Hellhole (58 page)

The man who called himself both Fernando and Zairic looked as if even a monstrous static storm could not disturb him. “Just a brief immersion in the slickwater, and the whole Xayan race will be available to you.” He smiled at Keana, confident but applying no pressure. “You will remember wonders you can’t even dream of now.”

“I don’t want any wonders!” She longed to have Louis back, but that was impossible. She had come for Cristoph, imagining that they could at least share their pain, but those hopes were shattered.

Fernando-Zairic seemed to understand her anguish. “You want peace, contentment. You want to fit in, and be important.” He stood directly in front of her, uncomfortably close. People watched them as if this were a sideshow at the camp.

“I am the daughter of the Diadem!”

He gave a contemplative nod, and his words cut through the blindfold she had placed over her own eyes. “And still, you need to feel important. You want your life to matter. The slickwater can make that possible.”

Through tear-filled eyes, Keana looked at the quicksilver pools in the morning sunlight. A few people gathered on the edge of the boardwalk, pondering their own decisions. The slickwater seemed to beckon her. Yes, she could dive in and never come back out. Light sparkled atop the liquid, but did not penetrate far into it.

“Do you really know who I am?” She realized she was shaking.

Fernando-Zairic’s composure didn’t change; his words were hypnotic. “You are a human, just as I was . . . hurting, searching, or curious. And there is a Xayan life waiting to join with yours, to make you whole.”

She gave him no answer, but let him lead her forward.

As they reached the boardwalk, a young blond man with a thin beard climbed out of the slickwater, and his expression was so full of amazement that Keana hesitated. This couldn’t just be a trick or a delusion, could it? The young man seemed to have had a
real
experience, something that washed away whatever tragedy or pain that had drawn him to Hallholme. Other shadow-Xayans came forward to welcome him into their community.

Keana edged closer to the pool, trying to escape the pain that burned in her chest like hot metal. Maybe the slickwater did offer peace, escape. Even if it didn’t last, even if it wasn’t real, there was a chance. And the hollowness in her chest reminded her that she had nothing to lose anyway.

“We would welcome you, daughter of Diadem Michella,” Fernando-Zairic said. “None of the Xayans would judge you for anything in your past.”

Just then she heard a woman’s voice calling from the other side of the pool, back by the lodge. She recognized Sophie Vence waving her arms, shouting with alarm. “Keana Duchenet, don’t you dare! Stay away from the slickwater!”

Fernando-Zairic looked naïve and perplexed. He kept his attention on Keana. “Don’t listen to her. There is nothing to fear.”

Sophie ran toward her, yelling for her own security men. “We can’t afford to let this happen!”

In an instant, Keana understood. At Cristoph’s behest, Sophie Vence would prevent her from being happy. They wanted to deny her the contentment and peace of the slickwater. How Louis’s son must hate her! All her life other people had controlled her, prevented her from doing what she wanted to do, imposed their will upon her.

With a quick step, Keana moved to the edge of the boardwalk and looked down at the compelling, mercurial fluid, the swirling mysteries that glinted in the morning light.

Sophie cried out for her workers. “Carter! Timmons – stop the princess!” The men ran toward her from two different directions. “We’ll be in a world of trouble if she—”

Before they could get closer, Keana made her decision. She was sick of who she was, sick of her corrupt family, and sick of the Constellation. Sick of having no one to trust, no true friends . . . sick of living without love, sick of her wasted and shallow life.

Ignoring the shouts of protest, she jumped smoothly into the water, as if it wasn’t there at all. She heard no splash.

The contact was a shock. Her eyes remained open. Swirling, ghostly shapes appeared from nowhere and dove deeper, pulling her along after them. Keana didn’t worry about holding her breath; time seemed to have stopped. The physical limitations of the human body had no relevance in this realm.

The phantom lights drew her much deeper than the pool could possibly be. Ahead, the shapes coalesced into a cloud of bright illumination . . . and out of that glow came a nebulous form, shadowy and mysterious. She knew she should feel fear, but she allowed it to cover her completely.

The presence engulfed her, and in its overwhelming power Keana lost her own sense of awareness. Her concerns faded away to be replaced by the sensation of soaring upward . . .

T
he Ridgetop medical facilities made Ernst Packard as comfortable as they could in his remaining days. The trailblazer captain lay in a hospital bed, fuzzy with painkillers. Despite giving him large doses of nutritional supplements, the colony’s best medical experts were unable to help.

He wheezed in his bed with a full picture-window view of golden-wood groves, his own music played gently in the background. He lifted his hand in what was meant to be a dismissive wave. “When I plotted the story of my life, this wasn’t how I foresaw the ending. Even recently, I imagined I’d live just long enough to complete my mission as a trail-blazer pilot, then die in full uniform at the helm controls. But here I am as good as dead, barefoot in a hospital gown.” His laugh turned into a cough. “I find it quite anticlimactic.”

“Your ship is almost ready to go.” Goler stood by the bed in a formal business suit. “I’ll take you back to Hallholme with me, and we can both let General Adolphus know that you completed your mission.”

“You’ll have to do most of the talking, Governor.” Packard tried to laugh again, but the sound degenerated into convulsive coughing.

Goler ordered his workers to step up the pace in decontaminating the trailblazer ship. The Ridgetop engineers worked around the clock prepping the vessel for a return journey and double-checking the bare-bones stringline terminus that Packard had installed in orbit.

A breathless foreman finally announced that the ship was cleared for departure to Hallholme. Governor Goler thanked him and his crews for their efforts, but Ernst Packard had died five hours before.

