Hellhole Inferno

by Brian Herbert

  “It’s a herd of animals,” he said. “Large ones, I think.” They were out in the open, with no shelter, no place to run.

  Escobar shaded his eyes, then used the pocket scope. “And they’re closing the distance fast—not leaving much behind them.” He pointed to the thorny succulents that dotted the landscape. One thicket looked large enough to give them some shelter—barely. “Head for those bushes!”

  The two men ran, but the thicket was farther away than Bolton had estimated. The native animals rumbled closer, a huge herd flowing across the plain, impossible creatures on such a barren world, animals that were at once terrifying and majestic. They looked like alien bison with large horned heads.

  Bolton ran as hard as he could. He felt dust in his mouth and throat, and his body seemed incapable of going faster. The herd beasts were almost on top of them. The men reached the thicket at the same time, hurling themselves into the thick vegetation. Spine-covered limbs sliced into them.

  Like a single, flowing organism, the thundering animals bypassed the thicket. The ground shook from the trampling of countless hooves, and a huge cloud of dust rose around them. The snorts and groans of the big animals were deafening as they continued toward some destination that only they could understand. Finally, the beasts receded into the distance.

  For several minutes the two men remained in the thicket, exhausted and terrified, unable to believe they had survived the bizarre stampede.

  As they picked themselves up, Bolton heard a buzzing noise overhead, and he looked up through the spiny limbs to see a silver aircraft cruising above them. He started to scramble out into the open, shouting, but Escobar grabbed his arm. “What are you doing? That’s got to be one of the patrol aircraft looking for us!”

  “I’m counting on that, sir. We’re lost, out of supplies, and two of our companions are already dead. We need rescue.”

  Escobar’s eyes flashed. “We’ve sacrificed too much to get this far. We will not give up now!”

  The flyer cruised past the thicket, following the traveling herd. Bolton swallowed his anger, although this seemed like another bad decision. “Yes, sir.”

  The aircraft buzzed off into the distance.

  Bleeding from their scratches, and coughing in the airborne dust, the pair emerged from the thicket. Bolton breathed a sigh of relief, but his heart was pounding so hard in his chest that it seemed about to break through.

  “Come on, Major. We have to get to that stream,” Escobar said.

  They started out at a rapid walk, which grew into an awkward run as they reached the water. The stream was thick with red weeds, but felt cool and refreshing. Bolton was so parched he pushed aside any worries about impurities in the water. The two of them drank until they were more than satisfied, then lay back on the rocky ground to rest.

  Looking up the slope, Bolton saw plenty of vegetation alongside the stream, enough to give them cover when they climbed. They had no idea, however, what lay on the other side of the ridge.

  * * *

  Aboard the scout flyer, Cristoph de Carre and five fellow searchers had seen the vast herd of beasts, another amazing sign that Hellhole was indeed awakening. Centuries after the devastating asteroid impact exterminated virtually all life on the planet, even the larger animals had returned. It had seemed impossible, but now they knew that these species came from embryos seeded by the Ro-Xayans.

  Cristoph and Keana had seen such animals before; they had watched them from outside the opening to the deep museum vault, but this herd was much larger.

  He flew the aircraft low, but the dust of the animals’ passage obscured much of the view. Working the controls, he banked away from the hills and the trampled ground and flew east, still searching for the foolish, escaped prisoners although he didn’t hold out much hope for them. Skimming down over an arroyo, he and his team kept their eyes open for any sign of the stolen Trakmaster. Since the escape, they had received occasional pings from their detection satellites, but the large vehicle proved difficult to find—so difficult, in fact, that he wondered if the fleeing prisoners had rigged some way to camouflage it.

  One of the searchers, a muscular noncommissioned officer named Eliak Derry, leaned close to the starboard window and called out. “Something strange down there.” Tapping the pane, he pointed to the afternoon shadows in the arroyo. All members of the search team were veteran soldiers, handpicked by Cristoph because of the importance of the mission. “Could be the Trakmaster.”

