The throbbing voice sounded so reasonable. Michella suppressed a shudder. This creature wanted to contaminate them with other aliens. She pressed back against the wall. “Keep away! I know exactly what you’re doing.”
“No, you do not,” Encix said in a much harsher voice. “Your ignorance is plain. That is why I will explain what you must do.” The twin antennae on the creature’s forehead twitched.
Michella used the chair as a barrier between herself and Encix as she said defiantly, “When one of you came to Sonjeera, making the same pleas, I destroyed him and all of his brainwashed followers—every cell of them has been incinerated. They are annihilated.”
“And your violence may have cost our race its best chance of survival. I should despise you for your ignorant fear, Diadem Michella Duchenet, but because my people need you, need all humans, more than ever, I will overlook my emotions. And yours.”
“We are important hostages, and the Constellation military will soon come to rescue us,” Ishop interrupted, sounding brash and defensive. “You don’t dare harm us.”
“I do not intend to harm you. I require much more than that.”
Michella was defiant. “I know what you have done to so many gullible people, but I do not fear death. I’ll die before I let an alien presence invade my body.”
She wished she had the courage to take her own life rather than let herself fall into this corruption. Her skin crawled at the very thought of it. If she commanded him to do it, Ishop would kill her—she had no doubt of that. But it would be the ultimate disgrace if she let herself die without mounting every resistance, an admission of defeat. And even now Michella Duchenet was not defeated.
The alien facial membrane formed an odd, contorted fold, as if Encix was trying to replicate a human smile. The alien moved closer to them, and Michella had nowhere to retreat. “Ala’ru will occur, and none of you unsavory human beings will matter anymore. I wanted to meet you, thinking you might be of use … but now I know you are not. Your faction is defective and dangerous. I will not force you into the slickwater pools, for fear that you might contaminate us.”
Michella blinked in surprise as the alien swung its centaurlike body around and pushed its way toward the door. “There is another ever-growing group of converts out at the Ankor spaceport. You are no longer important, or relevant.” The guards moved aside so Encix could pass, then closed the door, leaving an astonished Ishop with Michella, at least for now.
He rubbed beads of perspiration from his bald head. Both of them were trembling, but afraid to admit their terror. He glared at Michella, as if he blamed her!
But Michella knew they might only have a brief moment before he was whisked back to his own bungalow. She leaned closer to him, taking advantage of this brief moment of privacy. “Now tell me you’ve been working on a way to for us to escape. Commodore Hallholme will be here soon. We have to be ready for him.”
“I’ll take care of everything the moment I see an opportunity, Eminence,” he said, but with an uncharacteristic edge in his voice. “I am your loyal servant, as always.”
47
The DZDF fleet returned to the Hellhole stringline hub, loaded aboard a large hauler framework. As the hauler decelerated on approach, General Adolphus was dismayed to see how relatively empty the orbiting complex looked, without a large military force. The majority of his guardian ships had been dispatched to secure other DZ planets, but he was pleased and relieved by the normal bustle of commercial traffic, cargo ships coming from frontier worlds loaded with supplies to be distributed throughout the Deep Zone.
How could Diadem Michella have been so naïve to think that the hardy colonists couldn’t find a way to become self-sufficient, with over fifty fertile and viable worlds working together to survive?
From his flagship he broadcast the victory at Tehila, knowing the other ships at the hub would widely disseminate the news. He also transmitted the message to Michella Town, Ankor, Slickwater Springs, outlying produce-dome farm complexes, and mining outposts.
“Commodore Hallholme has been defeated once again—maybe badly enough that he’s finally learned his lesson,” he said. “We destroyed part of the Constellation fleet, captured more ships, and sent the rest running back to Sonjeera. Tehila is now secure. After ousting their traitorous administrator, the people will now establish their own government, as every independent world should do.”
