Empire: Book 2, The Chronicles of the Invaders (The Chronicles of the Invaders Trilogy) by John Connolly, Jennifer Ridyard Read Free Book Online
Authors: John Connolly, Jennifer Ridyard
attracted Cutler’s attention: a red protective helmet, the kind used by miners. It lay on the sand, looking disturbingly clean; it hadn’t been there when they arrived. Paul was certain of it. He would have noticed, just as he now saw that the sand was scattered with the dark shapes of tormals huddled in their protective shells.
“Cutler,” he cried. “Don’t touch it.”
But it was too late. Cutler reached for the helmet, lifting it from the sand, and it was as though the sand came with it, and then the grains fell away to reveal a disturbance in the air, a shimmering like glass, and Paul had a vague impression of claws and teeth and hard angles. It enveloped Cutler, dragging him beneath the sand before he even had a chance to scream.
And then all was gunfire.
Gunfire, and dying.
CHAPTER 7
L ater, all that Paul could remember—or, perhaps, would allow himself to remember—was chaos. Despite their training, despite their weapons, despite their veneer of arrogance and world-weariness, they were still just young men and women far from home, thrust into an alien environment, and now they were panicking, and the panicked and frightened would always be easy prey.
A gush of blood rose from the patch of sand into which Cutler had vanished, fountaining like a red geyser. It reached its highest point before commencing an almost elegant descent toward the ground, but its impact was disturbed by another nearly transparent shape erupting from below, and Cutler’s blood splashed over it, giving it a kind of definition. Its jaws, so massive as to appear to be in a state of dislocation, became a crimson maw in which jagged shards of teeth were visible. Its head was flat and its body elongated, evolved to move swiftly and smoothly through sand, but there was a hardness to it as well. It reminded Paul of a great diamond drill carved into the form of a demon. This thing could cut through rock as easily as sand.
Olver was the first to react, spraying the creature with a burst of fire. Fragments of it exploded from its body like splinters, and a spiked appendage shot from its torso like a glass thorn, spearing Olver through the chest and killing him instantly. Cady went down next, but this time there was no blood. The sand simply swallowed her, and she was gone.
A shiny metal object flew through the air, and Paul heard Thula’s warning cry of “Grenade!” He turned his face away just as the device exploded, and with it the creature, shattering like crystal, the airsuddenly alive with lethal splinters. Most of them impacted on Paul’s body armor, but some struck his exposed right arm. The pain was intense, and almost spurred him to react, but he felt frozen in place. He couldn’t take his eyes from Olver’s body, now lying on its back with the shimmering spike that had killed him protruding from his chest, the rest of the beast reduced to fragments by the grenade. Thula made for the shuttle while De Souza and Peris provided covering fire, aided by Rizzo and Baudin. Someone grabbed Paul’s left arm. It was Faron.
“Move!” he ordered. “We have to get to the shuttle.”
But even as Paul stood he saw the shuttle begin to shake, and it rolled enough on its right axis to send Baudin tumbling from the doorway and onto the sand. A flat head rose next to her, and its jaws closed upon her. Baudin struggled against it, but only for seconds, and Paul heard the snap as her neck broke.
The door of the shuttle closed suddenly as it plunged even farther right, until the craft was standing on its side, partly buried in the sand. Slowly, it began to be pulled under.
“Get off the ground!” cried Peris. “Head for the walls!”
A railed walkway ran around the interior of the platform’s walls, accessed by a system of ladders. They were a standard feature of such facilities, enabling a watch to be posted, or a defense to be mounted in the event of an attack from outside. Unfortunately, this particular attack was coming from
“Cutler,” he cried. “Don’t touch it.”
But it was too late. Cutler reached for the helmet, lifting it from the sand, and it was as though the sand came with it, and then the grains fell away to reveal a disturbance in the air, a shimmering like glass, and Paul had a vague impression of claws and teeth and hard angles. It enveloped Cutler, dragging him beneath the sand before he even had a chance to scream.
And then all was gunfire.
Gunfire, and dying.
CHAPTER 7
L ater, all that Paul could remember—or, perhaps, would allow himself to remember—was chaos. Despite their training, despite their weapons, despite their veneer of arrogance and world-weariness, they were still just young men and women far from home, thrust into an alien environment, and now they were panicking, and the panicked and frightened would always be easy prey.
A gush of blood rose from the patch of sand into which Cutler had vanished, fountaining like a red geyser. It reached its highest point before commencing an almost elegant descent toward the ground, but its impact was disturbed by another nearly transparent shape erupting from below, and Cutler’s blood splashed over it, giving it a kind of definition. Its jaws, so massive as to appear to be in a state of dislocation, became a crimson maw in which jagged shards of teeth were visible. Its head was flat and its body elongated, evolved to move swiftly and smoothly through sand, but there was a hardness to it as well. It reminded Paul of a great diamond drill carved into the form of a demon. This thing could cut through rock as easily as sand.
Olver was the first to react, spraying the creature with a burst of fire. Fragments of it exploded from its body like splinters, and a spiked appendage shot from its torso like a glass thorn, spearing Olver through the chest and killing him instantly. Cady went down next, but this time there was no blood. The sand simply swallowed her, and she was gone.
A shiny metal object flew through the air, and Paul heard Thula’s warning cry of “Grenade!” He turned his face away just as the device exploded, and with it the creature, shattering like crystal, the airsuddenly alive with lethal splinters. Most of them impacted on Paul’s body armor, but some struck his exposed right arm. The pain was intense, and almost spurred him to react, but he felt frozen in place. He couldn’t take his eyes from Olver’s body, now lying on its back with the shimmering spike that had killed him protruding from his chest, the rest of the beast reduced to fragments by the grenade. Thula made for the shuttle while De Souza and Peris provided covering fire, aided by Rizzo and Baudin. Someone grabbed Paul’s left arm. It was Faron.
“Move!” he ordered. “We have to get to the shuttle.”
But even as Paul stood he saw the shuttle begin to shake, and it rolled enough on its right axis to send Baudin tumbling from the doorway and onto the sand. A flat head rose next to her, and its jaws closed upon her. Baudin struggled against it, but only for seconds, and Paul heard the snap as her neck broke.
The door of the shuttle closed suddenly as it plunged even farther right, until the craft was standing on its side, partly buried in the sand. Slowly, it began to be pulled under.
“Get off the ground!” cried Peris. “Head for the walls!”
A railed walkway ran around the interior of the platform’s walls, accessed by a system of ladders. They were a standard feature of such facilities, enabling a watch to be posted, or a defense to be mounted in the event of an attack from outside. Unfortunately, this particular attack was coming from
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