Lodo extended his soft hands into the swirling patterns of translucent, not-quite-solid circuits. Then, in a flurry of movement, he tore his fingers across the filmy patterns and scrambled them like a child with a finger painting.
“Stop!” Cristoph cried. “What are you doing?”
With an invisible shove of telemancy, Lodo bent the metal plates, shattered the crystal components. He reached in and uprooted the flexible tubes. Sparks and pressurized droplets spurted up.
Keana reeled. “You ruined it!”
Cristoph felt sick. “That was the best chance we had for defending ourselves! Don’t you want to save us? Don’t you care about protecting this planet?”
“The device would have summoned far too much telemancy,” Lodo thrummed. “Such a tremendous surge would have attracted attention to us, and we cannot afford that, especially now, when we are not close enough to ala’ru.”
“How can you say it would attract too much attention?” Cristoph said. “We wanted the Constellation fleet to know—and be intimidated.”
“Not the Constellation fleet,” Lodo said. “There are other enemies. And they are alert.”
“What the hell are you talking about? What others?”
Lodo regarded them with his alien face. From her own shocked expression, Keana didn’t understand what the Original was talking about either, but Uroa was not forthcoming inside her mind.
Then a chill shot down Cristoph’s back as Lodo said, “The original asteroid impact was not an accident.”
52
Sia Frankov had been Tanja’s friend and valued business associate—now wiped out along with the rest of the Theser settlement, hundreds of thousands of people slaughtered.
Bebe Nax was one of her closest, most devoted companions, sounding board, confidante, true friend. And Marla Undine had murdered Bebe right in front of her own son!
Yes, the Constellation—and especially Undine—would pay dearly for what they had done. They had unleashed the blood and fire.
Tanja found it hard to breathe, reeling from the shock and pain. Emotions roared around her like the mudslide that had wiped out Puhau and killed her uncle Quinn and his entire town, all because of Diadem Michella.
It seemed as if every bright spot of happiness, every close companion who had humanized Tanja despite her hatred toward the Constellation, was being taken away from her. She still had Ian Walfor, but he had already raced off to Hellhole to inform General Adolphus about the Theser disaster, and she didn’t have the emotional strength to seek refuge in him. She had only her rage, and as it developed inside her she wanted to keep it. She needed to keep it and let it loose.
The General would retaliate for Theser in his own time, but here on Candela, it was up to her to avenge Bebe Nax. This was personal. And a dark part of her wanted to take action before anyone could advise restraint.
After his horrific experience, Jacque remained sedated in a Saporo medical center, although he kept crying out for his mother. Tanja went to visit the boy, though she could barely see through the fog of her fury. She doubted the groggy young man heard or understood her, but she swore to him that Undine would pay blood for blood. “I am the planetary administrator,” she said, “and I will see to it.”
Traveling alone, Tanja flew her own aerocopter out to the prison on the Puhau mudflats. She felt an arctic coldness settling over her, and terrible sorrow hung in her thoughts like a shadow that would never go away. Tanja felt outraged on Jacque’s behalf, but she had also loved Bebe herself. She could never do enough to soothe the boy’s deep wounds, to dispel the nightmares that would haunt him forever. Nothing could bring his mother back, and no amount of suffering by Marla Undine would make up for the loss.
But some things had to be done.
With her thoughts in a blur, she felt the intensifying acid of hatred. As if in a trance, Tanja walked through the dank prison corridors to Undine’s high-security cell. When the guard opened the cell door, Tanja found herself staring at the governor’s defiant, smirking face.
“Have you hired a new assistant yet?” Undine laughed. She was shackled to the wall. “I hear the one you had will be hard to replace.”
Tanja’s rage boiled over, and she did not try to contain it. Her fingers found the projectile pistol in her jacket pocket, and she drew it. “That is true, but you have no such value.” Marla Undine barely had time to sneer before Tanja shot her.
