I’d had enough. Snaring her even more tightly in my arms, I twisted to keep her between me and the weapons of the Partisans. “Let’s talk,” I rasped in her ear.
I hauled her step by step with me out of the command nexus, into a short corridor, and at last—to a dead end.
An air lock.
I hurled Neveni into it and then followed her, sealing the door behind us.
A swift inspection of the metal alloy around us heartened me. Neveni couldn’t order her crew to detonate the treatise band in here. Any explosion would reverberate and most certainly kill her as well.
Then I looked back at her and realized my mistake: She was angry enough at me not to care. She would kill us both out of pure spite.
27
AS NEVENI and I squared off, she fell into a fighting stance, her face ablaze with hatred.
I felt suddenly exasperated. “You betrayed me,” I reminded her. “You blew me up. I should tear your heart out for that. Instead I am offering you my hand as an ally.”
“And why should I believe you?” she demanded. “You’re the tyrant’s stooge. You’ve sabotaged every chance you had to kill him—if he crooked his finger now, you’d go crawling back to him like a whipped dog!”
My arm flew back and I nearly struck her. Nearly. Only the knowledge of how easily I could kill her stayed my hand. I needed her alive.
Instead, I seized her jaw, not flinching when she spat on my cheek. “Maybe I should have let Pasus execute you that day on the Chrysanthemum. It would have spared me this drama.”
Why, that seemed to be the constant in my life. Both Neveni and Tyrus had welcomed death and I’d clawed them back from it—with their lasting animosity as my only reward.
“I could do it now,” I said grimly. “Vent you straight into space.”
Her jaw flexed. “Is that supposed to scare me? You’re trapped in here too.”
“Then I’ll go with you.” The thought made me feel weary. “Will that satisfy you? Let’s both choke on vacuum. We might as well—you’re my only hope of ending Tyrus, and if all you want is to stew on past wounds—”
An animal sound broke from her. “If it weren’t for you and Tyrus, Lumina would still be there.”
I could not ignore the desolation in her face. “I know.”
“If I hadn’t agreed to be your go-between with Pasus,” she whispered, “I would still have a planet.”
My grip eased. She did not seem to notice; her gaze was unfocused, as though she was looking through me at some distant, unchangeable nightmare.
I let go of her and took a step back. “So that’s it. You blame me for Lumina.”
“Of course,” she said dully.
I took a deep breath. She was right, in a way. Lumina’s destruction had been Pasus’s doing. But had I never entered Neveni’s life, he never would have destroyed the planet to gain power over Tyrus.
“I cannot make it right,” I said raggedly. “I cannot ask you to forgive me for it. It isn’t forgivable—I understand that, Neveni. But I have to—I must—ask you to look forward now. Without your help, I can’t touch Tyrus.”
A strange, strangled laugh came from her. She sat down onto the floor, laid her head in her hands.
Her voice was muffled as she spoke again. “You took Anguish.”
I hesitated, then sat down across from her. “He left,” I said gently. “You didn’t value him, Neveni. And he knew it.”
She raised her head. “He acted like a Diabolic with a master. Always protecting me—”
“It’s the love he’s learned. We are both that way.”
“I didn’t want a Diabolic. I wanted him. I thought he…” Her eyes narrowed. “What are you to him?”
Was that a hint of jealousy? “Not lovers, I assure you.”
“Then what? Best of friends with a shared interest in screwing me over?”
I ignored the sneer in her voice. “Something more important than friends, Neveni. We’re equals.”
She blinked, then looked away from me, absorbing herself in a study of the stars.
I watched her with unwilling sympathy. Anguish certainly still had feelings for her. The more I interacted with her, the more I suspected she felt the same. Each nursed a bitterness that concealed something more tender, and thoroughly unwanted by either of them.
“I loved him.” She looked at me, her dark eyes wide and stricken. “We were fighting… over you, of course, but I did love him. He knew that, he must have known.”
“That is a conversation you have to have with him.”
Her mouth tightened, disbelief falling back over her like armor.
