The General’s image vanished from the screen, replaced by archival video, with his voice saying, “We faced a similar threat before, so we know what’s in store for Hellhole. Watch—this is only a hint of what’s about to happen here.” At first, Percival didn’t recognize the planet in the images, then he saw two asteroids hurtling in, giant pock-marked rocks that closed on the world. A flurry of ships filled the orbital lanes, being loaded aboard stringline haulers that raced away along the iperion path.
“This was Candela,” said the General’s voice, “the previous target of the murderous aliens. That world was rendered utterly uninhabitable by only two asteroids, Commodore. Now the Ro-Xayans are coming at my planet with twenty, and we have less than four days.”
On-screen, the General’s face replaced the archival images. “My people are going to die, and so is your son, and so are the Constellation POWs, if you don’t cooperate. We can’t stop asteroids.” His expression changed. “You have used dishonorable tactics on the battlefield many times, but you also secretly helped my colony survive when the Diadem wanted us all to die. I think I know your true character, Commodore Percival Hallholme. I appeal to your humanity.”
In a voice that wasn’t as firm or confident as he wanted, Percival answered, “The moment you surrender, General, we can work together to get those people to safety. Look how many ships I have to help. It’ll make all the difference.”
He knew the General couldn’t just wait it out and he wouldn’t just surrender his leverage. He couldn’t see any other way to follow his orders.
Percival stared at the screen, and his nemesis stared back—two battering rams of pride facing off. Adolphus’s expression dropped, and Percival could see he had reached a crux point. “All right. I will submit to whatever retaliation you wish, Commodore—afterward. First, we have to save as many of my people as possible, or you will be responsible for the destruction of this entire colony and the death of your son. Do you want all that blood on your hands?”
Some of the crew members on the flagship’s bridge cheered, thinking the impasse had been resolved, but Percival felt an even heavier weight in his chest. “Unfortunately, General, my orders from Diadem Riomini were quite explicit. I am to ensure the destruction of your colony. I must see to it that every person on planet Hallholme is eradicated—just like Theser.”
His own bridge crew grumbled uneasily—until now, they hadn’t been given the full details of their mission, and Percival felt sickened as he repeated it.
“I can’t believe you would follow such reprehensible orders,” the General said in disgust. “How will you rewrite the history books to disguise that?”
Percival said, in a wooden voice as if to justify himself, “I am bound by the Constellation Charter.”
Adolphus stared back, then suddenly brightened as an idea occurred to him. “Then allow me to cite the Constellation Charter, Commodore. If you are truly as loyal as you say, then you know the Charter supercedes any orders from a sitting Diadem. My colony world clearly faces an emergency situation, and you yourself have verified the imminent asteroid impact. Therefore I, Tiber Adolphus, planetary administrator of the Deep Zone planet Hallholme, under Code Seventy-three, Section Twelve of the Constellation Charter, hereby commandeer your vessels for humanitarian purposes to assist in the emergency evacuation of my colony. By law, you cannot refuse such a request.”
The Commodore caught his breath and felt a startled smile spread across his face. This was a loophole he could seize, a way to maintain his honor. “I believe you’re right, General. By law, that section of the Charter takes precedence over any new orders I might have received.” Yes, he could do this, a perfectly defensible decision. He could add his seventy ships to the effort. It was a dramatic shift. “Very well—under tightly controlled circumstances, we can begin. But I insist on rescuing the Constellation military prisoners first.”
The General looked pleased. “We have almost four days. With your help, we just might have enough time.”
Percival’s sensor operator turned from her screen, puzzled. “Commodore, I don’t understand this.” She looked down at the long-distance projections, reran her results. “The inbound asteroids … something’s happened.”
“They changed course?”
“No, they’re still heading directly toward the planet—but they’re accelerating!”
