Hellhole: Awakening (39 page)

She paled. “And why didn’t my own security team find out about this?”

“Because I’m better at it than they are.”

Michella sniffed, still trying to recover from the shocking news. “I’ll call out my full guard staff, make widespread arrests—”

“Or, Eminence, we could wait and choreograph a more dramatic event. Let the assassination plot play out. Place a bureaucrat or two in your autocarriage, while you take a different route yourself. Make it look like a minor change in your plans … a case of indigestion perhaps? A serving of pâté that was off? You’ll miraculously survive the attempt on your life, but the bomb would still go off.”

“And what would be the point of that? I’d lose a couple of good government workers—”

“I didn’t say to choose
good
bureaucrats, Eminence. You have plenty of extraneous ones. If you foil the plot ahead of time, the people will forget about it in a day. However, if there is a deadly explosion, public outrage will flare against the General. We can already blame the rebels for Undine’s severed head, but this is much closer to home.”

The old woman nodded slowly. “You are my most insightful adviser, dear Ishop. Very well, I will send my regular carriage ahead, and travel in a different vehicle.” Her gaze hardened. “And
you
will accompany me in the second carriage. Just to make certain you have no plans of your own.”

I always have other plans,
he thought, but he was genuinely surprised by her comment. “I have never failed you, Eminence. Of all the people in the Constellation, who has served you better?”

Her expression softened. “Very few, Ishop. Very few.” She ran her gaze up and down his street clothes. “My butlers will find you a more elegant outfit. I want you to sit beside me in my private box.”

Ishop could not hide his broad grin.
Exactly where I belong.

*   *   *

An hour before the scheduled Council meeting, the Diadem’s ornate autocarriage rolled along the normal route, pulled by six older horps from her stables. All for show.

Believing they were being honored with a special medal for exceptional botanical service, the Diadem’s two court florists rode inside, behind darkened compartment windows. Ishop wondered what the florists must be thinking as they watched pedestrians cheering their carriage as it rolled past.

As for himself, he was pleased to ride with Diadem Michella in a less ornate carriage that took a roundabout route to the rear entrance of the Council Hall.

They arrived without fanfare, which seemed to disappoint Michella, but she understood the priorities. As she and Ishop emerged from the carriage and a security detail whisked them inside, he heard the explosion a block away—a blast so powerful that he felt it under his feet. A column of smoke rose over the building tops, and the distant crowd noise took on a fearful tenor.

He met Michella’s gaze, saw a flash of anger in her eyes, along with deep gratitude toward him. Now she would trust him even more. He couldn’t wait to present the papers to reclaim his noble title. Maybe she would give him an important cabinet appointment.

“You saved my life, Ishop,” she said, staring at the smudge of smoke. “You have proof that Adolphus loyalists did this?”

“How much evidence do you need, Eminence?”

Security troops and rescue personnel rushed toward the site of the explosion. Alarms whooped through the streets, and emergency responders hurried the other Council members to safety, but Ishop knew there was no longer any immediate threat.

Michella’s cheeks were flushed with anger. “I want the conspirator arrested immediately. My interrogators will wring every detail from him!”

Ishop could not allow that to happen. “If I may, Eminence? Your personal security staff already proved their incompetence. Let me do this myself, and I’ll find out everything.”

Michella dug in her heels. “But I must make an immediate response or else I look weak. That bomb could have killed me, and that insane woman on Candela beheaded one of my territorial governors! We won’t just sit back and fume!”

“I thought Commodore Hallholme was already on his way?”

“Yes, but that could take weeks before we announce anything publicly—I need to do something
now.
”

Ishop shrugged. “It’s all simple enough, Eminence. To retaliate for the murder of Governor Undine, have Lord Riomini attack Candela, just as he did against Theser. How much more provocation do you need? In fact, send him to several DZ worlds—I’m sure he’d like that.”

The old woman frowned. “But Adolphus threatened to blow all the stringlines if we move against the Deep Zone. Originally, I thought he was bluffing, but…”

“If we don’t announce which planets Lord Riomini will attack, how would he know we’re coming? He couldn’t possibly send a message to all fifty-four worlds before our fleet launches.”

