Hellhole Awakening

by Brian Herbert

  As they arrived, the General could tell from Keana’s animated and worried expression that her own personality was back in control of her mind, rather than the alien presence. “My husband is with the captured fleet?” She looked confused. “Why would Bolton come here?”

  “He asked about you,” Adolphus said, “wanted to know if you are safe.”

  Keana bit her lower lip. “I thought he wouldn’t even notice I had gone away. We’ve led separate lives for so long.”

  “He is still your husband, Keana,” Sophie said.

  The Diadem’s daughter shook her head, looking puzzled. “I must have disappointed him so much. Bolton’s not a bad man, and I didn’t mean to hurt him. We were both trapped in a sham marriage that was just a token alliance of powerful families. He’s done nice things for me before, but I didn’t think he cared much.”

  “Well, he seems to,” Sophie said. “If he came all this way.”

  “It does suggest an interesting opportunity for us,” Adolphus pointed out. “If Bolton Crais is concerned about you personally, Keana, maybe the two of you could negotiate some sort of détente between the Deep Zone and the Crown Jewels. He might be able to make Diadem Michella listen.”

  “My mother listens to no one, but I’d like to attend the surrender ceremony nonetheless. I’d like an opportunity to speak with him.”

  Devon and Antonia had offered to represent the shadow-Xayans during the surrender formalities; Adolphus had considered inviting Encix as well, but didn’t want to tip his hand about the aliens too soon. Keana Duchenet, a known convert, would be enough of a surprise.

  Sophie sounded cheery as she hurried them to the Michella Town spaceport. “We can’t finish the surrender ceremony until we start it. Let’s get going. I’m sure Redcom Hallholme has other things to do today.”

  * * *

  Only moments after the General arrived aboard the Jacob, an emergency message drone hurtled in along the stringline from Candela. The recorded message from Administrator Tanja Hu broadcast on all frequencies as soon as it arrived at the Hellhole hub. “This is Candela, declaring an emergency!”

  The General felt an immediate chill, afraid the Black Lord had somehow managed to dispatch an attack fleet after all, despite the damage the telemancy blast had inflicted on the Sonjeera hub.

  On the imager, Tanja’s expression was drawn and urgent. “Two massive asteroids are on a collision course with this planet, with impacts to occur within a week. We are in the midst of a full-scale evacuation, but we don’t have the capacity. Send evacuation ships fast, General—as many as possible. We have to get our entire population off the planet.” Her voice hesitated, then cracked as she continued. “Please help us, General.”

  He sat up straight. Asteroids on a collision course? “That’s not possible. Two at once, with impact in a few days?” But he knew Tanja Hu was not prone to wild fantasies. “We don’t even have time to verify her message.”

  Craig Jordan was astonished and skeptical. “It could be a trick to lure away our defense ships, sir.”

  Sophie looked at him. “We have to send everything we can, Tiber. We’ve defeated the Constellation fleet. How could this be a trick?”

  He spread his hands, standing on the Jacob’s bridge. “All our crews have their hands full here. Most of my personnel are heading over to the captured ships for retooling.”

  Jordan shook his head. “I still don’t like it, sir. The story’s not believable.”

  Sophie crossed her arms over her chest, and he had seen that stubborn expression before. “We won’t be without ships. We’ve seized the enemy fleet and can convert them for our own defenses. Meanwhile, you have at least twenty large vessels you can dispatch right away—and you’ll barely have time as it is. No other DZ world can send help in time.”

  Tanja’s message pod contained images of the two oncoming asteroids, each one gigantic enough to wipe out most life on Candela. Adolphus reviewed the data, knew he had no choice. “I’ve got to help her. If it’s a trick, then I will use my wits and resources to deal with it. If those asteroids really are hurtling in … I can’t risk being wrong. We need to save as many people as possible.”

  Without further delay, he summoned two of the captured stringline haulers his military had just brought in from the new terminus at the edge of the system. “Load them with as many available ships as will fit in the docking clamps and launch—two hours maximum.” He shook his head, feeling naked to send away so many ships, but he could not turn a blind eye to such a desperate plea from one of his own planets.

