Hellhole Inferno

by Kevin J. Anderson

  Abruptly, a torrent of small animals emerged from countless burrows. Each creature had spiky dark fur and glistening teeth, and they bounded toward the two men like ferocious wolverines. Hundreds of them.

  Escobar and Bolton found a small burst of renewed energy of desperation as they raced toward the alien forest, forgetting their weariness and hunger. They could no longer worry about what might be inside the dense red weeds.

  Behind them, a pack of the fierce-looking animals closed in, making high-pitched keening sounds, as if they were communicating with each other. Bolton tried to run faster, but his body was already weak and spent. Escobar staggered along in a jerky, scarecrowish run.

  A handful of the ferocious creatures bounded to the forefront of the pack, yelping excitedly at the prospect of fresh blood. Bolton bent to snatch loose rocks on the ground and threw them at the pursuers, bowling over a pair of them—not because he was such a good thrower, but because there were so many of them it would have been impossible to miss. The others rushed after their prey, closing in.

  Panting, Bolton pushed toward the red weed oasis, but it was still too far away. With a sinking feeling, he realized that he and his companion would not make it.

  Apparently, Escobar came to the same realization, because he stopped and turned to face the vicious animals. He yanked off his pack, tore it open, and withdrew the projectile weapon he’d salvaged from the Trakmaster, as well as a flare launcher. “Run for the forest, Major! I’ll give you a chance.”

  He fired the projectile weapon. His weak hands were shaky, but he managed to hit half a dozen of the wolverine creatures. The injured ones yipped in pain when they fell in bloody heaps, but more kept coming.

  Bolton grabbed at Escobar’s arm. “Sir, you can’t hold them off!”

  But the Redcom pushed him toward the red weeds. “Go!” He fired again, killing several more of the animals.

  Bolton staggered away, trying to reach the forest. Escobar’s sacrifice seemed brave, but foolish and ultimately pointless. Bolton knew that he himself wouldn’t make it either.

  The first three animals reached Escobar and leaped, tearing into his side. They locked jaws onto his forearm and thigh. He howled, fought back, fired twice more before the weapon ran empty, and let the gun fall out of his hands. More of the attacking creatures fell upon him. Somehow Escobar found the energy to thrash about, knocking the clinging creatures away from him. With his other hand, he launched the flare, which crisped dozens of the beasts in a flame front. That drove most of them back, for a moment. He stood panting, dripping blood from numerous large wounds, as more of the creatures circled him, measuring him, ready to pounce.

  Bolton had reached the fringe of the forest, and the red weeds loomed before him. Anguished, he turned, knowing he should head back to Escobar, to help him fight. A futile gesture, he knew, but …

  Then a strange, pulsing sound screamed through the air, a sonic wind that shoved the pack of wolverine creatures away as if with an invisible hand. The continuing pulse swept the creatures away, and the rest ran off, yelping and keening.

  Escobar collapsed into the dirt, his body torn and bleeding.

  Before Bolton could run to help him, tall, thick stalks of suspended red weed shifted aside. The wide curling leaves parted to allow a figure to emerge—a large, pale creature that moved on a long caterpillar undercarriage. Energy crackled around the Xayan’s gleaming dark eyes, and its feelers twitched.

  The defeated pack creatures scuttled back into burrows, while the looming Xayan stood on the edge of the red forest. The unreadable eyes stared at Bolton, then at the motionless and bleeding Redcom Hallholme.

  Leaving the alien, Bolton ran back to Escobar and dropped beside him. With a glance, he recognized how severe the injuries were, and how badly he was bleeding. He tore a piece of fabric from his own shirt and tried to staunch the flow of Escobar’s blood, but there were far too many deep and severe wounds, ripped flesh, cut muscles.

  Moving with a whispering glide, the Xayan came close, looking down at the mangled man in curiosity. Words thrummed out of the strange facial membrane. “You are fortunate to have escaped the burrow foxes. They lie in wait for large prey to come near, then attack in force.”

  “Thanks for helping us, but my companion needs medical attention. Right away.” Bolton had seen Encix several times, as well as the alien named Lodo, but he did not recognize this one. “How many Originals are there? Are you with Encix?”

