Hellhole: Awakening

by Brian Herbert

  Tryn bowed in gratitude. “We accept your offer, Administrator Tanja Hu. I will gather one hundred shadow-Xayans and accompany them to Candela, where we will remain out of danger until the Constellation conflict is resolved.”

  “Do it,” Adolphus said.

  7

  Lord Selik Riomini carried himself with a pride he had earned by virtue of his position. His black-clad female bodyguards, every one a deadly killer, escorted him from the landed aerocopter; their menacing demeanor had been earned through ruthless training and fighting prowess. Like a hunting pack, they crossed the grounds of his lavish new manor house on Vielinger. The spoils of victory.

  After thorough political machinations and a carefully exploited scandal against the hapless de Carre family, the Riominis had acquired the planet along with its dwindling iperion operations. He had begun to amass quite a collection: his own world of Aeroc, the former Adolphus planet of Qiorfu, and now Vielinger and the iperion mines. But it wasn’t enough.

  Lord Riomini had no interest in living in the old de Carre manor house, believing it too encumbered with memories of failure, so he had selected a far better location for his secondary home. Perched high on a hill overlooking a verdant river valley and forested hills, the new estate had plenty of room for a landing field and military defenses. The late Lord Louis de Carre had not worried about such things, to his misfortune. No one would ever take Vielinger from the Black Lord.

  While the major iperion deposits had been excavated during the boom years when Diadem Michella created the stringline network, even the played-out mines promised to generate enormous income. As iperion supplies dwindled, the price would skyrocket, and Riomini coffers would fill to bursting.

  Money led to power, and power led to money. It was a complex dance, and he was the choreographer. Riomini came from a long line of noblemen, including several Diadems, and he expected to take the Star Throne soon enough.

  As he approached the high-arched entrance to the mansion, the carved goldenwood doors opened smoothly. As a precaution, he waited in the entryway with three of his female guards while the rest scurried ahead to secure the house. After they pronounced the residence safe, Lord Riomini strode inside.

  Much construction progress had been made since the last time he’d visited. Ceiling murals had been crafted by the finest artists and gold filigree applied to the high moldings; only the interior wall painting and tile work remained to be done. Good. He approved of efficiency.

  A woman appeared at the top of the main staircase. She wore a black uniform like the other bodyguards, except she had added a red blouse under the jacket coat as a defiant flash of color. While Gail Carrington was in his offices and homes, Riomini permitted her the eccentricity. But never on public duty.

  She descended the steps with fluid, catlike movements, not like a fine lady but like a stalking predator. She had short brown hair, a lean, wiry figure, and deadly reflexes from her training. A decade ago, she’d been Riomini’s lover—a most energetic and satisfying one—but he had ended the affair, with her assent, for pragmatic reasons. Complicated feelings might adversely affect her ability to protect him, and that was paramount.

  Until recently, she had been the leader of his guards, but upon reaching the age of forty, she submitted her resignation, claiming that she no longer had the necessary strength and reflexes. (Riomini remained convinced she could kill anything that might threaten him.) Nevertheless, he promoted Carrington to be his most trusted aide; he wanted her close by.

  Though she was no longer, technically, a military officer, Gail gave him a crisp salute. Her intense eyes were a striking shade of blue. “My Lord, I gave the job foreman a list of minor problems I found with the construction quality. They will be fixed soon.”

  “I have no doubt of it, but building inspections are not your duty. I placed you in charge of overseeing my iperion mines.” Gail was not a miner or businessperson, but he needed someone loyal to watch over the critical resource; he trusted her ability to choose the right people around her.

  “Everything about Riomini operations is my duty, sir. Every thread is connected.” She led him down the corridor to his new office, modeled after his offices on other Riomini holdings; he liked the consistency. Inside, he settled into his familiar-seeming desk chair and motioned for Gail to take a seat across from him. The rest of the female guards remained outside.

  “Under my careful supervision, the iperion mines have already surpassed the level of production under the de Carres. The process lines are no longer so sloppy,” she said. “And the persistent accidents have ceased.”

