34
THE EFFECT was instantaneous and bone-rattling. Overhead, the Tigris crumpled in, fire bursting and sparking from its walls as the massive asteroid starship plunged through it, the noise so deafening it felt as though my eardrums had ruptured.
And the flames sprouted with a great furnace of heat before the atmosphere blew up, roaring out of the Tigris and into space, carrying with it those screaming, flailing Grandiloquy. Senator von Wallstrom met my eyes for a brief moment of shocked horror before she was carried up into the endless void.
I held to the railing as the atmosphere buffeted me on its way into space, and I knew then that Tyrus had been right, we could not have done this tied together. My muscles, my fingers, my very shoulders were being torn, and any normal person would be dead. If we’d tied ourselves together, he’d be a weight jerking at me, and my whole body strained to fight the outward force right now. . . . I squinted against the ripping wind as the Tigris kept emptying out, and soon the force wasn’t so overpowering, but that meant the air would diminish quickly. . . . Where was the hatch? Where was it?
Then . . . a small circlet of light glowed against the stony exterior of the Hera. There!
Already I was exhaling without intending to, my breath being forced out of my lungs, which meant the clock had begun ticking before I lost consciousness, so I couldn’t wait. I squinted at the air currents, gauged their direction, aimed my legs—and released my grip. Then I careened up, sailing helplessly on the current, and slammed into the stone edifice of the starship. The escaping atmosphere, littered with fragments and flames, buffeted past me, dragged at me. My fingers dug into the rocky surface, but slipped, and then I was sliding across the starship. I groped outward frantically, clawing desperately for something, anything, any small handhold to seize. Then I snared one. The entire force of my body jerked against the tips of my fingers, but I held on.
I wasn’t alone. Through the currents of debris pounding out of the Tigris, I saw Anguish clinging to the Hera’s rocky wall, and then Hazard hit the vessel next and clung on to it as well.
Then one of the arena’s benches hurtled out, plowing into Hazard and breaking his hold.
In an instant, he was gone.
I saw him sailing off into the black.
Move. Move! My lungs were exhaling with my volition, oxygen driven from my blood to the nearest escape from my body. Darkness crept into the edges of my vision, and I clawed my way across the rock toward that elusive circlet of light. I had to reach it before I passed out, I had to!
The weakness of my limbs crept in, and still the gases from the Tigris were hitting at me. . . . And my suddenly feeble handhold loosened without my meaning it to. . . .
The air lock jostled past me. . . .
A clamp of a hand on my leg, tearing me back into the cave of light. I rebounded off the far wall, and then the door to the air lock slammed shut just before I collided with it. Chugging in the air of repressurization . . .
Then . . . then I was gasping in greedy breaths, and I craned my head to the side to see Anguish collapsed against the wall, gasping as well. . . .
Then he twisted up his face and screamed with frustration, rage. . . .
The thought of Hazard flickered through my mind.
He was dead. A full-strength Diabolic, and he’d been lost to this plan. None of the people still in the Tigris upon impact had escaped with us. . . .
Tyrus had made it out in time.
With Pasus.
Pasus. Pasus—PASUS! Who had lived! I rammed my fist into the wall at the very thought of it and the pain gave me no relief. He was alive, and he had Tyrus, and if I simply could have killed him . . .
I ripped to my feet. Tyrus should have made it clear from the start he expected to die. He should have made it totally clear and then I could have . . . could have . . .
With a growl, I forced myself to move. I slapped open the doors to charge into the main body of the Hera. My legs carried me through the starship as it rocked about me. The impact of the Hera against the Tigris had jostled this vessel, though it remained powerful and intact. When I tore into the command nexus, I saw Neveni sitting on the floor, her hand clamped over her head.
“Sorry. Hit it. Just need to . . . ,” she said blearily, blood trickling through her fingers.
“It’s fine,” I rasped.
The Hera awaited my command to set up a course out of this system. My eyes fixed on the remains of the Tigris outside the window . . . and the ship nestled beyond it.
We had to escape, but first I wanted to do something.
I used the autonavigation—and the Hera plowed right into the proud Colossus.
Neveni gave a choked laugh as Pasus’s prized starship busted apart around us, and my heart rejoiced with the malicious pleasure of knowing I’d taken something—something—from him. Since most every master of the starships about me had been on the Tigris, only a few starships managed to take potshots at us as we navigated the gravity corridor to the edge of the star system.
Then . . .
Then I needed only touch one button. Just one.
My hands went cold. I stared down at the panel.
I was leaving Tyrus. I wasn’t just leaving him behind, at the mercy of his enemies. . . . I’d also killed many of those enemies in the process.
What am I doing? WHAT AM I DOING? I thought, horror rocking me.
Then Neveni pressed up behind me, and one strike of her hand sent us hurtling into the starless void of hyperspace, the Chrysanthemum disappearing far behind us.
My legs sank out from under me, and now I sat on the floor.
It was done.
I’d left Tyrus behind with our enemies.