Hellhole

by Kevin J. Anderson

Fernando-Zairic led them along the street, where Keana was astonished by the sights, smells, and concepts around her. As they walked together through the settlement, Uroa explained many of the things he saw, even though she did not have the vocabulary to describe it. However, Keana realized that if her mother observed this through the more limited filter of human experience, she would command that everything be seized, or destroyed, “for the good of the Constellation.”

  This thought made her uneasy, and she refused to let Uroa forget the imminent threat from the Constellation. “My mother could ruin Xayan hopes as surely as the asteroid impact did.”

  Uroa accepted her concerns. “We may be able to help General Adolphus in ways the Diadem will never expect. Look around you.”

  Fernando-Zairic understood as well. “That is why you see so many shadow-Xayans practicing their skills. They must learn to set aside human impediments and coordinate their new abilities. We are much more powerful together, as partners, than the original telemancers were. It is a step towards the evolutionary shift.” He seemed happy rather than concerned. “When a few small difficulties are worked out, our two races will stand on each other’s shoulders.”

  In a clearing where the dense and thriving alien weed had been harvested, hundreds of shadow-Xayans stood in a spiral arrangement, their prismatic eyes focused far away. Above their heads, peculiar shapes sparkled and flashed in an ever-changing parade of coils and geometric forms. Nearby, the tall alien weed seemed to sway in time to unheard music.

  Wondrous living buildings surrounded the central spiral, leaning and expanding, changing colors, shapes, and textures by the moment. Window and door arrangements came and went; elevated walkways appeared beside structural extrusions, extensions, and moldings. The buildings themselves were telemantically generated, shaped and altered by the powers of the alien minds.

  “Shadow-Xayan telemancers are imagining these new buildings into existence,” Uroa explained to her. Keana sensed a restless energy, as if the creators remained dissatisfied with their creations.

  Fernando-Zairic watched their attempts. “Even with the slickwater, there are memory gaps, holes in recollection. But we keep trying. It is a relentless collective effort.”

  Keana did not feel afraid even when the towering, unstable structures leaned toward her and hovered overhead. Inside, she sensed that Uroa’s own telemancy could easily deflect any danger. Finally the group of telemancers reached consensus, causing the shape of the building to hold and solidify.

  When the wind blew around and through the structures, it created sounds that Keana found inexplicably comforting. Though she wasn’t aware of having moved, she discovered that she had joined the others in the spiral, and Uroa was guiding their thoughts, pressing gently, coaxing her to help him – and to learn.

  Her human mind could not be entirely at ease, because she knew what her mother would do in response to the General’s announcement. But she still held out hope of preventing bloodshed. Perhaps with the Xayan ideas of Uroa and Zairic, along with a bold move she had in mind, they might find a way to avert a second catastrophe on this world.

  91

  With the new DZ stringline network in place, Adolphus received rapid reports from all the other planets via emergency mail drones.

  On Destination Day, only one of the other territorial governors had been out in the Deep Zone rather than back at her offices on Sonjeera. Unfortunately, the governor chose to stand with the Constellation government, issuing orders to destroy the unwanted terminus rings and sever the new stringlines linking her planet with Hellhole. Adolphus’s secret operatives staged a coup and imprisoned the intractable governor, then took steps to secure all the planets in her territory. With astonishing speed and zeal, the deputy planetary administrator rallied the people against the territorial governor and put the woman under house arrest for “acting against the common good.”

  Adolphus saw to it that the old Constellation terminus rings above DZ worlds were rigged with scuttling charges that could be detonated on a moment’s notice – if he was forced to do so. For now, the lines would be left open for communication purposes, and as a bargaining chip, although Adolphus held little expectation that war might be avoided.

  Now, he could only wait.

  Two aliens in human bodies arrived at Elba shortly before dawn. When Adolphus met them in his parlor, he recognized Fernando and Keana. Fernando-Zairic spoke without formalities. “General Adolphus, we have come to offer a possible solution to the current crisis with the Constellation.” He looked over at his companion.

