Hellhole (62 page)

“That was our ancient capital city, now contained in the memories of these four,” Uroa explained to her. “They do this to honor both of us.”

As Keana watched the changing images on the walls, Uroa was her guide. The sky over the remembered city glowed in a borealis display that bathed the buildings in shifting hues and shadows. Everything was alive, nothing static.

Now all of it was dead, obliterated by the asteroid impact.

When the display faded, Encix spoke aloud in a voice that sounded distant, but ironically closer than Uroa’s. “You are royalty, Keana Duchenet, so it is fitting that you are partnered with our leader. Though Uroa was anxious to awaken, he waited for the proper person – you.” The alien eyes spiraled faster. “Why would you resist him?”

Keana wrinkled her brow, trying to absorb the rapid inflow of information. “He and I have worked out an arrangement.”

With a pang, she recalled that she and Bolton Crais also had an “arrangement,” but everything had crumbled because of pressures and interference from others . . .

Encix bowed her flexible body. “Long ago, Uroa and I worked closely together. Each of us had great responsibilities.”

“To be more precise,” Uroa said inside her mind, though all of the Originals could hear him, “Encix and I were rivals, but we need not be in the future. We will set aside ancient differences for the good of our race, for our return and ascension. The only goal must be
ala’ru
.”

“I share that desire,” Encix said.

“We may have more pressing problems if the Constellation declares war on us first,” Cristoph pointed out.

“Then we will have to deal with that as well.” Uroa did not seem perturbed. “We cannot let human factions divert us from
ala’ru
.”

While Keana moved through the vault and the innumerable storage alcoves for cultural items Encix and her survivors had considered worth saving, General Adolphus arrived, escorted in by his security chief. He stood next to Cristoph de Carre, regarding Keana and the four Originals. “I can’t say I’m pleased to have you here, Princess Keana. You have created an unexpected crisis at a very inconvenient time, and this is a highly secure area.”

“She’s not just Keana anymore, General,” Cristoph said.

Keana gave Adolphus a courteous nod. “You may be my mother’s nemesis, General Tiber Adolphus, but I came to this planet of my own accord.” She looked at Cristoph. “And I am now much different from the person I was. I am more than Keana Duchenet.”

“You can say that all you want, but I doubt the Diadem will see it that way.” The General was obviously still suspicious. “We are at a critical point in the history of the Deep Zone colonies. For your personal safety as well as the safety of my people I need to keep you . . . sequestered. I’m sure you understand.”

“I understand your desire to keep me hidden – or hold me hostage, if that is your intent – but I can be of greater assistance in other ways. I was constrained by my mother, forced to follow her orders, to meekly accept whatever she commanded. Because of her, I lost much. I’m tired of being a pawn, and now I have a purpose. I can be worth a great deal to you, General.” She threw him off balance when she said, “I know about your new stringline network and your operations at Ankor.”

Astonished, Adolphus turned accusingly to Cristoph, who held up his hands. “I didn’t reveal anything to her, sir.”

Keana explained, “I know all about it because Uroa has picked up memories from the slickwater reservoirs throughout the planet, General. A man named Renny Clovis fell into the pool, and Tel Clovis has also joined the shadow-Xayans. Those two men knew about your plan to establish an independent transportation network. Uroa and I both understand the implications. I must say, your scheme is ingenious.”

The General and Cristoph looked at each other. Unspoken thoughts flashed between them. “And how do you propose to help us?” Adolphus asked. “From the beginning, I gambled on letting my people take on Xayan lives at the slickwater pools. I hope it pays off – I have other tricks up my sleeve, but I could certainly use some other defenses.”

“The Xayans are your allies. We understand your situation. Helping you is in our interests as well, because that makes it possible for us to move toward our racial goal again.” Her voice alternated between her own and her alien partner’s, but now Uroa’s speech pattern became dominant and clear.

Encix added, “And thanks to the memories of Keana Duchenet, we now fully understand that Diadem Michella and the Constellation nobles would not be our preferred allies. The Xayans side with you, General Tiber Maximilian Adolphus.”

“Thank you. Your abilities may be critical to our survival.” The General frowned deeply. “By now, though, the Diadem has likely learned of your presence here on Hallholme, Princess. She probably also knows of your . . . accident.”

“It was not an accident,” Keana and Uroa said in odd harmony.

“I considered embargoing all outbound stringline haulers to prevent word from leaking out, but that would have alarmed the Constellation even more. It would have drawn all their attention beyond just one woman lost on a foolish misadventure. Understand, I needed just another week or so to lock down my new network. All hell is about to break loose.” Adolphus let out a long sigh. “Since you know the Diadem so well, Princess, how do you think she’ll react when she learns about your conversion . . . and the stringline network?”

Keana paused to consider what Michella would do. “My mother feels a need to be in control at all times. If she believes she has been slighted or tricked, she becomes vengeful. She will summon the Army of the Constellation to take possession of this planet and everything on it – including the Xayans. And the stringline network. And me.”

The General’s face darkened in the uncertain light of the museum vault. The four Originals stood close, also listening to the discussion with grave concern. They seemed to understand their danger.

“General,” Encix said, “our race is reawakening. All of the resurrected Xayans must confer to decide how we can help to defend this planet. We cannot allow our plans to be hindered now.”

“Nor I, mine.” Adolphus straightened. “It is time to put everything on the table. I’ve been waiting years for this.”

D
estination Day.

On the General’s timeline this was a neat, precise date when all the threads of his plan were pulled tight in a single knot. The culmination of his plans had been years in the making – a lifetime, in fact, because everything that had shaped Tiber Adolphus had also led to this triumph.

