Hellhole Inferno

by Kevin J. Anderson

  Michella let herself show no anxiety, even though she had not yet decided what she would say. Her heart was beating hard as she realized just how close they had come to total disaster down there. If she had not acted in time …

  When the comm officer nodded to her, Michella addressed all stations on the ground and in the hub complex for broadcast across the planet. She would also make sure that copies were carried throughout her worlds.

  “As your Diadem I have ensured the safety of the Crown Jewels,” she transmitted. “It was a terribly hard decision on my part, requiring the sacrifices of many who were unfortunately in the blast zone. But a group of unknown intruders breached the quarantined hangar down at the spaceport, and they were beginning to release the contamination we so carefully tried to contain. I had to be sure.”

  As she explained her actions, blithely assuming everyone would accept her claims, the bridge crew and the Commodore himself observed her with shock and disbelief, rather than the relief and admiration she expected. Michella ended her transmission with haughty confidence. “I only hope I acted swiftly enough. I command all Sonjeeran citizens to be especially vigilant to spot any strange behavior that might be a sign of alien contamination.”

  After she finished, she was perspiring, and her stomach was knotted. What if the aliens had already begun to possess the city? How long had they been loose down there? Ignoring all the people on the bridge staring at her, she turned to Ishop. “Perhaps it’s best if I don’t go back down to Sonjeera … at least not immediately. We don’t know how insidious this could be. We’d better be sure.”

  She did not want to cause widespread panic. The vaporization of half the spaceport and a large section of the city was going to cause enough pandemonium. She chose what seemed to be the wisest course of action. “Commodore, we must not delay. If nothing else, the turmoil will be an additional diversion so that Adolphus loyalists won’t have any idea where your fleet is going.” She lifted her chin in what she considered a brave and determined gesture. “Our time has come. We must depart immediately—and I intend to accompany you to Tehila. I will be there in person to observe the operations for your historic conquest.” In truth she didn’t dare set foot back there until she was convinced the contamination had been sterilized in time.

  The Commodore froze. “You’re leaving Sonjeera in such a time of crisis?”

  “It is a matter of priority. I can’t be everywhere, and I choose to be present at the liberation of the Deep Zone. In the long run, that is far more important.”

  Hallholme muttered, “I doubt the populace will see it that way, Eminence.”

  “They will see it the way I tell them to see it.” She gestured toward the helmsman. “Go on, send a signal to the hauler pilot. Let us be on our way—we have a planet to conquer!”

  23

  Pleased with the progress of his secret fleet, Lord Selik Riomini had awakened in a fine mood in the spacious guest quarters at the Lubis Plain industrial complex. His weapons system designers had been upbeat in their reports, the assembly supervisors announced that all was on schedule, and his stealth accountants had successfully hidden the giant drain of funding.

  Yes, a perfect plan, a well-oiled machine … just as the Constellation would be when he ruled it. The Black Lord demanded excellence, and he received it.

  Considering the insulting treatment Diadem Michella regularly poured on him, Riomini was not often in a cheerful mood, so he relished it now. He emerged from the guest residence smiling and went down the front stairs, still tasting the delicious seafood frittata on his lips. The primary ingredient had been bluecraw, a long-necked marine animal found in Qiorfu’s remote lakes. When his political and military affairs settled down, Riomini intended to make a fishing trip for bluecraw. He’d done that once before—a political operation, not a vacation; Riomini and one of his ambitious generals had spent a day spearing the creatures, and in the process he had cemented an important alliance.

  On the grassy central commons, the compact Rota Vindahl greeted him with cool efficiency. The commander of his personal guard force stood next to Harlowe Konn, a beautiful and intelligent blonde, whom Vindahl had named number two. Riomini had taken Harlowe as a lover for a time, and she had been adequate, enough that he would consider it again. Each of these women was the combat equal of Gail Carrington, Riomini’s former commander, who had been lost on Escobar Hallholme’s disastrous mission.…

  After both women saluted, Vindahl reported, “The lancer pilot is ready for you, sir. The aircraft has been checked and prepped for your test flight, as you ordered.”