  “I am Jonwi, and I work to restore this planet.” The alien appeared to be male, wore a long sash across his torso and a satchel at his waist. “And no, I am not with the other Xayans. I came here to undo the damage.”

  Bolton could not be concerned with that now. “My friend is going to bleed to death. He needs medical attention.”

  “I will see what I can do to help him.”

  Jonwi leaned down and touched Escobar’s neck with soft, pliable fingers. The gushing blood slowed, but did not stop. Energy crackled around the alien’s head, and the prone form of Escobar rose into the air, lifted by telemancy. Jonwi turned and guided the injured man aloft as he moved toward the thick red weed.

  “Follow me,” he said, “before the burrow foxes come back.”

  49

  George Komun had obviously made thorough plans ahead of time, and now he worked swiftly and efficiently to secure the Hellhole stringline hub. Belatedly, Adolphus realized that the traitor had learned much of his strategy from the General’s own tactics. He tried to react swiftly enough to cut off the debacle, but it was already too late.

  Komun’s operation went into place with startling efficiency. In rapid order, the incoming thirteen DZDF battleships crippled the already-battered Jacob and most of the unsuspecting war-weary vessels that had just returned from Tehila. Now Adolphus regretted leaving Captain Naridar there with so many battleships. He had focused on the wrong threat! If he lost the Hellhole stringline hub, Adolphus would lose everything.

  Sophie knew it, too. “Go! I’ll take care of the Diadem—I mean, Michella. Do what you need to do.”

  He ran to his flyer, contacting Lieutenant Sendell aboard the damaged flagship to get an assessment. He was glad to learn that at least the harm to the engines and weapons wasn’t terribly severe, but it would take hours to effect repairs. And in those hours, Komun would waste no time.…

  The General received reports every twenty minutes as his flyer raced overland—not back to his command headquarters at Elba, but directly to the spaceport at Ankor, which was closer.

  He struggled to grasp the betrayal. George Komun was one of his inner circle, a man who had met repeatedly with the other eleven plotters, risking his life and his world in the name of freedom. Adolphus had believed in him for years as they planned their breakaway from the Constellation. But in these perilous, changing times, he should have known better than to trust.

  From one of the military ships surrounding the hub, Komun remained in contact with Adolphus. He spoke, not in a taunting way, but simply businesslike. “I know you’re planning to retaliate somehow, General. You’ll gather your ships, believing you can defeat my vessels in a straight-up face-to-face clash. I may have more ships than you do, but we both know that you’re the tactical genius. Nevertheless, many of your vessels are damaged, their weapons depleted after Tehila. I hold the high ground, the stringline hub.

  “By the time you rally your ships, I will have every one of the DZ stringline nodes mined. So even if you defeat me, you can’t possibly do it before I trigger the detonations—so I suggest you not make a move. If it looks like you’re going to win, you know what I’ll do. I’ve gambled everything on this, and I have nothing to lose.”

  As the General’s aircraft roared over the rugged terrain, anger pushed his pulse faster. He considered, then rejected, dozens of ways to wrest control from the traitorous governor.

  Komun spoke into the prolonged silence. “I know you’re still listening, General. Why don’t you respond?”

  A
dolphus flicked the comm. “It’s hard to know what to say to someone who has sunk so low. You know what will happen if you carry out your threat.”

  “Full well.” Komun’s rational tone grated on the General. “If I destroy the hub, it cuts off stringline travel throughout the Deep Zone. The planets will no longer be connected, and we both know that many of them are not self-sufficient. They’ll starve before anyone manages to reestablish iperion lines—even if sufficient iperion could be found. I know you, and I know you won’t risk it. The trap I’ve laid is like a dead man’s switch.”

  “You are dead to me,” Adolphus replied. “Now what do you want?”

  “Your unconditional surrender. The Constellation insisted that I try to capture you as a requirement for my own independence. I suggest we end this swiftly. If you surrender, I’ll guarantee your safety—at least until you get back to Sonjeera for your formal trial. I expect that Constellation warships will arrive within two days—they should already be on their way. I’m sure I can hold out for that long, but I’d prefer to handle this efficiently. That’s something you taught me, General.”