Protecting himself politically, out of habit, Goler left a document in his office safe that stated he was traveling to Hallholme “to demand an immediate and thorough explanation from Administrator Tiber Adolphus.” It was a plausible enough explanation if the situation should go terribly awry.

He expected to have a very interesting conversation with the General.

Now that the stringline route connected Ridgetop to Hallholme – as well as many other lines, if Packard’s information was accurate – the floodgates would open and ships would begin running back and forth. Once the Deep Zone had the option of free trade without the Constellation’s tariffs and tribute, there would be no turning back, whether Diadem Michella liked it or not . . .

When Goler’s refitted trailblazer arrived at the new orbiting hub above the Ankor site, he marveled at the massive complex in space; he couldn’t believe Adolphus had performed so much work without the Constellation suspecting. Even
he
, the Territorial Governor, had been aware of nothing. He remembered how outraged Diadem Michella had been to learn of Ian Walfor’s amateurish black-market transportation efforts; she would be white-hot with fury when she found out about this problem.

When Goler docked at the new hub, unannounced, the people below scurried about to make preparations. The General set aside all his other duties to meet the territorial governor in person, but he obviously had his suspicions.

Receiving him at the Ankor landing field, Adolphus’s expression was controlled, but wary. “Territorial Governor Goler, thank you for being one of the first official representatives to visit our new transportation hub. I am surprised by your prompt arrival.”

“You’re not the only one who’s surprised, Administrator Adolphus.” Hallholme was one of the eleven DZ planets under his purview, and Goler had worked with the General many times. This, though, was entirely different.

He cleared his throat, faced Adolphus. “I did not come alone, sir. My cargo pod holds the preserved body of Captain Ernst Packard, who died shortly after arriving at Ridgetop. Considering his dedicated service to you, I thought you’d like to give him a final resting place on Hallholme.”

“Captain Packard would appreciate that. I never met a more loyal man.”

“He lived long enough to know that his sacrifice was not in vain. He did establish the new stringline to connect our worlds.”

The General regarded Goler cautiously, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “And?”

“And, I’m here to inform you that I have decided to throw in my lot with your new enterprise. To use an old cliché, one cannot put the genie back into the bottle.”

“As easy as that? After all your years in service to Diadem Michella?”

“Oh, I know the Diadem very well, including some of her dark secrets. That’s what helped me make my decision. And it will turn the whole Deep Zone against her.” He drew a deep breath. “Let me tell you a story, General . . . the truth about the Ridgetop Recovery.”

The horrible tale spilled out of him with as much drama, compassion, and horror as if he’d personally witnessed the slaughter of the original colonists who had wanted only to live independently from the Constellation. Tasmine had recounted her nightmarish memories so often he could almost hear the screams, see the smoke and weapons fire, and watch the soldiers’ faces as they followed the Diadem’s orders with great relish.

The General whitened as he listened, but did not doubt the revelations, especially when Goler played the old video evidence for him and provided his own photographic proof of human bones that had been washed up by rains at one of the burial sites.

Finally, Goler drew a deep breath. “I am tired of the Constellation’s version of history, General. I presume they’ve distorted what really happened during your rebellion as well?”

Adolphus’s smile contained no mirth. “In many, many ways. But what you say only makes me fear their reprisals even more.”

Goler’s eyes glittered. “Ah, but we have more resources and defenses than the Diadem expects. She would never dream that my loyalties might change.” He drew out his smile. “You see, a while ago, I requested that the Constellation send me a private military patrol fleet, so that I could keep a better eye on your ‘nefarious activities.’ The Diadem agreed. As soon as those ships arrive, I’ll turn them over to you. No one has any idea that we can now deliver them from Ridgetop to Hallholme by direct stringline.”

“Patrol fleet?” Adolphus asked. “How many vessels, and how well armed?”

“General, they’re
your
old ships – the fleet you used against the Constellation.” Goler bowed slightly in respect. “My gift to you. And this time, you’ll win with them.”

W
hen Sophie Vence told him what Princess Keana had done, Adolphus felt as if another sinkhole had opened up beneath his feet. Not now!

Normally he would have been pleased to see Sophie, but when she arrived at Ankor, she was gray and breathless. He knew her well enough to read the unspoken messages on her face. When she stepped forward, she was all business, without her usual flirtatious smile; even though they had not seen each other for several weeks, she delivered her news as if she were one of his military scouts.

Eldora Fen and Sia Frankov, the planetary administrators from Cles and Theser, had arrived via the new stringlines, looking giddy with the culmination of their ambitious plans. Along with Ian Walfor and Tanja Hu, they all sat together in the admin shack of the launch site, discussing the defenses of their worlds and all of the Deep Zone planets.

Sophie glanced around the group, too preoccupied to respond to their quick greetings and spoke directly to Adolphus. She didn’t care if they overheard. “This concerns all of us, Tiber – and it may force us to accelerate our timetable.”

“How can we possibly go any faster?” Adolphus had already been operating at the swiftest pace he could orchestrate. “Has something else happened at Slickwater Springs?” He dreaded hearing about another rape or murder.

“Spit it out, if you please!” grumbled Eldora Fen. “Or is this some kind of dance you all enjoy?”

Sophie blurted, “It’s Keana Duchenet – she immersed herself in the slickwater.”

Tanja Hu already saw the implications. “What the hell was the Diadem’s daughter doing on Hellhole?”

“She came to see Cristoph de Carre, but that . . . didn’t go well. I tried to stop her, but she was upset. She dove into the slickwater before anyone could talk her out of it.” Sophie drew a long, deep breath and added in a barely audible voice, “Just like Devon did.”

Adolphus was so appalled that for a moment he could not find words. “The Diadem’s daughter is now a shadow-Xayan? Michella will be . . . apoplectic!”