The officers of commercial ships parked at the hub congratulated him, and Michella Town celebrated—but Adolphus knew he couldn’t let down his guard. His returning ships shored up the defenses around Hellhole, but he wouldn’t feel safe until George Komun brought his thirteen additional battleships from Umber. After that, the hub should be able to withstand any military attack.
At the moment, however, Adolphus allowed himself a personal respite inside the ready room just off the Jacob’s bridge. He washed his face, combed his hair, and sent a private communication to Sophie at Slickwater Springs. Her eyes sparkled when she saw him on the screen.
He wanted to tell her how beautiful she looked to him, but she understood that and knew how he felt about her. That was one reason why they made such a good team, why he felt so comfortable with her. She was confident enough not to need constant verbal affirmation, but appreciated his love for what it was. She could see it in his eyes and his expression.
“Even though I had complete faith in you, Tiber, I’m always relieved to see you home safe. When can I see you?”
“I have a few administrative details, but then I’m coming straight down to Slickwater Springs. I’ll leave Lieutenant Sendell here in temporary command. Is the Diadem still secure?”
“You didn’t think I’d let anything happen to dear Michella, did you?”
“Good. I’ve got news for her that she will find even more distressing than the loss of Tehila and the defeat of Commodore Hallholme.”
Sophie smiled. “I can’t wait to hear it. I’ll be glad to see her taken down another notch.”
* * *
En route to the surface in a troop shuttle, Adolphus reviewed reports from the outlying observation satellites that continued to monitor interplanetary space for any sign of incoming asteroids. Rendo Theris contacted him from the Ankor spaceport, speaking with his usual level of rushed nervousness. “General, the converts seem even more fearful about a threat from the Ro-Xayans, so over two hundred defenders have come here to Ankor, led by Encix. It’s quite a large crowd, and I don’t know what they expect to accomplish here.”
That puzzled him. “Are they interfering with launch or landing ops?”
“So far they’re staying outside the paved zones, drawing slickwater from aquifers under the ground, channeling it into small pools. And they’re growing more insistent in their … proselytizing. Is that the right word? Especially Encix. They keep wanting me and my spaceport workers to immerse ourselves in slickwater. They’re frantic to get enough converts for that ala’ru of theirs.”
Adolphus was disturbed. When he agreed to let people awaken alien memories from the pools, it had been on the strict condition that no one was to be forced. “I’ll see what I can do. I’m heading for Slickwater Springs now.”
And Sophie … Even with all the troubles, he allowed himself a smile at the prospect of being with her again.
He had freshened up and changed, wanting to look his best for her—and unruffled for when he addressed the old Diadem. As soon as he arrived, Sophie embraced him outside the main lodge house, but it was a quick hug, promising more later. She laughed at his awkwardness and discomfort at the public display of affection. “After all this time, Tiber, do you really think we’re fooling anyone about our relationship?”
“A military and planetary leader can’t look like a giddy schoolboy with a crush on the prettiest girl around.”
Her eyebrows shot up in mock displeasure.
He got to business. “Now, I need to see the Diadem. And I think you’ll want to hear what I have to say to her—her situation
has completely changed.”
Sophie led him to the bungalows, where Michella looked haughty, though exhausted and tense. When he faced her, Adolphus tried to measure the defeat in her eyes, but the old Diadem would not be broken easily. The mere sight of him and his rebel uniform caused obvious resentment in her.
He straightened. “It was a complete victory for us. We ousted Commodore Percival Hallholme and his fleet from Tehila. My forces destroyed or captured half of his ships. With only part of his fleet remaining to him, he escaped down the stringline to Sonjeera, and we have now cut the line, so he will be unable to come back.”
Michella struggled not to show any alarm, steeling herself with a sneer—her trademark grandmotherly expressions were gone now. “You know Commodore Hallholme as well as I, General—he doesn’t understand defeat. He will be back here to rescue me, and he’ll leave this planet a smoldering wasteland. The sooner you accept that and make peace with your own future, the better off you’ll be. I’ll just wait. The Constellation has deep resources, and they won’t give up on me.”