Michella cleared her nostrils. “At least that’s something. I’ll have Selik move right away. If this is a war, we may as well intensify it.”

Ishop’s excitement built as more ideas came to mind. “But if you want to do something more immediate, Eminence, may I remind you that you do have Governor Goler in custody right here on Sonjeera.” He smiled.

“Yes … we do, at that.”

59

Hellhole was living up to its name.

Each day, seismic upheavals struggled to release internal pressure within the planet, like restless memories from the ancient asteroid impact. Out at the shadow-Xayan colony where Devon and Antonia continued to conduct telemancy sessions, the severe quakes triggered alien memories from Jhera and Birzh—images of the last days of their doomed world as the gigantic asteroid had hurtled toward them on a collision course.

As the ground jolted and spasmed in the worst tremors they had experienced, Devon and Antonia clutched each other near the free-form alien structures, which swayed but did not shatter. The nearby red-weed forest writhed and thrashed, reflecting the planetary unrest.

Joining their minds together, they attempted to use telemancy to quell the increasing tremors, to force down the upheaval. Devon and Antonia called on the nearby converts to add their mental strength as well.

When the quake finally ended, Devon looked at her and smiled. He spoke in his own voice, “I promised I’d keep you safe.”

With a flash of her old personality, Antonia said, “Such a gallant hero.”

Their fellow converts drifted out of their structures, unsettled. They inspected for damage, then used their united telemancy to shore up the distorted walls. But the ground beneath them still thrummed like a struck bell, restless.

Encix glided among the shadow-Xayans, studying their reactions and their mental strength. By now, an Original alien was a common sight to all the converts. After quelling the slickwater flood at the Ankor spaceport, and now riding out such a large quake, Encix seemed very disturbed. She turned her large dark eyes to Devon and Antonia, then around at the settlement. Her voice vibrated through the facial membrane. “That small fix does nothing to repair the wound in Xaya. Beneath us, and in the air and water, the planet’s pain grows greater … and the pressure mounts. We need to stabilize it. Xaya is awakening, but painfully. It is restless.”

From the seismic reports his mother had shown him, Devon knew that the increasing pressure was centered on the huge bull’s-eye impact crater from the original asteroid strike. Though he had studied tectonic geology in his earlier years, he didn’t understand the reason for the upheavals; inside him, Birzh sensed and communicated a different concept, envisioning a swelling energy within the heart of the planet.

Birzh said aloud to Encix, “There is great danger. We must mitigate this before it grows irreparable.”

Jhera’s presence had risen to the surface in Antonia’s mind as well. “We have the telemancy to do it. We are strong enough, Encix—you can feel it. We will gather the shadow-Xayans, thousands of us, and use our mental powers to release the world’s pressure. We can heal the wound before it breaks open.”

Devon felt determination and excitement. “If we go to the impact crater, we can concentrate our powers, reach down through the crust to save the planet before the eruptions grow too great.”

“Such a large number of telemancers working in concert is dangerous,” Encix said. “It would be like a shout of telemancy.”

“It is far more dangerous to do nothing,” Antonia-Jhera said. “Centuries ago, we could not save our world from the asteroid strike, but with the vigor we draw from our human companions, we are closer to
ala’ru
now than we were then. We can prevent this disaster, Encix. And you will be the catalyst to draw us all together.”

Devon was completely convinced they would be successful. With volunteers continuing to immerse themselves in the slickwater pools, more and more Xayans were being awakened. And with constant testing and practice, the numerous converts had increased their combined abilities.

Yes, they definitely had a chance.

60

Diadem Michella could have invited dozens of advisers and military experts to her strategic planning session, but she already knew what she wanted to do. She needed only the Black Lord, who would see the larger picture and the immediate need to move forward. And Ishop Heer, for his special advice.

The three sat at a table on one of the palace’s outdoor patios, with a view of the ornamental vegetable gardens. It was a deceptively serene environment, yet the Constellation was anything but serene. Riomini ate his omelet with distracted efficiency; Ishop had not yet touched his food. Michella watched one of the assistant chefs out in the garden, directing a kitchen worker on the herbs and vegetables to gather for the evening meal.