  “Worth taking a look.” Cristoph circled back and put the flyer into hover mode. They saw a large, motionless object on the ground, mostly metal but covered with a black-and-yellow mound that glistened and twitched. The noise of the flyer affected whatever it was, because the organic covering began to withdraw and separate into smaller segments, oozing away from the remnants of a vehicle and crawling away into fissures.

  “It is the Trakmaster,” Cristoph said, “but it’s a wreck.”

  “Let’s hope none of the escapees were inside,” said Derry. “Or we won’t be bringing good news back for the General. Have we seen that type of organism before?”

  “Some kind of algae,” Cristoph said. “Every time I think I’ve seen the strangest thing Hellhole can throw at us—”

  Theirs was the largest of the four patrol craft sent out to search for the escapees; it had conversion features that enabled it to fly, or traverse land and water. Cristoph dropped a ladder from the main compartment, so that Derry and two other soldiers could scramble down the rungs, with weapons and rescue kits strapped to their shoulders. The other team members remained aboard the hovering flyer.

  Below, Derry led the soldiers in a cautious approach. They peered inside the vehicle and took images with cameras on their weapons. Then they beat a hasty retreat, hurrying back to the ladder and ascending one at a time.

  Derry was the last to climb aboard, and he pressed forward to the cockpit. “At least one human body inside. Couldn’t identify it, not much left but scraps, including half a skull. Everything else has been eaten away. And given that infestation, we didn’t want to get close enough to take a DNA sample.”

  “But four prisoners escaped from the camp,” Cristoph said.

  “Could be the others were entirely digested. Or they abandoned the vehicle and set off on foot.”

  Cristoph’s heart sank, as he doubted the other three would last long in the Hellhole wilderness. After the team retracted the ladder, he swung the flyer back toward the line of hills, following the direction the Trakmaster had apparently been headed. As the searchers skimmed over the landscape, Derry grumbled, “If they’re out here, we should let them die for escaping in the first place. Hellhole tends to punish stupidity.”

  Flying onward, Cristoph remembered how arrogant Escobar Hallholme had been when he marched in to take over the de Carre family’s estate on Vielinger, following the orders of Lord Selik Riomini. Escobar had chased Cristoph away, forced him to seek a new life out in the Deep Zone. Apparently, from what other prisoners were saying in the camp, this commanding officer had rubbed a lot of people the wrong way.

  “We’ve all done stupid things,” Cristoph said. “And I don’t want to go back to General Adolphus without a real answer. We have to keep looking.”

  37

  Instead of being a pampered “new beginning” like other Deep Zone worlds, Hellhole was a rough-and-tumble colony that had always attracted an unruly, independent, and even lawless breed of settlers. Thus, Michella Town needed a secure detention facility with short-term holding cells where brawl participants could cool off and where the accused could await trial.

  It was a good enough place to hold a Diadem, at least temporarily.

  Sophie accompanied the General as he led a security escort to take the haughty and defiant Michella, along with Ishop Heer, to secure quarters in the prison. “This place was designed to hold thieves, rapists, murderers, and the occasional terrorist or saboteur.” Sophie gave Adolphus a smile, ignoring Michella’s glare. “I t
hink it can hold one old woman.”

  The security escort whisked the prisoners into the sturdy building, just as crowds began to gather in the streets. Adolphus said, “I’m more concerned with ensuring her safety. She’s not worth much as a hostage if the people lynch her.”

  “You’re all barbarians,” Michella said, her voice acidic. She seemed like a ticking bomb, not yet resigned to her new circumstances.

  “Not all of us,” Sophie replied, barely able to control her loathing for the woman who had caused so much pain. “But I will say that you’re not very good at making friends.”

  After Ishop Heer was sealed in his own cell, separate from the Diadem so that they would be unable to communicate, the General addressed Michella coolly, “This will hold you until we determine our next step. Since we weren’t anticipating your arrival, Diadem, our plans are still fluid.”

  “Your plans will end soon enough when Commodore Hallholme arrives.”