  “Obviously I didn’t teach you about honor. I hate to disappoint you, but I won’t be offering my surrender at this time.” Adolphus switched off the cockpit comm, not wanting to hear more.

  He did have one more option. Something he doubted Komun would expect. The wheels continued turning in his mind, as he brought the flyer in toward the Ankor spaceport and found a place to land.

  Rendo Theris ran out to meet him from the low spaceport headquarters building. The man would have been a perfectly acceptable person to place in charge during peacetime; he was not, however, the best person to operate under a situation of constant crisis. Despite his harried state, however, Theris usually managed to keep the shuttle launch schedule and maintain an orderly movement of upboxes and downboxes.

  He hurried Adolphus inside the bustling control center. “General, we can’t launch any vessels right now. With the seizure of the stringline hub, our schedule is on hold, but there are other Deep Zone cargo ships inbound. Isn’t there something we can do to regain control? Surely Governor Komun understands what sort of turmoil this is causing.”

  Adolphus regarded him coolly. “He’s aware, Mr. Theris. He graciously offered to return to normal space traffic if I surrender to him.” Shifting nervously on his feet, Theris waited for Adolphus to continue. Finally, the General added, “I won’t be doing that.”

  “Of course not, sir. I didn’t think you would.” Theris scurried to a display screen, as if Adolphus had come for a standard briefing. “At least there’s no sign of those mysterious Ro-Xayan scout ships or any inbound asteroids. We’ve been keeping careful watch with the additional alien satellites. We’ll have the best possible warning if there’s another threat from space.”

  Adolphus cut him off. “I came here to speak to the shadow-Xayans. They can help.” He could have gone to the primary shadow-Xayan settlement near Slickwater Springs, but he intended to use the spaceport facilities, the shuttles, and personnel transports, and he knew that many of the converts were already here. “I need their telemancy.”

  “They’re preoccupied with their slickwater pools and talking about ala’ru.” Theris shook his head. “It’ll be much calmer once they finally ascend—then we can get back to our daily business. Be my guest, though, sir. Go out and talk with them. Encix is here. She might be able to help you.”

  Adolphus left the building and headed toward a group of shadow-Xayans tending seeps of slickwater around the spaceport grounds. He had an uneasy relationship with Encix; the leader of the Original aliens was so focused on her own goal of ala’ru that he wasn’t sure he could convince her to help him more than she and Lodo already had.

  He spotted the pale alien surrounded by hundreds of converts who were channeling runnels of quicksilver that welled up from cracks in the ground. The slickwater aquifer was so close to the surface here that it had caused disastrous problems in the expanding spaceport construction. Even so, Encix and these followers were managing to keep it under control, while also manipulating it.

  Seeing him, the alien came forward. “General Tiber Adolphus, we have a hundred new converts today, both at Slickwater Springs and here at the spaceport. Your people are beginning to understand the urgency, and our destiny is within reach, but progress remains too slow.”

  Adolphus interrupted. “There is still no sign of the Ro-Xayans, but a different crisis has occurred in orbit, and it must be dealt with immediately. One of our … factions has turned against me and captured our main stringline hub.” He knew the Xayans did not comprehend the depths and tangles of human politics, but they did understand factions. That was what had split apart the alien race and turned the rebellious Ro-Xayans into a destructive, unstoppable force.

  “We can no longer participate in your squabbles.” Encix sounded callous and aloof. “Our numbers continue to grow, but when you took Lodo and his group of volunteers to fight your battle at Tehila, our power diminished for a time. By using so much directed telemancy, we suffered a disturbing setback. I cannot allow that to occur again.”

  Adolphus put an edge in his voice. “I have suffered setbacks as well. Unless I solve this problem in a matter of days, an even larger military force will come here—one I cannot defeat. Then this planet will be conquered by the Constellation, and they do not care about your race, or converts, or ala’ru. I have reason to believe their standing orders are to devastate this planet and wipe out all inhabitants—including the shadow-Xayans and the slickwater pools.”

