Hellhole

by Kevin J. Anderson

  The Commodore shook his head. He wished he could speak up and demand respect for the fallen soldiers who lay around him, but he couldn’t cast doubt on his own loyalties. His son Escobar still had a military career ahead of him, and there were the two grandsons to think of.

  Hobbling to the center of the cemetery, the retired Commodore stood at attention among the rebel gravestones, and saluted.

  28

  By the strict terms of his surrender, General Adolphus had been forbidden to leave the planet Hallholme, and he had accepted his exile with good grace – a fact that Diadem Michella mistrusted. He had once replied, “You have given me an entire world to roam. What more could a man want?”

  Realistically, Adolphus could have slipped away at any time he chose, either through the use of bribes or by donning a disguise. But though he had the means to escape his restraints, the General would not do so. He had given his word and, unlike many political and military leaders, that still meant something to him.

  By the same token, however, Adolphus made promises with great care. He might have agreed never to leave Hallholme, personally, but that did not prevent other Deep Zone planetary administrators from visiting him. Other than himself, there were fifty-three, but he wasn’t sure he could trust most of them.

  Over the years, through subtle overtures, Adolphus had discovered eleven like-minded administrators of nearby frontier worlds. Because the Constellation transport network required every stringline traveler to pass through the Sonjeera hub, a gathering like this required precise orchestration and complete cooperation among the participants so that the Diadem noticed nothing odd about their movements.

  Adolphus was accustomed to clockwork precision. Without such skills and discipline, his rebellion would have fizzled in the first month instead of lasting five years. Employing discreet messengers who posed as businessmen traveling to Sonjeera and then back out to other DZ planets, he had spent months coordinating travel for the attendees.

  The eleven sympathetic planetary administrators had created plausible excuses for their absences – a death in the family, private management retreats, long-range exploration of uninhabited areas; some even admitted going to Sonjeera. But once the conspirators arrived at the main stringline hub, each one dropped out of sight, assumed a different identity, and took passage via the colonization service aboard the next hauler for Hallholme. Pretending not to know one another, the conspirators crowded onto the passenger pod along with hopeful colonists, penal laborers, merchants, and tradesmen. They studiously ignored conversation throughout the passage, knowing they would have plenty of time to talk face-to-face at the Elba estate – and that would occur today.

  Adolphus breakfasted, drank a second cup of watery coffee (so far, not even Sophie Vence’s greenhouse domes had perfected a locally grown coffee crop . . . and he hated kiafa), then dressed in a professional-looking suit. As a calculated move, he opted for business attire rather than his old military outfit. While the traditional uniform had made him famous to some (and infamous to others), the General preferred not to remind these planetary administrators of his past. He wanted to show his partners a different Tiber Adolphus – one with the same competence and leadership abilities, but also with the vision to create a future independent of the fossilized old Constellation.

  It would be several hours before the attendees began to arrive from Michella Town. Ian Walfor would fly here in his own FTL ship from Candela, since the Constellation had stopped keeping track of his movements long ago.

  The General’s household staff had transformed Elba’s banquet hall into a formal boardroom. The wall paneling was a richly stained woodlike veneer manufactured from fibrous native shrubbery. The grain patterns looked more like fractals than the traditional swirls of a normal tree. The central table had a covering of polished coral stone, readily available from the quarries twenty kilometers away. His kitchen workers prepared pastries, and Sophie sent fresh fruits from the greenhouses. Despite rumors his guests might have heard about the rustic conditions on Hellhole, they would not feel deprived during the meeting.

  On one wall, a flat gypsum board provided a pristine white surface as a projection area, on which Adolphus displayed the chart of Deep Zone planets. With the map’s zero point aligned on Hallholme, the perspective was unsettling to any Constellation citizen accustomed to seeing Sonjeera as the absolute center of all the settled systems. The Crown Jewel planets did not even appear on Adolphus’s chart, because he had decided they were irrelevant and outdated. He included none of the established stringline paths, but instead drew new lines that radiated from Hallholme out to Candela, Ridgetop, Tehila, Ronom, Nielad, Setsai, and Cles.

