“Brilliant minds truly are everywhere,” he murmured. “And they’ll innovate. Better ships will come in time.”
“They might never have discovered their potential, had they not been given cause.” I wanted to touch him again. To crush him to me, lips and chests and hips, to press against him so hard that the imprint of his body would linger on mine forever.
But he’d withdrawn. Not far. An almost imperceptible distance. But enough to warn me not to touch him.
It was enough, paired with the hungry way he studied my lips, to tell me that his calm was hard-won, and he feared that my touch would undo him.
I hugged myself, trapping my wayward hands, as I continued. “I’ve been apprised of all the strategy discussions. There are numerous alliances working against you, but they all share a consensus opinion: split up the Empire. Just as you wished. Along hundreds of different fault lines—with one cooperative body of elected representatives to negotiate trade, settle disputes, render assistance. But the legislative bodies will all be local. No laws imposed from afar, not anymore. There will never be another Emperor. The leaders will all be based in the localities they rule—accountable to their voters directly.”
“And you?” he asked softly.
“I’ve been asked to preside as an Empress.” I rolled my eyes. “They assured me it would be as a figurehead, no more. I think they’ve come to realize the folly of that. I’ve made it clear to them.”
He blew out a breath. His hand rose, trembling slightly, as though to touch my face. But at the last moment, his fingers curled into a fist, which he lowered to his side. “You would make a fine Empress,” he said steadily.
“No one should ever be an Empress.”
He smiled ruefully. “Indeed. I do hope I made that clear to the universe—a single person can never be trusted with such power.”
“More than that,” I said roughly. “A single person should never be burdened with it.” I reached out and grabbed the hand he’d withdrawn and carried it to my lips, kissing it hard. I turned it over to study his palm and kissed that, too. “Tyrus, here is your choice. It’s yours to make—and Neveni has agreed to help. We will maintain the story we’ve created for this galaxy. They will learn of how Nemesis charged in here to confront you”—I paused here to kiss his fingers, one by one, flushing as I heard his sigh—“and how we both then died in the final battle—”
He ripped his hand free. “No,” he said harshly. “Nemesis, I—”
“The Valor Novus will be in flames,” I continued stubbornly. “Our bodies will be incinerated—”
“Damn it, I have told you, you will not suffer alongside—”
I kissed his mouth to stop him. Threading my hand through his hair, I kissed him so deeply that the world spun. When at last he ceased to resist me, I felt his tall, muscled body relax. His hands came around my waist to hold me to him, and he began to kiss me back. I pulled away to speak against his ear. “And then, you and I, my love… we’ll escape. We’ll disappear.”
He looked at me sidelong, with shadowed eyes. His eyes looked ancient, exhausted. “I wish it were so easy,” he said quietly.
My heart sank. But I had expected this.
“The alternative?” he said.
“Wait here. As my prisoner. You’ll be tried. Condemned. Executed.”
Now it was his turn to kiss my fingers, and then my throat, my chin, my mouth. Burying his face in the crook of my shoulder, he took a deep breath—and then released me. There was something formal, final, in the short step he retreated from me.
“If we disappear,” he said, and there was a stiffness to his speech, a stiltedness, that told me how often he’d rehearsed this to himself, “even if we fake our deaths, there will be conspiracy theories for centuries to come. And there will be pretenders, imposters who will take our names to rally others to their cause. And the strife they’ll cause might inspire others to look back at us, at our time, through a romantic haze. And then, everything you and I have done will be for naught. No,” he said adamantly. “Better for there to be an answer to all questions. There must be an execution—a public one.”
I stepped toward him. He had nowhere to retreat, for his throne blocked the way. As he realized this, his jaw squared and his eyes narrowed: I saw his intention to harden himself against me.
I cupped his jaw very lightly, for I was done with force. “Will you at least forgive that frightened little boy for his mistake on Anagnoresis? Tyrus, I have to tell you—I’ve met many children. And none of them have much impressed me with their wisdom.”
