Hellhole (34 page)

“I have all the records in order,” Bebe said. “We can show him what he needs to see and send him on his way.”

She smiled at the compact, short-haired assistant. “Thanks, Bebe.”

When the passenger pod landed, Goler emerged first, dressed in a suit that did not fit him well. He was tall and lanky, with a lantern jaw and a perennially concerned expression that made him look intense. As the Constellation’s official representative, he could have brought a bevy of functionaries, but Goler usually traveled alone.

Tanja stepped forward to greet the governor. “Welcome to Candela, sir.” She didn’t understand what he hoped to accomplish with these “keep in touch” meetings. Did he want to be
friends
with the eleven planetary administrators he oversaw? “I apologize for the sparse reception. We’re still in a crisis situation around here.”

Goler looked through the large concourse windows, watching the wet streaks coming down. “I’m very sorry about the recent tragedy. Those terrible mudslides . . .” He straightened. “I have brought a cargo load of first-aid supplies and emergency rations. I hope it’ll help.”

“A little late,” Tanja said before she could stop herself, and he looked stung, like a hurt little boy. She explained more carefully as she escorted him to the waiting admin car, “The injured have been taken care of, and many of the bodies are recovered. Another group of Mercifuls arrived four days ago to offer their assistance.”

“I went through bureaucratic channels as quickly as I could,” Goler said. “Even in emergencies, the Constellation does not react with great speed.”

Though he sounded sincere, Tanja was brusque. “Governor, this didn’t need to happen in the first place. No matter how often I object, the Diadem keeps imposing unreasonable requirements on us. In order to meet her tribute, we are forced to engage in reckless mining activities, and that makes the hill districts unstable. That is the direct cause of the mudslides that wiped out entire villages.”

He looked deeply uncomfortable, trying to find some magic solution. “Is there anything the Constellation can do to help now?”

Again, a little late
, she thought. She gave him a hard look and spoke formally to keep her anger in check. “You can convey the realities to Sonjeera, sir. See to it that Candela is excused from paying the Diadem’s tribute until we can rebuild our industrial operations with the proper safety factors. Right now, as you can surely see, all of our resources have to be diverted to the recovery effort. If Diadem Michella loves her people as she claims, she will understand.”

From Goler’s crestfallen expression, she knew that he found the request difficult, but he swallowed hard and tried anyway. “The Diadem is most concerned for her subjects, and she will naturally be distressed over Candela’s losses. I . . . I will do my best.”

In other words, no
. Tanja had expected little else. “Come with me, sir. My assistant has already prepared our records for your inspection.”

He was still trying to make peace. “I’m sure everything is in order.”

From the landing zone, they took a government boat across Saporo harbor to reach her floating admin headquarters. The rain had picked up considerably by the time the boat docked. With Bebe running ahead, she and Goler hurried across an open expanse and ducked under the shelter of overhangs. They were both drenched, but Tanja hardly gave it a thought. Her dress was locally made and would dry quickly once they were inside and in her main office.

Goler, though, looked bedraggled and miserable. He wiped his face. Bebe was attentive, as usual. “Would you like me to send for dry clothing, sir?”

“I’ll get by.” His attempt at a congenial grin made him look like a fool. “Let me just take a quick look at your production reports, Administrator, and then I can be on my way and leave you to your pressing responsibilities.”

Tanja sat at her desk, and the damp, hangdog governor took a chair across from her. The desk was clear glass with prismatic corners that collected spectrum strips from the available light. On a table to one side, Tanja had arranged shimmer images of her relatives who had died in the mudslide into a little shrine. She felt a surge of anger toward Goler, blaming him for his part in the Constellation’s greed that had resulted in so many deaths.

On the transparent desktop, Bebe had already called up images of the few mines that were still operating. He leaned forward, plainly relieved to see Candelans working hard to meet their tribute payment to Sonjeera. Impulsively, Tanja displayed a second set of images: the village of Puhau buried in mud, then she showed the stripmines that had also collapsed in the monsoons. “These places are graveyards now. The bodies are still down there, where they will remain as a memorial.”

