The awkward tension in the meeting chamber reminded Adolphus of the humiliating surrender ceremony he had been forced to endure years ago, but this was different. Facing him across the conference room table, the Commodore said, “General Adolphus, now it’s my turn—I need your help. We all need your help.”
“I’m listening,” Adolphus said.
“I mean the Constellation … which, I suppose, is now comprised of just the twenty Crown Jewel planets.” He cleared his throat. “Because I refuse to follow the orders of Diadem Riomini, no doubt he will devote all his resources to making a counterstrike against us. He still controls a large military force that he created in secret. He gave me command of some of the warships, but retained many for himself for Crown Jewels security. He’ll keep pressing and probing, trying to find ways to destroy us. He hates you, General Adolphus, and I presume that after what I’ve done he will hate me just as much.”
Keana nodded. “My mother was a monster, and Selik Riomini is no better.”
Adolphus said, “I doubt if any peace talks will change his mind, no matter how much leverage we wield.”
Commodore Hallholme shook his head. “It’s not just the Diadem we need to change. It’s the Constellation itself. You can’t expect a garden to thrive if the soil is poisoned.”
Adolphus leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table. “I agree, the Crown Jewels are corrupt to the core—I’ve known that since I started my first rebellion. Are you suggesting we get rid of Diadem Riomini and put someone more acceptable in his place?” He arched his eyebrows. “Someone like you, perhaps? Or your son?”
The Commodore raised his hands. “Not me, by God! I retired years ago, and was only dragged back into active duty by force.”
“And that wouldn’t be for me either,” Escobar said. “I’ve never been interested in anything but a military career.”
Adolphus felt weary at the prospect of another lengthy rebellion, a clash of Deep Zone worlds against entrenched Crown Jewel planets. “We need to make fundamental changes at the heart of the Constellation, not just prop up another leader who comes from the same political system.”
“But so much is different now,” Sophie pointed out. “Maybe the time is right, if we work together.”
Assessing the resources available to him, Adolphus said, “We have my DZDF, combined with the Commodore’s fleet. Together, we should be superior to any military force the Constellation still has. But we need to strike quickly, before they can build their fleet.”
The very idea of General Tiber Adolphus and Commodore Percival Hallholme united against a corrupt system, fighting side by side, was inspiring.
“No matter what forces Riomini has, I think we still have the advantage,” Percival said.
“The Ro-Xayans are with us, too,” Adolphus said. “Unlike the Xayan converts, they still have powers of telemancy.”
Commodore Hallholme rose to his feet and took the General’s hand in a firm, tight grip.
“We’ll set up the task force,” General Adolphus said. “We have a lot of damage to undo at Sonjeera.”
82
Well past midnight, feeling oddly alone and unsettled on Sonjeera, Diadem Riomini went to the dark and cavernous Council chamber, where he paced back and forth by the Star Throne. He looked at the great chair with its inset constellations of priceless jewels, touched it, sat on it, even kicked the damned thing—just because he could.
That should have given him satisfaction, but no one was here to witness his power. He’d heard no report from Commodore Hallholme long past the time when the old warhorse should have secured his victory against the rebel General. In a dangerous gamble, but for a victory worth winning, the veteran commander had taken a substantial portion of the Black Lord’s private military force. It was inconceivable that he had failed again.
Many of the Crown Jewels had disliked Diadem Michella so intensely that their populations, were happy, even relieved, when Riomini showed a strong hand and took over the leadership. But that damned Adolphus had planted the idea of independence even here in the Crown Jewels, not just in the frontier worlds. Many nobles were suggesting a fundamental change of government structure, and he couldn’t squelch the talk everywhere. He was going to need another powerful fleet just to maintain order here … and didn’t have enough ships.
Worse, he had just received a grim report from Vielinger, an assessment of the valuable mines there. Although the iperion excavation facilities had been repaired and production restored, the available veins of the rare substance were shockingly low. The situation was far worse than previously thought. Even in a best-case projection, supplies of iperion would last only a few more years.
