Hellhole Inferno

by Brian Herbert

  More metal balls sped into the tunnel, sweeping for additional booby traps, and spun in circles to slice through the resin plugs that filled the shafts. “Soon we will have full access,” Tryn-Clovis announced. His energy was rising, but his tone gave no hint of impatience.

  Before long, the access tunnel was entirely silent. The shadow-Xayans waited, looking to their leader.

  To be sure, Turlo sent in a small robotic camera from his pack, which transmitted multiple screen images of the entire tunnel ahead. “It’s clear.” He realized he was breathing harder.

  Using telemancy to propel himself, Tryn-Clovis floated into the access tunnel, followed by the rest of the shadow-Xayan team, while the two humans were drawn behind them. With powerful blasts of telemancy, the converts had shattered and cleared the blockades of resin that crowded the area.

  Turlo and Sunitha emerged at last onto the floor of the quarantined hangar. There, he saw the silent and dark passenger pod.

  Tryn-Clovis had already formed another blue blade of telemancy, which cut through additional layers of resin so they could enter the sealed passenger pod that held the bodies of the fallen Xayans. The debris fell away to reveal the interior of the pod.

  Entering with silent awe, the team found the residue of the Original alien Cippiq, along with what remained of Fernando-Zairic and three other dead converts, as well as the lone human victim, Vincent Jenet. Dissolving in death, Cippiq had oozed all over the deck of the pod, leaving only an imprint of his body and those of his companions.

  Crouching, Tryn-Clovis dipped his hands into the still-moist alien residue, causing the shimmering ooze to glow. As if it had become alive, activated, the viscous liquid ran up his arms and quickly blanketed his body like an organic film. The shapes on the floor vanished as the residue quested outward like pseudopods until it became a thick, translucent layer over Clovis’s entire body. The fluid seeped into his mouth, and when he spoke, his wavering voice sounded as if he were underwater.

  “I have retrieved all that remains of Zairic and Cippiq, the preserved power they left trapped here. It is exactly as I envisioned—with the presence of these powerful telemancers, we have what we need to accelerate ala’ru!” His oddly alien voice was tinged with amazement. He lifted his arms, and the translucent ooze sloughed in different directions before clinging tighter to his body.

  Turlo’s skin crawled. Next to him, he saw Sunitha swallow hard.

  “Zairic was always the strongest among us, the genius who first proposed our ascension, who created slickwater to preserve our race. He still knows how to draw together the racial memories and activate all the slickwater on Xaya, summon so many stored souls and make them rise up and demand to be resurrected. They will join with human hosts to increase our power in one final surge, and that will unleash the latent telemancy inside! There is no longer time to wait for full cooperation among the humans.”

  Turlo looked at Sunitha, feeling his concern grow. “This isn’t what we expected.”

  As Tryn-Clovis spoke, part of his original personality manifested, and tears began to stream down his cheeks, visible beneath the strange membrane. “It is unfortunate that we have to do it this way, but from now on, humans will be forced to do what we need. All the latent minds will be awakened from the slickwater. For ala’ru!”

  The alien eyes focused on Sunitha Urvancik in an eerie, spiraling gaze. The look frightened Turlo, but his wife suddenly had a beatific, mesmerized expression on her face.

  Turlo also felt pulled toward Tryn-Clovis’s spiraling eyes, but he found the strength to step in front of Sunitha, pushing her away. All the shadow-Xayan commandos stood together in rapt silence, drinking in the power that shimmered from their leader.

  The preserved ooze glowed, as if awakening from a deep sleep—and suddenly it surged across the deck of the passenger pod in all directions, sweeping over the Urvanciks and all the shadow-Xayans before they could move. Now engulfed, they continued to stand, but none of them had any voluntary impetus or thoughts.

  Turlo was unable to move, no matter how much he struggled. Inside his mind, he saw the intense presence of Zairic manifesting in his imposing original Xayan body—and Cippiq as well, along with images of countless other Xayans, like a hall-of-mirrors, with the aliens interacting in their magnificent, long-lost civilization.