She set down her teacup, sloshing the hot liquid onto the delicate saucer. “We cannot take weeks to respond, as we did with the first Constellation fleet. Candela must be punished. When will your ships be ready to launch, Selik?”

“Within days, Eminence. The force I brought back from Theser is still mobilized, and we are running final checklists on all operating systems and armaments right now. Now that we’ve tasted the blood of the enemy, my fighters are enthusiastic. We’ll trounce Candela, destroy Administrator Hu, and avenge the barbaric murder of Governor Undine—”

Ishop interrupted. “That doesn’t answer the question of why Undine was on Candela at all. She was arrested on Theser—that’s why Lord Riomini chose that planet as his target in his first place. In fact, my Lord, didn’t you assume that
your attack
already killed her? It seems a little disingenuous to be outraged that the rebels murdered her afterward. Why would General Adolphus move a political prisoner to Candela?”

Riomini puffed up, angry at the comment, and Michella knew there was no love lost between the men. Nevertheless, she scowled at Ishop. Was he trying to be funny? She said, “There must be something important on Candela. Another reason to strike there as soon as possible.”

Riomini’s annoyance began as an affectation to impress the Diadem, but he grew genuinely angry as he continued. “General Adolphus won’t be content with merely securing the independence of the Deep Zone. According to Governor Goler, Adolphus has captured our hundred warships, and now his operatives tried to assassinate you, Eminence. Mark my words, he will try to conquer the Crown Jewels next if we don’t stop him.”

Ishop’s husky voice sent a chill down Michella’s spine. “And he also has the aliens with their telepathic powers and their … their pools of slime! He could be massing them for a full-scale invasion. The contamination has already subsumed his population, including Keana Duchenet. The aliens could have spread throughout the Deep Zone to Candela, for all we know.”

Riomini pushed his plate aside and leaned forward. He seemed to be having second thoughts. “Eminence, we’ve already lost the main fleet, and Commodore Hallholme took his strike force. If I launch yet another large group to Candela, I fear the Crown Jewels won’t be adequately defended.”

Michella sipped her favorite black tea slowly; it was an expensive imported brand, with enhanced caffeine to give her energy in the morning. “I’m more worried about the rebels than about my own nobles.”

Riomini shook his head. “I wouldn’t be so sanguine, Eminence. While I’m away on the battlefield, some other noble might make a move against you. Perhaps I should stay behind to organize the defenses?”

Michella had not seen Riomini’s hesitant side before. Maybe his level of aggression and “courage” depended upon how heavily the odds were stacked in his favor. “Selik, have you lost your stomach for the fight? This is wartime, and no leader can rest on old laurels. I thought you would embrace the opportunity for more battlefield glory, to give you an edge over Enva Tazaar and your other rivals.”

He looked insulted. “How much more do I need to do to prove myself? What is Enva Tazaar doing for the war effort, compared to my contribu—”

Michella cut him off. “I don’t need to compare. It is my perception that matters, not yours.” He straightened in his chair as if he had been slapped. Her smile was no smile at all. “Selik, you’re a skilled battlefield commander, but you’ll have to be more than the equal of General Adolphus.”

The Black Lord composed himself. “We don’t know what truly happened to the original fleet, Eminence. And Governor Goler has given few details.”

Ishop snorted. “I doubt if we could believe him even if he was more forthcoming.”

“We can hope that Redcom Hallholme inflicted severe damage on the rebel defenses before he was captured—if he was captured at all,” Riomini said. “I had my own operative aboard the fleet to see that errors were not made. I don’t believe she would have let me down. It’s possible the fleet is simply unable to report to us.”

Diadem Michella frowned. “Then those ships are no help whatsoever. We’ll make our own statement. Wipe out the colony on Candela, but don’t stop there. Send simultaneous attack teams against five additional DZ worlds and scorch them to slag before the rebels can cut the stringline. Then return here for a new assignment. Such a decisive show of force should take care of the rebellion as well as silence any unrest here in the Crown Jewels.”