest minute of his life, and he experienced the moment of his dying at least ten times during it. When he did open his eyes, he saw meteors flashing past them or, worse, toward them at speed, which caused him to squeeze his eyes shut again.

  “We’re through,” said Steven mercifully.

  Paul’s jaw ached from gritting his teeth, and he badly needed a toilet break. Even when he allowed his eyes to open again, he found himself anticipating the sight of another onrushing meteor.

  “I hate you,” Thula told Steven. “I’m only glad that you’re still alive so I can kill you myself.”

  Paul managed to speak. The words came out as a series of croaks, but they could at least be understood.

  “Damage assessment?” he managed.

  “We’ve taken a hit to port, but no breach,” said Alis. “We’ll have a dent, though.”

  Paul released his belt and rose unsteadily to his feet. He walked over to the pilot’s chair and stood behind his brother, breathing deeply. Then he punched Steven on the arm.

  “Ow! What was that for?”

  “Well done,” said Paul. “Just don’t ever do it again.”

  He turned to Alis. He hadn’t spoken to her since her little chat—if that was what it could be called—with his brother.

  “How are you doing with that recorder?”

  “Nothing yet. I haven’t figured out the security algorithms. I may have to access it directly.”

  Paul didn’t know what that meant, and told her so.

  “It means that instead of using the ship’s systems, I could use my own.”

  “What, like plugging yourself into it?” said Steven. “Is that dangerous?”

  “It shouldn’t be. Its power source is pretty low level. It’s just a data storage device.”

  “Okay, do it,” said Paul.

  “Wait a minute—” Steven interrupted, but Paul silenced him with a look.

  “Remember who’s in charge here,” he said.

  Steven, sensibly, held his tongue.

  “Do it,” Paul continued, “but wait until we’ve made the final boost.”

  “Are you afraid I’ll blow a fuse?” asked Alis.

  “Do you have fuses?”

  “No,” said Alis. “I’m slightly more complicated than that.”

  And, oh boy, don’t I know it, Paul thought.

  • • •

  The next three boosts came in such close succession that everyone remained strapped in their seats for the duration. Rizzo slept through them all. Thula vomited during the fifth boost, as did Tiray. Even Peris looked queasy. The body reacted poorly to so many boosts in such a short time. It was like spending too long on a theme-park ride. The only consolation was that the boosts were uneventful. No more meteors, and no problems beyond a shaky trip on the fourth. It would take them twelve hours to reach the final wormhole that led into the Archaeon system, so Paul instructed Steven to rest. He, Thula, and Peris alternated watches as the ship plowed silently on. Each dozed a little, but as the final hour approached they all found themselves awake. Alis continued to work on the flight recorder, although she admitted that its firewalls continued to frustrate her, and she was pessimistic about accessing the information that Paul wanted. He left her and consulted with Peris and Thula about their situation.

  “Thoughts?” said Paul.

  “Our pursuers may well have found the debris on Torma by now,” said Peris. “They’ll be trying to figure out what happened.”

  “It won’t take them l
ong to discover that they’re missing a ship,” said Thula.

  “But they won’t yet understand why,” said Peris.

  “Will its flight recorder have registered the strike that blew up the other Nomad vessel?” asked Paul.

  “Maybe. But they’ll have to find it first.”

  “They’ll find it,” said Paul. “And they may well make an educated guess about where we’re heading in their ship. We won’t have long to investigate Archaeon.”

  “They’ll probably have to take the same route that we did,” said Peris. “It’s unlikely that they’ll want to use monitored wormholes, not if they’re using unregistered ships.”

  “So what have we got?” asked Paul. “Half a day?”

  “A little more,” conceded Peris. “But that’s assuming we’re not arrested or blown to pieces the moment we emerge from the Archaeon wormhole.”

  “You know,” said Thula, “you’re a glass-is-half-empty kind of guy.”

