Hellhole (43 page)

“Zairic speaks of your race with great optimism. He says humans have tremendous potential. Once the Xayan race reawakens to full power, we can all have hope again. We will achieve what we were destined to do – what the asteroid impact thwarted during our most crucial generation.”

“And what destiny is that?”

Encix hesitated. “I honor you by revealing this. Over millennia, our race developed its mental abilities. In the last years before the impact, Zairic’s bold teachings brought us to the verge of a remarkable evolutionary breakthrough. He showed us that if all Xayans united their mental proficiencies, merging their minds and souls, we could initiate an extraordinary evolutionary ascension. A physical and spiritual transformation that we call
ala’ru
.”

Adolphus raised his eyebrows. Some kind of alien mysticism? “What does that mean, exactly?”

“It is . . .
ala’ru
.” Encix turned her soft, pale face toward him, and her features moved, mimicking an expression of sincerity as best she could. “Our bodies, our race, sheds its physical form and becomes pure thought, pure energy. Like a larva metamorphosing into an entirely different adult. Do you understand?”

“We know of creatures that transform in stages like that.”

“We could have elevated our whole race to another plane, evolved and left this universe behind. We had nearly reached that point.” She paused for a long moment. “But a falling asteroid ruined our hopes.”

“But if you were that powerful, couldn’t you use telemancy to deflect it? Weren’t there enough of you?”

The alien leader thrummed in consternation, as if she had been insulted. “We had significant power, but moving the large asteroid was beyond our abilities.”

Adolphus pressed his lips together. “And now only four of you remain.”

“It is more than just the four of us – millions of Xayan lives are contained within the slickwater pools. If enough humans bring back those stored personalities, we can achieve a similar racial ascension, an
ala’ru
. That is how you can help us. And it would give our human partners the powers of telemancy as well.”

Adolphus shook his head. “We have fewer than a hundred thousand colonists on this whole planet. The numbers won’t add up, even if every person on Hallholme accepts your offer.”

“But billions of your race are scattered across the star systems. Tell them our plight. Call them here to help us. Can you not help us spread the word?”

“I guarantee you that won’t happen,” Adolphus said frankly. “Some may be intrigued by the opportunity, but you’ll never achieve the numbers you need for critical mass.”

Encix did not seem discouraged. “Fortunately, Zairic tells me that when our two races join, they exhibit a kind of . . .” She paused, searching through what she had learned. “Hybrid vigor. Humans and Xayans are much more powerful as partners than we are as individuals. Therefore,
ala’ru
will require far fewer proficient Xayan telemancers to achieve the level necessary.”

Now Adolphus understood. “So that’s why you’re encouraging humans to use the slickwater. That’s what you really want.”

Encix moved along with her rolling caterpillar gait, circling the wheat field. “There is nothing insidious about it. We only want to be
remembered
, General Adolphus. My four companions and I were placed in the preservation bunker so that we could eventually show an outside race – your race – how to access our information. And if we can gather enough Xayan mental power to trigger
ala’ru
, our race will transform to lead an incorporeal existence, leaving your people to run the planet. That is what we want – and what you want.”

Adolphus pondered, weighing the options. If the earlier demonstration at the greenhouse dome was any indication, he needed those telemancers. Once the unified DZ worlds survived the aftermath of D-Day, once he and all the newly independent colony worlds stood up to the uproar from Sonjeera, then the Original Xayans and their converts could do whatever they liked.

“I will consider it,” he said. “But in the meantime, for security reasons, I would prefer that you remain out of sight. Could you possibly return to the underground vault for the time being? There are political ramifications I will need to address.” He could make excuses for the camp out at the slickwater pools, and the converts like Fernando-Zairic could easily be excused as yet another oddball religious group come to Hellhole. But he couldn’t explain away an actual caterpillar-like alien wandering through the streets of Michella Town.

