He’d had the sound dampened in certain parts of the chamber in advance, anticipating the stir of voices. Many of the traditional objectors, though, dared do nothing but cheer. Tyrus had taken Helionic prisoners at his coronation. He intended to release them now that the danger of his grandmother was past—provided their relatives in the Senate showed themselves cooperative in this transmission. Thus, those few objections were squelched, whereas sound was amplified from those allies Tyrus could count on to cheer and applaud.
Every major figure in the galactic media of Eurydice received a personal message from Tyrus. He’d greeted each of them, and his words included the “coded language” indicating they were to support me cheerfully in public.
Before more questions could be asked, he forged onward to his lofty hopes about restoring the sciences to tackle the menace of malignant space. This time he selectively muted the Grandiloquy so the cheering of the Excess could be heard. Airing both of his most scandalous intentions at once divided the outrage, as he’d hoped.
Then, on a final note, when cheering swelled at the conclusion of his first Convocation speech, Tyrus reached out, took me by the hand, and drew me to his side to exhibit me at the very finest. Far from my natural, colorless albinism, I appeared hued with brilliant black hair and bronzed skin, stenciled with effervescent glow over the cheekbones, in a gleaming dress of cascading gold sheets.
A beautiful woman, not a Diabolic. That’s how I appeared.
Yet illusion could only get us so far. I knew that in my heart.
Now, here we were at this first real test of whether my public image was being received as Tyrus hoped. With Excess in the audience, they’d hopefully be too amazed to find themselves at this great event to bother dwelling on who—or rather, what—I was.
Tyrus and I stepped into the Great Heliosphere. I was painfully conscious of every single flicker of my lashes, every twitch of my muscles. Now that everyone knew how human I was not, it had become more essential to seem human than ever before.
The crowd within the Great Heliosphere lapsed into silence as we drew into the sacred chamber of diamond and crystal, and then they were dropping to their knees, hands to their hearts in salute to the Emperor.
“Rise,” Tyrus said. He never kept them lingering on their knees as Randevald had been wont to do.
We moved through the parted sea of bodies, and Tyrus glimpsed Astra nu Amador, a nervous young vicar who worked for Senator von Amador.
Tyrus inclined his head in silent thanks to Astra. She returned it with a smile. She was ambitious enough to see that she might become Vicar Primus if she impressed us, replacing Fustian nan Domitrian. Tyrus and Fustian had been at odds since the coronation, when Fustian refused to bless me. Fustian would not have performed this ceremony with me present.
Now, as I raised my eyes to take in our surroundings, the sheer force of the light blasting in through the windows truly registered, though it cast only a faint warmth over my skin. The heliosphere was designed to refract starlight in myriad ways for services. No mirrors were needed to amplify the starlight this close to the red hypergiant star, Hephaestus, for the Ritual of Pardon.
So large, so bright was Hephaestus that the distant, smaller stars of the Cosmos were drowned out against the black. The crowd would have appeared but silhouettes against the great blaze of its light, but for the glowing pigment under their skin that set their features in stark relief. I didn’t recognize any of the faces.
We stood alone in the innermost circle as the Vicar Astra set about placing sacred chalices throughout the chamber.
The Excess prisoners shuffled inside in a silent line. They’d all converted to the Helionic faith in prison, and they were the fortunate dozen due to be pardoned this year as reward for their penitence.
Tyrus’s role in this ceremony was brief. He stepped forward, and the men and women knelt before him, displaying their pitifully bared heads, where they’d shaved away their hair to exhibit their faith. He spoke the short litany of pardon, and then the vicar took it from there.
Astra moved between the converts to aid them in shedding their clothing. Then she led each of the converts by the hands to the window to position them in the glare of the sacred hypergiant. The naked men and women pressed up against the window, spreading their arms, their fingers, soaking light into every square centimeter of their skin.
Tyrus took my arm, nudged me gently, and we stepped back, and back, as the vicar slowly adjusted the optics so more light from the hypergiant could seep into the chamber.
Then the hypergiant’s light grew so bright, it seemed to lance into my pupils. The white skein of starlight scorched my eyes, and my hand flew up instinctively to protect my face. Through the veil over my vision, I heard the rustle of other people raising their hands to do the same. Then heat followed, a great, terrible wave of it that pummeled the air about us, stinging my skin, and I knew it was too much heat.
Something was wrong.
The pardoned men and women scrambled back from the windows, dark silhouettes contorting as their terrible screams knifed the air. The vicar’s garb flared ablaze and the oil chalices spouted columns of heat.
I comprehended several things all at once: flames, hundreds of bodies all about me, and one exit.
This was a death trap.
2
I REACTED before anyone. Tyrus was in my grasp before I gave it conscious thought, and then I hurled him directly over the heads of those between me and the exit. It was strength I hadn’t had since being whittled down to a normal woman’s size.
I leaped over the heads of the people now stirring, beginning to turn, to react, to shout. They moved as though in a swamp, but I shot past them. Tyrus caught his balance and then I was there, and he couldn’t have stopped me from forcing him forward if he’d tried.
We broke out of the now sweltering and oppressive air of the sacred chamber as flames swelled out behind us. The mass of bodies I’d anticipated now swept toward me, saturating the air with screams and shouts and the pounding of trampling feet.
The human tide spat out the first handfuls of lucky ones. The others filled the doorway and then filled it more, arms and legs and frightened, screaming faces stuffing any gap. Then the logjam, and hysteria edged the cries of terror as they found themselves trapped.
Tyrus pointed at a nearby Excess. “Call for help! NOW! Tell every nearby vessel to send med bots!” Then he surged forward toward the jammed doorway.
Trapped people reached for him.
He vaulted forward to pull them free and I thrust aside the pitiless thought that there would be more to take their place. I joined him in his efforts to wrench the people free. In their panic, their grasping hands latched onto my arms, yet it was difficult to rip them free of one another. Each one I dragged clear never loosened the clog to enable escape. Instead others wedged into the place of those freed and trapped everyone. Then we began to make progress and gaps expelled the dark smoke from within the heliosphere, but there was a cost. The grasping hands were no longer clawing at me, at anything. . . . Screams dimmed and then were silent and the great wedge of people were now blue of lips, glazed of eyes.
Long after some of those we pulled out were scanned by med bots that floated away—determining them beyond revival—Tyrus worked to drag others out. I just stepped back to survey the survivors. A med bot soared over to me and neutralized the radiation exposure.