  He watched the translucent skin on the alien’s face ripple. Her retractable feelers waved in the air, as if considering.

  He continued. “Previously, when the shadow-Xayans operated together, their telemancy was strong enough to drive away Commodore Hallholme’s fleet. They destroyed his weapons, and he had to flee. Now I need telemancy again. I want to take a group of converts up to the stringline hub, where I’ll need them to isolate and deactivate a set of explosive triggers placed throughout the structure.”

  “That will be difficult,” Encix said.

  “But it is necessary.”

  “Is there no end to the back and forth of your war?” Encix asked.

  “I’m hoping for it. With your help, I can achieve exactly that.”

  Before the Xayan leader could give her answer, Rendo Theris came running out of the admin headquarters, flailing his hands and yelling for the General. “It’s what we feared, sir, but we never expected them to move so fast. We don’t have enough time!”

  Adolphus steeled himself for yet another disaster. “What is it?”

  “The Ro-Xayans, sir!”

  Encix followed the General back to the spaceport headquarters, where personnel stared at screens, muttering in varying degrees of horror and dismay. Theris led them to the largest display. “The high-resolution Xayan satellites just picked this up in the outer system, but it wasn’t there an hour ago, I swear! It wasn’t my failure, sir.”

  “Stop babbling, Mr. Theris. Show me what you know so far.”

  The screen showed blips, and numerical readings on the bottom gave the estimates of size, density, and velocity. “Twenty incoming asteroids, General—and each is larger than the impactor that struck Hellhole five hundred years ago.”

  Encix’s large black eyes were intent on the images. “Exactly as we warned. The Ro-Xayans have come to finish their destruction.”

  Theris said, “The speed of the asteroids is incredible, sir, obviously not a natural phenomenon. I have no idea how anyone or anything could have accelerated them so fast.”

  “Telemancy,” Encix said. “Powerful telemancy.”

  Theris called up another projection. Trajectory lines on the starry field accompanied the closely grouped asteroids. All twenty were heading straight for planet Hellhole. “These asteroids are going to strike in six days, sir. All twenty of them.”

  50

  All of Theser was open, uncharted,
and ready to be explored, but so far Enva Tazaar wasn’t impressed with what she saw. As her patrol craft cruised over the burned-out ruins of the planet, she drew parallels between the devastation below and the wreckage of her own life. Being in charge of a fledgling colony on a damaged world was far from the pinnacle of her success, but it was the best opportunity she’d been given in the Deep Zone. She had ruled Orsini, been one of the most powerful nobles in the Crown Jewels, fancied herself a viable candidate to be the next Diadem. Now she had … this.

  But she would make do. She surveyed her new domain, the incredible challenge. Yes, she was up to the task. This was a stepping stone.

  The first investigative teams that had come here immediately after Riomini’s massacre had found underground aquifers that would provide potable water; already, some plants were growing back on the floor of the fertile crater that had been the site of the planet’s primary city. The pioneers from Candela—many grim and determined, others enthusiastic to have another chance—scouted the remains of the former settlement, searching for anything they could salvage. They found small animals thriving in the wreckage, burrowing creatures that had saved themselves by digging deep into the ground. Some fish had returned to the streams, while unusual birds circled in the air, feeding on the burrowers.

  But there were no people. Lord Riomini had killed them all, eradicating every human being on Theser, as an example.

  Enva Tazaar was herself a survivor of circumstances, like the hardy creatures who had come back to this devastation. Now she saw a glimmer of hope, a possible path to success. Done with hiding, she openly called herself Enva Tazaar now, and intended to regain—or avenge—all that she and her family had lost. She vowed to resurrect her life, and this planet.

  For starters.

  Enva did not delude herself about the magnitude of the task. It would be much rougher to settle here than on Tehila, and vastly different from Orsini, but she would do it anyway; and she would do more than merely survive. She and these hardy people would set up a thriving colony here. They would explore this planet, see what it had to offer. The previous planetary administrator, Sia Frankov, had not been driven to extensive curiosity or exploration. But for Enva it was a new world.