Hellhole Inferno

by Kevin J. Anderson

  He had also set up a separate, lower court system to deal with the constant stream of dissenters being picked up by his secret police. Each would be found guilty as a matter of course, but so far he had not imposed executions because he didn’t want to be seen as a tyrant. For the time being, they would all be shipped off to incarceration on Ogg or Barassa. He could deal with them later.

  Right now, while awaiting Commodore Hallholme’s arrival, the excruciatingly slim Anson Tebias spoke with the woman Riomini had appointed to run the interim spaceport, along with a burly contractor who was supervising the cleanup operations.

  Riomini heard a smooth engine noise, and looked up to see a Constellation military flyer in a steep descent, landing nearby on the temporary field. Moments later, the grizzled old commander was escorted into the Diadem’s presence. Commodore Hallholme moved slowly, hobbling from his chronic, degenerative condition. The medals on the front of his gold-and-black uniform did not shine as usual, and the uniform shirt was soiled and wrinkled.

  With a grim expression, the old man gave a crisp salute. “I apologize for my appearance, sir, but I received word that you wanted to see me immediately.” He smoothed his bushy sideburns, then stood at attention. His gray eyes seemed more watery and tired than usual. “My congratulations on your new position. Strong leadership is sorely needed in this crisis.”

  “These are extraordinary times for the Constellation, and I require my best military minds.” Riomini did not mention the man’s failures, and instead pointed out the wreckage of the spaceport.

  Hallholme nodded, said that he had seen the extent of devastation as his shuttle came from the stringline hub, and then he frowned. “I am afraid I must add to your burdens, Eminence. After a major space battle, General Adolphus has recaptured Tehila, and thus removed our only way into the DZ stringline network. I lost many of my ships, and now the Army of the Constellation no longer has access into the Deep Zone.”

  Riomini scowled, but he had already received the basic report and burned out most of his anger in the past two hours. Commodore Hallholme had to go through this humiliating charade and would no doubt offer his resignation, again. But Riomini wouldn’t let him—he had other plans. Fortunately, the summary showed that the new shielding had proved at least partially effective against the alien telekinetic assault. And he had another option that no one suspected.

  As the old Commodore reached into his uniform blouse and withdrew a folded document—his letter of resignation, as expected—Riomini harshly told him to put it away. “We have no time for this. You were ordered to defeat General Adolphus and recapture the Deep Zone. I still expect you to do it.”

  “Eminence, I have lost half of my fleet. The lack of ships does not leave me with a viable battle plan.”

  Riomini cut him off. “Fortunately, it’s not a complete disaster. While you were gone, I made other arrangements of my own. Tehila was not the only weak spot in the General’s unraveling web. Hossetea demonstrated that as well, but Adolphus doesn’t realize how widespread the discontent is. I, however, do.” A scheming smile crept across his face. Riomini knew he had to strike now while the Commodore was stinging and angry—and when Adolphus would least expect a new gaping vulnerability. “Yet another world has turned against him, and the General is still unaware of it. We have a window of opportunity that we dare not waste.”

  Hallholme was clearly surprised. “An interesting development, Eminence, but I don’t have a sufficient military force to bring to bear against General Adolphus, even with the element of surprise.”

  Again, Riomini smiled. “But I have many more ships than you know about—an entire private fleet I constructed on Qiorfu. They are ready to fly.”

  The Commodore stood stiff and formal, but he was clearly reeling. “On … Qiorfu? And I was not aware of this?”

  “At the Lubis Plain industrial zone, begun years ago with the assistance of your son. You were retired at the time, tending your vineyards, and I swore him to secrecy.”

  The old Commodore sighed, clearly wishing he could just go back there.

  Riomini kept him focused. “If you depart immediately on this new offensive, I will grant you fifty more top-of-the-line warships, fully shielded and with more firepower than you’ve ever had. The question is, are you ready to destroy our nemesis, once and for all?”

  Commodore Hallholme didn’t hesitate. “Yes, Eminence. I appreciate the new chance.”

  “I’ve stopped counting the number of chances you’ve had, but I assure you this is the last one.”