  “We’re in a stolen craft, being hunted by unknown agents of the Empire, and about to enter a prohibited system with no idea what’s waiting for us there,” said Peris. “Under those circumstances, thinking the glass is only half-empty makes me an optimist.”

  Thula thought about this.

  “You have a point,” he said.

  “Wake the others,” said Paul. “It’s time.”

  CHAPTER 49

  When Syl got back to her quarters, Ani was waiting for her.

  “Syl, where have you been? You have to get that stupid book back to Onwyn right now.”

  Syl had been in the changing room at the gym, hiding her white garments in her locker, but Ani didn’t need those details, not right now. It was enough that Ani knew she’d been exploring.

  “What’s the big hurry?”

  “I don’t know. She said it’s overdue, but mine isn’t and she wants that one too. I’ve got mine here. I just don’t know where yours is, though.”

  Syl bent down next to the small cupboard in the kitchen and fished out the now rather scuffed copy of The Interplanetary Pioneers from underneath it.

  “Should I take yours too?” she said.

  “Yes please. I don’t want to face that old bat again. She seemed a bit nuts.”

  A new voice cut in.

  “Old bat? What’s a ‘bat’?”

  They both turned, and in the doorway stood Dessa.

  “Hi, Dessa,” said Ani, blushing, and looking rather pleased. “Come in. We were just talking about Onwyn. She’s freaking out because she wants these books back.”

  Dessa laughed. “So I take it ‘old bat’ means ‘crazy old fool,’ then. What books?”

  Ani showed her.

  “They’re missing the last chapter, though,” she said.

  “Really?” said Dessa, absently flicking to the end of one volume.

  “Yes, both copies are. It’s very odd.”

  “I’d probably better take them now,” said Syl.

  Dessa handed the book to her. “I’ll walk with you.”

  If Syl was taken aback, Ani was startled.

  “Dessa, do you not want to stay?” she said. “I can make us a drink.”

  “No thank you, Ani. I actually just dropped by to see how Syl was. You said she was sick.” She turned to Syl, her purple eyes wide with concern. “How are you feeling now?”

  “Uh, better, I guess.”

  “Oh, good. It’s funny how these things can come and go. Anyway, should we walk? Or would you prefer it if I dropped the books back for you if you’re not up to it?”

  “No, I’ll take them,” said Syl, suddenly fearing that if Dessa had them she’d spirit them away and deny all knowledge, landing Syl in a mountain of trouble. She couldn’t figure out why Dessa—a Gifted Novice, and one of Tanit’s gang no less—seemed so intent upon befriending her. Syl walked quickly from the room, and Dessa followed.

  “Hey, wait up. Syl, you still don’t trust me? After everything . . . ?”

  It was like the older girl read her mind, and now she trailed her fingers delicately down Syl’s arm.

  “Oh, Syl! How can you not see that I just want to be your friend? I like you. I like your fire and your strength, and also”—she pulled Syl to a halt, forcing her to face her, and looking at her was like drowning in sad amethyst pools—“I think you’re lonely. Very lonely. I know what that’s like.”

  To her shame, Syl felt tears in her eyes. She looked away quickly. Dessa still held her arm, caressing it with her thumb.

  “Dear Syl, you sweet creature. I’m here for you.”

  She said no more. She merely slipped her hand through the crook of Syl’s elbow and together they walked to the library, as if they were the best of friends. The Novices they passed stepped aside as they always did when they saw blue robes, and then looked at the pair again in surprise: a Gifted third-year strolling arm in arm with an unpopular Novice, smiling beatifically.

  Syl felt unmoored, a little like she was floating. Maybe she really was ill after all, but then she’d had quite a day already. She found herself leaning on Dessa’s arm.

  Inside the library she held out the books to Onwyn, who snatched them from her, glaring.

  “About time,” she grumbled. She appeared about to say more, but then she noticed Dessa standing beside Syl, and she nodded at her in greeting, acknowledging one of Syrene’s chosen few.

  “A word?” said Onwyn to Syl. “Alone?”