The guard shouted, but it was too late. Tanja fired six more times before the weapon was drained, and then stood staring at what she had done. Moving with great care, the guard removed the weapon from her trembling hand, but his voice held no implied criticism as he said, “Saves the trouble of a trial.”
Initially, Bebe had come to the prison to record a statement from the hostage governor; Tanja intended to use it for a message to Diadem Michella. Now she would send an entirely different sort of message.
“We are at war,” she said, her voice tight. “What the Constellation did to Theser proves they mean to wipe us all out. I was justified.”
“You’ll get no argument from me, Administrator.”
Staring down at the body slumped in the dirty, bloody water, Tanja felt no remorse. The dead governor had been a puppet of the Diadem, whose hands were covered with innocent blood. Michella’s massacre on Ridgetop had been exposed not long ago; what happened to Theser was worse.
Yes, Tanja needed to send a very clear message to the monster.
As long minutes passed and she continued to glare at the lifeless, worthless body of Undine, she realized that General Adolphus might have wanted to ransom the political prisoner, but it was too late for second thoughts. Tanja had never killed anyone before, but as Candela’s ruler she would stand by what she had done—and make it count.
The message would make the old Diadem choke. As she stared at Undine’s bleeding body, a plan formed in her mind.
In a cool, controlled voice, she commented to the guard, “The Diadem thinks we are all savages out here anyway, so I’ll show her what savages do.”
53
Ishop paced his private office in a seedy part of Council City’s government district, waiting for Laderna to arrive. His assistant had buried herself in research and investigations, and now she said she’d made an important new discovery. Ishop never underestimated the magnitude of her discoveries. Maddeningly, since it was Laderna’s habit to draw out the suspense, she had provided no details.
He glanced at an ornate chronometer, a gift from Diadem Michella, and noted Laderna was running late. Not like her at all.
Maybe she had found a way to kill the Diadem’s sister, Haveeda, or received confirmation of the death of Keana, so they could tidily finish up the list. He could keep his hopes up. He felt it was important to see a task through to its end. But if he was about to become a nobleman, then he had to leave his murderous days behind; better to keep his hands clean. One more month until he could reclaim his heritage.
Until then, he would continue to serve the special needs of Diadem Michella. He had advised and protected the old ruler over the years; he performed many of the necessary and unpleasant tasks that kept her rule strong. In return, Michella had rewarded him with tremendous opportunities, much more than a mere streetwise commoner deserved. When he finally revealed his true heritage, the Diadem would be his greatest champion.
He was glad he didn’t have to kill her, just to complete his list. That would have put him in a quandary, confusing his priorities.…
After two quick raps on the door, followed by a pause and two more, their private signal, he let Laderna into the office and sealed the entrance behind her after a quick scan of the corridor. Her information was supposedly private. Flushed with excitement, she carried a leather briefcase, which she set on the desk. “Sorry I’m late, boss.”
She expanded a filmscreen, turned it in his direction, and displayed a detailed surveillance report. “This is a summary from the Diadem’s special team of guards, marking all identified s
ecurity threats. Nothing particularly serious, everything being handled through normal channels.” She smiled. “But they missed one.”
Ishop knew what she was going to say. “Burum Elakis, the man who communicated with Governor Goler in the prison.”
“We have to take all the information and surveillance into account. No actionable evidence against Elakis, but he has been engaged in highly suspicious activity. You know how good I am at making connections, boss. He’s from Orsini, clearly an Adolphus sympathizer, and I believe he’s up to something big, connected with both Governor Goler and General Adolphus—and I think it involves the Diadem.” Laderna was not a person to waste time, and she continued in a rush. “Do you remember a few years ago when a palace butler was arrested on suspicion of stealing the Diadem’s jewelry?”
Ishop had only a vague memory of the event. In the immense palace there was always one scandal or other. “A minor incident, if I recall correctly.”
