Hellhole

by Kevin J. Anderson

  Her uniformed driver steered the carriage around the perimeter of Heart Square, taking the circuitous, traditional route that was prescribed for the Diadem’s arrival. According to long-established custom, the Diadem’s mere passage through the city was said to bring good fortune. Silly superstition, but Michella did not dare break the routine. Tradition was the bedrock of human civilization. Anyone who tried to destroy that bedrock, as Tiber Adolphus had, needed to be dealt with. Severely.

  The motor carriage came to a stop, and the polished door automatically swung open. Gathering her regal presence as naturally as she breathed, Michella stepped from the running board to the street, still spry and agile despite her advanced age. At this early hour, only a few citizens gathered in the square to watch her approach, with their hats off and heads bowed.

  Wearing robes of state, members of the Constellation’s parliamentary body took positions on either side of the broad steps that led up from street level to the inner chambers. She walked between them up to the entrance, and then they followed her inside as if this were a choreographed military drill. Michella smiled to herself as she heard some of them struggling to keep up with her.

  The previous week, she had eavesdropped while several lords in this very chamber whispered about who might succeed her as Diadem. Due to her age, the question was on the minds of all ambitious planetary lords, but their speculation was premature. She would probably outlive them all.

  Michella had only one child, her daughter, Keana, and Constellation law prohibited a son or daughter of the previous monarch from serving as supreme ruler in order to limit the power of any one noble family as well as to prevent the creation of a corrupt dynasty. Therefore, the next Diadem was not – in theory at least – Michella’s concern.

  The authors of such laws were so naïve.

  While she had listened in annoyed silence, the whispering lords bandied about a number of names, exchanging favors and recommendations as if their machinations weren’t obvious. When she could bear it no longer, Michella spoke loudly from the elevated throne. “The Council elected me Diadem for life – for life, and I’m not dead yet. I have ruled the Constellation for many decades, and I am still in better physical condition than most of you.”

  A quick, embarrassed hush had fallen, and the startled Council members issued profuse apologies. Nevertheless, she knew that most of the planetary lords were anxious to have another leader, preferring new policies and fresh energy. They were like carrion birds circling.

  As Michella crossed the white marblene floor to her throne in the great Council chamber, she wished she had the timely advice of Ishop Heer. As her confidential aide, Heer was adept at picking up inferences, hearing secret conversations, and keeping accurate lists of everything. His surreptitious discoveries provided her with much of the subtle, unofficial information she required to make her decisions. However, precisely because he was so reliable, she had just dispatched him to Hallholme to sniff out any mischief that Adolphus might be up to. Ishop Heer might be talented, but he couldn’t be in two places at once.

  No matter. Michella already knew why the nobles were agitated today: the matter of Keana and Lord de Carre. Again. Somehow, she had to find a resolution to her daughter’s indiscretions. The uproar was preposterous, since affairs were common among the noble families, but usually handled with much greater discretion. Keana’s own husband might tolerate being cuckolded, but the man’s family could not ignore the insult or the scandal.

  Lifting the hem of her robe, Michella ascended to the Star Throne adorned with constellations set in priceless jewels. She sat upon the cushioned seat and gazed down at the U-shaped arrangement of lords and ladies. The forty rows in the assemblage included dignitaries from all the Crown Jewel planets, as well as political and business representatives from 183 recognized noble families. Today the seats were nearly full; scandals tended to increase attendance.

  Michella tapped her foot on a concealed panel, and a great bell chimed in the chamber to initiate the proceedings. Tired of games, she decided to deal forthrightly with her daughter’s annoying behavior. On her own terms. Michella spoke into her voice amplifier, “Rather than following the agenda, today I shall supersede other scheduled topics in order to discuss the de Carre matter.” Everyone knew what she was talking about; a murmur of approval passed through the chamber. “Lord de Carre has been summoned – is he present?”