  Now that we’ve ceased causing them, he thought. Frequent tragedies and sabotage had cast a pall of mismanagement on the de Carre family; the young lordling Cristoph de Carre had been shamed by the continual mishaps, while his father brought disgrace to the household through his ill-advised affair with Keana Duchenet. Incompetent, oblivious fools! Even without Riomini intervention, the whole operation would have collapsed sooner or later. Much better the way Riomini had accomplished the transition. Much quicker …

  He skimmed the production figures Carrington presented. As usual, everything appeared to be in order. “That is excellent news, because iperion supplies have become even more vital to our military plan. Once our fleet crushes General Adolphus and seizes his new DZ network, we’ll need to maintain those stringlines as well. Demand for iperion will double.”

  Gail looked at him for a long moment, letting her silence hang in the air; he knew she had something important to say, but she seemed disappointed that he didn’t follow her train of thought. “The question arises, my Lord—when Adolphus created such a vast new network, how did he lay down the stringlines in the first place?”

  He thought for a moment. “I presume he used his own trailblazer ships. Such craft would be easy to obtain.”

  “Not the trailblazers, sir, but the iperion. Where did Adolphus get the iperion in the first place? It certainly didn’t come from here—the amount required would surpass the full output of our mines. The obvious answer is that he has some other source.”

  Riomini’s eyes widened. “Somewhere out in the Deep Zone?”

  Carrington’s voice was maddeningly calm. “Fifty-four planets, all of them minimally explored. A major new iperion discovery might have given him the impetus to break away from the Crown Jewels.”

  Riomini’s thoughts spun. It did indeed make sense. He had to inform the Diadem of this immediately … or not. A new supply would change the economics of the Constellation—and deflate the value of Vielinger and its current monopoly. He had to be very cautious.

  “Who is administering the mines here?” he asked.

  “Lanny Oberon runs the day-to-day operations, sir. He was a line supervisor under the de Carre administration. A competent, honest man.”

  “Do you have confidence in him?”

  She considered the question. “Yes. He is the best-qualified person for the job, and he appears dedicated to the work.”

  He nodded. “I’m glad you have a competent supervisor, because I have another job for you, something even more important.”

  She lifted her eyebrows. “More important than iperion?”

  “As you said, everything is connected—General Adolphus, the Deep Zone uprising, the new stringline network. Now I have to consider the possibility of a new iperion source out in the frontier. I need my own person there to investigate, and to represent Riomini interests.” He nodded again, as if reaffirming his decision to himself. “You will accompany the fleet to planet Hallholme. Prepare yourself—the ships are due to depart from Aeroc within days.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Red Commodore Escobar Hallholme is in charge of the operation. He is a member of your family—is he not sufficient?”

  “No, he is not sufficient! Escobar is only a family member because he married one of my grandnieces, but he has his own personal ambitions.” Riomini shook his head. Gail was loyal to him, and not at all interested in her own glory or
advancement—which made her perfect for what he had in mind. “You will represent me, be my eyes aboard the fleet, with my full authority.”

  He leaned toward her, placing his elbows on the desk. “On paper, Redcom Hallholme will remain in charge of the operation. I won’t take that away from him, and there’s a certain historic symmetry to having the son of Commodore Percival Hallholme defeat the General for the second time. But I want you there to make sure nothing goes wrong.”

  “Do you have specific concerns, my Lord?”

  “About victory? Not really. Given the overwhelming strength of our forces, I have no doubt that the operation will succeed, but Escobar is cocky and impetuous. He may feel a need to prove his heroism or some such nonsense. You must prevent him from making any foolish decisions that are not in the best interests of the Riominis or the Diadem—in that order. I need you to see that he is not allowed to make bad decisions in an attempt to be a hero. Take any action you feel is necessary.”

  Her blue eyes were bright. “Anything, sir?”