  Keana-Uroa said, “I understand the turmoil I inadvertently caused when I entered the slickwater. I did not mean to place you in such a difficult position.”

  “Your joining the shadow-Xayans is only part of the problem, Princess, but I’ll be happy to hear suggestions for a way to avoid bloodshed.”

  Keana said, “Allow me to go to Sonjeera as an ambassador – I am in a position to represent both you and the Xayans. This is a critical time. No shots have been fired yet, no violence unleashed, so we may still salvage this. Remember who I am – both Keana Duchenet and the Xayan leader Uroa. I can negotiate an end to these tensions if you let me play both roles. The Diadem will at least listen to me.”

  “We must make the attempt to avoid killing,” Fernando-Zairic said, nodding in agreement. “A prolonged and destructive war does not serve your interests, the Diadem’s, or the Xayans’. We must prevent that at all costs.”

  Keana-Uroa continued, as if they had planned and choreographed their speech to the last detail. “This is a watershed moment in many ways, General. Much hinges on how the Constellation reacts. Diadem Michella needs to understand exactly what has happened here. She needs to hear it from us, rather than through her spies.”

  Adolphus shook his head. “Absolutely not. I cannot allow you to go back to Sonjeera, Princess Keana. That should be self-evident.”

  “So am I a hostage after all?”

  “Not in so many words. I didn’t want you here in the first place, and I certainly didn’t want you to take on a Xayan personality, but you’re here now, and there’s no way around it. Much as I hate to admit it, you are our best bargaining chip, because your mother may not launch an open attack on Hallholme as long as you are in the line of fire.”

  Keana seemed amused. “So now you are using me as a human shield, just as Commodore Hallholme used innocent hostages at the end of your rebellion?”

  Adolphus didn’t like the comparison. “The tactic was effective, wasn’t it?”

  “Effective against you, but you are a man of honor and compassion. My mother is quite different.”

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t just hand you over to the Diadem.”

  Fernando-Zairic remained silent, deep in thought. When he finally spoke, he drew upon both his alien and human oratory skills. “Then I should be the one to go to Sonjeera. The Xayan race regarded Zairic highly. I was their visionary, their prophet, and their general. My words inspired our people to dream of our race’s ala’ru, and I helped preserve them before the asteroid struck. I drew together many factions, unified most of the Xayans.”

  “And how does that help us?”

  The other man grinned as the old Fernando personality came to the fore. “I’ll go back to Sonjeera, along with several other shadow-Xayans. We’ll tell the Diadem the news, explain the wondrous thing that has happened to us and to Princess Keana. Seeing us, Michella will have to believe. And, let’s face it, General, as a human, I mean nothing to the Diadem.”

  “You’re both being naïve. It won’t be that simple – we already fooled the Diadem’s inspector, convincing him that your group was just another deluded cult here on Hellhole. Why should Michella believe you now? And what if she doesn’t care?”

  “Then one of the Originals must go along,” Keana said. “How else to show her the sheer import of what’s happening here? What better way to dispel skepticism? Show her something she can’t deny. Once she sees a genuine Xayan,
she will know this is not just some mass delusion. And if Zairic can get through to her, if he can make her listen and give her a demonstration of relevancy, then the whole playing field will change.”

  Zairic’s soft yet compelling voice was insistent. “This goes well beyond mere political or economic disagreements, General Adolphus. You have seen the powers we Xayans demonstrate. Our overarching goal is to revive the Xayan race, and for that we will need the help of your people. It benefits us all if we insist on peace.”

  “Easier said than done.” Adolphus thought the two were being obtuse, but he continued to ponder. After revealing his stringline network and making his announcement, he had impounded the Constellation hauler in orbit and prevented it from leaving. He had also taken the Diadem’s known representatives into custody, just to prevent them from causing trouble.

  At this point, he was waiting for the other side to make their move. And what did he really have to lose?