I grew impatient. “What is it you imagine—that we’ve gone to the trouble of returning merely to seek revenge on you?” I folded my arms, trained my gaze out the window at the star-pierced void. “I ruled that out long ago. Vengeance is a never-ending abyss. There is always a new grievance to redress. I won’t fall into that.”
She was silent. She knew that well. Then, “But you say you want to strike at Tyrus—”
“It’s not revenge,” I said quietly. “It’s… what I owe him. Maybe this will comfort you. I invented endless excuses, endless reasons not to harm Tyrus. The day I forced him back to Pasus, you told me that I was a fool. That I’d betrayed him by saving his life. And you were right.”
She looked at me silently.
“He died that day.” My voice was thickening; I cleared my throat before I continued. “And a great many others have died since. And all of it was my doing.” I met her gaze squarely, letting her see what a Diabolic was not designed to show: the pain I felt. The grief and the guilt. “I have to fix my mistakes, Neveni. I will fix them. But I can’t do it alone.”
“And so you come to me,” she said softly. “One of your first victims.”
We’d been each other’s victims. But my lingering anger and resentment toward her was evaporating, for I saw that my sorrows were but a fraction of hers, my struggle no match to one she’d faced. “You have resources I do not. You know how to wage campaigns against vast, overwhelming odds. There must be a way to get to him. If we don’t stop him… he may do what Tarantis did.”
Her eyes sharpened. “Is that his plan?”
“He’s deluded the Empire into believing that he’s a god. A god can do as he wishes—can remake the galaxy or the entire universe, for that matter. But if he encounters opposition? Yes, I think he’ll resort to something far worse. He created malignant space, Neveni. I loved him more than myself, but when I think of what he’s become…” My voice caught; it felt strangled in my throat. “I betray the Tyrus I loved by allowing this one to live.”
She stared at me for a moment longer, then slowly rose—one hand braced against the wall to aid her balance, her movements as slow and clumsy as an elderly woman’s. “I left you in the Sacred City,” she said, “because I meant to ruin him. I didn’t care that it was Tyrus. I cared that he was a Domitrian. I thought I was saving your life.”
“I know. Now.”
“You made me a party to his survival. I will never forgive you for that, either.”
“I don’t need forgiveness, Neveni. I need us to reach an understanding. If we stand together now, there is nothing that can stop us. Not even Tyrus. Don’t you see how we can use this information? It’s dangerous. If the truth of Tarantis spread, it would threaten the integrity of the Empire. Tyrus knows a few voices shouting a cold, hard truth can rupture a galaxy of lies. If he learns we have this, he’ll seek to destroy us. We can use this as bait to trap him.”
“How?”
I hesitated, sighing. “Well, that’s where I need you,” I said. “I have no idea.”
I deserved her snort of contempt. “You came here expecting me to figure out how to kill an Emperor?”
“I can think of no one better qualified.”
After a moment, Neveni’s jaw hardened. “Betray me again,” she said softly, “and I will end you.”
You will try, I thought, but I
offered her my hand. “Same to you, Neveni.”
Her lips twitched grimly as she clasped my hand. For a moment, her grip tightened, her eyes fixed on me. Then she released my hand and turned away.
“As for your bait idea: that could work. But I think we have better bait on hand than a couple of holographics.…”
28
“WAKE UP!”
My shout jolted Gladdic out of sleep. I tore the sheet from his body and dragged him off the bed.
“QUICKLY!” I bellowed, waving with my pulse rifle. “Get up and run!”
Bleary-eyed and confused, he reached for his robe—and froze as he belatedly noticed the two unconscious Partisans sprawled on the floor nearby.
“What—what’s going on?” His voice was thready with fear.
I took his arm again and hauled him with me into the corridor. Overhead, the track lighting pulsed red, issuing a silent alarm. “The Partisans have turned on us. We have to flee.”
“What? Wait.” He came to a stop, shoving hair out of his face. “Why?”
“Neveni doesn’t trust me. She’s turned on us!” I shoved him back into motion down the hallway. “Anguish is waiting by the escape pods—”
A pair of Partisans tore about the corridor, shouting at the sight of us. I yanked Gladdic behind me and took them both down with shots to their legs. “Run!” I screamed to Gladdic, and burst into a sprint.