Tanja switched off the images in a huff. She wanted to say so much more, but held her tongue. She could not afford to lose her position as planetary administrator, and the secret Candela iperion mines must not be exposed. General Adolphus depended on her supplies for his trailblazer ships.

She took a deep breath for calm. “There’s your production report, Governor Goler. I know you’ve come here to announce an increase in the tribute, but we cannot pay it. You can see that for yourself. I’m sorry that Candela is currently unable to meet your expectations.”

Goler turned gray and slumped in his chair, touched his pocket but did not remove the paper there. “This message comes directly from the Diadem, but I’m not going to give it to you. I’m going to intercede on your behalf. If Sonjeera insists on this increase, they will have my resignation letter.” His courage surprised her, though Tanja wasn’t sure his resignation threat would mean much to any member of the Constellation government.

Goler rose to his feet, brushed his damp and wrinkled clothes. “All right, then. I’ve made my necessary appearance, and I have seen what I needed to see. I can file an objective report now, so I might as well get back to Ridgetop. You have more urgent things to do than to be my hostess.”

T
he General intended to have a quiet afternoon sitting on the porch with Sophie, but when the scuffed Trakmaster rattled up to the Elba estate, she rose to her feet and shaded her eyes. “That’s Devon!”

The vehicle looked as if it had been chewed up in a storm, rolled down a steep hill, and then bombarded by meteors. Behind the smeared windshield he could see two people in the cab.

All calm gone, Sophie was off the porch and running across the well-trimmed native groundcover, leaving footprints in the soft vegetation. Adolphus summoned several staff members from inside in case Sophie’s son needed help.

As the Trakmaster ground to a halt, Sophie met it. When Devon emerged, she was already talking, “What the hell happened – and are you all right?” Her words stopped short when she saw his face and arms covered with red marks, large welts, and healing scabs. “Did you two get in a brawl? Was it a storm?”

Devon shook his head. “Bugs – a swarm of voracious beetles, like I’ve never seen before.”

Antonia Anqui climbed out after him, looking just as bad. “They wiped out the whole camp of the Children of Amadin. Nothing left but a few bone fragments and cloth scraps.” She had a new look in her dark eyes when she glanced at Devon.

“We barely got out alive ourselves,” he said, looking somewhat ashamed at the damage to the Trakmaster.

“
Devon
got us out alive,” Antonia amended, and the young man blushed.

Sophie clucked over their wounds. “I don’t see any infection, but I’m taking you to the Helltown medical center.”

“We’re healing fine, Mother.”

“Not good enough. I want a full panel of tests to see if those bugs left any latent toxins.”

“You can’t argue with her, Devon,” Antonia said. The young man sighed.

General Adolphus ran his gaze over the damage. “If it’s another infestation, we’ll want to know about it.” He had seen several outbreaks of resurgent species in the past decade; fortunately, most infestations died back soon enough.

“We kept some specimens of the insects for the xenobiologists,” Devon said. “The beetles must be breeding like crazy. Could be an increasing problem.”

Adolphus nodded. “I’ll review your Trakmaster’s control recorder and send investigators out to the site.”

“
Exterminators
might be more helpful than investigators,” Antonia said.

“Flamethrowers would be an even better idea,” Devon added.

“I’ll put Craig Jordan on it right away – this falls under his purview as security. We don’t want a cloud of those things coming into Michella Town.”

Antonia ducked into the cab again and returned with a strange black object cradled in her arms. “One other thing, General. We found this artifact in the camp. It was one of the only things left intact.”

“We think it’s from the original alien race, sir,” Devon said. “Reminds me of the artifacts in your display cases.”

It was an odd oblong, half a meter long. It looked like a sealed case, or an egg, but with inverted curves and abraded, polished surfaces inset with reflective panes. Adolphus felt a thrill as he scrutinized it. “Thank you. I’ll add it to my collection.” If his teams kept searching, someday he might have enough pieces of the puzzle to understand this planet’s original inhabitants.

Later, after Sophie had driven off to the Michella Town medical center with Devon and Antonia, the General sat in his study, pondering the new artifact on his desk. He set it aside, though, and attended to the other unpleasant but necessary matters.