  He focused attention back to the ceremony at hand. “Now let’s get this surrender over with.”

  * * *

  Aboard the Diadem’s Glory, Bolton had a final meeting with the Redcom and Carrington before they departed for the General’s flagship. Bolton had little advice to offer his commander; his mind was exhausted from weeks of frantically seeking solutions to critical situations.

  During their many weeks of desperate isolation, Escobar Hallholme had implemented the ruthless but necessary measures for survival. The Redcom would take the credit for them all, and the blame—with Bolton’s blessing. Even if this had been a flawless operation, with a complete victory over the rebels, Bolton would not have wanted any glory when they returned to Sonjeera.

  And this had most certainly not been a flawless operation.

  At least they could take satisfaction now that the last-ditch computer virus had been transmitted, and Bolton had bought the Constellation soldiers enough time to get to the surface. When the captured fleet began to surge out of control, it would be a dramatic and satisfying blow.

  After their formal surrender, Redcom Hallholme, Carrington, and all surviving crewmembers would be out of the conflict, held prisoner until someone else defeated the General, or until some sort of peace accord was negotiated. Bolton dreaded living on that hellish planet, but took comfort from the fact that at least he might see Keana again, if he could find her. He would look into her eyes, talk to her, and try to figure out whether she was truly happy with the strange alien cult. Bolton had been unable to give his wife what she needed, but he didn’t begrudge her a chance for a contented life.

  In his ready room, Escobar looked broken and miserable. “There is no way I can paint a cheerful picture of our situation. We’ve been soundly beaten, and I take responsibility as the fleet commander. But now I have to face facts and think about my soldiers. As the one in charge, my first duty is to keep the rest of them alive. I already have too much blood on my hands. Maybe saving them is one way I can earn back a glimmer of honor.” He heaved a sigh, and his shoulders slumped. “I will be satisfied with the small victory of keeping Adolphus from using our fleet. Thank you, Major Crais, for your modifications to the scuttling virus.”

  “You are both fools, too willing to accept easy solutions.” Gail Carrington’s glare flashed from Escobar to Bolton. “Your first duty is to the Constellation and the Diadem, not to pamper your soldiers. They all knew the risks when they joined this expedition, and all were willing to die in order to make the mission succeed. We have a chance to cut off the head of the monster that threatens to devour our way of life.” She raised her voice. “And we must do so!”

  “I’ve already instituted our plan,” Escobar said. “The virus will activate within hours of the surrender ceremony, and our ships will reel out of control and burn up in the atmosphere. The General will not have our fleet.”

  Carrington lashed out at him. “The enemy won’t be able to use our warships, but neither will the Constellation fleet! Our forces will be crippled regardless, and we lose more than the enemy. We have the opportunity to hit back hard, and we can’t let it slip away. We are not without other options.”

  Bolton and Escobar stared at her blankly.

  Her face was stony. “If you complete the formal surrender ceremony, Redcom, the rebels will use it as propaganda throughout the Crown Jewels. We must deny them that. The General will surely broadcast the meet
ing to all of his followers. With what I have in mind, we can crush their spirit completely.”

  “And how do you expect to accomplish that?” Escobar asked. “We’ve been hamstrung.”

  Her voice had no sympathy, no forgiveness. “You two might be weaklings and cowards, but I am never defenseless, never defeated. I trained as one of Lord Riomini’s bodyguards, so I know more than five hundred ways to kill a person, using any possible weapon.” She shot Escobar a withering glare. “Or have you forgotten that I killed three of your best guards and crippled three more when they tried to sedate me?”

  With a laugh, Escobar said, “If you intend to assassinate the General with your bare hands, let me be the first to wish you well.”

  “I will take the opportunities available to me,” she said. “And you will cooperate.”

  Bolton glanced at the chronometer on the wall. “We have to depart soon. There is no time to put a complicated plan in place.”