66
Even trapped in the remote, demeaning conditions at Slickwater Springs, Michella knew the world was about to end. She had survived a smoke storm, quakes, torpedo ants … even the treachery of Ishop Heer! But asteroids were hurtling toward the planet—she could not believe it. She had to get away from here.
Her life had been shattered in many ways ever since the vile General reignited his rebellion. The great Michella Duchenet, Diadem of the Constellation and ruler of seventy-four worlds, was broken and humiliated. If she could believe the General’s report, she had been deposed on Sonjeera—and she did not underestimate the ambitions of Selik Riomini. Even her most faithful supporters had failed her. The stream of disappointments tasted like bile inside her.
Commodore Hallholme, the once-great military hero, had failed repeatedly; he’d let her be abducted, then lost his beachhead on Tehila, not to mention his previous defeats. What a fool and an ingrate he was. She had resurrected his career, saved the man from retirement, and given him a purpose in life again—to serve her. She had never expected blunder after blunder from the old warhorse.
But now he had brought a fleet to Hellhole, and he had a chance to redeem himself completely. All would be forgiven if he rescued her now! She might even name another planet after him.…
Before dawn, now that the weather had eased and the torpedo ants had been driven back by concerted telemancy, Slickwater Springs sent the first group of evacuees to the Ankor spaceport for departure. The possessed humans proved their continued delusions by refusing to depart, claiming they had to remain on their sacred planet until they achieved some sort of magical ascension.
But Michella needed to leave this awful place, no matter what! Sophie Vence insisted that she would be in the last wave of rescued people, to ensure continued cooperation. The woman acted as if she were Michella’s equal, when she was just the General’s whore!
She was locked once again in her guarded bungalow, with two shadow-Xayans stationed outside. She was told to sit, wait, and cause no trouble. Desperate, she had watched from a mesh-glass window, still shuddering as she remembered the sight of the monstrous torpedo ant queen that the converts had brought up out of the ground and incinerated in the air. So many horrors here! Only a few scraps and bones of Ishop Heer had been found in the eradicated underground nest.
Ishop’s betrayal shocked her the most. For years she had turned to him, depended on him, and he’d never let her down. He cheerfully accepted the most difficult and bloodiest of assignments. But somehow he’d held a grudge against her. Was it because she denied his absurd claims of ancient nobility? As if a modern Diadem would be bound by the decision from some centuries-old council! She was amazed he could be so stupid. And he had tried to kill her! She had seen the expression of pure evil as he trapped her in the room with voracious insects.
Well, he was dead at least. Nothing she needed to worry about any longer—she was far more concerned about getting rescued before the asteroids hit.
Fanatical converts continued to gather around the slickwater pools, as if communing with something. Though she was imprisoned here, Michella knew the possessed humans could drag her out at any moment and throw her into the alien pools. Better to have been killed by Ishop than that!
Michella was sickened to be held so close to the simmering alien contamination. Back on Sonjeera, she had been so afraid about a few possessed representatives that she’d ordered them killed and sealed away rather than let them spread their poison. Yet even that hadn’t been enough. She had incinerated half of the Sonjeera spaceport and part of the capital city to prevent the corruption from gett
ing loose. Such a sacrifice she had made, such a difficult decision, but it was necessary. And did the people of the Crown Jewels appreciate the terrible choice she had faced? Her skin still crawled at the thought of those disgusting aliens invading her mind.
And now the roiling source of contamination was right there, only a stone’s throw from her prison. What if the insidious presence had leaked into the air, into the water? She caught her breath—maybe Ishop had been infected, possessed! Yes, that would explain his incomprehensible hatred toward her.
Worse, maybe she was already infected without knowing it. At this very moment, strange, powerful aliens could be seeping into her tissues, into her mind.… She wanted to scream.
Michella closed her eyes, tried to compose herself, and huddled down on the hard chair inside the bungalow. She had never felt so alone. The Constellation had deposed her, Keana had confronted and rejected her, Ishop Heer had betrayed her.