Laderna’s eyes shone. “Supposedly the butler co-opted one of the Diadem’s ladies-in-waiting to steal the gems, and then the two of them ran off to a resort town on Orsini. The butler was found dead in his cell afterward—a suicide, supposedly. But I think we know that’s not true.”
“I have some … experience in the true causes of prison suicides.” He couldn’t help but smile.
“The man’s name was Willis Elakis, the older brother of Burum Elakis.” She paused. “And Burum, it seems, still holds a grudge. That’s probably why he requested reassignment from combat during the General’s rebellion when everyone else was gung ho to fight.”
Ishop scratched his head, scanned more details of the report. “Michella probably was responsible for his brother’s death. She wouldn’t let anyone get away with stealing from her.”
“And there’s more, boss. Burum Elakis is rather patriotic about his planet Orsini, and the Tazaars. It’s a complicated situation.”
Ishop wondered if Laderna had dug so deeply, looking for connections, because they were considering Enva Tazaar as a possible noble wife for him.
“We’ll watch him, see what he’s up to, but keep this to ourselves for now. No one else needs to know. If we end up saving the Diadem, why dilute her gratitude toward us by letting anyone else participate?”
* * *
While Ishop continued the careful, albeit tedious, surveillance of the mysterious man, Laderna tracked down clandestine images and recordings of Elakis’s former activities on Orsini, before he came to Sonjeera for an utterly trivial job. Very puzzling. It could be a discreet cover.
They intercepted a message that Elakis sent in a seemingly innocent package to an old friend on Orsini, but Laderna traced it to a rerouting system that delivered it to the Tazaar estate. Even more puzzling. Laderna managed to extract the message and copy it. The words were coded gibberish, but that was merely another layer of opacity to the problem. It took the combined skills of Ishop and Laderna to decipher the message, and when they finally stared at the translation, both grinned.
“Good thing we told no one about our suspicions,” Ishop said. “Let’s bide our time now and see how this complicated assassination plot unfolds.”
Flushed in the face, Laderna said, “You’re not going warn the Diadem about the bomb he’s going to plant?”
“Not until I can figure out how to rescue her at the proper time and take full credit—along with you, of course. We can always arrest Elakis later, at our convenience.”
She was so excited that she kissed him, and he was pleased to let her. In fact, he even suggested celebrating, for old times’ sake.
54
“I’ve been doing this for a long time,” mumbled the Commodore, feeling weary rather than joyful. Then louder, for good form, he added, “Strike fast, strike hard.”
In his old uniform, Percival Hallholme stood straight and tall inside the stringline hub. For the quiet send-off, they had all gathered before a titanium framework studded with windows for viewing the stars and space traffic coming from the Crown Jewels.
Beside him, Diadem Michella gazed out at the assembled vessels that Commodore Hallholme would lead on a sneak attack against General Adolphus. The thirty warships had been crewed with personnel that Percival selected personally, based on their competence rather than pedigree. He did not need a crowd of useless, medal-hungry nobles.
“The ships are waiting for my order to depart,” Michella said. “But with no fanfare this time, no announcement whatsoever. No one but your own crew will know where they are going, so the General’s spies cannot warn him.”
Percival nodded. “Thank you, Eminence. I will conduct this operation in the utmost secrecy.” His very presence had attracted some attention regardless, and someone might have noticed the discreet reassignment of decommissioned trailblazer ships loaded with more iperion than the Crown Jewels could properly spare. But no one would suspect he’d venture along a dangerous and long-decommissioned route to Buktu.
Michella smiled. “We are hosting planetary celebrations for Lord Riomini’s great victory on Theser, with a very powerful loop of images for all the public to see. We’re even distributing the package to schools as educational material. I wish you could stay for the festivities.”
Percival kept his expression neutral. “A shame, Eminence, but it provides the perfect distraction for our departure. My ships will be gone before anyone can put the pieces together. I shall attend an even larger celebration when General Adolphus has been defeated.”