“If that is your wish,” Encix said. “My companions and I have much restoration work to do back in our preservation bunker. That is where we feel most comfortable.” She paused. “Besides, we Originals were not part of Zairic’s slickwater preservation plan. It does not concern us.”

The General felt both relieved and troubled.

When they finished their circuit of the field, Encix stopped. “I was sincere when I told you we have no intention of reclaiming this world, General Tiber Adolphus. Xaya is of little consequence to us. It served as a storage vault for our racial memories, and now it will become our launching pad. That is all. Once we have ascended, everything that remains will be yours.”

A
long day of Council meetings wrapped up, during which time Ishop Heer hovered near the Diadem to offer his advice or to be available should she need him to discreetly attend to “unofficial” matters. At the end of the sessions, a smiling Michella handed him an envelope that contained an address and an electronic key. “Congratulations, Mr Heer. Your assistant is already supervising the transfer of your belongings.”

“The transfer . . .?”

Michella smiled to let him know he wasn’t in trouble. “A little reward for your work and your loyalty to me – a more prestigious domicile.”

Ishop actually liked his nondescript apartment in the government quarter for the anonymity it afforded, but he could not decline the Diadem’s gift. He would rather that she recognized him as a lord of significant stature, but that would come later. “Thank you, Eminence.”

Soon enough he would have a noble residence.
That
was a reward worth having. This would be just an interim step along the way, and he would be gracious to the Diadem; no need to make her ponder anything else until he had checked off the other items on his list.

When he arrived at the new address after nightfall, Ishop found a two-story traditional redstone structure set among similar buildings scattered around an expanse of manicured lawns and flower gardens. Always alert, he noted that each unit had hedges and other plants artfully set up to create privacy.
Good
. Ancient ivy, wisteria, and other plants climbed the walls.
Cozy
.

Ishop watched four men carrying his furniture and household goods into the new townhouse. All the lights were on inside and out. Laderna Nell waved to him from the second-level patio, before coming down to meet him on the lawn, carrying a file folder under one arm. All business, that one . . . at least when other people could see.

She said with a conspiratorial smile, “Now you are closer to the importance and life you deserve, boss.”

“Not close enough. We still have more work to do.”

“One item at a time.”

Laderna led him inside, and he noted immediately – with a great deal of relief – that it was immaculately clean. He suspected Laderna’s hand in that. Though not technically a “royal unit” with a large serving staff and other amenities, the townhouse was still quite elegant, and located in one of the best neighborhoods in Council City.

“This place has an interesting history, in a district that
used to be
reserved for nobles,” she explained, revealing how much she had already researched the address just since that afternoon. “Edwond the First, the Warrior Diadem, held his war cabinet meetings here. The plaque by the door designates this as ‘Edwond House.’ How marvelous to think of him making huge military decisions here, away from the prying eyes of people he didn’t trust.”

“How long ago?”

“Ninety-one years,” Laderna said. “Time to make it a noble residence again.”

“Soon enough,” he whispered, reminding himself as much as her. “We mustn’t get impatient.”

As far as anyone knew, Laderna was merely his assistant; no one guessed the depth of their joint conspiracy, though some might whisper unkind rumors about their relationship. The nobles didn’t much care what the “little people” did anyway; they had always included Ishop among them, too, although the smart ones were wary of him. As for mousy Laderna Nell, she dressed plainly in public to avoid notice. Her dowdy clothing, slumped posture, workmanlike gait, quiet voice, her entire demeanor – it was all so wonderfully misleading. She might have been an actress, Ishop decided.

Laderna clutched the folder tight against her side. “The Diadem sent her movers in without any warning. I had to retrieve this from your old apartment, where we hid it.”

He had many secrets, but they were well hidden. He wasn’t worried about these lumbering men discovering the wrong details. “Everything is encoded. No one could interpret the document if it fell into the wrong hands.”

“Of course, boss. I have everything on private lists, but from now on perhaps we should commit it to memory.” After glancing around to make sure none of the burly movers could see them, she gave Ishop a flirtatious smile. “I removed another name. Only six left now.”

