Enva’s instincts told her something was afoot. Working in the administrator’s office, she interacted with dozens of bureaucrats, some wearing business attire, others in paramilitary uniforms that weren’t quite the same as those of the General’s Deep Zone Defense Forces.
The Candela refugees were crowded into communal prefab dwellings, but they caused little trouble despite cramped living conditions. She thought those people were still in shock from their ordeal. They had few amenities, but other habitation complexes were under construction, so they knew their circumstances would improve. Original Tehila colonists, though, seemed unhappy about having to provide for all these unexpected new settlers.
In studying the space traffic patterns as she was instructed, Enva had noted an interesting new arrival. A trade ship flying in from the Hellhole hub carrying supplies and colonization equipment earmarked for the Candela refugees—and the pilot and copilot were listed as Ian Walfor and Tanja Hu. They asked for no special treatment, but Enva recognized their names. She assumed Reming would want to know that two former planetary administrators had come to Tehila, where they could be of great help organizing and caring for the refugees. But for some reason the pair had chosen to arrive without fanfare. Very odd. Maybe Hu and Walfor wanted to keep a low profile. Perhaps it had something to do with Administrator Reming’s plans, whatever they were.
As a woman who had created many schemes herself, Enva could see telltale signs of what Reming was doing, though she didn’t understand his goal. She decided that some information was best kept to herself. She had no particular loyalty to the Tehila administrator. In fact, in her overall scheme, she intended to supplant him as soon as possible. And Hu and Walfor might provide a good opening for her to present herself to General Adolphus on Hellhole. That could be her first step in emerging from exile.
She finished her watercolor painting and signed it “Enva,” then paused to weigh the risks, wondering if she dared put her actual surname there. But it wasn’t time for that yet. Instead, she left her last name off. For now.
All afternoon as she painted the walumps, she had watched shuttles rising up to orbit. At first, she hadn’t paid much attention to how many were loaded with uniformed men. She was familiar with the spaceport schedule, and now realized that at least three times as many outbound ships had departed as usual—and no returning craft had landed. She saw no downboxes arriving from inbound commercial ships. What was going on up there in orbit?
She packed up her watercolors, sealed them in her case, folded the easel, and covered her painting of the walumps and their strange huts. It was good work, but not her best.
Abruptly, she realized something was happening, though the creatures didn’t react. Enva looked around, her brow furrowed. She saw vehicles racing across the paved landing fields. They were loaded with armed men and women, and they swarmed toward the barracks where the General’s DZ Defense Force soldiers were typically quartered. Several privately owned ships were on the ground. More trucks rolled around the perimeter, securing the spaceport.
Enva stood with her painting gear, watching. Just a bystander. The uniformed men and women looked at her as they drove by, as if assessing whether she was a threat.
Then she received an urgent summons from the administrator’s office on her private comm. All employees, without exception, were to come to the mansion immediately. “No one is excused.”
Enva stashed her art supplies before making her way over there. As she raced up the mansion steps, she saw wide eyes and frightened expressions among her coworkers. They were confused and frantic. Men and women in security uniforms locked offices and stood guard. Others took custody of a yelling and indignant man.
“What’s going on?” Enva asked.
A female office worker rushed by, too harried to pause to give an answer. But Enva reminded herself of who she really was and used a crisp commanding tone to demand a reply. The woman stopped and turned. “There’s been a purge! Administrator Reming has taken over, severing ties with the General’s loyalists!”
In disbelief, Enva pressed for more information, but the woman said impatiently, “All employees are required to check in at the administrator’s office and have their IDs verified. You’ll get your answers there.” She ran off.
Enva hurried to Reming’s primary office. She tried to imagine what kind of coup had occurred, what the man could be thinking. She heard snippets of conversation, but none of it made sense. A guard scanned her ID, checked her name off a list, and frowned at her. “Administrator Reming has been waiting for you. There’s much work to do—he needs competent people to help.” He ushered her inside the main office.
