In the meantime, the Riominis were trying every possible trick to drive Cristoph’s family from their home. It was all a strategy game to them.
Though his father was on Sonjeera during this crisis, Louis did nothing to stand up against the power grab. Lord de Carre was completely oblivious to the true danger. The few messages Cristoph had received from his father in the past three weeks merely complimented the young man on his work and unnecessarily warned him to watch out for saboteurs.
Outsiders criticized the de Carre family, and Cristoph personally, for poor safety conditions and the purported maltreatment of miners, although he maintained a rigorous schedule of inspections and implemented stringent safety protocols. Some conspiracy rumors asserted that the de Carres were intentionally hiding substantial iperion reserves, just to drive up the price.
When representatives of other noble families came to Vielinger like vultures circling, ostensibly under orders from the Diadem herself, Cristoph was required to offer his full cooperation. Pressure was increasing to let other noble families perform independent geological surveys and find new deposits of the dwindling resource, or for the de Carres to relinquish the iperion mines altogether.
For more than a thousand years his family had ruled Vielinger. Some of Cristoph’s ancestors had been diadems, famous philosophers, humanitarians – a family legacy that now seemed to be crashing down around him.
Meanwhile, his father cavorted with the Diadem’s married daughter, without a care in the world. Keana Duchenet was undoubtedly leading him on, duping him, probably as part of a plot with her mother. Cristoph didn’t know why his father couldn’t see it.
10
Night had fallen by the time the static storm passed. Each of Sophie Vence’s warehouses was equipped with cots, a kitchen area, sanitary facilities, and emergency supplies, since her employees had no idea when they might need to ride out an unexpected weather event. While they were cooped up together, she and Devon got to know their guests.
“Can they stay here with us tonight?” he asked his mother. Raised on Hellhole, Devon would never abandon a person who needed assistance.
“They can bunk here, and tomorrow we’ll find them temporary jobs.” She looked at Fernando, Vincent, and Antonia. “There’s plenty of cleanup to do after a big storm.”
“We’d very much like to get established, ma’am,” said Vincent Jenet. “I’m a good employee, and you’ll find me very reliable.”
“We appreciate your hospitality,” Antonia said.
“You can make up for it tomorrow and earn your keep.”
After dark, Sophie left Devon with the others inside the warehouse and ventured out into the dark and quiet streets. Though her line managers Carter and Elbert had transmitted reports to her, she wanted to make her own assessment of the damage done to her buildings and employees.
A bitter-tasting fog crawled through the streets like a miasma of disease. Sophie wore a thin filter over her mouth and nose, but her eyes burned. Alkaline dust coated the windows of the low rounded dwellings, so that only murky orange light seeped out from well-lit interiors.
A blanket of dust also coated her main greenhouse domes, which made the artificially lit hemispheres glow like gigantic luminescent gumdrops. Tomorrow she would sign out a few crane platforms and hoses to blast away the residue from the dust fog.
She walked along the street, greeting the hardy souls who were out and about getting a head start on the cleanup. Some townspeople used brushes to sweep away the corrosive debris or operated high-pressure blowers to clear out the cracks and crannies.
One of the men coughed heavily as he wiped off the transparent flower dome in front of his home, and Sophie clucked at him, “Put on a respirator, Rendy – are you crazy?”
“I only expected to be out here for half an hour.”
“And how’s that working out for you?” He tried to respond, but ended up coughing instead. Sophie gave him a stern frown; sometimes she felt like a den mother to these people. “Listen to me – it’s not a weakness to be sensible about hazards. You should know that by now.”
The man coughed again, his eyes irritated and red. “All right, I’ll get a damn mask.”
Adolphus’s tough leadership kept the colonists safe, but Sophie used a lighter touch. The two made a perfect pair. Their relationship was no secret to most people in Helltown, even though the General believed he was being discreet. Thinking like an administrator and a man, he felt that gossip would be too disruptive for the status quo. To Sophie, that excuse had a whiff of bullshit. She found it ironic that all the way out here in the Deep Zone, Adolphus seemed to be as concerned about appearances as the old Diadem was.
Nevertheless, after her disastrous first marriage she was satisfied with their relationship as it was. Despite the lessons she had learned from hard experience, she still considered herself a romantic at heart.
On Klief, one of the old Crown Jewel planets, she had married a charismatic and ambitious corporate climber, five years older than she. Gregory Vence courted her with talk as convincing as any boardroom speech, and after they were married he was proud, as if it were his accomplishment alone, when she gave birth to their son Devon.
She and Gregory, though, had very different visions of her role in their future. Sophie had planned on a successful business career of her own; while she tended the baby, she continued her studies at home, learning about management, supply chains, and resource allocation. But when, on Devon’s first birthday, she wanted to start searching for a suitable job, Gregory intervened, persuading her that the formative years were vital for their son.
By the time Devon was four and ready to enter early schooling, Gregory still found reasons for her to stay home; convincingly gracious on the surface, he used subtle ways to erode her confidence. When she eventually realized what he was doing, she became angry enough to take matters into her own hands.
