Percival looked up at the screen, saw that dozens of other nearby ships—all of them painstakingly mounted aboard the giant framework for transport—had also come loose, and were tumbling free. Proximity alarms blared as the ships drifted. Before he could say anything, two vessels collided, then spread apart in a slow-motion ricochet. The flagship’s hull groaned as another warship scraped against it.
He opened a system-wide channel. “All ships, use maneuvering jets! Maintain stability—battle shields on to avoid collisions!”
The flagship drifted and tilted until the navigator managed to stabilize it. “What the hell happened?” Percival demanded. “Why did we disengage from the docking clamp? All the ships were loaded for departure.”
“Some sort of control glitch, Commodore. All docking clamps released their ships simultaneously.”
The comm officer touched his earadio. “Same thing happened on the other stringline hauler, Commodore. Our entire fleet disengaged from the frameworks. It’s complete chaos.”
“Not by accident,” Percival growled. “There’s a saboteur aboard the terminus ring. Find out who it is and detain him or her for questioning. I want to know how many traitors there are!”
He had never been convinced that Tehila would welcome the military crackdown with open arms. There had to be numerous rotten apples in the ranks. His troops hadn’t had time to run full security protocols on all of Administrator Reming’s technical staff.
A comm signal came from the DZ terminus ring. Screens showed crewmembers responding to an alarm. One screen flashed with a small explosion, then went to static. Others listed damage reports coming from the ring.
Adkins focused on a different screen, watched the fleeing cargo ship reach orbit, then arc over to the planet’s dayside before accelerating out into space, taking advantage of the chaos in the disorganized fleet. The local Tehila patrol ships dropped back, unable to continue the pursuit at such distance, running out of fuel.
Percival dispatched sixteen Constellation ships that were drifting loose from the haulers. “Capture that ship—don’t let it get away!” He didn’t dare let it slip through his fingers.
The pursuing vessels scrambled, but they were disoriented. Deciding not to let such a vital task fall to just any ship that happened to be drifting in space, Percival ordered the flagship’s engines to full power, disregarding safety protocols. If that cargo ship got away with Diadem Michella as a hostage, the whole nature of this operation would change.
Reports came in from the terminus ring. “We captured an Adolphus loyalist, sir. She planted an explosive, damaged some systems, but the stringline is intact. We believe it can be fixed.”
“Make immediate repairs—we have to launch the fleet!” Percival shouted.
The man on the screen sounded flustered. “Commodore, the damage is extensive. Minimum, four or five days before we can get out of here—if Tehila has the necessary spare components. And that’s not likely.”
“Bring the saboteur to the screen—I want to talk with her.”
“Sorry, Commodore, she was … killed during capture.”
As the hundreds of displaced ships drifted free, pell-mell and confused after being ejected from the hauler framework, Percival’s flagship accelerated away from the stringline, accompanied by a group of scattered but ambitious pursuit ships. Roaring through the system, ignoring the amount of fuel they were burning, they began to close the distance.
But the trader ship was on an erratic course, jogging back and forth along a generally defined course, as if … searching? For the stringline? No pilot could find the stringline without the anchor point … unless he had extremely accurate prior mappings.
As the flagship closed the distance to the escaping vessel, Percival opened a direct channel to the pilot. “This is Commodore Hallholme. I demand that you stand down. You cannot escape. Your ship will be captured and returned to Tehila.”
Surprisingly, the pilot responded. “Commodore, when you pose a challenge like that, you’re just asking me to prove you wrong. And you’ve given me absolutely no reason to surrender.” The man had a cocky look and showed no fear. His gaze hardened as he continued. “And I’ve still got a bone to pick with you after what you did to all my people at Buktu.”
Percival blinked. “Administrator Ian Walfor, I believe?”
