Gail Carrington had once clung to the belief that it was better for them to be lost entirely than to arrive in failure. It was easy to make high moral decisions in a warm, well-lit room with a full belly—a luxury he didn’t have now. Civilization imposed artificial realities, but that façade fell apart in desperate times.
“We lost twenty percent of our crew when one of our haulers flew off into the unknown,” Escobar said aloud, as if Carrington could hear him “We lost six hundred more crewmembers in the name of preserving other lives. Two hundred and thirty-four have been killed in brawls, accidents, suicides, or from starvation. How I wish we could all have died as heroes in a blaze of battle, fighting for the Constellation, blasting the General’s ships … instead of dying by sad degrees like this.”
He looked down at Carrington, no longer afraid of her. What could she do to him now?
Dr. Hambliss came in, looking gray and beaten. “On this voyage I’ve lost more people than I’ve saved in my medical career. I wonder if there’s some sort of balance sheet, a form I have to fill out?” He heaved a shuddering sigh, then looked at the motionless form of the dark-haired woman on the life-support bed. “This one, though, genuinely deserves death. She’s ruthless and has enough blood on her hands to be sentenced to death in a Constellation court.”
“We are the court now, Doctor,” Escobar said, “and as the Red Commodore I am the judge of her war crimes. Disconnect her. Add her body to the protein vats, and let’s hope her flesh doesn’t poison us all.”
Next to him, Bolton Crais swallowed audibly.
The ship-wide intercom crackled with a wild warbling alarm so loud he thought it might awaken the comatose patients. A breathy, panicked voice flooded through the Diadem’s Glory. “Redcom, we just received a signal from the trailblazer! It’s back!”
Escobar stumbled, falling against the bulkhead. His vision fuzzed with gray, and he thought he might black out. A chorus of cheers echoed up and down the corridors of the flagship, a weak and ragged sound.
Dr. Hambliss glared at Gail Carrington, as if he wished the signal had come five minutes later. Like a prisoner on death row, she had received a last-minute reprieve.
Feeling like a commander again, Escobar strode to the wall intercom. “I’m on my way. I want to meet Sergeants Zabriskie and Caron the moment they arrive.”
* * *
The trailblazer pilots were so weak they needed to be helped out of the small vessel. Caron, the smaller of the two, said, “I hope you have a steak dinner for us, Redcom.”
“We’re fresh out of steaks, Sergeant, but I think the General has some on his world. A victory feast for everyone as soon as we reach planet Hallholme!”
“And now you can get there, sir.” Zabriskie, gaunt now on his large frame, swayed on his feet and settled to the deck, sitting on the cold metal plates because his legs simply wouldn’t support him anymore. “We reached the edge of the system yesterday and dropped our terminus ring, but not too close to the planet … then we turned around and shot back here following the new iperion line.”
Dr. Hambliss was animated, pleased to be treating a real patient again. “They both show signs of prolonged iperion exposure. These men need medical care.”
“We all need medical care, Doctor,” Escobar said. “They’ll receive all the supplies and treatment once we reach our target. Meanwhile, we’ve got to get the four haulers moving and prepare for a surprise attack. We might not have much time.”
Bolton cleared his throat and said, “Sir, we still have to revive eighty percent of the crew. And once they’re brought out of their comas, they’ll be disoriented and weak, in no condition for battle.”
Escobar whirled on him. “You want us to wait here? Are you saying we should delay? We’re out of supplies!”
“We should start reviving them as soon as possible,” the doctor agreed. “I have enough stimulants.”
The Redcom nodded. “Then awaken our crew and get them ready to man their stations. Even with the loss of one stringline hauler, we still have a tremendous fleet of warships. We’ll conquer Hellhole and confiscate their supplies.” He drew a deep breath. “At last I have hope again. The whole crew will have hope again.” He felt stronger once more; his voice was louder, his shoulders squared. “It’s the difference between failure and success, Major Crais. We are back! And once we’re finished, the Constellation will greet us as heroes.”