  Still smiling, he accompanied the two women across the industrial site to a black boomerang-shaped aircraft with high-powered armaments on its undercarriage. When the test engines were humming, Riomini boarded through a lower hatch and climbed into the large hemispherical cockpit on top. Riomini slipped into a seat behind the pilot, a dark-skinned man in a uniform and cap. As the safety harnesses snapped into place, he told the pilot to take off.

  “Yes, my Lord.” The pilot nudged the engine controls, and the plane took off in a steep ascent, then circled sharply over the manufacturing and storage buildings of the complex. “Several of the older warehouses on the north end of Lubis Plain have been emptied for this demonstration, sir.”

  “I look forward to it.” Riomini took pleasure in recalling that the structures had been built by the Adolphus family when they ruled Qiorfu. They would make good targets.

  Per his instructions, the pilot swooped low over the buildings and launched a missile at one of them. The old warehouse exploded in flames, and the pilot didn’t flinch as he swooped the aircraft to the right and destroyed a second building. Then, suddenly, he flipped the lancer upside down and streaked through the smoke and flames, before ascending at an extreme angle. At a high altitude, the flying wing flipped over and hurtled back toward the surface.

  Pressed back into his seat, Riomini yelped in protest, but the restraints prevented him from moving. He hadn’t been told about this!

  Moments before the craft could crash, however, the pilot recovered smoothly and skimmed over the surface. His voice was calm. “Nothing to worry about, my Lord. Just demonstrating this aircraft’s capabilities.”

  “Land this damn thing!” Riomini shouted. He had seen enough.

  “Sir, I was instructed to show you the full range of this warcraft’s capabilities. I’m the best test pilot in the force.”

  “Test pilot? I was told the lancer is a proven fighter craft, fully vetted and tested.”

  “No, my Lord—this is a missile lancer, not one of the smaller fighter lancers. I was given to understand you wanted to participate in a true test flight?”

  Riomini did not want to look like a coward in front of the underling, nor would he allow himself to appear rattled. He forced his breathing into a calm rhythm. “Thank you, but this flight is over. I’ve got business to attend to.”

  “Yes, my Lord. I have to maintain speed.” He swooped upward, circled, and dove back at a steep descent angle. Silently cursing, Riomini closed his eyes and held his breath. He hoped he wouldn’t throw up.

  The lancer touched the ground, and Riomini was about to breathe an agitated sigh of relief when he heard a loud scraping sound beneath the undercarriage. “Hold on, my Lord!” The pilot’s voice held genuine alarm.

  Riomini had no idea what he was supposed to hold on to, but the restraints folded even more tightly around him. He smelled something acrid burning, with fumes creeping into the hemispherical cockpit.

  The lancer scraped across the landing field, and even through closed eyes Riomini saw bright flares of sparks that flew up as the craft skidded. Then a wave of flame washed over the cockpit, and smoke poured into the chamber. When Riomini dared to open his eyes, he saw the pilot slumped forward over the controls, not moving.

  The aircraft finally screeched to a stop, and Riomini struggled to release his safety harness. As his eyes burned, he fought to remain conscious, and managed
to crawl away from the flames and smoke. He made his way headfirst down the short interior stairway to the lower hatch. He pressed against the door, triggered the emergency release and pounded—but it wouldn’t open.

  Someone pushed him away with a firm grip and hammered a weapon against the controls, deactivating the interlocks. He couldn’t see through the smoke, but he thought it must be the pilot. Flames were roiling all around. The hatch finally opened, and the other figure shoved him out into the open air. They tumbled together onto the pavement, and he realized it was Harlowe Konn. Somehow his deputy guard captain had gotten inside the cockpit. She grabbed Riomini and dragged him away from under the burning plane just before her uniform burst into flames.