His footsteps pounded behind me as we ran. “But I don’t understand,” came his ragged protest. “What happened? What did you say?”
“Me? Neveni is mad, that’s what happened!” I roared back at him.
I nearly collided with Anguish as he barreled around a turn. He quickly lowered his weapon. “Come,” he snarled, breathing hard. But his eyes danced with enjoyment. “This way is clear.”
“Can’t we talk to them?” Gladdic panted as we raced onward.
“Shut up and run!”
At the turn in the hallway leading to the escape pods, Anguish abruptly drew up short, showing us his palm. I caught hold of Gladdic just as a half-dozen Partisans appeared. Laser pistols sliced the air, and Anguish gave a shout as he charged at them, heedless of the deadly rays.
I shoved Gladdic behind me to put the corner between the Partisans and ourselves. I gave Anguish a few moments to battle and then shot forward to deliver weapon’s fire that strayed over the heads of the Partisans. A glimpse of Anguish told me he was handling the battle well enough, exchanging a vigorous series of blows. I retreated and turned back to Gladdic, huddling against the wall, out of sight of them. Harshly I told him, “We can’t work with these people. They’re bent on revenge against Tyrus, against me—though stars know we’ve tried! She’s irrational. She blames me for Lumina—”
“That’s absurd,” gasped Gladdic, shrinking into himself as the weapon fire briefly intensified.
Anguish’s sudden, guttural bellow was my cue to step away from Gladdic and bolt back around the corner—to find myself face-to-face with Neveni, my weapon aimed between her eyes, her laser pistol aimed at Anguish’s head, the floor around her littered with Partisans.
“Put down your weapon,” she said icily. “I swear to you, I will blast his head open.”
Anguish’s weapon lay across the corridor. His muscles were bunched with tension.
I became aware of Gladdic creeping out behind me, and silently cursed his inability to stay put. “Neveni, please. You’ve misunderstood. We—”
“Oh, I understood from the first,” Neveni cut in, her vindictive gaze glittering. “The Partisans have bled for this Empire. For centuries, we have fought and died for the liberation of the people. And you, who never lifted a finger to help them—who saved the tyrant who slaughters them en masse—for you, the Excess scream.” Mockingly, she chanted, “ ‘Nemesis lives, Nemesis lives!’ Well, I’ll show them the truth of it—Nemesis lives, but not for long. I’m going to flood every transmission with your execution. Every eye in the Empire is going to watch you die.”
“Gladdic,” I breathed, my weapon still trained on Neveni, hers on me. “Whatever happens, get out of here. The truth of Tarantis must be known.”
“Whatever happens?” he blurted. “Nemesis, wait.” Louder, “Neveni, please—”
Baring her teeth in a wordless, animal snarl, Neveni swung her weapon down and blasted at Anguish…
Point-blank.
I screamed and fired, again and again. But a tremendous battering now assaulted my back: Partisans charging me from behind, pummeling me to my knees and then flat onto the floor.
“Go!” I managed to gasp at Gladdic as I fought off my attackers and made it back to my hands and knees. “RUN!”
Then, gaining my footing, I charged toward Neveni. Her Partisans scrambled to defend her, giving Gladdic the chance he needed to make a break for the escape pods.
Hands choked my throat, seized my elbows and waist, but I was stronger. I tackled Neveni to the ground as her Partisans descended on me.…
And the Arbiter jostled as the escape pod sealed and ejected itself.
Neveni and I froze. The hands that had been clawing at me now slipped away.
I shoved myself off her. She slowly sat up.
“Think he bought it?” I said.
Neveni shrugged and raised her transmitter glove to her lips, speaking to her crewmen: “Fire some shots toward him. Don’t hit him. Just close enough that it seems like we tried before he made it into hyperspace.”
I leaped to my feet and reached out to help her up. Meanwhile, Gladdic’s escape pod hurtled into the dark tapestry of stars, chased by blinding flashes of weapon fire.