Reming looked up when Enva entered. His face was florid, the bags under his eyes seemed lifted now. He was excited. “Ms. Lien! There’s so much chaos right now. I need your help organizing things.” He grinned. “I have good news for all of Tehila.”
Maybe not everyone would consider it good news, she thought. “I heard something about a purge, but I don’t understand.”
“After today, we return to the good graces of the Constellation. We’re no longer at war or under threat. I’ve torn Tehila free from the General’s rebellion. We never wanted any part of it, and now we’re safe from retaliation. We don’t have to live in fear anymore.”
In the office, Enva recognized the people with whom Reming had engaged in his surreptitious scheming. One reported, “All DZDF soldiers have been confined to barracks. We’ve rounded up the known Adolphus supporters and locked them up.”
Another said, “The Sonjeera stringline terminus is ours and secure, Administrator.”
A transmitted report blared over the speaker in the office. “Hellhole stringline is also secure. One casualty, an Adolphus supporter who tried to blow the terminus and kill us all. We stopped her.”
Enva’s mind raced as she tried to grasp what had happened. “You took over both stringlines—the one connecting us with Sonjeera, and the one to Hellhole. For what purpose?”
“I had to assure complete control,” Reming said, “before any fool engaged a demolition charge and cut the lines, stranding us.”
Now it made sense. Reming had stacked the crews with his own loyal personnel. Now he could open the floodgates, controling the line back to Sonjeera, which the General’s rebels had held hostage. She also knew that the vast majority of Tehila’s population, and especially the refugees from Candela, would not approve of the change; even with the hardships and the turmoil, very few wanted to go back to the Constellation. Reming was going to have very little time to consolidate his takeover.
A grinning officer in the new militia uniform presented himself at the administrator’s door. “The spaceport is secure, sir. All ships are impounded. No space traffic in or out. The next scheduled shipment from Hellhole is tomorrow, but we can seize that ship when it arrives. That will delay any word getting back to General Adolphus. We’ll have time to consolidate our hold.”
Reming smiled at Enva. “As you can see, there’s much work to do. We have to dispatch a stringline drone immediately to inform the Diadem that Tehila belongs to the Constellation once again. Commodore Percival Hallholme can bring in his fleet now, and once he gets here we won’t have to worry about the restless populace. Tehila will be his new base for the reconquest of the Deep Zone.”
* * *
Upon learning that Ian Walfor’s ship had been suddenly impounded and the entire spaceport nationalized, she couldn’t believe that she and Ian had blundered into such a mess. They had filed the proper documentation, claiming to be unremarkable Candela refugees with a load of supplies for the Tehila settlement. Having heard complaints, she wanted to see how Administrator Reming was treating her people.
And now, this astonishing purge. A minority had used surprise and ruthlessness to seize power, and hamstring the Adolphus supporters—but it could not possibly last for long. Tanja didn’t understand what Administrator Reming could be thinking.
When she and Walfor rushed ba
ck toward their ship, hoping to get away before the situation grew worse, they found the armed militia guarding access and taking full control of the spaceport. The two of them spotted Walfor’s ship among the other landed vessels, ships that had arrived from the Hellhole hub bringing cargo, passengers, and refugees.
A guard prevented Walfor from entering the holding area. “All space travel has been shut down, sir. All access to ships is cut off. No one is allowed off planet. The stringline terminus rings are under planetary control.”
Incensed, Walfor said, “You have no right to impound my ship. There’s been enough turmoil in the Deep Zone. General Adolphus is trying to keep us safe from Constellation attacks.”
The guard stiffened. “General Adolphus and his illegal rebellion are no longer relevant. When Commodore Hallholme brings the Constellation military here, it will put an end to all unrest.”
“But you’re the one causing the unrest,” Walfor pointed out.