“Unfortunately for us both, it already has, Michella.” He pointedly used only her first name. “The Council of Nobles voted unanimously to strip you of your title. You are no longer the Diadem of the Constellation. You’ve been replaced by Lord Selik Riomini, and he issued explicit orders to the Commodore that no effort is to be made to save you. Should you ever return to Sonjeera, you will face trial for crimes against civilization.”
This rocked the old woman. She steadied herself by holding onto the back of the only chair. “You have no way of knowing that.”
Adolphus fixed her with his gaze. “Commodore Hallholme told me personally.”
“You’re lying,” she said, but sudden fear was in her voice.
“As a bargaining chip, Michella Duchenet, you are of no value to me or to anyone else.”
With a solicitous smile, Sophie suggested, “Would you like to request asylum here on Hellhole? I’m sure we can find some menial work for you to do. Something in construction, or perhaps janitorial. If you’re willing to put in the effort, you can learn a trade.”
The flare behind the old woman’s eyes burned away, leaving an expression of defeat.
One of the door guards called for the General. “Sir, the stringline hub reports that Administrator Komun just arrived with his ships, thirteen DZDF war vessels already taking up positions around the stringline hub.”
Relieved, Adolphus activated his own portable comm. “Patch me through to him. I want to thank him for helping defend Hellhole.”
The guard made a transfer, and the comm officer rerouted the call. Adolphus spoke, giving a sidelong glance to the miserable-looking former Diadem. “George, I’m glad to have you with me. Tehila has been successfully liberated, and now we’ll have no further worries from the Crown Jewels.”
Komun replied, but without the enthusiastic heartiness with which he should have received the news. “That’s not entirely true, General. The political landscape isn’t as simple as you think it is.”
Adolphus heard something strange in the man’s voice and he was instantly on his guard. Sophie looked at him, watched his expression fall. “I don’t like the sound of that, George.”
Up in orbit, the fully armed DZDF ships from Umber dropped from their hauler framework and took up positions around the main stringline hub. Their weapons were active. Before the Jacob could react, Komun’s ships took potshots at the flagship, damaging the engines. Then they surrounded and seized the stringline hub.
Adolphus felt an icy dread as he heard the orders over the comm, and tried to shout over them, “What are you doing?”
Of all possible traitors, he had never expected this man to be a weak link. Komun had been one of the original conspirators, the tight group that had plotted how to break free of the Constellation’s stranglehold. He had fought valiantly and sacrificed, and now his own world was stable and free. Why would he turn against the DZ now?
Adolphus stepped out of the bungalow, but he could see the expression of malicious glee on the old Diadem’s face.
On the comm, Komun said, “Hossetea and Tehila aren’t the only planets having second thoughts about a never-ending war with the Constellation. Umber has also turned against you.”
Sophie cried, “That’s impossible!”
Adolphus knew it must be true, though. In the back of his mind thoughts were spinning, possibilities surfacing as he tried to figure out how to defend against this sneak attack. “But why?”
Komun said, “Lord Riomini destroyed Theser. Asteroids obliterated Candela. The Army of the Constellation took over Tehila. Who knows what else is coming? We’re facing more than we can handle. Your dreams are grand and naïve, General, but the Constellation has existed for more than a thousand years. Did you honestly think a few upstarts could undo all that in a few years? It’s not worth the effort. Dreams are for the deluded.”
“Then Umber will collapse along with everything else.” Adolphus lowered his voice to a growl. “Are you certain you want me as your enemy?”
Komun was dismissive. “Friendship has to take a subordinate role to destiny. Diadem Riomini guaranteed that my planet would be independent of both Hellhole and the Constellation. I will pay no tribute, I’ll be able to establish my own stringline hub over Umber, and I can branch out however I like throughout the Deep Zone.” His voice hardened. “My forces control the Hellhole stringline hub now, General. Don’t test me, or I’ll blow the whole thing if necessary. In the meantime, Constellation battleships will be coming directly here via Umber. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re led by Commodore Hallholme himself. Diadem Riomini looks forward to wrapping up this matter in short order.”