He laughed. “I think this will do it.” His face softened. “And I want to know you are happy, Nemesis. This entire galaxy is yours now. You will be celebrated for the rest of your life. That’s what you’ve earned.”
“Earned,” I repeated quietly. “And what of you? What have you earned? Not death, Tyrus.”
He took a long breath. “I will die for a reason—a good reason. It’s not a cruel fate, my love. It’s a far better death than any Domitrian before me. And you know the truth. The universe can scorn me into perpetuity, so long as you think well of me.”
I felt torn between love and helpless anger. “I want to overrule you,” I confessed, very low.
“But you won’t,” he said. “You won’t do that.”
I would not. I had stripped this choice from him once before. I’d had no right to do it. I had no right now.
“Don’t cry,” he whispered. For my eyes were stinging.
“I won’t,” I lied. “Never again, after this.”
He smiled crookedly, then brushed his thumb across my lower lip. “Stars, I have been so blessed in this life, to have found you.”
My throat closed. I could not speak.
So I kissed him instead, for as long as I dared. Time was running out. Six thousand ships approached. How long? An hour, maybe two.
He, too, seemed to sense the end drawing near. He broke away at last, catching my hand in his. “Let’s walk,” he said roughly.
Our fingers entwined, we passed through the abandoned halls of our short-lived kingdom, taking in the beauty of this fallen Empire one last time.
As we entered the imperial bedchamber, an idea struck me. I pulled him over to the console, where I quickly keyed in the program to seal a marital union. Our electrodes had burned out during the shock on the Arbiter, but we could remarry ourselves. No vicars, no officiants, just the two of us and a synthesizer. We placed our palms onto the device, then pressed them together to activate the new pair of shared electrodes. They blazed to life between us, setting aglow the sparks that had bound us since our first wedding day.
Then, with the little time remaining, Tyrus took me into his arms, and we made love beneath the vast window, under an infinity of stars.
We still lay there, tangled in the sheets and each other, when the window began to fill with the incoming vessels of the fleet.
He watched his own hand trace over my skin, frowning a little in concentration, as though memorizing me.
I swallowed back a convulsion of sorrow. I would not waste our time here with tears.
“Are you afraid?” I asked.
He considered the question a long moment. “Time slows as you approach the black hole. More and more, the closer you draw. I don’t perish after my trial. It can be said I will outlive you all. I will still be falling into that abyss at the very end of this universe.”
Despite his brave words, I felt his body give the tiniest shiver at the thought. It chilled me as well, that prospect of an eternal separation from the Living Cosmos, the cruelest punishment for a Helionic.
A hideous pain swelled in my chest. “I can’t believe this is the only way.”
“Life doesn’t always give us the choices we want.” He pulled me back into his arms, so I pressed myself against his chest.
The frantic thump of his heartbeat betrayed his calm words. He was terrified. He lied to comfort me.
Tears did prick my eyes, then, but I
fought them back before they could fall. Everything in me—every inbuilt instinct, and every skill of love and loyalty I had developed in my lifetime—wanted to fight for him. As his breath caressed my hair, I tensed against the overpowering urge to rip him to his feet and carry him out of this place to safety.
Perhaps he sensed my inward battle, for his hand found the base of my neck, massaging the tight muscles, urging them to relax again. “As a child, I dreamed of being a great leader,” he murmured, “hailed for guiding this galaxy toward some better future. Those were a child’s imaginings, but now… Now, what matter if my name won’t be honored? I’ve achieved what I wished and united the people to fight for something better. So many wondrous possibilities lie ahead.”
But not for him. For him, the possibilities were ending.
What good was justice if it did not extend to everyone? Had that quandary not been the inspiration for his great efforts? He had not accepted an order in which justice was reserved only for some.
He deserved justice.
I sat up, determination burning in me. “Tyrus, I do not believe in futility. You don’t need to die to make this work. I am going to find a way.”