And without iperion the stringline routes would dissipate and fray, leaving the network connecting the twenty Crown Jewels to unravel, connected only by much slower space travel—which would render them impossible to govern centrally.
And the Deep Zone would be even farther away, effectively out of reach.
Adding to the debacle, the mine supervisor’s confidential report had somehow leaked and spread throughout the ranks of nobles, increasing the unrest further. Like wolves, they could smell blood, sensing that the Constellation was falling apart, and no amount of effort—or military action from Riomini—would hold it together.
He stood in the silent, shadowy hall, pondering. The Star Throne had always looked like a glorious fixture in the chamber, but now he saw it as a mere prop. Though he’d wanted the role so badly, he felt trapped by everything that throne represented, held hostage as much as the General held Michella Duchenet hostage. He felt like taking a cudgel and smashing the chair apart, though that would be a useless gesture.
Unable to sleep in his lavish palace apartments—completely refurbished from when Michella had lived there—he’d crept into the Council chamber in his nightclothes and silk slippers, to think. Two black-uniformed guards had made a security sweep of the empty chamber, then allowed him inside. When they were satisfied that no assassins were lurking in the shadows of the posh seats, they stationed themselves at the outer doors, so he could be alone. Riomini envied them their comparatively simple life.
Every day, advisers brought him reports of dissension and fractures in the Crown Jewels. Just yesterday, emboldened nobles from Tanine and Patel had demanded the right to construct their own stringline hubs, calling the Sonjeera monopoly “a dangerous bottleneck.” Not so long ago, Riomini had made the same demand of Diadem Michella, but she had rejected it. Now, he had done the same thing, but his spies reported evidence that the nobles might be building the hubs anyway, in secret. Where did they think they would get the iperion to make those new routes feasible?
He suspected many of the complainers were Adolphus loyalists. He imagined seeing rebel supporters everywhere, and had increased efforts to root them out. In just the past week, he’d put out arrest warrants on thousands of people, and the prisons were overcrowded. Before long he would have to announce mass executions, just to cull out the worst offenders and ease the overcrowding of those prisons.
The rest of his ships from the once-secret Qiorfu fleet were stretched thin putting out brushfire uprisings around the Crown Jewels. In the most recent uprisings against him, three leading noblemen—three!—had mounted military forces against the rightful Diadem. Simply keeping such people in line was costing Riomini too much time and treasure. Sonjeera was not as well-protected as he would have liked, nor were his personal planetary holdings of Aeroc, Vielinger, and Qiorfu.…
Deeply troubled, he let himself slump into the great, glittering throne, which was not at all comfortable. With the chamber lights low, he stared at the ornate ceiling with its frescoes and gilded highlights, showing the original twenty Crown Jewels, and—more recent additions—sphere-topped pylons with engraved names, marking each of the fifty-four Deep Zone planets annexed into the Constellation. Now, those markers only served to remind him of what he did not rule.
Exhausted, Riomini found himself curlin
g up on the throne, placing a pillow on an armrest for his head. He had suffered insomnia for days, but maybe he could sleep here.…
He felt an urgent hand on his arm, shaking him, and the strident voice of Anson Tebias. “Eminence!” The slender man was not his normal groomed self; the dark hair was unkempt and the clothes wrinkled, as if he had just thrown them on. Beside him, guard commander Rota Vindahl stood with a sheen of sweat on her forehead and a strange look in her eyes.
Riomini didn’t want to hear it. “Go away.”
Vindahl stepped forward, implacable. “Sir, you must awaken! We are besieged.”
Flashes of explosions blossomed in the darkness outside the Council Hall. Glare washed through the segmented panes of the ceremonial windows.
So, the discontented nobles had made a move on Sonjeera after all! A surge of anger made his face hot. Whoever it was, he would sterilize their home planets, just as he’d done to Theser!