As Komun’s battleships tightened their cordon around the stringline hub, Adolphus heard old Michella sitting in her bungalow, laughing.
48
Although Bolton felt better than Redcom Hallholme, that wasn’t saying much. He was actually surprised to discover his own inner strength, and the endurance that let him trudge ahead of his companion on the rugged landscape.
They’d been gone for days, plodding across the endlessly strange and dangerous wilderness; Bolton was in the lead as they descended a steep embankment, struggling to keep his footing on loose rocks and soil. His stomach roiled, no doubt from contaminants in the stream water they’d been forced to drink. Every muscle in his body ached, but at least neither he nor Escobar had suffered from the deadly algae.
Hellhole had plenty of other ways to kill them.
At the bottom of the crumbly slope he looked back to watch Escobar picking his way down. Finally they stood together on the flat area of rust-red scrubgrass. The Redcom looked even more ill. Bolton asked, “Do you need to rest, sir?”
Though his face was gray, Escobar shook his head. “What we both need is a place to settle for the night. And food.”
Their supplies had been ruined by the algae and lost with the Trakmaster, and by now both of them were weak and starving. They knew that the native vegetation, based on alien biochemistry, would be indigestible if not poisonous. Despite their terrible hunger, they had not dared to eat any of the strange plants they’d seen growing along the way.
They moved on slowly, painstakingly. Bolton tried to see any hopeful sign in the terrain around them, any smoke or roads, a distant mining settlement or industrial outpost. Escobar plodded along out of habit, but his eyes held little interest or hope.
Bolton led the way across the spiny grass toward a thriving red weed forest that looked like a giant bloodstain spreading across the valley ahead. Though he knew the lush alien oasis was not likely to be any more welcoming than the rest of the landscape, at least it looked vibrant and alive. After so many days of bleak terrain, he felt increasingly tired and muscle-sore, fighting to take every step. He just wanted to lie down and go to sleep, and forced himself to keep going, to make his way toward what looked like an island of sanctuary. At least it was a goal, and the lushness seem
ed tempting.
Escobar followed him as he approached the abrupt edge of the thicket that extended for kilometers in every direction, but the Redcom seemed disinterested. Bolton noted the dense barricade of red weeds, thick scarlet leaves that were like long tongues attached to greenish-yellow stalks that seemed too fragile to support so much weight—but round, lighter-than-air bladders held the plants aloft. The drifting stalks and leaves waved gently in the air, resembling an underwater kelp forest moving in ocean currents.
Suddenly uneasy, Bolton paused to reconsider whether he and the Redcom should enter the strange forest, but the cracked and barren landscape had sapped the energy from them. At least this was different. He knew that nothing useful, and no rescue, lay back the way they had come, and he saw no easy way around the extensive, red weed wilderness.
Escobar looked up, stared at the forest that lay ahead of them, and noted Bolton’s hesitation. “We keep going, Major. No choice.”
“Yes, sir.” No matter what, Bolton acknowledged that the Redcom was still his commander.
But as they picked up their pace toward the abrupt edge of the tall vegetation, the ground began to tremble underfoot, and the surface churned, as if being plowed from underneath. A tiny crater only a handspan wide dropped away nearby. Other pockmarks appeared, as if the soil had started to rot away. The ground bucked, and Escobar lost his balance. Bolton yanked the Redcom to his feet, and they both staggered toward the dubious safety of the alien forest.
In front of them the grass-studded soil also began to roil. Lumps and mounds appeared like ripples on a dirt pond. Escobar’s boot caught in a hole and he lurched forward. Bolton helped pull him along toward some rocks, but even there, the ground was not stable. The dirt and grass looked like the churning surface of a cauldron at full boil.
Hellhole Inferno Page 28