Anguish gave a low groan as he shoved himself up to a squat. “Low power?” Scowling, he rubbed his forehead, then reached for Neveni’s weapon. “Show me those settings.”
Snickering, she held it out of his reach. “You’ll survive.” And then, smiling, she offered him a hand—and though he hardly needed it, he let her pull him to his feet.
Throughout the corridor, fallen Partisans resurrected themselves, leaping or staggering to their feet—and some, who had fared a bit more poorly than others, tumbled right back down. I helped several of them up in my walk to the window, where I watched Gladdic’s escape pod disappear at last into hyperspace, the misdirected weapon fire ceasing immediately thereafter.
I let out a slow breath. Perhaps Neveni mistook the cause of it, for as she joined me, she said, “Don’t relax just yet. This is Gladdic we’re talking about. Odds are, he gets lost or blunders into pirates.”
From across the room, Anguish called indignantly, “I programmed the course myself. Unless you doubt my navigation skills—”
“And if he tries to hide away somewhere?” Neveni cut in.
“Tyrus will find him.” I was reassuring myself as much as her, for space looked vast and limitless from this window, and Gladdic’s escape pod was very, very small. But he would not be alone for long. “As soon as he’s away from us, Tyrus will hunt him down. He’ll know by now that Gladdic was with me.”
“But if Gladdic escapes him—”
“He won’t. Tyrus will find him.” There was no question of it in my mind.
And once he found Gladdic, he would hear the story we’d staged here—that a calamity had befallen me at the hands of the Partisans. That I had sought them as allies, and they had turned on me… That they had murdered Anguish, and intended to torture and kill me next.
Gladdic was afraid of Tyrus. We could never expect him to lie convincingly. So we had made sure he would believe what he said.
And Tyrus would not like this story. For it hit on his true flaw—not his lust for power, or his taste for petty cruelties. No, I had aimed for the single weakness that had survived his transformation into perfect villainy.
He thought I was his. His to keep or dispose of. His to love or to kill. And no one else’s.
I was his weakness. I was the bait in this trap.
Tyrus would learn that the Partisans meant to kill me. He woul
d not permit that to happen. He would come for me—trusting no other with my life but himself.
And then he would die at my hands.
29
THE PARTISANS had no single leader. They were a decentralized network of cells operating across the Empire. Each was headed by a subleader, who made decisions for the group. Each knew a handful of fellow subleaders. No one knew every person in the vast network.
Neveni, in possession of the Arbiter, had become one of them—but only after she’d proven herself to the others by thwarting their attempts to kill her and take her ship for their own.
From there, she’d recruited followers to man the vessel. Some were Partisans on loan from other cells, who had the technical expertise required to run a vessel; others were Luminars who’d been off-world during the destruction of their planet, or Excess from provinces like Devil’s Shade who had never reaped the benefits of the Empire, only the burdens.
The galaxy-wide network of Partisans also depended on sympathizers, people who were embedded throughout the Empire in places of strategic value. Some served as the Partisans’ eyes and ears in Grandiloquy households or aboard Grandiloquy vessels. Others helped not by choice but by necessity, having been coerced or blackmailed into feeding intelligence to the network.
The identities of these informants were known only to subleaders, who held the key to an elaborate system of codes and identifying signals. When Neveni had at last been accepted into their ranks, she became privy to these codes, which she had kept a secret even from Anguish.
It fell to her, then, to assemble the forces necessary to withstand an onslaught by Tyrus. Neveni sent coded transmissions to a series of messengers throughout the Empire, who then contacted subleaders whom Neveni did not know herself.
All of them, however, knew Neveni, the infamous terrorist who possessed the vessel of the Interdict. In the entire vast organization of Partisan rebels, only she approached the status of a public figure.
Now her reputation would grow even more fearsome, for she had captured me. It was crucial, we agreed, that visiting Partisans believed me an unwilling participant in the plot. Otherwise, some might refuse to trust or cooperate with me, for despite my rebellions, I remained the Domitrian Emperor’s wife. Also, should Domitrian spies have infiltrated the Partisan ranks, they would at least carry back the same story that Gladdic had already told.
The Nemesis Page 18