But she knew that Commodore Hallholme was up in orbit, fighting the General.… What if he didn’t know where Michella was being held? If only she could communicate with him, then he could plan how to rescue her. She could promise him promotions, rewards, other planets to rule.
Michella knew there was a comm room inside the main lodge house. If she made her way there, she could send a message to the Constellation ships in orbit. She could give him the information he needed.
With a critical assessment, she looked at the wrinkled skin on her arms, the red and purple cuts and bites from the torpedo ants. She appeared frail, weak, injured—and that was to her advantage.
Michella Duchenet had ruled for the better part of a century. She might look like a fragile old woman, and for decades many of the nobles on the Council had been impatiently waiting for her to die. But she was more physically fit than Lord Riomini, thanks to her rigorous daily physical training regimen, guided by the most competent and expert assistants.
What she had never allowed others to know—not even Ishop—was that in addition to physical training, she had been privately instructed in deadly defensive techniques. Despite surrounding herself with guards and security measures, Michella knew that the last line of defense stopped with her. For forty years she’d been trained in how to fight. She was a deadly person, and now a desperate one.
She had one possibility, and she had to take the chance. Letting out a loud groan, she pounded on the door. “I am growing ill. Those insect bites are poisonous. I’m having a reaction.” She had already seen and assessed the two guards standing outside. She didn’t know the extent of their alien powers, but could see that they were physically human. Their bodies had the same vulnerable points that she knew how to strike. She loathed the idea of touching them, but had no choice now.
A Diadem had to be decisive, and ruthless.
As they opened the door, Michella moved in a blur of speed, burning through her fear, using almost every scrap of energy she had. Her nails were long and sharp, trimmed to a razor’s edge. Her knuckles were hard and bony.
She slashed across the eyes of the first man, then whirled to the second one, driving a hard punch into his larynx. As he clutched at his throat, she spun back to the first guard with a hard chopping blow to the base of his neck, then followed through with a pummeling fist on the thin bone of his temple.
As the man fell, still clutching at his oozing eye, she used her momentum to slam the second guard onto the floor. She stomped on his neck with her heel, crushing his spine. She delivered another front kick to the fallen first guard, striking him in the head and completing the job there. Both were dead in seconds.
There! She stood over their corpses, heaving great breaths, her heart pounding, but she was confident her body could take the exertion. Several scabs had broken open and were bleeding, but Michella ignored them. She couldn’t afford to hesitate. Move faster, get a message to the Commodore, order a rescue.
She hauled both dead guards through the door into the bungalow so neither body would be seen. She searched their uniforms; though she loathed to touch their contaminated bodies, she needed the weapons. She relieved each man of a stun pistol, which she intended to put to good use.
Michella was even more pleased to see that the stunners also had a kill setting. No point in taking half-measures. Every person here had committed treason and deserved to be executed by the law of the Constellation. She was fully aware that under no circumstances would she be allowed to live if she were captured. Well, if she failed now, she would at least take out as many of them as she could.
Michella slipped out of the bungalow, closing the door so that it appeared to be secure, and darted away.
Slickwater Springs was busy with shadow-Xayans frantically immersing themselves in the strange water before the asteroids came, as if that could save them or their planet. Other unconverted humans were preparing to be shipped off to the spaceports. She ducked behind the bungalow and ran toward the main lodge. She knew where the comm room was.
Dressed in drab clothes, Michella moved as if she knew what she was doing and where she was going. For a few minutes at least, the old woman blended in so that others didn’t give her a second glance—not at first. She only needed to maintain the illusion until she got inside the main lodge.
Just after she slipped in through a side entrance, two shadow-Xayans walked past her down a hallway, moving with intent expressions before turning into a larger briefing chamber. They paid no attention to Michella at all. When they turned a corner, she sprinted toward the communication chamber.