A beautiful woman with a hard expression and long dark hair moved into view, nudging Walfor away. “And I’m Administrator Tanja Hu, formerly of Candela.” She signaled to someone off screen, then turned back to the Commodore. “Everyone on Sonjeera knows me. I’m the one who executed the Diadem’s crony, Marla Undine, and sent her decapitated head back to Sonjeera. I’m sure it made the news.” She raised her eyebrows in a mocking look.
Percival knew about the horrific package, as did everyone aboard. “Why do you feel the need to tell me this?”
Walfor and a second woman wrestled a limp body into view. Diadem Michella Duchenet. Tanja said, “I reminded you about Governor Undine because we have the Diadem as our hostage. Though unconscious, she is unharmed—so far. But if you don’t break off pursuit immediately, I will personally execute her … and you know I’ll do it, Commodore, if you leave me no other choice. I’ll dump her severed head out of our disposal chute, and your ships can retrieve it if you like.”
Tanja Hu terminated the transmission, and Percival stared at the screen, appalled. “Follow that ship, but maintain a safe distance.”
He had to figure out how to capture the vessel and save the Diadem.
Next to him, Adkins spoke in a low voice. He wore an expression of great concern. “What do we do now, Commodore?”
“Duff, if I let the Diadem get killed, that will be the greatest failure in my career.” He had no great love for the callous old woman, disagreed with many of her decisions—but she was still his commander in chief.
“They’re bluffing,” Duff said.
“Maybe, and maybe not. Call up every record we have on Tanja Hu. We know she did execute Governor Undine, and the Diadem is her only bargaining chip now.” In his heart, Percival dreaded that they intended to kill Michella Duchenet, regardless. In which case, better that he was seen to be actively trying to save her, rather than procrastinating while the old woman was held hostage.
Then the choice was taken out of his hands as, somehow, the trader located the iperion line, activated stringline engines, and hurtled off in a disappearing wink of light, far faster than even photons could travel.
Percival and Duff Adkins were left staring at the empty space where the ship had vanished.
34
After she regained consciousness, the Diadem’s outrage trumped her fear—until she learned where she was being taken. Then cold dread filtered down to her marrow.
As she recovered from the stunner, Michella couldn’t understand how this had happened. Her body ached and twitched, nerves misfiring, her head pounding. The roar in her ears was definitely not the roar of cheering crowds. She felt bruised and abused.
Her last moments of consciousness were blurred and uncertain, but she recalled being with Ishop when they were confronted by a woman with a weapon, a stunner.…
Michella found herself sealed inside a small harshly lit room with metal decks, bulkheads, and no windows. Ishop couldn’t possibly be involved! Vibrations implied this was a moving spaceship. Her clothes were rumpled, and she realized to her horror that she had soiled herself. She had heard that upon suffering a heavy stun blast, some victims lost control of their bodily functions—but certainly not a Diadem! Michella was disgusted with herself, and with her captors that they would do such a barbaric thing to her.
She lurched toward the sealed door, but the controls failed to respond. She pounded and shouted. “I demand to be released!” She yelled until she was hoarse, then looked around to find that her small cell had no water dispenser, no sanitary facilities—it appeared to be just some kind of storage room. This was humiliating!
That increased her anger, and
she launched another cycle of pounding and shouting until the door slid open. A woman she recognized—but couldn’t place—stood before her. She had long black hair, high cheekbones, and a murderous expression. “You are in no position to make demands. Those days are over for you, Michella Duchenet. Don’t you remember me?”
“I can’t be expected to recall all my underlings across the Constellation,” Michella snapped as she struggled to come up with the name. For some reason, this woman held an unreasonable grudge against her, as did so many of the Deep Zone yokels after they were brainwashed by General Tiber Adolphus, or maybe even possessed by aliens.
The woman said, “Tanja Hu, planetary administrator of Candela?”
Finally, Michella did remember this woman, and when she did, a cold knot formed in her stomach. Tanja Hu … yes, the rebel Candela administrator. Ah, the insane woman who decapitated Marla Undine!
Now Michella realized how helpless she was and what might happen to her. “What have you done? And where are you taking me? Where is Ishop?”
