Hellhole Awakening

by Brian Herbert

  With shaking hands, he poured himself a glass of water from a pitcher on the table. Though he had rushed here, he now seemed reluctant to say what was on his mind. Finally, he put down the glass. “Theser has been wiped out. Riomini did it—left one of his flags where the capital city used to be. All of Eron is only charred remains.”

  Her advisers gasped, one of them lurched to his feet, while others sat in stunned silence. Tanja felt cold, then feverish, as emotions surged over her. “And Sia Frankov? Any word that they took prisoners?” She felt uprooted, reminded of how she and her friend had planned their joint commercial empire, trade routes, dreams. “Any survivors, witnesses?”

  “There’s nothing recognizable anywhere.” Walfor slumped into a chair. “Not so much as a blade of grass.”

  Tanja slammed a fist down on the table. “The Constellation is going to drown in all the blood they’ve spilled.”

  * * *

  In her noisome cell, Marla Undine was obviously convinced she would never get out of this place alive. She sat brooding on the edge of her cot; as far as Bebe Nax could tell, that was all she ever did.

  The harsh conditions seemed medieval, but Tanja Hu insisted on the humiliation, for reasons of her own. After hearing Ian Walfor’s appalling news about Theser, which he had delivered yesterday, Bebe was inclined to agree that any representative of the Constellation should be treated like an animal.

  Bebe doubted the captive territorial governor would show any remorse, nor would she be any more cooperative. Bebe stood outside the cell with Jacque at her side; she let out a heavy, impatient sigh. “I can improve your conditions here if you will just record the message for Sonjeera. It’s the best way to resolve the situation.”

  Tanja had demanded that Governor Undine record a message to be sent to the Diadem, which Tanja would include along with her own condemnation of the Diadem’s actions on Theser. But Undine did not seem tempted at all.

  “I refuse to be part of your propaganda.”

  Jacque was visiting from his boarding school, and Bebe wanted him to see this. Although she had explained the Theser massacre to him, the boy didn’t understand the significance of the events now; nevertheless, he had a front-row seat for history, and she hoped he would remember.

  The boy always seemed fascinated by Governor Undine, as if he viewed the captive as a specimen in the zoo. Back in Saporo, Tanja had told Jacque many horrific tales about the Constellation’s crimes, and he continued to regard Undine through the bars and gray mesh of her cell as if she were a monster.

  “Why doesn’t she want the war to end, Mother?” the boy whispered, as if Undine couldn’t hear them clearly. The cowlick in his hair was more pronounced today than usual.

  “Maybe she enjoys the killing.” Bebe had brought a copy of the images Walfor had transmitted, showing the utter devastation of the verdant crater city. Blood, fire, destruction … the deaths of hundreds of thousands of DZ settlers.

  The guard unlocked the cell door and smiled at Jacque, dangling a leech he had peeled from the wall, amused. Bebe entered the cell, holding a small, flat projection screen that showed the devastated landscape of Theser. “Let me show you what you’re condoning, Governor. Is this truly a government you wish to support? Why do you owe them your loyalty?”

  “I will not record a statement for you.” Undine’s eyes flashed, and she remained immobile on her bench. “The Constellation will come for me.”

  Bebe snorted. “The Constellation believed you were still being held on Theser—and they obliterated everyone and everything. They do not intend to rescue you.” Sloshing across the pooled water on the floor, she pressed the horrific images closer, forcing the prisoner to look. “Don’t you have anything to say to Diadem Michella after she tried to murder you?”

  She glanced over at Jacque to make sure the boy was watching.

  Suddenly, the listless Undine exploded into enraged motion like a released spring. She lunged forward, lifting a metal support strut she had secretly disengaged from her cot. Bebe didn’t have time to cry out, could barely lift the projection screen as a meager defense.

  Undine struck Bebe hard across the temple, crushing her skull. As she fell, a second blow broke open the back of her head; Bebe was dead before she dropped into the standing water on the floor.

  Jacque saw it all, and he screamed.