  Adolphus made his decision. “For obvious reasons, I can’t accompany you myself, any more than I can let Keana go back to Sonjeera. I’ve got to maintain any advantage I have.” He scratched his cheek, considering. Maybe he could surprise the Diadem enough, make her hesitate . . . Zairic and his emissaries might be able to accomplish that, putting the old tyrant off balance. “One way or another, we’ll have to open the communication channels.” The General let out a long breath. “I don’t want to minimize the risk. If you go, bear in mind that I will do whatever is necessary to protect this planet and the new stringline hub and all fifty-four Deep Zone planets. I may find it necessary to close down the Michella Town spaceport, perhaps even terminate all stringline travel back to the Crown Jewel worlds. If things go badly, you might not be able to get back here. Or the Diadem could just execute you. Are you still willing to go?”

  “If we succeed, such desperate measures will not be necessary,” Zairic said. “I believe there are always solutions. Even in the face of our race’s imminent extinction, I found a solution.”

  The General reached out to shake his hand. Fernando-Zairic’s grip was limp now, as if he still hadn’t become accustomed to the rigidity of bones. “Go ahead, then. Maybe you can pull off a miracle and make the Diadem see reason.” In his heart, though, he thought it was a fool’s errand.

  After taking his leave of Slickwater Springs and returning to his job as a topographical prospector, Vincent Jenet spent most of his time alone in the wilderness, mapping blank grid squares from his Trakmaster. He remained blissfully unaware of news and politics from the rest of the Constellation. The open landscape was his comfort, and he enjoyed being alone. He found it fulfilling.

  Returning to Michella Town from a weeks-long expedition, he learned from the agitated people on the streets what had happened. So much had changed in only a month! Hellhole and all of the Deep Zone had broken away from the Crown Jewels, and soon enough they might actually be at war. And he had thought Hellhole was so far from the heart of politics that no one would care about it one way or another.

  In town, when he heard about the eleventh-hour peace mission Fernando intended to undertake, Vincent thought it sounded entirely unlike anything his fast-talking friend would do. It also sounded like a very bad idea.

  Since the party of shadow-Xayan peacemakers had not yet departed on their hare-brained mission, Vincent hurried to the spaceport to locate them; he probably wouldn’t be able to talk Fernando out of going, but at least he hoped for a chance to say goodbye.

  At the spaceport, he met crowds of annoyed and terrified offworlders who desperately wanted to get away from Hellhole, but all travel had been restricted. An impounded stringline hauler remained docked at the old terminus, its female captain taken captive and placed in detention on the planet’s surface. No one else was allowed to leave. The passenger pod containing Fernando and his emissaries would be the only vessel allowed to depart Hellhole for the time being.

  Vincent finally spotted Fernando-Zairic and three placid human converts wearing comfortable clothes made from the red weed. While their features were human, their demeanor was strikingly different from the others in the crowd. Moving ponderously but with a liquid grace, the Original alien Cippiq had come to the spaceport, showing himself openly now that the secret was out. He was an object of awe among the spectators. Cippiq had volunteered to accompany the group to Sonjeera, to show the whole Constellation that the Xayans were real.

  Vincent ran up to his old friend. “Fernando! I’m glad I got here in time to say goodbye – and maybe talk some sense into you. What do you think you’re doing? Can’t someone else go?” The whole idea of this expedition to Sonjeera gave him a sense of foreboding.

  Fernando brightened upon seeing him. “You worry too much, as always! But you don’t have to say goodbye.” He raised his chin and spoke impulsively. “I want you to go with me. Come on! You and I were a great team. We have plenty of room on the passenger pod, and you can help me.”

  Vincent was taken aback by the comment. “Help you? How?”

  “We have other shadow-Xayans and one of the Originals, but we need an objective human representative as well, to give unbiased perspectives. You can speak to the Sonjeerans as someone who’s seen the slickwater pools and knows us. And because you aren’t a convert, the Diadem can’t accuse you of being brainwashed.”

  Vincent’s pulse raced. He didn’t like this at all. “I’m sure the General could find a more qualified person among all these people clamoring to get off the planet.”

  “But you have my recommendation, and that trumps everything else. What did you have planned for the next several days?”