He grinned. He didn’t know what he could possibly do without her. “Which one?”

“Lamentably, the ambitious chocolatier Randolph Suzuki had an unfortunate accident while working in his laboratory. The whole place blew up. Although he received the best medical attention, he is now, alas, a permanent vegetable.”

“Confections can be so hazardous.” Suzuki was one of the most unlikely names in their confidential file, a shop owner who had no high-level contacts or secret political ambitions. Nevertheless, a Suzuki lord had been instrumental in causing the Osheer downfall, centuries ago. No exceptions.

The Duchenet would be much more problematic.

In the meantime, Ishop saw no way for anyone to connect the victims in the recent spate of deaths, especially this uninfluential man. Who would ever think to look in 700-year-old archives for the victims to be linked to the forgotten Osheer family? Suzuki himself was nearly forgotten.

Only six names remained on the list, and the progress was delicious. He and Laderna had promised each other not to keep score, but of course they did. The two operated as partners with a common goal, and one day, when he became a noble under his rightful lineage, he would reward Laderna handsomely.

“You do such excellent work.” Glancing sidelong at her in the shadows, Ishop didn’t think she looked so gangly anymore. She beamed from the compliment, and he noticed that she had begun to carry herself with more confidence. She dressed more fashionably, showed off her figure more, stood with better posture, and moved with more grace.

“Those men certainly are slow,” he said, with a wink that she could still see in the low light. “I’d like to have some privacy.”

“Oh, I already took care of that. There’s an extra guest bedroom in the back with a separate entrance. I had the movers set it up first.”

“You think of everything,” he said.

E
ven meticulous plans and precise monitoring could not allay the General’s anxiety. The long wait was always the hardest part.

During the rebellion, Adolphus had known that morale faded in the extended travel times between systems from one military engagement to the next. Though his crew knew they would soon clash with Constellation loyalists, the interminable anticipation sapped their enthusiasm.

He remembered with a wistful smile that the agonizing down-time between engagements was particularly hard on Franck Tello, his second in command. Poor Franck dealt with the stress by eating: He insisted that he needed to keep up his strength for the upcoming fight, as if he were some sort of barbarian out to engage in hand-to-hand combat. Franck ate so much, and so swiftly, that he invariably made himself sick and vomited his meal, which only made him more miserable. Ah, poor Franck . . .

Now Adolphus had more waiting to do.

Though this was no military engagement, the General had been planning the operation for years: staging, watching, adjusting every schedule with as much attention to detail as he had ever given to any battle plan. Because he knew how brutally the Diadem would crack down once she learned what he was doing, Adolphus could not dabble in half measures.

Every stringline in his independent network had to be completed
at the same time
, creating a sudden and unexpected victory – a fait accompli. The new Hallholme hub and the terminus rings being delivered to the other fifty-three Deep Zone planets, near and far, must be connected simultaneously before the Diadem knew what was happening.

Destination Day.

For some time now he had been sending out refurbished, illicitly purchased trailblazer vessels filled with iperion from the secret mines on Candela. The massive deposit on her planet could have made Tanja Hu fabulously wealthy, but she had thrown her lot in with him. That decision would likely change the course of human history.

In his overall plan, Adolphus choreographed the trailblazer ships’ movements in a grand dance, plotting out the lengthy travel times. The pilots flew away at normal FTL speeds, accepting the lonely long-term task, as well as the hazards of exposure to processed iperion, because they believed the General could pull off his plan. Some of the first pilots in the overall scheme had been flying for three years already to the most distant Deep Zone planets.

He had to monitor everything carefully. Progress reports arrived each week – fast message drones sent back to the Hallholme hub along the quantum path they had reeled out behind them. The trailblazers gave precise position locations, distances traveled, expected planetfall dates. Adolphus monitored each of his pilots personally so he could advise them to speed up or slow down accordingly.