  Next, he saw the faces of humans—Vincent Jenet, Fernando Neron, and his beloved wife, Sunitha, all gliding by slowly, gazing beatifically into the distance. He knew they felt the exciting, amazing potential of ala’ru. But it wasn’t right.

  He didn’t like this at all! Struggling, Turlo tried to reach out for his wife, to touch her face, but she did not look at him. Then his wife and all of the other images faded away. Turlo was left feeling the deepest sadness imaginable.

  The cacophony of alien lives grew louder around him, rising higher and higher. Fighting against the intrusion of raw sound, Turlo seized control of his thoughts and realized something very important—that there was a very dark side to ala’ru. It was not the glorious racial ascension that the Xayans had represented after all. Now he saw a hellish vision of what they’d been hiding, the huge-scale devastation they would blithely cause. Ala’ru was not anything magnificent at all. It had to be stopped!

  But he couldn’t fight it. The countless alien minds and lives condensed within the slickwater, stored and waiting, were finally unleashed. In a sudden and violent rush, the noises and voices swelled up until they overwhelmed his thoughts, engulfing him completely.

  22

  In orbit above glittering Sonjeera, Diadem Michella sat in the royal viewing area of the enormous stringline hub, where all her iperion lines intersected, and watched Commodore Hallholme’s ships arrive from Aeroc. Two enormous military stringline haulers came in carrying the gigantic fleet, which the Commodore would use to seize Tehila.

  The unscheduled arrival caused quite a stir, for such an overwhelming force took over much of the hub facilities. Employees, merchants, and visitors were even more astonished when the supposed defensive ships around Sonjeera immediately began to load themselves into the frameworks. With military precision, they aligned themselves to designated docking clamps. It was a perfectly coordinated operation—exactly as Michella had expected from Commodore Hallholme.

  She felt energized, eager for the military stringline haulers to crush General Adolphus once and for all, so that she could return the recalcitrant Deep Zone worlds to her network. She intended to go aboard the flagship to give the Commodore her blessing, knowing he would appreciate it.

  Waiting for the military hauler to finish its docking activities, Michella stood in the transfer terminal where she could see the orbital traffic. Ishop Heer paced before the large window plate as the giant haulers aligned themselves on the outbound iperion line. Ishop seemed to be avoiding her, as if he were agitated about something. She suspected he might have been up to something by sending his assistant to Sandusky, perhaps to gather some kind of blackmail information about Haveeda. Ishop would have been the mastermind behind the plan, of course, and the foolish girl was just his scapegoat.

  Michella could not decide what Laderna Nell had been doing on Sandusky, how she had tracked down Haveeda, or why she had broken into the sealed chamber. The captive assistant had revealed absolutely nothing during even the harshest interrogation. Incredible loyalty.

  Nevertheless, Michella thought she knew what Ishop had been up to. Somehow, he had learned of Haveeda’s whereabouts, given his assistant instructions to spy so that he could use the knowledge of the Diadem’s cryogenically frozen sister as a bargaining chip. For blackmail? Ishop was Michella’s pet, and she had thrown him so many bones, but he was a natural schemer. He must have been trying to gain leverage to pry even more rewards from her. His abilities and resourcefulness made him invaluable to her, but now she would have to watch him more closely, keep him on a tighter leash.

  Michella had known him for a long time, knew his schemes and his personality. He was not a m
an who allowed events to affect him, but the news of his assistant’s unfortunate—and deserved—demise had obviously been a severe blow. Excellent. He needed a harsh lesson, as Selik Riomini had. Ishop would know better now.

  It amused her to have thwarted him in this attempt to get more perks, but when people always wanted something from her, she found them irritating, such as Lord Riomini in his too-persistent quest to become the next Diadem. She sighed. Michella faced so many challenges as a ruler.

  Instead of rejoicing in the launch of the Constellation fleet, Ishop seemed too upset to sit still. He didn’t like to fail. She hadn’t shown him the disturbing images of Laderna—writhing, consumed by a flesh-eating virus while the Sandusky researchers watched and recorded her bodily degeneration—but she would. Then Ishop would learn his lesson, as Riomini had learned his. Neither of them would step out of line again.

