Hellhole: Awakening (35 page)

The Trakmaster rumbled over the last line of hills, and Devon brought the vehicle to a halt so they could all stare at the mysterious verdant valley. Until now, the rugged terrain had shown only a few splashes of color, thorny scrub brush, and weeds … but the valley that stretched below them took their breath away. It was magical—the landscape exploded with life, a vibrant blue forest of feathery trees, sweeping meadows of spiky green and orange grasses—a different palette from the fast-growing red weed.

Devon and Antonia smiled at each other, and the spiraling sheen of Xayan amazement sparkled in their eyes. Birzh said through Devon, “After the impact, we lost hope that we would ever see so much life here again!”

Antonia unsealed the hatch of the vehicle, eager to emerge. “Our world is coming back … all of it is coming back!”

Sophie reached out a hand to caution the young woman. “We need to put on our air masks—you never know what pollens or allergens the plants might contain.”

But Antonia disregarded her and bounded out of the Trakmaster. Devon followed, saying, “We know, Mother, and there is nothing to worry about.”

Sophie hesitated, then gave a snort. “Well, as long as I have my own experts here.” Stepping out onto the new growth, Sophie could smell freshness in the air, a heady humidity, and lush vegetation.

The three of them waded through waist-high, fernlike vegetation. Everything was so
alive,
Sophie could almost see plants sprouting and expanding before her eyes.

“So many different species! What caused such a surge—and why
here
?” The seeds or spores of native vegetation must have been dormant for centuries since the impact. Why had they all germinated now? And the large animals had been considered extinct.

The feathery blue trees bounded a sunlit, grassy glade with a narrow stream. They stopped to stare at a herd of grazing antelopelike creatures that had mossy green hides and antlers like tentacles. Startled, the creatures bounded away and vanished into the lush forest of ferns.

Devon and Antonia were quiet and contemplative. “Those animals are fern deer, but Birzh doesn’t understand how the creatures could possibly be alive.”

“This is strange, but wonderful,” Antonia said in a voice that was only half her own.

Sophie followed the antelope prints to the narrow brook, then pushed her way through a stand of twitching ferns to gaze upon a broad expanse of orange grass.

She was startled to see that the meadow was dotted with the remnants of artificial canisters, like mechanical eggs. They lay scattered across the ground. She bent close to one, nudged it with her fingers. It was empty, weathered. “Did those strange ships drop canisters here? For what purpose?”

Devon stepped up beside her. “I don’t think so, Mother. The canisters were deposited at least a month ago.”

“Unless the ships have been coming here for some time,” Antonia said.

Cautious but curious, Sophie turned over one of the empty canisters, but it bore no markings. “And what are they for?”

Wandering around the meadow, Devon discovered several bright, new canisters that were still sealed, freshly dropped onto the ground. “These are recent. The ships must have dropped them.”

As they watched, one of the new canisters opened, followed by another, and another. Sophie stepped back as small larval creatures emerged and crawled away from the canisters and into the ferns. She was reminded of the stored embryos she had delivered to the rancher Armand Tillman.

Devon used Birzh’s knowledge to identify them. “Those are nymphs, the larval stage of the fern deer.”

Sophie straightened, unable to deny the evidence before her eyes. “Are those strange ships restoring species to Xaya? Using embryo canisters to reseed the planet?”

Devon seemed fascinated. “The slickwater database is allowing us to restore Xaya’s lost history and civilization. Now it appears someone else wants to return this world to what it once was.”

Sophie thought of her own efforts to tame Hellhole, planting vineyards, erecting greenhouses, establishing the fishery, distributing livestock embryos. “The General needs to know about this.”

As they made their way back to the Trakmaster, the spiky grasses rustled behind them, and Sophie heard a huffing sound. Turning, she saw a large creature bound through a clump of ferns that had been concealing it. The beast had long tusks and a ridge of spiny scales; its claws tore divots in the ground as it charged toward them.

“Run!” Sophie raced for the protection of the Trakmaster, although she knew they could never reach the vehicle in time. The predator closed the distance fast.