  “I was going to map another grid square . . .”

  “It’ll still be there when we get back.” Fernando took his arm, talking him into the plan, as he had talked Vincent into so many other ill-advised decisions.

  “I’m still not sure it’s a good idea.” Vincent had never expected to leave Hellhole again, but he realized that he did want to accompany his old friend, to help Fernando remain in touch with his human side, if nothing else. “You really think I can help you?”

  “Maybe. And you know me – I’ll probably get in trouble without you. This is another big adventure, and I’d rather have you there. Just go along for the ride if you want. Do it out of friendship.”

  Because it was obvious that it was truly Fernando twisting his arm, not the aloof Xayan leader, Vincent made up his mind. “I can do that.”

  “Besides,” Fernando said with a wink, “I’m not convinced Zairic is prepared for meeting with Diadem Michella.” Abruptly his voice changed, and Vincent saw a glimmer of the debate going on inside the other man’s head. “I will not be easily fooled or out-debated. Once I explain the significance of ala’ru, the people of the Constellation will put aside their war and join us. We all stand to benefit.”

  Vincent shook his head, now fully convinced that he had to go along. This group reminded him of starry-eyed missionaries heading into hostile territory with more faith than common sense. Maybe he could add a more compelling perspective to their position, a human perspective. Or at least he could keep them safe.

  “Yes, I’d like to go with you,” he said. “If the General gives his approval.”

  “The human goes with us,” Cippiq said, ending the discussion.

  92

  While responses and plans hurtled back and forth along the new stringline connections, Ian Walfor remained at Hellhole’s new, independent spaceport. His own people could do without him for the time being. They were probably the safest in the whole Deep Zone; since Michella herself had abandoned the stringline to Buktu and couldn’t send her military there even if she wanted to.

  General Adolphus had made his announcement, and without a doubt, the shit was going to hit the fan. It was imperative that the DZ stringline network succeed. Right now, test ships were returning from the last of the new routes, demonstrating the viability of the entire network.

  Administrator Rendo Theris was doing his best to
manage operations at Ankor, but the responsibilities had begun to overwhelm him. Walfor, though, was perfectly comfortable with the operations, and he decided to assist the man. Theris didn’t seem to mind him looking over his shoulder as a double-check.

  In the afternoon, the two men inspected the mechanism for launching upboxes and passenger pods to the orbiting hub. An engineer by training, rather than an administrator, Theris had a knack for troubleshooting. Based on a slight drop in the efficiency of the fuel cubes, he sniffed out a hidden reaction-chamber crack. Teams of workers promptly made repairs.

  Though relieved that they had caught the problem before a disaster could happen, Walfor studied the error with razor-sharp suspicion. If a passenger pod or upbox exploded and damaged the orbiting hub, the General’s plan would be severely compromised – just the sort of sabotage a Constellation operative might plan. However, after studying the matter carefully, they concluded that the flaw was exactly what it seemed.

  Just to be sure, he and Theris conducted a thorough ground inspection of the launch and receiving facilities, alert for additional problems. Everything seemed to be fine. Back inside the admin tower, Walfor took a seat at his borrowed desk to read the reports trickling in from the other DZ worlds: linerunners checking substations, new vessels arriving at Hellhole from all across the Deep Zone. Back on Buktu, Walfor’s crew was adapting their FTL ships for interplanetary commerce as well as defense of the independent frontier worlds. The scope was breathtaking.

  Theris interrupted his thoughts with a loud yelp. “What the hell is that?”

  Around the tower room, scanscreens from the numerous orbiting surveillance satellites showed a flurry of blips that indicated large objects converging in the sky over Ankor. The blips flew in an odd, squared-off formation and at remarkable speed.

  Racing to the perimeter scan panels, Walfor shouldered one of the techs aside and enhanced the images. He zoomed in on the undersides of the strange craft to display hulls of textured, coppery metal with several segments that glowed red. Static flurried across the screens. Long-distance analytical equipment in the tower blanked out. Sparks sprayed out of one console, while workers cursed at their stations.