Hellhole Inferno

by Kevin J. Anderson

  Duff looked at him. “What are we going to do, sir?”

  “We’re going to planet Hallholme as planned—but cautiously. You can be sure the General will have a trick or two up his sleeve. He’s had ample time to prepare for us.”

  After reviewing Riomini’s grim message one more time, the two men left the ready room and returned to the flagship’s bridge—just as alarms began to sound.

  “Inbound ships, Commodore!” cried the female tactical officer. “Two stringline haulers entering the system at extreme deceleration.”

  A long-range sensor officer stared at his screen. “The haulers are shedding ships, sir—in full-scale attack mode! Can’t determine who it is yet.”

  Percival stared at the large bridge screen, trying to make out the tiny bright dots of incoming vessels. “We know who it is.”

  He sounded battle stations, then prepared to face General Tiber Adolphus one last time.

  43

  During the stringline journey to Tehila, General Adolphus spent his time planning the operation in the greatest possible detail.

  Working with Tanja Hu, Ian Walfor, Captain Naridar, and even Lodo, he mapped out the all-important first few moments of the imminent engagement. Once the stringline haulers dropped off the iperion path and hurtled into the Tehila system, they would have very little time to coordinate. Everything had to be precisely in sync.

  Adolphus also met with the captains of the five civilian commercial transports that had volunteered their ships in service of the assault; he watched their expressions fall when he explained what he intended to do—an entirely unexpected maneuver only made possible by the presence of the shadow-Xayans. Telemancy changed the entire tactical landscape of the space battle.

  Hearing the plan, the civilian captains were angry or nervous, yet every one of them agreed. Adolphus shook hands with each of them, thanking them for himself and for the Deep Zone. “I wouldn’t ask this if it weren’t absolutely necessary.” During the tense four-day stringline journey, the civilian captains had time to prepare their ships, strip out all possessions and keepsakes, and say good-bye to their craft.

  Walfor had left his ship back on Hellhole when he and Tanja joined the fleet. Now he asked for the use of a small DZDF fighter. “I want to be in the middle of the action, General.”

  “But you’re not a military man, Mr. Walfor.”

  “No, but I’m a damn good pilot—and if Tanja’s going down to the surface to rile up the refugees, she’ll need somebody to fly her there.”

  Tanja looked determined as she stood on the Jacob’s bridge. “We’ve already laid the groundwork, General, and I have my contacts down there. I can spark an uprising with a snap of my fingers.”

  Walfor gave a wry smile. “It may be a little harder than that.…”

  Adolphus found an available ship and let Walfor spend the transit days running simulations. Even though the former Buktu governor claimed he didn’t need any more training, he agreed that it was a good diversion to dissipate some of the stress.

  Flight engineers had calculated the maximum deceleration that could be tolerated by the material strength of the docking clamps and ship hulls—not to mention the soft biology of the crew members. The General pushed it to the edge. When the haulers finally arrived in the Tehila system, the pilots gave the entire fleet a precise countdown. They were ready.

  Fifteen minutes out, Adolphus sounded battle stations. Everyone had been briefed and drilled, and they were all ready to “kick some Constellation butt.” He felt a pleasant irony in knowing that most of the ships now attacking Commodore Hallholme were refurbished vessels captured from his own son. Though some ships still looked battered externally from the previous space battle, they all displayed the bright gold-and-silver insignia of the Deep Zone Defense Force on their hulls.

  Lodo made his laborious way to the Jacob’s bridge, his large caterpillarlike abdomen crowding the tactical and operational stations, but they made room. The Original alien lifted his torso high, and his large black eyes reflected light from the control screens.

  “The shadow-Xayans are prepared, General Tiber Adolphus, as am I. Our telemancy is unified. We promised to help defend against outside attacks, even if our awakened race is not yet ready for ala’ru. After we remove the distraction of your human enemy, we can devote all our energies against the Ro-Xayans when they show themselves.”

  “I appreciate that,” Adolphus said. “Your telemancy gives me many new options. Now let’s show off what we can do.”

