Hellhole: Awakening (11 page)

To avoid unnecessary and expensive damage to the line on the Sonjeera side of the substation, Turlo and Sunitha had placed silent, stealth-coated anchor buoys, which they could locate when necessary. The stringline would not lose its integrity, but the Constellation fleet would never be able to find it.

The delicate iperion in the rest of the stringline segment would dissipate, and Escobar Hallholme’s fleet would have no path to follow, thus their hyperfast engines would be useless. No going back.

Turlo took a deep breath of the ship’s recycled air. “Ready to head on to Substation 4, my dear,” he called over the intercom as he removed the gloves and disconnected the life-support pack.

Sunitha said, “We still have twenty hours until the Constellation ships are where we need them to be.”

“Just anxious to have the job done.” He walked into the cockpit, where his wife was completing her calculations. She accelerated the
Kerris
down the stringline path before he finished donning his jumpsuit. They would be a day en route to Substation 4, which was plenty of time.

Turlo and Sunitha merely had to destroy Substation 4 before the fleet got there. That would close the other end of the trap. Then the Diadem’s great military force would be cut off, both ahead and behind, stranded in space, far from any planet.…

When the
Kerris
reached the cluster of spheres, antennae, and solar-power collectors of Substation 4, Turlo dispatched another series of stealth buoys, as he had done at Substation 3. The virtually undetectable signal markers would help repair crews find the ends of the iperion path and reconnect the segment—when it came time for that.

“The DZ doesn’t need anything from the Crown Jewels,” Turlo said. “Personally, I would’ve just cut the line and lived with the consequences.”

“That’s why he’s the General and you’re just a linerunner,” Sunitha said.

“Ah, but I have you. So I’m better off.”

Since they had enough time, Turlo removed all the viable spare parts from the station. By the time he was finished, the linerunner’s cargo hold was crammed with power packs, chemical tanks, and salvaged pieces of equipment that could be put to use in other substations.

“It’s a Deep Zone mentality,” Turlo said to her.

She nodded. “Use all your resources, and don’t waste anything.”

He looked at the schedule, then at the chronometer on the bulkhead. “We know the fleet was scheduled to depart from the Sonjeera hub more than two days ago, and they should be triggering the proximity fuse at Substation 3 any time now.”

“We’re at least a day ahead of them,” Sunitha said, “but there’s no reason to wait. Get this done. I want to see an explosion. Let’s open one of those bottles of Sonjeeran brandy that you smuggled aboard.”

“I sold them all!” Turlo said.

“No you didn’t, you kept one in your private cabinet. I already found it.”

He’d wanted to surprise her with that. “You shouldn’t go looking through my things.”

“
Our
things. And I never doubted for a minute that you would keep one bottle for us.”

Sunitha retrieved the brandy and a pair of crystal snifters, perfect for sipping the expensive drink. As the
Kerris
drifted near the substation, the two took their seats, each holding a snifter. Sunitha glanced at her husband. “Ready?”

“I’m ready.”

She activated the explosives, and the substation erupted like a bright star, spreading hot shrapnel in all directions. Turlo whistled in approval, but Sunitha said, “It would have been more spectacular if you hadn’t drained all the fuel tanks.”

“It was still effective.”

Putting the
Kerris
into radio and sensor silence, they settled back to wait so they could verify their success to the General. Turlo said, “I wish we could see the expression on Escobar Hallholme’s face when he realizes his fleet has been cut off.”

14

As soon as Tryn had gathered a hundred shadow-Xayan volunteers to set up a new seed colony on Candela, General Adolphus accompanied the strange group of hopefuls to the Ankor spaceport. He knew it would be a few more days before the Urvanciks returned from cutting off the Constellation fleet. All the pieces were in motion.

Sophie Vence’s assistant manager had arranged for two cargo aircraft to land by the main shadow-Xayan settlement. Adolphus marveled at the twisted free-form buildings and the ever-spreading red weed.

Though a storm was brewing at mid-continent along their flight path, the pilot and the weather experts deemed the risk acceptable. It would be a bumpy ride over to Ankor, but Adolphus did not delay moving them out. He’d had bumpy rides before.