  He never needed to mince words with Gail Carrington. “To be blunt, better for him to be a dead hero than a living disgrace. If he makes significant enough blunders, in your estimation, I grant you my blessing to eliminate him, so long as the mission succeeds and I succeed. I can deal with my grieving grandniece. We can say her husband died bravely in battle and decorate him posthumously. But that only works if the mission is a success.”

  She let out a long breath. “Understood, sir.”

  “General Adolphus is the greatest threat the Constellation has faced in modern times. If I can take credit for his defeat, no one will question my succession to the Star Throne. But if Escobar fails, the debacle would have the opposite effect on the Riomini family name. Worst case, we’ll use Escobar Hallholme as a scapegoat to shield me.”

  Gail did not seem concerned. “I’ll make sure nothing goes wrong in the first place, my Lord.”

  He smiled. “I know you will. And if you find where General Adolphus gets his iperion, then so much the better.”

  She stood at attention. “Your mission objectives are completely clear, sir. I will depart for Aeroc posthaste and join the fleet before the ships head off.”

  8

  When his spies returned from Sonjeera with their vital intelligence, General Adolphus took a fast flyer out to meet them at the expanded spaceport city at Ankor. The Kerris had just arrived from the Crown Jewels, and Turlo Urvancik transmitted the exhilarating news. “General, we have it.”

  Adolphus could finally set his trap.

  Diadem Michella knew nothing about Hellhole’s second spaceport city; the entire installation was another one of the General’s intricate secret operations. Official Constellation records listed Ankor as a distant mining outpost worked by the worst exiled convicts, a place where the rugged terrain and isolation provided more security than any number of guards. The Diadem’s nosy inspectors had never bothered to make the long, unpleasant trek to the other side of the continent just to look at a few mines and factories.

  So, the General managed to build his new spaceport there without the Constellation suspecting a thing.

  After revealing his new stringline network, though, he had cast aside all pretenses. As DZ operations expanded, Ankor would become a bustling commercial complex. The colonists merely had to prevent themselves from being obliterated in the meantime.…

  Adolphus arrived in a basin surrounded by stark brown-and-red mountains. Downboxes landed in large paved areas; launching gantries catapulted ships up to orbit. With a blast of white smoke and dancing orange flame, a carrier shuttle heaved itself upward and dwindled to a bright point in the sky.

  Groups of evacuees waited to board the next crowded passenger pod. In the three months since he had proclaimed DZ independence, many people had fled Hellhole, fearing a disastrous retaliation from the Crown Jewels. They piled aboard stringline ships and headed to other, supposedly safer Deep Zone planets. Ever-increasing quakes across the continent also made the settlers uneasy, and even more chose to evacuate. Many of the colonists, though, did not have the resources to leave Hellhole.…

  In anticipation of increased space traffic through the Hellhole hub, construction teams were erecting two new lodging complexes—not quite luxury hotels, Adolphus thought, but they would improve in time. Dust that had been whipped up from dry lake beds drifted in gauzy brown clouds over the basin and settled in a fine grit across the landed vessels and the walkway. Adolphus wrinkled his nose at the powdery smell in the air, alkali mixed with exhaust fumes and volatile fuels. But it was the smell of industry, of progress.

  Sophie accompanied him on the quick trip, ostensibly because she wanted to inspect the distribution operations. “I’ve hardly seen you this week,” she said as they walked from the landed flyer toward the towering gantries. “I’ve gone to three factories in the last two days, verifying their output, found spare parts for two retooled process lines in the weapons factories, and even visited mining operations.”

  “You never struck me as the stay-at-home type anyway.”

  “I’m not.” She took his arm. “I’ll make damn sure everything is ready so we can thumb our noses at the Constellation fleet when it arrives.”