Sophie applied for mid-level positions, only to be turned down again and again. After considerable research, she learned that Gregory had been intercepting her applications, poisoning her references, turning potential employers against her. She read confidential reports in which her own husband portrayed her as emotional and unstable; he suggested with saccharine sympathy that Sophie had been away from the real world for so long that she no longer understood it.
Sophie was furious. She filed for divorce and decided to make her own way in life, but by then Gregory Vence had become a well-connected man, and he fought her every step of the way. So much for young romance.
Though the court ordered Gregory to pay child support, he resisted, he refused, he “forgot,” and so Sophie had to fight him on that as well. Never giving up, she eked out a living at low-level jobs and began to work her way up. Despite being sidelined for almost nine years, she was back on track.
Then Gregory filed court papers demanding not only that she be stripped of all rights to child and spousal support, but requesting full custody of Devon as well. That absurd legal action convinced her that as long as she stayed on Klief, she would never be free of Gregory. In spite of all she had lost, she still had her self-esteem and her son.
The Deep Zone planets had opened to new colonization only a year earlier. Hallholme seemed particularly hard and challenging, a place that needed her administrative skills. Sophie didn’t want to go to a planet with an already entrenched bureaucracy. Hallholme would indeed be a challenge, but Sophie decided that it was exactly the sort of place where she could make a difference and find opportunities for herself and Devon. Best of all, Gregory would never bother to follow her to a place like that.
Before the ponderous wheels of the legal system could catch up with her, Sophie packed their possessions, cashed in her small bank accounts, and boarded a stringline hauler with Devon, leaving no forwarding address.
Even with the damned static storms and the smelly air, Hellhole wasn’t so bad compared with the crap she’d left behind. Sophie had done well for herself in Helltown.
&n
bsp; After walking the neighborhood, making note of any storm damage. Sophie made her way back to the warehouse to catch some sleep.
The next dawn, Sophie became boss instead of nurturer. She roused Vincent, Fernando, and Antonia from their bunks and told Devon to find suits for the three guests. “My son will show you how to gear up. Wear masks, eye shields, and gloves. After that storm, even long-time Hellhole residents need protection – and as newbies, you’ll react badly to all the junk in the air.”
“How badly?” Vincent picked up the suit Devon had handed him and tried to figure out how to don it.
“Inflammation and rashes. A cough.”
Devon groaned. “The intestinal bug is the worst.”
Fernando never let his optimism diminish. “I’ve got an iron constitution.”
Sophie made several calls, reassigning work crews from regular duties to salvage her precious vineyards. The teams rendezvoused in front of the main warehouse and climbed into flatbeds that rumbled out to low hills covered with a corduroy of grapevines.
At the sight of the grayish-green powder that coated her vine stock, Sophie felt sick. She pulled the flatbed to a halt near where two crews had already arrived. “That stuff is going to kill my vines! Get out there, concentrate on the leaves and any grapes that are forming.” She didn’t want to think what the alkaline residue would do to the red wine’s taste. All the more reason to clean off the dust as quickly as possible.
Rolling water tanks followed the suited crews up and down the vineyard rows; they used a liberal spray to rinse the hard, unripe grape clusters. Fernando Neron was thoroughly entertained by his high-power blower that scoured the dust away with bursts of air. Vincent worked alongside his friend, revisiting sloppy parts with meticulous attention to detail, and between the two of them they did a thorough job.
Devon was shy and tongue-tied around Antonia Anqui at first, but he made excuses to talk with her, offering unnecessary instructions on how to use the blower; he chatted about the varieties of grape vines they had tried, telling her how long ago they’d been planted and when his mother’s vintners had bottled the first vintage; he was excited about the new Reisling rootstock that had just arrived on the stringline hauler. Sophie knew that her shy son had never met anyone on Hellhole like this girl. In her opinion, they would make an acceptable pair.
When the crews took a break for the midday meal, Devon and Antonia sat together. Deciding the two might need some encouragement, Sophie joined them. “I’m impressed with your hard work and attitude, Antonia. I can find you a position in my greenhouses, working with my son.”
Antonia seemed to withdraw. Frown lines creased her brow. “That’s very generous of you, but . . . you don’t know anything about me.”
Sophie shrugged. “I know I need workers, and I’ve watched you work. Frankly, I don’t care about your past. You’re on Hellhole now – you left everything behind when you boarded that passenger pod.” She gave an encouraging laugh. “Listen, if I refused to hire anyone unless I know everything about their past life, I wouldn’t have any employees at all.”
Sophie was a sucker for anyone who needed help. After Gregory, she had been in bad spots herself, and most Hellhole colonists had stories worse than her own. Everybody needed a second chance. Oh, some of them were rotten to the core and beyond salvation, but those sorts showed their true colors soon enough. Hellhole wasn’t the sort of place that let anyone keep up pretenses for long. And if Sophie could make a decent life for herself, then others could, too – including Antonia.
Sophie motioned Vincent and Fernando over. “I’ll make you the same offer. New arrivals are asked to perform a year of public service work, but the catalog of jobs is large. Want to work for me in the vineyards and greenhouse domes? It’s not exciting, but it’s stable.”