Tanja felt bitter anger boiling up in her, and she feared that her companion was about to shout, reveal his identity, and demand to be taken to Administrator Reming. She squeezed his arm. “We’d better go, Ian. We don’t want to be part of this. Let’s wait for calm.” She practically had to drag him away, and he kept staring back at his impounded spacecraft on the landing field.
Loud announcements were broadcast from Reming, who fancied himself a powerful planetary leader, though as far as Tanja could recall, he had never done much in the planning meetings after the Deep Zone declared independence. Reming had taken no part in the initial plans to break free of the oppression either, because the General did not consider him trustworthy, unlike George Komun, Sia Frankov, Dom Cellan Tier, and the rest of the original conspirators.
Over the public transmission, Reming announced, “Today, Tehila is liberated. We are no longer forced to be part of a rebellion against the Constellation. After intense negotiations, I reached an agreement with the Diadem, one which forgives Tehila for any indiscretions and makes us exempt from any punitive actions she orders against the rebellious DZ worlds. Within a few days, Commodore Percival Hallholme will arrive with the Army of the Constellation, and he intends to use Tehila as his base of operations. Our nightmare is nearly over, my friends. The Constellation is coming to rescue us!”
Tanja doubted many people would rejoice to hear the news, certainly none of the Candela refugees. Most of the Tehila colonists had previously resented being beholden to the Diadem and her tribute, and they had fought hard for their independence—now they were betrayed. Once Commodore Hallholme’s fleet arrived, however, they wouldn’t have any chance. The Constellation would take and hold this planet.
Walfor looked dismayed. “We’re stuck here, Tanja. We can’t leave.”
“True enough, but maybe it’s an opportunity.” She raised her eyebrows. “No one knows we’re here. You and I are in a perfect position to do something … unorthodox.”
15
Fifteen DZ Defense Force peacekeeper ships returned unexpectedly to the Hellhole stringline hub, captained by Lewis Naridar, a competent veteran who had joined the General and his defeated troops in exile on Hellhole.
As part of his duties, Naridar had been assigned to patrol and protect Hossetea, one of the many frontier worlds the General had never visited. Ever since breaking away from the Constellation, Adolphus had made a point of sending military patrols so that all of the Deep Zone knew they were part of a larger community.
He had been concerned when the Urvanciks reported unrest on Hossetea, but now that he saw the peacekeeper force returning, he feared the situation had grown remarkably worse. It made no sense that a good man like Captain Naridar would abandon his post and race away, but before he could respond Adolphus needed to know what was going on. He immediately placed all of the Hellhole guardian ships on alert.
As the Hossetea peacekeeper ships arrived at the stringline hub, the General opened the comm from his Elba command center. On-screen, the veteran captain saluted and spoke respectfully. “Hossetea is cut off from the Constellation, General. Drastic measures, but necessary.”
Adolphus felt cold. “We don’t have the iperion supplies to reestablish that route. Cutting the stringline should be our absolute last recourse.”
Naridar didn’t flinch. “I realize that, sir, but isolation was the only way I could contain the situation. There’s been a … a mutiny, a rebellion. I don’t know what to call it. The Hossetea planetary administrator tried to break away from us and contact Constellation forces to request, uh, rescue. He would have opened the floodgates for an enemy force.”
Confusion and anger roared within Adolphus. “Some people insist on strangling their own freedom! Take a shuttle down here, Captain, so you can give me your full report.”
* * *
Many considered General Tiber Adolphus a strategic and tactical genius. Through his careful planning, several large-scale operations—such as the original rebellion and his surprise creation of a new DZ stringline network—had come off with a high level of precision. His plan to unify the Deep Zone and break away from the Constellation had been designed to achieve victory with minimal bloodshed, but he’d never expected independence to be simple.
Diadem Michella was a vengeful, bitter old woman who lashed out at any perceived slight. She had sent an enormous punitive fleet to reassert her rule of the Deep Zone, but Adolphus had anticipated that tactic, trapped Escobar Hallholme’s entire fleet, seized the ships and thousands of Constellation soldiers. Next, he had defeated his old nemesis Commodore Hallholme’s fleet with the help of Xayan telemancy.