  If an outsider such as Ishop Heer were to discover this chart, General Adolphus would have to kill him to protect the secret.

  Sophie entered the banquet room, interrupting his reverie. “They’re all here in the front room, Tiber. Even Walfor arrived in time. Would you like to make your grand entrance?”

  She wore a flattering but deceptively practical dress and had taken great care with her appearance. He could not hide his admiration. “You look especially beautiful today.”

  “Why so surprised?” She arched her eyebrows. “I clean up pretty well when I want to. Besides, I know how important this meeting is to you.”

  “Not just to me – to all of us. On this planet, today, our future begins.”

  Sophie laughed. “Save the speeches for your guests.” She brushed the front of his suit, smoothed his dark hair. “You look impressive as well. You’ll do just fine.”

  “I want you there in the meeting,” he said. “I could use your support.”

  “You have plenty of support. And I’d just distract you.”

  Adolphus gave her an intent look; it was always difficult for him to show his emotions. “I value your input. You have a pragmatic streak that some of these planetary administrators could use.”

  But she was insistent. “I am busy enough managing the day-to-day operations of my own businesses in Helltown. You’re trying to make sweeping changes to the entire Deep Zone. Really, Tiber . . . this is your show. Be the General. These people are here for you.”

  The eleven men and women had signed on to Adolphus’s ambitious plan in its early stages. Often, he knew, volunteers showed great enthusiasm at the beginning of a task, yet had no fortitude to see it through to the end. Most of these administrators, however, came from the same mold as he did and were ‘second-string’ nobles. Without drive and persistence one did not succeed as the leader of a fledgling colony.

  Sophie flung open the wide doors of the boardroom and stepped aside so the General could place himself on the threshold. He smiled at his visitors. “Welcome, and thank you for taking such extraordinary precautions. Now we can meet for a frank discussion of our future.”

  Sophie took her leave, letting him concentrate on the gathered planetary administrators. At the front of the group, not surprisingly, stood Tanja Hu, Candela’s beautiful and ambitious planetary administrator. Tossing back her long, blue-black hair, she replied, “It’s worth the investment, and far less than we pay the Constellation each month for tribute.”

  “I was already on my way,” Walfor said with a grin. “Brought another shipment of iperion for the next group of trailblazers, thanks to Administrator Hu.”

  The others responded with a mutter of satisfaction. Adolphus did a silent roll call as he ushered them into the large room: Eldora Fen from Cles, George Komun from Umber, Sia Frankov from Theser, Dom Cellan Tier from Oshu, and five more, all here for the meeting.

  As the eleven chose their seats around the table, he regarded them evenly. “Years of effort and planning have nearly reached fruition. The universe is about to change beneath our very feet.”

  Tanja Hu lounged back in her chair and got right to the point. “The long-range trailblazers are still on schedule?”

  “Precisely on schedule. And Mr Walfor’s new delivery of iperion allows us to launch the final few trai
lblazers to the nearer systems. Within a month or so, the last of the fifty-three ships should be in flight to their destinations.”

  Eldora Fen whistled. “That’s a hell of a lot of coordination.”

  “We expect and require nothing less. The Diadem won’t have any idea how the whole Deep Zone suddenly slipped out of her hands.” He projected the star chart on the gypsum screen and showed them the impressive scope of the scheme that had quietly been underway for six years. They all knew portions of this, but he was filling in the gaps.

  Even for a man of Adolphus’s background and accomplishments, this was indeed a majestic plan. An entirely new transportation network, detached and independent from Sonjeera, would eliminate DZ reliance upon the Crown Jewels. “All roads lead to Rome,” he said, “and Rome is about to fall.”