Fernando piped up before his friend could contradict him. “We were hoping for something with more . . . potential, ma’am. Maybe mapping the landscape, or working out in the mountains?”
“Ah, treasure seekers?” With so much of the land area completely uncharted, every starry-eyed newcomer thought he could find a bounty of diamonds or a vein of gold. “You’ll have to see General Adolphus in person about that. He assigns grid mappers and topographical prospectors, if you can prove you’re capable.”
“We’re capable!”
Vincent countered him in a hushed voice, “We don’t even know what she’s talking about, Fernando.”
“The General’s a busy man,” Sophie continued, “and he usually delegates hiring, but if I send him a note, he’ll see you. Convince him you’re sincere.” Fernando looked ready to bolt off to the main offices, but Sophie raised her hand. “I’ll make that happen tomorrow. Right now, you need to earn your lodgings for last night.”
11
The next day, as the two men approached Adolphus’s Elba estate for their appointment, Fernando talked even more than usual. “I never thought we’d get a chance to meet General Adolphus in person. This could be our big break! He can’t possibly be the holy terror that the official histories say he is.”
Tiber Maximilian Adolphus was purported to be a ruthless traitor with the blood of millions on his hands, a man who had callously tried to ruin centuries of Constellation stability and tradition. Around the Crown Jewel worlds, children were warned that the General would leap out of their closets and eat them if they were naughty.
When he had worked in the machine shop on Orsini, Vincent had heard such things, but, from every indication in Michella Town, the locals were fiercely loyal to Adolphus for what he had done. Vincent figured he was about to see a different side of the story. Still, he was a bit nervous.
Sophie Vence had arranged their transportation out to the General’s residence, and Fernando marveled at the impressive house. “Can you believe it? It’s a mansion – a mansion, right here on Hellhole. He must have these people under his thumb.” He bent over to sniff a thorny flower blooming in a large clay urn on the porch, then winced at the vinegary scent.
An aide ushered them inside. “Gentlemen. The General is expecting you. Madame Vence speaks highly of both of you.”
They walked along tiled floors with carpeted runners, past a paneled banquet room and a handful of staff offices. The aide ushered them into an expansive study lined with bookshelves and glass display cases. Out of habit, Vincent brushed down his hair, straightened his shirt. He swallowed hard.
The man seated at his desk, hard at work, was immediately recognizable from numerous news stories and propaganda images. General Tiber Adolphus scanned records from his factories and scattered mining installations across the continent. He used a deskscreen to assign work teams and transmitted new instructions to offices in Michella Town, open-pit excavations, and industrial complexes that stretched for kilometers around.
Looking up from his work, Adolphus gave them a formal smile. Fernando pumped the General’s hand. “Thank you for seeing us, sir. You won’t be sorry you took the time.”
Vincent added with a respectful nod. “We appreciate the opportunity, sir.” He vividly recalled the reports of widespread unrest, battles on numerous Crown Jewel worlds, Commodore Hallholme’s victorious last stand against the rebel forces, and the much-despised and vilified Adolphus facing his court-martial. Those were the things Vincent remembered about this man.
Here, though, Adolphus did not look beaten or disgraced; rather, he appeared content, strong, full of personal power. “This planet may seem to have little to offer, gentlemen, but we reap what we can. I have financed roads, shelters, factories, power plants, mines, and schools . . . though we don’t have a large population of children quite yet.” He leaned forward and shoved documents aside. “When Diadem Michella dispatched me here, she intended for Hallholme to be my prison, but I refuse to think of it in those terms. We’ve already made this into a planet that’s worth something – to us if no one else – and I’m determined to make it even better.”
“Hear, hear!” Fernando said. “And we’d li
ke to help you make that happen, sir. You’ll find that Vincent and I are dedicated workers.”
Vincent cleared his throat nervously. “That’s the truth, sir.”
“No one comes to this planet expecting a vacation, and it is my practice to offer jobs to all newcomers. We have to make our settlements strong and viable. We have more work than we have colonists, which is why we ask for a year of community service, during which time you’ll have food and lodging. At the end of the year, you can strike out on your own, or if you enjoy your work, you can continue to act as my employee. My aides will help you find something tailored to your talents and skills.”
Fernando beamed. “We came here to make a new start.”
The General regarded them with raised eyebrows. “I’ve reviewed your files, gentlemen, and I know exactly why you’ve joined us.”
Vincent felt shame for what he had done, but Adolphus’s words carried little sting. The General continued, “Hallholme attracts many misfits. It’s a challenge to mold such fiercely independent and – let’s face it – eccentric people into a team that works for the good of everyone. The harsh environment forces cooperation. To tame this wild world, we need education, transportation, commerce, widespread agriculture, high-end medical facilities, industry, a functional society. In short, we have to create a reason for people to come here and the infrastructure to support them when they arrive. At the moment, given a choice of all the possible planets, only people without options choose to come here.”
“‘The place to go when you’ve got nowhere else to go,’” Fernando quipped. “My friend and I were hoping you might have something special for us? Maybe a job that’s not in the regular catalog?”
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