Undulating forward on her soft, stubby caterpillar feet, the Original alien swiveled her smooth face toward Adolphus. Tryn’s oversize eyes reflected the sky, and her mouth membrane thrummed, forming discernible human words. “If the weather grows too severe, General Tiber Adolphus, our telemancy can carry the craft safely across the sky.”

The ranks of shadow-Xayans ascending the ramps appeared calm and confident. Most wore placid expressions, although some of the human personalities shone through; a few whispered with excitement.

“I’d prefer it didn’t come to that.” Adolphus followed the exotic alien into the cargo hold. Though he knew Encix best among the surviving Xayans, he had grown familiar with Lodo and Tryn as well. While Encix had a hard and determined edge to her personality, Lodo exhibited an identifiable sense of humor. Tryn was the quietest of the three and the smallest in stature, even somewhat shy, although Adolphus realized he was anthropomorphizing. How quickly he had grown accustomed to their strangeness, accepting their bizarre body shapes and their incomprehensible history.

It was not difficult to remember that
Diadem Michella
was the hated enemy, the inhuman creature that had to be eradicated. These Xayans were his friends and allies.

When the group finished filing aboard, the two large vessels lifted off in a blast of dust. The General rode with Tryn in the large cargo bay, and they peered out through the windowports at the landscape of this blasted planet.

As the aircraft lifted off, Adolphus noted the bright, mirrorlike pools of slickwater and the ever-expanding camp for the human volunteers who wanted to immerse themselves. He had left Sophie there to manage the new arrivals, and a new group was due to arrive at Michella Town that afternoon. “More and more people are coming, immersing themselves in slickwater. They’re afraid of the Constellation fleet, and they believe Xayan personalities and powers will help protect them.”

“We all believe that,” Tryn said. “Do you not?”

He responded with a skeptical frown, though he doubted the Xayan could read human expressions. “If you were convinced of that, you wouldn’t be evacuating a hundred of your people to Candela.”

“It is simply a … safeguard.” Her facial membrane thrummed, and retractable feelers emerged from her forehead to wave in the air, as if questing for the truth. “Our separate colony will be analogous to the museum vault, which survived the asteroid impact. This is no less.”

Adolphus knew that if his stringline trap worked, then most of the fears would be moot.

As the craft flew along, he could see the scarlet splash of alien red weed, like a bloodstain across the valley. Even with the details of the landscape blurred by haze and stirred dust, he saw swatches of red, blue, and turquoise that indicated the spread of vegetation—more plant life than he had previously seen. “This planet seems to be softening its mood.”

“Xaya is part of us, and it is awakening, as if a planetary spring has returned,” Tryn said. “With so many of our lives and memories restored from the slickwater, it builds the charge in our racial psychic battery. All of us have begun generating the telemancy necessary to achieve
ala’ru.
”

As the two cargo aircraft soared across the landscape, winds buffeted them, jostling the passengers inside. The pilots had to gain altitude to fly over the turbulent system. As if in silent agreement, the shadow-Xayans crowded in the cargo hold closed their eyes and concentrated. Adolphus felt a unified thrumming in the air, and a cone of stillness surrounded the two distressed craft. Then he felt a lurch as the aircraft accelerated.

The pilot yelped and spoke over the intercom. “General, sir, I’m not doing this!”

The shadow-Xayans continued their synchronized concentration. Tryn remained calm. “We will arrive at Ankor spaceport safely, and with all due speed.”

Adolphus responded to the pilot. “I think we’re in good hands.” A huge static discharge leaped up from the storm clouds and surrounded them in a ball of electric blue light, but the telemancy deflected the blast and dissipated it into the air. He watched the ease with which the danger had been shunted aside. He muttered to himself, “Diadem Michella doesn’t know what she’s up against.”

Tryn agreed. “No, she does not.”

An hour later, when the two cargo craft landed at Ankor, he descended the ramp next to Tryn. Rendo Theris hurried out of the operations building, staring at the sluglike body of the Original Xayan. Adolphus smiled at him. “You look as if you’ve never seen an alien before, Mr. Theris.”

“I haven’t, sir.” The spaceport administrator reached out his hand in a tentative greeting, then withdrew it, not sure whether he wanted to touch the supple hand extending from Tryn’s torso. “Administrator Hu has already sent her stringline ship and an escort for the new colony. She says she found a suitable place for the shadow-Xayans on Candela.”