“Maybe not the families of those who were lost,” Bolton said quietly.
But Escobar would not hear anything negative. “A strong victory will comfort them in their grief.” He clapped his hands for attention among the crewmen who had come to the landing bay. “Prepare for departure. As for this hauler, get our new stringline pilot up to the hauler controls.” He turned back to Dr. Hambliss. “And now that we’re finally able to strike General Adolphus, it would be a good time to wake up Gail Carrington.”
The disappointment on the doctor’s face was palpable.
73
Following the disaster at the Sonjeera hub and the increasingly blatant unrest among her nobles, Michella needed to make unchallenged decisions. Unless she could lead properly now, the stability of the Crown Jewels and human civilization itself would be lost to the barbarians from the Deep Zone.
Now was the time to rule with an iron hand, without wavering, insisting on cooperation from the nobles, not letting them grow unruly. She had to control Selik Riomini—stoking his ambitions just enough to keep him strong as her heir apparent, yet reining him in enough to keep him from overstepping his position.
Everything must be done for the good of the Constellation. And she was the Constellation.
Early in her reign, to increase the power of the Star Throne, the orbital hub over Sonjeera had been designed as a bottleneck; all fast interstellar transportation had to pass through there, with no other alternative. Even though it would have made stringline transportation more efficient, she refused to allow other worlds to build secondary hubs. She wanted to control the network.
The usage fees had long since paid for the construction of the entire Crown Jewels stringline system as well as the extended lines out to the Deep Zone, while the DZ tribute fees had easily paid for the rest of the construction. No one but Michella and her highest-level accountants understood just how much wealth poured in because of the fees on all ships that passed through Sonjeera.
But that one central point for all transport also created a crucial vulnerability. By using some incredible power—alien technology, perhaps?—General Adolphus had brought the Crown Jewels to a standstill. Non-stringline ships could still travel slowly among the core worlds, delivering emergency supplies and messages, but all normal commerce had ground to a halt. The Diadem had armies of workers scrambling to repair the orbiting hub.
Lord Riomini’s battle groups were stranded over Sonjeera, but perhaps that was a good thing. They could protect her against a more traditional military attack, should Adolphus make that move. What other alien powers did he have? How many of those sluglike creatures had he found on his hellish planet?
She shuddered at the thought. The very idea of how the slime-covered aliens took over human minds was repugnant to her. The creatures had to be stopped before they got loose and invaded the Crown Jewels.
Lord Riomini reported to the palace at midmorning, swollen with importance. She was indulging his request for an immediate meeting, although under normal circumstances she would have imposed a pro forma delay; it was a matter of principle that others must wait for the Diadem. But not today.
The Black Lord brought five men and women with him as he marched down the corridor to the conference chamber Michella had selected. While his companions remained out in the hall, Riomini entered and gave a perfunctory bow to the Diadem, impatient to speak with her. “Eminence, I brought a group of scientists with me to advise us on the … alien matter. After the attack on our stringline hub, it is imperative that we understand the threat those creatures pose.”
&
nbsp; “I couldn’t agree more,” she said, then turned to the blank wall and added in a normal speaking voice, “Ishop, join us.” She knew he would be eavesdropping on the conversation from a clandestine observation room. In this crisis she valued his advice more than ever; after all, he was the one who had convinced her to impose extreme quarantine measures on the alien emissaries trapped in the spaceport hangar. Now she explained to Riomini, “Ishop and I are the only ones present who have actually come close to those … things.”
Hearing her summons, the large man emerged from his hiding place and walked into the conference chamber with a curt bow to the Diadem, ignoring Riomini as he glided into a seat beside her. Michella gave an impatient gesture to the scientists standing by the doorway. “Do you intend to present your findings from out in the hall? Come in and tell me how to solve this!”
Agitated, she looked at the art piece suspended from the ceiling: a strange aerogel sculpture Enva Tazaar had given her. Despite her anger at the outspoken younger noblewoman, Michella could not help admiring the exquisite tangles of the sculpture’s form, which splashed rainbows of color across the walls.