“Your lapdog is in another cell similar to this one. He must be less resilient, though, because he’s still unconscious.” Tanja’s smile was like a slash across her face. “Because of your stature, we gave you a slightly larger compartment. I hope you’re comfortable here.” She wrinkled her nose, as if picking up the odor of Michella’s personal problem.
The Diadem lurched toward the open doorway, and Tanja held up a stunner, smiling. “I would love to have an excuse.”
Michella froze. Yes, she was sure this woman would do it. “You have no right to hold me here. Your actions will bring down the fury of the Constellation. You’ve brought about your own annihilation.”
Tanja was unimpressed. “More so than you were already planning? I think there’s a chance—a small one—that you may actually be worth something. If I’m convinced otherwise, I’d happily throw you out the airlock.”
Another hard and angry woman joined Tanja Hu, this one a blonde. How many traitors were there? More memories began to spark out of the fog of unconsciousness. Michella identified her now—Enva Tazaar.
“We’re currently en route to Hellhole, where we’ll deliver you to General Tiber Adolphus.” Enva smiled. “I’m sure he’ll figure out what to do with you. Or maybe just declare you a war criminal and command your immediate execution. It’ll be up to him.”
“He is the General, after all,” Tanja said.
That made the words dry up in Michella’s mouth. Her defiance withered away, but she managed to say, “Release me at once! Return me to Tehila and I’ll see that you get a pardon, even a safe exile on some DZ world. Despite what you’ve done, I can be merciful.”
Tanja just rolled her eyes. “We’d rather make you useful. With you as a hostage, we can stave off Commodore Hallholme’s attack and protect the Deep Zone. And I’m sure the General will think of things to do with you as his prisoner. He has even more reason to resent you than we do.”
“Let me see Ishop Heer!” Michella said. “I want to know that he’s unharmed.” Maybe he could get her out of this.…
The other women seemed to find that amusing, but didn’t explain why.
“You have enemies everywhere, Diadem,” said Tanja Hu. “Be thankful we’re taking you to the General. At least he’ll have political reasons to keep you alive.”
Enva added, “In fact, he’s more likely to care about your well-being than we are.”
Enraged, Michella again lunged toward the door. Tanja Hu swung up the stunner, but hesitated. Instead, Enva closed and sealed the door, leaving Michella alone and impotent in the tiny cell.
* * *
After another day of being treated as an animal, Michella was finally allowed to clean herself up. Her captors provided her with meager rations and lukewarm water, as well as a spare set of baggy ship’s clothes to wear while her soiled garments were laundered. She learned later that Enva Tazaar had forced Ishop to operate the laundry apparatus. Her aide was just as much a captive, but treated even more poorly, since he had no political worth whatsoever.
Michella struggled to reassemble her pride and tried to figure out how she could turn the table against these traitors. But she was utterly impotent now. She had sat upon the Star Throne for decades, ruling twenty Crown Jewel planets and another fifty-four Deep Zone worlds. With a single command from Sonjeera, she’d been able to change the fates of millions of people.
She’d fallen so far, had never felt so small.
Although Michella had clashed repeatedly with General Adolphus, she had been in the same room with the man only once, more than a decade ago, when the defeated rebel leader was brought before her in shackles.
Now, in a humilating turnabout, she would be dragged before him on his turf. Still, Michella swore to herself she would stand straight and face that evil man, find a way to defeat him. But with a chill she thought of how she had treated the General’s own emissary, Territorial Governor Goler—first seizing him as a political prisoner, then executing him. Just because she could.
General Adolphus had no reason not to do the same. But she was worth more to him alive—she knew it. At her advanced age, Michella did not necessarily fear death, but she could not face the horror of being contaminated by the aliens. What if the General forced her to be possessed by the hideous things, and then turned her loose back in the Constellation? That would be worse than any death! She felt sick at the very thought of it.