  “I am impressed by your optimism,” the General said. “If I have to defeat the Commodore again, I will.”

  Adolphus turned and led Sophie away from the sealed cell. She hated Michella for what she had done. “I admire your restraint, Tiber. As for myself, I can barely stand to look at her after what she did to the people of the Deep Zone and, more importantly, what she did to you.”

  The General maintained his composure. “I will accord her the respect due her office, even if she doesn’t deserve it herself.”

  Sophie slipped her arm through his as they left the prison. “Well, somebody has to resent her on your behalf.” She was able to read many details in his expression: Love for her, concern for the Deep Zone, stress from his many responsibilities, and the intensity of conflicting thoughts as he worked on solving problems. “It’s what she did to you. That’s the part I take personally.”

  Years ago, Sophie had come to Hellhole voluntarily, bringing her young son Devon to start from scratch, to prove to herself and to the rest of the universe that she was a worthwhile person, and a competent businesswoman. In that, she had succeeded beyond her wildest dreams, and she truly shared Tiber Adolphus’s dreams and goals. She wanted a life with him, but she also wanted a strong and independent Deep Zone.

  And when Diadem Michella Duchenet did everything in her power to destroy Adolphus, and had been at least partly responsible for the death of Devon, Sophie could not ignore that. She could almost understand what had driven Tanja Hu into such bitter vengeful violence. Almost.

  Adolphus mused, “I suppose it’s naïve to think we’ll ever have our independence neatly wrapped up with a pretty bow. We’ll always have to worry about the Constellation or internal threats like the unrest on Hossetea and Tehila.” He shook his head. “But, with the Diadem as our prisoner, I can use that leverage to break their backs and solve this conflict, finally. They won’t have any choice.”

  “They already had plenty of reasons to hate Michella,” Sophie pointed out. “And after she blew up her own city, they won’t have any greater love for her.” The realization that Michella had almost certainly wiped out Tryn-Clovis, the Urvanciks, and the rest of the shadow-Xayan commando team, weighed heavily on both of them.

  “That could certainly cause us problems,” Adolphus admitted. “But she’s still the Diadem.”

  When they exited the prison, Sophie was surprised to find an angry crowd gathering, people who had heard that the Diadem was being held there. Their expressions were dark, and their mutters grew louder when they saw the General emerge. She recognized some of her own workers from the materials warehouse, shopkeepers, restaurant owners. They worked hard, sacrificed much, and now, because they had demanded their freedom, they were a target of Constellation reprisals. Sophie could understand their anger.

  The General assessed them. “They’re looking for a scapegoat, but they can’t have Michella. I gave my word.”

  “I wouldn’t call her a scapegoat, since she’s genuinely responsible for what they’re angry about.”

  With her standing beside him, the General paused to look out at the crowd, gauging their ugly expressions. He took a moment to gather his words, then spoke loudly. “Yes, the rumors are true. Diadem Michella Duchenet is our prisoner. That changes the entire landscape of the conflict.”

  “Put her on trial!” someone yelled.

  “Who needs a trial?” answered another man. “We all know what she’s done.”

  “Governor Goler never got a trial,” muttered a shopkeeper in the crowd. “They just executed him. That woman just executed him.”

  The General looked strong and responded with a firm voice. “There will be no lynch mob. Michella Duchenet has committed heinous crimes, but that is no excuse for me to commit crimes of my own. And she’s useful. The Diadem is a political prisoner, and I have personally guaranteed her safety.”

  Sophie spotted Arlen Carter, the manager of her primary warehouse in Michella Town. He was red-faced and upset. “But this is our chance, General! She deserves to pay for what she did to the Deep Zone—for what she did to all those people on Theser.”

  “And everyone on Buktu! They’re being held prisoner.”

  Adolphus shook his head. “We can use her. She is valuable, and with her as our prisoner, we can force the Constellation to make concessions. She’s more useful to us as a bargaining chip.”

  “You can’t let her go free, General!”