  Bearing gifts for this meeting, the co-conspirators had brought samples and images of goods that their planets could provide in an open market. Released from paying tribute to the Diadem, the majority of DZ inhabitants would reap the benefits of their own productivity. For any frontier world that could not yet survive on its own, the new distribution network would provide a support system equivalent to what the Constellation had to offer.

  “Our business today isn’t so much to put our scheme into place, as to ensure its success. We’ve done the hard work in Phase One, and D-Day – Destination Day – should occur within the year. The trailblazers dispatched from Hallholme will reach the remaining DZ planets at approximately the same time, each having successfully laid down an iperion path along the way. That much, though, is nothing more than an engineering and logistical problem – a hard one, yes, but straightforward nevertheless.” He regarded them all. “Afterwards, though, we’ll face a much more difficult challenge – the political one. We can’t expect the Diadem to just blow us a goodbye kiss and wish us well.”

  “The Constellation already cut Buktu off,” Ian Walfor said. “And we’re doing just fine.”

  “You’re a special case, Ian,” Tanja Hu said. “Nobody in the Crown Jewels cares about Buktu. They’ll sure as hell care when they lose the other fifty-three DZ worlds all at once.”

  “What can the Diadem do about it anyway?” snorted George Komun from Umber. “By the time she finds out, the battle will already be won.”

  “Doesn’t mean she won’t try something,” said Sia Frankov. “She can send the Army of the Constellation to any one of the Deep Zone destinations and hammer us.”

  “But she can’t go to all of them at once. The Diadem would be insane to start a war on fifty-four fronts at the same time!” said Dom Cellan Tier, then he hesitated. “Wouldn’t she?”

  “It’s not likely,” the General said in a calm, commanding voice. “But she might attack here, or a few other independent planets, one by one – and if I know Lord Selik Riomini, he’ll advise that a few targets be used as horrific examples so that the other planets capitulate.”

  “We’ll never capitulate,” Komun said with loud bluster. “We’ve got too much at stake.”

  “It’s easy to make promises like that before the weapons start firing,” Ian Walfor said. “I say we just cut the stringlines back to the Crown Jewels as soon as we have our network in place. Then it would be years before their ships arrive.” He chuckled.

  “It’s an option,” the General said, “a desperate one I’d like to avoid, if possible. Even if we do that, the Army of the Constellation will come.” He leaned forward. “We’ve got to map out all possible scenarios and agree on our response ahead of time.”

  Sia Frankov pointed out, “Remember, we’re only a dozen Deep Zone administrators. We’ve still got to convince the other forty-two to join us. They may not be too happy we’ve painted them into a corner like this.”

  Adolphus nodded. “We’ve already got operatives and sympathizers on each of those planets, planting seeds, preparing for forceful action if necessary.”

  Over the past six months, hundreds of the General’s old comrades had departed under assumed names to meet up with hidden loyalists in the Crown Jewel worlds; from there, they surreptitiously spread out among the Deep Zone planets. They located others who were dissatisfied with the Constellation government (not a difficult task) and put together cells that were ready to react as soon as Adolphus gave the word . . .

  “I never assume that people will react according to expectations, but this is our chance – and we all know there’s nothing for us back in the Crown Jewels. We have the opportunity to set up our own thriving economy far from Sonjeera. It’s the best plan for the whole Deep Zone, although we may be in for some very painful birthing struggles.”

  Diadem Michella saw the frontier worlds as a way to open floodgates to new resources and income, but she wasn’t stupid. She must know that someday the DZ would no longer tolerate such inequitable taxation. As a student of history, Adolphus had seen countless examples of self-sufficient colonies becoming strong enough to throw off the chains of their parental worlds. The tide of history favored his dreams, and he intended to attain independence sooner rather than later. In a way, this was merely the culmination of the rebellion he had begun more than fifteen years ago.

  “Isn’t it remarkable?” mused Dom Cellan Tier. “No one thinks much of Hellhole, but this planet is going to be a hub as powerful and influential as Sonjeera! The Deep Zone will have its own capital.” Some of the others around the table grumbled at this, to the man’s obvious consternation.