  A titter of laughter rippled through the assemblage, but no one voiced the obvious suspicion that he was with Keana in their not-so-secret love nest. The nobleman was appallingly flippant about his real duties; Louis de Carre left his son to manage the complex business and industrial matters back on his home planet of Vielinger. Such arrogant selfishness invited the ire of his fellow nobles.

  “Is there no representative of the de Carre family present while this matter is up for discussion?” Michella demanded. “Did he name no proxy?”

  No one spoke up.

  Her annoyance was plain to everyone in the chamber. “The best interests of Vielinger must be represented, even if the planetary lord can’t be bothered to attend to his duties.” And, of course, she had to ensure uninterrupted production from the planet’s iperion mines. She somehow doubted that de Carre’s son was up to the challenge.

  Lord Selik Riomini stepped onto a platform, dressed in a black robe adorned with military medals and braids. He had a rich, confident voice. “Such behavior plainly shows that the de Carres have abrogated their rights to the historic and vital holdings on Vielinger. The iperion mines are in disrepair, miners have been killed in cave-ins. It is a complete disgrace. We have to look to the future – as the deposits dwindle, we need to make sure the existing supplies of the material are managed well.”

  Michella suspected that many of the “accidents” had actually been caused by Riomini operatives to make the de Carre administration look incompetent. However, considering Louis de Carre’s behavior, perhaps a shift in leadership was in order after all.

  The Black Lord continued, “Iperion is crucial to maintaining the stringline network throughout the Crown Jewels and the Deep Zone, and those mines must be administered properly.” He bowed in an awkward attempt to appear humble. “Eminence, as they served you during General Adolphus’s rebellion, my private forces stand ready to take charge of Vielinger, so that we can protect the vital reserves for the good of the Constellation.”

  “For the good of the Riomini family, you mean.” A stocky, bearded nobleman rose from his chair near the center of the front row. “Riominis will skim profits if they gain control of those strategic reserves.”

  Lord Riomini shook his head, marshalling calm. “Yet another of your unsupported assertions, Lord Tazaar. If Riomini, or any other family, shoulders the burden of the Vielinger operations, this worthy Council will keep a close watch on all accounts.”

  With a laugh, Azio Tazaar showed he was not convinced. “There are accounts, and then again there are accounts. It is not difficult to run several ledgers simultaneously . . . nor is it difficult to cause tunnel collapses in the iperion mines to foment popular unrest against the de Carres.”

  A noblewoman in the back row spoke up, Lady Jenine Paternos, the elderly matriarch of one of the lesser families. Michella admired her for her tenacity. “Why, Lord Tazaar, you seem so indignant about Riomini ambitions, while you yourself have made no secret of your desire to take away my planet.”

  Tazaar gave an aloof chuckle but could not hide the sudden flush on his cheeks. “I merely suggested that your family would be better suited to administering one of the Deep Zone planets instead of Kappas. After all, generations of heirs have been forced to content themselves with smaller and smaller pieces of once-major holdings, and now many younger family members have no inheritance at all. It’s a shame.” He looked around at the seated dignitaries, most of whom faced similar crises on their own worlds. “The problem is not unique to Kappas. Without that dissatisfaction, would Tiber Adolphus ever have found support for his reb
ellion? Lady Paternos, you should be excited by the possibility of ruling a whole new world, a pristine planet.”

  Michella could barely keep up with the feuds upon feuds, most of which she found silly. The nobles behaved with very little nobility. In a recent committee meeting, Azio Tazaar had lost his temper and threatened to slit the throat of Lady Paternos; the Diadem had ordered the comment struck from the public record, but everyone remembered it.

  Still standing, Lord Riomini looked pleased that Tazaar was being attacked from a different direction. Michella wondered if the Black Lord had in fact staged the noblewoman’s outburst. “The situation on Kappas is not unlike the blatant mismanagement we have seen on Vielinger. Unrest has led to work stoppages, resulting in the delayed payment of taxes to Sonjeera, which harms the whole Constellation government. I submit to Diadem Michella” – Riomini gave her a little bow – “and all representatives here, that Vielinger would thrive with improved leadership.”