But Devon and Antonia merely turned and placed themselves in front of the animal. Sophie yelled for them to save themselves, but the two held hands. With placid expressions, they created a shimmer in the air around them.

The creature was only ten meters away when the energy crackled and intensified in the air. The charging beast struck the barrier, and telemancy repelled it. The thing threw itself forward again, and was deflected.

“We trained ourselves to fight armies with our telemancy, Mother,” Devon said mildly. “We can protect against a predator without harming it.” Ignoring Sophie, the hungry creature circled the pair of shadow-Xayans, looking for an opening but finding none. Finally, it stalked off toward the blue tree forest and a nervous group of fern deer.

Shaken, Sophie brushed herself off and urged the two toward the Trakmaster. “We need to head back to Elba. I’ve got a lot to tell Tiber.”

51

The alien museum vault contained as many secrets as shadows. Cristoph de Carre and his team had spent months inspecting and documenting the items, listening to explanations from Lodo and from Keana’s counterpart Uroa. He had marveled at the remnants of a glorious, lost Xayan civilization, admiring the fantastic works of the exotic race, their free-form buildings, their epic yet incomprehensible history, their philosophers, like Zairic, and their struggles to survive by any means when they knew the asteroid was coming.

Constellation archaeologists and scholars would have given anything for this opportunity. In his former life, Cristoph would have been astonished to visit such a place even once; now he practically lived in the vault, spending his days trying to unravel mysteries.

Cristoph had been trained as a manager and businessman at the iperion mines on Vielinger. When his father shirked his hereditary duties, squandered the family fortune, and dallied with the Diadem’s
married
daughter, Cristoph had fought to keep the de Carre operations running, despite sabotage and scandal. After his family holdings were stripped and he was sent out to the worst planet in the Deep Zone, Cristoph had assumed his life was over.

And now he was here. Ironically, against all odds, he found that he liked what he was doing, and he was even coming to respect Keana Duchenet.

Though the Constellation fleet had vanished, Cristoph and Keana both knew that Diadem Michella would never give up so easily. She would still try to attack Hellhole. And they had to find some unexpected and effective way to protect the planet.

Keana-Uroa and Lodo activated a set of beautifully carved crystal chimes that made musical tones as they rearranged them. Cristoph found the artifacts wondrous, but unless they could be converted into some kind of sonic weapon, they would do the General no good.

Cristoph turned his attention to the five sarcophagi that had preserved the Original aliens for centuries after the impact. One of the five, Allyf, had died because the preservation systems burned out, but the other four had emerged from the tanks.

Cristoph walked around Allyf’s sarcophagus now. The other four chambers were empty, the gelatinous protective fluid gone. Shortly after the Originals awakened, during one eerie night spent in the museum vault, Cristoph had seen the four Originals slip their soft hands into the fluid that contained Allyf’s body, and they had worked together in an odd telemancy ceremony to
absorb
their companion.

Lodo showed no superstitious fear of Allyf’s coffin, but in all the careful searching and inventorying of the vault’s contents, Cristoph realized that very little attention had been paid to these sarcophagi. While the rest of the team continued their work, he knelt to examine the intricate hieroglyphic-style markings along the side of the container. The shadow-Xayans could draw upon their ancient memories to read and understand the language, but the symbols meant nothing to him. While poking around, Cristoph discovered a gap between the base and the floor, a seam beneath the blocky chamber. He pushed against Allyf’s sarcophagus, and it slid aside with a dry, grating sound.

Underneath, he discovered intricate mechanical and hydraulic systems, crystals connected to tubes and shining designs that looked like gelatinous circuit patterns imprinted on sheets of metal. “Keana, look what I found,” he called. “Uroa and Lodo, can you tell us what this is?”

She came over, followed by the slithering Original Xayan. The retractable feelers on Lodo’s forehead waved in curiosity. Cristoph could not read the alien’s large, dark eyes, but Keana still had enough human in her that he could understand her intense expression.

“This is Allyf’s shield system,” she said, straightening and looking at Lodo. “From within the sarcophagus he used his telemancy to provide added protection, sealing off this vault from the worst of the impact.”