  In spite of the veiled threat, the Commodore managed a grim smile. “It’s beautiful on Qiorfu at this time of year. It’ll be nice to finish this so I can retire there. For the second time.” He drew a breath. “And I will get my son back. We can defeat the rebels, Eminence. We will defeat them.”

  “Yes, Commodore, you will.” With the unrest brewing in the Crown Jewels, Riomini had to achieve a golden victory. Afterward, no one would question his legitimacy. “Strike fast, strike hard, Commodore.”

  Hallholme saluted crisply, then rushed back to his flagship to begin preparations.

  45

  In the aftermath of the liberation of Tehila, General Adolphus felt energized, pleased, and confident. This had been an uncontested defeat of Commodore Hallholme. How many more were necessary to make up for losing the Battle of Sonjeera?

  Some of the Commodore’s damaged ships remained helpless in orbit above Tehila. They had been left behind, stranded when they could not get aboard the lone retreating stringline hauler. Lodo and the shadow-Xayans rendered the enemy weapons inert and targeted their engines so they could not escape.

  Adolphus’s fleet quickly surrounded and captured those vessels; the Constellation crews would be detained in the former refugee camps down on Tehila—Tanja Hu had pointed out that so much security shouldn’t be allowed to go to waste. As the DZDF forces shuttled officers and crew down under heavy guard, Adolphus directed mop-up operations from the Jacob. He summoned Tanja Hu, Ian Walfor, and Lewis Naridar to his ready room.

  “Tehila has already proved to be a vulnerable spot, General,” said Naridar. “We don’t dare let down our guard. We need to leave a significant defensive force here.”

  “And we just gave the Constellation a black eye,” Walfor said. “Tehila will be seen as a symbol, and Commodore Hallholme will want it back.”

  “I say cut the stringline,” Tanja said. “I’ve said that all along. Perfect security results from perfect isolation. Cut all the lines into the Crown Jewels, and the enemy forces can’t get to us.”

  Adolphus was troubled. “That seems like giving up. It’s much easier to sever an iperion path than to reestablish one—especially until we find a new source of iperion.”

  Walfor shook his head. “With Candela destroyed, we barely have enough stockpiled iperion to maintain our existing stringlines for a year or two. Unless we find another supply, those routes will dissipate and we’ll be isolated—from the Crown Jewels and from one another—whether or not you cut the lines intentionally.”

  Tanja clenched her fists. “I’m glad to know the old bitch Michella has been ousted on Sonjeera, but Lord Riomini is no better. Ian and I saw firsthand what that monster did to Theser, so we know what he’s capable of.”

  Adolphus reached his decision. “I don’t like to keep isolating Deep Zone worlds, but we still have plenty of viable paths to Sonjeera. Cutting off this one, though, will make a statement—a necessary statement.” He nodded and spoke to Captain Naridar. “See that the terminus ring to the Crown Jewels is destroyed. It’s the only way to be sure.”

  Naridar smiled. “My pleasure, sir.”

  The General dispatched Tanja and Walfor to the surface to help manage the ground operations, while he studied assessments and inventories from the Jacob. His own losses were more than made up for by the eleven battered Constellation vessels they had seized, as well as hundreds more enemy ships destroyed. Adolphus personally thanked the civilian captains
and promised he would make up for their monetary losses threefold.

  He thought about Sophie. He depended on her so much, and now she was holding the former Diadem Michella hostage, albeit a now-useless hostage. He felt stronger knowing he could rely on Sophie even though they were solar systems apart.

  But he was anxious to bring all these warships back to Hellhole. He felt uneasy leaving the central DZ stringline hub vulnerable since so much of the DZDF had been brought for the liberation of Tehila. Fortunately, George Komun’s ships would also be arriving soon for added security.

  He knew, though, that he couldn’t just withdraw his fleet and leave Tehila unprotected. After liberating the unruly world, if he left the Tehila settlers and refugees to pick up the pieces—without support or defenses—the resulting turmoil might create a civil war. He needed to leave a significant monitoring force here.