He studied my face intently. “I wish… I could make this easier for you. If I had the power to change one thing, it would be that.”
Yes. It was an injustice to me as well.
“Do you trust me?” I asked.
“Without doubt.” He gave a half smile. “And with my life. Several times now.”
“Do you trust me to respect you?” I pressed. “To respect your wishes?”
“Yes,” he said somberly after a moment.
“Then think on that. And have courage.” I kissed him with all the fire in my heart. “Trust me, my love.”
“Always,” he said.
Neveni’s voice came over the intercom: “Nemesis, it’s time.”
When we emerged into the presence chamber of the Valor Novus, it was as a prisoner and his jailer. I thrust Tyrus to the floor. The Excess who’d invaded the Chrysanthemum were not only Partisans, but many ordinary civilians who’d joined our rebellion against the Empire, and now the Galactic Emperor was at their feet.
Tyrus played the part of deposed tyrant well.
He got to his feet and cast a cool, arrogant look over the assembled Excess. “Do you Excess truly imagine you can manage without me? The Grandiloquy will reclaim this galaxy and cast you all into a black hole!”
Heated, furious murmurs filled the room. Neveni met my eyes, her raised brows asking a question. Was I up to the task of satisfying our audience?
I answered her by stalking forward and kicking Tyrus’s legs out from under him. He slammed back onto the floor.
“The rest of us have groveled to you long enough, Your Supremacy,” I said. “Now it’s our turn to receive your respect. And your turn to give a pound of flesh.”
47
ONE MONTH later, the final Domitrian stood in the center of the Great Heliosphere where, years before, he’d been crowned Emperor.
Today new representatives of republics from all over the former Empire had gathered to watch him be condemned.
As always, Tyrus put on a good show.
“You think to be rid of me?” he jeered after the list of charges was read. “Your republics won’t last a single year! Without an iron hand to keep you on course, you’ll be brawling among yourselves like dogs. You will beg for another Emperor—another Domitrian to rule over you. Mark my words!”
His words were met with defiant roars, hisses, and shouts of “NEVER!” from all assembled. Only I was attuned enough to Tyrus’s face to spy the flicker of satisfaction in his eyes. The result of our hard work stood before us, shoulder to shoulder, arm in arm, united in their contempt for a tyrant.
He denied none of the charges. He took credit for the malignant space, and even for misdeeds that were not his doing, such as the atrocities on Lumina.
And in pleading guilty, Tyrus also dragged his last loyal followers down with him.
“Why, yes, my most loyal Grandiloquy partnered with me in deploying Resolvent Mist on Lumina. They rejoiced to see justice done. That’s what we were celebrating on Lumina, in fact—the greatness of our deed! ‘Carnage,’ you call it? Those miscreants died too quickly! They dared to challenge their rightful rulers!”
Witness after witness came forward amid the diamond-and-crystal walls of the Great Heliosphere, each adding new condemnations to his record. Tyrus listened with a brash, unwavering smirk, his posture uncowed. When his accusers cursed him, he laughed.
He only ceased smiling when Gladdic’s turn came to speak. Tyrus had done genuine ill to Gladdic, and while he’d had reasons for it, I knew he felt remorse.
“I confess to speaking lies on behalf of the Emperor, despite knowing he was no god,” Gladdic said in a whisper.
A humming of hostility arose from the crowd, and no longer was it aimed only at Tyrus. I caught several venomous mentions of Gladdic’s name, and as my eyes met Tyrus’s, I saw that he, too, had noticed.
Suddenly he lunged forward.
“You traitor!” he roared at Gladdic. “You cur! You were the one who urged Nemesis to defy me—her own natural husband! You are the one who conspired to help her oppose me!”
Gladdic blinked a moment. “I—I’m not—”
“This all happened because of you!” Tyrus jabbed him with a condemning finger. “I will come back to power and destroy you for it!”
Security hustled forward, driving Tyrus apart from Gladdic. The crowd murmured and shuffled, sounds of hostility transmuting to puzzlement. The faces now angled toward Gladdic showed sympathy, curiosity, goodwill.