The loss of the Children of Amadin had been unnecessary. The General had instituted his system for a reason, but the religious group had made their choice, a fatal one.

In the colony database, he opened an ever-growing file and added the names of each member of the Children of Amadin from the arrival records at the colonization office. Though many of the hopeful pilgrims and fortune seekers were easily forgotten, Adolphus kept track of those that had tried to make a home on Hallholme and failed.

The list was very long.

A
fter leaving Vielinger forever, Cristoph de Carre got his first glimpse of life on Hellhole when he emerged from the passenger pod. Seeing the dusty, forlorn landscape, he thought he had made a mistake. Previously, the things he’d heard about the planet made it seem like a place of brave exile for the defeated rebel General, a rugged frontier full of hardship and rewards. Now he realized that no sane person with any choice would come to a planet like this.

But there was no turning back. This was his new life.

Cristoph coughed in the hot, sour-smelling air and he followed a handful of similarly dismayed colonists. Grit and dust swirled around them as they made their way to the receiving office for new arrivals.

His station in life had changed in the past few weeks. No one addressed him as “Master de Carre” or “My Lord.” Only a few particularly polite people ever called him “sir.” He still couldn’t believe his father had committed suicide rather than face his shame, but in his gut Cristoph
knew
his father wasn’t strong enough to handle a crisis that he had in large part caused. And he had left his son to live with the consequences.

At the new arrivals office, he received a cursory orientation along with the other new colonists. He glanced at the job listings for unskilled labor, but bypassed them without interest. Cristoph had no aversion to hard work, but with his management expertise and his ability to perform a variety of jobs (despite the apparent failure due to sabotage), he was determined to find something valuable to do here. He and the General had been similarly stomped by the Constellation, and Cristoph believed they shared a common bond.

On the other hand, Louis de Carre had ostensibly fought against Adolphus during the rebellion. (His father had not actually seen any combat, but he had done his duty as a noble.) Normally, Cristoph wouldn’t expect the General to remember such a minor name . . . but he could make no assumptions with this man.

He purchased a wide-brimmed hat from a street vendor and asked for directions to the General’s headquarters. “Ah, Elba,” the hat vendor said. “It’s a long walk, complicated directions. You’d really trust me to tell you the way?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

The weathered man laughed. “That’s your second mistake – trusting anyone.”

“And what was my first?”

“Coming to Hellhole, of course.”

Following the hat merchant’s directions, Cristoph headed out of town along a well-traveled road over a line of scabby hills, to the General’s residence. It took Cristoph almost three hours on foot, but he did not balk at the trek. If nothing else, it would prove his determination.

Knowing that Adolphus was essentially a prisoner on this planet, Cristoph was surprised to see the size of the Elba manor house, with its gables, many windows, and walls of fieldstone and pressed wood. When he gave his name to an elderly aide at the front door, the man perked up, even laughed. “A de Carre? That’s a noble name. You mean from Vielinger?”

“I am the son of Lord de Carre, but it’s no longer a noble name. All my holdings are gone, my family defunct. I’m in need of a new start . . . and I have abilities the General might find useful.”

The old man leaned forward with a darkened expression. “I fought for the General in the rebellion, and it seems to me that your family had a hand in defeating us.”

“That’s true, unfortunately. And now the Constellation has turned against me as well. I was hoping to speak with the General.”

The aide swallowed a chuckle. “Too late to expect any sympathy from us. Go away.”

“I am not looking for sympathy, but I do expect courtesy.”

“A lot of newcomers want to see General Adolphus.”

“Then I guess I’m just another one. I’ll wait.”

“Do it outside then.” The veteran pointed to several benches on the long wooden porch that offered no shade from the bright afternoon sunlight.

Though he expected no favors from Tiber Adolphus, Cristoph decided to remain as long as was necessary. The bench grew harder and hotter with each passing hour. He sat perspiring, wearing the new hat he had purchased. He decided that this purposeful snub from the General must be some kind of test, and he intended to pass it.