  Wild and suicidal, Undine charged out of the cell, swinging the metal club from side to side. Astonished, the guard protectively knocked the boy behind him. The governor managed to strike the man on the shoulder, but he was a fighter and slammed her into the wall with the full weight of his body. He broke Undine’s arm when he wrenched the metal club free; when it clattered to the floor, he punched her hard in the stomach. She crumpled, choking, sobbing … then laughing.

  Jacque ran into the cell and dropped to his knees in the filthy water, propping his mother’s dripping, battered head on his lap. He wailed for her, but she didn’t answer.

  50

  Sophie Vence sat on the front passenger seat of a Trakmaster while her son drove the overland vehicle across the rough terrain. It was deceptively like old times, before Devon had joined himself with an alien personality. She, Devon, and Antonia headed out to the lush valley that had drawn the attention of the mysterious ships.

  Sunlight filtered through the dirty, streaked windshield. Antonia sat in the front between them. Her alien companion Jhera sometimes shared a veiled telepathic dialogue with Birzh, and sometimes Antonia conversed with Devon in her own voice. Sophie cherished the moments whenever the two showed flashes of their original personalities.

  All three were curious about what they would find in the isolated, awakened valley. From a purely commercial sense, Sophie looked forward to inspecting the new native forest, which might provide useful raw materials. More importantly, she hoped to learn more about the strange ships and what had drawn them to the outburst of plant life.

  She held on to a side rail as the Trakmaster rolled over boulders. When Devon brought them to more level ground, he picked up speed, driving the way he used to. Even Antonia had a smile on her face.

  For Sophie, life had been full of surprises, some bad and some good. She’d had more than her share of hardships, but everyone on Hellhole could make that claim. She had never been destined for a normal life anyway, and this place had made incredible things possible for her. She’d met General Adolphus, and Devon had found real love with Antonia, along with their Xayan counterparts. Sophie had to keep reminding herself of their newfound joys.

  She glanced sidelong at her son. Such a handsome, compassionate young man. She could not be more proud of him or hopeful about his future, but she was also worried about him. Despite his reassurances, Sophie did not know what would happen to his human side when the Xayans ultimately achieved ala’ru and “ascended.”

  The Trakmaster rumbled over the last line of hills, and Devon brought the vehicle to a halt so they could all stare at the mysterious verdant valley. Until now, the rugged terrain had shown only a few splashes of color, thorny scrub brush, and weeds … but the valley that stretched below them took their breath away. It was magical—the landscape exploded with life, a vibrant blue forest of feathery trees, sweeping meadows of spiky green and orange grasses—a different palette from the fast-growing red weed.

  Devon and Antonia smiled at each other, and the spiraling sheen of Xayan amazement sparkled in their eyes. Birzh said through Devon, “After the impact, we lost hope that we would ever see so much life here again!”

  Antonia unsealed the hatch of the vehicle, eager to emerge. “Our world is coming back … all of it is coming back!”

  Sophie reached out a hand to caution the young woman. “We need to put on our air masks—you never know what pollens or allergens the plants might contain.”

  But Antonia disregarded her and bounded out of the Trakmaster. Devon followed, saying, “We know, Mother, and there is nothing to worry about.”

  Sophie hesitated, then gave a sn
ort. “Well, as long as I have my own experts here.” Stepping out onto the new growth, Sophie could smell freshness in the air, a heady humidity, and lush vegetation.

  The three of them waded through waist-high, fernlike vegetation. Everything was so alive, Sophie could almost see plants sprouting and expanding before her eyes.

  “So many different species! What caused such a surge—and why here?” The seeds or spores of native vegetation must have been dormant for centuries since the impact. Why had they all germinated now? And the large animals had been considered extinct.

  The feathery blue trees bounded a sunlit, grassy glade with a narrow stream. They stopped to stare at a herd of grazing antelopelike creatures that had mossy green hides and antlers like tentacles. Startled, the creatures bounded away and vanished into the lush forest of ferns.