  Tazaar blurted, “So would Kappas. And you, Lady Paternos, could make a fresh start out in the Deep Zone.”

  Jenine Paternos looked ready to leap down onto the floor and begin pummeling Tazaar. “My family has held the Star Throne three times in the past, and our diadems are considered the most successful at bringing prosperity to the Constellation.”

  “Some of us don’t have to look so far back in history to find a competent family member,” Tazaar said in an acid tone. “Why don’t we stop these games? How much of a bribe will it take to send you out to the frontier worlds? And good riddance.”

  “I will not be bribed!”

  “Then you deserve to have your throat slit,” Lord Tazaar muttered, quite intentionally reminding them of his earlier outrageous threat. “I would do it myself, but I don’t want to dull a good knife on your leathery old skin.”

  Several people snickered, but Michella had had enough. She leaned forward on the throne. “Back to the matter at hand, before I censure you both. The question before the floor is what shall be done about Vielinger, considering Lord de Carre’s mismanagement?”

  “Thank you, Eminence,” Riomini said to her with exaggerated patience, taking the center of attention again. “The de Carre family is in dereliction of every duty.”

  “Except for one!” shouted a lord from the back row of seats. “He’s properly servicing the Diadem’s daughter as we speak.” The scoffer ducked to avoid being identified.

  Though she fumed, Michella did not respond to the humiliating chuckles throughout the chamber. It was common for these meetings to become raucous and unruly; ironically, it was part of the reason the system worked. Even with the flying insults, every representative could be heard, and often the candor cut through the interminable opacity of diplomatic discussions.

  Lord Riomini pressed forward. “The Constellation should commandeer Vielinger and station troops there under Riomini supervision. In good time, we can set up a cooperative arrangement among the leading families.”

  “I disagree in principle,” Tazaar said, the instant Riomini had finished.

  “I support the recommendation,” Lady Paternos added just as quickly.

  “Good, then we need only work out the details,” Michella said with a smile. She could at last deal with the open criticism of Keana’s affair, using the iperion concerns as an excuse. Louis de Carre was an embarrassment, and he needed to be removed. “This is a far more important matter than salacious gossip about romantic affairs.”

  Michella wished she could sweep the problem under the rug by exiling her daughter and Lord de Carre to the Deep Zone, as she had done to Adolphus and his rebels.

  5

  The streets of Helltown bustled with customers, vendors, and investors trying to swap items. After the contents of the down-boxes had been sorted and squabbled over, Sophie Vence obtained not only the items she’d ordered (at exorbitant cost), but also a few metric tons of useful material that her distribution network could sell at a profit.

  A few hours ago, as the newcomers disembarked from the passenger pod, Sophie had watched Adolphus meet the Diadem’s officious-looking watchdog (who seemed very annoyed that his surprise visit was not a surprise after all). The two men had headed off in a private vehicle to the General’s headquarters residence, kilometers outside of town. She was sure he would tell her all the details later.

  Constellation industrial and agricultural inspectors fanned out to copy databases, inventorying unusual items, materials, and native life forms that the Constellation might want. By carefully accounting Hellhole’s productivity, the inspectors could determine the proper amount of tribute the planet owed. Sophie had offered to send a few cases of her freshly bottled Cabernet; though it was probably too coarse for Diadem Michella’s palate, the wine did have some value, if only as a novelty to be sold at a good price on Sonjeera.

  When the flatbeds rolled in from the spaceport, Sophie directed the routine shipments to her warehouses where line managers would unpack and sort the contents. Though she normally let employees handle the mundane work, right now she felt as excited as a kid waiting for a birthday gift. As the flatbeds were unloaded, she searched for and found the hermetically sealed, well-cushioned box she’d been anticipating. Using the utility cutter on her belt, Sophie slit the protective polymer wrap.