  He decided to leave Captain Naridar’s fifteen peacekeeping ships—which he had intended to send on a patrol throughout the Deep Zone. They were needed here, at least for the next month or so, as security. He drew up the orders and assigned the veteran captain to monitor the transition on Tehila.

  The following day, Ian Walfor transmitted a report to the Jacob. “General, we’ve rounded up the former militia members and imposed a curfew, but the worst part is over. The colonists are still celebrating—I think it would be good if you came down and made an appearance.”

  “You mean a victory parade,” Adolphus said.

  Tanja Hu appeared on the screen. “Why not, sir? You deserve it.”

  Adolphus pondered, then agreed. “It’ll be good for reunification, but I do need to return to Hellhole soon. I have more important things to do.”

  He shuttled down to the spaceport, which had been cleared of Constellation military vessels. Fuel supplies had been released, and the impounded ships were returned to their owners. Adolphus had already announced that normal space traffic to the Hellhole stringline hub, and throughout the Deep Zone, would resume within two days.

  Tanja and Walfor met him at the spaceport, along with cheering crowds—Candela refugees as well as Tehila supporters who loathed the idea of returning to the repressive Constellation. They smiled and applauded now, but he wasn’t naïve enough to think that none of these people had supported the breakaway, at least tacitly.

  “What do we do about Administrator Reming? He deserves punishment, but I won’t be seen as a tyrant,” Adolphus said as they left the spaceport and made their way to the governmental headquarters. He had only met the man once before, when he seemed to be adhering to the rule of law. “The people here should decide his fate.”

  Walfor and Tanja looked at each other, then away. “About that, General—” They approached the government mansion.

  He recognized Reming even with his swollen face and blackened skin. The man had been strung up on a makeshift gibbet outside the headquarters mansion. An ancient but effective form of execution, both a demonstration and a warning. The people here had never wanted his purge, did not support the return of the Constellation; yes, they had made that perfectly evident.

  Tanja did not sound overly disturbed. “I’d say the people have already made their own decision.”

  Adolphus felt a wash of anger and disappointment, then resignation. “And the other militia leaders? The coconspirators who arranged the purge?”

  “Executed as well,” Walfor said, “but in a less dramatic fashion. It was a swift and complete housecleaning. Now Tehila can be stable again. All of your own loyalists have been freed.”

  The mysterious walumps had moved into the town and erected mud huts not far from the administrator’s mansion. As always, they remained aloof, choosing not to interact with anyone, although they did show a certain curiosity about the hanged man, before continuing about their business.

  Adolphus felt uneasy, though. Remembering the unrest on Hossetea that Captain Naridar had thwarted, he was concerned for the stability of the Deep Zone. One brushfire was occurring after another. If he could remove the Constellation threat and help the Xayans achieve ala’ru—which he hoped would also eliminate the concerns about the Ro-Xayans—then he could focus on shoring up normalcy throughout the independent worlds. So many moving parts …

  He turned to Tanja and Walfor. “Would you two consider remaining here on Tehila as coadministrators? Tehila needs it, and you both seem to be separated from your planets.”

  They looked at each other. Walfor said, “Buktu is still my home, General, even though all my people were captured. I don’t want to give up while there’s still a chance I could bring them home.”

  Tanja said, “After everything that’s happened, and everything I’ve done, I still have too many scars to be a good planetary administrator. I grew up on Candela. I wanted to save it, manage it, and protect my people, but after so much sorrow, so much loss…” She shook her head. “No, General, I’m not fit for leadership.” She took Walfor’s arm and smiled. “Besides, I prefer to stay with Ian, footloose and without red tape restraining me at every turn.”

  Adolphus understood. “Maybe it’s best that we let the people choose their own leaders then, someone from Tehila.”

  He returned to the Jacob, where the officer on duty, Clayton Sendell, had completed preparations for their departure. Ten warships would return to Hellhole, while Captain Naridar’s force would remain here until Tehila became stable again.

  Lodo joined the General on the bridge. The large Xayan watched all the bustling activity with interest, but had not participated since the heat of the space battle. The other shadow-Xayans kept to themselves.