  A fire-response vehicle rolled up, and emergency workers in jumpsuits spilled out, directing a white foam onto Konn, who had fallen to the ground as the flames took hold of her uniform. She thrashed about while behind them, the lancer was fully engulfed in flames. Through the transparent cockpit bubble, Riomini could see the pilot still slumped over the controls. In seconds he was gone, consumed in fire.

  Vindahl and a contingent of black-uniformed guards swarmed around Riomini and whisked him to safety. He cast a glance back at Harlowe Konn, who lay thrashing on the ground, but Vindahl kept him moving. “That was close, sir. Are you all right?”

  He drew a deep breath. “I think so. I never asked for an experimental aircraft. Was that an attempt on my life? Was the craft sabotaged?”

  “We will find out, my Lord.”

  Riomini managed a tight smile, considering how the other Lubis Plain personnel could be encouraged to spread stories among themselves about this episode, emphasizing his own bravery. He could use this tragedy to his advantage; it would strengthen group unity. It was a pity about the pilot, although the man was obviously incompetent despite his claims. If Konn survived her burns, she would never be the beauty she’d once been, but perhaps she could still be useful as a fighter.

  Straight and formal, Vindahl issued a crisp report. “More urgent news, my Lord—another disaster on Sonjeera. One of your spies just arrived after commandeering a stringline ship. As soon as he reached the Qiorfu terminus ring, he transmitted an emergency report on high-security tightbeam.”

  Riomini brushed himself off, feeling his heart turn cold despite the minor burns on his hands. “Another disaster? What now?”

  Showing no expression, Vindahl said, “Seven hours ago a terrible explosion obliterated most of the main Sonjeera spaceport and part of Council City. It was centered on the quarantine hangar containing the alien bodies.”

  Riomini was alarmed, and he could imagine a wave of sabotage and attacks across the Crown Jewels. Was General Adolphus moving against them? “What caused the explosion?”

  Now Vindahl looked awkward. “Diadem Michella claimed responsibility for triggering the blast. Personally. She said it was to prevent the release of alien contamination.”

  Riomini blinked in surprise. He had not imagined the woman’s paranoia would extend so far. “The people will tear her apart for that!”

  “Perhaps she knows that, my Lord. The Diadem has fled Sonjeera, accompanying Commodore Hallholme on his flagship. She just … left with the fleet.”

  Riomini tried to absorb all that he had just heard, and then the implications dawned on him. This was not a disaster at all—it might prove to be the biggest opportunity in his life! He could not let this stand. For the good of the Constellation, he had to seize his chance.

  He squared his shoulders. “Obviously, the Constellation needs a new leader, a competent one for a change.”

  It was time to make use of his clandestine fleet.

  24

  Hellhole’s second spaceport was on the other side of the continent from Michella Town in a region rich in copper, iron, and tin. As his transport flyer circled for a landing over Ankor’s main field, General Adolphus saw the tall stacks of metals-processing factories in the distance. Smoke from the foundries drifted into the pale, greenish sky. As the leader of this planet, he took a moment to recall all the work it had taken to build this gigantic complex, in secret, in order to achieve his grand plan to connect the entire Deep Zone.

  He had accomplished the seemingly impossible, a grand vision that few people would even have attempted. But the details and the second- and third-order consequences threatened to crush him.

  Keana-Uroa, four other shadow-Xayans, and the Original alien, Lodo, joined him aboard the craft. Two seats needed to be removed in the passenger compartment in order to accommodate the alien’s caterpillarlike undercarriage.

  With the converts’ continued concern about the possibility of a sudden and unexpected asteroid bombardment from the Ro-Xayans, the General had increased interplanetary surveillance to the extent of his technological capability. While traditional observation satellites scanned the vicinity, and DZDF scout ships patrolled the system, the Xayans claimed they could provide even better tools. Adolphus would take every advantage he could get.

  Lodo had developed new extremely high-resolution sensor packages by cobbling together components taken from artifacts in the deep museum vault. The technology had been developed long ago, when the doomed Xayans had watched the first asteroid smash into the planet.

  As the flyer landed outside the main spaceport operations, the alien peered out the side window. “Even from here, I can sense the deep slickwater reservoir that runs beneath the surface. It resonates with power and lives.”