“Administrator Hu is very efficient like that.”

Persistent quakes had continued over the past several days, but not enough to damage the spaceport structures. The General’s expert engineering team was already studying the unstable ground beneath the spaceport; they had drafted a plan to drain the slickwater aquifer into an adjacent basin, but they had not yet agreed on the specifics. Theris was eager to continue his spaceport expansion, but not until he could be sure the alien liquid would not interfere.

Overhearing them with her sensitive membranes, Tryn said, “Do not damage our slickwater database. The Xayan civilization is contained within.”

“The slickwater survived an asteroid impact,” Adolphus said. “Our construction machinery isn’t likely to damage it.” He looked around him at the bustling complex. “Ankor is the center of Hellhole’s commerce now—our new capital. Besides, once you achieve
ala’ru,
the slickwater won’t matter anymore, correct?”

Tryn considered. “True. After
ala’ru,
the Xayan race will be gone, and we will have no further need of this planet.”

As shadow-Xayans filed out of the other cargo craft to stand around the landing area, Adolphus was surprised to recognize one of the men. Rendo Theris spotted him at the same time and called out, “That’s Tel Clovis! Has he come back to take over his duties as Ankor administrator again?” Adolphus heard a hint of hope in the man’s question.

“No, Mr. Theris. Tel is one of them now. He’s going to Candela.”

Theris sighed as he regarded the lanky man who walked in casual lockstep with the other alien converts. He nodded. “He looks good, though. Happier … or at least at peace. Last time I saw him, he was so distraught—I was afraid he’d kill himself after what happened to his partner.”

Adolphus had been worried about that as well. “He surrendered in a different way.”

Her antennae vibrating, Tryn said, “He seized hope and took a new chance.” The Original lurched forward on her caterpillar feet, urging the General and Rendo Theris to follow.

Tel Clovis saw them coming and gave a pleasant smile. “You’ve done well with Ankor, Mr. Theris.” He spoke in his old voice, but with a softer, calmer presence.

Although Tanja Hu had promised to nurture the new colony in exchange for telemancy protection, the shadow-Xayan colonists carried cases of alien artifacts with them, preserved items that Lodo, Keana-Uroa, and Cristoph de Carre had removed from the subterranean museum vault.

“We brought the original writings of Zairic as well as our recorded history, some Xayan poetry, and music,” Tryn said, sounding exuberant. “It is what we need to make our colony whole.”

The General looked at the artifacts with interest. “Are you sure we can’t use anything here to defend Hellhole?”

“Everything is of use,” Tryn said, “if one knows how to use it.”

“That’s not very helpful,” Adolphus said. “I was hoping for weapons technology.” Even with his detailed scheme, he never stopped thinking of alternative plans, just in case.

A lean and energetic woman emerged from the Ankor operations building dressed in a trim, comfortable uniform that was part jumpsuit and part business attire. She had short brunette hair, dark eyes, and a pointed chin. A well-behaved ten-year-old boy followed her; his brown hair showed a prominent cowlick. The woman’s manner was crisp to the point of brusqueness. “General Adolphus, I am Bebe Nax, aide to Administrator Hu. She sent me to fetch the new colonists.” She glanced at Tryn but showed no alarm at the alien form, nor did she seem bothered by the shadow-Xayans. “It’ll be different, I admit, but I’m not one to judge.”

The silent boy stood at her side, keenly interested and unable to tear his gaze from the Xayan. Bebe remembered her manners. “This is my adopted son, Jacque. He’s never been away from Candela, and I want him to see and learn as much as possible.”

The General extended his hand. “Welcome, Jacque.”

“Thank you, sir.” The boy seemed more in awe of him than of the alien. “I’ve read about your rebellion.”

“And I made sure he read the
correct
history, too,” Bebe Nax said. “Not the Crown Jewel propaganda.”

“If only everyone in the Constellation would do the same,” he said.

Bebe looked at the group, mentally counting and assessing the space they would need aboard the transport. “We can ferry these people up twenty at a time in a passenger shuttle. I’m ready to go as soon as they are.”

“We are ready.” Tryn twitched the retractable feelers on her forehead.