  In perfect coordination, the two loaded stringline haulers dropped off the iperion path just outside of Tehila. With the warning signal, everyone braced themselves as the deceleration slammed its heavy hand down upon them. Adolphus grimaced in the crushing gravity, and Lodo squirmed as well, his soft body distorting, reshaping temporarily, and enduring.

  As the haulers braked to normal speed, the clamps holding the five chosen civilian ships slammed open, releasing them like stones hurled from a sling. Though unarmed, the empty craft shot out of the hauler framework like relativistic projectiles.

  “Sensors!” Adolphus shouted. “Give us a map and targets. Shadow-Xayans, prepare to reach out with telemancy.”

  Lodo forced himself to straighten against the continued deceleration. “I am guiding them.”

  As the tumbling ships streaked toward Tehila, a map projection finally appeared on the screens, showing a large group of Constellation warships already loaded aboard two military stringline haulers.

  “Just in time,” Adolphus said. “The Commodore was ready to launch.”

  Crowded in a large mess hall two decks below, the hundred and fifty shadow-Xayans combined their telemancy, reached out with the long-distance invisible force, and guided the hurtling civilian ships toward the Constellation stringline haulers.

  The Commodore’s fleet scrambled to react. Some of his warships dropped out of the hauler framework, falling into defensive positions. But most of the locked ships could not move fast enough.

  Like cannonballs precisely guided by telemancy, the sacrificial civilian ships slammed into their targets one by one at relativistic speeds. The impacts vaporized large battle vessels; no shields could be sufficient against such collisions. The civilian ships obliterated four of the Commodore’s best vessels, and the fifth hurtling craft slashed through one of the half-empty military hauler frameworks like a gutting knife, ripping the still-docked vessels into debris.

  Adolphus could not have hoped for a better outcome, but the engagement was not over yet. After expending those five surprise projectiles, he still had to manage several other prongs of the plan. The worst deceleration continued for fifteen minutes. When he could finally push himself up to a sitting position in the command chair, he issued another string of orders.

  All of his DZDF ships—fully armed, engines powered up, weapons active—dropped free from docking clamps and engaged the reeling Constellation forces. The General was amazed at how much chaos he had provoked in only a few minutes. The rest of his fleet, led by Captain Naridar’s fifteen peacekeeper ships, charged toward Tehila orbit, opening fire with vengeful enthusiasm. On the secure comm, Adolphus reminded them to exercise some restraint. “The iperion path and the two terminus rings must not be damaged.”

  Following his separate mission, Ian Walfor flew his new ship toward the planet. In the cockpit beside him, Tanja transmitted to the ground and called upon the hundreds of Candela refugees who were crowded in temporary housing and refugee camps. “We told you the time would come. You don’t belong in squalid camps. You survived the destruction of a planet. You can overthrow a handful of militia members in silly uniforms.”

  Walfor’s voice joined hers. “You all know you don’t want to go back to oppressive Constellation rule. Take back your planet. Be free! General Adolphus is here to help.”

  The Jacob headed toward orbit, leaving the two DZDF stringline haulers empty at the far edge of the battle zone. Captain Naridar guided his assault, while Adolphu
s directed the second wave. The General knew that he must not give Commodore Hallholme time to rally. As his ships converged on the scrambling enemy fleet, Adolphus transmitted on a known command frequency. “Commodore Percival Hallholme, my fleet is responding to a request for aid from the free people of Tehila. I require your immediate surrender.”

  A harried-looking Percival Hallholme appeared on the screen. “I don’t recognize your authority, General Adolphus. Your rebellion is illegal. Cease your hostilities now, or face immediate reprisals.”

  The General sighed. “Enough of this nonsense. You know we have Diadem Michella Duchenet hostage. I wouldn’t normally stoop to such leverage, but you established those rules long ago at the Battle of Sonjeera. If it saves lives, I’ll use whatever I have.”