  “Beware of recreating the problem you propose to eradicate. I didn’t ask for this planet to be a new capital, or for myself to become a new Diadem.” On the star chart, Adolphus summoned a secondary image to show an interconnected web of prospective stringlines that sprang from many of the colony worlds. “Hallholme will be the initial hub for our secondary network, but I intend for all of your planets to establish additional pathways, to link with those markets that make the most commercial sense for you. This will be a full network, not a bottleneck, as Sonjeera is. There will be no monopoly.

  “So much power should not reside in the hands of one individual. Not even mine.” Adolphus opened his palms. “Our task is to share the great resources of the Deep Zone, not to form a corrupt bureaucracy with them.”

  “At least we agree not to let Sonjeera bleed us dry any longer,” Tanja said with a snort. “The Diadem has no idea how much we resent her out here where she’s not looking.”

  29

  Despite all the gardens and ornate architecture, some parts of Sonjeera were shadowy and rundown. Ishop Heer looked out at one such section of Council City as he glanced through the window of his tiny secondary office on the Rue de la Musique. The Street of Music – what an ironic name! If any street musicians had ever worked this area in the past, they were long gone. In the dreary neighborhood, garbage lay strewn around the shabby buildings; unsavory characters lurked in the doorways and alleys, each staking out his territory. He always felt dirty coming here, but at least Laderna kept his subsidiary offices immaculately clean.

  Ishop had chosen this location with great care. For his above-board work, he had an elegant main office near government headquarters. In a nondescript place like this, however, he had the flexibility and freedom to do other sorts of work. His devoted assistant had secured this austere location according to his specific request, so they could discuss activities that must be kept private from the other noble families or even, if necessary, from Diadem Michella herself.

  That morning, Laderna had contacted him by confidential, scrambled earadio, asking in a whispered voice if they could meet in the shabby secondary offices. She used their code word that meant she had vital intelligence. The very thought excited him; Laderna was not prone to exaggeration.

  He was well practiced in eluding observation. In the past Michella’s spies had tried to monitor him, and at first he’d been offended at her demonstration of mistrust, but the old dowager chuckled at his indignation. “My dear Ishop, even trust has its limitations.” He knew she appreciated his work.
For the most part, he considered himself an independent agent, without close friends. Laderna was one of the few people he genuinely trusted. But, as Michella said, even trust had its limitations.

  Keeping the interior of the office spotless was the only way Ishop could concentrate on his real work, undeterred by filth and disarray. On a wall he kept several interactive lists of tasks that needed completing, investigations in progress, people to expose . . . everything written in a code of his own devising, which only he and Laderna could interpret. This was his own tiny kingdom, his own miniature estate, and here Ishop could impose all the order he liked.

  A month ago, Laderna had even installed a comfortable foldaway bed, in case either of them had to work late. Ishop’s covert activities often involved odd hours, and Laderna avoided walking on the Rue de la Musique after dark. It had not escaped his notice that the bed was large enough for two; the dear girl would have been embarrassed to learn that her longings were painfully obvious. While Laderna’s adoration was sweet, he did not want to complicate their efficient business relationship. It had the potential of becoming messy, and he did not at all like messy things.

  He arrived early at the office, waiting and watching. The windows needed washing, but from the outside; inside, they were spotless. Through the streaky pane he spotted her down on the sidewalk, a gangly redhead with a large purse over her shoulder walking with brisk confidence to deter any would-be predators. Laderna knew how to handle herself; once, Ishop had seen her deliver a hard punch to a thief’s nose and send him straight to the cobblestones.

  When she came up the stairs, he met her at the office door and locked it behind her, then double-checked it. He noted the intensity on her face. “You’re looking purposeful today.”

  She gave him a crafty smile. Her cheeks were flushed pink, her breathing rapid. She opened her purse, removed a sheaf of papers. “You’ve always said I’m good at getting information on people.”