  Adolphus shook his head at the bad memory. “Upwelling slickwater has caused significant problems here already. The Ro-Xayan scout ships seemed particularly interested in this area when they flew overhead. I thought they were spying on our spaceport, but was slickwater the reason?”

  Lodo spoke in his low, thrumming voice. “No, the other faction did not know about the existence of slickwater, but they remember this region from our golden age. Some of our most magnificent cities once stood here … and the Ro-Xayans destroyed them all. When I come back here, I feel only sadness to see that nothing remains of our glorious past … nothing but memories of long ago.”

  Adolphus saw the tall launching structures of the spaceport, the expansive landing areas, the nearby mines and smelting operations. Although not nearly as glorious as an exotic alien city, they served his purpose—and under other circumstances they would have been his crowning achievement. But freedom was not easy, and the fight was far from over. As the General, he could use his military skills to fight against the Constellation, but how could anyone fend off an asteroid impact … or more than one? He had to find a way.

  At the spaceport, cargo upboxes and passenger shuttles ascended to the main stringline hub in orbit, where they would be dispatched to other Deep Zone worlds. Several years ago, when he had built the stringline hub, he’d hidden it from the Diadem’s inspectors. But now that the Constellation knew of its existence, the hub was a dangerous, but unavoidable, point of vulnerability. He kept the orbiting facility well guarded, but the recent unrest on Hossetea had made him disperse his limited number of DZDF peacekeeping ships, hoping that would quiet any grumbles from other dissatisfied planets.

  Which left the Hellhole hub less defended than he would have liked. It was like a delicate game of juggling sharp objects.

  After they disembarked at Ankor, Adolphus led the group toward the main building, where Rendo Theris waited to greet him. The jittery, overwhelmed spaceport administrator looked more nervous than usual. “As you requested, sir, we’ve cancelled all shuttle and upbox launches so that you can position the new Xayan satellites. Other ships are docked at the stringline hub, waiting for us to clear the operations, and the last downbox landed half an hour ago.” He shuffled his feet. “How long is this going to take? There’s already a backlog in the schedule.”

  “An hour should be more than enough time for us to complete the launch,” said Keana-Uroa.

  Adolphus used a firm voice, reminding the man of the big picture. “You won’t mind the delay, Mr. T
heris, if these alien satellites spot an incoming asteroid.”

  The administrator groaned. “Yes, I suppose a planetary evacuation would cause a lot more scheduling problems.” He looked around, glanced up at the sky. “Any sign of those mysterious ships? Are the Ro-Xayans still spying on us?”

  Not long ago, the enemy aliens had sent swift ships that—they now knew—had seeded wilderness areas of the devastated planet with native but extinct life-forms. The General couldn’t understand why the alien faction would restore all those life-forms if they simply intended to destroy Hellhole again. He didn’t intend to let them do that.

  “As we approach ala’ru, our enemy will no longer content themselves with mere observation,” Lodo said. “But with our satellites, we will be able to watch for them.”

  He glided over to the flyer’s cargo hatch, accompanied by the shadow-Xayans. They removed a large parcel, using telemancy to help them lift the package. They unwrapped the protective layers to reveal a smooth, silvery polyhedron.

  A young man emerged from the headquarters building to join them, Cristoph de Carre, dressed in a work uniform. He smiled at Lodo. “So you decided to put some of the relics into service after all.”

  Lodo’s oversized eyes glistened. “I am pleased to find a use for them.”

  Cristoph shook the General’s hand, then looked awkwardly at Keana, clearly reminded of how—in her previous life—she had been responsible for the downfall of his family. But both he and Keana had changed greatly, and by nature the young man was inclined to be forgiving. He turned to the shadow-Xayans who busied themselves in silence. “Can I help?”

  Lodo gazed up at the sky. “We have all the help we need.” The converts looked toward orbit, their humanoid eyes spiraling. The large parcel lifted from the ground to hover in the air by them, waiting.