  “Of course, Sister,” said Syl, and Dessa squeezed her arm sympathetically.

  “I’ll be outside,” she said.

  • • •

  Syl waited, but Onwyn was focused on the two books she had just been given. Silently she flicked to the back of the first, and frowned, before repeating the exercise with the second. Then she placed the books on her desk, and reached out her hand to Syl. It felt small and bony against Syl’s own, dry and fragile as a dead bird in her palm, but when the old librarian lifted her eyes to meet Syl’s, her gaze was steady and strong.

  “You looked up Archaeon on the system,” she said, and it was a statement, not a question.

  Syl opened her mouth to reply, but Onwyn shook her head, pressing Syl’s fingers.

  “Hush, child. Keep silent, and hope that silence cannot be used against you. Be cautious, and hear my words, for nothing is as it appears to be. Nothing.”

  Her eyes bored into Syl’s until she was forced to look away under their intensity, but Onwyn spoke on.

  “You must take care, Syl Hellais, please take care. My books have been defaced, and the last Novice who was curious about Archaeon was crushed to death in a rockfall in the Second Realm.”

  “Kosia?” said Syl, hoping she’d hidden her disquiet, for she’d passed through the deserted corridors of the Second only hours earlier.

  “Kosia. So you have heard her name. A terrible accident, they said, but no one ever explained why she was in the Second Realm, and how a mere Novice came to be there in the first place. It is a dangerous area—stay away from it. Nothing is as it appears to be.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Onwyn shook her head, and let go of Syl’s hand.

  “Simply that you should tread with care. Now go. I have work to do.”

  “But—”

  “I said go.”

  She turned away. Their conversation was over.

  • • •

  Dessa giggled companionably as Syl came out of the library, dazed.

  “What did she want?”

  Syl thought quickly. “She accused me of damaging that book.”

  “Why would you do that? The silly old, er, bat,” Dessa said.

  “Oh, she’s not so bad,” said Syl, half to herself.

  “Was it worth all that fuss though?”

  “What?”

  “The b
ook. Was it any good?”

  “Actually it was, but, like Ani said, the last chapter was torn out.”

  “How annoying for you. Shall I see if I can get you another copy?”

  Syl stopped. “From where?”

  “The Half-Sisters’ library, obviously.”

  Syl stared at Dessa. “How could you do that? It’s off-limits.”

  “Don’t make me say it, please. I hate to bring it up because I know it makes me sound like a bit of a doorknob, but these blue robes do convey special privileges, you know. I may still be a Novice, but I am in third year, and as one of the Gifted, that means I can use the Half-Sisters’ library whenever I choose. In fact, it’s positively encouraged.”

  “And you’d get the book for me?” said Syl, mouth agape.

  “I said I would, didn’t I? Now what’s it called?”

  Minutes later, Dessa was back in Syl’s quarters, a familiar-looking volume tucked under her arm. Ani glanced up and smiled to see the older girl again, but Dessa brushed past her with a dismissive little wave and knocked on Syl’s door. Inside, Syl was studying the cartograph, and the interruption startled her. Quickly, she tucked the device in her drawer.

  “Yes?”

  “It’s me, Dessa.” The older girl opened the door and peered inside. “I’ve got it!”

  “Already?”

  Dessa came in, pushing the door closed behind her with her foot, and placed the book on Syl’s bedside table.

  “Far as I can tell, it’s all there.”

  Syl longed to open it, but she couldn’t, not with Dessa still present.

  “Thank you. I really appreciate it,” she said, and she meant it too.

  Grinning, Dessa climbed onto the bed next to Syl and made herself comfortable.

  “Anytime. If there’s anything else you want, just name it. I know the Novice library can run a bit dry.”

  Syl almost laughed, for it would take her a thousand lifetimes to read all that was in the Novice library. Dessa didn’t seem to notice her amusement. Instead she gave Syl a friendly pat on the knee.

  “So tell me a bit about you, Syl Hellais the Earthborn.”

  “What do you want to know?”