As the five experts filed in, Riomini began, “Eminence, it’s vital that we understand what sort of weapon General Adolphus used to strike at us through the stringline network. The power surge we received was unlike anything we have ever encountered.” He folded his hands in front of him on the table, speaking as if he had already come to a conclusion and was merely issuing a pronouncement. “The obvious answer is that the aliens were somehow responsible. We have to understand their abilities and develop defenses. That’s why I gathered this team, the finest scientists in the Crown Jewels. Under my guidance, they have come up with a suggestion that has great merit.”
The scientists stood side by side on one end of the room, two tall men on one side, a pair of short, dark-haired women on the other side, and a pudgy, red-cheeked man at the center. The pudgy man bowed. “I am Tobner Mayak, Eminence, spokesman for the group. We are specialists in various disciplines that may help us understand the potential abilities, and dangers, of these aliens. Xayans, they call themselves.”
A knot twisted in her stomach, and the Diadem feared the return of a nightmare. The last time she’d been in the vicinity of the aliens she had come close to being contaminated herself. Even now, her brain and body could be infested with their inhuman presence. “I spoke with one of the things, before I understood the danger they pose. If I hadn’t taken immediate action, the contamination might have gotten loose on Sonjeera. Even now we must remain vigilant that not a single microbe escapes the sealed hangar.”
Mayak fidgeted. “Yes, Eminence. Lord Riomini asked us to accumulate all data about the Xayans, looking for clues about how we might defend against another onslaught like the one that destroyed the stringline hub.”
She shook her head. “The hub is damaged, not destroyed. We expect it to be functioning again within days, at least for the Crown Jewel lines.” From the skeptical expression on Riomini’s face, he seemed to know that was far too optimistic.
“The next alien assault might be worse, however,” Ishop pointed out. An oily sheen of perspiration covered his pale skin. “And those monsters might come in person.” Ishop seemed to be the only person who feared the Xayans as much as she did.
Michella struggled to maintain her composure as Mayak scanned a report. His companions looked at him, expecting him to continue. “Frankly, Eminence, our information doesn’t amount to much. We have too little data to begin planning our defenses. Lord Riomini gave us access to the unedited records of the Xayan representative and his contaminated human companions who attempted to infiltrate Sonjeera, but that was little help.”
Michella narrowed her eyes, looked at Riomini. “I ordered those records sealed. No one should have had access to them.”
The Black Lord spread his hands in a quick, flippant apology. “It was necessary, Eminence. It is vitally important for us to understand the alien threat—I couldn’t hamstring my scientists.”
Mayak continued, “Those images were instructive in demonstrating the mental powers the Xayans can wield. Even as they were being poisoned in the sealed chamber, one alien caused severe damage to the pod, using only his mind. One can only imagine how much destruction they could cause if they acted in concert.”
The Diadem shuddered again; the creature had very nearly escaped, but fortunately the poison gas had killed him in time. She did not want to think about a whole army, a whole swarm of such things, coming to civilized worlds.
“Obviously, they had enough power to destroy Sonjeera’s stringline hub,” Riomini said.
“The hub is severely damaged,” Ishop corrected, though no one paid attention to him.
Michella’s throat went dry. “What if the General controls a full alien army, along with countless humans who have been contaminated by them? What if the Xayans control him? He was formidable enough when he was a mere human, but now what are we facing?”
The chief scientist smiled. “Ah, so you understand, Eminence. We must learn how to prepare ourselves. How can we shield against those mental powers?” He shook his head. “We questioned anyone who escaped from planet Hallholme, anyone who witnessed the possessed humans that emerged from slickwater pools. We reviewed the frightening reports from Mr. Heer.” He nodded to Ishop. “But we don’t understand the most basic information about the alien biology, and we have to start there to discover if the human brainwashing is a virus or some kind of mental enslavement. It’s vital that we have more data. We need cellular samples.”