  “I don’t need any time,” Carrington said. “I was prepared from the moment we boarded these ships on Aeroc.”

  She reached up to her face and, as Bolton recoiled, sickened, the woman poked her slender fingers into her left eye, gouging, fishing around until she popped the eyeball out of its socket and held it in the palm of her hand.

  “This is an artificial biological replacement, connected to my optic nerve system. I can see through the synthetic gel lens, and it’s not just an eye.” She held it up and smiled cruelly. “This is a concentrated organic explosive, undetectable by any scans. By squeezing it, I can arm and detonate it in the General’s presence. This should be enough to take out at least two decks of the flagship—and our greatest enemies at the same time.”

  “All of us will die?” Bolton asked, stunned by the plan.

  Carrington said in a matter-of-fact tone, “Yes, we’ll all die, but we’ll die knowing that we have removed the greatest threat in the history of the Constellation.”

  To Bolton’s dismay, Escobar nodded, accepting what the woman was saying. “We’ll die with honor.”

  81

  In the bedroom of Edwond House, Ishop and Laderna made love again—a strange reminder of their relationship that he didn’t fully understand. She had come to understand and accept the political necessity of him marrying a noblewoman, but with the Enva Tazaar woman disgraced, sentenced, and a fugitive, Laderna seemed relieved.

  He knew Laderna was fully dedicated to seeing him achieve his goal of being restored to the noble ranks, but neither of them were quite certain what would happen to her once he did achieve his rightful status. For now, Ishop was glad to have their relationship back to normal. That way, he could focus on his real priorities.

  In four more days, he would appear before the Council, present his bold petition, and reclaim his family heritage.

  Now in the early evening they lay together in silence, resting before the unusual mission they would face in a few hours. He studied Laderna’s pale face, met her brown eyes, and they both smiled with anticipation. They had so much in common. Even though they had finished the list (except for confirming a Duchenet victim), this would seem like old times. It was something they could do together, and do well.

  With Enva Tazaar secretly taking sanctuary in the Deep Zone, Ishop was glad he had continued to spy on Lord Selik Riomini. Diadem Michella thought she had gotten rid of a single note of dissent among the nobles, but she had more major internal problems than she knew about. Ishop wouldn’t mind bringing down the Black Lord as well.…

  At the appointed time, he and Laderna dressed in dark clothing and checked each other’s equipment before heading into the coolness of the night. They arrived at a rarely used access gate on the outskirts of the main Sonjeera spaceport, used passcodes Laderna had stolen from supposedly secure government databases so that they left no record of their passage. In shadows, they stood within view of the quarantined, resin-encased warehouse.

  Lord Riomini was going to attempt something very unwise.

  “This is the best place to enter the tunnels,” Laderna said. “We need to go five levels underground to make our way beneath the hangar. That’s where the diggers have been working.”

  “So much for the Diadem’s defenses,” Ishop said. “She ordered all accesses permanently sealed.”

  “Michella thinks that just because she orders something, it automatically happens. Riomini’s elite bodyguards worked for days to penetrate the tunnels. They did the hard part for us already. We just have to catch them at it.”

  In defying the Diadem, the ambitious Black Lord had made a dangerous decision; worse, he had not been careful about covering his intentions. Sloppy! Ishop was going to enjoy this. If the man suffered enough disgrace—again exposed by the dutiful, attentive Ishop Heer—maybe Michella would grant Ishop the Riomini holdings as well as the Tazaar holdings. It seemed perfectly appropriate. Knowing his worth, the Diadem was sure to be generous in her reward. But he didn’t want to seem greedy by asking for too much.

  Ishop broke the seal of a small access plate on the spaceport pavement, pried aside the covering, and then shimmied down a tube with Laderna. Once they were several meters belowground, they reached a thin metal ladder and followed green emergency lights to a larger subterranean passageway.

  “From their previous movements, Riomini’s workers should be congregating directly under the quarantined hangar about now, boss,” Laderna said. “Drilling upward. I scouted it out, so I know the best place to observe.”