  Devon and Antonia were quiet and contemplative. “Those animals are fern deer, but Birzh doesn’t understand how the creatures could possibly be alive.”

  “This is strange, but wonderful,” Antonia said in a voice that was only half her own.

  Sophie followed the antelope prints to the narrow brook, then pushed her way through a stand of twitching ferns to gaze upon a broad expanse of orange grass.

  She was startled to see that the meadow was dotted with the remnants of artificial canisters, like mechanical eggs. They lay scattered across the ground. She bent close to one, nudged it with her fingers. It was empty, weathered. “Did those strange ships drop canisters here? For what purpose?”

  Devon stepped up beside her. “I don’t think so, Mother. The canisters were deposited at least a month ago.”

  “Unless the ships have been coming here for some time,” Antonia said.

  Cautious but curious, Sophie turned over one of the empty canisters, but it bore no markings. “And what are they for?”

  Wandering around the meadow, Devon discovered several bright, new canisters that were still sealed, freshly dropped onto the ground. “These are recent. The ships must have dropped them.”

  As they watched, one of the new canisters opened, followed by another, and another. Sophie stepped back as small larval creatures emerged and crawled away from the canisters and into the ferns. She was reminded of the stored embryos she had delivered to the rancher Armand Tillman.

  Devon used Birzh’s knowledge to identify them. “Those are nymphs, the larval stage of the fern deer.”

  Sophie straightened, unable to deny the evidence before her eyes. “Are those strange ships restoring species to Xaya? Using embryo canisters to reseed the planet?”

  Devon seemed fascinated. “The slickwater database is allowing us to restore Xaya’s lost history and civilization. Now it appears someone else wants to return this world to what it once was.”

  Sophie thought of her own efforts to tame Hellhole, planting vineyards, erecting greenhouses, establishing the fishery, distributing livestock embryos. “The General needs to know about this.”

  As they made their way back to the Trakmaster, the spiky grasses rustled behind them, and Sophie heard a huffing sound. Turning, she saw a large creature bound through a clump of ferns that had been concealing it. The beast had long tusks and a ridge of spiny scales; its claws tore divots in the ground as it charged toward them.

  “Run!” Sophie raced for the protection of the Trakmaster, although she knew they could never reach the vehicle in time. The predator closed the distance fast.

  But Devon and Antonia merely turned and placed themselves in front of the animal. Sophie yelled for them to save themselves, but the two held hands. With placid expressions, they created a shimmer in the air around them.

  The creature was only ten meters away when the energy crackled and intensified in the air. The charging beast struck the barrier, and telemancy repelled it. The thing threw itself forward again, and was deflected.

  “We trained ourselves to fight armies with our telemancy, Mother,” Devon said mildly. “We can protect against a predator without harming it.” Ignoring Sophie, the hungry creature circled the pair of shadow-Xayans, looking for an opening but finding none. Finally, it stalked off toward the blue tree forest and a nervous group of fern deer.

  Shaken, Sophie brushed herself off and urged the two toward the Trakmaster. “We need to head back to Elba. I’ve got a lot to tell Tiber.”

  51

  The alien museum vault contained as many secrets as shadows. Cristoph de Carre and his team had spent months inspecting and documenting the items, listening to explanations from Lodo and from Keana’s counterpart Uroa. He had marveled at the remnants of a glorious, lost Xayan civilization, admiring the fantastic works of the exotic race, their free-form buildings, their epic yet incomprehensible history, their philosophers, like Zairic, and their struggles to survive by any means when they knew the asteroid was coming.

  Constellation archaeologists and scholars would have given anything for this opportunity. In his former life, Cristoph would have been astonished to visit such a place even once; now he practically lived in the vault, spending his days trying to unravel mysteries.

  Cristoph had been trained as a manager and businessman at the iperion mines on Vielinger. When his father shirked his hereditary duties, squandered the family fortune, and dallied with the Diadem’s married daughter, Cristoph had fought to keep the de Carre operations running, despite sabotage and scandal. After his family holdings were stripped and he was sent out to the worst planet in the Deep Zone, Cristoph had assumed his life was over.