  “Even if that’s the price for our own freedom? I will force them to leave us alone. For now, the Diadem is under my protection. That is my command.” He squared his shoulders and stared the hostile people down. They had enough respect for him that they listened.

  Sophie said to him quietly, “A hostage is only valuable if the Constellation actually wants her back.”

  The crowd outside the detention facility reluctantly dispersed. When the streets had cleared again, Sophie and the General headed to her main warehouse in town, where they could talk. On the way, Sophie suggested, “It might be better if we take the Diadem away from here. Her presence would be a constant provocation.”

  He considered. “It might be better if she stays under guard at Slickwater Springs. The shadow-Xayans won’t be as vengeful. Many of them are my own veterans.”

  Sophie’s lips curled in a smile. “And you know how terrified she is of the aliens. There’s a certain satisfaction in keeping her so close to the slickwater pools. She’ll be too terrified to be intractible.”

  He nodded. “Yes, and we have the POW camp in the next valley if she causes too much trouble, and with the whole landscape of Hellhole, where is a pampered old woman going to run?”

  “That didn’t stop Escobar Hallholme and his group from escaping,” Sophie pointed out. They had just received word that Cristoph de Carre’s search team had found the wrecked Trakmaster and at least one body. No sign of the others. With a sigh, she added, “But Michella’s a pampered old woman, not a trained soldier. I’ll keep her safe, Tiber, much as I would like to drown her myself in the slickwater. I give you my word.”

  Adolphus gave her a grateful nod. “One problem solved.”

  Sophie said, “Now, what to do about Commodore Hallholme? He’ll be on his way soon.”

  She watched his expression change, knew his thoughts were adjusting as he turned his energies to the next crisis. They reached her private office inside the warehouse, where they could talk without other people listening. She waved off three of her employees who had supposedly urgent questions, and she closed the door to her office. “Use me as a sounding board, and we’ll decide what to do.”

  He moved a clutter of boxes from the spare chair so he could sit. Sophie realized she hadn’t been at her desk in the warehouse for more than a month. Arlen Carter took care of the administration and sent reports to her out at Slickwater Springs.

  The less formal setting allowed Adolphus to relax and think more clearly. “If we hadn’t had the warning, Commodore Hallholme would be attacking us already—and his fleet might have been able to seize our stringlin
e hub. We got lucky, and I don’t want to rely on luck next time.”

  “The Commodore means business,” Sophie agreed, “but we can put up a fight. We’ll be ready for him.”

  “We don’t know how long Enva Tazaar’s sabotage delayed his departure. He might still be arriving any day.” He worked through his thought process. “That means we have to act right away.”

  Sophie said, “The safest solution would be to cut the stringline to Tehila and strand the Constellation ships out there. Then we wouldn’t ever have to worry about a threat from that direction again.”

  Adolphus worked his jaw. “That would mean sacrificing an entire world, and I won’t give up one of my planets without a fight. The people of Tehila didn’t want Administrator Reming to overthrow the government they put in place. I have to think bigger than that. We can’t just blow the bridge every time we perceive a threat. I worked too hard to connect the Deep Zone, fifty-four trailblazer ships on carefully planned missions to lay down the stringlines. We went to great trouble and expense to connect the DZ.”

  Sophie considered, agreed. “Especially now that we have no source of iperion to rebuild the lines once we sever them. We only have enough on hand for limited maintenance, on a priority basis. But how do we defend ourselves against the Commodore’s fleet?”

  Adolphus remained silent for a long moment, then a smile curved his lips. “We can’t just huddle here waiting for the enemy to come to us. We do the unexpected, we go on the offensive, take the fight to Tehila.” He nodded, and his voice sounded stronger. “I intend to launch the DZDF immediately, before the Commodore can possibly expect us. We’ll oust the invaders and return Tehila to its people. This is the future of the Deep Zone. I have to do it.”

  Sophie couldn’t hide her warm smile, despite the worry she felt for him whenever he went into battle. “I enjoy seeing you like this, Tiber. You inspire me, and you inspire all of us.”