  Now Lodo approached Adolphus. “We must return to Xaya, General Tiber Adolphus. Encix is growing increasingly concerned, and with this group separated from the other converts, we have diminished our strength as our race begins its final push toward ala’ru. Time is running out.”

  “Have the observation satellites picked up any trace of the Ro-Xayans yet?”

  “No … but they are there. I assure you, General, they are watching us.”

  Adolphus stood next to the tall, pale alien. “And I am just as anxious to get back home. We have plenty of reasons to worry about Hellhole.”

  46

  When the bungalow door opened to allow the alien monstrosity inside, Michella felt as if she were drowning in a nightmare. All the indignities and torments she’d suffered had already strained her to the breaking point, but this hideous and disgusting thing that squirmed toward her was worse than all the other horrors combined.

  She was the ruler of countless planets, and now she felt utterly helpless, frozen in terror. Even the scream withered in her throat. With nowhere else to run, Michella sprang from the bungalow’s only chair and retreated to the farthest corner of the room. She yelled for the guards in a cracking voice, but the possessed humans merely stood at the bungalow door and watched her mockingly.

  Michella had seen the slimy creatures before, when the passenger pod of emissaries had arrived at Sonjeera. A group of possessed humans and one of the disgusting aliens. Not daring to let them loose, she had sealed that pod in a spaceport hangar, killed everyone aboard, and quarantined the area. She had tried to save the capital world from the contamination, and eventually she’d had no choice but to vaporize the entire area.

  Now she was held prisoner in the festering center of the contamination, where her very humanity was threatened every day. Michella had known the things would come for her sooner or later.

  “Keep away from me!” Her voice was just a husky gasp.

  The monstrous alien paused in the middle of the room to stare at her in a curious, almost perplexed, way. Michella could smell a musky odor, heard the soft wet shuffling of the wormlike lower body. She huddled against the wall, desperate for some way to defend herself, but the guards had made sure she had nothing that could be used as a weapon.

  “I have come for you, Diadem Michella Duchenet,” said the alien.

  Feeling impotent against such a threat and a
fraid to even touch the creature, she covered her mouth, tried not to breathe any disease or poisonous vapors. She was terrified of becoming one of the possessed humans, half-aliens like Keana, straddling two universes. She shuddered. “I refuse!”

  The Xayan loomed in front of her, like a silent serpent contemplating prey. The black, unreadable eyes stared down at her, both hypnotic and terrifying. Michella couldn’t help but return the gaze—was the expression inquisitive now? Or did it hold a simmering anger? Who could tell with such an inhuman thing?

  She reminded herself that she was the Diadem of the Constellation, and tried to keep the quaver out of her voice. “You don’t frighten me, monster!” She hoped she sounded strong.

  The voice was thrumming and distorted through the mouth membrane. “I am not here to frighten you. I am here to convince you.”

  She wished Ishop were here with her. He’d always been a reassuring presence for her during times of trouble. And he was a deadly killer for her, whenever she needed those particular services. They were both trapped here, prisoners, but they had to find some way to get away.

  As if her thoughts had summoned him, the guards opened the bungalow door again and nudged Ishop inside. “Eminence, have they harmed you?” He looked disheveled and red-eyed, probably no worse than she looked. “I heard you cry out.” He drew himself to a stumbling halt as he saw the large alien facing her.

  With another burst of icy terror, she checked to make sure that Ishop had not been possessed already. His reactions were fluid and normal, and she saw no strange sheen in his eyes. He darted to Michella’s side, fidgety, angry, and indignant, but he didn’t seem able to offer her much protection. She wondered if he had a plan—he was always scheming, and she knew their goals were aligned, especially now, even if he had seemed irritated with her at times. She had no one else.

  The guards closed the bungalow door, sealing them inside with the alien. The thing loomed larger, facing the two of them. “I requested both of you here with me, because you must hear my words. Your cooperation is vital.” The black, impenetrable eyes turned toward them. “I am Encix, one of the only remaining Original Xayans. We survived the first asteroid impact in a deeply buried vault, and now we have very little time to resurrect our race before this world is devastated again. I need your help.”