She smiled, touched his collar affectionately. “That’s a promise, my old friend. Your son tried to take care of the mess, but it appears we’ve lost him and the battle fleet. Lord Riomini showed his bloodthirstiness on Theser, but he has more interest in the Star Throne than in being a true war hero. You’re the only commander I can really trust for this mission. The fate of the Constellation is at stake.”
He tried to hide the hint of impatience on his face. Percival served his Diadem, but he did not dare let Michella realize how much he disliked her personally. He would fulfill his responsibility and do her bidding—and do it extraordinarily well—but no more.
He saluted her, then, favoring his bad leg, hobbled into the boarding tunnel to his flagship, which already hung aboard its hauler. The stringline hauler was ready to begin picking its way along the intermittent iperion path to Buktu. By the time the raucous Riomini celebrations started, he intended to be far from the Crown Jewels.
* * *
Diadem Michella spared no expense in celebrating Riomini’s decisive victory against the “well-armed and dangerous” rebels on Theser. She would give the Black Lord all the glory he wanted, and for once he deserved it.
Fortunately, Riomini had launched his strike before Governor Goler came to the Crown Jewels with his naïve ultimatum from Adolphus. The Theser strike demonstrated to everyone how vulnerable any individual Deep Zone world was—the rebels couldn’t possibly mount a large defensive force around so many frontier planets! And if the Diadem chose to call the General’s bluff and devastate another colony, she didn’t believe even a power-hungry madman like him would sever all their lifelines.
But she wouldn’t risk it—she didn’t need to. She would bide her time while Commodore Hallholme took care of the matter. The imminent death of Adolphus—drawn and quartered, perhaps, or slowly vaporized—would go a long way to restoring peace and harmony in the Constellation.
In the capital city, the festive mood had captivated the populace. She provided free food and drink, commissioned bands, scheduled breathtaking fireworks displays. The beloved Diadem and the brave Black Lord would symbolize strength and prosperity.
At the climax of the celebrations, she was due to present Riomini with a medal that was specially designed for the occasion. Her security detail took her by royal carriage to Heart Square, and the crowd noises became thunderous when she made her way to the central stage. This would be an important speech.
Due to the Deep Zone troubles, grumbling had increased across the C
rown Jewels as well. Without the DZ tribute payments, many of the gentry were denied the luxury items they had grown so fond of, as well as the profits of certain business operations. More and more, they blamed her for not resolving the situation, and she’d been forced to arrest some nobles and businessmen for making seditious statements.
When shadows cast by the setting sun stretched across the plaza, dazzling torches were lit to enhance the spectacle. Michella crossed the stage and raised her arms high. Behind her, and on screens across Sonjeera, flashed gruesome and victorious images of Theser, accompanied by patriotic music. “Strike fast, strike hard!” she shouted repeatedly, and the crowd took up the chant.
In a firm voice, the Diadem gave one of her usual speeches about how ruthless the rebels were, how they had taken political prisoners, shirked their financial responsibilities to the Constellation, and more. The Deezees had practically forced the Diadem to attack them.
“It is what the traitors deserve,” she announced. “We do not negotiate with such people. After what Lord Riomini accomplished on Theser, they are fleeing for cover. Our forces will meet very little resistance when we restore order to the Deep Zone.” She needed to be vague, because she had not admitted the full debacle of the original fleet, despite Governor Goler’s comments to the Council.
She motioned toward Riomini, who waited at one side of the stage. Puffed with pride, the Black Lord made his way to the podium. While he grinned beside her, the Diadem spoke lofty words and pinned yet another golden medal on his chest, to the resounding cheers of the onlookers. Then she released the crowd to continue their celebrations.
As she stepped down from the platform with Lord Riomini and headed back to the interior of the building, she felt relieved. When they entered the secure corridor and the doors closed to drown out the noise of the crowd outside, she saw Ishop Heer, surrounded by her own security team. They had gathered in the echoing hall to await the end of her speech. Michella noticed that they all stood around a diplomatic message pod.
Hellhole: Awakening Page 28