  Of the functional ships that Adolphus had so far incorporated into the DZ Defense Force, the bulk of them remained in Hellhole orbit to guard the stringline operations, while a large number had been distributed to other key worlds. When they departed after the telemancy demonstration, Tanja Hu and Ian Walfor took the six unfinished ships on a stringline hauler to Theser for the eccentric engineers there to install new stardrives. Then, when the ships were complete, Tanja would base them at her own planet of Candela as a first line of defense. Since the Diadem herself had decommissioned the stringline from Sonjeera to Buktu years ago, Walfor felt his own planetoid was safe enough, so he relinquished any claim on the ships he might have kept, sending them to other DZ worlds instead.

  Adolphus gave Sophie a firm smile as they approached the spaceport operations building. The cubical structure was fashioned from fused silica bricks that gleamed in bright sunlight. “If the Urvanciks bring the intelligence I need,” he said, “I’m confident I can prevent the Constellation fleet from bothering us at all.”

  At the door of the operations building, Rendo Theris welcomed the visitors. Short and muscular, Administrator Theris had very little hair on his head, just a few wisps of rusty red that stood up in the breeze. The spaceport administrator looked harried, his clothes wrinkled and smudged.

  The man was not Adolphus’s first choice to manage the major spaceport, but the very competent team of Tel and Renny Clovis had been lost—Renny perished when a sinkhole had swallowed up the construction dozer he was driving; the tragedy had driven a grief-stricken Tel to immerse himself in slickwater and acquire a Xayan personality.

  Before Theris could open the conversation with complaints, as he often did, Adolphus asked, “Are the Urvanciks on their way?”

  “Descending now, sir. Their passenger pod is en route.” Theris wiped a hand across his brow, more focused on his own problems than Hellhole’s desperate situation. “I need help around here, General. Ankor is understaffed, and we can’t handle the increased traffic. We should beef up security, too—in case those strange ships come back.”

  “More sightings?” Sophie asked. “Any idea what they were or where they came from?”

  Two weeks earlier, a squadron of unidentified ships had streaked in from nowhere, darting over the Ankor complex. They moved like swift recon vessels, dodging the spaceport defenses. They had transmitted no message, made no contact whatsoever, then flitted away. When he first reviewed the alarming images, Adolphus was convinced the ships were Constellation spies, but his engineering experts had never seen the design before and could not understand any vessel that could perform such maneuvers.

  “Haven’t seen them again—and we can be thankful for that!” Theris said with a groan. “All we need is another crisi
s.”

  As if the already flustered administrator had tempted fate, the ground began to tremble. The nearest gantry tilted, and a sealed box dangling from a cargo crane swung back and forth before it broke loose and crashed to the paved landing field. The rumbling grew louder. As the fused silica wall blocks cracked and shifted, Theris darted away from the operations building. Adolphus and Sophie ran clear of falling debris. A jagged fissure split the paved landing area, and the ground swelled, heaved … then fell quiet again.

  As the quake diminished to silence, Theris caught his breath, struggling to control his panic. “These tremors have been increasing in intensity and frequency. Fourth one this week! Now we’ll have to check the launcher alignments and repair the landing fields.” He used the codecall at his collar to shout to his support technicians. “Do an inspection immediately—we have a passenger pod descending!” Spaceport personnel scrambled about to certify a section of the landing field for the Urvanciks’ passenger pod.

  Adolphus marched across the pavement, keeping his eyes on the fissure to assess the damage, unable to forget how the ground had swallowed Renny Clovis before his eyes. Liquid began to ooze from the jagged crack as if a water main had broken, spilling across the black, sealed surface.

  Sophie put a cautioning hand on his arm. “Careful, that’s slickwater.”

  Adolphus stepped closer to the slow, almost sentient movement of the data-charged fluid, unafraid, though he had no intention of becoming a convert.

  Theris paled and hung back even farther. “This isn’t the first time we’ve been plagued by slickwater seeps around here. Whenever we excavate new areas or try to put down deep pilings, we run into fresh leaks. We’ve known for a long time that a significant slickwater aquifer lies beneath the site, but the liquid seems to be swelling up, rising to the surface and causing more problems for us. We aren’t able to finish expanding the spaceport until we drain it away.”