  Now, on to more important matters.

  She could see only the front edge of the second military hauler, which was also ready for departure, all crew and supplies loaded aboard. When the docking bridge was secure, she strutted toward the access passage. “Come, Ishop. We will go aboard the flagship and bid the Commodore farewell. It will be a fine morale boost for his crew.”

  Refrains of “Strike Fast, Strike Hard!” played over the stationwide intercom—appropriate for the occasion, she supposed, but she was beginning to find the music tedious. Walking forward, she muttered, “Strike successfully—that’s what matters most! I hope Commodore Hallholme doesn’t let us down again. I want an end to this conflict—we must stop the General before he lets the aliens loose in the Crown Jewels! We barely averted disaster when they came here the first time.” When her aide made only a noncommittal noise, she snapped, “Oh, Ishop, stop sulking.”

  “Yes, Eminence.”

  When she was escorted to the flagship’s bridge, she allowed the Commodore to greet her. Ishop lingered behind her, but he knew his place and she wasn’t concerned with him. “Commodore Hallholme, I have placed my hopes and my faith in you and all your brave crew. Now is the time to crush the evil rebel General and bring peace back to the Constellation.”

  The old Commodore bowed. “Yes, Eminence. I believe this operation has a high chance for success. The last defense ships are being loaded aboard the hauler and securing themselves to their docking clamps—fifteen minutes ahead of schedule.”

  “You are very efficient, Commodore.” She gave him a sweet smile. “General Adolphus won’t know what hit him.”

  Hallholme bowed again. “We can hope so, Eminence.”

  Through the large bridge screen she could see the curve of Sonjeera below with its mosaic of urban grids and sapphire oceans. The view changed as the stringline hauler positioned itself for departure out into the Deep Zone.

  She was startled to receive a priority override signal on her private comm, the coded, high-security device she always kept with her. The signal was set to be triggered under only the most extreme circumstances, and now a holo display popped up in front of her eyes. Michella recoiled when she realized what the automated alarms signified.

  The quarantine has been broken!

  In horror, she watched the images from her implanted tunnel cameras that sent automated transmissions. Alarms indicated the resin had been shattered, the seals breached. Intruders had already gotten inside the quarantined hangar that held the alien bodies!

  “Ishop!” she cried. At first she thought Lord Riomini had sent another commando team inside. He had already tried that once before, and she had burned his team alive, just to teach him a lesson. He wouldn’t be so foolish as to try the same thing. Would he?

  Then she saw the figures moving there, no one she recognized, a motley group of men and women with no consistent uniforms, no specialized equipment … and they used obvious mental powers! Levitating themselves, shattering barricades with telemancy. Michella gasped. They were possessed humans!

  She felt sick and dizzy. She had deemed the deadly creatures and their possessed human companions too dangerous to be touched, too volatile to be moved. She had locked it all away, commanded that no one approach. And now a group of alien-possessed humans had broken inside. Despite all of her stringent precautions, Council City might already be contaminated!

  Ishop came closer, sensing her panic. “What is it, Eminence?”

  Commodore Hallholme immediately went on alert, appearing ready to act as soon as he understood the emergency.

  She cursed, feeling panicked and helpless. “The quarantine—the alien contamination has been set loose!” What if it was already too late? The imagers picked up a stealthy party trying to infiltrate. They’d already broken into the resin-sealed hangar and were now inside the alien-infested passenger pod! She couldn’t stop herself from gasping when she thought of the contamination getting loose, already oozing into the air, creeping out into the spaceport. Spreading across the city! All those millions of people! Yet, there might be no way to stop it now.

  Reacting to the urgency in her voice, Ishop emerged from his petulant mood and understood what was happening. He had been beside her when the infected emissaries arrived at the Sonjeera spaceport, the ones who were intent on possessing her and all the people of the Crown Jewels. He knew the horrific dangers they posed just as well as she did. In fact, Ishop was the one who had reported Lord Riomini’s previous attempt to break through the quarantine, so he definitely understood Michella’s feelings.