  Devon came up flushed with excitement. “We’ve got a whole tank of trout fingerlings, Mother. Our fish hatcheries have been waiting for those. The algae and weed stock for the ponds should be ready. Before long, I’ll be able to go fishing!”

  Her heart went out to him. “Oh, Devon, I’m sorry I never took you fishing on Klief when you were a boy. It’ll be a great experience for you.”

  Her eighteen-year-old son had studied records of their former home planet. He had only been ten when she’d taken him to the new colony in the wake of a painful divorce. She didn’t regret coming here, and Tiber Adolphus was a thousand times the man her ex-husband had been – but Devon had been forced to grow up in a much more difficult place than Klief, and this planet had little to offer a growing boy. Now that he was of age, Devon was a good marriage prospect: strong, classically handsome, and good-natured . . . and his mother’s wealth and influence in the colony town didn’t hurt. Unfortunately, Hellhole didn’t have many available women in his age group.

  Devon continued to chatter. “Carter also snagged us a crate that was marked ‘Livestock Embryos.’ I figured we could use those.”

  “We can always use livestock embryos. What kind of animal?”

  “Goats, I think.”

  “The meat isn’t to my liking, but goats survive here better than most other animals. At least it can be processed into sausage or jerky, and the milk and cheese is useful. Good job, Devon.”

  The sealed container drew her attention again, and Devon helped her remove the rest of the polymer peel to reveal dirt-encrusted masses with woody protrusions – the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

  Devon touched one of the roots. “They survived the passage, but can they survive planting here?”

  “So long as we give them tender loving care.”

  Sophie had been waiting six months for this rootstock to add to her vineyards. She had already been producing red grapes, but if these vines took hold – if she watered, fertilized, and protected them from the harsh weather – she might be able to add a Riesling to her catalog. Tiber would love it; not because he preferred whites to reds, but because it was another mark of much-needed civilization – of civility – on this planet.

  “I want you to take care of this personally, Devon. Let Carter and Elbert manage the other shipments in the warehouses. Tell them to hurry, too – the weathersats show a growler coming into the area this afternoon.”

  Devon bolted off with more urgency than was actually necessary. She felt a glow of pride; he was a good kid.

  “Excuse me, are you Sophie Vence?” came a gruff voice.

  She turned to see a boulder of a man with a neatly trimmed dark beard, and a light blue pajama-lik
e uniform identical to those of his companions, who stood together at some distance behind him. They were of mixed races, hair colors, complexions, and physical builds, but they all looked oddly the same. Sophie couldn’t identify the religious sect, nor did she care. Hellhole got more than its share of fringe groups and cults, an endless string of nuts, but the General insisted that all newcomers be tolerated, provided they adhered to certain ground rules.

  She proffered her formal business smile. “Yes, that’s me. How can I help you?”

  “I am Lujah Carey, and I represent the Children of Amadin. We require equipment and materials. I understand you are the best person to provide them.”

  “You weren’t steered wrong, sir. What do you have in mind?”

  “Everything we need for survival. We could not bring much when we left Barassa, so we liquidated all our possessions to provide money to buy the necessities.”

  “This isn’t like a shopping mall on Sonjeera, Mr Carey. Although our manufacturing gets better every year, most of the big items still come in by stringline, and half the time we don’t get what we asked or paid for.”

  “I can pay.” The man showed her an account transfer card that held an extraordinarily high balance. “Amadin will provide.”

  “That’s all well and good, Mr Carey, but Constellation credits aren’t worth the same here. Our economy runs more on hard work and barter.”

  He looked briefly flustered, then an expression of stillness came over his face, and he continued with persistent calm. “My people will need several large overland vehicles, at least ten prefabricated shelters, along with hand tools and building materials so we can erect our own permanent structures. We have food supplies, but we will need additional agricultural resources. You may keep the entire balance on this transfer card if you help us set up a self-sustaining settlement where we can live our lives in privacy and liberty. I understand much of the planet’s surface remains unclaimed?”