That should have been an inconstestible enough victory, but Adolphus did not consider the DZ safe. Not yet. The initial declaration of independence was one thing, but now he had to hold his fragile coalition of frontier planets together, even when some of the worlds were actively trying to tear it apart.…
Lewis Naridar arrived, looking impressive in his old rebellion uniform. Some of the veterans kept their clothing to commemorate the days when they had almost defeated the Constellation. They found no shame in being exiled out here to the Deep Zone, and now saw it as a matter of pride. Naridar was in his early fifties, with short gray-brown hair and a calm demeanor. He had always been decisive, an excellent officer in the heat of battle. Now he removed his cap and presented himself to the General. “First things first, sir. Hossetea poses no further threat to the independence of the Deep Zone. That much is taken care of, at least.”
“I’m pleased to hear that, Captain, but I wasn’t aware that Hossetea’s grumbling had reached the point of becoming a viable threat. What happened?”
“They’re restless, sir. A group of influential Hossetea colonists had strong ties and family members back on Sonjeera, primarily the family of Territorial Governor Ophir. Now the relatives are cut off—and not happy about it.”
Adolphus remembered Ophir, a pampered man who liked his fancy clothing more than his governing duties … not the sort of person who belonged in the Deep Zone at all. He had received his position through family connections and, likely, bribes. Though responsible for administering twelve Deep Zone worlds, Ophir had missed the entire rebellion because he happened to be on Sonjeera when Adolphus announced DZ independence.
“With trade cut off from the Crown Jewels, many of Governor Ophir’s family members resented the loss of luxuries and culture. Hossetea’s planetary administrator, Sylvan Greer, is his nephew,” Naridar explained. “Greer insists that his people never wanted any part of your war of independence and tried to run back and hide under the skirts of the Constellation. Fortunately, I learned what they were up to before they could cause further damage. I put a stop to it.”
Frowning, Adolphus leaned across his desk. He had imagined that kind of trouble and had briefed his patrols. Naridar would have known what to do. He had stationed fifteen DZDF peacekeeper ships at Hossetea against a possible surprise Constellation attack, but also as a show of force. “Continue.”
“Administ
rator Greer meant to seize my vessels, hold the stringline, and escape to Sonjeera, where he expected to be welcomed with open arms.” Now Naridar cracked a smile. “I didn’t let him do that, and I made a command decision—extreme, perhaps, but now he can’t possibly run back to the Diadem. Nobody from Hossetea can go there. I thought of what you would have done, General.”
Adolphus had a dark feeling. “So you blew their stringline to Sonjeera.”
“I cut off Hossetea from the Crown Jewels entirely, then took my peacekeeper ships and departed, leaving them high and dry. I realize my action cannot be undone, but the Hossetea problem is neutralized and contained for now, until we can get our own people there and secure the government. At least there will be no attack from the Constellation.”
Adolphus nodded slowly. Yes, he would have made the same decision. “You did what you had to do, Captain, and you also demonstrated to the Diadem—and everyone else—that we are willing to cut off the DZ if necessary.” He felt his cheeks burn in anger. “I need people like Greer removed from positions of responsibility all across the Deep Zone. We have to hold the DZ together until we can grow stronger, more self-sufficient and independent.” Time—he just needed time.
While Naridar remained at attention in front of the desk, the General got up and paced his office, listening. Adolphus’s mind spun with all the crises that had to be dealt with. “I can defend against the Army of the Constellation—I know how to do that. But if the Ro-Xayans come to bombard this planet, as Encix insists, I’ll have a whole new problem to solve. How can I fight incoming asteroids, like the ones that destroyed Candela?” He shook his head. “I wish I had more men like you, Captain Naridar. It would make my job easier.”
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