Hellhole was infested with those slime-covered creatures who possessed innocent humans and imposed their will. Her own daughter was one of them, gullible and vapid Keana whose mind and soul had been filled with strange memories.
Michella wasn’t surprised that her weak-willed daughter had been duped by the bizarre Hellhole religion, the baptism in alien lives. Yes, she had a pretty face but never had a mind of her own … nor was it surprising that Ishop had so easily tricked Keana into running off, poorly prepared and naïve, to chase down a fairy tale. And now her daughter was irretrievable, forever contaminated. A total loss.
But what if General Adolphus coerced Michella into one of those disgusting pools? Under the rules of civilized behavior, he wouldn’t dare … but he had already proved himself to be a barbarian, a monster.
Michella huddled in her small cell, felt the vibration of the ship as it raced along the stringline, and she tried to form a plan.
* * *
When the ship finally arrived at the Deep Zone stringline hub, her captors released her from the cramped chamber and let her come to the bridge. Ishop Heer was also there, his hands bound behind his back, his eyes darting, his expression angry.
Before Michella could speak, Ishop said, “They betrayed me as well, Eminence. We are trapped. Mere pawns.”
The ship’s pilot—Ian Walfor, former planetary administrator of Buktu—said, “Diadem Michella is a pawn. You, Mr. Heer, aren’t much of anything at all.”
Ishop glowered at him.
Michella tried to be dignified. “I am the Diadem of the Constellation, and I demand to be treated with proper respect. If I am a political prisoner, then certain conditions must be met. Even General Adolphus, for all his crimes, understands the necessities of politics, and of decorum.”
“Proper treatment … just like you showed the people on Theser?” Tanja Hu asked. “Lord Riomini leveled the entire colony without warning, killed every single civilian, including Administrator Sia Frankov.” She made a bitter sound. “Don’t talk to me about expectations and respect.”
Ishop struggled against his bonds, but Michella could see that he had no real hope of breaking free.
“Before we take you to meet the General, we’ll shackle you as well, in keeping with precedent,” Enva Tazaar suggested. “Enjoy your relative freedom for now. Don’t give us a reason to take it away.”
Walfor’s ship decelerated toward the large stringline hub above the blasted planet. Numerous ships were there, some at the hub, others riding in space. Michella knew those vessels would not
be enough when the Army of the Constellation swooped in to destroy the rebels.
“Commodore Hallholme will come for me,” she said, her voice hard. “He won’t be far behind.”
“I’m afraid the Commodore encountered some unexpected difficulties back at Tehila,” said Walfor. “A saboteur damaged the terminus ring. He won’t be able to launch his ships until repairs are made.”
Tanja interjected, “And he knows we have you as hostage. I told him we’d kill you if he pursued.”
“He’ll know you’re bluffing,” Michella said.
Tanja raised her eyebrows. “Are we? I reminded him about what I did to Governor Undine.”
Michella’s heart felt heavy. Brave Commodore Hallholme, a staid and formal commander who did everything by the book, would never take the chance. With the Diadem in enemy hands, and the stringline to Hellhole damaged so that he couldn’t launch his fleet, the Commodore would have to make up his own mind. She trusted him to know what to do; he was loyal to her.
As Walfor’s ship approached the stringline hub, he transmitted a message and immediately received clearance to dock his ship at the hub, where a special escort shuttle would take them down to the General’s headquarters.
Michella looked through the cockpit windowports, saw the blasted planet below, the enormous impact crater that looked like a bull’s-eye hundreds of kilometers wide. This was the hellish place where she had exiled the defeated General, fully intending for him to perish.
Now she was the one trapped here, and she doubted if even Ishop Heer could help her.
Hellhole …
35
General Adolphus had never dreamed of such a complete turnabout: a defeated Diadem Michella Duchenet brought before him in chains. He didn’t gloat over his victory—that sort of pettiness was dishonorable, and it was beneath him—but having the Diadem as his captive changed the very nature of the war. And he would indeed use that to his advantage.
Hellhole Inferno Page 20