20. JUDGMENT #3
“There’s only one crash couch.” The scientist’s voice rose in pitch. Her gaze whipped toward the padded seat. “There’s no room for us all, and I can’t survive on your planet—”
“How does it work?” Ysira pointed at Neri. “Would it keep him safe if the landing goes badly?”
“You could survive a dead fall from orbit in that couch,” said the scientist. “But—”
“Show him how to get in it,” said Ysira. “Then open the doors.” “What about you?” the scientist begged. “What about me?”
“You have two choices,” said Ysira. “One: you do what I tell you and take your chances. Two: you refuse, and I crush your skull right now.”
Tears streamed down the scientist’s cheeks, but she did as she was commanded.
Ysira watched and waited, terrified and doing her utmost to pretend she wasn’t, as the alarms outside blared and time trickled away.
At last, the far doors opened, revealing the blue-green sphere of Celes Lor amid a field of stars.
The moment Tharanoth arrived, Ysira knew it from the way Neri, now strapped into the couch, gasped. The way the navigator twitched and pulsed as though thrashing in fear. A deep, acidic ache built in Ysira’s chest.
The scientist fell prostrate on the floor before the front window. Her shoulders shook with quiet sobs, and a terrified refrain that sounded like “Forgive me, forgive me, forgive me.”
Ysira braced a hand against the crescent table to conceal her shaking. Beyond, the god stood with a dozen soldiers at his back. He towered over them, still as a pale statue. His eyes met Ysira’s, and she forced herself to hold his gaze, defiant.
Tharanoth lifted a device to his lips. His words echoed through the inside of the craft, clear as if he stood beside her.
“I can control the navigator from here. You’ll never reach the planet’s surface alive.
” As if to emphasize his point, the brain quivered and spasmed.
“I’m giving you one last chance. Come out, and we’ll talk. ”
Ysira felt Neri’s eyes on her. She gathered herself and said, “We’re not going anywhere.”
Tharanoth’s face tightened, almost imperceptibly. From that, Ysira gathered he could hear her. Good.
“My subjects,” he said, “have led you to believe you have the upper hand. You do not. I am eternal. You cannot comprehend what I can do.”
“You’re a monster,” said Ysira. “I won’t help you devour my world.” “A monster?” Tharanoth laughed—a hollow, inhuman sound. “You’ve no idea how right you are. This veneer of civilization has been for your benefit. Make no mistake: we are monsters. And I am your god.”
But he wasn’t. Ysira had cared little for his Church even before her Harvest. He might be powerful, a nigh-invulnerable body hosting a dangerous demon .
. . but that was also true of Ysira. There was nothing—nothing—that separated him from her in any meaningful way.
Nothing but the world from whence they came.
“You took my life,” Ysira said. “You tortured me. You tried to kill me and made me claw my way out of a grave.” Her voice nearly broke before she could finish. “I am going to destroy you.”
Covered in the blood of Tharanoth’s servants, staring him down amidst the evidence of what he’d done to her, she knew—surely as she’d ever known anything—that she would not rest until he was dust. He stared back, flat and inscrutable as the unknown dark.
His mind pushed against Ysira’s. Her passenger warned her, the feeling familiar now, and she shuttered him out.
Her defenses wouldn’t last, but she could keep him at bay long enough.
He couldn’t control both her and the navigator.
When something finally flickered in those emerald eyes, she recognized it: hate.
“Maggot,” he hissed. “I will burn everything you ever loved to the ground. I will inflict torment on your species such as you cannot fathom.” He licked his lips.
His eyelids clicked together. “I will hunt you down and dissect you piece by piece, after I cook and eat your child in front of you. Ysira.”
“Not Ysira. Not to you.” She matched his awful gaze, heart pounding. “Var Naktis.”
For the first time, she claimed the title of the valak. Telepath or not, mistake or not, she bore a demon. Not just a passenger but a demon, and now she knew its name: Iyelekirin. She wielded tremendous power, and the evidence was all around them.
“You parasites may think you know what pain is. You think you know fear. You think you know despair.” Ysira lowered her voice. “You know nothing. But you’ll learn.”
Seconds dragged by in leaden silence. Tharanoth stared at Ysira, and she stared back.
“You have made,” he said at last, very soft, “a grievous error.” She shook her head. “The error was yours.”
She slammed her hand down against the ejection panel. The craft shot forward. Before Tharanoth could force the navigator to do anything, she turned to the exposed brain, cupped it between her hands, and squeezed.
“No!” the scientist screamed.
The craft disengaged from its dock, and they hurtled down, rudderless, to the vast expanse of red below.