Tebias seemed sickened and disoriented. “Eminence, Commodore Hallholme has returned with the fleet.”
“Good! Have him crush this uprising.”
Tebias looked at Rota Vindahl, who did not hesitate to answer. “Sir, Commodore Hallholme is the one attacking us. And he is allied with General Tiber Adolphus. And … and there is more.”
Riomini felt a sinking sensation. This was not possible! He had to be dreaming, needed to escape from the nightmare. Shocked, he pressed himself back into the uncomfortable throne. “Go away. You take care of it.”
The main doors of the Council chamber burst open to reveal a throng in the doorway—soldiers in Constellation uniforms, citizens, nobles. He heard weapon fire outside, the roar of heavy ships landing in Heart Square. Just as it had been when he had taken over here after Michella Duchenet fled.…
Tebias sounded apologetic. “I’m sorry to say this, Eminence, but General Adolphus and Commodore Hallholme have demanded your immediate surrender.”
Riomini felt a clamor in his head, muffled by the impossibility of it all. “Nonsense. Bring me my robe of state, and I will speak with them. And close those doors so I can have some privacy.” He looked in embarrassment at his nightclothes. No … this simply couldn’t be real.
At the towering doorway, Commodore Percival Hallholme came inside, his proud stride marred by his characteristic limp. The old warhorse wore his gold-and-black Constellation uniform—and behind him marched General Tiber Adolphus in a blue-and-gold rebel uniform. Soldiers wearing both uniforms, side by side, streamed into the chamber.
Adolphus had been shackled the last time he was dragged before the Star Throne. Now, he wore a ceremonial sword and a sidearm.
While Vindahl stood beside the throne, clearly ready to give her life to protect Riomini, Tebias rushed toward the intruders. He was quite agitated. “May I be allowed to retrieve one of Diadem Riomini’s royal robes? For propriety?”
“He won’t need anything like that,” said General Adolphus. “He’s not going to be ruling anymore, and we won’t require an extravagant surrender ceremony. They’re overrated, in my opinion.”
Hallholme added, “It would be nothing more than a formality anyway. Lord Selik Riomini, you are hereby removed from the Star Throne, and the Constellation is freed from your tyrannical rule. You will stand trial for war crimes.”
Riomini saw black static around his vision, and his head pounded so hard that he feared blood vessels were about to burst. He felt disoriented, as if his mind were shutting down from too many impossibilities. “I am the Diadem of the Constellation! War crimes do not apply.”
“Specifically the annihilation of the free world of Theser,” said Adolphus.
“And the murder of protected prisoners of war on Vielinger,” Hallholme added in a tone of disgust. “As further evidence, we have copies of your orders instructing me to slaughter the populations of every Deep Zone planet.”
In the crowd of uniformed soldiers, Riomini was surprised to recognize Redcom Escobar Hallholme, the incompetent commander who had lost his entire fleet in an ineffective attack against General Adolphus. Hallholme’s son stood between his father and the General. “You gave me similar orders, Lord Riomini—to kill every innocent civilian on planet Hallholme.”
When they came forward to seize him, Vindahl threw herself in the way, protecting him. Riomini was dismayed when the soldiers were forced to shoot her down. Well, at least someone was loyal and reliable.…
Constellation and rebel soldiers dragged Riomini off the throne and hauled him out of the chamber. He felt cold and helpless in his nightclothes, but these intruders showed him no consideration. The crowd closed in and swept him along as he was taken outside.
Riomini stared upward at a night sky filled with Constellation and Deep Zone warships hovering low over the city. Soldiers in DZDF uniforms monitored a large display screen that Michella Duchenet had often used when addressing the throngs of people who pretended to adore her. Now, though, they had rigged the screen to show images from orbit.