  Ishop’s throat felt dry. “I’m almost ready to call in the Diadem’s guard. We need to do it before Riomini’s people breach the quarantine containment—can’t take any chances. But the closer they are to the danger zone, the more I’ll look like a hero.”

  Finding a good place to conceal themselves, the two settled into the shadows and watched the immense, long-empty storage chamber several stories beneath the resin-encased hangar. Despite the protective layers of rock, the thought of being so close to the contaminated bodies of the oozing alien and the possessed humans sickened him.

  When they heard female voices approaching, the two retreated farther into the darkness, pressing closer together. Laderna gripped his arm, and he could feel her warm breath on his neck. He focused his dark-adapted eyes ahead.

  As the sounds grew louder, he discerned stealthy shapes that glided forward. In the light cast from their headlamps, Ishop spotted a hole they had burrowed through the ceiling on previous nights, excavating an access tunnel up into the sealed hangar from below. He recognized one of the voices, the unmistakable gravelly tones of Lora Heston, Riomini’s most trusted bodyguard.

  The Black Lord must be so desperate to gain access to the alien specimens! In a logical sense, Ishop could understand his argument, that his scientists could learn vital information from the remnants sealed inside the passenger pod. But Riomini did not know what Ishop and Michella had seen. He was defying the Diadem’s explicit command, and Ishop had little doubt of Michella’s wrath when she found out.

  Heston’s throaty voice carried over those of her companions as she instructed the group. The women moved in the low illumination, efficiently assembling components of an article of machinery. Soon, Ishop heard a whirring motor, and then the construction telescoped upward, chewing into the ceiling.

  Months ago, he had stood beside the Diadem in the hangar above, both of them fearful of the strange aliens. They had been wise to quarantine the monstrosities inside the passenger pod. Using complete isolation procedures, she had ordered the pod sealed and filled with poison gas to eradicate everyone and everything inside. The hideous, sluglike monster had died with its companions, then decomposed into a pool of crawling slime that seemed to be still alive.…

  Now, as Riomini’s machinery churned its way upward, Ishop felt the superstitious fear again, the deep chill that he might not be quick enough to protect himself. If these commandos did break into the encased hangar from below, the Diadem might decide to sterilize him as well—just to be safe. A
nd Laderna. And the entire spaceport zone.

  “We don’t dare wait any longer,” he whispered, hearing an edge of panic in his voice. “Let’s retreat—and call in the Diadem’s troops.”

  Laderna gave him no argument. They slipped back through the tunnels and hurried toward the surface access. Ishop was perspiring heavily when they emerged into the open night air. He wanted to get away from the contaminated place.

  One advantage of being such a trusted aide was that he had a direct codecall link to the Diadem, to be used under only the direst circumstances. Such as now.

  He wiped sweat from his forehead, caught his breath, and activated the codecall. “Eminence, there is an emergency situation at the quarantined hangar. Someone is trying to break in from the catacombs below—I suggest you call in your guards before they break the seal.” He didn’t need to identify Lord Riomini as the culprit; the Black Lord’s guilt would soon be obvious enough.

  He let out a long, slow sigh of relief and leaned against Laderna. “Now we wait.”

  * * *

  As expected, the Diadem did not underestimate the threat. More than a hundred members of her personal guard force met Ishop and Laderna at the edge of the security zone, then they swarmed down into the tunnels. Claiming that he did not want to interfere with their operation, Ishop declined to join them. He gladly allowed them to penetrate the catacombs on their own.

  Ishop could hear muffled gunfire coming from below, and exchanged smiles with his assistant. On his own security codecall unit, he listened in on a barrage of reports and alarms from the assault squad, and soon people began to emerge from the tunnel access. Six bodies were brought up—four of the Diadem’s guards, two of Riomini’s—and then came the prisoners, each one bound and guarded by three of the Diadem’s troops. The casualties and the captives bore no identification, no familiar items of clothing, but they would be named soon enough.