When it was my turn to speak, I looked only at Tyrus. His eyes, those pale blue eyes, so sharp with intelligence, so cold when turned on his enemies… Could others see how they softened for me? The love in them caused my breath to shorten, my voice to emerge faintly.
“The Emperor is guilty of every charge laid to him.”
Only his eyes, tender with understanding, could compel me to speak these hideous lies. There was no changing the course of events now, and so I added my words, the better to hasten these proceedings to their natural conclusion.
“The Emperor deserves more than death for his crimes against this galaxy.” I raised my voice. “Cast him into a black hole.” And with my gaze, I willed him to hear what I meant: I love you. I love you to the ends of the universe.
A thick silence fell over the Great Heliosphere. I had proposed the worst fate available to any Helionic: an eternal separation from the Living Cosmos.
Then a thunderous cheering arose, almost deafening in its intensity. The assembly heartily agreed that the last of the Domitrians deserved such a fate.
I had to bow my head and look away from Tyrus, for I had never expected to play this role.
My entire life had been devoted to saving those I loved, protecting them.
But now, the best thing to do for Tyrus was to destroy him.
* * *
Tyrus was transferred to the Star Abyss, a vast oblong prison ship able to accommodate a large viewing audience for his execution. It was powerful enough to endure the turbulence of the Transaturnine System, and it flew through the currents of starlight as we prepared to witness an Emperor’s death.
When the hour arrived, Tyrus stood amid the roaring crowd, a solitary figure before their screaming hostility and hatred. He was the tyrant who had ruled them all, and now he was being led toward death, and a crystalline tomb that would witness his final heartbeats.
I’d been accorded an honorary pedestal with a clear view. As he reached the foot of his tomb, he looked up and around, finding me at last.
The hateful noise, the thronging spectators, faded away. We looked at each other, the only two people who existed, connected by our shared gaze and our love.
He drew his bound palms up, and I knew why he splayed his fingers wide over his mouth. He was kissing the place on his palm where his elec
trode linked him to me.
Unnoticed by all, I lifted my hand and kissed mine as well.
Then he stepped into the crystalline tomb, disappearing from view. It was sealed shut, and with a great blast of supersonic fireworks and a blaring of triumphal music, the tube was shot toward the great dark void of the black hole… the same one orbited by the remains of the Sacred City.
Like that, he was gone, cast into the darkest of voids. And the void also seemed to swallow me, for my vision briefly went dark, and I staggered.
Helping hands caught me by my right arm—and two more hands seized my left. Neveni and Anguish stood on either side of me, holding me upright as I swayed.
I nodded tightly to show them I was well. As the festivities swelled about us, jubilant masses celebrating the end of the old order, I spotted Gladdic stock-still amid the crowd. He was staring fixedly at the former location of the crystalline tomb.
Then, as if he sensed my attention, he looked directly up at me.
His haunted face betrayed his thoughts. He knew what Tyrus had done for him at the trial. Had Tyrus not spoken against him, he, too, might have been in a tomb right now, his course set for the black hole.
There is no futility, whispered my brain. Had my entire existence not proved that, again and again?
* * *
The months and years that followed marked the dawn of a new age. There were political struggles as newborn powers tangled over territory. Empowered patriots, at last granted rights over their own lands, found reasons to form new rivalries and hostilities.
But all this time also brought new aspirations, new ideals, new possibilities—just as Tyrus had hoped. For the first time in centuries, the citizens of the galaxy had the power to choose and expel their rulers, and to dictate the laws and policies that shaped their own lives. Scientific knowledge grew apace, and the cure for malignant space spread far and wide. The development of new technologies eradicated famines, and cheapened the price of med bots. Access to medicines expanded. Public transports now served the entirety of the galaxy, with a service corps that spanned the planets. No one was condemned now to perish where they were born if they dreamed of exploring the stars.
The Nemesis Page 33