Ishop frowned. “I hardly think we can go to Hellhole to collect a sample!”
Picking up from there, the Black Lord said in a calm voice, “Actually, there’s no need for that. We already have samples available right on our doorstep, Eminence—if you are willing to use them. My scientific team advocates examining the remains of the dead Xayan sealed in the quarantined hangar.”
The Diadem’s tone was cool. “Too dangerous.”
“Our only specimen has been preserved in resin, and the cells may still be viable … or at least instructive,” Mayak said. “Using proper decontamination precautions, building a larger sealed containment around the hangar, we should be able to safely conduct tests on the alien remnants, and on the remains of the possessed humans.”
“Our very survival might depend on it,” Riomini added. “We are in a race against time. General Adolphus could be gathering a full-fledged alien army against us. Therefore, the team requests permission to break into the hangar and unseal the pod to examine any and all evidence that might be trapped inside.”
Turning pale, Ishop blurted out, “We don’t dare take that risk. The slightest error, and all of Sonjeera could succumb to alien contamination! We might all be infected!”
Riomini ignored him and spoke to the Diadem with patient logic. “Eminence, we have no other leads! That alien stringline blast caused incredible damage to our hub from light-years away.” Now his voice became excited. “We need to know what the Xayans can do to us, and we can’t make good decisions without information.”
The Diadem was too deeply disturbed by her one close experience with the sluglike alien. She was sickened at the thought of the insidious contamination spread by those disgusting creatures—and all the deluded humans like her own daughter who allowed themselves to be taken over by it!
Ishop’s voice cracked. “Eminence, I urge you not to take such a risk! We could all be—”
She didn’t need to be further convinced. “I won’t hear of it, Selik. I refuse to breach the quarantine and allow dangerous organisms to escape.”
Puffing as if from great exertion, Mayak continued to explain his plan, even though he had already lost his case. “Eminence, I brought diagrams of the network of tunnels beneath the sealed hangar. We can drill an access from underground, with several layers of interlocks. I assure you, there will be no chance of contamination escaping.”
Her stomach roiled as sh
e thought of an alien intrusion into her own mind. “I won’t allow it!”
Mayak and Riomini exchanged uneasy glances.
Angrily, Michella sent the scientists away, after which the Black Lord stood up and said, “With all due respect, Eminence, we must not ignore this opportunity—for the good of the Constellation. It is imperative that we understand our enemy. Otherwise how can we fight back?”
“I’ve made my decision, Selik. Now leave.” She barely moved, maintaining her icy demeanor, but she knew it could crack at any moment. He probably considered her irrational, but he hadn’t seen the things she had firsthand. He had not felt the insidious mental presence trying to get to her and her people.
Riomini paused as if to continue arguing, then left with a haughty, disrespectful air, which only angered her more.
* * *
When they were alone in the conference room, Ishop Heer nearly hyperventilated in an effort to control his panic. He poured himself a glass of water from a pitcher in the center of the conference table. “You made the wisest possible decision, Eminence. No one else understands the real threat, as we do.”
Unsettled, Michella paced the room, burning off nervous energy. “At least you realize the dangers, dear Ishop. You are able to see what others cannot. What would I do without you?”
He gave a somber nod. “It is my duty to protect you, Eminence—to see the dangers and intercept them.” He knew it was time to tell her his other revelation, a more comprehensible one, at least. “And there is another danger, closer to home.”
She sat, looking pale and old, obviously fearing what he would say. “What is it now?”
“As you asked, I found those responsible for the assassination attempt. My interrogations produced very disturbing information.” Taking care to conceal his glee, Ishop handed her his report on the information extracted from Burum Elakis. Without giving Michella time to read it, he told her that the operation had been instigated and bankrolled by Enva Tazaar herself. “Lady Tazaar planned to murder you and set herself up as the next Diadem while cooperating with General Adolphus to form an alliance with the Deep Zone.”
Hellhole Awakening Page 36