  “The silent alarm is coded directly to me,” she said, realizing that many of the Commodore’s bridge personnel were waiting for an explanation. “I installed additional security, as well as an extreme fail-safe system. I should have been warned sooner, but a series of outer alarms didn’t go off. Our enemies must have sabotaged them somehow.” She shook her head. “I see no recourse but to use the fail-safe system now. Contamination is already leaking out. There is no time to lose.”

  Ishop studied the flow of incoming images and swallowed hard. The intruders had broken into the sealed pod where the festering bodies had been entombed. His voice cracked with alarm. “We don’t dare take any chances, Eminence! They’ve released what’s trapped inside, and there’s no telling how far or how fast it’ll spread.”

  Her voice was hard and angry. All her blockades, her guards, the booby traps, the poisons … everything had failed. The intruders were actually inside the pod! “I will not let them contaminate Sonjeera. My security troops are responding, but they can’t possibly be fast enough, or thorough enough. They’ll be contaminated the moment they enter the zone.”

  Commodore Hallholme interrupted, “Eminence, does this emergency delay my mission? Is there something my forces should do?”

  “No, prepare to depart immediately, Commodore. The danger may be even greater than I fear.”

  She knew the intruders could not be allowed to leave. She had no idea who they were or what they intended to do—but if they were already infected, possessed, they could destroy Sonjeera, the Crown Jewels, perhaps even the human race. Michella’s mind raced. “We have to stop the wildfire from spreading—at all costs.”

  Commodore Hallholme strode across the bridge toward her, but she had to do this for herself. With a control link coded only to her, Michella called up the embedded flashpoint devices she had installed underground. She could not take half measures. She had to be a leader and make the proper decisions. No uncertainties, no chances taken.

  The vaporization bombs would leave no doubt, and she didn’t hesitate.

  Before anyone could ask her to reconsider, Michella triggered the blast, and multiple warheads buried beneath the hangar ignited in a shock front as intense as a star core. The searing energy vaporized the hangar, most of the busy spaceport, and every speck of life for a kilometer around, including an industrial complex and a low-rent housing section of the capital city. Once the energy dissipated, nothing more than puddles of sterile glass would remain down there.

  Even from orbit, she could see the bright flash. She gave I
shop a hard smile. “It’s the only way to be sure.”

  The crew on the flagship’s bridge gasped to see the blinding explosion from the spaceport, and magnifiers showed the expanding sphere of light like a sun going supernova. Alarms rang through the stringline hub; all space traffic was placed on emergency hold.

  “You certainly took care of the problem,” Ishop said. His tone was dismissive, even carrying a hint of sarcasm.

  Hallholme was aghast. “Eminence, what have you done?”

  Michella lifted her chin, aloof. “We couldn’t afford the risk, Commodore. Those casualties are necessary sacrifices to protect us all. I won’t underestimate how insidious those aliens are, and they were about to get loose.”

  Sonjeeran security sent an urgent message, demanding to speak to the Diadem, trying to affirm that Michella was safe. A blustering voice came from the bridge comm screen. “Commodore, we need to find the Diadem! There’s been a huge explosion at the main Sonjeera spaceport. Possibly the work of terrorists, likely Deep Zone sympathizers. We are locking down the stringline hub.”

  Michella caught her breath. Yes, maybe she could blame it on terrorists.… No, that would dilute the importance of what she had done, how she had saved them all. The population would be stunned to learn the truth, but it was unavoidable. They had to know that they were saved, that she had saved them.

  “No need for that,” she said. “I am fully aware of what happened, and why.” She turned to Hallholme. “Commodore, please allow me to address the stringline hub and all of Sonjeera. I have an important announcement.”

  Looking flustered and appalled, Hallholme snapped commands to his communications officer, who arranged for Michella to stand in the transmission field. The other bridge personnel looked confused and nervous, staring at the image of the still-expanding vaporization plume that was consuming the spaceport and part of the capital city.