  On the screen, the old Commodore looked intently at Adolphus. He appeared to have aged a decade since their last confrontation in Hellhole orbit. His eyes were reddened, his face drawn; his silvery muttonchop sideburns needed a trim. “You should be aware that Michella Duchenet has been stripped of her title as Diadem. The Council removed her authority and installed Lord Riomini in her stead. If I were to return Michella Duchenet to Sonjeera, she would stand trial for treason and crimes against humanity, and would likely be executed.” He gave a thin smile. “So, you see, you have no leverage.”

  Adolphus tried to hide his reaction—he hadn’t expected that, but he had never liked the hostage business in the first place. As his ships closed in on the Constellation vessels, preparing to engage, he said, “I’d rather defeat you the old-fashioned way. But with a twist.”

  The General terminated the transmission, then turned to Lodo. “Use your telemancy to neutralize the Commodore’s weapons, as you did the last time. We can end this quickly and without further bloodshed.”

  The alien bowed his smooth head. “We will do our best, General. Our shadow-Xayans have practiced their skills, and I can sense their eagerness for a real engagement.”

  A wave of telemancy rippled out to hammer the Commodore’s ships, which had their weapons powered up and ready for attack. On the screen, Adolphus watched multiple images, tactical grids, and projected courses. Some of the Constellation battleships reeled under the combined telemancy assault; one grew dark and drifted aimlessly.

  Though Lodo remained silent, his entire body thrummed with the strain. He finally announced, “We deactivated some of his systems, General, but are not able to melt them down as we did before. Their weapons now have powerful enhanced shields. The ships we did neutralize were slow to get their shields in place.”

  “Concentrate on the lead vessel,” Adolphus said. “I want the Commodore’s flagship dead in space.”

  The telemancy pummeling continued. Gathered in the communal chamber, the shadow-Xayans stood shoulder-to-shoulder, some clasping hands. All had their eyes closed, brows furrowed, focusing their energies.

  Lodo reported again. “The enemy has a coordinated, fleet-wide firing system, synchronized with our telemancy pulses. They can detect our strongest surge, then adjust their shields to fire weapons in nanosecond bursts while protecting their vulnerable systems.” He paused, continuing to strain. “We have, however, shifted the pattern of our telemancy attack. I believe we have managed to neutralize the weapons on the flagship at least. And we have damaged his engines. We might be able to do the same with other enemy warships, but they are already altering their patterns.”

  “But at least the flagship is neutralized?” Adolphus pressed.

  “It is. And their engines are barely functional. The weapons systems are not destroyed, but do not pose an immediate threat. That is the best we can do, General.”

  Adolphus ordered Captain Naridar to proceed with his frontal assault. Now the Constellation ships scattered, trying to fall back and regroup when they discovered they were unable to fight back.

  Tanja Hu transmitted from Walfor’s ship as they raced down to the surface. The excitement in her voice was a dramatic contrast to her usual hard demeanor. “Mobs have appeared at several flashpoints in the streets, General—not just my Candela refugees, but regular Tehila citizens as well. They didn’t need much of an excuse to react. They’re chasing down any uniformed militia members they can find.”

  Walfor added, “Our supporters already control the spaceport, General. If Commodore Hallholme decides to stay behind, he won’t have any place to go.”

  The Commodore apparently came to the same conclusion moments later. One of his two military stringline haulers had been gutted by the relativistic civilian ships, but the other was intact, and he called for his surviving Constellation vessels to retreat into the framework.

  Defending against constant fire from the DZDF ships, the big hauler maneuvered to the Sonjeera terminus ring and the iperion line that led back to the safety of the Crown Jewels. Captain Naridar’s ships pursued the Constellation ships, but Hallholme’s forces were well-trained. Adolphus was amazed at how swiftly they loaded aboard the hauler framework in the chaos of battle.

  Adolphus had no intention of letting his nemesis get away so easily, though. The Jacob raced after the retreating stringline hauler, opening fire. He damaged several vulnerable ships inside the framework.

  Adolphus transmitted, “Time to surrender, Commodore.”