Very few people understood the old Earth historical reference to “D-Day” any more, but the idea raised a visceral reaction within him: the end of a massive, super-secret plan that would fundamentally change the course of humanity.

It was done. By now all fifty-three trailblazer ships had arrived at their destinations, throughout the vast wilderness of the Deep Zone. Adolphus had received completed-circuit pingbacks from each of the lonely captains who had spent months or years crawling along and reeling out a path of processed iperion. Upon their unannounced arrival, each captain had detached his vessel’s aft section, which became the new terminus ring. The new stringline route was ready for business, just like that.

Destination Day.

The surprise appearance of the trailblazer ships caused an uproar on each frontier planet, and the rebel cell members established there over the past few years acted in a coordinated fashion. Bewildered planetary administrators were caught completely unprepared. Adolphus’s secret supporters took over spaceport operations and embargoed outbound communications, then provided a loud and confident rallying cry for the rest of the populace, whose dissatisfaction with the oppressive Constellation had been carefully cultivated. The General received regular progress reports via stringline mail drones.

The initial eleven planetary administrators involved in the conspiracy assisted him as well. Tanja Hu had recruited several additional DZ leaders to their cause in the last two months, spreading and strengthening their cause. Though Adolphus was concerned about the potential for betrayal, or at least a leak, the Candela administrator was a good judge of character.

And the momentum continued to build, enough to make Adolphus feel even more confident. The Deezees had long resented being treated as second-class citizens, whose taxes and tariffs were increased regularly, while their needs were given little attention by the Diadem.

His unexpected ally Carlson Goler had forwarded his fleet of FTL patrol ships from Ridgetop; a dozen were now stationed at the main Hallholme hub, and the rest had been dispatched to guard the newly installed terminus rings at other vulnerable DZ worlds.

Once he issued his declaration, Adolphus knew he might have to destroy the old Sonjeera lines and cut off Hallholme from the old Crown Jewels network – as a last resort. Many people weren’t going to like that. He didn’t want to deal with a civil war among the disaffected old guard in the DZ at the same time as he worried about a full-scale strike from Sonjeera. This required finesse and meticulous planning; fortunately, that was what General Adolphus did well.

Now, with all the components in place, it was time for him to speak.

As usual, Sophie was his sounding board. Given all the tensions and uncertainties, Adolphus needed her now more than ever. He needed her advice, her common sense, her support, and her love.

“Time to stand up to the inevitable and laugh in its face,” she said. “Whether the Constellation likes it or not, your stringline network exists.” She had spent the night out at Elba, and as the two washed and dressed for the morning, she helped him prepare.

By becoming a part of him, Sophie had given him a solid foundation, a strength and sureness that he had lacked before. And with so many of his followers who had accompanied him into exile, as well as colonists who depended on him for survival, the General had a secret weapon Diadem Michella Duchenet could never possess: loyalty and love. Their future existence – individually, as a colony, and as a new union of human-settled planets – depended upon it.

“I have been ready to give this speech for ten years, Sophie. I bit my tongue and abided by my agreements. I followed the terms of my exile to the letter, and it ate a hole inside of me. Oh, yes, I am ready to speak out.” He turned to face her. “I’ve decided to wear my uniform today, to remind everyone of what I tried to do more than a decade ago. The uniform is a way to make people think of what we almost had – and what we can have now.”

Sophie brushed off his shoulders after he donned his uniform shirt and jacket. “And what if, instead, they remember that you’re the General who was defeated?”

Adolphus tugged at his cuffs and applied the colorful rank insignia to his collar. “If they remember that, then they’ll also remember
why
I was defeated – because I refused to achieve victory over the bodies of innocents.”

“Fortune favors the bold,” Sophie reminded him. She accompanied him to his staff car, then leaned over to whisper, “You do look dashing.”

Even though the weathersats tracked a brewing static storm 300 kilometers away, a large crowd still gathered in Michella Town. For some time now, the colonists had suspected something was afoot, despite the General’s efforts at security.

Given the turmoil across the DZ caused by the sudden arrival of the trailblazers, he was sure that some frantic messages had already leaked out to the Constellation, but that was impossible to prevent. Even now, Michella couldn’t possibly have more than a vague idea of what he had actually done to her. Whenever possible, his own well-placed troublemakers would dispatch conflicting reports to foster confusion. The Diadem would receive such wildly unreliable information that she would probably disbelieve what she heard . . .

Sophie had arranged for a podium and loudspeakers at the center of town near her main warehouse. The General’s speech would be transmitted to the small independent settlements, mining and industrial complexes, and even the wandering topographical prospectors. Although turbulence and electrical discharges often hampered long-range transmissions, everyone would know sooner or later, anyway.

Sophie followed him to the stage, whispering encouragement. Before Adolphus could ascend the steps, she kissed him on the lips, long and hard. He did not break away, didn’t want to, though his ears were burning when he heard wolf-whistles from the crowd. Struggling to keep his dignity, he stepped up to the podium.

The people fell silent, anxious to listen. “When I was exiled to Hallholme, I made certain promises to Diadem Michella and the Constellation. I have lived my life as an honorable man. I keep my vows. But when the foundation of those promises falls apart, then how valid are those vows? Listen to the truth about Diadem Michella’s ‘honor.’” The last word was spoken like an insult.

He reminded them how Commodore Hallholme had achieved victory over the militarily and morally superior rebellion fleet by using dishonorable tactics. He cited all the reasons why the Deep Zone no longer needed to depend on the Constellation government. And then he played the recording that Governor Goler had sent, exposing the truth of the Ridgetop Recovery.