  And now he was here. Ironically, against all odds, he found that he liked what he was doing, and he was even coming to respect Keana Duchenet.

  Though the Constellation fleet had vanished, Cristoph and Keana both knew that Diadem Michella would never give up so easily. She would still try to attack Hellhole. And they had to find some unexpected and effective way to protect the planet.

  Keana-Uroa and Lodo activated a set of beautifully carved crystal chimes that made musical tones as they rearranged them. Cristoph found the artifacts wondrous, but unless they could be converted into some kind of sonic weapon, they would do the General no good.

  Cristoph turned his attention to the five sarcophagi that had preserved the Original aliens for centuries after the impact. One of the five, Allyf, had died because the preservation systems burned out, but the other four had emerged from the tanks.

  Cristoph walked around Allyf’s sarcophagus now. The other four chambers were empty, the gelatinous protective fluid gone. Shortly after the Originals awakened, during one eerie night spent in the museum vault, Cristoph had seen the four Originals slip their soft hands into the fluid that contained Allyf’s body, and they had worked together in an odd telemancy ceremony to absorb their companion.

  Lodo showed no superstitious fear of Allyf’s coffin, but in all the careful searching and inventorying of the vault’s contents, Cristoph realized that very little attention had been paid to these sarcophagi. While the rest of the team continued their work, he knelt to examine the intricate hieroglyphic-style markings along the side of the container. The shadow-Xayans could draw upon their ancient memories to read and understand the language, but the symbols meant nothing to him. While poking around, Cristoph discovered a gap between the base and the floor, a seam beneath the blocky chamber. He pushed against Allyf’s sarcophagus, and it slid aside with a dry, grating sound.

  Underneath, he discovered intricate mechanical and hydraulic systems, crystals connected to tubes and shining designs that looked like gelatinous circuit patterns imprinted on sheets of metal. “Keana, look what I found,” he called. “Uroa and Lodo, can you tell us what this is?”

  She came over, followed by the slithering Original Xayan. The retractable feelers on Lodo’s forehead waved in curiosity. Cristoph could not read the alien’s large, dark eyes, but Keana still had enough human in her that he could understand her intense expression.

  “This is Allyf’s shield system,” she said, straightening and looking at Lodo. “From within the sar
cophagus he used his telemancy to provide added protection, sealing off this vault from the worst of the impact.”

  “It is true,” Lodo said. “We knew the size of the incoming asteroid. Even this deep in the mountain we feared the strike would cause great destructive waves, and we could not be confident that our vault would remain intact.”

  Keana bent beside Cristoph and extended her fingers into the kaleidoscopic gel circuits, as if she knew what to do. “Yes, this device allowed him to focus and enhance his telemancy,” she said in the eerie voice of Uroa. “Allyf must have remained conscious while the other four were suspended. Drawing upon his reserves, he used this telemancy amplifier to create an impenetrable shell around the vault.”

  “But it drained him too much,” Lodo said, “and he did not recover from the effort. He might have saved everything here, but he did not survive the centuries.”

  Keana’s breathing intensified, and she spoke in her own voice again. “If this is a telemancy amplifier, and one Xayan could shield this vault, what if many shadow-Xayans joined together? We could use this equipment to project a barrier around the planet, or at least above the main settlements! It would save us from an attack. Lodo, why didn’t you tell us about this?”

  The Original thrummed and swayed from side to side, as if disturbed. “It would not be wise to use it.”

  But Keana and Cristoph pushed the sarcophagus aside to expose the large device beneath the chamber. He immediately saw the possibilities. “Can we remove it? Take it to the shadow-Xayan colony? We couldn’t crowd enough of them here inside the vault.”

  Lodo shouldered them aside. “It is very fragile.”

  Cristoph couldn’t wait to report this to General Adolphus. At last their work in the vault might pay off, if the situation and the equipment were handled carefully.