All the ships Riomini had given Commodore Hallholme from the Qiorfu fleet were there, closing in on the Sonjeera stringline hub, accompanied by many more battle vessels—the General’s own Deep Zone Defense Force, as well as the ships once controlled by Redcom Escobar Hallholme.
And there were hundreds of silvery whirling ships of a configuration he had never seen before; they darted about in impossible maneuvers, flitting ominously around the handful of Riomini’s overwhelmed ships. The whirling silver vessels looked … alien.
He couldn’t understand or accept any of this. It was all too impossible to believe. He started laughing. This wasn’t real!
“We have three fleets arrayed against you,” said General Adolphus.
The whirlwind of distress and confusion closed in on him, and Riomini could not process the information. He saw fires burning on the other side of Heart Square, and heard steady weapon fire and the roar of crowds in the distance. More and more people streamed into the square. Soldiers were tearing down his black Riomini banners and Constellation flags from poles and buildings.
And then he saw two large, hideous aliens—with pale skin, humanoid heads and torsos, long sluglike bodies—moving toward him across the square. Laboriously, they began to climb the wide stairway of the Council Hall, on their stubby caterpillar legs. Riomini could not cringe away.
It was all so outrageous, so impossible, that he folded inward, squeezing his eyes shut and retreating to the only place he could hide. Inside of himself.
83
When General Adolphus arrived at Ankor with his extensive celebratory force, he found himself surrounded by thousands of cheering Deezees who waved blue-and-gold banners.
Adolphus would have preferred to speak to the crowd in a less formal manner, without a podium, but there were too many people for casual conversations. The platform and podium had been hastily erected for him and the Ro-Xayan leader Zhaday.
In the front, Sophie gave him a broad smile and silent encouragement. He was reminded of the day he gave the speech announcing the new DZ stringline network, declaring the independence of all frontier worlds. This time, he hoped his speech would create stability rather than turmoil.
When Adolphus prepared to address them, he gazed out at the crowd, but thankfully saw no shimmering eyes or strange behavior in the converts. Their telemancy had been drained away, the powers burned out by the incredible effort of moving the planet. He noticed Keana standing in the front stands next to Cristoph de Carre.
The Ro-Xayan asteroids were in safe, stable orbits around the planet. At night, Hellhole had twenty small, bright new moons.
After waiting for quiet, he pointed upward. “The sky is blue today, but we know how quickly that can change on Hellhole—how quickly that can change in life. We secured a great victory, and in the process we not only survived, but we grew much stronger. For that, it took the combined energy, the combined will, and the military assets of two cultures. We’ve got a lot of work to do, so we must remain vigilant.”
On the stage next to him, Zhaday lifted his torso and amplified his thrumming words with telemancy. “We remaining Xayans must also be vigilant to ensure that the threat of ala’ru does not reemerge. Our numbers must remain controlled, our telemancy limited.”
Keana called out from the crowd, “But the Xayans inside our memories will always be there. We will never forget the lives that joined ours.” Many of the former converts added their voices to hers, though most only experienced occasional whispers in their memories.
Zhaday made one more announcement in his unusual voice. “The Ro-Xayans are no longer a separate faction. We are all Xayans. We are the hope of our future.”
Jonwi and several others of his faction merged into the crowd at Ankor, ready to listen to the General’s words. Jonwi moved forward and invited all the Ro-Xayans and humans to work with him to tame and replant the damaged world. He promised that the planet could once again become the lush, verdant paradise it had once been—a dream for all to share.
Adolphus continued. “As for the Deep Zone, our planets are independent, free of a repressive government, no longer a source for plunder by a wealthy few. We will be part of a larger cooperative network of commerce for as long as the stringlines continue to function.”
His statement sidestepped the very real concerns that their iperion supplies were extremely limited, after the destruction of Candela. The only other known source was on Vielinger, and those mines were nearly barren. Prospectors had continued searching more than fifty uncharted DZ planets for another source, but so far they remained unsuccessful.
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