“It is true,” Lodo said. “We knew the size of the incoming asteroid. Even this deep in the mountain we feared the strike would cause great destructive waves, and we could not be confident that our vault would remain intact.”

Keana bent beside Cristoph and extended her fingers into the kaleidoscopic gel circuits, as if she knew what to do. “Yes, this device allowed him to focus and enhance his telemancy,” she said in the eerie voice of Uroa. “Allyf must have remained conscious while the other four were suspended. Drawing upon his reserves, he used this telemancy amplifier to create an impenetrable shell around the vault.”

“But it drained him too much,” Lodo said, “and he did not recover from the effort. He might have saved everything here, but he did not survive the centuries.”

Keana’s breathing intensified, and she spoke in her own voice again. “If this is a telemancy amplifier, and one Xayan could shield this vault, what if many shadow-Xayans joined together? We could use this equipment to project a barrier around the planet, or at least above the main settlements! It would save us from an attack. Lodo, why didn’t you tell us about this?”

The Original thrummed and swayed from side to side, as if disturbed. “It would not be wise to use it.”

But Keana and Cristoph pushed the sarcophagus aside to expose the large device beneath the chamber. He immediately saw the possibilities. “Can we remove it? Take it to the shadow-Xayan colony? We couldn’t crowd enough of them here inside the vault.”

Lodo shouldered them aside. “It is very fragile.”

Cristoph couldn’t wait to report this to General Adolphus. At last their work in the vault might pay off, if the situation and the equipment were handled carefully.

Lodo extended his soft hands into the swirling patterns of translucent, not-quite-solid circuits. Then, in a flurry of movement, he tore his fingers across the filmy patterns and scrambled them like a child with a finger painting.

“Stop!” Cristoph cried. “What are you doing?”

With an invisible shove of telemancy, Lodo bent the metal plates, shattered the crystal components. He reached in and uprooted the flexible tubes. Sparks and pressurized droplets spurted up.

Keana reeled. “You ruined it!”

Cristoph felt sick. “That was the best chance we had for defending ourselves! Don’t you want to save us? Don’t you care about protecting this planet?”

“The device would have summoned far too much telemancy,” Lodo thrummed. “Such a tremendous surge would have attracted attention to us, and we cannot afford that, especially now, when we are not close enough to
ala’ru.
”

“How can you say it would attract too much attention?” Cristoph said. “We
wanted
the Constellation fleet to know—and be intimidated.”

“Not the Constellation fleet,” Lodo said. “There are other enemies. And they are alert.”

“What the hell are you talking about? What others?”

Lodo regarded them with his alien face. From her own shocked expression, Keana didn’t understand what the Original was talking about either, but Uroa was not forthcoming inside her mind.

Then a chill shot down Cristoph’s back as Lodo said, “The original asteroid impact was
not
an accident.”

52

Sia Frankov had been Tanja’s friend and valued business associate—now wiped out along with the rest of the Theser settlement, hundreds of thousands of people slaughtered.

Bebe Nax was one of her closest, most devoted companions, sounding board, confidante, true
friend.
And Marla Undine had murdered Bebe right in front of her own son!

Yes, the Constellation—and especially Undine—would pay dearly for what they had done. They had unleashed the blood and fire.

Tanja found it hard to breathe, reeling from the shock and pain. Emotions roared around her like the mudslide that had wiped out Puhau and killed her uncle Quinn and his entire town, all because of Diadem Michella.

It seemed as if every bright spot of happiness, every close companion who had
humanized
Tanja despite her hatred toward the Constellation, was being taken away from her. She still had Ian Walfor, but he had already raced off to Hellhole to inform General Adolphus about the Theser disaster, and she didn’t have the emotional strength to seek refuge in him. She had only her rage, and as it developed inside her she wanted to keep it. She
needed
to keep it and let it loose.

The General would retaliate for Theser in his own time, but here on Candela, it was up to her to avenge Bebe Nax. This was personal. And a dark part of her wanted to take action before anyone could advise restraint.