  But the other commander didn’t respond. The Constellation hauler accelerated along the iperion path heading out of the system. When the pilot engaged the functional stringline engines, the massive framework quickly achieved a velocity that the DZDF ships could not match. It vanished in a bright flash.

  Captain Naridar transmitted to the Jacob. “Sorry we couldn’t stop him, sir. He chose to retreat rather than surrender.”

  “He’s becoming an expert at that,” Adolphus said. “I think he lacks conviction.” He straightened in his command chair, letting the adrenaline dwindle to a sensation of triumph. He felt an ache in his joints, a soreness in his bruised muscles after the battering from the extreme deceleration, but he could actually allow himself a moment of satisfaction, even joy.

  After so many setbacks, this was an unqualified victory. Nearly half of Commodore Hallholme’s ships had been destroyed or disabled, and Adolphus had recaptured a key Deep Zone planet.

  He opened the all-fleet channel. “This is a day to celebrate. The invaders are gone, and Tehila is free again! Now we have to put the pieces back together.”

  44

  As both the Diadem and the Supreme Commander of the Army of the Constellation, Selik Riomini should have felt satisfied, but these were not normal times. He recalled an ancient observation, “Once you reach the top, there is nowhere to go but down.”

  In many respects, he’d felt more powerful before becoming Diadem, building his secret fleet on Qiorfu, making his contingency plans. Back then, he’d taken great care to establish the basis of his power, not only militarily, but by cultivating important alliances with certain nobles. Now, with the chaotic and crumbling Deep Zone and unrest among the Crown Jewels nobility, Michella hadn’t left him much of a prize to seize.

  Still, the Star Throne was his, for better or worse. And he could rebuild it in the way he liked. He already had grand plans, but first, after Michella’s steady stream of bad decisions, he had to do a great deal of damage control.

  He stood on the safe perimeter of the spaceport blast zone, watching heavy-equipment operators clean up the melted slag and load it into airborne haulers to be dumped in a distant marshland that was ripe for development. Not long ago, this area had been a thriving hub of commerce, with a steady stream of shuttles, landing pods, and cargo vessels landing and taking off.

  As the new Diadem, Riomini had ordered the establishment of a temporary spaceport, with a hastily poured polymer landing field and portable support buildings. Orbital craft, passenger pods, and downboxes went in and out of there. It was a mere shadow of the previous substantial facility, but it served the purpose. And it showed his competence as the Constellation’s new leader.

  In view of the t
emporary landing zone, Riomini awaited Commodore Percival Hallholme, whose fleet—the remnants of it—had just arrived in disgrace at the Sonjeera hub. Defeated yet again! The new Diadem knew this would not be a happy encounter.

  The Black Lord sniffed, caught a peculiar odor in the air—something … alien?—but put the thought out of his mind, told himself he’d just imagined it. I don’t want to be like that crazy old woman!

  The edge of the blast zone was an appropriately dramatic place to meet the old warhorse. Riomini wanted to hear the Commodore’s explanation of his latest outrageous failure, and he also wanted to show him up close what Michella Duchenet had done—just to ensure the man’s loyalty—although Percival Hallholme had also seen firsthand the old Diadem’s irrational and destructive decisions. No, this man was not likely to profess ill-considered loyalty to someone like that.

  To gauge his own popularity, Riomini had dispatched thousands of government workers to canvas the city, asking probative questions. He actually let people criticize him, without threat of reprisals, but he drew a bright red line at allowing the formation of active opposition groups. Regardless, it was apparent that he was much better liked than Michella had been. He realized that he might even have been able to win the Star Throne without his private military force, but did not regret for a moment how he had claimed his title.

  He suspected that the most outspoken people were Adolphus loyalists anyway. With the ouster of Michella Duchenet, they had expected the entire convoluted system to change, which was foolish and unrealistic. They had been aligning themselves with powerful nobles in the Constellation who sensed weakness in his own rule, despite the size of his private military. Thus far, Riomini’s spies had produced the names of only three such nobles, but even that small number enraged him. Right now all three were being interrogated.