She had hoped to find it empty, but a man sat inside wearing a typical garment favored by shadow-Xayan converts, made from a fabric of processed red weed. He had a stiff military bearing, and she recognized him as Peter Herald, the first possessed man she and Ishop had met when they were delivered here to Slickwater Springs. He had just returned to join the shadow-Xayans after helping the General recapture the stringline hub from the incompetent George Komun.
Herald looked up when she rushed into the chamber. He saw her—and, unfortunately, he recognized her immediately. When the man rose from his chair, instead of shouting an alarm, his eyes narrowed, and she felt a sudden invisible lurch of telemancy reach out to her.
The psychic touch horrified her, like the slimy tongue of a demon caressing her face. Fighting it, she ripped out one of the stun pistols and fired at him without even aiming. The energy blast struck the man, too fast for him to respond with his alien defenses. He crumpled, falling onto the desk and then sliding to the floor.
Michella stepped up to the man, pointed the energy pistol again, and fired a long barrage on the kill setting, until she smelled burned flesh and singed fabric. She hoped it would be sufficient to neutralize the alien inside him. When the fallen man didn’t move, she put the pistol away and rushed to the comm set. She didn’t have much time!
Reality began to set in, though. She knew how to broadcast on the general military frequency, but did not recall the specific channel that would let her communicate privately with Commodore Hallholme. Everyone would hear her transmission demanding a rescue. Everyone would know where she was.
So be it.
She activated the comm. “This is Diadem Michella Duchenet calling Commodore Hallholme. Commodore, can you hear me? I’ve been taken prisoner. I am being held at this location. Send a rescue squad immediately.”
After a moment, he appeared on the screen. “I hear you, Eminence, but I am preoccupied at the moment.”
“Then assign a portion of your troops to come down and retrieve me! Follow these coordinates. Time is of the essence.” She provided details of her location.
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Eminence. Those are not my orders.”
“I’m giving you different orders, Commodore! I am your Diadem—I command you to send a squadron to Slickwater Springs, take me to safety, and obliterate this place!”
On the screen, the Commodore seemed weary, and actually looked annoyed with her! “You no longer give the orders, Michella
Duchenet. You are no longer Diadem. I am currently bound by emergency aid provisions from the Constellation Charter, and outside that I am operating under instructions from the duly-elected Diadem Selik Riomini. He gave explicit instructions that you should be left there to die, and his orders supersede yours.”
She seethed. “I know you, Percival Hallholme. You are loyal and moral, you would never leave me to die.”
He seemed to consider that, then said, “I do find the orders objectionable. I don’t consider Diadem Riomini to be a particularly honorable person, but I could say the same about you. Your previous decisions have left me, the Deep Zone, and the entire Constellation in a precarious position. I have to find the best legal and moral course between two rocky shores.”
She was astonished by his insubordinate manner; she had never heard him speak like that. Yet before she could reply, he continued. “First, I have to arrange for the evacuation of all the Constellation soldiers being held prisoner. After I complete that mission, I can consider secondary matters, such as yourself.”
Abruptly, he terminated the transmission, and she stared at the blank screen in shock. She was speechless, unable to comprehend what had just happened. And she had no one there to speak to except the dead body of Peter Herald.
Shouts rang out from the corridor of the lodge building. Someone tried to open the locked door of the comm chamber. She heard rising voices outside, closing in.
Michella was trapped.
67
When Sophie discovered the dead guards in Michella’s bungalow, she immediately felt anger mixed with sick dread. She couldn’t imagine how the disarmingly thin and frail woman could have bested two shadow-Xayan guards, but the old bitch already had so much blood on her hands, what did two more murders matter to her?
She sounded the alarm around Slickwater Springs and called on the shadow-Xayans to help. Only about fifty nonconverts remained, after the first groups had been evacuated to the spaceports, but in the middle of the crisis she couldn’t let Michella cause any delays. And the former Diadem needed to be held accountable for the crimes she had just committed.
Hellhole Inferno Page 38